Mastertank1
2nd Level Yellow Feather
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First Time Ticklesex
Her name was Suzanne. We met in The Electric Circus disco, where I was working as a bouncer that autumn.
http://www.ticklingforum.com/attachment.php?attachmentid=47939
This link leads to an illustration of Suzanne, done by Restif from my descriptions of her. It looks as much like her as a photograph would.
The ‘Circus served no alcohol, but we I.D.’d everyone coming in to screen out those under 16. I was 20, and Suzanne’s driver’s license said she was 18.
She was a beauty, about 5’5” and slender, with shoulder length auburn hair in a riot of open half curls. One of those heart shaped faces described as elfin.
Her complexion had a very slight tone of olivine under the healthy pink, and was clear and silky smooth. Her eyes were clear brown and very large. She wore tight jeans that showed a cute little butt and the shape of her thighs and calves, which were lovely. She had very nice ankles, but I was a bit disappointed that she wore loafers that hid the shape of her feet. Under a waist length jeans jacket she had on a halter top made of close fitting green jersey, making it clear that she wore no bra. Her belly was lean and well defined, and very cute.
When I checked her I.D., I noticed her visually checking me out just as I was doing to her. I was massive, powerfully built 6’1” at the time. 270 pounds without enough fat to fry an egg in, but not a deeply ripped body builder type. My muscularity came mainly from genetics, but the rest from high school football, martial arts from age 5, and weight training aimed at power rather than definition.
I have a wide oval face, almost round, made longer and thinner looking by a beard like Grant on the fifty. I’ve been told that I’m very handsome by women who aren’t relatives often enough that I begin to suspect there may be a grain of truth in there somewhere. My hair, eyebrows, moustache, beard and eyes are all a very deep chestnut brown. I have arms with 27 inch biceps hanging from size 66 shoulders, and a 64 inch chest with a 46 inch waist. (Yeah. I’m BIG.)
When I got off door duty an hour later I went looking for her immediately. I spotted her up in the balcony, huddled into a corner, giving the brushoff to some guy who was offering her something. As I walked up I heard her say “I already told you I’m not interested, I’m waiting for someone. Get lost.”
I don’t know what the guy’s next line would have been, because once it was clear he was not going to give up without another try, I spoke up. “The lady said get lost. Can you do that on your own, or do you need help?”
He began his reply before he turned far enough to see me. “Butt out unless you want....... Gulp. Ah, what makes this any of your business?”
The dots and gulp were the point at which he saw me. I told him I was the head bouncer, and anything that bothered or annoyed a customer was my business. He mustered a sickly little grin and asked; “Was I bothering or annoying you, miss?”
She pondered for a few seconds, then said “Both, actually, but if I have to pick one I’ll say annoying.”
He wilted under my glare and slunk away. I told him not to stop until he was on the street.
I looked at Suzanne. I asked; “Waiting for someone?”
She grinned and said: “Yes. Now that you’re finally here, have a seat.”
I told her I had suspected that the checking out at the door had been mutual, and she agreed. I explained, after about half an hour of conversation, that I was still on duty until 4 A.M. and had to circulate. I asked if she’d like to wait in the section near the stage reserved for guests of employees, which was always watched so no one would bother her. She looked impressed and agreed.
An hour later, I collected my pay for the week at the cashier’s cage, then collected Suzanne and went outside. I took her to an all night coffee house down the street and we took a booth in the rear.
A while later we had both finished breakfast when I felt her right foot running up the inside of my right leg. She had slipped her loafer off, revealing a slender, narrow size 6 foot with an arch amazingly high for such a narrow width. She was rubbing the instep of her foot against my calf, feeling the contours of the muscle with her toes. When she got to my knee, she rested her heel on top.
I looked up at her face, which was smiling expectantly.
I reached out my right index finger and began making slow circles on the heel of her foot. Suzanne gasped and then held her breath, struggling not to make any sound that might attract attention, and using all her willpower, soon clenching her teeth with effort, not to pull her foot away from the steadily increasing tickle.
After nearly 30 seconds, she pulled her foot away and let out her held breath in a tiny giggle. She sighed, rubbing her sole against her own left leg for a few seconds, and then put her right foot back on my knee, gazing at me expectantly again. This time she only lasted about 20 seconds, because I drew my fingertip across her high, tender arch.
When Suzanne put her foot on my knee for the third time, her expression was more pleading than expectant. She wanted something I hadn’t done yet, and I hoped I knew what it was. When I reached across to grasp her ankle firmly with my left hand, she nodded her head yes and looked eager. I moved her foot from my right knee to my left. She nodded again. She later explained that she had taken the switch from right to left as a signal used by folk in the B & D scene, announcing that I was a dominant not a submissive. Actually, I had only wanted to see what I was doing better. I hadn’t thought she would recognize a signal like that. It turned out she recognized it only from having read about it in a book. She had never had a B & D scene experience before.
I tightened my grasp on Suzanne’s ankle, which caused her to nod again and relax. When I began teasing her heel again, her foot began twitching around at the first touch. She had been waiting for me to restrain her foot so she could relax and enjoy the tickle without having to struggle to keep her foot within my reach.
My index fingertip grazed around and across her soft heel, then up the outside edge of her foot to the area below the toes and began wandering over the greater and lesser balls of the foot. Her foot was now jerking and twitching, and her face wore that lovely expression of happy agony that only appears when a girl is being tickled. I asked if she wanted me to stop, and she shook her head no.
My finger slid down to the flat of her sole, and began to explore that expanse. I loved the way she reacted when I slowly traced the little wrinkles that formed across her sole when her toes curled tightly downwards. She sucked both lips in between her teeth and bore down on them, trying to stifle her growing need to laugh.
When my fingertip went to her arch, Suzanne gave in at last, clasping both hands over mouth to contain the sound of her helpless laughter. I kept up the ticklish tease, making her laugh for nearly a minute before letting go of her ankle.
This time, Suzanne rubbed her tingling arch up and down my calf and shin, her face communicating pure, simple delight as she gasped for breath. The clingy jersey fabric of her halter top communicated something else, clearly revealing that her little nipples were fully erect.
I leaned across the table and whispered; “You’ve been looking for a guy to catch on that you want to be restrained and tickled for a while now, haven’t you?”
“Yes. For months now. Ever since I turned 18 and could go out on my own.”
“You‘ve thought it through? You realize that any guy who’s into tickling a restrained girl will get just as turned on by doing it to you as you are by having it done to you? You understand he’ll expect it to lead to sex?”
“God, I hope so! That’s why I never did the foot on the knee thing with a guy until I was sure I was interested in having sex with him first. You’re the first one to react to the bait the right way and not disappoint me.”
“I have my own place a few bocks away. If you spend the night, I can promise you a nice, long, gentle tickling session, which will not be interrupted no matter how loud you laugh. I have bondage equipment, well padded so it won’t chafe your skin no matter how hard you struggle. I have a question though. In your fantasies, is the tickling only foreplay, followed by sex? Because in mine, the tickling continues until my girl has several orgasms and I have at least one. I wanted to know how you felt about that.”
Suzanne’s eyes lit up with pleasure; “Continue the tickling while having sex? Oooooh! I never thought of that! It sounds absolutely wonderful! Can you do that?”
“Well, tickling your feet while I’m giving you head will be easy enough. For actual balling, I have a wing chair in my living room that I’ve modified. I designed it for binding a small girl like you while tickling her feet and having intercourse with her, without hurting her with my size and weight.”
“Wow. How long have you been into this stuff?”
“I began tying up and tickling my babysitters when I was 5. I didn’t realize sex was involved until about age 11. How long have you had the craving to be bound and tickled?”
“I started to have dreams and daydreams about big, powerful guys overpowering me, tying me down and tickling me when I was about 9. I caught on that sex was involved when I was 14. I spent the years from then to 18 figuring out how to find the right guy. The day after my 18th birthday I started to go out cruising for the right man, the one who would realize I wanted him to hold my ankle so I couldn’t get away. The one who would know that I wanted him to tickle me without mercy until I couldn’t stand it any more and broke, and then keep on tickling little bit longer anyway. I gave each guy three tries, than broke off and moved on if he didn’t grab and hold. You’re the first one who ever reacted the right way. Incidentally, I really love that you’re so strong, you could hold me so I couldn’t get loose without having to bear down so hard that it would hurt my ankle.”
“I don’t dig in hard when I tickle either. I know some guys are into that, but I like to use a light, teasing touch. I want to make a girl laugh, not scream.”
“Wonderful. I was a little worried about that.”
“So, shall we go to my place?”
“Yes. Please.”
We walked along St. Mark’s Place to Avenue A, turned left and went up to 12th Street. My place was in a former carriage house, reached by passing through a tunnel in the main building on the street frontage and then crossing a yard. Each of the four floors was a single apartment. My only neighbor, downstairs, was the leader of a rock band. His whole place was soundproofed, to avoid noise complaints when his band rehearsed. The building was separated from the nearest other buildings by at least 30 feet of air space in all directions, so the sound of a girl laughing, no matter how loud, would not be heard by anyone.
Suzanne was clearly into this. She kept bumping hips and shoulders as we walked until I took the hint and put my arm around her, my hand resting on her hip. She gave a happy sigh and snuggled up, reaching around to tuck her right hand into my right hip pocket.
As soon as we got inside my door, Suzanne saw the wing chair in front of the fireplace and ran over to examine the modifications I had built in. She looked at me quizzically, so I explained; “I sit in the chair. You kneel on my lap facing me. Your hands go into these stiff palmless mittens attached to the wings at the top of the chair back. Your ankles go into these cuffs near the ends of the armrests.”
She asked me; “What are these two narrow straps with all the loops for?”
“Your toes go in those loops, then I pull the outer ends of straps till they fit snugly and lock them down with the pressure buckles. Think about how it might feel to have your feet tickled and not be able to swing your feet from side to side, to not even be able to curl or flex your toes, to be unable to move your feet at all while the tickling just goes on.”
Suzanne looked thoughtful at first, then her expression turned to comprehension, and then eagerness. The verbal expression of these changes was: “Oh!. Oooh. Ooooooo!!”
Then she favored me with a dazzling smile and began to disrobe as fast as she could without tearing her clothes. I undressed also and lit the fire in the fireplace before taking my seat in the wing chair.
With the fire going well, Suzanne turned out the lights and stood in front of me naked. She did a slow turn to give me a good look at everything. She looked incredibly lovely by firelight. Then she approached me and knelt on my lap, shyly asking if this was the right way. I smiled and nodded. I took her hands one by one and guided them into the stiff, open palmed bondage mittens at the top of the chair to either side, then tightened and buckled the wrist straps.
They were not uncomfortable, but snug enough to make escape impossible. Suzanne was committed and she knew it. She gulped loudly, then smiled again, but her smile was now a little shaky. To reassure her, I whispered; “Remember, I will not harm you. I will not hurt you. I will not allow any harm or hurt to come to you. Whenever you give yourself to me in bondage, you are under my protection, and I am responsible for your safety and well being.”
I could see how much those words relaxed her.
I slipped her slender ankles through the well padded cuffs on the chair arms and snugged them down, then buckled them. I guided her toes under the five loops in each toe strap and pulled them both tight, then locked them down. My willing captive angel was ready for her thrilling torment, and eager to begin.
I opened the drawer in the top of the side table to the right of the wing chair. I took out four items and put them in plain view on the table top, where Suzanne and I could easily see them. They were an ostrich plume, a goose quill, a shaving brush, and a packaged condom, which I opened and left ready for use on the table.
Suzanne’s intent gaze was unwaveringly directed at my face, hanging upon my least change of expression. One of the great joys of having a willing bondage submissive is the way you command their total, rapt attention when you have them bound. You become their entire world, with complete command of their senses, feelings and emotions. You have their utter, unlimited trust. The rush is amazing, every time.
I began with the ostrich plume, grazing it’s light, teasing fronds up and down Suzanne’s shapely thighs. Suzanne gasped happily at the shivers that would not stop. This touch was too light to provoke a giggle, but I didn’t expect it to. It drove Suzanne’s arousal to a feverish level, which was exactly my purpose. After a minute the lean muscles in those slender thighs began to twitch and quiver. It was time to stop, and do something else.
I moved the shivery fronds to Suzanne’s small, perfectly rounded breasts. She was soon breathing hard, nipples to full attention and almost visibly throbbing with her excitement. I leaned forward to kiss her sweet mouth, then to kiss each nipple. I could see her shiver with pleasure.
Now I put down the plume and I picked up the quill. I ran the feather up and down between Suzanne’s thighs, teasing the sensitive and erotically active inner surfaces. This made her giggle and squirm happily. After a while I wandered the feather up Suzanne’s groin to explore her lean, pretty belly. Her giggles grew louder. This was the beginning of what she had been anticipating for years, and she was evidently enjoying it. When the point of the feather went into her inny navel, Suzanne gasped, jumped, and emitted her sweet, bell-toned laugh for a moment. The look of happy embarrassment on her face was so enticing, I had to lean in and kiss her again, while the point of the feather remained in her navel, slowly twirling in place and driving her wild with the intense sensations.
I next let the feather visit Suzanne’s breasts, making spirals around them slowly closing in on the nipples, then holding the quill horizontal to tease both nipples at once. This procedure kept her giggling constantly, writhing and wriggling in an increasingly voluptuous manner.
I told Suzanne that her giggles were lovely, but now it was time to hear her laugh. I put down the feather and picked up the shaving brush, and applied it to her helplessly displayed left armpit. She burst into laughter and kept laughing, unable to stop. She pulled herself up on her knees, futilely trying to protect her underarms by bringing her arms down to her sides. I continued to play the brush across the exposed armpit, but now the fingertips of my left hand took advantage of her new position to tickle the backs of Suzanne’s thighs and the hollows behind her knees. She was merrily laughing and gasping and writhing and wriggling. I could see in her face that this was what she had longed for. This was what she had dreamed and fantasized about for years, and the reality was turning out to be even better than she had imagined.
I changed hands, to tickle her right underarm with the brush while my left hand teased her thigh backs and tickled her knee hollows. I asked Suzanne if she was having fun. She emphatically nodded her head while laughing.
Not wanting the rough bristles to irritate the tender flesh of Suzanne’s underarms, I switched to tickle the exposed palms of her hands with it. Unable to clench her fists in the stiff mittens, Suzanne laughed helplessly, startled to find that she was actually ticklish on her palms. I loved her reaction to that discovery.
I put down the brush. I wanted to feel that soft, tender skin with my hands.
I began with her rib cage, prominently displayed in her helpless position. I splayed all ten fingertips widely across Suzanne’s luscious torso, watched the happy apprehension grow on her face as she realized what was about to happen, and saw her silently mouth; “Oh no!”. Then I began a slow, rhythmic squeeze and relax with all ten fingers, firmly but not roughly.
Suzanne instantly burst into loud peals of laughter, as sweet a sound as a finely tuned carillon. I slowly moved my hands up down those delicate ribs, exploring the shape of the rib cage in detail. Suzanne was in a kind of ticklish ecstasy, transported to a realm of pleasure and joy by her loss of control and therefore of responsibility. Her mouth was fully occupied with laughter, but her expressive eyes conveyed pure happiness.
I slid my hands down Suzanne’s belly to rest my palms on the tops of her thighs, my fingers curled around her hips. I relaxed there and watched her bring her laughter and breathing under control. The rictus smile of forced laughter was gradually replaced by a genuine smile of happiness and affection.
My next move was to glide all ten fingertips slowly up her shapely flanks to just below her armpits, then back down to her hips, then up and down again, and again and again. This made her laugh louder than ever, and she kept laughing helplessly as I kept up the ticklish caresses. The tickle was driving her wild, and her arousal was reaching levels she had never experienced before. I now switched from stroking to what I call the spiderdance; my fingers dancing about like the legs of a demented spider as they moved up and down Suzanne’s firm, smooth flesh. She was way out of control, and loving it.
On my next upward stroke I went on into her underarms and lingered there, sensually exploring the ever changing contours of the tender skin as the tendons and muscles under it writhed and squirmed into ever changing configurations. This drove Suzanne crazy. When I leaned in and stifled her wild laughter with a long, deep kiss, the bucking of her torso against mine made her growing need for sexual release very clear. I was ready too, so I paused to let her regain her breath while I reached over to get the condom. It took just a few seconds to put it on.
I gripped her luscious buttocks with both hands and lifted her up so her groin was pressed against my chest, then I slid my hands down those lovely thighs to her knees and began gently spreading them. As her knees slipped off my lap, her crotch lowered toward mine, and as I continued the movement I naturally and easily slid into her until we both felt her labia touching my scrotum. We smiled into each other’s eyes.
I placed my hands on the chair arms and slid them down until I felt her defenseless, utterly immobilized bare feet. I could see that her face was wild with eager anticipation. I started by swirling all ten fingertips around and around her soft heels, and Suzanne exploded with the wildest laughter yet. Her involuntary hip thrusts and squirms gave her just the right stimulation, and after about five minutes of this she had her first ever tickled orgasm. Watching her face as she came was wonderful for me.
I paused for a moment, to let the hormones released by her orgasm travel through her bloodstream, knowing they would increase her sensitivity and make her even more ticklish than she had been to start with. I now moved my fingertips to the balls of her feet, and repeated the swirling movements.
Suzanne had never been tickled after having an orgasm, and she was surprised by how much more ticklish she suddenly was. The delicious sensations were driving her mad, and building her rapidly up to a second orgasm. Again it took about five minutes to make her cum, and the second one was way bigger and better than the first.
This time I didn’t pause at all before repeating the fingertip swirls on the flats of her soft soles. I loved the feel of her foot skin, like warm, living silk under my fingers. Unable to curl her toes or twitch her feet from side to side, Suzanne laughed like a madwoman for five more minutes until she came for the third time.
I now began the maddening fingertip swirls on her helpless toes. This was too much for Suzanne. She began howling in helpless hysteria, writhing and wriggling in sheer desperation, unable to gain even a split seconds relief from the wonderful, awful sensations emanating from her now impossibly sensitized toes. Her fourth tickled orgasm was thunderous, but I kept on teasing those delicate toes while I leaned in to cover her mouth with a long, deep kiss. I kept up this kiss, increasing her feelings of helplessness and loss of control by stifling her frantic laughter, until she came for the fifth time.
I now began the ultimate tickle torture, tormenting her deep arches. I started by stroking slowly up and down with all ten fingers. This time, she would have come very quickly, except that it tickled so much that it actually held back Suzanne’s climax for several minutes. I then repeated the kissing trick untill she got off again. Then I switched to the swirling motion for ten more minutes and two more orgasms, the second with the kiss.
Now for the coup de gras; I went to the spiderdance, fingertips dancing maddeningly over Suzanne’s hypersensitive arches. It tickled so much that her higher mental functions switched off, taking with them all inhibitions and mental defenses. Now truly defenseless, Suzanne was a wild female animal, glorying in pure sensations of such pleasure as to be literally unbearable. I watched her lovely face through the ecstatic transports of two more climaxes, then came in with that kiss again and shot my own long gathered load just as she came explosively yet again, the best ever.
I soothed her tingling skin with firm, gentle caresses while releasing first her toes, than her ankles, then her wrists from restraint. I lifted her in my arms and carried her over to the bed. Holding her easily with one arm, I turned back the quilt. I laid her on the cool sheet, and then lay down beside her. When I gathered her up against me, she eagerly cuddled until we both fell asleep.
When we awoke the following afternoon, we showered together and went to brunch. During brunch, Suzanne announced that she had fallen in love with me.
We were a couple for the next four years, until Suzanne finished college. She went to grad school in California, and we drifted apart. We never reconnected. I sometimes wonder if she ever found another man who could tickle-pleasure her the way I had.
Note from the author; Hi, dear reader. If you enjoyed this story a lot, and I've been told that many of you do, please take a moment to visit the Golden Feather Awards forum at the bottom of the TMF homepage and second my nomination of this story for the 2006 non-fiction award.
Thank you
Her name was Suzanne. We met in The Electric Circus disco, where I was working as a bouncer that autumn.
http://www.ticklingforum.com/attachment.php?attachmentid=47939
This link leads to an illustration of Suzanne, done by Restif from my descriptions of her. It looks as much like her as a photograph would.
The ‘Circus served no alcohol, but we I.D.’d everyone coming in to screen out those under 16. I was 20, and Suzanne’s driver’s license said she was 18.
She was a beauty, about 5’5” and slender, with shoulder length auburn hair in a riot of open half curls. One of those heart shaped faces described as elfin.
Her complexion had a very slight tone of olivine under the healthy pink, and was clear and silky smooth. Her eyes were clear brown and very large. She wore tight jeans that showed a cute little butt and the shape of her thighs and calves, which were lovely. She had very nice ankles, but I was a bit disappointed that she wore loafers that hid the shape of her feet. Under a waist length jeans jacket she had on a halter top made of close fitting green jersey, making it clear that she wore no bra. Her belly was lean and well defined, and very cute.
When I checked her I.D., I noticed her visually checking me out just as I was doing to her. I was massive, powerfully built 6’1” at the time. 270 pounds without enough fat to fry an egg in, but not a deeply ripped body builder type. My muscularity came mainly from genetics, but the rest from high school football, martial arts from age 5, and weight training aimed at power rather than definition.
I have a wide oval face, almost round, made longer and thinner looking by a beard like Grant on the fifty. I’ve been told that I’m very handsome by women who aren’t relatives often enough that I begin to suspect there may be a grain of truth in there somewhere. My hair, eyebrows, moustache, beard and eyes are all a very deep chestnut brown. I have arms with 27 inch biceps hanging from size 66 shoulders, and a 64 inch chest with a 46 inch waist. (Yeah. I’m BIG.)
When I got off door duty an hour later I went looking for her immediately. I spotted her up in the balcony, huddled into a corner, giving the brushoff to some guy who was offering her something. As I walked up I heard her say “I already told you I’m not interested, I’m waiting for someone. Get lost.”
I don’t know what the guy’s next line would have been, because once it was clear he was not going to give up without another try, I spoke up. “The lady said get lost. Can you do that on your own, or do you need help?”
He began his reply before he turned far enough to see me. “Butt out unless you want....... Gulp. Ah, what makes this any of your business?”
The dots and gulp were the point at which he saw me. I told him I was the head bouncer, and anything that bothered or annoyed a customer was my business. He mustered a sickly little grin and asked; “Was I bothering or annoying you, miss?”
She pondered for a few seconds, then said “Both, actually, but if I have to pick one I’ll say annoying.”
He wilted under my glare and slunk away. I told him not to stop until he was on the street.
I looked at Suzanne. I asked; “Waiting for someone?”
She grinned and said: “Yes. Now that you’re finally here, have a seat.”
I told her I had suspected that the checking out at the door had been mutual, and she agreed. I explained, after about half an hour of conversation, that I was still on duty until 4 A.M. and had to circulate. I asked if she’d like to wait in the section near the stage reserved for guests of employees, which was always watched so no one would bother her. She looked impressed and agreed.
An hour later, I collected my pay for the week at the cashier’s cage, then collected Suzanne and went outside. I took her to an all night coffee house down the street and we took a booth in the rear.
A while later we had both finished breakfast when I felt her right foot running up the inside of my right leg. She had slipped her loafer off, revealing a slender, narrow size 6 foot with an arch amazingly high for such a narrow width. She was rubbing the instep of her foot against my calf, feeling the contours of the muscle with her toes. When she got to my knee, she rested her heel on top.
I looked up at her face, which was smiling expectantly.
I reached out my right index finger and began making slow circles on the heel of her foot. Suzanne gasped and then held her breath, struggling not to make any sound that might attract attention, and using all her willpower, soon clenching her teeth with effort, not to pull her foot away from the steadily increasing tickle.
After nearly 30 seconds, she pulled her foot away and let out her held breath in a tiny giggle. She sighed, rubbing her sole against her own left leg for a few seconds, and then put her right foot back on my knee, gazing at me expectantly again. This time she only lasted about 20 seconds, because I drew my fingertip across her high, tender arch.
When Suzanne put her foot on my knee for the third time, her expression was more pleading than expectant. She wanted something I hadn’t done yet, and I hoped I knew what it was. When I reached across to grasp her ankle firmly with my left hand, she nodded her head yes and looked eager. I moved her foot from my right knee to my left. She nodded again. She later explained that she had taken the switch from right to left as a signal used by folk in the B & D scene, announcing that I was a dominant not a submissive. Actually, I had only wanted to see what I was doing better. I hadn’t thought she would recognize a signal like that. It turned out she recognized it only from having read about it in a book. She had never had a B & D scene experience before.
I tightened my grasp on Suzanne’s ankle, which caused her to nod again and relax. When I began teasing her heel again, her foot began twitching around at the first touch. She had been waiting for me to restrain her foot so she could relax and enjoy the tickle without having to struggle to keep her foot within my reach.
My index fingertip grazed around and across her soft heel, then up the outside edge of her foot to the area below the toes and began wandering over the greater and lesser balls of the foot. Her foot was now jerking and twitching, and her face wore that lovely expression of happy agony that only appears when a girl is being tickled. I asked if she wanted me to stop, and she shook her head no.
My finger slid down to the flat of her sole, and began to explore that expanse. I loved the way she reacted when I slowly traced the little wrinkles that formed across her sole when her toes curled tightly downwards. She sucked both lips in between her teeth and bore down on them, trying to stifle her growing need to laugh.
When my fingertip went to her arch, Suzanne gave in at last, clasping both hands over mouth to contain the sound of her helpless laughter. I kept up the ticklish tease, making her laugh for nearly a minute before letting go of her ankle.
This time, Suzanne rubbed her tingling arch up and down my calf and shin, her face communicating pure, simple delight as she gasped for breath. The clingy jersey fabric of her halter top communicated something else, clearly revealing that her little nipples were fully erect.
I leaned across the table and whispered; “You’ve been looking for a guy to catch on that you want to be restrained and tickled for a while now, haven’t you?”
“Yes. For months now. Ever since I turned 18 and could go out on my own.”
“You‘ve thought it through? You realize that any guy who’s into tickling a restrained girl will get just as turned on by doing it to you as you are by having it done to you? You understand he’ll expect it to lead to sex?”
“God, I hope so! That’s why I never did the foot on the knee thing with a guy until I was sure I was interested in having sex with him first. You’re the first one to react to the bait the right way and not disappoint me.”
“I have my own place a few bocks away. If you spend the night, I can promise you a nice, long, gentle tickling session, which will not be interrupted no matter how loud you laugh. I have bondage equipment, well padded so it won’t chafe your skin no matter how hard you struggle. I have a question though. In your fantasies, is the tickling only foreplay, followed by sex? Because in mine, the tickling continues until my girl has several orgasms and I have at least one. I wanted to know how you felt about that.”
Suzanne’s eyes lit up with pleasure; “Continue the tickling while having sex? Oooooh! I never thought of that! It sounds absolutely wonderful! Can you do that?”
“Well, tickling your feet while I’m giving you head will be easy enough. For actual balling, I have a wing chair in my living room that I’ve modified. I designed it for binding a small girl like you while tickling her feet and having intercourse with her, without hurting her with my size and weight.”
“Wow. How long have you been into this stuff?”
“I began tying up and tickling my babysitters when I was 5. I didn’t realize sex was involved until about age 11. How long have you had the craving to be bound and tickled?”
“I started to have dreams and daydreams about big, powerful guys overpowering me, tying me down and tickling me when I was about 9. I caught on that sex was involved when I was 14. I spent the years from then to 18 figuring out how to find the right guy. The day after my 18th birthday I started to go out cruising for the right man, the one who would realize I wanted him to hold my ankle so I couldn’t get away. The one who would know that I wanted him to tickle me without mercy until I couldn’t stand it any more and broke, and then keep on tickling little bit longer anyway. I gave each guy three tries, than broke off and moved on if he didn’t grab and hold. You’re the first one who ever reacted the right way. Incidentally, I really love that you’re so strong, you could hold me so I couldn’t get loose without having to bear down so hard that it would hurt my ankle.”
“I don’t dig in hard when I tickle either. I know some guys are into that, but I like to use a light, teasing touch. I want to make a girl laugh, not scream.”
“Wonderful. I was a little worried about that.”
“So, shall we go to my place?”
“Yes. Please.”
We walked along St. Mark’s Place to Avenue A, turned left and went up to 12th Street. My place was in a former carriage house, reached by passing through a tunnel in the main building on the street frontage and then crossing a yard. Each of the four floors was a single apartment. My only neighbor, downstairs, was the leader of a rock band. His whole place was soundproofed, to avoid noise complaints when his band rehearsed. The building was separated from the nearest other buildings by at least 30 feet of air space in all directions, so the sound of a girl laughing, no matter how loud, would not be heard by anyone.
Suzanne was clearly into this. She kept bumping hips and shoulders as we walked until I took the hint and put my arm around her, my hand resting on her hip. She gave a happy sigh and snuggled up, reaching around to tuck her right hand into my right hip pocket.
As soon as we got inside my door, Suzanne saw the wing chair in front of the fireplace and ran over to examine the modifications I had built in. She looked at me quizzically, so I explained; “I sit in the chair. You kneel on my lap facing me. Your hands go into these stiff palmless mittens attached to the wings at the top of the chair back. Your ankles go into these cuffs near the ends of the armrests.”
She asked me; “What are these two narrow straps with all the loops for?”
“Your toes go in those loops, then I pull the outer ends of straps till they fit snugly and lock them down with the pressure buckles. Think about how it might feel to have your feet tickled and not be able to swing your feet from side to side, to not even be able to curl or flex your toes, to be unable to move your feet at all while the tickling just goes on.”
Suzanne looked thoughtful at first, then her expression turned to comprehension, and then eagerness. The verbal expression of these changes was: “Oh!. Oooh. Ooooooo!!”
Then she favored me with a dazzling smile and began to disrobe as fast as she could without tearing her clothes. I undressed also and lit the fire in the fireplace before taking my seat in the wing chair.
With the fire going well, Suzanne turned out the lights and stood in front of me naked. She did a slow turn to give me a good look at everything. She looked incredibly lovely by firelight. Then she approached me and knelt on my lap, shyly asking if this was the right way. I smiled and nodded. I took her hands one by one and guided them into the stiff, open palmed bondage mittens at the top of the chair to either side, then tightened and buckled the wrist straps.
They were not uncomfortable, but snug enough to make escape impossible. Suzanne was committed and she knew it. She gulped loudly, then smiled again, but her smile was now a little shaky. To reassure her, I whispered; “Remember, I will not harm you. I will not hurt you. I will not allow any harm or hurt to come to you. Whenever you give yourself to me in bondage, you are under my protection, and I am responsible for your safety and well being.”
I could see how much those words relaxed her.
I slipped her slender ankles through the well padded cuffs on the chair arms and snugged them down, then buckled them. I guided her toes under the five loops in each toe strap and pulled them both tight, then locked them down. My willing captive angel was ready for her thrilling torment, and eager to begin.
I opened the drawer in the top of the side table to the right of the wing chair. I took out four items and put them in plain view on the table top, where Suzanne and I could easily see them. They were an ostrich plume, a goose quill, a shaving brush, and a packaged condom, which I opened and left ready for use on the table.
Suzanne’s intent gaze was unwaveringly directed at my face, hanging upon my least change of expression. One of the great joys of having a willing bondage submissive is the way you command their total, rapt attention when you have them bound. You become their entire world, with complete command of their senses, feelings and emotions. You have their utter, unlimited trust. The rush is amazing, every time.
I began with the ostrich plume, grazing it’s light, teasing fronds up and down Suzanne’s shapely thighs. Suzanne gasped happily at the shivers that would not stop. This touch was too light to provoke a giggle, but I didn’t expect it to. It drove Suzanne’s arousal to a feverish level, which was exactly my purpose. After a minute the lean muscles in those slender thighs began to twitch and quiver. It was time to stop, and do something else.
I moved the shivery fronds to Suzanne’s small, perfectly rounded breasts. She was soon breathing hard, nipples to full attention and almost visibly throbbing with her excitement. I leaned forward to kiss her sweet mouth, then to kiss each nipple. I could see her shiver with pleasure.
Now I put down the plume and I picked up the quill. I ran the feather up and down between Suzanne’s thighs, teasing the sensitive and erotically active inner surfaces. This made her giggle and squirm happily. After a while I wandered the feather up Suzanne’s groin to explore her lean, pretty belly. Her giggles grew louder. This was the beginning of what she had been anticipating for years, and she was evidently enjoying it. When the point of the feather went into her inny navel, Suzanne gasped, jumped, and emitted her sweet, bell-toned laugh for a moment. The look of happy embarrassment on her face was so enticing, I had to lean in and kiss her again, while the point of the feather remained in her navel, slowly twirling in place and driving her wild with the intense sensations.
I next let the feather visit Suzanne’s breasts, making spirals around them slowly closing in on the nipples, then holding the quill horizontal to tease both nipples at once. This procedure kept her giggling constantly, writhing and wriggling in an increasingly voluptuous manner.
I told Suzanne that her giggles were lovely, but now it was time to hear her laugh. I put down the feather and picked up the shaving brush, and applied it to her helplessly displayed left armpit. She burst into laughter and kept laughing, unable to stop. She pulled herself up on her knees, futilely trying to protect her underarms by bringing her arms down to her sides. I continued to play the brush across the exposed armpit, but now the fingertips of my left hand took advantage of her new position to tickle the backs of Suzanne’s thighs and the hollows behind her knees. She was merrily laughing and gasping and writhing and wriggling. I could see in her face that this was what she had longed for. This was what she had dreamed and fantasized about for years, and the reality was turning out to be even better than she had imagined.
I changed hands, to tickle her right underarm with the brush while my left hand teased her thigh backs and tickled her knee hollows. I asked Suzanne if she was having fun. She emphatically nodded her head while laughing.
Not wanting the rough bristles to irritate the tender flesh of Suzanne’s underarms, I switched to tickle the exposed palms of her hands with it. Unable to clench her fists in the stiff mittens, Suzanne laughed helplessly, startled to find that she was actually ticklish on her palms. I loved her reaction to that discovery.
I put down the brush. I wanted to feel that soft, tender skin with my hands.
I began with her rib cage, prominently displayed in her helpless position. I splayed all ten fingertips widely across Suzanne’s luscious torso, watched the happy apprehension grow on her face as she realized what was about to happen, and saw her silently mouth; “Oh no!”. Then I began a slow, rhythmic squeeze and relax with all ten fingers, firmly but not roughly.
Suzanne instantly burst into loud peals of laughter, as sweet a sound as a finely tuned carillon. I slowly moved my hands up down those delicate ribs, exploring the shape of the rib cage in detail. Suzanne was in a kind of ticklish ecstasy, transported to a realm of pleasure and joy by her loss of control and therefore of responsibility. Her mouth was fully occupied with laughter, but her expressive eyes conveyed pure happiness.
I slid my hands down Suzanne’s belly to rest my palms on the tops of her thighs, my fingers curled around her hips. I relaxed there and watched her bring her laughter and breathing under control. The rictus smile of forced laughter was gradually replaced by a genuine smile of happiness and affection.
My next move was to glide all ten fingertips slowly up her shapely flanks to just below her armpits, then back down to her hips, then up and down again, and again and again. This made her laugh louder than ever, and she kept laughing helplessly as I kept up the ticklish caresses. The tickle was driving her wild, and her arousal was reaching levels she had never experienced before. I now switched from stroking to what I call the spiderdance; my fingers dancing about like the legs of a demented spider as they moved up and down Suzanne’s firm, smooth flesh. She was way out of control, and loving it.
On my next upward stroke I went on into her underarms and lingered there, sensually exploring the ever changing contours of the tender skin as the tendons and muscles under it writhed and squirmed into ever changing configurations. This drove Suzanne crazy. When I leaned in and stifled her wild laughter with a long, deep kiss, the bucking of her torso against mine made her growing need for sexual release very clear. I was ready too, so I paused to let her regain her breath while I reached over to get the condom. It took just a few seconds to put it on.
I gripped her luscious buttocks with both hands and lifted her up so her groin was pressed against my chest, then I slid my hands down those lovely thighs to her knees and began gently spreading them. As her knees slipped off my lap, her crotch lowered toward mine, and as I continued the movement I naturally and easily slid into her until we both felt her labia touching my scrotum. We smiled into each other’s eyes.
I placed my hands on the chair arms and slid them down until I felt her defenseless, utterly immobilized bare feet. I could see that her face was wild with eager anticipation. I started by swirling all ten fingertips around and around her soft heels, and Suzanne exploded with the wildest laughter yet. Her involuntary hip thrusts and squirms gave her just the right stimulation, and after about five minutes of this she had her first ever tickled orgasm. Watching her face as she came was wonderful for me.
I paused for a moment, to let the hormones released by her orgasm travel through her bloodstream, knowing they would increase her sensitivity and make her even more ticklish than she had been to start with. I now moved my fingertips to the balls of her feet, and repeated the swirling movements.
Suzanne had never been tickled after having an orgasm, and she was surprised by how much more ticklish she suddenly was. The delicious sensations were driving her mad, and building her rapidly up to a second orgasm. Again it took about five minutes to make her cum, and the second one was way bigger and better than the first.
This time I didn’t pause at all before repeating the fingertip swirls on the flats of her soft soles. I loved the feel of her foot skin, like warm, living silk under my fingers. Unable to curl her toes or twitch her feet from side to side, Suzanne laughed like a madwoman for five more minutes until she came for the third time.
I now began the maddening fingertip swirls on her helpless toes. This was too much for Suzanne. She began howling in helpless hysteria, writhing and wriggling in sheer desperation, unable to gain even a split seconds relief from the wonderful, awful sensations emanating from her now impossibly sensitized toes. Her fourth tickled orgasm was thunderous, but I kept on teasing those delicate toes while I leaned in to cover her mouth with a long, deep kiss. I kept up this kiss, increasing her feelings of helplessness and loss of control by stifling her frantic laughter, until she came for the fifth time.
I now began the ultimate tickle torture, tormenting her deep arches. I started by stroking slowly up and down with all ten fingers. This time, she would have come very quickly, except that it tickled so much that it actually held back Suzanne’s climax for several minutes. I then repeated the kissing trick untill she got off again. Then I switched to the swirling motion for ten more minutes and two more orgasms, the second with the kiss.
Now for the coup de gras; I went to the spiderdance, fingertips dancing maddeningly over Suzanne’s hypersensitive arches. It tickled so much that her higher mental functions switched off, taking with them all inhibitions and mental defenses. Now truly defenseless, Suzanne was a wild female animal, glorying in pure sensations of such pleasure as to be literally unbearable. I watched her lovely face through the ecstatic transports of two more climaxes, then came in with that kiss again and shot my own long gathered load just as she came explosively yet again, the best ever.
I soothed her tingling skin with firm, gentle caresses while releasing first her toes, than her ankles, then her wrists from restraint. I lifted her in my arms and carried her over to the bed. Holding her easily with one arm, I turned back the quilt. I laid her on the cool sheet, and then lay down beside her. When I gathered her up against me, she eagerly cuddled until we both fell asleep.
When we awoke the following afternoon, we showered together and went to brunch. During brunch, Suzanne announced that she had fallen in love with me.
We were a couple for the next four years, until Suzanne finished college. She went to grad school in California, and we drifted apart. We never reconnected. I sometimes wonder if she ever found another man who could tickle-pleasure her the way I had.
Note from the author; Hi, dear reader. If you enjoyed this story a lot, and I've been told that many of you do, please take a moment to visit the Golden Feather Awards forum at the bottom of the TMF homepage and second my nomination of this story for the 2006 non-fiction award.
Thank you
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