“Tickle his armpits again, Chase. That’s his worst spot.” Don’s eyes widened, pleading to me for mercy. Of course, I had none.
“Mpphfm. Mmmf!” He tried to beg through his gag, but only a muffled squeal managed to escape his lips. As Chase’s fingers entered into his helpless pits and began wiggling, tears streamed down Don’s face. His body recoiled from the probing digits, but his bonds were too tight for any real attempt at escape. Over and over, the fingers scratched and prodded his tender flesh, sending shockwaves of ticklish torment through the poor boy’s body. It was a delicious sight: My ex-boyfriend, bound by his wrists and ankles to my bedposts, spread tightly over my fluffy, pink comforter. Sweat covered every inch of his naked body, telling the story of fingers, feathers, and tongues gliding over his most sensitive areas, coaxing out laugh after laugh until his exhausted form could take no more. We were just about approaching that point, I reckoned. The point at which his defenses would be well and truly broken down, where he would do anything to make it stop.
And that’s when he’d be my bitch forever.
I repositioned the camera at the side of the bed, making sure to capture every second of his torment. Chase was straddling him at the waist, expertly fluttering his fingers in and out of Don’s pits. I zoomed in on his face, keen to demonstrate the submissive agony that I longed to inflict. The crux of the matter played out beautifully in his pained expression; the tickling sensation was clearly unbearable, an endless violation of his body, all the nerves in his sensitive pits screaming for the feeling to stop, for him to pull his arms down and protect himself...and yet, he was completely powerless to accomplish his goal. The leather cuffs on his wrists were strong, pulled taught so as to prevent even the slightest movement. Chase was going nowhere, his fingers relentlessly inflicting ticklish hell, mercilessly scrabbling away with a sadistic grin on his face. That was the beautiful dichotomy, the thing that made me wet and Chase rock hard; the dissonance between needing the torment to stop, and the complete helpless dread of knowing you cannot. Don found himself in such a position; two hungry sadists preying upon his body for hours. He didn’t know when they would stop—hell, he didn’t know if they’d stop. All he could do was lay there, pathetically whimpering and giggling, screaming into a gag and helplessly struggling against bonds that would not break. The thought that I had captured this whole ordeal on video pleased me to no end. It would serve as a permanent monument to his destruction.
One of my hands found its way into my panties. I felt the wetness there, soaked completely through the fabric. As I entered myself, a moan of pure sadistic pleasure escaped my lips.
“You shouldn’t have broken up with me, Don.” I slurred, my voice heavy with pleasure as I rubbed my clit. “You could have been my boyfriend. But now you’re nothing more than my slave.” Chase took notice of my masturbation, shooting a knowing glance my way.
“You really love watching me humiliate him, huh?” He asked coyly. “This sadistic shit really gets you off. That’s tough for you, buddy.” Chase chuckled as he renewed his efforts, now seemingly scrabbling his fingers at double speed. Don bucked and thrashed, and even through the gag I could hear his high-pitched shriek. His discomfort sent a wave of pleasure through me, so strong I almost came on the spot. I had to pull the hand away from my pussy, biting down hard on my thumb to keep myself from going over the edge. There would be plenty of time for that later, I thought. For now, I have a job to do.
I glanced at Chase as he continued with Don’s torment. He was tall and muscular, probably 6’ 3” and 225 pounds. Short brown hair framed an angular, clean-cut jawline. He was a prototypical jock-type, attractive, but in a generic, uninteresting sort of way. Not the sort of man I would normally ever give a second look to, frankly. And yet, all men could be put to good use, if only you know how. You see, fairly early on in my relationship with Don, a few things became apparent: 1) Chase wanted to fuck me. 2) Don hated Chase. And 3) Chase clearly loved humiliating other men. In tandem, these factors were all rather fortuitous for my purposes.
“I do, Chase.” I purred. “He looks so pathetic under you. I love watching another man helpless beneath your fingers.” I relished stoking Chase’s ego and arousal. The more I egged him on, the more humiliating torment he inflicted.
I had only met Chase a few months ago, at some party. He was quite flirty with me, much to Don’s chagrin. He was a little too touchy, standing a little too close, laughing at nearly everything I said. Don stood nearby, seething all night long, until finally Chase went too far with a teasing comment about Don’s height. This led to that, and after Chase got a little too handsy with both myself and Don, a little alcohol-fueled scuffle broke out. It wasn’t much of a fight—Don charged Chase, who quickly pinned him to the ground. Chase, revealing his sadistic streak even then, decided to heighten his humiliation by playfully tickling Don’s immobile ribs. Don went berserk of course, being the ticklish little bitch that he is. He yelled and cursed and threatened in between hysterical laughter, adding more comedy to the already humorous situation. The whole party was laughing at his expense, myself included. The tickling only lasted a few minutes before Chase let him up, but the damage to Don’s ego had already been done. He was red faced and insisted we leave immediately, his masculinity irreparably wounded by how easily he was manhandled. To everyone observing, it was just a funny little incident. But to me, it was a titillating display of Don’s submissive nature. On the car ride home I could barely contain myself, thinking back to how publicly my boyfriend was humiliated, made to laugh at the touch of another man against his will. Judging by Chase’s plaining visible erection after he let Don up, I wasn’t the only one who felt that way.
His enjoyment of the current situation was similarly evident. Chase’s gym shorts did nothing to conceal his impressive erection. As if on cue, Chase slowly inched up Don, straddling his waist, then stomach, then ribs. His cock began to push into Don’s face, rubbing up against his mouth. Don tried to turn away, of course, but Chase’s hungry cock followed him, invading his space, threatening to enter into his mouth, if only the gag wasn’t there. I laughed at the pathetic display, made all the more enjoyable by the fact that Don was straight. No part of him was enjoying this; it was all a delicious violation of his autonomy.
In a moment of weakness, one of Chase’s hands came away from Don’s pits and onto his own cock. He started stroking it through his shorts, up and down, slowly, thrusting his hips forward with every stroke. I could see the fear in Don’s eyes as Chase slipped a finger in his waist band, intent on pulling his cock out for closer attention.
“Chase.” I scolded. “Put that hand back where it belongs, please. Only one of his armpits is being tickled right now. Are we really going that easy on him all of the sudden?”
Chase sighed dramatically in response. “Fine,” He conceded, “I’ll cum later.” He went back to work, enthusiastically spidering his fingers up and down Don’s ribs and pits, occasionally running his fingers across his stomach, or drawing circles with his index finger around his nipples, expertly keeping his victim unsure of where we would strike next. The change in strategy yielded immediate results, as a fresh wave of tears rolled down Don’s cheeks. “Isn’t she evil?” Chase directed downwards towards Don. “I’d love to give you a break, buddy. But this one wants me to tickle you to death, I swear to god.”
“Exactly.” I said. “Death, or madness. Whatever comes first.” I giggled. I panned the camera past Chase, and towards a beautiful sight: Don’s limp cock. It bounced as Don struggled, sweat dripping from the tip. I knew this cock well, of course; all its curves and veins, sensitive spots and weaknesses. As I looked at it, helpless, unable to reject my advances, something primal took over in me.
He truly was going to regret breaking up with me.
I left the camera zoomed in there, at the site of my next attack. It was time for me to join the party. I walked over to where his dick laid, wielding a makeup brush I had swiped off my bedside table.
“Say, Don.” I asked casually. “You wouldn’t happen to be ticklish, here.” I swiped the brush quickly over his balls. His dick twitched, taken off guard by the sudden ticklish intrusion.
“Uh oh.” Chase shot over his shoulder. “He did not like that. I could tell.”
“Like what?” I asked, voice full of faux innocence. “Like...this?” I gripped his limp cock in my hand, then lowered the brush directly on his cock head. Back and forth I twisted, dragging the soft bristles all over his slit. As soon as they made contact, Don’s hips started bucking wildly. I dipped the brush quickly down his shaft, swiping across his balls, lightly brushing up against the perineum, then back up to the cock head, polishing it relentlessly with small circular motions.
“MMMPPFFF!” A renewed set of muffled pleas, punctuated by Chase’s laughter as Don struggled the best he could. Though my view of Don’s face was obscured by Chase’s hulking body, I could tell it was contorted into a delicious mixture of panic and despair. As I said, I knew this cock well; it was a sensitive little thing, easily overstimulated and highly receptive to a softer touch. Every motion of my brush was made with great intention, curated specially for maximum torment. For a moment, I regretted not being able to witness the tears that were no doubt streaming out of that little bitch’s eyes right about now. But, sometimes a girl’s gotta get her hands dirty. That cock wasn’t going to polish itself, you know? And besides, watching it later on video would be just as good.
“Did I ever tell you that Don is a premature ejaculator?” I asked casually, not letting up the cock-brushing for even an instant. Betrayed by his own body, Don had begun to grow hard from the relentless stimulation. I wrapped my free hand around his shaft, fixing his cock in place and continuing my polishing of his cock head with a mechanical precision.
“You didn’t.” He replied with a chuckle. “But it makes sense, given all the other shit you’ve told me about him. What a pathetic little bitch.”
“Indeed.” I replied. “Two pumps inside me was usually all it took before he was blowing his load. I found it hilarious, of course, but little Don here was always embarrassed.” I ran my hand down the length of his shaft, slowly, softly, barely applying any pressure. “I thought it was flattering, actually. Never bothered me. I liked to turn it into a little game, even. You remember, don’t you honey?” I purred. “I’d try to see how little I could touch you before you came.” I ran my fingers gently up his shaft, a little harder now. “I guess I kind of trained him to be a worse pre-jac, now that I think about it. I kept using lighter and lighter touches to get him off, until it barely took anything.” I smiled warmly at the memory; ruining men was something of a prized hobby.
“Oh yeah?” Chase asked, bemused. “Did he go from two pumps to one and a half?”
I giggled. “Oh no, once the game started we were miles away from getting inside me. He’d cum on the spot from that. First, I started with using less fingers when I gave him hand jobs. One less, then two, then three, until finally I was jerking him off with just my index and thumb. Like this.” I switch my grip, forming a circle with the two fingers and running them lightly along the length of his shaft. “I’d use less and less pressure each time, until just the brushing of my fingers was enough for him to explode.”
“Wow, poor guy. You really are evil, you know that? But I guess he kind of deserves it, being this pathetic at all.” Chase added. “I mean, come on. A grown man is this ticklish? He’s as sensitive as a little girl. I’m barely touching his pits, and I still bet he’d suck me off just to make it stop. Kinda makes me feel justified in doing this to him.”
“Mhmhmhahahaha!” Don sputtered through his gag, as if in agreement with his captors.
“I bet he would.” I said with a grin. “But let’s put a pin in that.” I traced my index finger along the lines of his testicles, a move I know he particularly despised. “Eventually I’d just rub him through his jeans; make him cum before sex even began. Remember what I’d do then, baby? “ I waited a second for a response I knew couldn’t come. “That’s right! I’d take out a great, big dildo and fuck myself till I came. Right in front of you.” A wave of pleasure crashed over my body as I recalled the shame Don experienced during those nights; a big, dark spot on his trousers where I forced the cum out of him, sitting meekly on the edge of my bed while I gave myself the pleasure he could not. “Sometimes, though, we’d do something else. I’m sure you remember this too, Don.” I returned my fingers to his cock, and began slowly tracing up and down. Just two fingers, running along the underside where he was most sensitive. “Whenever he’d cum, I’d make him take his cock out of his pants, still covered in jizz. I’d strap him to my headboard—much like right now, in fact—and take a little something from my purse. Can you guess what, Chase?”
I could hear the sinister intentions in his voice as he replied. “A makeup brush”.
“That’s right. Just like this one.” My stroking around his cock got faster, as did the brushing at his head. “You see, whenever he came, his cock got ten times more sensitive, at least. And that’s saying something, considering he easily has the most ticklish cock of any man I’ve met.” Swish, swish, swish. Back and forth the bristles went, exploring all angles of his cock head, wreaking ticklish, sensual havoc across his privates. “ So of course, I just had to exploit that. I’d take out the make up brush, and start swirling around his cock head, just like I’m doing now. He’d beg and scream, try to threaten, or bribe me, anything he could do to make the sensation stop. But it wouldn’t. Not until I got what I wanted.” Don’s muscles began to tighten, and his dick started twitching. He was close. I started rubbing faster. “So, the thing is darling, since I’m currently brushing your pathetically ticklish cock head with no plans to stop—“
I leaned in close to his dick, planting a delicate kiss on the shaft.
“—I would highly recommend not cumming anytime soon.” I wrapped my full hand around his cock now and began pumping. Don’s hips began to splay wildly, his cock twitching is a futile attempt to escape my grasp. I carried on undeterred, confident of one thing: His mind was about to break. All it would take was one little push.
Or, in this case, two little pumps.
It was just a simple down and up motion. The amount of friction generated by a full hand was too much for poor little Don, being conditioned as he was to cumming from feather light touches. He never really stood a chance. I removed the brush from his cock head just in time, narrowly avoiding the thick ropes of cum that shot desperately out, covering his chest and stomach, some even managing to get onto Chase’s back.
“MMMMMMMFHHH!” Don moaned, the orgasm wracking through his body from head to toe.
“And now, the fun part.” My brush returned to Don’s cock, hovering menacingly a mere centimeter above his twitching member. “Take his gag out, Chase. I want to hear him beg.”
As the thousand tiny bristles made contact, the screams began. But I was just getting started.
“Mpphfm. Mmmf!” He tried to beg through his gag, but only a muffled squeal managed to escape his lips. As Chase’s fingers entered into his helpless pits and began wiggling, tears streamed down Don’s face. His body recoiled from the probing digits, but his bonds were too tight for any real attempt at escape. Over and over, the fingers scratched and prodded his tender flesh, sending shockwaves of ticklish torment through the poor boy’s body. It was a delicious sight: My ex-boyfriend, bound by his wrists and ankles to my bedposts, spread tightly over my fluffy, pink comforter. Sweat covered every inch of his naked body, telling the story of fingers, feathers, and tongues gliding over his most sensitive areas, coaxing out laugh after laugh until his exhausted form could take no more. We were just about approaching that point, I reckoned. The point at which his defenses would be well and truly broken down, where he would do anything to make it stop.
And that’s when he’d be my bitch forever.
I repositioned the camera at the side of the bed, making sure to capture every second of his torment. Chase was straddling him at the waist, expertly fluttering his fingers in and out of Don’s pits. I zoomed in on his face, keen to demonstrate the submissive agony that I longed to inflict. The crux of the matter played out beautifully in his pained expression; the tickling sensation was clearly unbearable, an endless violation of his body, all the nerves in his sensitive pits screaming for the feeling to stop, for him to pull his arms down and protect himself...and yet, he was completely powerless to accomplish his goal. The leather cuffs on his wrists were strong, pulled taught so as to prevent even the slightest movement. Chase was going nowhere, his fingers relentlessly inflicting ticklish hell, mercilessly scrabbling away with a sadistic grin on his face. That was the beautiful dichotomy, the thing that made me wet and Chase rock hard; the dissonance between needing the torment to stop, and the complete helpless dread of knowing you cannot. Don found himself in such a position; two hungry sadists preying upon his body for hours. He didn’t know when they would stop—hell, he didn’t know if they’d stop. All he could do was lay there, pathetically whimpering and giggling, screaming into a gag and helplessly struggling against bonds that would not break. The thought that I had captured this whole ordeal on video pleased me to no end. It would serve as a permanent monument to his destruction.
One of my hands found its way into my panties. I felt the wetness there, soaked completely through the fabric. As I entered myself, a moan of pure sadistic pleasure escaped my lips.
“You shouldn’t have broken up with me, Don.” I slurred, my voice heavy with pleasure as I rubbed my clit. “You could have been my boyfriend. But now you’re nothing more than my slave.” Chase took notice of my masturbation, shooting a knowing glance my way.
“You really love watching me humiliate him, huh?” He asked coyly. “This sadistic shit really gets you off. That’s tough for you, buddy.” Chase chuckled as he renewed his efforts, now seemingly scrabbling his fingers at double speed. Don bucked and thrashed, and even through the gag I could hear his high-pitched shriek. His discomfort sent a wave of pleasure through me, so strong I almost came on the spot. I had to pull the hand away from my pussy, biting down hard on my thumb to keep myself from going over the edge. There would be plenty of time for that later, I thought. For now, I have a job to do.
I glanced at Chase as he continued with Don’s torment. He was tall and muscular, probably 6’ 3” and 225 pounds. Short brown hair framed an angular, clean-cut jawline. He was a prototypical jock-type, attractive, but in a generic, uninteresting sort of way. Not the sort of man I would normally ever give a second look to, frankly. And yet, all men could be put to good use, if only you know how. You see, fairly early on in my relationship with Don, a few things became apparent: 1) Chase wanted to fuck me. 2) Don hated Chase. And 3) Chase clearly loved humiliating other men. In tandem, these factors were all rather fortuitous for my purposes.
“I do, Chase.” I purred. “He looks so pathetic under you. I love watching another man helpless beneath your fingers.” I relished stoking Chase’s ego and arousal. The more I egged him on, the more humiliating torment he inflicted.
I had only met Chase a few months ago, at some party. He was quite flirty with me, much to Don’s chagrin. He was a little too touchy, standing a little too close, laughing at nearly everything I said. Don stood nearby, seething all night long, until finally Chase went too far with a teasing comment about Don’s height. This led to that, and after Chase got a little too handsy with both myself and Don, a little alcohol-fueled scuffle broke out. It wasn’t much of a fight—Don charged Chase, who quickly pinned him to the ground. Chase, revealing his sadistic streak even then, decided to heighten his humiliation by playfully tickling Don’s immobile ribs. Don went berserk of course, being the ticklish little bitch that he is. He yelled and cursed and threatened in between hysterical laughter, adding more comedy to the already humorous situation. The whole party was laughing at his expense, myself included. The tickling only lasted a few minutes before Chase let him up, but the damage to Don’s ego had already been done. He was red faced and insisted we leave immediately, his masculinity irreparably wounded by how easily he was manhandled. To everyone observing, it was just a funny little incident. But to me, it was a titillating display of Don’s submissive nature. On the car ride home I could barely contain myself, thinking back to how publicly my boyfriend was humiliated, made to laugh at the touch of another man against his will. Judging by Chase’s plaining visible erection after he let Don up, I wasn’t the only one who felt that way.
His enjoyment of the current situation was similarly evident. Chase’s gym shorts did nothing to conceal his impressive erection. As if on cue, Chase slowly inched up Don, straddling his waist, then stomach, then ribs. His cock began to push into Don’s face, rubbing up against his mouth. Don tried to turn away, of course, but Chase’s hungry cock followed him, invading his space, threatening to enter into his mouth, if only the gag wasn’t there. I laughed at the pathetic display, made all the more enjoyable by the fact that Don was straight. No part of him was enjoying this; it was all a delicious violation of his autonomy.
In a moment of weakness, one of Chase’s hands came away from Don’s pits and onto his own cock. He started stroking it through his shorts, up and down, slowly, thrusting his hips forward with every stroke. I could see the fear in Don’s eyes as Chase slipped a finger in his waist band, intent on pulling his cock out for closer attention.
“Chase.” I scolded. “Put that hand back where it belongs, please. Only one of his armpits is being tickled right now. Are we really going that easy on him all of the sudden?”
Chase sighed dramatically in response. “Fine,” He conceded, “I’ll cum later.” He went back to work, enthusiastically spidering his fingers up and down Don’s ribs and pits, occasionally running his fingers across his stomach, or drawing circles with his index finger around his nipples, expertly keeping his victim unsure of where we would strike next. The change in strategy yielded immediate results, as a fresh wave of tears rolled down Don’s cheeks. “Isn’t she evil?” Chase directed downwards towards Don. “I’d love to give you a break, buddy. But this one wants me to tickle you to death, I swear to god.”
“Exactly.” I said. “Death, or madness. Whatever comes first.” I giggled. I panned the camera past Chase, and towards a beautiful sight: Don’s limp cock. It bounced as Don struggled, sweat dripping from the tip. I knew this cock well, of course; all its curves and veins, sensitive spots and weaknesses. As I looked at it, helpless, unable to reject my advances, something primal took over in me.
He truly was going to regret breaking up with me.
I left the camera zoomed in there, at the site of my next attack. It was time for me to join the party. I walked over to where his dick laid, wielding a makeup brush I had swiped off my bedside table.
“Say, Don.” I asked casually. “You wouldn’t happen to be ticklish, here.” I swiped the brush quickly over his balls. His dick twitched, taken off guard by the sudden ticklish intrusion.
“Uh oh.” Chase shot over his shoulder. “He did not like that. I could tell.”
“Like what?” I asked, voice full of faux innocence. “Like...this?” I gripped his limp cock in my hand, then lowered the brush directly on his cock head. Back and forth I twisted, dragging the soft bristles all over his slit. As soon as they made contact, Don’s hips started bucking wildly. I dipped the brush quickly down his shaft, swiping across his balls, lightly brushing up against the perineum, then back up to the cock head, polishing it relentlessly with small circular motions.
“MMMPPFFF!” A renewed set of muffled pleas, punctuated by Chase’s laughter as Don struggled the best he could. Though my view of Don’s face was obscured by Chase’s hulking body, I could tell it was contorted into a delicious mixture of panic and despair. As I said, I knew this cock well; it was a sensitive little thing, easily overstimulated and highly receptive to a softer touch. Every motion of my brush was made with great intention, curated specially for maximum torment. For a moment, I regretted not being able to witness the tears that were no doubt streaming out of that little bitch’s eyes right about now. But, sometimes a girl’s gotta get her hands dirty. That cock wasn’t going to polish itself, you know? And besides, watching it later on video would be just as good.
“Did I ever tell you that Don is a premature ejaculator?” I asked casually, not letting up the cock-brushing for even an instant. Betrayed by his own body, Don had begun to grow hard from the relentless stimulation. I wrapped my free hand around his shaft, fixing his cock in place and continuing my polishing of his cock head with a mechanical precision.
“You didn’t.” He replied with a chuckle. “But it makes sense, given all the other shit you’ve told me about him. What a pathetic little bitch.”
“Indeed.” I replied. “Two pumps inside me was usually all it took before he was blowing his load. I found it hilarious, of course, but little Don here was always embarrassed.” I ran my hand down the length of his shaft, slowly, softly, barely applying any pressure. “I thought it was flattering, actually. Never bothered me. I liked to turn it into a little game, even. You remember, don’t you honey?” I purred. “I’d try to see how little I could touch you before you came.” I ran my fingers gently up his shaft, a little harder now. “I guess I kind of trained him to be a worse pre-jac, now that I think about it. I kept using lighter and lighter touches to get him off, until it barely took anything.” I smiled warmly at the memory; ruining men was something of a prized hobby.
“Oh yeah?” Chase asked, bemused. “Did he go from two pumps to one and a half?”
I giggled. “Oh no, once the game started we were miles away from getting inside me. He’d cum on the spot from that. First, I started with using less fingers when I gave him hand jobs. One less, then two, then three, until finally I was jerking him off with just my index and thumb. Like this.” I switch my grip, forming a circle with the two fingers and running them lightly along the length of his shaft. “I’d use less and less pressure each time, until just the brushing of my fingers was enough for him to explode.”
“Wow, poor guy. You really are evil, you know that? But I guess he kind of deserves it, being this pathetic at all.” Chase added. “I mean, come on. A grown man is this ticklish? He’s as sensitive as a little girl. I’m barely touching his pits, and I still bet he’d suck me off just to make it stop. Kinda makes me feel justified in doing this to him.”
“Mhmhmhahahaha!” Don sputtered through his gag, as if in agreement with his captors.
“I bet he would.” I said with a grin. “But let’s put a pin in that.” I traced my index finger along the lines of his testicles, a move I know he particularly despised. “Eventually I’d just rub him through his jeans; make him cum before sex even began. Remember what I’d do then, baby? “ I waited a second for a response I knew couldn’t come. “That’s right! I’d take out a great, big dildo and fuck myself till I came. Right in front of you.” A wave of pleasure crashed over my body as I recalled the shame Don experienced during those nights; a big, dark spot on his trousers where I forced the cum out of him, sitting meekly on the edge of my bed while I gave myself the pleasure he could not. “Sometimes, though, we’d do something else. I’m sure you remember this too, Don.” I returned my fingers to his cock, and began slowly tracing up and down. Just two fingers, running along the underside where he was most sensitive. “Whenever he’d cum, I’d make him take his cock out of his pants, still covered in jizz. I’d strap him to my headboard—much like right now, in fact—and take a little something from my purse. Can you guess what, Chase?”
I could hear the sinister intentions in his voice as he replied. “A makeup brush”.
“That’s right. Just like this one.” My stroking around his cock got faster, as did the brushing at his head. “You see, whenever he came, his cock got ten times more sensitive, at least. And that’s saying something, considering he easily has the most ticklish cock of any man I’ve met.” Swish, swish, swish. Back and forth the bristles went, exploring all angles of his cock head, wreaking ticklish, sensual havoc across his privates. “ So of course, I just had to exploit that. I’d take out the make up brush, and start swirling around his cock head, just like I’m doing now. He’d beg and scream, try to threaten, or bribe me, anything he could do to make the sensation stop. But it wouldn’t. Not until I got what I wanted.” Don’s muscles began to tighten, and his dick started twitching. He was close. I started rubbing faster. “So, the thing is darling, since I’m currently brushing your pathetically ticklish cock head with no plans to stop—“
I leaned in close to his dick, planting a delicate kiss on the shaft.
“—I would highly recommend not cumming anytime soon.” I wrapped my full hand around his cock now and began pumping. Don’s hips began to splay wildly, his cock twitching is a futile attempt to escape my grasp. I carried on undeterred, confident of one thing: His mind was about to break. All it would take was one little push.
Or, in this case, two little pumps.
It was just a simple down and up motion. The amount of friction generated by a full hand was too much for poor little Don, being conditioned as he was to cumming from feather light touches. He never really stood a chance. I removed the brush from his cock head just in time, narrowly avoiding the thick ropes of cum that shot desperately out, covering his chest and stomach, some even managing to get onto Chase’s back.
“MMMMMMMFHHH!” Don moaned, the orgasm wracking through his body from head to toe.
“And now, the fun part.” My brush returned to Don’s cock, hovering menacingly a mere centimeter above his twitching member. “Take his gag out, Chase. I want to hear him beg.”
As the thousand tiny bristles made contact, the screams began. But I was just getting started.
