I would consider myself reasonably experienced in the tickling scene. I've sessioned with roughly a dozen different guys, most just curious newbies and some with a bit more history with BDSM. On the whole, I'd say my sessions are typically moderate in intensity; more than enough to bring out the laughter and struggling sure, but not quite what I'd describe as torture. I've been put through my paces a number of times, but never to the point that I've felt utterly helpless and at the mercy of my tickler. Or rather, I hadn't until last weekend.
It all started when he messaged me on Grindr. He had face pics and a bio, which is always a good sign on that damned app, and we hit it off quickly. Within an hour or so he was already suggesting we meet for a session. I was hesitant, but he seemed friendly and confident, so I agreed. He drove into town the next day and set up shop at the local Premier Inn. I headed over, sheepish as ever, and met him outside. He was as nice in person as he been on the app, and I quickly relaxed as we made our way up to the room. The bed was already stripped down (as I was about to be), with leather cuffs set up in each corner. An array of devious tools were laid out on the desk, but my eyes couldn't look at anything but the fearsome looking blue grooming glove in the centre. We continued to talk for a while, but soon enough the time came for the session to begin.
I anxiously undressed down to just my boxers and took my place on the bed. He cuffed me tightly to the bed (exactly how I like it), pulling the restraints as taut as possible without hurting me. My bondage hood came next, cutting off my vision and sealing me in my own little world. There I lay for a moment, tension mounting, completely unable to move as he waited and let my nerves soar. The first spot to receive his attention were my armpits. I had run my mouth a little about their ticklishness over Grindr, and he made sure not to forget it. His touch was light but clearly adept. All too soon I was giggling and trying hopelessly to wrench my arms free. Thankfully though, armpits are my favourite spot, so deep down I greatly enjoyed the underarm tickles. Which is lucky, as he lingered in them for quite some time. I did flush with embarrassment when he recited my own shameless grindr flirting back at me, making fun of me for telling him how much I like "devious nails in my armpits". Embarrassed as I was, it was also true, as evident from my rapidly growing erection. I continued to wriggle around as he teased my upper body, from my chest to my ribs.
Things escalated however as his fingers touched down on my feet. He came at them slowly at first, casually tickling my soles. My wide-spread legs were hard to move, so I could do little as he swept along my arches and needled in between my toes. My laughter grew deeper and a bit more frantic, but things were still manageable. A naughty hand found its way to my vulnerable balls, another spot I foolishly bragged about over message. I yelped and bucked a bit, though admittedly I do love having my genitals teased in a session. He switched between these three hot spots for a while; armpits to feet, feet to balls, balls to feet, armpits and balls at the same time. By the time I got a short break, I was a smidge exhausted. My predicament did not get easier after the break, in fact quite the opposite. My legs were uncuffed, but not to be freed. Instead they were pushed together, and a roll of tape ensnared my ankles. He continued taping up my legs until I was absolutely incapable of separating them. The restraining didn't stop there however, as he lashed my big toes together with a shoe lace. I'd never had my toes tied before, though I could quickly see why it was considered effective. His final addition before the torment resumed was a red ball gag buckled right into my mouth.
He resumed his attack on my feet with twice the passion as before, except now I was completely unable to dodge away or resist him. I laughed hard as he raked away at my tender soles, the tape creaking but holding firm. I flailed my upper body around as much as possible, frenetic under his touch. Despite this, I was just barely holding some sort of composure. That was until he stopped and stepped away from the bed. I heard him shuffling around with something before returning to the bed. What came next was easily 5 times worse than anything previous. He descended on my feet with the grooming glove with ruthless energy. Within an instant I was thrashing, kicking, fighting. Anything I could do to get away from that evil tool. He merely laughed at my feeble resistance, sat on my bound legs and kept torturing. I twisted around in the tape so hard that my muscles began to seize up. I'm not particularly verbal during my sessions; sometimes if I'm caught up in the mood I'll slip a "noooo" or "please" into my gagged laughter. This time it was far from optional. Within minutes I was pleading with every breath I had. He pretended not to hear me, doubling down on my poor feet.
The session played on like this for a while. At one point he un-taped my legs, pulling off my boxers before cuffing my ankles back to the corners of the bed. I could feel my cock bouncing back and forth as I writhed around. He would occasionally give me the briefest hope of respite by setting the glove aside and tickling my balls or armpits again, but before long he was back to scrubbing. I was becoming increasingly wild and desperate, begging for him to have mercy and leave my feet alone. My words only seemed to spur him on if anything. My sessions normally feel somewhat playful; yes I'm tied up naked, but there's an element of mutual fun to it. This session did not feel playful. For once, I truly felt like a submissive, at the whims and mercy of a master. Eventually he demanded that I tell him that he was the greatest tickler I'd ever met. I said it with no hesitation, insisting over and over that it was true as he questioned my sincerity. My gagged lips urged him to believe me. Finally, he did.
He pressed a large vibrator against my balls and took my cock in his hand. Despite the torture and humiliation (or because of it), I was rock hard. He jerked me off for a minute, my moans growing louder the closer I got to the edge. Just as the orgasm began to build, he stopped and leapt back on my foot with the glove. He asked me if I thought I deserved a reward, and once again I begged for him to take it easy on me. He soon relented, stroking my dick with one hand and tickling my armpit with the other. I moaned and giggled in equal measure, breath getting more shallow. My mind flooded with pleasure as I came, exploding all over myself (hopefully the bed avoided most of the mess). He draped a towel over me and started to uncuff me. I took off the hood and gag, and wiped myself down. Very soon I was dressed once again, scurrying out of the hotel and back home. I do wonder how much of our session the neighbouring hotel rooms could make out.
It all started when he messaged me on Grindr. He had face pics and a bio, which is always a good sign on that damned app, and we hit it off quickly. Within an hour or so he was already suggesting we meet for a session. I was hesitant, but he seemed friendly and confident, so I agreed. He drove into town the next day and set up shop at the local Premier Inn. I headed over, sheepish as ever, and met him outside. He was as nice in person as he been on the app, and I quickly relaxed as we made our way up to the room. The bed was already stripped down (as I was about to be), with leather cuffs set up in each corner. An array of devious tools were laid out on the desk, but my eyes couldn't look at anything but the fearsome looking blue grooming glove in the centre. We continued to talk for a while, but soon enough the time came for the session to begin.
I anxiously undressed down to just my boxers and took my place on the bed. He cuffed me tightly to the bed (exactly how I like it), pulling the restraints as taut as possible without hurting me. My bondage hood came next, cutting off my vision and sealing me in my own little world. There I lay for a moment, tension mounting, completely unable to move as he waited and let my nerves soar. The first spot to receive his attention were my armpits. I had run my mouth a little about their ticklishness over Grindr, and he made sure not to forget it. His touch was light but clearly adept. All too soon I was giggling and trying hopelessly to wrench my arms free. Thankfully though, armpits are my favourite spot, so deep down I greatly enjoyed the underarm tickles. Which is lucky, as he lingered in them for quite some time. I did flush with embarrassment when he recited my own shameless grindr flirting back at me, making fun of me for telling him how much I like "devious nails in my armpits". Embarrassed as I was, it was also true, as evident from my rapidly growing erection. I continued to wriggle around as he teased my upper body, from my chest to my ribs.
Things escalated however as his fingers touched down on my feet. He came at them slowly at first, casually tickling my soles. My wide-spread legs were hard to move, so I could do little as he swept along my arches and needled in between my toes. My laughter grew deeper and a bit more frantic, but things were still manageable. A naughty hand found its way to my vulnerable balls, another spot I foolishly bragged about over message. I yelped and bucked a bit, though admittedly I do love having my genitals teased in a session. He switched between these three hot spots for a while; armpits to feet, feet to balls, balls to feet, armpits and balls at the same time. By the time I got a short break, I was a smidge exhausted. My predicament did not get easier after the break, in fact quite the opposite. My legs were uncuffed, but not to be freed. Instead they were pushed together, and a roll of tape ensnared my ankles. He continued taping up my legs until I was absolutely incapable of separating them. The restraining didn't stop there however, as he lashed my big toes together with a shoe lace. I'd never had my toes tied before, though I could quickly see why it was considered effective. His final addition before the torment resumed was a red ball gag buckled right into my mouth.
He resumed his attack on my feet with twice the passion as before, except now I was completely unable to dodge away or resist him. I laughed hard as he raked away at my tender soles, the tape creaking but holding firm. I flailed my upper body around as much as possible, frenetic under his touch. Despite this, I was just barely holding some sort of composure. That was until he stopped and stepped away from the bed. I heard him shuffling around with something before returning to the bed. What came next was easily 5 times worse than anything previous. He descended on my feet with the grooming glove with ruthless energy. Within an instant I was thrashing, kicking, fighting. Anything I could do to get away from that evil tool. He merely laughed at my feeble resistance, sat on my bound legs and kept torturing. I twisted around in the tape so hard that my muscles began to seize up. I'm not particularly verbal during my sessions; sometimes if I'm caught up in the mood I'll slip a "noooo" or "please" into my gagged laughter. This time it was far from optional. Within minutes I was pleading with every breath I had. He pretended not to hear me, doubling down on my poor feet.
The session played on like this for a while. At one point he un-taped my legs, pulling off my boxers before cuffing my ankles back to the corners of the bed. I could feel my cock bouncing back and forth as I writhed around. He would occasionally give me the briefest hope of respite by setting the glove aside and tickling my balls or armpits again, but before long he was back to scrubbing. I was becoming increasingly wild and desperate, begging for him to have mercy and leave my feet alone. My words only seemed to spur him on if anything. My sessions normally feel somewhat playful; yes I'm tied up naked, but there's an element of mutual fun to it. This session did not feel playful. For once, I truly felt like a submissive, at the whims and mercy of a master. Eventually he demanded that I tell him that he was the greatest tickler I'd ever met. I said it with no hesitation, insisting over and over that it was true as he questioned my sincerity. My gagged lips urged him to believe me. Finally, he did.
He pressed a large vibrator against my balls and took my cock in his hand. Despite the torture and humiliation (or because of it), I was rock hard. He jerked me off for a minute, my moans growing louder the closer I got to the edge. Just as the orgasm began to build, he stopped and leapt back on my foot with the glove. He asked me if I thought I deserved a reward, and once again I begged for him to take it easy on me. He soon relented, stroking my dick with one hand and tickling my armpit with the other. I moaned and giggled in equal measure, breath getting more shallow. My mind flooded with pleasure as I came, exploding all over myself (hopefully the bed avoided most of the mess). He draped a towel over me and started to uncuff me. I took off the hood and gag, and wiped myself down. Very soon I was dressed once again, scurrying out of the hotel and back home. I do wonder how much of our session the neighbouring hotel rooms could make out.
