m/m_ticklee
Registered User
- Joined
- Dec 26, 2012
- Messages
- 29
- Points
- 3
THIS STORY IS OBVIOUSLY FICTIONAL; THIS IS NOT HOW A REAL TICKLE TORTURE SESSION IS SUPPOSED TO BE SET UP
Josh froze in fear as the lights came on, his heart sinking immediately.
“What the hell are you doing?” Boomed a voice from the door. Josh was caught, red handed, admiring one of several vintage motorcycles with the flashlight of his phone. He had always seen them from the road when the garage door was open, often while walking to the bar down the street. He had just come from that bar, and even though he had only had a few drinks, something came over him on his walk back to his apartment. He just had some sudden, irresponsible urge to walk up the gravel driveway, check to see if the side door was unlocked, and invite himself in to admire the vintage motorbikes.
While technically a harmless act, this was not his garage, it was well past midnight, and he did not ask permission to enter the property. His situation had flipped from tipsy stupidity to criminal liability just as suddenly as the lights came on,
“I … um … yeah, I”m not supposed to be here,” Josh stammered. There really was no point in denying culpability.
“You’re trespassing is what you’re doing!” the owner angrily responded. He was an older man, fairly unremarkable in appearance. Maybe mid 50’s, early 60’s, still somewhat in shape, wearing pajama pants and a sleep shirt. Josh was in his mid twenties but had an aura of arrested development that matched his actions. He still wore converse, still wore band t-shirts, kept his hair a tad shaggy and his face clean shaven. Perhaps he got away with too many indiscretions in his youth and became irresponsible. Perhaps that had just not caught up with him.
“Okay, yeah you’re right. I”m sorry, I wasn’t trying to rob you or cause any damage, I just knew you had these cool vintage bikes and I stupidly walked in to look at them. I’ll leave you alone and never come back”
“You. Are. Trespassing.” The owner wasn’t budging, blocking the only exit. Josh was definitely fucked.
“Yes, yes, I know and I’m sorry that was wrong of me. You’ll never hear from me again!”
“And you’re gonna hear from the cops!”
Fuck, Josh thought, the pit in his stomach sinking further. He tried to think through the panic on how he could get out of this situation. He had no money to bribe this man with, no connections that could bail him out, and no right to beg for forgiveness, but it was worth a shot anyway. He put his hands up and slowly got on his knees, trying not to antagonize the man.
“Please … sir, I am begging you … “ Josh clasped his hand together. “Please don’t call the cops. I’m sorry. I’ll do anything to make it up to you.”
Something changed on the owner’s face. He got a certain twinkle in his eye, a look like he had just witnessed something that caught him off guard. He stammered a bit through his demeanor change before clearing his throat.
“You want me to not call the cops?”
“Yes, please don’t.”
The owner crossed his arms. “Okay, well if you don’t want me to call the cops then I’m gonna have to punish you myself.”
Josh bit his lip with a look of pathetic fear. ‘Wh-what are you going to do?”
“Well first I need to protect myself. Stay kneeling, and put your hands behind your back.”
Josh immediately did as he was told, The owner locked the door behind him and walked a large circle around Josh towards a work bench on the other wall.
“Don’t move,” the owner ordered, before rummaging through a few bins. Josh was breathing heavily with nervousness as the owner seemed to be taking forever with whatever task he was performing. The owner turned around with a few feet or nylon rope and walked around Josh before approaching from behind. Josh straightened up as he felt the owner bind his wrists together, cementing the feeling of being totally at this stranger’s mercy.
“Stand up,” the owner ordered. Josh rose to his feet. He could feel the owner’s breath on the back of his neck.
“Do you agree to let me punish you in exchange for not calling the cops?”
For a flash of a second, the fear subsided enough for Josh to think clearly. “How are you going to punish me?” he asked.
“Answer the question!”
The fear immediately returned. “Y-yes. Yes you may punish me in exchange for not calling the police.”
“Come with me,” the owner ordered. He unlocked the door and he marched Josh towards his house.
They entered through a screened in back porch. All of the lights in the house were off, but Josh could still make out a few details of his captor’s home. There were no signs of other people living here, seemingly no pets, surprisingly orderly and clean. They walked through what might have been a home office before the owner opened the door to the basement. The moment before he turned on the stairway lights was terrifying, like a descent to Hell awaited Josh.
The basement was unfinished with exposed cinder block, the stairs bare bones. As they turned the corner Josh saw a smattering of unfamiliar furniture. Josh was trying to make sense of the center piece of the room, a heavy red leather half chair / half bench. It had the back and arms of a recliner, but the seat extended outward and ended in … some kind of bracket?
The owner commanded him to sit, his wrists pressed against the back of the bench, the arms of the bench boxing him in slightly, with his legs extended outward and his ankles resting in two semi circles at the center of the bracket. The owner then attached another set of semi circles on top of that bracket, locking Josh’s ankles in place. He figured out that he was now trapped.
Josh’s fear was starting to turn into annoyance. Sure, he was being spared a trespassing charge, but what, is he now a prisoner in some guy’s basement? How long is he going to have to sit here? He watched silently as the owner pulled up a folding chair and an opaque storage container at the foot of the bench, before he suddenly noticed the push pin board against the wall. On it were pinned a few dozen polaroids, and it soon became clear that they were all selfies of the Owner with …
… other people in this exact same bench? A different person in each photo?? Josh could not figure out what the hell was going on! Does the man constantly blackmail people into getting locked into this –
His line of thought was interrupted as he felt the Owner begin to unlace his converse. There was nothing he could do to stop him, other than try and wave his foot around, but mobility was limited as the brackets were cushioned so much that he could hardly move his ankles. Still the Owner managed to slip off his shoes, one after another and then get up and place the shoes behind him in a bin. Josh thought he spotted a bulge in the owner’s pants as he did this.
Great, Josh thought, this guy is a foot pervert and he just stole my shoes. Josh knew exactly what was going to happen next but he still let out an annoyed sigh as the owner began to pull on his socks. The owner bunched his socks towards his heels, took a dramatic step back, and then yanked off both socks at once in one motion. Josh felt the cool basement air on his now bared feet. It felt awkward and violating, a clothed part of him suddenly exposed where he can’t see it. It felt like a line of demarcation; everything was different on the other side of those ankle braces.
The Owner took a second while looking down at Josh’s newly bared foot bottoms. Josh’s annoyance grew as he could tell the Owner was admiring a conquest. Josh glared at the owner, who only smiled and then twisted the knife further:
“Spread your toes for me.”
Josh sighed again, took a beat, and then complied. He flayed out all ten of his toes, knowing he was basically stuck doing whatever this freak commanded of him. He tensed up as the Owner leaned down and then pulled some kind of tight string around each toe. It felt very, very odd having some complete stranger that close to his bare feet, and he felt a sense of relief when he was done. The tight strings were holding his toes back, further immobilizing him, and the Owner just chuckled to himself as he reached into the storage container and pulled out a polaroid camera.
Alright, here we go Josh grumbled to himself as the Owner held the camera up and tauntingly told him to smile. There was a flash and a buzz as the ancient machine churned out a photo. The Owner smiled as he walked toward the pin board, and put up the photo amongst the others.
This was clearly some type of humiliation ritual. The Owner just took a trophy of Josh, his conquest, and placed it amongst the other notches on his belt. Josh then noticed that all the other pictures included victims with varying expressions of worry and distress, the Owner proudly grinning in all of them, each victim also with exposed, trapped bare feet. There were other men his age, some women who looked college aged, a few older women …
The Owner looked back at him. “What was your name?”
Josh fumed before telling him. The Owner took a sharpie and wrote “Josh” on the bottom of their newly made, embarrassing picture. He put his hands on his hips and looked the board up and down, his mind clearly preoccupied.
Josh watched the Owner take his sweet time as he sat back down at the foot of the bench. He felt a mixture of anger, of anxiety, of vulnerability, The Owner’s methods were effective for sure, making him feel so uneasy and uncertain. This man was clearly some kind of sicko deviant, and he was getting pleasure from fucking with Josh.
“How long do I have to stay trapped down here?” Josh finally asked.
“Oh … I think I’ll keep you all night.”
“Great. I suppose I deserve this, don’t I?”
The Owner chuckled. “Oh … you deserve worse. I’ve only just started your punishment.”
Josh rolled his eyes and groaned. The Owner just grinned and bent down to the container. The sounds of him shuffling through its contents were deafening, the only noise in the still, tense room. It made Josh begin to become aware of how anxious he was, a nervous energy column running through his body. He was wound up so tight, and then felt even more tension as the Owner sat up. He wondered what was going on –
Josh jumped. His thought process was interrupted with a quick release of that nervous energy, as something had startled him. He felt, but couldn’t see, something brush against the bottom of his left foot, and it spooked him.
And then he felt it again.
Ffffffwip … ffffffwip…
He closed his eyes and shuffled in his seat. He pulled on his legs, but he could barely move them. He shifted his weight from one side to the other, as hsi face cringed as he looked away. The Owner was, once again, fucking with him.
“Okay … “ Josh meekly chimed in between fidgets. “ … okay!”
Ffffffwip … ffffffwip…
This time the brushing moved to his other foot, a shot of electricity firing up and down and up and down as his immobilized soles tried to twist and move away but were forced to accept the agonizing sensation.
Ffffffwip … ffffffwip…
“So Josh, tell me … what am I doing to you right now?”
God fuck you Josh thought as he turned his head the other way and grunted softly. The owner was, of course, doing two things here, two layers of punishment, two forms of humiliation.
“You’re … fucking with me!” Josh forced out, gently trying to combat the nervous energy shooting from his feet by shuffling around in his restraints. Each stroke was building upon the last, making Josh wonder exactly how long this portion of the punishment was going to last. It was becoming more and more uncomfortable, harder and harder to resist, and he was ready for it to end.
Ffffffwip … ffffffwip…
“No, Josh. Tell me: What am I doing to you?”
Josh swung his head in the other direction, and slowly a closed mouth smile crept across his face. It was the first step, the very beginning of acceptance. Josh hated everything about this. Maybe he did think that deep down, he’d get away with brazenly walking into another man’s garage. Maybe years of minimal pushback had given him a delusion that he had more control over life than he actually did. Maybe he needed this. Maybe his “punishment’ was actually a demonstration of what it felt like to finally have someone else in charge.
Ffffffwip … ffffffwip…
“Josh … tell me what I’m doing to you.”
Josh’s smile began to open into a soft grin. He felt the first pangs of surrender bubble up inside him. It was time to match the physical sensation of having his nervous system hijacked with the mental sensation of having his own free will hijacked. It was time to start giving in.
“... you’re tickling me!” Josh conceded with a wide grin.
“That’s right. Good boy.:”
WHOA. Josh felt a brief cold sensation rip through his body, What was that? It was almost as if he just admitted that he was being defeated, and that felt …
…rewarding?
That particular sensation was gone in a flash, as Josh regained his sense of resistance and tried frowning again.
Ffffffwip … ffffffwip…
“Now tell me, Josh, Why am I … tickling you?”
UGh THIS IS AWFUL! Sticking out the other side of this restraints, the bottoms of Josh’s feet had become these huge, glaring liabilities, They went from being a forgotten part of his person, always wrapped in shoes and pressed against the ground, into a exposed weakness, methodically being violated, driving him insane, wrestling control away from him. It became too much, and Josh did what he often does. He lashed out. He would regret it this time.
“Your tickling me because you're a fucking pervert!” Josh yelled.
The horrible sensation stopped. Josh caught his breath and relaxed his tense muscles. He glared at his tormentor, only for the Owner to wag his finger at him.
“Uh uh uh … BAD boy!” The older man taunted in a way that cut right through him. He bent over to the storage bin and pulled something out. He lifted up his hands, revealing in one the tool of torture he had been administering - A wide goose feather – and in the other hand was what he grabbed from the container:
A second goose feather.
Josh’s face reflexively went from rage to barely contained panic. The Owner slowly descended the two feathers towards Josh’s vulnerable flesh, his exposed weak spots.
“No. No. Okay, okay. Don’t!”
The Owner paused briefly before placing the tips of each feather right below each middle toe. He then brushed the horribly tingly weapons down the lengths of each of Josh’s soles. Josh jumped and closed his eyes, trying to contain a smile as the feathers lightly traced the contours of his trembling foot bottoms, the fibers of twisting and bending at the heel as they changed direction and began traveling back up towards the toes
FFFFFFWIP …. FFFFFFWIP …
Josh hung his head and swayed from side to side while trying to prevent noises from escaping his mouth. The Owner continued to fire shots along Josh’s nerves, from his feet to his brain, whacking away at his fortitude, before launching a verbal assault as well.
‘Now, let’s start at the beginning. Tell me Josh, what am I doing to you?”
FFFFFFWIP …. FFFFFFWIP …
“... tell me.”
There was no point in holding back. The sensation was now doubled, even worse than before, and he barely got enough of a break to reset the build up of tension. The worst part, however, was the slow realization, that he wasn’t just fucking with him. This wasn’t just a portion of the punishment, a brief phase or a flex.
This was the punishment.
“Tell me Josh … “
FFFFFFWIP …. FFFFFFWIP …
“... I can do this all night. Tell me what I’m doing to you.”
Josh looked up, eyes closed, mouth in a wide grin, and he started to giggle.
“Heh … heh heh … you’re tickling me!”
“Good boy.”
Ah!
“Now Josh,” the Owner continued, over a steady stream of unmanageable giggles leaking out of Josh’s mental walls, “tell me why I’m tickling you.”
Josh dropped his head again, heaving uncontrollably as the endless stroking continued to hypnotize him into obedience.
“Heh heh .. heh … you’re … punishing me … heh heh. Heh.”
“Very good, This is how this night is going to go. You see Josh, you have stupidly been captured by a Tickle Master. I have done this countless times before, even more than what you’ve seen up on that board. Some people I punished this way for crossing me, some traveled far specifically so that they could submit to my feathers. And now, I am going to tickle the soles of your feet, alllllll night long.”
“NO! NO hohoho! NO PLEASE STOP!”
“Uh uh uh … “
FFFFFFWIP …. FFFFFFWIP …
“Remember, you deserve this. In fact, let’s have you say that. Tell me you deserve to be punished.”
Josh’s laughter kept building as he succumbed to the growing sense of defeat. He began to face the fact that he was being made small, being broken, being forced to allow another man to reduce him to a giggling mess that says what he’s told to say. And all because of that maddeningly delicate sensation emanating from the helpless bottoms of each foot.
… and yet, amongst the torture, there was an oddly pleasant feeling, Maybe it was the endorphins from all of the ticklish giggling. Maybe it was something deeper, an unexpected sense of relief that he was no longer responsible. He was giving up control. It wasn’t on him anymore to manage how he acted or what he was doing. He was profoundly freed to just exist in the moment, even if that moment was him begging to be forgiven and for the Owner to stop torturing his poor ticklish feet. In a way it validated his desire to not accept responsibility, via the roundabout way of forfeiting all freedom.
“Say it Josh, Say you deserve this.”
FFFFFFWIP …. FFFFFFWIP …
---
The Owner cradled Josh’s head as he held the water bottle up to his mouth. Josh drank quickly, water spilling down his chin, his hands still bound behind his back. The bottle was roughly at the Owner’s belt line.
“Thank you,” Josh gasped while looking up at him. The Owner returned to his seat at Josh’s feet.
“You are welcome Josh. Now, repeat it again.”
Josh cleared his throat and sat upright, excitement building.
“My name is Josh. I was a bad, bad boy. I now deserve to be punished … “ he trailed off as he glanced from side to side before excitedly looking at the Owner. The Owner pressed his lips together and leaned his head forward.
“ … I deserve to be punished by having the soles of my feet tickled!”
“Very good boy.”
Josh bit his tongue and grinned warmly. The Owner then began scribbling all ten of his fingers all over the bottoms of Josh’s trapped feet. Josh launched forward at the waist and howled with laughter before collapsing into the back of the chair.
The tickling was still horrible. It had been horrible for the last four hours. But it was also euphoric. Through the agonizing but painless torture he had released his ego and rocked back and forth in a laughing trance of tickle bliss. He hadn’t noticed the time go by at all, and was actually enjoying every call and response that was commanded of him.
“Who’s been naughty?”
“I HAVE! I HAVE!”
“Beg for more!”
“PLE-HE-HEASE! PLEASE PUNISH ME! PLEASE TICKLE MY FEET HAHAHA!”
The Owner was loving it too. As beautiful and hypnotic as feather stroking is, there is such a primal connection when he switches to fingers. The actual, physical touch of the trembling sole, skin to skin, an immediate response as he feels them writhe in ticklish agony.
But he was loving it on the psychological level too. He had broken Josh far more quickly than many of his other victims. To be fair, some of them were never going to submit, like the ex wife who agreed to an hour on the bench in exchange for the dog. But Josh … he was clearly primed for this, The perfect candidate to become a tickle slave. What a stroke of luck!
---
He always wanted to get the second photo before dawn, as the morning light would come through the basement window in a way that made pictures dark. He needed enough light to be able to read the taunting message he had written with pen on Josh’s soles. He also wanted to be able to see Josh’s exhausted face in the background.
“This one is just for me,” he said, filing it away in a photo album. He unlocked the ankle brackets and commanded Josh to lean forward so he could untie his wrists.
“You are free to go,” he warmly told his newfound Tickle Toy.
“Yes sir,” Josh squeaked and then slowly stood, He then glanced at the Owner with a look on his face.
“... one last thing tho … “ Josh said, before he put his hands up and slowly got on his knees.
“Please … sir, I am begging you … “ Josh clasped his hand together, his face right where the water bottle was.
Something changed on the Owner’s face. He got a certain twinkle in his eye, a look like he had just witnessed something that caught him off guard.
“... good boy.”
Josh froze in fear as the lights came on, his heart sinking immediately.
“What the hell are you doing?” Boomed a voice from the door. Josh was caught, red handed, admiring one of several vintage motorcycles with the flashlight of his phone. He had always seen them from the road when the garage door was open, often while walking to the bar down the street. He had just come from that bar, and even though he had only had a few drinks, something came over him on his walk back to his apartment. He just had some sudden, irresponsible urge to walk up the gravel driveway, check to see if the side door was unlocked, and invite himself in to admire the vintage motorbikes.
While technically a harmless act, this was not his garage, it was well past midnight, and he did not ask permission to enter the property. His situation had flipped from tipsy stupidity to criminal liability just as suddenly as the lights came on,
“I … um … yeah, I”m not supposed to be here,” Josh stammered. There really was no point in denying culpability.
“You’re trespassing is what you’re doing!” the owner angrily responded. He was an older man, fairly unremarkable in appearance. Maybe mid 50’s, early 60’s, still somewhat in shape, wearing pajama pants and a sleep shirt. Josh was in his mid twenties but had an aura of arrested development that matched his actions. He still wore converse, still wore band t-shirts, kept his hair a tad shaggy and his face clean shaven. Perhaps he got away with too many indiscretions in his youth and became irresponsible. Perhaps that had just not caught up with him.
“Okay, yeah you’re right. I”m sorry, I wasn’t trying to rob you or cause any damage, I just knew you had these cool vintage bikes and I stupidly walked in to look at them. I’ll leave you alone and never come back”
“You. Are. Trespassing.” The owner wasn’t budging, blocking the only exit. Josh was definitely fucked.
“Yes, yes, I know and I’m sorry that was wrong of me. You’ll never hear from me again!”
“And you’re gonna hear from the cops!”
Fuck, Josh thought, the pit in his stomach sinking further. He tried to think through the panic on how he could get out of this situation. He had no money to bribe this man with, no connections that could bail him out, and no right to beg for forgiveness, but it was worth a shot anyway. He put his hands up and slowly got on his knees, trying not to antagonize the man.
“Please … sir, I am begging you … “ Josh clasped his hand together. “Please don’t call the cops. I’m sorry. I’ll do anything to make it up to you.”
Something changed on the owner’s face. He got a certain twinkle in his eye, a look like he had just witnessed something that caught him off guard. He stammered a bit through his demeanor change before clearing his throat.
“You want me to not call the cops?”
“Yes, please don’t.”
The owner crossed his arms. “Okay, well if you don’t want me to call the cops then I’m gonna have to punish you myself.”
Josh bit his lip with a look of pathetic fear. ‘Wh-what are you going to do?”
“Well first I need to protect myself. Stay kneeling, and put your hands behind your back.”
Josh immediately did as he was told, The owner locked the door behind him and walked a large circle around Josh towards a work bench on the other wall.
“Don’t move,” the owner ordered, before rummaging through a few bins. Josh was breathing heavily with nervousness as the owner seemed to be taking forever with whatever task he was performing. The owner turned around with a few feet or nylon rope and walked around Josh before approaching from behind. Josh straightened up as he felt the owner bind his wrists together, cementing the feeling of being totally at this stranger’s mercy.
“Stand up,” the owner ordered. Josh rose to his feet. He could feel the owner’s breath on the back of his neck.
“Do you agree to let me punish you in exchange for not calling the cops?”
For a flash of a second, the fear subsided enough for Josh to think clearly. “How are you going to punish me?” he asked.
“Answer the question!”
The fear immediately returned. “Y-yes. Yes you may punish me in exchange for not calling the police.”
“Come with me,” the owner ordered. He unlocked the door and he marched Josh towards his house.
They entered through a screened in back porch. All of the lights in the house were off, but Josh could still make out a few details of his captor’s home. There were no signs of other people living here, seemingly no pets, surprisingly orderly and clean. They walked through what might have been a home office before the owner opened the door to the basement. The moment before he turned on the stairway lights was terrifying, like a descent to Hell awaited Josh.
The basement was unfinished with exposed cinder block, the stairs bare bones. As they turned the corner Josh saw a smattering of unfamiliar furniture. Josh was trying to make sense of the center piece of the room, a heavy red leather half chair / half bench. It had the back and arms of a recliner, but the seat extended outward and ended in … some kind of bracket?
The owner commanded him to sit, his wrists pressed against the back of the bench, the arms of the bench boxing him in slightly, with his legs extended outward and his ankles resting in two semi circles at the center of the bracket. The owner then attached another set of semi circles on top of that bracket, locking Josh’s ankles in place. He figured out that he was now trapped.
Josh’s fear was starting to turn into annoyance. Sure, he was being spared a trespassing charge, but what, is he now a prisoner in some guy’s basement? How long is he going to have to sit here? He watched silently as the owner pulled up a folding chair and an opaque storage container at the foot of the bench, before he suddenly noticed the push pin board against the wall. On it were pinned a few dozen polaroids, and it soon became clear that they were all selfies of the Owner with …
… other people in this exact same bench? A different person in each photo?? Josh could not figure out what the hell was going on! Does the man constantly blackmail people into getting locked into this –
His line of thought was interrupted as he felt the Owner begin to unlace his converse. There was nothing he could do to stop him, other than try and wave his foot around, but mobility was limited as the brackets were cushioned so much that he could hardly move his ankles. Still the Owner managed to slip off his shoes, one after another and then get up and place the shoes behind him in a bin. Josh thought he spotted a bulge in the owner’s pants as he did this.
Great, Josh thought, this guy is a foot pervert and he just stole my shoes. Josh knew exactly what was going to happen next but he still let out an annoyed sigh as the owner began to pull on his socks. The owner bunched his socks towards his heels, took a dramatic step back, and then yanked off both socks at once in one motion. Josh felt the cool basement air on his now bared feet. It felt awkward and violating, a clothed part of him suddenly exposed where he can’t see it. It felt like a line of demarcation; everything was different on the other side of those ankle braces.
The Owner took a second while looking down at Josh’s newly bared foot bottoms. Josh’s annoyance grew as he could tell the Owner was admiring a conquest. Josh glared at the owner, who only smiled and then twisted the knife further:
“Spread your toes for me.”
Josh sighed again, took a beat, and then complied. He flayed out all ten of his toes, knowing he was basically stuck doing whatever this freak commanded of him. He tensed up as the Owner leaned down and then pulled some kind of tight string around each toe. It felt very, very odd having some complete stranger that close to his bare feet, and he felt a sense of relief when he was done. The tight strings were holding his toes back, further immobilizing him, and the Owner just chuckled to himself as he reached into the storage container and pulled out a polaroid camera.
Alright, here we go Josh grumbled to himself as the Owner held the camera up and tauntingly told him to smile. There was a flash and a buzz as the ancient machine churned out a photo. The Owner smiled as he walked toward the pin board, and put up the photo amongst the others.
This was clearly some type of humiliation ritual. The Owner just took a trophy of Josh, his conquest, and placed it amongst the other notches on his belt. Josh then noticed that all the other pictures included victims with varying expressions of worry and distress, the Owner proudly grinning in all of them, each victim also with exposed, trapped bare feet. There were other men his age, some women who looked college aged, a few older women …
The Owner looked back at him. “What was your name?”
Josh fumed before telling him. The Owner took a sharpie and wrote “Josh” on the bottom of their newly made, embarrassing picture. He put his hands on his hips and looked the board up and down, his mind clearly preoccupied.
Josh watched the Owner take his sweet time as he sat back down at the foot of the bench. He felt a mixture of anger, of anxiety, of vulnerability, The Owner’s methods were effective for sure, making him feel so uneasy and uncertain. This man was clearly some kind of sicko deviant, and he was getting pleasure from fucking with Josh.
“How long do I have to stay trapped down here?” Josh finally asked.
“Oh … I think I’ll keep you all night.”
“Great. I suppose I deserve this, don’t I?”
The Owner chuckled. “Oh … you deserve worse. I’ve only just started your punishment.”
Josh rolled his eyes and groaned. The Owner just grinned and bent down to the container. The sounds of him shuffling through its contents were deafening, the only noise in the still, tense room. It made Josh begin to become aware of how anxious he was, a nervous energy column running through his body. He was wound up so tight, and then felt even more tension as the Owner sat up. He wondered what was going on –
Josh jumped. His thought process was interrupted with a quick release of that nervous energy, as something had startled him. He felt, but couldn’t see, something brush against the bottom of his left foot, and it spooked him.
And then he felt it again.
Ffffffwip … ffffffwip…
He closed his eyes and shuffled in his seat. He pulled on his legs, but he could barely move them. He shifted his weight from one side to the other, as hsi face cringed as he looked away. The Owner was, once again, fucking with him.
“Okay … “ Josh meekly chimed in between fidgets. “ … okay!”
Ffffffwip … ffffffwip…
This time the brushing moved to his other foot, a shot of electricity firing up and down and up and down as his immobilized soles tried to twist and move away but were forced to accept the agonizing sensation.
Ffffffwip … ffffffwip…
“So Josh, tell me … what am I doing to you right now?”
God fuck you Josh thought as he turned his head the other way and grunted softly. The owner was, of course, doing two things here, two layers of punishment, two forms of humiliation.
“You’re … fucking with me!” Josh forced out, gently trying to combat the nervous energy shooting from his feet by shuffling around in his restraints. Each stroke was building upon the last, making Josh wonder exactly how long this portion of the punishment was going to last. It was becoming more and more uncomfortable, harder and harder to resist, and he was ready for it to end.
Ffffffwip … ffffffwip…
“No, Josh. Tell me: What am I doing to you?”
Josh swung his head in the other direction, and slowly a closed mouth smile crept across his face. It was the first step, the very beginning of acceptance. Josh hated everything about this. Maybe he did think that deep down, he’d get away with brazenly walking into another man’s garage. Maybe years of minimal pushback had given him a delusion that he had more control over life than he actually did. Maybe he needed this. Maybe his “punishment’ was actually a demonstration of what it felt like to finally have someone else in charge.
Ffffffwip … ffffffwip…
“Josh … tell me what I’m doing to you.”
Josh’s smile began to open into a soft grin. He felt the first pangs of surrender bubble up inside him. It was time to match the physical sensation of having his nervous system hijacked with the mental sensation of having his own free will hijacked. It was time to start giving in.
“... you’re tickling me!” Josh conceded with a wide grin.
“That’s right. Good boy.:”
WHOA. Josh felt a brief cold sensation rip through his body, What was that? It was almost as if he just admitted that he was being defeated, and that felt …
…rewarding?
That particular sensation was gone in a flash, as Josh regained his sense of resistance and tried frowning again.
Ffffffwip … ffffffwip…
“Now tell me, Josh, Why am I … tickling you?”
UGh THIS IS AWFUL! Sticking out the other side of this restraints, the bottoms of Josh’s feet had become these huge, glaring liabilities, They went from being a forgotten part of his person, always wrapped in shoes and pressed against the ground, into a exposed weakness, methodically being violated, driving him insane, wrestling control away from him. It became too much, and Josh did what he often does. He lashed out. He would regret it this time.
“Your tickling me because you're a fucking pervert!” Josh yelled.
The horrible sensation stopped. Josh caught his breath and relaxed his tense muscles. He glared at his tormentor, only for the Owner to wag his finger at him.
“Uh uh uh … BAD boy!” The older man taunted in a way that cut right through him. He bent over to the storage bin and pulled something out. He lifted up his hands, revealing in one the tool of torture he had been administering - A wide goose feather – and in the other hand was what he grabbed from the container:
A second goose feather.
Josh’s face reflexively went from rage to barely contained panic. The Owner slowly descended the two feathers towards Josh’s vulnerable flesh, his exposed weak spots.
“No. No. Okay, okay. Don’t!”
The Owner paused briefly before placing the tips of each feather right below each middle toe. He then brushed the horribly tingly weapons down the lengths of each of Josh’s soles. Josh jumped and closed his eyes, trying to contain a smile as the feathers lightly traced the contours of his trembling foot bottoms, the fibers of twisting and bending at the heel as they changed direction and began traveling back up towards the toes
FFFFFFWIP …. FFFFFFWIP …
Josh hung his head and swayed from side to side while trying to prevent noises from escaping his mouth. The Owner continued to fire shots along Josh’s nerves, from his feet to his brain, whacking away at his fortitude, before launching a verbal assault as well.
‘Now, let’s start at the beginning. Tell me Josh, what am I doing to you?”
FFFFFFWIP …. FFFFFFWIP …
“... tell me.”
There was no point in holding back. The sensation was now doubled, even worse than before, and he barely got enough of a break to reset the build up of tension. The worst part, however, was the slow realization, that he wasn’t just fucking with him. This wasn’t just a portion of the punishment, a brief phase or a flex.
This was the punishment.
“Tell me Josh … “
FFFFFFWIP …. FFFFFFWIP …
“... I can do this all night. Tell me what I’m doing to you.”
Josh looked up, eyes closed, mouth in a wide grin, and he started to giggle.
“Heh … heh heh … you’re tickling me!”
“Good boy.”
Ah!
“Now Josh,” the Owner continued, over a steady stream of unmanageable giggles leaking out of Josh’s mental walls, “tell me why I’m tickling you.”
Josh dropped his head again, heaving uncontrollably as the endless stroking continued to hypnotize him into obedience.
“Heh heh .. heh … you’re … punishing me … heh heh. Heh.”
“Very good, This is how this night is going to go. You see Josh, you have stupidly been captured by a Tickle Master. I have done this countless times before, even more than what you’ve seen up on that board. Some people I punished this way for crossing me, some traveled far specifically so that they could submit to my feathers. And now, I am going to tickle the soles of your feet, alllllll night long.”
“NO! NO hohoho! NO PLEASE STOP!”
“Uh uh uh … “
FFFFFFWIP …. FFFFFFWIP …
“Remember, you deserve this. In fact, let’s have you say that. Tell me you deserve to be punished.”
Josh’s laughter kept building as he succumbed to the growing sense of defeat. He began to face the fact that he was being made small, being broken, being forced to allow another man to reduce him to a giggling mess that says what he’s told to say. And all because of that maddeningly delicate sensation emanating from the helpless bottoms of each foot.
… and yet, amongst the torture, there was an oddly pleasant feeling, Maybe it was the endorphins from all of the ticklish giggling. Maybe it was something deeper, an unexpected sense of relief that he was no longer responsible. He was giving up control. It wasn’t on him anymore to manage how he acted or what he was doing. He was profoundly freed to just exist in the moment, even if that moment was him begging to be forgiven and for the Owner to stop torturing his poor ticklish feet. In a way it validated his desire to not accept responsibility, via the roundabout way of forfeiting all freedom.
“Say it Josh, Say you deserve this.”
FFFFFFWIP …. FFFFFFWIP …
---
The Owner cradled Josh’s head as he held the water bottle up to his mouth. Josh drank quickly, water spilling down his chin, his hands still bound behind his back. The bottle was roughly at the Owner’s belt line.
“Thank you,” Josh gasped while looking up at him. The Owner returned to his seat at Josh’s feet.
“You are welcome Josh. Now, repeat it again.”
Josh cleared his throat and sat upright, excitement building.
“My name is Josh. I was a bad, bad boy. I now deserve to be punished … “ he trailed off as he glanced from side to side before excitedly looking at the Owner. The Owner pressed his lips together and leaned his head forward.
“ … I deserve to be punished by having the soles of my feet tickled!”
“Very good boy.”
Josh bit his tongue and grinned warmly. The Owner then began scribbling all ten of his fingers all over the bottoms of Josh’s trapped feet. Josh launched forward at the waist and howled with laughter before collapsing into the back of the chair.
The tickling was still horrible. It had been horrible for the last four hours. But it was also euphoric. Through the agonizing but painless torture he had released his ego and rocked back and forth in a laughing trance of tickle bliss. He hadn’t noticed the time go by at all, and was actually enjoying every call and response that was commanded of him.
“Who’s been naughty?”
“I HAVE! I HAVE!”
“Beg for more!”
“PLE-HE-HEASE! PLEASE PUNISH ME! PLEASE TICKLE MY FEET HAHAHA!”
The Owner was loving it too. As beautiful and hypnotic as feather stroking is, there is such a primal connection when he switches to fingers. The actual, physical touch of the trembling sole, skin to skin, an immediate response as he feels them writhe in ticklish agony.
But he was loving it on the psychological level too. He had broken Josh far more quickly than many of his other victims. To be fair, some of them were never going to submit, like the ex wife who agreed to an hour on the bench in exchange for the dog. But Josh … he was clearly primed for this, The perfect candidate to become a tickle slave. What a stroke of luck!
---
He always wanted to get the second photo before dawn, as the morning light would come through the basement window in a way that made pictures dark. He needed enough light to be able to read the taunting message he had written with pen on Josh’s soles. He also wanted to be able to see Josh’s exhausted face in the background.
“This one is just for me,” he said, filing it away in a photo album. He unlocked the ankle brackets and commanded Josh to lean forward so he could untie his wrists.
“You are free to go,” he warmly told his newfound Tickle Toy.
“Yes sir,” Josh squeaked and then slowly stood, He then glanced at the Owner with a look on his face.
“... one last thing tho … “ Josh said, before he put his hands up and slowly got on his knees.
“Please … sir, I am begging you … “ Josh clasped his hand together, his face right where the water bottle was.
Something changed on the Owner’s face. He got a certain twinkle in his eye, a look like he had just witnessed something that caught him off guard.
“... good boy.”
