desertkruzr
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Based on the reactions of some people here to my satanic ritual abuse thread, I am somewhat hesitant to post this.
To those like lamb and Redmage that want to give absolutely no credibility to what my experiences were, I really don't know what to say. As bizarre as they may sound, these experiences were real. They actually happened to someone. So perhaps a bit of compassion and/or empathy is in order before such harsh responses are submitted.
I know a detective in the NYPD, and he told me that he's been called to many cases where it was evident that some sort of ritual abuse had taken place before a victim had been murdered, or brutalized, or whatever. He also said that, for whatever reason, that most of these cases received little or no media attention. If there is one thing that I have learned as a certainty, it's that this world we live in is a very strange place, and much goes on beneath the surface that the public is kept largely unaware of.
The following account contains another true tickling story from my life, so perhaps the post belongs in the “True Tickling Stories” category here, I don't know. In the narration that follows, I purposefully went into the kinds of details that I figure people here will appreciate due to the nature of the site, and some of the other posts that I've read here. Plus it shows another side of me, which is a true, genuine love of tickling.
As I said before, ironically, even though the satanic ritual abuse thing was initially a very terrifying experience, one of the side-effects of it was that it turned me into a true blue ticklephile at a very young age. I had no conscious memories of the tickle abuse that I had been through until a few years ago, but my earliest sexual fantasies were always about being tickled senseless by one girl or another (the relatives that did the actual tickling in the ritual abuse were female). The reason for this, as you may be aware, and as Euphoricy touched on in her response on my satanic abuse thread, is that when an experience gets way too intense to handle, our consciousness may disassociate from it, or it may trick itself into transforming the experience into something it perceives as extreme pleasure. These are some of the ways that the mind uses to try and cope with a really bad situation, rather than just completely losing it.
Anyway, as a result of all of this, I seem to draw dominant women who are very into tickling into my life, probably because I'm so focused on it. I was in and out of a bunch of relationships earlier on, and the 3 most serious ones were all with women who reveled in tickling me until I couldn't stand it. Then I met my wife who I have been with for many years now, and she is an absolute master tickler. But she is also very kind hearted and understanding.
One of these relationships that I was in earlier was with a girl named Valerie. I was 18 at the time. She was particularly sadistic. I actually ended up needing to break off the relationship, and get away from her because all she wanted to do when we had sex was tie me up, and tickle-abuse me.
The idea of things like safe words had no meaning to this girl. And she was the master of the slow, agonizing tickle. She would have me tied face up, spread eagle on her bed, and she would sit on my midsection facing me. She would then start a devilishly slow spider tickle on my wrists, and would sometimes take a full 15 minutes to get all the way down my arms. Then she would do the same thing on my chest, spending at least 15 minutes there, just slowly wiggling and dragging her fingernails back and forth, ever so lightly.
At this point, I would be literally begging her to at least change it up and go faster, but she never would. She would just sit there smirking at me saying things like "This is why they call it tickle torture!" After over an hour of this, and working her way down to my way too ticklish stomach, which she knew was my worst weak spot, she would then speed up her tickling unmercifully. All of that intense, slow buildup from before had made someone already very ticklish, so insanely ticklish that it bordered on real pain when she sped up the tickling on my stomach like that. I remember not even really laughing, but more moaning in agony, and sincerely pleading with her to please stop.
It nevertheless got me intensely turned on, and since she could "see" that, and since when she finally got me off, I came like a rocket exploding, it was like she never quite believed that I didn't love every second of what she was doing.
The whole thing was actually starting to really freak me out. This was before the memories of what had happened when I was a very small child began to consciously surface. All I knew was that even though a part of me absolutely loved what she was doing, another part of me truly didn't like it, at least not to that extent. It was starting to really mess with my head, so I bailed on the relationship.
For what it's worth, I later found out that her mom was seriously into some sort of witchcraft, and was teaching whatever she was into to her daughter Valerie. I don't know how much bearing any of that had on why she was so into sadistic tickling, but it seemed to me like there was some sort of a connection.
To those like lamb and Redmage that want to give absolutely no credibility to what my experiences were, I really don't know what to say. As bizarre as they may sound, these experiences were real. They actually happened to someone. So perhaps a bit of compassion and/or empathy is in order before such harsh responses are submitted.
I know a detective in the NYPD, and he told me that he's been called to many cases where it was evident that some sort of ritual abuse had taken place before a victim had been murdered, or brutalized, or whatever. He also said that, for whatever reason, that most of these cases received little or no media attention. If there is one thing that I have learned as a certainty, it's that this world we live in is a very strange place, and much goes on beneath the surface that the public is kept largely unaware of.
The following account contains another true tickling story from my life, so perhaps the post belongs in the “True Tickling Stories” category here, I don't know. In the narration that follows, I purposefully went into the kinds of details that I figure people here will appreciate due to the nature of the site, and some of the other posts that I've read here. Plus it shows another side of me, which is a true, genuine love of tickling.
As I said before, ironically, even though the satanic ritual abuse thing was initially a very terrifying experience, one of the side-effects of it was that it turned me into a true blue ticklephile at a very young age. I had no conscious memories of the tickle abuse that I had been through until a few years ago, but my earliest sexual fantasies were always about being tickled senseless by one girl or another (the relatives that did the actual tickling in the ritual abuse were female). The reason for this, as you may be aware, and as Euphoricy touched on in her response on my satanic abuse thread, is that when an experience gets way too intense to handle, our consciousness may disassociate from it, or it may trick itself into transforming the experience into something it perceives as extreme pleasure. These are some of the ways that the mind uses to try and cope with a really bad situation, rather than just completely losing it.
Anyway, as a result of all of this, I seem to draw dominant women who are very into tickling into my life, probably because I'm so focused on it. I was in and out of a bunch of relationships earlier on, and the 3 most serious ones were all with women who reveled in tickling me until I couldn't stand it. Then I met my wife who I have been with for many years now, and she is an absolute master tickler. But she is also very kind hearted and understanding.
One of these relationships that I was in earlier was with a girl named Valerie. I was 18 at the time. She was particularly sadistic. I actually ended up needing to break off the relationship, and get away from her because all she wanted to do when we had sex was tie me up, and tickle-abuse me.
The idea of things like safe words had no meaning to this girl. And she was the master of the slow, agonizing tickle. She would have me tied face up, spread eagle on her bed, and she would sit on my midsection facing me. She would then start a devilishly slow spider tickle on my wrists, and would sometimes take a full 15 minutes to get all the way down my arms. Then she would do the same thing on my chest, spending at least 15 minutes there, just slowly wiggling and dragging her fingernails back and forth, ever so lightly.
At this point, I would be literally begging her to at least change it up and go faster, but she never would. She would just sit there smirking at me saying things like "This is why they call it tickle torture!" After over an hour of this, and working her way down to my way too ticklish stomach, which she knew was my worst weak spot, she would then speed up her tickling unmercifully. All of that intense, slow buildup from before had made someone already very ticklish, so insanely ticklish that it bordered on real pain when she sped up the tickling on my stomach like that. I remember not even really laughing, but more moaning in agony, and sincerely pleading with her to please stop.
It nevertheless got me intensely turned on, and since she could "see" that, and since when she finally got me off, I came like a rocket exploding, it was like she never quite believed that I didn't love every second of what she was doing.
The whole thing was actually starting to really freak me out. This was before the memories of what had happened when I was a very small child began to consciously surface. All I knew was that even though a part of me absolutely loved what she was doing, another part of me truly didn't like it, at least not to that extent. It was starting to really mess with my head, so I bailed on the relationship.
For what it's worth, I later found out that her mom was seriously into some sort of witchcraft, and was teaching whatever she was into to her daughter Valerie. I don't know how much bearing any of that had on why she was so into sadistic tickling, but it seemed to me like there was some sort of a connection.
