isurrender
TMF Poster
- Joined
- Nov 13, 2015
- Messages
- 134
- Points
- 28
My eternal agony occurred in the pink room. The walls and the closed door were painted feminine pink. The carpet was plush pink. The soft cloud-like mattress was fitted with a soft pink quilt. Silly Millie, the dominatrix, had me strapped down to the mattress, the furry pink restraints secured me to the pink plastic bed posts. I sank into the soft mattress. Silly Millie was a sturdy brunette with big boobs and a thick ass. She wore a black leotard, and her arms were big and strong from lifting weights, so she could spank her clients harder. She spoke in a high girlish voice with a British accent. I was naked, a helpless muscular old man in excellent physical condition for my age. Before the session, I took a Viagra and drank a cup of horny goat tea, so despite my 63 years, I had a strong erection. Silly Millie was lying next to me, her face resting on her hand which was above her elbow. Her elbow was pressing down uncomfortably on my sternum. The discomfort made me want to laugh. Her right hand grasped my penis, and she rubbed it with her free hand.
"You'll laugh for sure after you cum. Cumming always makes submissives feel more ticklish," she said in her heavy British accent.
Although she specializes in spanking, my punishment was tickle torture. I knew I had to resist cumming because the tickle torture that followed would be merciless. I tried really hard not to ejaculate. I humped and kicked and fought the nearly unbearable urge to orgasm, but her had felt so good. However, I'm a strong man with great control. I resisted, my willpower tested until perspiration popped out on my forehead. Silly Millie stubbornly rubbed my penis for 15 minutes. Finally, she grabbed some vacuum like device and shoved my penis in it. She straddled me, my sternum relieved from her elbow pressure, and she undid the straps to her leotard, revealing her big beautiful tits. The vacuum suction was too much. I came.
"There," she said, patting my sweat covered forehead. She tickled my ribs, and I laughed immediately, like she said I would.
"Ticklish, are we?" she asked in her high-pitched British accent. She covered her breasts back up with her leotard, and she started walking back and forth, teasing me with her jiggling ass. Suddenly, she tickled my foot soles, and I laughed again, unable to sit up, the restraints preventing that. She sat down next to me.
"Let's discuss your ticklish history, shall we?" she said. "Do you remember the first time you were tickled. It was a long time ago when you were a baby. Your mother and grandmother were giving you a bath, and they thought you were so cute, they tickled you like this..."
Silly Millie tickled me all over--my hips, my groin, my belly, and my armpits. The memories flooded back to me, as if it had happened just now. I kicked and struggled and giggled uncontrollably.
"Now, let's recall the next time in your life you were tickled. You started a fight on the playground in elementary school. The classmate flipped you on your back, pinned you, and tickled you in front of the whole class, humiliating you. You don't want to remember that one, do you?"
How did she know this. It happened over 50 years ago.
"Remember the incident in college. Your pretty blonde biology professor demonstrated the Babinski Reflex on you. You made a silly giggling noise, and the whole class laughed at you."
I was astonished. How could she know so much about my tickling history.
"How about your pot smoking hippie stage. Your mother sent you to her beautician friend who cut off all your long hair. Remember how the barber spent such a long time shaving your neck. You bit your cheeks, trying not to laugh, but you couldn't control it. You were so embarrassed."
It was another uncomfortable moment I wanted to forget.
"Do you recall what happened to you on your wedding night?"
Oh know, I thought, I wanted to forget that too.
"Your fat domineering wife sat on you and found all your tickle spots."
Silly Millie sat on my chest, her fat hips hanging over my sides.
"Your wife said 'coochie, coochie coo. tickle, tickle, tickle," Silly Millie said, and she tickled my vulnerable midsection, reaching back to scrabble my armpits.
I laughed hard, helplessly.
"What part did she find most ticklish?" Silly Millie asked.
"No, not there," I begged.
She tickled my balls and I laughed even harder, much louder than before. I couldn't do anything to stop it. I felt as helpless as when my wife showed me who was boss on our wedding night. Then, I remember how happy she made me feel. I missed her.
Silly Millie stopped tickling me and turned around.
"Ever since she passed away, you've been trying to relive that feeling. Other dominatrixes have been unable to bring that feeling back. They couldn't even make you laugh....but I have." Silly Millie said with confidence.
I was hard again. She eyed my erection and caressed my neck.
"I have another surprise for you."
My wife's cousin walked into the room. She looked very similar to my wife when she was younger, but she was more beautiful. She was a heavy freckle-faced brunette with huge breasts. Her voice even sounded like my wife's voice.
"I'm going to tickle his pickle," she said.
It's what my wife always said to me.
They both tickled me, and all I could do was laugh in a joyful agony.
The session never ended.
"You'll laugh for sure after you cum. Cumming always makes submissives feel more ticklish," she said in her heavy British accent.
Although she specializes in spanking, my punishment was tickle torture. I knew I had to resist cumming because the tickle torture that followed would be merciless. I tried really hard not to ejaculate. I humped and kicked and fought the nearly unbearable urge to orgasm, but her had felt so good. However, I'm a strong man with great control. I resisted, my willpower tested until perspiration popped out on my forehead. Silly Millie stubbornly rubbed my penis for 15 minutes. Finally, she grabbed some vacuum like device and shoved my penis in it. She straddled me, my sternum relieved from her elbow pressure, and she undid the straps to her leotard, revealing her big beautiful tits. The vacuum suction was too much. I came.
"There," she said, patting my sweat covered forehead. She tickled my ribs, and I laughed immediately, like she said I would.
"Ticklish, are we?" she asked in her high-pitched British accent. She covered her breasts back up with her leotard, and she started walking back and forth, teasing me with her jiggling ass. Suddenly, she tickled my foot soles, and I laughed again, unable to sit up, the restraints preventing that. She sat down next to me.
"Let's discuss your ticklish history, shall we?" she said. "Do you remember the first time you were tickled. It was a long time ago when you were a baby. Your mother and grandmother were giving you a bath, and they thought you were so cute, they tickled you like this..."
Silly Millie tickled me all over--my hips, my groin, my belly, and my armpits. The memories flooded back to me, as if it had happened just now. I kicked and struggled and giggled uncontrollably.
"Now, let's recall the next time in your life you were tickled. You started a fight on the playground in elementary school. The classmate flipped you on your back, pinned you, and tickled you in front of the whole class, humiliating you. You don't want to remember that one, do you?"
How did she know this. It happened over 50 years ago.
"Remember the incident in college. Your pretty blonde biology professor demonstrated the Babinski Reflex on you. You made a silly giggling noise, and the whole class laughed at you."
I was astonished. How could she know so much about my tickling history.
"How about your pot smoking hippie stage. Your mother sent you to her beautician friend who cut off all your long hair. Remember how the barber spent such a long time shaving your neck. You bit your cheeks, trying not to laugh, but you couldn't control it. You were so embarrassed."
It was another uncomfortable moment I wanted to forget.
"Do you recall what happened to you on your wedding night?"
Oh know, I thought, I wanted to forget that too.
"Your fat domineering wife sat on you and found all your tickle spots."
Silly Millie sat on my chest, her fat hips hanging over my sides.
"Your wife said 'coochie, coochie coo. tickle, tickle, tickle," Silly Millie said, and she tickled my vulnerable midsection, reaching back to scrabble my armpits.
I laughed hard, helplessly.
"What part did she find most ticklish?" Silly Millie asked.
"No, not there," I begged.
She tickled my balls and I laughed even harder, much louder than before. I couldn't do anything to stop it. I felt as helpless as when my wife showed me who was boss on our wedding night. Then, I remember how happy she made me feel. I missed her.
Silly Millie stopped tickling me and turned around.
"Ever since she passed away, you've been trying to relive that feeling. Other dominatrixes have been unable to bring that feeling back. They couldn't even make you laugh....but I have." Silly Millie said with confidence.
I was hard again. She eyed my erection and caressed my neck.
"I have another surprise for you."
My wife's cousin walked into the room. She looked very similar to my wife when she was younger, but she was more beautiful. She was a heavy freckle-faced brunette with huge breasts. Her voice even sounded like my wife's voice.
"I'm going to tickle his pickle," she said.
It's what my wife always said to me.
They both tickled me, and all I could do was laugh in a joyful agony.
The session never ended.
I envy the narrator. 
