Saga of Sonja
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- Nov 25, 2023
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It’s been a while since I’ve posted- if you’ve messaged me, I will try to get back to you!
Anyway, I’ve had a few experiences to share since I’ve last been on. Here’s one from several months back now.
—-
Back in late spring I was on a sort of hiking/exploring mini break with my boyfriend Leo in Wales. We’re both pretty active, so was something we’d both been looking forward to (even if Welsh mountains aren’t quite as good as the Scandinavian ones- still great though!). For reference, Leo is very tall, 6,3 (I'm tiny, so big difference), has a slight beard, dark hair that's a little grown out, and is pretty darn fit.
We were staying at a very cheap hostel sort of place, and arrived at our room to find about half a dozen single beds- basically just metal frames with mattresses (like a psych ward, Leo had joked). Not really important to the story, but we began to doubt if the room we’d booked was purely just for us, or if other travellers would also join us- the room was otherwise empty, but sharing might explain the cheap price.
It had been a long day travelling here (train to Cardiff, two buses onwards), and so me being half-goblin, I had a lot of pent up energy and was in a playful mood. I slipped off my hiking boots (felt good after being on a cramped train) and planted myself face down on the nearest bed. The metal rests (is that the word?) at both ends rose just above the mattress, and so I pushed my feet through between the metal bar and mattress, very loosely trapping my ankles from the rising pressure from the mattress (I’ve explained that badly, sorry!)
“Leo, help, I’m stuck!” I called out. Leo came out of the bathroom, and seeing me with my socked feet sticking out from the end of the bed frame, gave a sound that was between a derisive sigh and a playful laugh.
“Oh dear, can’t leave you alone for two minutes can I?” he chuckled coming over and sitting on the bed near my calves.
“Help?” I asked innocently. He was looking at my feet, as I was certain he would. He knew I’d done this deliberately, and I knew he knew, and he knew that I knew that he knew, and that I was essentially giving him permission to do whatever. He doesn’t have a tickle fetish per say, but knows I do, and does have a foot fetish, so the outcome of this was predictable to the both of us.
“Can you get your feet out if I do this?” he asked coyly, lightly fluttering his fingers over the arch of my right foot. I respond with an instantaneous bark of laughter, and an involuntary jolt of my leg, although not enough to dislodge myself.
“Don’t you dare tickle me like this,” I warned in a stern voice. He knew full well that’s what I was expecting, and so replied;
“What, like this?”
Both his hands went for each of my arches, and immediately I was caught in a gale of laughter. My feet are insanely ticklish, so there was little to hold my reactions back, and my upper body twisted on the bed. My feet flailed against his finger tips, and felt especially sensitive having been in thick boots all day. The intensity was enough that I was so subsumed by laughter that I didn’t have the conscious willpower to actually get my ankles free, and so I had actually managed to legitimately trap myself, at least whilst distracted by the tickling.
“Regretting this now?” Leo asked, moving onto the pads of my feet and the base of my toes, which is an especially killer spot for me.
“Got to hell,” I cackled, reaching back with one hand to claw ineffectively at his back.
“Not without you,” he replies, now fully tickling around my toes, and sending me into a spat of silent laughter that blocked my ability to give any kind of further threat or wisecrack.
“Okay, okay,” I managed to splutter, before sliding back into a wail of embarrassing cackles.
“Don’t pretend you don’t love it,” he teased, laying off the toes to return to my arches and heels.
“You know I can’t stand it,” I half protested through giggles.
“Not denying you don’t love it though,” he said, quickly switching back to my toes and making renewed laughter catch in my throat.
He then slid off from the bed and onto the floor beside my feet, which remained in the air, upturned, around shoulder height for him. Then, without a word being spoken, my socks were plucked from my feet.
“Oh no,” I said, putting on an air of mock fear.
“Very kissable,” he said, and his mouth was at the heel of my left foot. A stream of kisses accompanied his mouth as it progressed along my arch, and I giggled in response. Even soft, not intentionally ticklish touches are still crazily sensitive to me.
He continued to kiss my foot, and I continued to giggle, wiggling my toes which I’m sure he enjoyed. My unkissed foot didn’t remain unattended for too long, however, and as his tongue kissed the toes on my right, the left was met by a single finger that began lightly drawing figures of eight across the sole, driving me into an unrelenting stream of giggling and making me wiggle and squirm my feet even more.
For a few minutes he kissed and licked at my toes, all whilst keeping up the light tickling on my other foot. He was quiet, I was just lightly laughing, increasingly aroused by q combination of being mostly helpless, being forced to laugh, having my toes sucked, and knowing my boyfriend was likely rock hard as a result. The thought that this might be a shared room, and several strangers might also walk in at any point and see me in this situation also created an additional layer of voyeuristic arousal in me.
No one else came in, however, and Leo’s gentle teasing tickles of my left foot turned into his index finger scratching against the middle of my arch, digging into the same spot. My giggles intensified, and I was soon back laughing uncontrollably, trying to pull my foot away.
“Too much, too much,” I laughed, “I swear I’ll kick your face in a second.”
He responded by resting his arm over my calves, locking me in place even more.
“Just from one finger?” he asked innocently. “You really are ticklish, aren’t you.”
“You know I am,” I wailed. I’m not sure why it tickled quite so bad as it did, but I was punching the mattress in my haze of ticklish helplessness.
He relented, and stood up, unbuckling his jeans. We weren’t camping, but there was certainly quite the tent in underwear...
End of that part- there wasn’t really any more tickling on that night
*
The following morning, whilst Leo was in the shower, I decided to try and get a little revenge. Before going to sleep, we’d pushed two of the single beds together to form a makeshift double, although the gap between them constantly threatened to suck one of us in (luckily, the only form of sucking that night hadn’t involved falling down a crevice between the beds).
However, I shifted the beds apart slightly- not enough to really be noticeable, as the gap was concealed by the duvet/blankets covering it, but enough that if someone were to roll between the beds, they may well fall down onto the carpet beneath.
As Leo returned, only wearing a towel, I was waiting for him, still in gym shorts and one of his t-shirts I’d stolen to use as nightwear. I was lying on one of the bed, and patted the space nearer the gap, trying my best cute face as I asked for cuddles. He lay next to me, briefly kissing me, before I showed him with both hands and my feet. I may be small, but I’m pretty strong (I do MMA: luckily no one has ever tickled me in that), and managed to half-push, half-roll him into the gap between the beds. He didn’t quite fall down as I’d intended- more half sinking- but I pushed him down (I think he may have actually just let me), where he ended up on the floor, on his front, caught up in a blanket.
I took my chance, and slid down on top of him, repositioning myself to sit on his legs. I began quickly tickling his own feet, much larger than my own. My feet are about twenty times more ticklish than his, and he’s frustratingly good at turning off or ignoring tickling, but if you catch him off guard and he can’t really see you, then you can get some good reactions. Gentle laughter game from beneath me as he squirmed, and tried to bat my fingers away with his soles and toes.
“Damn it Sonja,” he laughed, still caught in the blankets. I’ve never had full cackling or belly laughter from going for his feet, but I did enjoy the non-stop. Forced low chuckling I was getting now, and his failed attempts to get away. He does have more ticklish spots, but they don’t feature in this one.
“Wanna say you submit,” I teased. “Come on, you’re trapped, and clearly ticklish.”
“Damn you, this isn’t my weakness!” he protested.
I used my best tickle techniques: alternating spots and speed, occasionally switching to just one foot then back to both. His laughter unfortunately lessened as I continued, and then, much to the annoyance of my plan, his laughter was joined by a shriek of my own, as his hands reached back to goose my sides, before digging into my ribs.
I was caught off guard, immediately abandoning his feet to try and swat away his hands that were playing havoc with my ticklish ribcage, his thin t-shirt offering no protection. He managed to roll onto his back, causing me to topple over backwards, and we spent a few minutes half-grappling, him beneath me, but my advantage there was lost as he poked and prodded by sides.
Had he not been tickling me I’m sure I’d have one the little spat, but as seems to happen in my life, my ticklishness proved my downfall, and he managed to pull me down on top of him, holding my arms down, and repositioning to trap one of them beneath him. I was now in a very awkward position; helpless, and my vengeful boyfriend having one arm free and my very ticklish upper body at his mercy.
“Say you’re sorry,” he whispered in my ear.
“Never,” I said with conjured defiance.
To no one’s surprise, my response was met with his free hand going into my ribs, and the room was once again filled with my forced laughter. I tried my best to pull my arms free, but only managed to grind against him. The t-shirt had now ridden up somewhat, and my bare stomach and abs were next to be punished.
“Don’t starts fights you can’t win,” he teased. The blanket between us wasn’t enough to hide his arousal, only exacerbated by my squirming and grinding on top of him.
“I’d win a fair fight,” I protested through relentless laughter, louder than anything I’d got out of tickling him minutes earlier.
“So you say,” he said, alternating between my ribs and belly, and occasionally pinching one of my nipples (it’s a turn on). Part of me hoped he’d stop, whilst part of me hoped he’d tug the t-shirt over my head and properly tickle my breasts, but he seemed content to go for my stomach muscles and sides.
“Say you’re sorry,” he repeated, “and say you submit.”
“Screw you,” I replied. I was going crazy, but I could stand belly tickling.
“You asked for it,” he said with a mock sigh.”
His hand went to my hipbone.
“Wait, Leo, don’t,” I tried to protest. I couldn’t manage another sentence, as the pinching just around my hips quickly had me in silent, tortured laughter. It’s the worst killer spot for me- luckily one few people know about- but my boyfriend is one of them.
“Go on babe, say it,” he said again.
“I submit, I submit!” I managed to squeak out.
“And?”
“And what?!?” I laughed out, eyes likely bulging.
“Say you’re sorry.”
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry! Uncle!”
The crab-claw-esque tickling stopped, and my arms were released.
“Damn you,” I said, both of us breathing heavily (I guess I’d crushed him a little). “I hate you.”
“Do you really?” he asked.
I semi-rolled off him, straddling him and looking down. I tried to think of something clever or flirty, couldn’t, and so just took my top off. Both of us were too horny at that point for our own good.
========
There you go, fresh story. There are others I’ll try to get round to posting involving other people. I have plenty of others involving Leo too if people want- I have managed to be a lot more successful in torturing him in the past lol.
Anyway, I’ve had a few experiences to share since I’ve last been on. Here’s one from several months back now.
—-
Back in late spring I was on a sort of hiking/exploring mini break with my boyfriend Leo in Wales. We’re both pretty active, so was something we’d both been looking forward to (even if Welsh mountains aren’t quite as good as the Scandinavian ones- still great though!). For reference, Leo is very tall, 6,3 (I'm tiny, so big difference), has a slight beard, dark hair that's a little grown out, and is pretty darn fit.
We were staying at a very cheap hostel sort of place, and arrived at our room to find about half a dozen single beds- basically just metal frames with mattresses (like a psych ward, Leo had joked). Not really important to the story, but we began to doubt if the room we’d booked was purely just for us, or if other travellers would also join us- the room was otherwise empty, but sharing might explain the cheap price.
It had been a long day travelling here (train to Cardiff, two buses onwards), and so me being half-goblin, I had a lot of pent up energy and was in a playful mood. I slipped off my hiking boots (felt good after being on a cramped train) and planted myself face down on the nearest bed. The metal rests (is that the word?) at both ends rose just above the mattress, and so I pushed my feet through between the metal bar and mattress, very loosely trapping my ankles from the rising pressure from the mattress (I’ve explained that badly, sorry!)
“Leo, help, I’m stuck!” I called out. Leo came out of the bathroom, and seeing me with my socked feet sticking out from the end of the bed frame, gave a sound that was between a derisive sigh and a playful laugh.
“Oh dear, can’t leave you alone for two minutes can I?” he chuckled coming over and sitting on the bed near my calves.
“Help?” I asked innocently. He was looking at my feet, as I was certain he would. He knew I’d done this deliberately, and I knew he knew, and he knew that I knew that he knew, and that I was essentially giving him permission to do whatever. He doesn’t have a tickle fetish per say, but knows I do, and does have a foot fetish, so the outcome of this was predictable to the both of us.
“Can you get your feet out if I do this?” he asked coyly, lightly fluttering his fingers over the arch of my right foot. I respond with an instantaneous bark of laughter, and an involuntary jolt of my leg, although not enough to dislodge myself.
“Don’t you dare tickle me like this,” I warned in a stern voice. He knew full well that’s what I was expecting, and so replied;
“What, like this?”
Both his hands went for each of my arches, and immediately I was caught in a gale of laughter. My feet are insanely ticklish, so there was little to hold my reactions back, and my upper body twisted on the bed. My feet flailed against his finger tips, and felt especially sensitive having been in thick boots all day. The intensity was enough that I was so subsumed by laughter that I didn’t have the conscious willpower to actually get my ankles free, and so I had actually managed to legitimately trap myself, at least whilst distracted by the tickling.
“Regretting this now?” Leo asked, moving onto the pads of my feet and the base of my toes, which is an especially killer spot for me.
“Got to hell,” I cackled, reaching back with one hand to claw ineffectively at his back.
“Not without you,” he replies, now fully tickling around my toes, and sending me into a spat of silent laughter that blocked my ability to give any kind of further threat or wisecrack.
“Okay, okay,” I managed to splutter, before sliding back into a wail of embarrassing cackles.
“Don’t pretend you don’t love it,” he teased, laying off the toes to return to my arches and heels.
“You know I can’t stand it,” I half protested through giggles.
“Not denying you don’t love it though,” he said, quickly switching back to my toes and making renewed laughter catch in my throat.
He then slid off from the bed and onto the floor beside my feet, which remained in the air, upturned, around shoulder height for him. Then, without a word being spoken, my socks were plucked from my feet.
“Oh no,” I said, putting on an air of mock fear.
“Very kissable,” he said, and his mouth was at the heel of my left foot. A stream of kisses accompanied his mouth as it progressed along my arch, and I giggled in response. Even soft, not intentionally ticklish touches are still crazily sensitive to me.
He continued to kiss my foot, and I continued to giggle, wiggling my toes which I’m sure he enjoyed. My unkissed foot didn’t remain unattended for too long, however, and as his tongue kissed the toes on my right, the left was met by a single finger that began lightly drawing figures of eight across the sole, driving me into an unrelenting stream of giggling and making me wiggle and squirm my feet even more.
For a few minutes he kissed and licked at my toes, all whilst keeping up the light tickling on my other foot. He was quiet, I was just lightly laughing, increasingly aroused by q combination of being mostly helpless, being forced to laugh, having my toes sucked, and knowing my boyfriend was likely rock hard as a result. The thought that this might be a shared room, and several strangers might also walk in at any point and see me in this situation also created an additional layer of voyeuristic arousal in me.
No one else came in, however, and Leo’s gentle teasing tickles of my left foot turned into his index finger scratching against the middle of my arch, digging into the same spot. My giggles intensified, and I was soon back laughing uncontrollably, trying to pull my foot away.
“Too much, too much,” I laughed, “I swear I’ll kick your face in a second.”
He responded by resting his arm over my calves, locking me in place even more.
“Just from one finger?” he asked innocently. “You really are ticklish, aren’t you.”
“You know I am,” I wailed. I’m not sure why it tickled quite so bad as it did, but I was punching the mattress in my haze of ticklish helplessness.
He relented, and stood up, unbuckling his jeans. We weren’t camping, but there was certainly quite the tent in underwear...
End of that part- there wasn’t really any more tickling on that night
*
The following morning, whilst Leo was in the shower, I decided to try and get a little revenge. Before going to sleep, we’d pushed two of the single beds together to form a makeshift double, although the gap between them constantly threatened to suck one of us in (luckily, the only form of sucking that night hadn’t involved falling down a crevice between the beds).
However, I shifted the beds apart slightly- not enough to really be noticeable, as the gap was concealed by the duvet/blankets covering it, but enough that if someone were to roll between the beds, they may well fall down onto the carpet beneath.
As Leo returned, only wearing a towel, I was waiting for him, still in gym shorts and one of his t-shirts I’d stolen to use as nightwear. I was lying on one of the bed, and patted the space nearer the gap, trying my best cute face as I asked for cuddles. He lay next to me, briefly kissing me, before I showed him with both hands and my feet. I may be small, but I’m pretty strong (I do MMA: luckily no one has ever tickled me in that), and managed to half-push, half-roll him into the gap between the beds. He didn’t quite fall down as I’d intended- more half sinking- but I pushed him down (I think he may have actually just let me), where he ended up on the floor, on his front, caught up in a blanket.
I took my chance, and slid down on top of him, repositioning myself to sit on his legs. I began quickly tickling his own feet, much larger than my own. My feet are about twenty times more ticklish than his, and he’s frustratingly good at turning off or ignoring tickling, but if you catch him off guard and he can’t really see you, then you can get some good reactions. Gentle laughter game from beneath me as he squirmed, and tried to bat my fingers away with his soles and toes.
“Damn it Sonja,” he laughed, still caught in the blankets. I’ve never had full cackling or belly laughter from going for his feet, but I did enjoy the non-stop. Forced low chuckling I was getting now, and his failed attempts to get away. He does have more ticklish spots, but they don’t feature in this one.
“Wanna say you submit,” I teased. “Come on, you’re trapped, and clearly ticklish.”
“Damn you, this isn’t my weakness!” he protested.
I used my best tickle techniques: alternating spots and speed, occasionally switching to just one foot then back to both. His laughter unfortunately lessened as I continued, and then, much to the annoyance of my plan, his laughter was joined by a shriek of my own, as his hands reached back to goose my sides, before digging into my ribs.
I was caught off guard, immediately abandoning his feet to try and swat away his hands that were playing havoc with my ticklish ribcage, his thin t-shirt offering no protection. He managed to roll onto his back, causing me to topple over backwards, and we spent a few minutes half-grappling, him beneath me, but my advantage there was lost as he poked and prodded by sides.
Had he not been tickling me I’m sure I’d have one the little spat, but as seems to happen in my life, my ticklishness proved my downfall, and he managed to pull me down on top of him, holding my arms down, and repositioning to trap one of them beneath him. I was now in a very awkward position; helpless, and my vengeful boyfriend having one arm free and my very ticklish upper body at his mercy.
“Say you’re sorry,” he whispered in my ear.
“Never,” I said with conjured defiance.
To no one’s surprise, my response was met with his free hand going into my ribs, and the room was once again filled with my forced laughter. I tried my best to pull my arms free, but only managed to grind against him. The t-shirt had now ridden up somewhat, and my bare stomach and abs were next to be punished.
“Don’t starts fights you can’t win,” he teased. The blanket between us wasn’t enough to hide his arousal, only exacerbated by my squirming and grinding on top of him.
“I’d win a fair fight,” I protested through relentless laughter, louder than anything I’d got out of tickling him minutes earlier.
“So you say,” he said, alternating between my ribs and belly, and occasionally pinching one of my nipples (it’s a turn on). Part of me hoped he’d stop, whilst part of me hoped he’d tug the t-shirt over my head and properly tickle my breasts, but he seemed content to go for my stomach muscles and sides.
“Say you’re sorry,” he repeated, “and say you submit.”
“Screw you,” I replied. I was going crazy, but I could stand belly tickling.
“You asked for it,” he said with a mock sigh.”
His hand went to my hipbone.
“Wait, Leo, don’t,” I tried to protest. I couldn’t manage another sentence, as the pinching just around my hips quickly had me in silent, tortured laughter. It’s the worst killer spot for me- luckily one few people know about- but my boyfriend is one of them.
“Go on babe, say it,” he said again.
“I submit, I submit!” I managed to squeak out.
“And?”
“And what?!?” I laughed out, eyes likely bulging.
“Say you’re sorry.”
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry! Uncle!”
The crab-claw-esque tickling stopped, and my arms were released.
“Damn you,” I said, both of us breathing heavily (I guess I’d crushed him a little). “I hate you.”
“Do you really?” he asked.
I semi-rolled off him, straddling him and looking down. I tried to think of something clever or flirty, couldn’t, and so just took my top off. Both of us were too horny at that point for our own good.
========
There you go, fresh story. There are others I’ll try to get round to posting involving other people. I have plenty of others involving Leo too if people want- I have managed to be a lot more successful in torturing him in the past lol.
