nytklee
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Part 8: New Horizons and Lingering Chains
Months had passed since Alex and Emily signed the ticklee contract, their weekends a blur of shared submission in the loft. The three men, Dominic, Marcus, and Trent, had reveled in the duo's nylon-clad vulnerability at first, binding them side by side on the bed or chair, wrists pulled high to posts, ankles tied together and stretched off the edge, knees and thighs strapped tight to prevent any escape.
"Look at those soles, Scarlet and Manager," Dominic would say, his fingers tracing Alex's black sheer stockings or Emily's grey pantyhose. "So smooth, so ticklish...beg for us." Laughter would fill the room: Alex's high-pitched giggles blending with Emily's muffled pleas, feathers gliding over arches, electric toothbrushes buzzing on toes, until exhaustion claimed them.
But routine bred boredom. "This couple's getting predictable," Marcus grumbled one evening after a session, wiping sweat from his brow as he scrolled the tickling forum on his laptop.
"Alex in his dresses and nylons, Emily in her business suits, same laughs, same submissions. We need fresh meat."
Trent nodded, cracking his knuckles. "Yeah, lurking time. Post some ads, scout profiles. Remember that Sailor Moon cosplayer who replied last week? Sexy outfit, sheer tights, prime for binding."
Dominic smirked, typing away. "Exactly. Lure her in, same trap: roleplay tease turns to real bonds. Wrists separate, ankles together, nylons exposed. We'll tickle her senseless."
They spent nights online, messaging potentials, their chats laced with details: "Imagine your feet in those tights, hanging off the bed, Fingers skratching soles until you submit." Victims trickled in, but one stood out, a young woman named Luna, obsessed with anime cosplay, craving "light tickle play" as Sailor Moon.
One Friday, Alex and Emily arrived as required, dressed for torment. Alex embodied Scarlet Overkill: a sleek red velvet dress hugging his curves, heavy makeup with smoky eyes and crimson lips, sheer black nylons shimmering on his legs, red stilettos clicking. Emily, ever the dominant in facade, wore a tailored black pantsuit over nude sheer pantyhose, black pumps, her makeup subtle but fierce. "Ready for this?" Alex whispered at the door, adjusting his stockings.
Emily squeezed his hand. "As ready as ever. But if they push too far..."
The door swung open, but instead of the usual greeting, muffled laughter echoed from the bedroom...feminine, desperate. "What's that?" Emily asked, eyes narrowing.
They entered to find the men in action: Luna, dressed as Sailor Moon in a short blue skirt, white top with red bow, sheer white tights encasing her legs, blue high heels kicked off. She was bound on the bed: wrists tied high to posts, ankles together and pulled off the edge, knees and thighs strapped tight. Her nylon feet dangled helplessly, toes wiggling in the reinforced sheer material.
Dominic's fingers danced on her left sole: "Tickle tickle, Sailor...those tights make your arches so slippery!"
Marcus skratsched her right: "Beg louder! 'Not my toes, masters!'"
Trent buzzed a toothbrush on her heels: "Submit, cosplayer, nylons trapping every vibration!"
Luna howled through giggles: "Ahaha! Please...not the soles! I submit... hahaha!"
The men paused, spotting Alex and Emily. "Well, look who's here," Dominic said, wiping his hands. "Scarlet and Manager, perfect timing."
Alex stared, shock mixing with relief. "Who's she? And... what about us?"
Trent chuckled, untying Luna's ankles slightly for a breather. "New victim, lured from the forum. Sailor Moon fetishist. Her tights? Even sheerer than yours, Emily."
Marcus grinned. "We're getting tired of you two as routine. Same nylons, same begs. Time for variety."
Emily crossed her arms, her pantsuit crisp. "So... we're done? Just like that?"
Dominic nodded, but his eyes hardened. "We'll let you go. Free from weekends. But don't tell anyone. We still have the videos: you both bound, tickled, and the signed contracts. One wrong move, and they go viral."
Trent added: "Your laughs, your nylons wriggling, embarrassing for a bank manager and her crossdressing ex."
Alex swallowed, glancing at Emily. "We... won't. Promise."
Luna, catching her breath, mumbled: "Who... are they?"
Marcus patted her thigh through the strap. "Old toys. Now, back to you. Those white tights need more attention."
As Alex and Emily left, the door clicking shut behind them, Alex turned to her in the hallway. "Emily... that was unexpected. Want to come to my place? For dinner? We can... talk about this."
Emily hesitated, her dominant spark flickering. "Dinner? Fine. But don't think this changes me. I still like control."
At Alex's apartment, they shared pasta and wine, the air thick with unspoken history. Alex in casual clothes now, Emily still in her suit, pantyhose whispering as she crossed her legs. "So, free at last," Alex said, pouring more wine. "But those videos... hanging over us."
Emily nodded, her eyes softening. "Yeah. I dominated our marriage to hide my fetish: bound, tickled in nylons. But after this... I want to explore. With you."
Alex raised an eyebrow. "Explore how?"
She leaned in, voice husky. "I'll dominate mostly, tell you what to do. But sometimes... I'll dress as Scarlet Overkill. Red dress, heavy makeup, sheer black nylons, stilettos. You bind me: wrists high, ankles together, knees and thighs strapped. Then... tickle my nylon feet. Make me beg."
Alex's pulse quickened. "You? Submitting to me?"
Emily smirked. "Only on my terms. Deal?"
He nodded, a new chapter dawning. "Deal. Let's start slow...dinner first."
The end
Months had passed since Alex and Emily signed the ticklee contract, their weekends a blur of shared submission in the loft. The three men, Dominic, Marcus, and Trent, had reveled in the duo's nylon-clad vulnerability at first, binding them side by side on the bed or chair, wrists pulled high to posts, ankles tied together and stretched off the edge, knees and thighs strapped tight to prevent any escape.
"Look at those soles, Scarlet and Manager," Dominic would say, his fingers tracing Alex's black sheer stockings or Emily's grey pantyhose. "So smooth, so ticklish...beg for us." Laughter would fill the room: Alex's high-pitched giggles blending with Emily's muffled pleas, feathers gliding over arches, electric toothbrushes buzzing on toes, until exhaustion claimed them.
But routine bred boredom. "This couple's getting predictable," Marcus grumbled one evening after a session, wiping sweat from his brow as he scrolled the tickling forum on his laptop.
"Alex in his dresses and nylons, Emily in her business suits, same laughs, same submissions. We need fresh meat."
Trent nodded, cracking his knuckles. "Yeah, lurking time. Post some ads, scout profiles. Remember that Sailor Moon cosplayer who replied last week? Sexy outfit, sheer tights, prime for binding."
Dominic smirked, typing away. "Exactly. Lure her in, same trap: roleplay tease turns to real bonds. Wrists separate, ankles together, nylons exposed. We'll tickle her senseless."
They spent nights online, messaging potentials, their chats laced with details: "Imagine your feet in those tights, hanging off the bed, Fingers skratching soles until you submit." Victims trickled in, but one stood out, a young woman named Luna, obsessed with anime cosplay, craving "light tickle play" as Sailor Moon.
One Friday, Alex and Emily arrived as required, dressed for torment. Alex embodied Scarlet Overkill: a sleek red velvet dress hugging his curves, heavy makeup with smoky eyes and crimson lips, sheer black nylons shimmering on his legs, red stilettos clicking. Emily, ever the dominant in facade, wore a tailored black pantsuit over nude sheer pantyhose, black pumps, her makeup subtle but fierce. "Ready for this?" Alex whispered at the door, adjusting his stockings.
Emily squeezed his hand. "As ready as ever. But if they push too far..."
The door swung open, but instead of the usual greeting, muffled laughter echoed from the bedroom...feminine, desperate. "What's that?" Emily asked, eyes narrowing.
They entered to find the men in action: Luna, dressed as Sailor Moon in a short blue skirt, white top with red bow, sheer white tights encasing her legs, blue high heels kicked off. She was bound on the bed: wrists tied high to posts, ankles together and pulled off the edge, knees and thighs strapped tight. Her nylon feet dangled helplessly, toes wiggling in the reinforced sheer material.
Dominic's fingers danced on her left sole: "Tickle tickle, Sailor...those tights make your arches so slippery!"
Marcus skratsched her right: "Beg louder! 'Not my toes, masters!'"
Trent buzzed a toothbrush on her heels: "Submit, cosplayer, nylons trapping every vibration!"
Luna howled through giggles: "Ahaha! Please...not the soles! I submit... hahaha!"
The men paused, spotting Alex and Emily. "Well, look who's here," Dominic said, wiping his hands. "Scarlet and Manager, perfect timing."
Alex stared, shock mixing with relief. "Who's she? And... what about us?"
Trent chuckled, untying Luna's ankles slightly for a breather. "New victim, lured from the forum. Sailor Moon fetishist. Her tights? Even sheerer than yours, Emily."
Marcus grinned. "We're getting tired of you two as routine. Same nylons, same begs. Time for variety."
Emily crossed her arms, her pantsuit crisp. "So... we're done? Just like that?"
Dominic nodded, but his eyes hardened. "We'll let you go. Free from weekends. But don't tell anyone. We still have the videos: you both bound, tickled, and the signed contracts. One wrong move, and they go viral."
Trent added: "Your laughs, your nylons wriggling, embarrassing for a bank manager and her crossdressing ex."
Alex swallowed, glancing at Emily. "We... won't. Promise."
Luna, catching her breath, mumbled: "Who... are they?"
Marcus patted her thigh through the strap. "Old toys. Now, back to you. Those white tights need more attention."
As Alex and Emily left, the door clicking shut behind them, Alex turned to her in the hallway. "Emily... that was unexpected. Want to come to my place? For dinner? We can... talk about this."
Emily hesitated, her dominant spark flickering. "Dinner? Fine. But don't think this changes me. I still like control."
At Alex's apartment, they shared pasta and wine, the air thick with unspoken history. Alex in casual clothes now, Emily still in her suit, pantyhose whispering as she crossed her legs. "So, free at last," Alex said, pouring more wine. "But those videos... hanging over us."
Emily nodded, her eyes softening. "Yeah. I dominated our marriage to hide my fetish: bound, tickled in nylons. But after this... I want to explore. With you."
Alex raised an eyebrow. "Explore how?"
She leaned in, voice husky. "I'll dominate mostly, tell you what to do. But sometimes... I'll dress as Scarlet Overkill. Red dress, heavy makeup, sheer black nylons, stilettos. You bind me: wrists high, ankles together, knees and thighs strapped. Then... tickle my nylon feet. Make me beg."
Alex's pulse quickened. "You? Submitting to me?"
Emily smirked. "Only on my terms. Deal?"
He nodded, a new chapter dawning. "Deal. Let's start slow...dinner first."
The end
