nytklee
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Part 3: Eternal Bondage and Forced Weekend Torment
Weeks had blurred into a haze of silky submission for Alex. What started as a daring ad on the tickling forum had twisted into a ritual of weekend captivity. "Scarlet," Dominic had decreed in a text, his words laced with command. "You show up dressed to tease: sheer pantyhose or stockings, always with stilettos. No exceptions, or the videos go public."
Alex complied, his closet now overflowing with variations, black sheer pantyhose that hugged his legs like a lover's grip, nude stockings with reinforced toes begging for torment, and always paired with sky-high stilettos that made his arches ache in anticipation. As Scarlet Overkill, he'd arrive at the loft, red dress variants clinging to his padded curves, makeup fierce but his resolve crumbling. The sessions evolved: bound in the chair or on a new tickle table, wrists, ankles, knees, and thighs strapped tight, his nylon feet exposed for hours of feathers, fingers, brushes, and denial. "You're our weekend toy now," Marcus would whisper each time, his artistic hands tracing patterns that left Alex begging.
But resentment simmered. The contract hung over him like a noose, the hidden videos a constant threat. "I can't live like this forever," Alex muttered to his reflection one Friday, slipping into sheer black pantyhose that shimmered under the light. The stilettos pinched as he practiced walking, the click-clack echoing his growing defiance. By Saturday morning, after a night of light teasing that left him spent but unsatisfied, he hatched a plan. The men always left their phones charging in the kitchen during sessions, maybe he could snag one, delete the recordings.
That Saturday, Alex arrived early, his red mini-dress short enough to flash thigh-high stockings held by garters, stilettos red and pointed like Scarlet's own. "Looking fierce today, villainess," Trent greeted, his muscular arms folding as he eyed Alex's legs. "Those stockings, so thin, I bet every touch will drive you mad."
"Yeah, well, let's get this over with," Alex replied curtly, forcing a smile. Inside, his mind raced: distract them, grab a phone.
Dominic poured coffee, his stern gaze piercing. "Eager, are we? Sit on the table today. We've upgraded the restraints." The tickle table was a padded platform with built-in straps, designed for full exposure.
Marcus grinned, patting the surface. "Hop up, Scarlet. Wrists first, behind your head this time. Ankles wide, knees bent slightly, thighs strapped down. Your ad's bonds, but evolved."
As they secured him, soft ropes pulling his wrists overhead, leather bands locking ankles apart, tighter straps on knees and thighs to immobilize his legs. Alex scanned the room. Their phones were indeed in the kitchen, screens glowing. "Guys, before we start... can I get some water? Throat's dry."
Trent chuckled, unstrapping one ankle briefly. "Thirsty already? Fine, but hurry, your nylon soles are calling."
Alex slipped off the table, stilettos clicking as he hurried to the kitchen. Heart pounding, he grabbed Dominic's phone instead of a glass, fumbling with the unlock. He remembered the pattern from a glance last week. "Come on," he whispered, opening the gallery. Videos thumbnails stared back: him as Scarlet, laughing hysterically, nylon feet wriggling.
"What the hell are you doing?" Dominic's voice boomed from the doorway, the men rushing in.
Alex panicked, deleting one file before Trent tackled him, pinning him to the floor. "Trying to erase us, Scarlet? Bad move."
"Give it back!" Alex shouted, struggling in his stilettos, pantyhose sliding against the tile. "This has to end, you can't keep me like this!"
Marcus snatched the phone, checking. "He deleted one, but backups exist. Oh, Scarlet, you just earned a punishment session."
They dragged him back to the table, rebinding him tighter than ever: wrists yanked higher, ankles pulled wider, knees and thighs cinched so his legs couldn't budge an inch. Stilettos kicked off roughly, his stocking feet dangled helplessly, toes curling in the sheer nylon.
"You think you can fight back?" Dominic growled, picking up a stiff feather. "We'll tickle you to exhaustion: no breaks, no denial. Full torment until you break."
Trent started first, his strong fingers skratching the arches through the stockings. "Feel that, rebel? Your nylons make it worse, every skratch amplified."
Alex burst into laughter, body convulsing. "Ahahaha! Stop... I was just.... hahaha.... trying to get free!"
"No freedom for you," Marcus joined, using two electric toothbrushes on the soles, buzzing relentlessly. "These vibrations, right on the balls of your feet. Beg, Scarlet. 'Masters, please, not my stockings!'"
"Masters... please! Not the soles... ahahaha! The buzzing... it's too much!" Alex pleaded, tears streaming, his red dress hiking up from the writhing.
Dominic focused on the toes, nibbling and feathering each one. "Toes in nylon.... so sensitive. Submit again, or we go harder. Remember your ad: no safe word."
They rotated for hours, feathers gliding, fingers dancing, brushes scrubbing. Dialogs overlapped in a symphony of dominance: "Your arches are curling, tickle tickle!" Trent taunted. "Pause? No, denial's over. Full speed," Marcus laughed. "Beg louder, Scarlet. We love your villainess cries," Dominic commanded.
Alex's laughter turned hoarse, body slick with sweat, pantyhose damp and clinging. "I... submit! Exhausted... please!" he gasped finally, limp in the bonds.
The men untied him slowly, but their eyes were cold. "Punishment isn't over," Dominic said, holding up his phone. "We recorded this whole rebellion. Now, we send it to one of your contacts in your phone."
Alex's eyes widened, grabbing for his own device they'd taken. "No! Who? Don't!! Tell me who!"
Trent smirked, scrolling through Alex's contacts. "Could be your boss, your ex, a friend. You won't know. That's the fun."
Marcus typed quickly, attaching the video: Alex bound, tickled, begging in full Scarlet attire, nylons and all. "Sent. Hear that whoosh? It's done."
"Who was it? Please, tell me!" Alex begged, anxious knot twisting in his gut, stilettos forgotten on the floor.
Dominic pocketed the phone. "Nope. Live with the anxiety, Scarlet. Nothing you can do. Now, rest up. Sunday's session awaits, wear sheer pantyhose tomorrow, with black stilettos."
As Alex stumbled home, the uncertainty gnawed at him. Was it his coworker? His sister? The video out there, his secret exposed to an unknown soul. He paced his apartment, checking emails and texts obsessively, but nothing surfaced. "What have I done?" he whispered, fingers tracing his stockings. Defiance had backfired; now, the weekends loomed larger, his submission deeper, chained by silk and secrets he couldn't escape.
To be continued......
Weeks had blurred into a haze of silky submission for Alex. What started as a daring ad on the tickling forum had twisted into a ritual of weekend captivity. "Scarlet," Dominic had decreed in a text, his words laced with command. "You show up dressed to tease: sheer pantyhose or stockings, always with stilettos. No exceptions, or the videos go public."
Alex complied, his closet now overflowing with variations, black sheer pantyhose that hugged his legs like a lover's grip, nude stockings with reinforced toes begging for torment, and always paired with sky-high stilettos that made his arches ache in anticipation. As Scarlet Overkill, he'd arrive at the loft, red dress variants clinging to his padded curves, makeup fierce but his resolve crumbling. The sessions evolved: bound in the chair or on a new tickle table, wrists, ankles, knees, and thighs strapped tight, his nylon feet exposed for hours of feathers, fingers, brushes, and denial. "You're our weekend toy now," Marcus would whisper each time, his artistic hands tracing patterns that left Alex begging.
But resentment simmered. The contract hung over him like a noose, the hidden videos a constant threat. "I can't live like this forever," Alex muttered to his reflection one Friday, slipping into sheer black pantyhose that shimmered under the light. The stilettos pinched as he practiced walking, the click-clack echoing his growing defiance. By Saturday morning, after a night of light teasing that left him spent but unsatisfied, he hatched a plan. The men always left their phones charging in the kitchen during sessions, maybe he could snag one, delete the recordings.
That Saturday, Alex arrived early, his red mini-dress short enough to flash thigh-high stockings held by garters, stilettos red and pointed like Scarlet's own. "Looking fierce today, villainess," Trent greeted, his muscular arms folding as he eyed Alex's legs. "Those stockings, so thin, I bet every touch will drive you mad."
"Yeah, well, let's get this over with," Alex replied curtly, forcing a smile. Inside, his mind raced: distract them, grab a phone.
Dominic poured coffee, his stern gaze piercing. "Eager, are we? Sit on the table today. We've upgraded the restraints." The tickle table was a padded platform with built-in straps, designed for full exposure.
Marcus grinned, patting the surface. "Hop up, Scarlet. Wrists first, behind your head this time. Ankles wide, knees bent slightly, thighs strapped down. Your ad's bonds, but evolved."
As they secured him, soft ropes pulling his wrists overhead, leather bands locking ankles apart, tighter straps on knees and thighs to immobilize his legs. Alex scanned the room. Their phones were indeed in the kitchen, screens glowing. "Guys, before we start... can I get some water? Throat's dry."
Trent chuckled, unstrapping one ankle briefly. "Thirsty already? Fine, but hurry, your nylon soles are calling."
Alex slipped off the table, stilettos clicking as he hurried to the kitchen. Heart pounding, he grabbed Dominic's phone instead of a glass, fumbling with the unlock. He remembered the pattern from a glance last week. "Come on," he whispered, opening the gallery. Videos thumbnails stared back: him as Scarlet, laughing hysterically, nylon feet wriggling.
"What the hell are you doing?" Dominic's voice boomed from the doorway, the men rushing in.
Alex panicked, deleting one file before Trent tackled him, pinning him to the floor. "Trying to erase us, Scarlet? Bad move."
"Give it back!" Alex shouted, struggling in his stilettos, pantyhose sliding against the tile. "This has to end, you can't keep me like this!"
Marcus snatched the phone, checking. "He deleted one, but backups exist. Oh, Scarlet, you just earned a punishment session."
They dragged him back to the table, rebinding him tighter than ever: wrists yanked higher, ankles pulled wider, knees and thighs cinched so his legs couldn't budge an inch. Stilettos kicked off roughly, his stocking feet dangled helplessly, toes curling in the sheer nylon.
"You think you can fight back?" Dominic growled, picking up a stiff feather. "We'll tickle you to exhaustion: no breaks, no denial. Full torment until you break."
Trent started first, his strong fingers skratching the arches through the stockings. "Feel that, rebel? Your nylons make it worse, every skratch amplified."
Alex burst into laughter, body convulsing. "Ahahaha! Stop... I was just.... hahaha.... trying to get free!"
"No freedom for you," Marcus joined, using two electric toothbrushes on the soles, buzzing relentlessly. "These vibrations, right on the balls of your feet. Beg, Scarlet. 'Masters, please, not my stockings!'"
"Masters... please! Not the soles... ahahaha! The buzzing... it's too much!" Alex pleaded, tears streaming, his red dress hiking up from the writhing.
Dominic focused on the toes, nibbling and feathering each one. "Toes in nylon.... so sensitive. Submit again, or we go harder. Remember your ad: no safe word."
They rotated for hours, feathers gliding, fingers dancing, brushes scrubbing. Dialogs overlapped in a symphony of dominance: "Your arches are curling, tickle tickle!" Trent taunted. "Pause? No, denial's over. Full speed," Marcus laughed. "Beg louder, Scarlet. We love your villainess cries," Dominic commanded.
Alex's laughter turned hoarse, body slick with sweat, pantyhose damp and clinging. "I... submit! Exhausted... please!" he gasped finally, limp in the bonds.
The men untied him slowly, but their eyes were cold. "Punishment isn't over," Dominic said, holding up his phone. "We recorded this whole rebellion. Now, we send it to one of your contacts in your phone."
Alex's eyes widened, grabbing for his own device they'd taken. "No! Who? Don't!! Tell me who!"
Trent smirked, scrolling through Alex's contacts. "Could be your boss, your ex, a friend. You won't know. That's the fun."
Marcus typed quickly, attaching the video: Alex bound, tickled, begging in full Scarlet attire, nylons and all. "Sent. Hear that whoosh? It's done."
"Who was it? Please, tell me!" Alex begged, anxious knot twisting in his gut, stilettos forgotten on the floor.
Dominic pocketed the phone. "Nope. Live with the anxiety, Scarlet. Nothing you can do. Now, rest up. Sunday's session awaits, wear sheer pantyhose tomorrow, with black stilettos."
As Alex stumbled home, the uncertainty gnawed at him. Was it his coworker? His sister? The video out there, his secret exposed to an unknown soul. He paced his apartment, checking emails and texts obsessively, but nothing surfaced. "What have I done?" he whispered, fingers tracing his stockings. Defiance had backfired; now, the weekends loomed larger, his submission deeper, chained by silk and secrets he couldn't escape.
To be continued......
