This story is from a book of ten sexy tickle stories called "SWEET FEET; TALES OF TICKLE TORTURE"
Comments always welcome.
Marsha is a bisexual who kept her sexuality a secret from the corporate world she worked in. She hired hookers because it was discreet. The night she picked me up off the corner turned out to be the last night I would ever walk those streets. She was totally taken with me and made a proposition I could not refuse. She promised to take care of all my financial needs as long as I was available to her when ever she called. I could continue turning tricks if I wanted to, but I would be on call twenty four hours a day.
For I while, I did continue seeing some of my regular clients at home, but for the most part, I was Marsha's. Six months into the relationship, I moved into her Forest Park condo where, officially, I was her live in maid. In reality, I was her lover and she was mine.
One night, she discovered something about me that would change our relationship. She became my pimp; kind of.
I had just finished painting her toe nails and was checking to see if they were dry when my fingers inadvertently brushed the sole of her foot. She made a little squeaking sound I thought was cute, but she didn't move her foot. I repeated the contact, this time on purpose and with a little more pressure, and Marsha locked her knees, flexed her feet, and threw her head back and forth as she giggled from the contact. I tickled her a little more and was astonished to see that she could withstand the torture without moving.
Now, of course, I expected her to demand that I stop what I was doing because, for me, tickling is something that is totally unbearable. But Marsha just smiled at me and waited to see what I would do next. So, I attacked her foot with fervor and, again to my surprise, Marsha took it without pulling her feet away from my prancing fingers. She was screaming with hysterics; banging her fists on the recliner she was in and rocking back and forth. It didn't take me long to realize she was enjoying the treatment. After a minute or two of this, I stopped and just looked at her.
"You look surprised." she said still a little short of breath.
"Well," not sure what to say, "I have never seen anyone accept tickling so casually."
"Really?" she said standing up. "Lets see how well you handle it."
"No way!" I responded quickly. "I could never just sit there and take it like you did."
"In that case," she said with a mischievous grin, "Maybe I should tie you down so you can't move."
I wasn't all that thrilled with the idea of being tickled, but being tied up was something I hadn't experienced in a long time and the idea of being restrained under Marsha's rule really excited me. I knew if I lay there naked and vulnerable, she would soon be doing other things to me. And there is nothing in the world more excruciatingly wonderful than an orgasm during bondage. I've had them before and I missed them terribly.
"You don't have to if you don't want to." Marsha was sincere. I guess the expression on my face showed her my apprehension. "I just thought it might be fun. You know."
I smiled as shyly as I knew how. Marsha always likes it when I play the innocent little girl. "Can we set some ground rules?" I asked.
"Of course." Marsha was beaming. I got the feeling she had wanted to get to this point for a long time. "You just name your limitations."
"I'll let you decide the limitations. I just want you to promise you'll bring me to orgasm while I'm tied up."
Marsha stepped forward and started undressing me. "And how would the little girl like to be brought to climax? Would she like for me to use my fingers, or my tongue? Maybe one of our vibrators massaging you in just the right place. I know you and any one of those would techniques can take you over the edge. Which will it be?"
"All of them." I said as I stepped out of my panties.
The king size brass bed in Marsha's room had always intrigued me. I often wondered if Marsha was into bondage and secretly fantasized she had had many victims constrained in that very bed, subject to whatever level of sadistic torment she was inclined to administer. I imagined myself helplessly secured to the bedpost and forced to endure drop after drop of hot candle wax, severe spankings, and denial of impending orgasms over and over again. I even dreamed of her sitting and watching my restrained body writhing in ecstasy as another woman or man made passionately brutal love to me. But never, in all my dreams, had I fancied her tickling me into a state of uncontrollable hysteria.
Lying there, spread eagle, my binds so tight movement was almost painful, I waited while Marsha prepared to take me to an area I had never before experienced. When she approached the bed, I braced my self for the intense sensations she had planned for me. In her hand was a feather that looked to be as sturdy and soft as it was long. My eyes closed and my toes clinched, I anticipated the touch of the feather on my sensitive feet.
She surprised me. She applied the feather directly between my legs. The initial shock made me recoil, pulling at my binds and sending a moderate level of discomfort through my body. I had to relax and allow her to torture me with out resistance.
Her fingers spread my vaginal lips to allow her direct access to my sensitive clit which she rubbed feverishly with the feather. Bolts of electric impulses surged through me. Every nerve in my body was tingling with sexual excitement. There was an intense orgasm building in me, but it was coming on much slower than normal making be cry out in sensual agony. I wanted this orgasm, but it was taking its own sweet time. I prayed Marsha would continue her attention through the end and let me achieve the pleasure she was making me crave so deeply.
Just before I, peaked, she stopped. I cried out loud. "Noooooo! Please don't stop. I'm was ready to come. Please!"
Marsha just laughed and slid the feather slowly down my leg to my bare foot and began the torment I had originally expected. Once again, electric current pulsed through my body, only this time, the sensation was of a more jolting nature. I fought the urge to tighten my muscles. I resisted the desire to writhe wildly. I even managed to keep myself from trying to pull away from instrument of torment. But nothing could stop me from screaming so loud it hurt my own ears. And the more I screamed, the more Marsha enjoyed her mildly sadistic attack.
"What are you going to do when I start using my fingers?" Marsha asked through her own devious laughter. "I'm just getting started here." I wanted to answer, but at that moment all my breath was committed.
Mercifully, Marsha pulled the feather from my foot about a minute after she started, giving me the chance to recover my wind. That moment ended abruptly when I felt the feather between my legs again. Marsha repeated her earlier performance there spreading my lips to give her access to my clit, only this time I approached the edge of pure delight a lot faster than before. Still, as before, she stopped just before the flood gates opened making me more and more desperate for release.
Before I had a chance to protest, I was responding to the current created as she ran the quill over my belly, up to my breast, around my nipples and then to my ultra sensitive underarms. I thought the downy quill on my feet had been tough because she had moved it so slowly. Well, she moved the plume very quickly from my elbows to my naval sliding the soft attacker over my goose pimpled flash in the transition. My nerves would still be dancing in one spot when she had moved to another. Four seconds at my arm pits making me giggle like a school girl, three seconds at my naval driving the wind from my lungs. Circling my nipples just along enough to make them go from erect to stiff. So, in comparison to the foot work, what this lacked in intensity, it made up for in consistency. My squirming and whimpering had no affect on Marsha, but my sustained giggles and laughter seemed to satisfy her.
Sweating almost as intensely as I was gasping for breath, Marsha returned to my throbbing pussy a third time, pushing me closer to the point of release. Convinced she would stop just before satisfaction, I tried to resist the overwhelming desire to exhibit the pleasure I felt. This seemed to make her more intent on taking me over the edge. Unable to control myself any longer I begged her, "Please don't stop! Oh, please don't stop!"
When I heard her own moan of, "Come for me! Come for me!" I knew she was ready to let me go all the way. As much as I wanted to reach the pinnacle, the feather still had that slow moving affect making me yearn for the discharge more and more. When my orgasm finally came, it engulfed me more than any it ever had before. The binds on my wrists and ankles tightened as my whole body contracted with the force of it. My blood felt like molten lava coursing through me, making a massive charge for the center of my pleasure. My body tingled as if there were a thousand feathers all touching different parts of me at the same time. Holding my breath in anticipation of the final push, I felt my vaginal walls contract with intense rapidity. My swollen lips were pulsating with the same frequency. I could take no more so I screamed, " Oooooooooooh, myyyyyyyyyy goodnesssss."
The heat that had filled my body suddenly flooded my womb causing the walls to open as wide as they could get. I could feel the cavity fill with fluid and then gush out of me in a rush that took my breath away. My four limbs flexed and contracted alternately for what seemed forever. I couldn't breath. I could hardly see. My eyes were filled with tears of joy. I relaxed all my muscles and allowed this incredible orgasm to flow without resistance. There was nothing else I could do.
It seemed to go on for several minutes. When it finally began to subside, I was gasping for air, panting like a race horse in the winner's circle. Slowly regaining my composure, I felt Marsha removing the binds from my ankles, massaging the rope marks as she went along. I was too tired to do anything for myself and just lay there as she released me.
Two weeks later, I experienced the first of many encounters with women and men Marsha brought to the house to participate in a tickle session with me as the consummate victim. Some just wanted to tickle my feet while others wanted to attack my whole body with fingers, feathers, ice, and other instruments of hysterical torture.
When her job started heaping raises and promotions on her at an unbelievable rate, I realized she was using me to climb up the corporate ladder. I confronted her about this and she didn't try to deny it. When I suggested getting even with her for using me in such a exploitive manner, she said, "Well … you know how ticklish I am."
Comments always welcome.
SWEET ADVANCEMENT
I started hooking when things got so tough, there was no way for me to make ends meet. In the beginning, I promised myself I would only do it for a little while; just until I got back on my feet. That was two years ago. I was back on my feet from being on my back in the first week. However, I got addicted to the money and couldn't let go. After a year, I was convinced I was just a ***** and there was no where else for me to turn. That's when I met Marsha. Marsha is a bisexual who kept her sexuality a secret from the corporate world she worked in. She hired hookers because it was discreet. The night she picked me up off the corner turned out to be the last night I would ever walk those streets. She was totally taken with me and made a proposition I could not refuse. She promised to take care of all my financial needs as long as I was available to her when ever she called. I could continue turning tricks if I wanted to, but I would be on call twenty four hours a day.
For I while, I did continue seeing some of my regular clients at home, but for the most part, I was Marsha's. Six months into the relationship, I moved into her Forest Park condo where, officially, I was her live in maid. In reality, I was her lover and she was mine.
One night, she discovered something about me that would change our relationship. She became my pimp; kind of.
I had just finished painting her toe nails and was checking to see if they were dry when my fingers inadvertently brushed the sole of her foot. She made a little squeaking sound I thought was cute, but she didn't move her foot. I repeated the contact, this time on purpose and with a little more pressure, and Marsha locked her knees, flexed her feet, and threw her head back and forth as she giggled from the contact. I tickled her a little more and was astonished to see that she could withstand the torture without moving.
Now, of course, I expected her to demand that I stop what I was doing because, for me, tickling is something that is totally unbearable. But Marsha just smiled at me and waited to see what I would do next. So, I attacked her foot with fervor and, again to my surprise, Marsha took it without pulling her feet away from my prancing fingers. She was screaming with hysterics; banging her fists on the recliner she was in and rocking back and forth. It didn't take me long to realize she was enjoying the treatment. After a minute or two of this, I stopped and just looked at her.
"You look surprised." she said still a little short of breath.
"Well," not sure what to say, "I have never seen anyone accept tickling so casually."
"Really?" she said standing up. "Lets see how well you handle it."
"No way!" I responded quickly. "I could never just sit there and take it like you did."
"In that case," she said with a mischievous grin, "Maybe I should tie you down so you can't move."
I wasn't all that thrilled with the idea of being tickled, but being tied up was something I hadn't experienced in a long time and the idea of being restrained under Marsha's rule really excited me. I knew if I lay there naked and vulnerable, she would soon be doing other things to me. And there is nothing in the world more excruciatingly wonderful than an orgasm during bondage. I've had them before and I missed them terribly.
"You don't have to if you don't want to." Marsha was sincere. I guess the expression on my face showed her my apprehension. "I just thought it might be fun. You know."
I smiled as shyly as I knew how. Marsha always likes it when I play the innocent little girl. "Can we set some ground rules?" I asked.
"Of course." Marsha was beaming. I got the feeling she had wanted to get to this point for a long time. "You just name your limitations."
"I'll let you decide the limitations. I just want you to promise you'll bring me to orgasm while I'm tied up."
Marsha stepped forward and started undressing me. "And how would the little girl like to be brought to climax? Would she like for me to use my fingers, or my tongue? Maybe one of our vibrators massaging you in just the right place. I know you and any one of those would techniques can take you over the edge. Which will it be?"
"All of them." I said as I stepped out of my panties.
The king size brass bed in Marsha's room had always intrigued me. I often wondered if Marsha was into bondage and secretly fantasized she had had many victims constrained in that very bed, subject to whatever level of sadistic torment she was inclined to administer. I imagined myself helplessly secured to the bedpost and forced to endure drop after drop of hot candle wax, severe spankings, and denial of impending orgasms over and over again. I even dreamed of her sitting and watching my restrained body writhing in ecstasy as another woman or man made passionately brutal love to me. But never, in all my dreams, had I fancied her tickling me into a state of uncontrollable hysteria.
Lying there, spread eagle, my binds so tight movement was almost painful, I waited while Marsha prepared to take me to an area I had never before experienced. When she approached the bed, I braced my self for the intense sensations she had planned for me. In her hand was a feather that looked to be as sturdy and soft as it was long. My eyes closed and my toes clinched, I anticipated the touch of the feather on my sensitive feet.
She surprised me. She applied the feather directly between my legs. The initial shock made me recoil, pulling at my binds and sending a moderate level of discomfort through my body. I had to relax and allow her to torture me with out resistance.
Her fingers spread my vaginal lips to allow her direct access to my sensitive clit which she rubbed feverishly with the feather. Bolts of electric impulses surged through me. Every nerve in my body was tingling with sexual excitement. There was an intense orgasm building in me, but it was coming on much slower than normal making be cry out in sensual agony. I wanted this orgasm, but it was taking its own sweet time. I prayed Marsha would continue her attention through the end and let me achieve the pleasure she was making me crave so deeply.
Just before I, peaked, she stopped. I cried out loud. "Noooooo! Please don't stop. I'm was ready to come. Please!"
Marsha just laughed and slid the feather slowly down my leg to my bare foot and began the torment I had originally expected. Once again, electric current pulsed through my body, only this time, the sensation was of a more jolting nature. I fought the urge to tighten my muscles. I resisted the desire to writhe wildly. I even managed to keep myself from trying to pull away from instrument of torment. But nothing could stop me from screaming so loud it hurt my own ears. And the more I screamed, the more Marsha enjoyed her mildly sadistic attack.
"What are you going to do when I start using my fingers?" Marsha asked through her own devious laughter. "I'm just getting started here." I wanted to answer, but at that moment all my breath was committed.
Mercifully, Marsha pulled the feather from my foot about a minute after she started, giving me the chance to recover my wind. That moment ended abruptly when I felt the feather between my legs again. Marsha repeated her earlier performance there spreading my lips to give her access to my clit, only this time I approached the edge of pure delight a lot faster than before. Still, as before, she stopped just before the flood gates opened making me more and more desperate for release.
Before I had a chance to protest, I was responding to the current created as she ran the quill over my belly, up to my breast, around my nipples and then to my ultra sensitive underarms. I thought the downy quill on my feet had been tough because she had moved it so slowly. Well, she moved the plume very quickly from my elbows to my naval sliding the soft attacker over my goose pimpled flash in the transition. My nerves would still be dancing in one spot when she had moved to another. Four seconds at my arm pits making me giggle like a school girl, three seconds at my naval driving the wind from my lungs. Circling my nipples just along enough to make them go from erect to stiff. So, in comparison to the foot work, what this lacked in intensity, it made up for in consistency. My squirming and whimpering had no affect on Marsha, but my sustained giggles and laughter seemed to satisfy her.
Sweating almost as intensely as I was gasping for breath, Marsha returned to my throbbing pussy a third time, pushing me closer to the point of release. Convinced she would stop just before satisfaction, I tried to resist the overwhelming desire to exhibit the pleasure I felt. This seemed to make her more intent on taking me over the edge. Unable to control myself any longer I begged her, "Please don't stop! Oh, please don't stop!"
When I heard her own moan of, "Come for me! Come for me!" I knew she was ready to let me go all the way. As much as I wanted to reach the pinnacle, the feather still had that slow moving affect making me yearn for the discharge more and more. When my orgasm finally came, it engulfed me more than any it ever had before. The binds on my wrists and ankles tightened as my whole body contracted with the force of it. My blood felt like molten lava coursing through me, making a massive charge for the center of my pleasure. My body tingled as if there were a thousand feathers all touching different parts of me at the same time. Holding my breath in anticipation of the final push, I felt my vaginal walls contract with intense rapidity. My swollen lips were pulsating with the same frequency. I could take no more so I screamed, " Oooooooooooh, myyyyyyyyyy goodnesssss."
The heat that had filled my body suddenly flooded my womb causing the walls to open as wide as they could get. I could feel the cavity fill with fluid and then gush out of me in a rush that took my breath away. My four limbs flexed and contracted alternately for what seemed forever. I couldn't breath. I could hardly see. My eyes were filled with tears of joy. I relaxed all my muscles and allowed this incredible orgasm to flow without resistance. There was nothing else I could do.
It seemed to go on for several minutes. When it finally began to subside, I was gasping for air, panting like a race horse in the winner's circle. Slowly regaining my composure, I felt Marsha removing the binds from my ankles, massaging the rope marks as she went along. I was too tired to do anything for myself and just lay there as she released me.
Two weeks later, I experienced the first of many encounters with women and men Marsha brought to the house to participate in a tickle session with me as the consummate victim. Some just wanted to tickle my feet while others wanted to attack my whole body with fingers, feathers, ice, and other instruments of hysterical torture.
When her job started heaping raises and promotions on her at an unbelievable rate, I realized she was using me to climb up the corporate ladder. I confronted her about this and she didn't try to deny it. When I suggested getting even with her for using me in such a exploitive manner, she said, "Well … you know how ticklish I am."
