Been forever but here's chapter 3 of this saga.
Here's Part 1 - https://www.ticklingforum.com/threads/the-awakening-of-alex-odd-an-m-f-romance.356851/
And Part 2 - https://www.ticklingforum.com/threads/part-2-the-awakening-of-alex-odd-an-m-f-romance.357392/
Hope you enjoy!
Chapter 3
She walked into her apartment at 2:26am Tuesday morning and fell into bed, knowing she’d have to be up at 6:30 for school but she couldn’t sleep. After breakfast, she had said goodbye to Carey at the airport (he’d driven her himself this time) where he made her promise she’d return.
“I insist,” he said.
“I will.”
But she knew it’d longer than either of them would like. The thought of returning to the drudgery of her previous life was overwhelmingly depressing, so she took out her phone and read the latest message in the long series she and Carey had exchanged since she’d left.
CAREY: I believe you left something.
She grinned to herself.
ALEX: What do you mean?
A picture followed of Carey’s long fingers gently pinching the socks she’d been wearing the day before.
CAREY: You bad girl.
ALEX: Oops! 🤷🏻♀️
CAREY: They’ll be safe in my care.
ALEX: Thank goodness.
CAREY: I’ll add them to the little wardrobe I’m putting together for you.
ALEX: …wut.
CAREY: So you don’t have to pack when you come. It’ll be stuff like you already have. Plus some things I thought we could play with. If you like.
ALEX: You’re buying me clothes?
CAREY: Is that alright?
ALEX: 🥰🥰🥰
She opened the browser on her phone. In the Uber home as she surreptitiously scrolled through whatever tickle content she could fine, she had found an image she couldn’t shake. It was an anime-style rendering of a topless girl strapped to a piece of bondage equipment – a kind of horizontal X-frame. From various points on the frame, robotic arms extended toward the girl. There were so many, that the girls body nearly disappeared beneath all of the appendages. Some had feathers, some had brushes, some had little knobs that dig into the poor girl’s ribs. She was being tickled everywhere simultaneously, and what drove Alex crazy about the picture was the fact that the girl on the table seemed to be the only person in the room…she appeared to have been abandoned there, left to the torturous devices of this mindless machine. It terrifying and excited her to no end. She took a screenshot and sent it to Carey.
ALEX: I wish this could happen.
ALEX: I’d prob die though.
CAREY: My goodness that’s the most wonderful thing I’ve ever seen.
ALEX: Haha. I though so too. Shame it doesn’t exist.
CAREY: Yet.
Alex blinked at the phone.
ALEX: Sorry, what?
CAREY: If I build you something like this, will you promise to come back before the holidays?
ALEX: You’re going to BUILD THIS?
CAREY: Well I’m not. But a client of mine has designed some of the most famous buildings in the world and he happens to have a terrific sadistic streak. I imagine marrying bondage with high-tech engineering will quite excite him.
ALEX: WHO ARE YOU?!
CAREY: First weekend in November? Would that work?
ALEX: I’ll be there. If I get fired it’s your fault.
CAREY: I’m calling my architect. Stay tuned.
She closed her eyes and fell into a deep sleep.
The correspondence was like a drug. Through the week, her phone, which normally held a charge for more than a day, was almost never out of her hand. She woke up thinking about what he’d sent her. During class, she’d count the minutes until she could sneak a look to see if he’d texted. It could change the course of her day:
CAREY: Thinking of a castle I stayed in once in Scotland. There was a dungeon you could tour – think it’s still functioning?
She couldn’t remember a single student’s name for an hour – not simply because the fantasy in the text message was overwhelmingly attractive, but because she wasn’t actually sure it was fantasy. Such were Carey’s resources, she half expected a helicopter to land on the roof and whisk her away to some Scottish dungeon for a weekend of merciless tickle torture.
Friday came and on her walk to Martin’s house she considered how she might tell someone, anyone, about her new friend.
“I spent the weekend in London,” she imagined saying. “Oh you know, we stayed at this older man’s country mansion, he tied me up blah blah blah…yeah actually it was all because you awakened a latent fetish monster deep in my soul by making me watch The Jungle Book.” She shook her head. Nope couldn’t tell Martin.
The following week, she got a message mid-day from Carey.
CAREY: Your machine is a go. Architect is overjoyed.
ALEX: Shut up. This is incredible.
CAREY: If I book you a ticket for Friday Dec. 2nd, is that ok? The red eye?
ALEX: What can I bring you?
CAREY: Just you, my dear.
ALEX: Oh please. I cannot imagine what that thing is costing you to build. Give me something to bring. Please.
There was a pause of a few minutes.
ALEX: If you don’t tell me what I can bring, I’m gonna safeword every two minutes the whole weekend.
CAREY: That is a very naughty threat, young lady.
ALEX: And not an idle one.
CAREY: Very well. You can bring two things. First, a list of places you want to see around London.
ALEX: Okay, that is very exciting but it’s got to be something for YOU.
CAREY: And SECOND…a jar of Skippy extra-crunchy peanut butter.
ALEX:………….
CAREY: It’s impossible to get here. One of two things in America I covet.
ALEX: Two things?
CAREY: J
She blushed every time she thought about that exchange. That night, she started a sight-seeing checklist. She still had two weeks to kill before her trip and the time felt interminable. She filled the days by preparing. She made an appointment for a pedicure for the day before the trip. She made sure this time she’d have clothes to match the surroundings. For the first time in a very long time, Alex wanted to look good for someone else. But it wasn’t the same as the mindless primping she’d practiced with the rest of society. She was conscious of the areas of her body that she wanted Carey to touch – the more sensitive it was, the better she wanted it to look, and the more she wanted him to notice. She moisturized everywhere. She was obsessive about being stubble-free under her arms. To her surprise, she found herself wanting her hip bones exposed, even knowing they were too sensitive to be tickled. She wanted him to think about that spot – to be driven crazy by the fact that her hips were off-limits. She’d lay on her bed with her arms above her head and watch her shirt ride up, revealing these spots just below her waistline. She practiced imagining his thumbs digging softly into them, the electric current of ticklishness rocketing through her body, right on the edge between pleasure and pain. She imagined her body so overwhelmed by the sensations that it emitted light from its center – powerful and strange – and as she screamed, and pulled in vain against her bondage, the line between her body and her pleasure and her pain disappeared and she became sensation itself – an exposed nerve, at the mercy of its loving torturer.
She’d emerge from these visions surer than ever that her instinct was right – that under no circumstances could she bear to have this spot exploited, or even explored – but in the back of her mind, she wondered if these short forays into the unimaginable were her mind’s way of preparing for what she knew she’d eventually want: for someone, Carey maybe, to push her ticklish body past its ability cope. To see what lay on the other side of that suffering.
The week before her trip she was basically useless. A co-worked, someone she’d known for years, pulled her aside and asked if she was alright. When Alex asked what she meant, her colleague said, “you seem like you’re somewhere else.” Alex made some excuse about her noisy neighbors keeping her up and laughed it off, but she knew she was in danger of checking out of her life. All she thought about was Friday. Friday and Carey and London and adventure and the narcotic satisfaction of being tickled to utter oblivion.
Thursday, she went after school to have her toes done. She discreetly filmed the ticklish ordeal on her phone and sent it to Carey with the message:
ALEX: A preview of coming attractions.
CAREY: My goodness, you are ticklish. That woman wasn’t even trying.
ALEX: I’m sorry, I can’t help it!
CAREY: You’re in trouble, my dear, I’m sorry to say.
ALEX: 🥵 Promise?
She had her luggage by the door by Wednesday so when she finally walked in Friday afternoon, it was ready for her. She took an Uber to the airport several hours early, checking a bag to accommodate the three extra jars of Skippy she packed for Carey. She sent him her sight-seeing list.
CAREY: It’s going to be a busy weekend. I hope you’re as excited as I am.
ALEX: You have no idea.
It was noon on Saturday when she landed. She had forced herself to sleep on the plane, not wanting to sleep-walk through her first day in London. She’d once again taken off the following Monday, and she wasn’t going to waste a minute of her long weekend. This time, it was Carey who met her at the airport. She saw him before he saw her, and his face, full of anticipation and hope, made her want to throw herself in to his arms. Instead, she smiled and waved and when he said, “Hello, my dear, welcome back,” she said, “Hello, mister,” and kissed his cheek.
They both sat in the back while Charles drove. Their first stop was lunch, which Carey had arranged at a restaurant he often used to meet with clients.
“It’s classy but unassuming,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Makes people feel comfortable.”
“I see,” said Alex. “And is that supposed to work on me?”
“Ah, certainly not,” he said. “They also happen to have the best fish and chips in town and after the abomination we were served in Middletown, I thought I’d set us straight.”
After lunch, they toured some of Alex’s sight-seeing spots – the tower of London, Big Ben, and Buckingham Palace, which Alex remarked was not as impressive as Carey’s estate. As the sun set, they grabbed kebab from a place Charles recommended and ate in the car on the way back to Carey’s. Alex leaned against the door and put her feet on his lap. When he squeezed her knee, she squealed and self-consciously looked at Charles.
“I haven’t told him,” Carey whispered. “But he wouldn’t be shocked. He knows about my proclivities. Besides, he’s got things of his own.”
Alex grinned. “Charles, if you hear laughter from the backseat, it’s just the sound of Carey exploiting my insatiable tickle fetish. Don’t be alarmed.”
Carey laughed.
“Yes, ma’am,” Charles replied. “I heard your last escapade through the door last month. I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself.”
“What’s your thing?” Alex asked.
“If you hadn’t been screaming for mercy all night, you’d have heard me spanking the scullery maid raw.”
Alex’s jaw dropped and she shot a shocked, delighted look at Carey. “Izzy?! The quiet one?”
She could see Charles up front suppressing a grin. “She’s not so quiet if you know what you’re doing.”
Alex screamed and Carey playfully slapped the back of Charles’s seat as they bumped down the driveway and pulled up to the front door. “What is this magical place?” Alex thought, as Charles removed her luggage and drove away in the car to park it in the garage.
“He’s the best,” Carey said. “A true friend, and a loyal confidant. You never need to worry about him keeping your secret.”
“I’m not worried,” Alex said. “I adore him.” And they walked inside together.
He had positively filled her closet to the brim. She stook gawking at the dozens of items – from shoes to hats – that were meticulously arranged on the racks. She walked back out into the hall to find him standing grinning at her.
“I couldn’t help myself,” he said. “It was fun for me.”
“That’s more than I have in my own closet!” Alex said. “I’ll never be able to wear all of that!”
“Who cares?” Carey said. “You won’t run out of options, at least.”
“I want to see the thing,” she said.
“Now?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Alright. Follow me.”
“I’m going to change first,” she said. “Should I wear something specific?”
He smiled and touched her cheek. “It works best with as little clothing as possible.”
She went weak in the knees, but managed to grin and disappear back into the room.
She made him wait a good while. She poked through the clothes he had picked – all of them beautiful – until she saw a garment in the center clearly intended to be noticed. A black silk robe, hung from a black hangar and when she touched it, she knew what to do. When re-emerged from the bedroom wearing the robe, her hair was down, and Carey could see immediately that there was absolutely nothing underneath.
“Well done,” he said softly, and led her down the long hall to a staircase. “If this isn’t want you had in mind, just say the word and we’ll try again,” he said.
“Shut up and show me,” she said.
At the bottom of the stairs, a room darkly, but warmly lit was empty save for a few large objects Alex couldn’t quite discern in the low light. She approached a table in the middle of the space. Carey flipped a switch on some sort of machine in the corner and the table blinked to life. She gasped as lights flickered and the true shape of this new device was revealed. It was shockingly similar to the picture she had sent. An X-frame bondage table set into a larger rectangular frame. The machine in the corner gave a low, electric hum.
“Holy shit,” she said. “What is that?” pointing to the machine in the corner.
“A generator,” said Carey. “This thing takes an enormous amount of power.”
Alex laughed incredulously. “I can’t believe you did this.”
“You haven’t seen it work yet,” said Carey. “Watch this.” He walked toward her with an iPad. He clicked a tab on the screen and four arms leapt from the sides of the table and poised themselves over the upper part of the empty frame.
“OH MY GOD,” Alex said. “No way.”
Carey clicked another tab and four more arms emerged toward the bottom. Alex shook her head in awe. Finally, two arms that looked like paint-rollers emerged from the base of the table where a victim’s feet might be. A menagerie of implements protruded from each roller – feathers, wires, brushes, two devious-looking spigots, and two flat, rubber pads covered in nodules.
Speechless, Alex blinked at Carey, who was staring at her. “What do you think?” he said.
“How did you do this?” she asked, running a trembling hand over the table’s smooth edge.
“It was intensive,” he admitted. “We had to do a lot of testing.”
“Testing? Like on a person?”
“Yes,” he said. “There’s a local woman, a fetish model, who’s done some videos over the years. She agreed to be the guinnea pig – make sure it all works.”
“And does it?” she said.
“It does. Took a while. But I should warn you – my model friend is only moderately ticklish, and on last test, she didn’t last long.”
“How long?”
“Eight seconds,” he said, grimacing. “She is not nearly as ticklish as you.”
“Oh my fucking –“
“Though she also doesn’t have your superhuman endurance for this kind of thing, so…”
She smiled. He went on. “Every arm is individually adjustable and operates on its own switch. All can be adjusted for intensity, location, and technique. There are a few other bells and whistles…” He flipped another tab and a soft black slab emerged from the table’s center. “It does pleasure as well,” he said. “This material vibrates at an enormously high frequency – it forms to your body and I promise orgasms like you’ve never felt in your life. If you want, of course.”
Alex just shook her head in wonder. “This is so beyond anything…can I?”
“Of course,” he said.
She walked to him and tipped her chin up to his. He leaned down and kissed her mouth, hard as she dropped the robe to the floor. Fully naked before him, she felt powerful – almost godlike. She seemed to levitate off the floor. She walked to the far side of the table and hopped up. He lovingly stood at her side and gently raised her arms into position on the X-frame. Her feet naturally fell into the comfortable grooves.
“Ready?” he said.
“Mm-hmm,” she replied. And before she had time to realize what was happening, the table grabbed her. At least that’s what it felt like. Straps from the X-frame jumped around her wrists, elbows, arms, legs, and ankles and tightened mechanically until Alex could not move her limbs a single inch. When she shook her body, the incidental jiggling of her breasts and torso was all the restraints afforded her.
“HOOOOOLY SHIT,” she said. “I cannot move at ALL.”
“Too tight?” Carey said, smiling.
“I fucking love it,” she said.
He raised something high above her torso and she felt the familiar sensation of oil dripping onto her from the bottle.
“Forgot to mention,” he said. “The device needs some kind of lubrication. It will automatically add oil as it needs, but it’s good to have some to start.”
“Am I going to die?” she said.
“No, my dear, you are going to laugh very very very hard.”
She tried to arch her back in pleasure but there was zero give to her bondage.
He began rubbing the oil into her skin. He stared into her eyes as he did it, being careful not to tickle her yet. He wanted to be deliberate about when he started. There was nothing clumsy about the way he touched her. Even when he massaged the delicate oil into her sensitive armpits or over her breasts, she did not react. He was waiting for the right moment. He left no part of her un-touched. Her thighs, her legs, her feet – everything was covered. He stepped back and admired her glistening form.
“You look absolutely unbelievable,” he said. “I am so excited to turn this on, but I want to do this myself, first.”
That was the warning she got. He launched into her with both hands, kneading all ten fingers into her oiled ribcage. She screamed at the top of her lungs but quickly lost her breath and her shriek devolved into helpless, hysterical laughter. She’d forgotten how intense it could be, and her eyes widened at the thought of what she was about to endure. He leaned into her, sneaking his fingers deftly up the sides of her ribs under the sides of her breasts and into her armpits. She shook her head and gasped, taking in as much air as she could before Carey forced her helpless body to laugh again. His face was right above hers now and she looked up into his eyes. Through her desperate laughter, he said, “feeling warmed up?”
All she could do was nod, so effective were Carey’s fingers. He pulled away, “I don’t know if you’re ready for this,” he mused, picking the iPad up. “I’d forgotten how ticklish you are.”
She remembered how delicious her begging had felt the last time he tortured her.
“Please don’t,” she said. “I can’t move at all, please don’t.”
He smiled. “Hmm. I wonder what this button does…” He flipped a switch. All eight arms popped out of the table and hovered menacingly a foot above her quivering, naked body. She screamed, “OH FUCK OH HOLY FUCK.” She giggled uncontrollably.
“You are about to be absolutely destroyed by tickling. Is that what you want?”
“I want what you want.”
“I know you do.”
Two arms suddenly descended and she felt a soft but firm grip on both of her knees. She gasped. Then she screamed as the clamps began vibrating and slid quickly up and down her oiled legs. It was so intense she could barely laugh. She immediately started begging.
“Oh no no no oh my GOD NOT LIKE THAT.” He stopped the machine. She devolved into a giggling mess. “I don’t think I can do this,” she said, not able to stop the laughter.
“You asked for this if memory serves,” he said smiling. “We’re just getting started.” He tapped the iPad and the four upper arms leapt toward her exposed torso.
“NO DON-“ she tried to beg but the aluminum spindles spidering across her belly made words a total impossibility. They walked across her ticklish skin in seemingly random patterns, their tough maddeningly light and devastatingly effective. At the same time, the upper arms found even more success. Small knobs applied just a bit of pressure to her upper ribs beneath the sides of her breasts, and without ever losing contact, slid torturously up and down her sides, from her armpits to to her abdomen.
Carey watched gleefully. Only a few minutes in and she was laughing harder than she had at any point during their last session. He stopped the machine to let her rest. As soon as the arms retracted Alex gasped, “this is TORTURE!” and she fell back into blubbering and giggling and trying to catch her breath.
“Shall I take this opportunity to show you the last feature of this diabolical machine?” he said.
“What the hell there’s more?” Alex said, panting.
“You articulated clearly that there is a spot you are not to be touched.”
“Yes,” she said, a flicker of fear in her voice.
“Well I have programmed this thing never to go there – your hips are off limits.”
“Good,” she said.”
“Unless you change your mind.” And with that two new arms appeared, each with a round, three-headed knob on the end.
She screamed, “oh god no no no, don’t.”
“Of course I won’t, my dear.” These arms are password operated. You set the password, I can’t activate them without it. If and when you decide you want to explore that spot, you tell me the password, and I will activate these arms.”
“That’s fucking genius,” she said.
“Want to know what they do?” he said, a devilish smile spreading across his face. She nodded. “These knobs fit into this little crevice here,” he brought his hand to an inch above the hollow of Alex’s right hip socket. She inhaled sharply. “And then they apply just a little bit of pressure.” She shook her head and closed her eyes and tried to imagine anything but those knobs operating maniacally in her most ticklish spot. “And then they spin - not too fast – just the perfect rate, combined with an ever-flowing stream of oil.”
“Fuck fuck fuck no no no,” she begged. “I’m not ready, please don’t turn it on.”
“I won’t my dear. But you should know, when you decide to use your password - the model who tested this machine out, the one who is about half as ticklish as you, said this was the most torturous sensation she’d ever experienced.” She was so turned on by his taunting, she couldn’t see straight.
“But! Enough of that.” The arms retracted. “How about the feet, then?” And he flipped a tab and all of a sudden, Alex’s world melted around her. Two soft rubber pads slid up the soles of her oiled feet, dragging dozens of soft nodules over every inch of exposed skin. She tried to scream but it was hopeless. Her heels were set in a slight divot in the x-frame, which, when combined with the straps on her ankles, kept her feet from moving at all. Carey had deliberately left her toes untied. He loved how they expressed her torment – every curl and scrunch, every flexion of her sole mirrored the experience of her ticklish anguish and he loved watching . While the scrubbers did their worst, he walked calmly around her thrashing, jiggling form, periodically stopping to dig a finger into her ribcage or squeeze a hyper-sensitive thigh. He picked up the iPad again. The scrubbers stopped.
“Want to know what I’m REALLY excited to show you?” he asked.
“Oh god, no more. No more, I can’t take it.”
He ignored her, which he was well aware would drive her crazy. “It’s incredible what two little water jets can do with an infinite water supply and no built-in empathy reflex.”
The rollers turned and the two spigots rotated to the top.
“What the fuck. What the fuck does that –“ but when he turned it on and two pencil-thin pressurized water jets hit her ecstatically ticklish soles, she was plunged into a new fresh hell and didn’t even try to finish the sentence. Carey reacted approvingly.
“I thought these would be effective!” He spoke between her shrieks. “You know, these little hoses…these things are programmed to…”
He stopped as she screamed, “OH GOD, TURN IT OFF. PLEASE TURN IT OFF!”
“Excuse me, dear, but I was speaking,” he said sternly, and she dissolved into ever more desperate laughter. “As I was saying…these things are programmed to be in constant motion. They move randomly, never tracing the same pattern twice, so your brain can’t get used to their movements. Seems like it’s working alright for you? Does that tickle a bit?” All she could do was gyrate and nod her head.
“I wouldn’t want to leave your toes out though,” he said. Still unable to speak, she shook her head no, but it was futile. The spigots lifted and with pinpoint precision, began jettisoning their torturous streams between her helpless toes. It seemed she hadn’t breathed in an eternity. “Are you trying to say something?” he said, leaning his face close to hers. All she could do was mouth,
“please stop.”
“Hmm…guess not. Well here’s the thing, my love. I’m going to turn this whole thing loose on you in about a minute. Would you like a break first?” She nodded as best she could. “You’d like a break now?” Desperately, she nodded again. “Right now?”
She finally caught her breath. “YES, PLEASE STOP PLEASE STOP PLEEEEAAAAASE!”
“Oh, alright,” he said, and paused the machine. She lay gasping and blubbering on the table, knowing her ordeal was about to get a hundred times worse. “You have about twenty seconds. Any last words?
Her mind was totally gone, but with whatever functioning brain cells she had left, she tried to form coherent thoughts.
“Please don’t. Please don’t do it. I am begging you.”
“You’re begging me?”
“I’m begging you, please. I can’t take anymore.”
“You’re just…you’re making me want to more, you understand? Your begging is making want to torture you again – you’re doing it wrong.”
“I’m sorrryyyyyyy,” she dissolved into giggles. “I don’t know – I don’t know what to – I’m gonna die I’m gonna die.”
“You aren’t going to die,” he said. “In fact, you seem quite alive to me. Let’s see what this button does.” Besides the two arms reserved for her hips, every moving part of the table suddenly leapt into action. Her feet, her legs, her belly, her rips and her armpits were all attacked at once. It was like being electrocuted with pleasure. It was more sensation than she’d ever imagined she could feel, and she marveled at the wonder of engineering this creation truly was. Just when she started to get used to one technique, another arm moved and found another spot or applied pressure in a different way, and she’d be flung again into new torment, new heights of desperation.
Carey looked at Alex – this oiled, sweat-covered, tear-stained mess and felt an overwhelming desire deep within him. He smiled. It was time to fulfill the promise of that original piece of artwork she’d sent him – the one the table had been fashioned after. “I’m a bit parched,” he said through her screams. “I’m going to go grab a drink. You alright if I step out for a moment?”
Her eyes widened. This was what she’d asked for, but she was spent. She had laughed so hard for so long, and she was trying to lean into the sensations, but the machine was so good and so relentless, the onslaught so merciless, that she was beginning to really lose a grip on her sanity. If she could have spoken words, she would have begged him not to leave her in that state. She would have said anything he wanted her to say. But she couldn’t, and she knew she couldn’t. So she continued to laugh and scream and shriek as the sound of his slow footsteps up the stairs and the opening and re-closing of the door echoed through the room. And then she knew she was alone.
Out in the hall, Charles was waiting for Carey with a glass of scotch.
“Sounds like she’s enjoying herself,” Charles said.
“I think she is,” Carey said, raising the iPad. “Let’s check in on her.” He pulled up a live-feed of the room downstairs. She was just as he left her. “She’s something, isn’t she?” Carey said.
“Indeed, sir,” Charles said. “I’m glad you’ve found each other.”
Carey nodded and smiled. Then Charles added as he walked away, “You’ve found this for so many others. It’s about time it’s happened for you.”
“Thank you, my friend,” Carey said. He watched Alex on the screen for another moment before he opened the door and slowly descended the stairs.
“How’s it going down here?” he asked, approaching the table. He could tell she’d had it. She looked up at him through a mess of tears.
“Please,” she whispered. “Mercy.” He flipped the iPad open and as easily as the torture had begun, it stopped. Immediately, she said, “No more. I’ll do anything. Anything you want, just don’t tickle me anymore. Don’t tickle me anymore,” and the intensity of her ordeal got the better of her and her voice cracked into a heavy sob.
“Oh, my dear,” he said, stroking her matted hair. “Is someone just too ticklish for her own silly machine?” She nodded – half smiling, half crying. “Is someone just too ticklish? What are we going to do with her?”
“I don’t know, I don’t know,” she whimpered. “But don’t tickle me. Don’t tickle me anymore, I’ll do anything. Anything.”
“I think you’ve done splendidly,” he said. “After all, the test victim lasted only eight seconds. You beat that by almost a half an hour.”
“That was only a half an hour??” she said. “That felt so long.”
“I promise, this will be more pleasant,” he said, and the thin slab of latex at the center of the table lifted and settled over her groin. It formed to her figure like a loin cloth, fitting itself over her like a weighted blanket.
“What are you doing to me?” she asked, wide-eyed.
“I’m going to make you scream with pleasure, my dear.” She moaned. “Is that alright with you?
“No more tickling?”
“No more tickling. Just this.” He pressed a button and she felt the material covering her sex organs suddenly flash with warmth. It sent a wave of relaxation through her body.
“Oh god. Oh god,” she said. “Oh god, that is incredible. It’s so – “
The entire loincloth suddenly started moving - vibrating and rubbing against her. It felt like warm, pulsing waves of pleasure being injected directly into her middle. She gasped and let out a guttural moan – a sound she was sure she’d never made before. Carey watched her writhe as much as her restraints allowed, adjusting the pressure and the intensity intermittently, helping her ride the waves of sensation.
“Touch me,” she said. “I want you to touch me.”
He grabbed her chest and she inhaled sharply.
“Tell me what you want to do to me,” she said. “Tell me.”
“Well, my dear,” he said. “It’s funny, no matter how hard you laugh, I just want to make you laugh harder.” She groaned. “It’s like a drug – all I want is more. I want to make you become laughter itself.”
“Oh fuck, I’m going to come,” she said.
“And what I really want. What I really want more than anything,” he said, inching her closer, “is to feel your body react when I dig my thumbs into the death-spots of your hips.”
“Oh FUCK,” she was coming now.
“I want to make you forget what it feels like to NOT be tickled. To make you laugh until your body can’t laugh anymore, that’s what I want.”
She came so hard, he thought she might actually break the table. Her screams echoed in the room long after she’d finished.
“You are going to fuck me,” she said. “You’re going to fuck me right fucking now.”
“As you wish, my dear.”
It was better than either of them had imagined it would be, and they’d both imagined quite a lot. He unstrapped her from the table and wrapped her limbs around him and took him inside her and he carried her around the room, every so often indulging in her laughter by digging his fingers into her sides or spidering them over her naked back. The feeling of her laughter from the inside was unlike anything he’d ever felt and he had a suspicion, just before they climaxed together, that he’d just found his new obsession.
He held her for a long time, both of them not speaking. When he finally put her down, her knees buckled.
“Whoa,” she said. “I feel crazy.”
“Easy does it,” he said gently, and he draped the robe over her shoulders and helped her up the stairs. Outside the door to her room, he leaned down and kissed her.
“I’m going to shower, I’m a mess,” she said smiling.
“I’ll be in the living room. Take your time.”
She went in and closed the door and walked into the bathroom and turned on the shower. She let the robe fall around her feet and stood for a long time, just looking at herself in the mirror. It was a stranger who stared back – the foreignness of her reflection alarmed her at first. She was glowing bright and pink. Her hair, soaked in sweat, was a twisted bramble, and her there were superficial marks on her body from where she’d pulled so hard against the machine. There was redness across her ribcage from the prodding, and she felt residual tingling through her feet against the cold tile floor. But for how changed she looked, she also felt, for the first time in her life, totally self-possessed. It was Alex in the mirror and she was seeing this human for the first time. Whoever she’d been – the rehearsal version of herself – that person was a distant memory.
She showered for a long time, taking care of her body, which had endured so much. She was so thankful for this beautiful body she had; this body that let her have the whole range of human experience so hungrily. She was in love with herself for the first time.
She found Carey, also freshly showered, in loungewear, which she found delightfully anachronistic. He’d set two glasses of wine and snacks on the coffee table.
“Finally, you’re dressed like a normal person,” she said, entering in her sweats and hoodie. “Oh, thank god, I’m starving.”
“I’m not in the habit of showing my pajamas to other people,” he said. “People my age lack the confidence of you young things.”
“People your age,” she said. “What is your age?” It occurred to her there was still so much they didn’t know about each other.
He grimaced. “I’ve been afraid you’d ask that eventually,” he said.
“Oh please, I don’t care,” she said. “I know you’re older than me.”
“I’m forty-nine,” he said, looking at her sideways.
“I’m thirty-two,” Alex replied.
“Heavens,” Carey said. “Thirty-two.”
“I don’t know anything about you,” she said.
“What do you want to know?”
“Everything. Tell me your story.”
So he did. For the rest of the night, they exchanged details of each other’s lives. He told her about his upbringing in a posh neighborhood in London – about his parents’ conservatism and their eventual falling-out. About his marriage that fell apart because of his job. “Or maybe it was my kink,” he said sadly, “it’s hard to say at this point.” He told her about how Oliver, how he was more and more mysterious to him as he grew up. “I’m afraid I’m not doing a very good job,” he said.
“That’s crap,” Alex said. “I’m sure you’re great.”
“You’ll see him tomorrow,” he said. “It’s my day.”
“That’s great!” she said. “I can’t wait.”
She told him about her childhood in Middletown, about her desire to move home after college, about how her life now seemed split, with the second half just beginning.
“I can play a few songs on the piano,” she said. “I took four years of tap-dance.”
“I’d like to see you tap-dance,” he said.
“Someday when my legs work correctly,” she said laughing. “It’d be a sorry sight right now.”
He nodded and pulled her toward him on the couch. A few minutes later, he said, “What should we start with tomorrow? I figured breakfast here, then maybe we tick a few more things off on your list?”
She didn’t answer.
“Alex?”
She was so far into sleep, she didn’t flinch when he picked her up and carried her down the hall to her room. He tucked her in and kissed her cheek, and shut the door behind him, happier and more fulfilled than he’d been in all his forty-nine years.
Here's Part 1 - https://www.ticklingforum.com/threads/the-awakening-of-alex-odd-an-m-f-romance.356851/
And Part 2 - https://www.ticklingforum.com/threads/part-2-the-awakening-of-alex-odd-an-m-f-romance.357392/
Hope you enjoy!
Chapter 3
She walked into her apartment at 2:26am Tuesday morning and fell into bed, knowing she’d have to be up at 6:30 for school but she couldn’t sleep. After breakfast, she had said goodbye to Carey at the airport (he’d driven her himself this time) where he made her promise she’d return.
“I insist,” he said.
“I will.”
But she knew it’d longer than either of them would like. The thought of returning to the drudgery of her previous life was overwhelmingly depressing, so she took out her phone and read the latest message in the long series she and Carey had exchanged since she’d left.
CAREY: I believe you left something.
She grinned to herself.
ALEX: What do you mean?
A picture followed of Carey’s long fingers gently pinching the socks she’d been wearing the day before.
CAREY: You bad girl.
ALEX: Oops! 🤷🏻♀️
CAREY: They’ll be safe in my care.
ALEX: Thank goodness.
CAREY: I’ll add them to the little wardrobe I’m putting together for you.
ALEX: …wut.
CAREY: So you don’t have to pack when you come. It’ll be stuff like you already have. Plus some things I thought we could play with. If you like.
ALEX: You’re buying me clothes?
CAREY: Is that alright?
ALEX: 🥰🥰🥰
She opened the browser on her phone. In the Uber home as she surreptitiously scrolled through whatever tickle content she could fine, she had found an image she couldn’t shake. It was an anime-style rendering of a topless girl strapped to a piece of bondage equipment – a kind of horizontal X-frame. From various points on the frame, robotic arms extended toward the girl. There were so many, that the girls body nearly disappeared beneath all of the appendages. Some had feathers, some had brushes, some had little knobs that dig into the poor girl’s ribs. She was being tickled everywhere simultaneously, and what drove Alex crazy about the picture was the fact that the girl on the table seemed to be the only person in the room…she appeared to have been abandoned there, left to the torturous devices of this mindless machine. It terrifying and excited her to no end. She took a screenshot and sent it to Carey.
ALEX: I wish this could happen.
ALEX: I’d prob die though.
CAREY: My goodness that’s the most wonderful thing I’ve ever seen.
ALEX: Haha. I though so too. Shame it doesn’t exist.
CAREY: Yet.
Alex blinked at the phone.
ALEX: Sorry, what?
CAREY: If I build you something like this, will you promise to come back before the holidays?
ALEX: You’re going to BUILD THIS?
CAREY: Well I’m not. But a client of mine has designed some of the most famous buildings in the world and he happens to have a terrific sadistic streak. I imagine marrying bondage with high-tech engineering will quite excite him.
ALEX: WHO ARE YOU?!
CAREY: First weekend in November? Would that work?
ALEX: I’ll be there. If I get fired it’s your fault.
CAREY: I’m calling my architect. Stay tuned.
She closed her eyes and fell into a deep sleep.
The correspondence was like a drug. Through the week, her phone, which normally held a charge for more than a day, was almost never out of her hand. She woke up thinking about what he’d sent her. During class, she’d count the minutes until she could sneak a look to see if he’d texted. It could change the course of her day:
CAREY: Thinking of a castle I stayed in once in Scotland. There was a dungeon you could tour – think it’s still functioning?
She couldn’t remember a single student’s name for an hour – not simply because the fantasy in the text message was overwhelmingly attractive, but because she wasn’t actually sure it was fantasy. Such were Carey’s resources, she half expected a helicopter to land on the roof and whisk her away to some Scottish dungeon for a weekend of merciless tickle torture.
Friday came and on her walk to Martin’s house she considered how she might tell someone, anyone, about her new friend.
“I spent the weekend in London,” she imagined saying. “Oh you know, we stayed at this older man’s country mansion, he tied me up blah blah blah…yeah actually it was all because you awakened a latent fetish monster deep in my soul by making me watch The Jungle Book.” She shook her head. Nope couldn’t tell Martin.
The following week, she got a message mid-day from Carey.
CAREY: Your machine is a go. Architect is overjoyed.
ALEX: Shut up. This is incredible.
CAREY: If I book you a ticket for Friday Dec. 2nd, is that ok? The red eye?
ALEX: What can I bring you?
CAREY: Just you, my dear.
ALEX: Oh please. I cannot imagine what that thing is costing you to build. Give me something to bring. Please.
There was a pause of a few minutes.
ALEX: If you don’t tell me what I can bring, I’m gonna safeword every two minutes the whole weekend.
CAREY: That is a very naughty threat, young lady.
ALEX: And not an idle one.
CAREY: Very well. You can bring two things. First, a list of places you want to see around London.
ALEX: Okay, that is very exciting but it’s got to be something for YOU.
CAREY: And SECOND…a jar of Skippy extra-crunchy peanut butter.
ALEX:………….
CAREY: It’s impossible to get here. One of two things in America I covet.
ALEX: Two things?
CAREY: J
She blushed every time she thought about that exchange. That night, she started a sight-seeing checklist. She still had two weeks to kill before her trip and the time felt interminable. She filled the days by preparing. She made an appointment for a pedicure for the day before the trip. She made sure this time she’d have clothes to match the surroundings. For the first time in a very long time, Alex wanted to look good for someone else. But it wasn’t the same as the mindless primping she’d practiced with the rest of society. She was conscious of the areas of her body that she wanted Carey to touch – the more sensitive it was, the better she wanted it to look, and the more she wanted him to notice. She moisturized everywhere. She was obsessive about being stubble-free under her arms. To her surprise, she found herself wanting her hip bones exposed, even knowing they were too sensitive to be tickled. She wanted him to think about that spot – to be driven crazy by the fact that her hips were off-limits. She’d lay on her bed with her arms above her head and watch her shirt ride up, revealing these spots just below her waistline. She practiced imagining his thumbs digging softly into them, the electric current of ticklishness rocketing through her body, right on the edge between pleasure and pain. She imagined her body so overwhelmed by the sensations that it emitted light from its center – powerful and strange – and as she screamed, and pulled in vain against her bondage, the line between her body and her pleasure and her pain disappeared and she became sensation itself – an exposed nerve, at the mercy of its loving torturer.
She’d emerge from these visions surer than ever that her instinct was right – that under no circumstances could she bear to have this spot exploited, or even explored – but in the back of her mind, she wondered if these short forays into the unimaginable were her mind’s way of preparing for what she knew she’d eventually want: for someone, Carey maybe, to push her ticklish body past its ability cope. To see what lay on the other side of that suffering.
The week before her trip she was basically useless. A co-worked, someone she’d known for years, pulled her aside and asked if she was alright. When Alex asked what she meant, her colleague said, “you seem like you’re somewhere else.” Alex made some excuse about her noisy neighbors keeping her up and laughed it off, but she knew she was in danger of checking out of her life. All she thought about was Friday. Friday and Carey and London and adventure and the narcotic satisfaction of being tickled to utter oblivion.
Thursday, she went after school to have her toes done. She discreetly filmed the ticklish ordeal on her phone and sent it to Carey with the message:
ALEX: A preview of coming attractions.
CAREY: My goodness, you are ticklish. That woman wasn’t even trying.
ALEX: I’m sorry, I can’t help it!
CAREY: You’re in trouble, my dear, I’m sorry to say.
ALEX: 🥵 Promise?
She had her luggage by the door by Wednesday so when she finally walked in Friday afternoon, it was ready for her. She took an Uber to the airport several hours early, checking a bag to accommodate the three extra jars of Skippy she packed for Carey. She sent him her sight-seeing list.
CAREY: It’s going to be a busy weekend. I hope you’re as excited as I am.
ALEX: You have no idea.
It was noon on Saturday when she landed. She had forced herself to sleep on the plane, not wanting to sleep-walk through her first day in London. She’d once again taken off the following Monday, and she wasn’t going to waste a minute of her long weekend. This time, it was Carey who met her at the airport. She saw him before he saw her, and his face, full of anticipation and hope, made her want to throw herself in to his arms. Instead, she smiled and waved and when he said, “Hello, my dear, welcome back,” she said, “Hello, mister,” and kissed his cheek.
They both sat in the back while Charles drove. Their first stop was lunch, which Carey had arranged at a restaurant he often used to meet with clients.
“It’s classy but unassuming,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Makes people feel comfortable.”
“I see,” said Alex. “And is that supposed to work on me?”
“Ah, certainly not,” he said. “They also happen to have the best fish and chips in town and after the abomination we were served in Middletown, I thought I’d set us straight.”
After lunch, they toured some of Alex’s sight-seeing spots – the tower of London, Big Ben, and Buckingham Palace, which Alex remarked was not as impressive as Carey’s estate. As the sun set, they grabbed kebab from a place Charles recommended and ate in the car on the way back to Carey’s. Alex leaned against the door and put her feet on his lap. When he squeezed her knee, she squealed and self-consciously looked at Charles.
“I haven’t told him,” Carey whispered. “But he wouldn’t be shocked. He knows about my proclivities. Besides, he’s got things of his own.”
Alex grinned. “Charles, if you hear laughter from the backseat, it’s just the sound of Carey exploiting my insatiable tickle fetish. Don’t be alarmed.”
Carey laughed.
“Yes, ma’am,” Charles replied. “I heard your last escapade through the door last month. I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself.”
“What’s your thing?” Alex asked.
“If you hadn’t been screaming for mercy all night, you’d have heard me spanking the scullery maid raw.”
Alex’s jaw dropped and she shot a shocked, delighted look at Carey. “Izzy?! The quiet one?”
She could see Charles up front suppressing a grin. “She’s not so quiet if you know what you’re doing.”
Alex screamed and Carey playfully slapped the back of Charles’s seat as they bumped down the driveway and pulled up to the front door. “What is this magical place?” Alex thought, as Charles removed her luggage and drove away in the car to park it in the garage.
“He’s the best,” Carey said. “A true friend, and a loyal confidant. You never need to worry about him keeping your secret.”
“I’m not worried,” Alex said. “I adore him.” And they walked inside together.
He had positively filled her closet to the brim. She stook gawking at the dozens of items – from shoes to hats – that were meticulously arranged on the racks. She walked back out into the hall to find him standing grinning at her.
“I couldn’t help myself,” he said. “It was fun for me.”
“That’s more than I have in my own closet!” Alex said. “I’ll never be able to wear all of that!”
“Who cares?” Carey said. “You won’t run out of options, at least.”
“I want to see the thing,” she said.
“Now?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Alright. Follow me.”
“I’m going to change first,” she said. “Should I wear something specific?”
He smiled and touched her cheek. “It works best with as little clothing as possible.”
She went weak in the knees, but managed to grin and disappear back into the room.
She made him wait a good while. She poked through the clothes he had picked – all of them beautiful – until she saw a garment in the center clearly intended to be noticed. A black silk robe, hung from a black hangar and when she touched it, she knew what to do. When re-emerged from the bedroom wearing the robe, her hair was down, and Carey could see immediately that there was absolutely nothing underneath.
“Well done,” he said softly, and led her down the long hall to a staircase. “If this isn’t want you had in mind, just say the word and we’ll try again,” he said.
“Shut up and show me,” she said.
At the bottom of the stairs, a room darkly, but warmly lit was empty save for a few large objects Alex couldn’t quite discern in the low light. She approached a table in the middle of the space. Carey flipped a switch on some sort of machine in the corner and the table blinked to life. She gasped as lights flickered and the true shape of this new device was revealed. It was shockingly similar to the picture she had sent. An X-frame bondage table set into a larger rectangular frame. The machine in the corner gave a low, electric hum.
“Holy shit,” she said. “What is that?” pointing to the machine in the corner.
“A generator,” said Carey. “This thing takes an enormous amount of power.”
Alex laughed incredulously. “I can’t believe you did this.”
“You haven’t seen it work yet,” said Carey. “Watch this.” He walked toward her with an iPad. He clicked a tab on the screen and four arms leapt from the sides of the table and poised themselves over the upper part of the empty frame.
“OH MY GOD,” Alex said. “No way.”
Carey clicked another tab and four more arms emerged toward the bottom. Alex shook her head in awe. Finally, two arms that looked like paint-rollers emerged from the base of the table where a victim’s feet might be. A menagerie of implements protruded from each roller – feathers, wires, brushes, two devious-looking spigots, and two flat, rubber pads covered in nodules.
Speechless, Alex blinked at Carey, who was staring at her. “What do you think?” he said.
“How did you do this?” she asked, running a trembling hand over the table’s smooth edge.
“It was intensive,” he admitted. “We had to do a lot of testing.”
“Testing? Like on a person?”
“Yes,” he said. “There’s a local woman, a fetish model, who’s done some videos over the years. She agreed to be the guinnea pig – make sure it all works.”
“And does it?” she said.
“It does. Took a while. But I should warn you – my model friend is only moderately ticklish, and on last test, she didn’t last long.”
“How long?”
“Eight seconds,” he said, grimacing. “She is not nearly as ticklish as you.”
“Oh my fucking –“
“Though she also doesn’t have your superhuman endurance for this kind of thing, so…”
She smiled. He went on. “Every arm is individually adjustable and operates on its own switch. All can be adjusted for intensity, location, and technique. There are a few other bells and whistles…” He flipped another tab and a soft black slab emerged from the table’s center. “It does pleasure as well,” he said. “This material vibrates at an enormously high frequency – it forms to your body and I promise orgasms like you’ve never felt in your life. If you want, of course.”
Alex just shook her head in wonder. “This is so beyond anything…can I?”
“Of course,” he said.
She walked to him and tipped her chin up to his. He leaned down and kissed her mouth, hard as she dropped the robe to the floor. Fully naked before him, she felt powerful – almost godlike. She seemed to levitate off the floor. She walked to the far side of the table and hopped up. He lovingly stood at her side and gently raised her arms into position on the X-frame. Her feet naturally fell into the comfortable grooves.
“Ready?” he said.
“Mm-hmm,” she replied. And before she had time to realize what was happening, the table grabbed her. At least that’s what it felt like. Straps from the X-frame jumped around her wrists, elbows, arms, legs, and ankles and tightened mechanically until Alex could not move her limbs a single inch. When she shook her body, the incidental jiggling of her breasts and torso was all the restraints afforded her.
“HOOOOOLY SHIT,” she said. “I cannot move at ALL.”
“Too tight?” Carey said, smiling.
“I fucking love it,” she said.
He raised something high above her torso and she felt the familiar sensation of oil dripping onto her from the bottle.
“Forgot to mention,” he said. “The device needs some kind of lubrication. It will automatically add oil as it needs, but it’s good to have some to start.”
“Am I going to die?” she said.
“No, my dear, you are going to laugh very very very hard.”
She tried to arch her back in pleasure but there was zero give to her bondage.
He began rubbing the oil into her skin. He stared into her eyes as he did it, being careful not to tickle her yet. He wanted to be deliberate about when he started. There was nothing clumsy about the way he touched her. Even when he massaged the delicate oil into her sensitive armpits or over her breasts, she did not react. He was waiting for the right moment. He left no part of her un-touched. Her thighs, her legs, her feet – everything was covered. He stepped back and admired her glistening form.
“You look absolutely unbelievable,” he said. “I am so excited to turn this on, but I want to do this myself, first.”
That was the warning she got. He launched into her with both hands, kneading all ten fingers into her oiled ribcage. She screamed at the top of her lungs but quickly lost her breath and her shriek devolved into helpless, hysterical laughter. She’d forgotten how intense it could be, and her eyes widened at the thought of what she was about to endure. He leaned into her, sneaking his fingers deftly up the sides of her ribs under the sides of her breasts and into her armpits. She shook her head and gasped, taking in as much air as she could before Carey forced her helpless body to laugh again. His face was right above hers now and she looked up into his eyes. Through her desperate laughter, he said, “feeling warmed up?”
All she could do was nod, so effective were Carey’s fingers. He pulled away, “I don’t know if you’re ready for this,” he mused, picking the iPad up. “I’d forgotten how ticklish you are.”
She remembered how delicious her begging had felt the last time he tortured her.
“Please don’t,” she said. “I can’t move at all, please don’t.”
He smiled. “Hmm. I wonder what this button does…” He flipped a switch. All eight arms popped out of the table and hovered menacingly a foot above her quivering, naked body. She screamed, “OH FUCK OH HOLY FUCK.” She giggled uncontrollably.
“You are about to be absolutely destroyed by tickling. Is that what you want?”
“I want what you want.”
“I know you do.”
Two arms suddenly descended and she felt a soft but firm grip on both of her knees. She gasped. Then she screamed as the clamps began vibrating and slid quickly up and down her oiled legs. It was so intense she could barely laugh. She immediately started begging.
“Oh no no no oh my GOD NOT LIKE THAT.” He stopped the machine. She devolved into a giggling mess. “I don’t think I can do this,” she said, not able to stop the laughter.
“You asked for this if memory serves,” he said smiling. “We’re just getting started.” He tapped the iPad and the four upper arms leapt toward her exposed torso.
“NO DON-“ she tried to beg but the aluminum spindles spidering across her belly made words a total impossibility. They walked across her ticklish skin in seemingly random patterns, their tough maddeningly light and devastatingly effective. At the same time, the upper arms found even more success. Small knobs applied just a bit of pressure to her upper ribs beneath the sides of her breasts, and without ever losing contact, slid torturously up and down her sides, from her armpits to to her abdomen.
Carey watched gleefully. Only a few minutes in and she was laughing harder than she had at any point during their last session. He stopped the machine to let her rest. As soon as the arms retracted Alex gasped, “this is TORTURE!” and she fell back into blubbering and giggling and trying to catch her breath.
“Shall I take this opportunity to show you the last feature of this diabolical machine?” he said.
“What the hell there’s more?” Alex said, panting.
“You articulated clearly that there is a spot you are not to be touched.”
“Yes,” she said, a flicker of fear in her voice.
“Well I have programmed this thing never to go there – your hips are off limits.”
“Good,” she said.”
“Unless you change your mind.” And with that two new arms appeared, each with a round, three-headed knob on the end.
She screamed, “oh god no no no, don’t.”
“Of course I won’t, my dear.” These arms are password operated. You set the password, I can’t activate them without it. If and when you decide you want to explore that spot, you tell me the password, and I will activate these arms.”
“That’s fucking genius,” she said.
“Want to know what they do?” he said, a devilish smile spreading across his face. She nodded. “These knobs fit into this little crevice here,” he brought his hand to an inch above the hollow of Alex’s right hip socket. She inhaled sharply. “And then they apply just a little bit of pressure.” She shook her head and closed her eyes and tried to imagine anything but those knobs operating maniacally in her most ticklish spot. “And then they spin - not too fast – just the perfect rate, combined with an ever-flowing stream of oil.”
“Fuck fuck fuck no no no,” she begged. “I’m not ready, please don’t turn it on.”
“I won’t my dear. But you should know, when you decide to use your password - the model who tested this machine out, the one who is about half as ticklish as you, said this was the most torturous sensation she’d ever experienced.” She was so turned on by his taunting, she couldn’t see straight.
“But! Enough of that.” The arms retracted. “How about the feet, then?” And he flipped a tab and all of a sudden, Alex’s world melted around her. Two soft rubber pads slid up the soles of her oiled feet, dragging dozens of soft nodules over every inch of exposed skin. She tried to scream but it was hopeless. Her heels were set in a slight divot in the x-frame, which, when combined with the straps on her ankles, kept her feet from moving at all. Carey had deliberately left her toes untied. He loved how they expressed her torment – every curl and scrunch, every flexion of her sole mirrored the experience of her ticklish anguish and he loved watching . While the scrubbers did their worst, he walked calmly around her thrashing, jiggling form, periodically stopping to dig a finger into her ribcage or squeeze a hyper-sensitive thigh. He picked up the iPad again. The scrubbers stopped.
“Want to know what I’m REALLY excited to show you?” he asked.
“Oh god, no more. No more, I can’t take it.”
He ignored her, which he was well aware would drive her crazy. “It’s incredible what two little water jets can do with an infinite water supply and no built-in empathy reflex.”
The rollers turned and the two spigots rotated to the top.
“What the fuck. What the fuck does that –“ but when he turned it on and two pencil-thin pressurized water jets hit her ecstatically ticklish soles, she was plunged into a new fresh hell and didn’t even try to finish the sentence. Carey reacted approvingly.
“I thought these would be effective!” He spoke between her shrieks. “You know, these little hoses…these things are programmed to…”
He stopped as she screamed, “OH GOD, TURN IT OFF. PLEASE TURN IT OFF!”
“Excuse me, dear, but I was speaking,” he said sternly, and she dissolved into ever more desperate laughter. “As I was saying…these things are programmed to be in constant motion. They move randomly, never tracing the same pattern twice, so your brain can’t get used to their movements. Seems like it’s working alright for you? Does that tickle a bit?” All she could do was gyrate and nod her head.
“I wouldn’t want to leave your toes out though,” he said. Still unable to speak, she shook her head no, but it was futile. The spigots lifted and with pinpoint precision, began jettisoning their torturous streams between her helpless toes. It seemed she hadn’t breathed in an eternity. “Are you trying to say something?” he said, leaning his face close to hers. All she could do was mouth,
“please stop.”
“Hmm…guess not. Well here’s the thing, my love. I’m going to turn this whole thing loose on you in about a minute. Would you like a break first?” She nodded as best she could. “You’d like a break now?” Desperately, she nodded again. “Right now?”
She finally caught her breath. “YES, PLEASE STOP PLEASE STOP PLEEEEAAAAASE!”
“Oh, alright,” he said, and paused the machine. She lay gasping and blubbering on the table, knowing her ordeal was about to get a hundred times worse. “You have about twenty seconds. Any last words?
Her mind was totally gone, but with whatever functioning brain cells she had left, she tried to form coherent thoughts.
“Please don’t. Please don’t do it. I am begging you.”
“You’re begging me?”
“I’m begging you, please. I can’t take anymore.”
“You’re just…you’re making me want to more, you understand? Your begging is making want to torture you again – you’re doing it wrong.”
“I’m sorrryyyyyyy,” she dissolved into giggles. “I don’t know – I don’t know what to – I’m gonna die I’m gonna die.”
“You aren’t going to die,” he said. “In fact, you seem quite alive to me. Let’s see what this button does.” Besides the two arms reserved for her hips, every moving part of the table suddenly leapt into action. Her feet, her legs, her belly, her rips and her armpits were all attacked at once. It was like being electrocuted with pleasure. It was more sensation than she’d ever imagined she could feel, and she marveled at the wonder of engineering this creation truly was. Just when she started to get used to one technique, another arm moved and found another spot or applied pressure in a different way, and she’d be flung again into new torment, new heights of desperation.
Carey looked at Alex – this oiled, sweat-covered, tear-stained mess and felt an overwhelming desire deep within him. He smiled. It was time to fulfill the promise of that original piece of artwork she’d sent him – the one the table had been fashioned after. “I’m a bit parched,” he said through her screams. “I’m going to go grab a drink. You alright if I step out for a moment?”
Her eyes widened. This was what she’d asked for, but she was spent. She had laughed so hard for so long, and she was trying to lean into the sensations, but the machine was so good and so relentless, the onslaught so merciless, that she was beginning to really lose a grip on her sanity. If she could have spoken words, she would have begged him not to leave her in that state. She would have said anything he wanted her to say. But she couldn’t, and she knew she couldn’t. So she continued to laugh and scream and shriek as the sound of his slow footsteps up the stairs and the opening and re-closing of the door echoed through the room. And then she knew she was alone.
Out in the hall, Charles was waiting for Carey with a glass of scotch.
“Sounds like she’s enjoying herself,” Charles said.
“I think she is,” Carey said, raising the iPad. “Let’s check in on her.” He pulled up a live-feed of the room downstairs. She was just as he left her. “She’s something, isn’t she?” Carey said.
“Indeed, sir,” Charles said. “I’m glad you’ve found each other.”
Carey nodded and smiled. Then Charles added as he walked away, “You’ve found this for so many others. It’s about time it’s happened for you.”
“Thank you, my friend,” Carey said. He watched Alex on the screen for another moment before he opened the door and slowly descended the stairs.
“How’s it going down here?” he asked, approaching the table. He could tell she’d had it. She looked up at him through a mess of tears.
“Please,” she whispered. “Mercy.” He flipped the iPad open and as easily as the torture had begun, it stopped. Immediately, she said, “No more. I’ll do anything. Anything you want, just don’t tickle me anymore. Don’t tickle me anymore,” and the intensity of her ordeal got the better of her and her voice cracked into a heavy sob.
“Oh, my dear,” he said, stroking her matted hair. “Is someone just too ticklish for her own silly machine?” She nodded – half smiling, half crying. “Is someone just too ticklish? What are we going to do with her?”
“I don’t know, I don’t know,” she whimpered. “But don’t tickle me. Don’t tickle me anymore, I’ll do anything. Anything.”
“I think you’ve done splendidly,” he said. “After all, the test victim lasted only eight seconds. You beat that by almost a half an hour.”
“That was only a half an hour??” she said. “That felt so long.”
“I promise, this will be more pleasant,” he said, and the thin slab of latex at the center of the table lifted and settled over her groin. It formed to her figure like a loin cloth, fitting itself over her like a weighted blanket.
“What are you doing to me?” she asked, wide-eyed.
“I’m going to make you scream with pleasure, my dear.” She moaned. “Is that alright with you?
“No more tickling?”
“No more tickling. Just this.” He pressed a button and she felt the material covering her sex organs suddenly flash with warmth. It sent a wave of relaxation through her body.
“Oh god. Oh god,” she said. “Oh god, that is incredible. It’s so – “
The entire loincloth suddenly started moving - vibrating and rubbing against her. It felt like warm, pulsing waves of pleasure being injected directly into her middle. She gasped and let out a guttural moan – a sound she was sure she’d never made before. Carey watched her writhe as much as her restraints allowed, adjusting the pressure and the intensity intermittently, helping her ride the waves of sensation.
“Touch me,” she said. “I want you to touch me.”
He grabbed her chest and she inhaled sharply.
“Tell me what you want to do to me,” she said. “Tell me.”
“Well, my dear,” he said. “It’s funny, no matter how hard you laugh, I just want to make you laugh harder.” She groaned. “It’s like a drug – all I want is more. I want to make you become laughter itself.”
“Oh fuck, I’m going to come,” she said.
“And what I really want. What I really want more than anything,” he said, inching her closer, “is to feel your body react when I dig my thumbs into the death-spots of your hips.”
“Oh FUCK,” she was coming now.
“I want to make you forget what it feels like to NOT be tickled. To make you laugh until your body can’t laugh anymore, that’s what I want.”
She came so hard, he thought she might actually break the table. Her screams echoed in the room long after she’d finished.
“You are going to fuck me,” she said. “You’re going to fuck me right fucking now.”
“As you wish, my dear.”
It was better than either of them had imagined it would be, and they’d both imagined quite a lot. He unstrapped her from the table and wrapped her limbs around him and took him inside her and he carried her around the room, every so often indulging in her laughter by digging his fingers into her sides or spidering them over her naked back. The feeling of her laughter from the inside was unlike anything he’d ever felt and he had a suspicion, just before they climaxed together, that he’d just found his new obsession.
He held her for a long time, both of them not speaking. When he finally put her down, her knees buckled.
“Whoa,” she said. “I feel crazy.”
“Easy does it,” he said gently, and he draped the robe over her shoulders and helped her up the stairs. Outside the door to her room, he leaned down and kissed her.
“I’m going to shower, I’m a mess,” she said smiling.
“I’ll be in the living room. Take your time.”
She went in and closed the door and walked into the bathroom and turned on the shower. She let the robe fall around her feet and stood for a long time, just looking at herself in the mirror. It was a stranger who stared back – the foreignness of her reflection alarmed her at first. She was glowing bright and pink. Her hair, soaked in sweat, was a twisted bramble, and her there were superficial marks on her body from where she’d pulled so hard against the machine. There was redness across her ribcage from the prodding, and she felt residual tingling through her feet against the cold tile floor. But for how changed she looked, she also felt, for the first time in her life, totally self-possessed. It was Alex in the mirror and she was seeing this human for the first time. Whoever she’d been – the rehearsal version of herself – that person was a distant memory.
She showered for a long time, taking care of her body, which had endured so much. She was so thankful for this beautiful body she had; this body that let her have the whole range of human experience so hungrily. She was in love with herself for the first time.
She found Carey, also freshly showered, in loungewear, which she found delightfully anachronistic. He’d set two glasses of wine and snacks on the coffee table.
“Finally, you’re dressed like a normal person,” she said, entering in her sweats and hoodie. “Oh, thank god, I’m starving.”
“I’m not in the habit of showing my pajamas to other people,” he said. “People my age lack the confidence of you young things.”
“People your age,” she said. “What is your age?” It occurred to her there was still so much they didn’t know about each other.
He grimaced. “I’ve been afraid you’d ask that eventually,” he said.
“Oh please, I don’t care,” she said. “I know you’re older than me.”
“I’m forty-nine,” he said, looking at her sideways.
“I’m thirty-two,” Alex replied.
“Heavens,” Carey said. “Thirty-two.”
“I don’t know anything about you,” she said.
“What do you want to know?”
“Everything. Tell me your story.”
So he did. For the rest of the night, they exchanged details of each other’s lives. He told her about his upbringing in a posh neighborhood in London – about his parents’ conservatism and their eventual falling-out. About his marriage that fell apart because of his job. “Or maybe it was my kink,” he said sadly, “it’s hard to say at this point.” He told her about how Oliver, how he was more and more mysterious to him as he grew up. “I’m afraid I’m not doing a very good job,” he said.
“That’s crap,” Alex said. “I’m sure you’re great.”
“You’ll see him tomorrow,” he said. “It’s my day.”
“That’s great!” she said. “I can’t wait.”
She told him about her childhood in Middletown, about her desire to move home after college, about how her life now seemed split, with the second half just beginning.
“I can play a few songs on the piano,” she said. “I took four years of tap-dance.”
“I’d like to see you tap-dance,” he said.
“Someday when my legs work correctly,” she said laughing. “It’d be a sorry sight right now.”
He nodded and pulled her toward him on the couch. A few minutes later, he said, “What should we start with tomorrow? I figured breakfast here, then maybe we tick a few more things off on your list?”
She didn’t answer.
“Alex?”
She was so far into sleep, she didn’t flinch when he picked her up and carried her down the hall to her room. He tucked her in and kissed her cheek, and shut the door behind him, happier and more fulfilled than he’d been in all his forty-nine years.
