There was a knock on the door and I glanced up, annoyed at the interruption. In front of me the essay I was supposed to be writing seemed to snigger, as well it might as I’d been staring at the same page for about an hour now. The knock came again, louder this time and with a sigh I realised I might as well at least see who it was, after all it wasn’t as if I was actually writing anything was it?
Padding across the room I paused at the door to check there was nothing embarrassing in sight. Oh yes, I’d learnt my lesson on that score, ever since Fiona had caught sight of a tickling web site I’d had nothing but grief. Well, okay, truth be told the more physical teasing wasn’t exactly terrible but the jokes and snide remarks were starting to get on my nerves. Nothing seemed out of place and I popped the lock on the door, opened it up and was almost swept of my feet as what seemed like a tide of humanity swept into the room.
No
There was a soft click in the darkness and a single light bulb flickered into life. She looked around, blinking as her eyes adjusted. Stone walls and floor greeted her gaze, the ceiling high overhead and lost in shadow. On the walls themselves hung black frames displaying what seemed to be every instrument of torture ever conceived. Chains hung against the stone, a myriad different lengths and fittings to hold the human form in any position her captor deemed appropriate.
And yet all this faded into insignificance as her attention was captured by the one object standing free in the middle of the room, the wooden frame calling to her. Her captor shoved her forward, bringing her arms up above her head as her back hit the board, locking first her wrists then her ankles into the restraints. He walked to the side of the machine and began turning the handle mounted there. With each click of the ratchet she felt herself being pulled taught, her naked form becoming ever more exposed and vulnerable.
No
Jenny waved goodbye to the Robinsons as they pulled out of the drive, shut the door and turned to check on Timothy and Tommy, only to find them barely three feet from her, each holding what looked like a long length of clothesline.
Oh good lord no.
“So tell me my dear” Dr Noah whispered in her ear, “Have you ever heard of a ticklegasm?”
Yeuch, definitely no.
It's a beautiful summer night. The sun set about an hour ago, and we are alone.
No.
Lt Commander Jadzia Dax stalked towards her quarters, the Bat’-leth in her hand feeling so much lighter now that Worf had managed to hack off about half a foot from one end. Through the red mist of her anger she ran through what felt like a hundred different options for revenge, looking for something special to pay back her once and future favourite Klingon.
No, no NO!
Damn, what the hell was the matter with me today? Resorting to Star Trek fan fiction, I couldn’t be that low on ideas, surely? I’d finished off the year so nicely, one massive push over a couple of weeks to get my last story finished and the creative buzz left over had me wishing I didn’t have to leave for the traditional family Christmas. All through that break I’d been putting together plots and scenes in my head, crafting intricate tales that I was genuinely excited about writing and now that I had the chance to actually sit down and get them done, nothing seemed to be working. Everything I wrote seemed to be turning into a dead end, all my energy was gone and this was the best I could come up with for a plot? Pathetic.
Well, from past experience there was no sense in pushing on, if I wasn’t in the mood to write that was it, all that would happen if I forced myself to would be a script barely passable as a B movie and I’d just get more and more frustrated. Better to take a break, get my mind off this as best I could and try to chill out a bit. Might as well save this first though, as bad as it was there was always the chance it would spark something off at a later date.
As the dull roar of the computers’ fans died I could hear a faint clicking sound from the living room. Typical. Of course Bonnie wouldn’t be having the same debilitating writer’s block as I was suffering, that would have made things far too simple. Sticking my head around the door I saw her deep in concentration at the keyboard of what was currently doubling as a workstation and web server and figured if I was going to disturb her I really ought to bring a peace offering with me. A quick retreat to the kitchen and a minute or two of effort saw the coffee maker bubbling away, the rich, enticing smell starting to fill the flat as I waited for it to finish.
Bonnie, god now there was a whole other problem. We’d met about, oh, must be six years ago now when she’d stayed in a mutual friends room for a couple of weeks over Easter break back when we were both in Uni. The first time I saw her I was just struck dumb, a proper tongue-tied, can’t think, can’t speak, can barely keep from drooling impact. Looks wise she was, and for that matter still is, stunning. Long dark brown hair, wonderful figure, tall, a face that could be innocent one minute and the sexiest sight on earth the next and an attitude that pretty much guaranteed I’d fall for her. I’ve always known that any sort of long-term relationship would only work with someone who, frankly, was independent, forceful, and would keep me on my toes. Don’t get me wrong, this wasn’t an “I need to be dominated” thing, but every relationship I’ve tried with people who don’t have at least that streak of independence has lasted a few weeks then fizzled.
Of course, if this were a movie that would have been it, right? Bells ring out, fireworks go off, happily every after. No, of course not, that would have been far too simple. Instead we ended up as friends, something that didn’t change until very recently and since then I have to admit it’s been great. In just a few months we’ve gotten to the point where I really can’t imagine my life without her, and much to my surprise, I quite like that feeling.
Wandering into the living room with peace offering / coffee held out in front of me I wait for her to finish typing whatever she’s doing and pass her a cup.
“You’re a mind reader.” She says, grinning. “Anything in particular I need to know about this?”
“Nah, it’s just the regular stuff, shouldn’t make you knurd this time.” I reply, remembering the first time she was silly enough to drink what I’d consider a strong coffee. I think that’s the first time I’d ever seen a human being with eyes that wide.
“Mmmmm” She sighed, as she sipped the dark liquid. “That’s just what I needed, absolutely perfect. Oh, while you’re here, how’s about giving this a quick once over?” She grins as she says it, knowing full well that reading anything she writes tends to get me a little overexcited. Still, it’s not as if I can just turn her down so I shuffle round slightly to read what turns out to be about ten pages of very detailed teasing and denial fantasy. While this sounds like a simple enough task in theory, it’s made a lot more difficult when the gorgeous author of said story has her arms wrapped round you and is deliberately doing her best to distract you without actually doing anything that could be considered ‘erotic’ in the traditional sense of the word.
By the time I was done I had to fight hard not to squirm as Bonnie ran her hands across my shoulders and up my neck. “Nice… very nice.” I said, trying to ignore her attentions as best I could.
“You’re talking about the story of course?” She asked, all innocence now as she lent in closer, letting her hair fall forward and down over my right side.
“Well, what else would I be talking about?” I replied in a performance that really should have been up for an Oscar.
“Hmmm? Oh nothing. How’s yours coming along?” Her hands slid down my chest and circled my stomach.
“Getting there, but I will admit it’s slow going.”
“Well, better not to rush things, the devil’s in the detail after all.” Damn but those fingers were getting low… It took everything I had not to shiver as a nail dragged slowly along my waist.
“Exactly. It’s not as if there’s a deadline on this.”
“Right. So long as you don’t suddenly run out of inspiration or anything you’ll be fine.”
Just as she said the word inspiration she dropped her hand the last inch or so and gave a single firm, gentle squeeze. That I didn’t mind, but the crack about running out of inspiration was a dig to far and I felt a little lesson was in order. I lent back, luxuriating in her touch for a moment longer, then came smoothly up and out of the chair, wrapping my right arm around her as my left slid under her tight white t-shirt, fingernails resting on her ribs.
“Hey… what are you up to?”
“Looking for inspiration.” I replied with a wicked grin as I dug into her side. Bonnie’s always been very ticklish, and it was only after she read some of my more explicit tales that she asked if I’d mind showing her what it really felt like. Since then we’ve made tickling a pretty regular part of our games, but I’ve always held back, building slowly to let her get used to the idea. Not this time.
Limited to one hand, the immediate goal was obvious: get to a point where I could use both hands. My fingers flew over her ribs, moving as fast as I could possible go, the slightly rough edges of my nails proving perfect tickle tools. Bonnie threw her head back and howled, I’d never heard a laugh quite like it but I knew I wanted to hear more of it. I felt a tremble pass through her as she wrenched away, or tried to at least, but the fact was that physically she was simply no match for me, and if I didn’t want her to go anywhere then that was that. By the time she thought to bring her own tickling fingers into play it was far, far too late to make any difference. Every time she tried to raise her hands to fight back I’d flick my hand down to her hip and scrabble around as my lips and tongue wriggled and writhed on her neck and ear. Instantly she’d let out another howl and her hands would drop again as tried to escape. I was quite prepared to keep it up for hours, but as it happened I didn’t need to. On the third trip her legs gave out on her and I found myself supporting her weight on my arm. A little frantic scrambling later and I’d managed to let her down gently to the ground while preventing any chance she might have had to make a break for freedom.
I had to admit, she looked so good like this, face down on the ground as my hands goosed her ribs. I dropped down astride her; my knees clamped around her thighs to hold her still and with one quick motion pulled her t-shirt up over her head. Pulling it up to her wrists I twisted it tight around her arms. Not a particularly effective restraint perhaps as she could still move her arms around with a reasonable amount of freedom, but it would be enough to prevent any sneaky reprisals from my new victim.
Of course this impromptu bondage had the side benefit of leaving my gorgeous prisoner naked from the waist up, and I fully intended to make use of that fact. Returning to her sides I slide my hands under her, keeping my palms flat against her soft skin until my fingers were spread over her stomach and waist, thumbs hovering either side of her navel. Twisting my legs around I managed to slip my calves under her thighs, propping her hips up and giving me enough room to really go to town. The only slight problem was I couldn’t hold that position long, as all my weight was being held by my calves and knees, but hopefully that wouldn’t matter.
My fingers started to dance along her waist, travelling up to one hip then back to the other, flickering over her skin like fireflies and sending her into hysterics almost at once.
“AHAHAHAHAHEY....OHOHOH...S-STOP....NNNOOOO”
Oh, such sweet music to my ears, hmm, music now there was a thought. Reaching out I could just about manage to snag the remote for the Hi-Fi with one hand. Still tweaking and tantalising her hips and waist I hit the play button on the CD changer and couldn’t believe my luck as the opening track to St Anger blared out. Okay, it’s not the most romantic bit of music in the world, but the fast guitar riff was just what I needed.
Timing my actions to the song I moved my hands up to her stomach and ribs, fingers flying over that silky smooth flesh, luxuriating in her desperate squirming underneath me. The beat flared then slowed for a moment and I took the chance to dip a single finger into her navel, holding it still as the other nine picked up the pace once more. Leaning down as best I could I brought my lips to the nape of her neck and started whispering the lyrics in time with the song, the feel of my breath brushing against her only adding to her ticklish torment. A torment that got a whole lot worse as the song hit the chorus and I raised my voice to let her make out the words.
“Fran-tic-tic-tic-tic-tic-tic-toc” With each tic or toc accompanied by a wiggle of the single digit lying in her belly button, each wiggle pulling a sound that was half laugh, half scream from her writhing body. Fortunately for her sanity the chorus was short, only four lines and the instant it was over I went back to nine fingers.
“HEE HEE HEE NO NO NO NOOOOOOOOO ! HA HA HA AAHA HA HA AHHA HA HA HA HA AAAHHHHHHHA HA HA HA HA NO NO NO NO NO IT TICKLESSSS!”
Bonnie’s please were coming faster now, louder and a little more desperate as she suddenly realised I wasn’t going to stop quite as early as she might have been expecting. She thrashed under me and I had to concentrate on hanging on to what had suddenly become a live wire. She simply didn’t have the strength remaining to keep that up for long though, and within a few seconds she’d pushed herself to the point of exhaustion. Much to my annoyance I realised I’d missed the second chorus of the song, so as the fast guitar riff kicked in I shifted slightly, bringing my toes up to wiggle, poke and prod against her stomach as my hands travelled up, focusing in on the insanely ticklish spot just underneath her breasts.
Padding across the room I paused at the door to check there was nothing embarrassing in sight. Oh yes, I’d learnt my lesson on that score, ever since Fiona had caught sight of a tickling web site I’d had nothing but grief. Well, okay, truth be told the more physical teasing wasn’t exactly terrible but the jokes and snide remarks were starting to get on my nerves. Nothing seemed out of place and I popped the lock on the door, opened it up and was almost swept of my feet as what seemed like a tide of humanity swept into the room.
No
There was a soft click in the darkness and a single light bulb flickered into life. She looked around, blinking as her eyes adjusted. Stone walls and floor greeted her gaze, the ceiling high overhead and lost in shadow. On the walls themselves hung black frames displaying what seemed to be every instrument of torture ever conceived. Chains hung against the stone, a myriad different lengths and fittings to hold the human form in any position her captor deemed appropriate.
And yet all this faded into insignificance as her attention was captured by the one object standing free in the middle of the room, the wooden frame calling to her. Her captor shoved her forward, bringing her arms up above her head as her back hit the board, locking first her wrists then her ankles into the restraints. He walked to the side of the machine and began turning the handle mounted there. With each click of the ratchet she felt herself being pulled taught, her naked form becoming ever more exposed and vulnerable.
No
Jenny waved goodbye to the Robinsons as they pulled out of the drive, shut the door and turned to check on Timothy and Tommy, only to find them barely three feet from her, each holding what looked like a long length of clothesline.
Oh good lord no.
“So tell me my dear” Dr Noah whispered in her ear, “Have you ever heard of a ticklegasm?”
Yeuch, definitely no.
It's a beautiful summer night. The sun set about an hour ago, and we are alone.
No.
Lt Commander Jadzia Dax stalked towards her quarters, the Bat’-leth in her hand feeling so much lighter now that Worf had managed to hack off about half a foot from one end. Through the red mist of her anger she ran through what felt like a hundred different options for revenge, looking for something special to pay back her once and future favourite Klingon.
No, no NO!
Damn, what the hell was the matter with me today? Resorting to Star Trek fan fiction, I couldn’t be that low on ideas, surely? I’d finished off the year so nicely, one massive push over a couple of weeks to get my last story finished and the creative buzz left over had me wishing I didn’t have to leave for the traditional family Christmas. All through that break I’d been putting together plots and scenes in my head, crafting intricate tales that I was genuinely excited about writing and now that I had the chance to actually sit down and get them done, nothing seemed to be working. Everything I wrote seemed to be turning into a dead end, all my energy was gone and this was the best I could come up with for a plot? Pathetic.
Well, from past experience there was no sense in pushing on, if I wasn’t in the mood to write that was it, all that would happen if I forced myself to would be a script barely passable as a B movie and I’d just get more and more frustrated. Better to take a break, get my mind off this as best I could and try to chill out a bit. Might as well save this first though, as bad as it was there was always the chance it would spark something off at a later date.
As the dull roar of the computers’ fans died I could hear a faint clicking sound from the living room. Typical. Of course Bonnie wouldn’t be having the same debilitating writer’s block as I was suffering, that would have made things far too simple. Sticking my head around the door I saw her deep in concentration at the keyboard of what was currently doubling as a workstation and web server and figured if I was going to disturb her I really ought to bring a peace offering with me. A quick retreat to the kitchen and a minute or two of effort saw the coffee maker bubbling away, the rich, enticing smell starting to fill the flat as I waited for it to finish.
Bonnie, god now there was a whole other problem. We’d met about, oh, must be six years ago now when she’d stayed in a mutual friends room for a couple of weeks over Easter break back when we were both in Uni. The first time I saw her I was just struck dumb, a proper tongue-tied, can’t think, can’t speak, can barely keep from drooling impact. Looks wise she was, and for that matter still is, stunning. Long dark brown hair, wonderful figure, tall, a face that could be innocent one minute and the sexiest sight on earth the next and an attitude that pretty much guaranteed I’d fall for her. I’ve always known that any sort of long-term relationship would only work with someone who, frankly, was independent, forceful, and would keep me on my toes. Don’t get me wrong, this wasn’t an “I need to be dominated” thing, but every relationship I’ve tried with people who don’t have at least that streak of independence has lasted a few weeks then fizzled.
Of course, if this were a movie that would have been it, right? Bells ring out, fireworks go off, happily every after. No, of course not, that would have been far too simple. Instead we ended up as friends, something that didn’t change until very recently and since then I have to admit it’s been great. In just a few months we’ve gotten to the point where I really can’t imagine my life without her, and much to my surprise, I quite like that feeling.
Wandering into the living room with peace offering / coffee held out in front of me I wait for her to finish typing whatever she’s doing and pass her a cup.
“You’re a mind reader.” She says, grinning. “Anything in particular I need to know about this?”
“Nah, it’s just the regular stuff, shouldn’t make you knurd this time.” I reply, remembering the first time she was silly enough to drink what I’d consider a strong coffee. I think that’s the first time I’d ever seen a human being with eyes that wide.
“Mmmmm” She sighed, as she sipped the dark liquid. “That’s just what I needed, absolutely perfect. Oh, while you’re here, how’s about giving this a quick once over?” She grins as she says it, knowing full well that reading anything she writes tends to get me a little overexcited. Still, it’s not as if I can just turn her down so I shuffle round slightly to read what turns out to be about ten pages of very detailed teasing and denial fantasy. While this sounds like a simple enough task in theory, it’s made a lot more difficult when the gorgeous author of said story has her arms wrapped round you and is deliberately doing her best to distract you without actually doing anything that could be considered ‘erotic’ in the traditional sense of the word.
By the time I was done I had to fight hard not to squirm as Bonnie ran her hands across my shoulders and up my neck. “Nice… very nice.” I said, trying to ignore her attentions as best I could.
“You’re talking about the story of course?” She asked, all innocence now as she lent in closer, letting her hair fall forward and down over my right side.
“Well, what else would I be talking about?” I replied in a performance that really should have been up for an Oscar.
“Hmmm? Oh nothing. How’s yours coming along?” Her hands slid down my chest and circled my stomach.
“Getting there, but I will admit it’s slow going.”
“Well, better not to rush things, the devil’s in the detail after all.” Damn but those fingers were getting low… It took everything I had not to shiver as a nail dragged slowly along my waist.
“Exactly. It’s not as if there’s a deadline on this.”
“Right. So long as you don’t suddenly run out of inspiration or anything you’ll be fine.”
Just as she said the word inspiration she dropped her hand the last inch or so and gave a single firm, gentle squeeze. That I didn’t mind, but the crack about running out of inspiration was a dig to far and I felt a little lesson was in order. I lent back, luxuriating in her touch for a moment longer, then came smoothly up and out of the chair, wrapping my right arm around her as my left slid under her tight white t-shirt, fingernails resting on her ribs.
“Hey… what are you up to?”
“Looking for inspiration.” I replied with a wicked grin as I dug into her side. Bonnie’s always been very ticklish, and it was only after she read some of my more explicit tales that she asked if I’d mind showing her what it really felt like. Since then we’ve made tickling a pretty regular part of our games, but I’ve always held back, building slowly to let her get used to the idea. Not this time.
Limited to one hand, the immediate goal was obvious: get to a point where I could use both hands. My fingers flew over her ribs, moving as fast as I could possible go, the slightly rough edges of my nails proving perfect tickle tools. Bonnie threw her head back and howled, I’d never heard a laugh quite like it but I knew I wanted to hear more of it. I felt a tremble pass through her as she wrenched away, or tried to at least, but the fact was that physically she was simply no match for me, and if I didn’t want her to go anywhere then that was that. By the time she thought to bring her own tickling fingers into play it was far, far too late to make any difference. Every time she tried to raise her hands to fight back I’d flick my hand down to her hip and scrabble around as my lips and tongue wriggled and writhed on her neck and ear. Instantly she’d let out another howl and her hands would drop again as tried to escape. I was quite prepared to keep it up for hours, but as it happened I didn’t need to. On the third trip her legs gave out on her and I found myself supporting her weight on my arm. A little frantic scrambling later and I’d managed to let her down gently to the ground while preventing any chance she might have had to make a break for freedom.
I had to admit, she looked so good like this, face down on the ground as my hands goosed her ribs. I dropped down astride her; my knees clamped around her thighs to hold her still and with one quick motion pulled her t-shirt up over her head. Pulling it up to her wrists I twisted it tight around her arms. Not a particularly effective restraint perhaps as she could still move her arms around with a reasonable amount of freedom, but it would be enough to prevent any sneaky reprisals from my new victim.
Of course this impromptu bondage had the side benefit of leaving my gorgeous prisoner naked from the waist up, and I fully intended to make use of that fact. Returning to her sides I slide my hands under her, keeping my palms flat against her soft skin until my fingers were spread over her stomach and waist, thumbs hovering either side of her navel. Twisting my legs around I managed to slip my calves under her thighs, propping her hips up and giving me enough room to really go to town. The only slight problem was I couldn’t hold that position long, as all my weight was being held by my calves and knees, but hopefully that wouldn’t matter.
My fingers started to dance along her waist, travelling up to one hip then back to the other, flickering over her skin like fireflies and sending her into hysterics almost at once.
“AHAHAHAHAHEY....OHOHOH...S-STOP....NNNOOOO”
Oh, such sweet music to my ears, hmm, music now there was a thought. Reaching out I could just about manage to snag the remote for the Hi-Fi with one hand. Still tweaking and tantalising her hips and waist I hit the play button on the CD changer and couldn’t believe my luck as the opening track to St Anger blared out. Okay, it’s not the most romantic bit of music in the world, but the fast guitar riff was just what I needed.
Timing my actions to the song I moved my hands up to her stomach and ribs, fingers flying over that silky smooth flesh, luxuriating in her desperate squirming underneath me. The beat flared then slowed for a moment and I took the chance to dip a single finger into her navel, holding it still as the other nine picked up the pace once more. Leaning down as best I could I brought my lips to the nape of her neck and started whispering the lyrics in time with the song, the feel of my breath brushing against her only adding to her ticklish torment. A torment that got a whole lot worse as the song hit the chorus and I raised my voice to let her make out the words.
“Fran-tic-tic-tic-tic-tic-tic-toc” With each tic or toc accompanied by a wiggle of the single digit lying in her belly button, each wiggle pulling a sound that was half laugh, half scream from her writhing body. Fortunately for her sanity the chorus was short, only four lines and the instant it was over I went back to nine fingers.
“HEE HEE HEE NO NO NO NOOOOOOOOO ! HA HA HA AAHA HA HA AHHA HA HA HA HA AAAHHHHHHHA HA HA HA HA NO NO NO NO NO IT TICKLESSSS!”
Bonnie’s please were coming faster now, louder and a little more desperate as she suddenly realised I wasn’t going to stop quite as early as she might have been expecting. She thrashed under me and I had to concentrate on hanging on to what had suddenly become a live wire. She simply didn’t have the strength remaining to keep that up for long though, and within a few seconds she’d pushed herself to the point of exhaustion. Much to my annoyance I realised I’d missed the second chorus of the song, so as the fast guitar riff kicked in I shifted slightly, bringing my toes up to wiggle, poke and prod against her stomach as my hands travelled up, focusing in on the insanely ticklish spot just underneath her breasts.
