Tickle Torture

He said he wanted to make me feel better, to laugh. So when I opened the door to the livingroom, I assumed that we were going to watch a random comedy from Netflix and have dinner. To my surprise, instead I found our massage table all set up in the middle of the room. I started imagining him rubbing my feet, squeezing my thighs and kneading my back. Oh, I can get down with this! I heard him walk up behind me, coming from the kitchen. His hands embraced my shoulders and he kissed my neck. “Ready for some fun?”

I turned my head around, looking at his smiling face and sparkly eyes. He looked happy to see me. I hugged him, and kissed him on the mouth. “You are so sweet, wanting to give me a massage.”. His eyes widened. “Who said anything about a massage?”. He opened the zipper on the back of my dress and I felt the soft fabric slowly sliding down my naked skin. I slipped out of my shoes, and took off my stockings. I wanted to unhook my bra, but he, watching me, put his hands on mine. “No need to get naked.”. What did he have planned?

I had given him general consent when we started our relationship, and he was aware of my hard limits and I wasn’t worried. I was intrigued. He took my hands and led me over to the table. He helped me climb up, stroked my hair and bent down to pick something up from under the table. I heard a metallic noise. Ah, handcuffs! Well, this was definitely getting more interesting!

“I need your arms stretched out over your head. Yes, just like that.”. I laid down and stretched my arms up. I trusted him. My legs were dangling down on the other end of the table. I felt the cold metal embracing both my wrists. We had attached hooks and belts to this table long ago, and he used them now to hold my arms in the position he wanted them to be. Another metallic noise. Oh. he was going to cuff my ankles too. I swallowed. I wouldn’t be able to move. I tried to wiggle my legs. “Trying to escape the chuckles, are we?”.

He leaned over me, kissed my nose and smiled. “You look very beautiful, girl.” I smiled back. “Thank you, Master.” I felt his fingertips brush over my arms, armpits, the sides of my belly, my hips. I enjoyed his touch, I enjoyed him wanting to touch me. His fingers moved all the way down to my foot. He squeezed my big toe. “Ouch!” . I giggled. Suddenly I felt a brush of something else on the sole of my foot. It was soft, and tickled a little. I tried to move and see what it was but remembered that I was tied down. I felt it going up my leg now, over my hip. He was slowly brushing it over my breasts. Suddenly he moved it under my nose. A feather, it was a big white feather! I sniffled and blew some air into the direction of my nose. That really tickled! Not being tense anymore about what was to come, I closed my eyes. A feather won’t do me any harm. I relaxed. Tickle Torture!

I felt it going over my lower arm, slowly brushing its way towards my armpit. He moved it from the left to the right, slowly caressing my naked skin. He stopped for a second and I turned my head. I saw the feather, in my armpit. Still. And then he tickled me, first gently, then faster. It was a funny feeling and I started to giggle. My other armpit was met with the same treatment. My giggling turned into a light laughter. “See, I told you I would make you laugh!”. I smiled at him. The feather moved down my sides now, up and down, making the skin all tingly and alert. He tickled me under my chin, a place I felt was very uncomfortable to be touched. I squealed. “A feather is making you squeal, girl? You are easy.”

He then moved to the other side of the table. He let the feather touch my toes, in between my toes, on my foot soles. It felt nice, relaxing. He held down my ankle and starting tickling the sole of my left foot. I giggled. Tickle, tickle, tickle. I started to laugh. He didn’t stop and it started to feel uncomfortable. The tickling turned into a feeling I wanted to shake off, that I want to get rid off. I curled my toes and tried to move my foot away. But I couldn’t. I got silent and started breathing faster. “This is uncomfortable. Ugh.” , I said, trying to wiggle my body. “Please stop”. He didn’t stop. I didn’t use the safeword. And for heck’s sake, I was not going to use the safeword for a feather!

He continued and I started to moan in discomfort. “Please stop, I don’t like this.”. He stopped for a second. “You don’t like me torturing you?”. I groaned. “But Master!”. He chuckled, and moved over to my right foot. I giggled, laughed and then turned silent. I started yelling at him. “What the fuck is wrong with you, man? What the heck are you even doing? Give me pain, not this kind of soft stuff!”. He walked out of the room, returning with a gagball. “You want me to stop playing with you?” – “No. Master”. I pouted. “Then I need you to shut up now!”. He lifted my head up and attached the gagball-harness. I tried to say something. “Grrrmphll”. – “Yes, girl. Remember, tap your feet five times against the table, that is the safeword now.”. I nodded.

He climbed up on the table and sat on my hips, his knees pressing against my sides. He looked deep into my eyes, a hand tenderly brushing over my face. I was heavily breathing through the tiny holes of the gagball. His hands moved closer to my armpits. He wasn’t in a hurry. He was savouring the moment, as was I. I closed my eyes, tense in anticipation, enjoying his weight on me, craving his touch. He gently stroked my armpits and I moaned silently. His fingertips started dancing in my exposed valleys, teasing. I sighed. I tried to focus on numbing my armpits, on not reacting. Tickling both my armpits was too much for me though, however much I tried, my skin tingled, my mind cringed. I tried to laugh but the gagball made me sound like a heavy train trying to release some steam.

I tried to wiggle my way out of it. But he was sitting on me, steadily, my arms and legs still immobilized too. I squealed. I started screaming. Muffled squeaks were leaving my mouth and when I looked at him with wet eyes, I saw him smile. I screamed. I wanted it to stop! I wanted him to touch me! I needed him to stop! I needed to move! But oh, the control he had over me was delicious. I felt his hard cock pressing against my lower body.

As my face started to get drowned in the wetness of my tears, and saliva pushed out by muffled screams was running down my chin, my happy place was now bathing in a flood of neediness. Feeling the control he had over me, how I pleased his sadistic nature, had made me want him even more! I sobbed through torturous tickles and his deep chuckles. I cried tears of discomfort. I dripped drops of neediness. He suddenly stopped. I opened my eyes. Through a watery curtain I saw his face approaching mine. He licked my salty face while holding my chin with two fingers. “Good girl.”, he whispered into my right ear. “Time for your reward.”.

He slowly climbed off me, and the table. I breathed both a sigh of relief and neediness. He now stood at the other end of the table, between my legs. He kneaded my inner thighs, squeezing, moving closer and closer to my needy slit that was now dripping wet. A hand pushed my underwear to the side, while two fingers started to rub and squeeze my clit. The sensation made my whole body twitch for a second, and then relax, in anticipation. The rubbing and squeezing turned into gently pinching and pulling. One finger entered me, two fingers. Three fingers. Reaching my g-spot, rubbing it, moving in and out, hard, fast now. “You can come when you want, girl”. I tensed up, oh god, yes! Now my body tried to move in the rhythm his fingers dictated. He was in control. He was my Master. My body belonged to him. The orgasm overtook my body like a massive wave of pleasure, leaving me a twitchy mess. I breathed out.

“Mmm.” I heard him say when he walked over to me and removed the gagball and kissed my mouth. “Now let me relieve you from these chuckles and we will have a laugh at some British comedy. Shall we, girl?”. “Yes, Master. Thank you, Master.”. I could take some more laughter with him.

Want to listen to me reading the story? Here you go!

Wicked Wednesday… a place to be wickedly sexy or sexily wicked

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2 Responses

  1. Tickle torture… oh my, not something I will enjoy at all, but I can imagine it can get you in a specific mindset.

    Rebel xox

    • DeviantSuccubus says:

      I am not sure I am into it either, but then, torture can very much be about things we don’t enjoy!

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