He finally wakes up - and he's scowling.
Aaaaawwwwwww.
Daytime is happy time. He knows that! No water yet, no smoke. Get right to it. Show him...
A speedy, bouncy feather. And another one. Oh, he's going to smile now. Right - now!
Look at him go.
Cover his soles in a thorough, devastating way. Move the feathers faster. Hold nothing back.
Look at the proof of maximized pleasure...

His laughter is visual, since his voice is all but gone. Still, it's the most incredibly rewarding treat. Watching his body jerk at the cuffs, as it does every morning - so pointless, and he never fails to put on a show.
And his face. Well...
Despairing, agonized pain is slowly banished. His mouth laughs and laughs. Slowly, the mirth crowds out the other emotions suggested by those tight eyes, and the spastic movements of his neck.
He's so good at laughing.
Howling and roaring until the reflexive attempts to move all fade away. The tears of enforced rapture ooze and drip, eventually taking away the pinched misery, all the oppression and protest...
And there's an intermediate stage where his face is more vacant.
But even that changes. Ah. Here it comes.
A smile.

Yeah. Growing bigger. He can't help it.
Over time, it's the look of pure amusement, multiplied to the utter maximum his expression can display.
Get more feathers - for his nipples. Excellent.
He's laid out again, and the leather is conquering every ridiculous thought of protest. He needs to be flat on his back, exposing every millimeter he longs to cover and protect. There is no amount of rocking or squirming that will prevent the feathers from delivering each and every calculated stroke.
Another happy day has begun. And what an honor it is to keep him absolutely crazed - with glee.
Even after each break, all the little pauses for water and calming deep breaths and the utter shock of each resumption of the active feathers... it takes him only a few seconds to return to that fiercely blissful state.

Don't spare his feet. Every surface.
It's spectacular.

Other favorite locations are being provoked, too.
He's especially reactive after a good long run on his scrotum. The feathers stray down, and get him shaking with laughter. Way up, inside the thighs...
At least an hour of teasing. That's what he needs.
Finally, the shaft of his penis is getting the incomparably soft stimulation. Many wonderful minutes will pass before his twitches and shudders coalesce into a primal rhythm -
Start dusting his feet again. Stroke gently up and down his sides.
Those would be screams of laughter, if he still had a voice. Keep him this fully... involved, and he won't be able to ejaculate.
The pleasure continues to build... and double. His body will keep breathing. Hold him at the very brink.
When he's permitted to finish, the wholehearted commitment to laughing will magnify the enjoyment to a level that's literally unthinkable.

His body is more fully awake than it has been all morning.
An even happier hour follows.

Let him rest. Smoke, if his performance has been pleasing enough.
And certainly he must be compelled to eat. Lots of complex carbohydrates and proteins, nourishing amino acids - and all the water he can hold.

Now, it's time for relentlessly happy gloves. Shiny, with or without the oil.
There he goes...

Fantastic.
Time for a long nap.
 

 
Now it's nighttime.
Crammed full of happiness... but in a very different mood.
It's deeper. Methododical, devoted.
Serious.
That's it. Nighttime is serious time.
Get him ready.
The ball-stretcher, the collar and the earplugs.
There.
Sit him up. This bench holds his legs as far apart as they'll go. He's used to it. A long backrest gives his arms a place to sit - all the way out, too. Lock the cuffs.

More leather, dark as night, goes around the middle of each thigh. And the middle of each shin. Around his waist, nice and low. Now each upper arm too.
Pull the soft leather gloves over his hands - the pair that's already got the stains on the back sides. That's salt. But the insides are slick with oil. All those nerve endings won't be left out of the very serious plans for tonight.
Oil his entire body...
 

Is he waking up? Excellent.
Since it'll be a few minutes before everything's ready, why not make him smoke? It's not very comforting anymore, apparently. Really, there's nothing that can soothe him. He knows exactly how serious the night will be. Exactly the opposite of soothing... but the contrast is enjoyable too.
Look at him smoke that thing. He knows how soon the fun will start again.
Get the toe restraints.

Are they snug? Not going anywhere? Alright. That's the way to do it.
With some feet, these clamps would just get in the way. Obviously they make it impossible to get underneath them... But they're always placed on this guy's feet again.
Perfect. While that area on the side of each foot is safe from the tickling, they really can't move now. And now that the skin is held taut vertically and horizontially, it's insanely sensitive. Literally.
Caught like this, he can be tickled until he's absolutely psychotic. Or tickled to death - but no! That will never, ever happen. He's got to remain receptive. The fun will always continue.
Remind him why he's here.
Make it serious.
Two rubber gloves. Only the first pair, to be sure. He's watching, because it's no surprise anymore.
Get him!
Yes. His knees. Beautiful. Firm kneading, and tickling. Look at the hysteria, already.
His head flies all around, because that's the only part of his body that'll move.
Dig in hard. Cause him to be completely desperate for the gloves to stop.
Instead... Bring him more.
Rub his hands - through his own gloves. Yes. Slick fingers, nice and strong. This is what they feel like. They're seriously working on your knees... for the next half-hour.

Let him catch his breath. Drink some water.
Since he's just been hanging his head for awhile, it might as well be comfortable. He won't be watching the gloves anyway. The simple act of keeping his eyes open is apparently beyond him. So - slide the headrest post into its pipe. Lock it. And these three chains will hook to his collar.
Now he's in for it. The pad will keep his neck at that comfortable angle...
Bring the half-hood.
No more light for him. Removing all possible distractions will keep his mind completely on the tickling. Sound, vision, squirming are all prevented now. This is serious fun he's having.
Starting, again, with a neck massage. Now, this glove is actually helping him. These muscles are all so tense. But the other one - it's devoted to tickling.
And he can't move his head anymore. Can he?
Keep 'em moving. Lots of conflicting sensation to be tolerated. In fact, add a glove. His navel.
Oh, yeah.

Solid, bone-deep tactile work spreads across his body. After each rest break, it spreads further.
Forearms, shins, calves. Chest. Elbows. Hips, lower ribs - the lower back...
Fingers clenching, and moving closer to the best places of all.
Get these four to their destination. Ribs! Oh, yeah. He's seriously deranged now. Squeeze 'em. Rub as firmly as you want. All directions.

Next break, get hold of his sides again - and let another pair of these intense gloves find their marks.
Work his thighs. Long, and deep. Serious fun, isn't it?

Into his armpits they go.
There's no escape from the gloves. Ravenous, ruthless coverage.

They've been expecting it, waiting for it - and now their time has come.
Both feet.
Go!
Mix it up. Firm, and fast. That's it. Blazing fingers! Strong hands, confident as they can be.
Don't hold back anything.

This glove will be more gentle than any of the others. Maddening...
Up the shaft, and down. Tease his glans, scratch under his balls, keep tickling and tickling his cock - lightly.
Let his pecs get the full serious treatment.
Keep all the other fingers moving, too...

Stretch it out.
He's here for some serious excitement. Keep giving it to him. Don't let up now.

Halfway through the night? Already?
Well... Remove the ball stretcher. Make that cock explode. Not too quickly. He's got to work for it...

Spectacular. He's just pushed his ticklishness off the charts. Don't move a finger! Leave them all in position. Just wait until he stops moving.
Okay. Now.
All. Let him have it. The most serious tickling of the night. Oh, absolutely. Don't back off if he's still breathing.
Otherwise, crank it up.

Wasn't that incredible?
Time to wash him down. Oil him.
And feed him.
A cigarette, if he tries to resist it. If he wants one, don't light it.
Just go ahead and bring out the brushes.

Take all the time you want. Just make it serious tickling.
The same basic order will work again. The results will be amazing.

He needs a break... but don't let him nod off.
Yes, it's time. Again. Laugh if you can, you seriously happy guy. If you can't manage to laugh, it doesn't matter.

Where does the time go?
Bury his sides with meticulous brushes. Move 'em faster! Yes.
This time, don't let those fingers pump him off. That's just what he wants, right now. Get that glove tickling his crotch instead. Fun and determination, all-out tickling...
Make it fierce. He can take it.

The big finale is about to begin. Release his legs - and hold his ankles tight. Straight out. Can he separate them, or kick at all? No? Perfect.
At least two of everything, for each foot. Get the feathers between his toes.. and the brushes can alternate with these committed fingers. Bring the tickling everywhere else to a crawl. Deep, though.
Spotlight his soles.
Hit it!
Absolutely serious. The maximum possible. Make every motion count. This is it.
Good. It's severe. Now make it twice as severe. Crank it up farther. Faster, harder...
More.
Oh, yeah, now this is how it's done. It doesn't get more serious - until tomorrow.
 

That's the message. What happens tomorrow? A happy day, followed by a serious night. This is the way to get the point across, as he's passing out. What will happen, after he sleeps, is the same kind of fun he had today, and tonight.
Every time he wakes up, that's what going to happen.
Until...
 

 
Tomorrow.
 
He finally wakes up - and he's scowling.