The very first time, Scoop caught him out back.
They'd take turns having a smoke after closing. It was Russ' last shift before he left for the summer, goin' to Norfolk again, and Benny had picked up a case of beer to see him off. So he'd snagged a brew on his way outside, feeling rebellious and not overly motivated on his last night. Stepped out, fired up a smoke and took a few swallows - before the bottle was yanked out of his hand. And it wasn't like he dropped it - something tugged it it out of his grip.
Calm, fuckin' serious hands took hold of his ribs.
"What?" he asked, not believing what he heard.
"Ticklish," the voice repeated - with a sadistic edge. Sorta punching the word.
"I... Uh, what the hell?"
The hands began to move.
It was a wild blur. Not the gloves - his frenzy amazed him. And the loud chuckling. It just poured out.
Russ got off a single yell for help, and it was choked with laughter. A cool hand smacked down over his mouth. There were so many other fingers. Tickling high and low, neck nipples legs belly sides armpits. Wow. Serious - determined to waste him.
Jerking and twisting in every direction didn't do shit. Gloves all over him, knowing where to latch on.
They were shoving him into his car and he didn't even remember stumbling over there. That's how distracting the tickling was. They were good at it, dammit -
The engine revved. Was it really gonna drive him somewhere, while it did th- No way, time to stop this bullshit. Flail harder.
The sensation inside his upper body seemed to be spreading. And it was a deep, solid flood that made it hard to move. His legs just sorta twitched. That much was like being really drunk. The reaction to what the gloves were doing just short-circuited everything...
Driving, somewhere. Empty gloves on the wheel. Others drilling him.
There was a moment of terror - cutting through the confusion - when he realized that he was being carried toward a rusty metal door. It was open, and the tickling hands were carrying his ass right past it.
He had no idea where the building was. Did they make him laugh his guts out for ten minutes? Three hours? That's what freaked him out most of all. Time had quit meaning anything. So overwhelmed. Tickling, of all stupid things -
He had to pee. Now, that didn't compare to his enormous need to get the fuck away from them. Nobody knew where he was. The damn gloves worked together - there had to be a single wearer, got this all planned out ahead of time...
Tickle prison. Fuck, he just couldn't wrap his mind around it. That didn't matter anymore, 'cause they hustled him into the dark building. Rusty smells. Dust, mold -
Busy fingers. He just needed to turn around...
Tripping up and down his sides. Clutching his belly. Fingers were clamped under each knee. So fuckin' unbearable. Turn. Run.
A light clicked on. Not too bright. This room had no windows. It did have all kinds of fuckin' torture chamber shit, for locking people down. Him, actually.
He looked over his shoulder at the door that was swinging out - and he howled at it to stop.
Scoop just loved the way his fear could be overridden. In an instant, the feathers put a stop to his panic - who knew what kind of grisly things he'd been imagining? - and replaced it with a soulful, stunned dread.
"Wait," Russ said quietly, a big contrast from the shouting a few seconds before.
"What's the matter?" it teased.
His feet did the talking. Damn, did they want to get loose. Scoop was gratified by the worried struggling, and so pleased that the cuffs were doing their job. These feathers - and their pause wasn't going to last because they were moved closer - were only the beginning. Did his feet suspect that, maybe? All of the different kinds of stimulation coming... eased all the way up his pinned arms -
"No," he barked. "Quit it!"
"Somebody's got a secret," Scoop said. "Or he used to, anyway."
"You can't... this is so... c'mon. Don't."
"Get real."
"Help!" he roared, shouting as loudly as before - but there was a different tone in his voice. Less fear, and maybe more desperation. Scoop loved that.
"Look around," it ordered. "I've got the room all equipped. Tons of supplies. Wild ideas. Do you really think I'd go to all this trouble just to have some moron overhear you?"
"No, no, aw shit."
"There's way too much fun to have -"
"Don't do this, please..."
The delight was almost overwhelming as it set the feathers back on his soles.
"You're not gonna - stop," he groaned. "Eeef!"
Scoop swept the feathers side-to-side, taking its time.
He started fighting the restraints again. From the look on his face, it didn't think he was too optimistic.
"Oh shit," he laughed.
It ran the tips of each feather down toward his heels, making him seize up for just a moment. "Can't move your legs, huh?"
A long snort made its way out of his mouth - no matter how hard he tried to keep it in - and then he was roaring. Such a completely tormented sound. The broad edge of the feathers trailed back up slowly, which got him trying so hard to kick. He whimpered and then continued to bark and whoop.
"Your arms are caught too. I guess you know what that means."
"Neeeeeee eeeef h-haaaaalpp," he screeched, and kept right on giggling.
"Boxes of tools, right over there -"
With a gasp, he belted out the wildest laughs yet. Hearty, completely uncontrollable. He understood, alright, and Scoop wanted that new level of intensity to remain for awhile. It dragged the feathers more quickly, down and up and down and up, brisk waves that suggested Scoop never wanted to stop.
He jumped around, took another deep breath... and bawled out laughter in a higher pitch. Gurgling now and then, his head snapped back and forth. Sweat was already gleaming.
It was not disappointed with his feet. Happily, Scoop decided to make his situation even clearer - by filling up a pair of brown work gloves.
The feathers backed away. He spent half a minute catching his breath, not even looking. Scoop waited...
It was worth it. When he saw the gloves over him, panic motivated him again. There was something childlike in his struggles. A fear of innocent fun, maybe. But he was definitely not a kid anymore, and the levels of fun could be too much for a man to bear.
"Cotton," it said loudly. "These are familiar, I hope. But I have seven other kinds -"
He wailed, slamming back and forth. As if that wasn't reward enough, he started a slow, miserable cackle even before the fingers made contact with his ribs.
"Go ahead," Scoop said.
He took another drag. At first it seemed like he was gonna ignore the order, but it knew what he needed.
"You're fuckin'... All these gloves. Right here. Hangin' out, all set to dig back in, right? I want to see something happen. I don't know. A wall slide across. A net. Something to keep 'em away. I want that so bad - and nothing will show up, dammit. They'll start back for another hour, and another. All the hours you want. Nothing will change."
"That's right, Russ."
"Hey!" he yelled. Then he paused, blinking. "You know my name."
"I got your wallet."
"Aw, that's terrific. Shit." He shook his head. "Uh... The whole fuckin' world is out there... and I'm gettin'... ultra-tickled. Screwed with. Can't be happening, I know, that's what I would've said, but I gotta get away from this bastard. All these gloves - "Somebody's gotta wander by and hear me, get some help, or else I'm gonna get fucked with for a long... long time."
His voice trailed off, and he took another drag.
"Nobody heard you," Scoop said.
"I know."
"Did you really think -"
"No," he yelled. "I knew better. But I can't fuckin' do this. Gonna start again, you're gonna stick it to me again, always again, it's just so fuckin' frustrating."
"Until it starts."
"Huh?"
"You don't look frustrated then."
"This can't be happening to me," he wailed.
"You're too busy to stay mad."
"No..."
The fingers above his chest started to look a little twitchy.
"Tell the truth."
"Why? So you can use that against me too?"
"Say it."
Tugging at the straps didn't calm him down a whole lot. "Say what?"
"This is infuriating - until the tickling starts again. And then there's something more important than the anger."
"Screw you!"
His cigarette was taken away - and held just out of reach.
"If you want this," Scoop said reasonably, "and another one after it, you'll tell the truth."
After a low whine, he looked from the cigarette to the waiting gloves. "Dammit. Just... Alright."
"It's true. Isn't it?"
"Sure."
"Go ahead."
He rolled his eyes. "When you're fuckin' tickling me, yeah, I can't stay mad. Not - during that."
"You're not as mad as you used to be," it said, giving the smoke back to him.
"Yes, I am."
"No. You're settling in."
"Oh, bullshit!"
"That's smart. More fun that way."
"I'm tellin' you I can't take any more of this -"
"Look to your right. At the shelves."
With a desperate little whimper, he finally did as he was told. All those toys. Boxes, bags -
Scoop sighed. "How could you possibly think I'm gonna let you go soon?"
"Aw... shit."
"So much fun stuff. And you. Hidden away."
"I'm gonna snap, or something," he announced. "Too much."
"From pleasure? I don't think so. Massage never killed anybody -"
"This ain't the same as massage, and you know it!"
"Laughter. Some of the best cum-shots you've ever known. Deep, thorough stimulation. What's wrong with that?"
"All day," he whined. "No - somebody, please, help meeee, haallllllllpppp..."
The pack lifted up from the floor, long enough to get another cigarette out.
"Nope," the tickler laughed. "Guess you're stuck with me."
One glove dropped down and started playing with his nipples.
"Stop it," he squirmed, trying not to giggle.
"No," it teased. "I'm gonna tickle you. All over."
"Dammihhhah-hah-hah..."
"You're gonna stay right here and go nuts for me, Russ. So much tickling."
Keening, he tried to flop around.
"And you know it," Scoop crooned. "Don't you?"
Bawling raggedly, he nodded his head good and hard.
Oh, fuck, this has to stop...
It's in total fuckin' control. He never felt somebody so sure of things, and so calm at the same time. This is how we do it, howler. From now on.
Absolute pro, all bases covered. And this is what it loves most. Fuckin' impossible.
It had to lay off because he can't possibly take any more of this, dammit, no more. And he's laughing way too hard or overwhelmed by it to say anything. It knew... shit, better than he does, and that's why the damn gloves aren't stopping.
What if he can take a lot more of this than he thinks? It's driving him crazy already, just absolutely nuts, and the fucker made sure he can't even move.
Aw, c'mon, don't fuckin' tickle me any more, he wanted to screech. This is serious. Just lay off. Stop it.
"Got anywhere to be?" it teased.
He giggled wildly, squirming for all he was worth.
"I asked you a question," Scoop said sternly. The fingers - oh, it was impossible - they dug in a little bit more firmly. They could step it up even more. They would, too. Later, if not now. Of course they would.
He crowed weakly, feeling the tears run off his jaw.
"Uh... Try this one - are you going anywhere, low-life?"
The increased tickling was just going to shatter his brain. That was a given. The impulses throbbed and sizzled their way into the dead-end of his skull, lighting him up. So unbelievably ticklish...
"Well?"
He jumped, and snagged a breath. Blinking, he had a bad feeling that there was something he was supposed to do -
A hand grabbed his hair and tilted his head back.
"Fuckhead. Answer me. Are you going anywhere?"
Finally, he busted up with rowdy laughter, shaking his head drunkenly.
"That's right," it said proudly. "Nowhere. You're staying right here... in my enthusiastic hands. Aren't you?"
He nodded, bouncing up and down with his whole body.
"You just may laugh your fuckin' head off," Scoop promised.
With a feverish wail, he cackled and giggled his acknowledgement.
"You're settling in just fine," his tickler chuckled.
"What day is it?" Russ rasped.
"My play-pal's focusing," Scoop announced, ignoring his question, "on what's too big to grasp, huh? I think within 48 hours, I'm gonna change your mind forever. Tickle all the tears and the misery away - until you dig it. And then, buddy, I'm gonna just keep pouring it on. Burying you in it. Then we'll try out other things - kinky shit - and see what really multiplies the impact for ya. Tickling-plus. You're gonna thank me -"
"Bullshit."
Heh heh. We'll see."
"I'm doing this for you," Scoop says teasingly. The liar. "Mega-tickling. It's such a chore... but hey, that's just the kind of kidnapper I am."
Tied tight.
"Uh-nnnn-nuuhh," he groaned. Here it comes - again. On the carpet of an old hotel room, hogtied and gagged -
The door opened.
That smug voice, he thought desperately. Wait for it. Oh, shit, he just couldn't stand the thought of another second in Scoop's hands. But the room was obviously soundproofed - thick foam padding on the walls.
It always made sure no one would possibly hear him. For weeks. He decided the cell was made to look like he was in a hotel - but he knew that Scoop was a privacy nut. And now, with him caught again, it was all systems go. The fucker got him again.
"Hey," Scoop said. "I know you."
Squirming, trying to yell, he flopped as much as he could.
"And it looks like you're supposed to... stay."
Tears sprang to his eyes as he watched the door close.
Hands curled around his arms. Black leather gloves. They picked him up and carried him over to the bed.
There was a big bottle of lube on the side table, and a cock ring...
They laid him down.
"Well, now, that doesn't look comfortable at all."
"Mmmnnnnth," he groaned.
"But you're tied up. No running away, huh? Now... let's see."
The closet opened. It was full of bondage gear.
Seeing it, he shrieked into the gag.
"Alright," Scoop sighed.
Wide-eyed, he watched cuffs and straps start floating off their hooks.
Writhing around didn't change his situation. Nothing would get him out of its hands, he thought wildly, no way that would be allowed. Tonight, the whole week, and so on -
"I mean," and Scoop was all but laughing already, "somebody caught you. I don't blame 'em. I've had major fun with you."
The gear surrounded him.
"Not anywhere enough..."
Double-stitched leather straps were brought to the end of the bed. They moved with a serious, solemn air. Just something it had to do, in order to help out the fictional kidnapper who tied him up -
"And this place is hidden real well. Keep you out of trouble. Safe."
Behind his back, the knots started to loosen.
"Say," and it whooped, "I wanna make it real obvious how much fun you are."
When his feet came loose from his wrists, he was ready to bolt. Scrabbling around -
"No, no, little monkey," Scoop said.
The hands rolled him over and pulled him up so he sat there, with his fuckin' hands tied behind his back, as eight or ten gloves pounced on his legs.
"You're all sweaty. That can't be comfortable."
"Nnfff nfff! Neeeeennnnth," he wailed.
A glove started unbuckling his belt.
Hands he couldn't see started pulling his jeans down. It was no accident that his underwear slid off too.
He shook his head miserably.
"We got time to kill," it taunted.
Next Scoop pulled his t-shirt over his head.
"Maybe a lot of time..."
A few quiet chuckles - and a glove took hold of his dick.
He did his best to pull his arms loose when they untied that knot. Scoop just laughed derisively, clamping on with all those gloves.
"One arm, out here... and the other one goes here." They pressed down until the cuffs had floated up and around, buckled tight. Straps were clipped on, and the tension pinned his elbows well into the mattress.
"There," it said happily. "And now..."
The ankle cuffs.
He stared at the straps being pulled out, with such power, before they were fastened. The clips were big. He doubted they were ever gonna break.
"Give 'em a try," it laughed.
Two gloves attacked his sides.
It was a long minute.
"Yeah. You're stuck."
"Nnnnnnpppfff!'
Something felt different. Looser -
Oh fuck, he thought, it's taking my sneakers off.
"I don't know why, but nothing's more enjoyable than nuking a guy like you. Anchored right." Scoop laughed at him.
Moaning, he closed his eyes.
"Who's gonna stop me? You?"
Gloves were coming out of the closet. More gloves, oh no...
One brought some thinner straps and rings - toe restraints.
The cock ring floated off the table.
"I can't imagine your kidnapper would mind if I kept you busy," it said thoughtfully, "any more than strapping you down right. You know there's feathers and oil in the closet?"
Whimpering...
"You up for that, monkey? Big fun?"
The cock ring slid over his meat.
"Before you get too excited... and make a mess."
He shook his head. That was all he could do - but the gloves pressed some eager fingers against his socks, and started taking hold of his sides.
"Somebody's not getting away from me..." There was such a smug tone in Scoop's voice.
His eyes opened just a little. Active hands crept all over his body. Crippling fire everywhere, hollow chuckles barreling out of his chest...
The gag was gone, apparently. He thought about yelling - and gutsy howls came out instead.
"Such a long night," it promised.
His breathing had leveled off. Shit, he thought, any time now.
A glove lingered over his right foot. It was plain as day that Scoop was savoring the moment...
He woke up feeling... thicker. Something was -
Clothes. Scoop had dressed him. But the door was still closed. It's not anywhere done yet, he thought.
Leather jacket, t-shirt, jeans. New chaps. And oh yeah, even if they made his feet throb he didn't care - combat boots.
Lifting his hand, he saw thin leather gloves and a cigarette. Scoop had lit one and stuck it between his fingers. He took a clumsy drag.
"Looks like a menace to society, here," it said proudly.
"Shit," he grumbled, jetting the smoke out through his nostrils.
"I know better, though. Don't I?"
A hand touched his chest -
"Nooooooo," he wailed. The fingers slid over to his right side. He couldn't see 'em.
"And now I've got a job to do."
They wandered up and down his ribs.
"How to break you."
The usual dull fear started to grow. Of course.
"Who's gonna feel it?" the tickler teased. It sounded like it was talking to a baby.
"Let me go," he pleaded.
Another hand helped itself to his left side.
Whipping back and forth, he started to snicker. Another damn day of being shredded -
"You are. I'm gonna tickle this ape."
"Noooooaaaahh hah hah naaah haaaaah!"
"Yes, I am."
Hands took hold of his right leg, and the laces of that boot started loosening up.
He tried to kick, but the fingers dug into his sides a little until he was giggling uncontrollably and squirming around on the bed. The nightmare was just as real as ever, and it wasn't fuckin' over yet.
His left leg was seized.
Please don't take the boots away, he wanted to beg. Please. He couldn't remember how great they felt - so solid, protecting every side of his feet - when the tickling sped up for the fifteenth or sixteenth time today, cuffed and strapped as usual, toes spread by those damn rings, and the fire just pouring all over -
It pulled his arms up, and slid the jacket off the chortling prisoner.
Naked, on his belly, and spread wide -
"Who gets to dig in and tickle?"
The hands dug into his armpits, and he just screamed laughter.
"Aaaaannnd who's gonna go absolutely insane? Huh?"
He flailed as much as he could.
. . .
Smoke?" it asked.
It took him a few seconds to collect himself, still breathing hard. "Whuh -"
Sure enough there was a carton on the corner of the mattress. With a strained sound, he stares at it and tugs at his bonds.
"Well... okay."
Wait, he thought, I want one, a few more minutes before -
Six gloves raced down - and thrashed him. Red-line tickling.
He howled without making a sound, flailing like a snake. Really there was no option but to take in the carnage Scoop rubbed into him...
"Who's my big ol' ticklish guy?"
He was busy laughing. It had to repeat the question twice.
"Ah hah hah I - Ieeeyah hah hah huh..."
"That's right. And who's gonna get tickled silly tomorrow, too?"
"I - I - ooooaaah hah noh nnn-no no no-wooo hoo hah hah hah haaah."
"Very good," Scoop said firmly.
"Welcome," a voice said quietly.
He opened his eyes and looked around. Was that Scoop?
Then he stared at the manacles...
Thick, shiny metal enclosed each of his ankles, spreading his legs about halfway. Some kind of cloth was wrapped under them, against his skin. All he wore was a pair of dark black briefs he'd never seen before.
His feet were the bigger concern, though. They were just about level with his chest. He just couldn't get his feet to move at all.
Both of his wrists were caught and shackled to the chair, above and out a little. Dark padded vinyl supported his back and his ass.
Two straps, tight over his beltline and under his pecs, kept him from bouncing at all.
After struggling for a couple minutes he wasn't any closer to getting away.
"It's important," the voice said, "that you believe this. Prove it to your own satisfaction."
Oh, fuck, he thought, this has to be Scoop trying to sound like another tickler -
"You're not going to be able to cover up at all. Shielding any part of your body will not be allowed, any more than getting out of this room."
He looked around the dull black walls, and heard something rolling -
A cart. It stopped alongside his feet.
"Do you know what I'm going to do?"
Eventually he nodded.
"These. We'll start with... fingers. Watch them, now. This is acetate - and a dozen other textures will follow. But right now these hands are coming, now that's there's absolutely nothing you can do about it. They'll start in... and keep learning. Every sensitive place on your body -"
"What the hell are y-"
"Quiet. Joined by more and more gloves just like them, they'll stimulate those places, downshifting when you start to swoon, pausing for break after break - so you can regain your breath before they continue. And they will, they absolutely will, return after you sleep. After each meal. Always starting in again. Your days will be filled with delirious pleasure. Whatever you considered yourself to be, before now, is irrelevant. You're helpless now, you're ticklish - and you're staying right here."
. . .
"There's nothing you can do," it said slowly, "to make me stop."
He squirmed back and forth, whooping hard.
"Nothing at all will make the tickling end tonight."
"Nooo hooo hooo hooo hooo haaaaa-aaaaaaw," he squealed.
"Not for a long, long time. That's a promise."
Bouncing, then fighting the straps as hard as he could, didn't do a thing to slow down any of the soft, attentive fingers.
The dreams were usually good. Even if they were full of activity, it's like a vacation. He was shooting pool with Adam, just hanging out, and it was great.
But then he woke up.
The poor son of a bitch who got caught. Cuffs and chains. Shit.
He coughed for a few seconds and then let his head fall back down on the mattress, studying the tattooed fucker in the mirror, stretched out on a black satin sheet.
Every time he woke up, it just seemed so incredible that he could be in for another day of it. All over again.
Scoop had him again, and it was never done. No such thing as enough. That was another obvious thing that just didn't sit well. Another full day of tickling, with all the power and chills and insane giddiness and the gnawing need to fuckin' feel it harder.
He was barely able to take it. Scoop was a fuckin' expert, though. It knew exactly how far it can push him. No denying that...
A cigarette landed on his bottom lip.
Fuckin' tickler. Enjoying this much control...
The other daily worry, as he craned his neck to reach the hovering lighter, was that he couldn't keep going through for months and months without losing his mind. Maybe today was the day he'd get swallowed up by the avalanche of tickling sensations for good. No coming back. Everybody's got their limit.
That's when he remembered that he's had that same fear for years. Whether he was getting nuked or not, he wondered if the next time was gonna do it, or if he'd bounce back from that much fever... for the next round.
Taking a drag, he watched himself in the mirror. You're gonna be delirious all day, he thought. Any time now - gloves, feathers, whatever.
"Hey," he whispered.
"What?," it said immediately, all sassy.
"You gonna... let me go tonight?"
"No."
"This week?"
It chuckled. "No."
Happy tickler. Scoop was reveling in it... yet it was as calm as ever. Nothing ever surprised Scoop when it was settling in for a few hours of sadistic tickling.
This place is really off the beaten track, he thought.
Not even close to done.
"Dammit, Scoop."
"All these hours and hours ahead of us," it teased, "just waiting to be filled. We're gonna have to entertain each other."
Groaning, he tried to roll over, straining the cuffs on the right side and then the left. Laid out real nice - it could just slip into his armpits, or drill his hips, and what's he gonna do? Shudder. Sweat. Giggle, maybe. It'll pump his cock and take a couple hours to get him off, and then he'll be so much more fuckin' ticklish...
"I can't take this anymore. Not this much p- oh, fuck, Scoop -"
"Pleasure. Is that what you were going to say? I'll be the judge of how much is too much."
Kicking out smoke, he yanked hard with his arms. Still stuck.
"You're doing just fine," it reassured him.
"Dammit, you gotta listen to me," he wailed.
"You're not maxxed out yet. Don't even try to bullshit me. It's obvious. Getting deeper, and... bigger. You're relaxing sooner. Trying to keep up with me."
His cigarette was taken away, and a bottle of water approached from the side.
"No, dammit, Scoop. Please."
"Let's do it."
After a few slugs, he drank the water as slowly as he dared. After this, he thought, the fire starts zapping through me again.
He couldn't fuckin' stand it. A thousand times too much -
Another cigarette was waiting.
"Thank you, oh yeah Scoop, th-"
As the lighter returned he just thought for a second. It said "let's do it," which would seem to mean the tickling would start up - but then it gave him a smoke. So that meant -
"No no no no no."
"Aw, yeah," it said.
He took a light, and slammed his head back down -
Feathers. Dammit.
Two long, white plumes that still looked innocent. They were just feathers, until they fall into the wrong hands. And Scoop had the nightmare hands...
They dropped down and began to torment his dick.
Not this, he thought - forty minutes later. Please tickle me instead...
He didn't dare say it. Hadn't ever worked before. Or maybe too well. It did get a kick out of making him beg for more tickling.
A soft edge glided up and down his shaft, circling around lazily. The other one crept under his balls.
It was unbearable!
Arching and fidgeting as much as he could, his crotch was still wide open - just the way Scoop wanted it. He wasn't anywhere near halfway, either. When it took this much time, he knew what to expect. The long fuckin' ride to his next cumshot would include half a pack of cigarettes and begging, raging, bargaining and tears.
He was covered with ashes and sweat. Painfully hard. It had to be the third hour...
Scoop brought more water a few times, pausing with the feathers long enough for him to swallow.
"This is the gearshift," it said once as it curled greasy rubber fingers around his knob. "I'm gonna nudge you into another level of ticklishness, and another, and there's no telling how many levels you've got. If you think you're feeling it now..."
Oh, fuck, just finish it, he wanted to scream. But it wouldn't do any good. A single feather wasn't enough to push against, and the other one traced all around his hips, his lower belly - and he was just so fuckin' horny that he blubbered an hour ago. Scoop didn't say a word. It just sighed proudly and kept right on teasing his meat.
One cigarette after another...
His fingers ached from clenching his fists. He groaned for hours. This was impossible to take.
"Let me cum," he whispered again. The tickling was going to be horrifying afterward, but he just had to shoot his load...
He didn't weep anymore. Scoop didn't even pause. It knew this squirt would wake up every ticklish nerve in his body so they'd be unusually sensitive. All the handling and stroking Scoop would deliver, all over his body, would never be enough to suit it.
Smooth hands sliding for hours, squeezing a little, fingertips making him hoot. Explosions occurring nonstop on his soles - ruthless tickling in his armpits and under his knees and around his neck. That was surely on the way.
His arms had become so ticklish, and his ass.
It really had his number.
"Hey," it said.
He opened his eyes, but there was just another smoke waiting. It was officially the longest jackoff session he'd ever known. There was a dull sense of surprise that the fucker had managed to hold off from tickling him that long.
"Please," he whispered. "Scoop. Please."
"You're just not suffering enough," it said evenly, lighting his cigarette. "Getting enough pleasure, I mean."
Even blinking was an effort. "Alright -"
"I can do better."
"Guh... Go ahead."
"What?"
Whimpering, he tugged on the cigarette."Shit..."
"I'm going to ask again. And then I'll ignore you for a good hour. Keep doing this. Now, what should I go ahead and do?"
Such a monster, he thought. Full fuckin' sadist. He took another drag. "Tickle me."
"Oh. Now you want me to tickle you."
An agonized groan oozed out of his mouth with the smoke.
"Maximum tickling, I bet," it continued. "That's what I do."
"If that's what it t-takes," he sighed. "I just gotta cum, Scoop, please."
"If I start tickling you, I don't know if I can stop myself for a few hours."
"Go. Go, yeah, okay."
"You want to cum."
"Oh, fuck yeah."
"Even though I'm gonna... really dig in."
That's a given, he thought. No way to fight that off. "Please. Let's go."
"Let me make sure I got this straight," it said. The feathers sped up a little. Oh, fuck, he didn't have the energy to arch anymore. It wouldn't be an impressive squirt. "You want me to finish you off in a couple hours."
"Nooooooo!"
There was a chuckle or two. "Oh. Okay. You wanna cum now. And then get drilled."
He nodded drunkenly. His cock was going to hurt all day. The pressure...
Gloves took their time laying down on a dozen intensely ticklish spots. Then the last one seemed to cruise even more slowly to his dick.
The rope was knotted with care.
"No escape," Scoop taunted.
No shit, he thought as he tried to pull his arms around. The padded walls sorta got that across.
Then he felt contact.
Oh... shit. Hands were tickling him. What a surprise.
Fingers rubbed his armpits through his shirt. Moving down -
His laughter sounded disapproving. I object to this kidnapping, he thought wildly. I had almost a whole year without any fuckin' tickling at all, and now this.
More hands clamped just over his hips.
High-pitched hooting...
He caught his breath. There was snot on his face, he was all sweaty, and his right arm hurt from laying on it. The rope still had his hands caught.
He looked over at the door, which was probably locked anyway. Scoop had always been thorough.
"No getting away," it said happily.
"No no noooooo whaaaa-haaaaah," he roared - because the hands jumped on again. Racing up and down his sides...
Pulling his boots off.
All he knew was determined fingers, moving from one sensitive place to another. He couldn't stand another eight months of this...
Too tired to fight effectively, he felt his jeans being pulled off.
The arrival of the straps was next.
Scoop dug in. That really made it impossible to flail around...
Panting again, he gave the straps a few tugs.
It had his arms straight out from his sides, and a hanging spreader bar cuffed between his ankles. That was a frustrating illusion of being able to move his feet -
Something firm was shoved in his mouth. A tube of leather. Tension pulled on the ends, and a buckle was set. So he was in for a couple delirious hours of slobbering all over a gag.
The overhead lights faded down...
Touch. Not a finger. Barely making contact.
Down his right sole, and dusting up again -
Both feet.
They were feathers, and more of 'em swept up his sides.
He laughed hard - harder - roared and brayed like a fuckin' maniac.
That airy texture slid up his shaft -
But the straps just wouldn't break.
12jul06