Tickle King's Tickle Stories
A First Person Encounter

I woke to find that I could see nothing.  I tried to rub my eyes, but I could not move my arms at all.  I lay on a table, with straps fastening me, at the wrists, elbows, waist, thighs, calves, and ankles.  I could tell that I was still fully clothed.  I tried to cry out for help, but my mouth was taped shut.  I struggled and mmpphed for a few minutes, but soon came to realize the there was no escape.

          I heard a door open, and the sounds of someone entering the room.  I began to struggle again.  What could they want with me?  What were they going to do to me?  I felt the person's presence near to me, and I heard the sound a chair creaking across the floor.  The chair was situated next to me, near my waist.  I continued pulling at my restraints, but to no avail.  I then felt my shirt being pulled up.  Oh no!  This person is going to do something to me that I'm probably not going to like.  My mind was racing with thoughts of painful torture, until I felt a pair of long fingernails poking at my rib cage.  Uh-oh!  Surely this person's not going to tickle me.  Judging by the long fingernails, I assumed it was a female, so from here on out it will refer to my captor as a she.

          Sure enough, that's exactly what she was going to do.  I felt her fingernails digging deep into my rib cage.  Within a matter of seconds, I could no longer keep my composure.  I began laughing into the gag (which is kind of a loud muffled mmph).  My attempted screams seemed to only amuse her, and fuel her fervor to probe deeper into my helpless ribs.

          I was completely helpless to combat or escape her merciless attack.  I could only exert muffled screams of laughter into the tape across my mouth.  By this time, she was going full force on my ribs.  She would rummage her hands about my helpless exposed rib cage, and every few seconds she would spend some extra time in one spot, digging in deep.  I was a sweaty, crying mess within a matter of minutes.  I screamed helplessly into the gag, as she moved up near my breast, and back down to my stomach, down to my sides and up almost to my underarms.  I'm not sure how long she spent on that spot, but it seemed like hours.

          Right when I felt as if I would pass out, she stopped.  I'm sure that I was a mess, because laughing through one's nose is not an easy task.  After about five minutes, I felt her pulling my shirt back down.  Oh good, she's done, I thought to my self.  Wrong!  I soon felt her fingernails scratching at my underarms.  Here we go again!

          My muffled screams of laughter resumed, as her skilled hands wielded those long sharp nails against my tender underarm flesh.  My shirt was sleeveless, so she had no restrictions, there.  I struggled violently, trying to escape the reach of her long fingernails, but I could not move a muscle.  I just screamed as the extreme ticklish sensations drove me to edges of sanity.  How much longer would I have to endure this torture?  Was I here for good, or would she let me go, when she was done?  So many questions began to fill me mind, but they were soon drowned, as increased the intensity of her attack on my armpits.

          She was dragging her nails almost up to my elbows, at times, and then coming back down, and pushing her nails up under the edge of my shirt.  I felt the urge to urinate coming.  I hoped I would be able to hold it.  No chance, within a few minutes, I had wet myself.  At this point, however, I didn't care.  I was hoping maybe the smell would gross her out, and she would stop, but it didn't curb her enthusiasm one bit.  I heard her mumble, "Oh good, you've wet yourself.  That means I'm doing a good job."

          I was in spasms now.  I had given up the struggle, and just lay laughing uncontrollably.  At some point, she stopped, but I'm not sure when, because I was laughing too hard to notice.  I lay there, almost hyper-ventilating, from my lack of oxygen, brought on by the continuous spasms of laughter.  It was quite some time I laid there, before I heard her coming back.

          I heard the chair drag across the floor, to the foot of the table I was tied to.

          OH, MY GOD!!!  NOT MY FEET!!!

          Sure enough, I felt her unzipping my black ankle-boots and removing them, to reveal my helpless feet, clad in nude stockings.  She then surprised me.  Instead of tickling my feet, she began dragging her nails up and down my legs.  I was wearing jeans, so it felt kind of funny, but I didn't really tickle.  It did tickle, however, when she started poking between my hips and thighs.  I had never been tickled there before.  It was pure torture.  I could do nothing.  I tickled like crazy.  I started screaming and struggling again.  It was worse than when she was tickling my ribs.  I was in spasms quickly, as she probed up and down, all around the pelvic area.  Time to time, she would venture down and squeeze around my knees.  All of it was torture.  I was helpless, tied to table, being tickled in the most extreme fashion I could imagine, and I couldn't fully express the laughter, because of the gag.  I'm not saying I would have enjoyed it, but I would have been a lot easier on my, if my mouth wasn't taped shut.  Having to laugh through my nose was very uncomfortable, and I could not draw in the air I needed to satisfy my lungs.

          I continued to jerk helpless at my restraints, as her expert hands found all of the spots that drove me wild with insane ticklish laughter.  After what seemed like an hour, but was probably only about ten minutes, she stopped, and I heard her sit back down at my feet.

          And then it was a waiting game.

          The waiting was almost as bad as the tickling, itself.

          I just lay there, waiting to feel that feeling I longed so much not to feel.  But, she was in no hurry.  I think she knew how much torture it was to know it was coming, and not know when.

          After what seemed like an eternity, I felt one fingernail drag along my left foot.  I quivered.  I giggled.  I felt another fingernail on my right foot.  Several minutes went by of her dragging one fingernail up and down each foot, as I laid there giggling.  It wasn't quite as much torture as what she had done earlier, but it still tickled.  Then it happened.  She added one finger at a time, to each foot, until she had five fingers going full force on each foot.  I was laughing, full force, into the gag, again.  She would spend a few minutes, torturing both feet at the same time, and then she would spend a few minutes concentrating on each foot, pulling back my toes, and digging in deep.  Once again, I was shortly into hysterics.

          I seemed to more ticklish through the stockings, than I was otherwise.  She tickled the tops and bottoms of my feet.  Sometimes, she would tickle the top and bottom of one foot at the same time, so that it was made things worse, no matter whether I scrunched my toes, and tried to pull them back.

          I know she tortured my feet for at least an hour, because it seemed like several hours.  I wet myself twice, and when she was finished, it took me forever to catch my breath.

          Now, I lay here in terror, because it's been a few hours, and now I hear the chair being dragged back up beside me.  Here we go again.....

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