A Meeting

Kelly had always been infatuated with the art of tickle torture. She had always wanted to be tied up and tickled, but was very afraid. Kelly was, after all, judged by her highschool graduating class as the most ticklish person. She was ticklish everywhere. She was ticklish on the from the soles of her feet, to the little spaces under her ears.

She had read about the Tickle King at his on-line website, and e-mailed him for to see if he'd be interested in tickling her. She described herself to him, and asked him where he was. He told her that he would tickle her, but that she would have to come to Charlotte. Well, that wasn't too bad. She lived outside of Atlanta, and Charlotte wasn't too far of a drive up I-85.

Now, here she was, standing outside the door of the designated meeting place. She wore a white sweatshirt, gray stretch leggings, white socks pulled up around the legging, and white Keds. She was scared, and needless to say, she was excited. She finally got her courage up and knocked on the door. To the door walked a tall man, a lot younger than she had expected. He had a rugged look, and she decided that he was attractive.

He showed her into the living room and she had a seat.

"So, you're Kelly, are you?" He asked.

"Yes," she said.

"Are you ready to see what you're made of?"

"I sure hope so."

"I do to," he said. "You paid for an hour, and once I strap you into my chair, and hour is what your going to get."

"Well, I'm ready," she said.

"Would you like anything to drink, first?"

"No, I'd better not. If I drink anything, you might tickle it out of me."

He led her to a back room, and down a set of stairs into the basement.

It was dark, but she heard him open a door.

He walked into the room, and turned on the light. She followed.

She looked around the room. It was very simple. Cheap carpet. White paint. Nothing she would want. In the center of the room sat a chair, the likes of which she had never seen.

It looked like a barber's chair, except that the back went much higher, and there were straps all over it.

He directed her to it, and she sat down and leaned back.

"Let's do it," she said.

He pulled her left hand up over her head and wrapped a strap around it, fastening it to itself, and then again to the top of the chair. He then did the same with her right hand. He then walked to the foot of the chair, and took each foot, and fastened it into a set of straps on either side of the rest.

"How's that feel?" he asked.

She pulled and wiggled.

"I feel pretty helpless," she answered.

"You think you feel helpless, now," he smiled. "Wait until I'm finished."

He then fastened another strap around each of her knees.

After that, he put a strap around her waist.

Then, he put a strap around each of her elbows.

He then went back to the foot, and erected a pop up bar that went between her feet, and spread out behind her toes. It had several small leather strings dangling from it.

"What's that for?" She asked.

"Watch," he said.

He began untied her left shoe, and pulled it off. He then pulled the sock off.

He then untied her right shoe, pulled it off, and pulled the sock off.

He then tilted her right foot back, and began to tied each toe with a separate string.

He did the same with the left foot.

"Now, how helpless do you feel?" he asked.

"A lot more than I was before," she said.

"Well, here we go," he said.

She bit her lip. What had she done? Did she really want to go through with this? Did she really think that she could last though it? Her train of thought was derailed, when he stuck his hands up her shirt, and began wiggling his fingers against her armpits.

"Ooohohohoho, my God, that tickles."

She started giggling, but the more he did it, the harder it got to keep from bursting out.

Finally she couldn't hold it in anymore.

"Aaaahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha. Whoahohohohohohohohoho."

He teased her armpits for about five minutes, and then he began digging into her ribs.

She exploded into violent bursts of laughter, interspersed with loud gasps for breath.


After digging in her ribs for about five minutes, he pulled her shirt up, and pulled out a feather duster. The feathers on the end of the duster had all been soaked in varnish, so that the tips were firm. Be began dusting all around her sides and underarms.

Kelly went wild with loud, ticklish laughter. She had never been tickled so much in her life.

She was small, and had always been able to wiggle away from her ticklers, but this time there was no wiggling away.

"Aaaaahahahahahahahahahahahaha. Nohohohohohohohoho."

He dusted her for five minutes, as she bucked and jerked violently, then he went around to her neck, and began dusting her neck and face.

She continued laughing consistently, but not quite as hard.

He knew she wouldn't, but he figured that could be somewhat of a break for her.

Soon, her laughing had died down to giggles, and the Tickle King knew that it was time to move on. That had been another five minutes. Twenty minutes, so far. Forty more. He said as much, out loud.

"What?" she cried. "Forty more minutes, I'll never make it."

He loosened the straps around her waist and knees long enough to pull her pants down, and then he tightened them back up.

He used his fingers to gently caress the tops, insides, and outsides of her leg spread.

She began bucking violently, again. Sometimes, when he went up into her vaginal area, and tickled in there, she would jump and laugh as if she were going to spit her insides out.

"Aaaahhhhhhhhaahaahaaaaahaaaaaahuhhhhh. Ahahahahahahahah."

He spent about five minutes on that, and then went and got the feather duster again.

When she saw him about to go to her legs with that, she let out a massive scream before he even touched her.


When he did finally touch her with it, she nearly jumped out of her skin, but she scarcely moved, because of all of the restraints.

She jerked and laughed uncontrollably.

"Eeeeheeheeheeheee. Nooohohohohohoho."

After about five minutes of this, he stopped again, and gave her a five minute breather. For her sake, he counted that as part of the hour.

"Twenty five more minutes," he said, at the end of the break.

He then went to her feet, and began dragging his fingers up and down her helpless soles.

She began shrieking and jerking, once again.

"Aaaahahahahahahahah. Nooooohohohohohohoho."

The worst part of this to her, was that her toes were pulled back, so that she could scrunch her feet up. That always seemed to ease the ticklishness, but she couldn't do it now.

His fingers danced up and down her helpless soles, in and out of her toes, across the tops of her feet, and back around the ankles.

Tickle King thought to himself, "This might be the most ticklish girl I've ever tickled."

"Eeeeheeheeheeheehee. Ahhhhhahahahahahaahaahaahaahaaaaa."

He continued using his fingers to torture her soles for another five minutes.

Twenty more minutes.

He pulled a single feather out of the feather duster.

He began working with her right foot.

She tried hard as she could to wiggle her foot out of the way, but to no avail.

She laughed on and on and on.

"Ahhhhahahahahahahahaha. Nohohohohohohohoho. Enouhuhuhuhuhuhuhuhuff."

He wasn't going to stop, though, because an hour is an hour. That's what she paid for, that's what she's gonna get.

He feathered her right foot for about five minutes, and then he switched to her left.

By now, she had laughed so much that she was really getting tired.

She couldn't stop laughing, though. She'd laugh more softly, when he was on spots that weren't the most ticklish, but when he'd hit those most ticklish spots, she'd explode again.

After feathering the left foot for five minutes, he took the whole feather duster, and attacked her right foot again.

She jumped against her restraints, rocking the chair as she did.


He did each foot for two and a half minutes, then stopped.

Five more minutes.

Now, he must clean her feet.

He pulled out his water bucket, and brush, and began cleaning her soles.

She jumped explosively, and started laughing harder than she had ever laughed before.

Never, in her wildest dreams, had she imagined tickle torture this extreme.

She was bursting into fits of outrageous laughter.


She couldn't take much more. She was sure that she was going to die.

And then, it was over.

She felt him loosening the straps and taking them off.

She was exhausted, and lay there with her eyes shut, but she was too tense to sleep.

He picked her up, and carried her into a spare bedroom. He went and got one of his big shirts. He took her pants, T-shirt, and bra off, and put her into the big shirt. It swallowed her whole.

He laid her down, and began massaging her back to loosen up the tension. He massaged her back and neck for a while, and then switched to massaging her feet. By the time, he finished massaging her feet, she was fast asleep. He pulled the covers up over her.

"Goodnight," he said.

He went to his own room, still amazed by how ticklish she was, and how much courage it took for her to come here, and willingly let the Tickle King tickle her.

The next day, they were both up early, and he took her to breakfast, before she left to go back to Atlanta. To this day, they still call each other up from time to time. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knows that she's the one that was always meant for him, but he's way too shy to ever consider asking her.