Kristina Babysits Anessa
I sat watching Anessa play in the floor, with her Barbie dolls. She was such a cute girl. Nine years old, and she already acted like she was a grown-up, when she wasn't playing with her toys. My name is Kristina, I am sixteen years old, and I was babysitting Anessa, while her parents were at a lake party. I was wearing blue jeans, a sleeveless top, black socks, and white Keds. It was to be an all day thing. They probably wouldn't be back until one or two o'clock in the morning, so I was to spend the night, and watch Anessa.
It was probably about noon, when Anessa put her dolls down.
"I'm bored," she said. "Can we do something different."
"Like what?" I asked.
She sat and thought for a minute, and then her face lit up like a light bulb.
"I know," she said, and ran off to the garage.
She came back with a big roll of rope.
"What are we going to do," I asked, "play tug-of-war."
"No," she said. "You're going to let me tie you up."
"I am?" I asked. "What makes you think that?"
"Because, you love me, and would do anything for me," she said, putting on the cutest puppy face I've ever seen.
"Oh, all right," I said. "But, just this once. If I get loose, though, I get to tie you up."
I was sure I would be able to get loose. I mean, how good can a nine year old girl tie someone up.
She had some scissors, and cut of a length of rope.
"Cross your wrists," she said.
So I crossed my wrists, and she started tying them together. I'll admit, she was much better than I thought she would be. She wound the rope around each wrist a couple of times, and then around both wrists. When she was done, I was beginning to worry if I would be able to get loose, or not, but I was sure that I could find a way.
"Now, cross you ankles, and put them up on the couch."
I did as she told, and she proceeded to tie them in a similar fashion as she tied my wrists.
"Wow," I said. "You're pretty good at this, what now?"
"I'm not finished, yet," she said. "Lay down on the couch, and put your arms up over your head."
"I think you've got me tied well enough," I said, trying to get her to stop there.
"Come on," she said, "it will be fun. I won't leave you like this for too long."
"Okay," I agreed to it. And laid down on the couch, and stretched my arms so that my wrists lay across the one arm of the couch, and my feet lay across the opposite arm.
With that, she took another length of rope she had cut, and tied one end to the intersection of the ropes binding my wrists. She then proceed to wrap it around the back leg of the couch, and pull it almost too tight for comfort. She then looped it again, through the ropes around my wrists, and continued down to the front leg of the couch, again pulling it tight. I pushed myself up a little with my feet, to ease the discomfort, because I didn't want her to think that she was hurting me.
After she had tied that rope off, she went and did the same thing at my feet. Pulling it tight, so that my feet extended over the arm of the couch.
"Whew," I exclaimed. "I can hardly move."
"Good," Anessa smiled. "That's they way I wanted you to feel."
"I'll be back in a second," she said.
She danced out of the room, humming to herself. I lay there, trying to take in just how helpless I really was. I struggled, trying to free myself, but all I could manage was a little bit of side to side swaying. She had done a good job of tying the knots, also. They were well out of reach of my fingers, so I had no hope of being able to untie myself. There was no slack, either. I couldn't slide my wrists or ankles through the ropes, one way or the other. This girl knew how to tie. She had done this before.
I was just about to call for her, when I felt her hand go across my mouth. When she pulled it away, I realized that she had put something across my mouth. She then proceeded to put a few more strips around it, until my entire jaw was covered. It was duct tape.
"Mmmmmm, mmmmmm," I tried to get her attention. This was going a little bit too far.
"Just to keep you quiet," she said. "I don't want to listen to any whining."
With that she started cutting off more strips of rope. What was she going to do with it? I was already totally helpless.
She look one of the strips, and started wrapping it around my arms, from just below the elbows, almost up to my wrists. With each round, she cinched it up tightly. When she finished with that, I couldn't move my arms at all. Next she took another strip, and tied my thighs together, and then another strip, to tie my knees together. Now, the only parts of my body I could move were my head, and I could wiggle my feet, a little.
She left the room, again, and came back a few minutes later with one of her pairs of black tights. She used these to blindfold me.
Now, I was getting scared. What if something was to happen. I couldn't help her. I couldn't do anything. If there was a fire or something, I would be trapped in here, because I knew that there was no way she could ever untie me quick enough. I started squirming and trying to plead with her through the gag. This had gotten way out of hand. Hopefully, she would wonder what I was trying to say, and atleast take the tape off my mouth.
But she didn't.
I heard her pulling something across the floor. It sounded like a chair, and it sounded like she drug it to the other end of the couch from where my head way. Gee, I thought, what's she going to do now, tie me up even more.
I wished I had been right, but I wasn't.
She started untying my shoes. NOT COOL!
I started trying to fight against it, but as I was almost completely immobile, I couldn't put up much resistance. Within seconds, she had the shoe untied, and had taken it off. Within a few seconds, the other shoe was off, also. I knew what she was going to do. She had tickled my feet before, when we were playing, and knew that I was extremely ticklish. I waited. I knew what was coming, and I waited, preparing myself for the agony. I think she knew I was waiting, and thus prolonged her delay. I couldn't see, so I wouldn't know when it was going to hit, until it hit. I continued squirming and struggling, trying to plead with her through the gag. It was now probably nearing 1:00 p.m., a whole 12 hours from the time when her parents were expected to return.
All these thoughts were going through my head. So much so, that I almost forgot what I was expecting, and that's when she struck. I felt one finger, began to drag along the black sock on my right foot. I cringed, scrunching my toes, trying to fight back the ticklish sensation. Two fingers. Tried to use my other foot to cover it up, but the way she had crossed them and tied them, my left foot could barely reach my right foot, let alone offer any kind of protection. Three fingers. I started giggling. Four fingers. I started laughing hard into the gag. Five fingers. I went berserk. I bucked and rocked violently, trying to move my foot away from Anessa's tickling fingers. Ten fingers. Both hands, going all out, if a full fledged assualt on my right foot. It was unbearable. It was pure torture. I was screaming laughter into the gag.
Anessa was relentless and methodical. She continued to torture my right foot, leaving my left alone. She used one hand to hold my toes back, and the other to dig and scratch deep into the once protected undersides of my toes. This sent me to new heights of laughter. It was unreal how much it tickled. Anessa continued her unwavering attack on my right foot. She was tickling both side, top and bottom, anywhere and everywhere, all over my right foot. For what seemed like an eternity, she used both hands in an attack on my right foot. She finally stopped after what was probably about twenty minutes (it seemed like hours).
"Now, let's see if that left foot is as ticklish as the right one," she said, giggling.
Nooooo. I started pleading into the gag, again. Within seconds, though, I was reduced to spasmodic laughter as she started her onslaught on my left foot. One finger. Then two. Three. Four. Five. I was already on the brinks of sanity. Ten fingers. I couldn't take any more. I gave up struggling and just started laughing wildly into the gag. All that could be hear was muffled screams. And I know no one could here, because the nearest neighbor's house was probably 100 yards away, but I feel sure if someone had been upstairs, in this house, they wouldn't have been able to hear me.
Anessa didn't apply full concentration to the left foot as long. After a few minutes, she was attack both of my socked feet. Tears of laughter and sweat streamed down my face. I could scarcely breathe, between being tickled maniacally, and having my mouth taped shut. It's hard to breathe through you nose, when someone is tickling you within an inch of your life.
Both my feet were receiving a massive dose of tickle therapy. I was completely helpless to stop the attack. I was laughing so hard I couldn't think. I couldn't move. I couldn't breathe. I was just a motionless pile of ticklish laughter. I wet myself. I didn't care. All I wanted was for the tickling to stop. I could feel my hair, wet from sweat, sticking to the side of my face. My shirt was wet with sweat, and clinging to my sweat drenched body. Ten fingers were still having their way with my helpless, ticklish feet. After what seemed like hours of agony she stopped again.
"Well," she said. "It's almost 2:00. Time to see how ticklish you are, without your socks."
ONLY 2:00!!! MY GOD!!! I'LL BE MAD!!! Wait a minute. Without my socks. Sure enough. I felt her removing each of my thick, scrunched up, black socks. She had been smart enough to scrunch them up, before tying my ankles, so that they would be easy to take off when she was ready. I don't know why I didn't figure that out earlier.
"Ooh," she said. "I like your toenails."
She was commenting on my red toenail polish.
"I need some yarn," she said, as I heard her take off running down the hall.
Why did she need yarn? Man, was I stupid that day. I should have known. I heard her come back in the room, and then I heard some snipping with the scissors. Then I figured out why she need the yarn. She wrapped a string of yarn around my big toe, a few times, and then tie a not. She used the remaining length to pull my big toe back, as tightly as she could (which was pretty tight), and tied it to the ropes binding my ankles. She proceed to tie each to the same way, totally relieving me of the ability to scrunch my toes. This also left the tender undersides of my toes totally exposed. Then, to hinder movement even more, she used another string of yarn to pull my two pinky toes as close together as possible, and then tied it (my pink toes, because as you recall, I'm tied cross-ankled). At this point, my feet were comepletely and totally helpless. I couldn't move my toes in the slightest.
I felt something soft caressing the bottom of my left foot.
"I hope you like my feather," Anessa said.
I shuddered, and shrieked into the gag. It tickled. It really tickled. I soon resigned to spasmodic laughter, once again. How much longer could she do this. Eleven more hours. I remembered, it was only around 2:00, according to Anessa. This was going to be a long day. I felt another feather on my right foot. She sure knew how to hit all the spots. She would drag the feather up and down my foot. Being sure to cover every spot on my heels, in my arches, on the balls of my feet, on the toes, and in between the toes. Everything tickled. There was not a spot on my feet that was not excessively ticklish. Anessa knew this, and she was taking full advantage of it, making sure that those feathers would not miss a spot.
This agony continued, on and on. I'll never want to see, or feel another feather as long as I live. I felt sure I should have had a heart-attack by now or something. My stomach muscles ached, from laughing so hard. Every muscle in my body hurt. I was sore from the ropes. They weren't chafing, but they were tied so tight, that some movements were painful. But, how was I to complain? I COULDN'T TALK!!! All I could do was lay there, screaming laughter into my gag, unable to move, unable to protect my feet from the heartstopping tickle torture they were getting.
When she stopped again, I felt sure it was nearing 4:00.
"Well, it's 2:37," she said. My heart stopped. I'm gonna die, I thought. I gonna die of tickle torture. Anessa is going to tickle me to death.
"Let's see now," Anessa contemplated. "What tool do I wanna work with next?"
TOOL? What kind of tools? What else could she tickle me with? Fingers and feathers. What else was there?
I found out.
She started scrubbing my right foot, with what I was certain to be a toothbrush (or something much like it).
This was the worst tickling method, thus far. It wasn't ten fingers. It wasn't two feathers. It lots and lots of little bristles, each one illiciting it's own ticklish response. Within seconds, I was a mess. Breathless, and laughing uncontrollably, my release of laughter being restrained by the duct tape on my mouth. It would have been a little easier on me, had I been able to fully express my laughter. The inability to laugh makes tickle torture all the more unbearable.
For another eternity, she scrubbed my feet with two toothbrushes. One for each foot. Making sure to scrub real good under my toes, and in between them. I wet myself, again. By now, I was stinking pretty bad, between sweat and soiling myself. I didn't care. I don't think Anessa did, either. She was relentless in her pursuit to drive me to the furthest ends of tickling insanity. What possessed her to do something like this? Did she not care that it the worst form of torture on the earth?
If she did care, she hid it well.
She was telling me the time, because she knew I was looking to the time when her parents would return.
"Now," Anessa said. "Let's try a Q-Tip."
A Q-Tip? What the? I couldn't imagine a cotton swab producing a ticklish reaction, but I was wrong.
She took the Q-Tip and started twirling it around in between my toes. Here came the laughter, once again. She must have really got off on seeing someone in complete ticklish agony, because she was enjoying this way too much for your everyday nine year old. NINE YEARS OLD!!! Since when do nine year olds torture better than expert dominatrices? Nevertheless, my laughing continued. I could never have imagined being tickled so much. And by a child.
She didn't spend as much time with the Q-Tip. Her mind was sidetracked when the phone rang.
Anessa just let it ring, until the answering maching picked up.
It was her mom. She assumed we were playing outside. She just called to let us know that they were going to stay the night, rather than try to drive at 1:00 or 2:00, after having consumed alcohol.
That was just perfect. Here I was, rendered completely helpless on a couch, being sadisticly tickled by a nine year old bondage and tickling expert, just praying for midnight to hurry up and get here, so that her parents would return, and now, they weren't going to return. They were going to spend the night. Anessa mother said they would probably be back here around lunch-time, tomorrow. LUNCH-TIME TOMORROW!!!
"Did you hear that, Kristina?" Anessa was ecstatic. "That means we get to play tickle games all night long."
I didn't think that things could get any worse. I renew my efforts to escape my predicament. Anessa let me struggle for a while. She knew what I had already figured out before. I was going nowhere. The ropes were too tight. The knots were tied to well. I couldn't move enough to even entertain the possibility of loosening them.
"I think I'm ready to paint a picture," Anessa said.
As I felt the artist brush begin to paint imaginary pictures on my feet, I fell once again into the confines of a prison of laughter. Was she ever going to give up? Would she ever get tired of tickling my feet. Well, she did get tired of tickling my feet. About five minutes into the imaginary masterpiece she was painting on my soles, this is what I heard.
"You know what? I think your feet have had enough for now."
A premature wave of relief went over my body. I say premature, because this is what I heard next.
"I think I need paint a masterpiece on your armpits."
I tested once again the bindings on my arms. Nothing. No give. No sway. So, I just prepared for the worst. And of course, the worst is what I got.
"I can't paint a picture on them, yet. I've got to clean the surface."
With that she poured something on my armpits. It felt like oil or something. I could smell it. It was Johnson and Johnson Baby Shampoo.
Then came the toothbrushes again.
She scrubbed my underarms for what seemed like ages. It was actually only about fifteen minutes. The baby shampoo made my underarms nice and slick, so that everything tickled so much more than it would have. After the fifteen minute scrub down, she poured some more baby shampoo on my armpits, and started using the artist brush to create her masterpiece. I was falling to pieces. I hurt so badly from laughter that I wanted to die. All I could do, however, was laugh more and more. The ticklish sensations that overwhelmed my body were endless. Anessa started talking to me, while she was "painting."
"Kristina," she said. "I'll bet your wondering where I learned all this stuff about tickling. Well, I'll tell you. My daddy is an expert tickler. Me and him tie my mom up pretty often, and tickle her like I'm tickling you, now. We usually only tickle her for an hour or two, though. I've never gotten to tickle anybody this much. I hope your having as much fun as I am."
I managed to force out a groan, trying to let her know that for me, the fun ended long ago.
"Well good," she giggled. "I'll take that as a 'yes'."
I forced another groan, trying to show my discontent.
Upon completion of her "masterpiece", she told me what she was going to do next.
"I dont' have fingernails," she lamented, "but, I do have a set of those toy fingernails, that you slide on over then ends of your fingers. Let's see how you like those."
She got up and darted off again, returning a few minutes later.
She wasted no time starting in on my underarms with her new fingernails.
I struggled once again, but my underarms were completely helpless, and hers to explore in any way she pleased.
How did I let her talk me into this? It started out innocent enough. But she just kept adding fuel to the fire, and ropes to my body, until there was no way I could have protested, no matter how much I wanted not to be tied up.
I was so tired now, that I was scarcely aware of anything at all. Only of tickling. Unwavering, merciless, sadistic tickling. At some point I passed out.
I woke up, still bound, still helpless, still gagged and blindfolded. I didn't move. I hoped that she would think I was still out cold. I hoped I could fool her until the next morning.
"Nice try," she said, scaring me half to death. She was right at my face.
"You jerked when you woke up, so I knew you were awake."
I lay completely still and completely silent. Hoping if I was quiet enough, she would think I was still out.
"I know your awake," she said, " and I'll prove it."
She dragged one of the long nails up the bottom of my foot. Had I known she was going to do it, I would have prepared myself, and probably been able to remain still and silent long enough for her to give up (maybe). But since I couldn't see what she was doing, it caught me by surprise, and I yelped into the gag.
"I knew it," she said. "I knew it."
I had to pee, again. Pretty bad, too.
She went after my feet again, with the long toy fingernails. After a few minutes I felt one set of fingernails leave my feet. I felt restart around my belly button. She was tickling my right foot with one hand, and my belly button with the other. I was already in hysterics. I didn't have to pee, anymore. The pitch of my laughter heightened, and she like this change, so she abandoned my feet and went full force into my stomach with her long fingernails. The tape around my mouth had started to tear away a bit, and I was able to exert some laughter, but when I tried to breathe in through the gap, the suction pulled the gap closed, so I had to resort to inhaling through my nose, and exhaling with laughter through my mouth. She noticed this, rather quickly, and stopped tickling me long enough to put some more tape over my mouth. She then resumed her attack on my stomach.
She probed around up and down my rib cage and all over my stomach. This was a different kind of tickling. It was still a scratchy tickling when she used the nails, but she was also poking and grabbing at my ribs, which is more of a muscle stimulating tickle, and brings a more gut wrenched guffaw type of laughter. Of couse, when your mouth is taped shut, it's still just a bunch of muffled noise. If she was trying to break me, she had succeeded long ago. I would've done anything she wanted me to, to top her from tickling me. I would've licked her feet, eaten dirt, anything. Anything would've been better than to lie here, helpless, while she explored every avenue of tickle torture she could find, using me as the guinea pig.
After another eternity of ticklish agony, she stopped.
"You'll be disappointed to know," she said, "that you slept through a lot of good tickle torture hours. It's after midnight, now. I'm going to bed. Sleep tight. I'll finish with you in the morning."
"Mmmmmmmmmph," I tried to get her attention. I didn't want her to leave me here like this. I would go mad lying here all night long unable to move. What if I started itching. I could feel the rising urge to pee again. I didn't finish the thought. I was so tired that I passed out, again.
I woke to fingernails on my feet.
"Wake up, sleepy head," Anessa sang. "I don't have a lot of time left with you, and I want to make every minute count."
Yes, and I'll be counting every minute, too, I thought.
She had taken the blindfold off, so I could see what she was doing.
I didn't like what I see. My toes were still pulled back with the yarn, and she was standing at my feet with a feather duster.
"Your feet got some dust one them, last night. I've got to get it off."
With that she started dusting my feet. I began to laugh, again. She made sure to dust every spot. Especially under my toes, where she said, "More dust collects than you realize." She dusted my feet for about fifteen minutes, and then proceeded to clean them again. She cleaned them thoroughly, and then moved on up to clean my stomach, and after that my underarms. I was sweaty all over again, with more tears of laughter streaming down my face. I don't know what's worse, being blind to it all, or being able to see it coming. They both have their downsides.
Then she pulled out a tool that she hadn't used yet. It was an electric massager. She used it to massage my rib cage. That really tickled. It tickled a lot. I let her know, too, by laughing outrageously. After that she used her store-bought fingernails to attack my ribs, stomach, and underarms for another session, and then move down to my feet for another session. She finished my off, with a full body (well everywhere she could get to) feather tickling.
"Alright," she said. "It's almost 9:00 (a.m.). If you promise not to tell my parents, I'll untie you now. Otherwise, I'm gonna tickle you, until they get here, because if I'm going down, I might as well go out with a bang. Are you gonna tell?"
I shook my head, indicating a "no" response. Anything not to have to endure another three or four hours of tickling.
"If you double-cross me," she warned, "I know your brother. He'll help me get you back."
She was talking about my older brother Jason. She was Jason's "little buddy", and Jason would do anything she wanted, if it was directed toward aggravating me.
I figured it wasn't worth telling on her anyway, though. From the sound of things, her parents probably wouldn't have cared.
I was wrong. They did care. I didn't tell on her, but they saw the ropemarks on one of my wrists (I tried to hide them under a jacket, because to be honest, I was a little bit embarrassed, to have been outsmarted and manipulated by a nine year old). They told her she would be punished severely. The look in her eyes, as she passed that last glance at me before disappearing into her room, told me one thing. This wasn't over. I hadn't intentionally ratted her out, but that didn't matter to her. She'd been ratted out, nonetheless. I'd better be careful.