Putting The Moves On The Wrong Person

Putting The Moves On The Wrong Person


This one's for Reggie (or Regina, as he likes to be called)


            The last thing I remember was fading out.  They must have drugged me, or something.  Seemingly hours later, I woke.  I was seated in a high-back wooden chair, which had an upward angling leg rest.  I quickly noticed that I was bound to the chair, and gagged.  My arms were stretched tightly above my head, and my wrists were secured in a set of straps.  Another strap held my elbows tightly together, and was also fastened to the back of the chair.  A strap around my waist greatly reduced my ability to squirm.  My feet were spread about four inches apart, and each strapped to the leg rest.  Straps on my calves, knees, and thighs rendered my legs completely immobile.  There were two long screws coming out of the leg rest, next to each of my ankles (on the outer side).  I wondered what they were for.

            Needless to say, I was in a whale of a predicament.  Who were they?  Why was I here?  I tried to remember the events prior to passing out.  I am a cross-dresser, and it was club known for its association with the cross-dressing lifestyle.  I remember some guy hitting on me, and then being rather put out to find out that I wasn't a female.  It would be easy to mistake, since I'm only 5'8" tall, and barely weigh 140 pounds.  I'm small, for a man, with a small frame, and I have soft skin, and very little facial hair.  My sisters call me a baby face.  I was wearing extremely short cut-off jeans, with tan pantyhose, and high-heeled ankle strap pumps, with a black sleeveless turtleneck type top.  I also had a silver anklet on my left ankle, because I think anklets are sexy.  I think the guy's name was John.  He swore bitterly when he found out I was a man.  But, what else might have led me to where I now found myself.

            I wouldn't have to try to remember anything else.  The door opened, and sure enough, in walked John.  He was followed by another lady.  She was tall, for a woman; probably around 5'10".  I assumed she was a woman.  The closed the door, which made a loud suction sound, as it closed.

            I tried to speak, but of course the gag made it impossible.  I couldn't see it, but it had to have been duct tape, or something of the sort.  My mind started racing.  I was helpless.  They could do whatever they wanted to me.  He must have been pretty pissed off.  What would he do to me?

            "Well, Regina," John spoke, first.  "We meet again.  Last time we met, you broke my heart."

            I wanted to speak in defense of myself, but being unable to talk, I didn't.

            "There I was," he said, "falling head over heels for you, only to find out that you’re not even a woman.  You're just a pretender."

            I made some noise into the gag.  I could understand it, but no one else could.

            The woman spoke up.

            "We don't mind having cross-dressers in our club," she said, "but, we don't like it when they try to trick the other patrons of our club."

            How was I to know that he thought I was really a woman?  I told him soon enough of my true identity.

            I would've gladly apologized, and told her that I wasn't trying to trick him, had I been able to speak.

            "There is severe punishment for being deceitful, in my club," she continued.

            This must have been Terrina.  She was the club owner.  No one knows what her real name is.  She is only known as Terrina, which I have been told derives from terror.

            She was wearing an all black, skin tight, leather outfit; short skirt, top, and thigh-high boots, with four inch heels.  She had long fingernails, that were painted black, and she loved to drum them on the leg rest, while she paced around my captive body.

            "John filed a complaint against you," she went on, "and he's here, now, to partake in the viewing of your punishment."

            Punishment.  I struggled fiercely against the straps that held me firmly in place.  I could scarcely move.  The straps around my hands were secured in a way that I could never have found a way to unfasten them.  I was totally helpless.  I plead with my eyes, just hoping that she would take the gag off and let me explain myself.

            She continued.

            "You will get your punishment, just as soon as we're finished preparing you for it.  John has been instructed not to talk, through the entirety of these proceedings.  If he speaks, he will be forced to leave.  I'm sure he doesn't want that."  She shot a glance at John, and he shook his head, pinching his lips tight together.

            I was trying harder than ever to break free, when I saw Terrina produce a syringe.  She walked around behind me, and I felt the syringe plunge into my neck.  Within a matter of seconds, I was fading out again.

            When I woke again, I was still in the same place, and in the same position.  The only things that had changed were that my shoes had been removed, and a 2x4, with holes driven through in the precise spots where the screws would slide through, had been place across my legs, at the ankles, and was forcing my toes backward to the point of discomfort, with hex nuts holding it in place.

            Terrina and John were still there.  John had pulled a chair up about three feet from the table, on my right.  He just sat there smiling.  It was one of those smiles a person has on their face, when he knows something you don't.  I wished that could've slapped that smirk right off of his face.

            Terrina walked to the foot of the table, and started drumming her long, fingernails on the leg rest, right next to my overstretched feet.

            She was glaring intently at me, inching her drumming fingers ever closer to my helpless feet.  Surely she was going to do what I was afraid she might do.

            Once her drumming fingers were directly in front of my feet, she started drumming them up my feet.  Very slowly, her fingers climbed bit by agonizing bit.

            It tickled immensely.  I tried to block it out.  I tried to pretend that it was a soothing feeling.  Try as I may, I could not escape the undeniable truth; it tickled.

            Moving my feet was out of the question.  Taking into account the straps around my ankles, coupled with the bar pressing my toes back, I could not move my feet, even the slightest.  Once she reached the top, she began using on finger to slowly, but firmly, drag up and down each nylon covered sole.  As of yet, I had not started to laugh (I was also still gagged).  I hoped that I could hold out long enough for her to give up on tickling, and try to find some other method of punishment.  I think I would've endured any kind of pain, rather than have to sit through any amount of tickling.  I had always been ticklish.  My sisters used to hold me down, put their clothes on me, and then tickle me until I was blue in the face.  I had endured some tickle torture, in my time.  I could fight this.

            My resolve was broken, however, when she started using four fingers of each hand, to dig down into my toes, which the 2x4 had given her total access to.  It was only seconds after her fingernails hit the undersides of my toes, that I fell into a state of convulsive laughter.  It was pure hell.  Once she had opened the flood gates of my laughter, she started using all ten of her fingers in a merciless, full-fledged tickling assault on my helpless feet.  It seemed like the pantyhose made me more ticklish.  I don't know if it was because they were so smooth, or what.  I could do nothing but scream laughter into the gag, as I was so tied up I could only shake my head and wiggle my fingers.  From time to time, she would leave one foot alone, and use both hands to torture one foot, whether it be all ten fingers on the sole, or using one hand on the top of my foot.  It all tickled.  It all ticked, a lot.  Through my tears of laughter, I could see a big smile on John's face.  He was really enjoying this.

            I was having a hard time breathing, because of all the tickling, and such restricted breathing.  You can't breathe as fast through your nose, as you can your mouth.  I found it hard to take deep breaths, in that as soon as my lungs started to fill with air, another surge of ticklish laughter would force the air back out.

            The clock on the wall showed that five minutes had passed.  It had seemed like an hour, already, but no, only five minutes.  Terrina had not stopped or even slowed in the tickling of my captive feet.  She was singing little melodies, and say "cootchie-cootchie-coo", and all that stuff.  On the other end, I was screaming and in extreme discomfort.  Terrina tickled me, as if she was oblivious to the torture it was inflicting upon me.  It was as if she wasn't even paying attention to me.  She seemed to be in her own little world, just stroking the bottoms of my feet, with her long manicured nails.

            Well, five minutes had seemed like an hour, so you can imagine what the next twenty-five minutes felt like.  She tortured my feet, non-stop, for an entire thirty minutes, before stopping, to give me a five minute breather.  I had just about caught my breath, when she walked around behind the table, and started drumming her fingernails on the chair back, at about where the straps were holding my ribs in place.  She drummed her fingers slowly down the wooden back, until she was even with my elbows.  Then, she drummed her way onto my arms, and then began slowly drumming down the backs of my arms, easing her way ever closer to my hyper-sensitive armpit, which I could tell they had given a fresh shave.  I was about to go mad.  It was unthinkable.  The way she was gradually easing toward my armpits, in such a slow, methodical fashion, was driving me to the brinks of sanity.  It tickled, but it was nowhere near as bad as the ticklish sensations I expected, when her fingernails reached my armpits, and abandoned the drumming for dragging.

            She took her sweet time getting there, but when she got there, it was all over.  I hurt my throat, I was screaming so hard.  I wanted so bad to pull my arms down and protect my armpits, but the straps didn't allow the slightest movement, not even a fraction of an inch.  I was sweating profusely, at this point, and my laughter had been reduced to deep, hoarse, gut-wrenching screams.

            "I would take the gag off," Terrina said, "but, I don't wanna listen to your screams.  We're not worried about being heard.  The room is soundproof."

            That explained the suction sound that the door made, when it closed.

            After about ten or twelve minutes of her onslaught against my underarms, I passed out.

            I woke, to find myself still in the same position, still gagged, with Terrina standing at my side, looking pitifully at me.

            "Poor Regina," she said.  "You got a lot more than you bargained for, tonight.  Didn't you?"

            I tried to nod, but I was so weak I could scarcely lift my head.

            "You're really getting a bargain, though," she said, "because, the best part is still to come."

            Now, that gave me the strength to raise my head, as I stared at her, with wide-eyed horror.

            She reached around the back of the table, and folded around what looked like a small fan, attached to a small wooden arm.  A snapping signified that the arm was in place, a mere three inches from my armpits.  She folded around another one, that was a little bit lower; and three inches from my ribcage.  She went to the other side, and folded around two more arms, which mirrored the other two, matching up with the corresponding armpit and ribs.  Next, she went to the leg rest, and folded up four more arms; two on either side of my legs.  One was positioned just above my knees, and the other was positioned near where my thigh met my hip, and the two on the other side corresponded.  These, however, were not fans.  The arms at my knees each had a set of pinchers at the end, which she folded down, and locked into place around the area just above my kneecaps.  The arms at my hips contained only a long probe, which at that point I didn't see the purpose to.  I also didn't see the purpose to the fan-like contraptions.  I did see the purpose to the pinchers.  I was horrendously ticklish on my knees.  I guessed they were going to keep my upper body cool, while they pinched my knees and probed my hip joints.  It wasn't until she folded up the four-armed contraption below my feet, that I began to get an idea about the fans.  The contraption at my feet consisted of four arms; two arms for each foot.  Each arm had three toothbrushes.  The way it was set up, each arm would move in a circular motion (in synchronization with opposite arm), so that there would be six toothbrushes going in circular motions on each foot.  The circular motions are what gave away the purpose of the fans.  I really hoped I was wrong, but knew I wasn't, when she came back with the four feathers.  The feathers were each fitted with a special mount that snapped into a specially designed blade on the fan.  Each fan had one feather.  When the fans were started, I would have four feathers tickling me; two on the ribs, two in the armpits.

            I could see that the next tickle session was going to be much more intense, than the last.

            Terrina spoke.

            "Now, Regina," she said.  "This contraption is a very intricate tickle torment machine.  Do you understand?"

            I nodded, wearily.

            "It's divided into four parts.  Part one is the upper body, which includes the four arms that will be working on your underarms and ribs.  Part two is the electric massage probe that will be probing your around your hip joints."

            ELECTRIC MASSAGE PROBE.  I knew that was going to tickle.

            "I've found that the area around the hip joints and pelvis one of the most under publicized areas to tickle.  Many people are more ticklish there, than anywhere else on their body, and don't even realize it."

            I knew that I was ticklish there.  My sisters knew that spot, very well.

            "Part three is the pinchers at your knees.  I'm sure you know what those are for."

            I nodded again, submissively.

            "Part four is the mechanical brusher, found at your feet."

            I hope her explanation would be long, because I was in no hurry to get started.

            "How this machine works is simple, but intricate.  There are four speeds: slow, medium, fast, and ridiculous.  They're all going to start on speed one.  After ten minutes, they will all go to speed two.  Ten more minutes, and they all go to speed three.  You get the pattern, right."

            I nodded again.

            "Once they've all reached speed four, they start to variate.  After ten minutes at speed four, part four goes to speed one, part three to speed two, part two to speed three, and part one stays at speed four.  They then continue to cycle, counting up - 1,2,3,4 and back to one.  We hope you enjoy it."

            Very funny, I thought.  How am I supposed to enjoy it?

            "I've programmed to start thirty seconds after we've left, and the door is clicked shut."

            LEAVE?  They were going to leave me here.  I renewed my struggles, and fought harder than ever before, trying to find some way to loosen the bonds, even slightly, that I might have some hope and finding a way to get free.

            "Oh, don't worry," Terrina cooed, caressing my face.  "We'll be back in the morning,"

            IN THE MORNING!!!  The clock showed that it was now nearing 1:30 a.m.  I fought harder.

            At the last second, she ripped all of the tape from my mouth, but by the time I could spit out any words, they were opening the door.

            "Well see around 11:00," she said.  "Bye, bye!"

            With that they disappeared, and the door slammed shut, making the little suction noise.  I started counting, my heart pace rapidly increasing the closer I got to thirty.  I must have been counting fast, because I got to thirty-five, before the agony started.

            Everything started moving very slowly.  The fans were moving the slowest of all, only making a rotation every 5 seconds, or so.  The electric massage probe was providing unbelievable tickling results.  The sensations going through my thighs caused me to arch my back, and go into laughing convulsions.


            My laughter filled the room.  I was screaming in higher pitches than I ever believed I could scream.  I was laughing so hard, that I gasped for air, each time I went to inhale.  I could never inhale much air, because the ticklish sensations, surging through my body, would force it back out, long before my lungs were full.

            The pinchers at my knees were causing my legs to spasm, as the ticklish sensations made their way all over my body.  The toothbrushes scrubbed my feet, covering almost every possible spot.  The two top brushes were angled, so that they dug into the exposed undersides of my toes.  I felt sure that I was going to die.  Every nerve ending in my body seemed to be surging with tickling sensations.  The deep, hoarse laughter, which was spewing from deep in my gut, had a sickening sound to it.  I wet my pants, and continued screaming endlessly.  After what seemed like hours, I heard the click, and felt the arms start moving faster.  The ticklish sensations doubled in intensity.  Because of the sensory overload, I soon passed out.  The continued tickling efforts of the machine, however, would not allow my body to stay out long.  I might have been out a few minutes, before I woke again to the maniacal ticklish sensations.

            This went on all night.  I'd be awake for about ten minutes of horrific tickling, before passing out for a few minutes, then waking again.  I'll tell you this, also.  When that machine reached speed four, all hell broke loose.  I think that if I had been a little bit stronger, I might have broke free from my bondage, at level four.  It was like taking the worst tickle attack my sisters had ever thrown at me, and multiplied it by a thousand.  By around 3:00, the toothbrushes had torn through my hose, and were torturing unprotected, bare feet.  I don't whether it tickled more with the hose, or without.  At that point, it tickled so much, that it didn't matter.

            The machine never did turn off.  It tickled me senseless right up to the point that Terrina cut it off, shortly after 11:00.

            I thought it was over, but I was wrong.

            After feeding me a sandwich and some water, Terrina walked back to the foot of the contraption.

            "Well, Regina," she smiled sadistically.  "Are you ready for part two of ten?

            "TWO OF TEN," I cried.

            I started shouting obscenities at her, to which she replied by poking another syringe in my neck.

            I faded away, and woke a short while later, gagged again.

            "This time, we're going to see how well you hold up to the machine, with a gag on."

            My eyes were wide with horror, as she opened the door.

            "Bye, now," she said.  "See at closing time."

            I started counting to thirty...