A few years back, I moved into a new condo building, and was insanely happy, blessed and surprised, to find out that my hot milf neighbour had taken quite the interest in me!
By the time I found out that she was a dominatrix, full of delicious, erotic kinks, it was too late⊠She had already spiked my coffee, taken me back to her place, and was about to have her way with every helpless inch of me!
It was the hottest, greatest thing that had ever happened to me, and letâs just say⊠The start of a wonderful relationship!
A few years back, I moved into a new condo building, and was insanely happy, blessed and surprised, to find out that my hot milf neighbour had taken quite the interest in me!
By the time I found out that she was a dominatrix, full of delicious, erotic kinks, it was too late⊠She had already spiked my coffee, taken me back to her place, and was about to have her way with every helpless inch of me!
It was the hottest, greatest thing that had ever happened to me, and letâs just say⊠The start of a wonderful relationship!
my latest ridiculous video. i had a lot of this done last year and coulda beat coca-cola to the punch for the first ai advertisement. but mine commits and uses ai music.
Change of pace from my last story, this one is short and sweet and about a boy who is tickled for the very first time. Completely SFW.
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âYou comfortable like that, boy?â
Shawn nodded to Sir. Heâd been chatting with Sir for a few weeks now. Shawn always wanted to get tied up, bound, locked in, and strapped down. A few guys heâd played with liked to use handcuffs they got from sex shops... but those werenât as good as the real deal. Shawn wanted to be completely stuck and unable to fight back. He wanted the real thing.
Now he found himself locked in a set of stocks with a collar around his neck. Stocks werenât his favourite, but he did find there was no chance of escape. He pulled on his wrists and ankles and found it impossible to get away. Awesome.
âGood, because weâre about to get a little less comfortable.â
It was starting. Shawn didnât know what was going to happen next. Was he going to be spanked? Forced to suck a dick? Was Sir going to beat him? Even though all these possibilities flew through his head, he was confused when Sir turned around holding a brush.
âSir, whatâs that for?â
âDonât you worry. Youâre going to see soon enough.â
Sir knelt down in front of the stocks, right at face level with Shawnâs exposed foot. Sir firmly took the foot in hand, brought the brush up to it, pressed the brush into Shawnâs sole, and dragged the brush down. Shawn yelped, jumped on the bed, and tried to pull his foot away. Sirâs face kept straight and stoney.
âSo you are ticklish, huh? Thatâs going to be great.â
âNo, wait, Sir, please. Please donât tickle me. Anything else but please donât tickle me!â Shawn rocked back and forth, really trying to escape at this point. It was no use. Sir took firm hold of the top of the stocks and pressed it down into the bed. As much as Shawn tried, he couldnât even scoot back. He was stuck.
Sir brought the brush back to the sole and started brushing back and forth in light, quick movements. Shawn instantly started to cackle. He threw his head back, thrashed around, and laughed. The sensation was like lightning going up and down his leg and into the rest of his body. Even after just a few moments of being tickled tears were already starting to form in the corners of his eyes.
âMaybe you are comfortable there, boy. Here, Iâll keep doing this, and when you stop laughing, Iâll stop.â
âNo WAIT!â
Sir started up again, brushing Shawnâs sole. Once Shawn started to laugh a little less, Sir changed over to the other sole. He did this for what seemed to Shawn an eternity, bouncing back and forth between squirming, locked feet.
The tickling stopped for a moment.
âThere, letâs give you a little break.â
Shawn huffed and puffed, body sagging a little. Sweat was dripping from his forehead.
âTh-thank you S-Sir.â
âYouâve been good so far, boy. Not everyone can take tickling like that. Youâre a very special boy.â
Sir ruffled Shawnâs hair affectionately, and Shawn leaned into it, nuzzling Sirâs hand obediently.
âI think you deserve a little treat before we keep going, donât you?â
âK-keep going?â
Sir lifted a brow.
âIs that a problem, boy?â
Shawn quickly shook his head.
âNo, no problem at all, Sir.â
âVery good.â
Sir grabbed a bottle of baby oil from a shelf, and brought it over to Shawn. Opening the bottle, he drizzled the oil over the tips of Shawnâs toes, watching as it dripped down to coat his foot, toes to heel. Shawn shivered.
âThat feels a little cold.â
Sir didnât respond, but instead took Shawnâs foot into his strong hands. With a firm grip, Sir massaged and worked the oil into Shawnâs foot. His finger kneaded into the sole, cupped the heel, and played with each toe one at a time, rolling them between his fingers. Eyes closed, Shawn practically purred as Sir took care of his foot. The torture heâd experienced not so long ago seemed far away. All that mattered was how nice and relaxing this feeling was.
Before long, Shawnâs entire foot was coated and slick with oil. Pulling his hands off Shawnâs foot, Sir repeated the same actions on his other foot. This time Shawn did actually purr.
âYou liked that, did you?â
âOh yes Sir, very much.â
Sir hummed to himself as he put a little metal claw on each of his fingertips.
âWell, you might like this a little bit less.â
âWh-what are those for, Sir?â
âYouâre about to find out.â
Sir settled himself in front of Shawnâs feet again. After he took a moment to appreciate the shine of the slicked feet, he brought his clawed fingers to each foot and lightly traced his way down, from toes to heels. Shawn jumped and cried out in shock.
âS-Sir? Are you going to t-tickle me again!?â
Sir didnât answer, and instead just smiled at the bound boy.
Those clawed fingers ran down Shawnâs soles again. And again. The touch was light, the tips of the claws just barely touching the oiled skin. While Shawn didnât laugh, his entire body was shaking and twitching. It just barely tickled, keeping him on the edge of his seat. In some ways, this was worse than the brush. It took every ounce of his willpower to not try and pull his feet away. Â
Changing things up, Sir took just one clawed finger and scratched the centre of Shawnâs right foot. Up and down, the single finger slid easily over the oiled skin. Shawn snorted out a laugh, which turned into a steady stream of giggles.
âS-Sir⊠hee hee⊠oh god⊠it ti-ti-hee hee-tickles!â
âThatâs the general idea, boy. Iâm very happy with how sensitive you are.â
His other hand started doing the same thing to Shawnâs left foot: one single finger scratching up and down. Sir kept his eyes locked onto Shawnâs face. Stoic and hard, Sir didnât crack a single smile while the boy in front of him giggled and squirmed.
The fingers withdrew, and for a moment Shawn thought the tickling might be over. Any hope of his was dashed when all ten clawed fingers attacked his feet. Shawn howled and bucked, hysterical laughter bubbling up from his mouth. Â
âS-S-IIIIIR! PL-E-E-E-EASE!â
Not a single reaction from Sir. He simply kept tickling both of Shawnâs squirming feet. The claws worked into the arches of Shawnâs feet, dug into his heels (which were far more ticklish than Shawn expected), and managed to get between each and every single squirming toe. Shawn cackled with laughter. Face red and tears streaming down his cheeks, Shawn could do nothing to escape the torment. He knew Sir was a real dom and he was looking forward to a session of being bound and used. What was unexpected was the tickling. Â
Had someone told him that tickling was torture, Shawn would have laughed. Tickling? Thatâs something kids do to each other. The idea just seemed silly. But this⊠this was far from silly. Heâd been tied and abused by a few different doms now, but this was by far the worst. Or best? It was hard to tell. Shawn didnât know how much more he could take.
When Sir finally stopped tickling with the claws, Shawn almost fell over on his side. There was no clock in the room and Shawn didnât know how long Sir had been torturing his poor sensitive feet, but it felt like forever. Sweat dripping from his skin, Shawn curled his toes in an effort to protect them from whatever was coming next.
âYou did a very good job, boy. Not too many guys can handle that level of tickling. You took it like a champ and never tapped out,â Sir cupped the side of Shawnâs face in his large and powerful hand, âIâm very impressed.â
âTh-thank you sir. God⊠that was m-more intense than I th-thought it would be.â
Sir smiled, for the first time since Shawn walked in, and turned around holding an electric toothbrush in each hand.
âIf you thought that was intense, youâre in for a surprise.â
Shawnâs eyes went wide when he saw the tooth brushes. It seems Sir wasnât done with him yet.
For a guy who writes stories about men being kidnapped for their feet and tickling, I just wanted to put a little note at the start of this story. Without spoiling anything (though you may guess from the picture being used) the ending of the story is implied to be dark. More dark than being made into a tickle slave? Who knows. I'm not saying what the ending is (because I don't know), but you're free to imagine whatever ending you like. Enjoy! NSFW.
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This was the weirdest fucking job that Jack had ever signed up for. Sure, when you are an escort you can end up seeing some pretty strange things, people have weird ass kinks, but this was something new for him.
When he got the message he thought that it had been a joke: his potential client wanted him to come over for a dinner party and get treated like he was the main course. Jack was just going to delete it as someone was clearly trolling him... but damn... if the money they were asking wasn't 5 times what he normally charged. After a few back and forth messages, Jack finally agreed to be 'dinner' for the dinner party.
When Jack arrived he was greeted with a hero's welcome. There were about 5 men, maybe in their early thirties, all bare to the waist, all huge and muscled and hairy. Jack wasnât a small guy, but he felt tiny compared to these men.
Jack figured he was going to have to suck the cock of every man in the house, which honestly he was looking forward to, but all the men wanted to do was focus on him and his body. He was being paid to act submissive to these men, so when they started to strip him naked right there in the front hall, Jack just let it happen.
Jack was led into a room that looked one part fancy dining room, one part BDSM dungeon. These people were really into this roleplay fantasy. Well outside of his comfort zone on this one, Jack just kept reminding himself just how good the money was.
âHe looks good, but he could look better,â one of the men said. âGo grab a razor!â
One of the bare chested men opened a drawer in the dining/bondage room and pulled out a few disposable razors. Â
âAlright meat-boy, arms above your head!â
Jack wasnât thrilled by the idea of being shaved, but he kept repeating âdo it for the money, do it for the moneyâ over and over again in his head.
Jack raised his arms over his head, and the men went to work. They shaved his armpits, his chest, his arms, and his legs. They even shaved the little wispy blond hairs on his feet and toes. Â
âHave to trim the bush, too,â one of the men says as he grabs Jack by the dick. Slowly and carefully, they shave off Jackâs public hair until heâs completely smooth. Jack just closed his eyes and waited for it all to be over. Â
"Good obedient meat-boy we have here, eh guys?" one of the men asked, grabbing and squeezing one of Jack's now hairless ass cheeks.
"Looks like a good one, Carl. Can't wait to try this piggy," another said, groping Jack's smooth toned chest.
âLetâs get this piggy prepped, huh?â
One man approached Jack with some heavy rope while all the others watched with wide grins.
âYouâre⊠youâre going to tie me up?â
âThatâs right, meat-boy. Is that a problem?â
Jack thought for just a few seconds. This was getting really weird, and he typically had a rule about getting tied up by first time clients. If they were going to tie him up, they should have said so. Â
Still⊠the money was goodâŠ
âNo. No problem at all.â
The man with the rope gave Jack a hungry grin.
âThatâs good. Here we go!â
The group of men Jack moved quickly. In the blink of an eye they had Jack lifted and plopped down on the large wooden table. Theyâd obviously done this many times before as they worked as one cohesive unit to get Jack into position and hogtied him securely.  It wasnât long before he wasnât able to move.
âOpen wide, meat-boy,â one of the shirtless men ordered, and after just a moment of hesitancy,
Jack complied. An apple that was cored with a rope running through it was placed in his mouth. Once it was in place one of the men tied the rope around Jacks head so he couldnât speak or spit it out.
Jack tried to squirm and move, but he wasnât going anywhere, and he shivered as a cold sweat started to break out over his body. This was starting to get to be too much and Jack wished heâd just said no.
Once he was firmly tied, the men started talking about how good Jack looked. How he was going to taste. How he was going to cook. With each comment Jack thought more and more that despite the high price he was being paid... it wasn't high enough.
âLet me go get the shit, Iâll be right back,â one of the large men said. He left the room while the rest of the men felt Jackâs body. There were hands all over him, touching him everywhere, but Jack was never going to reveal that he was ticklish and this was starting to tickle.
The man that left returned pushing a cart full of things. There were several bottles of olive oil, herbs, spices, rubs, vegetables, brushes, basters, and utensils. The only thing missing was a turkey and you had everything you needed for a thanksgiving meal. Thatâs when it hit Jack: he was the turkey.Â
Olive oil was poured over Jack and the men started using brushes to coat his skin. Jack couldnât contain himself and started wiggling as the brushes worked his body.
"Looks like we got a ticklish one here!" someone said, and the rest of the men laughed.
The brushes, once being used solely to coat Jackâs body, were now seeking out all of his most ticklish places. His back, his sides, his arms, behind his ears, even the palms of his hands. The soft touch of the brushes stroked every inch of his body. Jack was squirming and giggling, but managed to maintain enough control to stay put and not move. Having been tickled by clients once or twice, he knew that as long as they stayed away from his incredibly sensitive feet, he would be fine. Jack prayed silently to himself that they didnât discover how deathly ticklish his feet were. The very thought of those brushes on his tender soles made him shiver.
Suddenly, an oiled brush was on his exposed soles, leisurely stroking up and down. Jack started to laugh in earnest into his apple-gag, flexing his feet and trying to wiggle them away from the brush.
"Oh I don't think so. This piggy is trying to escape! Get him, boys!" someone said from behind him, and then there were several sets of hands holding him down, and someone holding his ankles in place.
The brush lazily explored his sole, spreading oil as it went. It was soft, and its movements were slow, which was almost worse than hard and fast. It was keeping Jack right on the edge of ticklish oblivion. He rolled around and laughed, the sound muffled by the apple in his mouth. The brush targeted different parts of his feet, starting with his heels, where it swirled around in small little circles. There wasnât much reaction from Jack. Disappointed with the lack of laughter, the brush moved up to his arch, tracing along the arc. This was bad, and Jack returned to laughter. To make matters worse, the hands that were holding him were starting to poke and prod his flesh. Fingers were digging into his sides, his thighs were being teased, and worse of all, someone reached under him and started tweaking his nipples. There was no escape possible, and his body being slick with olive oil was making it even worse.
Finally, Jackâs worst fear happened: the brush moved up to his toes. This was by far where Jack was the most ticklish. While the brush explored the space right under his toes, Jack was in hysterics. He tried to curl his toes to stop the tickling, but it was no use. When he would curl them, the brush would tickle the tips of his toes. When he would flex and splay them, the brush would get between his sensitive toes. There was no escape and no mercy given. Â
"Someone grab me that fork," a voice called out.
The soft brush was replaced with a cold metal fork that started running up and down Jackâs exposed and oil slicked soles. This was so much worse than the brush, and Jack howled into his gag. His whole body was wiggling on the table and more men came to hold him down. Another fork joined the game and pretty soon there was a fork running up and down each squirming sole. The slick cooking oil made it absolute torture.
After what seemed like an eternity, the forks stopped. Heaving to breath, tears running down his cheeks, Jack let his body relax. He'd charge extra for this, whatever the fuck it was. He was starting to get angry when he felt something that made him jump. There was a warm and wet sensation on his oily toes and something was worming its way between his toes. Jack had had his toes sucked before, but his soles and toes were extremely sensitive after the brush and fork attacks. Jack screamed into his gag as the mouth began to hungrily chew and nibble on Jack's toes.
"Mmm...," a voice said as the mouth pulled away from Jack's feet. "We got ourselves a good one this time."
This time?
âAlright, turn him over so we can get to his other side.â
Strong hands rolled Jack onto his side. Two of the burly men held him in place while the rest of them started using oiled brushes on his front. Jack had no fight left in him after the ticklish ordeal, so even when a pair of brushes targeted his sensitive nipples, he could do nothing but whimper and whine. Â
âHey, let me have a little bit of fun with him. Endorphins will make him taste so much better, you know?â
Two brushes were suddenly attacking some very vulnerable spots: his now hairless balls and his dick. Jack swallowed hard and tried to think of anything but the sensation of those brushes on his genitals. It did tickle, and Jack was giggling and laughing into his apple-gag, but more than that, it felt amazing. The brushes, slick with cooking oil, explored every inch of his cock and balls. Jack was pleading behind his gag for the men to stop, but they couldnât hear him. Would they even stop if he asked them too? He didnât think so.
His body, of course, reacted to the stimulation. Before too long his dick was long and hard. Jack couldnât believe how ridiculous he sounded, alternating between begging, giggling, laughing, moaning, and grunting. It was made all the worse when the brush stopped stroking up and down his shaft and focused exclusively on his swollen cock head. Whenever Jack had a client planned, he abstained from jerking off for a few days in case the client wanted to get him off too. With how intense this whole experience had been so far, he knew it wasnât going to last long.
âOh, I think our meat-boy is getting close. Common meat-boy, cum for us.â
With a guttural cry, Jack bit deeply into his apple-gag and came, his hips bucking. Shot after shot of cum spurt out of his dick, hitting the chest of the man who teased him off with an oily brush.Â
Finally, completely spent, Jack felt his entire boy relax into a pleasant haze. It was so strange⊠normally his clients were looking to get off themselves, but so far nobody had orgasmed except for him.
âDamn, good boy piggy. You did great. I bet youâre going to taste amazing now.âÂ
"Alright boys, weâre ready! Fire's on! Let's get this roast a cookin!"
With a cheer the men around him picked Jack up and started carrying him towards the back door. Before he could see it, Jack could smell the scent of wood burning. Then, as they hauled him outside, he saw a very large grill over a roaring fire.
