Tickle Fantasy: Party Favor
You invite me to an important business dinner, a celebration of....some big thing you did. I don't have a head for business, but I know you did something important. My one job for tonight is to be pretty eye candy in the low cut, strapless dress you got me.
Of course, you also give me the biggest, most glittery diamond necklace to complete the look. You wanted me to look expensive.
When we walk in, it's cocktail hour. Everyone there seems to know you as eyes are immediately on you when we enter. Lots of wandering eyes end up on me, but so many rich business men and women greet you by name.
You decide it's time to mingle. You tell me to clasp my hands behind my back. I oblige, my chest sticking out a little to show off my....diamond necklace.
What I don't expect is you to pull my dress down, fully exposing my breasts! My brain can't even catch up to what's happening as I look down at two rosy nipples fully on display to your business associates! I can only stare dumbly. Before I can even think to move to cover myself, you firmly hold my wrists behind my back, effortlessly with one hand.
I can't help but wiggle, trying to free my wrists to no avail, but all that manages to do is make my big diamond necklace catch the light, and eyes are drawn to the glimmering object.....and then down to my exposed breasts.
Oddly, no one seems offended. No one confronts you, or rushes to kick us out for such a lewd display. The conversation hasn't even lulled. Of course, more eyes are on us, but the way these powerful, formal guests just casually gaze at me like I'm a toy on display makes me shiver. Like it's expected. Like I'm the background entertainment.
You start to mingle casually as if nothing in the world has changed. You keep me firmly at your side and while many well-dressed business men and women engage you in some pretty serious conversation about...whatever, no one looks me in the eye, though I can feel their gazes elsewhere on me.
One man concludes a quick report to you, and then slowly extends his fingers towards me.
He directs the question to you. Not me.
You nod your head, and graciously gesture to me as if offering the last quiche on an appetizer tray.
The man, one of your business partners, begins tracing the tops of my breasts. I let out a breath, not expecting the teasing. As if simply being exposed wasn't humiliating enough! I let out a small giggle when he traces a finger over my under boob, then he pauses at my giggle. His other hand joins in to tease me in that sensitive spot.
To my further humiliation, a middle aged, but intense looking business woman in a sharply tailored pantsuit strikes up a conversation with you. Seeing your toy is here to be shared, she begins to casually scratch a manicured nail over my nipple while still talking business with you. I try to keep my giggles quiet so I don't interrupt, but I gasp when she tugs hard on my nipple. Without missing a beat of her serious conversation with you, she begins to tickle both nipples as if in punishment for my daring to make a noise. I titter lightly, but I seriously can't handle the tickling, made so much more intense given the public nature of the event. I can't hide. I can't cover myself. I can't fight back. I can only be a ticklish, nude status symbol of yours available for anyone who wants a piece.
This continues all night. You finally release my wrists, but give me a severe look when I move my arms. I must stay like this, properly presenting my naked breasts to everyone. The teases don't stop either, and at one point I'm practically backed into a corner by no less than four guests each staking their own territory on my breasts and seeming to compete for who can give the cruelest tickles. They don't care my giggles have become unsightly howls of laughter as the teasing, no, the torture, becomes so intense. All I can do is take it like a good little tickle slut! When you bring me over to a seated woman, my breasts are at perfect eye level for her and she cups one of my breasts and begins licking! I can hardly stand her ticklish tongue and I whimper, but she simply grips me tighter as she samples me. She even tries the other breast, as if comparing different glasses of champagne and her saliva cools on my skin when she finally pulls away, licking her lips and admiring the red lipstick she's left on my nipples and side boob. All the while I keep my hands behind me, obedient and on display.
As humiliating as it is, I can at least take pride in being the perfect tickle toy. ❤️
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