Hi, I’m Vikki. My primary kink is tickling. I used to go to in-person tickle events (mainly TTT-NE). But I now travel so much for work that I’m only able to engage with this kink online. And no matter how demanding work is, I simply can’t get tickling out of my head…
I particularly love tickling in combination with edging, free use, ddlg, exhibitionism, and intoxication. Tickling is exclusively sexual for me. I don’t create video content but I try to post written erotica regularly.
I’m happy to chat with other people in the tickle community on here since I can’t do it in person anymore!
You Meet the Most Interesting People Working in Community Theater
"I think we need to talk about these silly little notions of yours," Becca murmured, her sultry voice rendered infinitely more seductive by the two fingers buried in Susan's cunt all the way up to the knuckle. "Now, you were telling me you were straight just an hour ago, and I think that's so adorable of you, but I don't think it really fits the facts, do you? I think it's really better to describe you as a needy bisexual slut who's so desperate for a big hard cummie that she can't keep her hands off her tits while I finger her pussy, and you have to admit--that suits you so much better, doesn't it?"
Susan tried to reply, even though her muddled brain wasn't sure whether she planned to spit back some useless defiance or simply beg for the climax she could feel pressing in on her, but her words were obliterated even in the privacy of her own head when Becca's thumb found Susan's clit and rubbed her to an explosive grunt of pure ecstasy. Susan's fingers pinched her own nipple so hard it practically hurt, desperate to add that tiny little extra bit of sensation she knew would get her over the edge, but Becca was a master at reading people and refused to give it to her. She kept Susan right where she wanted her, the whole time, waiting for an admission Susan knew it would be a mistake to give.
And she was so fucking nice about it, too. "Ohhh, sweetie!" she cooed, the words dripping with mock sympathy even as her eyes drank in the sight of Susan's desperate thrashing with playful amusement sparkling in their depths. "I know, it's so hard for you being all stuck like that, isn't it? Don't worry, I know I can help you. All you need to do is tell me the truth, just say you're a bisexual slut and you need me to make you cum, and I can make all that frustration go away. Don't you want that, baby girl? Don't you want to stop needing this so much?" Susan's eyelids squeezed shut, and her back arched on the prop bed they were supposed to be getting out of storage for the summer play. She knew there was no way out of this except to admit defeat, but she didn't know where that would lead so she tried her best to hold onto her only ally--silence.
She failed. Susan didn't know how long it took, because time lost all meaning when Becca was playing with her cunt like that, but eventually she heard a thin, reedy whimper gasping out, "I… I'm a bisexual slut…." and she realized the voice belonged to her. It completed the dissociation she'd been drifting into ever since Becca began touching her, convincing her fully that she was nothing more than a passenger in her own body watching her descent into lesbian submission, and she gave up trying to fight anymore as she heard herself say, "And I need you to make me cum." It didn't seem real, none of it did, but the orgasm she experienced was very real and it was the best climax she'd ever had in her entire life.
It wasn't nearly enough to sate her, though, and soon she was weakly grasping at Becca's wrist in a pathetic effort to keep the other woman's hand inside her cunt. "Oh, does my good girl need some more?" Becca chuckled, clearly expecting exactly this kind of submissive behavior now that the first violent cracks had shown in Susan's resistance. "Well, I think she's going to have to earn it. I think she's going to have to tell me just what she's willing to do for another big, strong cummie like that." The use of the third person only intensified Susan's dissociation from her own identity, and she found herself dazedly agreeing with Becca's words as if they were talking about someone else entirely. There were still six whole weeks before the play even premiered, and Susan was now fully certain that by the time it wrapped production she'd be nothing more than a helpless slave to the woman fingering her slick pussy.
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I want a session where my nipples are the main focus. The ler starts with some warm up pokes and tickles through my clothes, eventually getting their hands under my shirt and pulling my bra down to gently rub my nipples as I stand there and pretend to not want it. Then he walks me over to the bed and lays me down, leaves my shirt covering my torso but my bra pulled down. He starts spider tickling my nipples through my shirt and I resist the urge to fight back for a little before I try to grab his hands. He easily pins my arms above my head and with his other hand, tickles my upper ribs before returning to my very sensitive breasts. Soon after, he ties my arms and then legs, spread eagle, and stays by my feet to get some good laughs. He works his way back up, with stops at my knees and emphasis on my inner thighs. Next, he grabs lotion and lathers my stomach up before tickling me into near-psychosis. I thrash and tire myself out and when he thinks I’ve had enough, he goes back to the nipples. Now, my shirt is lifted and behind my head, my bra has been removed, and he spider tickles, rubs, pinches, and plays around with my nipples until I’m making any and every sound. As I curse at him for not giving me a break, he hunkers down and continues to tickle my nipples incessantly. Eventually I’ve begged and screamed enough, so he decides to be nice. He wants to give me some relief so lowers my shirt over my head, just low enough to cover my chest. He leaves one boob covered and one uncovered, where he places his mouth on the uncovered nipple and gently puckers and unpuckers, kissing it gently and almost creating a light suction. While doing this, the other nipple is being so gently circled through my shirt. He does this until my back arches and my hips move. Then he picks up speed a little. He hardens his tongue and flicks it across my nipple, and tickles the covered nipple with a little more pressure. As my laughter picks back up, I ask him to go back to what he was doing before and he denies my request. He sits himself up on my stomach and lowers my shirt over both boobs, creating a tight and flat surface with the shirt. Then he tickles and tickles and tickles. I shake and throw my head, I cackle, and try to convince myself that everything is actually fine and I can handle it, until he doesn’t stop and the cycle repeats itself. I tell him my nipples are getting sore, they’re so sensitive. And he says he has the remedy. He grabs the lotion again and lifts my shirt all the way up, behind my head, and lathers lotion in my armpits, which catches me off guard. I giggle and laugh and thank him for switching spots. He smiles and pumps more lotion into his hands before applying it to my breasts. Knowing now what he’s going to do, I panic. I beg for him to tickle anywhere else, to take a brush to my feet or torture my stomach and sides but please leave my nipples alone. Naturally, he doesn’t listen. He adds extra lotion and explains that my nipples are sore because of the friction but if he creates some slip, it will be enjoyable again. I tense up as he rubs the lotion on my nipples and teases me with lingering hands gliding off and on my boobs. Then, he tickles my nipples and watches in delight as I go crazy from the sensation. It tickles too much for me to know what to do with myself. I’m tied too tight, he’s got his legs pinned around my torso, and I’m tired. There’s nothing to do but lay there and take and it and laugh like an idiot. So I do. I lay there and laugh and he sits there and tickles until he feels I’ve had enough. And when he stops, I catch my breath and bait him into doing it all over again 😌
We go out somewhere nice for dinner, knowing I’m a ler and you’re a lee. Some ground rules are set about our imminent session. A time limit and safe word are agreed to, you give me your hard limit spots, and it’s acknowledged to keep things safe, sane, and consensual.
Back at my place, I take your coat and purse, then tell you my tickle stuff is through the second door to the right. You open inside and see stairs leading down to the basement. At the bottom of the steps is a well lit room with padded walls. You strip your clothes off, and get on the table. I get the restraints around your wrists and ankles that spread you out spread eagle and then another leather strap around your waist, knees, and neck to keep you totally immobile.
Then you see the recording equipment in the back of the room, including the camera that’s filming. While telling me that you didn’t agree to that, I turn off the time we agreed to and then start turn king your hard limits immediately. You begin screaming your safe word off rip. I grin and laugh and don’t stop.
Hope you like having your nipples pinched, feathers to circle the areola so very sloooooowwwwwwwwllllllllly and then sucking on your hard tit. Making fun of you for how much you’re screaming and trying to move, but your cunt is soaked. Stupid tickle sluts like you are asking for it. I tell you that while dragging a feather up and down and up and down your clit. Not even five feet tall, didn’t tell your friends where you were going, and you go to have a tickle session as a lee with a guy you just met? You were begging for this to happen. Maybe not begging as hard as you are right now though.
Your thighs getting squeezed with one hand while my other reaches up to rakes down your armpit and then spider all the way down your ribs and to your side. Holding your head still and blowing into your ears, making sure you feel as invaded and small as possible. You get a break for me to grab something for the side of the room. Chest heaving, tears rolling down your cheeks, you see me rolling a cart over. On it are toothbrushes, flossers, hair brushes, feathers, and a gigantic tub of coconut oil.
You while and sob while I tie your toes back. I try to feel bad for you but I just…can’t. You’re too ticklish. Too pathetic. I think god might’ve created you to be a tickle toy. I don’t think you’re supposed to be loved or appreciated or wanted for anything that doesn’t involve torturing you.
You feel the oil being spread across your feet. Every inch is lathered up, including between your toes. I hover my hand over all of the tools, thinking about which one to use while you totally fall apart behind me. I select two large hair brushes with thick, unforgiving bristles. I take a seat by your feet and get comfy.
I let you know that this is your life for the next 15 or 20 hours. I’m going to remove the gag to give you water, caffeine, and anything else to help you stay awake. Don’t bother screaming, the room is sound proofed. You’re never seeing the Sun ever again. The only people who are ever going to see you again are me…and all the fans you’re going to make on the deep web, where I’ll be posting the videos of your torture to. Fuck you, tickle slut. This is your life now
- ⚡️
#yourtickletoymustanswer #fuck this ran longer than I though
More below the cut cause maybe this got to me a totally normal amount 🤭
God I do so love the idea of getting all dolled up, showering, picking my perfect sexy but not slutty dress, making my hair perfectly curly and putting makeup on. Getting so excited for my first session with someone I finally trust implicitly.
I'm getting nervous butterflies heading down to your basement, a few giggles slipping as I strip and you bind me to your liking.
Once I notice the recording equipment I pale, and then go bright red.
"Hey, why is that set up? We didn't talk about anything like that!"
I try to protest, only to scream in laughter as you abruptly jump into torturing me, no degradation, mouth tickles and starting slow clearly pipe dreams now. Hard limits? Safe words? All up in smoke.
I jerk violently as you lock onto my nipples, shaking my head in denial. Despite my protests I'm soaked, my stupid fear kink making sure of that as adrenaline pumps through me.
You call me out on my stupidity and all I can do is sob that I trusted you! I was too embarrassed to tell anyone else. My poor clit pulses with every swipe of the feather as I desperately try to refuse to give you the pleasure of forcing me to cum for you.
It all tickles so much more than I thought it would. Here I thought quick whispers and shower water tickled my ears but it's nothing compared to the direct attention you show them, leaving me squealing and laughing pathetically even as it makes my arousal worse.
My torso too, I try desperately to buck or arch away but I'm bound to perfection. No pain, just pure, helpless immobility.
I watch you with horrified eyes, trembling. I've cycled through all of my defenses now, anger first, and threatening, then bargaining, now I just glare at you in a feeble attempt to keep my fire burning stronger, even as I sniffle.
I can't help my whimper at the sight of the tools, a shudder going through me. Even just feeling you tie my toes back leaves my a giggling mess. My spirit breaks as I feel you tickle the oil into my defenseless feet, another limit discarded, a soft one this time, due to how weak I was to them. I squeak as you make sure to get between my toes, shaking my head in denial.
'Go easy with the brushes, okay? Work me up to the different kinds. I'm worried I won't be able to handle them.'
And you'd smiled your angelic smile and assured me we'd go as slow as I needed. Prick. Deceiving deviant demon. That's what you are.
At your proclamation of the length of time I attempt to grow violent but my blood runs cold as I don't so much as budge. I'm not exactly the pinnacle of strength, and never have I loathed it more than now.
Surely someone who sees will report the stream right? I'm pretty sure I saw an episode of Criminal Minds where the hunted down sick fucks like you who posted crimes on the dark web. But... how high on the priority list was tickle torture?
...Probably not very.
Tears stream from my eyes at the realization and I try desperately to brace myself for the torment to come.
they’re holding me just firmly enough that I can’t squirm away. I can still squirm though. I can still wiggle my hips, my back can still arch, I can still struggle enough that they can tell I’m overstimulated.
“what is it?” They ask with wise-eyed faux concern. “You usually love it when I play with your cute little clit, sweetie. What’s wrong this time?”
When I try to respond, they lean down to my open mouth and gently bite my tongue for me. It’s such an invasive thing to do that my words shrivel between their teeth. I just whine into their mouth instead.
“Aw, that’s the kind of sound you make when you like something!” They say. “I bet you secretly do like feeling my hard cock rubbing against your clit like this. I bet you’re just trying to get away because you know cumming like this would mean you’re a slut.”
MMF threesomes where you tell the subby boy exactly what to do to drive the girl crazy then come in afterward and cleanup the mess you’ve made of both of them. Making him eat your cum out of her and then making her taste all three of you on his lips.
your worried little head keeps telling you that you don’t want this baby… but your body tells me otherwise, such a needy little slut for mommy.. look at you.. so fucking pathetic—trembling so hard you can barely stay still... thighs shaking uncontrollably, those desperate little pants escaping you. your pretty cunt is fucking drenched, lips swollen and puffy, clit throbbing visibly for me to see...you're such a fucking slut... you’re ready, so ready to be bred... my good girl is going to take every drop whether that anxious mind wants it or not.
I want a lee in heavy restraints. Gagged, blindfolded, naked, exposed. You're not going anywhere, little girl. Not until I decide to let you go. And you're not going to be let go for a long time.
Once those cuffs are closed, once those locks are snapped shut, you're mine. All of you. Every bit of sensitive skin you have will be tested and teased and tormented until there's tears in your eyes and you're too tired to even laugh any more.
Your underarms? Mine. The bits between your toes? Mine. Your sides? Mine. Your neck, your thighs, the backs of your knees, every part of you, every piece of ticklish skin you have... mine, mine, mine. All those secret ticklish spots that you try to hide? MINE.
No amount of begging or crying will bring you mercy, and you WILL be begging and crying. I'm going to make you suffer and I'm going to enjoy every second of it.
I want you to beg. I want you to suffer. I want you to know that you are completely helpless and that you'd do anything to get out but IT. JUST. WON'T. STOP.
I want to break you.
I want to tickle you beyond anything you've ever experienced, beyond anything you'd ever thought you'd feel.
Does it make you wet? The thought of being tickle tortured? The thought of being held down and tormented as every one of my fingers glides over your sensitive skin, as they dip into your exposed pits and then run down your ribs and onto your belly? Wondering what tools I'm using as you feel them setting your nerves on fire as you try to pull away and shake me off.
Imagine how excruciating it would be to be edged like that, over and over. Just slow, relentless tickles until you're screaming into your gag for your clit to be touched.
And then having it teased with the lightest little feather touches. Just gentle and slow, so, so close to the point where you're about to cum......
....and then just back to getting tickled. Underarms, nipples, thighs, neck. Anywhere, everywhere, except your clit.
And then back to teasing your clit.
How many time do you think you could take it? 20 times? 30 times? You're take it as many times as I decide you will. Until you feel like your whole body is electricity. Until you're pulling as your bonds just trying to push your body against my hands. Until the entire universe stops existing and the only thing you know is the desperate, overwhelming, unstoppable need to cum.
And eventually, when you're broken, when you've lost your mind and you're crying and soaking wet, I'll make you cum.
I'll make you cum and cum and cum. More than you thought you could. More than you ever thought your body could take. Over and over until you're a drooling mess lying there struggling to get your breath back, quivering and shaking until your nerves slowly come to reality.
I just want to be tied to a sybian, blindfolded with my arms overhead and soles exposed, while a team of lers hovers around me waiting for instructions from the one in charge holding the remote control. Need to feel my body betray me when he turns on the machine and listen to them mock how pathetic I sound and how slutty I look and tell me what they’re going to do to me when they get their hands on me. Want to feel that hot, squirmy embarrassment of being on display and the impending sense of dread that they’re approaching me the closer I get to my orgasm. Fingertips just barely ghosting above my skin while I writhe and grind and beg them to leave me alone. Hating that I can’t stop my legs from shaking and moans escaping my lips as the pleasure swells up to overwhelm me - and immediately falling apart in defeated whiny laughter as the hands finally descend on me.
Some are condescendingly petting my hair and soothing over me while I’m praised for cumming so hard and making myself the perfect, sensitive tickle toy to play with. The rest are tweaking, poking, groping, vibrating in all my most vulnerable spots, competing to see who can make me protest the loudest and tug against the restraints the hardest. They’re egging each other on, drilling my ribs, squeezing my hips, scrubbing my feet and high fiving when the first tear finally leaks down my face. “Aww poor baby, was that too much? Why don’t you cum for us again, since being tickled like this is turning you on so much.”
The smug leading ler cranks the machine back up despite my pleading, and they all coo at me - pinching my nipples, licking my armpits and navel, sucking on my toes, and kissing all over my slick, salty skin. I can’t even form words, just gasp, giggle, and babble incoherently while I struggle in vain to twist away from the hungry hands and mouths driving me insane as the sybian thrusts and buzzes me into an orgasm so intense it wipes out all of the other sensations for just a moment……and then I come crashing back down into my body, and it’s so much Worse.
An endless cycle of this until I descend into absolute madness, pretty please and thank you 🫠
poor thing can't even flex or wiggle her toes. imagine being trapped like that for hours and getting tortured with literally no way to stop it or escape. forced to suffer.
