I want someone to tickle my worst spot with so much precision and cruelty that I'm literally begging, screaming, sobbing, thrashing with whatever range of motion I have, completely desperate for it to please please just end, so they lean down and say "who's in charge? who's in charge?". I struggle to answer but through laughs and sobs I finally wail that they're in charge, they're in charge. "Hm? I asked, who's in charge?" and I promise you are, you are, oh god please just make it stop, yes, you're in charge. They make me say it over and over until my voice is hoarse with the screaming. Then they sneer down at me with a raised brow and say "what the fuck do I care?" and continue the relentless assault as I'm hit with a new wave of agony and terror.
transmasc reader insert takes an offer for a weeklong clinical trial only to be kidnapped and mercilessly edged/tickled/degraded by the hot nurses there
dont like dont read, this contains noncon, etc.
You had initially signed up because you needed someplace to stay.
Your college covered room and board with financial aid, but that didn’t include the week of winter break. You had initially planned on staying with your friend, but she had to fly across the country last minute to deal with a family thing.
You’d been checking the bulletin board in the cafeteria looking for any job opportunities to try and save up for a hotel for the week. That’s when you saw the flyer.
Seeking 21-30 year olds who have never had sex for clinical trial. Pays $2000 cash upon completion of trial. Requires overnight care for seven nights over winter holiday.
And that was exactly what you needed, so you called the number on the flyer. A woman had answered the phone, voice warm and inviting. You stumbled over your words.
“I— I was wondering about the uh… clinical trial thing? I saw a flyer in the cafeteria.”
“Oh! That’s so good to hear,” the voice preened. “I’ve just got a few questions for you, give me one moment to grab my list…”
There was some shuffling, and the click of a pen. She asked for your name, your age, and your approximate height and weight, and you gave her the answers.
You were… on the shorter and fatter side, sure. But when you gave her your weight, you heard her try to muffle a giggle before writing it down. Your cheeks went dark red, blush crawling up to your ears.
It’s not that you were insecure about your weight, you just… got embarrassed when anyone pointed it out, is all.
“And just double checking, you are a virgin, right?”
Your blush deepened. “Y—yes. That’s right.”
“Mmm,” the woman hummed. It made you shiver, like she was right against your ear, judging you. “Perfect.”
—
You arrived at the facility the Friday afternoon before winter break, as scheduled. The waiting room was empty, except for one girl behind the counter who you checked in with. She checked your student ID and handed you a questionnaire covering the same questions you’d been asked over the phone, just to verify.
You didn’t read the following pages too closely. Though maybe you should have.
You initialed in all the spots it told you to initial. Signed where it said to sign. Skipped over reading the mandatory 9 day holding period part of the consent waiver and signed anyway. You needed a place to stay, this was it. You’d be fine.
There were some weird parts on the form, though. A page with the outline of a human body, instructing you to highlight the most sensitive parts of your own. You felt… oddly flustered by this, but you circled your chest, crotch, ears, and neck. That… seemed pretty normal to you.
Another page had you list out and describe any near-sexual encounters you had, where you’d been touched, for how long, and if you enjoyed it.
It… made you think rather heavily about your past experiences. Your ex girlfriend, the multiple times you’d chickened out of letting her fuck you. You just weren’t ready for that yet, that’s all. You wrote as such.
Once you finished, you handed the papers back to the receptionist and sat in the waiting area playing balatro on your phone.
With only one headphone in, you couldn’t quite hear the conversation between the receptionist and the doctor who had come out to take the paper. The receptionist was shorter, queer looking. Like you, but more femme-y. She had a slit in her eyebrow and the more you stared at her, you noticed she had a tongue piercing.
Despite her professional attire, you got the impression she was a lot more goth in her off hours. She had a name tag on that said Daisy.
The doctor behind her was an older woman with thin, square glasses and a tight bun. Wisps of dark brown and the occasional silver hair had escaped the updo, curling around her jaw.
Her nametag said Doctor Thorne.
She was staring right at you, despite talking to Daisy. They pointed at the sheet, and their eyes went back up to you. What page were they looking at? You shivered and kept your eyes down, trying to ignore the fluttering in your stomach at being so thoroughly inspected by these hot women.
After a bit, Doctor Thorne came out from behind the counter, introducing herself to you.
“Thank you for agreeing to participate, and for filling out the forms so quickly. We had a few participants drop out last minute after going over the contract, so it’s great to have you here. We have one more prospective participant for this week who hasn’t shown up yet, but we can get you set up in one of the bedrooms in the meantime.”
“For sure,” you nodded.
She began guiding you down the hallways of the facility. It was… a lot larger than you thought. The hallways kept going and going— like the offices in Severance. There weren’t any windows this deep into the building. The lights above you glowed bright, even though the sun had gone down hours ago this deep into winter.
It was making you nervous. You liked to know the layout of the areas you were in, but it had only been a few turns and you already weren’t sure of the way out.
There were voices echoing through the halls, thankfully. A lot of laughter, distant and echoey. Some calm, collected voices, layering over each other.
You were sweating now— you could feel it under your arms as you walked and down the small of your back.
Finally, you got to a room.
“You can drop your belongings on the bed in here— I’d like to have you in the exam room before bed this evening so we don’t have to worry about the preliminary exam in the morning.”
You nodded, slipping your backpack off and dropping it on the bed. It was a quaint room, not unlike the dorms you were used to. Admittedly, the attached bathroom not having a door made you a little nervous. As did the security camera in the corner of the room.
Thorne noticed you staring at the camera.
“Don’t worry— it’s just to make sure that if we notice anything amiss on your vitals monitors, we can check on you quickly. Part of the potential side effects of the medicine we want to test include sleep problems.
You nodded. That… made sense, you guessed. You shucked off your coat, rubbing your arms with your hands as you followed her back into the hallway.
“So I’ll be sleeping hooked up to vitals monitors?”
“You’ll be spending the entire weeklong period with vitals monitors on your body,” Thorne confirmed. “We want as much controlled data as possible, which is why you’re staying on property for the duration.”
You approached another room. This one was a pretty stock standard exam room.
“Get undressed, and I’ll have a nurse in momentarily to begin the preliminary testing and monitor fittings for you.”
Your cheeks reddened. “Uh. H…how undressed do I need to be?”
Doctor Thorne’s eyes raked you up and down, and you suppressed a shudder. “Everything but the socks will need to go. Sit up on the table once you’re done.”
Right. Sure. For sure.
You… hadn’t been undressed in front of anyone else since your ex. But you could be brave. You remembered the amount of money they’d be paying you once all this was done, and you steeled your nerves.
“Oh, and if you could set your phone next to the computer table here— there’s a charger you can use. We don’t have an outlet in your room for the evening, so I suggest you make use of this one now.”
Yeah, that makes sense. You plugged your phone in where she told you.
Thorne shut the door behind herself, and you quickly kicked your shoes off, followed by your pants and—
Ah. Your boxers were damp from sweat and slick. You must’ve worked yourself up filling out that questionnaire more than you thought…
You… wiped yourself as dry as you could, trying to ignore the twitch of your tdick against the wet fabric as you shoved the boxers into the leg of your pants. You hoped it’d be enough to hide your shame as you took your shirt and bra off as well.
You’d considered binding, but figured it’d be more trouble than it was worth. Instead, you’d packed two comfortable sports bras and hoped that’d be enough.
You flinched as your bare back pressed against the cold paper. It crinkled loudly, announcing you to the room. Hey, this guy is sitting down on the doctor table! Everyone look!
You felt stupid for feeling so embarrassed about it. There was absolutely no way to look cool or casual in this situation, naked except for your socks on a doctors exam table.
Back to balatro on your phone, until the door opened. There was no knocking. You checked the time— it’d been at least half an hour. So much time had passed and you’d barely noticed, which was the point of the balatro.
You quickly put your phone back down and went back to sitting on the table, heart pounding like you’d been caught doing something wrong.
This doctor was… quiet. She had long dark hair, pulled back in a ponytail and held up with clips.
You couldn’t help but notice a major detail about her— that being, ah… her top was too small. The other nurses you’d passed in the hallway had on scrubs that fit normally, but this woman had a top that was just… too tight. It rode up around her waist, exposing her midriff and the chubby swell of her stomach.
She was… sort of exactly your type. She had wide hips and thick thighs and the barest bit of a happy trail…
Your eyes shot up as the cold gush of wind from the door opening and closing hit you, making goosebumps raise on your skin.
“Hello,” she greeted. “I’m nurse Alicia. I’ll be in charge of getting you from place to place during your stay with us, okay, sweetheart?”
You nodded rapidly, shoving your hands in your lap as you tried to cover your chest with your arms. The pet name sent a shiver right through your very core.
“Good, good,” she cooed, nodding. “Now, I’m gonna have you scoot back on the table for me…”
You did as told, wincing at the loud crinkling of the paper on the table. It was basically impossible to keep your body covered as you did this. Your body was alight with embarrassment and anxiety and… other things.
Your hands hit the reclined seat back of the table, your legs dangling off of the edge.
“Alright, now we’re going to get you into the right position. Lift your legs up for a moment.”
You did as you were told, trying to remind yourself this was a normal doctor and you can’t shove your weird kinks onto her, only for her to pull leg stirrups out from within the table.
“You’re going to place your ankles into here, and then scoot forward until your butt is just barely off the table.”
This was so embarrassing… you wiggled forward clumsily and awkwardly, trying not to put too much weight on the stirrups as you scooted and hopped your way into position for her.
That position left you with your legs spread wide, your pussy exposed to the open air, to her, to the camera you noticed in the corner like every other room.
You crossed your arms, trying to hide your tits at least. Alicia noticed this.
She walked around the table and pulled two… arm rests? From the side. “Arms here.”
While you shifted your weight around, she went back to your socked feet and ankles. You didn’t notice what she was doing before it was too late.
The pressure around your ankles went tight. She’s strapped your legs to the stirrups at the ankle, and now she was moving up to your shin and securing a similar strap. You didn’t move, frozen in confusion and humiliation as her sleeve brushed your inner thigh.
“Mm—!” You squeaked helplessly. She raised an eyebrow, a knowing grin spreading across her face as your breathing picked up. This was too much.
“Some discomfort is expected,” she waved her hand, walking around and placing a hand on your forearm. Her hands were so, so warm, like she’d been doing laundry. “Take a deep breath and relax.”
You listened to her. Something about her made you want to listen, to obey.
You were rewarded by her strapping your arms to the arm rests, the Velcro holding tight. One strap went around your elbow, the other at the wrist, keeping your arms away from your body.
You felt the sweat in your armpits begin to cool in the air conditioning. Your nipples began to harden from the cold.
Alicia had stepped aside, leaving you exposed and helpless. She pulled two black gloves out from the box on the wall, tugging them over her fingers with a squeaky snap.
“We’re going to start by verifying the information you gave us during the questionnaire…”
You pulled a little harder at the restraints. They didn’t budge at all— you were fully exposed and there was nothing you could do about it.
Her hands, even though the nitrile, were warm against your skin. You struggled to keep your breathing even as she began to… well, to grope your tits. Her palms covered your nipples as she squeezed your chest expertly, like she’d been trained in it.
Air punched its way from your lungs as she squeezed harder, rubbing little circles into the sensitive fat with her thumbs, her fingers. The sound you let out was utterly humiliating, and it made her pause for a few seconds.
The echo of your pathetic moan hung in the air like fog, the sound of your rapid breathing following after. Just as you tried to apologize, she went back to kneading your helpless tits.
Despite her relentless focus on your chest, she left your nipples alone. They were getting hard beneath her palms, and surely she could feel that, right? But it didn’t matter. She was continuing to simply grope your fat tits, drawing more desperate gasps and shameful little whines from deep inside of you.
You had been on testosterone for about a year and a half by this point, and your nipples had only gotten more sensitive as time went on. Yes, you were a virgin, but the closest you’d ever gotten to changing that was when your ex girlfriend had been making out with you a few months before. She had been obsessed with your chest, with your reactions to her touching it, teasing you.
You had spent many a night cumming hard remembering the time she’d taken on a teasing, condescending baby-talk tone with you as she flicked your nipples. Does my big strong man have a sensitive spot right here? Oh, poor thing…
You’d nearly climaxed with your clothes still on. You had been interrupted by her roommate coming home, and then you’d walked across campus deeply aware of the slick rubbing of your completely soaked panties against your rock hard t-dick. Since then, it had sort of taken on a fetish of its own for you.
You’d spent hours and hours at night watching porn clips of people trying to or successfully cumming from nipple play alone. You’d never gotten there yourself, despite lots of trying— you had only ever managed to get just over the edge and then ruin it for yourself.
Having someone else touch you there felt entirely different from what you were used to. Her hands masterfully teased you, squishing your nipples in her palm while her long fingers jiggled the fat of your helpless tits. You fought to keep quiet, but it seemed like she was intentionally trying to get you to make noise. To break.
Your stomach fluttered in embarrassment and uncontrollable arousal.
You had no concept of how big your tdick had gotten over the last few years, but you’d done your shot a little early because you didn’t want to deal with having to bring your needles while you were here, but also didn’t want to miss a dose. So you were at your peak testosterone levels, and a woman was playing with your tits, and you were rock hard.
Apparently you’d gotten big enough that the head of your tdick just barely poked out between your lips, the dark hair framing it.
You prayed nobody would notice, but the camera was pointed right at your pussy. You could feel the thing boring into your flesh like more hands on you, on your cunt and your belly as it jiggled with your breath.
“Good response so far,” the nurse cooed, and you couldn’t help but let out a high whine at the praise. You’d always been weak to it. “I think I may need a little extra assistance with calibration before we get you hooked up to the sensor system.”
The sensor system? Huh? You balk for a second, testing the restraints again. Still no give. Your little heart began to pound. You tried to find your voice, to protest, but Alicia turned and stepped out of the room again before you could speak.
You were left alone in the exam room once again, this time left entirely exposed.
You squirmed, heart pounding, seeing how much movement you’d been allowed. The answer? Barely any. You could lift your hips, but it made the entire table creak and whine under the strain. You couldn’t bring your arms down or close your legs, and you could turn your head from side to side.
The room was cold when you first entered, but all the strain had made your body begin to heat up. You were sweating again, the liquid making the paper on the table stick to your back slightly.
Every movement you made left you more and more aware of how spread open you were. You could feel the wetness of your own cunt cool in the air as you writhed, and it filled you with the fluttering burn of embarrassment.
The door opened once more, and several nurses stepped into the room. The embarrassment ignited into humiliation as the door opening let another gush of frigid air roll over you, reminding you again of the wetness between your legs, the sweat under your arms and tits and ass. And now there were— you counted— four women standing around you watching your nude body with intense stares.
You prayed none of them would notice your tdick throb between your legs.
They spoke to each other as though you weren’t even in the room— as though you were little more than furniture they were observing.
“I wasn’t sure which one we were using, so I brought both types,” said one of the nurses.
Alicia hummed. “We’ll use the pink bottle first to get a baseline— and to get everything soft with the dry air. Gloves on, everyone,” she clapped her hands as she popped the cap off of the bottle in her hands.
You tried to keep quiet. What was that? What was she going to—
“Nnh—“ you squeaked as cold liquid splashed across your chest. It was slick and thin, rolling in rivulets from your sternum down your sides and under your breasts.
She continued pouring the liquid over your writhing form, pausing to let it fill your belly button before moving down each leg. You were so, so glad you were allowed to keep your socks on. Something about having your bare feet covered in this mystery liquid was too much to handle.
There was a cacophony of squeaking and snapping as the remaining nurses pulled their gloves on.
“This is just a little oil,” Alicia explained. She poured more of it on her gloved hands before going back to your chest, beginning the process of rubbing the slick oil into every inch of your body. “The air in this building gets very dry in the winter because we have dehumidifiers running throughout the facility. This will help keep your skin healthy while we run our tests.
You… supposed that made a little sense. Your nose had been a little sore since you’d gotten in— with everything else you hadn’t really noticed it…
You relaxed a little, but that was a mistake. The nurses began placing their hands on your body, gloves flat against your skin. A pair of hands were placed one by one on each side of your belly, a hand on each of your knees, in addition to Alicia’s hands on your tits. You were instantly overwhelmed by the sensations, choking back more panicked whines.
You were just… a little sensitive, is all. And as you laid there, restrained and being groped by so many hands you could no longer keep track of them, you had a thought:
I hope they tickle me.
The thought immediately brought a rush of shame and arousal. It was a fetish you only engaged in during moments of absolute privacy, because you were so ashamed of how much it turned you on. It was something you knew you couldn’t ever talk about with another person— something you knew you’d have to take to your grave.
It just… captivated you.
And now it was all you could think about. If one of them moved their fingers just a little lower, just a little meaner, it’d send you into absolute hysterics.
The hands on your stomach began to glide, smooth and unimpeded by friction thanks to the oil coating your skin. It smelled powdery and soft, with a hint of something cloying and sweet that you couldn’t place. It overwhelmed your senses and made you realize that the nurses were all wearing face masks now that the air was thick with the scent of the oil.
The nurse groping the left side of your stomach dipped her thumb into your belly button, her nail catching the bottom through her gloves, and your entire body jerked. Unable to keep quiet, you let out a pathetic whimpery giggle. Your greatest fear and secret hope had come to pass.
You hoped she would ignore it and move on with whatever this was, but she did not. She did it again, dipping her thumb in and—
“Hhaah— hey—“ you whined, trying to wiggle away from her probing fingers as she molested your belly button. She had pointed acrylic nails beneath the stretchy nitrile gloves, and the hard tip was tracing the lines inside.
You lifted your head and looked at her, holding your breath and begging her with your eyes to stop stop please stop. She turned to face you, and you could tell even under the mask that she was grinning.
In your panic at having your belly button violated, you’d lost track of her other hand. You were entirely unprepared for her to begin tickling your side with intent, the sensation making your brain white out with ticklish panic.
You squirmed, belly fat jiggling under her teasing fingers as she traced up and down your side. It was so, so bad, your pulse shooting up.
“I think I found a spot,” the nurse tormenting you said with an audible smile.
“I think you did,” Alicia replied. Alicia poured more oil onto her hands. Then, to your abject horror, her hands slipped from your tits to your armpits.
You didn’t shave, as a general rule. You liked having a full bush, hairy pits, and fuzz on your arms and legs. It felt good, felt like you.
It did nothing to impede your sensitivity as the oil soaked into your sweaty skin, Alicia’s fingers probing the vulnerable muscle. You tensed. A panicked squeal forced its way from your throat, high pitched and humiliating.
“Wait,” you pleaded, “Wait wait wait wait—!”
They ignored you completely, which only boosted your panic, which only made you more vulnerable as the woman on the right side of your stomach began tickling the underside of your belly. You were all too aware of your own nudity, the oil cooling against your skin and leaving it with an odd tingle.
The woman who had been rubbing the oil into your legs began to massage your inner thighs, which tickled without her even trying. Nobody had ever touched you there before, the flesh virginal and tender. The higher her fingers proved the more you struggled against the restraints, the plastic squeaking in protest.
Your clit throbbed between your spread legs, maybe a foot away from the face of the woman torturing your helpless thighs. She had to notice, right? How much of a pervert you were, getting off on her touch?
Did it matter? What could you do as she began to scratch the undersides of your knees? There was something so vulnerable about that place, something so violating about having it touched.
You laughed. Laughter was all you could do. Your body had betrayed you, the tracing of their cruel fingers making your head spin. It sounded more like frantic choking gasps than laughter, really, but it made your tits bounce with every little exhale.
When they pulled away, it took you a few moments to actually notice. Panting, you tried to catch your breath without your vision going dark. You’d never been this turned on or scared before. Your entire body was vibrating like a struck tuning fork. You didn’t even want to think about how wet you must be.
“I think we’ll need to get rid of this in order to place the diodes properly,” Alicia said, gesturing at your pits in a way that made you flinch.
Get rid of what? They’d already stripped you naked!
The nurses nodded and began moving, pulling something from beneath the chair and plugging it in. A loud buzz resounded through the room.
Oh no.
You began to struggle in earnest, sweating. It did no good. The electric razor drew in as the nurses held you down by the collarbone, beginning the process of shaving you bare.
With each pass of the razor, more and more of your vulnerable skin was left exposed. By the time they finished with one armpit, the nurse with the razor moved to the other while the three remaining women began to massage more of the oil into your sweat-slicked pits.
Their probing fingers glided effortlessly now. Even the vibrations of the razor tickled horribly. You couldn’t keep down the giggle-filled sobs of babbling nonsense.
“Nnh— not th— not there— aahaaa—!!”
“Shhh,” they shushed you like an animal. “It’ll be done soon, and we can get the monitors hooked up. Just one more thing.”
Your armpits were naked and oil-softened now, helpless and exposed and blushing with overstimulated nerves. You couldn’t handle this. Who could possibly handle this?
No. No, no nonono— they were spreading your legs wide.
The razor descended upon your pussy. Years of hair growth, removed in moments.
There was something oddly and intensely violating about it. You, for the first time in your adult life, could feel cold air between your legs entirely unimpeded by your bush.
And worst of all, the vibrations of the electric razor reminded you that you were still very ticklish, especially on your now fully exposed pussy.
They shaved you methodically, medically, like it was nothing more than a procedure to them. Like they hadn’t forced you to live through your most secret and private sexual fantasy, left your cunt dripping like a faucet.
You were rapidly becoming terrified that you might cum from the vibrations of the razor as they spread your pussy and shaved every last hair. The plastic would occasionally tap against your tdick and tickle like hell, leaving you involuntarily clenching around nothing.
They finished, dusting the remaining hair off of your body, and you flinched. All the tickling had conditioned you to expect them to continue it. Your muscles quivered as one of the nurses laughed at you in pity.
You’d never been more humiliated, more exposed…
As they moved around your body, you began to get lost in thought. Wondering why you hadn’t read the contracts and wondering why you hadn’t tried to stop this. Was it the money? $2,000 wasn’t even that much in the grand scheme of things, not for a week of this.
Maybe it was just these nurses. Maybe tomorrow things would be normal. Maybe this was just a nightmare. Or a wet dream.
Alicia pressed stickers into your bare skin— diodes, you assumed, to monitor your vitals. One on your neck, one just under each armpit, one over your bladder, and one on each side of your belly.
“Let’s get you to your room, then.”
She unplugged your phone and handed it to you. They did not give your clothes back, but you didn’t even notice until you were already out in the hallway, socked feet against the cold, clinical tile floors. It was even colder out in the hall. You shivered and tried to step back, but your socks had no grip on the flooring.
They simply pushed you forward, and you recognized if you didn’t start walking, you’d fall, so you walked.
Now that gravity was pulling down on you at this angle, the wetness of your cunt began to leave your thighs slick. There was no bush to impede the lubrication from dripping down your legs, and by the time you got to your room again you were soaked.
They didn’t seem to care at all, shoving a single blanket into your arms.
Alicia made some notes on a clipboard. “We’ll come wake you up for breakfast and morning treatments at 7am tomorrow. When you go to sleep, make sure to plug this cord,” she tugged on the cord coming from the diode on your neck, feeling like a leash, “into the machine attached to the wall. That will transmit the data from the other sensors. There’s also a few cameras in the room that will monitor you at all times in case of an emergency.”
You nodded, legs trembling, knees weak. You were so wet, so hard. They hadn’t even gotten you close to cumming except for when they shaved you, and you felt like you’d been edged for hours.
The door to your room closed behind you, and in a daze, you laid down on the bed, covering yourself with the blanket.
You opened your phone. There was an odd notification on it.
Data sharing successful.
They… when you plugged your phone in, they went through it. What had they seen?
Your mind flashed to several dozen secret accounts. Tumblr blogs, forum accounts, Reddit pseudonyms, r34 favorites galleries.
They could have seen everything— you had a notes app file with all your login information for the secret accounts because you could never remember all the users and passwords. You wanted to make it harder to trace in case someone you knew found those accounts and connected them to you.
You’d just made it easier for these “nurses” to expose your fetishes and take advantage of them.
Your cunt throbbed needily.
…You plugged the diode into the cord, and fought to try and sleep without touching yourself. You could feel the cameras boring into you.
You’d have to be a lot more desperate than this to cum for the cameras.
------
if you liked it leave me some nice tags or send me a nice ask! im being so so brave by posting this ok? i might write the rest of the story eventually. but i am a coward
Getting tickled in a hotel room or a regular house: 😐😐😐
Getting bound and tickle tortured in someone’s car, in an abandoned site, tied to the trees in the woods, in someone’s basement, or generally anywhere someone can’t hear my laughs and screams for mercy: 🥵🥵🥵🥵
Alright I'm a little nervous and humiliated about doing this but finally got the courage to post this.
Interaction post under the cut!
This will be my official nipple tickling post! Any notes added result in 30 seconds of tickle time and every 15 I'm gonna make it worse for myself for the future notes.
If I break any of them after they're implemented, I'll make a foot tickling post as punishment in a similar vein.
15- Lotion must be used for all subsequent tickles at the start and reapplied if the effect wears off.
30- I must look at some form of nipple tickling or written erotica prior to beginning. Brushes must also now be used when tickling- at least one when I hit 45, and solely the brush when it's just the one.
45- Both nipples must be tickled at once going forward.
60- I have to edge prior to the rest. At least 3 times. I must also watch forced orgasm videos during this process.
75- Double time- a minute each note instead of 30 seconds.
90- I have to edge after too now. At least 3 and if I get too worked up I have to scrub my foot with a hairbrush for a minute as punishment
100- I have to get 2 electric toothbrushes and scrub both my nipples for a full minute, and also try my clit, also for a minute and report on the results.
These may change- this is just the meanest punishment for myself I could think of at the moment. Let me know if you have any ideas and I'll consider them! I'll also add more if I somehow get to 100 notes.
With that said- no spam reblogging! 1 like and 1 reblog per blog please ❤️
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.
GOD I really need to just be degraded and tickle tortured to my limit rn 😭
The idea of a person on here who finds pleasure in working me up, talking about all they want to do with my pathetic self gets me so worked up. Either as a person or through a fictional character, either way.
Love the idea of my poor pussy being spread, my clit completely vulnerable only to go through the worst tickle torture imaginable.
"This is what you wanted, right? What you always wrote on that slutty blog of yours? Fucking take it."
Changing my mind halfway through when "It's too much, I'm too sensitive, I can't take it anymore!" I'm just laughed at and told.
"It's cute you think you have a choice. You're mine. Now, you do whatever you need to do to cope with this that you feel you have to. Scream, cum, beg, curse me out, but it won't save you. I'm going to keep tickling and making you cum. I'm gonna find every spot on this body of yours. Spots you didn't even know could be ticklish. Gonna claim every part of you and make sure you and everyone else knows you're mine, just from a glance. You will never be the same again. Not after I'm through with you. "
The grin I'm given is feral.
"Hey, have you ever had the roof of your mouth tickled by the way?"
They throw their head back in sadistic laughter as I wildly shake my head and beg for mercy that won't come.
"Yeah, that's what I thought. Well, don't you worry your pretty little head since we're about to find out together. We have more than enough time after all; you're all mine, tickle bait~"
What if we're chilling on my couch. You know, like a cute couple in their 20s. Except you're mummified, with only a slot for your eyes to be seen, your tickled and sucked tits sticking out, a gap for your soaking wet pussy to be visible, and your twitchy scrubbed clean feet sticking out at the end. You've been staying with me for a while.
We're watching a movie (I was going to let you pick this time but I've never heard of "OH GOD OH PLEASE LET ME GO I'M BEGGING YOU PLEASE SOMEBODY HELP ME" so I picked instead). I'm watching and gently running my fingers up and down your bare feet that are in my lap.
You seem like you're watching the movie but you're whimpering and crying a lot. I start to pluck your toes, just to be an asshole. Your feet start to freak. So, I start sawing my fingers between each and every one of your toes. Credit where credit is due, you last a while...until I get to the little place between your fourth and pinky toe. I so very slowly wiggle my finger in there and your feet kick, your whole body flailing, almost hitting me in the face.
Well. That just won't do.
You scream as I mount you and go for your nipples. I grab the feathers sitting on the table and flick them across your sensitive nips. The fear in your eyes is almost as delicious as your screaming laughter. I tell you that you like this. You must, otherwise, why are you making a big wet stain on my couch?
I tickle your nips, the soft yet firm feather flicking over them once more. I then slowly circle them around your breasts, ever so slow. Starting at the far ends and working in towards your nipples. It seems like I'll never reach them with how slow I'm going. Taking my time. And then bending down to suck on your right tit while I squeeze your left. I hear your laughter intermingling with pleas for mercy.
I get back up and wipe my lips. You look so cute, all helpless and hopeless. I flip you over and sit back down, holding your upside-down feet in my lap. You plead into the couch while I slowly rake my nails up and down your bare feet. When you try to pull them back, I cross my knees to trap your ankles. You aren't going anywhere.
I start to tickle faster and harder and hear you laughing breathlessly. Quick scibbles across your arches, pinching your heels, wiggling my fingers over your toes, long rakes from ball of foot to hell, everything. Anything to punish you. to torture you. I tell you–
"You want this. You deserve this. You're wet, laughing, and came here on your own free will, knowing this could happen. You dumb tickle bitch. Stop acting like you don't love being used like a tickle toy. Let me tell you, you are so fucking lucky that you have someone like me to put you in your place. Now, say thank you, pet. Or else, I fucking swear, you are going back downstairs and getting another five forced orgasms and another five fucking hours of the brushes on your feet."
#your tickle toy must answer #⚡ #had to cut this in half #planning for more but worried about length
(Response below the cut since mine got long as well!)
Oh God the idea of being mummified with only my tickle spots out is hot 🥵
I would be so tense, twitching and trying to giggle as quietly as humanly possible as I savor the closet thing I get to a "break".
I think I'm doing quite well, all things considered. You pick a favorite movie of mine and I wonder distantly if it's something by to worry about but brush it off as a coincidence.
A few whimpers and tears slip as I try to focus on the acting. Something I used to think I'd do one day.
Now I'm here.
I squeal as you suddenly toy with my toes, shaking my head in denial and finally jerk violently, almost hitting you in the process. Smug satisfaction is ripped away as I see the look on your face, the way your eyes move to my breasts and I debate trying to flip over but by then it's too late and you're on me.
My nipples are sensitive from all their prior torment but no less ticklish and I can't help but toss my head back in laughter as they're tormented by feathers. Shouldn't I have grown less ticklish by now? It's not fair! I've never envied people who can turn off their ticklishness so much before now.
I shake my head in desperate denial of your mocking, trying to tell you you're wrong and don't know what I'm talking about even as I unwittingly soak the couch beneath me. I'm reduced to giggles and squeals as you tickle my breasts, before attacking one with your mouth and squeezing the other making my eyes go half-lidded. What can I possibly do to stop the pleasure and tickles from overwhelming me? My eyes are glassy and unsure on what to do with the myriad of sensations I've been overwhelmed with.
In my distraction you suddenly flip me and I gasp in terror, begging you not to. It feels so much more vulnerable with my feet up towards you like a display as I can't see what's happening. I squeal as you begin tickling and then I'm truly trapped and panic as it gets more and more intense, left cackling and weakly attempting to thrash. I plead that it tickles, it's just too much and your voice easily speaks over my pathetic begging.
Moans intermingle with my frantic laughter, as my nipples drag against the couch fabric from my struggling and I buck desperately at your threat, tears of mirth falling from my eyes.
I know you're wrong. Of course you are. I don't deserve this. I was naive sure, because you lowered my guard enough to trust you, but it's your fault I'm here. Not my own. I can feel my own wetness but it's because you're making me feel that way. Anyone would.
...Right?
Regardless, the words fall quickly as fear shoots through my heart. My pulsing clit is way too sensitive for that and I couldn't possibly handle any more brushes!
"Oh fhuhuhuhuck! Th-Thankyouthankyouthankyou! Plhehehehease! Anything but thahahahat; not the brushehehehes! No mohohohore!"
Getting wrecked by 1 ler about to cum and then oops a 2nd ler gets introduced that I thought didn't know and I'm forced to watch as they laugh at me as ler 1 forces me over while continuing to tickle me. A la Scream 1.
Ending spoilers below the cut but it's just kinky dialogue because I'm insatiable tbh 🥰
"Told you she was a tickle slut."
"Ahaha damn man, guess you're right! Look at her, she's soaking. I think she even squirted. That's so pathetic."
A broken moan leaves my lips at the humiliation as tears spring to my eyes. I'm so sensitive but he just keeps going.
"Plehehehease! No mhohohohore!
He laughs, scoffing as if I've just said the stupidest thing he's ever heard.
"As if. Not my fault you came. Tickle tickle, slut. Let's see just how many I can milk out of you."
"Aw is someone a little sensitive? Good. I hope it gets worse."
"Fhuhuhuck yhohohou! Let me ghohoho!"
His eyes darkened and he gave a sadistic sneer.
"Get her asshole. Let's really make her scream."
"No nohoho! Not thahahat! I'm shohohohory!"
"Shut up and cum already, stupid."
He hissed and I screamed as he pushes me over with rubbing on my clit, immediately followed by a soft electric toothbrush on both my asshole and clit at the same time. All I can do is spasm in horrified ticklish pleasure before oxygen returns and I scream.
"Ahhhhh nononono this is hehehehell! Plehehehease! I can't stand-urk!"
"Thought I told you to shut up. Cum, and laugh. That's all you're good for to us now."
I'm gagged and the brushes return, after being turned up a notch and I squirt everywhere, the brush unmoving even as I thrash.
"Tickle tickle; there's no escaping us. You'll never leave our side again. We love you."
