02 - A Teen recollection
Story index at the bottom
By Dorain
Monday May 21st 2001 01:38:03 AM
This story focuses more on the tickling than the tie-up. I hope people don't mind that.
I was sixteen, when I had a friend named Stan who was about thirteen. I had known Stan for several years; we often played video games or chess at each others' houses. Stan had heard about the little clique of friends I hung around with in high school, and he wanted to join. Well, the situation was with that group was that what we mostly did was hang around in school - something that would be hard for Stan to do when he first started asking, since he was still in the Elementary School next door. So, my one friend and I decided to play a bit of a trick on him. I guess we thought, back then, that it was kindlier than just saying "not yet" to him. We told him that he'd have to be Initiated into the group, and that would take time to prepare for and set up.
So, basically, we said he had to wait. Stan bugged both of us for months for when he would be Initiated, and we just kept on saying it wasn't ready yet.
Finally, one day during the summer of the year he graduated Grade Eight, he was over at my house and we had sort of run out of things to do.
Stan said, "Why don't you do that Initiation I've been waiting for. We have the time now."
Well, I was on the spot. Neither my friend or I had actually thought of what the "Initiation" we had made up could be. But I suddenly came up with an inspiration. I had tickled Stan on the sides, stomach and feet from time to time (and he, back to me), so I think that everyone can guess what I came up with.
I was somewhat surprised that Stan had agreed. Sure, he had only been mildly ticklish every time I had got him (he would keep a straight face for a few seconds at first, and then burst into little snorts of laughter as he writhed away), but tied up on my bed; forced to be tickled for a half hour without laughing?
He pulled off his shirt and stretched out on the bed. I pulled out the old bathrobe ties I still had stored away from the old Escape Artist games when I was younger, and tied his wrists to opposite posts of the headboard. I then moved down and tied his ankles and big toes together; securing the ankle bonds to one of the posts at the bottom of the bed. He was stretched out in just his jean shorts, not the least bit nervous.
Now Stan's family were real barefooters. Stan, his little brother Don, and both his parents, all went barefoot in their house - even in the dead of winter, down in their basement where Stan had his computer. Stan would get home on the days that I came home with him after school, and his shoes and socks would be off in mere moments. After some time of knowing him and his family, I got over my foot-shyness with them enough to indulge in my true love of being barefoot.
Well, this day was no exception. Stan had come over with just flip-flops on his bare feet. Where I live; no one wears their shoes inside the house. They tracked dirt in, and got the mothers really upset at us. And at my house, since it was my older brother who did the vacuuming, he was more than willing to be more direct with his disapproval than most mothers would be. So, the end result was that both Stan and I were barefoot.
With Stan all ready and secured, I asked him if he was ready to start. He opened his eyes a little wider, and hmmmed uncertainly. I guess that he was wary about the condition set on the Initiation - if he made any laughing noises, I would start the time over from the beginning.
Now, I wasn't cruel. I really liked Stan, and I wanted this to just be some fun between us. I didn't want to torture him mercilessly, so I had already decided to myself that I wasn't going to tickle him all out for the entire thirty minutes. I'd alternate between heavy tickling, and easier periods of light tickling. And it had already been agreed that noises like moaning, snorting, whimpering and the like were fine; just no giggling, laughter, etc. - and no words allowed either.
But I felt a little sorry for him. I said that he'd get two strikes before I started the time over (the first time). So, he finally agreed that he was ready.
I started on his bare chest and stomach. Stan's face took on an expression of utter shock. He immediately started laughing as I tickled his side and underarm with one hand, and his stomach with the other. I kept tickling for a few seconds longer as he laughed, but then stopped and let him calm down.
"I've never been so ticklish before!" he said, quite surprised, as I pressed the button to stop the timer on my watch.
At that time, I only knew that being tied up made ticklishness worse. But as I later found out, Stan was a whole lot more ticklish when the tickling was all that he had to focus his attention on. Any of the other times I tickled him, he had been playing a game, working on a program, reading a book, watching TV, studying the chess board, etc. He was only mildly ticklish when his attention was split; but extremely ticklish when feeling the tickles on his body was all that his mind had to occupy it!
So, with a smile, I informed Stan that he had used one strike. He grimaced for a moment, then said he was ready to keep going. He screwed up his face and clenched his fists to brace himself. I started with just light tickling of his ribs and sides. Stan was writhing in the bonds, moaning a high-pitched, muffled protest to the sensation. I stepped up the intensity of my tickling, adding in his stomach and flanks. I got an overdose of "Wounded Doe Eyes" from him - he had the perfect brown eyes for that kind of thing. That, and the fact that he was quite a bit smaller than his age's average almost got me to stop.
But I didn't. I guess it was a touch of teenage sadism. I did ease off a bit on the intensity when his whimpering started getting definite signs of snickers. But that bit of mercy didn't last long, as I then switched to raking my nails across his belly and flanks. He looked like he was going to explode from holding in the laughter. Well, being the stinker of a teenager I was, instead of slowing down, I grabbed a small starling feather that I had next to my bed, and started probing his shallow navel with the tip.
Stan screamed and writhed at the sensation. I guessed he had never felt that before in his life. He was laughing and begging me to stop. So I did; stopping the timer again on my watch.
"That was your second and final strike, guy," I said with a wily smile.
Stan groaned as he calmed down. When he finally was breathing easier and said he was ready to keep going, I smiled and turned around to face his feet. Normally, Stan's feet were the only place I could get anything close to a full ticklish response from. But he had a great deal of resistance for tickling on his feet. It was really weird - any time I had tickled him before, his feet would barely move, and his expression would be deadpan. But after a little while, I would finally hit the right spot on his soles or toes; or his resistance would finally be breeched, and he'd burst immediately into moderate laughter, and pleading for me to stop as he finally pulled his foot away.
Well, that wasn't going to be an option this time, so I was really looking forward to getting his feet this time. I started the timer again, with still over twenty minutes left on it. I started out heavy on both his arches; right where his feet were held together; pinned by the belts around his ankles and the string around his big toes. But, rather than having to fight my way through his normal resilience; instead Stan burst into frantic laughter. Pleas of "NO!", "Stop!!" and the wonderful "Pleeeeeeezzze!" were inserted in his laughter.
I stopped as he panted, breathing words of gratitude. I realized that his gift of Strikes were all used up. Happily, I turned back towards his face, and pressed the RESET button on my watch timer. Stan heard the beep, and looked towards me.
"Too bad, chum! You have to start from the top again this time!"
Stan protested, but before I could say a word in my defence, he sighed and said, "Yeah, I know. That was the condition. Just give me a minute."
So, after several puffs and sighs of breath, we started again from the top. Once again, I started on his torso. His face was screwed into a grimace as he fought to hold in his laughter. His body undulated in an attempted dance of aversion, but I kept up the steady (but not that severe) tickling of his armpits, chest, stomach and sides. I found a spot, just at the bottom of his rib cage, right where his sides curved around to his back that had him really cringing. He was giving off staccato snorts of snickers that he couldn't keep sealed in through his clenched lips. So, of course, I had to take advantage of that! I scratched lightly on the corresponding spots on each side of his body, until his eyes clenched and his head started thrashing back and forth; only to move my hands to torment less sensitive areas on his sides and flanks before I guessed he would burst.
It was harder to judge the "bursting point" for Stan than it was for most people. He gave no sign that he was about to lose control, but just suddenly exploded with laughter without any visible build-up. After repeated teasing that one spot, I finally stopped, and moved down to his feet again. Stan was sighing heavily in relief, since he wasn't being tickled for a couple of seconds.
I placed one hand on the top of his feet to warn him that I was about to start there, and he immediately flinched. Since I knew that I didn't have to waste any time wearing away his resistance this time, I started with just gently crawling my fingers around both soles. I pulled my thumb and middle finger down the centres of both soles, from the balls of his feet to his heels. Stan's short toes clenched tightly; as did his eyes as he held his breath, hoping that would help him resist the laughter that I just knew was fighting to get out of him. It was harder to tickle his wrinkled soles, so I reached up the hand that was on the tops of his feet, and pulled his toes back by the big toes. As my fingers dragged back up his now taut soles, Stan's eyes flew open and he gave a moan that raised in pitch as my fingers got closer to his toes.
I didn't want him to start laughing, because I was having so much fun tickling his soles, so I switched to scribbling my nails lightly on the slight tougher area on his right sole that was beside his paler-toned arch - the part that actually touches the ground. But my plan to ease off so Stan wouldn't be pushed to start laughing out loud backfired. That strip along the outside edge of his sole turned out to be incredibly ticklish.
"Not there!!!" he shrieked as his laughter flowed out after it
I indulged in a couple of more passes over that part of his foot, drawing more laughter and giggles from him, but soon stopped so that Stan could calm down. I pressed the Stop button on my watch and gave him several minutes to catch his breath.
"I though that would have been less ticklish than the middle of your foot," I said, a little bit contritely.
Stan licked his lips and said breathlessly, "So did I!"
We both indulged in some brief chuckles at that. I got up from facing Stan's feet; but rather than turning to face his upper body, I climbed up onto the bed, stepped over his legs, and sat down next to the wall. I wiggled my legs under his calves, and scuttled forward until his feet were sitting on my lap. I reached over to the desk that sat next to the foot of my bed, and grabbed a few of my favourite tickle-toys that I kept there - a seagull feather, a raven feather, a hairbrush, and a pair of smooth, white shoelaces.
I set them down next to me and asked Stan, "Ready?"
Stan looked confused, and asked, "Don't you have to start from the beginning again because I laughed?" I remember his chin trembling a bit; most likely since he definitely didn't want to have to start from the top. But, I guessed that he didn't want to blow this "Chance to get into the clique" either.
Okay, so I felt like a rat. But a rat that had so wanted to get Stan's feet like this! Besides, I had already made a decision when I climbed into this new position.
"Laughed?" I asked innocently (well, as innocently as a sixteen year old could). "I didn't hear any laughter. You have twenty minutes left. Any time you're ready."
Stan visibly relaxed a little bit, one corner of his mouth in a brief smile of appreciation; and then clenched his eyes shut as he nodded.
I started lightly wiggling the fingers of my left hand over both of his soles, as my right hand teased the outside edges of his feet. I tickled the very tips and tops of his clenched toes, and eventually they relaxed (whether due to being too tired to keep them clenched, or just submitting to the tickling, I'll never know) It was a touchy game; Stan trying to hold in his laughter, and I trying to have as much fun tickling his significantly more ticklish feet without making the sensation so severe that he couldn't stand it without verbalizing his ticklishness. From time to time, a couple of short giggles would burst out, or a brief bark of laughter, but I just ignored those, and kept on tickling. Getting both arches with the same hand really seemed to get to him - especially when I stuck my fingers into the thin gap where his feet were held together.
When there was only about twelve minutes left, I stopped, and slowly reached for the two feathers. My slow and deliberate turn back with those two instruments wasn't so much to build drama or anxiety; but rather to give Stan breather to catch his breath. Finally, I started dancing the tips of the feathers all over his feet. The seagull feather in my left hand drew zig-zags and circles around his soles, as the raven feather in my right hand flickered over the tops of his toes, and along the tops and sides of Stan's feet. The feathers didn't seem to tickle him a whole lot, and he wasn't really struggling much to keep them in, but I didn't care. His bound feet were doing a wonderful dance of ticklishness that I loved. Occasionally, I would turn up the pressure a bit by delving between his toes, making his whole body tense again. I finally stopped when I glanced at my watch and saw that there was less than ten minutes left.
I stopped, letting Stan again catch his breath as I put the feathers down, and picked up the shoe laces. I folded each lace in fours, and then, as a unit, slid each strand of the lace between a different pair of toes on one foot. Stan's toes reflexively clenched at the sensation, but eventually, I had a loop of shoelace between every toe on both feet. I gathered up the slack that hung down across the tops of his feet, and on his soles, and then started slowly dragging the loops of laces through his toes, back and forth. I could feel his body shaking as he quickly clenched his toes. I tugged a little harder, and kept the laces moving back and forth as his toes flailed around, trying to somehow get them from between his toes.
I looked up at Stan's face and could start to see tears forming along the edges of his closed eyes. I kept the laces going through his toes for a while longer, but stopped before his impending laughter. I didn't want the friction of the laces going between his toes to get uncomfortable either, so I dropped the ends of the laces and lightly tickled the tops and bottoms of both feet with my fingers for a while. I'd alternate between those two forms of torment several times, until I finally pulled the laces out from between his toes. Stan sighed and wiggled his toes, rubbing them together as much as he could. He muttered something about still feeling it. I know what he meant - I had been both the subject and inflictor of that particular method several times when I was younger.
I checked the watch and saw that just over five minutes remained. I decided it was time to go for the gusto. I exchanged the laces for the hairbrush. When Stan wasn't looking, I muffled my watch and pressed the Stop button. I figured that he had more than passed the "Initiation" by that point. Now it was just time for me to have fun! (Ain't I a stinker?)
I held back his toes again with my right hand, and touched the bristles of the brush to his stretched soles. Stan's face was quivering. I guess that even that motionless contact was uncomfortable for him. Well, I couldn't keep him in nervous anticipation like that, so I started lightly brushing up and down the bottoms of both feet. Stan started wiggling around like a worm on a fish-hook. Sounds that were very clearly unsuccessfully muffled giggles were coming from him; but I didn't stop. I just kept going relentlessly, occasionally brushing the sides of his feet, or gently going back and forth across the very bases of his toes that my right hand kept pinned back and vulnerable.
Soon, there was no mistaking that he couldn't hold back the sensation any more, and just relaxed to some degree, letting himself howl in laughter; the fight to hold it in completely abandoned. After a few moments of my unabated treatment of his feet, he sputtered out some words amid his laughter.
"I-I couldn't... hahahaha haw haw haw haw!! take it any-hee-hee-hee more!!"
"That's okay, Stan," I said without stopping. "You've passed. You can laugh all you want, now!"
Well, chances are, he wasn't all happy about that, but I kept his laughter going for another minute or two using the brush all over his straining feet. I stopped before he started getting into any seriously heavy laughter, though. I used my pocket knife to carefully cut the string holding toes and then pulled my legs from out under his. I crawled up the side up the bed until I was within reach his left arm.
"Congrats, shrimp!" I said, looking down at him.
"Why'd you keep going after the time was up, dork!!" he said breathlessly.
"Because it was fun," I said, as I reached across his chest and tweaked those "hot spots" below his sides a couple of times, making Stan bellow, giggle and beg me to stop.
He didn't say any more as I finished untying him from the bed. He sat up and stretched his muscles. There were red imprints of the string on his big toes, but he said that they didn't hurt when I expressed my concern. He wasn't upset, it seemed - we went over to my computer and played some games (most of which he utterly creamed me in!). Things just seemed to be normal as ever; like I hadn't just spent nearly an hour and a half tickling him as he was tied up helplessly. Stan was a strange kid with his moods at times; so, like the master chessplayer he was, it wasn't until about a month later that he decided to strike back at me; when my defences were down.
Dorain
cadre_istari@hotmail.com
http://www.fortunecity.com/victorian/richmond/590/tta/
Canada
Monday May 21st 2001 01:41:18 AM
A Teen Recollection, Part 2
As with my previous story, this focuses more on the tickling than the tying. I hope people don't mind that
It was the last three weeks of summer vacation, and Stan had decided to "invite himself over" one day. I had just turned seventeen a few days ago; but as usual, my family had done nothing about it. My eldest brother was moved away, living with his new wife; and my middle brother was away at University several hundred Kilometres away. My dad was living away from home at that time, and my mom was in the hospital again (as she often was throughout my life). So, I was just spending the days flaked out on my bed, watching TV, rather depressed.
Stan knew me well enough to recognize that (even though I never recognized my tendency towards depression until I looked back at it many years later.), and Stan decided that he was going to do something about it.
He sat down on the edge of my bed, and looked at the completely boring physics show I was half watching. After several minutes, he spoke to me.
"You know what? I talked with Sam, Erin and Evan the other day," he said, sticking his face right in my view of the TV, so I had to pay attention to him. "They said that they had never heard of any Initiation, and that they had never been through one."
I looked away from his gaze, and gave a small half-smile. "Sorry, it must of slipped my mind," I said quietly. I felt bad that I had deceived my younger friend, but I guess I just wasn't really in the mood to be too contrite about it.
"Well, I think that means you owe me one," he said.
"Okay, whatever," I replied listlessly.
I wasn't sure if Stan was upset at me about that or not, but he seemed that he had plans in mind. I didn't resist a bit as he tied bathrobe ties around my wrists, and lifted my hands up so he could tie the other end around the bedposts; a bit slack, but so I couldn't pull my arms back towards my torso. He then tied my ankles together, and tied them to the bottom corner post of my bed. It wasn't a really strict tie; and I could have easily gotten out of it if I had been in the mind to do so. But Stan wasn't part of the group of friends I had several years ago, who liked playing Escape Artist games, so I just figured that he didn't know how to tie well. But, I just wasn't in the mood to bother. I just laid there, wearing a T-shirt and track pants; barefoot.
Stan got up, and put one of my video tapes in my VCR, and then climbed back onto my bed with my remote, and several of my "tickle-tools" with him. He lifted my feet into his lap, facing generally away from me. The slack was taken up a bit, so it would have taken at least come concerted effort to pull my feet away, but I just didn't care. He hit the play button on the VCR, and a movie started playing. I recognized the intro immediately as one of my corniest comedy movies.
"Stan, I'm not really in the mood for that right now," I said, as I felt him tie my big toes together with some string.
"No fear, man," he said. "I'll make you get lots of laughs at this."
I really couldn't stand the thought of laughing at the horrible puns and sight-gags of that video (I can't remember what movie it was at the moment), and the thought made me kind of grouchy.
"Dude, no! Not that!" I groaned, now starting to struggle a bit.
But in response, he started running my hairbrush up and down my soles. I flinched, but had no choice to start giggling. After chuckling my way through the credits, Stan stopped tickling. At least I wasn't frowning any more, as I waited in reluctant anticipation. I pretty much knew when he was going to attack, and before long, I was starting to giggle a bit when I knew a pun was coming up, even before Stan started to tickle my feet with his fingers, the hairbrush, or a feather (sometimes the tip between, or along the bases of my toes, or along where my arch met the ball of my feet; and sometimes with the quill end along my arches, heels and sides of my feet. I was laughing like crazy, but not seriously trying to pull away. I loved getting tickled, and I was starting to realize that this was exactly what I needed right now.
Stan kept on forcing me to laugh at even the worst pun or sight gag in the movie all throughout it. When it got to the humorous climax, he made use of what I taught him about Shoelaces between the toes to thread the four shoelaces that I had now between all of my toes; to my hysterical laughter - my toes are the most ticklish part of my body. When the long slapstick scene started, he began sawing the laces back and forth between my toes.
It was as if it wasn't just my toes being tickled; it felt like the tickling was come from everywhere on my feet. I was laughing and squirming like crazy. I lost track of the movie, until the end credits were running. It still felt like Stan was running those laces between my toes, but he was sliding up towards my head, grinning. The laces were lying on the bed, next to my feet.
I was definitely out of my mood, and the two of us smiled at each other.
"Thanks," I said, still breathing heavily and chuckling a bit.
"Did I say I was done?" he exclaimed.
I groaned laughingly, as Stan changed the video to one of his favourites (not one that I particularly cared for.) He laid down the opposite way on my bed, with his bare feet facing me, and my ankles tucked under his arm. He periodically tickled my feet on and off throughout the movie, forcing me into states between hysteria and cringing anticipation randomly throughout the over two hours of the movie. He was probably aware of how he was taunting me with his own bare soles facing right at me as he moved them around occasionally; or, he might have been ignorant of it. But either way. By the time the movie was over, and he untied me, I was in a good mood. A few minutes rest later, and I was ready to cook some supper for Stan and I.
Dorain
cadre_istari@hotmail.com
http://www.fortunecity.com/victorian/richmond/590/tta/
Canada
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Dorain's stories
- 01 - Young Escape Artists (m/m)
- 02 - A Teen recollection (m/m)
- 03 - Barrett's Secret (ff/m)
- 04 - Brice's Rude Awakening (m+/m)
Index of all stories in the "Archive for Everyone" section