Night Owl's Stories
Elise by Night Owl
Elise
You begin to awaken just as I am tightening the last strap around your ankle. You try to lift your head, but your mind is still hazy from the chloroform. We are in my cellar, alone, hidden from the rest of the world. Cobwebs drape down from the pipes along the ceiling above you. Dust covers everything and the smell of it hangs thick in the air. You are tied spread-eagled to a large, hardwood table. Your arms and legs are stretched taut and fastened to each corner of the table with leather straps. In one dark corner, your dress and bra lie crumpled on the floor. The only article of clothing left on your body is a tiny red thong. The first pull of the restraints sobers you, and the sudden loss of freedom sends you into a panic. Your screams are muffled by the gag around your mouth. Never before have you felt so vulnerable, so helpless.
I approach the table and gaze down at my beautiful captive. You have a very slender, well-toned body, with light almond-colored skin that looks flawless in the dim candlelight. Your long, amber hair falls loosely over the table's edge. I take a long moment to drink in the sight of you. I want to remember every detail - the shallow outlines of your ribs, the fullness of your breasts, the way your pouting lips frame the leather gag. Your nipples begin to stiffen from a chill, or is it the moment? I have to resist the urge to reach down and touch them.
You watch helplessly as my eyes trace the smooth, open curves of your inner thighs. You try to bring your legs together, but the restraints keep them stretched tightly apart. The front of your skimpy thong just barely covers access to the most intimate part of your body. I run my palm up the length of your leg and marvel at how silky-smooth your skin is, even your underarms show no sign of hair stubble. Then I wonder. This urge I cannot resist. Slowly, I push my index finger underneath your thong. You draw a quick breath in response. My suspicions are correct - all of your pubic hair is shaved off. This brings many possibilities to mind, considering what I have planned for you.
You breathe a sign of relief when I pull my hand away. Your beautiful brown eyes follow me as I reach under the table and pull out a long, black peacock feather. The sight of it raises your fear to a new level of anxiety. Desperately you begin to pull on the restraints, but your futile actions only act as my inspiration. I hold the feather directly over your body so you can get a good, long look at it. The moment is intense. Your breathing quickens and your heart beats faster as tortured anticipation builds inside you. Then, starting at the wrist, I slowly drag the feather down the length of your arm, passing the delicate crease in front of the elbow. My movements are slow and deliberate. A slight gasp leaves your lips. Only the tip of the feather makes contact, leaving goose flesh on your smooth almond skin. You try to speak, but the gag silences you. In time, I will be pushing you to the very limits of your endurance.
I drag the feather past your elbow down to your open underarm. Here I change techniques, tickling the sensitive curves there with quick, agonizing strokes. Rolling your head from side to side, you resist the urge to giggle. I continue to tickle the hollows of your armpits, switching from one to the other, while watching you squirm provocatively on the table. Silence in the room is broken only by your tortured breaths and the sounds of the leather straps rubbing together as you struggle.
After giving your captive limbs the full treatment, I let the feather travel down the sides of your upper body and across your ribs. Giggling uncontrollably now from behind the gag, you try to twist away, but my actions are relentless. The agony of being unmercifully tickled is matched only by your frustration, for each pull of the restraints reminds you of how truly helpless you are. I drag the feather across the flat plane of your stomach. You are very ticklish here, and your tummy quivers as I dip the feather in and out of your shallow navel several times. Tortured laughter leaves you gasping for air. I watch the swells of your breasts rise and fall with each strained breath. Bending your head back, you unknowingly expose the tender curves of your neck, so I seize the opportunity and I draw the feather up to the underside of your chin. You cry out passionately. Now anguish melts into pleasure. Your muffled protests continue to fill the room, but your growing arousal slowly betrays you.
I decide to take a chance and remove the leather gag. The rush of cool air around your mouth brings some relief. Breathing heavily, you beg me to stop this wicked torment, not realizing that this is exactly the response had I'd hoped for. I ignore your pleas and hold the feather directly over your chest so you can see it. Your bare breasts are hopelessly defenseless with your arms bound so tightly. You try to look away but my teasing gesture keeps your eyes glued to the feather. After a long pause, I run the tip around the base of each breast, establishing my dominance over them by using a series of quick and slow strokes. Your swelling nipples beckon me for attention, so I move the feather inward and trace the soft edges of your aureole. You respond with a shudder and a long sigh. I begin to tickle both nipples lightly with the feather tip, starting slowly at first, a flick every second or so, and then picking up the pace until your mind is completely absorbed in the moment. Arching your back, you try to push your breasts upward to receive more attention. I reward the effort by giving them a few final swipes with the feather before giving you a rest.
After several seconds, your breathing begins to slow and your mind clears. You watch me, wide-eyed, as I walk to the end of the table where your bare feet are strapped and waiting. Panic sets in again. I lightly touch the feather to the bottom of your right foot. Instinctively you jerk your leg against the restraint. I continue to stroke the bottom of your foot, starting at the sole, across the bridge, then up between your toes. I can tell by your reaction that you have never been tickled like this before. The sound of your laughter is encouraging. You desperately try to twist your foot away, but I follow your movements easily, while remaining in constant contact with your skin. Your body twists and turns seductively with every touch of the feather. You wonder how long you'll be able to take this torment without going crazy. I give you several short breaks, only to begin again as soon as you catch your breath. After several minutes, you become more accustomed to the sensation, so I proceed to tickle the other foot. You only make a weak attempt to avoid it this time.
By now, the tension and pleasure have exhausted you. Your sides hurt terribly from the strained laughter. But the ordeal is far from over. I work the feather up the inside of your leg, taking a moment to tickle the crease behind your knee, then proceed to your upper thigh. You respond with a twist of the hips, a slight bend of the knee, as much movement as the leather straps will allow. My attention is drawn to the subtle play of the smooth muscles inside your thighs. I drag the feather across them too. Between gasps, you make another plea for my mercy, telling me that you cannot breathe. The desperation in your voice almost convinces me to release you, but that moment soon passes.
I pause briefly to let you rest again, while eyeing your tiny red thong. The strings around your hips leave little to the imagination and the front just barely covers the fleshy folds around your shaved cleft. I place the tip of the feather against the underside of your buttocks, then drag it upward along the edge of your thong past the inner thigh and around your pelvic bone. Your pleading stops, and you encourage me with a long hot sigh. I work the other side as well, tracing the line where your smooth skin meets the fabric. Soon this constant tickling, compounded by your inability to move, brings you to a level of sexual pleasure that you have never felt before. You finally relax and surrender both mind and body completely to my control. I put the feather down and reach under the table for a pair of scissors. You look at me knowingly. Our thoughts and desires are the same now. Quietly you lay there, helpless but anxious, as I prepare to remove the last article of clothing from your body.
I slide the scissors under the tiny string around your hip. The sudden cold steel against your body makes your skin tingle. I squeeze the blades together, and with a sharp 'snip', the string is cut. You feel the thong loosening around you. Another 'snip' releases the string from your other hip. I take hold of the thong and roughly pull it out from under you. The suddenness of my action makes your heart jump.
I gaze down at your naked pussy for the first time. You can almost feel my lusty stares upon your sex. Drained of all inhibitions and rational thought, your attention is focused on the orgasm building deep inside you. I flick the feather up and down the insides of your thighs again. Your breathing is more erotic now. I tickle you across the hips and around your shaved pussy, while carefully avoiding any direct contact. This sends you into a sexual frenzy that no one has ever seen in you before. Your hungry, wet lips are begging for my attention. I drag the tip of the feather up between your quivering folds and touch the head of your clitoris, stimulating hundreds of sensitive nerve endings there. You begin to moan and pump your hips violently, as though you were having passionate sex with an invisible lover. Sensing that you are on the edge of an orgasm, I give you one more swipe of the feather. The muscles around your thighs tense up. Bending your head backward, you cry out passionately as waves of pleasure spread throughout your whole body. Then you draw a long deep breath and become limp. I let you relax, but only for a moment.
You are exhausted, but your skin is now super-sensitive. It would take very little to bring you into another gut-wrenching orgasm. Quietly you lay there, eyes closed, unknowing as I slowly remove my clothes. When you open your eyes, you find me on the table leaning over you, face to face, my body close to your body but not quite touching it. My eager cock is just inches away from the sweet pleasure that I am about to experience. You struggle weakly as I slowly lower myself on top of you. Your soft, wet pussy gives in easily to my intrusion. I begin making slow, deep thrusts, maneuvering myself so that, each time, I touch new sensitive areas inside your body. Then I quicken my pace and you reward me with a deep, sexy moan. I feel a climax building up inside me, but I try to hold it in for just a while longer. By now you are reaching your second orgasm. Shifting your hips wildly, you begin rubbing your pussy around my throbbing cock, beckoning me to surrender my load. Then I reach the very limits of my endurance and you scream passionately as we both experience a mind-blowing climax.
I can feel your smooth body mold itself to mine as I lower myself on top of you. Your lips are warm and soft as you kiss me.
----------------------
"You were very convincing," you whisper to me, looking up, eyes bright, smiling.
"So were you, Elise," gently stroke your hair, "your pleading almost worked."
"Really?"
"Yeah, you sounded serious."
"Hum. You wouldn't be a very good kidnapper." You murmur as I kiss your neck.
"Yeah, yeah, I know."
The End
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