User: Joeyrose

http://www.misterpoll.com/polls/359294 go to it!

http://www.misterpoll.com/polls/359294 awesome poll!!!!!!!!!!!!

i think you should make a poll just like that but about tickling kids

This is about my almost-step-brother. You see, I have a step-dad who never married my mom. So he’s not really my dad by blood or marriage. Anyway, their relationship didn’t last and he now has a new family – a wife and a young step-son named Cain.

Cain is tall for his age and is very thin with short - usually spiky – blonde hair and blue eyes. He is very nervous and timid, not to mention – of course – ticklish. A key thing to understand is the following. He had wanted to borrow a game of mine (x-men legends for the PS2) and - as it was a brand new game at the time - I refused. I had tickled him from time to time and he had picked up on the fact that I found this amusing. As a result of this he used it as a bargaining-chip. This began with a few minutes of tickling but I refused this and built it up a little. Before I knew where we were he had offered me the right to tickle him whenever I wanted without complaint from him. I snatched this up and it led to the following story – among many others.

“I’m bored.” Said Cain from the top bunk bed.

I was in his room, playing a game I had brought from home - Kingdom Hearts for those who wish to know.

“Isn’t that a shame?” I replied sarcastically.

Something soft thumped my head in response. Immediately pausing the game,

I turned to him.

“Don’t do that.” I said simply.

After turning back to my game, however, I received another stuffed animal related assault.

“I say again - don’t do that.

“Or else what?” He asked $%!@ily.

“Do you really want to push me?” I questioned, turning around again and receiving another soft toy in the face.

To this I only smiled.

“What?” He asked, seeming suddenly nervous.

“You once gave me the right to tickle you whenever I wanted, and promised that you wouldn’t complain.”

“…Yes.”

“I invoke that right.”

“…What does invoke mean?”

“I’m taking my right to tickle you now.”

“Now?”

“Right this very moment.” I stood as I said this and tightly closed the door to the room.

“Okay.”

“I’ll start with your feet. Take off your socks.”

As a boy who had always been raised that a promise is a promise, he dutifully removed the last of the protection on his feet to reveal the long, thin bone structure concealed within. Long toes and high arches. Not bad for a victim who had simply fallen into my lap.

Some of you may find this hard to believe but I swear to you that every word is true. Except - of course - from the adaptations such as names and specific wording.

Pulling his feet onto my lap I instructed him, “You have to keep your feet here and you can’t pull them away.”

“Yeah, okay.”

Savouring the moment of the calm before the storm, I slowly placed my fingers on his bare soles and took the time to notice how soft and smooth the skin was. Also the strange fact that one sole was warm and the other was cold. I remembered that he had been sitting half-cross-legged, with one foot beneath him.

‘Okie dokie.’ I thought to myself, ‘I’m now done savouring.’

With that, I began tickling. Quick scrabblings, mostly using my fingernails, have always been my style and, beginning at the heels, I instantly found it to be satisfactory. His left foot - which I already knew to be the most ticklish - drew back slightly.

“Hey.” I warned.

“Sorry.” He whispered, struggling to force his foot toward the source of his tickle-torture.

His arches are the most ticklish areas of his feet and I decided that I would like to leave them for the moment. So I moved along the outer edges of his soles until I was tickling the little toe on each foot. I’ve noticed that whilst most people curl their toes when being tickled, Cain has a tendency to pull them back. Again I thank some cosmic force for dropping this gift into my life. I spend a little more time tickling his toes and watching him try to withstand it. He doesn’t laugh either. Or smile. In fact, he frowns. He makes a face of concentration and puts much of his mental faculties into resisting his torment, breathing heavily and irregularly. I listen for a moment as he sucks in breath quickly and processes it into energy for fighting the desire to pull his unbound feet from their hellish predicament, before letting it out in little bursts and replacing it with a new air supply.

Moving to the insteps of his feet I climb the ticklishness scale and make him gasp abruptly. I only linger there for a moment before finally tickling his arches. A yelp and a reflex later leaves my lap a little lighter. He had moved his feet. Both of them!

“Sorry again.” He said apologetically.

“Well that’s twice now, so we have to take things up a gear.”

“What do you mean?” He asked a little apprehensively.

“Well let’s put it this way - If you keep failing like this then you won’t be able to take it and I’ll need to hold you still.” As this was said I reached onto the floor and gathered something I had seen earlier

“What’s that?”

I showed him. He was confused at first by the knee-pad. It was for skating, what did it have to do with tickling?

“Put your feet back there” I said, pulling the velcro strap around so that the rough part was facing out. He complied, still a little confused. At that point I placed the velcro onto his soles, noticing how perfectly it fit his arch, and began to pull it up and down between the heel and toes of his left foot. He jerked back in an instant. “I think you should hold my ankles.” He said, not wanting to fail again in fear of my finding something even worse than velcro.

“Okay then.” I answer as my grip settles firmly around his tiny ankle. This allows me to scrub furiously at his bare sole without his reflexes stealing away the ticklish flesh. His reaction was remarkably more intense than before as he squeezed his eyes closed and gritted his teeth, constantly shifting his weight about slowly as though movement would - by some miracle - remove him from his torment. The superior ticklishness of his left foot appeared to be on a ratio as opposed to a predefined value in comparison to his right foot. This I deduce from the fact that his right foot, despite providing a satisfying desperation, failed to compare - even in the remotest sense - to the panic in his eyes as I released his foot, only to take a grip of his left ankle.

This was proved to be justified as he yelped and desperately wriggled his entire leg, unsure of whether to attempt an escape or just get it over with. Had he retained power over his leg I doubt that he would have moved at all from fear of suffering further vengeful attacks from my velcro implement of doom.

“How much longer?” He asked modestly.

“We’ll see.” I answered mysteriously.

Unfortunately, the soles of a person’s feet are the quickest place to immunise themselves from the sensation of tickling and so I was forced to move on.

“Okay, now lie back.” I said with authority, further instructing him to take a hold of the bed frame and not let go regardless of how badly it tickled. I had - apparently - neglected to cover everything as was evidenced when he reflexively pulled himself along the mattress and succeeded in protecting his underarms.

“Kay, hold on.” I said to him as I pulled him back into place and settled myself onto his hips, locking him in place before I lifted his t-shirt up slightly.

Again deciding to leave the best until last, I chose to neglect his armpits for a short while longer, opting to tickle around his waist and tummy.

A weak and drawn out “…ahhhh-ahh-ah…” was all he could manage at that moment as he jerked, bucked and twisted as best as he was able. Encouraged by this I began to tickle faster until my fingertips were a blur. This proved to be highly successful. “Will it be much longer?” He breathed with his eyes closed tightly.

“Yes.” was my simple answer.

“Please stop.” He whined.

“I asked you to stop throwing things at me didn’t I?”

“Yeah.” He responded, clearly becoming desperate.

“And did you?”

“…”

Moving up to his ribs during this silence seemed to be a bit of a shock to his flesh as he realised that I was drawing ever closer to his ultimate torture area.

“No. I didn’t…”

Granting him a momentary mercy, I returned to the tickling of his tiny waist and experimented with his sharp little hips. The acute arching of his back spoke for itself.

“I’m sorry.”

Considering this I decided that he might decide to cower out of this torture if I continued much longer. I decided to try to motivate him to continue suffering.

“Okay. I’ve paid you back for the first thing you threw at me,” I began, “and I accept your apology for the second.”

His eyebrows quivered as he worked out the math behind this and realised where it was leading.

“There was a third toy you threw, wasn’t there?”

“…I don’t remember.”

“I hope you’re not trying to get out of this by pretending you don’t remember.”

“…” I had to wait a moment with a stern look on my face to attain a response to this one, “I am.”

“And after you promised…” I trailed away, letting it play on his conscience.

“I’m very sorry.”

“I had just forgiven you and cut out a third of your punishment too.”

“I’ll take the rest of it I promise…again.” This last was whispered.

“I hope so.” I whispered in return, lifting his t-shirt completely out of the way, revealing a skinny ribcage and bald underarms upon which I advanced.

“Oh no!” He moaned as he realised that it was time.

It took only a few seconds of light tickling before he lost his grip on the bed frame and covered his torso with his arms.

Feigning a shocked look a gasped, “Right after you promised - again!”

Looking deeply ashamed he lowered his eyes and said, “Wait. Let me up for a minute.”

Obeying mostly out of curiosity I allowed him to stand and watched as he fiddled with his schoolbag and produced a pair of handcuffs.

Once again I realise that this story is almost impossible to believe but this is how it all played out on that day.

“Where did you get those.”

“I bought them with my pocket money.”

“I said ‘where’.”

“A toy shop somewhere.”

He had never been one to pay attention. I hadn’t seen them well at that point but guessing from experience I said to him,

“They have those release levers on them.”

“How can you see those from there?” He asked, “Anyway I won’t press them I double promise. I’ll take all of it no matter how much torture it is.”

“And you can’t make noise.” I said to him on account of his parents in the next room.

“Okay.” He said after an uncertain pause.

Back in place we were ready to begin. He was restrained and exposed and my hands were at the ready. I took a few moments to appreciate my incredible fortune…and then set my fingers in motion. A soft yelp and I knew this would be fun.

“You just promised to stay quiet.” I hissed.

“Sorry.”

Picking up the pace, I forced him to writhe and pull at his restraints, while biting his lip to keep from screaming out as my searing fingers kissed his sensitive flesh over and over again. This was the first time I had ever tickled his armpits without ever moving to another area to give him a break.

Another groan captured my attention.

“Cain…” I warned.

“I’m sorry,” he giggled with a muted hysterical tinge to his voice.

I couldn’t believe it. This was the first time I had ever elicited a laughing response from him.

“Please stop.” He barked softly, not trusting himself to draw out the sentence any longer than necessary.

“You just said-”

“I know but please.”

“You double promised.”

“Please.”

“I’ve already let slide a third of your torture. The only way I’ll stop now is if you take the whole thing next time I’m up here and it’ll all be in your armpits. So you’ll suffer longer and it’ll be much worse.”

He continued to struggle with his torment as he considered my proposal. Sure it would be much, Much, MUCH worse, but it wouldn’t be now. Then again if he couldn’t take this then how would he endure it later in it’s amplified form?

“Okay, keep going.” He gasped.

I happily obliged and continued tickling him into desperate silent hysterics.

“Ah, this is a pain…It’s really tickly…It tickles so much…Oh god this is torture…” It went on as he desperately tried to gather some shred of pity and therefore mercy.

Finally bending I decided to stop and finished on a bit of a cliché, “Let that be a lesson to you.”

do you have a slipper fetish or just a foot fetish???