GayBondageFiction

A married man gets pulled over for speeding by a studly cop and must pay for his ticket with naked tickling session along with another twink inmate.
[ratings]

Montana Blue
by James West

I was driving along Highway 200 in the middle Montana when I saw the red lights in my rear view mirror. My heart skipped a beat. I pulled to the side of the road and waited.

Through the mirror, I watched as he stepped out of his black and white cruiser and sauntered toward my car. He was tall and rugged in his blue uniform. He looked like he was about six feet, four inches tall and weighed about two-twenty. I couldn’t help but notice the bulge in his trousers. Wearing his state trooper hat and sunglasses, he looked like the stereotypical handsome man-in-uniform. While I knew this could cost me money, I couldn’t help feeling somehow lucky that I was being pulled over by such a hot-looking guy.

I rolled down the window and nervously said, “Afternoon Officer.”

“Good afternoon,” he said as he pulled off his sunglasses, revealing a pair of piercing blue eyes. He was handsome, alright!

“You aware that you were driving fifty-three in a thirty-mile-an-hour zone?”

“No, that can’t be. I know I couldn’t have been going over thirty!”

“Boy, I clocked you at over fifty! Whattaya mean you couldn’t have been going over thirty?” he growled.

I knew there was no way he could have “clocked” me over fifty. “Uh, well, I couldn’t have been doing fifty-three. I noticed the thirty-mile-an-hour sign as soon as I got into town and remember checking my speedometer. I know I wasn’t doing any more than thirty.”

He glared at me and paused before he spoke. “You California tree-huggers may get away with that kinda shit in Pansy Francisco, but we don’t talk back to the law here in Montana!” he barked. He paused again. I could see his veins beginning to bulge.

“Get outta that car, motherfucker!” he screamed in my face. I just sat there, dumbfounded. He leaned into the car, his face, turning redder and redder, within an inch of mine. “I said, GET OUTTA THAT CAR, MOTH-ER, FUCK-ER!!” he blared in a slow, methodical, acid sing-song.

I slowly opened the door. My heart was beating louder in my ears. He stepped away from the door as I got out. He took off his hat and threw it on the ground. He had beautiful coal-black hair, still neatly combed despite the fact that he had been wearing the hat. He was strikingly handsome. Especially in the uniform.

“You knocked off my hat, fucker! Pick it up!!” he bellowed.

“What are you talking about?” I asked. This whole thing was starting to turn weird.

“Pick up my hat, you smelly little queer!” he shouted as he kicked my ass and pushed me to the ground. I was really getting scared.

My head hit the dirt in a cloud of dust. Before I knew what was happening, his boot was in my back and his handcuffs were on my wrists. I got the impression he had done this a few times before. He reached under my armpits and lifted me to my feet with ease. He pulled me over to his car, opened the door and threw me onto the back seat, face down. He slammed the door, got back into the front, slammed his door, started the engine, threw it into gear, and we were on our way. To who knew where. Or what.

I tried to sit up, but it was too difficult. So I just lay there, seeing (and smelling) nothing but the leather seat.

After a few minutes, the car came to sudden stop. He got out, opened the back door and pulled me out. He led me into an old single-story, stone-block building that looked like it was about 100 years old. The bars on the windows clued me in; he had taken me to jail.

Inside, there was one giant room, but I didn’t see a jail cell. There was a desk and a few chairs. He sat me down in one of the chairs, and took a seat behind the desk. He opened a book and started asking me questions.

“Name!” he shouted.

“I want to see a lawyer. Right now!” I shouted back.

“Don’t give me none of your shit, boy! What’s your fuckin’ name!”

“I want to see a…”

Before I had the chance to finish the sentence he climbed over the desk, grabbed me by the shirt and ordered me to “Shut the fuck up!” Then he pushed down on my neck, bent me over so that my chin touched my knees and straddled me so that I could feel his balls through his uniform against the back of my neck. That position hurt like hell. He proceeded to reach into my back pocket and take out my wallet.

“Guess if you’re gonna be uncooperative, I can just get what I want another way.” I didn’t like the way he said that.

After he wrote down everything he could from the book, he informed me that I was being charged with a moving violation – driving fifty-three in a thirty-mile-an-hour zone – and resisting arrest. I was entitled to one call. After he took off the cuffs, I called my wife.

“Please pick up!” I repeated over and over as the phone rang once, twice, three times, and on the fourth ring, to my dismay, the answering machine clicked on. “Honey, are you there?” I asked repeatedly to the dead silence, hoping that she was there and that she would hear me and pick up the phone. “Please pick up. It’s important. I’m in the middle of Montana and I’m in trouble. Are you there? I’m being arrested and held against my will we’re going to need a law…” I felt the phone pulled from hands. “Times up!” he said as he slammed down the receiver. “That was your one and only call.”

“No!” I shouted back. “You can’t do this. You have to let me call an attorney. You can’t do this!”

“I can do anything I want to, boy! This ain’t California!”

With that he cuffed my hands again and led me to a doorway on the far wall. He opened the door and led me down two flights of steps into a basement. Into a basement with two jail cells. He opened the door of one of the cells and pushed me in. I fell to the dirt floor. He closed the door behind me, locked it and walked away. I turned around and sat up. He looked at me through the bars with an evil grin.

“I’ll be back,” he said as he climbed the stairs. He turned out the light and I sat there handcuffed in the darkness. Wandering.

I woke up to the sound of banging metal. It took me a few minutes to realize where I was. My aching shoulders and the cuffs around my wrists reminded me of what had happened.

“It’s morning! Breakfast time, boy!” he yelled as he banged the metal tray against the bars. He opened the door put the tray on the floor and removed the cuffs. “Better eat up. You’re gonna need your strength.”

“I don’t want anything to eat.” I said. “I want to talk to an attorney!”

“That’s not possible. No attorney around here for about 75 miles.”

“You can’t do this. Please. Let me pay the fine and leave.”

“Oh, you’ll pay the fine alright. But you’re gonna stay here to do it.”

“My wife knows where I am. When she gets that message, she’s going to be coming for me. If you let me go now, I’ll pay the fine and we’ll forget all about this.”

“Does your wife also know that you read those magazines with naked guys in ’em?”

“What are you talkin’ about? Look, man, you better let me outta here right now!”

“Or what? You’re in no position to threaten anybody. You know, I found a whole bunch of queer magazines in the trunk of your car. Your wife know about them?”

“You had no right to search my car.”

“I thought so. You’re wife don’t know you’re queer does she?”

I sat there silently.

“Now if you don’t want your wife to know anything about them magazines, I suggest you be a good little boy and do as I say. Now eat your breakfast. You got fifteen minutes. If you don’t eat it by the time I come back down, I’m takin’ it away.”

I figured I better save up my strength, so I ate every bite. He came back down in fifteen minutes just like he said. He came in, picked up the tray and ordered me to stand up. He seemed even taller to me then. I stand five-foot eleven, and it looked to me like he was easily six-six. “Time for your sentencing!” he announced.

He led me back up the stairs and into the big room, sat me down in one of the chairs, went behind the desk, and opened a book.

“Where’s the judge?” I asked.

“You’re lookin’ at him, boy!”

Why was I not surprised?

For speeding in excess of twenty-three miles per hour, a two hundred, thirty-dollar fine or twenty-three hours of community service. For resisting arrest, a five-hundred-dollar fine, or fifty hours of community service. You can pay the bailiff and you’re free to go.” I didn’t see a bailiff, and I didn’t even ask.

“I don’t have that kinda money on me. Let me call my wife again, and I’ll get her to send it.”

“You already used you’re phone call. Now either pay up, or you’ll have to do the community service. Do you have the money or not?”

“I just told you I didn’t have it.”

“Then I guess it’s gonna be community service. And since there’s really not much of a community around here, I guess it’s gonna have to be something else! Court’s adjourned!”

He hit his gavel on the table, came around, pulled me to my feet and slapped the cuffs back on my wrists. Then he led me back down to the basement.

This time when we got down there, instead of leading me back into the cell, he pushed me to the right and through a doorway I hadn’t seen earlier. He switched on a light and I was shocked at what I saw inside the tiny room he had just pushed me into.

All along the walls there were hooks with chains hanging from them. Standing next to one wall was a cross with hooks to tie hands and feet. A wooden “X” in the corner with hooks for hands and feet. A set of old-fashioned sit-down wooden stocks along one wall, with a stand-up pillory right next to it. In the center of the room there was a wooden table, with hooks all around its perimeter. Above the table, there were two leather wrist cuffs hanging from chains which were attached to two pulleys secured to the ceiling beam.

On a chair next to the table lay the magazines he had lifted from the trunk of my car.

“Time for a little justice. Montana style!”

He came around in front of me, grabbed the neck of my t-shirt with both hands, and with one motion, pulled it apart. He grinned and admired his handiwork as he inspected my sweat-soaked, heaving, muscular hairy chest. He pulled what was left around my back and off. Still cuffed, I was stripped to the waist.

“What are you doing?” I moaned.

“Shut up!” he ordered as he started to started to unlace my sneaker. He pulled off first my left shoe, then my right. “No money for the fine, no community service, you gotta pay up another way, he said as he undid my belt. He loosened the snap, pulled down the zipper and shoved my jeans down around my ankles.

“Step outta those pants!” he ordered. I did as I was told.

I knew that things were getting scary, but I knew they were going to get worse when he noticed the bulge in my briefs. “Thought you might enjoy this, you pansy!” he snarled as he pinched my left nipple. I groaned as the pain shot through my chest. And down to the bulge in my briefs.

“Get up on this table!” he barked as he pulled a chair over for me to step onto. I stepped into the chair and then onto the table. I had to duck to keep from hitting my head on the ceiling beam.

“Kneel down!” he snapped again. I did as I was told and knelt down on the hard wood of the table.

He swatted the front of my thighs and ordered me to move back so that my socked feet hung, toes down, over the edge of the table. Again I did as I was told.

He stepped up onto the table in front of me and with his crotch pushed into my face, he leaned over behind me and unlocked the cuffs. With ease, he pulled up my right arm and wrapped the leather cuff around my wrist. Then he did the same with my left wrist. I was kneeling on the table, practically naked in just my white socks and white briefs, arms stretched out and above me, wrists restrained. He jumped off the table, went over to the wall and hit a switch. I heard the whirring sound of electric motors, and in an instant, my arms began to slowly stretch outward and upward, exposing my hairy armpits. I groaned from the pain in my shoulders. He stopped it just as my knees began to leave the table.

“This gettin’ you a little excited there boy?” he asked as he rubbed the palm of his hand up and down, over the bulge in my underwear. “Got a little bit o’ moisture there too! Yeah, this is gonna be fun for both of us, I see.”

He pulled out a bag from under the table and laid it on top of the table in front of me. He unzipped the bag and pulled out a few strands of rope. He came around to my right side, tied one end of the rope to my bent knee, pulled my knee outward toward the edge of the table, and then secured the other end of the rope to a hook there. Came around to my left side and did the same thing there. Stretched out like that, my cock and balls felt extremely vulnerable. But the bulge got bigger and bigger. And the wet spot got bigger and bigger.

He got up on the table, sat down in behind me, and with one fell swoop he tore off my briefs just as he had done with my t-shirt. Now, I was naked except for my white socks. I trembled and let out a gasp as his hands made their way down over my chest, fingers teasing my nipples to complete hard, pointy erection, fingers lightly walking down to my belly, then back up my sides into my sweaty armpits. I was scared, but excited at the same time. I had a full-on hardon by now.

“You like that don’t you? I thought so.”

He jumped off the table and grabbed a couple more strands of rope. He pulled my left sock just down to my heel exposing my ankles. Then, he tied the rope around my ankle, pulled it over to the corner of the table, and secured the other end of the rope to a hook there. He pulled down my right sock, exposed that ankle, wrapped another piece of rope around my ankle and tied it off the same way. Just as he had done with my knees.

He came around in front of me, sat down in the chair and admired his handiwork. “You look pretty good all strung up like that! You like being stripped down and strung up like that boy, don’t you?”

“Yes sir, I do!” I found myself whispering without even thinking.

“I thought so.” he said as he picked up one of the magazines he had gotten from my trunk. “These magazines all have stories and pictures of guys naked and all tied up. You like lookin’ at those pictures, don’t ya boy?”

“Yes sir, I do!”

“You want to be naked and tied up like them, don’t you boy?”

“Yes sir, I do!”

“I noticed something peculiar about these magazines, boy. Every single one of them has a story about some guy gettin’ stripped down, tied up and tickle-tortured! You like that, boy?”

“Yes sir, I do!”

“You want me to tickle and torture you boy?”

“Yes sir, I do!”

“Well, I’m gonna make you sweat and squirm for a long time, boy. You ever been tied up and tickled for real, boy?”

“No sir!”

“I don’t think you know just how intense that can be. You don’t have a clue as to what you’re in for, do ya boy?”

“No sir!”

“Well, you’re about to find out! Here’s how it’s gonna work. For every dollar of that fine, you gotta endure one minute of intense tickling! That means, right now you gotta stand seven hundred, thirty minutes of torture! You think you can take over 12 hours of tickling, boy?”

“I guess I’m gonna have to if I wanna pay that fine, sir!”

“That’s the right attitude, boy. Now get ready to suffer!”

He picked up a chair and set it on top of the table directly in front of me. Then he climbed up onto the table, sat in the chair, licked his thumb and forefinger and started lightly stroking/pinching/teasing my nipples. The sensation sent electricity through my body, down to my cock, which got harder the minute his fingers grazed my areola. I squirmed and tugged at the ropes; partly to test them, and partly because his tickling fingers on my sensitive nips were starting to drive me crazy.

“You like that don’t ya, boy?” he whispered.

“Yes, sir. I like it a lot!”

“I thought you might. I’m gonna see just how much you like it, boy. I’m gonna put you to the test!”

“Yes, sir.” I sighed through the laughter that was starting to make its way from my quivering lips.

“Let’s see how ticklish those ribs of yours are, boy!”

“No….”

Before I could get out a plea, he started lightly running his fingers up and down, over my bare ribs, from hips to pits. I squirmed and tugged at the tight ropes and let out loud groans of laughter.

“Yeah, that’s right, boy. Let’s hear some laughter. Like to watch you squirm as I torture you!”

“No. Stop! I can’t take it! No….”

“Yeah, that’s it. Beg for me, boy!”

My begging only seemed to make it worse. He continued his assault on my ticklish sides, moving faster and more furious with each stroke. When he started into my exposed, helpless armpits, I thought I was gonna lose it right there. It wasn’t until he could see I couldn’t catch my breath that he finally let up.

“Please untie me and stop tickling me. I’ll do anything you say. Please.”

“Why? Looks like you’re enjoying this, boy. And I know you want more.”

My hard, throbbing, dripping cock gave away the fact that I was, in fact, enjoying the feeling of helplessness and the intense tickling I was getting. It was unbearable and yet, I did want more. Little did I know that I was about to get far more than I ever wanted.

He jumped off the table, took the chair down, reached under the table and pulled out a black leather bag. He put the bag on the table in front of me. I looked down as he unzipped the bag and pulled out a number of things. First a hairbrush, then a paint brush, a feather duster, a toothbrush, ball point pens, a back scratcher, and a few pieces of sand paper. He laid them on the table in front of me.

“I’m gonna use every single one of these on you and drive you absolutely crazy!” he said with a grin. “And the ones that work the best, I’m gonna use those the longest.”

I tugged at the ropes again. This time to see if I could get loose. I’d always fantasized about being stripped down, strung up and mercilessly tickled, but I wasn’t really sure how much I could take. I wanted out. But it was out of my control.

He picked up the chair and the feather duster, and a few of the brushes, and moved behind me. I looked over my shoulder and watched as he put the chair down at the end of the table between my bound bare feet.

“These feet ticklish, boy?”

“Oh, no. Please…”

“Oh yeah, I bet they are. Nice, long soles. What are they about a size twelve?”

“No, please… ahhhh!” I felt his fingers quickly trace a path up the length of my naked soles.

“I asked you what size feet you have, boy!”

“Twelve-and-a-half, sir. Sometimes wear a thirteen!”

“That’s better. You’ll learn to answer when I ask you something! Ummm. Mighty sexy feet you got here boy. Glad they’re ticklish. That’s gonna make ’em even more sexy! Watching those soles wrinkle and those long sexy toes wiggle as I tickle ’em! Let’s get started!”

“No, please don’t…. ahhhhh.”

I felt his fingers lightly grazing my bare soles, slowly, torturously tracing a path from heel to toe. Then he slowly circled my toes from top to bottom. I tugged at the ropes around my ankles to try to escape his tormenting fingers, but he had me tied down tight. My soles did wrinkle; my toes did wiggle as he continued to torture my hypersensitive bare feet.

After about five minutes of unrelenting torment, he finally stopped. But just long enough to grab a tooth brush and start working in between my toes. I thought I was gonna go through the roof! Then, he grabbed the hairbrush and while still working the toothbrush between my toes, he started slowly brushing my bare soles. I squirmed, screamed, laughed, begged and pleaded. But that only made it worse. He started going faster the more I begged him to stop.

After what seemed like an eternity, he finally stopped. I was gasping for breath as he came around to face me.

“Not bad, not bad at all. And hey, you’ve already used up fifteen minutes of your sentence! You’re doing better than I thought you would. Guess I’m gonna have to take things a little further here!”

“What could be worse?” I mumbled.

“Speak up boy!” he yelled as he slapped my hard cock.

“Ahhh! I said what could be worse, sir!”

“Well, I’m glad you asked!”

With that, he jumped back up on the table and started brushing my chest hair – just around the nipples – with the hairbrush, as he ran his fingers up and down my sides. I let out a yell, and started laughing and squirming as he tortured me even more furiously this time.

“Stick out your chest and take it like a man!” he yelled as I endured the most intense tickling I could ever imagine. Feverishly, he ran his fingers all over my ribs, pits, belly, and up and down, and all around my bare back as he continued to tease my nips with the hairbrush. I stuck out my chest as I was told. He dropped the brush, and, without missing a beat, started to lick my pointed nips while he continued to tickle my back. I could feel his tongue dancing over my nipple and his fingers glided up and down my spine, and over my ass. I let out a loud moan, and gave up all resistance as I hung helplessly from the ropes.

He continued torturing my torso and my feet for what I thought was at least eight hours. But when he finally untied me, he told me that I had only earned another four! He took me back to the cell and threw me on the floor.

I awoke naked on the floor of the cell the next morning bright and early to the sound of his banging on the cell bars. He had breakfast for me.

“Here, eat this boy! You’re gonna need your strength again today!”

He opened the door, put the tray into the cell and left. I took the tray and gobbled down the food in a matter of minutes. I was so hungry, I can’t even tell you what I ate. He came back for the tray. And for me.

He put handcuffs on me and led me down the hallway, and back into the dungeon. When I entered the room, I was shocked to see a young, tanned, blond boy, naked, gagged (with my torn underwear!) and bound in the stocks. His arms were stretched out tightly above his head, his wrists were tied with rope to a hook in the post behind him, and his ankles were locked into the stocks, his bare feet sticking out about a foot or so. He looked incredibly sexy. He moaned when he saw me as if he were crying out for my help. I was in no position to help him as I was naked and cuffed myself.

“I brought a friend for you, boy! You get to help me work off his fine!”

“What are you talking about?” I asked.

“He can’t pay his fine either so you’re gonna help me work it off! You’re gonna help me dish out the punishment!”

“No, I’m not gonna do it!”

“You don’t understand boy. I’m makin’ you a deal here. For every minute of punishment you help me dish out to this boy, I take off 10 minutes of yours!”

I had to admit that saving my own ass did sound pretty inviting. And the thought of joining in on this tied-up naked young stud sure helped me make up my mind. I agreed.

He took off my cuffs and sat me down in front of the stocks, so that the boy’s bare feet were shoulder level and arm’s length away from me. He grabbed his chair, went around behind the post, and sat down behind the boy. He reached around the post and grabbed the boy’s nipples. The boy’s head went back, he moaned through the gag, and his eyes half-closed as his nipples were twisted, pinched and pulled.

“OK, boy, when I tell you to, you start tickling his feet!”

“Yes sir!” I answered obligingly.

He dropped his hands from the boy’s nips, pulled his fingers to just above the boy’s sides – the boy had a look of terror in his eyes, knowing what was about to happen as he followed this movement – and then, with a ready-set-go, he yelled, “NOW!”

I started lightly fingering the boy’s bare soles, lightly from heel to toe, as he worked the boy’s ribs, up and down from hip to pit. Instant screams through the gag and the stocks were bouncing all over the place as our tormentive fingers put the boy though an unkind torture, the likes of which I have never seen, let alone been a party to. I could hear him laughing, screaming and begging, “NO!” through the gag as we continued to make him squirm. His toes wiggled and his soles wrinkled from the very instant my fingertips made contact with his naked feet. Ashamedly, I was extremely turned on, watching this boy squirm at my hands. Having remembered the previous day, and knowing what I was putting the boy through, made my dick get harder and harder with each stroke of his helpless bare feet!

We tortured him for about thirty or forty minutes, nonstop. The dirty underwear gag was removed about ten minutes into the session as the boy’s breathing was getting more and more labored with each torturous second. He was sweating and gasping for breath by the time we were through. But it was only the beginning for him.

The cop then forced me to kneel in front of the boy’s stocks. Another set of stocks was wheeled over to just a few yards in front of the boy’s feet, and my head and wrists were put into them. He spread my legs, tied each ankle and ran separate ropes to hooks in the bottom of the stocks which held me captive. I heard his belt buckle jingle. The next thing I know, I felt a sharp pain on my bare ass cheeks as his belt came whistling down on them!

“Work your way to his left foot!” he ordered as he brought the leather belt down, once again, on my bare ass. It took all the energy I could muster in this precarious position, but I managed to use my knees to “walk” and get the wheels of my stocks moving toward the boy’s left foot. With every “step” I took, my ass was whipped with the belt to give me encouragement. By the time I made it to his foot, my ass was red and burning hot!

The mansweat from the boy’s bare foot was beginning to penetrate my nostrils. The smell was absolutely intoxicating! The cop straddled my head and pushed my stocks back slightly, bringing my nose just millimeters away from the bare sole. He proceeded to whip my as he yelled “Get your nose on his foot boy!” I tried with all my might, but his legs were strong and he held me back. I could still smell the moist sweat of the boy’s foot, but I wanted to get closer.

I took the whipping for so long that I eventually went a bit crazy and pushed with all my might. I was finally able to break the cop’s hold as I wheeled forward and my nose was up against the boy’s foot. Once again, just at the base of the toes. He wiggled his foot as I touched it with my nose and released more of that wonderful moist sweaty foot smell. I inhaled deeply.

“Lick his sole!” he ordered as he brought the belt down over my bare back. I winced from the pain, but did as I was instructed, tonguing that boy’s bare sole wildly. I heard the boy giggle and his toes wiggled faster and faster from the tongue-tickling, as that smell continued to waft from his foot to my wanting nostrils.

I continued to lick as I got whipped. It was intense. He stopped the belt-lashing and pulled his chair around to sit in front of the bound boy. I couldn’t see what was happening, but I’m sure that he was torturing the boy’s torso. Once again, the stocks started bouncing all over the place. I moistened the boy’s sole, licking every square inch from heel to toe, lightly tickling his foot as I went along.

After another fifteen minutes or so of this, the cop left the room. I was left with my nose still buried in the boy’s foot. “Please don’t tickle me anymore!” he begged.

“I have to,” I replied. “It’s the only way either of are gonna get out of here!”

“Shut up you two lovebirds!” Just then the cop reentered the room. He had a cup of ice water for each of us. He wheeled me back and put the cup to my lips. I quaffed the water like a dog. I was parched from all the saliva I used on the boy’s foot.

“Hold this in your mouth!” he said as he stuffed an ice cube through my lips. He wheeled me back so that my mouth was once again pressed against the boy’s bare sole. He obviously intended to surprise the boy when he ordered, “Rub what’s in your mouth on this boy’s bare soles and toes!”

I did as I was told. The boy bucked and tried to pull his foot away as the ice-cold cube from my mouth grazed against his bare sole. I frantically shook my head up and down, rubbing the ice all over his foot, from heel to toe.

Then the cop got some ice out of his cup and got behind me to rub some on my bound bare soles. I jumped and jerked to move away from the intense sensation on my hypersensitive feet, but I was tied too tightly and could barely move. He slowly grazed each foot with that icy-cool tool of torment as I moaned through the cube in my mouth. While I continued to ice-torture the boy, I was receiving the exact same treatment from the cop. Then he moved from my feet, sat back down in the chair in front of the boy, and proceeded to torture the boys nipples, pits, ribs, belly and finally cock and balls with the ice that he had left. The screaming and pleading were deafening.

By the time all of the ice was melted, both of us were totally exhausted. He untied me first and brought me back to my cell. Then he brought the boy back to the cell next to mine and left us there. He turned off the light, and closed the door at the top of the stairs, leaving us alone and naked, in total darkness.

The boy was shaken. He asked me not to torture him anymore. I assured him I wouldn’t, even though I selfishly knew that I would because I hoped it could possibly buy my freedom. Not to mention the fact that I was completely turned on by it!

And I did torture him more over the next few days. And he and I were both tied naked in a variety of positions. Kneeling on the table as I was before. In the stocks again, but with elbows up, hands tied behind our necks. On the table, spread eagle on our backs. Standing tied to the wooden “X” and to the cross. On our bellies, hog-tied on the floor with the cop sitting in a chair above us, just tickling our bare feet. Tied to the pillory for some intense tickling from behind. And tied facing each other, kneeling on the table, with our wrists tied together above our heads while he tortured us both at the same time to see who would break first.

After a few more days of this, the cop told us that our sentences had been completed. We were given our clothes (or what was left of them) and told that we were free to go.

I got in my car a sped away. And I didn’t look back.

A few miles outside of town, I spotted a coffee shop and decided to stop for some lunch. As the waiter came by to offer me some coffee, I was surprised to see my young blond cellmate come walking through the door. He spotted me too and came over to say hello.

“Have a seat.” I offered. “Wanna join me for lunch?”

“Sure. Thanks. I was hoping I’d run into you again.”

“Really? Why?”

“I wanna get that cop back, and I figured you could help me!”

“No, I just want to get the hell out of here! He’s got some things on me and I’d just rather let it go.”

“He told me about the bondage magazines in your trunk. But he doesn’t have anything on me!”

“So that means…”

He interrupted. “It means that if I tell enough people about what he did to us, he can get in a lotta deep shit! That dungeon alone could get him put away for twenty years!”

“Yeah, I see what you mean.”

“So you’ll go back there with me, and help me get him into that dungeon so we can give him a taste of what he gave us?”

“Oh yeah!” I answered. Just the thought of forcing that cop to strip naked, getting him all tied up in that dungeon and making him sweat and squirm was putting quite a bulge in my jeans!

We shook hands just outside the coffee shop. On our way to enact a little justice. Montana style!

James West

The now naked super hero is strapped down to a table, sexually tortured with electricity and milked for the DNA in his cum by Mayhem and his men in the conclusion to The End of the Defender.
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The End of the Defender – Conclusion
by Todd Fleming
Series: The End of the Defender

The Defender collapsed on the floor of the abandoned warehouse weeping as the cameras were turned off. He had not only been defeated, but his secret identity has been exposed to the general public. His confidence as well as his powers had been taken away from him and now naked, helpless, and humiliated, the hero could only wait to see what his nemesis had in store for him now.

Mayhem walked over to his prisoner and grabbed his hair. “It looks like you have been defeated little hero,” He smirked rubbing his victory in the crying hero’s face.

Glaring at the villain through his tears, The Defender sniffled as he tried to put himself together. “Are you going to kill me now?” He said whining. The hero tried to make his voice sound defiant, but it came out as a pathetic squeak.

“That would be too easy, little man. I have bigger plans for you!” Mayhem purred as he patted the pretty hero’s cheek. The villain dropped The Defender back on the floor as he turned and addressed his goons. “Take our guest to the laboratory. It’s time to finish what we came here to do!”

A chill ran through the hero’s body as he was surrounded by Mayhem’s henchmen. The grabbed his muscular arms and helped him to struggle to his feet. Being naked around clothed men made the hero more self conscious of his lack of clothing. The chains around his chest rattled and the glow of the cursed red rock seemed to become even brighter nestled between the muscles of his pecs.

The Defender gave no resistance as he was taken off of the stage and out of the room. Every movement caused pain from his reddened ass, still throbbed from his earlier punishment. The thugs half carried him down the hallway and into a room on the other side of the building.

The hero looked in shock as he entered this room. It looked like a laboratory like Mayhem said. There was a medical exam table in the center of the room with lots of fancy looking equipment surrounding it. The Defender’s blood ran cold as he wondered what was in store for him now.

The henchmen led him to the table and lifted his muscular body up so that he lay on the table. The fabric of the table felt good on his sore ass and the hero put up no resistance as they restrained him to the exam table. After making sure that the weakened hero was completely secure, the henchmen smirked and left the room leaving The Defender alone with his grief.

The Defender strained with all of his might to break free from the restraints, but the red rock chained to his chest made him as weak as a kitten. He looked around at the machines around him as the icy feeling in his stomach grew.

After what seemed like an eternity, Mayhem entered the laboratory wearing a doctor’s coat followed by two of his goons. “Let’s see how our patient is doing!” Mayhem giggled to his ‘assistants’.

The two henchmen walked over to the helpless hero and took his vital signs. Wondering what was in store for him now, The Defender closed his eyes as his body was poked and prodded.

Feeling a sharp slap to his face, the hero opened his eyes to see Mayhem’s huge grin filling his vision. “I know you are just dying to know what I have in store for you next!” The villain laughed. “I plan on harvesting your DNA for research. With time, I will be able to use it to clone my own superpowered henchmen that will help me take over the world!”

The Defender gasped as he stared in horror at his arch-nemesis. If the madman succeeded in this, he would be unstoppable. Even if he were somehow able to escape and get his powers back, there would be no way that he could stop an army of superpowered villains. The hero fought against his bondage trying with all his might to summon his once legendary strength to stop his DNA from being harvested. In his weakened condition, it would be easy for Mayhem to take his blood.

The villain cackled as he watched the useless struggles of his prisoner. His goons stood by ready for their next orders as the hero tried to break his bonds and the villain laughed in his ear.

“I know what you are thinking, little man!” Mayhem whispered in his ear. “How am I going to take your DNA? Oh I could just take your blood, but that is boring. I have a much amusing way to extract the secrets of your powers.”

With a snap of his fingers, the henchmen started working on the machines. The Defender watched in horrific confusion as each thug placed some kind of lead on each of his nipples. The leads each led back to one of the machines near his head.

Mayhem went to the machine and pressed a button. The hero gasped as a small jolt of electricity went through the leads on his nipples. It was not enough to hurt him, but The Defender felt a small tinge of pleasure from the small shock.

“I bet that felt good, didn’t it?” Mayhem said with a giggle. “Always spending your time fighting men like me and not taking care of the pleasures of your body. Well tonight, you will finally learn to relax and enjoy your life in captivity!”

Another small jolt of electricity hit his nipples and the hero let a small groan escape from his lips. he shouldn’t be enjoying this, but his body had a mind of his own and enjoyed the pleasure of the jolts.

With a signal from their boss, one of the henchmen applied a third lead in the center of The Defender’s low hanging ball sack. The hero craned his neck to see what was happening to one of him most private areas. Once he was finished, Mayhem sent another electric shock through the leads.

The hero almost purred as his nipples and balls were massaged by the electricity. He could feel his monster cock come to life as his erogenous zones were being assaulted. The Defender looked at the laughing villain in horror. “You want to extract my seed!” He gasped as another shock caressed his nipples and balls.

“I was wondering when you would finally put it together!” Mayhem laughed. “What better way to make my clones than to use your neglected baby juice! All that pent up sexual energy that you never used will be used against you to help me take over the world.”

“You won’t get away with this!” The Defender gasped as another jolt ran through his body. His cock was half hard and part of him wanted this to happen. It had been years since he had sex with another woman and now that his body was being manipulated the sexual suppression fought against his mind.

Mayhem laughed at his resolve as he increased the frequency of his electronic assaults. The hero tried to fight his cock coming to life, but the electric shocks were too much for him to ignore. His cock slowly came to life as the need to get sexual release became stronger and stronger.

The Defender watched with horror as his cock hardened completely and rose like a flag. His eight inches of glory mocked his attempts to calm it into submission. One of the henchmen took out a strange cylinder and placed it over the monstrous cock. The material molded itself around his cock tightly and the hero began to feel a light suction on the head of his cock.

The combination of the suction and the electric jolts sent The Defender’s senses into overdrive. He moaned like a bitch in heat as the hardness of his cock increased and precum started to leak from the head. The suction sucked every drop of his precum and it went through the tubing into one of the machines near his feet.

The hero looked at the smirking Mayhem as licked his lips. “Please don’t do this to me!” He begged between his moans. “Haven’t you done enough to me?”

The villain ignored him and watched with glee as more and more precum was sucked from te hero’s cock and into the machine.

The Defender tried to think of things that would be a turn off for him, but his lack of release over the years refused to be denied once more. His cock throbbed under the pressure of the suction while his nipples and balls basked in the pleasure the shocks were giving him.

The hero felt a building of pleasure deep in his balls that made him cry out with a mix of pleasure and fear. It would not be long before he was forced to give up his seed that would be used by Mayhem to take over the world. His hips started to buck uncontrollably as the pressure grew stronger and stronger. With a bestial cry of pleasure, The Defender’s cock exploded as ropes and ropes of cum was sucked into the machine. The orgasm was the most intense that the hero felt in his life. His body tingled as the last of his cum shot out of his hard cock and the hero closed his eyes in defeated bliss.

The bliss was short lived as the suction and electric shocks continued to assault his body. The Defender’s cock now extremely sensitive from having shot it’s load made the hero cry out with grief. “Oh gods!” The Defender moaned. “You got what you wanted from me! Stop this!”

Mayhem laughed as he patted the hero’s cheek. “This is just the beginning, my dear boy.”

The Defender renewed his struggles against his bonds as his sensitive cock throbbed from the suction. He watched helplessly as one of the henchmen showed him a dildo. Shiney lubricant was poured on the dildo and his still aching asscheeks were spread apart. The hero cried out in pain as his most intimate place on his body was invaded by the huge dildo. He tried to push it out, but it was firmly places within the confines of his ass.

The tip of the dildo was pressed right against his prostate and the hero bit his lip as pleasure that he never knew was possible added to the pleasure that he already felt from the shocks and the suction. His cock began to spit out more precum that was added to what was already collected.

The Defender threw his head back as waves of pleasure wracked his body. His enjoyment of the pleasures was temporarily interrupted as the dildo lodged in his ass started to vibrate. The hero gasped as the vibration played with his prostate. The virginal assault on his ass sent his senses into overdrive and without warning his cock exploded in its prison.

Screams of pleasure filled the room as the second orgasm was more intense than the first one. His cum shot out of his cock only to be sucked away by the tube that encased his cock. The Defender never felt an orgasm like this in his life. His naked muscular body shook in its bondage was the orgasm ripped through his body.

After the last drops of cum was collected, the sweat drenched hero panted with pleasurable delight. Like the first orgasm, his afterglow was cut short as his pleasure zones began to be assaulted once again.

The process repeated four more times resulting in orgasm that produced smaller and smaller loads. The Defender’s mind turned to mush as all he could think about that the mixture of pain and pleasure that wracked his body. After the fourth orgasm, his cock finally could no longer perform and began to grow flaccid.

Mayhem watched silently as his men tried to get the hero’s cock hard again, but everything they tried failed. The hero sighed with relief thinking his ordeal was finally over. His cock felt as sore as his ass and his nipples felt like they have been chewed up and spit out. The villain shrugged and went to one of the exam tables.

When he turned around, the hero felt himself go pale. Holding a needle filled with some strange fluid, the villain inject the needle into The Defender’s meaty flaccid cock.The momentary pain from the needle was nothing compared to what happened next.

Despite having been forced to cum six times in a row, his cock suddenly came to life again. The hero cried out in pain and pleasure as he stared at his cock’s betrayal. The assault of the shocks and vibrations combined with the sucking of the tube around his cock sent his worn out body into overdrive.

His now stimulated cock was forced to cum three more times and his sperm was collected. Finally after the third time, his cock orgasmed but not a drop of cum came out of his love tool.

“We did it!” The henchman cried out in triumph. “We sucked every last sperm from his body!”

The other henchman lifted the massively shrunken balls of The Defender and smirked. “It looks like he won’t be making babies anytime soon.” He smirked.

Mayhem turned off the machines that stimulated the hero to give up his essence. “It looks like we are done here, boys! Take our guest to his new quarters. Be gentle with him, I don’t want him killed or damaged. I still have plans for our little man.”

As the exhausted Defender was finally free of his bondage and the leads taken off of his body, he leaned heavily on the henchmen who supported him. His now flaccid dick covered the small mass that his balls have transformed to after being milked completely dry of his baby juice. Too tired to put up a fight, he was led from the laboratory to whatever new torture his captor had in store for him.

Six months have passed since that fateful night when The Defender was defeated. Sitting alone in his cell, the former shell of a hero stared at the bare walls. Wearing absolutely nothing but his bare skin, he shivered as a cool breeze came through the bars on the door.

Since the night of his defeat, The Defender had lived a very different life now. With his public humiliation, Mayhem had managed to gain complete control of the criminal element of Pickett City. Even the cops avoided him fearing that they would share the same fate as the hero they used to worship.

Mayhem’s men got to take turns making him do perverse acts for them. He lost count on how many blow jobs and fuckings he had endured during his imprisonment under his former nemesis’ control. There was no pride left within him and thoughts of escape was a fantasy that he would never consider. He was Mayhem’s bitch to be used as his master pleased.

The broken hero was not even bound by the effects of the cursed red rock. He had no life to return to and all of his loved ones were now dead or in hiding. The villain took great delight in letting him know who got killed because they were close to his formed alter ego.

The cloning experiments were a great success. Now a dozen superpowered clones ruled the criminal underworld at Mayhem’s command. The Defender was still subjected to milking sessions so that more clones could be made. The former hero took each session meekly accepting his new role in life. He was Mayhem’s toy that was shared with his men and the other clones. It always disturbed him when his clones bent him over and fuck him silly.

The Defender once was Pickett City’s greatest champion. Now he was just a toy to be used and thrown away when villains were finished with him. Mayhem was his master and he was just a pathetic weakling.

CONTINUE THE STORY:PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER

Todd Fleming

Gay college boy Ryan gets his revenge on his abusive brother-in-law Jack in part 2 of the spanking series.
(You must be logged in to rate this story.)!–more–

Brother-In-Law Spanked
by Allan Ross

Ryan […]

The brothers and their sadistic uncle attempt to negotiate the terms of their slave contract.
(You must be logged in to rate this story.)

The Sacrifice Part 6 – The Contract
by UKBastinado
Series: The […]

Captured hero “The Defender” is chained to a wall and slowly stripped (including his masking) revealing his buff naked body and true identity to the entire city watching on broadcast television.
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The End of the Defender – Chapter 2
by Todd Fleming
Series: The End of the Defender

“Ladies and Gentlemen! Boys and Girls! Welcome to the event of the season! Tonight we will see the defeat of your hero and champion, The Defender!”

The spotlight turned on and illuminated The Defender who was chained to the wall. Perspiration poured down his face from the heat of the lights and his normally pristine red, white, and blue costume showed patches of sweat. The white shield emblem on his chest was partially obscured by a red rock that was chained to the hero’s chest.

“You host of the evening is the loveable criminal mastermind that we all wish we could be, Mayhem!”

Smoke filled the room as the floor opened up right in front of the helpless hero. Mayhem slowly rose up through the floor on a platform with his arms held up in a victory position. As the smoke cleared, the camera panned in on the madman in his black suit. The villain twirled his cane like a majorette smiling as he danced around.

“Welcome to the best show of the year!” He laughed as he waved for the camera. “Don’t change your channel because this is the show of a lifetime!” The villain stopped and shrugged. “What the hell, go ahead and change your channel! This is the only show on right now! HA!”

Mayhem giggled as he walked over to the chained up hero. “Tonight our special guest is the mighty Defender. We’ve been asking for months for him to guest on the show and this time we wouldn’t take no for an answer!”

He reached out and patted his prisoner on the head like a good pet. “Now I know what you are saying! Is that the REAL Defender? You bet your sweet ass it is and tonight we are going to make history!”

The villain walked over to the left side of the stage as the camera followed his every movement. “Tonight we will be raising money for the most important charity that you will ever need to be a part of! All the money we raise tonight will go into the Mayhem Fund where I will spend it as I please!”

He snapped his fingers and a spotlight hit the wall behind him illuminating a counter board that read zero. “I know what you are asking!” He cackled. “What’s in it for me? Well for every hundred thousand dollars that we raise, we will be taking off a piece of The Defender’s costume! I know you all have lusted after this hunky hero for years now. This is your chance to see our little hero completely naked!”

Mayhem walked to the other side of the stage where the camera showed the three robbers sitting at the table with telephones in front of him. “Flashing on your screen is the phone number where you can make your pledges. My boys are standing by to take your calls!”

As the villain walked back to the center stage where The Defender was chained to the wall, he looked straight at the camera. “Now if you law types think you can crash my party, you better think again! I have planted bombs all over Pickett City. If I get a hint that you are coming to crash my telethon, I will detonate the bombs!”

Mayhem pushed on the handle of his cane revealing a blinking red button. “Don’t believe me? Here is a free sample to show how serious I am.” The villain pushed the button as the camera zoomed on a television on the stage where it showed an abandoned building on the screen. An explosion suddenly rocked the building as flames shot out the window.

The Defender cried out in shock through his gag. Mayhem skipped over to the helpless hero and removed the gag. “You monster!” The hero growled. “You will pay for that!”

The villain replaced the gag and patted the weak hero on his cheek. “Don’t get your panties all twisted up, there was no one in that building. However the next bomb could be at a hospital, or a church. It could City Hall, or even a subway station! Oh the possibilities are endless! If you don’t want Pickett City destroyed then just sit back and enjoy the show!”

Mayhem walked over to the counter board and whistled as it already showed over $50,000. “Look at all these pledges! It looks like people really want to see our hero out of his costume!”

The Defender struggled against his bonds, but the dastardly effects of the red rock continued to sap his strength. He glared at Mayhem as he walked back to the hero twirling his cane. “Just think of seeing this hunky hero in his birthday suit! All it takes is giving your hard earned money to me!” The villain laughed as he smacked the hero on his ass.

“Hey boss, we’ve reached over $100,000!” One of the robbers called out.

“Woo-hooo!” Mayhem cheered. He reached down and undid one of the chains around the ankle of The Defender’s red boot. The hero tried to fight as his boot was taken off his foot. The stocking end of his blue tights was shown to the camera as the boot was taken off and thrown aside and Mayhem chained the ankle back to the ground.

Mayhem walked away from the struggling hero. “Now this is just the beginning, boys and girls! The more money that is pledged, the more we will take off! Now for your viewing pleasure, we will show you the footage taken at the First National Bank!”

As the televised show switched to the footage, The Defender’s eyes widened at the thought of the entire country seeing his humiliating defeat. His ass seemed to become more painful as he watched Mayhem taking him over his knee and spanked him into submission. He never felt as low as he did now.

Mayhem laughed as he watched the amount on the counter rise with each pledge that was called in. His plan to defeat The Defender was going exactly as planned. This was just the tip of the iceberg for what he had in store for the weakened hero.

The cameraman gave the signal that the footage was almost at an end. Mayhem smiled as the camera went back on him. “I hope you all enjoyed seeing poor little Defender put in his place. For too long he has been out of control and tonight we will put an end to him once and for all.”

The villain walked back to the counter board and laughed. “It looks like we have enough pledged for not only one piece of costume but two!” He skipped back to the struggling hero and unchained his left boot and slowly took it off. The boot was thrown aside to join the other and his ankle was chained to the ground. Mayhem stood back to his feet and laughed. As he unchained his right wrist and slid off his red glove, the villain smirked at the helpless hero. “All this time you protected these people and now they are paying to see you stripped of your costume!”

The Defender blushed as he hung his head in shame. This was worse than any nightmare he ever dreamed of. There had to be a way to escape this horrible fate that his nemesis had in store for him. As long as this red rock was close to him, he was helpless to escape. He had hoped the police would come to rescue him, but with the bombs planted around the city, he was on his own.

Mayem chained the hero’s bare right wrist and did a little dance of delight. “Oh what the hell!” He said laughing. “Let’s take the other glove off for free!” The villain whistled a happy tune as he unchained the left wrist and took off the glove. It was added to the pile and his wrist was chained up once again.

“Now I know what you all thinking! What is going to happen to The Defender once he is stripped naked? Well that’s for me to know and you to find out! Needless to say, you will never see Pickett City’s Champion on the streets ever again! Now let’s go back to see where we are at with the pledges.”

Mayhem pretended to be shocked as he saw the amount of money people have phoned in. “Woozie! We are at over a million dollars! It looks like we can take the rest of his costume off!”

He skipped back to the helpless hero and unbuckled his belt. The Defender renewed his struggles as he tried to summon his powers. The red rock did it’s job and kept him as weak as a kitten. The belt was thrown aside and the villain unchained both of the hero’s ankles.

“Shall we hear what our poor hero has to say, boys and girls?” Mayhem asked as he ripped off the gag from The Defender’s mouth.
“I demand that you stop this right now!” The Defender said with as much authority as he could muster. The hero squirmed as his white briefs were slowly slid down his thick legs. The briefs were soon off and the camera zoomed in on the bulge between the hero’s legs.

Mayhem laughed as he patted the helpless hero’s cheek. “Now behave or I will take you over my knee again.” He chided with a giggle. The villain motioned for some of his henchmen to come on the stage.

Two hulking men wearing tight black t-shirts and jeans smirked as they came on the stage. Mayhem undid the chains holding the hero up. The Defender would have fallen to the ground if the henchmen did not did not hold him up by his muscled arms. Mayhem grabbed the hero’s shirt and slowly pulled it off of his torso.

The Defender’s eight pack was revealed with a small trail of hair leading down to his tights. As his chest was slowly revealed, it was clear that the hero had a very hair chest with dark blond hair. His nipples were the size of quarters and got hard when they got exposed to the cool air. The shirt was thrown aside as the hero struggled to escape the firm grasp of his captors.

The camera panned on the hero’s exposed torso. The Defender was left only with his mask and tights keeping him from becoming totally naked. As Mayhem took hold of the waistband of his tights, the bravado of the hero was suddenly deflated. “Please don’t take of my tights,” He begged as they were slowly pulled down his legs.

The hero covered his modesty with his huge hands as the last of his costume was stripped off of him. The tights were thrown aside and Mayhem threw his hands up in triumph. “Now it’s time for the big reveal!”

The henchmen forced The Defender’s hands away from his cock and balls exposing his complete naked body to the entire country. “Behold your hero and champion in all his naked splendor!”

The henchmen paraded the hero before the camera turning him so the camera could catch every part of his muscled naked body. The red rock hung between his well developed pecs keeping The Defender helpless to resist his humiliation.

“Is he everything you wanted, boys and girls?” Mayhem laughed. “This is what you paid for and I delivered!”

The Defender wanted to die as his naked body as exposed before everyone watching the television. His struggles stopped as he resigned himself to this ultimate defeat. Hanging his head in shame, he felt like the millions of people watching were in the room feasting on his naked body.

Mayhem snapped his fingers. “I almost forgot!” He exclaimed with pretend shock. “There is one more thing to take from our hero. Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, it is time to expose our hero to see who he really is!”

The Defender’s head snapped up as he looked at his nemesis in shock. “NO!” He cried out. “Don’t do this to me Mayhem! I’ll be ruined! Please don’t do this!”

The villain ignored the hero’s pleas of mercy as he slowly took the one thing that kept The Defender’s identity a secret. Mayhem laughed as the mask was ripped off exposing the hero’s handsome face before the world.

Tears ran down his cheeks as his head was forced up to be seen before the camera. The Defender was completely defeated. His life as a hero was over and his friends and family were now in danger. He had put away many criminals in jail over the years and now that his identity was exposed everyone he ever associated with would be a target.

“You’ve seen it here!” Mayhem shouted in triumph. “The Defender has been captured, stripped, and exposed! Thanks for tuning in to The End of The Defender! This is your favorite villain, Mayhem signing out!”

CONTINUE THE STORY:PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER

Todd Fleming

Superhero ‘The Defender” gets caught in his arch-enemy’s trap and begins his humiliating downfall.
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The End of the Defender – Chapter 1
by Todd Fleming
Series: The End of the Defender

The sun hung high in the center of the sky in Pickett City. The light reflected off the many tall buildings that marked this city as the technological jewel of the world. In the very center of the city, life was fast and furious. People walked down the wide sidewalks intent on their destination. Traffic was at a standstill with the sound of dozens of car horns echoing off the buildings. The scream of an alarm joined the cacophonous music of a city that was the center of civilization. The people ignored the call of the alarm and went on with their business. In a city this size, crime was as regular as the nightly news program.

One man did take notice of the alarm and like a shot, he flew through the sky towards the scream of the alarm. Known as Pickett City’s superhero champion, The Defender, there were none who could compare to his power. Dressed in his widely recognized red, white, and blue skin tight uniform, The Defender sped towards the source of the alarm.

Landing in the middle of the street, the hero pinpointed that the source of the alarm as the First National Bank. Cars slammed on their brakes to avoid hitting the hero that landed in the middle of traffic. Ignoring the cars, The Defender walked purposely towards the bank ready to teach criminals that crime does not pay.

Entering the bank, The Defender quickly noted that there were three armed men yelling at the bank teller to hurry up. The bystanders were on their knees with their hands on their heads. The hero took note of their position as he stood heroically in the entrance of the bank with his hands on his white belt. “Didn’t your mothers tell you that you shouldn’t take what isn’t yours?” He said in his deep baritone.

The robbers whirled around and pointed their guns at the blond masked hero cursing. One of them grabbed the teller and held his gun to her head. “Stay back!” He yelled. “I swear to god, I’ll shoot her if you try to move!”

The Defender smiled and shook his head. You would think by now they would have learned, he thought to himself as he sprang into action. Using his super speed, he rushed the robbers and in less than a second he had taken their weapons and destroyed them.

To the robbers, it was like a gust of wind hit them and their eyes widened as they realized that they were unarmed. The Defender winked at them as he flashed the robbers his famous dimpled smile. “Are you going to come quietly or do you want a fight?”

The criminals looked at each other and slowly sank to their knees placing their hands on their heads as the hero watched with satisfaction. Another crime stopped without a single casualty.

The Defender’s smile grew bigger as someone behind him started to clap. One of the many perks of being a hero was the admiration of the people he saved. Turning around his smile melted as he saw the man who was clapping.

Dressing in an all black suit, the man who was clapping was just as famous as The Defender. The difference is that unlike the hero, this man was a criminal genius. Known only as Mayhem, the villain had fought many times against The Defender. Although he had no superpowers of his own, Mayhem was a foe that The Defender never took lightly.

“That was glorious, Defender!” Mayhem said laughing. “I never get tired of watching you in action.”

“What are you doing here?” The hero demanded. “Are you behind this robbery?”

“Oh silly boy, I don’t need to stoop to robbing a bank to get money. You should know me better than that. I did set this up so that we can talk. You never leave me any way to contact you.”

The Defender cautiously watched his nemesis walk towards him. He learned very early that one should never underestimate Mayhem. The villain was impossible to predict and his traps were never easy to dismantle. “Well I’m here,” He said hotly. “What do you want?”

“WHAT DO I WANT?” Mayhem screamed. “What do I want?” Laughing he twirled his cane that he always carried. The Defender braced himself for an attack. Mayhem’s canes always had some kind of nasty surprise hidden inside of it. “What I want, my friend, is you!”

“Sorry, Mayhem.” The Defender said heroically. “I can’t help you there. I don’t know how you escaped from jail, but I’m going to put you back right now.”

Mayhem laughed as he pointed his cane at the hero. “Not this time, old boy. I have an appointment tonight that I can’t miss. Lucky for me, I have a small gift just for you!” He reached in his pocket as The Defender was ready to tackle the villain. Mayhem pulled out a small red rock and showed it to the hero.

The Defender looked at the rock curiously. What kind of weapon was this, he thought to himself. “If that’s the best you can do, you are definitely slipping, Mayhem.” As he took as step to apprehend his nemesis, The Defender started to feel a little light headed. Shaking his head, he tried to focus on taking down his enemy.

Mayhem smirked as he slammed his cane into the hero’s head. The Defender snapped back from the blow and landed on his ass. His ears rang like fireworks had exploded right beside his head and he stared up in shock at his nemesis. That actually hurt him!

The villain danced around laughing. “I knocked the mighty Defender on his ass!” He bent down and ruffled the blond hero’s hair. “Not so tough now are you?”

The Defender growled as he tried to get back up on his feet pushing back the pain from the blow. He had no idea why the blow caused him pain, but he wasn’t going to let Mayhem win. The lightheadedness increased and his muscles started to feel like jelly. The hero fell back on his spandex covered butt breathing heavily. “What did you do to me?” He asked breathlessly.

Mayhem laughed as used his cane to lift the hero’s chin. “Oh just a special treat just for you, Defender.” He shoved the glowing red rock into Defender’s face. The hero gasped and tried to pull away to avoid the pain. It was the rock that made him feel this way. The hero stared at it like a venomous snake. How could a small rock give him such pain? “I could explain the process to you, Defender, but you know me. I haaaaatttte boring details.”

Sighing with relief when Mayhem danced away with the red rock in hand, The Defender tried to pick himself back up. He needed to get away somehow. Struggling to regain his balance, the hero found himself surrounded by the three robbers that he almost apprehended. The circled him like prey looking for a meal. In his weakened condition, The Defender knew that he did not stand a chance going toe to toe with three muscled criminals. Still dizzy and weak from the effects of the red rock, the hero leaped up in the air to try and escape.

Mayhem’s laughter increased when the hero fell flat on his face. “Trying to run away, Defender?” He screamed through his laughter. “I planned this party just for you!” He danced around the hero and slammed his cane across his bubble butt. “You’re the guest of honor, and I have big plans for you!”

As pain that he never felt before coursed through his body, The Defender managed to get on his hands and knees. Thinking of nothing but escaping from the effects of the strange red rock, he slowly started to crawl towards the exit.

The criminals all laughed and pointed at the mighty hero crawling as slow as a snail to escape capture. Mayhem grabbed the red boots of the hero and dragged him back to the center of the bank. “Bring me a chair!” He barked to his men. “I think our hero needs a lesson in manners.”

One of the robbers ran and brought back a chair. The evil genius grabbed the hero by the back of his belt and hair and sat on the chair dragging The Defender across his lap. “It’s rude to leave a party dedicated to you!” he snapped. He brought up his hand and slammed it down on the hero’s muscled ass. “Tell me that you are sorry, and we can go back to the festivities!” Mayhem ordered.

The Defender had never been so embarrassed in his entire life. A villain that he could have normally taken down with one finger had him over his knee and was treating him like a child throwing a tantrum. Worse was the fact that the people in the bank were watching, making his shame public knowledge. Word of this would spread and the humiliation would be too much to bear. The hero turned his head and looked up at the villain who held him down so easily. “I’ll never submit!” he swore as he braced himself for more pain.

“WRONG ANSWER!” Mayhem screamed as he slammed his hand against the hero’s ass. The villain spanked the helpless hero without pause as the anger he felt from The Defender’s resistance was taken out on his ass cheeks.

The Defender tried to steel himself for the pain, but years of invulnerability had made him forget what pain was like. The hero told himself that he would not give his nemesis the satisfaction of crying out, but that promise did not last long. In his weakened state, every blow to his behind ignited a fire that was too terrible to ignore. The people watching gasped when their champion began to cry.

The spanking suddenly stopped and it took The Defender a few minutes to realize this. “Will you apologize for your rudeness?” Mayhem asked the sobbing hero.

The Defender never felt so emasculated in his entire life. Part of him wanted to just say he was sorry to avoid being spanked some more. Tears ran down his face making the fabric of his red mask wet. He was a hero and he would never submit no matter how much pain he must endure. “Never!” He said with as much authority that he could muster when in fact it was a hoarse whisper.

“I was hoping you would say that!” Mayhem said gleefully. “I think our hero needs to really feel his punishment. Chaos, take down the hero’s tights! Let’s see how he likes his spanking on his bare ass!”

The Defender tried to kick away the robber who gripped his trunks and tights, but his feet were easily held down as he felt his ass being exposed. Kicking and screaming like a child, the hero looked pathetic with his tights pulled down around his knees and his bare ass exposed for the world to see.

Mayhem smirked as he patted that bubble of muscle that he had already beaten to a bright red. “Last chance, hero!” He said waiting for his prey to meet his demands. The Defender shook his head defiantly and braced himself for his punishment. The villain started to spank him again this time directly on the hero’s ass with no fabric to absorb the blows.

Screaming in agony, The Defender started to cry again painfully aware that people were watching him. People outside the bank were looking inside, shocked that their hero was being spanked like a little boy. Some even had their cell phones out to take pictures and video of the ordeal. The Defender barely noticed them as his spanking continued. He tried with all his strength to break free but the robbers held down his hands and feet to keep him from struggling. Pain coursed from his body not only from being exposed to that damned red rock, but it radiated from the blows to his ass. Soon the pain overcame all his senses and it was all he could do to keep from passing out. His throat hurt from screaming so loudly and his tears stopped flowing from crying too much. His pride diminished to the point that he no longer cared about resisting. He just wanted the punishment to stop. “I’m sorry!” He cried out.

Mayhem stopped his hand in the air and cocked his head. “What did you say?” He said with a chuckle.

“I’m sorry!” The Defender said hoarsely. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He sobbed no longer producing tears and his whole body heaved from his cries.

The villain laughed as he pushed the hero onto the floor. Bending down, he patted the hero on the head. “See that wasn’t so hard, now was it?” He looked around at the shock people and started to laugh again. “Look at the time, we have a party to go to. Boys help our hero to the car. We have a busy night for him and I’d hate to be late!”

The Defender didn’t even struggle as two of the robbers helped him to his feet. With his tights still around his knees, his cock and balls were exposed for everyone to see. The bystanders took more pictures of his humiliated state concentrating on his genitals and his glowing red ass that even now was starting to form black and blue bruises. The hero was taken out of the bank and shoved into a van that sped off down the street.

———————————————————————————-

The Defender could not believe the situation that he was in. Hours ago he was the strongest hero in the universe. His invulnerable, muscled body could withstand any weapon thrown at him without a scratch. Now he was lying on the floor of a van surrounded by a crew criminals led by his nemesis, Mayhem, who had taken away all of his powers with a small red rock. His face was red and wet from crying when Mayhem spanked his ass like one would a small child. He was still half naked as his tights were wrapped around his ankles stopped only by his red boots.

The hero tried to think of a way to escape, but the effects of the strange red rock sapped any strength that he might have left. All he could do was lie on the floor moaning in pain each time the van hit a bump on the street, causing his body to bounce and igniting the pain radiating from his ass.

Mayhem hummed a happy tune as he drummed his fingers on his cane. His black suit looked pristine and freshly pressed as the villain watched the buildings fly by as the van drove towards his base of operations. The Defender wanted to wipe that smile from his face, but in his weakened condition it was impossible.

The hero turned his head and saw that one of the robbers was looking right at him. The criminal in question was the tallest of the three, easily standing six and a half feet tall. Suddenly aware that his cock and balls was out for anyone to see, The Defender tried to cover his modesty with his hands. He wanted to pull his tights back up but even that simple task was too much for him to handle in his weakened condition.

The tall man licked his lips as he watched the helpless hero. His hand almost absently touched his crotch and rubbed it slowly. “Hey boss, can I have some fun with Defender?”

Mayhem looked at his henchman and the way he was looking at his captive. An evil smile cross his face as he tapped his lips in thought. “Why the hell not?” He said shrugging. “Just don’t damage our little boy. I have big plans for him.”

The Defender felt a chill run down his spine. What kind of plans does the madman have in store for him? The was no time to think as the tall robber grabbed him by his hair and pulled him toward the back of the van. Crying out in pain, the hero tried to move fast enough to avoid his short blond hair from being pulled out by the roots.

His face was roughly pressed against the man’s crotch and he closed his eyes as the horror of being so close to another man’s cock was too much for him to bear. He could smell the musky scent and feel the hardness of the robbers cock pressing against his cheek.

The robber moaned as he held the weakened hero’s head down on his lap. The other two criminals snickered as the mighty Defender was too weak to break free from his human bondage. Mayhem ignored the whole scene as he looked out the window whistling a happy tune.

The Defender sighed with relief when the iron grip on his head was released. He quickly brought up his head and saw the robbers all smirking at him. A few hours ago, he would have taken all three down with little to no effort, but now he was too weak to put up a fight. The tall criminal in front of him unbuttoned his pants and pulled them down along with his boxers. His hard erect cock sprang free and pointed right at the weakened hero’s pretty face.

Recoiling in horror, The Defender stared at the cock like it was a venomous snake. Did this scum really want him to suck on his cock? He thought wildly. He struggled as his hair was grabbed once more and his head forced down towards the robber’s lap. The hero tried to break free but in his weakened condition, his struggles were useless.

Groaning with frustration, The Defender felt his face being pressed against the hardness of the robber’s cock. The musky smell was overpowering now and he pressed eyes tightly shut to keep from seeing the cock invading his face.

The robber, using The Defender’s blond hair to control the humiliated and weakened hero, rubbed his victim’s pretty face all over his cock. The Defender flinched as the precum from the cock was spread all over his face. He could not believe that he was helpless to stop this from happening to him. The cock settled on his lips and pressed against them looking for a way inside.

The Defender pressed his lips tightly shut. He would not be forced to suck a cock! He promised to himself. He might have been defeated, weakened, and humiliated but he would not be a service station to lowly criminals.

“Open up that pretty mouth of yours and take my cock!” The robber demanded as he tried to force his cock in the hero’s mouth.

One of the other robbers shook his head and laughed. “It looks like Defender needs a little encouragement.” he sneered. He got up from his seat and went to the helpless hero. The Defender cried out in pain as his already sore ass was spanked by the other robber.

The tall robber took advantage of the hero’s cry of pain and slammed his cock inside The Defender’s mouth. “If I feel any teeth, I will spank that ass until there is no more ass to spank!” The robber growled as he pistoned his cock in and out of the hero’s mouth.

The Defender never felt so low in his life as his mouth was used for fucking. His jaw felt like it was going to be unhinged as he gagged on the criminal’s erect cock. The two other robbers laughed and sneered as the taunted the hero by calling him a cock sucker and faggot. He had to close his eyes so he could not see their laughing faces.

The salty precum leaked down his throat and into his body as his head was grabbed by the robber and it was forced up and down on the man’s cock. Tears welled up in his eyes as much from the relentless assault on his throat as from the humiliation of the act.

Mayhem paid no attention to what was going on behind him. He just whistled a happy tune as he watched through the window at the city buildings flying by as the van drove to it’s destination.

It did not take long for the robber to cry out as he shot his seed into The Defender’s mouth. The hero wanted to gag and throw up as the hot sperm hit his taste buds and slammed into the back of his throat. Despair filled his entire being as his eyes started to tear up again. He was always considered to be the most manliest of men and that image was shattered as his mouth filled with sperm.

The robber grabbed the hero by his chin and wagged his finger at him. “Swallow every drop, you fucking faggot!” He ordered.

The Defender looked at the petty criminal in fear and grimaced as he did as he was told. The sperm slid down his throat and he wanted to just die. A single tear fell down his face as he wished he could get the taste of sperm out of his mouth.

There was hardly any time for the hero to breathe as the next robber proclaimed that it was his turn. He dragged The Defender by his hair and shoved his hard cock down the hero’s throat. Moaning with pleasure, he fucked the defeated hero’s face with enthusiasm. This robber was slightly scrawnier than the rest, but his cock was disproportionately larger than the taller criminal’s.

Despite being forced to suck the taller man’s cock, his jaw could not get used to having something that large pistoning in and out of his mouth and throat. The first robber who gotten his release already smirked as he watched. Every once a while he would smack The Defender’s already sore ass just to see him cry out while sucking cock.

Even in his worst of nightmares, The Defender never thought this would happen to him. How a little red rock could reduce him to suck cock was a complete mystery to him. He should be focusing on trying to escape from his enemies, but his entire focus was the cock that was raping his mouth.

It didn’t take long for the second robber to shoot his wad down The Defender’s throat. Again, the hero felt queasy as another load of hot sperm was filling his mouth. He wanted to spit it out, but the threat of punishment hung over him and he swallowed every drop without being told to. He shuddered as the cum slid down his throat adding to the first load that he swallowed.

The scrawny robber looked at the last petty criminal in the back of the van. “Do you want a piece of the action?” He asked causing, The Defender to shudder in anticipation of being face fucked again.

“I’m afraid play time is over, boys!” Mayhem said laughing. The van had slowed and pulled besides an abandoned factory. “We have arrived! Bring our guest inside so we can prepare him for tonight’s party!”

The Defender felt a lump of icy fear growing inside him. What other indignities were in store for him now?

CONTINUE THE STORY:PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER

Todd Fleming

A strict Marine father punishes his 18 yo son with a bastinado session to teach him a lesson and toughen him up.
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Josh’s Foot Punishment
by Ragnar1963

Eighteen-year-old Josh lives alone with his father Mack, an ex-Marine and professional weight trainer/bodybuilder. Josh is 5’10”, 140, with short brown hair. His workouts with his father are intense, and already Josh has a beautiful muscular and athletic body. Mack is a very strict but loving parent. Under no circumstances are shoes, socks, or shirts allowed in the house. The two men are always barefoot and shirtless; around the house they wear only athletic shorts, cutoff jeans, or even speedos. Mack feels that he and Josh should show off their hard work and built bodies at all times. Josh is allowed to wear a grey t-shirt and sneakers or flip-flops outside the house, but he must strip them off on the porch before he enters the house.

Josh’s training is brutal. Mack wants Josh to be the strongest, toughest young man in the city. Weight training, running, fight training, wrestling, all kinds of martial arts–Josh works out with his father for hours a day, and loves it. He loves sweating in their basement, showing off his muscles, making his father proud of his body. Of course, with the brutal training goes brutal punishment for failing to meet a goal or for breaking the rules. Mack tolerates no weakness or failing to follow orders. “No Shirt, No Shoes, No Excuses!” is their motto. Josh is very disciplined and rarely breaks the rules, but when it happens he endures these punishments like a man, knowing that his father’s training is turning him into a superman of strength and endurance.

Most nights Josh stays home with his father working out, but he goes out with his jock friends on weekends. The rule is strict–Josh must be home by midnight. He knows the punishment will be severe if he breaks the rule. Mack’s preferred punishment is bastinado–beating the soles of Josh’s bare feet. It is very painful–Josh limps around the house for a few days after a bastinado session, each painful step a reminder of the rule he broke–but it leaves no red welts to be seen by others, like, for example, a whipping strap on the bare back would.

One Saturday night, the unthinkable happens–Josh comes home after curfew. He and his buddies had been drinking beer, and Josh lost track of time. He rushes home, pulling off his tank top and sneaks as he runs up the porch stairs. He bursts into the house to see Mack standing before him. Josh is about to speak, but Mack cuts him off. “No excuses,” he says firmly. “It’s 1:10 a.m. You know the rule.”

“Yes, sir,” says Josh. “One stroke for each minute past midnight.”

“Which makes–?”

“70 strokes, 35 on each foot, Sir,” Josh says humbly.

Mack puts his hands on Josh’s shoulders. “I’m very disappointed, Josh,” he says. “Rules are rules. There’s no room for slacking or second-best. Discipline at all times.”

“No excuses, sir.”

“What did we say in the Marines?”

“A man learns through pain, sir. ‘That which does not kill me makes me stronger.'”

Mack was angry with his son, but also very proud of his bravery in the face of punishment. “Go downstairs and assume the position. I’ll be down in a while.”

Josh went down to the basement workout room. In a corner opposite the weight machines, wrestling mats, and boxing ring stood a short padded platform next to an open pair of stocks the same height. Hanging by a chain from the ceiling directly overhead, connected to a pulley, was an iron ring. Josh assumed the punishment position. He knelt on the platform facing the wall. He placed his feet behind him into the stocks, bare soles facing up, and closed them. Then he lifted his arms and crossed his wrists overhead.

Josh knelt in this position for 15 minutes. Mack kept his son waiting so that he would have time to think about the rule he’d broken and the punishment to come. But soon Josh heard his father’s steps on the stairs. Mack walked over to the corner. He took a padlock and locked the stocks closed–Josh’s bare feet were trapped. Mack buckled a leather cuff on his son’s left wrist, passed the chain connecting the cuffs through the iron ring, and cuffed his right wrist. Josh’s arms were already aching from being held in the air for so long, and it actually felt good when Mack pulled on the other end of the chain and Josh’s wrists rose into the air, supported by the chain. The handsome muscled teenager knelt waiting for his punishment, bare feet locked in stocks, arms dangling from chains overhead.

Mack felt prouder than even of his son, kneeling in chains for his punishment. He admired the boy’s built body, his strength, discipline, and bravery, and knew that the torture he was about to inflict would make Josh even stronger and more disciplined. Mack went to a cabinet in the wall and selected a leather paddle–a thick but slender slab of leather, about a foot long and an inch wide, slightly flexible, mounted on a handle. He walked over to Josh and showed the boy the tool that would be used for his beating.

“Thank you, Sir,” whispered Josh, beginning the ritual dialogue he and his father spoke before every punishment session.

“Why are we here, son?” As they spoke, Mack slowly and gently stroked his son’s bare chest with the paddle, causing Josh’s nipples to become erect. Josh threw back his shoulders and thrust out his hard pecs.

“I must be punished, Sir.”

“Why?”

“I broke curfew, Sir.”

“Why?”

“Because I was undisciplined, Sir. I failed to obey the rule you set up for my own good.”

“What punishment do you deserve?”

“Bastinado, Sir. You must beat the soles of my bare feet.”

“How long?”

“70 strokes, Sir. 35 on each foot.”

“What else do you have to say?”

At this point Josh had been instructed to plead for his punishment. “Please, Sir, I must be punished hard for breaking your rule. Please whip my soles very hard, so I can learn to be a stronger man. A man learns through pain, Sir, and I beg you to make each stroke hurt bad. If you torture my bare feet, Sir, the pain will make me strong and I will learn to be disciplined and obedient. Please, Sir. Please give me bastinado so I can become a better son.” Josh’s eyes began to water with emotion as he pleaded with his father to help him.

Mack smiled at his well-trained son’s pleading, and felt a rush of love. “Yes, son, I will help you become a better man. I will do this by punishing your feet severely so you will learn a hard lesson.”

Mack took his position behind Josh. He gently stroked his son’s bare, trapped, vulnerable left sole with the paddle. Josh’s toes curled in anticipation. Then Mack raised his arm.

WHACK! He brought the paddle down hard on Josh’s sole.

“Aaaah. . . ” Josh, kneeling and hanging from chains, gasped at the sudden hot sting on his bare foot.

WHACK! A stroke on the right sole.

WHACK! Another on the left. The pain of each blow spread through his size 12s and up into his muscular legs.

WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! Josh winced at each blow of the leather on his naked feet. The pain of the bastinado was intense, but Josh knew each stroke was teaching him a good lesson.

WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! Sometimes Mack would alternate feet, but not always, so Josh was never sure on which trapped sole the next blow would land. Mack would also vary the rate of his strokes–sometimes fast, sometimes with a long pause between each blow. Being unable to anticipate the pain and prepare for it made each lash more painful for the very brave 18-year-old. His wrists chained overhead, head bowed, feet locked tight, Josh gritted his teeth and endured each blow of the leather paddle on his unprotected size 12 soles.

WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! Josh had lost count, though he knew Mack was keeping careful count of each stroke. 35 painful lashes on each sole. Josh knew only the agony of his bare feet–knew he would be limping barefoot around the house for at least the rest of the weekend. He remembered he was scheduled to mow the lawn and do yard work the next day–Mack would never let him out of his commitment, and Josh would be limping and suffering on whipped bare feet as he labored in the yard.

WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! Josh began to tremble; his breathing became harder as each blow landed on his soles. The first time he had suffered this punishment, he had cried at the pain, but since then he had learned to endure several dozen strokes of the bastinado without breaking.

WHACK!!! A very hard blow landed on Josh’s left bare sole. “35.” WHACK!!! Another brutal stroke on his right. “And 35.” Mack stepped back. Josh had no idea how much time had passed, how long his punishment torture had lasted.

Mack set down the paddle, walked around to Josh’s front, placed his hands on Josh’s shoulders, and kissed his son on the cheek. “Brave man,” he whispered. Then he loosened the chains pulling Josh’s wrists in the air, and uncuffed his son. The two men hugged closely, Mack gently stroking his punished son’s hair. Then he moved to the stocks, unlocked and opened them, and helped Josh ease his ankles out and stand on the floor.

Josh winced as his red-hot whipped soles touched the cold cement floor. But he stood at attention, stoic, his face and attitude betraying nothing of the pain of standing on his lashed feet.

“Punishment concluded,” said Mack.

“Thank you, Sir,” answered Josh. “Thank you for administering the punishment I deserve. Thank you for helping me to become a better man.”

Then Josh and Mack put their arms around each other’s shoulders, and Mack helped his limping son walk up the stairs on his punished feet.

Ragnar1963

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An extremely ticklish student reluctantly agrees to take part in a tickling experiment to earn some needed cash.
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Test Subject
by Ratty

Working at the Institute did have its advantages. That was hard for me to appreciate at the time, though. The pay was lousy, job security was non-existent, being as it was, entirely grant-dependant, and the people I worked with were, quite frankly, weird. But the Kinsey Institute of Behavioral Sciences, located smack dab in the heart of the UC Berkeley campus, was a dream come true for me in one respect.

You see, I’m into tickling. A strange subject to devote oneself to you might think. Yet I received nearly 75 thousand dollars a year to conduct my research. Most of it came from the National Science Foundation, but a goodly portion was funded by the Department of Defense, The Pentagon, a fact which had sorely puzzled me at the time. From this amount came lab equipment, computer time, my salary (a painfully small percentage), subscriptions to relevant scholarly journals and such, but a large part went to pay the test subjects I used. Let me tell you right now, they earned every penny!

Tickling and ticklishness has fascinated me all my life (just ask my poor kid brother). I mean, why should a person be ticklish at all? What purpose does it serve in our physiological make-up, and in the grand evolutionary scheme of things? Why does tickling elicit laughter, even when exceedingly unpleasant? Why not screaming or crying (though these last two certainly can accompany prolonged tickling)? These are questions I often asked myself, even as a child.

At the Institute I got paid to tickle people. My budget, as I have said, included a substantial sum used to pay the numerous test subjects I used. The student body at Berkeley supplied by far the great majority of them. I ran an ad in the campus newspaper every day:

Wanted: Test subjects for
experiment in behavioral
psychology. $75 per session.
Apply Kinsey Institute.
Now seventy five bucks is a fortune to a poor, starving student. I got several applicants each day and so I could afford to be choosy. Typically an applicant would call and I’d tell him to come to the Institute to fill out a questionnaire. If the application looked good (or the applicant!) I’d bring him into my lab to take a picture. He’d take his shirt off and I’d take a picture of him with his arms raised, hands resting on top of his head. Then I attached the picture to the application and filed it. Only after I called someone back for a session was he paid the seventy five dollars.

I shall tell you about one test subject in particular. His name was Michael and he seemed particularly hard-up for cash. He was 19, a sophomore in political science, and BEAUTIFUL! I struggled valiantly to retain my veneer of clinical detachment as he shyly pulled of his shirt in in the privacy of my office. I tried to devote all of my attention to his application while he sat on the edge of my examination table, waiting. I didn’t want to seem too eager.

He was obviously nervous as he sat there bare-chested. He had auburn hair and tan skin. His application was even more promising. In answer to the question regarding degree of ticklishness, he marked the highest level: EXTREMELY ticklish. He numbered the degree of ticklishness of the various parts of his body like so: Armpits 10, Ribs 9, Feet 8, Knees 7, and on down.

I set the clipboard down. “Why don’t you step over there so I can take a picture of you.” I flashed my friendliest smile and motioned to one wall of the office where I had set up a camera and a couple of lights. He stood in front of the wall, arms crossed in front of him, while I turned on the lights and loaded film into the camera.

“Now raise your arms and put your hands on your head, that’s right, good.” His level-10 ticklish armpits were a tickler’s dream come true. They were hairy. Very, very hairy. His armpit hair choked his deep, muscled pits like a forest, it was almost jet black, much darker than the auburn hair on his head. I had seen it poking out from his short sleeves every time he raised his arms, even before he bagan unbuttoning his shirt. And beneath all of that marvellous hair his underarm skin was white, contrasting sharply with the overall tan of the rest of his body. I had images of him laying out on some sunny beach, relaxed, yet with arms clamped at his side instead of stretched out over his head, ever fearful that his exposed underarms would prove too irresistable a target to some wicked passerby who just might reach down and tickle them! The skin looked very sensitive, probably not used to being touched. I fully intended to touch them a great deal!

“Okay, thanks. Now if you could take off your shoes and socks and get one more picture we’ll be all through here for today.” My voice broke on the last word. I couldn’t seem to swallow. He sat down on a chair and began untying his shoes.

“I don’t understand,” he said, puzzled. “Why do you need pictures of my *feet*?” He started pulling off his socks.

“I need to map precise areas of ticklishness.”

“H-how…how do you d-do that?” He was stuttering all of the sudden. Interesting.

“Well, I computerize the image, superimpose a grid onto that image and record electrical brain activity in response to specific stimulus applied to each region on the grid.” I set a chair in front of him and lifted his legs onto it so that the soles of his feet faced directly into the camera. “Then I take the rather complex waveform, have the computer do a fourier analysis on it to isolate the separate elements, then compare those elements to those of all of my other test subjects.”

“You’re going to tickle my feet?”

“Well, in a word… er, yes. Smile!” I took the picture.

“Uh… I-I’m su-sorry. I don’t think I can g-go thu-through with this.” He got off the chair and grabbed his shirt. “I just can’t deal with that.”

“What? What do you mean?” I almost dropped my clipboard.

He was hurriedly pulling on his shoes. “I’m s-sorry to wuh-waste your t-time. I can’t s-stand being tickled. I’m sorry. Keep your s-seventy five dollars.”

“Seventy five dollars? Did the ad say seventy five dollars? You get a HUNDRED and seventy five dollars for this.” I silently thanked my quick mind. “There must have been a mistake in the paper. I’ll have to phone them tomorrow.”

“A hundred and seventy five? I’ll have to think about it.” He grabbed his jacket and walked to the door. “T-tickle my f-feet… I don’t think I can handle that.”

“Of course you can.” I opened the door for him. “I’ll call you Thursday after the computer simulations are done and set up an appointment. Bye!”

I closed the door behind him. Leaning back against it I let out a heavy sigh. My knees were weak but I stood up again and went to develop the film.

I waited till Friday to call. I really wanted to seem nonchalant about this. For my research strictly half of my test subjects were male. Of the women, most weren’t even the least bit ticklish. But the screams that came from my lab when I “tested” the men … aaah.

The aim of my research was, partly, to discover the origins of ticklishness and, specifically, to discover what differentiates a ticklish person from one who is not.

There are many popular theories to explain the first question. One says it’s an evolutionary reflex to protect humans from dangerous insects and arachnids which flourished in the prehistoric jungles, much the same as the reflex in horses that makes their haunches twitch and tails slap at flies. This might be a contributing factor but is wholly inadequate to explain why we’re most ticklish under the arms or on the soles of the feet, places where insects are *least* likely to land.

The theory I favor is that ticklishness evolved as a *play* reflex, like that in kittens or puppies. An essential reflex, it teaches an animal, while young, to defend itself and to fight competitors, defending vulnerable spots such as sides and ribs where a slashing claw might damage vital organs.

Any theory such as this is impossible to prove. One can only gather evidence to support it. As a preliminary to my research I recorded literally days of EEG’s from kittens while playing. Not an easy task, I assure you. It’s quite difficult to induce kittens to play with one another while connected to hundreds of feet of wires all attached to a myriad of electrodes implanted directly into the brain. Nonetheless, I somehow managed to glean two or three hours of usable data.

Much easier to answer is the second question: Why are some of us ticklish and others not? Is it merely a matter of temperment or is there some measurable physiological difference? Children who stutter are 20 times more likely to be ticklish than those who do not. My evidence at that time seemed to indicate that there is a particular region of the brain (adjacent to the region suspected to be responsible for stuttering!) which inhibits ticklishness as a person grows older, or, as the case may be, fails to do so. If this proves to be the case it would be a natural step to develop a method by which micro currents could be introduced into the brain in such a way as to neutralize this “tickle-inhibitor” effectively rendering anyone not only ticklish, but EXTREMELY ticklish.

Anyway, as I was saying, I tried to seem casual as I spoke to him over the telephone. It wasn’t easy. I’ve rarely had somebody who was as ticklish as he claimed to be for a test subject. It would be fantastic for my research (I fully expected to find that characteristic 14.7 KHz ripple put out by the “inhibitor” almost entirely missing from the fourier analysis of his EEG) but even more, it was going to be HOT!

He said she had thought it over and had finally decided to go through with it. I could almost *hear* the landlord banging on his door demanding the rent. So I set up an appointment for Monday afternoon and then proceeded to have a very long weekend.

“Hello, Michael, come in.” I beamed my brightest smile (being careful to first remove all lecherous elements from it) and shook his hand vigorously. “Let me take your jacket.” He didn’t look at me but rather continued to stare at the floor. “I really want to thank you for agreeing to help me out like this. This research requires a LOT of test subjects … you should relax. This won’t take long.”

He looked up from the floor and forced a smile, following me to the door of my lab. I unlocked it and led him into the sound-proof room, a veritable christmas tree of flashing lights and clicking, beeping sounds. Along one wall was the mainframe computer (shared by everyone at the institute) along another, medical monitoring equipment: EEG’s, EKG’s, machines for analysing blood chemistry, galvanic monitors to record electrical conductivity of the skin. Equipment choked the periphery of the lab.

But in the center of the room was the tickle-table. It was this table onto which Michael locked his gaze, eyes slowly growing wide. Shiny, stainless steel and black leather padding, sturdy leather straps for the wrists, elbows, ankles, knees and upper thighs, it positively dazzled in the bright lights of the lab. He stopped, frozen at the door.

Suddenly fearful he would bolt after all, I walked quickly to the desk drawer, unlocked it and pulled an envelope out. “I hope you don’t mind if I pay you in cash,” I said as I wielded the wad of twenties. “One hundred and seventy five dollars. Here you go.” I counted it into his hand.

He took another step forward into the lab and stopped again. “Come on, come on,” I thought to myself.

“What do you want me to do?” he said, finally. I smiled. The battle was won.

“Oh, if you could just sit there on the table. I need to calibrate the instruments.” The instruments were already calibrated. What I needed was to relax him some more. I turned to the EEG machine and began recalibrating it, all the while chattering lightly about sports, politics, school, anything. I actually got him to talk about himself, his school work, and once he even laughed. THAT was the moment.

“Okay, all ready. Now could you take of your shoes, socks and shirt?” His smiled faded. I grinned, went to another machine and pretended to do something. When I turned around again, he was ready.

“If you could just lie back on the table… I’m sorry about the restraints, but a lot of movement could interfere with the data.”

He didn’t move for about half a minute, then, slowly, he complied, lying back onto the black leather padding. I walked around to the head of the table, gently took a hold of one wrist and pulled it above his head, then tied it securly to the stainless steel extension with the leather strap. I did the same with the other arm, then next secured his hairy ankles. Only after he was completely helpless did I attach the other straps to knees, upper thighs just below the crotch, and the elbows. They were to minimize excessive struggling and make him easier to tickle. I also had a metal frame which fit into a notch in the table over his feet. It clamped around the heel and each toe, keeping his feet almost completely motionless.

His head was raised, watching everything I did to his feet. He had a grimmacing, helpless sort of smile while I worked with his toes, but I don’t think it was because he was happy.

“I don’t think I can go through with this,” he said with a voice suddenly high-pitched and cracking.

“Of course you can. It’ll be over before you know it.”

He was spead-eagled and helpless. I turned a small adjustment wheel at the extensions for his arms, lengthening them. This stretched his body, as if on a rack, making his skin taut, the hollows of his armpits deepen.

“Comfy?” I asked.

“Uh, no,” he answered. I laughed as if at a joke and began attaching wires to his head and slipped an EKG patch below his left nipple. I turned on the various video equipment which would record the whole session, and then I got out my case.

To me, the case was the most valuable piece of equipment in the lab. I set it on a small metal table which I wheeled down into position at the foot of the table right next to his immobilized feet, then I sat down on a chair facing his exposed soles. I opened the case and looked lovingly at my assortment, all neatly laid out on black velvet, of feathers, vibrators, and assorted brushes. All of my tickling accessories accumulated over the years. Then I pulled out my pride and joy, my finest feather. It was long and white, just stiff enough, with a thin, pin-point tip with just enough flexibility.

Michael’s eyes widened with horror as I held it up in the air. His feet began wiggling, an almost imperceptible movement, so tightly were his toes bound, stretched back. “We’ll start with the soles of your feet.” I smiled and brought the feather slowly into contact with his soft, sensitve sole.

“No, NO! Don’t do it… PLEASE!!” he screamed. He started pulling at the straps about his wrists and squirming as much as he could under his bonds. It didn’t do him the least bit of good. He was totally helpless. Then I began moving the feather, slowly, very slowly down the sole of his foot, then up again, dragging the soft tip over the white, sensitive skin.

“NOOOOO!! AH HA HA HA HA HA HA ha ha hahaha…..” he started laughing, high-pitched and hysterical, a strained, grimacing smile on his previously quiet, shy face. The EEG strip-chart recorder continued spitting out its white tongue of paper, a meaningless scribble of myriad black lines oozing out with it.

I took another feather, twin of the first, and pulled it up and down along his other sole. “OH NOOO! AAAAAH HA HA HAHAHA …” he screamed anew as he realized I was now tickling both bare soles at once, dragging my evil feathers slowly back and forth across the underside of his immobilized toes, in opposite directions, then down to his arches, brushing the feather tips there, first back and forth, then up and down, then swirling around in slow, lazy circles inside of the arches of his soles, the skin stretched tight as a drum.

When I pulled out still more feathers and began inserting them then pulling them out from between his splayed out toes, over and over and over again, sometimes spinning them between my two fingers, his horror at what was being done to his bare feet grew still more “OOOOOH, NOT THAT!!!! AHHHHH HA HA HA HA…NOT BETWEEN THE TOES!!! AAAAH NOT THAT!!! AH HA HA HA HAHAHA …” He was shaking his head back and forth violently. His mouth stretched open in a hysterical rictus of mad laughter.

“Just hold on!” I almost had to shout over the screaming laughter. “I only need 15 or 20 minutes more of this for the computer.” I laughed and continued tickling his feet.

Twenty Minutes??!!! “NOOOOOOOOO…HA HA HA HA HAhahaha… gasp… HA HA HA HA!!!” He couldn’t stand it, couldn’t catch his breath. I discarded the feathers and brought my fingertips to bear against his arches, skitcha skitcha skitcha, like a spider, up and down the bare flesh of his soles, again and again, tickling his feet while he screamed helpless, hysterical laughter for twenty, long, horrible minutes.

When I finally stopped, his head sagged to one side and the short bangs of his auburn hair was plastered to his forehead, sweaty. His chest heaved up and down, trying to catch a breath. I hadn’t allowed him to catch one for over ten minutes.

“No more… please.. I..I can’t take it… let me loose… I beg you, pleeeease… ” he gasped, exhausted.

“What?” I laughed. “That was just the preliminary. This session is supposed to be for an hour and a half. It’s all in the release you signed.”

“Don’t care… let me loose… I changed my mind.”

“It’s a little late for that now… Let’s see, I think the underarms are next on my list.” I smiled, this time letting all the wickedness I could muster shine through. I advanced on his stretched out armpits, my index fingers extended and wriggling menacingly.

He suddenly didn’t seem to be out of breath any more. His eyes and mouth opened wide and he pulled at his restraints again, desperately.

“Not my armpits! Not my armpits! Please! Not my armpits!” He began to giggle helplessly as I brought my fingers closer, very, very slowly, without actually touching him. This part was important. Some people can be tickled without any physical contact. Just the threat of tickling can send them into hysterics. I needed to see if his brainwave pattern showed any appreciable difference.

“Aaah, is poor baby’s underarms sensitive?” I asked, pouting. My wriggling index fingers drew closer, almost touching the dark hairy forest inside. I wanted to draw this out as long as possible.

He stared at an approaching finger, moving his head, almost as if trying to nudge the hand away with his chin, or, if possible, to bite it.

“No, ha ha ha ha ha, don’t… ha ha… please don’t… not under my arms… ha ha ha… not there … ha ha ha.” He had a big smile on his face and was giggling continuously. I started moving my fingers in big circles over his hairy pits and this started him laughing harder. He couldn’t stop. I hadn’t even touched him, yet he couldn’t stop laughing.

By the time I started worming in the hollows under his arms with my fingers, he was fully hysterical. No longer in control he let out a big, long scream before laughter took him over completely. A deeper, constant laughter, one quick gasp for air, then another prolonged fit of laughter. I hit a switch on the motorized tickle table which stretched his arms even more tightly over his head. I pulled out a stiffer pair of feathers, the ones I use to “deal” with an exceptionally hairy pair of pits, and inserted them into his hairy tickle pockets, penetrating down into the soft, white flesh, and stroking vigorously.

I chose to use his open armpits for a long, drawn-out, merciless game of cootchy coo. With index fingers pointed and ready, a big grin on my face, I called out “Cootchy cootchy coo!!” and poked my fingers into his soft armpit flesh, wiggled three times, withdrew my fingers, shouted “Cootchy cootchy coo!” again, and bored my fingers into his pits, over and over and over, for nearly an hour. Each time I did this, he’d scream. Sometimes I’d shout cootchy coo! and lunge at his pits without actually touching him, and he’d still scream and begin laughing helplessly. To bring my game to a close I cried cootchy coo one more time, drilled my fingers into his armpits and began wiggling and wiggling them, non-stop. “AAAAH HA HA HA HA HAAAAA …” he screamed, her eyes squeezed shut as he realized the game had taken a horrible turn. Up and down his armpits my poking, drilling fingers roamed. Up to just below his straining arm muscles, then wiggling on down to the smooth, tender hollow just above his ribcage, I poked and wormed, finally bringing all of my torturous fingers into play. His laughter increased in intensity, changed it’s timber from a lower, throatier sound to a high-pitched, insane shriek. I had to stop, finally, when my instruments indicated it was too dangerous to continue.

He was drenched in sweat. It formed a glossy sheen on his bare skin. Little rivlets leaked from his armpits.

“Enough… ” He still could not catch his breath. Not surprising. An hour of non-stop hysterical screaming laughter left his blood oxygen level low and would be several minutes returning to normal. “Please… no more. Oh God, I’m BEGGING you… please…” It was barely a whisper.

“I can’t stop now,” I said, rolling up my shirt sleeves. “You take a few minutes to rest. Here’s some water.” I offered him the straw to a water bottle. He refused.

“No… let me up NOW… I’m through.” Anger crept into his voice now that he had regained some strength.

I sat down in my chair. “That was only superficial stimulation. We still have to conduct tests in deep-muscle stimulation.” I reached down and began turning a lever set into the base of the tickle-table. This caused it to bend up in the middle, the ends dropping slightly. This in turn forced Michael’s chest cavity to extend upward, causing every rib to protrude in exquisite detail. I stood up, hitched up a leg and sat on the table, straddling Michael about his waist. I layed my hands on his hyper-extended rib cage, palms flat, fingers extended. He took short, panicky breaths and his eyes widened once again as he understood just what I meant to do to him.

“Now I’m going to tickle your ribs for the rest of the session. I’m afraid I’m going to have to dig in quite a bit, it might be a bit more uncomfortable, but just hang in there. It’ll all be over in another hour.”

“NOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!” he screamed again and shook his head, then began laughing, shaking his head and begging me not to all at the same time. I hadn’t even started.

“Cootchy cootchy coo,” my smile swelled into a wicked grin as I dug into his ribs and his screaming laughter began again.

I was called onto the carpet and given the boot for that one. The poor kid had to drop out of school and was being treated for nervous exhaustion. His stutter, which years of speech therapy had cured long before, had returned with a vengeance, making him almost unintelligible. Okay, so maybe I went a little overboard. But the experience provided me with the last data I needed to confirm my hypothesis and allowed me to get where I am today.

Yes, at the Pentagon.

At this very moment, in the room next door, are twenty state of the art tickle tables, and strapped into those tables are twenty, shirtless, barefoot privates fresh out of the corps. Tickling is the new interrogation technique of the nineties. Our country must be ready to employ it, develop it and defend against it. The group of young men next door were culled as the twenty LEAST ticklish men in the nation’s armed forces. And this group… Ah, this group of beautiful male soldiers has been wired with my new tickle-inducer. When those fingernails begin raking across their bared soles, and fingertips begin to pinch like claws into the flesh of their tender sides they are in for a new, terrifying, horrible experience and I can’t wait to see their twenty horrified, laughing young faces. Now if you will excuse me … duty calls.

Ratty

Ratty