At the behest of Erik: It was going to go badly for him: he hadn't followed the instructions given to him. Careless? Or stupid? Didn't matter, the toll would be taken. Not that the instructions were important in effect, but they demonstrated proper subservience - which would now be taught harshly....
His smile at the door (my door) was disarming, sweet, impetuous. Shorter than my height, eyes greener than sea, tufts of hair peeking out here & there, at his throat, sleeves, shorts. Shown my menagerie, I could see the moment of hesitance in his eyes--surely I wouldn't let the dog in, or entice the cats to feast on some honey? Too confident, the look passed and his easy smile returned.
The blindfold came first, the disorientation as I swung him around wildly made me giddy, more than him maybe, but I felt his pulse drumming. I whispered through teeth clenched to his earlobe (he murmured consent already, foolishly) that his journey would not be a comfortable one. Down he went amid the iron pylons squared in the room. Face down, at first, so that I could touch his back, raising sensitivity, tension, reaching under his stomach, making him flutter.
Without tickling, I grabbed the sides of his ribcage hard, murmuring in my own soft voice that he would not move again without my permission, and dug into his ribs in a tickling onslaught for several minutes that left him breathless, and a little alarmed. He wasn't yet restrained, but my grip was like iron, my weight enough to pin him down without leverage to escape the pleasure he sought.
As for why a guy wants to feel what I inflict, well, I dunno. For my part, it's a rush, man. The thrash, the control, the gradual giving in to hysteria as air grows more precious. There's nothing like it, and no proof it ever occurred.
One damn button at a time he lost every stitch he wore, breathing in small gasps, part fear of being treated to roughly now, part hopeful anticipation of ecstasy. I put mitts on his hands which grabbed his wrists, 3" padded leather cuffs on his ankles, and winched all four tight until he grimaced, but not complained. Did I mention I left his socks on?
The silly giggles he sputtered out when I casually stroked the sole of one foot were enough to tell me his feet would be exquisite. I stayed down there, slowly stroking and prodding for at least 10 minutes. Then I started a maddeningly slow crawl up his shins, knees, thighs. Using a firmer, inescapable touch, he whimpered at the half tickling / half painful grope, but burst into delicious devilish laughter when I started the dance around his stomach.
His muscles would tense, release, quiver, and draw my fingers in with invitation as he let loose with full bodied laughter without hope of escape. Around and down, his yummy hairline, then hips, and finally I dug into his sides, below the ribs, just a little.
I felt like I'd discovered the horn on a semi truck. His whole tenor, pitch, effort changed as the peals of laughter poured out of the guy, he started to try and buck me, using the 2 inches of thrust he could gain. Without letting up, I asked him why he hadn't followed the instructions I gave him to the letter. No answer I could make out came, so I asked him again several times. Man, those little spots on the sides were a treat! "Since you won't answer, I've got news for you, buddy, I ain't lettin' up 'til you stop buckin' me off and let me have my ride for free. You hear me? You gotta stop fighting me now, or it only gets worse!"
I kept at him, grinning ear to ear 'cause he was a hysterical mess by now, but I wouldn't let up. Rush rush rush! The feel of him fighting to relax enough to convey cooperation against all of his instincts was so palpable I could almost smell the musk. Do you that scent, when a guy gives it up to you, turns over to you complete control? Whew.
I let him breath a bit, lowering my body on top of his, Kevin Lee style, with my strong fingers poised over his very vulnerable, very stretched armpits. I was balanced on him, and told him that he was about to be tickled for 15 minutes, nonstop, but that if he fought me at all, threw me off balance to the side of the iron frame at all, that his punishment would be double, and severe, not the "nice touch" stuff.
Wanting to be clear, to give him a fair shot at cooperating, I asked if he understood the difference between the torment he was getting for sure, and the torture he would get if he threw me off. When I started circling on that smooth patch of skin right beneath his armpits, he managed to get out "yes! yes!" between laughs. Having a good thing going, I asked if we has going to be good, getting more enthusiastic responses (of course). But you know, like I do, it's a sucker bet, he couldn't win, and I told him I didn't think he could. My probing was fast now, kneading space between top ribs now, his laughter sounding desperate, when I reached down with my left hand and poked under his ribs suddenly.
He pushed up, lurching me to the side, but not off. I grinned big, and told him how close he had come. I then told him I wanted to give him the benefit of doubt, though, and maybe it wasn't fair if he couldn't breath at all. He nodded sappily when I asked if he wanted to try a different way. Still balanced on him, I then began the "pounce and strike" game, which had him roaring again in no time, and he threw me off 6 times that I counted.
Time for one, small, sip of water drained from an ice cube. I told him I had counted the 6 throws, which added up to 2 hours of torture, but told him I'd cut him a real 1/2 off break if he'd let me lie next to him, tickling the daylights out of him, without thrashing or fighting me. He agreed, and man, he tried.
He ended up 4 hours in debt, though, before I decided to rob him of his sanity for all time. tickling his stomach and dick at the same time, he came after about 8 minutes, screaming with what little voice he had left for me to stop, please please please!
I continued, a sly grin on my face, telling him that I felt he was fighting me, and that I wouldn't let go of either his dick or belly button until he would cooperate fully. He was screaming "I can't! Ohhhh, please I can't awwhhhhh" and bucking like wild. It was great! It took him about 10 more minutes of this to finally work up the control to stop fighting me, and by that time he was practically sobbing.
Practically, but not quite. After we were dressed, I reminded him he was 4 hours in debt still. He blushed, looked down, and whispered, "I pay my debts."