Wrapped and Tickled




A recurring theme in Jim's stories is of a victim being rolled up in a blanket or rug so that just his feet and head stick out. I agreed to let him try it out in real life. After stripping to my boxers, Jim had me lay down on the bed with my hands tight against my sides. Then he proceeded to roll the blanket around my body (which, okay, took a bit of work, but he was determined). I was surprised at how tightly my hands were pressed against my sides and how tightly I felt restrained despite the lack of any kind of real bondage being used. It was slightly claustrophobic, a fact hammered home even more when Jim raked his fingernails up my protruding bare foot producing the desired reaction from me. To make things a tad more secure, he used ropes tied around the blanked at my upper arms, waist and ankles. Now I felt truly helpless.

The look on his face was priceless. At long last, he had achieved a powerful fantasy situation and was ready to exploit it fully. Of course, just to be annoying, he started at my head protruding from the coil of blanket much like the proverbial victim buried in the sand. Regrettably, my neck and ears I've always known to be quite sensitive. He discovered this too, and began using feathers and that darned "fan" brush to drive me nuts, tickling my face, neck, ears (both inside, sides and even behind them, which I was shocked to learn tickled like hell). It was kind of a weird experience--to feel so helpless and to be tickled in such an innocuous yet potent method was at once hot and annoying. I mean, it's not like my arm was restrained over my head and I was so vulnerable to attack in such obvious places like my armpit or sides. It was just my stupid neck and ears and yet it tickled like hell.

He soon had me blubbering, laughing, cursing him and wriggling around like a worm in this blanket cocoon. Of course, he also enjoyed taunting me and reminding me how silly this was and how vulnerable I was to his little attack. Which only infuriated me more, but I was helpless to stop him. The only defense was to thrash about and twist my head from side to side, which he finally stopped by holding it in place with his hands or knees. At one point, he went to his dresser and pulled out an even bigger Indian Headdress than the one I'd used on him--apparently, he'd had the same idea at some point and bought one. So I got the tables turned on me, so to speak.

After about 15 minutes of this torment, he moved to the foot of the bed, looking like a kid in a candy store as he pulled the covers back to reveal my helpless feet, one bare, the other still socked. Needless to say, he went to town, tickling first my bare foot until I was laughing and squirming, then moving to my socked foot, the sheer sock acting as a lubricant that made this nails even more potent in their attack. I'd say he spent a good 30 minutes non-stop working on my feet, eventually removing my one remaining sock. There was something so darned helpless about the situation, combined with the fact that my feet were overly sensitive due to the special treatments I'd given them the past couple of weeks, that I think I became pretty hysterical. I remember squirming around, trying to sit up but helpless to use my arms, trying to pull my feet back but being stopped almost effortlessly by Jim who could hold them in place with his hands or body.

Eventually, he moved back up to my neck/head and started a new round of attacks there, this time discovering a surprisingly sensitive spot on me I'd never known before. He started tickling along my chest at the top, where the collar bone meets the breast bone, an area he could easily reach by pulling the blanket back just an inch or so. I couldn't believe how sensitive that spot was! He loved it! And came back to it often after that.

When he returned again to my tortured feet, he stepped up the attack, adding new weapons. That damned brush was killer! Between the toes, along the tops (which are very sensitive for me), swept generously up and down the soles. Of course, it didn't take him long this time to break out the baby oil and sharp objects which absolutely drive me bananas. He really had me twisting, writhing, trying to escape my inescapable wrap.

And then he really got intense. He used that wicked pipe cleaner I'd brought with me. He pulled it endlessly between my highly sensitive toes until I was screaming and begging for him to stop. But then Jim did the unthinkable. The bastard used these killer pipe cleaners to tie my toes together. First, my big toe to my second toe. Then my toe big toes together. Then my little toe and the fourth together. The weirdest thing is that just my natural squirming and movement drove me nuts, the feathery yarn of the pipe cleaners brushing between my toes in a constant, firm pressure that I couldn't relieve no matter what. It was really odd. And really killer. At this point, I lost it, especially when he started dragging some sharp objects (like the plastic end of the fan brush) up and down my oiled soles. I was practically in tears, rolling around, writhing in agony, pleading for him to stop.

Things kind of get fuzzy here for me. I can't really remember how long that went on but finally he released me. As he unrolled the blanket, my body was soaked in sweat both from the warmth and the unbearable session I had just endured. I was absolutely drained. Frankly, though, it was pretty hot for both of us.


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