Bound, Tied & Tickled 2: Masturbatory Buzz

HOW MUCH CUM COULD ONE FUCK CHUCK?:
BOUND: TIED, TICKLED, AND TORMENTED INTO SPASMS AND ‘GASMS

II. Masturbatory Buzz

Karen was the daughter of my parents’ very close friends. She was three years older than me and had entered my life five years earlier as a stay-over guest. Because our house was in a very remote area, almost like an outpost in a forest that was adjacent to a huge state park, my folks thought it would be a good idea for me to have company when they were away. They called her my “sitter” as a shorthand term, and they never learned just how appropriate that title would be; Karen would spend a lot of time over the years sitting on me!

Karen and I formed a quick and highly sexual bond right from the start. The remote house, raging hormones, sexual curiosity, and her Catholic schooling made a bonfire of lust that we neither could nor wanted to extinguish. It was a situation that I never regretted. (For more detail, read my self-bondage story, “Bound Tied and Tickled.”)

Karen’s Catholic school was apparently a hotbed of tensions of many sorts. It was an all-girl school and the environment was very restrictive: Karen used to refer to the discipline there as “the porcupine girdle.” Now for some reason Karen had a long-standing feud with a classmate named Mary Tucker. It was quite a while before I learned about Mary, and even longer before I found out what started the feud. My first knowledge of Mary came on a particularly hot summer night.

The adults had gone away on a three-week vacation leaving Karen and me with plenty of time to respond to the intense hormones that the summer heat only seemed to intensify. I had been on summer vacation for two weeks already but the Catholic school still had a week to go. On the final Tuesday Karen had come home in a particularly foul mood, and when she got home she stomped around the house, still in her uniform, for about two hours.

“Do you want to talk about it,” I asked when she seemed about out of steam.

“No!” she spat. She had stopped briefly and was staring at me. I was sweltering and dressed only in my small tight speedo swim trunks that were straining against a very stiff erection. “And I do not want to calm down,” she continued as she turned and started to leave. “Save that for later, maybe tomorrow!”

Karen rejecting a fucking? Something really was wrong.

Later, after I showered, I went to my room and prepared to jerk myself off when Karen came charging into the room. She plunked down on the bed next to me.

“Nice,” she said looking at my rod. “But could you wait a bit? I’d like to talk with you if it’s okay.”

Okay, most of our relationship was based on pure animal lust, but we also were friends so of course I listened. Though stiff as a flagpole I hadn’t even gotten to touch my penis yet. Frustrating.

She rambled on for what seemed like hours about what’s wrong with the Catholic school, nuns, discipline, and the fact that she wasn’t even Catholic. Then she started complaining about how immature the other students were and how it took so much effort to maintain her ability to not let on that she knew how dumb they are. Bad enough that most of the girls knew nothing about sex, it was their main point of conversation. Also about what they’ll do when they graduate, plans to sneak out and see R-rated movies, and “all kinds of other nonsense.”

By the time she finished and went to her room, I was both tired and bored. On top of that my pecker was now limp as overcooked macaroni and soft as cotton candy, but I was exhausted and just rolled over and went to sleep.

Next morning was Karen’s last day of school for the year and she was up and long gone before I went downstairs for breakfast. On the dining room table she left a note:

Sorry I bored you last night but the talking really helped. I’ll be gone tonight for the end of year party so you’ll have plenty of privacy for polishing your rod. Back late tomorrow. –Karen

Never mind what I did that day, it was evening that mattered. I’d been planning all day to give myself an exhausting jerk-off session and that required great self-bondage. Yay!

I went to my room and stripped off everything but the bottom sheet. Then I put my supplies on the bed and sat down to begin the long tie down. I began by locking a pair of wide fleece-lined cuffs on each ankle. They were snug but comfortable, and they locked with small padlocks. To the cuffs I attached a length of the kind of material used to make really strong leashes. At each end I had bolted loops which were locked to loops on each ankle cuff. Wriggling closer to the foot of my bed, I let the leash drop between headboard and mattress, and then moved my legs carefully until I got the leash inserted between mattress and box springs. By wriggling back towards the headboard I pulled the leash further under the mattress, which also spread my legs about as far as they could go. When I lay down there was no way I could get that leash loose without wriggling back towards near the foot of the bed. As the weak bits of breeze from the windows hit my crotch it felt wonderful.

I lay back, a pillow under my ass, and inserted my penis (which had been erect for hours) into an electric vibrating cunt sex toy. The attached straps went around my waist and were pulled tight so there would be no movement. No matter how I’d grind my groin I could get no sliding motion at all; everything would come from the vibrations only. Then I plugged the cunt into an electric timer.

Next I lay all the way down, put my arms well above my head between two solid wooden headboard beams, and carefully maneuvered a special lined cuff around my wrists. This cuff I had made myself: it was just (just) large enough to surround both my wrists. The tough part was getting the strap into the clasp that kept the cuff in place. Sometimes it could take several minutes of minor contortionism to make it work, but when it worked it worked well.

The cuffs were welded to a long thin chain that rose to a pulley on the ceiling. The other end was attached to a 60-pound weight that was held by a small peg. By jerking the cuffs down the weight came loose and pulled my wrists towards the ceiling. Only the horizontal bit on the headboard halted their rise.

Now I was helpless. Naked, sweaty and panting. My penis was hard as marble. My legs were spread so far that it made me feel slutty. When the time came to unbind myself it would be a slow and difficult process. I loved it!

And then the automatic timer made a quiet “click” and the vibrating pussy came to life. No stroking, no twisting, no rubbing. Just vibrations, ceaseless, uniform, tickling vibrations on my swollen and bound cock. On all of my cock. Shaft, base, and most torturous, the whole glans. It tickled and my cock throbbed. Then it began squirting and I came hard.

But the vibrating cunt doesn’t know I came, it doesn’t care. It just keep buzzing along, producing the tingling and then pain of the glans even after I stopped squirting. Now it hurt and I struggled senselessly to get loose. Of course it was pointless but I couldn’t control myself. I couldn’t control my orgasm, my pain, the vibrator, or any of my body. I just had to lay there and take it. And in a very short while my glans stopped hurting and the vibrations worked my shaft and I came again. The process repeated and cum leaked out of the vibrator and dribbled over my belly and balls. My mind was screaming for control, for release, but none came. I’d squirt and hurt and squirt again, and I loved every cock tortured second.

III. Easy Rider

It was dark, I’d left all the house lights off, and I was still being non-stop auto fucked when I heard a noise in the hall outside my room. At that instant I came again so I could not focus my mind.

“Looks like fun, but I’ve got something better,” said a female voice. It wasn’t Karen.

It was too dark to see clearly but there was the silhouette of a shapely girl very slowly advancing towards me. She was removing her shirt and tossed it back into the hall.

“Who are you,” I blurted when I could get some words out. It’s dreadfully difficult to converse when you are being auto fucked.

The girl was now close enough that I could see she was clad only in very tight denim shorts. She was staring at the vibrating cunt on my pole.

“My goodness,” she said slowly, “but you’re absolutely flooding your crotch! So does that thing work well?”

“Who… who…”

“Me? Oh, don’t mind me. I just want to replace that jerk off machine there,” she said.

She followed the wire and unplugged the vibrator, at which my whole body collapsed into the mattress. Next she took it off my cock and looked inside. She placed it carefully on my bedside table and then stared at my groin.

“Hm,” she sneered. “So this is Karen’s pecker? Not a bad looking shaft you’ve got. All sticky and messy though.”

“It is not… AH!” She had begun licking my erection and it tickled like hell.

“Mmm, tastes good,” she said, her head hidden between my legs and then resumed licking. “There, all cleaned up!”

“What are you doing?” I managed to say. “Who ARE you?”

“Who am I?” she repeated with a surprised tone. “Why, I’m Fucker Tucker. Hasn’t Karen told you about me? No? Maybe she called me Ironing Board Mary then?”

“No, she’s never mentioned you.”

Mary held my penis firmly and started pulling the shaft down towards her. About the time it was pointing at her navel it began to hurt.

“Funny, all the girls at school know those names. ALL of the girls!” Mary crawled up my body and put her face in mine. “She came up with those names, Hard On. Wants everyone to think of me as some round-heeled slut that will hump anything with a heartbeat. Can you imagine?” She pushed my shaft lower, closer to the mattress. It hurt so much that I couldn’t yell.

I shook my head, still worrying about who this lunatic was.

Mary reached for something on my table, then used one knee to slam my balls.

“Ow…” I began, but Mary quickly thrust my ball gag into my mouth and fastened it around my head.

“Can you imagine?” she repeated. “Karen’s got the girls saying things to me like, ‘There goes Fucker Tucker—when she’s not at school she’s in some guy’s crotch.’ It’s awful. One day last week I was one of the last two girls getting out of the shower after gym class and Karen sees us leaving and says to me, ‘Hey, did you Fucker Tucker?’ Now she’s telling girls I’m a lesbian!” She slapped my erection back and forth, hard, several times.

I made some sort of pleading sound and shook my head violently.

“Oh yeah,” she continued, “you want to know why I’m here. Isn’t that obvious, or does Karen only like dumb studs?” She stood up and peeled off her shorts and thong underwear. Then she knelt down, wrapping her very wet pussy over my shaft.

“Why am I here? To rape you, of course!” And she began by humping me hard. I’d already come a lot that night, so Mary got to cum first, and she took it like a wild banshee. She screamed, “Fuck yeah,” over and over as she slowed but continued to pound my erection.

There was little light but I could now see her a bit more clearly. Long straight dark hair—when she leaned her head back her hair tickled my balls—lean firm body, and flat tits. Very girl-looking tits, but small and no doubt the reason Karen called her Ironing Board Mary. I didn’t care, she looked all girl to me and she knew how to fuck. She humped me repeatedly for at least an hour and had no problem with giving me a series of ruined orgasms. You know, the kind where you cum but your partner continues or increased working the tip of the penis so it becomes painful agony? But finally Mary finished her own pleasures and dismounted me. She dripped cum copiously.

“Looks like this sheet needs a major laundry visit,” she observed.

“Now back to business,” she explained. “Why am I here? To rape you for one, but also…” She grabbed my shaft very firmly with one hand and used her other palm to start lightly rubbing and stroking my glans. Having just cum it was now in that painful phase. If I could have spoken I’d have begged her to stop. But I couldn’t speak, and Mary wasn’t going to stop. She kept the torment up for what seemed like hours but was probably only two minutes. I probably never struggled so hard against my bonds, and in this state I could not move in the right way to release my wrists. Unless I could free them I could free nothing.

“Look at you!” she said, rubbing mercilessly. “You’re flying!” Almost true; I was pulling my bonds so tightly, had tensed my entire body, that I was arching and thus had very little of my body in contact with the mattress. Then she stopped and I sagged again into the bed.

“Yes, I also came here to torture you. Fun, isn’t it? Here’s what I want,” said Mary. “I’m going to remove that gag and then ask you some questions. If you answer me you might get some pleasure,” and she very gently tickled the long undersurface of my cock. “But if you give me trouble I’ll rub your tip until you bite through that ball gag!” She grabbed my cock and drove it hard towards the mattress again; hell, doesn’t she know it doesn’t bend that way? She released it the pushed it all the way to the mattress. “Understand?”

I nodded and she took off the gag.

“Now I am going to ask you about your sister’s deepest secrets.” She didn’t know that Karen and I were unrelated. Now what?

And the inquisition began. By morning Mary knew every one of Karen’s most private sexual secrets that I knew about. From time to time she would slap my cock around, sometimes quite hard. Even then I simply could not get soft. My prick stayed firmly upright as if daring Mary to go ahead and try her worst. Satisfied with that information, Mary hopped onto my pole again and humped me for… I have no idea how long. What I do know is that when I finally woke up Mary was gone and it was afternoon. Mary had put the vibrator back on my cock and plugged it in but it hadn’t started yet. She’d changed the start-stop settings but left it on low power. By the time I was finally, finally able to release myself Karen was home and coming up the stairs. Naturally she barged right into my room while I was still stark naked and just getting the last of my bonds undone.

“Holy crap, what did you do to yourself? How long have you been masturbating,” she asked. “Look at the fucking sheet.”

“Karen, did you send one of your friends over here yesterday,” I said.

“No, why? Did someone come over and tell you I’d sent them?” She looked at my very cum-stained belly and balls. “Okay, so you came over and over.” At least my cock had finally softened and shrunk.

“Not exactly. Do you know a girl named Fucker Tucker?”

“Ohmygod! Yes, I do. Why? Did she come here?”

“No kidding she came here,” I said, “many times over. She didn’t exactly sound like she likes you much.”

“She hates me,” said Karen. “At least I hope she does. I really work to make her life embarrassingly miserable! What did she want?”

“Bottom line,” I said, “you’re fucked!”

“What?”

“She said she came here to rape me,” I started.

“Looks like she did a good job.”

“You have no idea,” I answered. “She raped me and then put me through hours of interrogation.”

Karen looked me in the eyes. “You mean like sexual interrogation? Sexy torture?” Her voice was getting excited. “Why, what did she ask you about?”

“She wanted to know about you,” I said. “Everything about your sexual interests and, uh, tendencies.”

“What?” she yelled. “What do you mean ‘everything?’”

“What do you think she got out of me by torturing my erection all night?”

“Oh… my… god,” she said as she plopped into my plush chair. “I’m fucked.”

Today was Karen’s—and Mary’s—first day of summer vacation. What Karen didn’t know was that it was going to be a very long, hard summer. Very, very long and hard!

Wicked Tricks is the pen name of a man extremely dedicated to self-bondage and fantasies of being found and fucked therein. Out of curiosity he wonders: Are there any real women like those he writes about?? Hope you have a fucking good time reading this story!

14.06.14