By TickleToy

This story was written for JamesBondageSx.

As the last leather cuff fastened shut around my wrist, I wondered again what I’ve gotten myself into. Held tight against a padded horizontal bench, I tried to readjust position but I was stretched out just enough to be immobile, but not uncomfortable. I sighed with a mix of anticipation and arousal, the cool air in the cellar sending a shiver up my naked body.

My captor moved from the head of the bench down to my feet, inspecting each restraint. Thick cuffs locked around my wrists and ankles, buckled tightly, with a length of rope pulled taut to each corner. Smaller straps looped around my elbows and thighs strip away the last pieces of potential freedom I might have. After a moment, he looked me in the eyes and smiled, obviously satisfied.

His name is John, but I only ever call him Sir. A little older than myself, a tall and handsome man with misleadingly kind eyes and a cool, calm voice. My mind raced back to when we first met online over four years ago, our first introduction on a fetish site where I was starting to explore my interests. Over that time, he teased more and more information out of me; things I admitted to wanting without even realising it beforehand. He seemed interested in every aspect and detail of what I told him, quickly picking up on what made me tick and adding his own experience and advice. He wasn’t far away from me at all, only a half hour drive, but my nerves had kept me from doing anything in person until recently. Speaking for so long before meeting had fueled his sadistic appetite; when I arrived at his place, I was immediately led down to the cellar beneath his idyllic countryside home. I was swiftly stripped, laid down, and restrained, no question or fuss.

I was brought back to reality by the sudden sensation of something cold and metallic brush against the inside of my thigh. Given all that I told him, and knowing how his mind worked, it might seem foolish that I was surprised when I lifted my head to see a small but sturdy steel chastity cage being expertly fitted to my dick. I cried out, tried to shuffle away, but was totally immobilised; my pleas rang emptily in the room. A moment later he locked it shut with a small key which he then slid into the back pocket of his leather trousers.

I’d mentioned chastity some time ago. It was something I wanted badly to try, but also it was a frightening prospect; I’d changed the conversation after losing my nerve, but apparently he hadn’t forgotten.

He moves back to the head of the table, crouching down so his mouth is next to my ear.

“Here’s the deal, sub. That cage isn’t coming off unless I unlock it. I’m going to start with a sentence of a month. Not so bad right? ”

I lock my lips and stare at the ceiling. His warm breath against my neck made waves of ecstasy ripple across my skin, and his voice was low and honeyed. A month seemed like an eternity… but feeling my dick strain in the cage, I knew I wanted it. He seemed to notice it too, laughing softly.

“Good boy. That’s the easy part.” He walked away from the bench to a corner of the room, opening a metal box and seeming to consider the contents. He reached in and removed a large ball gag, bringing it back over to me with a smile. I considered refusing to allow him to fit it, but he must have spotted the glint of defiance in my eye.

“I can make it six months if you prefer?”

Shock drained the colour from my face. I opened my mouth, letting him slide the gag in and secure it shut. He grinned with satisfaction, picking up a small pen and tallying thirty days on a whiteboard hung on the wall to track my sentence.

“That was the right decision. Now, the harder part.”

He took out his phone, showing me the screen. It showed a dial and some text I didn’t recognise. He reached out with his free hand and buried his fingers into my armpits. Although his fingertips barely made contact, I felt as though electricity was leaping from them directly into my nerve endings, making me twitch and writhe. Even with the gag firmly lodged in my mouth, I yelped. The dial on the screen jumped up as I did, settling down as I quieted. He shook his head in mock disappointment.

“Even with the gag on you’re so loud, boy. So this is how it’ll work. Every time this registers you making a sound over 50 decibels, it’s another day added to the cage sentence. If you stay below that, I’ll remove a day. And I know exactly how to encourage some loud noises from you.”

My blood ran cold again. I’d spoken to him at length about tickling. It was a weakness that haunted me; even a slight touch would drive me insane. I was usually able to squirm away on the rare times it happened in regular everyday life, but this was totally different. I’d told him everything, even how aroused I got at the idea of being teased and tickled. I looked up at him as he stood above me, big hands resting on the edge of the table. He smiled back and placed the phone next to me, then raised his hand from the table, holding them with fingers softly stroking the air.

I shook my head as they started to move towards me. The moment his index fingers made contact with the skin just below my elbows, I squealed. I heard an electronic ping and the sound of vibration as the app recognised the sound being above the limit. He feigned disappointment again, the curl of a smile only barely visible at the end of his mouth, and added a tally to the board. I groaned in frustration, unable to control myself, and heard the app sound again. He added another tally, turning his head but unable to mask his own glee at my predicament.

Over the next twenty minutes another twelve days were added to the board, and he was still just touching the same place on my arms.

“You really are bad at this. So let’s try something else. For every minute you’re too loud, that’s an extra day.”

Before I could process this, his fingers were walking down my arm, from my elbows to my vulnerable and sensitive armpits. I was begging, laughing, yelling – all muffled by the gag but not nearly enough to keep quiet enough to avoid detection. The constant buzz of the phone somehow made it worse as his fingers stroked and swept through my armpits. I stared at the ceiling trying to suppress the sound, but a second of relative silence only gave way to more stifled curses and screams.

He moved down my sides, to my ribs, covering every millimetre of them, then tracing his fingers across my stomach, exploring my belly button. Then back up my sides to my nipples, tweaking and caressing, being sure to milk every last drop of suffering from me.

After an hour, I was given a break as he checked his phone for the results so far. As I lay there, panting, trying desperately to regain composure during the break, he wrote on the board. A short while later he turned back to me, a sadistic smile painted clearly on his face.

“Bad news I’m afraid, boy – that’s an extra seventy days. It was only fifty six from all that noise you made, but I did make out some pretty nasty language that a good boy would never say, so I rounded up generously.”

I considered demonstrating a little more of my vocabulary, but instead settled for another frustrated sigh.

He placed the phone next to me again, and bought out a pair of electric toothbrushes from under the table. I blinked in confusion as he inspected them, inserted fresh batteries and turned them on. They buzzed noisily, the bristled heads vibrating furiously. He turned them off and got to work fastening them to the soles of my feet with thin rope and tape.

As soon as I realised what was happening, I wriggled my feet and curled my toes as much as I could, trying to stop him. A moment later, he strode to the corner of the cellar where a small drain was sunk into the floor. He took out the key to my cage.

“If this falls down the drain, you’ll have to explain to someone why they need to help you take off a steel cock cage, and why you don’t have the key.”

His eyes were blank and his voice deadpan. He didn’t seem to be bluffing, and even so I wasn’t going to risk it. I let out another exasperated moan, incidentally triggering the phone again. He raised an eyebrow, added a tally, and got back to attaching the brushes to my feet.

A moment later and both were firmly secure, the base against my heel and the brush heads against the base of my toes. The bristles were stiff enough to remain firmly pressed against the soft skin of my feet, but yielding enough to splay out slightly and cover a larger area.

“I’ll be back in a while to see the results.”

He switched on both brushes and watched for a moment as I descended straight back into madness. The sound of the brushes was accompanied by the buzzing of the phone as it recorded my suffering, mixing with my muffled begging and screaming and filling the room with a constant loud hum. Satisfied, he slowly climbed the stairs up from the cellar, leaving me alone to fight my battle against myself…

I don’t know how long it lasted. After what felt  like a lifetime later, I remember, through the haze of borderline insanity, the brushes shutting off and the phone continuing to sound as I babbled and begged, seemingly on autopilot. I remember him checking his phone, standing at the board. Him showing me the entire thing covered with tallies, then flipping it over and showing how the back was the same way. The horror as I heard him say

“Just over two hundred days. And we have the rest of the weekend left for you to try and get that number down!”

Metal would like to thank TickleToy for this story and welcome him to the Prison Library!  Also thanks to JamesBondageSx for instigating!