Friday Night

"You deserve this. Say it back." he said.

"Yes, I do." she replied.

A sudden touch, very gentle, down the hollow of her armpit, made her flinch and shiver.

"Say it right." he said. "You deserve this."

She bit her lip. "I... I deserve this."

"Good." he said, pacing around her bedroom, his eyes never leaving her body. She stared back at him, grinning from ear to ear.

He smiled at her. "You owe this to yourself. Say it back."

"I owe this to myself." she said, with a confident nod.

"Very good." he purred. Slowly, he approached her. "You deserve this because you've worked so hard, all week. Say it back."

"I deserve..." she started, then swallowed. Sweat was already forming on her brow, her palms, and the back of her neck. "I deserve this because I've worked so hard, all week." She swayed her body as she spoke.

He gave a nod of approval. "Good girl." he said. "And now, it's time for you to relax. Time to unwind, let loose and be free. Say it back."

She giggled, giving him a skeptical look. "Peter, that's a very poor choice of words for this."

Peter almost fell on the floor laughing. She shook her head and rolled her eyes, wondering where the hell he came up with that one.

Then she realized.

She should have said it back first, before commenting on it.

The words spilled out of her, almost in one breath, as Peter composed himself.

"Now it's time for me to relax? Time to unwind, let loose, and be free?" She said with a nervous smile.

Peter crossed his arms, tapped his foot on the wood floor a bit. "I'll let you have that one. But I'm supposed to be making you laugh, Sam." He walked over to his open foot locker, on her bed, and rooted around before pulling out a foot-long metal rod wrapped in soft cord, with a black plush feather on one end.

If she was able to move, Sam would have been jumping for joy.

She stood in the doorway between her living room and bedroom, her arms over her head. Her wrists were bound in leather cuffs, secured with thick bungie cords and stainless steel clips, to the pull-up exercise bar affixed to the top of the doorframe. One of her favorite expensive leather belts secured her legs together, just above her knees. Further down, her ankles were in their own set of leather restraints, fastened with cords and clips to Peter's cushioned bondage board, laying on the floor. Dressed in only a sports bra and workout shorts, her long dark hair tied back in a ponytail, Sam was beaming with anticipation.

Peter swooped in beside her and put one arm around her torso, letting his fingers gently rest on her armpit, already clammy with sweat. Sam recoiled, as best as she could, before she felt the plush feather stroking her other armpit up and down, side to side, flicking and dragging, causing her to gasp and giggle.

Despite her lips being forced into a smile, she clenched her teeth, trying to resist.

Then, tickling sensations in both armpits as once, as Peter began wiggling and stroking with his fingers, firm but gentle, deep in the hollow spot.

Sam threw her head back and laughed, her knees shaking as she tugged on the restraints. "Fuck! Fuck!" she managed to curse between gasps of air. "Oh my God!!"

"Wow, that bad already?" Peter teased, getting faster and more aggressive with the feather. "I thought you were tougher than this."

Consumed with laughs, Sam was only able to nod. Peter held her close to him as he worked. He switched things up, dragging the feather and his fingers down her ribs, down her sides, drawing circles around her toned stomach, then coming back up to her ribs and digging in between them. Sam yelped, trying in vain to pull herself back, away from the tickle torture.

Wait, why was she trying to get away? This is what they both wanted. Something they both enjoyed, very much.

"Aww, poor ticklish Sam." Peter continued taunting her. "Why don't you tell me how bad it is?"

"It's so bad!" Sam choked out the words, after a huge gulp of air. "Oh my God, that fucking sucks!" She twisted and pulled hard against the cords, but they didn't budge. Her feet could only come up inches from the ground, her toes curling.

Having satisfied himself with her ribs, Peter went back up to her armpits, only for a moment, before putting his feather down on her dresser. He then stood directly behind Sam, cracking his knuckles close to her ear, making her shiver as she got her wind back. His hands came around her from behind, slowly going up to her forearms. A soft little moan snuck past her lips.

"Shh." Peter said. "Be silent for me. Let my hands go all the way to your cute little bellybutton, without a sound, and I'll be nice."

Sam nodded and shut her eyes, as he traced his fingertips down her wrists, past her elbows, dipped into her armpits, making her draw in a sharp breath through her nose, counted her ribs, down her sides, around her stomach, making their approach to the navel. She was focused, holding it in, surprisingly impressed with herself.

Until his index fingers went deep inside the sensitive little pit of her navel.

Sam burst out laughing and threw her head back, almost head-butting Peter.

"Oh, you blew it!" He said, feigning disappointment. "You fucked up, and you were so close!" He came out from behind her, and went over to his footlocker.

"Wait! No-no-no! Please, no! One more time, I'll be quiet, I can do it!" Sam pleaded, shaking her head fiercely. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"

"I don't think you are." Peter replied curtly.

He was right. She wasn't sorry.

Under her bra, her nipples were hard enough to cut diamonds.

Peter returned with two more tools in his hands. In his left, a small blue and white portable flosser. In his right, a neon-colored toothbrush. As many times as she had seen them before, Sam couldn't help her eyes widening, her chest heaving as she took in deep breaths for what was coming. Her heels came up off the ground, her ass cheeks clenching tight.

Peter waved the toothbrush in front of her face, menacingly, before putting it down her bra, stuffing it in her cleavage, nice and snug.

"Be a good girl, hold onto that." he said.

He pressed a button on the flosser, and the little plastic tip buzzed, rapidly vibrating. Getting behind Sam again, he wrapped one arm around her waist, pulling her close to him again. He put his chin on her shoulder and brought up the flosser.

"You hear that?" Peter whispered, in her ear

"Nope, nope, nope." Sam said back, defiant. "I'm not ticklish. I'm not ticklish."

Lies. She was the most ticklish person either of them had ever known.

"That's gonna go right up here." Peter stuck the flosser deep in Sam's armpit.

Sam laughed loud enough to wake the dead. Shrieking and squealing, she fought hard to escape her restraints, to no avail. Her tormentor went all over her sensitive armpits with his fiendish little tool. He would work over one side, then swap the flosser to the other hand and give that side some attention. All the while Sam laughed, begging and pleading for it to stop.

Peter did stop. Eventually, that is. Sam slumped forward as far as was allowed, gasping for air. "Oh, God." she breathed, over and over.

"Yes, breathe! I have awarded you that small courtesy." Peter said, brushing her hair away that had fallen over her face. He leaned against the wall to take in the sight. His lovely captive, her suntanned skin glistening with sweat, muscles starting to ache with fatigue, giggling and cursing him out. Feeling his gaze on her, Sam looked up at him. Her handsome captor, with his porcelain skin, short shaggy blonde hair, so normal and innocent looking, but with such a mean devilish side.

She loved it. She had attended kink parties before, been strapped down and tickled senseless by people she only just met. She had even paid professional doms for private sessions. No one could get the laughs out of her like Peter could, he was on a different level. They were friends back in high school almost a decade ago, and lost touch after he graduated, due to them being a year apart. Who in what universe would have thought they'd find each other again nine months back, in an online chat room for people into BDSM?

Of course, she had no idea it was him at first. She figured it was a curious coincidence, they lived in the same city, even went to the same high school. Until they arranged to meet, and sent each other photos of themselves. God only knows who was more surprised. It started with a couple of awkward coffee dates, which turned into less awkward dinner dates, which later led to their first Friday night tickling date at his place, at his invitation. And then another at her place the next Friday. And so on, and so forth. Not that they were a couple, not officially. Just friends, with unusual benefits.

The little stroll down memory lane suddenly took a hard left turn off a bridge, straight down into hell, when Sam felt that wicked vibrating flosser tip in the pit of her navel! Peter was behind her again, laying into her ribs, attacking her from two places at once. She could swear her laughter was echoing around the apartment back at her, mocking her. How none of her neighbors had made a noise complaint with the police, all this time, was a damn blessing.

"Oh, fuck, yeah." Peter growled. "That's for you, Sam. How's that feel? Like a little bug is stuck in there, buzzing around?"

Sam shook her entire body, trying to throw him off, but he held firm.

"Oh God, no! Please, no! F-f-fuck you!!" she cried out.

Peter shut off the flosser, stuffing it down in Sam's cleavage, exchanging it for the neon-colored toothbrush. "Thank you, dear." he said sweetly.

"You're welcome, asshole." Sam barely had enough time to say before he pressed a button on his new tool, and it began vibrating. Not in one spot, like the flosser, the toothbrush itself buzzed in his hand.

"No-no-no-no-no..." Sam tried to protest before the toothbrush introduced itself to her bare skin, as Peter took it for a trip around her entire torso. Starting from her waist and hips, around and around her stomach, inside of her navel, up the sides, along every single rib, buried in each armpit, until it ended up shoved between her breasts, next to the flosser, still buzzing. Peter left the toothbrush where it was, took out the flosser, and slid his hands up inside her bra. He teased her pebble-hard nipples, tickling them, rolling them around between his fingers, as he squeezed her firm breasts around the buzzing toothbrush.

Tears streamed from Sam's eyes as she laughed maniacally. Her "happy tears", she sometimes called them. Her throat was turning red, her stomach started to hurt, her fits of laughter punctuated by moans and squeals. Alarm bells were ringing all over her body, it felt as if bolts of lightning were stabbing into her brain.

"Do you love it?" Peter asked. "Maybe if you tell me you love it, I'll stop."

"I LOVE IT!" Sam cried out, with determination. "I LOVE BEING TICKLED!"

"Oh, you do? Then why should I stop, if you just said that you loved it?"

"YOU SUCK!" she shrieked, before dissolving into laughs again.

Peter's hands slid out of her bra, now clinging to her sweat-soaked skin, as his cruel digits snuck down to her shorts. Slipping his fingers in the waistband, he attacked the place where the top of the inner thigh met the groin, digging in and massaging tenderly.

Sam jumped so hard, her feet came off the ground, her knees buckling as she landed. Her head lolled to one side, as she pulled at the bonds on her wrists. She wanted to slap the ever-loving shit out of Peter so badly, ever since the first time he found that spot, during that first session they had at his place. All the times she had been tickled before, and somehow he was the one to stumble upon it? It was like a dream and a nightmare simultaneously coming true.

And she couldn't have been more thankful for him finding that damn spot.

She wasn't sure how long it had been since they started. Time seemed to slow down, play its little tricks on their minds during these sessions. She was almost certain she had been in this position, being put through a gauntlet of torture for almost an hour. When in reality, only a little over ten minutes had passed.

Fuck, why did Peter have such soft, beautiful hands? He could be a hand model, and here he chooses to use his gift for evil shit like this.

Not that she was complaining, mind you. She couldn't complain anyway, she was laughing too hard. Just when it was starting to hurt her ears, when it felt like she was on the verge of passing out...

An alarm chimed from Peter's phone, in his back pocket. Quick as a flash, his hands shot up and switched off the toothbrush, pulling it out of Sam's bra. Her laughter began to die down, while Peter reached up and undid the bungie cords around the wrist cuffs, lowering her arms. As she slumped forward, Peter undid the belt around her knees and threw it to the side, taking her in his arms, carefully sitting her down on the cushioning. He undid the cords on her ankle cuffs and held her close, stroking her hair, as her breathing gradually became level, her chest going in and out.

"Hey, it's okay, it's okay." he said. "You're okay. You're doing great."

She managed a smile. "You're Goddamn right."

"Let's clean you up and get you some water." Peter said, picking her up bridal style and carrying her to the bathroom. "Don't get too comfortable. Your feet are next."