tagFetishLaura's Fantasy

Laura's Fantasy

byCodaCiel©

The following work of fiction contains some sexually explicit content. All depicted characters are 18 or older.

SYNOPSIS: Laura loves a shy college classmate, and she fantasizes about bringing him face-to-face with his own tickling fetish.

Originally posted May 2007

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Lights off. Lie down.

Breathe in... breathe out...

Relaxing... breathing... and there goes the afterimage from of the light switch. There's the sound of the frogs from outside. There are the speckled designs on the inside of my eyelids.

All right, time to fantasize.

Relaxing, and...

I walk into the room. My favourite restraining table is here.

The guy that I'm in love with, Darren Smith from art lecture, is strapped to the table.

He's very kind, and shy. Both times that he's passed me on his way to his seat, he's pardoned himself apologetically. It's fascinating to watch him read outside. He's usually at a bench alone. If someone else nears, he moves elsewhere. I've also noticed that while almost everyone is wearing sandals, he always wears shoes and socks outside.

My hypothesis is that Darren was brought up in a family that taught him -- directly or indirectly -- that advances toward women are to be discouraged, that one's sexuality is a shameful thing, and that one must keep it to oneself. I doubt that Darren has even had a girlfriend; he seems too inexperienced. Besides, I think he's only eighteen or nineteen.

This is bothersome. Guys like Darren deserve to have good girlfriends. They are well-mannered and considerate, and they're good thinkers. Yet, they lack the confidence to even greet a member of the opposite sex, let alone ask them out.

Ironically, this is also very opportune, because they are sexually repressed. They have nervous systems, reflexes, passionate sexual urges... but they feel as though they mustn't express any of it.

Of course, their resistance is denial of the truth, and this brings about a wonderful duplicity. As a result of this repression, they are very easily embarrassed when faced with the idea that their bodies are capable of responses beyond their control. I bet that Darren even blushes when the doctor tests his reflexes, and he can't stop his leg from jumping. This makes him an ideal candidate for my ministrations.

When I have a man like Darren in my room, my primary objective is not to use him for my own gratification. Rather, it's to force the man to explore himself. I bring him face-to-face with his own body so explicitly that he can't deny it anymore. I bring him to terms with the truth. For as long as he resists, it will be profoundly arousing to him.

Darren has absolutely no idea.

He is lying on his back at waist level. His bare arms are restrained, crossed at the wrists behind his head. His legs, straight and together, are secure in the ankle cuffs. He's positioned as though he's simply relaxing in the sun, which I think is fairly adorable because he has no choice. I look him up and down. His hands are beautiful. His face is beautiful. His arms look strong. I note his genitals and legs, keeping in mind I have the opportunity to examine them as closely and as long as I want. His bare feet, never seen in public, are quite cute with the exposed soles facing directly outward.

I stand by him, my hair tied back, wearing my glasses, dressed professionally. It's time to begin.

"Good afternoon, Darren. I suppose you're wondering why I've brought you here."

I can see him coming to terms with his restraints and his nakedness as I continue speaking.

"As you're now discovering, you're quite unable to move. Don't worry, that's perfectly normal. If you would, I would like you to observe yourself closely."

I push a button on the side of the table; one of three. A screen appears on the ceiling above Darren's head. It's a live image of himself, as seen from above. I watch his eyes as he reacts to the sight of himself. The poor man; if he were able to move, he would probably curl up in a corner. Instead, he just watches himself lying with his arms behind his head in that leisurely manner. His legs, his feet, his penis and testicles, his chest, his body, all on display for me. His cheeks acquire a heartbreakingly adorable red tint.

I walk toward the head of the table, looking down at him. From his point of view, he'll see my face, and behind it, the image of his open body.

"Your body is an amazing thing, Darren. I want you to look at it. You can control it; you can make it do anything you want. Except now, of course, because you're restrained. But I want you to remember, it's a reciprocal relationship. Your body obeys instructions other than your own. It's designed for that." I say, placing one hand on his arm, and running the nails of the other through his hair. The skin of his forehead loosens, his eyelids relax a little bit, and a shiver flows down his shoulders.

"Darren, I'm going to begin with a thorough examination of your feet." I'm watching his face for his involuntary reaction to the phrase "your feet." His breath tenses, and his pupils dilate slightly.

"You always wear socks and shoes, even when it's warm outside, Darren. Are you afraid of something?"

As I finish that line, I press the next button, which juxtaposes another image with the first. Darren immediately sees the soles of his feet, staring directly at him. I particularly relish the moment when his brain detects a change in his field of vision, causing his pupils to instinctively dart over to the picture of his soles before he even realizes he's doing it. This is followed immediately by the trademark rush of red to his cheeks.

"Why are your feet so private for you, Darren? Is it because they're sensitive? Do you keep them hidden so as to seem proper? They're very cute, you know. Look at them."

I kneel at the helpless feet, staring at them too. I feel a rush of power just looking them up and down, knowing that I can run my nails across the skin, and those cute little digits will be trying -- whether he wants them to or not -- to defend the soles from the treatment.

"Darren, I want you to just relax and watch your feet. I'm going to start stimulating your body's nervous system, and you're going to put on a little show for me."

I give his mind a moment to wrestle with that information. I can almost hear his brain overheating, trying to logic it into something that doesn't turn him on so much. I think it's time to augment that.

"I want you to watch your toes curl, Darren."

He watches the image as my fingers caress his sole, and his responsive foot curls up in defense. It's the most adorable thing. I can't see his face from where I'm sitting, but I know that it's even brighter red in frustration.

"Very good, Darren. We both know you can't control it. Watch again." And I repeat the process on his other foot, causing the same lovable reaction. I smile to myself in approval.

I'm greatly enjoying this. Taking my time, I draw several gentle lines down his soles, imaging the effervescence I'm creating in him. I know, from testing my nails on my own feet, the sensation that your brain is being slowly taken over. It intensifies madly until the nails let up, and you think you're fine until the next stroke begins.

"I hope you're watching your feet, Darren. Aren't you enjoying it, the way it's so easy for me to command them?"

I interject with a few sharp lines around the sides of his feet, watching them respond spasmodically. It's so cute.

I stand up and look at his face, and I can tell I'm doing a very good job of embarrassing him. He's still pretending none of this has any effect on him, but watching him try to appear calm is like watching the surface of a freshly-poured glass of soda water. I can tell he's ready for my most powerful psychological trick.

This is by far my favourite part. I look the man in the eye, and form a smile.

"I think you're enjoying yourself."

Darren immediately feels it happening. His eyes widen in terror, but it's too late. His penis is rising steadily. His entire body flushes furiously. He's doing everything he can to stop his penis from growing, but it's like willing a helium-filled balloon to stay at the bottom of a lake. In less than three seconds, it's completely hard.

While I think that men's erections are always exciting, there's absolutely nothing more erotic than seeing a man's penis become erect when he doesn't want it to. It's a gorgeous psychological loop. He'll try anything to keep from the embarrassment of revealing that he's turned on, but his penis will betray him. When he realizes this, the sheer embarrassment turns him on even more deeply. This increased arousal keeps his erection uncontrollably stiff, and that heightens his embarrassment. And so on.

Now that I've initiated this cycle in Darren, it's absolutely guaranteed that he'll be firmly erect for the remainder of his time here. His reclined position, with his arms behind his head, looks even more ridiculous with his penis pointing directly at the camera.

"Your performance is very enjoyable, Darren. It's time for the next step. In a minute, you're going to begin laughing, and those cute feet of yours are going to dance for me. You're going to try to stop yourself, but you won't be able to. Watch carefully, Darren."

I take my station, kneeling back at his feet. Now, it's time for the real fun.

After a few slow downward strokes, I begin to use my fingers independently, continuously, in the middle of his feet. This time, my intent is to make him smile. He will respond by resisting.

His muscles tense. I counter with slightly broader strokes, and begin to circle my hands downward toward his heels, varying the sensations. I add in a couple of strokes around the sides of his feet to catch him off guard. I'm looking at his face in the image on the ceiling. He's almost shivering, but his lips are still pressed together. I wait for the right moment -- there it is, when his eyes move off to the side and squeeze shut -- and draw over his soles again. The corners of his mouth tug upward. His feet curl sweetly. Now I'll make him snicker: I raise my nails a little higher up the soles, and watch as the suppressed laughter forces itself through his nose.

I play my nails all over the soft soles, asking them to flex and curl, occasionally choosing to approach the balls of his feet to bring another giggle out of him. Darren can't see my face, but I can see that he is watching the ceiling intently.

In order to start a crescendo, I elaborate and increase the speed of my traces up and down his soles. His smile has reached a state of continuous presence, and he's holding back laughter. I know that once I open those floodgates, I'll be able to keep him laughing much more easily.

"It's time for you to start laughing now, Darren. Enjoy."

I've pulled back Darren's toes with one hand, and I lovingly spider my fingernails right underneath them.

I decide to make his fight last about five seconds. I hold him on the brink with my nails playing under his toes, counting down in my mind.

When I reach "zero," I watch happily as Darren loses control of his face and his voice. It's like he's been holding gallons of water in a plastic bag, and I've magically turned it into a net. He easily transitions into a steady stream of laughter.

This is a wonderful sight. He's completely helpless, merely reduced to enduring the intensity shooting through him. All he can do is show a broad, joyful smile, and laugh, and laugh. Darren would beg for mercy if he could... but all he can do is watch the ceiling. His feet dance happily, and he laughs as though he absolutely loves it, and wants me to go on forever.

I relax and absorb this moment. He's so beautiful. It's like he's in his natural state. The cascading reactions have made him very susceptible to more. I can just allow my hands to leisurely explore his soles, and he'll remain unable to object, laughing so hard that he can't even writhe. All of this is punctuated by his very erect penis.

Tickle, tickle, Darren...

It's time to explore. I stand, walking my nails over and around the tops of his feet, around his ankles, up his legs, stopping under his knees -- which he was obviously not prepared for -- past his hips, and over to his tummy. I start exploring his upper body, between his navel and his sides.

The next exploration begins about halfway between his nipples and his underarms, slowly parting outward around his back. I tickle under his arms, which is particularly enjoyable while his arms are secured behind his head. He looks up at me with this priceless mix of joy and desperation. His giggles are shooting out of him in the way that steam shoots out of a pot of boiling water when you hold the lid down. I work one set of fingers in each hollow, smiling gently at him.

Gradually, I slow down and relax.

"You're an excellent laugher, Darren."

Now I've stopped tickling, but he still can't stop grinning and giggling.

"See? Watch."

I smile excitedly and wiggle my fingers in the open air over his underarms, approaching them rapidly. He bursts out laughing again, gutturally, bouncing all over. I threaten him with several more air-pokes, and he dances like a puppet, jerking around, and laughing like a little boy. I'm not even touching him; it's totally psychological.

"Don't you think this extremely interesting, Darren? When we started out here, you weren't even willing to move for me. You were determined to maintain your composure and control yourself."

I continue to mock-poke the air around him, punctuating my speech and having him dance along with it.

"And now! Look at you! I'm not! Even! Touching you! And I'm controlling everything you do!"

I transfer the energy from each reaction into the next poke, making each one worse.

"Go ahead, Darren. Try to stop!"

I know he's trying, but now you would never be able to tell. He's just lying there and laughing.

"Try to stop laughing, Darren!" I say, actually dragging my fingers down his chest again. It's time to turn him into a ballistic, laughing Darren. All it takes is a little spidering around his sides... then up to his elbows, then down his underarms, and then to his sides again.

And, repeat.

This wonderful man is now hardly moving, his mouth wide open, his eyes clenched by his joyful smile, his lungs rapidly expanding and contracting inside of him.

"Try to stop smiling, Darren..."

I slowly relax again, into idling circles around his navel. His body diverts energy back to oxygen, and he gasps. He's recovering. I deliver the next line just as he thinks he's regaining control.

"Try to put your penis down, Darren."

My timing is perfect. I see it register on his face, then watch closely as he tries to suppress the immediate reaction. His penis, still very erect, becomes even stiffer.

I look him in the eyes. This time, I'm not teasing him. I'm sincere. The room is suddenly very silent.

I reach down and push the third button.

The table whirrs to life, and Darren watches as his knees slowly make their way to his chest, and his legs part. The soles of his feet face upward. As Darren looks at the main image on the ceiling, he now sees his face outlined by the soles of his feet, and his erect penis between them.

As I reposition myself to stand at the end of the table between his legs, I speak to him honestly.

"Darren, your penis erects when you're enjoying yourself. Listen to me carefully. I'm going to give you a fair chance, once and for all, to get out of this."

"If it isn't true that you are deeply enjoying my showing you that I can control your cute feet... if you don't absolutely love that I have the power to make you laugh, and cause you to get an erection whenever I want... if you don't like the way I can make your body reveal the truth... then just make your erection go away. I'll watch your penis."

He's blushing. Silent. He's not looking at his penis; he's covertly trying to relax in order to bring it down. Naturally, this has absolutely no chance of working. He's a hundred times more excited than when I did my first erection trick on him.

I watch his stiff penis intently in the still moment. Then, the reaction I'm expecting. It begins slightly pulsing with each beat of his heart, as though it's trying to erect even further than is possible.

"That's what I thought. Your body tells me the truth, Darren."

He's completely embarrassed, and he's tried to avert his eyes from everything.

"Darren. Look at me."

He looks.

"You've been a very, very wonderful subject. Now, It's time for you to perform the finale. I'm going to make you ejaculate, Darren. You're not going to be able to help it, so just watch and enjoy."

I encircle the base of the erect penis with my fingertips, and assert a mild pressure downward, just holding it there.

"I know you love it, Darren. You want somebody like me to tickle you, to show you that they can control you."

The pelvic muscles tense up. Darren's penis involuntarily twitches and holds itself tight in my hand.

"You're shy about your feet, because you know they're cute and vulnerable. They're so sensitive, and so ticklish..."

My left hand reaches up into view of the camera, and Darren watches as I caress the sole, and his toes curl obediently. I smoothly increase the downward pressure around the base of the penis.

"Tickle, tickle, Darren... I'm tickling your feet, Darren..."

The following is the final reason I love shy, wonderful men like Darren. His eyes and lips tense. As though suddenly filled with warmth, his penis transforms into an extremely hard rod. In this moment, Darren is calling upon this entire reserve of mental discipline to prevent this. He knows that his body is about to show the ultimate expression of sexual enjoyment, and he's trying absolutely everything he can to fight it.

The lightning hits his brain. The pelvic muscles relax, and then squeeze hard.

Darren's penis shoots a forceful bead of whiteness into the air, almost hitting the ceiling, and plopping down on his chest.

I know that once the male ejaculatory process has begun, no matter how much the man tries, he will completely fail to influence it. The best he can possibly do is watch as his penis ejects the each mass of semen with great force. I'm tempted to challenge him to stop ejaculating, but at this point, I decide to act compassionately. Instead of saying any words, I just look and smile at him. He has two options: one is to look up at the ceiling, watching his own bare feet, which are now flexing and stretching in spasms. The other is to look down at me, holding his penis as he watches it shoot over and over again. Either choice, he will endure through the overwhelming pleasure of his male orgasmic process.

He begins with the first option, and I can tell that he's so overcome with humiliation that his eyes dart to the next available target: my face.

"Hi, Darren," I think, as I smile silently at him.

"There isn't much mistaking this method of communication, is there?"

I feel the next bead shoot its way through my grasp and out onto his chest.

I wait for his body to finish. I imagine being him, feeling my fingers around his penis as it pulses over and over, as it slowly... continues through... to the end.

And Darren breathes, in and out.

He completely relaxes. His head rests. His blood flows naturally through his limbs. He inhales and exhales slowly as I revert the table to the horizontal position.

I quietly approach his face. His eyes are closed in blissful recovery, and he looks like an angel. I lean in and kiss him on the cheek.

"Thank you, Darren."

Everything is silent as we share a quiet moment and breathe together.

I stand up, and look at my beautiful Darren.

It's time to let my fantasy go. The room starts to blur, and I begin to drift back into reality. As I start to feel it dissolve away, I hear something that I am not prepared for.

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