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How Mark Became a Tickle Slave

by Jerol Villadolid

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It was a hot saturday afternoon and Mark was walking to his fridge shirtless about to get another gatorade. Suddenly, the doorbell rang and stopped him before he could reach the fridge. 

"Who could it be?"

Mark went to open the door and found a fat, old, bald man in his 50's staring at his chiseled form. 

"What do you want?" asked Mark. 

"I'm sorry…. but my car broke down, could I use your phone?" replied the stranger. 

Now Mark wasn't a stupid guy by any means, though even the stupidest person would know never to trust a stranger, especially if it means letting him into your home. Mark wasn't interested in being altruistic in this hot summer day and replied;

"Sorry, I can't help you." closing the door as he was about to return inside. 

The man grabbed the side of the door before Mark could close it. 

"Please, my car will be stuck here the entire day if I don't call someone for help."

Mark, partly irritated at the guy's persistence, suddenly reached a realization. Yes… the car WAS parked in front of his house, and if he doesn't help this old man call a towing company or someone, it might probably be stuck there until morning. 

That simple logic was enough for him to throw caution to the wind. He wasn't the type to attend rape-safety seminars at school considering his 6'0" athletic-built frame and arrogant demeanor, and never did it cross his mind an encounter such as this could prove dangerous. He was an apex predator, in his mind, nobody was above him or could ever possibly threaten him. 

"Follow me." he replied in his studly, deep voice. 

As he walked inside the old man followed him trailing just a few feet away. 

"Nice place you got here." the stranger commented. "Do you live alone?"

Stone silence was the only reply he got. Mark didn't even care to process the man's words. He wasn't worth his time and Mark's mind was already fixed at the ball game he was watching earlier. 

"Here. Make it quick." Mark said as he pointed the phone. 

The stranger's demeanor changed quickly. It was very obvious to someone more familiar to perverts that a phone call was not the real thing this old man wanted. An old, balding man asking persmission to enter the apartment of a hot, young, shirtless stud. There was no way anyone could miss the red flags. No one, except perhaps Mark. 

Mark was one of those guys who wasn't even aware how much he made other people drool. He was always apathetic to the stares he got and was completely used to it. His cold, serious demeanor invited ravenous attention from sexually repressed outcasts. There were many times when quiet, closeted, fetishists at school would wonder how delicious it must be to get to this man's core. To break that suave image and see what makes him tick, or more specifically, how to make him melt with their twisted desires. 

The man now standing next to Mark was one such serial stalker. He had been watching Mark using sophisticated and professional stalking techniques obsessing about everything with this stud. Mark wasn't aware he could be an object of someone's obsessions, and never cared to close the curtains when he changed shirts after work outs, or look after whomever was trailing him on his daily jogs and weekly gym routine. 

The old stranger was obsessed with handsome, athletic, young men and craved them more than a man in the middle of the desert craves a cold drink of water. He was obsessed with them, how magnificent they looked, and how impressive their physiques and aura was. But the desire wasn't latent. He didn't just want to view such men, he wanted above all to… tickle them. To touch their hot bodies with everything he could imagine, fingers, tongues, feathers, and many of his near endless collection of pleasure toys. He was so obsessed with making a hot guy laugh, knowing he was giving them a tickle experience they both hated and loved. That was his fix. 

Though the dangerous thing about him was, it would only turn him on if the studs he was pleasure-torturing were unwilling. Yes, bondage and captivity were absolutely necessary for his addiction to be satisfied. He wanted studs who were famous quarterbacks, basketball star-players, apex athletes, and the most desirable men in school. He wanted them tied against their will, with him, an old, balding, pervert completely exploiting their perfection by being on the controlling end of a twisted tickle session. 

"Hey!" replied mark as he grabbed the stranger's hand who happened to find itself seeking Mark's left nipple to twist. 

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?!" replied Mark, angry and now alarmed. 

"You've got a beautiful chest, do you work out a lot?" Asked the man as if he wasn't doing anything wrong. 

Mark wasn't going to deliver a reply and was preparing to drag this intruder out of his apartment. When he was about to wrestle the old man and almost grab him by the collar to throw him out, the stranger held up his secret weapon that he's been hiding in his right pocket all along. 

The assault completely caught Mark by surprise, the cloth was so heavily drenched in chloroform that immediately the sweet aroma assaulted his brain and his limbs went limp. He tried to fight the man off, but the old pervert used all his might to cancel Mark's last attempts at a futile escape. 

It took a full minute to demobilize the hunk, he was much stronger than the stranger anticipated. Causing him more excitement than anything else, as having this strong, spirited stud tied up and at his tickle mercy was more than he could possibly ever wish for. 

Mark's vision went blurry, and soon everything was spinning before it went black. He couldn't remember anything. When he came to he found himself in a dark room completely naked and unable to move. 

He tried to move his arms but quickly discovered they were secured with fur-lined cuffs above his head. He was lying on a flat platform raised from the ground at around waist level. His feet were equally cuffed at the ankles to either end of the flat table. 

He still had a headache from being drugged but immediately remembered his combat with the old perv. Suddenly he shouted;


His mind was totally swimming in fear. He knew he would either be killed, maimed, or cut open. Probably his organs taken out, like in some movies he'd watched. He had no idea his captor had no intention of causing anything other than pure pleasure on his sexy form. The pervert was determined to carry out all his pent up lust for men and their ticklish bodies on this, his hard earned prize. 

"You know i've been watching you for some time." A cold voice came out of the darkness.

"Young men like you are guilty of being too perfect. Too beautiful, you need to be punished for it."

Mark's shouts cut him off.


"There's no use." replied the stranger. 

"Your struggles will only increase my appetite to molest you. No one will come to your aid."

It was a good 5 minutes before Mark finally calmed down. His whole body covered in sweat, his bondage holding firm keeping him on that table. 

"Done?" asked the stranger again.

"What do you want from me?" Gasped Mark in between deep breaths. 

"I won't hurt you." assured the stranger. 

"I only want to act out my secret desires on you."

"What will you do to me?" asked Mark in fear. 

A few minutes of silence went by. 

"I want to tickle you." finally replied the stranger. 

Mark couldn't believe his ears. Did he hear him right? Tickle? did he really use that word? Mark was dumbfounded at how such a sophisticated kidnapping could all be spurred by a desire to tickle. It was so childish, so innocent, so….

"I want to find every ticklish spot in your body and act out all my fantasies on tickling athletic studs such as yourself." Confessed the stranger. 

He did hear it right. Tickling. But why, was he even ticklish? Did he somehow know? Mark knew he was deathly ticklish as a teenager but since he was 14 he never had anyone touch his body again. He was 24 now and didn't know whether to be relieved or alarmed at this revelation of the pervert's intentions. 

He didn't have to wait long. 

"Heyyyy!!!" shouted Mark. The stranger had his right hand playfully counting the ribs on Mark's left side. The feeling hit him again, after almost 10 years, he discovered he was just as ticklish as ever. 

The lustful fingers carressed Mark's sides lovingly as if finally being able to touch its long desired prize. A familiar sensation hit Mark, that ticklish feeling where you absolutely must escape. A feeling of pleasure too intense to be pleasurable. An overload of happiness you couldn't even inflict on yourself. Mark's deathly sensitive sides were being tickled, much less by the hand of a man who was totally glazed with lust at how sexy his captive is. 

But Mark wasn't laughing, he didn't want to surrender his pride, his dignity, by laughing like a little boy to being tickled. He clenched his fists and curled his toes and took in unatural gulps of air. As if to laugh with his breaths. 

He didn't know that such resistance only increased his captor's lust for him. It affirmed to the stranger that he truly has bagged a hunk with a cold and controlled demeanor. It was much sexier to him knowing Mark was deathly ticklish, but was determined to hide it. But there was no hiding. literally. His entire body is exposed, arms up, legs down, not a single inch of his body was protected from the stranger's delirious fingers and drooling mouth. 

"AhhHAHAHA….!" Mark broke almost involuntarily as the stranger's left hand joined in tickling Mark's other side. He could use all his mind power in enduring one, but to have both sides kneaded like dough at once, in no world could he withstand that. 

"PLEASE…. DON'T…. STOP IT!" Mark shouted like his life were on the line. 

The stranger was totally wild now. He had an animalistic urge in his eyes to pleasure Mark no matter what. He waited all his life for this moment, lusted every night of tickling athletic, handsome men. And now finally, he was doing just that. No force in the universe could hold him back from acting out his deepest fantasies. 

Unexpectedly, the stranger's fingers slowed to an almost loving caress. Allowing Mark to catch his breath. The old man moved his face down and brought his nose close to Mark's sweaty left pit. The stranger inhaled deeply. Being able to smell this stud's manly odors was in almost equal measure to his desire to tickle. It is something you could never do in normal circumstances, on pain of being beaten to a pulp. But it was an almost equal celebration of the young man's physical perfection. Being able to smell his sexy pits, to the stranger, was just like sucking up the sexy young man's aura and essense. 

"God…." was all Mark could reply. Revulted and disgusted how anyone could even endure his strong athletic odors. 

"Ohhh yeaaahhh…" sighed the captor. 

Mark just closed his eyes. Trying to get away with his mind. But there was no escape. He could not block out the sensation of the old man's lips moving in an almost sucking motion on his sensitive pit. It brought severe chills down his spine and all he could do was bulge out his strong biceps in a vain attempt to close his armpits. 

In a few minutes, Mark found himself breathing deeply. He was not turned on, he believed, nor was he gay, but the veracity of the stranger's lust was something he could not mentally ignore. The captor's face was so animated he felt his whole body molested just by the presence of the old man's face in his sweaty pit.

The gentle pulling of his pit hairs by the man's teeth brought his back off the table. He was arching away at the sensation unable to process the pleasure. His hands were scrabbling and his head thrown from side to side as the stranger continued unabated in his quest to completely and totally molest Mark's helpless pits. 

He must have lost track of time, for when Mark came back to his senses again the stranger had his face on his sweaty neck sniffing away. Mark was afforded a quick breather as the old stranger began admiring his beautiful face for a few minutes. 

"I can't believe how handsome you are." whispered the stranger to him. 

Mark was creeped out by the comment. He was not the type to be flattered easily as that was too common a gesture to him. He looked at the old man with his blue eyes in rage as his whole body suddenly shook. 

"Whoaah!!" cried Mark. 

The stranger had found Mark's nipples and were rolling them gently between his thumb and index fingers. 

Mark's eyes shot to the ceiling as a familiar feeling hit him. This was one of his dirty secrets. He loved having his nipples worked over and would often play with them when he masturbated. Completely ignoring the guilt of what he was doing to himself, too captivated by the pleasure that they gave him. 

But never has anyone done this to him. No other finger ever even came close to his chest other than his own. To have the strangers fingers clamped in gentle twisting, with its unpredictable pattern, simply catapulted Mark into orbit. 

"I knew you would like that." grinned the stranger. 

"I've seen you do it to yourself many times. You're one of those guys, those who are unbearably sensitive on their nipples. That is such a prized trait to have. You have no idea how much fun we will have now that I have complete access to them, i'll have you in tears before I would ever think of stopping."

Mark's mouth was completely wide open, it's as if the stranger and him were connected by fingers and nipples. Every lustful stroke, or scratch, completely registered in Mark's sex-crazed mind. Driving his whole body off the table whenever the pleasure gets too great. Which is about every other second. 

"They look so stiff and pink, I can imagine why you would be lost like that. Do you mind if I tasted them?" asked the stranger. 


Mark suddenly felt a wet and warm entity engulf his left nipple. The edges were sucking the whole area away as the center flicked a wet and lustful organ determined to spar with the erect flesh. Mark have never felt anything like this before. He felt his whole body melt into the table almost spasming at the incredible pleasure the nipple-sucking was giving him. 

He would involuntarily raise his body as if trying to sit down, only to crash back down throwing his head back. The nipple sucking was voracious, the stranger's mouth was completely filled with lust, knowing just the right pressure, and the right circular movement with the tongue to drive Mark literally off the wall. 

The stranger alternated this treatment using his free hand to twist and scratch the other nipple his mouth just left. Mark was in tears as 20 minutes went by not knowing where he was anymore. His nipples were so erect and enlarged by the end of the stranger's mouth-and-finger ministrations that it could almost make you cum just witnessing their condition. 

Having delivered a mountain of pent-up lust on his nips, the stranger placed his head on Mark's heaving chest cuddling him and nozzling his face on Mark's impressive pecs. The old man was satisfied with nipple-play, for now. 

The captor then stood up, and went down the handcuffed hunk's body. There was only one thing he liked more than pits and nips, and those were the impossibly irresistable ticklish pair that was at the top of his 'to-tickle' list. Mark's athletic, manly size 13's. 

He sat for 5 full minutes with his face about an inch from Mark's left soles. He could not imagine this ever happening. He had his face and drooling mouth so close to this athlete's sexy big feet whose toes were curling and spreading in anxious anticipation on what the captor will do next. 

He wanted to savor the moment, to realize that the sexy soles in front of him were not going anywhere. And that in a few moments, his whole mouth could be sucking away and nibbling at those surprisingly smooth and well cared-for feet. 

Mark knew what the stranger was going to do next, and he couldn't help his toes from curling and spreading in anticipation of what could happen next. Involuntarily driving the old man's lust higher still at the sexy show. 

Mark took particular care of his feet. Never wearing socks more than once, and washing his feet with unusual attention whenever he bathed. Mark felt an unusual attachment to his feet. He somehow felt sexier as a stud whenever he could walk wearing flip-flops and sandals not bothered since his feet were something to be proud of. He knew they were big, and would often play with his flips using his toes whenever he was wearing them in class. Driving closeted foot-fetishist classmates through the roof with lustful disbelief. Somehow the same people always sat back to him in class, to his undulated curiousity. 


Now these beautiful feet were at the total mercy of our ingeniuous captor. These were his prize, his reward for never giving up his dream of bagging a perfect stud to tickle and molest. His feet were the stuff of the stranger's dreams. With an athletic arch, smooth pink heels, long succulent toes, completely smooth and pink, with a strong manly odor, not offensive, just spurred by the copious amounts of sweat Mark has been giving away through all of the pleasures the old man has given him thus far. 

The stranger brought his nose in between each toe, breathing deeply the smell of Mark, the smell of this stud, his aroma. Mark couldn't help but moan as the stranger's hands gently plied each toe open to get at his odors. He may have resisted the other ministrations the stranger brought upon him thus far, but when his feet were lovingly caressed, kissed, and sniffed his steel-hard dick started drooling precum. It seems he was a latent foot-fetishist himself. Though never realizing it. 

At this time the perverted stranger was himself lost in a sea of lust. Feet were his thing, they smelled amazing, they were so sensitive and ticklish, they were the epitome of a stud, to have your face buried into the soles of a handsome hunk, sniffing, sucking, and gently scraping with your teeth, was as close to devouring their whole essense as a man as you can get. 

"Please…. please I can't take it." begged Mark in the middle of the hot and intense foot worship-tickle session. 

"Please…. i'm going to burst!" said Mark in between moans. 

The captor looked up and saw what Mark meant. His dick was so hard and drooling that it can't be long before he did reach orgasm. He reluctanly left sucking the heavily saliva-coated soles and immediately reached for a pair of plastic hair-brushes with evil, ball-tipped points. It was in his plan that Mark orgasm in the middle of intense tickling. So he will never forget about that point and hopefully always crave it in his life. 

"You will love this." said the stranger. 

He then scrapped both brushes across the drenched soles and Mark almost jumped out of his skin. 

"WHOAAAHAHAHAHA….!" He yelled. 

The new stimulation was enough to drive him over the edge. As he began to spurt long streams of cum the captor let go of one foot to be able to maneuver and engulf Mark's dick in his mouth determined not to let his precious cum go to waste. 

Mark shot over 8 long streams of cum which the old captor happily swallowed. The other brush never leaving his right sole making him cum while laughing his head off. 


The sensation was too great that after cumming Mark totally passed out. 

When he opened his eyes he was back on his bed. His entire body ached, much worse than any workout he has ever done. He scratched his head wondering what has happened. When the realization dawned on him again he placed his face in his two palms and sighed;

"Oh Gooodddd…. that did NOT just happen to me."

He looked up and saw an envelope next to his bed. His heart sank to the floor realizing what it could contain. 

He immediately opened it and confirmed his greatest fear. Blackmail photos. 

Together with the shots are close-up shots of his face in blissful pleasure as the old man has his buried in his neck. The bondage gear could not be seen betraying the fact that Mark was handcuffed. The shot was probably taken while the stranger had his fingers on Mark's nipples so the pleasured expression in his face, but that too was out of shot. 

It was clear that to whomever will see these photos, they will assume Mark was either an old man's plaything or worse, a prostitute. That would totally ruin his athletic scholarship and his entire life. He looked deeper in the envelope and found a handwritten letter from his blackmailer. 

"I'm sorry if I had to take pictures of you. But I can no longer live without you. Giving you happiness and pleasure is the meaning of my life now. I will never hurt you, I just want to tickle you. Twice a week. For two years. I will be more careful next time, and will make sure you enjoy it as much as I do. Do that and you can have the negatives back. My terms are non-negotiable."

Mark was completely defeated. He frankly didn't have a choice. He threw the envelope across the entire room in rage. He buried his face across the pillow wishing this was all a dream. He was surprised when he suddenly developed a raging hard-on. It would seem he has been converted into a tickle-slave.