Pawn

 

            A lazy summer break, and I find myself in a new and exciting situation. I'm tied to a chair by my ankles, a vibrator buzzing incessantly inside me and I'm desperately trying to regain some kind of grip on reality; useful when playing chess.

 

I play white, whilst he plays black and giggles at my naked jiggling breasts; all in good fun he assures me.

Right! Let's make a start.

White opens:

'Pawn to C4'

 

He smiles and makes his return move, fully clothed I might add. Before his pawn lands at D5 however he informs me that if I lose this match I will find myself in a stickier situation. He refuses to divulge exactly what that might be, suffice to say it will involve handcuffs, a conveniently placed hook and feathers.

 

My eyes widen in despair, my one true weakness. I laugh in the face of his whips and clamps, which succeed only in making me wet. Then again I suppose I laugh in the face of his feathers too. In fact the mere mention sets me giggling.

“You wouldn't!”

“You had better win the match!”

In fact I am set so off balance I ignore his pawn attack completely and move my knight to A3.  He promptly takes my pawn and gently reminds me.

“You had better do better than that.”

 The buzzing in my cunt is starting to get to me. Of course it's not quite powerful enough to allow me to orgasm. He would hate for me to lose control of myself in the midst of our pleasant game. I send my knight to C4 and take his pawn.

Out come the big guns in the form of an enraged bishop which hits E6 and threatens my gallant knight. I've completely lost my concentration and although I manage to retreat my knight to a safe distance it leaves my playful companion able to attack. Indeed that's what he is doing; his foot is sliding gently up my bare ankle to my thigh. Stroking it and caressing it, leaving me in an entirely volatile state. I'm completely turned and completely unable to do anything. The game continues and pretty soon he's got the upper hand.

 

In fact I've lost one bishop, a rook, three pawns and most distressingly my queen and only managed to take out a knight and the aforementioned pawn. Oh, and briefly put him in check... by accident.

I sit there my legs quivering in desperation. Please may I cum, I beg silently in my head; knowing that even if  I did voice my needs they would not only fall on deaf ears but would be useless nonetheless;  the vibrator does not stimulate me enough to allow me to cum.

 

In my silence there are ever increasing gaps between his moves and my own. Pretty soon I see that the game has slipped through my fingers; he's got my poor noble king cornered. His foot has found the vibrator and for the past 10 minutes his foot has been playfully pushing in and out of my slumped and wanton body. I begin to moan, and my need becomes so great I try to throw the match by moving my remaining pieces into life threatening situations. I lose a further two pawns and both my knights to his queen of Amazonian proportions. As I continue to plot my own demise when my opponent stands and moves behind my vulnerable, trapped body. He bends over my chair and fondles my breast with one hand whilst the other takes hold of my head and twists it against his body.

“Not forgetting our little wager, are you?” he says coolly, gently tweaking my exposed nipple.

“Wager? What do I get if I win?” Well aware that I was beyond the point of being able to reconcile the game.

“I was going to let you cum.” Was his amused reply, well aware that my horniness had reached fever pitch.

“Oh, please sir, let me cum!”

he smiled, speaking offhandedly.

“Nah”

All my hopes crushed I began the slippery slope to my impending doom.

 

Finally he got me in checkmate, pincering my king between a malevolent bishop, a dark knight and a foul tempered queen.

 

“Congratulations” I said glumly.

“Oh dear!” he replied clearly amused by my predicament. “you seem to have lost!”

 

He unties my legs and tells me in a terse tone that from this point on I am to call him master. I visibly sag as the last little gleams of hope of an orgasm fade away completely.

“Yes, master”

The instrument is still buzzing away inside me, and my desperation is still peaked so I make a decision to orgasm anyway.

I am not a natural submissive, I don't obey his commands to the letter; in fact I'm a bit of a painslut, and I've found that the only way to be punished by docile master is by disobeying, so I often cause small amount of trouble by hesitating, for a slap across the face, or by disobeying him completely for a full-bodied spanking. My master knew this well, and was also aware that spanking wasn't a real punishment. It suddenly occurred to me that he may have chosen tickle torture because he wanted a proper game of chess, and I might well have tried to lose the game on purpose if he had chosen a corporal response.

I was going to cum, I felt sure of it, and at that moment I bit my lip and tried to concentrate on the sensations that continued to attack my lower regions. He must have spotted a look of determination because my master chose that moment to remind that;

“You are not to cum without my permission, slut,”

My whined response of  “Yes Master.” did not seem to satisfy. He informed me that should I cum I would be punished in the method of his choice.

I looked up at him with doe eyes. “How will you punish me master?” I asked in my sweetest little girl voice.

“That's a surprise, little girl.” he replied imitating my baby voice.

Without further ado he grabbed my hair and dragged me to the centre of the room, to under the hook which is embedded in the ceiling. I gasped as he dragged me over but offered my hands to him when he presented the handcuffs. “Good girl.” he said and ruffled my hair. Despite myself I beamed back. Maybe I am a natural submissive. To the cuffs he attached a chain, which he placed over the hook in the ceiling. I found myself instantly stretched and at his disposal.

“Master,” I began nervously, as I stood slightly on to my toes to alleviate the strain on my shoulders.

“What?” He said coldly, as though I was wasting his precious time.

I bowed my head, “nothing master.”

I felt very exposed, as I stood bound and naked. Worse though was the exposure of my armpits and my feet, and overtly ticklish sides, and my neck. I began to feel increasingly desperate and uncomfortable.

Before he began the ticklish torment however my Master took some lotion and began to massage it into my skin. The rubbing sensations quickly made me forget my apprehension and and my thoughts turned once again to my sexual urges. He picked up the vibrator which had fallen out when I made the trip from the chair to my current position, and graciously he forced it back inside me. To hold it there he placed me in some tight sexy black panties. To make matters worse he gently slid a petite plug into my anus where it gently slid and aroused me more and more.

My master always takes great delight in this play and reminds me of my double penetration. It stimulates the mental side, and makes me acutely aware of everything which touches me. To further create this sensation he wraps a blindfold around my eyes. The final part of his cruel and ticklish plot is a pair of stockings which he gently dresses me in; complete with garter belt. Finished, he gently whispers in my ear  “don't go anywhere.” My master turns on a fan and leaves. My lotion covered body instantly reacts and I find myself physically going cold then steadily warming as I get used to the fan's attacks. My mind reels at my master's disappearance. Every time he leaves me I feel afraid that he will not return, that he will leave in this position for hours, or worse forget me completely. The overall affect is a paranoid, stimulated, desperate, little slut.

Finally he re-enters the room.

“Miss me?” he asks, all the mirth from the chess game has disappeared, he's in full master mode.

“Yes, sir.” Then wince as I realise that I called him the wrong name.

He slaps me hard across the cheek. The stinging blow forces a cry from me and at the same time I feel a twinge in my pussy.

He takes my hair in his hands. His intensity blasts me through the blindfold. Through gritted teeth he murmurs.

“Master”

Cursing myself for making such a simple mistake, I reply.

“Yes, Master.”

“That's better” he says, releasing my hair. Suddenly the intensity evaporates.

“I thought we'd play a little game.” Oh no. Here we go. He loves his little games.

“I've got some tickling devices here. You have to guess what they are. Currently, you have earned 20 minutes of tickling time. For every device you get wrong I will add a further 5 minutes onto your time.”

“What if I get it right, Master?”

“That doesn't make a difference. You should get them all right.”

“But that's not fair, master.”

“I know, but naughty little girls don't deserve fairness.”

“Yes, master” I replied miserably. He was intent on torturing me for as long as possible.

“Okay here we go. No. 1”

The first device he took to my stomach. I began to giggle as soon as he began, but it wasn't unbearable. It covered a lot of skin in one go as well. I quickly deduced that it was a feather.

“feather” I said quickly.

A slap across the face.

“You never learn, you stupid slut, called me master.”

“I sorry master” I wailed.

“Just remember next time. What bird is the feather from?”

The cruel bastard really wanted to tickle me forever. Luckily he'd used this feather on me before.

“It's blackbird master.”

“Very good. Next one.”

This device he used on my left nipple. Within moments of his ministrations my pink little nipple grew hard. It was very tickly and a little coarse.

“It's a paintbrush, master.”

“What no. of paintbrush.”

How the fuck was I supposed to know that? I hazarded a guess.

“five? Master?”

“Incorrect” He said, stroking my cheek. “It looks like you've got 25 minutes. Next. Get on your tiptoes.”

I did so. Then the awful caress started. He began to attack the arches of my feet. I cried out and began to beg.

“Please, Master, please stop. I can't bear it.”

“Is that you're answer.” My answer was fork, but I was too busy trying to get him to stop I put my heels down.

“Right, that's five more minutes,” he said furious at my accidental defiance.

“Last one.”

I breathed a sigh of relief but it was short lived. His fingers began to attack my sides. The scurried up and down like spiders.

I screamed, and tried to wriggle away, but the bonds held me. “Fingers, Master,” I yelled between gasps.

“yes.” He stopped tickling me.

“You got two wrong. Therefore now you have 30 minutes of tickle torture ahead of you.”

He shifted my underwear and removed the vibrator and plug. “I don't want you to get distracted by these. If you're a good girl, perhaps you'll get them back later.”

 

I hung from my bonds. And he began; he started slowly, with the feather. Brushing it across my lips. It was a whisper of what was to come, and as he stroked my underarms and pulled the feather in between my fingers, I whimpered and felt appalling helpless and depressed.

Noticing this my master laughed and pinched my frowning cheek. “oh dear, that's not what we want at all, you're meant to be smiling. How about I tickle your belly, will that make you smile?”

“Please don't tickle me master.” I said trying to muster up a smile. But it was too late. His perverse fingers began to attack my stomach and sides and I began to laugh and laugh. Soon I was crying into the blindfold and shaking against my bonds, a huge sardonic grin plastered across my face.

“Isn't that better. That's ten minutes.”

He unhooked the chain from the small peg and took me over to the bed, which has a metal frame. He placed my stockinged feet in between the bars of the frame and trapped there with rope. The handcuffed one hand to one end of the head rest and the other completed the spread eagle position. I felt like I was on a medieval rack.

“I think we'll play another little game. Using the paintbrush I'm going to draw little circles up and down your body, I'll start at your hands and travel down to the tips of your toes. Like this,” he demonstrated with a single finger which travelled from my trapped hands and crossed over my body to my feet. “ You mustn't move at all not even a centimetre. If you do I start again. I am going to go up and down your body once. But it will only count if I get all the way up and down with no movement. Understand?”

“Yes master.”

He began. I tensed all of the muscles in my arm but I hadn't expected the water he had applied to the brush. When it hit it felt super tickly. And while I managed to let him traverse my elbow when he hit my armpit I jerked and he started over. In fact it took a further two attempts to get past my sensitive pit. Then the brush hit my nipples which were now completely solid. I gasped as it hit but managed to keep still. Realising that I was holding up pretty well, he decided to take a detour to my sides I instantly jerked and jumped shouting, “you bastard” before I could stop myself. A hand grabbed my throat. I gasped in horror. He spat in my face. Once on each cheek. Then he started over. This time as I prepared for the attack on my sides he threw me completely and threw all his ministrations onto the other nipple. I managed once again to bear it through my gasps and giggles and then he moved down to my sodden pussy. I was completely soaked down there. He stroked my clitoris gently then began to move on and my hips suddenly jerked up, I was back at square one. The second time he attacked my throbbing clit more fervently, but somehow I managed to control the urge to buck. But then the wet paintbrush hit the stockinged legs. I suddenly realised why he had chosen to put them on. The sheer stockings increased the torture ten fold because they seemed to delay the sensations for a moment. The it would hit and leave me desperate to scratch and wiggle. Which I did; twice. Then he hit my feet. This was the most unbearable experience yet. After five attempts I was no more able to bear it than the first. Mercifully on the sixth attempt my master brushed them quickly and ignored my jerk. Then he continued up my body. Once again choosing to linger on swollen clit and excited nipples.

 

“Just five minutes left.” He said with a wistful sigh. The bastard.

I've got the perfect bit of torture in store for you.” He was knelt by my feet, I could feel his hot breath touching my soles and suddenly became aware of what was coming next.

“Please master please. Please don't do this. I begging you. Please Master.”

His hot tongue slid up my utterly exposed arches. I screamed and screamed as the tickliness lingered. I was shaking, and bucking, and trying to kick my legs free from his tight ropes. To no avail. His last five minutes were spent entirely on my feet. Stroking, licking, attacking them with the fork and fingers and finally he undid the stockings and slid the feather in between each toe. I cried, I begged, I almost wet myself. But nothing stopped his barrage on my sensitive feet. After plummeting each toe into his mouth one by one, I could just quiver.

“All done.”

“T.. Thank you, M..master.” Trying to control the spasms that continued to wrack my body for minutes after he stopped.

He turned his attention now to my exposed clit. Sliding in between legs and gently licking it, breathing hot breath onto it. I seemed to forget about the tickling immediately, and in moments far from begging him to stop I was asking for the orgasm he had long suppressed.

“But you lost the game.”  The game... chess; it felt like light years ago.

“Please master please.” I could feel myself already having to suppress.

“Why should I?”

“Because, I'm a good girl? Master?” I said hopefully. He laughed humourlessly.

“No”

The plug and vibrator suddenly re-emerged. And he was stimulating me as fast as his tongue would allow. I was moaning like a good slut, and bucking like a little whore. On the brink. Then he stopped.

I screamed in frustration as the vibrators were removed. Five more seconds and I would have cum. He untied my legs and unclipped the handcuffs then told me to kneel on the bed. I did so. He knelt behind me (thankfully with condom) finally as naked as me. He slid the plug into place and then forced into my raging pussy. He leant forward and pulled my head back to meet him.

“Do you want me to fuck you?”

“Yes master”

“You slut. What are you?”

“I'm a slut, master,”

“No you are just a set of holes to be used by me.”

“Yes, Master, I'm a cunt.”

By this point he'd slid into me. And was sliding back and forth fucking me. I felt the orgasm begin to grow to fever pitch, but I'd never managed to cum in this position before. This time though the foreplay had left me susceptible and I came against his thick and grinding penis.

“Bad girl” he whispered as he too came and slid out of me.

“Maintain you're position while I spank you.”

 

“Finally,” I whispered inwardly as the blows began to fall. I was his slut, his lover, his chess partner and his pawn.

 

The End