01 - Tied and Tickled by My Older Cousin
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By [mention]milagros317[/mention]
Mon Aug 16, 2010 10:49 am
This is a true story but all the names have been changed (including mine) for privacy.
These events all took place quite some time ago, in the summer of 1960. My parents wanted to take a one-week vacation at Niagara Falls and discovered that my Uncle Harold and Aunt Marilyn also planned a vacation there. (Harold was one of my father's older brothers.) They decided to plan a trip together. My parents were going to drive from New Jersey, where we lived, up to their house near Peekskill, NY, and then the four of them could share one car, saving expenses, for the trip further north.
The best time for the trip, from my parents' point of view, was sometime during the four weeks that my older brother, aged 14, was going to be in Boy Scout camp. My aunt and uncle had two daughters, Joan and Debby. Joan was 17 and away for eight weeks with a job as a camp counselor. Debby, at 15, was considered old enough to stay home alone.
At age 10, I was obviously not old enough to be left alone. My parents solved that problem without spending any money for a babysitter: they had my aunt and uncle tell my cousin Debby that I would be staying in their house for a week while her parents were gone. When she protested that she should be paid for babysitting, her parents told her that I was a well-behaved, quiet boy who liked to read a lot (which was true), and that her only responsibility was to prepare meals for two people instead of just for herself that week. She was reminded that their large freezer would be stocked with plenty of dinners already cooked for the two of us. And so the plans were finalized and the date chosen.
Debby was not too happy about these arrangements but had no choice. She was doing a "Great Books" project over the summer, encouraged by the English department at her high school, which involved her reading 20 books (from a list of about 50) over the summer. She had looked forward to a week of peace and quiet to do lots of reading, not to having a potentially noisy brat in the house.
Friday
My father took off from work early that Friday so the three of us could avoid evening rush hour. We reached their house in Peekskill by dinner time and all six of us ate dinner, cooked by my Aunt Marilyn. Uncle Harry remarked that he knew I liked to read science fiction and that he had put his science fiction magazine collection in the room where I'd be staying, their guest room. I thanked him for that and I thanked my aunt for the dinner. My cousin Debby didn't speak to me at all.
When dinner was over, we all watched TV for a while. When I was told to get ready for bed at 9pm, I was shocked that the four grown-ups were all getting ready to go to sleep also. (My parents would spend the night in their finished basement where there was a convertible couch.)
"We're leaving for Niagara Falls at 6am," explained my father, "so we need to get to sleep early."
The last thing I saw before I headed to the guest room in my pajamas was my cousin sitting in the living room, her bare feet up on the coffee table, reading one of her books. She and I had no need to get up early, of course. I stared at her lovely bare feet for a few seconds. I've always been attracted to girl's and women's feet.
At this point I should describe my cousin. She was a pretty but not gorgeous young woman of 15, about 5'4" and about 120 pounds. She had light brown hair and brown eyes. She was fit from her hobby of playing tennis.
I was 10 years old, about 4'7" and about 75 pounds. I had dark brown hair and brown eyes. I was not athletic, but rather a quiet kid who did read a lot.
Saturday Morning
When I woke up on Saturday morning it was 8:30am and the adults were long gone. I went to the kitchen in my pajamas and found a cereal bowl, spoon, and napkin set out for me. I found cereal and milk easily enough and also bread to make toast. I put my breakfast dishes into the sink.
I noticed, walking back to my room, that Debby was back in the living room reading, sitting on the couch with her bare feet up on the coffee table, just like the evening before. She was wearing blue jeans and a pale blue t-shirt.
After putting on jeans and a t-shirt myself, I didn't put on sandals or socks and shoes. I wanted to be able to move around quietly. I crawled into the living room very quietly, keeping down below Debby's line of sight in case she peered over her book. I crawled until I was near her bare feet, still on the coffee table, crossed right over left.
I don't think she really didn't see me. More likely she was just ignoring me hoping that I would go away. I didn't. I ran two fingers the full length of the sole of her right foot, from her heel to her toes. She giggled but had no other reaction. I did the same to the sole of her left foot. She giggled again and yelled at me, "Cut that out!"
Instead of obeying her, I scratched all ten fingers across both of her soles. She laughed loudly and pulled both feet away. She took up a new position on the couch, legs tucked under her.
"Why are you tickling my feet?" she asked.
I blushed as I answered, "Because they're so pretty and soft."
She smiled and nodded to herself.
"Well, I don't like it. So stop it," she said.
"No, I'll tickle your feet whenever I can get near them," I said, defiantly.
"I'll put on socks and shoes if I have to," she said, "but I like to go barefoot in the summer. What would it take to get you to leave me alone?"
She was probably expecting me to say that I would leave her alone if I could stay up as late as I wanted, or if I could eat ice cream three times a day. She likely would have let me do those things for some peace in the house.
But I surprised her (and myself with my courage) by saying, "I guess you'll have to tie me up."
She looked quite surprised, assimilated this information, and nodded to herself again.
"So you like to be tied up?" she asked.
I blushed again. "Yes," I admitted. "I always look forward to tie-up games but the kids in my neighborhood aren't much interested in them."
"Well you're in luck," she said. "There's lots and lots of clothesline in the backyard that we don't use any more since Mom bought the dryer to go with the new washer."
She got up and went to the back yard, soon returning with dozens of yards of clothesline and the garden shears. She proceeded to cut the clothesline into convenient lengths.
"Move that coffee table away from the couch and then lie down on your belly where it used to be," she ordered. "But first go to the bathroom, you won't have another chance for quite some time."
I did as she asked, first using the bathroom and then moving the table with some difficulty as it was heavy. I got down on the rug on my belly and put my hands behind my back, wrists crossed, and waited.
"No, with your hands close together you might get free," she said. "Put your left hand by your right elbow and vice versa."
She tied my left wrist to my right elbow, using four or five loops around each. She cinched the rope work and knotted it several times. She tied my right wrist to my left elbow in the same way. With another piece of rope, she tied my forearms together and then passed that rope under me and around me several times. She secured my forearms pressed against my back.
She tied my ankles together and tied my legs together just above and just below my knees. She then raised my ankles and tied them to the ropes binding my forearms, completing a hogtie, although not a strict one.
"Now try to get out," she said.
I wriggled for about ten seconds, not really trying to get out but rather luxuriating in the feeling of being helpless.
"You're not trying hard enough," said Debby. "I guess you need some motivation."
She began to tickle my bare soles, scratching all ten fingers all over them. I howled with laughter. I hid one sole behind the other foot and scrunched my toes.
"I need to do something about that," she said, leaving the room.
She came back with yarn from her mother's knitting supplies. She tied my big toes together and then tied them back to the rope around my ankles. She resumed tickling my feet, relentlessly.
I howled and shrieked with laughter. I struggled in the ropes but couldn't loosen anything. I laughed and laughed.
"I don't want the neighbors calling the cops," she said. "You'll clearly have to be gagged."
She left the room again, going upstairs. I could hear her rummaging around up there and also heard the toilet in the upstairs bathroom flush. She was getting something from the bathroom.
"Open wide," she said when she returned.
When I opened my mouth, she shoved in a dirty, smelly sock.
"I wore that on Thursday," she said. "It was in the laundry hamper in the bathroom. There was also this in the medicine cabinet."
She showed me a self-adhesive Ace bandage, which she proceeded to wrap around my head several times, securing the sock inside my mouth.
"Since you like girls' feet so much," she said, "you can taste one of mine, or at least the sweat from it, on my sock."
She resumed tickling my feet, raking my soles with her nails for about 10 minutes. I howled into my gag now which certainly muffled it enough for nobody outside the house to hear. By the time she stopped, my face was red and tears had welled up in my eyes but not yet fallen.
Here's the really strange thing. Even though it was torturous, even though I was desperate for her to stop while it was going on, I was really sorry that she had stopped. I truly wanted her to tickle me more. I was sorry that I was gagged; I wished that I could beg her to start again, to tickle me for twice as long.
Debby looked me over to see that I was alright and breathing well through my nose. She nodded to herself dug into my ribcage with both hands. She did that for about another 10 minutes. I was red-faced and actually crying when she finally stopped.
My feeling was the same. I was so glad and relieved that she had stopped, for about the first ten seconds. Then I wished she would tickle me even more, twice as long.
"I'm behind in my reading today because of you," she said.
She sat down on the couch, opened her book, and used me as her footstool. She planted one bare foot on my head and one on my forearms, partially on the ropes binding them.
Hours passed. She moved her feet from time to time to different places on my body. She never hurt me by pushing on me too hard, but her actions made clear that I was now a piece of furniture, replacing the coffee table as the resting spot for her lovely bare feet. I didn't care that they were somewhat dirty from her walking around barefoot.
She never spoke to me, no more than she would talk to the table. She just read, using me as human furniture.
I was in ecstasy. Tied up and utterly helpless, I wriggled slightly from time to time to assure myself that I was her prisoner. I kept thinking of her feet, bare and beautiful, resting on me. I loved it best when she used the bare skin of my face, neck, or arms as the resting spot for one of her feet.
Just when I thought that I should grunt to indicate that I needed to be untied and use the bathroom, Debby spoke to me.
"Well, it's certainly lunch time and I'm sure that you need the bathroom just as much as I do," she said.
She ran upstairs in her bare feet and used the bathroom herself. In high spirits, she trotted back downstairs and untied me, removing all of the ropes and the Ace bandage. I spat out her dirty sock. She went into the kitchen, smiling.
It took me a minute to stretch my limbs and get the stiffness out of them. By the time I had used the bathroom and gotten back downstairs, she had already made us sandwiches for lunch and poured Cokes for us. She was sitting at the kitchen table with her bare feet flat on the floor, just about to pick up her sandwich.
I sat down and wasn't sure what to say. I decided on honesty.
"Thank you so much, Debby," I said, blushing once again.
We both began eating and talked while we ate.
"You're a strange kid, Mike," she said. "You really liked being tied up like that for three hours?"
"Absolutely," I said. "Look, since you don't like getting your feet tickled, I don't want to have to provoke you that way again. But please tie me up again after lunch."
"If that's what you want, sure," she said.
I've always been a fast eater and was done with my sandwich before her. I put my lunch dishes in the sink. I decided to go for broke, risking getting her mad by doing what I really wanted to do. I got down on all fours and crawled over to her feet.
"Hey, you don't get to tickle me," she said. "You just said you wouldn't."
"I won't," I said, "I just wanted to show my thanks to you for all that you did, tying me up, resting your beautiful bare feet on me, and giving me a great tickling."
I kissed the top of Debby's left foot, reverently, with closed lips, not slobbering on her. When she didn't object or move it away, I kissed it four more times and then kissed each of the toes once. I did the same to her right foot, five kisses on the top and one on the top of each toe.
"You really have a thing for girls' feet," she said.
"Always," I said. "As far back as I can remember, to age 4. But I never got to kiss a girl's foot before just now, thank you for that also."
"You even thanked me for the tickling," she said, "but I tickled you brutally, you were crying by the time I stopped."
"That's the strange part," I told her, getting up off the floor. "While you were tickling me so much it was torture, I desperately wanted you to stop. But maybe 10 seconds after you stopped each time, I was really sorry and wished you would start over again and tickle me more and more, twice as long at least."
"That is weird, but cute. You're very cute when you're tied up, Mike, and it makes you more cute to like being tickle-tortured. I've got my quota of reading to do this afternoon, though. Let me think."
Debby stayed quiet for a minute. I took the time to clear the table and put her dishes in the sink, too.
"I've got it," she said. "I know how we can both have a perfect afternoon, me getting all my reading done. And I will tickle you again in the evening, while I'm watching TV."
"What will I do this afternoon?" I asked.
"You'll find out in a few minutes," she said. "For now, go to the bathroom again and then lie down on the living room rug on your back, arms at your sides."
Saturday Afternoon
I was lying on my back on the living room rug with my head on a pillow. My legs were tied together at the ankles, below the knees, and above the knees. She hadn't tied my toes again.
My left wrist was tied to my right elbow again, and vice versa, but this time in front of me, so they rested on my chest. My forearms were tied together. Ropes going around my torso bound my upper arms to it in two places, just above the elbows and just below the armpits. I was not gagged.
After tying me up this way, Debby placed a comfortable armchair over my torso so that my head stuck out in front of the chair, my face being in position to be her footrest. That excited me greatly, but the best was yet to come.
Debby sat in the chair and opened her book. She placed both bare soles on my face. They were clean, which surprised me. She must have washed them when she went to the bathroom.
"Can you move your head a little?" she asked.
"Sure," I answered into her soles.
"Fine," she said. "Here is how you'll spend the afternoon. While I read, you'll lick my soles, 100 times each, alternating after each 100 licks. That's how you'll show me how much you love me, cousin. And I'll show you how much I love you by allowing you to do it. Is that agreeable?"
"Oh, yes!!" I answered, unable to believe my good fortune. She understood me and was going to indulge me, beyond my wildest hopes.
"Not another word out of you," she said, "just keep on licking."
I was in heaven. Tied up again, totally helpless, her prisoner, and being ordered to do what I most want to do: lick the lovely bare soles of my cousin Debby's feet. I licked ad licked, remembering to switch feet after every hundred licks.
She took to resting whichever foot I wasn't licking on the floor beside my head, shifting them when I moved my head to show that I was done with another hundred. I kept right on licking, even when my tongue was dry and starting to get sore.
Hours passed. Debby got up to get herself a soda. Without even being asked, she got one for me, too. She propped up my head and helped me drink it down with a straw.
"It's great that you obeyed me and didn't speak," she said. "I told you, : not a word' and you obeyed me. Just keep right on behaving yourself and this week can be a great one for you, in your own strange ways. I didn't think I would like having my feet licked, you know. I like the idea of it, it's very flattering that somebody is licking the bottoms of my feet, but I thought it would be slobbery, like a dog licking me. But it actually feels good. Get back to your licking, unless you've had enough of it. You may answer me."
"No," I said, "I could never have enough. I want to lick your soles forever. They taste so good and they're so pretty."
Debby sat down again and I proceeded to lick with more vigor than before. Another hour passed.
"I'm going to get our dinners from the freezer and put them in the oven," she said. "Mom has labeled them with the days of the week and put the time needed to cook and the oven temperature to set on each package. I guess she knows that I can't cook, unlike my sister. You just stay right there, don't go away."
I laughed at the feeble joke, one always made when somebody is tied up, just to please her. I resumed licking when she sat down again.
"It will be ready in about 45 minutes," she said. "Tell me now if you need a bathroom break, otherwise keep licking."
I kept silent and kept licking. I knew I could hold it and I didn't want to lose any time tasting her luscious soles.
Saturday Evening
After dinner, I didn't know what to expect. It was already 7pm and my parents had told her that my bedtime was at 9. I didn't know if Debby would enforce that or what she intended to do to me. All I knew was that the day had been heavenly and that I would obey her.
"Go upstairs and change into your pajamas," she told me, "while I get the dishwashing machine running. Wait, make that just the pajama pants, no shirt. Bring a clean pair of your own socks, but carry them, don't put them on. And be sure to go to the bathroom again."
When I got downstairs, wearing my underpants and pajama pants but not the shirt, as instructed, I was delighted to see that she had gathered all the ropes up and was ready with them. I wondered what the socks I was carrying were for. One sock might be to gag me, but she had asked me to bring a pair.
"Lie down on the couch, on your back, arms above your head, stretched out," she ordered.
I obeyed her. She took the socks from me and put them over my hands, shoving my hands into them and tugging them down past my wrists. Then she tied my wrists together with rope and I realized that the socks kept me from having any chance to use my fingers to get at any knots. Once she had my wrists tied together, she tied them to the thick post which held up the armrest of the couch. She then produced the mate to the dirty sock that I'd been gagged with in the morning.
"Don't pout," she said. "Since you like licking my feet so much, the taste of these socks should please you, too. You know, I wish I could have you at my school in the locker room right after a tennis match on a hot day. I'd love to have you lick the sweat off of my feet and then be gagged with my sweaty socks."
She pushed the sock into my mouth and secured it with the Ace bandage. I was in a daze, thinking about being in the girls' locker room in her high school, tied up securely, and licking all of the tennis players' bare feet, not just hers.
I continued with that fine daydream as she kept tying me up. She tied my elbows towards each other. She tied my legs together above the knees, below the knees, and at the ankles. She tied my ankles to the post that held up the other armrest of the couch. She tied my big toes together with yarn and then tied them back to the ropes around my ankles. She stood back and admired her work.
"All stretched out and totally helpless, I'm sure that you love it, Mike. And your ribs, belly, and smooth armpits are all available for me to tickle, as well as your tender soles. Less obvious spots, too, like your collarbones and neck. My, my, my, do I really want to watch TV after all? I think not, not with summer reruns on. I'll put on the TV for background noise, in case anybody walks by our house. But I'll spend all my time just tickling you, Mike, tickling you and tickling you and then tickling you some more."
Suiting her actions to her words, she put on the TV and then proceeded to ignore it. She attacked my vulnerable soles first, using five fingernails on each sole at the same time. The yarn bondage on my big toes kept me from either scrunching them down or covering one foot with the other.
She tickled my soles relentlessly, never pausing. I howled and shrieked into my gag, straining in my bondage. I was laughing so hard that I was crying after about 10 minutes. She kept it up for quite a while after that, then stopped and came over to my head.
"That was 15 minutes," she said. "Was it just like you described earlier, you were tortured and desperate for me to stop, but now that I've stopped you want to start again and tickle you for twice as long?"
I nodded my head yes.
"Are you sure, absolutely sure?" she asked. "Once I start, I'm not going to stop. I may just tickle you to death."
I nodded my head yes, emphatically.
"You are so cute!" she said, kissing me on the forehead very tenderly. "I'm going to grant your wish, a half hour of tickling, with no break. But now I'll move up your body."
She began on my belly, tickling softly with her fingertips. I laughed into my gag, but nowhere near as hard as before. She then dug into my rib cage, tickling vigorously with all ten fingers. I laughed into my gag, much louder now, and thrashed as much as I could, which wasn't much.
She tried my armpits next and struck gold. I could have told her that, if I hadn't been gagged. My armpits are the most ticklish spot of all on my body and it drives me crazy to be poked there, absolutely insane. She could see that my reaction was the greatest yet and continued to explore under my arms until I was sobbing. She began to taunt me.
"Poor little Mikey, so helpless and so ticklish. I've found your best spot, I think, right under your arms. Tickle, tickle, tickle, little baby Mikey. Such a ticklish baby boy! So helpless and cute, too. Did you know how cute you are? Such a cute baby boy, I could just tickle you forever! Maybe I will, maybe I just tickle and tickle you, all night long and into tomorrow. There's no way you can stop me! No way at all! Poor ticklish little baby, you're utterly helpless, and that's just the way things should be."
It seemed like forever, but finally she was done with my armpits. She gave me a break by going to my neck next. It's ticklish but only produces giggles, not full laughter. She let me get my breath back by tickling my neck softly.
My collarbones are more ticklish and that's where she visited last, tickling them the same way she had my ribs, digging in her fingers. I laughed loudly but the sound was muffled well by her sock. Finally she stopped.
"That was a full half hour," she said. "It was a lot of fun for me. Are you OK? Did you have fun, too?"
I nodded my head twice.
"Great," she said. "There's only an hour left before you have to take your bath and go to sleep. I'm going to tickle your feet now, but with different implements. I want to see what works best."
She left the room and came back with a feather duster, a toothbrush, a knitting needle, a hairbrush, a plastic comb, and a plastic fork. She used them all on my bound and helpless soles, one at a time. She found that the feather duster was useless, too soft to tickle me at all. The toothbrush was quite effective, better than her fingers. The knitting needle and the hairbrush did tickle, but not as much as her fingers.
She found the plastic comb to be terrific. Combing my soles from heel to toe, using a wavy stroke, with the comb perpendicular to the long direction of my foot, drove me crazy. I howled and shrieked into my gag very loudly. I struggled so hard that the couch actually creaked.
She tried the plastic fork briefly and found it to be about the same as the toothbrush had been. She held the comb in front of my eyes.
"My secret weapon," she said. "I'll use this and another one just like it on your soles tomorrow, both at the same time."
She squealed with glee as she kissed me on the forehead again.
"My dear little cousin, my footstool, my foot-licker, my tickle toy, that's what you'll be all week long. You'll spend the whole week tied up! We'll both have so much fun."
She untied me then and sent me upstairs to take a bath. When I was done with that and ready for bed, she allowed me to kneel down and kiss her goodnight ten times, once on each toe.
Six More Days in Heaven
The next six days were just like Saturday. I was her hogtied footstool every morning, her bound foot-licker every afternoon, and her helpless bound tickle toy every evening. Nobody came to the house except the letter carrier (know as the mailman in those days). We had more than enough food for the week. We were isolated from the world, other than a few phone calls from our parents to make sure we were OK. She was the goddess of the household and I was her humble, obedient, and very happy worshiper. I was tied up in three different positions every day, for a total of 11 or 12 hours. I got to serve as her footstool, lick her lovely bare soles, and get tickled to insanity, every single day. I was in heaven.
On Friday evening, after allowing me to kiss her goodnight on her toes, she waited until I was in bed and spoke with me.
"My parents and yours will be back tomorrow afternoon. There can't be any rope marks on you, I won't be tying you up tomorrow morning."
"I know," I said. "Thank you for a week in heaven. That's what it's been for me, a week in heaven. Thank you from the bottom of my heart."
"It was fun for me, too," she said. "You make a fine footstool and an excellent licker of soles. I never imagined I would like that. I did know that I like to tickle guys half to death. That was the most fun for me. And I got a lot of reading done this week, too."
Epilogue
That week was never spoken of again between us. I saw her rarely through the years, mostly at weddings and funerals. Debby went to college and law school, married, divorced, and married again years later. Her second marriage is a happy one. She and her second husband, also a lawyer, are now retired. I believe she knows that she made a young boy's innocent fantasies of bondage, foot worship, and tickling all come true, and that I will always be grateful to her for my week in heaven.
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milagros317's stories
- 01 - Tied and Tickled by My Older Cousin (f/m)
- 02 - The Greatest Babysitter (f/m, ff/m)
- 03 - The Next Babysitting Episode: Jay at Karen’s House (f+/m)
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