BansheeBoyy

“You know, son, the rules say I can’t take your socks off, and that’s a real shame seeing as you’ve gotten yourself into quite the vulnerable position. But now that I’m looking at these puppies…these beauties are nearly worn through. Few minutes with a hairbrush circling the balls of your feet should be enough to break through…and once there’s a hole, you may as well not be wearing any socks at all. My tools can get in all your nooks and crannies. It doesn't count as taking your socks off if they naturally wear thin. Don’t you love loopholes? And there are no rules whatsoever against tickling a disruptive inmate, son.

The coach had a plan to counter the aggression his team had when they lost a match; a locker-room stress boy. Instead of sniping and belittling each other - sometimes leading to scuffles - the exhausted lads were encouraged to take out their frustration on the bound man, grabbing him by the hair and whispering threats in his ear, pinching his nipples, squeezing his junk and watching him squirm. His pathetic groans beneath the gag really got the lads going, encouraging more and more degrading treatment. The day the team captain discovered the lad was ticklish was one for the history books. The whole team stayed an hour and an half after the match until the bound man had pissed himself onto the tiles, howling for mercy than never came.

It was a complete success. Infighting after a loss dropped to zero.

The human punching-bag was so popular the coach even brought him out when the team won. As the weeks went by the coach started buying tools for the lads to use on their stress boy: whips, paddles, brushes and sex toys. They experimented with different positions, with varying levels of clothing. The longer it went on, the more comfortable the lads were with inflicting outrageous sexual torment on another man. After a win the group of virile hunks tended towards more frivolous treatment: tickling, teasing, vibrators, feathers. After a heavy loss they went for the real hard stuff: spanking, electro-shocks, merciless tickle torture, hot wax.

It was the best idea the coach had ever had. Morale was up, and the lads were more cohesive than ever before, bagging more wins than they had the entire season.

And the best part? The stress boy didn’t cost him a penny, and there was no risk of the police being called.

The young traveller was slightly suspicious of the low prices at the rural motel…but he was broke, and a bed was a bed.

A hot guy casually saying ‘it knocked my socks off.’

And you bet I won't let you cum even a drop! I want it to be torture! I want you to be screaming, begging, whimpering, and moaning as my feather flutters around your aching denied tip until you can't take even a second more!

...and then I'll tickle that cock even harder

Do your worst!

*re-reads your ask*

Actually maybe like give me half effort, or even quarter effort because that sounds fucking intense and you seem devilishly sadistic. I in fact wouldn’t like to see your worst. But as usual…I don’t think I have much say in the matter.

This is about making you realise how much of a mistake it was to admit your weaknesses online.

Now let’s try these big soles, shall we? I think you said they’re your worst spots 😊

okay you have successfully found my weakness because that is just fucking evil. Congrats

Don’t even know what to say, and I think that speaks for itself.

no idea what the creamery is and I’m too afraid to google it…but I think I can’t take a pretty good guess based on your extremely ominous ask, so thanks anon! So glad I fit the criteria to be…dragged off to a mysterious place called the creamery. Sure there’s nothing untoward going on there. Young men and milk? Utterly unrelated concepts…

Feathers? Tickling machines, milking machines, pumps and tanks? That sort of thing? Am I in the right ballpark?

I mean…if it’s inevitable then I guess I’d better just let these ‘wranglers’ bundle me into a van and not fight back. I’ll pack a bag. What vibe are we thinking? Beachy? Shorts and a T-shirt kinda thing? Flip flops? Or more formal? Suit and tie? Jeans? Somewhere in-between? I’ll just pack it all in case.

Wouldn’t want to look like a fool when I’m getting milked like a cow and tickled until I cry now would I?

wow…wanting to tickle torture me, an innocent gay man, just as Pride month begins. Smh my head.

Well. I’m about 6’3’’, white. Pale. Dark brown hair, kept fairly short. Some stubble. Hairy legs, forearms, chest, pits, but not extremely. Pink nipples. Slim. Ticklish feet size 11 UK, with fairly high arches. Medium length toes. Gorgeous. Extremely funny. Magnetic and charming. A social butterfly. The envy of everyone I meet. And owner of a huge cock.

Hope that helps with the mental image as you’re tickle torturing me. Don’t go too hard on my imaginary self, will you? You have to save some of your most devious and sadistic tortures for when you tickle me for real 😜

I haven’t, sadly. Wish I could provide all the dirty details but alas. When I think about it though?

To be honest I get supremely turned on. Being tickled and milked simultaneously sounds brain-breakingly intense. I’d start feeling like a cum cow being used and abused. And if it was for the purposes of interrogation? Pretty soon you’d have all my secrets, I think. 😅

And when we get into the realm of milking machines, and tickling machines….stop! Stop! I can only get so erect!

The Malibu Tourist Board has recently implemented unusual measures to ensure only licensed surfers are taking to the waves. They insist the change is to maximise safety and prevent newbie surfers from endangering themselves and others.

Word on the street, however, is that this new policy is designed to be abused. Beach Enforcement Officers seem to pick out a hot surfer they’ve had their eyes on and ask him for his license. When he doesn’t have it - surfers aren’t the most organised, or bureaucracy-compliant people, and the bulky license is a bother to carry under a wetsuit or trunks - he’s escorted to the nearest beach-side centre for a ‘booking’.

Surfing without a license is the charge.

One hour of professional tickling is the punishment.

For every infarction, 30 minutes is added to the tickling the next time he’s caught.

Is it a coincidence that only hot, hunky guys with gorgeous feet are checked for compliance?

Possibly.

When was your most recent boner?

If I’m being honest right fucking now, I’m having devious chats with some real twisted freaks rn and they know how to rile me up

When did you last cum?

About two hours ago, but now I’m horny again so ask me in about fifteen minutes and the answer’ll probably be different 😗

How often do you jerk off?

At least once a day normally, maybe one every other day on average in a low libido phase, but we’re in a big heatwave in the UK and for some reason it’s making me horny as a fucking dog in heat. I’ve jerked off three times a day for at least three days. My dick aches but hey 🤷‍♂️ if a boy’s gotta wank a boy’s gotta wank. It’s not my fault men take their tops off the second it gets hot in this country (NOT that I’m complaining)

At the peak of US/China tensions, paranoia was at an all-time high. Two college vigilantes found themselves sucked down multiple online rabbit holes of conspiracy and intrigue, and took it upon themselves to defend America in their own little way. They pooled together to buy a very expensive bondage chair online and set it up in their dorm room.

They targeted a Chinese student studying internationally they’d been suspicious of for a while and lured him to their dorm, then wrestled the unsuspecting nerd into the chair, convinced he was a Chinese spy sent here to collect intelligence on the US government.

To get him to ‘confess’, the two sadistic morons subjected the poor young man to something they called an ‘American Massage’; brutal tickle torture using tools and techniques they had researched throughly online. Unfortunately for their victim they were very, very good ticklers, and he was very, very ticklish.

In seconds the shirtless cutie was giggling, in minutes sweating and cackling. The poor lad used the best English he could muster to insist on his innocence, but the two conspiracy theorists were having none of it. They took his denial for insolence and intensified the tickling of his naked soles, tying his toes back and applying more oil, focusing on his hyper-sensitive arches and insteps.

By the second hour the lad was screaming that he was a spy just to get them to stop, broken and exhausted.

Satisfied they had cracked the little sneak the two morons escorted him to the dean’s office - still shirtless and barefoot - and proudly announced they’d caught a spy.

The students were expelled instantly, the police were called and they were eventually charged with administering cruel and unusual punishment.

The Chinese student had his student fees reimbursed…and was offered a complimentary foot massage for the tickle-induced trauma.