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A screen lights up in front of your face, explaining the situation. There are three buttons you must press and hold with various body parts. One behind each of your big toes, so you have to keep your feet held back and unscrunched. The other behind your head, so you must keep it still.

The final line says you must press and hold all three within 30 seconds, or ALL the consequences will occur. You comply.

The screen then shows you the consequences:

1. One way glass shuts down.

2. Livestream commences.

3. Entire contact list video called.

You wonder which button is which.

The screen turns off, and it is like the lights go up... you see a bustling street in a city centre, people walking past, sitting at cafes and benches. You flinch, but slowly realise they aren't reacting and can't see you... your captors wanted you to see the consequences of lifting off button one.

Then it begins.

The devices strategically positioned across your body begin their gentle torment. You despair, desperately pressing back on the three buttons.

Outside, people glance at the silver, reflective cube, assuming it to be an art installation of some kind. There's a lot of people out there...

You try to focus on keeping your feet and head still as the tickle torture slowly drives you wild. Your naked form twitches with both the sensations, and the effort of not reacting. You try and keep still for what feels like hours, but from the movements of people outside is likely less than one.

Oh how you tried.

A new tickler activates between your legs, and you gasp, moving your head forward just enough that you hear a click as the button releases.

Sound activated. If you laugh, motorized arms with spinning brushes target your armpits, sides, ribs, etc.

Щекочущие шахматы♟️✨

imagine lying back on the seat and fiddling with the settings, expecting to test some of the features and see what it feels like to be tickled by a machine.

without realizing that the machine has built-in restraints that activate when you begin the session.

suddenly you’re stuck with your arms above your head and your legs spread and all you can do is watch as an array of tools creeps towards your skin. brushes, vibrators, mechanical fingers, feathers…

not only would you be helpless to stop it, but there would be no one to beg. just a machine programmed to keep going til your time is up.

and if it were programmed with an artificial intelligence to map out your most ticklish spots and which tools/techniques elicit the strongest reaction… that would just be too bad.

A surprise? Not exactly. Everybody said she was a cheater. But you have to understand: the sex was transcendent. He was addicted.

Anyway, his smartest move, when he walked in on the two of them rutting like ferrets, would have been to get the hell out of there. Cut his losses. But no, he started mouthing off. Making empty threats. That’s how he ended up on his back, straddled by a hundred ninety pounds of naked muscle.

Mr. Baseball was moments away from hocking a loogie into @tickle-prisoner-writer’s mouth when the “girlfriend” giggled that she had a better idea.

Something that would really get to him.

Tying @tickle-prisoner-writer to the bed took some doing, but Mr. Baseball was terribly strong. Turned out he had a younger brother, and more than knew his way around a pair of ticklish feet.

That was a long fucking night.

They eventually let him go, but things snowballed rather quickly in the days and weeks that followed. @tickle-prisoner-writer didn’t appreciate showing up at her apartment, or Mr. Baseball’s, with whatever bondage gear they’d told him to buy—but what could he do? The bastard was six-three and threatened to post video of their “sessions.” He couldn’t bear the thought of his friends hearing the way he screamed.

And was it really so bad, listening to them fuck during breaks? He didn’t mind that part so much. He’d rather be the one getting laid, of course, but beggars can’t be choosers. It sucked having his feet brushed, especially when they used that one massage oil, but he still got to see her perfect nipples occasionally. When he wasn’t blindfolded.

It could be worse. It wasn’t like the tickling happened all the time, right? He wasn’t an actual prisoner. Not literally.