****** The Birthday Present by Night Owl ******
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The Birthday Present


I've always found tickling during sex to be a real turn-on. This tendency
probably originated during my childhood, when we used to do it to the girls to
torment them. For me, this innocent game developed into a strong fetish as I
got older. My new wife, Gabriele, often satisfied my desires by staging brief
'tickle fights' as a form of sexual play. The game usually culminated in my
overpowering her and teasing her into a frenzy until she begged me to stop. Our
sessions were mild, though, but what my wife had planned for my 30th birthday
far exceeded my expectations.

It all started with a phone call from her at my office.

"When will you be home?"

"I'm pretty swamped today, I may not get out of here until 6:30."

"It's your birthday, sweetheart," she said anxiously.

"Yeah, I know."

"She'll be waiting."

Then she hung up. I could tell by the low, sexy tone of her voice that she was
in a passionate mood, and that something was amiss. And did I hear my wife
correctly when she said, "She'll be waiting?" I continued with my paperwork,
but the thought of her and the curious phone call lingered on my mind.

As it turned out, I didn't get home until 7:30. When I got to our front door, I
found it was unlocked. The inside of the house was illuminated with at least a
dozen candles, but there was no sign of my wife. Then I heard a moan from
upstairs. It was Gabriele's voice, and it sounded muffled and desperate. I
followed it to our bedroom, then froze in my tracks when I approached the
doorway.

My wife was stretched out naked on our king-sized bed. Our thick bearskin rug
from the formal living room was now spread out beneath her. Gabriele's wrists
and ankles were tied with rope to the bedposts, pulling her slender body into a
tight, spread-eagled position. Her dark hair spilled out onto the pillow. A
shiny red ball gag was placed between her lips and a blindfold prevented her
from seeing me. She was still moaning pitifully, her body twisting and turning,
this way and that. Gabriele's weak attempts to escape her bondage were
obviously planned to entice me more than anything else. Nevertheless, I was
instantly captivated by the sight. I felt an arousing tingle pass through my
lions. "So this was the surprise she had planned for me!" I thought. I assumed
Gabriele had tied the knots around her ankles and left wrist herself, then
somehow managed to slip her right wrist into it's restraint and tighten the
knot with her fingers. There was a candle on the nightstand. Laying next to it
was a long peacock feather and a note which read:

In celebration of your 30th birthday, I am giving as a present to you this
attractive young woman for your enjoyment. You may find this one fiesty at
first, though, and in constant need of tight restraint. However, with some
persistence, I am sure that she will learn to submit fully to your every
desire. Please use this opportunity to explore and fulfill your most intimate
fantasies with her - may I suggest using the feather for starters?

Happy Birthday Sweetheart.

Love, Gabriele

There was no-telling how long she had been patiently awaiting my arrival. I
imagined this beautiful captive lying there for several hours, hopelessly
restrained and at the sole mercy of my discovery. It wasn't long before I was
completely drawn into the fantasy.

The room was dark, except for the single candle next to the bed. Her nude body
was bathed in the moonlight shining in from the open window to the right. Soft
shadows highlighted the swells of her breasts and the smooth, fleshy mound of
her shaved pussy. The cool October breeze blew past the curtains of the open
window, and I could almost see the chilled air licking her body, hardening her
nipples and covering her pale, soft skin in gooseflesh.

For a moment, I let my mind drink in the sight of my beautiful wife. She had
the firm body of a dancer, but still very feminine-looking. Seeing her tight
frame stretched out and bound helplessly on the bed was so tantalizing that my
hands shook from growing anticipation as I took off my clothes. I carefully
removed her blindfold so that she could see her captor for the first time. She
gave me a frightened look, and stared wide-eyed at my huge throbbing cock. I
picked up the long black feather and ran it through my fingers.

"Mmmmmmmmph!"

Gabriele moaned knowingly, and she made another feeble attempt to twist her
wrists out of their restraints, her movements obviously orchestrated to draw
attention to her outstretched arms. I always had a special fetish for women's
underarms, and Gabriele's were exquisite. Just the sight of her in a sleeveless
blouse or tanktop, with those beautiful bare pits exposed always gave me a
hard-on. Now they were displayed quite conspicuously before me.

I watched in admiration, the delicate but well-defined, curves of her elbows,
the way the smooth pocket of each armpit changed in depth as she turned her
captive limbs back and forth against the soft bearskin rug. I held the feather
in front of Gabriele's face so she could see it, then placed the very tip
lightly on her wrist and slid it slowly down the inside of her right arm. The
sudden sensation made Gabriele's body quiver, and she began to twist her elbow
this way and that, trying to shake off the torturously ticklish sensation. I
stopped just above her underarm, and paused to let the suspense build in her
mind, then I lightly dragged the feather-tip along the smooth, delicate mound
within the ticklish hollow.

"MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMPH!"

Gabriele's attempts to cry out were silenced by the ball gag in her mouth. She
squirmed helplessly on the bed, pulling on the restraints around her wrists and
ankles, but they remained in place, keeping her limbs stretched taut and her
body hopelessly exposed.

I gave both of her arms the full treatment, from the top of her wrists to the
very hollows of her pits. The light strokes were slow and excruciating.
Gabriele moaned helplessly, she looked at me with desperate eyes, but I knew
the silent plea was not entirely genuine. The raw sensitivity and erotic
qualities of her underarms was something that we had only recently discovered,
but what a treasure it was.

I dragged the feather down the side of her body and across the flat plane of
her bare tummy. Gabriele's intense breathing caused her belly to rise and fall.
I enjoyed this and allowed the feather to take the ride. Then I dipped the
feathertip into her shallow navel and tickled it savagely.

I could tell that Gabriele was finding this relentless attack on her naked,
helpless body surprisingly sensual and erotic. She moved more rhythmically now,
exposing new areas for me to touch. Gabriele drew in a long hot breath, then
arched her back and pushed her round breasts upward toward me. I rewarded the
effort by tickling them too, from the base to the very tips of her nipples,
which now stood out in the darkness like twin towers.

I was overcome with emotion. Never before had I experienced such power over a
woman, the thrill of being able to drive her mad with such sweet torture, then
mad again with the desire for more, almost overwhelmed me. I placed the feather
on the bed and wriggled my fingers like two spiders down over Gabriele's
breasts and lightly flicked her nipples. Gabriele bent her head back and
groaned. Her breasts shook wildly as the she tried to knock the tickling
'spiders' off.

I let my fingers dance down the smooth slope of Gabriele's breasts to her
stomach. Her belly spasmed uncontrollably. I tickled the very soft skin that
covered her protruding ribcage, then watched her young body shift back and
forth as my fingers played her like a piano, while alternating between one
ticklish side and another.

Gabriele was relatively quiet during this whole ordeal. Paralyzed as she was by
the movements of my hands, the sensations from the touches of which she was
completely powerless to hinder in any way, seemed to take over her whole
consciousness and being. Only her wide, silent smile, the tight closing of her
eyes, the reddening of her face, and the frantic writhing of her upper body to
find any means of escape at all from my wriggling fingers, were the sole
evidence of what ticklish agony she was going through. I thoroughly enjoyed
doing this to the woman I loved so much, and my enjoyment--and arousal--were
augmented by her occasional, sputtering, of piteous moans from behind her ball
gag.

I finally released my wife from her ticklish torture and walked around the foot
of the bed. Gabriele was too overcome and gasping for breath to follow my
movements, but when she came to her senses and realized where I was, and how
vulnerable she was to whatever attack I was planning to launch on her next, she
shook with fear--and excitement.

I lightly touched the feather to the bottom of her right foot. Instinctively
Gabriele jerked her leg against it's restraint. I gave the bottom of her foot a
good long stroke, starting at the sole, across the bridge, then up under her
toes. The sounds of her tormented laughter filled the room. She desperately
tried to twist her feet away, but I followed her movements easily, while
remaining in constant contact with her skin. I continued to tickle her feet,
while watching her body twist and turn seductively on the bearskin rug.

Then I ran the feather up her leg and past the delicate crease under her knee.
Gabriele's beautiful eyes widened in wild anticipation. She made a weak attempt
to bring her legs together, pulling her ankles against the knots as the
feather-tip inched its way toward her open pussy, which was now at my mercy. I
should mention that my wife recently began shaving off her pubic hair, which I
found to be incredibly sexy, because it gave me unhindered access to the
sensitive skin there. I held the feather up and let her eyes focus on it, then,
starting at the underside of her buttocks, I slowly ran the tip upward along
her smooth cleft, carefully avoiding her fleshy folds and across the lower part
of her belly. I watched the subtle movements of the muscles inside her thighs
as she wiggled helplessly. I repeated the stroke again, only this time, I let
the tip of the feather drop between the throbbing pink lips the guarded the
entrance to her womanhood. Her entire body began to shake and quiver; fighting
hopelessly with the bonds. I ended the stroke with several flicks of the
feather against her exposed clit. Gabriele responded with a deep, sexy moan
while twisting her hips this way and that directly in front of me.

I knew she was on the edge of an orgasm now, and I could no longer ignore my
own desperate need for a release. So I removed the ball gag from Gabriele's
mouth and kissed her passionately. She received my long awaited kiss eagerly as
I slowly positioned myself over her body.

Gabriele raised her pelvis and pressed her smooth mound against my crotch. Her
wet lips parted with ease as I slid my cock inside her pussy. My movements were
slow and deliberate at first, then with a wild burst of raw sexual energy, I
began pumping her violently, pushing her limp body back and forth on the
bearskin rug. Gabriele's eyes were closed, her mind completely lost in the
moment as I continued my assault. Then we both climaxed in unison, and I shot
my warm load, with full force into her helpless body. Gabriele lay motionless.
Her eyes were still closed, but she had broad a smile on her lips.

I gave her a kiss and gently stroked her hair, but I had no intention of
untying her.

"You DO realize I'm not through with you yet."

"I know," she whispered, "happy birthday sweetheart."

This story is part of White_Shadow's_Nasty_Stories.
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