Alex Miller's Vault: Kick Kid Gets Tickled

 

TORONTO. MY APARTMENT. 

“Hey, sexy stud. You look hot, hero. Love the bare legs. Woof.”

I smiled at the message. I appreciated the compliment, even though my outfit wasn’t that great. It was black spandex consisting of a t-shirt, squarecuts, ankle socks, short gloves, cheap eye mask, and a canvas black belt with pouches I bought online. Strictly amateur hour, but it worked for Kick Kid, a street-level hero, who only existed in one profile picture. Yes, I looked nothing like a kid, but I liked the name.

Alex aka Kick Kid

I quickly replied, “Thanks! Unless you’re a villain. In which case keep your eyes away from my legs, you diabolical pervert.”

“Villain’s not a very nice word for a guy who makes cute heroes like you feel good.”

Yum. Was ‘feel good’ part of his character? Or is he just saying he’ll get me off? I also noticed that he didn’t object to the word ‘pervert’. I clicked on his profile to see what his deal was. Mine was clear that I was a hero, so I was sure he was a villain. Oh my. Toronto. Local. Was he hitting me up to meet for real? I’d never met a local villain before in the chat room. I was expecting a night of one-handed typing, culminating in a mess on my stomach.

With the possibility of my first-ever roleplay hook-up, I looked closer. MasterMax. He was 55. I was 27 but had no problem with the age difference. In fact, for roleplay, it seemed hotter. And he had pictures. Wow, he was sexy. Master Max had several pictures in full black 'dom' leather, but the image that grabbed me was one of him as a supervillain, “The Pirate”. In it, he wore an open puffy white shirt, showing off his hairy chest and stomach, and packed black tights. He had salt and pepper hair on top and a bushy beard. Yum. I was trimmed hairy with dark brown hair and a beard.

Master Max aka The Pirate

Max looked tall and lanky. His profile confirmed it, saying that he was 6’4”. Huh. I was (and still am) 6’ tall, so he was going to be noticeably taller than me. I was thicker but looking up at a guy would make the villain more intimidating. It also would make me feel a little more submissive, which was the whole reason why I played hero, after all. If I’m feeling dominant, I usually go to the wrestling chat rooms where I can get the jobbers melting. Okay, I decided to see where it would go.

“I’ll feel good when you’re in prison, Master Max.”

“Already calling me Master. Woof. You really in TO?”

Sounded promising. I immediately confirmed, “Etobicoke. You?”

“Don Mills. You ticklish?”

I paused then answered honestly. “Very.”

“Woof. Ever been strapped down and tickled?” He added, “For real.”

“Never.” I asked, “You’re into tickling?”

“Yep.”

“So, what? You’d tie me up and tickle me?”

“Yep. You can play hero first. I’ll capture you. Make you beg for mercy.”

Oh fuck. “You got my attention.”

Max and I messaged back and forth for an hour. Not even for cyber roleplay. Just getting to know each other. The more it went on, the harder my cock got, and I told him so. I was nervous as fuck but way too horny to not pursue this. We traded email addresses and messenger accounts. For a couple of weeks, we exchanged messages, some functional as Alex and Max. Some erotic as Kick Kid and The Pirate.

I admitted early on that I was a complete novice with any roleplay in real-life with or without tickling. Max was fine with that. In fact, the more we talked, the more confident and comfortable I became. He was patient and very mentor-ish, really wanting to tickle me, but also make sure I had fun, too. He would compromise easily and explain things. I really liked him a lot as a man, not just a hook up.

The Pirate issued a challenge. Date, time, and address. I accepted.

SATURDAY. TORONTO. MAX'S APARTMENT.

Standing in the vestibule, I was so nervous when I rang up to his apartment. My cock was semi-hard already, obvious if anyone saw me. This was not helped by the fact that he’d asked (ordered) me not to cum after I accepted. Five days was a long time for me to go dry. During the week, I usually emptied the tanks at least morning and night, either jerking off or sex. Either way, I’d missed out on pounding out at least 10 loads.

The chastity was especially bad when he remained relentless with the taunting emails in character. With the details settled, Max was only playing the villain. Of course, I could only reply as the hero. This made me constantly hard while denying me the ability to do anything about it. I wasn’t enjoying abstinence, but I would honor my word. Max was worth it.

Max answered immediately, buzzing me up. I opened the door and walked to the elevator. My bag felt heavy on my shoulder. As I stepped inside the elevator, I really hoped I hadn’t built this up too much. It was an older building from the 60’s or 70’s, so the box was slow to rise. I stepped out on the 12th floor and walked down the hall. When I got to the door, it opened without me knocking. He was ready for me, waiting. I swallowed hard and took him in.

I looked up at Max for the first time.

I relaxed. He was exactly the guy I messaged with. Taller, leaner, and older than me. He looked gentle and friendly. Max was barefoot and shirtless in black tights. He welcomed me in. He was the exact opposite of a villain. He made me comfortable. We chatted for a while. He started touching me. It got me used to him. He tested my “ticklishness”. I passed with flying colors.

Max said, “Woof. You’re fantastic.” I blushed. I am very ticklish, just like I said. He rubbed my body. I let him do what he wanted. It felt so good. When he got to my crotch, his big strong hand had me moaning and whimpering. He smiled, “You're really submissive, aren’t you?”

I moaned, “Not always. You’re bringing it out of me.”

“Woof.”

The older stud leaned in, and we made out. He lowered me onto the sofa and slid on top of me. I was feeling very weak and very hot, very quickly. Honestly, he could’ve done anything he wanted to me right then and there. But luckily, Max was the responsible one. He pulled up, “Get changed, boy. I’ll be ready for you when you get back.” I nodded.

I went into the bathroom. I cleaned up then pulled out my homemade costume from my profile. I was already leaking out of my uncut cock. Fuck. I wiped myself down, starting dry and fresh. I slipped on a black jock, hoping it’d minimize the giant wet stain that was already starting again. Fuck. I got into costume then looked into the mirror. I breathed in and out.

I walked down the hall in my black ankle socks, choosing to forego boots or shoes to be as short as possible. I walked confidently in character. Kick Kid. The young defender of Toronto. Ready for whatever awaited me in the living room. I didn’t make it past the second bedroom door when I felt strong hands grab me from behind. He’d tricked me. Oh, fuck yes!

A dry rag went over my face. I struggled (not too hard). I grunted and gasped. I gripped his forearm. I reached back to grab him, accomplishing nothing. I rewarded his surprise attack by slowly going weaker. The rag was tossed aside. I heard a chuckle in my ear as I sank back against my attacker, allowing him to stabilize my thick but limp body by holding me under my armpits.

“Welcome to the Pirate’s Cove, boy. I’ll help you find what you’re looking for.”

Two strong hands rubbed up and down my body from behind. I squirmed and writhed. I was naturally ticklish, but as aroused as I was, I was even more sensitive. I whimpered and begged him to stop. Just more laughter in my ear. My attacker spun me around. He pushed me back against the wall. THUD! He held me in place with one hand gripping my neck.

I tried to pull his forearm off me. I couldn’t do anything. His other hand reached down and fondled my manhood. I gasped. In my confused state, I blurted out, “How are you so strong?”

“I’m not so strong. You’re just so weak. Weak and helpless. Like a silly little hero boy should be.” I moaned. He monologued, “That rag? It was soaked in liquid iocaine.” I went weak at the revelation, my eyes wide as I stared at him in shock. “That’s right. The one substance that can turn the powerful Kick Kid into the submissive Kinky Kid.”

I weakly grunted, “No!”

The Pirate backed off. He spread his arms. “Oh yes, boy. C’mon. Fight me!”

I swung my fists at my attacker. I hit him in the stomach with a right jab. POW! Nothing. I fired a left at his face, but I was moving in slow motion. He grabbed my wrist, twisted my arm, and locked it behind me in a chicken wing. I was pushed face first into the wall. SPLAT! The Pirate pressed his body on mine. I felt him grinding on my ass. I whimpered as he dry humped me.

I demanded, “Stop! Get off me!”

“What’s the matter, Kinky Kid? You not liking this?”

“No!”

“Looks like you need a little more encouragement.” The villain reached around and grabbed my pouch. He toyed with my cock and balls. I squirmed but the chicken wing and his body forced me to remain pressed against the wall. My gyrating caused my butt to push back, right into his package. He laughed in my ear, “No, boy, not yet. I’ll give it to you, but we have playtime first."

The Pirate spun me around. He pressed on top of me, leaning in for a kiss. I turned my head and he only got cheek. The older stud grabbed my chin, his long powerful fingers and thumb pressing into my cheeks. I was helpless to stop him from turning my head into a penetrating full mouth kiss. He dominated me. I pushed against his body, but I was too weak. I moaned.

As the older stud molested my mouth, it happened. My pushing turned into caressing. I stopped fighting and went limp. The change in my body was noticeable, because the villain pulled off and laughed.

“What’s wrong. Kinky Kid? You don’t like my iocaine lip gloss?”

Oh no! No wonder I was so weak. I tried to will myself to resist but with my chemically-induced weakness came uncontrollable horniness, too. The villain knew all about me and my weakness. How? Not that it mattered. This second dose sapped most of the rest of my strength and willpower. He grabbed my bulge again. My arms hung limp to my side as he fondled my cock.

“What’s this, boy?” The Pirate raised a finger. It was moist with my pre-cum. He sticks it in my mouth. I instinctively suck his finger, literally tasting my defeat. “Still going to pretend that you’re not loving this? That you’re not my slave boy? My Kinky Kid?”

I meekly mutter while sucking, “no,” in the most unconvincing way.

“You won’t be able to deny the truth much longer, boy.”

I didn’t know what he meant but I soon found out. The Pirate grabbed my hair and dragged me into the bedroom. Inside was a shock. A big wooden frame with a long leather-covered twin-bed-sized plank and tall fence posts at the back. There were straps and chains and cuffs hanging from very large metal hooks all over it. I was pushed towards it, unable to resist.

The Pirate pushed me to the far end, past the bed part. I was his puppet, and he knew it. As I stood in place, wobbling, he casually lifted my right arm up and cuffed it to the post. I watched him do it. I whispered, “stop,” but I took no action to actually stop him. He gave my bulge a swipe, taunting me. I flinched and pulled, but the cuff held my right arm firm. He did my left arm next and tested it the same way. A swat. My struggle. I was really trapped.

Suddenly, I found a small bit of inner strength not sapped by the iocaine. I’m Kick Kid! My super-strong legs can break through brick walls! Even if I’m depowered, I’ve still got my muscles. I kicked out, but he playfully swatted my legs aside. My powerful legs were as useless as the rest of me. When I did it again, he held my leg aloft. I watched as he visually checked out my muscular limb, focusing on my foot. He dropped my leg with a nod.

The Pirate moved in on me. He ran his fingers up my sides with a feather touch. I flinched. I was a powerful hero. I’d bragged to him about once defeating a dozen henchmen at once. And here I was, helpless against the lightest glancing touch of this villain’s fingertips. The older stud ran his fingers up and down. I was dancing for him, trying to escape. And failing.

The fingers slid over to my stomach. Phew. Relief. I was able to withstand the assault. Until he touched the outside of my stomach. That sent my head back and made my body shiver. I let out a small giggle. Next, he flicked my nipples. I danced and whimpered for him. He did it again. I did the same thing. When he ran his fingertips around them, I moaned loudly.

“Spandex is such a wonderful fabric. So sexy. And so thin. It’s like you’re wearing nothing, boy. Let’s see. Sides? Ticklish. Nipples? Very sensitive. Tummy? Not here -” He ran the back of his hand up from my belt to my chest. “- but here? Very ticklish.” I wiggled as he taunted me. The Pirate grabbed my hair and pulled me into another kiss. I melted so easily under him.

In my ear, the villain whispered, “I love seeing you dance for me, but let’s make sure there’s no more kicking from my Kinky Kid.”

The Pirate knelt down and secured my ankles, legs spread open. While he was down there, he couldn’t resist running his feather touch up between my legs. I shivered and shook. The cuffs held me in place. The closer he got to my taint, the wilder I reacted. I thrashed and involuntarily laughed as he attacked the soft inside of my upper legs.

The older stud stood up. With my knees weak and my legs spread, I was shorter than normal. He towered over me now, a feeling I was not used to. I was sure it was intentional, and it worked to make me more submissive to him. I was gasping, breathing heavily from the intensity of his latest attack. “Ding. Ding. Ding. We have a winner, Kinky Kid. Inner legs.”

I begged him, “Please. Please don’t.”

The villain smirked, “If you hate it so much then why is this -” The Pirate grabbed my cock in my black squarecuts. “- so hard and wet right now.”

I couldn’t answer. I didn’t know. No one had ever done this type of torture to me. Pain? I could withstand that. Even when I’d been weakened by iocaine, I could resist long enough to turn the tables on the world’s worst villains. But this … tickling? It was driving me insane. I couldn’t explain it. And, unfortunately, I couldn’t fight it.

The Pirate grabbed my utility belt. He stripped it off me. This single act was dominant, but then he stood back and put it around his own waist. It was so humiliating, seeing this criminal wearing my prized belt. I didn’t have time to worry about it, though, because he moved back in on me. A finger slid over my cheek. He flicked the bottom of my mask. I gasped in fear.

“Not yet, boy. Not until you ask me to take it from you.”

The villain was so confident. Arrogant. But he had earned it. I was nothing but his plaything. He had outsmarted me and was taming me like no man ever had. He reached behind me and forced the waistbands of my shorts and jock down, pinning them under my butt cheeks. In front, they slid down to the base of my cock, keeping my hard shaft pinned uncomfortably to the side. He flicked my leaking cock head with his finger, teasing me. WHAP!

The Pirate methodically folded my shirt up to just below my pecs, the tightness of the spandex keeping it up. He admired my exposed pelvis and stomach. The fingers returned. They slid over my smooth flesh. My pubes and treasure trail were trimmed short. Most of my body hair was on my covered chest. Just smooth white flesh. A canvas for his ruthless fingertips.

The Pirate jabbed me in the sides. POKE! POKE! I shifted and giggled. He liked that. POKE! POKE! He did it again. And again. POKE! POKE! I was dancing for my dominator again. He crawled his hands up my torso like tarantulas, flicking my nipples as he moved. The big hands slid up to my neck. I twitched. An invitation for torture. The Pirate tickled my neck. My head shifted to block it. He simply attacked the other side. Back-and-forth until I was whimpering.

“Let’s hear you laugh, boy.”

The moment I’d been dreading. The villain attacked both armpits at once. I went crazy. I couldn’t stop myself from giggling. Then laughing. He worked me until I was a blubbering mess, gasping from his relentless assault. When he stopped, I sagged in the shackles, hanging from my wrists. The Pirate lifted my head and forced another toxic kiss on me. I moaned with pleasure, welcoming his tongue into my mouth as his iocaine-laced lips wore me down.

The villain pulled back. He grabbed my face, “You’re not broken already, are you, Kinky Kid?”

I grunted, “Nuh-never. You’ll. Never. Buh-buh-break. Me.”

I earned a playful tap on the cheek, “Good boy.”

The Pirate went back to my armpits. I was laughing as I wildly thrashed. He lifted his right knee under my balls, planting his foot on a crossbar. It forced me to stand taller. I still bucked wildly, inadvertently rubbing or crushing my balls on his thigh. Soon, I was practically crying from the laughter. I shook my head, desperately trying not to beg him for mercy. I failed.

“Please! HA! Please! HA! HA! Stop!”

“Okay.”

I looked at him in shock. He knelt and took the cuffs off my ankles. He unhooked the upper cuffs, leaving them on my wrists. My arms fell, close to numb from being up so long. I collapsed forward into him. He steadied me. I tried to move, but my body was too weak. The Pirate Led me around. He said, “Sit.” I slide my bare ass on the leather bed. I breathed in deeply. He gave me water to refresh me.

“Enjoy. It’s the last time you’ll drink from a bottle, Kinky Kid.”

I didn’t understand and he didn’t explain. The Pirate grabbed my ankles and lifted them. He swung me around, so my legs were stretched forward. I leaned back against the frame in a sitting position. I could only watch, as though this whole event was happening to someone else. The villain hooked the cuff on my left wrist to a chain that ran under the wooden frame.

When I tried to resist, the older stud poked my side, “Don’t, boy.”

I was so weak that I felt compelled to obey. The implied threat of what he might do to me was too much in my current state. At least my arm was hanging down. The villain slowly circled the frame. He latched my right cuffed wrist. I pulled my arms up, but only an inch or two. The chain held firmly. My biceps noticeably flexed, but as great as they looked, there was no power there.

The villain came in behind the frame. I was leaning back against a padded panel, but there were gaps on either side. He methodically wove rope around my torso. Around my waist. Over my shoulders. Under my pecs. Around and around, binding me in place. My shirt provided little protection. The ropes tightened, pushing my pecs out and drawing my stomach in.

I was definitely trapped. The lanky stud came back into view. He ran a finger down my neck, over my shoulder. I shuddered. The Pirate moved to the end of the bench. He reached out his long arms. I gasped. Only my legs were free, but I was afraid to kick him, afraid to fight back. The older stud pulled down my shorts and jock, sliding them down my legs to my knees. A long strand of pre-cum stretched out from my piss slit, lining my leg.

“Well, well, well. Kinky Kid has a fat one.”

My uncut cock was fully erect. It stood up at attention, the only part of me that wasn’t weak. I tensed at being exposed, which had the unfortunate side effect of making my throbbing pole bounce. Pre-cum made it shiny under the bright overhead light. As I stared at my manhood in shame, The Pirate stripped my shorts and jock off, tossing them aside.

I was naked from the waist down, except for my booties. The Pirate casually lifted my right leg. He placed my ankle out to the side, laying it on a padded wooden ‘u’. I watched in horror as he flipped over a hinged top. He locked my ankle in a stock. I kicked with my leg, but it was no use. I instinctively tried to resist as he grabbed my left leg, showing I had a little fight left in me. He just chuckled. I was nothing to him by this point. I was easily overpowered and locked up.

My bare legs were open in a ‘V’ and trapped by the stocks. The Pirate smiled at me. He ran his finger up and down the bottom of my feet. I twitched. I shifted. The booties provided no defense. With me helpless, he was in no hurry. The villain circled around. He pulled out a leather strap with studs on it. I could only watch as he wrapped it around the base of my cock and balls. He cinched it tight. My body bucked but the bindings held firm.

The Pirate pushed down on my cock. It bounced back up. He slapped it side to side. It stayed hard. He said, “You’re a messy boy, Kinky Kid.” I saw him grab a condom. He slid it over my shaft, trapping my throbbing rod. I knew I wasn’t going to fuck anyone, so this was entirely to capture my emissions. The villain gripped my wrapped member. I moaned. He laughed.

I sat there, captured and immobilized by this evil man. His plaything. He slid his hand under my balls and tickled my taint. I gyrated. My neck was limp, so I was watching him do it. I gasped. He did it again. I shook and whimpered. His hand slid down the inside of my leg. I pulled against the bindings. He tickled me. I thrashed and laughed, even though it wasn’t funny.

“There’s my happy boy.”

The Pirate kept tickling me. My body writhed. My cock danced. And I let out involuntary bursts of encouragement in the form of laughs, moans, and whimpers. I finally had to beg, “PLEASE STOP!” To my surprise, he did. But only to switch legs. My dominator repeated the torture. I was gasping as he controlled my body, torturing laughter out of me as I struggled.

When he paused, I was an exhausted, sweaty mess. My cock remained hard and high, but everything else was drained. I prayed it was over as he moved off. I quickly realized that the worst was yet to come. The Pirate stood at my feet. He’d ignored them up to now. However, the cruel grin on his face scared me. Everything was building to this. Oh no.

I shook my head on my wet noodle neck, swaying it back and forth. “No, please, no more.”

“What’s your name, boy?”

I found the inner strength to defiantly reply, “Kick. Kid.”

Soft fingertips slid up and down the bottom of my booties. So softly. Almost imperceptibly. Gentle touches. My choice of footwear didn’t give me much protection against this madman’s malevolent massage. Without my powers, my feet no more resistant than a normal man’s. Maybe less so, as I’d been so thoroughly and expertly weakened. I gasped. “AH! AH!”

The Pirate smiled at my reaction. He peeled off my booties. I begged him, “Please. Please don’t.” The villain ignored me. He went back to teasing the soles of my feet. I started to thrash. I whimpered. Then I laughed. Not a joyful laugh, but one forced out of me by the master tickler. I curled my toes, bent my feet, anything I could do to escape with my limited movement.

“What’s your name? Answer wrong and I won’t ask again until I’m done with you.”

I hesitated this time, but said, “My name is … Kick Kid.”

“That’s the last time you’ll use that name.”

I looked confused. He smiled then bent down. He pulled out a box from under the table. He pulled out thin leather straps. I watched helplessly as he slid the strap through small hooks on the top of the stocks, securing it tightly. My confusion turned to fear as he held my right foot up then wound the strap around the base of my big toe. The villain expertly tied up my five toes to the stock by running the strap through a hook then around each toe.

My left foot received the same treatment. I could see my toes, carefully secured and immobile. I pushed against the straps, but they held. With my toes pointing up, there was no defense left for the sensitive soles of my feet. The Pirated tickled them again. I laughed and writhed. The stacks held my legs steady, and the leather held my feet. I was laughing at my own defeat.

The Pirate reach into the box. He pulled out two feathers. No! Yes, he ran them up and down my feet. The sensations shot up through my body. I couldn’t stop my self from giggling. My brain said torture, but my body said fun. My rock-hard cock bounced as I shifted. The feathers broke me even further. When he paused, I sagged, held up only by the ropes around my torso.

I gasped. Drool fell from my mouth onto my stomach. The Pirate pulled out a comb. A simple man’s comb. I shook my head, humiliated to be broken by these everyday items. Fingertips. Feathers. Now, this. My muscles failing against these crude tools. The comb gave a different feeling. No less intense. I whimpered. Then giggled. I struggled for breath as he tickled me.

Next came the lotion. It felt good as he massaged my feet. The oil soothed them. Then it got tingly. I looked up and saw the cruel grin again. Then the fingers started working. I laughed so hard I almost cried. This torture went on and on. Fingers. Feathers. A household duster. A bristle brush. A massager. All either tickling me or making my soles more sensitive for tickling.

I was delirious after a while. In between my uncontrollable laughter, I begged him to stop, but he kept playing with my feet. I lost all track of time. My cock remained as hard as ever, the condom filled with my pre-cum. It throbbed for release, but there was nothing I could do. My muscles were pumped from my futile struggle, my hair soaked. Sweat dripped from my nose.

I heard a clang. The Pirate set down a shallow metal bowl. Like a dog’s water bowl. He peeled down his black tights, letting his cock free. I stared at the cut member. I involuntarily licked my lips. He grabbed his cock. I was hypnotized as he started jerking. Hypnotized until he went back to tickling my left foot with his free hand. I laughed uncontrollably, tears streaming down.

My reactions made him laugh. A cruel chuckle. He taunted me, “Yes, cry for your Master, boy. Cries of joy.” I helplessly gave him what he craved. His cock grew larger from my gasping giggles, as though it was powered up by my helplessness. Soon, the villain was gasping, too. Except, his was due to an impending eruption. He worked my foot faster and softer.

The Pirate stopped tickling me. He leaned forward, bracing himself with one hand as he shot his seed into the metal bowl. I watched as he emptied his magnificent manhood, draining his balls until he was soft. I groaned. Weirdly, I felt pride at having helped my Master achieve orgasm. He gathered himself them stripped his tights off fully. The villain smiled at me.

I couldn’t break away from the stare. With my mouth hanging slack and my eyes looking dead, the villain knew I was on the precipice of submission. He moved beside me. The Pirate unhooked my wrists then re-hooked them higher, above my head. He grabbed my covered cock. I shuddered. He tickled my armpit as he jerked me. I whimpered and twitched.

The villain kept at it until I admitted, “I’m going to cum! I’m going to cum!”

And I did. The master tickler drew a massive body-shaking load from me. It filled the condom. He undid the strap from around the base of my cock and balls as he milked me. He kept pumping me until I was soft. The villain flipped the condom inside out on his index and middle finger then slid it into my mouth. I suckled on his fingers, slurping down my own seed.

At least it was finally over.

Except it wasn’t. The Pirate attacked the inside of my legs. I thrashed violently. Post-orgasm, I was super-sensitive. Everything was amplified. He did a whole round on my body, attacking every ticklish zone that he had identified. My mind broke in that moment as I begged him to stop, promising anything. He kept going until I said, “Please Master! Please no more!”

The word ‘Master’ was it. He paused, asking one simple question, “Who are you?”

“Kih - Kih - Kinky Kid.”

“And what are you?”

“Your boy.”

The villain knew it was true. He tested me by running his finger around my mask. The fingertip that helped break my will slid slowly over my forehead. I bit my bottom lip. Down my temple. I quivered. Along my cheek. I closed my eyes. When it reached my nose, the fingertip pushed underneath my mask. I gasped and opened my eyes, staring at The Pirate. My Master.

I meekly said, “Do it. Please. Take my mask. Kinky Kid doesn’t need to hide his identity. Especially from you. You’re my Master.” He waited. I begged, “Please?”

The master tickler smirked. He turned his hand, keeping his finger under the bottom of my mask. With a casual flick, it slid up then flew off. Even though I was exposed, I didn’t care. He gripped under my chin and turned my head, examining me.

“Ah, look at you. I knew my little Kinky Kid would be a cute boy.” I blushed.

My Master began the lengthy process of untying me. When I was free, he moved me to sit on the edge of the table. I looked up at him. He held a dog collar. I gulped. He asked, “What should I do with this, boy?”

“Puh-puh-put it on me, Master. Please?”

My Master nodded and did as I asked. He collared me. The older stud helped me to my feet then immediately pushed me down to my knees. He told me to clean his cock. I did, eagerly. My Master took the dog’s metal water bowl and put it on the floor. He poured water into it then stirred in his cum. He said, “You must be thirsty, boy. Drink up.”

I knelt and lapped up the water-cum mixture as best as I could. He slapped my bare ass, telling me what a good boy I was. I lapped even harder.

BACK TO REALITY.

I got back to my knees. Max helped me to my feet. We sat on the bench together. I was still wearing the collar and my shirt. He rubbed my leg and asked how I felt. I told him it was an incredible experience. I’d never done real-life superhero roleplay before or sustained full-body tickling before. I explained that the combination was perfect.

Max put his arm over my shoulder. I leaned into him, resting my head on his shoulder. He asked, “Did you really enjoy it? Sometimes ticklish guys hate being tickled. And you are really ticklish.” To prove his point, he tickled my neck. I twitched and sat back up. We smiled.

I said, “Honestly? I loved it. It was more intense than sex.”

“Woof.”

I told him, “And all my reactions were real.”

Max nodded, “I figured. I’ve been tickling for a long time. I can usually tell a faker. You’re one of the most ticklish men I’ve ever played with.” He poked my side and I flinched with a giggle. “I’m just glad you didn’t hyperventilate.”

I helped him clean up, wiping everything down, keeping the collar on until we hit the shower together. I was excited when he brought up meeting again. He asked if I’d be willing to tickled as ‘Alex’, rather than a hero. I agreed to that, not wanting to just repeat the same experience. Max and I met up two more times before I moved from Toronto later that year (both times as me) and once as Superboy when I was back in town for the holidays (I'd purchased a real superhero costume by that point). Each time was a little different, except for the fact that I ended up being mercilessly tickled and drained.

In hindsight, I was so lucky to meet Max as my first real-life roleplay. My memories of him are vibrant, but mostly, I remain appreciative for him being such an awesome guy. He was perfect for a nervous novice. Patient, respectful, sweet, fun, skilled, and sexy. While all the sessions were fun, this first time was extra-special. I left my first-ever superhero roleplay session with empty balls, a new appreciation for tickling (although I've never been tickled in roleplay by anyone else), and a powerful memory that would stick with me for two decades (and counting). 

THE END.

Up next ... June 1, 2023: SuperStar is back in action, hitting The Cave ring against a brand new rookie opponent!