Maria Chun felt a spark of excitement as she watched the black Porsche 911 nose cautiously into a stall on the other side of the mall parking lot. It was the kind of car that she imagined an ideal guy would drive, and she still expected to see an attractive man appear from within it even though she had been let down so many times before. She slowed to see if this would be one of those rare times when her fantasy would in fact be played out before her.
The car was beautiful. It sang with the chorus of mechanical sounds that only the best 911s produce. It was spotless, and its gleaming, liquid black color made her stomach twinge at its suggestion of cruelty. It was unquestionably a man's car. Powerful, yet so much more refined than the more macho Monte Carlo or Corvette. It bespoke success, perhaps financial security, feelings Maria felt instinctively drawn to. She imagined it taking on the winding roads of Tantalus, not just challenging but dominating them, leaving no doubt as to who was in control. Her heart raced at the thought.
The door swung open, and Maria's heart stopped beating. The man who emerged was not the usual gray-haired executive or natty looking young lawyer. He was in fact as close to a perfect match for the man of her dreams as she had ever seen. For a moment she just stood there, not moving, until suddenly she realized that he was staring at her and she was doing the unthinkable -- staring at him! In a panic she darted like a rabbit into the nearest shop.
Her heart hadn't really stopped. In fact, it was pounding so hard that she would not have been surprised if everyone else in the shop could hear it. Forcing herself to look casual she looked around, and saw that not only was she the only customer, it was the most unlikely store for her to be in. Still trying to look nonchalant, Maria turned to see what had become of the gorgeous hunk that had been driving the Porsche. She just caught a glimpse of him going into the coffee bar across the way, and she decided to wait to see if he was coming out or sitting inside.
The store Maria had retreated into was a woman's clothing store, but everything in it was made of cotton. Sweet, cute, innocent -- she knew many women who wore this stuff but it tended to make her gag. Still, it did give her a perfect view of the coffee bar, and the air conditioning made what she had chosen to wear feel much nicer than it had a movement ago, outside in the lingering heat of early evening.
After a minute she had calmed down enough to let the excitement of seeing the Porsche's driver revisit her thoughts. As she drew out the memory of how he looked it blended effortlessly with an amorphous collage of her favorite fantasies, and to her delight she felt her body respond. A gentle, tingly sensation crawled down her spine, splitting in two and circling over her hips, up, around, and down to her crotch where it burst like a distant skyrocket. Right after that her entire body kicked in, under the assault of its covering of sensuous fabric, while her cunt winced from the toy hidden there.
Maria was tall, slender, Hawaiian-Chinese, and considered by many to be attractive enough to be a model. She had dated lots of guys, and thought she had finally met Mr. Right only to have that relationship end six months ago.
When Jim left her she had taken it hard. For three months she hadn't been interested in sex at all. Then, like a butterfly emerging from its cocoon, she had found herself hungry to explore for the first time in her life the erotic side of her she had never revealed to anyone.
The focus of her erotic fantasies had always been tickling, with herself as the captive victim being tormented by a lusty, virile yet cruel male.
She had no problem identifying the source of those ideas. She had been eleven, going on twelve, and chosen to be the queen of the annual May Day celebration. Like all elementary schools in Hawaii, the children celebrated May Day with a Hawaiian pageant. A king and queen presided over a court of half a dozen boy and girl couples as other groups of children performed hulas and sang songs. The boy chosen to be king, Ralph Santos, was in her opinion a very cool guy.
Each of the girls in the court wore a long satin gown. Her favorite auntie had sewn hers, a woman no less beautiful as Maria had become, the kind of female who exuded sexuality. She had been teasing Maria about boys for quite some time, and lately Maria had found her constant hints about the joys of sex resonated with her own budding curiosity.
She never forgot the first time she tried on the dress. Two things about it overwhelmed her, the way it made her look so grown-up, and the wonderful, cold feel of the satin against her skin. She hadn't thought to bring a slip, so the only thing between her and the dress was her tiny cotton panties. The room they were in was air conditioned, and the satin felt icy cold the whole time. Maria loved the way the satin tickled her all over, but most of all the way it felt rubbing against her nipples. Even the smallest movement made the satin slide over them, and in less than a minute it felt so good she could hardly stand it.
Her delightful predicament was made worse by the fact that her auntie spent the next fifteen or twenty minutes pinning up the hem. Every time her auntie tugged on the skirt the fabric teased her thighs and tickled her nipples. Worse yet, her auntie kept talking about boys, about how once she got to the seventh grade the older boys would be all over her. Maria kept thinking about Ralph Santos, imagining the two of them alone someplace, kissing, and decided that it could not be nicer than to do that in the dress she was wearing.
The day before the actual pageant there was a full dress rehearsal, and while they were waiting to march in Ralph kept tickling her. She found the combination of the feel of her satin gown teasing her body and his fingers gently sliding up and down her sides excruciating yet irresistible. She forced herself to hold still, to show no sign that it was tickling her in the most maddening way. Much to her dismay he stopped, and she was afraid that her lack of reaction had bored him. Thankfully he tried it again a moment later, and before the opportunity slipped away she turned her head ever so slightly and hissed at him to stop. This had the effect she had hoped for, as from then on he tickled her every chance he could.
That night, as she lay in bed, she couldn't help thinking about what had gone on that morning. She kept remembering how it felt when he tickled her, the way it made her skin so sensitive and how ticklish the satin felt all over her body. Without even thinking about it she slid her hand in-between her legs and started to rub her cunt. That always felt nice, but this time it seemed different. The more she imagined herself being tickled the better it felt. She felt the nub of her clit and moaned softly into her pillow as the intolerable pleasure it provoked flooded her body. Again it was different, for always before she could only endure that for a few seconds whereas this time she found herself wanting it to go on and on and on. A vision slowly came into focus. She was wearing her satin gown, but tied to a pole. A man, not Ralph but rather a grown-up who seemed to be her soccer coach, was tickling her the way Ralph had, only he was using one hand to tickle her nipples and the other to tickle her cunt. She was howling with laughter and begging him to stop, yet she knew he wouldn't, and she really didn't want him to. Then her brain erupted with fireworks, and moments later she found herself utterly limp and basking in the most wonderful glow of pleasure.
The following night she found herself craving to make the fireworks happen again, only this time wearing her satin dress without any underwear at all. She stood beside her bed, and as she tickled her nipples and cunt through the satin she tried to imagine herself tied to that pole and how it had felt to be tickled by Ralph. For ten or fifteen minutes she stood there trembling in the dim light, steadfastly fighting the overwhelming urge to press her fingers harder against the satin between her thighs, forcing herself to endure the tickling pleasure she had dreamed about, knowing only too well that it would be much, much stronger if someone else were tickling her. Slowly the fire in her cunt took hold, and even though she was teasing herself there with the lightest possible strokes it grew and grew until again the fireworks exploded in her head. She collapsed onto her bed, trembling like leaves in the wind, and only then did she push harder until the satin touched her clit. The effect was more like an explosion this time, blasting her with pleasure beyond her wildest imagination. After it passed all she could do is lay there, gasping for breath. It took several minutes for her body to stop quivering, and several more passed before she was able to get up, take off the dress, hang it in her closet and collapse back into bed.
She had repeated that scene countless times in the years that followed. She stopped when she started dating boys, and from then until a month ago she had never repeated the experience. In high school she had forced herself to avoid even thinking about it, much the same as the way she had shunned smoking and drinking. In college she had learned to let her fantasies loose during sex, and discovered that her orgasms were far more intense, alone and with a partner, when she imagined herself being tickled.
She developed many fantasy scenes. Being caught by a store security guard for shoplifting and given the choice of being turned over to the police or being tickled. Trying on shoes and having the salesman discover how much she liked being tickled, ending up in the stock room after the store closed. Trying out for a sorority whose hazing included being tickled by several star football players. They all ended up with her tied up and tickled, with the final stage including just enough clit teasing to bring her repeatedly to orgasm.
As a young girl she had only imagined being tickled on her breasts, ribs, belly, and cunt, but now she liked to imagine a long stint of intense foot tickling followed by an equally long session of cunt tickling. The thing all these fantasies had in common was that she wanted to be wearing something that felt as good as her satin dress. Better, in fact, for in truth she imagined herself wearing something that by itself tickled her to the limit of her endurance.
She called this Chinese satin. It was during her freshman year at college that she dreamed up the story, beginning with a germinal idea and adding to it bit by bit until it became rich in detail. She imagined herself doing research in the library, pouring over long lost Chinese manuscripts and discovering one that described a method for making a very unusual silk thread and a special technique for weaving it that produced a fabric that felt unbearably ticklish to wear. The emperor at that time took fiendish delight in tickling women, and used the fabric as a form of torture. His court was filled with beautiful women, including his wives, concubines, servants, and the wives and daughters of his many advisors and retainers. Whenever it suited him he would order one of these women to wear robes made of the special silk, taking great delight in watching them suffer for hours on end the ordeal of constant tickling, made even more terrible by his rule that they make no sound or give any other indication as to what they were feeling.
More fiendish still was the emperor's method for punishing bad behavior. The offending female was taken to a room adjoining his bedchamber, striped naked, and tied face up to a heavy wooden X-shaped cross mounted horizontally about waist high off the floor. A half dozen of his courtesans, all of whom were chosen because of their own love of tickling play, dragged long swatches of the special silk over the poor woman's body, focusing primarily on her crotch. The emperor would sit and watch for an hour or so, then invite the courtesans one by one to enjoy his cock. He was a master of Tantric sex. The woman he coupled with would take his cock inside them and work themselves up and down on it until they collapsed, while he maintained a perfect erection. The tickling torture did not end until all six women were totally satiated.
Jim had been the first man she had met who enjoyed sex as strange as her own fantasies. After a few nice but un- noteworthy nights together he confessed a desire to make love to her while she was tied down. She had agreed to this at once, hoping that he would tickle her yet still terrified of admitting anything about her secret desires. It turned that the he didn't come close to tickling her, but what he did was so close to her own fantasies that she loved it just the same.
Jim had a mildly sadistic streak that manifested itself in wanting to torture a woman with sex. Basically he would tie Maria spread-eagled to his bed and spend an hour or two teasing her with a selection of vibrators. For at least an hour he would tease her for short periods, always pulling away before she could come. He never touched her anyplace else, and rarely used his fingers or tongue. The middle phase consisted of lengthening the periods of stimulation and shortening the breaks, until at last she reached orgasm. After he had teased her to orgasm several times this way he went into a final stage, in which he inserted a fancy vibrating dildo inside her that wiggled and twisted, with a smaller twig that buzzed against her clit. This he left in for what seemed like an eternity to her. By then she was too spent to reach full orgasms. The effect was more like a continuous shower of pleasure. It reminded her in a way like floating on a surfboard, out past the breakers, where the water rose and fell in continuous motion. She adored those sessions, even though at times she could not help screaming in agony and her cunt was so sore the next day she could hardly walk.
Jim had another surprise for her, even more startling than the first. It turned out that he had a similar desire to be tortured with sex, only in a very specific way. What stunned her was how similar it was to her fantasy about the Chinese emperor. What he wanted was to be bound in a chair and have her drag silky fabric over his cock. Not just swatches of fabric, but woman's skirts and dresses. It turned out that he had quite a collection of items to use for just this purpose. He brought out a dozen or so skirts and an equal number of dresses, made from a wide variety of fabrics but all having the characteristic of being shiny, supple, and extremely feminine looking. About half the skirts and several of the dresses were pleated, and he explained that he especially liked the feeling of the sharp edges of the pleats tickling the shaft of his cock and his balls.
Maria had not worn anything remotely like silk since that one satin dress in the sixth grade. Seeing his collection made her giddy with the desire to wear the same kind of clothes. When he mentioned how he liked the way the pleats tickled his cock she practically swooned, and afterwards she could not help wondering if wearing a silky pleated skirt without underwear might actually tickle her in the way her imaginary Chinese silk was supposed to. She thought about putting one on, but she discovered that all his clothes were in small sizes. When she asked about that he replied that he found the smaller sizes more feminine.
She quickly discovered that tormenting him this way was a real turn-on for her. She loved to hear him moan and to see his eyes popping out as she swept a light rayon pleated skirt up and down between his legs, and the way he cried out in anguish when she used one of the dresses with a lustrous but slightly textured weave. The technique could keep him dangling on the precipice of orgasm indefinitely without pushing him over the edge. He insisted that she do nothing else for a full hour, and only then switch to something more capable of finishing him off if he did not appear capable of reaching orgasm just by the dragging technique. The first few times they did it he finally shot a gusher into the silk dress she was tormenting him with. Then she recalled what he did to her at the end, and finished him off by wrapping his cock with silk and holding a powerful vibrator against it. His orgasm was monumental, but she just held his cock tight and kept the vibrator against it, ignoring he pleas for mercy until long after he was flaccid.
Maria thought about asking him to tickle her again and again, but every time she approached him the words just wouldn't come out. Then, without warning, he announced that he felt it was time to move on.
For several weeks she had moped around feeling rejected, until one day while wandering around aimlessly looking at clothes she spotted the outfit she now wore. The moment she saw it she knew she had to have it. Her desire was cemented when she tried it on, as it felt so incredibly good.
The fabric was the most unusual stuff she had ever seen. The label said it was rayon, but she had never seen rayon like this. It looked sort of like satin, but not quite as shiny. It was not too thin, and the full cut of the pants made hem heavier still. The fabric had no stiffness whatsoever, flowing like a liquid over her body. Best of all, it felt deliciously ticklish. The matching blouse felt just as good, and just to be sure she removed her bra before slipping it on. The feeling was exquisite all over, but more than anything it tickled her breasts, especially her nipples, so much that she actually questioned her ability to endure it for any length of time.
The very next evening she put on her new outfit without a stitch of underwear and wore it to dinner. She purposely chose a place that was a popular hangout for singles and that was air conditioned. It turned out that sitting still was no challenge. What was really devastating was walking in it, when the fabric flowed continuously over her body. She was hungry to experience that to the fullest extent possible, so she headed over to a big air conditioned mall and spent the better part of an hour just walking around. When she could not stand the ticklish torment any longer she hurried back to her apartment, grudgingly got out of her outfit so as not to spoil it, and frantically masturbated herself to three fantastic orgasms.
The fact that she could experience so much pleasure on her own thrilled her just as much as discovering the intense erotic charge she got from exploring her tickling fantasies. She found herself longing for the mind blowing pleasure Jim's vibrators had given her, and to meet that need she swallowed her pride, fought down her embarrassment, and paid a visit to a classy adult toy store. All the salespeople were women, which was a big relief for her, and the one who waited on her made the process feel so right and so much fun that she kicked herself for not having done it sooner.
She had gone with the vague idea of purchasing a vibrator. By the time she left she had five wonderful toys that she hoped would help her reach the highest peaks of pleasure a woman could achieve. First there was a classic wand vibrator, the kind that plugs in the wall and with a business end that looks like a baseball. Jim had one just like it, and she had liked it the best. Second came a battery powered dildo similar to the one Jim would leave inside her for the last half hour of her session. Third was a vibrating egg -- the saleswoman had endorsed it with a mischievous twinkle in her eye as unbelievably fun to wear to dinner or on long strolls along the beach at sunset. Fourth was a new item just in from Japan, a thing you wear like a panty only with an ingenious design that constantly teases the clit. And, lastly, a set of four cuffs that she could use to restrain herself with.
As soon as she got home with her booty she went off to play in bed. First she set up the cuffs, which because she was alone had to be situated so that she could use one hand to open and close the hook-and-eye fasteners of the other. She did leave her legs drawn wide apart, which was most important to her. Before actually getting into the ankle cuffs she put on a tight one-piece swimsuit, which she planned to use to hold the dildo in place. With her legs held wide by the cuffs she teased her cunt the way Jim did with the big vibrator, only not as long and without letting herself come. Then she pulled aside the swimsuit's crotch, buried the dildo in her cunt, and eased the tight lycra over it. She switched on the juice, cuffed her wrists, and settled back to ride the endless waves of pleasure for at least an hour. It turned out to be more like twenty minutes until she found she could no longer stand the sensation, despite the fact that it felt really good.
Today was the first time she had worn the Japanese clit teaser. It had gotten pushed out of alignment on the way down in the car, but after a quick readjustment in the ladies room it had been nibbling her clit continuously for fifteen or twenty minutes. Just as the Porsche pulled in Maria had decided that she could not stand it another minute and was on her way back to the rest rooms at the end of the building. On seeing the driver it had felt as if the fiendish little thing had been wired into a wall plug the way it made her clit ache, but still it was so good that she really did not want it to stop.