Shelly hobbled over and stood in front of Richard, who remained silent. When she glanced down and saw the big bulge in the front of his dress she was swept by a feeling of envy. When she spoke it was in a playful, teasing tone.
"I am so jealous of you. Just look at the way your cock is rubbing against the inside of your dress. It must feel very nice."
She reached out and grasped the satin just above the bulge, then lifted it slowly up. His cock lifted slightly, drawn up by the rising fabric, pushing out even more than it already was. The tiny crack at the tip was clearly visible under the shimmering fabric. As she continued to lift the fabric it began to slide over his cock.
Richard winced and tried to step backwards, but the sash around his ankles made any substantial movement impossible. When the satin had slid a few inches up Shelly let it drop slowly down, transfixed at the sight of the fabric flowing so smoothly over his throbbing cock. When her hand was back where she had started she repeated the cycle several times, each as slow and deliberate a the first.
"I bet this feels really good. Wouldn't you like to know that I feel the same thing when I wear my holoku? Too bad female anatomy makes that impossible."
"Stop! No more," Richard whispered.
"What, it doesn't feel good?" Shelly teased.
"I just can't stand it any longer!" Richard whimpered, his eyes looking down at her imploringly.
"Oh, come now! You can take it, can't you? Besides, you don't really have much choice, do you?"
Shelly let go of his dress, moved her hand down to the bulge and began to gently stroke the tip of his cock through the satin between her thumb and forefinger.
"How about this? Do you like this better?"
"Oh God! It feels so good. Oh, oh,..."
Shelly felt his already firm cock leap to a higher state of hardness. Afraid that its twitching foretold of an eminent orgasm she stopped squeezing it and just ran her fingertips lightly over the tip.
"Wouldn't it be perfect if you were really ticklish here? If your cock was as ticklish as the soles of your feet? What a wonderful way that would be to torment you, yeah? I bet you'd really like that."
She could feel the swelling subside a little, but the strain on his face made her suspect that even this was hard for him to endure. Her mentioning of tickling suddenly made her want to subject him again to that strange and wonderful form of torment. She reached out her left hand and began to run it firmly up and down the front of his right thigh while shifting her right hand over and doing the same thing to his other thigh, adjusting her movements until she was certain that it made his cock rub against the dress.
"Yaaaa, ha ha ha..." he roared, half way between laughter and a scream.
A little spot of wetness appeared, announcing the arrival of a small drop of pre-cum. Determined to draw out his suffering a little longer she moved her hands apart, concentrating on the area between his hipbone and down the outside of each thigh.
"No, no, ha ha ha, no more, please Shelly, no more!" he wailed, his words barely intelligible and dissolving into a paroxysm of laughter.
A surge of power coursed through her. The idea that she had this man so completely at her disposal and worked up to a frenzy of frustrated desire filled her with an unfamiliar kind of pleasure, an emotion so strong that it seemed to have an electric quality to it. One part of her longed to see him come, not in the sense of watching his cock spurt but rather to give him the release he was so desperate for, but another part of her wanted to torment him as long as possible.
She moved her fingers all over his body, tickling him everywhere except the area around his cock. She had to admit that it felt really good to run her fingers over the slick satin fabric, and the knowledge that his body was bathed in the same pleasure that she found so delicious added significantly to her satisfaction.
Thinking about it made her keenly aware of her own body and the way her movements made the satin move over her skin. Little ripples of pleasure began to form, starting at her breasts and becoming waves that grew in intensity until a nice little orgasm swept over her. Anxious for Richard to know what was happening to her she pulled her hands away and stood there trembling as if she had just come in from the cold.
"Oh yes!" she exclaimed in a voice dripping with pleasure. She saw that he was staring at her with that same transfixed look of admiration. Sensing that it would please and at the same time taunt him she pressed her hands between her legs, forcing the satin of her skirt in as far as it would go. She wanted to shove a big bunch deep inside her cunt, but the snug fit of the dress made that impossible. She found that if she pushed hard she could put pressure on the area just above her clit, and in her current state this was more than adequate. The little orgasm that had started to fade returned with a slam, ricocheting up and down her spine.
"Ahhhh!" she cried as her body heaved. It felt as though the floor had become the pitching deck of a ship caught in a storm. She wobbled, caught her balance, then fell to her knees, catching herself with one hand even while the other continued to press between her thighs. In this position her skirt had hiked up a little, the greater width of the lower part providing a little more slack, and suddenly the satin was touching her clit. In her mind she saw the laboratory scene from an old horror movie, where bolts of electricity shot from the electrodes of a Van de Gaff generator. What she saw was the typical old fashioned equipment, but what she felt was as if her clit were the electrode and the lightening was shooting from it. Her legs were trying to extend themselves, but since they were folded under her what happened instead was that her upper body bounced up and down like a pogo stick, her ass bumping her heels on every downward thrust. She kept her hand pressed tight between her thighs, trying to rub the satin against her burning clit to sustain the peak for as long as possible. The bouncing made it impossible, because every time the muscle contractions lifted her up the skirt drew tight around her, pulling her hand away. The result was not that bad, a series of blinding flashes that went off every time she dropped down and the slack in her skirt allowed the satin to touch her clit.
It would not be accurate to describe Shelly's experience as an orgasm. That would be like comparing a gust of wind to a typhoon. Every time her body collapsed a jolt of orgasmic pleasure shot through her, each jolt as rich in pleasure as any orgasm she had ever had. The fact that there seemed to be no limit to how long this would go on was almost frightening to her. Had she been just a little more rational she might have felt truly afraid, as it seemed at moments as if the only possible outcome was death.
The torrent of pleasure lasted about a minute, but to Shelly time seemed to stand still. There was no way she could count the number of explosions that went off in her head, due to the sheer number of them as well as the blurred, dizzy her state of mind. The explosions gradually died away, becoming less intense and further apart, until at last she was just sitting in a heap on the rug struggling to breath.
At that point she longed to just roll over and lay on the rug, her body drained of every ounce of energy and glowing like the embers of a campfire. Instead she looked up and saw Richard staring down at her.
"You OK?" he asked.
"Yeah," she just managed to get out.
After all that had happened and despite her complete exhaustion the fabric of her dress continued its relentless torment of her body. For a few seconds right at the end of the barrage she had not noticed it. Whatever process cleared her mind enough to allow her to speak also brought back her awareness of her dress. The first wave of icy-cold tickling not only made her shudder, it caused her to remember how much it had contributed to the pleasure that had just engulfed her. At the time she had not made the distinction, but now she realized that its cocoon of tickling had become much more severe during the peak. The sensation had been no less ticklish than when Richard had run his fingers over her body, yet also quite different, much less focused, more like a blinding glow than a piercing beam of light. As exhausted as she was she found herself wondering if it would ever be possible to experience that again.
Still gasping for breath in a heap on the floor, Shelly realized that she not only had to let Richard down, she wanted desperately to give him the same kind of experience. Drawing upon every last shed of energy she could muster she staggered to her feet and went over to him.
"And now, my dear, it's your turn," she said.
For a moment she just stood there, staring at big bulge in the front of his dress, wondering what to do. She seemed to understand that she wanted to rub his cock with the satin, but could not think of a good way to proceed. Suddenly an inspiration hit her.
She went around behind him and pulled down the zipper of his dress. Gently she worked her right hand in, past his waist and down, fumbling to find his cock. When she got hold of it she began to sweep it slowly from side to side.
"Yaaaiii!" he screamed. He had stood still until then, but suddenly he was writhing and bucking so hard Shelly found it a challenge to keep her grip on his cock.
Please with his reaction, Shelly decided to add to his suffering by tickling him some more with her left hand. Without letting up on the side to side movement of his cock she let her fingers dance all over his dress. He never actually laughed, but his screams of agony took on a distinctively different quality.
Richard's reaction, first to her technique for rubbing his cock and then to being tickled, made Shelly feel almost omnipotent. Because what she did seemed to work so well she decided to give him as much as he could. In other words, she decided to prolong his suffering as long as possible. She stopped swishing his cock against the inside of his dress, but kept up the dance-like movements of her left hand. She waited ten or fifteen seconds, long enough for the tension building up in his cock to dissipate, then started in again. As soon as she started raking his cock against the inside of his dress he screamed, the long, woeful scream of desperate man suffering exquisite agonies.
It reminded her of the way her friends described giving a guy a hand job, only that seemed so plain in comparison to the bizarre circumstances she found herself in now. What she remembered most about those descriptions was that to be effective the guy had to be securely tied down in a place where he could scream without being noticed, you had to work him hard with a start and stop action and you had to ignore his pleas for mercy. Other than that, the trick was to know when to let him come, because if you waited too long he might not be able to.
Shelly had listened intently to that conversation, but her interest had not been on doing that to a boy. What had thrilled her was how close it came to her secret fantasy. The fact that for a guy it was necessary to keep stopping had made sense, because she knew already that once a guy came, that was it. Until then the kinds of things her friends had talked about focused on prolonged foreplay, things like stroking his cock very gently so that he did not go off too soon. The high intensity, on again off again technique sounded a lot more like what she wanted, only she wanted it on full time, for hours.
On and off, on and off. She kept the action going, constantly changing the length of time she rubbed Richard's cock against the satin and breaks in between, trying to catch him off-guard. She could see his face in the mirror and feel the stiffness of his cock in her hand, and used both plus the sound of his moans to judge when to start and stop. She knew she was driving him out of his mind, and that filled her with pleasure.
The satisfaction of seeing Richard lost in the throws of total pleasure rekindled her own lust. Despite the fact that she was basically standing still, even the small movements of tormenting him made her dress move. As the minutes passed the ticklish feel of the satin became more and more intense, until finally she was once again at the point were she found it hard to endure. Gradually it became a new kind of contest, to see how long she could stand to be tickled by her holoku instead of how long she could stay on the horse.
Again the raw ticking she felt all over her body became focused on her breasts. Little spasms of rich, mind searing pleasure shot like sparks from her nipples, flowing out in waves over her body, running down her spine and zapping her clit. The spasms came faster and harder, until they reached a level that she found intolerable. She hung on desperately, convinced that she had no more orgasms left inside her, intent on giving Richard the longest ride she could and to have him come this way.
Much to her amazement Shelly felt the rising tide of an orgasm building inside her. She decided that if it hit she would be incapable of finishing Richard. She tried to hold still, to lessen the ticklish torment coming from her dress, but to really hold still would require that she stop sweeping Richard's cock against his dress and that she was loath to have happen. She was trapped, with no way out other than to endure what had come to be unendurable.
Desperate to have it all end she abandoned the breaks, rubbing his cock non-stop against the inside of his dress as fast and hard as she could manage. A minute passed, and another. Richard's screams were more than adequate to describe both their suffering.
All of a sudden she felt his cock begin to stick to his dress, and in her hand she felt it throb and pulse a couple of times. Whereas before his cock had slid effortlessly over the inside of the satin, it now skipped and skittered. Without thinking she simply lifted it a bit higher, moving it to a fresh, dry area, while continuing without a break the relentless sliding back and forth.
Another minute passed. Shelly longed to be naked, to escape the hellish torment the long, unbroken onslaught of tickling had unleashed upon her, only the fact that it tickled so much made playing with Richard's cock that much more exciting. She was at the breaking point. To continue was impossible, yet she refused to give up.
Again she felt Richard's cock pulse, and again it began to stick to the satin. Before she could do anything about it she felt another spasm, then another. He screamed, a deep, bone chilling scream.
"Oh Shelly, oh Shelly, oh Shelly!" he cried. Something about hearing him call her name acted as a trigger. The sparks of pleasure shooting out from her nipples became bolts of lightening. Her head exploded with intolerable pleasure. She felt her knees turn to jelly, but somehow she managed to stay on her feet. Drawing upon every last ounce of strength she managed to keep rubbing his cock against his dress even as it gushed huge gobs of cum. She saw in the mirror that the front of his dress was soaked. It became more and more difficult to sweep his cock against the satin, not only because it stuck so much but because at long last it was going limp.
She had done it. Never had she felt so much satisfaction in knowing that her partner had shot his load.
In a daze she withdrew her hand, reached up and untied the rope from his wrists. As soon as he was free they collapsed into a heap on the rug, two bodies heaving and shaking out of control. She saw him reach for her, felt his arms around her waist, drawing her close. He kissed her, long and hard.
"Shelly. Oh Shelly. Oh that was good!" he whispered. "I knew this satin felt good, but I had no idea it could feel that good."
"Careful, dear," Shelly said warmly. "If you hug me too tight my dress will get all wet!"
"What, you still wanna play?" Richard said in disbelief.
"No, no, silly! From you. Look at the mess you've made!"
Shelly had to admit that the area drenched with goo was many times larger than the dribble Auntie Marge had showed her originally.
"Me?! What you mean, me? You the one when tie me up and rub my cock inside this dress!"
"Nothing new to you, though, yeah?" Shelly said, suddenly feeling like something was wrong.
"Shelly, Shelly, Shelly," Richard said, his voice rich and vibrant even in a near whisper. "I confess that for most of my life I have thought about a night like this, about tying up a beautiful young woman dressed in one of these holokus and tickling her until she was desperate for sex. I even built my rocking horse to use just the way you did. I never imagined that it would happen this way, though, with me in a dress too. I confess, it really made it fantastic. You were fantastic. And, you are much more beautiful than any girl of my dreams.
"There is another setting that I dream about, one quite different than this. No ropes. Just me naked and a pretty girl in a satin holoku, together in bed. I still want her to feel like the satin is tickling her out of her mind, only in a softer, gentler way. Imagine me in the position of the horse, with you riding my cock, the long train of you dress spilling over me, tickling me too as you rock and roll on top of me."
"Mmmm, I like that," Shelly whispered. "Romantic. Satin sheets, too, yeah?"
"Of course!" Richard said with a laugh.
The jolt of an orgasmic aftershock swept through Shelly, so strong it made her cry out. Feeling her tremble against him Richard raised himself up, leaned over and kissed her. Apparently the movement of the satin of his dress against his body triggered a similar reaction, and their kiss was broken when he yelped and collapsed once more to the floor.
"I can't believe this is happening!" Richard exclaimed. "I've been looking for a girl like you for years. Lately, well, I'd begun to think that I was getting too old for anything like this to happen. I mean, I see women come into the club all dressed up in satin gowns and such, but I've never been able to meet one. And the odds of finding one who reacts to satin the way you do, and as pretty as you. Well, I had pretty much written off the possibility. Ten years ago I kept telling myself that all I had to do was to be patient. I actually believed that a lot of women would react the way you do to satin. Even now, whenever I see a woman in satin my eyes nearly pop right out of my head and I can't help but think that she is being tickled by it."
"I felt something similar tonight," Shelly said. "First, backstage after our set, whenever I saw one of the other dancers in their holoku. Then there was Tish, Nathan's girlfriend. Did you see her? She's so gorgeous! Anyway, when I saw that she was wearing a satin dress, well, I just assumed that it must feel the same way, that it was doing to her what my dress does to me. Then later, in the club, all those women. You bought them those dresses just so you could go there and look at them, yeah?"
"Does that upset up you?" Richard asked.
"No. I think it's neat. It sure turned me on to look at them. Have you dated any of those women?"
"Well, if you mean, like, have I done anything like we just did, the answer is no. I did date a couple, sort of, just enough to find out that they weren't very ticklish. They loved the feel of the dresses, but they had no desire to be tied and tickled."
"I didn't, either. It just sort of happened."
"Aren't you glad you tried it?"
"Oh yeah!" Shelly sighed. "The way I feel now, every girl should try it!"
"Let's get started!" Richard quipped, and they both broke up laughing.
As if on cue Shelly's dress answered in kind, the sudden movement of her body against the cold satin sending fresh waves of ticklish delight sweeping over her. When she saw that Richard's face had become contorted in anguish she felt even closer to him. Then her gaze fell on the big wet spot on the front of the black satin gown.
"Richard, what are you going to do about that dress? Is it ruined?"
"Maybe. I hope not. These are incredibly hard to get. From what I've seen, though, they wash well. I'll just give to the hotel laundry."
"And how will you explain all that gunk on the front?" Shelly said impishly.
"I guess I'd better rinse it out first. I'll tell them a dancer spilled a drink on it. They'll never doubt that, it's happened before.
"Listen, Shelly, I hate to say this but I think you should go now, without me. I mean, I think it would be best if we didn't walk in backstage from here. I'll figure out a way to clean this up."
"Do I have to? I can't move. Nope, walking is definitely out of the question. I think you'll have to call for a stretcher."