GUTTERGAUNT

[This story is number three of a series. The series works much better when you read it in order. So if you haven't already read “My First Time Tied Up” and "My Second Time Tied Up," click on their titles in this sentence to read them now.]

After the second time that Mary, Lisa, and Michelle tied me up and tormented me, I didn’t get tied up again for a while. The next time we planned a sleepover, I told them that I’d only join them if they promised not to tie me up. After much laughing and teasing, they promised. Despite their promise, I was nervous and excited almost to the point of panic all through that sleepover. Were they planning to find a way around their promise? What if they’d figured out, as I had, that they had just promised not to tie me up, but hadn’t said anything about not holding me down, or sitting on me and tickling me, or any of countless other fiendish things that didn’t directly violate the letter of their promise?

But none of those things happened that evening, although they noticed my nervousness and teased me about it a lot, and although I never did relax enough to get much sleep. I think that they were still a little nervous themselves about how far they’d pushed me last time. And maybe, just as I was still coming to grips with the fact that thinking about what they’d done to me got me terribly horny, they were also still coming to grips with their own feelings about the situation. Also, I think that maybe they were worried that if they broke their promise, either the letter of it or the spirit of it, I might actually refuse to ever do another sleepover with them.

The day after that sleepover, I was surprised and quite disconcerted to discover that I actually felt kind of disappointed that they’d kept their promise.

For the next sleepover, I neglected to exact a similar promise. Still, nothing happened, except that I was even further disconcerted, a few times during the evening, to catch myself actually hoping they’d pull something. And once again, I felt strangely disappointed afterwards.

We had another sleepover scheduled for the following weekend (Michelle’s mother was off on one of her longer trips), but as it turned out, my third time getting tied up happened before then, on an afternoon during the week.

That afternoon, Lisa and I went to Michelle’s house after school. Mary had something else to do that day, and couldn’t join us.

Lisa, Michelle, and I were sitting on the huge sofa in Michelle’s living room, doing homework while we worked our way through a box of assorted chocolates that someone had given to Michelle’s mother. Michelle’s mother was always on a diet, despite being quite thin, so she’d passed the chocolates on to Michelle to share with us. We’d made it through about two-thirds of the box at the last sleepover, and now we were finishing the job (actually, it was just me and Lisa, since Michelle obsessed about her weight as much as her mother did).

I reached for the last chocolate at the same time as Lisa did. I was faster, and snatched the box out of her reach before she could get it. Naturally, she jumped on me, trying to grab it. By keeping my back to her, and curling up into a little ball, I managed to retain possession of the box. However, with Lisa grabbing at me, there was no way I could actually manage to eat the chocolate. We were also both smart enough to realize that if the battle escalated, that last piece of chocolate would end up getting mushed into the sofa or the carpet.

After a few seconds of contemplating this stalemate (if struggling, giggling, and vile name-calling can be called “contemplating”), Lisa said, “Okay, brat, tell you what...Michelle can hang onto it while I wrestle you for it.”

I really doubted that I could ever beat Lisa at wrestling. On the other hand, if I didn’t take her up on it, either she’d eventually get the chocolate away from me anyway, or we’d end up spending the afternoon trying to figure out how to get chocolate stains out of upholstery. Besides, suddenly the thought of wrestling Lisa seemed kind of exciting.

“Okay,” I said, “You asked for it. Hey, Michelle, come hang onto this while I teach this bitch a lesson.”

“You, teach me a lesson?” Lisa said, as Michelle got up to take the box from me, “Boy, you’re really asking for it, little girl.”

“All right,” Michelle said, holding the box over her head, “I want a fair fight. Move the table out of the way [meaning the coffee table that sat in front of the sofa], and you can settle this right here on the floor.”

Lisa and I got up and moved the coffee table, while Michelle sat back down on the couch with the chocolate box in her lap.

“Okay,” said Michelle, “Start out kneeling... if you stand up, you’ll probably end up falling over and breaking something. Lisa over here, Lila over here. Ready? One... two... three... go!”

And we were off, with much cursing, grunting, name-calling, and painful digging of fingernails into upper arms, while Michelle gleefully egged us on.

I lost really quickly. Less than two minutes into the battle, Lisa managed to push me over onto my back, plant herself astride my torso, and pin my wrists down on either side of my head. Then, while I thrashed and kicked and cursed, she scooted herself up until she was sitting on my upper chest, almost on my throat, with her knees next to my ears and her shins pinning my shoulders down.

Lisa smiled down at me for a few seconds while I kicked and bucked furiously, trying to unseat her, and Michelle laughed and called out words of encouragement to me. Then Lisa scooted forward a few more inches. This put her ass right on my collarbones and throat, with the crotch of her jeans so close to my face that my chin would hit it if I lifted the back of my head off the floor. Even with her weight settled back onto my collarbones, there was enough pressure on my throat to make me feel stifled. I was afraid I’d choke if her weight came forward at all. Her thighs were now on either side of my head. She squeezed her knees in, and suddenly my head was clamped between her thighs, immobilized in a viselike grip that forced me to stare straight up at her.

Lisa grinned down at me in wicked triumph as I made a few more pathetic attempts at kicking and struggling. I couldn’t find any way to move my upper body that didn’t make me feel like I was choking, so I soon just gave up and did my best to meet her gaze defiantly.

After a few more seconds, Lisa let go of my wrists and rested her hands on her knees. A few desperate and pitiful efforts demonstrated to me that having my hands free did me no good at all. With her shins still pinning my shoulders down, and her thighs clamping my head, I couldn’t reach any part of her except her legs, which I wasn’t strong enough to budge in any way, and which, since she was wearing tight jeans, I couldn’t even effectively attack with my fingernails. What with the way my head was trapped between her thighs, and the movement of my arms restricted by her shins, I couldn’t even reach my own face to brush my hair out of my eyes, or, I realized, to protect myself from anything she might choose to do to me.

“Looks like you’re in a tight spot, Lila,” Michelle commented helpfully.

Lisa, still smiling down into my trapped face, waited for me to stop struggling and lie still. “Do you give?” she grinned.

“No!” I spat defiantly, although I knew that my situation was hopeless.

“Ooh, you’re a tough little one, aren’t you?” Lisa teased. “What am I going to do with you?” She reached down and playfully tweaked my nose, which reminded me uncomfortably of the vulnerability of my position. Michelle laughed. Lisa kept smiling down at me, and I could almost hear the gears turning in her evil mind. As she contemplated my fate, she began lightly slapping my cheeks with the palms of her hands, just hard enough to sting a little and make me try vainly to flinch away, while Michelle giggled at my discomfort.

After a little bit, Lisa, still looking down at me, said, “Hey, Michelle, go find me something to tie her hands with.”

“No, wait!” I yelped. “I give! I give!”

“That’s better,” Lisa smiled, mussing my hair. “Now say uncle.”

“Uncle!” I cried out immediately. It was funny: I’d been so dissapointed at not getting tied up recently, but now that I was pinned beneath Lisa, looking up at her evil smile, the thought of being tied up and at her mercy again filled me with terror.

“Well, I guess I’ll take that chocolate now, Michelle,” Lisa said.

Michelle leaned forward and proferred the box to Lisa, who took that final, fateful piece of chocolate and made a great show of slowly eating it, savouring each tiny bite and remarking on how delicious it was, as I watched helplessly from below, my face still held in place by the viselike grip of her thighs.

After finishing the chocolate, Lisa, to my growing nervousness and dismay, showed no inclination to let me up. She continued smiling down into my trapped and vulnerable face, idly playing with my hair. Meanwhile, Michelle slid off the couch to sit on the floor by the top of my head for a closer look at my predicament. So now, if I took my eyes away from Lisa’s wicked grin, I was looking up into Michelle’s equally wicked grin (which, from my perspective, was upside-down).

Michelle gave my nose a little tweak, and then said, “So, should we tie her up?”

“Hmm,” Lisa said. “Yes, I think we should. Can you find us something to tie her with?”

“Sure,” Michelle said, standing up. “I’ll be right back.”

“Wait!” I cried out. “This wasn’t part of the deal! All we said was that the winner got the chocolate!”

“That’s right,” Lisa grinned, gently stroking her fingernails up and down my cheeks. “But we never said that the winner had to let the loser go afterwards, did we? Besides, I believe you made some very rude and foolish comments... something about teaching me a lesson?”

“I take it back!” I whimpered. “I’m sorry! I take it back! Please just let me go? I promise I’ll be good! Please?”

Lisa continued to teasingly stroke my face with her fingernails. “I don’t think so,” she said. “I think we’ll have a little fun with you first.”

“I’ll be back in a moment,” Michelle said. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

While we waited for Michelle to return, Lisa amused herself by manipulating my facial features with her fingers, stretching, kneading, and tweaking them to sculpt my face into a variety of goofy expressions that must have been hilarious, judging from her chuckling. For me, of course, it was both uncomfortable and humiliating. I made a few feeble protests, but Lisa dealt with them by manipulating my lips or pinching my nose shut to make anything I said sound goofy and cartoony, so I quickly gave up and did my best to bear the torture silently.

It seemed like a long time before Michelle came back, armed with a length of clothesline. Of course, before they did anything else, Lisa had to give Michelle an extensive demonstration of the fine art of sculpting Lila’s face. Michelle laughed so much that I thought she was going to pee herself, and then, having become an instant fan of this new art form, she had to try her own hand at it. By the time the two of them got through taking turns cracking each other up with this game, my whole face felt sore and rubbery, and like it was probably quite red. It had been such and uncomfortable and embarrassing experience that I was actually relieved, however briefly, when they decided to get back to the original plan of tying me up.

With Lisa still sitting on me, the two of them crossed my wrists above my head and tied them together with many turns of the clothesline. After a brief discussion, they decided to secure my bound wrists to one of the front legs of the sofa. The sofa leg in question, however, was two or three feet away from my wrists, which would leave me with a lot of slack. Since the sofa was so huge and heavy (which is why it was a good thing to tie me to), they decided it was easier for the two of them to move me closer to the sofa, than for Michelle to move the sofa closer to me.

“I don’t know,” Lisa said. “I’ll have to get off of her for a moment so we can move her, and she’ll probably try to get away. She can be a real handful.”

“I could find something to tie her feet with,” Michelle said. “Then she won’t be able to kick so much.”

“Hmm,” said Lisa. “I guess you could just tie up her legs by pulling her pants down.”

“No!” I shouted, and began to kick and curse and yell. But Lisa quickly silenced my curses by clamping a hand tightly over my mouth.

I kept kicking, but Michelle quickly figured out a way around that difficulty. She straddled my midsection and knelt down until she was sitting behind Lisa, on my stomach. Then she scooted backward until she was astride my pelvis. I tried to knee her in the back, but she was close enough to the top of my thighs that I couldn’t put any force into it. She continued to scoot backward, bit by bit, until she was sitting on my upper thighs and I couldn’t kick anymore.

Lisa kept her hand over my mouth, and she and Michelle laughed at the furious mmmph-ing noises I made as Michelle undid my jeans and worked them down over my hips (leaving my panties in place, fortunately). Then Michelle slowly scooted herself down, pulling my jeans down a little further after each scoot. Once the jeans were past my knees, she stood up and then pulled them all the way down to my ankles. There was no way I was going to be able to kick free of them, either, because they were tight jeans that tapered at the bottom, and I was still wearing my sneakers.

I put up the best fight I could, cursing and yelling and thrashing around as soon as Lisa took her hand off my mouth and her weight off my shoulders. With my wrists already tied together and my feet hobbled by my jeans, there wasn’t much I could do to fend off the two of them, but I tried. Michelle wrapped her arms around my bare legs and tried to keep a grip on them, while Lisa grappled with my upper body. Then, in the midst of the struggle, Lisa reached behind me, grabbed the hem of my shirt, and, as I shrieked in protest, pulled the shirt up all the way over my head, so that it was inside-out around my arms.

With my shirt bunched uselessly around my elbows and my jeans tangled around my ankles, I was now stripped to my bra and panties. Continuing to utter outraged shrieks, I tried to curl up into a little ball, which I guess was some sort of instinctive reaction to the sudden feeling of exposure and vulnerability created by my near-nakedness. It wasn’t a very good tactic, and Michelle and Lisa seized the opportunity to get a better grip on me. They soon had me where they wanted me, and Michelle sat triumphantly aside my bare tummy, leaning forward to pin my elbows to the floor to either side of my head, smiling down at me as Lisa tightly tied my bound wrists to the leg of the sofa.

The two of them proceeded to subject me to a long session of agonizing tickle-torture. They traded positions several times, but one of them always sat astride my hips, tummy, or lower ribs, and sometimes the other would sit on my legs to hold them in place for better tickling of my bare knees and thighs. Mostly they went for my bare ribs and my stretched and vulnerable armpits.

My torture went on for well over an hour. They paused frequently to let me breathe, and to tease and taunt me. They got a lot of amusement out of slowly building up the suspense before each new assault upon my helpless body, and watching me squirm and cringe in anticipation. They also got a big kick out of making me beg and plead for mercy, and forcing me to say humiliating things like “I’m a wimp,” and “You’re the better women and I should do as I’m told.”

Finally, after a long bout of tickling that had left me sobbing, Lisa, who was sitting astride my waist, watching me quiver and gasp for breath as she gently traced the lines of my lower ribs with one fingernail, said, “So what do you think, Chelle? Has she learned her lesson yet?”

During that last bout of tickling, Michelle had been curled up on the sofa above me, looking down into my face and reaching down to tickle my armpits as Lisa assaulted my ribs. Now she brought herself up into a seated position, and, as she continued to smile down at me, she began to run her bare feet through my hair and down the sides of my face. She kept this up for a long, suspenseful few moments, as the gleam in her eye told me she wasn’t finished with me yet. “I guess so...” she said slowly. “But just to make sure that she knows who’s boss, I think that before we let her go, she should have to kiss our feet.”

“No...” I moaned. After all the torture and humiliation they’d already put me through, I didn’t have enough spirit left in me to show any more defiance than that. I knew they had me, and they knew it too. I was at their mercy, and I was ready to do anything to avoid further tickling.

Michelle brought one bare foot to dangle an inch above my face. “Go on, Lila,” she cooed. “Kiss-kiss. Or maybe you’d like to be tickled for a few more hours?”

Lisa lightly ran her fingernails down my sides, and I gasped and shuddered.

“No... please...” I whimpered, and, as Lisa and Michelle laughed, I gingerly kissed the sole of Michelle’s foot.

“Is that it?” Michelle said. “Just that one tiny little kiss? I barely felt that. I guess it’s tickle time again...

“No!” I pleaded. “Wait! Please! I’ll do it!” Forgetting all dignity (not that I had much left by that point anyway), I began desperately planting kiss after kiss on Michelle’s foot, bringing storms of delighted laughter from my tormentors. Michelle moved her foot around, shoving first one part of it in my face and then another, pressing each part of her foot down into my lips so that I couldn’t just kiss lightly. She took her time, making me kiss every part of the foot, taunting me all the while with comments like “Good girl!” and “How’s that taste?”

“Now the toes,” she said, putting her pinky toe to my lips. “One at a time..."

I kissed her pinky toe.

“Make her suck on them,” Lisa said.

“No...” I whimpered.

“Come on, Lila,” Michelle cooed. “Sucky-sucky.”

“You bitch!” I cried. “I swear I’ll get you for this!”

They laughed. And, of course, I knew there was no way out of it. I was forced to suck each one of Michelle’s toes, one at a time, as she and Lisa laughed and taunted and teased me. Michelle made me spend at least half a minute on each toe, and much longer on the big toe, which she pushed way into my mouth and moved in and out in a most suggestive fashion. All the while, she kept giving me more humiliating instructions, like, “Come on, suck it hard!” and, “Use that tongue, Lila! I want to see that tongue!”

In the end, I had to spend at least five excruciatingly humiliating minutes kissing, sucking, and licking Michelle’s foot. And then, of course, she made me give the other foot the same treatment, taking even longer, as she and Lisa gloated and taunted me.

My humiliation was compounded by my realization that I was becoming unbearably aroused by what they were doing to me. I was mortified by my own arousal, and terrified that the wetness of my crotch would soak through my panties and be noticed by my captors, or that one of them would call attention to my erect nipples, which surely must have been visible through my bra.

After Michelle was finished using me as her little foot slave, she and Lisa traded places, with Michelle sitting on me, chuckling and giving my squirming torso the occasional light tickle, while I kissed. licked, and sucked Lisa’s feet and toes. Lisa, of course, was an even more demanding mistress than Michelle. I had to spend what seemed like ages on each foot, and she enjoyed pushing her toes deep into my poor little mouth until I almost gagged. She also got a big kick out of dangling her foot above me and making me strain to reach it with my tongue, which she and Michelle found hilarious. By the time she was finished with me, every part of my lips, mouth, and tongue was sore and aching.

Finally, Lisa took her feet out of my face and said, “Okay, I guess that’s enough.” I let my head fall back with relief, resting my sore neck and mouth, keeping my eyes closed. I was half-mad with arousal, and I tried without much success to calm down and breathe normally as I waited for them to untie me.

Michelle was still sitting astride my tummy, fingertips resting on my ribs. I was dimly aware of Lisa moving around nearby, putting her shoes on. The next thing I knew, Lisa was bending over me, giving me a little kiss on the forehead. I opened my eyes as she playfully ruffled my hair.

“Well, it’s been fun,” she said, “but I told Mom I’d be home for dinner, so I’d better be going.”

“Guess we’ll see you tomorrow,” Michelle said.

“Wuh...” I said. Between arousal, exhaustion, and the soreness of my abused mouth, I couldn’t come out with anything coherent.

“Aww...” Lisa laughed, tousling my hair again. She stood up and started to leave. “You better untie her soon,” she said to Michelle. “Sounds like she’s had a rough day.”

“Don’t worry,” Michelle grinned. “I’ll take good care of her.”

I didn’t like the sound of that. I heard Lisa open the front door and then shut it behind her. I looked up at Michelle, and she smiled down at me, gently stroking my ribs with her fingers. As scary as it was being tied up and helpless at the mercy of two or three of my friends, it was somehow even scarier to be tied up and helpless at the mercy of just one of them. There was something more intimate about it, that made me feel even more exposed. I was afraid to say anything. I prayed that she’d just decide to untie me, but, as the second wore on and we regarded each other in silence, I got the sinking feeling that she had other plans.

“So,” she finally said. “Looks like your little butt is all mine now, Lila.” She gave my ribs a little tickle, and I jerked and gave a little whimpering cry. “Aww, don’t worry,” she chuckled. “I’ll untie you in a few moments. I’m just enjoying the view here.” She took her eyes off my face, and looked down at my chest. I lifted my head just a bit, to see that she was looking right at my breasts, where my erect nipples were very clearly visible, two hard little bumps straining against the white cotton fabric of my bra. She had noticed! Probably a while ago. She’d probably been enjoying the sight of my aroused nipples the whole time that I was serving as her and Lisa’s foot slave.

I let my head fall back. I could feel myself blushing deeply, all the way down to my chest. She looked back up into my face, smiling evilly. Too mortified to speak, I looked back at her in a mute plea for mercy.

“So,” she smiled, “This turns you on, does it? Being tied up like this? Being punished like the naughty little girl you are? You love it, don’t you?”

I still couldn’t say anything. I closed my eyes, terrified and burning with shame.

“Well,” she said, “let’s have a look at you.” And then I felt her take hold of the upper hem of my bra. I gasped and opened my eyes. “Please...” I whimpered. But I knew I could expect no mercy now. As I watched and whimpered helplessly, Michelle tugged the cups of my bra down, completely exposing my breasts. Then she sat back and surveyed her handiwork. The bra, in the position she’d pulled it into, had the effect of squeezing my breasts together and making them bulge outward and upward. My exposed nipples grew even stiffer at the touch of the cool air.

Michelle laughed. “That’s better,” she said. “Oh, Lila, what are we going to do with you?”

“Please...” I managed to whisper. “Please let me go.”

She laughed again. “Not until I hear you admit that this turns you on.”

“No...” I whimpered.

She reached down and gently took hold of my nipples between her thumbs and forefingers. I gasped and squirmed helplessly. Then she began to play with them, rubbing them between her fingers and gently tugging on them.

My nipples had always been terribly sensitive. I’d played with them gently myself, but never in my life had they been touched by another person. And now here I was, bound and helpless, with my tender virgin nipples completely exposed and subject to whatever sensations my captor chose to inflict upon them. As her ministrations continued, I found to my further humiliation that I was unable to control my reactions, and Michelle laughed at me as I writhed and shuddered. my breathing turning to gasps and then to whimpering little cries of urgent distress.

I somehow found my voice, and began begging and pleading frantically for her to stop.

“Not until I hear you say it,” she said.

“Yes!” I sobbed. “Oh, fuck! Yes! It turns me on! Please! It turns me on! Oh, fuck, please, please, let me go!”

Michelle sat back, releasing my swollen nipples, as I lay back with my eyes closed, sobbing, gasping, and shuddering, tears running down the sides of my face.

I felt her get off of me, and then I felt her go to work untying the clothesline that bound my wrists. When she’d untied me, I turned over onto my side and curled up into a little ball, trembling, wretched, and desperately horny. I was surprised when Michelle sat beside me and took my head into her lap, stroking my hair and making soothing noises. I guess that on some level, I’d been so ashamed at my arousal that I’d assumed that its discovery would lead to my utter rejection by my friends.

Eventually, Michelle soothed and coaxed me into pulling myself together and shamefacedly getting my clothing back in order. It was late, and I’d have to run to get home in time... especially since I desperately needed to bring myself to orgasm before dinner.

At the door, Michelle hugged me. Wretched and embarrassed as I was, I was still so aroused that it took all my willpower not to start rubbing up against her.

“You... won’t tell anyone?” I asked timidly.

She chuckled. “Just Lisa and Mary,” she said. “And I’ll swear them to secrecy.”

“But... but...” I stammered. “No! Please! Why do you have to tell Lisa and Mary?”

“Don’t worry,” she said. “We’re your friends, remember? Besides, they probably guessed already.”

“But... why?” I said. I didn’t know what else to say.

“Oh, Lila,” she laughed, tousling my hair. “I have to tell them. Tying you up is so fun! And now that we know it turns you on... We’re going to have so much fun with you!”

I gawked at her, dumbstruck.

She laughed at the expression on my face. “Come on,” she said, “Did you think we were going to stop? We’ve been talking about getting you again soon anyway. And now that we know your little secret, we’re really going to let you have it!”

“You’re...” I stammered. “You’re... going to... do it again?”

She tousled my hair again and gave me a little push toward the door. “Just remember,” she said, “we’ve got a sleepover planned for Friday. And you’d better be there.”