Station 2

Mia sank even deeper into the leather armchair, her legs crossed, and sipped her champagne with relish. The monitors in front of her and Lisa showed the action in crystal-clear detail – every shiver, every twitch, every **** whimper from Sarah was captured by six different cameras. After the tender, oily caresses at Station 1, Sarah’s body was still glistening and hypersensitive. Her nipples stood out like small, rough pearls; her labia were swollen and glistening with unsatisfied wetness.

“Now it’s getting exciting,” whispered Lisa beside me, zooming in on the next camera with the controls. “Station 2 – the punishment block. Those two know exactly how to turn the mood on its head.”

Timo and Marc lifted Sarah gently but firmly off the couch. She was still completely limp and passive from all the kisses and the oil. The two of them carried her to the massive, padded punishment block in the middle of the room – a wide, leather-covered frame that looked like an upside-down Y-shaped trestle, with loops and cuffs at all four corners. Sarah was laid face-down across it, her upper body flat on the block, her arms stretched out in front of her and secured with soft leather straps. Her legs were spread wide and strapped at the ankles, so that her bare, gleaming bottom and her dripping pussy jutted out completely exposed and unprotected towards the cameras.

Sarah was already breathing faster. “What… what’s happening now?” she asked in a trembling voice.

Timo pulled out a small, folded piece of paper – the very one Mia had secretly placed there earlier. He unfolded it and read aloud in a warm but slightly amused voice:

“Sweetie, I don’t know what you like. Either he’ll spank your bottom… or he’ll give you a proper tickle. Have fun. – Mia ❤”

Sarah’s eyes widened in sheer panic. Her whole body tensed in the restraints. “No… no, please not that!” she blurted out. Her voice broke. “I… I hate being spanked! But… but tickling… I’m so ticklish! Everywhere! Please, you can’t do that!”

Marc stroked her back soothingly, very gently, almost fatherly. “Hey, calm down, princess. You get to choose. Spanking or tickling. Just tell us what you want.”

Sarah squirmed in the straps, her cheeks flushed bright red. “I… I can’t… I don’t want either! Please don’t spank me… and don’t tickle me… I can’t stand it…” Her voice grew higher and higher, almost hysterical. Tears of despair glistened in her eyes. “Please… I’ll do anything else… but not that…”

Timo and Marc looked at each other, then grinned simultaneously. “Then we’ll decide for you,” said Marc calmly. He pulled a coin from his pocket. “Heads = tickling. Tails = spanking.”

He tossed the coin into the air. It spun, glinting, before falling to the floor – and landing on heads.

“Tickling, then,” Timo announced cheerfully and took two long, soft ostrich feathers from a drawer. Marc pulled on a pair of thin, black latex gloves, the fingertips of which were fitted with soft bristles – specially designed for such games.

Sarah let out a quiet scream. “No! Please don’t! I’m far too ticklish! Please, I… I…”

Timo and Marc exchanged a brief grin, then set to work with the soft ostrich feathers and their gloved fingers. Very slowly, almost lovingly, but mercilessly thorough. First the face. Timo stroked Sarah’s cheeks, the sides of her nose, and the sensitive area under her eyes very gently with a single feather. Sarah’s eyes widened in shock, then a high-pitched, shrill giggle burst from her.

“Hihihihi… no! Not on my face! Please not… hahahaha!”

Her nose twitched, her lips quivered; she tried desperately to turn her head away, but the leather straps held her fast. Marc joined in with his latex gloves, letting the soft bristles dance across her forehead, over her ears, behind her earlobes. Sarah was already laughing so hard that her whole upper body was shaking and her breasts were swaying back and forth.

Then her arms. Marc ran both hands along the insides of her upper arms – as light as a feather, in circles, repeatedly brushing the sensitive skin beneath her armpits. Sarah screamed with laughter, her body arching so violently that the restraints creaked.

“Hahahahaha… not my arms! Please! I can’t take it! Hihihihihi… stop!”

The feathers now glided over her elbows, her wrists, between her splayed fingers. Every touch made her twitch as if electrified. Beads of sweat mingled with the oil on her skin.

On to the knees. Timo knelt down beside the block and let the feather circle slowly over the backs of her knees, then over her kneecaps, the sides of her knees. Sarah’s legs instinctively tried to press together, but the cuffs held them wide open.

“No! Not my knees! Hahahaha… that tickles sooo badly! Please… please… I can’t take any more!”

Her laughter grew increasingly hysterical, almost sobbing. The muscles in her thighs twitched uncontrollably.

Now the breasts. Marc concentrated entirely on them. Using two feathers at once, he stroked the undersides of her full, oil-glistening breasts, circled the pale pink areolas, and touched the rough nipples only ever so gently. Sarah’s laughter turned into a **** shriek.

“Hahahahaha… not my tits! Not my nipples! Please… they’re so sensitive… hihihihihi… I’m dying!”

Her nipples grew even harder, standing out stiffly, the rough little bumps clearly visible, whilst the feathers danced around them torturously. Marc commented quietly: “Look how the areolas are contracting… they’re so sensitive that they tremble at the slightest touch.”

Then the feet. That was the absolute highlight so far. Timo tackled both feet at once – the feathers glided between her toes, over the soles of her feet, her heels, the balls of her feet. The bristles of the gloves followed, stroking slowly, in circles, sometimes faster, sometimes agonisingly slow.

“NOOOO! NOT MY FEET! Hahahahaha… I’m far too ticklish there! Stop! Stop! Please, I’ll do anything! Hihihihihihi…”

Sarah howled with laughter, tears streaming down her face, her whole body shaking in her bonds. A long, silvery trail of her arousal stretched from her dripping pussy down to the floor.

Now came the erogenous zones – and that’s when it got truly cruel.

Marc turned his attention to her neck. The feather brushed over the sensitive skin at the side of her neck, behind her ears, across her collarbone. Sarah’s laughter grew deeper, more throaty, mingling with soft moans.

“Haha… haaa… not my neck… that’s… too much… please…”

Timo took over her nipples even more intensely. He let the feather circle around the hard, rough tips, then let the bristles of the gloves dance very lightly over them – without pressure, just tickling. Sarah’s breasts quivered, her nipples twitched with every touch.

“Hahahaha… my nipples… not like that… I’m going mad… please… please…”

And finally, the clit. Marc gently parted her labia with two fingers and let the soft feather glide directly over her swollen, glistening clitoris – ever so gently, in circles, over and over again. His gloved fingers followed, stroking the insides of her labia, circling her clit without ever applying firm pressure. Sarah nearly exploded.

“Hahahahaha… NO! NOT MY CLIT! That’s too much! Too much! Hihihihihi… I can’t take any more… please… I’ll do anything… fuck me… hit me… cum on my face… just STOP! PLEASE STOP!”

Her body was now nothing but a twitching, sweat-soaked, oil-glistening mass. Her pussy pulsed visibly, her labia swollen and dark pink, a constant stream of her own wetness running down her thighs. She laughed, cried and begged all at once, completely broken.

Only now did Timo and Marc put the feathers and gloves aside. They stroked Sarah’s back soothingly, kissed her tear-stained cheeks and her neck, whispering loving words to her.

“Good girl,” Timo murmured gently. “You’ve done it. You’ve made it through Station 2.”

Mia and I looked at each other. I couldn’t help but grin.