I couldn't believe my luck. First I had managed to make a reservation at Isle du Bondage for a long weekend. Then, as I was entering the Friday morning bondage show, I was chosen as one of the contestants. And what a contest!

Each of the three of us was presented with a book of photographs of bondage slaves, women who were also guests at the Isle. The women were all very attractive and provocatively dressed. We were each instructed to choose three women out of the book. Not surprisingly, I chose chesty women. I didn't know what I was choosing them for, but if I had to choose three women, these were sexy, thin, and buxom – all with pretty faces and lovely hair.

An hour later as we were ushered onto stage, I couldn't believe my eyes. Each of us, the three contestants, had chosen three women, and these nine women were tied up on the stage. As I was admiring "my" three women, I could barely concentrate on the rules as they were being explained by the emcee. The purpose of this game, it turns out was to tickle our women until they lost control of their bladders. The person who first got all three of his women to lose their senses this way was the winner. We would each be allowed to keep for the weekend as our bondage slaves the women we had made pee, the winner getting all three plus any of the losers' women who had managed to hold out. The contest would run until someone won. To make the contest run a little faster, in the previous two hours, each woman had been made to drink a gallon of water.

Apparently, the women whose photos had been placed in the book from which we chose had been selected based on how ticklish they were. And, boy, were they ticklish. Being tickled mercilessly was, in fact, what they had paid to come to the Isle for!

Being an equal opportunity oggler, I had chosen a brunette, a redhead, and a blonde. We were each given a few minutes to inspect our women and our equipment. There was an impressive assortment of feathers and other devilish tickling devices. Not sure if I was dreaming, I approached slowly the area of the stage in which my three women were bound.

The blonde had long, curly hair that had been pulled into a pony tail behind her head. She had a shiny black ball gag held tightly in her mouth by a strap that was kept buckled around her head with a small, key lock. She was almost completely naked. On her feet were locked (again with small, key locks) high-
heeled, black, patent leather shoes. Except for the gag and the shoes, her only clothing was a black, patent leather chastity belt, held firmly in place with a padlock in the small of her back. Her eyes widened as I approached, and – to the delight of the audience – she made a short, futile struggle against her bonds.

She was held in a standing spread eagle by chains fastened to padded cuffs locked on her wrists and ankles. While it is hard to imagine she could have voluntarily spread her feet any farther apart, that possibility was eliminated by a spreader bar attached to her ankles. While this position would not give me access to the bottoms of her feet, I had completely unhindered access to her sides, underarms, and shockingly ticklish inner thighs.

The brunette's hair was styled in a page boy. She too wore only a patent leather chastity belt and black ball gag. She sat on something that looked like an old bicycle banana seat that must have been very uncomfortable considering the way she was bound. Her feet were fastened in a large wooden stocks. Above and below her breasts was fastened wide, leader straps, which were buckled and locked behind her back. Her wrists were tied together, palm to palm. Then they had been pulled over her head. A rope from her wrists passed through D-rings on the straps binding her breasts and was tied to a D-
ring at the rear of her chastity belt so that her wrists were held near the nape of her neck. Another strap pulled her elbows close together and forced her head down. This all had the effect of exposing the soft flesh of her underarms to my tortures. Since she was forced to look down she could see the small weights on the ends of loose springs attached to clamps fastened to her nipples. The clamps were just tight enough to be uncomfortable without causing any real pain. When tickled, however, the weights bouncing on the ends of the springs would torment her large, firm, round breasts held erect by the leather straps.

The redhead was held in the most restrictive bondage of all. Instead of the patent leather chastity belt, the redhead wore only a black fishnet body stocking that covered her from wrist to toe. Despite the thick, curly orange hair that fell in a mop around her face, I could see that she was gaged like the others, but like the brunette was barefoot. Her elbows had been tied behind her back so that they touched, and her wrists were tied tightly together. Her ankles had been crossed and tied together, forcing her knees apart and exposing her thighs and privates. A rope had been looped around her waist in a slip knot, then the running end of the rope had been passed between her legs, digging deeply into her sex and the crack of her rear. This rope passed under itself at the small of her back and was then tied to her ankles, holding them in a severe hog tie. She was then pulled against a pole so that pressure was placed against her crotch. A rope from her wrists to the pole ensured that she could not wiggle forward to relieve the pressure on her crotch. Tied as she was in such a strict hog tie, her large breasts fairly bulged out from under her body, straining against the fishnet body suit.

After inspecting my victims, I looked over at those of the other two contestants. I saw that we each had a woman in a standing spread eagle, a woman with her feet in stocks, and a woman hog tied to a pole. The only difference between the bonds of my women and theirs was where all of mine were wearing black "garments," the other two contestants' women were bound in red and violet.

I blinked against the harsh stage lighting as I looked into the audience. The auditorium sat about two hundred fifty people in three sections. These sections had been color coded black, red, and violet so that each section was supposed to cheer on a different contestant.

After a few minutes in which the emcee explained the rules of the contest to the audience, we were about to begin. From the wide-eyed struggles that followed, I realized that this was the first time the women had heard what was about to happen to them. I decided that I would go after the standing blonde, then the seated brunette, and finally the hog tied redhead.

When the bell rang, I ran over to the blonde and, standing behind her, used my fingers to tickle her ribs. She immediately began to struggle against her bonds and thrash her head about. My ears were filled with her gagged screams of laughter. I attacked her ribs mercilessly for a couple of minutes before suddenly changing to her under arms. This brought forth a frantic scream. She strained against her bonds with such force that she lifted her feet off the ground. I stopped for a moment, somewhat afraid that I had hurt her. She hung her head down and panted heavily but appeared unhurt.

I resumed my torment, using one hand to tickle the ribs on her right and the other to tickle under her left arm. I alternated this tickling, with her screaming through her gag and trashing her body back and forth as much as her tight bonds would allow. Her whole body had become ticklish; everywhere I touched caused convulsions of laughter. Sweat glistened off her smooth, beautiful body as she struggled. As she yanked and thrashed, her breasts hove and bounced erotically. After about ten minutes of nearly non-stop tickling, she let out a guttural wail and lost control of herself. Tears ran down her cheeks and she hung limply from her wrists, panting and whimpering.

One down.

I turned to the brunette in the stocks who had watched what I did to the blonde. Before I even got to her she was straining to pull her arms down. She pulled against the stocks, bicycling her legs as much as the tight stocks would allow. As I neared she started to bounce up and down on the bicycle seat, which added significant discomfort to the dull ache that filled her crotch. The small weights sprang up and down, pulling at her tender nipples.

I picked up a feather and ran it along the soles of her sensitive feet. She screamed and struggled that much more violently. Her feet were amazingly ticklish. More than once I thought that she was about to lose control of herself. I watched the muscles in her thighs clench tightly and her face contort. I dropped the feather and reached between her thighs. She threw herself backwards with such force as she let out a combination scream and laugh that I had to nearly leap over the stocks to stop her from falling backward off the bicycle seat and hitting her head on the stage. I laid her backwards so that fore arms rested on the stage and began to tickle under her arms.

She bounced and screamed, rolling left and right as much as her ankles in the stocks would let her. Wherever she rolled, I followed her pink under arms with my merciless fingers. She tried to sit up to avoid my fingers, but each time, a firm, deep poke in the breast kept her on the ground. When I finally did let her sit back up, I