Your Own Bully – The Tickling One

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**Hi! I’m a thriller novelist with an anxiety disorder. I study and research wellness in order to create change through the pages of my work – to help myself and others.

This story is one of a collection, each version being the same, except for the fetish at the centre of the concept. Why have I done this? Because I think the message will be more enjoyable if it is tailored to YOUR interest.

My goal is to thrill my readers into wellness, one little piece at a time. If you enjoy my writing, I’d like you to check out my Novel – Second Reality by Stacey Harder.

I look forward to helping you get Wellthrilled: find that thrill where wellness meets pleasure. **

The thick morning fog hugged the trail as my feet hit the concrete in steady rhythm. Jogging had always been something I’d aspired to start, but it took a while to truly get into it. Now, it felt like my solace – a moment of peace and clarity in an otherwise chaotic world.

I lost myself in the cadence of the steps, in the way my heartbeat synced with the rise and fall of my own breath. Yet, today something felt off. I rounded the bend and a figure appeared through the mist. Jogging just ahead. I noticed the figure pause and shrink, a man tying up his shoe laces. The closer I came, the more I realised who this man was.

The rumours about this man were ones that I could not forget. He apparently had some dark interests; he toyed with people and didn’t care whose heart he broke. The things I’d heard about this man flashed across my mind, and now they were right in front of me.

This man began to appear every morning, invading my time alone. Occupying my thoughts. Jogging used to be my sweet escape; my morning therapy that made all my worries vanish–until last *he* decided to invade my happy routine.

It wasn’t long before he had noticed me, our eyes catching. Regularly he began to jog by with a cocky smirk plastered on his face. I could see it in his eyes–he was *showing me up*! It was like he was screaming, “I’m faster, fitter, and way cooler than you!” It wasn’t long before I was questioning myself. Did I look silly? Was he laughing at me?

I looked down at my wobbly legs and stomach. I could barely jog for more than a few minutes at a time. He knew this. It only made sense that he thought I looked ridiculous. I struggled to pull my runners on and tie up my hair. I struggled to wash my face and guzzle a glass of water. Being overweight, unfit and exhausted – it was hard enough and now some guy was making a joke out of it.

“Maybe he’s not there today.” I whispered to myself while I stretched my legs. I held onto a nearby tree for support and scanned the park with two shadowed blue eyes- I couldn’t see him anywhere. So, I began to jog, thinking, can I just do a little bit? Can I just jog for two minutes and if it’s too hard by then, I’ll walk back home.

I wanted to stop, but I knew it was important that I kept trying to build the routine. “Can I just do another minute before I go home?” I exhaled. I attempted to meet myself with this question of ‘can I just do a little?’, whenever a moment of resistance surfaced. I wanted to stop so badly- and suddenly- I did stop. I got knocked face first into the ground.

“That was clumsy,” that rude guy looked down at me.

“I’m sorry,” I stood up quickly, “you bumped into me though.” I pointed to my chest and tried to catch my breath. He simply laughed at me and shook his head as he began to walk away.

“Hey!” I started to follow him, suddenly filled with annoyance. He was laughing at me, I knew it. Now I really knew. “Hey, don’t laugh at me! I am trying my hardest here, and not everyone is just naturally fit or thin, okay? You shouldn’t laugh.” He stopped and turned around. This guy looked me up and down and then crossed his arms over his chest.

“I don’t apologize to people. Especially clumsy people, who randomly stop jogging when they’re in front of someone, and then yell at them for no reason,” He gave me a slightly annoyed look, “and you may call me Peter.”

“I may call you a bully,” I retorted, “and I guess everyone was right about you!” He grinned at me and then kept walking. He grinned at me! Totally inappropriate. So, I followed him and spoke very quickly stating all the reasons he was a bad guy-

“Listen here pal- if you think that you’ve got it all because you moisturise every day and can jog for and hour- then you’ve got another thing coming!” My ranting went on for a while, I’ll admit I had a lot to say, “and just so you know- jogging for the reason of enjoying other people’s struggle- that’s totally rude! – you’re just some self-involved bully and seriously you should get a life and”-

He held up his hand to quieten me as we reached his car. He then opened the passenger door and said,

“Get in.” I looked confused for a moment- I had just screamed abuse at this guy and he was asking me to get into his car.

“Not a chance,” I shot Ankara escort back, putting a hand on my hip to feign confidence. But then Peter walked right up to me, his eyes locking onto mine. I could feel his breath, warm and teasing, and the scent of his aftershave wrapped around me like a cozy blanket. Bully or not, he was definitely striking. But of course, that meant nothing to me–I wasn’t attracted to him.

“Not to embarrass you,” he said, his voice smooth and playful, “but do you usually stalk the people you hate so much?” He leaned in slightly, clearly enjoying my reaction.

I tried to keep my tough facade intact, but inside, my heart was racing. “I don’t stalk!” I huffed, forcing annoyance into my tone while desperately trying to ignore how charming he looked. “I just happen to be jogging in the same direction!”

“Oh really?” He prompted.

“Yeah – I wasn’t stalking you,” I stammered, flustered. “I mean, I jogged here first! I don’t stalk people… or anyone. I mean, any people. That’s–uh, I don’t do that.” I pulled my sleeves down over my hands, a nervous habit of mine, and took a small step back from him, trying to regain my composure.

“Okay, well do you normally walk around with the people you like to call ‘bullies’ for, oh…” He glanced at his watch, clearly enjoying himself. “Every other day?”

“No! I mean, I was just… trying to explain to you that you–” He shook his head, cutting me off.

“I think,” he said, leaning in slightly, his smile teasing, “that you’re trying to convince yourself of whatever horrible things people have said about me. The truth is, you are intimidated when you see me.”

I gulped. “Well, you’re wrong.” I said firmly, “totally wrong.”

“Prove it,” He gestured to his car, “seriously, prove me wrong. Join me for a ride and show me how not intimidated you are.”

Okay, so I got into a stranger’s car. Well, not a total stranger–I mean, I knew his name and what time he jogged every morning. I also knew that girls had spoken about his flirtatious nature, how he would humiliate and toy with women! I turned to glance at him for a second, and he caught my eye and winked! Oh god, he thought I was checking him out!

I stared ahead at the scenery. Trees passing us by, and all the houses in a blur. He started to hum. At the next red light, he stopped and waved at an elderly couple who were power walking together. They smiled and nodded back.

“Mr and Mrs Milestone,” he advised me, “they make their way out every morning together.”

I looked at their attire, the white pants with striped sides. Their hands holding tiny weights and the bright orange headbands that pressed into their foreheads. Peter looked pleasant enough but I was certain if he was laughing at me, then he would be laughing at them too.

“It’s not nice to make fun of people.” I snapped at him.

“That’s true.” There was a pause. “Why would we make fun of them?”

I considered for a moment how I could get into the meat of what I wanted to say. I could truly give this man a piece of my mind. However, looking down at my own thighs and belly, I knew he was right. I was intimidated by him. Perhaps I had made a mistake.

“Right here,” he said as he pulled into a driveway, “my home. Now hurry inside, I can’t have you moving around as slow as you jog,” Peter gave me a teasing glance and then got out of his car. He skipped around to my side in time to help me out. I hesitated but realised I didn’t have much other option at this stage.

He led me up to his front door and I paused again. Was I really going into his house? He reached deep into his pocket and retrieved a key to the front door. I began to analyse everything about him; the cut of his sock, his hairy legs, his choice of shorts and the sports top he wore. I looked over my shoulder one more time, before entering his house.

“You’re thirsty,” he said casually, striding toward the kitchen. I followed him, watching intently as he poured me a glass of water. “You’re going to drink this, and then join me in the lounge room. It’s just through that door. I’ll wait for you there.” With that, he strolled out, leaving me momentarily speechless.

As I finished the water and headed toward the lounge, my heart raced with a mix of nerves and excitement. But then, I spotted something on the bench–a pair of handcuffs. Oh god. Was he planning for me to be here? I stared at the door handle for a moment, swallowing hard as a lump formed in my throat. Deep down, I knew the truth: I was just a silly young woman letting my emotions lead me straight into a crazy man’s trap.

I took a step back, my instincts screaming at me to reconsider. But then I collided with something large and solid!

“Where are you going?” It was Peter, looking down at me with a mix of curiosity and amusement.

“How’d you get…” I stammered, my breath quickening in a rush of anxiety. Then he pointed to another door leading to the Escort Ankara same room. A flicker of concern crossed his face, and I wondered why. Maybe he thought I’d noticed the handcuffs and was plotting my escape. Which, of course, I was. “You know, I just remembered that I–“

“Are you ticklish?” His question caught me completely off guard. Who asks a stranger that? It was just… weird.

I blinked, trying to process it. “Um, what kind of question is that?” I shot back, attempting to sound tough while my heart raced. I mean, was he serious? Did he really think that was an appropriate icebreaker?

“My apologies. Should I be asking… are you very ticklish?” He raised both his eyebrows and grinned slightly. Peter reached out to touch the side of my shirt and slowly ran his fingers along. I grabbed his hand to stop him but his arms were too strong. He came in closer, his lips now only inches from mine.

“Please don’t do anything bad,” I whispered hurriedly, my voice trembling with a mix of fear and anticipation. “I can’t, I mean, I don’t want–” But before I could finish, he kissed me.

It was a warm, tender kiss that sent a thrill through me, a kiss that could very well be my worst mistake. He drew me in, his hand sliding to the small of my back, pulling me closer until I could feel the heat radiating from his body. In that moment, the world around us faded, leaving just the intoxicating connection between us–sweet, dangerous, and utterly captivating.

Then he just stopped.

“I’m assuming you are concerned about these,” he held up the cuffs. We looked at each other in silence. I wanted to say something, but I couldn’t let him know what my true thoughts were. “That’s cute,” he put them down and took my hand, leading me up the stairs.

“Look, Peter, about calling you a bully”-

“You’re forgiven.” He spoke hurriedly, and he pulled me into a room. A bedroom. His bedroom. He was going to rape me. Now it all made sense. The way he looked at me when jogging, the way he tricked me into his car, what was I to do now?

“If you rape me-” I started to wrap my arms around myself, “that’ll be…. well rape, and that’s punishable by”-

“Punishable?” He interrupted me, a smirk playing on his lips. “If anyone is going to be punished today, it’s going to be you.” With that, he pushed me over his bed. My heart raced as his soft sheets caught me in their grasp. He walked away to lock his door, and a knot of anxiety tightened in my stomach.

When he returned and sat down beside me, his presence was both electrifying and intimidating. He looked my way and asked, “Are you comfortable?”

“Comfortable?” I repeated.

The tension in the air was palpable, and I fought to keep my composure, my mind racing with what his intentions could be. My pulse quickened, a mix of anger and confusion swirling within me. The plush fabric of the bed felt foreign beneath me, the room felt too intimate and too close. I could feel the weight of his gaze, an unsettling heat that made me acutely aware of how trapped I was.

“Yes, comfortable. Are you?”

I looked away, then back at him, trying to steady my racing heart. “What do you want? From me, I mean, what do you want from me?” His expression shifted to one of concern, and I couldn’t quite grasp why.

He walked over to a drawer and pulled out a little bright blue book, holding it up triumphantly. My eyes widened in disbelief. I rushed over and snatched the book from his hands.

“This is mine!” I shouted, my voice a mix of indignation and panic. “You thief! Why would you steal–“

“Your diary was left at the gym I work at. I never saw you come back, so I thought I’d return it to you.”

“OH, sure!” I began to pace his room, my cheeks burning with embarrassment at the thought of him reading my private thoughts. “You say that’s what happened, but please! This is all sounding a little far-fetched if you ask me!”

Before I could continue my frantic rant, he stepped forward and took hold of both my arms, gently yet firmly, to stop me. The warmth of his grip sent a shiver through me, halting my thoughts mid-flight. I looked into his eyes, searching for answers, feeling the weight of the moment hang between us.

“Monday the 15th of April last year,” he began, his voice low and measured. “You wrote some of the most amazing things. Every word was… beautiful.” I froze, a wave of vulnerability washing over me as his gaze bore into mine. “Then something happened, and you changed.”

“Nothing happened. Nothing happened.” I repeated the words like a mantra, desperately trying to look away from him, but his intensity held me captive.

“Something happened!” he insisted, his tone unwavering. “You know what happened.”

“So? So what? That doesn’t mean anything. It’s none of your business. Let me go!” My voice rose as I struggled against his grip, my heart pounding in my chest. I turned toward Escort Bayan the door, wishing with all my might that it weren’t locked, that I could escape this moment, this confrontation. The walls felt like they were closing in, the tension thickening the air between us.

“Lily, he left you and he was an idiot,” Peter’s voice dropped to a lower tone, “any man who saw what you really were wouldn’t even think twice about”-

“Don’t even say it!” I turned to Peter sharply, “It’s not true. I thought I wanted something, and I was wrong. I didn’t know.”

Again, a deafening silence. My eyes stuck to his, forbidding him to speak. But of course, this bully wouldn’t listen.

“Prove it,” he pushed on.

“What?”

“Prove to me that you aren’t completely in need of it. That you don’t even like it.” My breath quickened as he stepped closer, his intensity making it hard to think straight. “Prove that this guy left you… under the wrong impression about your desire to be tickled.”

“You can’t just…” I stammered, backing away until the edge of the bed stopped me. “You can’t touch me.” But before I could gather my thoughts, Peter leaned in and poked me playfully in the stomach with his finger.

“Seems touchable to me,” he grinned, that teasing spark in his eyes making my heart race. The warmth of his touch sent a jolt through me, leaving me both flustered and intrigued. I tried to maintain my composure, but the playful challenge in his gaze made it hard to resist the magnetic pull between us. “Now be a good girl and remove everything but your bra and underwear.” I opened my mouth to protest but he pressed a finger to my lips, “Lets be honest here, you know I’m going to tickle you whether you remove your clothes or not.”

“I don’t know if”- He cut me off again.

“You also know you will enjoy it much much more if you aren’t covered in clothes. Plus, if you really want to prove yourself, removing these little items will be much more telling to me. That is, if you show no signs of enjoyment.”

It was then that my resolve shattered. Together, we slowly lifted my shirt over my head, and my heart raced as my eyes locked onto his–deep, brown, powerful. I was completely captivated by this stranger who knew me in ways I hadn’t fully acknowledged myself. He understood how I used to be, the carefree version of me that I had lost, maybe he could find that girl again. Deep down, I knew I wanted to rediscover her, too.

“Well, don’t just look at me!” he teased, a playful smirk dancing on his lips, his confidence radiating in the space between us. “The pants come off too! And those shoes and socks.”

I bent down to remove my shoes, slowly undoing the laces, wondering how this moment had come to be. Each shoe came off much easier than I had wished. Each sock slid off like water running down my skin. Then my pants, they dropped down as though they had never wanted to be put on in the first place. I was uncovered, and vulnerable.

I stepped out of them and stood nearly naked before this man.

“Lovely,” He spoke, dropping to his knees and covering my belly with kisses. His hands made way to my ribs and started to crawl teasingly. Naturally my hands darted towards his to stop him, but that only made him move them faster, trying to avoid my attempts to stop his.

I giggled a little and then he stopped and looked up at me.

“Now that,” he paused for a moment, causing anxiety to rise inside me. Was he going to stop? Was it true that I was unattractive like this? “That, was cute.” He winked at me and wrapped his arms around the small of my back. As if to hug, but then he continued to wriggle his fingers teasingly.

That’s when the laughter took over, bubbling up inside me until I couldn’t hold it in any longer.

He remained close, his eyes sparked by amused pleasure, ready to keep me trapped. I found myself sinking to the ground. Every stroke felt electric, my heart raced with excitement, caught up in the tension of the moment.

“Oh. Peter.” I shuddered and that was it. He stopped.

“What was that?” he teased, a playful smirk dancing on his lips. “Did you just say, Oh Peter… please don’t stop tickling me? You were right, I need this very much?”

I felt a rush of heat rise to my cheeks, my shyness swallowing me whole. Embarrassment flooded my senses, and I bit my lip anxiously. Flustered, I pushed him away and turned to grab my clothes, hoping to escape the magnetism of his laughter, even as my heart raced at the thrill of his teasing.

“No.” I whispered, “No I did not say that.” I bent over to pick up my shirt, but then Peter’s hand reached out to grab it first.

“No?” He questioned with disbelief, “Did you just say, no?” I opened my mouth to respond- but then he threw my top away and pushed me onto his bed. Peter reached out and grabbed both of my feet threateningly. Oh god, he wasn’t going to let me go!

“Peter, wait I”-

“No, no, I’m talking now.” He looked at me challengingly, “You still haven’t proven yourself. SO, either you admit it, out loud, or I resume tickling you. And if I resume tickling you, and you moan again, I’m afraid you lose another item of clothing.”