Mouse was shaking like a leaf in a hurricane. I watched her peach skin belly move in and out rapidly, peering out from between a fishnet bra and a pair of black, lacy *******. Her stomach was unbelievable; one of those young, teenage bellies that you felt you could just wrap your hands around and press your thumbs into the awaiting spine beneath - with little resistance.
"Little resistance" was what I'd received a couple of weeks ago when Mouse (as I knew her) let me punch her in the stomach at a house party at which we'd run into one another. Two weeks before that, we first met at a coffee house at which she was trying to get her friends to punch her in the stomach. I guessed that she was a fellow belly punching fetishist, and after some subtle note-dropping we made friends.
And it was at this nightclub we'd finally brought our friendship to a head. The two of us had been brought in by Fox and Seven, a guy and girl who had been doing belly punching "scenes" at one of the local events. Seven was an experienced punchee, it seemed - I'd watched her friend Fox (a tough-looking guy - looked like a bouncer, almost) beat her guts in at the prior month's Fetish Night. I'd been completely trapped by the show. I had to return - and I'd brought Mouse with me.
Here's the promised recap of the timeline.
1. Mouse and I met at a coffee house - she shows me her belly, but I idiotically gave up the chance to punch it the first time we met. I was convinced I'd never see her again.
2. I watched Seven get punched in the stomach - a lot - by Fox at the aforementioned nightclub. After I talked to them both, Seven said she'd let me punch her at the next month's event.
3. Mouse and I met at a house party and made friends - we embarrassedly ran outside, where she let me punch her in the stomach. Mouse had never been punched in the stomach before, and I'd never punched anybody there either. I got fairly deep, but we were both scared I'd hurt her so we frustratedly stopped. I invited her to Fetish Night, but she said she was underage - but after conversation, we discovered that Seven (and possibly Fox) were underage as well. It was enough hope for Mouse and I to make a date.
4. Arriving at Fetish Night, I tried to bluff the bouncer into sneaking Mouse in (since I already knew he was sneaking Seven in too). I almost didn't make it, but Seven recognized me and let us both in. This is where we got our names - Seven and Fox were pseudonyms, and they gave Mouse and myself our names as well (they call me "Watcher" because I people-watch). After Mouse and I spent some time dancing, it came time for Fox and Seven to take the stage. However, after a very short time getting punched, Seven was released - and Mouse was snatched away to be chained up on stage.
5. Mouse received the first good belly-beating of her life at the hands of Fox - involving massage oil, deep penetration, diaphragm punches, and a very nice belly-rub at the end - Seven and he told Mouse and myself that they liked us and invited us to their house for more fun and games. What kind of fun and games they had in store...
...I didn't know.
So there I was in a small, old, classic house. The place was a mishmash of various architectural styles - old colonial-looking hearths in the living room surrounded by early 20th-century wood pillars... apartment-style studio rooms in the upstairs... an avocado green kitchen... and so on. The house was roomy where it needed to be roomy, tight where it needed to be tight. Even the closets couldn't tell whether to be tiny enough for a vacuum cleaner or large enough for a sublet.
The place was apparently rented by Seven and Fox - who were, as I learned, a couple. The two of them were running an underground *** club even in high school - for other high schoolers. There wasn't a lot of actual *** going on - it was more like a discussion group with a little play now and then. Even some of the older people from the local scene were involved, and they managed to keep all the younger people in control. Besides - knowing Seven, it wasn't your usual ballcap-and-Abercrombie crowd that got invited to their little gatherings. That's also how Fox and Seven managed to sneak into the club for Fetish Night. They had made good enough friends with the organizers that they just sort of laid low and walked on through the door.
Anyway. Fox and Seven seemed like good kids. Fox was almost a norm; a young white guy with more muscle than you'd guess for age 18. He managed to be bulky and wiry at the same time; while I couldn't have circled any part of his arm with my fingers, one could see that his corded muscles still stood out from the rest of his arm. Holding back on the vinyl-and-fishnet costuming of the local S&M scene, he usually favored tight black t-shirts, leather or denim pants, and the rest; tough, but still part of the scene. Seven, however, was a different story.
You know that girl? The one who's young and dressed like a punk, but absolutely adorable? That's Seven. Besides her belly (I'll get to that in a minute), Seven's most striking feature was her eyes. She usually had them doctored up with eyeliner, but even with makeup at a minimum she was striking. Her eyes were enormous, and they peered around with a mixture of prey like fear and gritty determination. It didn't help that her pert little mouth gave her this constantly frustrated look. Combined with her hair - the way she kept it kinda long, spiked all over the place, colored fire truck red with black highlights - she looked as aggressive as a shaken hedgehog. I found it absolutely entrancing. And her body! Perfectly smooth with narrow hips, elbows always slightly akimbo. And while her favorite article of clothing was her big green wool jacket, she always had it slung over a white V-neck - you guessed it - cut off around the ribcage. Thus, when I looked at her, my eyes always were trapped between her enchanting face and her milky, soft bellyskin decorated only by a small, round innie.
Mouse, on the other hand, was as normal as a struggling, seventeen-year-old belly fetishist could be. Mouse had probably earned her nickname for a number of reasons. First, she had a triangle-shaped face on which she wore glasses, which gave her a sort of "apprentice librarian elf" look - her freckled cheekbones and strawberry-blonde curls didn't hurt. Secondly, I never would have guessed her age at seventeen; she was the type of girl who was going to be carded when she was thirty. Mouse is the kind of girl who has her weight guessed as "XXX pounds when soaking wet" or other similar corny joke. This type of remark, of course, always made her blush - which lent to her cute, fragile appearance. Mouse's belly, as I described above, was soft - so soft that her navel looked not like a hole, but like a cave-in... a gentle slit that waffled back and forth, never deciding whether it was a slit or an oval; that is, when you could see it. That is to say: Mouse was also an incurable tease; she would always wear these damned tank tops that would end just a tiny bit below her navel. All you could see under these tops were her hipbones, which existed as a pair of beautiful shadows that crept dangerously close to the middle of her tummy. This didn't prevent Mouse from teasing worse by constantly stretching out, causing her top to ride way above her navel and my eyes to affix them on that belly I so badly wanted to deeply touch.
And that's where we left off. Mouse had been stripped to a bra and *******; standing there, stripped to black underwear, she looked absolutely vulnerable. And she obviously liked it, to a degree - she rubbed her belly with her palm, shivering with excitement and arousal. In the meantime, Fox was rummaging around in a bedroom and Seven was changing into something more comfortable. Naturally, my mind was more on what mischief Seven was up to - but I was under very strict orders to stay with Mouse, there in the living room.
Fox came back before Seven did, bearing a small handbag (a vintage doctor's bag?) presumably full of stuff.
"What's in there?" asked Mouse. Her teeth were chattering, even though the thermostat must have been set on Inferno.
"Things. Mostly tools for mischief." Fox grinned wickedly. The more I looked at him, heard his voice, watched the way he moved, the more I realized that Fox wasn't a high school jock type. He had the poise, the intelligence, even the voice of a real devil.
"Ta-daa!" shouted a voice from behind us - Seven's. I whirled to see what she'd changed into. Of course, the first thing I saw was her bare, cream-colored belly. Above and below it were a matching skirt and sports bra set; the top ended just barely where breasts turned into ribcage, and the skirt had been unbuttoned to the point of revealing just about all of Seven's lower tummy as was revealable. A perfect blend of covered flesh and tantalizing belly.
"Fantastic," I applauded.
"You see," Seven said, stepping toward me without missing a beat, "what happens when you leave this top button unbuttoned?" Her fingers, painted chromatic pink, flickered like faeries near her exposed *******. "It's a constant attraction. The illusion of being in a constant state of disrobing. It's the ultimate striptease." The whole sentence was almost lost on me - Seven's navel was about four inches from my nose.
"Hey!" shouted Mouse. "You're not supposed to tell him that secret. I've known that trick for a while."
"That's OK," I mentioned. "You can keep using it."
Fox stepped in between all of us. "Hey, OK. You all ready?"
Silence ensued as Mouse and I both swallowed our hearts. Seven only laughed. "I think they're ready," she jeered.
"OK, Watcher, first anatomy lesson." Fox walked over to Mouse, laid her down on the couch - belly up, of course. From my nearby position, I watched Mouse's soft belly rise and fall rapidly. On her face she wore a look of terror and impatience.
"Aww, she gets to be the drawing board?" asked Seven, putting her knuckles on her hips.
"Yeah," retorted Fox. "Because you're the practice dummy."
Fox walked around to the back of the couch and invited me closer. Both of us were standing over Mouse's belly while her eyes flicked between my face and Fox's.
"All right. Lesson one: don't hit too low." He placed his fingers a good five or six inches below Mouse's belly button. "If you hit here, the only thing you're hitting is reproductive organs and the bladder, and it's no fun. Imagine being kicked in the nuts while you have to pee."
Mouse giggled - I winced and nodded.
"However, anything between the ***** line and the navel are OK - it's all lower intestine there." Fox's hand traced a line between Mouse's ***** line and her navel, stopping somewhere in between - then let his fingers penetrate into her belly as he said the word "there."
Mouse gasped and wriggled under Fox's fingers. As a reply, he pulled his fingers out and thumped Mouse on the navel with his fist. The grunt forced out of Mouse petered off to a low "ullll..." as she pulled her hands to her belly.
"Relax," scolded Fox. "That's your first lesson."
"I'm trying, but..."
Fox sighed exasperatedly. "All right. Hey, Watcher - come over here, kneel there." Then, looking down at Mouse: "Take a deep breath, way down into your belly, then relax as you let it go." As I stared at Mouse's soft belly, I watched her hipbones recede and reappear with her breath. It was more than I could handle. I was eternally thankful for what Fox said next. "All right, Watcher, feel as deeply as you can. It won't hurt her too bad. Just go as deep as you can, slowly, between her underwear and her ribs."
Reaching into Mouse's awaiting belly, at that moment, was probably the most exciting point in my life. I was expecting her to at least be ticklish or something... but after that deep, relaxing breath she had taken, she gave me no resistance whatsoever. My fingers worked in tenderly, just above her navel, and massaged in small circles directly toward her spine, where I had been once before. As I reached that hardness in the back of her soft stomach, she made a little sound - like a sleepy moan - and stretched out, leaving me the most beautiful expanse of tummy I had ever seen. And, for the moment, it was all mine.
I froze. My fingers touching Mouse's spine, with her hands above her head and her body flat, I felt that if I moved the moment would never be as perfect. Then Mouse did something unexpected; she took another breath deep into her belly......and let me in further......I could feel her pulse pounding between her spine and my fingertips......and she only had the most angelic smile on her face.
From a nearby chair, Seven giggled. "Yeah, she's loving it, all right."
Mouse only grinned softly... then, in a wispy sort of voice, muttered, "Keep going, Watcher."
Slowly, agonizingly, I slid my fingers up... up, letting each ridge of Mouse's spine edge under my fingertips. As I crested each one, I could feel guts moving out of the way, and Mouse gave a little gasp - but then took a deep breath, and every time my fingers moved deeper, pressed a little harder, felt her pulse a little stronger.
"All right, I think you're getting a little carried away," scolded Fox. "Go back down - like I said, to the deepest spot you can."
I gladly did, sliding my fingers back down to the pit of Mouse's stomach. I found the spot about an inch above her navel. Mouse only moaned pleasantly.
"That spot has very few nerves, except up against the spine," lectured Fox. "You can push and prod and punch that all you want, and it's not gonna hurt that bad. If you put in a really crushing blow, though - I mean, really bounce your knuckles off her spine - she'll really feel it."
"All right." I began committing everything Fox said to memory.
"Now, go higher - up between the ribs."
I slid my hands upward again, passing the point at which I could feel vertebrae under my fingers. Instead, my fingers gained some altitude - and I saw Mouse wince.
"What's this?" I asked.
"That rubbery sensation means you're pushing her guts up into her diaphragm, which hurts a lot. You're probably pushing against her solar plexus. If Mouse ever gets out of line, you can slug her there as hard as you can and she'll drop like a sack of quarters." I could hear a low chuckle in response to Fox's statement coming from the direction of the languid Seven. "Not only is that the biggest cluster of nerves in the abdomen, but a punch to the diaphragm will compress the lungs inward, driving the air out of someone. Combined with a hard blow to the ol' Ess Pee, it'll also keep her from getting a good breath for a while - which means probably very little flexing. Problem is, if you overuse the solar plexus, she'll double over and you can't do anything but wait."
As soon as I relieved Mouse's solar plexus from the pressure of my hands, she made a pitiful little sound and took a deep breath in.
"See?" asked Fox.
"Yeah." By this time, I was grinning wildly. This was fun!
"That's about what you need to know. Also, there's something to be said for patience. Even Seven flexes up if you hit her too hard to start - you've gotta soften a belly up first. I have Seven trained - after a few minutes, she won't even flex at all. You can really blast 'em in there."
"Yeah?" It was my turn to start shivering with excitement.
"Yeah," responded Seven, standing up. "I really, really, really want to punch Mouse... but all this has got me pretty geared up. Let's see what you can do."