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Cat's-paw Reprise (m/f; >18)

hauntyourdreams

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As the title suggests this is a contuation of "Cat's-paw," which was originally posted on this forum May 5, 2007, and can be found through the following link for those who may not have read it or need a reminder of these characters: http://www.ticklingforum.com/showthread.php?t=104329


Cat's-paw Reprise


I was on the prowl.

My flatmate was away on “business.”

“Don’t know where I’ll be when, Cat my love,” was his explanation of why I only had an email address with which to contact him.

“The time will fly; you’ll see,” he’d said before kissing my forehead and departing.

Six weeks later one of his infrequent emails read, “Trip extended. Nothing I can do. Later, Cat my love. T”

I’d replied, “Being neglected long-term is Not my aspiration. The gift you sent will be useful as I quench my heat. Thanks, luv. C”

I’d sent the email, shut down the computer, and gone to my room to dress in the short, low-cut black PVC top, form-fitting black PVC pants, and 4-inch sturdy heeled black T-strap sandals he’d sent a month before with a note, “Saw this and thought of you.”

Meeoow!

Thought of me?

Or, Halle Berry?

No, matter, I’d determined as I examined myself in the mirror, the attire suited me and my present mood well. I attached my small key-chain purse to one of the belt loops, slipped in driver’s license, credit card, cash, lip balm, and lipstick and headed for the door. Once locked, the key joined the other contents of my small purse.

So, here I was walking down the hall and feeling neglected. “Take me for granted at your peril,” I said aloud.

Yes, Cat was on the prowl.

Surely I would find a geographically eligible male companion, preferably one already known to some extent. One, I decided, who shared my special interests and was free for the long weekend would be particularly...useful.

Several nightspots were briefly graced with my presence before I walked into a bar I hadn’t visited in nearly a year. Thus far known alluring prospects had been elusive.

My mood was degenerating.

“Scotch on the rocks,” I seductively growled at the bartender.

“Make that two, on me,” a familiar voice said.

I turned to see who my benefactor was. His hairline had receded a bit more leaving an even broader forehead than I remembered, and the web-spinning expression no longer filled his face.

“You were right,” Spider said softly, “You’re a regular presence in my dreams.”

A feeling of hopefulness that this evening’s prowl might not be a total bust lightened my mood.

“Does that surprise you?” I purred.

“Not in the least,” Spider stated in a matter-of-fact tone. “I look forward to them.”

“Really,” I continued to purr, “Why?”

“Because they’re based on a real woman who knows what she wants and goes after it,” he answered so that only I could hear as he placed one hand against the small of my back.

Our eyes locked as he continued, “I respect that and find it, and you, highly desirable.”

My left eyebrow raised in a downward V. A glint of hope lit his eyes and his voice tone seemed open and honestly sincere. I continued to eye his face to detect subterfuge, a slip in the mask and return to the arrogant, ego-centric expression so often previously observed. But, Spider’s expression did not change and he said nothing. He merely waited for me to respond.

Perhaps he had a new game. Or, maybe, just maybe, there was hope for the once so highly arrogant Spider.

The bartender placed our drinks in front of us and went on to other customers. I picked up both drinks and as I handed him one said,

“I need to be pampered, relished, and ravished. Relished, that is, in that special way we once spoke about. Are you up to multitasking?”

“Absolutely,” Spider answered.

“Then drink up,” I invited, clinking my glass to his.

We both drank quickly as our eyes scanned over the other. Before downing our respective last sips, Spider asked with some hesitation, “Your place or mine?”

“Yours,” I responded and finished my drink.

“Avoiding your flatmate?” Spider asked, finishing his.

“He’s not a factor,” I stated, put my glass down, and continued, “Did you drive or should we call a cab?”

“I live down the block and around the corner now,” he said, “I walked here.”

“Lead the way then,” I contentedly purred, slipping one arm around the crook of his elbow and up his arm so that my hand rested on his bicep.

Spider skillfully negotiated us through the crowd and out the door. The late-night air was pleasantly crisp on my warming body. We chatted casually as we walked the short distance to his place, and I found myself wanting to leave control behind, to let Spider continue to lead.

Unless, of course, he screwed up.

We reached his door, which he unlocked and pushed inward, saying, “After you.”

As I walked through the door his arm reached past my head to flick a light switch. The lights revealed a large room containing a pleasant mix of masculinity, taste, and homey comfort, quite different from the seduction-oriented web I’d imagined him in previously.

“Have you lived here long,” I asked with honest curiosity.

“Nearly six months,” he answered, leading me into the living area. “I decided some things in my life needed to change. Have a seat. Would you like something to drink?”

“Ice water would be satisfying,” I responded.

On his turf, of which I heartily approved thus far, my willingness to be led was interrupted with suspicion concerning the depth and longevity of the seeming change in his character and my heart’s vulnerability to it and him. I decided to investigate my immediate surroundings rather than sit down.

My attention and body were drawn immediately to one wall of built-in cabinets, topped by drawers, topped with an unbroken counter, over which were shelves that rose to the ceiling and held books, CDs, and various other items. Plenty of space remained for new additions.

His CD collection was more extensive and focused than mine. I moved to the books and spotted a few titles I had as well. I removed one and was flipping through it when he returned.

He peered over my shoulder to see what I was looking at and said, “That’s an excellent book. You should read it.”

“I already have. I have a copy myself, but I’ve written notes in mine,” I replied as I closed the book and returned it to its place on his shelf.

“I do the same on occasion,” he said handing me a tall glass of ice water. He turned, ventured toward his CDs, and asked, “Do you like classical music?”

“Yes, but I’d rather not hear anything heavy-handed, dark, or abstract. I’m in the mood for something light and whimsical with thoughtful, nonjarring bridges,” I answered.

“A challenge I can meet,” he said as he carefully selected several CDs and put them in his player.

I continued my trek around the large room, noting the open stairway that divided it from the kitchen, dining room, and several other spaces blocked by closed doors. Looking up and around, I noted that the upstairs was L shaped to allow for vaulted ceiling and chimney over and within the living area.

“What’s upstairs?” I casually asked as I wandered to his “office” area to observe his desk and computer setup.

“The master bedroom and bath,” Spider answered.

“Only one bedroom?” I queried.

“Yes. It has a very large closet and sitting area,” he answered coming around to where I stood as music began to filter throughout his home.

His hands wrapped around my upper arms as he pulled me toward him and said, “I bought something for you months ago in hopes that this day might arrive.”

“Oh?” I casually asked pulling back from him a bit., “What?”

“You’ll have to open it to find out,” he playfully replied, let me go, turned, and vaulted up the stairs.

I sipped my water and prowled around the furniture in the sitting area. There was a cushy full-length couch, bounded on either side by matching tables with lamps on top, and different chairs on either side of each table. One chair was a plush leather recliner that had been angled somewhat away from the couch, seemingly to achieve a more direct view of the large-screen television mounted on the wall directly across from the couch. The other resembled an armed dining chair, except that it was bigger. Its armrests and wide seat and straight back were cushioned, but the back rectangular cushion stopped just below a half-oval-shaped decorative cut-out design on either side of which were “spires” that rose several inches above the half-oval’s highest point. A little laugh escaped as I realized it looked like a throne.

Spider returned slightly breathless and I thought about asking how often he sat in his throne. My enjoyment of his seeming loss of arrogance altered my words to, “That was quick.”

“It was within easy reach,” he panted, extending a long box toward me.

As I reached for the box, I realized it was somewhat heavier than it appeared. I sat down on the couch, box on my lap, and peered closely at him as I asked, “Do you keep ‘gifts’ available for all the women who...visit...you?”

“No,” gushed from him and a hurt expression flit through his eyes.

My defensive guard faltered and I actually felt bad. In a softer tone I queried, “Then, to what do I owe this honor?”

I told you,” he began and sat down next to me, “You’ve been a constant presence in my dreams and I hoped this day...when you’d actually be here...would come. When and if it did, I wanted to have something special to give you.”

“To soften me up?” I asked with a sarcastic little laugh.

“I guess...you...could say that,” he anxiously admitted and then rushed to add, “but mostly I felt I’d left a bad impression and that’s not something I want you to have.”

Spider’s head and eyes were downcast so I couldn’t read his expression. His body language seemed sincere, so despite my suspicions about this new side to his character and thoughts about his “throne,” I lifted the lid of the box and began to part the tissue paper.

My head jerked up when he said, “I thought of you when I saw these.”

Tom’s note came to mind and I wondered who Spider might desire me to be.

Spider sensed my abrupt tension. He put a hand gently on one forearm and said, “You don’t have to pretend to like anything you don’t.”

“I won’t,” I stated, pushed thoughts of Tom out of the way, and pulled the tissue paper back.

The weight of the box was explained by the black patent-leather high-heeled pumps that gleamed brightly on either side of a ring of large black boa feathers, in the center of which was a folded clump of soft black material topped with a wide band of elasticized lace.

I pulled out the center contents first.

As I examined the sheer leggings, Spider said, “They’re Berkshire’s Queen Romance lace-top, Lycra thigh highs. I heard Berkshire’s products were among the best.”

“You heard right,” I said, “They are and suit my tastes perfectly, and this,” I exclaimed, slightly raising the boa and sliding it through my hands back into the box, “will be a lot of fun under the right circumstances.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Spider said smiling.

I began to remove the shoes and Spider said, “I, umm, looked into some shoe boxes in your closet before I left that time. I...ummm...had seen these shoes on an online sight before then and had thought they would look phenomenal on your feet and enhance your long legs. I subsequently bought them. They...ummm...”

His “ummms were getting longer.

“...also fit my...ummmmm...particular preferences.”

“Oooohhh,” I purred appreciatively.

The goals of this evening’s prowl were even more promisingly within reach.

I returned the items to their box and leaned toward him. I nuzzled the bottom of his chin before letting my lips graze his cheek; my eyelashes teased his cheekbone.

“I like all your gifts,” I said, and then with a seductive growl asked, “Would you like to help me put them on?”

Red rushed up Spider’s neck and into his face.

Power surged through me as I nuzzled the side of his neck and chin. The fingers of each of my hands drew little in-place circles where they rested, one on his chest and the other on his left thigh.

Mastering control over whatever he was feeling, he slowly said, Slipping...the...pumps... on...your...feet...would...be...my...pleasure.”

He moved his head and body back from mine and placed his hands atop my shoulders to keep me still while saying, “And, I would be grateful to enjoy that pleasure after watching you put the stockings on. You do it sooo well.”

With devilish grin and the hint of a wink in his voice, he added, “My talent with stockings lies in taking them off.”

I admit it.

I was tantalized by this predictable admission.

He did have hands that promised greatness.

At the moment, the placement of those hands kept me from stretching my body up and into his in anticipation of his attentions. Mutual ravishing now would be quite nice, but, I deferred to his lead and remained still and silent.

In a this-is-the-plan tone, which acknowledged my deferment, he said, “As I recall you don’t like stubble grazing your soft skin.” An unexpected electric shock went through me as his fingers caressed my upper arms.

“So,” he continued rising from the couch while lifting the box from my hands and its lid from the floor, “Why don’t we both freshen up?”

“These, with your permission, will remain here,” Spider said as he fit the box lid underneath the box and placed it on one of the side tables.

“Permission granted,” I said raising my eyes toward his suggestively.

Spider’s hesitation was just brief enough to have been imagined. He reached to take each of my hands and raise me up to stand in front of him as he said--did I perceive a slight gulp?--“You can use the downstairs bathroom while I use the one upstairs.”

A successful seduction requires a shared, focused, frame of mind and appropriate timing. I could take his face into my hands, pull it toward mine, passionately kiss him while rubbing my body against his, and perhaps...probably...alter his immediate plan. But, I decided, there was no rush.

“Point me in the right direction,” I acquiesced with the barest hint of a pout.

“Right this way,” Spider said and led me to the bathroom.

He pushed open the door in front of me and again reached past my head to flip the light switch.

“I believe you’ll find everything you might need within the drawers and cabinets,” he told me, “I’ll meet you back in the den,” and he left.

It didn’t take me long to strip down to my faithful Merry Widow and black hipsters with high-cut leg openings. I folded my top and pants and placed them on the counter so that my purse was easily accessible. I left my sandals on the floor next to the bathtub.

I found a new toothbrush and tooth paste in one of the drawers and mouthwash in the cabinet under the sink. I cast the toothbrush’s wrapper in the trash, added paste, and brushed my teeth and tongue and gargled mouthwash. I placed the toothbrush on a towel then emptied my bladder, washed my hands, and removed my lip balm and lip stick from my purse.

Again, standing in front of the mirror, I looked myself over. I didn’t want to appear to be rushing, after all. I reviewed my evening as I applied my lip balm and lip stick, respectively, and returned them to my purse.

Thus far, Spider had no strikes. I felt pampered and relished and was passionately anticipating being further relished and, of course, ravished. I had no problem reciprocating my desires so that he, too, felt pampered, relished, and ravished.

I considered that Spider could be a consummate actor playing a new game with which I was unfamiliar. A conquest game in which solicitous words, expressions, and attitudes rarely, if ever, failed. My heart didn’t think so, but my heart’s current vulnerability cast suspicion on its judgment.

Sad fact is that when a kitty and tom both want to play, things are great. But, when a tom only wants to play, his attention quickly wanders when the kitty desires more. My Tom’s attentions had wandered long before his body left.

Oh well. It was fun while it lasted.

Enough time had elapsed. I resolved fully to enjoy being with Spider and to keep an open mind in regard to the character change I perceived. I turned off the bathroom light, opened the door, walked through it, and closed it and Tom behind me.

Walking toward the den, I realized that Spider had switched off the overhead lights and lit large candles in a portion of the room so that a soft glow accompanied the soft music playing in the background. He was placing a large pitcher of ice water on a tray sitting atop the side table between the couch and throne. He had changed into a short-sleeved black T-shirt and seemingly new, fitted sweat pants. His feet were also bare.

He looked up and smiled appreciatively as I approached and extended one hand toward me. Taking it, he led me around to the side of the throne.

“Why don’t you sit here,” he said.

Reducing my desire to laugh to a smile, I asked, “Am I to be treated like a queen?”

“You said you wanted to be pampered,” he replied, his own smile unwavering.

Still holding my hand, Spider helped me sit down on the throne while negotiating a small water-filled basin atop a towel directly in front of it. When I was seated, he gently lifted both of my feet and placed them one at a time into warm water.

“I thought you might enjoy a foot massage,” he explained.

He knelt in front of the basin, pulled a bath towel off the couch, rocked back and shifted his position so that his feet were flat on the floor on each side of the basin, his buttocks on the floor, and his knees gently bent. He draped the towel over and between his legs and plunged his hands into the water, where they began to rub and probe my feet.

“Relax,” he said.

I did, shifting my lower body forward somewhat as he pulled my left foot out of the basin, stretching my leg toward him.

The fingers of both his hands massaged my left toes and foot while my right gently splashed and curled within the warm water.

“Now, do this one,” I petulantly requested, removing my left foot from his grasp to return to the water and offering him my right.

“That feels wonderful,” I said as he began to work his hands and fingers into and around it.

“I’m glad you’re enjoying it,” he said, “I’m enjoying it too.”

I watched him as he focused his attention on my foot and knew that he was. An audible contented sigh escaped from deep inside me.

When my right foot had received the same attention as my left, he returned it to the basin, lifted my left foot out and dried it gently with the towel before removing my right again and drying it as well. He then shifted his position, lifted the basin, stood, and walked to the side of the throne. He leaned over and let his lips barely graze mine.

“Stay where you are,” he directed and carried the basin into the kitchen.

I wasn’t going anywhere. Although, for greater comfort, I brought my legs up to my chest and let my toes hang over the edge of the chair.

He returned, coming around the recliner, where he bent to retrieve a gym bag that was sitting on the side outside my vision. He resumed his previous position, unzipped the gym bag, rummaged through it briefly, and extracted a small bottle of oil. He flipped its cap and poured some oil into the palm of one hand, flipped it shut, and sat the bottle down next to his right thigh. He reached for my left foot, and as my leg extended toward him, I crossed my right beneath my raised left thigh.

He laid my foot atop his right thigh and rubbed his palms together. He then lifted my foot and began to knead his oiled hands around my heel and slowly up toward my raised toes. My hands gripped the armrests as he leaned forward openmouthed and began to suck my toes. My body lowered itself towards the edge of the chair as his tongue began to flick between my toes, his mouth still sucking, his hands kneading the rest of my foot all the while.

I was totally relaxed, my breaths quickened and deep. My eyes were closed when his mouth left my toes and his oiled fingers began to circle around and between them. I was stretching my arms luxuriously over my head as he cupped my heel in one hand and the sole of his left foot braced itself midway between my right knee and thigh.

As a violent jerk shot from my left foot up my leg and spine, my eyes flew open wide and my arms plummeted downward until my hands again gripped the armrests. When another jerk began to ascend I tried to get up from the chair and remove my foot from his grasp simultaneously, but I could do neither.

Like a slow sunrise, a dawning understanding penetrated my brain as his right foot came up to rest against my abdomen. From the position I was in, the pressure of his feet was successfully containing me within the throne and something with a dull point was being firmly drug up and down the very center of my captured left arch.

The words, “Revenge is sweet,” popped into my head and I remembered the tickle torture I’d put him through during our last encounter. I searched his face and noted a devilish expression in his eyes as they met mine.

“You did say you wanted to be relished in that special way we spoke about,” he said with a soft, sadistic laugh.

I’d heard that you should be careful what you wish for. I now knew, as I hadn’t in a very long time, that you should also be careful what you ask for.

I was actively squirming in an attempt to free myself, while he continued to drag the unknown object along the length of my left foot’s underside and between my toes, varying the pressure between gentle and firm. In the middle of yet another spasm rushing through me, his hand left my foot and quickly grasped around my left knee, where his fingers dug into the nerve-filled soft spots on either side of it before returning to torture my sole.

What had been uncontrollable gasps at what I was feeling became a loud “AAAHHH” following a deep intake of air.

From forgotten depths, his words, “I like to tickle torture women beginning with their feet,” sprung to the forefront of my memory.

I had wanted someone truly interested in women’s feet, mine particularly, to worship and enjoy them. During our initial flirtation, Spider had become a prime candidate, and the thought of his not only worshipping my feet but also subjecting them to tickle torture had sounded enticing.

“WHAT,” my mind screamed, “HAD I BEEN THINKING!”

This was an excruciating, continual onslaught to my nerves of gentle pain mixed with sensuality that was unbearable. I was quickly losing all control. I wanted to laugh, cry, and scream.

I wanted to beg him to stop.

Me? Beg?

Oh no, my mind raced. He’d lasted an hour before loosening his tight control over his reactions. I couldn’t allow myself to cave before then.

But, my common sense asserted itself, I had no idea how much time had elapsed and my physical state was becoming progressively weak with my trying to get away while jerking every other second.

I was so busy with these thoughts and my reactions that I didn’t notice that he’d moved both his feet and released mine until I felt the glass at my lips.

“Drink some water,” he said, holding the back of my head with one hand and pouring water into my mouth with the other.

I gulped it greedily, aware that I could hardly move, not because he was keeping me contained, but because my muscles were exhausted.

His index finger brushed around my parted lips as he removed the empty glass from them.

“It’s time to work on the other foot,” he said, and I swear he looked demonic.

My inner voice screamed, “Get up NOW and RUN!” but I couldn’t. I was limp as he extended my right leg between his and crossed my left foot under my raised right thigh before extending his body backward and legs up so that his feet rested midway at my left thigh and against my abdomen.

I noted his glee as he sat there, reached for the oil, poured some into his palm, put the bottle down, and rubbed his palms together. A sudden desire to scratch that gleeful expression off his face sent an adrenaline rush through my body and I resolved not to give in, to bear the coming onslaught in detached stillness.

I blessed INXS as the tune and lyrics of “Devil Inside” began to run repeatedly through my mind.

I have no idea how many renditions I sang internally with my lips firmly closed until all I could recall was the chorus. All the while, my foot, leg, and body twitched and squirmed as he tackled my right foot and knee.

“devil inside, devil inside...devil OUTside!” I thought as his whispers began to penetrate and interfere with the bare remnants of the song my mind could still recall.

“Cat. Oh, Cat. This is what you wanted.”

"As though I need demonic reminders," sat at the tip of my tongue, but I was too spent to spit the words out.

He blithely continued to coerce me verbally with smooth softness, “Give into what you feel, Cat. Give into me.”

INXS and their words were replaced with Spider’s voice and words as he repeated his last two requests over and over in a seductive whisper. I was too tired to make any coherent verbal response. I was too tired to fight.

I caved, embracing the various sensations rushing upward from my toes through my body. I began to writhe and raise my torso forward as the assault on my foot and up my leg to my knee continued.

After a while, I felt him release my right foot and uncross my left leg. I vaguely felt the floor beneath my feet. My legs felt as though they were dangling from the hip down. Spider was standing, bending over me, wrapping his arms around me, and lifting me up.

He lifted me across the short space to the couch and stretched my legs out over it. He plumped a corner pillow and placed it behind my head and shoulders and then poured water from the pitcher into my glass. He helped me drink some, and when I’d had enough and lay collapsed in the softness of the couch, he poured some for himself and drank it down.

I couldn’t recall being so completely exhausted and was surprised when every muscle tensed as he knelt alongside me and his fingers began to touch my body.

While Spider’s fingers and hands massaged my body, I recalled how I had done the same to him before tickling him in the very areas I had previously lulled into relaxation. I fully expected the same, but I no longer cared.

Right now, wherever his fingers and hands kneaded, grazed, and teased felt good and sensual reactions ensued. Occasionally, my eyes would open to watch his face. I noted that the demonic expression had been replaced with one of passion as he turned me over and began to unhook the Merry Widow. I felt free when he pulled it out from beneath me and his hands began to work over my neck and shoulder blades and down my back and legs. I twitched as the short nails on his fingers brushed against the soles of my feet.

I was so tired I don’t know how the passion managed to build within me, but it did, and I was more than ready when he turned me over, removed my remaining clothing and then his own. He stretched his hand toward the tray and picked up a box. He removed one of its condoms and put it on. My legs and arms opened to embrace him as he lowered himself onto and inside of me.

Was he tired too, I wondered, for this was no rushed coupling. It was a mutually deeply intent joining of bodies and mouths that built slowly up into a steady pace that increased to crescendo.

Later, Spider bit my ear lobe and whispered, “Did I multitask to your satisfaction?”

“Oh, yes,” I sighed, “I have been thoroughly pampered, relished, and ravished...for the moment.”

“For the moment?” he asked with a laugh, raising himself up from mid torso, looking into my eyes, and squeezing the tender spots beneath my ribs.

I laughed and said, “I admit, I’ve never been so exhausted, but I enjoy repetition!”

“Well,” I hastily added, “currently only of the ravishing part, but other areas can be enjoyed by both of us over the next three days, if your interest and schedule allow.”

"Oh, they allow," he exclaimed, pulling another condom out of the box.

“Want to help me with this?” he asked.

“No problem,” I purred. :devil2:


With luck, another installment, “Spider’s Web,” will be written and posted here before the end of June."
 
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Tabitha, Tabitha. Where are you? Guess luck didn't hold because it's now the end of August and no "Spider's Web" yet. Sounds like Cat's in trouble; that is, that her heart is in peril. The title of the next installment leads one to think that Spider is playing a new game. Look forward to reading whatever path you take with these two next.
 
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