This is my first story. And it involves a celebrity, which is usually not my cup of tea to read, much less write. But after I saw a picture of the girl, this tale dug into my brain until I had to let it out. So, here goes. BTW, following the tale is a picture of Rhianna wearing the outfit from the story.
Singer Rhianna had just gotten ready for her exercise session when the figure appeared in her hotel room doorway. The figure was male, dark-haired and young, at most a couple of years older than her own age of twenty, wearing a simple T-shirt and jeans. The T-shirt was dark and marked the wearer as a member of her road crew, as did the pass around the intruder’s neck, which identified him simply as “Kevin” and explained how he’d simply walked past her security detail. The easiest way to get into anyplace was to look like you belonged there.
Rhianna herself wore nothing more than the skimpy aqua-green bikini she usually wore during her exercise routine. She gasped and began to back toward the wall as the figure continued into the room and casually tossed a gym bag onto the floor near the bed. She feinted and tried to dodge around the intruder, not bothering to scream. Like many expensive hotels, her suite was soundproofed to prevent her from being disturbed by the noises of other guests. He jumped into her path and managed to corral her almost gently by clothes-lining her with an arm around her bare belly.
Rhianna kicked and flailed her arms, but in short order the intruder had wrestled her arms to her chest, pushed her onto the bed on her stomach and then sat on her back, effectively pinning her arms beneath her, while her feet kicked uselessly. With the beautiful singer temporarily subdued, the intruder grabbed and opened the bag, pulling a set of fur-lined restraints from it.
“Sorry, but we’re gonna have to do this quick and dirty,” Kevin said in an almost businesslike tone of voice. “Kind of on a tight schedule.”
She squealed and grunted her reply as she struggled futilely to buck him off. He let her roll just enough to partly free one arm, which left the other one pinned under her back and the wiry strength of his legs. Before she could use the arm effectively, though, he grabbed it and cuffed it to the headboard. Soon enough he’d secured the other arm as well.
Now he could relax a little, but he wasn’t done yet. He took a painful kick to the chest as he cuffed one of her legs to the foot of the bed. Finally, he’d secured the other, leaving Rhianna helplessly spread-eagled. For a long second he admired her lean, lithe body, so much of which her tiny bikini exposed to his view.
She cried out, “No, no no!” shaking her head in denial as he reached into the gym bag again and pulled out a pair of gloves with stiff little feathers on the tips of the fingers.
And then he dove in, feet first.
She shrieked laughter as the feathered fingertips attacked her bare feet. Ball and arch, toes and heel, all were ravished by the omnipresent fingers. Only when her breath rasped in her lungs did the torture stop, if only briefly.
She glared at Kevin with something like hate. “Let me go!” she demanded.
“Not quite yet,” he said. “We haven’t even started with your... ribs!”
With that final word, his hands exploded into her ribs and side, drawing screaming gusts of laughter from her ravaged frame. All over her front the terrible hands roams. Now raiding into her defenseless armpits, then ranging to her sides and conquering her taut, heaving belly. Digging between each and every rib. And finally dipping into her navel to draw shrieks of laughter so high they were almost silent. She cried and begged, writhed and cursed, but nothing could stop Kevin’s wandering, torturing hands.
Finally, her hair limp against her head and her body wringing wet with the sweat of exhaustion, the tickling died down and ceased.
“Don’t worry, almost over,” he said with a faint chuckled.
“Sc-, screw you,” she breathed.
“Yep, couple more spots…” he said, hands moving to her chest again.
Her eyes widened as he reached for her bikini top and simply rolled it up under her arms, exposing the gentle curves of her breasts and then blowing cool air onto her pink-chocolate nipples, hardening them faintly.
As Rhianna continued to breathe heavily from her previous torment, Kevin brought the feathertips into play. He brushed and caressed her breasts, circling tighter and tighter until he reached the tips of her nipples. She tried to writhe away but it was no use and she could only lie there as he played her body like a instrument in her own band.
Suddenly a loud beeping emitted from Kevin’s watch.
“Damn, looks like time’s almost up,” he said regret in his voice. “You ready for the finale’?”
He gently unsnapped her bikini bottoms, revealing a bare, pink womanhood wet with something more than sweat. The alarm had already gone off, meaning time was too short to bother with the gloves now. She tried to push her legs together, but he quickly parted them and lowered his head to his work.
He kissed and licked his way up and down her pussy, tasting her juices before moving on to her erect clit. He took it into his mouth and sucked on it, drawing moans and soon shrieks from his helpless victim. She bounced on the bed like a rowboat caught in a hurricane as waves of orgasmic pleasures had their way with her. Finally, as Rihanna’s motions calmed, Kevin got to his feet. She lay listless and spent on the bed he released her bonds and put them away, heading for the door.
“Kevin?” came a voice from the bed.
“Yes?” he turned.
“Why was the session so short again?” Rhianna asked.
“The Maxim guy’s coming about the photo shoot,” Kevin reminded her. “But Dave said there should be time after evening rehearsal if you want another session. Cool?”
“That’ll be fine,” she responded, resnapping her bottom and pulling the top back into place. “I need a shower, but send Mandy up in about half an’ hour. Oh, and get the arrangement set up from the Houston concert, there's something I want adapt for LA. Also, be a dear and get me a Fugi water, temperature between-“
“Fifty and sixty degrees?”
She smiled and rose from the bed, her lean, beautiful body sauntering toward him, heightening the painful hardness in his loins. She gave him a friendly kiss on the cheek. “You know me too well,” she said.
“No prob, be right back with it, Ri,” he promised and then headed out the door, past the looming bodyguard to finish his tasks for the day, blue balls or no. A roadie’s work was never done.
Rhianna's Workout
Singer Rhianna had just gotten ready for her exercise session when the figure appeared in her hotel room doorway. The figure was male, dark-haired and young, at most a couple of years older than her own age of twenty, wearing a simple T-shirt and jeans. The T-shirt was dark and marked the wearer as a member of her road crew, as did the pass around the intruder’s neck, which identified him simply as “Kevin” and explained how he’d simply walked past her security detail. The easiest way to get into anyplace was to look like you belonged there.
Rhianna herself wore nothing more than the skimpy aqua-green bikini she usually wore during her exercise routine. She gasped and began to back toward the wall as the figure continued into the room and casually tossed a gym bag onto the floor near the bed. She feinted and tried to dodge around the intruder, not bothering to scream. Like many expensive hotels, her suite was soundproofed to prevent her from being disturbed by the noises of other guests. He jumped into her path and managed to corral her almost gently by clothes-lining her with an arm around her bare belly.
Rhianna kicked and flailed her arms, but in short order the intruder had wrestled her arms to her chest, pushed her onto the bed on her stomach and then sat on her back, effectively pinning her arms beneath her, while her feet kicked uselessly. With the beautiful singer temporarily subdued, the intruder grabbed and opened the bag, pulling a set of fur-lined restraints from it.
“Sorry, but we’re gonna have to do this quick and dirty,” Kevin said in an almost businesslike tone of voice. “Kind of on a tight schedule.”
She squealed and grunted her reply as she struggled futilely to buck him off. He let her roll just enough to partly free one arm, which left the other one pinned under her back and the wiry strength of his legs. Before she could use the arm effectively, though, he grabbed it and cuffed it to the headboard. Soon enough he’d secured the other arm as well.
Now he could relax a little, but he wasn’t done yet. He took a painful kick to the chest as he cuffed one of her legs to the foot of the bed. Finally, he’d secured the other, leaving Rhianna helplessly spread-eagled. For a long second he admired her lean, lithe body, so much of which her tiny bikini exposed to his view.
She cried out, “No, no no!” shaking her head in denial as he reached into the gym bag again and pulled out a pair of gloves with stiff little feathers on the tips of the fingers.
And then he dove in, feet first.
She shrieked laughter as the feathered fingertips attacked her bare feet. Ball and arch, toes and heel, all were ravished by the omnipresent fingers. Only when her breath rasped in her lungs did the torture stop, if only briefly.
She glared at Kevin with something like hate. “Let me go!” she demanded.
“Not quite yet,” he said. “We haven’t even started with your... ribs!”
With that final word, his hands exploded into her ribs and side, drawing screaming gusts of laughter from her ravaged frame. All over her front the terrible hands roams. Now raiding into her defenseless armpits, then ranging to her sides and conquering her taut, heaving belly. Digging between each and every rib. And finally dipping into her navel to draw shrieks of laughter so high they were almost silent. She cried and begged, writhed and cursed, but nothing could stop Kevin’s wandering, torturing hands.
Finally, her hair limp against her head and her body wringing wet with the sweat of exhaustion, the tickling died down and ceased.
“Don’t worry, almost over,” he said with a faint chuckled.
“Sc-, screw you,” she breathed.
“Yep, couple more spots…” he said, hands moving to her chest again.
Her eyes widened as he reached for her bikini top and simply rolled it up under her arms, exposing the gentle curves of her breasts and then blowing cool air onto her pink-chocolate nipples, hardening them faintly.
As Rhianna continued to breathe heavily from her previous torment, Kevin brought the feathertips into play. He brushed and caressed her breasts, circling tighter and tighter until he reached the tips of her nipples. She tried to writhe away but it was no use and she could only lie there as he played her body like a instrument in her own band.
Suddenly a loud beeping emitted from Kevin’s watch.
“Damn, looks like time’s almost up,” he said regret in his voice. “You ready for the finale’?”
He gently unsnapped her bikini bottoms, revealing a bare, pink womanhood wet with something more than sweat. The alarm had already gone off, meaning time was too short to bother with the gloves now. She tried to push her legs together, but he quickly parted them and lowered his head to his work.
He kissed and licked his way up and down her pussy, tasting her juices before moving on to her erect clit. He took it into his mouth and sucked on it, drawing moans and soon shrieks from his helpless victim. She bounced on the bed like a rowboat caught in a hurricane as waves of orgasmic pleasures had their way with her. Finally, as Rihanna’s motions calmed, Kevin got to his feet. She lay listless and spent on the bed he released her bonds and put them away, heading for the door.
“Kevin?” came a voice from the bed.
“Yes?” he turned.
“Why was the session so short again?” Rhianna asked.
“The Maxim guy’s coming about the photo shoot,” Kevin reminded her. “But Dave said there should be time after evening rehearsal if you want another session. Cool?”
“That’ll be fine,” she responded, resnapping her bottom and pulling the top back into place. “I need a shower, but send Mandy up in about half an’ hour. Oh, and get the arrangement set up from the Houston concert, there's something I want adapt for LA. Also, be a dear and get me a Fugi water, temperature between-“
“Fifty and sixty degrees?”
She smiled and rose from the bed, her lean, beautiful body sauntering toward him, heightening the painful hardness in his loins. She gave him a friendly kiss on the cheek. “You know me too well,” she said.
“No prob, be right back with it, Ri,” he promised and then headed out the door, past the looming bodyguard to finish his tasks for the day, blue balls or no. A roadie’s work was never done.
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