Previous chapter can be found here:-
http://www.ticklingforum.com/showthread.php?t=133406
Chapter four is a very long one and will complete the first part of the novel. Owing to its size it will be posted in two parts, part two to follow very soon.
Comments, suggestions and so on as encouraged as ever.
Chapter Four
Zoe woke first on Sunday morning. She had a brief sensation of not knowing where she was, but this passed quickly as she snuggled down again into the luxuriously soft blankets of Nikki’s bed. Thin rays of summer sunlight glittered through the thick curtains, but the room remained dimly lit at best.
Zoe listened to the soft breathing of the small woman next to her. They had fallen asleep entwined, Nikki’s body enveloped in Zoe’s long arms and legs. At some point during the night they must have slid apart; Zoe couldn’t remember, she had enjoyed a wonderfully calm night’s sleep.
Zoe wondered briefly what to do. She had loved last night, but this morning there was a hint of nervousness in her stomach. Did Nikki like her? She couldn’t bear it if Nikki saw her as a bit of fun, a one night stand. God, she had even enjoyed, in fact on some deep level even loved, the tickling that Nikki had put her through. She hated feeling like this. As a confident young woman, most of Zoe’s relationships had seen her as the dominant partner. On several occasions in the past year or so she had slept with women only to end it after one night, finding that she had no desire to see them again. Would Nikki do that to her? She wasn’t sure if she could bear that.
Zoe got up quietly, stretched and walked to the door.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
Zoe spun around in surprise. Nikki had woken up, and she lay with her elbow propped up on the pillows, her pert little breasts peeping out over the soft blankets.
“I, erm, I was just, erm,” Zoe couldn’t understand it. What was it about this girl that made her stumble and stutter? It was so unlike her, but she could barely string a sentence together when those big brown eyes were on her.
“Get back here. Right now.”
Zoe obeyed without thinking. Nikki’s eyes didn’t leave her as she crossed back to the bed. Zoe climbed back in, and felt Nikki grab her wrist with her surprisingly firm grip. Zoe found herself hauled face first across the bed.
“You bad girl” whispered Nikki softly into her ear. “I expect you to be next to me when I wake up.”
She raised her hand, and delivered half a dozen hard smacks to Zoe’s upturned bare bottom.
Zoe yelped. She should be outraged at this treatment. She should complain, argue, storm out, she could not let herself be spanked. Could she?
“I’m sorry, Nikki” she said.
“Show me how sorry” said Nikki, wrapping her legs athletically around Zoe’s waist.
“Very, very sorry” gasped Zoe, and she sank down, allowing Nikki’s searching tongue to invade her mouth.
****
Danielle wasn’t aware that it was morning.
She sat on the floor of her dark cell, oblivious to any force outside of her new prison. Of course, she had not slept a wink.
When the two women had come for her, she hadn’t really known what to expect. When the young, slim one had made her take off her dress, she had started to shake with fear.
She had been led into the same chamber that her best friend Fi had only recently vacated. Heather had ordered her to sit on the bizarre bench contraption. Danielle was too shocked to complain, or to resist. She felt a wooden plank fall down onto her ankles, fastening them firmly into place, her bare feet poking vulnerably out the other side. Heather then took each of her wrists in turn, fastening them high above her head, baring her armpits and stretching her ribs and breasts upward. Still Danielle said nothing, convinced she was in a dream, or a nightmare.
Then the older woman, who had watched in silence, finally spoke.
“Look at the state of this one” she said, looking disparagingly at Danielle’s bound, naked figure.
“Huge fat tits” she continued. Danielle squeaked as the woman grabbed her breast and kneaded it roughly.
“I hope you’re right about this one” continued Hillary, doubtfully. “The other one, yes, lovely firm breasts. Do you really think anyone will pay for these great fat udders?”
“Oh yes” replied Heather, more confidently than she felt. She knew what would happen if she were wrong. “Look beyond the tits. Lovely, sleek blonde hair. Big, full, fat lips. A little bit of a tummy but nothing too outrageous. Lovely looking shaven pussy. Great long, thin, pale legs. And just look at these fabulous, dainty pink bare feet.”
Hillary looked slightly mollified. Danielle’s mouth was open, in shock at this stark appraisal of her physical appearance.
“Why-“ she began, tentatively.
“Silence” said Hillary in a forbidding voice. Danielle knew immediately that it was with the older woman that the true power lay. Despite her small stature, she exuded an air of easy, natural authority. She was attractive in an unusual sort of way, Danielle thought. Short dark hair, very fit-looking, narrow dark eyes and a firm, red mouth. Not the sort of woman that most guys would fantasise over, Danielle knew, as she had that market cornered herself with her more obvious physical charms. No, this woman was the sort that other women; mature, refined women, would be drawn to. As soon as she spoke, Danielle obeyed her without thinking.
“You are here because Heather here believes that you can be of value to us. Personally,” she flashed a menacing look at Heather, “I have my doubts. You are here to be trained in the arts of pleasure. You will do what you are told, when you are told, or you will sincerely regret it. Your friend Fiona has already experienced a taste of what happens to those who displease me. You will now experience the same.”
“But I haven’t-“ began Danielle, who was beginning to sweat. She well remembered hearing Fi’s howls as she sat in her cell.
“Silence!” said Hillary again. “You are to receive a demonstration of what will happen if you do not follow every order to the letter. Heather here is about to commence a scientific analysis of your body, with the result that we will gauge where precisely are your most ticklish spots.”
Ticklish? Danielle didn’t follow. Whatever she had expected, it wasn’t this. Tickling was playing, and she felt with these two, it was no game. Then she remembered one of her boyfriends tickling her breasts once, and she began to shake.
“Ah, so you are aware of how – persuasive – tickling can be? That should make our job easier. Heather, you may begin.”
****
The small private jet landed five minutes ahead of schedule at the remote Crimean airfield.
After a smooth landing, it disgorged its passengers. Three women emerged, climbing down the steps into the heat of the brief Ukrainian summer. The female pilot remained in the cockpit, watching, her role over until the return flight.
The trio made an odd group as they proceeded to the airfield gates, where a black limousine awaited them. In the lead was a very tall, powerful-looking black woman. She towered over the other two, well over six feet tall, a height emphasised by the high-heeled boots she wore. Her coal-black figure was encased in a tight white t-shirt, black leather jacket and jeans. Her carefully braided hair fell down to her waist.
Next came a short, fit-looking woman with the pale blonde hair and icy expression of northern Russia. She wore an almost military uniform of green vest, khaki trousers and desert boots. She walked step-for-step with the third woman, her eyes vigilant, her whole face tense.
Finally, there was a diminutive woman, her blonde hair tied back in a loose pony tail, dark aviator sunglasses covering her eyes. She wore a dark business suit that cost more than the average Ukrainian earned in ten years.
Awaiting them, Elena’s driver, a tall, darkly pretty Ukrainian girl, observed them with bemused interest. Who on earth were this bizarre trio, and what could they want with her boss?
“For Foritskaya?” questioned the Russian woman sharply in heavily accented Ukrainian.
“Yes”, replied the driver. The three women climbed inside, and began the short drive to Elena’s dacha.
****
“Right” gasped Nikki, untangling herself from the embrace. Several minutes earlier, she had finally succumbed to the intense pleasure of Zoe’s skilled tongue, and she had yet to properly compose herself. “get yourself in the shower, blondie.”
She lent over and gave Zoe a couple of loving, but hard, slaps on her firm bare bottom as Zoe obediently climbed out of bed.
“Aren’t you coming with me?” pouted Zoe. “I could do with some help washing these.” She casually massaged her breasts, well aware of the intense liking Nikki had taken to them.
“God, you’re insatiable, aren’t you?” said Nikki sternly, although a ghost of a smile crossed her face. “Just get yourself scrubbed. Oh, and blondie,” she added as Zoe turned towards the bathroom, “there’s some lovely foot balm in there. Make sure you use it, I’ve got plans for those lovely soft soles of yours this evening.”
Zoe enjoyed a long, hot shower in Nikki’s modern, tiled bathroom, and wrapped herself in an enormous, soft white towel she found laid out for her. She noticed the foot balm, and, as instructed, applied generous amounts of the cool white cream onto her bare feet. It was a nice, soothing feeling, but Zoe knew that this was not the main intention; it would also make her soles very tender, and ripe for tickling.
“Make yourself useful and put some coffee on” said Nikki when Zoe emerged, indicating a coffee maker, “and for God’s sake put some clothes on.”
Zoe had no choice but to put on the clothes she had worn the previous night, most of which were still strewn across the bedroom floor.
Nikki regarded her with distaste when she came out of the shower. “Hm, dear me. We’ll drive round to your place after coffee, I’m not spending the day with my girlfriend looking as if she’s been dragged through a hedge backwards.”
Zoe was aware that she stood with her mouth agape. She had called me her girlfriend, she thought. How wonderful that was, what pleasure a simple word could bring. A great feeling of warmth and comfort flooded Zoe, engulfing her completely in delight.
“Don’t just stand there, you stupid girl” snapped Nikki, but her eyes were full of tenderness. “Pour us some coffee while I get dressed.”
*****
Heather had been aching to get her hands on Danielle ever since she first saw her. Unlike Hillary, she appreciated the soft pillows of her breasts, the soft flabby stomach and big, chubby bottom. She would have a lot of fun with Danielle.
That Sunday morning, as she lay next to a still sleeping Hillary, she remembered the ordeal she had put her new toy through the previous night.
She had started with the armpits, and found Danielle to be deliciously ticklish. Heather’s probing fingers had caused Danielle to emit a low wailing, but when she started with the feather, the effect was dramatic. Danielle’s giggle was one of the highest pitched she had ever heard, and even the doubtful Hillary seemed pleased at the tortuous effect it was having.
In time, Heather moved the magical, soft white feather to Danielle’s fat breasts.
“No! No! Please! Not my tits! Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeease pleasepleaseplease not my tiiiiiiitsss aaaaaaaaaaaahahahahahahahaha………….”
With every brush of the feather, Danielle screeched, heaving desperately in her bonds, trying hopelessly to get her sensitive breasts away from its terrible touch.
Delighting in this outcome, Heather maintained the breast feathering for at least ten minutes, until Hillary had to stop her. Danielle had become so breathless that she needed a break.
Reluctantly Heather paused, but only briefly. The next twenty minutes were spent in a careful examination of Danielle’s tummy. Heather discovered that the poor girl responded best to having fingers dug hard into the puppy fat of her belly.
Heather then moved to the inside of the chubby thighs, once again utilising the feather and causing more begging and pleading from her helpless victim. At last, Heather stood up, and looked at Danielle.
“Right my dear” shae said, Hillary’s approving glance on her. “I’m gong to tickle your feet.”
“Oh no” whispered Danielle in a hollow voice, resonating with impending horror. “Oh no. Nonononononononono. No, not my f-f-f-f-f-f-feet. Please. Oh please. I’ll do whatever you want. Please.”
However much she was enjoying herself, Heather certainly felt a twinge of pity for the poor naked girl in front of her. She well remembered that feeling, the utter horror of knowing that her own defenceless bare feet were about to be tickled.
Wordlessly, Heather inspected the small, pink bare feet presented before her. She grabbed the toes of the right foot, and pulled them back; then began to slide her fingernails up the stretched, taut sole.
“Yeeeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhahahahahhahaaaaaa!!!!”
Even this light, tender stroking was too much for Danielle, who squealed so loudly that Heather began to worry about the effectiveness of the soundproofing work they had done.
For the next half hour, Danielle was aware of nothing in the universe except the exquisite torture of her bare feet. Heather was so skilled. Every inch of skin on her feet was examined, tested carefully for the strength of her reaction, which she could neither control nor conceal.
She felt Heather’s annoyance at the comparative lack of ticklishness in her toes, and her wicked delight in the unusually agonised response to the feathering of the tops of her feet.
“You seem deliciously sensitive my dear” said Hillary, as Heather continued to lightly feather the bare feet in front of her. “You now know what will happen if you displease us. Just think about a nice dose of baby oil rubbed into those little feet.”
Danielle began to shake. Increasing the sensitivity of her feet was a possibility her mind couldn’t compute. She would be driven insane. The wouldn’t. They couldn’t. Could they?
“Release her” ordered Hillary, and Danielle crumpled into a heap as her wrists were untied from above her head.
Throughout the night, Heather had thought about Danielle. When she had been required to pleasure Hillary, she thought about doing it to Danielle. When she had been rewarded by Hillary’s skilled fingers, she imagined them belonging to Danielle. Falling slowly to sleep, she imagined cushioning herself against Danielle’s fat bottom. Waking, she imagined rising to kisses from that warm mouth, to caresses from those flabby breasts.
Heather sighed, yawned, and leant over to kiss the much smaller breasts of her still sleeping Mistress. She didn’t know what to do about her crush on Danielle, but she did know that if she confessed it to Hillary, the tickle torture she would receive would make Danielle’s experience look like the merest bit of fun.
****
Zoe found herself unaccountably nervous as she fumbled for her door keys. It was a feeling she was becoming accustomed to when in Nikki’s company. She knew her apartment was cosy, homely and, if not tidy, organised in its chaos. But she was undoubtedly worried about showing it to the brunette who was standing beside her, tapping her little foot impatiently. What if she didn’t like it? What if she thought it was too messy? Perhaps, thought Zoe with an unexpected thrill of delight, she’ll punish me for untidiness.
“Come on, we haven’t got all day” said Nikki, pushing her sunglasses onto the top of her head. She had thrown on white cotton trousers, a black designer t-shirt and flip-flops.
Zoe finally got the key to work, and they went upstairs, via a communal hallway, to her apartment. On entering, Nikki’s eyes took in the bohemian décor, the unruly piles of books, the soft carpet, the laptop on a desk surrounded by unwashed coffee mugs, plates, takeaway cartons and half-empty wine bottles.
“Christ, what a mess” exclaimed Nikki. “Come here.”
Zoe eyed her warily, but walked over.
“I love it” said Nikki. “It’s so- , so-, Zoe.” She reached up, pulled, Zoe down to her level, and kissed her on the forehead. “Now get changed, blondie. Oh, and pack an overnight bag too; you’re in my bed tonight.”
Zoe rushed around the chaos of her bedroom. She changed her underwear into a sexy white number she had never previously worn. She decided on a summer dress in white with a bold pattern of red roses. She picked out some white sandals to match it, and then started on her overnight bag. Into it she threw jeans, t-shirt and a change of underwear, ready for returning to work the following day.
Returning to the living room, Zoe found Nikki, flip-flops removed, sitting on her sofa reading a paperback, her bare feet tucked underneath her.
“Have you read all of these books, blondie?”
“Most of them” said Zoe.
“Clever girl. I wish I’d read more. Perhaps you can pick me out some of your favourites sometime?”
“I’d love to” said Zoe, grinning.
The two of them proceeded to have a wonderful Sunday afternoon. They ate seafood salad in the warm garden of a fine fresh fish restaurant. They walked slowly around the town, talking lazily of this and that. At one point, in mid afternoon, Zoe felt Nikki touch her hand. They linked fingers, and held hands as they strolled happily, aimlessly, in the summer sun.
“What do you want to do tonight?” Zoe asked as they sat at a table outside a wine bar, waiting for their Chardonnay. She realised it was a silly question as soon as she asked it, and Nikki’s amused glance confirmed this.
“I know, I know” said Zoe sheepishly, blushing. “I mean, apart from that.”
“Apart from that? Gosh, I don’t think we’ll get time for anything else, darling. We’ll get takeaway” said Nikki. “You seem to be the expert at that, judging from your apartment. After we’ve eaten, I’ve got a real treat in store for you; or more specifically, those big ticklish feet of yours.”
(chapter to be continued)..........................
http://www.ticklingforum.com/showthread.php?t=133406
Chapter four is a very long one and will complete the first part of the novel. Owing to its size it will be posted in two parts, part two to follow very soon.
Comments, suggestions and so on as encouraged as ever.
Chapter Four
Zoe woke first on Sunday morning. She had a brief sensation of not knowing where she was, but this passed quickly as she snuggled down again into the luxuriously soft blankets of Nikki’s bed. Thin rays of summer sunlight glittered through the thick curtains, but the room remained dimly lit at best.
Zoe listened to the soft breathing of the small woman next to her. They had fallen asleep entwined, Nikki’s body enveloped in Zoe’s long arms and legs. At some point during the night they must have slid apart; Zoe couldn’t remember, she had enjoyed a wonderfully calm night’s sleep.
Zoe wondered briefly what to do. She had loved last night, but this morning there was a hint of nervousness in her stomach. Did Nikki like her? She couldn’t bear it if Nikki saw her as a bit of fun, a one night stand. God, she had even enjoyed, in fact on some deep level even loved, the tickling that Nikki had put her through. She hated feeling like this. As a confident young woman, most of Zoe’s relationships had seen her as the dominant partner. On several occasions in the past year or so she had slept with women only to end it after one night, finding that she had no desire to see them again. Would Nikki do that to her? She wasn’t sure if she could bear that.
Zoe got up quietly, stretched and walked to the door.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
Zoe spun around in surprise. Nikki had woken up, and she lay with her elbow propped up on the pillows, her pert little breasts peeping out over the soft blankets.
“I, erm, I was just, erm,” Zoe couldn’t understand it. What was it about this girl that made her stumble and stutter? It was so unlike her, but she could barely string a sentence together when those big brown eyes were on her.
“Get back here. Right now.”
Zoe obeyed without thinking. Nikki’s eyes didn’t leave her as she crossed back to the bed. Zoe climbed back in, and felt Nikki grab her wrist with her surprisingly firm grip. Zoe found herself hauled face first across the bed.
“You bad girl” whispered Nikki softly into her ear. “I expect you to be next to me when I wake up.”
She raised her hand, and delivered half a dozen hard smacks to Zoe’s upturned bare bottom.
Zoe yelped. She should be outraged at this treatment. She should complain, argue, storm out, she could not let herself be spanked. Could she?
“I’m sorry, Nikki” she said.
“Show me how sorry” said Nikki, wrapping her legs athletically around Zoe’s waist.
“Very, very sorry” gasped Zoe, and she sank down, allowing Nikki’s searching tongue to invade her mouth.
****
Danielle wasn’t aware that it was morning.
She sat on the floor of her dark cell, oblivious to any force outside of her new prison. Of course, she had not slept a wink.
When the two women had come for her, she hadn’t really known what to expect. When the young, slim one had made her take off her dress, she had started to shake with fear.
She had been led into the same chamber that her best friend Fi had only recently vacated. Heather had ordered her to sit on the bizarre bench contraption. Danielle was too shocked to complain, or to resist. She felt a wooden plank fall down onto her ankles, fastening them firmly into place, her bare feet poking vulnerably out the other side. Heather then took each of her wrists in turn, fastening them high above her head, baring her armpits and stretching her ribs and breasts upward. Still Danielle said nothing, convinced she was in a dream, or a nightmare.
Then the older woman, who had watched in silence, finally spoke.
“Look at the state of this one” she said, looking disparagingly at Danielle’s bound, naked figure.
“Huge fat tits” she continued. Danielle squeaked as the woman grabbed her breast and kneaded it roughly.
“I hope you’re right about this one” continued Hillary, doubtfully. “The other one, yes, lovely firm breasts. Do you really think anyone will pay for these great fat udders?”
“Oh yes” replied Heather, more confidently than she felt. She knew what would happen if she were wrong. “Look beyond the tits. Lovely, sleek blonde hair. Big, full, fat lips. A little bit of a tummy but nothing too outrageous. Lovely looking shaven pussy. Great long, thin, pale legs. And just look at these fabulous, dainty pink bare feet.”
Hillary looked slightly mollified. Danielle’s mouth was open, in shock at this stark appraisal of her physical appearance.
“Why-“ she began, tentatively.
“Silence” said Hillary in a forbidding voice. Danielle knew immediately that it was with the older woman that the true power lay. Despite her small stature, she exuded an air of easy, natural authority. She was attractive in an unusual sort of way, Danielle thought. Short dark hair, very fit-looking, narrow dark eyes and a firm, red mouth. Not the sort of woman that most guys would fantasise over, Danielle knew, as she had that market cornered herself with her more obvious physical charms. No, this woman was the sort that other women; mature, refined women, would be drawn to. As soon as she spoke, Danielle obeyed her without thinking.
“You are here because Heather here believes that you can be of value to us. Personally,” she flashed a menacing look at Heather, “I have my doubts. You are here to be trained in the arts of pleasure. You will do what you are told, when you are told, or you will sincerely regret it. Your friend Fiona has already experienced a taste of what happens to those who displease me. You will now experience the same.”
“But I haven’t-“ began Danielle, who was beginning to sweat. She well remembered hearing Fi’s howls as she sat in her cell.
“Silence!” said Hillary again. “You are to receive a demonstration of what will happen if you do not follow every order to the letter. Heather here is about to commence a scientific analysis of your body, with the result that we will gauge where precisely are your most ticklish spots.”
Ticklish? Danielle didn’t follow. Whatever she had expected, it wasn’t this. Tickling was playing, and she felt with these two, it was no game. Then she remembered one of her boyfriends tickling her breasts once, and she began to shake.
“Ah, so you are aware of how – persuasive – tickling can be? That should make our job easier. Heather, you may begin.”
****
The small private jet landed five minutes ahead of schedule at the remote Crimean airfield.
After a smooth landing, it disgorged its passengers. Three women emerged, climbing down the steps into the heat of the brief Ukrainian summer. The female pilot remained in the cockpit, watching, her role over until the return flight.
The trio made an odd group as they proceeded to the airfield gates, where a black limousine awaited them. In the lead was a very tall, powerful-looking black woman. She towered over the other two, well over six feet tall, a height emphasised by the high-heeled boots she wore. Her coal-black figure was encased in a tight white t-shirt, black leather jacket and jeans. Her carefully braided hair fell down to her waist.
Next came a short, fit-looking woman with the pale blonde hair and icy expression of northern Russia. She wore an almost military uniform of green vest, khaki trousers and desert boots. She walked step-for-step with the third woman, her eyes vigilant, her whole face tense.
Finally, there was a diminutive woman, her blonde hair tied back in a loose pony tail, dark aviator sunglasses covering her eyes. She wore a dark business suit that cost more than the average Ukrainian earned in ten years.
Awaiting them, Elena’s driver, a tall, darkly pretty Ukrainian girl, observed them with bemused interest. Who on earth were this bizarre trio, and what could they want with her boss?
“For Foritskaya?” questioned the Russian woman sharply in heavily accented Ukrainian.
“Yes”, replied the driver. The three women climbed inside, and began the short drive to Elena’s dacha.
****
“Right” gasped Nikki, untangling herself from the embrace. Several minutes earlier, she had finally succumbed to the intense pleasure of Zoe’s skilled tongue, and she had yet to properly compose herself. “get yourself in the shower, blondie.”
She lent over and gave Zoe a couple of loving, but hard, slaps on her firm bare bottom as Zoe obediently climbed out of bed.
“Aren’t you coming with me?” pouted Zoe. “I could do with some help washing these.” She casually massaged her breasts, well aware of the intense liking Nikki had taken to them.
“God, you’re insatiable, aren’t you?” said Nikki sternly, although a ghost of a smile crossed her face. “Just get yourself scrubbed. Oh, and blondie,” she added as Zoe turned towards the bathroom, “there’s some lovely foot balm in there. Make sure you use it, I’ve got plans for those lovely soft soles of yours this evening.”
Zoe enjoyed a long, hot shower in Nikki’s modern, tiled bathroom, and wrapped herself in an enormous, soft white towel she found laid out for her. She noticed the foot balm, and, as instructed, applied generous amounts of the cool white cream onto her bare feet. It was a nice, soothing feeling, but Zoe knew that this was not the main intention; it would also make her soles very tender, and ripe for tickling.
“Make yourself useful and put some coffee on” said Nikki when Zoe emerged, indicating a coffee maker, “and for God’s sake put some clothes on.”
Zoe had no choice but to put on the clothes she had worn the previous night, most of which were still strewn across the bedroom floor.
Nikki regarded her with distaste when she came out of the shower. “Hm, dear me. We’ll drive round to your place after coffee, I’m not spending the day with my girlfriend looking as if she’s been dragged through a hedge backwards.”
Zoe was aware that she stood with her mouth agape. She had called me her girlfriend, she thought. How wonderful that was, what pleasure a simple word could bring. A great feeling of warmth and comfort flooded Zoe, engulfing her completely in delight.
“Don’t just stand there, you stupid girl” snapped Nikki, but her eyes were full of tenderness. “Pour us some coffee while I get dressed.”
*****
Heather had been aching to get her hands on Danielle ever since she first saw her. Unlike Hillary, she appreciated the soft pillows of her breasts, the soft flabby stomach and big, chubby bottom. She would have a lot of fun with Danielle.
That Sunday morning, as she lay next to a still sleeping Hillary, she remembered the ordeal she had put her new toy through the previous night.
She had started with the armpits, and found Danielle to be deliciously ticklish. Heather’s probing fingers had caused Danielle to emit a low wailing, but when she started with the feather, the effect was dramatic. Danielle’s giggle was one of the highest pitched she had ever heard, and even the doubtful Hillary seemed pleased at the tortuous effect it was having.
In time, Heather moved the magical, soft white feather to Danielle’s fat breasts.
“No! No! Please! Not my tits! Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeease pleasepleaseplease not my tiiiiiiitsss aaaaaaaaaaaahahahahahahahaha………….”
With every brush of the feather, Danielle screeched, heaving desperately in her bonds, trying hopelessly to get her sensitive breasts away from its terrible touch.
Delighting in this outcome, Heather maintained the breast feathering for at least ten minutes, until Hillary had to stop her. Danielle had become so breathless that she needed a break.
Reluctantly Heather paused, but only briefly. The next twenty minutes were spent in a careful examination of Danielle’s tummy. Heather discovered that the poor girl responded best to having fingers dug hard into the puppy fat of her belly.
Heather then moved to the inside of the chubby thighs, once again utilising the feather and causing more begging and pleading from her helpless victim. At last, Heather stood up, and looked at Danielle.
“Right my dear” shae said, Hillary’s approving glance on her. “I’m gong to tickle your feet.”
“Oh no” whispered Danielle in a hollow voice, resonating with impending horror. “Oh no. Nonononononononono. No, not my f-f-f-f-f-f-feet. Please. Oh please. I’ll do whatever you want. Please.”
However much she was enjoying herself, Heather certainly felt a twinge of pity for the poor naked girl in front of her. She well remembered that feeling, the utter horror of knowing that her own defenceless bare feet were about to be tickled.
Wordlessly, Heather inspected the small, pink bare feet presented before her. She grabbed the toes of the right foot, and pulled them back; then began to slide her fingernails up the stretched, taut sole.
“Yeeeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhahahahahhahaaaaaa!!!!”
Even this light, tender stroking was too much for Danielle, who squealed so loudly that Heather began to worry about the effectiveness of the soundproofing work they had done.
For the next half hour, Danielle was aware of nothing in the universe except the exquisite torture of her bare feet. Heather was so skilled. Every inch of skin on her feet was examined, tested carefully for the strength of her reaction, which she could neither control nor conceal.
She felt Heather’s annoyance at the comparative lack of ticklishness in her toes, and her wicked delight in the unusually agonised response to the feathering of the tops of her feet.
“You seem deliciously sensitive my dear” said Hillary, as Heather continued to lightly feather the bare feet in front of her. “You now know what will happen if you displease us. Just think about a nice dose of baby oil rubbed into those little feet.”
Danielle began to shake. Increasing the sensitivity of her feet was a possibility her mind couldn’t compute. She would be driven insane. The wouldn’t. They couldn’t. Could they?
“Release her” ordered Hillary, and Danielle crumpled into a heap as her wrists were untied from above her head.
Throughout the night, Heather had thought about Danielle. When she had been required to pleasure Hillary, she thought about doing it to Danielle. When she had been rewarded by Hillary’s skilled fingers, she imagined them belonging to Danielle. Falling slowly to sleep, she imagined cushioning herself against Danielle’s fat bottom. Waking, she imagined rising to kisses from that warm mouth, to caresses from those flabby breasts.
Heather sighed, yawned, and leant over to kiss the much smaller breasts of her still sleeping Mistress. She didn’t know what to do about her crush on Danielle, but she did know that if she confessed it to Hillary, the tickle torture she would receive would make Danielle’s experience look like the merest bit of fun.
****
Zoe found herself unaccountably nervous as she fumbled for her door keys. It was a feeling she was becoming accustomed to when in Nikki’s company. She knew her apartment was cosy, homely and, if not tidy, organised in its chaos. But she was undoubtedly worried about showing it to the brunette who was standing beside her, tapping her little foot impatiently. What if she didn’t like it? What if she thought it was too messy? Perhaps, thought Zoe with an unexpected thrill of delight, she’ll punish me for untidiness.
“Come on, we haven’t got all day” said Nikki, pushing her sunglasses onto the top of her head. She had thrown on white cotton trousers, a black designer t-shirt and flip-flops.
Zoe finally got the key to work, and they went upstairs, via a communal hallway, to her apartment. On entering, Nikki’s eyes took in the bohemian décor, the unruly piles of books, the soft carpet, the laptop on a desk surrounded by unwashed coffee mugs, plates, takeaway cartons and half-empty wine bottles.
“Christ, what a mess” exclaimed Nikki. “Come here.”
Zoe eyed her warily, but walked over.
“I love it” said Nikki. “It’s so- , so-, Zoe.” She reached up, pulled, Zoe down to her level, and kissed her on the forehead. “Now get changed, blondie. Oh, and pack an overnight bag too; you’re in my bed tonight.”
Zoe rushed around the chaos of her bedroom. She changed her underwear into a sexy white number she had never previously worn. She decided on a summer dress in white with a bold pattern of red roses. She picked out some white sandals to match it, and then started on her overnight bag. Into it she threw jeans, t-shirt and a change of underwear, ready for returning to work the following day.
Returning to the living room, Zoe found Nikki, flip-flops removed, sitting on her sofa reading a paperback, her bare feet tucked underneath her.
“Have you read all of these books, blondie?”
“Most of them” said Zoe.
“Clever girl. I wish I’d read more. Perhaps you can pick me out some of your favourites sometime?”
“I’d love to” said Zoe, grinning.
The two of them proceeded to have a wonderful Sunday afternoon. They ate seafood salad in the warm garden of a fine fresh fish restaurant. They walked slowly around the town, talking lazily of this and that. At one point, in mid afternoon, Zoe felt Nikki touch her hand. They linked fingers, and held hands as they strolled happily, aimlessly, in the summer sun.
“What do you want to do tonight?” Zoe asked as they sat at a table outside a wine bar, waiting for their Chardonnay. She realised it was a silly question as soon as she asked it, and Nikki’s amused glance confirmed this.
“I know, I know” said Zoe sheepishly, blushing. “I mean, apart from that.”
“Apart from that? Gosh, I don’t think we’ll get time for anything else, darling. We’ll get takeaway” said Nikki. “You seem to be the expert at that, judging from your apartment. After we’ve eaten, I’ve got a real treat in store for you; or more specifically, those big ticklish feet of yours.”
(chapter to be continued)..........................
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