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View Full Version : The Pros & Cons of Breathing Special Features (M/F)



Marquis De Sade
11-18-2008, 07:13 PM
For anyone who reads the following and winds up utterly confused at why nothing makes sense, please first read the story entitled, Caitlin (http://www.ticklingforum.com/showthread.php?t=127598), or The Pros & Cons of Breathing.

This is an extension of the same story but with additional "deleted" (extra) scenes added in between some of the jump cuts. Sort of like a DVD.

Also, below the scenes is a link to the pic of the woman that inspired me to write the original story in the first place.

DELETED SCENES:

Deleted Scene 1: (the same game we play)

There’s the ding, ding, ding as she slides the car key into its lock, turns it and pulls the door open. The car coming alive with all its little lights and sounds. The smell of leather and just-purchased vehicle.

From the car speakers now, it’s something slow, something soft. Some slow jazz cymbal something I’m not paying attention to. Could be Sinatra. All I know is she’s making a show of things.

How she adjusts the mirror, shakes her head once to get all the gold away from her face. Her manicured fingernails twisting her stick of lipstick. The way she puckers her lips.

The only words between us right now being communicated in the international silent language of Fuck Me.

It goes both ways, this little game. Her knowing how hard it is for me to just sit here watching her making me want her even more. My knowing how much fun she knows she’s about to have once we’re both in character.

Deleted Scene 2: (patience)

Both of us, we just sit here in our own little private personal preparations waiting for the other.

Deleted Scene 3: (the moment before)

“You’re sure no one comes up here this late?”
“I checked last week. I asked how safe it would be to leave the car here overnight. No one comes.”
“No kids? Teenagers?”
“Not in this part of the city.”
“So we’re alone?”
“Minus the guard nine stories below us, yes.”
“Does he ever come up?”
“No. He’s the only guy working the overnight shift. He’s gotta stay right where he is. Work the front gate downstairs.”
“Cameras?”
“Not on the rooftop. Would you calm down?”
“Sorry.”
“You ready?”
“Yeah. I think so.”
“You don’t need a safeword?”
“I’m good.”
“Okay then. Let’s go.”
She tasted like lipstick.

Deleted Scene 4: (what are my lines?)

Sitting in the driver’s seat, to her husband, she said, “Shit. This is an around-the-clock lot. There’s a guard downstairs. I don’t have enough cash on me.”
Her husband rolled his eyes. “Where’s the nearest ATM?”
She said, that little-girl tone in her tone, “Back downstairs.”
Her husband sighed. He knew that tone.
Stepping back out of the car, he said, “Stay here.”
And he slammed the door shut.

I got out of the car, walked a few steps away from it and put my hands in my pockets.

I stared up at the half moon above us just taking it all in so I could remember everything about Very Soon whenever I wanted.

I took my hands out of my pockets, cleared my throat, spun on my heel and walked back to the car with purpose.

Her driver’s license says her name is Caitlin.

Deleted Scene 5: (delving deeper)

“Good girl.” I repeat. “Now I’m going to switch feet, okay? Hold that beautiful thing still for me.”
Sobbing, Caitlin nods.
And I do the same.
Caitlin lets her head fall back. The tears sparkling off her red cheeks like just-discovered diamonds.
Her body trembling.

All over again I hold my hand in a closed fist a few inches away from the sole of her left foot.

And all over again, I keep a close eye on her reaction while my hand slowly, slowly opens up. My fingertips spreading from the middle of her soft arch all across the rest of the hyper-sensitive bottom of her stockinged sole.

Caitlin, the poor tortured thing, she throws her head back hard against the headrest holding her breath. A quiet little hissing sound escaping her lipsticked lips like a pressure cooker as she fights all she can to not let it show how much this is really affecting her.

Caitlin’s eyes flutter. Her lips quivering. Her heavy breathing way out of normal rhythm. Her upper body twisting and writhing in its soft simple bonds. Her long nyloned legs glistening as the moon’s dim silver glow kisses her beautiful form in its shine.

“Keep your foot still okay? Still as you can.” Caitlin’s groans begin to shudder. The actual tone in her troubled humming starting to shake at its cracked foundations.

Caitlin leans back against her seat, closes her eyes. The looks on her face changing with every gentle finger-brushing she can’t help feeling from the sole of her kept-still foot up her legs, the rest of her body and flooding her every sensory reserve.

A shivering, broken “Uuuuuunnnnngggggghhhhhhh.” finding its way from her quaking puckered mouth into the air.

I smile at her. “Good girl, gooood girl.” I soothe. “Now listen to me okay? I want you to flex your foot back. Keep it flexed. As far back as you can. I’m going to tickle just the ball of your foot now.”

Caitlin bites her lip. Unable to keep the crying, sobbing sound she makes from making itself known.

She does as she’s told – flexing her left foot back and sobbing in confused hysterical bliss as she feels what I’m doing to just that single part of her stockinged foot.

My spider-hand turns back into a pointing finger and I move the index finger from the ball of her foot down the inside of her arch. I use a little more pressure. Hearing the actual sound a fingernail can make when draaaagged down the length of nylon just hard enough.

Caitlin whimpers. The two different experiences of laughing and crying at the same time but for the same reason must really be taxing on her.

I do everything to her one left foot I tell her I’m going to do right as I’m doing it.

“Relax your foot again, okay? Completely relax it. I’m going to scratch a little, really gently, right here. The softest part of this beautiful arch of yours.”

And poor Caitlin, sounding like she’s hyperventilating. Looking like she does when we’re in bed.

“Where have I forgotten?” I pretend to forget. And I smile into her shared perversion as I continue to stroke at her sole.

Between gasps and giggles, Caitlin says, “Heel. My heel.” And I pretend to not know the answer, asking her, “What do you mean?”
Caitlin whispers, sobbing, “Tickle. My heel. Please. The bottom of my heel.” Her entire body earthquaking.
And I ask, “How many fingers?”
And she says, crying, “All of them.”
And so I do as I’m asked.
And then I ask her, “Where else have I forgotten?”
And Caitlin pushes herself back hard against her seat. Her face contorted in pleasure and its opposite. Her shouting under her breath about her toes.
“Your what?”
“My toes. Bottoms of my toes. Between.”
And so I do as I’m told.
And then I ask her, “Your other foot must be starting to feel a little left out. Am I right?”
Caitlin blinks through moonlit tears. Waiting for herself to be able to speak again, she finally says, “Yes.”

Deleted Scene 6: (i can go again, can you?)

It was that silence between us again. Both of us asking without asking the other if the other one was finished.

It was that look in her eyes. How she was looking at me while I sat behind her again. Her eyes in the rearview mirror catching all my attention and wonder and throwing right back at me as I clumsily fumbled with the knots around her elbows and wrists. Untying her from her driver’s seat.

Deleted Scene 7: (wanting)

It was the look on her face, sitting silent, still and a little sad as I sat beside her again. Her eyes watching the rope falling off and being pulled away from her now-loosened ankles.

Deleted Scene 8: (untitled)

She rubbed her wrists, lowering both of her legs underneath her into all the lower car darkness and started to slip her still nyloned feet into the safety of her stilettos again.

Deleted Scene 9: (just a little longer)

“What?”
“Forget the shoes. You’re staying in the stockings for the ride home. No shoes. Now gimme your hands.”
“But - ”
And she gasped, passionately, as I grabbed her wrists and pulled her body towards me.

Deleted Scene 10: (playful resistance)

Caitlin, facedown and bent over my knee, she just growled as she felt me retying her hands behind her.

Her body still not quite recovered from earlier. Her back rising and falling with every breath she desperately needed more of.

Her saying, low and pretend angry, “I thought we were done? This is a little unfair don’t you think? I’m a little weak right now.”

Me saying, cinching the knots around her wrists, “I love it when you fight. You know that. But I’d be an idiot to not take advantage of you right now.”

Her saying, “Well then you’d better make it so I can’t get loose on the way home if that’s what you’re calling this.”

Her saying, smiling at the floor as I made sure the double knots were well out of her reach, “Because I’m done yet either.”

Deleted Scene 11: (i give myself to you)

I asked her again, “Now are you going to do as you’re told?”

Caitlin, in between gasps for air, she managed a spiteful, “NO!” and so I dug my fingers into her sides even harder this time.

The car again, violently rocking from side to side as my little over-my-knee package laughed and squealed her delighted beating heart out.

I waited. Then asked again, “Well?”

And Caitlin finally gave in. Slowly, reluctantly and still bent over my thighs, she lifted both her legs up behind her. Her breathing getting faster and faster as she fought against her every natural instinct and did as she was told and crossed both her ankles, letting me tightly tie her stockinged feet up all over again for the ride home.

Sitting in the passenger seat now, glaring out into the darkness at nothing in particular, she snaps, “Did you at least get cash?”

Her husband nods, showing off a crisp twenty dollar bill pinched between his two fingers.

His wife Caitlin, her makeup a streaked beautiful mess, her gold hair still wet, she says, “What if a cop pulls us over?”

Her husband laughs. “We embarrass him?”

His wife just sneers at him. Not Funny written all over her pretty face before going back to making the leather of her seat squeak.

And it’s all these forgotten, dropped, little details, everything just adding to everything else that make me sit back and just watch her for just a second more.

Nothing else mattering to me right now.