goddess_nemesis
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Cheryl sat at the easel, tossing the knee-length black braid behind her back before it got into the paint. The Creole woman stared at the canvas with a critical blue eye. Carefully, she picked up a tube of red paint and spread it on her cafe-au-lait colored skin. Mixing just the right amount of blue and green to get the color she desired and then carefully dabbed her paintbrush into it, delighting at the slight tickling sensation, then carefully applied it to the canvas.
An alien goblin-like creature with long tentacles covered with fur and tiny pinfeathers came to life on the canvas. In its arms was a woman in the throws of ticklish delight.
In the room where 50 such canvases of alien creatures or mythical beings tickling women into ecstatic orgasms. From centaurs to Hades, God of the Underworld himself. Belly tickling, foot tickling, armpits - she had every kind. All the victims were adult women. Though the torturer could be male or female - or if there was more then one, both.
Cheryl had no idea why she was so obsessed with tickling. Just since she was a little girl she enjoyed being tickled or seeing other women getting tickled. As she grew older tickling for the most part became erotic.
Though only so if it was adult women and only adult women who were the victims. And Cheryl didn't know anyone else who was into it. (After all, she wasn't on the internet nor did she go to adult stores.) So she painted. These paintings didn't get sold, her agent thought them sick and therefore she was never allowed to show them. It was only her tamer paintings the world got to see.
"Oh, Cheryl, not another porno painting!" The agent moaned as she entered the room. "Girlfriend, you need to see a shrink! You're sick in the head!"
Cheryl turned to look at her agent. Synithia was a tall woman from New York with short blond hair and blue eyes. Rumor was that before she was an agent she made a few lesbian XXX flicks. She certainly had the looks, and everyone know Syn was not into men. No one knew why she became an art agent, but she was the best in the business.
"I am not "sick," chere, no matter what you may think." Cheryl snapped, the Cajun accent thick in her voice. "Everyone has their kink, no? This is mine. It's not like I'm into animals or children."
Rolling her eyes, Syn put her arms around Cheryl's waist, pulling her a bit against her. Cheryl could feel Syn's nipples thru her silk blouse and the artist wondered what it would be like to tickle her agent while she was wearing that. The thought made her moist.
"Cheryl, Cheryl, Cheryl," Syn said, her breath and hair tickling Cheryl's ear and face, "I'm just concerned about you. That's all. Come on, let's get you out of here. We'll have a bottle of wine and dinner at one of those little French cafe-wannabes you like so much. Then we'll find something decent for you to paint. Maybe that pretty little neighbor of yours downstairs. The one with the black and white cocker spaniel."
Cheryl sighed, put the last stroke to finish up the painting. Standing, she muttered about how she regretted giving Syn a key to her studio apartment. Then she cleaned up and got dressed and they headed out. Neither one noticed as Hades flexed his hand or Persephone's squeal of ticklish bliss.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Drunk and cranky, Cheryl entered her apartment. Swiftly she kicked off she shoes and plopped on the couch without bothering to turn on the lights. Damn that Synithia anyway! Her and all her hateful words about Cheryl's secret fetish! And then she had to chase off that handsome young waiter with the long fingers! Oh, he was so good looking! And smart as a whip – Brains were a huge turn-on for Cheryl. Those fingers - oh those fingers were made for tickling a woman into hysterics!
At first she thought it was just her imagination - that, thing, coiling around her nylon-clad ankle. Probably because she was so drunk. That's what she thought until the coil tightened and jerked her from the couch. "OOMPH!" Cheryl exclaimed.
A callused hand came over her soft mouth. "Sorry, dear girl, but we simply can't have you alerting everyone. Persephone, dearest, the gag please."
As the gag was slipped over her mouth, the lights came on. Cheryl found herself in shock - for before her stood all the creatures from her paintings! And nearby were the canvases, bare spots where these beings had once stood glaring at her.
It didn't take long for these creatures to stretch her out and bind her. The satin blouse was unbuttoned enough to expose her black lace bra and her soft belly. Arms tied high above her head, legs tied spread out so she looked like an upside-down Y. Now Hades looked at her with a critical eye.
"I bet you're wondering how this is happening, if it is real." Hades smiled. "Trust me, it is real my dear. You see, when you painted us you gave us all a bit of your own life. And that life grew with each painting. As it grew we watched and we grew tired of being shut up here where no one can see us, love us - and all because of your witch of an agent. So here's the deal, we want you to put us in a show. No?" Hades chuckled. "Well then, perhaps we should convince you."
That's when it began. Starting with a feather-light stroking of Cheryl's softest paintbrushes against her feet. Bucking, behind her gag she squealed out some giggles. The more the brushes stroked the nylon-clad soles the more she laughed. One of the nymphs now reached out and tore the nylon from her left foot and began to suck and tickle her toes with her tongue. Cheryl wanted to scream. This couldn't be real, she though. A nymph? A nymph she painted no less! Tickling her foot! But oh God - it felt so good....Several of the aliens began to use their snake-like appendages to poke at her belly and ribs. Cheryl twisted in vain to get away as she laughed wildly behind her gag. Her blue eyes rolled around wildly - in fear - as the centaur began to sweep her breasts with his tail. "No! This can't be happening!"
She thought. Yet it felt so real. Cheryl was sure she was losing her mind. Now it seemed no part of Cheryl went un-tickled. Sometime during all this the aliens ripped off Cheryl's leather skirt and her blouse and bra soon joined it until she was wearing nothing but one nylon and a pair of red silk panties. Fairies tickled under her with their tiny hands and wings. Elves danced around her belly button - barely keeping on there for all her laughing and bucking, mind you - with tiny feather-covered shoes. A leprechaun was swabbing out her ears with a ticklish mop. Beings that came from her dreams even found ways to tickle her scalp.
Cheryl was breathless, her panties soaking wet as she was driven into a tickle-crazed sexual frenzy. Her face hot, trickles of sweat tickled their way down her body. Her mind was a jumble. After all, here she lay, getting tickled senseless by creatures of fiction. Creatures she had painted on canvases. That's all they were, oils and watercolors. Yet right at this moment they seemed so real. Cheryl was sure she had finally lost her mind.
Next thing she knew she'd be cutting off one of her ears and mailing it to her agent. Just when she thought she could take no more, that she must be tickled on that one sweet spot in the core of her womanhood or die, it stopped. Hades smiled down at her, removing the gag. "Well, what's your answer now, my dear?"
"I'll -" Cheryl panted, "I'll do it, just please...." She couldn't take it anymore. She had to have it - have it or die. Even if this wasn't real. It couldn't be real. This was Hades - the Greek god of their mythical underworld! He wasn't real! He wasn't....With a nod to his wife, Hades allowed Persephone to cut free Cheryl's panties. As she tickled Cheryl's armpits lightly, the nymphs softly stroked her feet. Cheryl giggled softly even as Hades played the feather around her lower lips. Then the fairies parted her and the feather was applied to her hot, wet jewel. With a breathless cry, Cheryl came, blackness closing around her as her peak was reached.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Slowly, Cheryl woke to find herself in her bed, hand buried between her legs. The soft silk of her white nightie moved against her sensitive skin as she sat up. A dream. All a crazy dream. Brought to life by too much wine and too little of the indulgence of her fantasies.
It was as she reached for the phone to call Syn that Cheryl noticed it. A feather. Large, black, and quite stiff. Perfect for tickling. A grin spread across Cheryl's face as she threw back the covers and stood. Deciding to visit Syn instead. Next week she'd have a showing of her private collection. Weather Syn wanted to or not. Cheryl picked up the feather and put it into her purse as soon as she got dressed. Now - where did she put those fur-lined handcuffs?
Note: This isn't mine. I found it on some other site and decided to share with everyone here. All I know is the author's initials J.J.R.
An alien goblin-like creature with long tentacles covered with fur and tiny pinfeathers came to life on the canvas. In its arms was a woman in the throws of ticklish delight.
In the room where 50 such canvases of alien creatures or mythical beings tickling women into ecstatic orgasms. From centaurs to Hades, God of the Underworld himself. Belly tickling, foot tickling, armpits - she had every kind. All the victims were adult women. Though the torturer could be male or female - or if there was more then one, both.
Cheryl had no idea why she was so obsessed with tickling. Just since she was a little girl she enjoyed being tickled or seeing other women getting tickled. As she grew older tickling for the most part became erotic.
Though only so if it was adult women and only adult women who were the victims. And Cheryl didn't know anyone else who was into it. (After all, she wasn't on the internet nor did she go to adult stores.) So she painted. These paintings didn't get sold, her agent thought them sick and therefore she was never allowed to show them. It was only her tamer paintings the world got to see.
"Oh, Cheryl, not another porno painting!" The agent moaned as she entered the room. "Girlfriend, you need to see a shrink! You're sick in the head!"
Cheryl turned to look at her agent. Synithia was a tall woman from New York with short blond hair and blue eyes. Rumor was that before she was an agent she made a few lesbian XXX flicks. She certainly had the looks, and everyone know Syn was not into men. No one knew why she became an art agent, but she was the best in the business.
"I am not "sick," chere, no matter what you may think." Cheryl snapped, the Cajun accent thick in her voice. "Everyone has their kink, no? This is mine. It's not like I'm into animals or children."
Rolling her eyes, Syn put her arms around Cheryl's waist, pulling her a bit against her. Cheryl could feel Syn's nipples thru her silk blouse and the artist wondered what it would be like to tickle her agent while she was wearing that. The thought made her moist.
"Cheryl, Cheryl, Cheryl," Syn said, her breath and hair tickling Cheryl's ear and face, "I'm just concerned about you. That's all. Come on, let's get you out of here. We'll have a bottle of wine and dinner at one of those little French cafe-wannabes you like so much. Then we'll find something decent for you to paint. Maybe that pretty little neighbor of yours downstairs. The one with the black and white cocker spaniel."
Cheryl sighed, put the last stroke to finish up the painting. Standing, she muttered about how she regretted giving Syn a key to her studio apartment. Then she cleaned up and got dressed and they headed out. Neither one noticed as Hades flexed his hand or Persephone's squeal of ticklish bliss.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Drunk and cranky, Cheryl entered her apartment. Swiftly she kicked off she shoes and plopped on the couch without bothering to turn on the lights. Damn that Synithia anyway! Her and all her hateful words about Cheryl's secret fetish! And then she had to chase off that handsome young waiter with the long fingers! Oh, he was so good looking! And smart as a whip – Brains were a huge turn-on for Cheryl. Those fingers - oh those fingers were made for tickling a woman into hysterics!
At first she thought it was just her imagination - that, thing, coiling around her nylon-clad ankle. Probably because she was so drunk. That's what she thought until the coil tightened and jerked her from the couch. "OOMPH!" Cheryl exclaimed.
A callused hand came over her soft mouth. "Sorry, dear girl, but we simply can't have you alerting everyone. Persephone, dearest, the gag please."
As the gag was slipped over her mouth, the lights came on. Cheryl found herself in shock - for before her stood all the creatures from her paintings! And nearby were the canvases, bare spots where these beings had once stood glaring at her.
It didn't take long for these creatures to stretch her out and bind her. The satin blouse was unbuttoned enough to expose her black lace bra and her soft belly. Arms tied high above her head, legs tied spread out so she looked like an upside-down Y. Now Hades looked at her with a critical eye.
"I bet you're wondering how this is happening, if it is real." Hades smiled. "Trust me, it is real my dear. You see, when you painted us you gave us all a bit of your own life. And that life grew with each painting. As it grew we watched and we grew tired of being shut up here where no one can see us, love us - and all because of your witch of an agent. So here's the deal, we want you to put us in a show. No?" Hades chuckled. "Well then, perhaps we should convince you."
That's when it began. Starting with a feather-light stroking of Cheryl's softest paintbrushes against her feet. Bucking, behind her gag she squealed out some giggles. The more the brushes stroked the nylon-clad soles the more she laughed. One of the nymphs now reached out and tore the nylon from her left foot and began to suck and tickle her toes with her tongue. Cheryl wanted to scream. This couldn't be real, she though. A nymph? A nymph she painted no less! Tickling her foot! But oh God - it felt so good....Several of the aliens began to use their snake-like appendages to poke at her belly and ribs. Cheryl twisted in vain to get away as she laughed wildly behind her gag. Her blue eyes rolled around wildly - in fear - as the centaur began to sweep her breasts with his tail. "No! This can't be happening!"
She thought. Yet it felt so real. Cheryl was sure she was losing her mind. Now it seemed no part of Cheryl went un-tickled. Sometime during all this the aliens ripped off Cheryl's leather skirt and her blouse and bra soon joined it until she was wearing nothing but one nylon and a pair of red silk panties. Fairies tickled under her with their tiny hands and wings. Elves danced around her belly button - barely keeping on there for all her laughing and bucking, mind you - with tiny feather-covered shoes. A leprechaun was swabbing out her ears with a ticklish mop. Beings that came from her dreams even found ways to tickle her scalp.
Cheryl was breathless, her panties soaking wet as she was driven into a tickle-crazed sexual frenzy. Her face hot, trickles of sweat tickled their way down her body. Her mind was a jumble. After all, here she lay, getting tickled senseless by creatures of fiction. Creatures she had painted on canvases. That's all they were, oils and watercolors. Yet right at this moment they seemed so real. Cheryl was sure she had finally lost her mind.
Next thing she knew she'd be cutting off one of her ears and mailing it to her agent. Just when she thought she could take no more, that she must be tickled on that one sweet spot in the core of her womanhood or die, it stopped. Hades smiled down at her, removing the gag. "Well, what's your answer now, my dear?"
"I'll -" Cheryl panted, "I'll do it, just please...." She couldn't take it anymore. She had to have it - have it or die. Even if this wasn't real. It couldn't be real. This was Hades - the Greek god of their mythical underworld! He wasn't real! He wasn't....With a nod to his wife, Hades allowed Persephone to cut free Cheryl's panties. As she tickled Cheryl's armpits lightly, the nymphs softly stroked her feet. Cheryl giggled softly even as Hades played the feather around her lower lips. Then the fairies parted her and the feather was applied to her hot, wet jewel. With a breathless cry, Cheryl came, blackness closing around her as her peak was reached.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Slowly, Cheryl woke to find herself in her bed, hand buried between her legs. The soft silk of her white nightie moved against her sensitive skin as she sat up. A dream. All a crazy dream. Brought to life by too much wine and too little of the indulgence of her fantasies.
It was as she reached for the phone to call Syn that Cheryl noticed it. A feather. Large, black, and quite stiff. Perfect for tickling. A grin spread across Cheryl's face as she threw back the covers and stood. Deciding to visit Syn instead. Next week she'd have a showing of her private collection. Weather Syn wanted to or not. Cheryl picked up the feather and put it into her purse as soon as she got dressed. Now - where did she put those fur-lined handcuffs?
Note: This isn't mine. I found it on some other site and decided to share with everyone here. All I know is the author's initials J.J.R.
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