Tabitha!
Tabitha Reeves stood out. The woman was a goddess. Her long jet black hair fell to half way down her back and she sauntered with flagrant confidence wherever she went. Her elegant hips swayed with sophistication as she strutted. Her sculpted facial features were jaw-dropping. Her skin was beautifully soft and belied her 42 years. She was quite simply a gorgeous human being.
She would notice people stopping in the street to gaze in admiration at her stunning appearance. Men and women looked on with desire.
Yet no-one really knew her. She was wealthy. Of that there was no doubt. She drove an expensive Land Rover Discovery and lived in luxury. She resided in an opulent 7-bedroom Grade II listed mansion hidden behind a tall Cotswold stone wall in a sleepy hamlet in Gloucestershire, England. Whenever she visited the village shops people would chatter in hushed tones about her eye-catching beauty. Often there would be dozens of eyes trained on her. She was aware of their attention and carried on regardless. If people knew what she did as a hobby and occupation then they might have looked on with a little more caution.
Tabitha was a skilled interrogator. She had worked for two decades for the Secret Intelligence Service, otherwise known as MI6. She was articulate, intelligent, strikingly attractive and absolutely exceptional when it came to getting results. As far as her employers were concerned she was the best agent they had ever had. She always got results.
She spoke five languages. She was devoted. She was extremely efficient and yet her methods were almost completely unknown but for a small number of her commanding officers. There was a reason why her methods were kept top secret. Technically, she was breaking the law. Yet her immediate superiors were happy to turn a blind eye to her process of intelligence-finding given her success rate. That coupled with the fact that her approach of intelligence-gathering left no enduring marks meant she was priceless to the Service. For Tabitha used her aesthetic gifts, her beguiling charm and her devilish imagination to render her subjects helpless. Then she took complete advantage.
Her method….Inescapable, unrelenting bondage and tickle torment.
She loved her work. She could use her limitless sexual appeal and her gentle, sensual voice to her hearts desire. Not to mention her astounding ability to tickle people entirely senseless. She was handsomely paid for it and she took pride in her proficiency. The information she garnered was invaluable to the British Government.
Her preferred strategy was to utilise a special Elite Flexibility Gel that would be fed to the subject in liquid form. It would render the subject unconscious, limp-limbed and most importantly, able to be bent and twisted into the most agile form they could ever dream of being put into. In essence it turned the average person into something akin to a contortionist.
Then Tabitha went to work on them in her own wicked way.
She had always enjoyed the sound of laughter. But more than that, she LOVED being in control of people’s laughter. She was constantly curious about the states men and women could be reduced to merely from being tickled on the soles of their feet. Her curiosity fuelled her inherent wonderment and her fiendish deliberations were put into practise on a weekly basis thanks to her career. Sometimes she barely needed to wriggle a single manicured digit to begin getting the responses she craved. She cherished the men and women who could be reduced to nervous giggles at the simple suggestion of them being tickled on their feet when they could do nothing to prevent it. She knew immediately that she was going to have such mischievous delight with them for however long she pleased. After all, there were no time restraints on achieving success in her field and besides, she was always left alone to attain them.
She looked back with gratification on those she reduced to incredible states of ticklish turmoil. The 6ft 7in, 125kg bodyguard of ill-repute who was subjected to the most humiliating encounter he’d ever receive was a noteworthy favourite.
Tabitha had him buckled into her unique ‘Tickle Chair’ - a sturdy contraption which sat the subject bolt upright against it’s back with robust, unyielding ankle cuffs screwed into the solid frame either side of the victims ears. The giant’s arms were bound strictly behind his back with leather cuffs of optimal strength. With the aid of the Elite Flexibility Gel the colossal man had his ankles brought up and back towards his torso and trapped securely either side of his head in an almost comical display of extraordinary flexibility. She allowed him to keep his expensive grey suit on. And his socks. She insisted. She treasured seeing a fully-clothed victim howling with unadulterated hilarity whilst their feet were tickled. She found it so pure. It was so playful but ultimately so unspeakably devilish. Excessive pleasure and panic all rolled into one hysterical haze.
Then she remembered with a quiver of pleasure how he had started chuckling involuntarily when had asked if he had ticklish feet. The word ‘ticklish’ had set him off. It was the way she said it. She simply purred when she spoke. There was this physically commanding masculine figure vulnerable before her, laughing from a single word uttered by her delicious feminine red lips. This was a man who had no doubt used his evident strength and size to intimidate countless people in the past, rendered weak with merriment.
She had set about having her wicked way with him. She had stepped closer to him with an expressive smile on her face and devilment in her eyes. She started to wriggle her manicured fingernails in front of his face as she cooed her new plaything with lust. He struggled with everything he had to break free of his binds but it was futile.
She remembered how overwhelmingly powerful she felt as she stood in front of him simply wriggling her talons with a wild expression of elation on her face. He could not stop giggling. His attempts to escape were so feeble she sniggered to herself and ridiculed him. He erupted with cackles.
“I haven’t even taken your socks off yet honey! But maybe I don’t need to!” she whispered with a wink.
As she continued to taunt him with promises of tickling him to death she noticed he was not only gurgling with delight but also getting aroused. Very aroused. His rock rock-hard erection was throbbing visibly through the fabric of his grey suit.
“Oh my, you ARE a big boy aren’t you Mr Tickle? You don’t mind if I call you Mr Tickle do you? I guess they’re right what they say about men with big feet. At least in your case!” she said. The look of desire on her face was palpable.
“I think it’s time to take these off now, don’t you??? She giggled as she started to peel his socks off. “Mmmmm, that’s MUCH better isn’t it Mr Tickle??”
She stepped back and looked on at his massive muscular physique, bent double in a preposterous pose. She looked him in the eyes and then purposefully gazed at his crotch.
“Things look a little bit snug in there Mr Tickle. Shall I set you loose? Yes. Let’s make you a bit more comfortable!”
With that she swaggered forward and teasingly pawed at his zip fly. She eased it down gently and his enormous erection burst out. She manoeuvred the zipper so that just his thick pounding length and full round balls were exposed. She stood back in awe of the size of him and licked her lips seductively.
“Now it’s time to have some fun!” she said with a smile.
She walked around the bondage contraption and came back a moment later with a large black box on wheels. She lifted the lid and brought out two fluffy feather dusters.
“Ooooooooh yes, I think these will be perfect!” she purred. She toyed with the handles of them and mocked him. “Here I come Mr Tickle! Are you ready? Coochie coochie cooooooooo!”
She placed the plumes of the dusters on his gigantic bare soles. The feathers enveloped each foot and set Goran off into a flurry of cackles.
“I’m not even tickling you yet, honey. But im going to. Im going to tickle you senseless. Im going to tickle you til you cum!” she whispered.
Without waiting for a response she started to wiggle the dusters around. Goran’s face was a depiction of submission. He didn’t have any resistance at all. He was still wearing his expensive suit yet he was completely vulnerable. All the muscle and intimidation in the world would never be enough to help him now. He was her tickle toy, and they both knew it.
He roared. He hooted and snorted with laughter as Tabitha continued to shuffle the feather plumes all over his bare soles. She was overflowing with exhilaration.
With a mixture of her taunting and relentless feather tickling Goran was in a state of unimaginable torment. Yet Tabitha simply couldn’t stop. She was intoxicated. Her tickle toy was red-faced with embarrassment. Tears of breath-taking hysteria were streaming down his face. He was beside himself. She was surely going to tickle him to death. His huge erection was bouncing up and down off his abdomen as Tabitha danced her fluffy dusters over his soles. Pre-cum was oozing from his bulbous glans. She knew he couldn’t take much more. She discarded a duster and resorted to using just one. She wanted to tease his orgasm out of him. She would easily make him cum with two feather dusters tickling his feet. But she wanted to truly devastate him with his own sensitivity. She wanted to embarrass him. Ridicule him. She jumped from sole to sole as she mocked him mercilessly.
“Awww, poor Mr Tickle. Im going to make you cum all over your expensive suit. What’s the matter, honey? Im only tickling your bare feet with a feather duster. Cant you handle it? Hmmm?”
Tabitha continued to tickle at random relentlessly. She never even stopped to let him catch his breath. 5 seconds on one foot. 20 on the other. Back and forth until Goran was a portrait of madness. He was drooling. It was a scene of utter pandemonium. A 6ft 7 giant doubled up in incredible binds being tickled to rapturous levels of howling laughter by a devilish lady armed with a feather duster.
Goran was grunting in between shrieking wails and long bouts of silent gut-wrenching laughter. Tabitha knew he was nearing the point of no return. His purple head was glistening with pre-cum now. It had leaked all over. Now was the time.
“Are you ready for my fingernails now Mr Tickle? Hmm??? I think you aaaaaaaa-aaaaaaare! How about I oil your soles up too so they’re extra slick for me? Mmmm, I’m going to tickle you to death!!! Im never going to stop. You love it don’t you Mr Tickle!!! I know you do!”
Goran was grunting and howling and trying to beg through his anguish. He was unbearably aroused.
Tabitha knew he was going to cum.
She stepped back and watched. His huge erection was bouncing with stimulation. Tabitha was almost salivating as she observed. The massive bodyguard went wild. He was like a caged animal. His throbbing length quivered and shot a gigantic load up into the air over his shoulder. His legs were shuddering and rattling the contraption as spurt after thick spurt splurged out; first over his own face, then his suit jacket. It seemed endless. Tabitha was watching in awe of what she had done to this beast. After 40 seconds of ejaculating there was suddenly silence in the room.
“Now you’re going to talk for me Mr Tickle!” she said as she strutted toward him again, picking up both dusters as she approached.
The End.
Tabitha Reeves stood out. The woman was a goddess. Her long jet black hair fell to half way down her back and she sauntered with flagrant confidence wherever she went. Her elegant hips swayed with sophistication as she strutted. Her sculpted facial features were jaw-dropping. Her skin was beautifully soft and belied her 42 years. She was quite simply a gorgeous human being.
She would notice people stopping in the street to gaze in admiration at her stunning appearance. Men and women looked on with desire.
Yet no-one really knew her. She was wealthy. Of that there was no doubt. She drove an expensive Land Rover Discovery and lived in luxury. She resided in an opulent 7-bedroom Grade II listed mansion hidden behind a tall Cotswold stone wall in a sleepy hamlet in Gloucestershire, England. Whenever she visited the village shops people would chatter in hushed tones about her eye-catching beauty. Often there would be dozens of eyes trained on her. She was aware of their attention and carried on regardless. If people knew what she did as a hobby and occupation then they might have looked on with a little more caution.
Tabitha was a skilled interrogator. She had worked for two decades for the Secret Intelligence Service, otherwise known as MI6. She was articulate, intelligent, strikingly attractive and absolutely exceptional when it came to getting results. As far as her employers were concerned she was the best agent they had ever had. She always got results.
She spoke five languages. She was devoted. She was extremely efficient and yet her methods were almost completely unknown but for a small number of her commanding officers. There was a reason why her methods were kept top secret. Technically, she was breaking the law. Yet her immediate superiors were happy to turn a blind eye to her process of intelligence-finding given her success rate. That coupled with the fact that her approach of intelligence-gathering left no enduring marks meant she was priceless to the Service. For Tabitha used her aesthetic gifts, her beguiling charm and her devilish imagination to render her subjects helpless. Then she took complete advantage.
Her method….Inescapable, unrelenting bondage and tickle torment.
She loved her work. She could use her limitless sexual appeal and her gentle, sensual voice to her hearts desire. Not to mention her astounding ability to tickle people entirely senseless. She was handsomely paid for it and she took pride in her proficiency. The information she garnered was invaluable to the British Government.
Her preferred strategy was to utilise a special Elite Flexibility Gel that would be fed to the subject in liquid form. It would render the subject unconscious, limp-limbed and most importantly, able to be bent and twisted into the most agile form they could ever dream of being put into. In essence it turned the average person into something akin to a contortionist.
Then Tabitha went to work on them in her own wicked way.
She had always enjoyed the sound of laughter. But more than that, she LOVED being in control of people’s laughter. She was constantly curious about the states men and women could be reduced to merely from being tickled on the soles of their feet. Her curiosity fuelled her inherent wonderment and her fiendish deliberations were put into practise on a weekly basis thanks to her career. Sometimes she barely needed to wriggle a single manicured digit to begin getting the responses she craved. She cherished the men and women who could be reduced to nervous giggles at the simple suggestion of them being tickled on their feet when they could do nothing to prevent it. She knew immediately that she was going to have such mischievous delight with them for however long she pleased. After all, there were no time restraints on achieving success in her field and besides, she was always left alone to attain them.
She looked back with gratification on those she reduced to incredible states of ticklish turmoil. The 6ft 7in, 125kg bodyguard of ill-repute who was subjected to the most humiliating encounter he’d ever receive was a noteworthy favourite.
Tabitha had him buckled into her unique ‘Tickle Chair’ - a sturdy contraption which sat the subject bolt upright against it’s back with robust, unyielding ankle cuffs screwed into the solid frame either side of the victims ears. The giant’s arms were bound strictly behind his back with leather cuffs of optimal strength. With the aid of the Elite Flexibility Gel the colossal man had his ankles brought up and back towards his torso and trapped securely either side of his head in an almost comical display of extraordinary flexibility. She allowed him to keep his expensive grey suit on. And his socks. She insisted. She treasured seeing a fully-clothed victim howling with unadulterated hilarity whilst their feet were tickled. She found it so pure. It was so playful but ultimately so unspeakably devilish. Excessive pleasure and panic all rolled into one hysterical haze.
Then she remembered with a quiver of pleasure how he had started chuckling involuntarily when had asked if he had ticklish feet. The word ‘ticklish’ had set him off. It was the way she said it. She simply purred when she spoke. There was this physically commanding masculine figure vulnerable before her, laughing from a single word uttered by her delicious feminine red lips. This was a man who had no doubt used his evident strength and size to intimidate countless people in the past, rendered weak with merriment.
She had set about having her wicked way with him. She had stepped closer to him with an expressive smile on her face and devilment in her eyes. She started to wriggle her manicured fingernails in front of his face as she cooed her new plaything with lust. He struggled with everything he had to break free of his binds but it was futile.
She remembered how overwhelmingly powerful she felt as she stood in front of him simply wriggling her talons with a wild expression of elation on her face. He could not stop giggling. His attempts to escape were so feeble she sniggered to herself and ridiculed him. He erupted with cackles.
“I haven’t even taken your socks off yet honey! But maybe I don’t need to!” she whispered with a wink.
As she continued to taunt him with promises of tickling him to death she noticed he was not only gurgling with delight but also getting aroused. Very aroused. His rock rock-hard erection was throbbing visibly through the fabric of his grey suit.
“Oh my, you ARE a big boy aren’t you Mr Tickle? You don’t mind if I call you Mr Tickle do you? I guess they’re right what they say about men with big feet. At least in your case!” she said. The look of desire on her face was palpable.
“I think it’s time to take these off now, don’t you??? She giggled as she started to peel his socks off. “Mmmmm, that’s MUCH better isn’t it Mr Tickle??”
She stepped back and looked on at his massive muscular physique, bent double in a preposterous pose. She looked him in the eyes and then purposefully gazed at his crotch.
“Things look a little bit snug in there Mr Tickle. Shall I set you loose? Yes. Let’s make you a bit more comfortable!”
With that she swaggered forward and teasingly pawed at his zip fly. She eased it down gently and his enormous erection burst out. She manoeuvred the zipper so that just his thick pounding length and full round balls were exposed. She stood back in awe of the size of him and licked her lips seductively.
“Now it’s time to have some fun!” she said with a smile.
She walked around the bondage contraption and came back a moment later with a large black box on wheels. She lifted the lid and brought out two fluffy feather dusters.
“Ooooooooh yes, I think these will be perfect!” she purred. She toyed with the handles of them and mocked him. “Here I come Mr Tickle! Are you ready? Coochie coochie cooooooooo!”
She placed the plumes of the dusters on his gigantic bare soles. The feathers enveloped each foot and set Goran off into a flurry of cackles.
“I’m not even tickling you yet, honey. But im going to. Im going to tickle you senseless. Im going to tickle you til you cum!” she whispered.
Without waiting for a response she started to wiggle the dusters around. Goran’s face was a depiction of submission. He didn’t have any resistance at all. He was still wearing his expensive suit yet he was completely vulnerable. All the muscle and intimidation in the world would never be enough to help him now. He was her tickle toy, and they both knew it.
He roared. He hooted and snorted with laughter as Tabitha continued to shuffle the feather plumes all over his bare soles. She was overflowing with exhilaration.
With a mixture of her taunting and relentless feather tickling Goran was in a state of unimaginable torment. Yet Tabitha simply couldn’t stop. She was intoxicated. Her tickle toy was red-faced with embarrassment. Tears of breath-taking hysteria were streaming down his face. He was beside himself. She was surely going to tickle him to death. His huge erection was bouncing up and down off his abdomen as Tabitha danced her fluffy dusters over his soles. Pre-cum was oozing from his bulbous glans. She knew he couldn’t take much more. She discarded a duster and resorted to using just one. She wanted to tease his orgasm out of him. She would easily make him cum with two feather dusters tickling his feet. But she wanted to truly devastate him with his own sensitivity. She wanted to embarrass him. Ridicule him. She jumped from sole to sole as she mocked him mercilessly.
“Awww, poor Mr Tickle. Im going to make you cum all over your expensive suit. What’s the matter, honey? Im only tickling your bare feet with a feather duster. Cant you handle it? Hmmm?”
Tabitha continued to tickle at random relentlessly. She never even stopped to let him catch his breath. 5 seconds on one foot. 20 on the other. Back and forth until Goran was a portrait of madness. He was drooling. It was a scene of utter pandemonium. A 6ft 7 giant doubled up in incredible binds being tickled to rapturous levels of howling laughter by a devilish lady armed with a feather duster.
Goran was grunting in between shrieking wails and long bouts of silent gut-wrenching laughter. Tabitha knew he was nearing the point of no return. His purple head was glistening with pre-cum now. It had leaked all over. Now was the time.
“Are you ready for my fingernails now Mr Tickle? Hmm??? I think you aaaaaaaa-aaaaaaare! How about I oil your soles up too so they’re extra slick for me? Mmmm, I’m going to tickle you to death!!! Im never going to stop. You love it don’t you Mr Tickle!!! I know you do!”
Goran was grunting and howling and trying to beg through his anguish. He was unbearably aroused.
Tabitha knew he was going to cum.
She stepped back and watched. His huge erection was bouncing with stimulation. Tabitha was almost salivating as she observed. The massive bodyguard went wild. He was like a caged animal. His throbbing length quivered and shot a gigantic load up into the air over his shoulder. His legs were shuddering and rattling the contraption as spurt after thick spurt splurged out; first over his own face, then his suit jacket. It seemed endless. Tabitha was watching in awe of what she had done to this beast. After 40 seconds of ejaculating there was suddenly silence in the room.
“Now you’re going to talk for me Mr Tickle!” she said as she strutted toward him again, picking up both dusters as she approached.
The End.
