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***Four Stories by J.R.
***Four illustrations by Mau Russo
***All new material!
***21,000 + words!
***Emailed directly to you
AVAILABLE NOW!
http://www.mtjpub.com/ezines/SophisticatedTitillated.html
Story excerpt:The Scene By J.R.
The television was removed, and replaced with a video-camera on a tripod, its lens aimed directly at Vivian’s bound body. It whirred quietly to itself as Jack Smith stood waving a feather over Vivian’s clenched toes. The filming had begun.
"Now then, Miss Steele," Jack said in a deep, dramatic voice. "I’m sorry you don’t find our accommodations to your liking, but..."
"Help!" Vivian screamed, lifting her head off the rack as far as she could and aiming her voice directly at the camera’s mic. "He’s crazy! My name is Vivian Thorne, and this man is holding me against my will!"
"That’s not in the script, Sara," Jack said. His voice was calm, but Vivian could see his shoulders tensing. Vivian didn’t care. She knew now that the release she had hoped for wasn’t going to be coming anytime soon. The time for humoring this maniac had ended; she had to do anything possible to bring reality into the picture.
"He thinks I’m Sara Steele! He’s going to torture me! Someone please help me!"
"Sara you disappoint me. You truly do. I thought you were a professional." The feather descended.
Its tip flicked over the tops of Vivian’s toes before she quite had time to prepare herself. The sensation was a bit more intense than she had expected, even given her ticklishness. Her hips and shoulders jerked violently upward, and the noise she made was less a laugh than an embarrassingly loud whoop. Her clenched toes jerked apart, spreading in a sudden spasm, and Jack took the opportunity to apply the feather to the tender flesh between them, sliding its edge through with a quick, knifing motion.
"Stop that, Jack! Stop, please hahaaha!"
"We’ll edit out that little indiscretion of yours later," Jack told her graciously. "But really, Sara, do try to stay in character.
"You have extremely delicate toes, Miss Steele," he went on, assuming the loud, booming voice he had used earlier. "A very attractive trait in a pretty young woman like yourself, but one, I’m afraid which puts you at a distinct disadvantage in this situation. Perhaps you should reconsider cooperating with me..."
Vivian held her breath, willing her toes to remain limp until Jack insinuated the feather between them again. Then she squeezed them as hard as she could, catching the feather in a death-grip.
"He’s a madman! You heard what he said about me being a young girl! He’s living in an utter fantasy, he’s..."
"Give me back my feather, Sara," Jack said, his voice gentle and eminently reasonable. He tugged at it, eyeing her sternly. "I believe I’ve warned you already about staying in character. You’re not exactly contributing to the scene with this kind of behavior."
"Fuck the scene! Fuck you! It’s not real, none of it is real!"
"I can quite easily get the feather back, you know. Here..." Jack crooked a finger against her arch, wriggling the tip over the smooth skin.
"Aaah! No! Don’t do tha-ahahat!" Vivian’s head fell heavily back onto the pillow, laughing so hard that tears blurred her vision. She twisted her foot madly from side to side, trying desperately to evade Jack’s finger while maintaining her grip on the feather. It was no good; holding her toes clenched did nothing to protect her arch.
"Kootchy-kootchy," Jack murmured patiently. "Come on, Sara, stop being a little prima-donna. You know perfectly well that you’re too ticklish to hold onto the feather. You are going to let it go, so stop wasting my time, alright?"
"You’ll tickle even if I do let it go-ho-hahaha!" Vivian cried. The tears had gotten out of control now, as out of control as her laughter. She was weeping openly through her laughter, struggling to keep her toes as well as her sanity together. Christ, but Jack was tickling her! It was like the worst itch in the world, a maddening itch right in the center of her sole, every movement of Jack’s finger seeming to vibrate through her entire body.
"Yes, but I’ll tickle you worse if you don’t let it go. See? See there?" He was running a fingernail up her sole now, up and down, up and down...
MAMA-CAT -
Amanda Fox is using her inheritance form her late, rich husband to fuel her political ambitions. However her rival along with the help of Amanda's unscrupulous campaign manager have other plans. Plans that will leave Amanda in a very ticklish and compromising position.
WHERE'S THE MONEY, MS. KINCAID?-
After a morning of bathing, pampering and a relaxing massage. Ms. Kincaid found her self covered in an organic gel and wrapped from her neck to her ankles like a mummy. A very vulnerable position for someone as ticklish and wealthy as her.
AFTERNOON DELIGHT -
A ticklish coffee-house tease gets more than she bargained for when the target of her teasing has her at his mercy.
THE SCENE-
Vivian Thorne better know as sexy, and ultra-competent Sara Steele from the hit 60's British TV series "The Vindicators." Finds herself abducted by a fan obsessed with a legendary tickle torture scene thought to have been edited from the cult classic TV series.
SOME THOUGHTS FROM THE AUTHOR...
Mature women have always been a source of erotic fascination for me. Maybe it’s because I was extremely shy when I was young; older women seemed a lot more approachable and sympathetic than girls my own age. But I don’t think that’s the full story; I responded to the sophistication of these women, their air of experience, as well as their beauty. Not to put too fine a point on it, I thought they were sexy as hell. Every movement they made seemed to exude a knowing sensuality. What would it be like to go to bed with a woman like that, I used to wonder.
As a fetishist, I was naturally speculating on other things as well. Back when the prime-time soap opera Dynasty was the hottest thing on TV, I would have died to see Joan Collins’ Alexis barefoot, and given the tickling of her life.
That an older woman makes a superior tickler is, I think, a given. If you were going to be tickle-tortured, who would you tumble for first - Britney Spears...or Marlene Dietrich? J-Lo...or Sophia Lauren? But the older woman as ticklee...now there’s some untapped ground. How fascinating, to see someone that cool, that in control, be gently stripped of authority, and tickled senseless. Start by tying them up. You like stocks? Fine, we’ll put them in stocks. A rack? No problem. This is a fantasy, after all.
Take their shoes off. They’ll be beautiful shoes, naturally; expensive. Probably cost more than you make in a year. Finely-crafted shoes, real leather. Very high heels. Pop them right off those regal tootsies. Toss them over your shoulder, in a fine show of carelessness. Smirk a bit if you like.
What will your victim be doing while their shoes go bye-bye? Grimacing? Staring stonily at you, daring you to even think about touching their feet...and you know their feet will be the stuff of dreams. Highly-arched, soft from years worth of pedicures. Think about that for a moment: those beautiful feet in front of you were being professionally cared for when your ass was still trying to figure out how to make a house out of Lincoln Logs. Naturally, they’ll be sensitive.
Let’s go for a slightly more intimate target: the tummy. Oh sure, every tickler adores feet, but could you imagine getting one of those richly-dressed ladies you see hanging out during intermission at the theater or opera and getting your fingers on their bare tummies? Their navels? Did you ever imagine one of them would even have a belly-button? Imagine their faces then, when you insert a finger into that tender little cup of flesh. Man oh man...
Imagine her breaking...grinning, squeezing her eyes shut, biting her lip. All that bottled-up sensuality, suddenly on display for you and you only.
What would her voice be like? A soft British accent? A honeyed Southern drawl? A hard-as-nails New Yorker’s snarl? Whatever that voice sounds like, you’ll be the one who hears it break down, turning into giggles. Then laughter - loud, irrepressible. Then the pleas...the begging. The heat that rises off her body like heat from a fire. And you know it’s only just beginning.
That is the vision that fuels Sophisticated and Titillated. I sincerely hope you enjoy it.
-J.R.
AVAILABLE NOW!
http://www.mtjpub.com/ezines/SophisticatedTitillated.html
***Four illustrations by Mau Russo
***All new material!
***21,000 + words!
***Emailed directly to you
AVAILABLE NOW!
http://www.mtjpub.com/ezines/SophisticatedTitillated.html
Story excerpt:The Scene By J.R.
The television was removed, and replaced with a video-camera on a tripod, its lens aimed directly at Vivian’s bound body. It whirred quietly to itself as Jack Smith stood waving a feather over Vivian’s clenched toes. The filming had begun.
"Now then, Miss Steele," Jack said in a deep, dramatic voice. "I’m sorry you don’t find our accommodations to your liking, but..."
"Help!" Vivian screamed, lifting her head off the rack as far as she could and aiming her voice directly at the camera’s mic. "He’s crazy! My name is Vivian Thorne, and this man is holding me against my will!"
"That’s not in the script, Sara," Jack said. His voice was calm, but Vivian could see his shoulders tensing. Vivian didn’t care. She knew now that the release she had hoped for wasn’t going to be coming anytime soon. The time for humoring this maniac had ended; she had to do anything possible to bring reality into the picture.
"He thinks I’m Sara Steele! He’s going to torture me! Someone please help me!"
"Sara you disappoint me. You truly do. I thought you were a professional." The feather descended.
Its tip flicked over the tops of Vivian’s toes before she quite had time to prepare herself. The sensation was a bit more intense than she had expected, even given her ticklishness. Her hips and shoulders jerked violently upward, and the noise she made was less a laugh than an embarrassingly loud whoop. Her clenched toes jerked apart, spreading in a sudden spasm, and Jack took the opportunity to apply the feather to the tender flesh between them, sliding its edge through with a quick, knifing motion.
"Stop that, Jack! Stop, please hahaaha!"
"We’ll edit out that little indiscretion of yours later," Jack told her graciously. "But really, Sara, do try to stay in character.
"You have extremely delicate toes, Miss Steele," he went on, assuming the loud, booming voice he had used earlier. "A very attractive trait in a pretty young woman like yourself, but one, I’m afraid which puts you at a distinct disadvantage in this situation. Perhaps you should reconsider cooperating with me..."
Vivian held her breath, willing her toes to remain limp until Jack insinuated the feather between them again. Then she squeezed them as hard as she could, catching the feather in a death-grip.
"He’s a madman! You heard what he said about me being a young girl! He’s living in an utter fantasy, he’s..."
"Give me back my feather, Sara," Jack said, his voice gentle and eminently reasonable. He tugged at it, eyeing her sternly. "I believe I’ve warned you already about staying in character. You’re not exactly contributing to the scene with this kind of behavior."
"Fuck the scene! Fuck you! It’s not real, none of it is real!"
"I can quite easily get the feather back, you know. Here..." Jack crooked a finger against her arch, wriggling the tip over the smooth skin.
"Aaah! No! Don’t do tha-ahahat!" Vivian’s head fell heavily back onto the pillow, laughing so hard that tears blurred her vision. She twisted her foot madly from side to side, trying desperately to evade Jack’s finger while maintaining her grip on the feather. It was no good; holding her toes clenched did nothing to protect her arch.
"Kootchy-kootchy," Jack murmured patiently. "Come on, Sara, stop being a little prima-donna. You know perfectly well that you’re too ticklish to hold onto the feather. You are going to let it go, so stop wasting my time, alright?"
"You’ll tickle even if I do let it go-ho-hahaha!" Vivian cried. The tears had gotten out of control now, as out of control as her laughter. She was weeping openly through her laughter, struggling to keep her toes as well as her sanity together. Christ, but Jack was tickling her! It was like the worst itch in the world, a maddening itch right in the center of her sole, every movement of Jack’s finger seeming to vibrate through her entire body.
"Yes, but I’ll tickle you worse if you don’t let it go. See? See there?" He was running a fingernail up her sole now, up and down, up and down...
MAMA-CAT -
Amanda Fox is using her inheritance form her late, rich husband to fuel her political ambitions. However her rival along with the help of Amanda's unscrupulous campaign manager have other plans. Plans that will leave Amanda in a very ticklish and compromising position.
WHERE'S THE MONEY, MS. KINCAID?-
After a morning of bathing, pampering and a relaxing massage. Ms. Kincaid found her self covered in an organic gel and wrapped from her neck to her ankles like a mummy. A very vulnerable position for someone as ticklish and wealthy as her.
AFTERNOON DELIGHT -
A ticklish coffee-house tease gets more than she bargained for when the target of her teasing has her at his mercy.
THE SCENE-
Vivian Thorne better know as sexy, and ultra-competent Sara Steele from the hit 60's British TV series "The Vindicators." Finds herself abducted by a fan obsessed with a legendary tickle torture scene thought to have been edited from the cult classic TV series.
SOME THOUGHTS FROM THE AUTHOR...
Mature women have always been a source of erotic fascination for me. Maybe it’s because I was extremely shy when I was young; older women seemed a lot more approachable and sympathetic than girls my own age. But I don’t think that’s the full story; I responded to the sophistication of these women, their air of experience, as well as their beauty. Not to put too fine a point on it, I thought they were sexy as hell. Every movement they made seemed to exude a knowing sensuality. What would it be like to go to bed with a woman like that, I used to wonder.
As a fetishist, I was naturally speculating on other things as well. Back when the prime-time soap opera Dynasty was the hottest thing on TV, I would have died to see Joan Collins’ Alexis barefoot, and given the tickling of her life.
That an older woman makes a superior tickler is, I think, a given. If you were going to be tickle-tortured, who would you tumble for first - Britney Spears...or Marlene Dietrich? J-Lo...or Sophia Lauren? But the older woman as ticklee...now there’s some untapped ground. How fascinating, to see someone that cool, that in control, be gently stripped of authority, and tickled senseless. Start by tying them up. You like stocks? Fine, we’ll put them in stocks. A rack? No problem. This is a fantasy, after all.
Take their shoes off. They’ll be beautiful shoes, naturally; expensive. Probably cost more than you make in a year. Finely-crafted shoes, real leather. Very high heels. Pop them right off those regal tootsies. Toss them over your shoulder, in a fine show of carelessness. Smirk a bit if you like.
What will your victim be doing while their shoes go bye-bye? Grimacing? Staring stonily at you, daring you to even think about touching their feet...and you know their feet will be the stuff of dreams. Highly-arched, soft from years worth of pedicures. Think about that for a moment: those beautiful feet in front of you were being professionally cared for when your ass was still trying to figure out how to make a house out of Lincoln Logs. Naturally, they’ll be sensitive.
Let’s go for a slightly more intimate target: the tummy. Oh sure, every tickler adores feet, but could you imagine getting one of those richly-dressed ladies you see hanging out during intermission at the theater or opera and getting your fingers on their bare tummies? Their navels? Did you ever imagine one of them would even have a belly-button? Imagine their faces then, when you insert a finger into that tender little cup of flesh. Man oh man...
Imagine her breaking...grinning, squeezing her eyes shut, biting her lip. All that bottled-up sensuality, suddenly on display for you and you only.
What would her voice be like? A soft British accent? A honeyed Southern drawl? A hard-as-nails New Yorker’s snarl? Whatever that voice sounds like, you’ll be the one who hears it break down, turning into giggles. Then laughter - loud, irrepressible. Then the pleas...the begging. The heat that rises off her body like heat from a fire. And you know it’s only just beginning.
That is the vision that fuels Sophisticated and Titillated. I sincerely hope you enjoy it.
-J.R.
AVAILABLE NOW!
http://www.mtjpub.com/ezines/SophisticatedTitillated.html
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