Eternal Tomboy
TMF Master
- Joined
- Aug 5, 2001
- Messages
- 980
- Points
- 18
Chapter One
The line was around the block. People were waiting with fevered anticipation for what was about to happen. The patrons were talking amongst themselves, most wondering why a club like this hadn't been created before. The club's mastermind stood on the second floor of the Manhattan building looking out the window at the crowd, which
seemed to be growing by the minute.
"I knew there were a lot of us out there," Laura chuckled.
"More than I would have expected," Patrick admitted.
Patrick and Laura had been married for ten years, and Laura had come 'out of the closet' to him seven years ago about her secret fetish. When she did it was as if she had been born again. She no longer felt the need to hide her true feelings, or manipulate Patrick into doing what she secretly longed for. Their sex went from being a marital
obligation, to pure unbridled ecstasy. Laura had never been happier in her life. She then decided to open a club designed to give people like her, the same pleasure she was experiencing for the first time in her life.
"We open in fifteen minutes. Are you nervous?" Patrick asked.
"A little. Who knows how this will be accepted. We're kind of breaking new ground here tonight" Laura said as she twirled her hair with her index finger.
Patrick looked over at Laura playing with her hair and knew she was more nervous than she let on. It was a habit she had since she was a small child. He walked over to her and wrapped his arms around her waist from behind and squeezed her.
"It's going to be great! Obviously, there are plenty of people whose idea of fun is the same as yours" Patrick said reassuringly as he wiggled his fingers against her ribs playfully.
Laura jumped and giggled at Patrick's tickling fingertips. Patrick knew that a couple of quick tickles would help to ease Laura's tension. She was grateful for the diversion.
"Hey! Don't get me started!" Laura laughed as she struggled weakly to free herself from the tickling bear hug Patrick had her in.
Patrick stopped after a couple of seconds and kissed her on the neck. Just then there was a knock on the door. The manager of the club poked his head in.
"We're about to open the flood gates, are you two ready?" Mike asked.
"As ready as we'll ever be" Laura said while continuing to twirl her hair.
They all walked downstairs to watch the grand opening. Laura took one more glance around to make sure that everything was perfect. She had been over the entire club a hundred times, but it couldn't hurt to do it once more. The club was flooded with a purple glow from the black lights on the ceiling.
There were long feather boas wrapped around the edge of the bar and the railing of the staircase. All of the walls were painted with murals put together by various artists in the area. The scenes were beautifully detailed, and the
black lights made them look as though they were coming right out of the walls. The majority of the pictures were bondage/tickle torture scenes. The girls being tied up were scantly clad in various seductive outfits, while their captors were generally bare-chested males wearing tight fitting pants. There were also some male captive
pictures. Many of the tortured males were tied down in some fashion, and tickled by shapely women armed with long, colorful feathers. Laura's favorite was
displayed on the wall as you walked into the club. It showed one petite woman with dark flowing hair. She was being held down on a bed, not by restraints, but by three muscular men. They were all tickling various parts of her body. The look on the woman's face was a mixture of hysteria and ecstasy. In Laura's mind, she thought the artist
captured the feelings evoked by tickle torture perfectly. She took one last look at the damsel in 'distress' and hoped the patrons would enjoy the torture as much as she did. With that thought she signaled to the bouncer at the door for him to open the double doors to the club.
The bouncer at the door was responsible for checking I.D.'s, collecting the $25 entrance fee, and giving each patron a piece of paper with one question posted on it- "Where is your favorite tickle spot?" Then at the bottom of
the paper there was a warning that read- "If at any time you wish to stop being tickled, shout Tickled Purple!" When the staff heard that cry, they were instructed to free the patron. Once the patrons were checked to see if they were over twenty-one years old, and had received their paper, they filled it out and handed it to the next staff member who stood only a few feet away from the bouncer. It was Laura's idea to have the patrons fill out the paper so she
could keep track of the most often requested tickle spots at the end of the night. This way she would be able to gear certain aspects of the club's entertainment to highlight that area. The next staff member's job was to read the
patrons answer and give them two stickers that corresponded with that area of the body, then drop the paper into a locked wooden box behind him. If the patron wrote neck or underarms, they got two red stickers. If they answered mid-section (ribs, stomach, or chest), they got two orange stickers. If they preferred their thighs, hips or knees, they
received two green stickers. Lastly, and probably the most popular, if they wanted their feet tickled, they got two purple stickers. The patron was to then place one sticker on their chest and the other on their back, that way no
matter which direction they faced in the tickle tunnel, their preferences would be known. Once the labeling process was complete, the patron was instructed to take off their shoes (and preferably their socks), and place them in a locker
at the beginning of the tunnel. They then had the option of having restraints placed on their wrists, to make their venture through the tunnel a little more difficult, and to also restrict their ability to protect themselves.
The tickle tunnel was about a quarter mile of clear, hard, plastic piping which snaked its way along part of the club's floor. The staff had an unobstructed view of the patrons...there was no where to hide! There was room for the staff members to walk on either side of the tunnel, to give them complete access to the patrons crawling through it. It was wide enough to accommodate the larger patrons, but not too wide as to allow too much movement by them. It stood only three feet high. The patrons could only go in a forward direction. Once in the tunnel....there was
no going back. Along the tunnel there was a set of four holes every six feet, which were wide enough to stick an arm through. More specifically, a staff member's arm. The sets of holes were fifteen feet apart, to give the patron a
chance to catch their breath in between attacks. Their break would only be the time it would take them to crawl from one set of holes to the other. There were also slits in the tunnel which were wide enough the slip a thin board through. This was designed to block patrons into a certain area of the tunnel, and prevent them from moving
forward. The staff could use their discretion as to when, where and who was to be trapped, and for how long. The patrons only real control in the tunnel was the use of the phrase 'Tickled Purple!' which freed them instantly through
an escape hatch which was locked from the outside.
Each staff member had been put through a training class on the most effective techniques used for tickling people. Most of them had been ticklephiles all their life, so very little training was actually necessary.
They were armed with a hairbrush, a feather and a paintbrush, to be used as different tickling instruments. Laura felt very comfortable with the staff she had hired. Many she had known for years, from running with them in the same ticklish circle of friends. The others, she had gotten on recommendations from those people. She wanted to
make sure that they could be trusted completely because the club's success depended on it. If the patrons didn't feel safe, the club would be a flop....and she knew it.
The line was around the block. People were waiting with fevered anticipation for what was about to happen. The patrons were talking amongst themselves, most wondering why a club like this hadn't been created before. The club's mastermind stood on the second floor of the Manhattan building looking out the window at the crowd, which
seemed to be growing by the minute.
"I knew there were a lot of us out there," Laura chuckled.
"More than I would have expected," Patrick admitted.
Patrick and Laura had been married for ten years, and Laura had come 'out of the closet' to him seven years ago about her secret fetish. When she did it was as if she had been born again. She no longer felt the need to hide her true feelings, or manipulate Patrick into doing what she secretly longed for. Their sex went from being a marital
obligation, to pure unbridled ecstasy. Laura had never been happier in her life. She then decided to open a club designed to give people like her, the same pleasure she was experiencing for the first time in her life.
"We open in fifteen minutes. Are you nervous?" Patrick asked.
"A little. Who knows how this will be accepted. We're kind of breaking new ground here tonight" Laura said as she twirled her hair with her index finger.
Patrick looked over at Laura playing with her hair and knew she was more nervous than she let on. It was a habit she had since she was a small child. He walked over to her and wrapped his arms around her waist from behind and squeezed her.
"It's going to be great! Obviously, there are plenty of people whose idea of fun is the same as yours" Patrick said reassuringly as he wiggled his fingers against her ribs playfully.
Laura jumped and giggled at Patrick's tickling fingertips. Patrick knew that a couple of quick tickles would help to ease Laura's tension. She was grateful for the diversion.
"Hey! Don't get me started!" Laura laughed as she struggled weakly to free herself from the tickling bear hug Patrick had her in.
Patrick stopped after a couple of seconds and kissed her on the neck. Just then there was a knock on the door. The manager of the club poked his head in.
"We're about to open the flood gates, are you two ready?" Mike asked.
"As ready as we'll ever be" Laura said while continuing to twirl her hair.
They all walked downstairs to watch the grand opening. Laura took one more glance around to make sure that everything was perfect. She had been over the entire club a hundred times, but it couldn't hurt to do it once more. The club was flooded with a purple glow from the black lights on the ceiling.
There were long feather boas wrapped around the edge of the bar and the railing of the staircase. All of the walls were painted with murals put together by various artists in the area. The scenes were beautifully detailed, and the
black lights made them look as though they were coming right out of the walls. The majority of the pictures were bondage/tickle torture scenes. The girls being tied up were scantly clad in various seductive outfits, while their captors were generally bare-chested males wearing tight fitting pants. There were also some male captive
pictures. Many of the tortured males were tied down in some fashion, and tickled by shapely women armed with long, colorful feathers. Laura's favorite was
displayed on the wall as you walked into the club. It showed one petite woman with dark flowing hair. She was being held down on a bed, not by restraints, but by three muscular men. They were all tickling various parts of her body. The look on the woman's face was a mixture of hysteria and ecstasy. In Laura's mind, she thought the artist
captured the feelings evoked by tickle torture perfectly. She took one last look at the damsel in 'distress' and hoped the patrons would enjoy the torture as much as she did. With that thought she signaled to the bouncer at the door for him to open the double doors to the club.
The bouncer at the door was responsible for checking I.D.'s, collecting the $25 entrance fee, and giving each patron a piece of paper with one question posted on it- "Where is your favorite tickle spot?" Then at the bottom of
the paper there was a warning that read- "If at any time you wish to stop being tickled, shout Tickled Purple!" When the staff heard that cry, they were instructed to free the patron. Once the patrons were checked to see if they were over twenty-one years old, and had received their paper, they filled it out and handed it to the next staff member who stood only a few feet away from the bouncer. It was Laura's idea to have the patrons fill out the paper so she
could keep track of the most often requested tickle spots at the end of the night. This way she would be able to gear certain aspects of the club's entertainment to highlight that area. The next staff member's job was to read the
patrons answer and give them two stickers that corresponded with that area of the body, then drop the paper into a locked wooden box behind him. If the patron wrote neck or underarms, they got two red stickers. If they answered mid-section (ribs, stomach, or chest), they got two orange stickers. If they preferred their thighs, hips or knees, they
received two green stickers. Lastly, and probably the most popular, if they wanted their feet tickled, they got two purple stickers. The patron was to then place one sticker on their chest and the other on their back, that way no
matter which direction they faced in the tickle tunnel, their preferences would be known. Once the labeling process was complete, the patron was instructed to take off their shoes (and preferably their socks), and place them in a locker
at the beginning of the tunnel. They then had the option of having restraints placed on their wrists, to make their venture through the tunnel a little more difficult, and to also restrict their ability to protect themselves.
The tickle tunnel was about a quarter mile of clear, hard, plastic piping which snaked its way along part of the club's floor. The staff had an unobstructed view of the patrons...there was no where to hide! There was room for the staff members to walk on either side of the tunnel, to give them complete access to the patrons crawling through it. It was wide enough to accommodate the larger patrons, but not too wide as to allow too much movement by them. It stood only three feet high. The patrons could only go in a forward direction. Once in the tunnel....there was
no going back. Along the tunnel there was a set of four holes every six feet, which were wide enough to stick an arm through. More specifically, a staff member's arm. The sets of holes were fifteen feet apart, to give the patron a
chance to catch their breath in between attacks. Their break would only be the time it would take them to crawl from one set of holes to the other. There were also slits in the tunnel which were wide enough the slip a thin board through. This was designed to block patrons into a certain area of the tunnel, and prevent them from moving
forward. The staff could use their discretion as to when, where and who was to be trapped, and for how long. The patrons only real control in the tunnel was the use of the phrase 'Tickled Purple!' which freed them instantly through
an escape hatch which was locked from the outside.
Each staff member had been put through a training class on the most effective techniques used for tickling people. Most of them had been ticklephiles all their life, so very little training was actually necessary.
They were armed with a hairbrush, a feather and a paintbrush, to be used as different tickling instruments. Laura felt very comfortable with the staff she had hired. Many she had known for years, from running with them in the same ticklish circle of friends. The others, she had gotten on recommendations from those people. She wanted to
make sure that they could be trusted completely because the club's success depended on it. If the patrons didn't feel safe, the club would be a flop....and she knew it.