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Her Job m/f

PomPom

1st Level Orange Feather
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Authors Note: This is my first time posting anything of this sort. I hope it's up to standard! Let me know what you think! There will be a few grammar mistakes here and there but I never claimed to be an excellent author. :D

I came up with this onne early morning. I'm not sure any services like this exist so forgive me for taking liberties with it. Don't be hating!

Also I am one of those authors that does not put sex in my story. Sorry, guys, but no sexytimes here. Only tickling!

*

Her Job

Deana needs the money. It's the only reason she's agreed to this. After all, who wants to be tickled for a straight hour? No one in their right mind enjoys this type of work. She's met some of the other girls at the agency and theres a few who claim to like it, even one or two that get aroused. Deana can't imagine what it must be like to be that into tickling.

She's part of a fetish website where men (and sometimes women) can ask for a girl for up to three hours. They have to go through backround checking first to make sure they aren't unstable and then there's always one of the bulky security guards that come with them and stay inside the house, nearby, in case something goes awry. One of the small companies managers assured Deana that she will always be safe, that the safety of their models is their number one priority next to the satistfaction of their customers.

Deana used to be a part-time model. She isn't sure how she exactly got into this fetish business. She has sleek, long black hair with large green eyes, which she has been told are "hauntingly beautiful". Deana is only five foot five though so she never did get a lot of modeling jobs. Luckily for her there is no height requirement for this job. And damn does it pay good. What's a little tickling if it means making over a grand a week?

Today she has an appointment at 5:00 with a man named Ian Trive. Her employers assured her he is a completely nice man who has rented out models before and has never given them a single problem. But, just in case, they send her to the home with her favorite security guard Mike. He's a large, intimidating man but to Deana he's not been anything except pleasant and kind.

Deana arrives promptly at 5:00. She knocks on the door and when the door opens she's met with a handsome young man, perhaps her age (she's only 22) and he smiles widely when he sees her. Obviously, he approves, and it makes her happy he does.

"Hi. Are you Ian?"

"Sure am! Nice to meet you, Deana. Please, come on in," he says, stepping aside so she may come inside. Mike follows and he says, "Whats up, Mike? How you doing?"

"Eh, so so. Been a little under the weather lately but it ain't nothing I can't handle," he replies in his deep, gruff voice but he sounds kind for all intents and purposes. "How you been doing?"

"I'm doing great now that you guys are here. I already have everything set up . . . um, do you want a drink before we start? You could become a little dehydrated and I don't want you to get dizzy or something."

Deana smiles at him. "It's sweet of you to offer so I think I will take some water."

"Follow me," says Ian. He leads her into the kitchen where he takes out a bottle of water and hands it to her. He watches Deana as she takes a long swig. He appears nervous and out of place, even though hes done this many times before.

"There's no need to be nervous," she says sweetly. "I'm not going to bite."

Ian laughs uneasily. "Sorry. It's just . . . I'm kind of used to Victoria. N-Not that you're second choice, you're every bit as pretty as she is, its just that I'm used to her laugh."

"I've been to other appointments with Deana, Ian. She's every bit as good as Victoria. Maybe you'll like her even better," Mike says.

"Thanks Mike," says Deana.

Ian drums his fingers on the countertop, still jittery despite their assurance. After a moment of silence he says, "How about we get started? I mean, if you're comfortable . . . "

"Sure!" chirps Deana. She knows the sooner she gets this over with, the sooner she gets paid, and the sooner she can get back home to her cats Alfred and Juno. "So where did you want to do this?"

"My bedroom is where I usually do it. I have a four poster bed. Don't worry, the cuffs have rubber on the inside so they don't hurt as much."

Ian leads her towards the bedroom. Mike oversees the procedure of Deana getting undressed (Ian is nice enough to look away as she does even though he'll be looking at her undergarments for the next hour) and watches as she lies on the bed, stretching out for her limbs to be cuffed. Ian quickly cuffs her into place as though he's afraid she'll run off.

"Well I'll be out in the living room. Don't worry Deana, I can always hear you girls from there. Have fun but not too much fun," says Mike, leaving the two in the large bedroom.

Deana shifts nervously on the bed. It's not too uncomfortable. Her head is supported by a couple pillows and the cuffs on her wrists and ankles don't hurt as much as the usually cheap ones other customers use. She's lucky that this guy puts so much care into making them as comfortable as possible. That is, until the tickling starts.

Ian brings up a tray of instruments; a feather, a toothbrush, and a package of Q-tips. Deana can't help it, she squirms away from him, her green eyes trained on those tools of torture. Ian sees this and smiles widely. All nervousness seems to have washed away and now his dominant side has come out.

"So where are you most ticklish?" he asks.

"I guess you'll have to find out," she replies resiliently.

Ian traces an 8 figure on her stomach and her muscles twitch underneath the teasing touch. "I suppose I will," he muses. "Although I'll probably just tickle you twice as hard for not telling me. Your choice."

Deana knows some clients prefer if the models are a little defiant. He seems to be one of those so she answers with a jittery smirk, "I'm not going to say a word about it. Guess you'll have to be a little rough in your technique."

Despite her resistance Ian keeps the touches infuriatingly light. His pointer finger prods at her ribs, poking at each one as if counting. She can't help but let out a small fit of giggles when he reaches her right underarm and wiggles his finger in the hollow there.

"Oh, have I found something?" He adds as second finger and wiggles. Deana writhes and a goofy smile comes across her face. He scribbles all five fingers in her armpit and the first laugh of the hour comes pouring out of her mouth. He doesn't let up either. He keeps it going for atleast two minutes until a slight flush reaches her face. "I think I did find something. All you have to do is say 'my armpits are the most ticklish place on my body' and I'll save them for last."

Jutting out her chin Deana says, "Nope. Not going to--eheheheheeeee!" He begins again but adds a hand to her left underam and goes for thirty second spurts, leaving her alone for five seconds, then starting up again. This leaves her a little screechy. "AhahahHAHAHAhahaha!"

"I haven't seen armpits this ticklish since Danielle," says a delighted Ian, stopping for a moment.

"I'm glad you find it so amusing."

He uses his pointer fingers to trails down her sides and tests for ticklishness at her hips. Right on her hip bones seems to be a good spot; she jumps when he runs his fingers over them. Smiling he takes the toothbrush, holding it up in front of her face for her to see. Her eyes widen and she murmurs, "Oh god . . . !" as he lowers it down to just underneath her bellybutton and scrubs. Again she jumps and its absolute torture! All of those bristles stimulate her overly sensitive skin and she's already begging.

"AHAHAHA!! STAAAAHP! OH MY GOD hahahahaHAHAHA!"

Ian uses his free hand to tickle her armpit and it has her jumping off of the bed, arching her back, squeezing her eyes shut to try, in vain, to shut out the agonizing sensation.

Its ten times worse when he scrubs at her other armpit with the toothbrush.

"Does that tickle?"

"YEHEHEHEHSSSS!"

"Do you want me to stop?"

"AHAHAHA YEEHEHEHESS!"

"Beg me."

"PLEHEHEHEAAASSSEE! PLEASE, STAHAHAHAP!" Every individual bristle is an torture in itself on her poor, defensless armpit. She tries to yank down her arms to cover herself but its useless. The cuffs keep her vulnerable to the tickling.

Ian relents and she gasps for breath. A few giggles still escape her lips even after he stops.

"That really tickled . . . " She says breathily.

"I'm told that I'm quite an expert in tickling," proudly says Ian.

Deana giggles voluntarily. "I wouldn't argue with that."

Ian stands up and goes to the end of the bed and bends back her toes, holding them in that position so he has better access. "I'm not much for feet but yours are so pretty. You take care of them well."

"Thank-ahahahaha!" Deana giggles and squirms as he lightly tickles the ball of her foot with his fingers.

Ian smiles as he deals out his torture. He scrathes at her arches and although it doesn't elicit the same reaction as the upper body tickling, he gets a sizeable reaction from her. Enough to make him want to do it even more. He's beginning to really like this model . . .

*

Part Two coming soon, I swear! I have to cut it here because I don't want to make the post too long!
 
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