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repost: Tickle Pimp part 7

Kid Indy

TMF Expert
Joined
Oct 12, 2001
Messages
365
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Tickle Pimp

Part VII

By Kid Indy

Looking at the house from the outside was still strange to Joy Evans. She had been inside, or rather underneath, many times, but the pictures on her desk showed the house, a modest two-story dwelling in the suburbs, from within the limbs of a neighboring tree. Joy had climbed the tree with ease, and now with the same ease she set up her own dead man's switch. In a subdirectory of her network account at work, Joy set up a switch that would mail digital pictures of the house along with a distress message and and an adress to the city police, family, and newspapers around town. This was all part of the trap. Joy was trying to catch a tickle pimp.

It was Wednesday night, and Joy had the last time slot, the midnight shift. She had napped through the evening so that she would be fresh at work the next day, but in the small basement dressing room she still felt tired. Jim had said that tonight's client was a man, so that would probably mean a tickling that would be intense but manageable. She changed into the dark blue underwear, wondering again what it would be like for Jim to walk into a Victoria's Secret store to buy these. He probably just ordered them through the mail. That would be easy enough. Jim knocked on the door. "You ready in there?"

"Yeah, I'm ready." Joy knew that tonight was the night; she was going to spring her trap and demand that Jim cut her in on the owner's profits. But for now she simply walked into the torture chamber in a bra and panties. Her newly pedicured feet felt the padded floor, and she hopped up onto the bench very cooperatively. Jim began to strap her in.

"You're becoming some customers' favorite, you know, Joy?" Jim fastened the padded stocks around her ankles and locked them.

"Why's that?" He pulled the rope that suspended her arms above her head.

"Because you react so well. I had an idea when I trained you that you would be, but word's getting out among the ticklers in town. You're a huge moneymaker."

"Well, just as long as I see that money, Jim." Joy smirked slightly as Jim put the blindfold on; soon she would be seeing a whole bunch of that money. Jim wheeled the cart over next to the bench and walked over to the door.

"Have a good one." Joy was a bit surprised; he had never said anything going out the door. Joy had lost count of how many times she had been tied and tickled, but the moments between Jim's exit and Jim's reentry were still some of the tensest of the evening. Before long, she heard the door open again. "You've paid for thirty minutes." Joy could have said this part in her sleep. "You know the rules. She's all yours." Jim walked out the door and shut it behind him.

The client for the night dug in immediately with fingers; as Joy tried her usual act of resistance, she noted that he wasn't one to start out with tools; he must be in it for the touch more than the torture. Then she realized how strange her life had become; she was psychoanalyzing strange men who were tickling her. Her musing came to a halt as his fingers kept prodding her hips. She soon was squealing and giggling, and the night of tickling was on. He stayed on her hips a few minutes, drawing out of her the laugh that she had laughed so many nights but still did not want to laugh. Her hair, longer than it had been the night she trained, now whipped back and forth, brushing against the man and hitting what sounded like a nylon jacket.

The man moved upward, digging into her armpits and causing Joy to move her torso wildly to try to get away. No matter how many times this happened, she still could not control those involuntary reactions; it seemed silly to her, but she knew that it turned the clients on. Anyway, it was not as if she had a choice; this man's fingers were going wild under her arms, and it was torture, no matter how many times she had felt it. His hands began wandering up and down her sides, grabbing her hips, prodding her ribs, kneading her underarm. Joy began to sweat, her fit body reacting to the sudden need to move. After a while, the man stopped. Joy could hear him wandering down towards her feet, and she knew what was coming next. She got ready to shift them away.

He tried at first just to tickle her without holding her feet, but the stocks still allowed some motion, and she escaped his hands two or three times. "Alright, that's it..." Joy giggled with amusement; her feet always seemed to get the quiet ones to talk.

"You can't catch my feet!" Joy giggled. The man tried to grab one foot gently, but she easily twisted away. Now the man figured things out and grabbed her by the right heel. Her pivot point was immobilized, and she knew that the tickling was going to commence.

"I did catch you, and now I'm going to tickle this pretty foot!" Joy knew that voice; it was one of the IT guys from the firm who often came in to repair the computer network. Joy had a feeling those computer nerds made good money, and now she knew for sure. It seemed that Joy had also become good at recognizing voices. "Tickle tickle..."

Joy knew that this was going to be torment, but she still tried to resist. Perhaps it was just her pride, but she never wanted to give it to them too easily. Besides, maybe they would think that her feet had been desensitized and were not ticklish any more. But this guy was not fooled. He scratched and prodded, attacking her sole with his fingers. She only lasted a few seconds before she started squealing again, and soon she was out of control again. And when the man reached for a toothbrush, her body was already weak from the tickling. He ran it between her toes, bringing new fountains of laughter out of her. He dug in and dug in, and when he stopped, he quickly got her left foot and gave it the same. Almost too soon, she heard Jim open the door.

"Time's up, friend."

Joy could hear a moment of silence as the man looked at his watch. "Yeah, I guess it is. Man, this one is great. I never would have guessed."

"She is becoming one of my favorites, friend. And if you've got the money, she's always got the time." Joy heard Jim slap the man on the nylon-covered back. He would find out soon enough just how much money this "favorite" would cost him. The door closed behind the client, and Jim began unstrapping Joy. "You did great tonight. Not a big haul, but a few hundred bucks for you."

"Sounds good. But I just want to change clothes and go home." Joy knew that she had copies of the pictures in her jeans pockets. As Jim led her into the dressing room and closed the door, she took a deep breath and began to change clothes. As she slid her baggy jeans on, she patted the pocket and realized that they were still there. She put her own underwear, her t-shirt, and her socks and shoes on and knocked on the door with her left hand. The pictures were in her right. Jim opened the door.

He held the blindfold in his hand and gave her an impatient look as she stood there. "Turn around, Joy. It's time to go home."

"No blindfold tonight, Jim."

Jim normally would have laughed, but he was tired as well. "Come on, Joy. You know the drill."

"No drill tonight, Jim." She thrust the pictures into his face. "I know where we are, and if you don't listen to me, so will the cops and the papers." Jim snatched the pictures out of her hand, collecting all four with one swipe. One was a close-up of the address number, and the other three were pictures of the house at large. In one of them Jim's van was pulling into the garage.

"You're in big trouble, Joy." He turned and started walking toward his office.

"I'm not kidding, Jim. I've got three dead man's switches operative. One is on a computer, and two are friends. If they hear me on the telephone, they'll know that I've been kidnapped. And if I disappear for long, they'll still know. They have these pictures and your address on disk."

"So you've told your friends that you're a hooker now?"

"No, just that I'm dating a guy. But they always worry about the guys I date, and now they know where this house is."

Jim stood and thought; he knew that he had been outdone. "So what now?"

"Now you cut me in on the business end. I become a partner, not just one of your workers."

Jim laughed. "You are an ambitious one, aren't you? I suppose I could get the computer information out of you, but I can't really do anything about your friends if they live in town." He started walking toward Joy. "So you told them we were dating?" He was standing over her now.

"Yeah, that's what I told them."

"Do you want to start dating?" He was still mad, but there was a sincerity in his look.

"Well... yeah, I guess. I would like that." She blushed as she confessed this.

"Sounds good to me. And we can be business partners. I could use someone to help me get the word out to more rich ticklephiles. But for now..." Jim grabbed Joy's wrist.

"What are you doing?"

"Nobody's going to be looking for you tonight. We're going to have an all nighter!" With that, Jim grabbed Joy in fireman's carry and started hauling her over to the bench.

"Jim! No!" Joy kicked, but the huge man did not budge. He only walked toward the bench and set her down. Joy tried to get up, but Jim's hands were all over her, squeezing her knees through her jeans and grabbing her sides as she sat on the bench and tried to defend herself. She was soon red in the face and simply hugging her own sides to keep his hands away. Before she knew it, he had grabbed one hand and cuffed it. "Please, Jim. Don't."

"Oh, you go behind my back, and now you're saying please?" Jim laughed and started tickling again. Joy only had one hand to defend herself with, and her left hand was getting tired of darting around. Once again, Jim grabbed and cuffed it without much effort. Now she was helpless, but her feet still kicked as Jim grabbed her legs and started unlacing one shoe. She struggled, but his huge body would not budge for her weakened legs, and he took one shoe and then the other off. She tried to hold her socks on with her toes, but a few quick tickles saw the socks also come off. He began reaching for the waist of her jeans.

"Wait! You said you wouldn't..." Her protest turned into a scream as he grabbed her hip and squeezed.

"I'm not--your underwear is going to stay on. And besides, if you're my girlfriend now..." He pulled on her jeans, and she was down to her t-shirt and her underwear. "You know, Joy, this is going to be fun. It'll be like old times--I have to get you back to your apartment by morning, but until then, you're all mine!" Joy could do nothing but giggle as she anticipated the tickling. Jim put one foot, then the other into the stocks and closed them. He picked up two stiff feathers and held them up. "I believe these were your favorites, Joy..." Joy squealed in anticipation. She knew that even in hating it, she was going to love this. And it was going to tickle.

* * * * * * * * * *

EPILOGUE

Six months later, Joy and Jim attended a party for a swimwear designer's new releases. Joy, now a full-time writer for the ad agency, was working up a campaign for the department stores, and Jim was scouting for new talent. They sat at their table and ate the free expensive dinner and laughed with one another. Their discussions ranged from a book that Jim was reading to the design of various swim suits to how ticklish this or that model might be. They enjoyed the evening and each other, and after dinner and a showing of the new line, they began to head for the door.

The designer conversed with a model as they watched Joy and Jim walk out. Jim grabbed Joy from behind, and she squealed, turning around to swat at him playfully. They quickly kissed, and Jim held the door for her.

The designer shook his head. "What is it about those two? I mean, they just don't seem right together."

"I think they just enjoy each other. And besides, it seems like they have those tickle games going every time I see them. It's weird, but it looks like they have fun at it." The model had an involuntary quiver as she imagined being tickled by the large man. How little she knew.
 
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