Paul Jones
TMF Poster
- Joined
- Nov 3, 2005
- Messages
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The prequel to this story was called The Itching Lotion.
(Some readers were kind enough to request a sequel, so I came up with this.)
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Miss Harris was naked and sprawled out on her own padded table. Michael had applied
the table’s restraints to her wrists and ankles.
“Do you remember the incident with the itching lotion, Miss Harris?” he asked her.
“I remember it very well. You had the cruelty to apply it to my scrotum,” he said.
Well now I’m going to have my revenge. And I’m gong to leave it on a lot longer than
a minute!”
She trembled uncontrollably. “Oh, Michael! Please don’t punish me that way!
NOT THAT WAY!” she pleaded at the top of her voice.
He showed her the same ornamental bottle, and put on surgical gloves. She cringed,
and her eyes filled with tears. But Michael was unmoved.
He began by applying the lotion all over her breasts.
Within seconds, they began to itch maddeningly, particularly her very sensitive
nipples. She moaned and groaned in itching anguish.
Oh, please! Stop it!” she begged. But Michael let her writhe and suffer for ten
agonizing minutes.
He next applied the lotion to her clitoris, which immediately starting itching unbearably.
“This time, it’s a good thing that your hands are secured,” he said, alluding to
a remark she’d made in the earlier session.
Another ten minutes passed, during which she suffered unspeakably. “Please! Stop
the itching!” she bawled. But Michael showed no mercy.
Then he announced, “Now for my final revenge.” With that, he applied the lotion to
her vagina, inside and out.
She screamed, “No, please! Not there! ANYWHERE BUT THERE!”
Her entreaty went unheeded.
Her organ starting itching horribly, and she began writhing and screaming hysterically.
The itching was no longer just maddening; it was now positively excruciating.
“Stop it! STOP IT!” she screamed. “Please have mercy! I can’t stand it!
I CAN’T STAND IT!”
“You know, Miss Harris, if I allow this to continue much longer, say an hour or
more,”—here he was quoting her—“you might just lose your mind.”
Again quoting her, “And you’d have nightmares about it for the rest of your life!”
Then he added, “What a delightful idea!”
By now, the itching was scorching her brain. Finally, she cried out loudly in
itching agony so intense that she lost consciousness.
When Miss Harris eventually awoke, the itching was all gone. But she was in a hospital
for the incurably insane.
She’s still there, suffering from the most horrible nightmares!
(Some readers were kind enough to request a sequel, so I came up with this.)
= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =
Miss Harris was naked and sprawled out on her own padded table. Michael had applied
the table’s restraints to her wrists and ankles.
“Do you remember the incident with the itching lotion, Miss Harris?” he asked her.
“I remember it very well. You had the cruelty to apply it to my scrotum,” he said.
Well now I’m going to have my revenge. And I’m gong to leave it on a lot longer than
a minute!”
She trembled uncontrollably. “Oh, Michael! Please don’t punish me that way!
NOT THAT WAY!” she pleaded at the top of her voice.
He showed her the same ornamental bottle, and put on surgical gloves. She cringed,
and her eyes filled with tears. But Michael was unmoved.
He began by applying the lotion all over her breasts.
Within seconds, they began to itch maddeningly, particularly her very sensitive
nipples. She moaned and groaned in itching anguish.
Oh, please! Stop it!” she begged. But Michael let her writhe and suffer for ten
agonizing minutes.
He next applied the lotion to her clitoris, which immediately starting itching unbearably.
“This time, it’s a good thing that your hands are secured,” he said, alluding to
a remark she’d made in the earlier session.
Another ten minutes passed, during which she suffered unspeakably. “Please! Stop
the itching!” she bawled. But Michael showed no mercy.
Then he announced, “Now for my final revenge.” With that, he applied the lotion to
her vagina, inside and out.
She screamed, “No, please! Not there! ANYWHERE BUT THERE!”
Her entreaty went unheeded.
Her organ starting itching horribly, and she began writhing and screaming hysterically.
The itching was no longer just maddening; it was now positively excruciating.
“Stop it! STOP IT!” she screamed. “Please have mercy! I can’t stand it!
I CAN’T STAND IT!”
“You know, Miss Harris, if I allow this to continue much longer, say an hour or
more,”—here he was quoting her—“you might just lose your mind.”
Again quoting her, “And you’d have nightmares about it for the rest of your life!”
Then he added, “What a delightful idea!”
By now, the itching was scorching her brain. Finally, she cried out loudly in
itching agony so intense that she lost consciousness.
When Miss Harris eventually awoke, the itching was all gone. But she was in a hospital
for the incurably insane.
She’s still there, suffering from the most horrible nightmares!
