TK True Tickling story: Brenda
(once again, the names have been changed to protect the ticklish...)
Okay, let's see how many of you have been paying attention to my stories so
far. Anyone want to guess where I met Brenda? Anyone? Anyone at all? Hmm?
Yer right! In an online chat room. Very good, you HAVE been paying attention.
Either that, or it was a lucky guess. Either way, that was just where
Brenda and I met, in the Gorean chat rooms online.
Brenda is a slave girl. When I say she is a slave girl, that is very true
and misleading. For those unfamiliar with the Gorean or D/s worlds, Brenda
is a woman that lives a lifestyle of submission, in where her actions are
determined by the will of another person, her Master. I do NOT mean that
she was literally bought or sold, that some person purchased her off the
Internet, and has her chained up somewhere, although I hear that kind of
thing does happen in some third world countries.
Anyway, I met Brenda and her Master, Andrew (who also happens to be her
husband) online, and as always, we hit it off instantly. Brenda is one of
the two slave girls that are generally my yardstick for measuring other
Gorean slaves or submissives. First of all, she is submissive. She shows
respect and kindness to everyone she meets, whether they are D or s, friend
or stranger. That's not to say she is a pushover. I've seen her handle some
rude and obnoxious people that thought 'slave' means 'target for abuse
and/or sex' and it wasn't pretty. She is definitely not a fool, and she
knows how to treat a person and how to react in any situation.
Secondly, she is erotic. VERY erotic. I fell instantly head over heels for
her within five minutes of speaking to her, which most people do. Long
before I ever saw her picture or met her face to face. Something about
her just screams eroticism. I've since seen her picture, and met her face
to face, and believe me, as beautiful and stunning as her glossy is, it
doesn't hold a candle to the real thing. Brenda is a beautiful, hot, sexy
blonde, about 5' 7" in heels, slightly shorter in bare feet, with a wasp
waist, sweet curves, a full D cup breast, and legs that go on forever. Her
body is lightly tanned, and one day I am going to go with her and Andy to
the beach and see just how she gets that all over body tan! (WOOHOO) Oh,
well, I'll probably be bringing my Shelley with me, of course...
Anyway. Brenda and I talked many a night onine, in the chat room, and in
private. Like most of my close friends, we developed a rapport, and like
most of my Gorean slave friends, we developed a rather sexual connection.
As always, one conversation we had turned to the subject of tickling, and
I found a kindred spirit in her. She was extremely ticklish, and if done
right, she'd often found herself sexually stimulated by it. Andy, it seems
had found the 'right way' to tickle her, but he, himself, was no ticklophile
just someone with the skill and temperment to send his slave girl over the
edge with the right touch in the right place, at the right time.
"So, just how ticklish ARE you?" I asked her, curious.
"Oooh, VERY."
"And just WHERE are you ticklish?" I asked, even more curious.
"Oh, practically everywhere," she replied. "It's probably easier to ask
where I'm NOT ticklish."
My mouth began to water then. "And... do you HATE being tickled? You don't
lash out and kick, or try to bite, or anything?" I asked, remembering
Sandy all too well. Shelley even bit and kicked on ocassion, if I ever
tickled her to extremes.
She only giggled. "No, of course not, Master J. I would never do that to
anyone I know and like. Besides, I kind of like it... even though I'm so
ticklish all over I can't stand it."
Perfection. On so many levels, she was perfection. For the record, Brenda
is the only woman I know that even gives me pause with Shelley, who wears
my heart (and my collar) around her neck. Shelley IS perfection for me, but
Brenda is a close second... close as in 99.999998%
The sweet obedient and subservient girl that she is, Brenda sent me some
pictures of herself when I asked, so that I might see her ticklish body.
I'd actually requested pictures of her feet, which I tended to focus on
the most, but she sent me pictures of her entire self, in slave poses,
wearing slave garb... and for you Goreans, you know how very exposed that
can be! I was beyond delighted. I sent her pictures of myself, dressed
normally, and for some unknown reason, she was as happy as I was to see
her pictures. (*grin*) Go figure.
Fast forward a few years. By now, Shelley and I were an item. I'd gone
to visit and stay with her several times, and she in turn had come here
a few times as well. We were an item. We were formally Master and slave,
real life as well as online, just like Brenda and Andrew. The only
difference was that we were only engaged, not yet married, as well. I'd
been working at the textile plant here for a number of years now, and had
made a pretty good name for myself. I was in charge of my shift, and was
pulling in pretty good money, enough that I could afford to travel across
the country fairly often to visit my slave girl. I was saving up my money
to move, to drive to the west coast and find a place and job there, and
work on starting a life together. Then... the balloon burst, and the plant
got shut down.
One more year, and I would have been set to move. As it was, I had about
65% of the cash I'd planned on saving up for the move, but seeing as how
I had nothing tying me here now, I decided to say, what the hell, and
move then. After discussing it with Shelley, I packed up my stuff, tuned
up my car, and prepared to drive cross country.
One of the people I told about my trip was Brenda. "Oh, Master, I'm so
happy for you! Have you decided on a route to get across country yet?"
"Not really," I admitted. "I have an atlas here, and I'm planning it out
now. It's going to be pretty long and complicated, however I go. Two
thousand miles... at least a five day trip."
"Well... I don't know if it's out of the way or not," she said after a
moment, "but if you happen to pass through Minnesota, and wouldn't mind
a slight detour, Master Andrew and I would LOVE to have you stay with
us a few days, kinda rest from the long trip and get to visit a while,
before you head back out."
"Really? That would be great!" I'd wanted to meet the sexy diva for a
long time. "Are you sure its no trouble? I mean, I wouldn't want to
impose."
"Oh no, not at all. In fact, I insist that you stay with us a few days
on your trip... er, I mean, as much as a slave could demand anything of
a Master," she added shyly.
I thought it over for all of two seconds. "Okay. You convinced me! I could
not live with myself if I refused such a heartfelt invitation. Besides,"
I said with a chuckle, "it will give me the chance to FINALLYT tickle you
silly."
She chuckled as well... then added in, slyly, "Among other things, Master
J."
Well, a few weeks later, I was on the road. I had directions to her house
and her home and work numbers, to make sure they knew where I was, and
when I would arrive. When I finally pulled into the driveway, Andrew came
out to meet me. We hugged deeply, and I handed him a little housewarming
gift. Two full cases of Mountain Dew.
If you don't get it, that's okay. It's a private joke between us. Suffice
it to say, I was now his new best friend.
"So, where's Brenda?" I asked, glancing around the lovely house. Andrew had
told me that he was into home decorating, as a hobby, and had bought the
entire collection of Time-Life books. It showed. He had completely
remodled his house from the way it had been in the pictures I'd seen. He'd
even constructed a work shed in the back yard, from scratch, and had put in
EVERYTHING, from the wood supports and skeletal structure, to the wiring,
to the air conditioning. The house itself was just as remodled, an just as
wonderfully done.
"Brenda's still at work," he said, offering me a seat on the couch. "SHe
called a little earlier to say that the meeting had run long, but that
she would be on her way as fast as she could. She knew you were coming in
today, but we weren't expecting you till later tonight."
"I know," I replied. "I managed to get lucky, and miss the traffic through
Chicago this time, and took a straight shot here along the Interstate."
Chicago traffice was MURDER, particularly at rush hour. It had taken me
almost six hours to drive from the bottom corner of Kentucky state to
the opposite upper corner, yet it took almost two hours, one-third of that
time, JUST to cross through the city of Chicago.
We talked a while, shooting the breeze, when a car pulled up into the
driveway. I'd wanted to go out and park next door, across the way, so
Brenda wouldn't know I'd arrived and would be surprised, but it was just
as well. I'll never forget the look on her face when she walked in, and
saw me standing there, smiling. She was dressed in her business suit, still
fresh from the office, but she squealed like a little girl, and ran over
and hugged me tightly.
"Master J! You're here! Finally!" she said. I kissed her gently, and
chuckled.
"Yes, finally. We've been trying to get me to visit for years now, but
you finally got me here. Nice welcome. If I'd know you would be this glad
to see me, I would have come to visit sooner!"
I'd first wanted to visit for a day or two, then get on my way again. Brenda
and Andrew, however, were so gracious and polietly insistant, that I ended
up staying FIVE days! They even had a barbecue the day I arrived, and
filled me so full of good food I was unable and unwiling to even consider
getting back on the road. Three days of fast food and potato chips on the
road could not compare to Gourmet Andrew at his finest. Finally, however,
I had to get going. We hugged, we kissed, I snapped a few HUNDRED pictures
to remind me of them, and I headed on my way.
I arrived in Shelley's hometown. I stayed there for a while, looking for
a job, searching for an apartment, living off the money I'd saved up for
the move, all the while enjoying being able to see my little one, and be
with her every day. Alas, it was not to be. It was around that time that
the economy first turned bad, and the three big companies that I'd contacted
before making the decision to move, the three I'd had interviews scheduled
for, all decided to cut back, and lay off people. Needless to say, with
so many other natives out of work, it was impossible for ME, an out-of-
towner, to find anything. Regretfully, I discussed it with Shelley, and we
agreed that I should go back home to South Carolina, at least until things
cleared up a bit there, and I had more money saved up to carry me through.
Making my way back home, I again stopped by to visit Brenda and Andrew.
While they were sorry the move hadn't worked out, they were both very happy
to see me again. I ended up spending another five days with them, and the
weekend concluded with me going with them to the Medieval Renassiance
Fair held in St. Paul that weekend. Brenda, the darling little slave, was
also a dancer. She had studied mediterranean dance for years, partially
for fun, and partially to please her Gorean Master. (Incidentially, she
performed an erotic slave dance for me and her Master during my first
visit, and boy is she talented!) At the festival, she and her classmates
were scheduled to perform, to dance in the mediterranean style before the
audience in five shows. She dressed up in her slave dancing garb, a nice
blue ensemble with a coin belt.
To help you imagine it, picture Barbara Eden, from 'I Dream of Jeannie'
in her get-up, but instead of pink, she is dressed in blue and gold. And
more scantily clad, showing her belly button and all. That was
Brenda.
Okay, fast forwarding again. The day went well. I met several of her
classmates, who, incidentially, turned out to be other Gorean slaves
to Masters I knew online. Small world. Anyway, arriving back home, we
were all a bit tired and pleasantly blissed by the day's events. Andrew
excused himself early, leaving the two of us alone. Brenda, changed back
into street clothes again, sat on the couch next to me, as we watched
the news. She smiled, and leaned against me, and we both sat there, just
enjoying the moment. She was barefoot, which she usually was at home, and
her lovely beautiful, exquisite feet were flexing and wiggling invitingly
just inches away from me. Brenda, however, was intently watching the news,
supposedly unaware of what she was doing, and what she was doing to me.
Or, was she?
I glanced at her face at one unguardded moment, and saw her smiling. I
glanced at her feet, and her toes were wiggling, and flexing, back and
forth. She was messing with me.
"So... you like to play games, do ye, lass?" I said, in my best Sean Connery
impersonation. "Well, I'm game if ye are."
"Why, whatever do you mean, Master J?" she asked innocently, wiggling her
toes even more.
I flushed lightly. "You know darn well what I mean, Brenda," I said tersely,
gesturing to her feet. "You've known all along about my interest in your
very pretty, very beautiful feet." She blushed, and lowered her eyes. "And
tickling them," I added, causing her to gasp softly. "I left last time
without getting the chance to really get at them, but not this time."
"Oh, but Master, you don't want to do that," she protested. "My feet are
in really bad shape. They're all hard, and callused, from going around
barefoot all the time. And all the dancing... you know?"
I wasn't convinced in the slightest. "Alright then, just prop them up here,
in my lap, and let me massage them for you." She frowned, uncertain. "You
said you always wanted to get one of those massages that everyone else
keeps talking about online, so here's your chance."
She looked as if she might protest again, but I gave her the glance I give
Shelley every so often, the 'I'm-the-Master-you're-the-slave' glance. Brenda
nodded, and slowly swung her legs up on the couch, and lay back, her head
on the cushions.
Imagery. Brenda was wearing a tight-fitting orange top, her sweet D-sized
breasts free of a bra. She also wore a pair of sexy, tight-fitting jeans
that acentuated every curve to the fullest degree. Her bare feet were now
in my lap, and they were as deeply tanned as the rest of her, the soles
a light pink from being on them most of the day (she'd worn only sandals
to dance at the festival). Her feet were TINY, a size four at the most,
at least two sizes smaller than my Shelley's baby sized feet. And SOFT!
Sandy's feet had been soft as silk, but compared to Brenda's soles, they
might as well have been concrete. I ran a fingernail down the center of her
bare sole, and she shrieked, jerking her foot away with such speed I almost
thought it disintegrated in my hand!
"EEEEK!! HEHEHEHEHE!" she laughed loudly, then covered her mouth, not
wanting to wake Andrew. "Don't tickle, Master!~ I'm way too ticklish!
Please?"
Well, I'd promised a massage, so I began, reluctantly, and as always, the
result had Brenda nearly in a puddle on the couch. I rubbed and caressed
her soles, using the palm of my hands to stroke and caress, to force out
every last trace of tension and pain, using my fingers to spread and work
between her soft pudgy little toes. They were painted a clear color, and
the sheen, and the softness of her feet, told me that she'd prepared for
my arrival by getting her cute little feet pedicured. The little minx!
"OOhhhhhh... Massstteeerrr," she said breathily, her eyes fluttering,
her hands rubbing lightly at her breasts, before returning to her lap.
"You... weren't joking... you really ARE good... mmmmm... I'd drive all
the way... so South Carolina... for this..."
I smirked. "And to think, I had to almost threaten you to get you to put
your feet up here. I could have been doing this from day one, you know."
She giggled, and sighed deeply. "Well, my feet are in your lap now,
Master," she pointed out. "And I think I'm enjoying myself as much as you
are." She slid her free foot a little more into my lap, touching the
telltale bulge of my pleasure. I blushed a bit, and grabbed that foot,
tickling her sole briskly.
"EEEEHEHEHEHEHE!! AAAAHH!! NOO NOO MASTER!! I'M SORRREEE HEHEHEHEHE!!"
I continued tickling her foot for a few more seconds, making her squirm
and laugh hysteically. She was so soft and sensitive, and combined with
the intentionally erotic massaging her other foot was receiving, she was
about to go out of her mind. Still, not wanting to wake up Andrew and
ruin it, I released her foot, which she swiftly slid in between the couch
cushions, out of further danger.
"Now now, put that foot back up here, in my lap," I said chidingly.
She looked at me and smiled, pouting lightly with her bottom lip. "No,
Master," she said.
"Oh, really?" I retorted, tickling her other captive foot. She shrieked
again, and returned her free foot quickly to my lap. I chuckled, and held
it as well, stroking both soles for a few more seconds, sending her into
fits, before taking pity on her, and returning to the massage again.
Her hair was disarranged, and her face and neck was colored, and I could
tell by her breathing that her pulse was racing. My massaging hands calmed
her, but the rhythmic massaging motions of my hands were soon matched by
her own breathing, and the soft random caresses of her hands along her
body. She lay back on the couch, and her eyes fluttered again. "Ohhhh...
Masssttteeerrrr..." she breathed softly, in that hot sexy voice I so loved.
I had my entire hand along her bare left foot now, rubbing lightly, my
fingers between her spread toes. Sensing that we were on a threshold of
some kind, I decided I had best end the session now, or cross a line that,
at least for now, shouldn't be crossed. So I lifted her feet to my face
and gently kissed her toes, one by one, before returning them to the couch.
"I think that'll do for now," I said, a bit breathless myself. "It's getting
a bit late. You'd better go on downstair and to bed, before you Master
begins wondering where you are."
"Yes, you're right." She stood up from the couch, a bit unsteadily, I
thought. As she stood at the top of the stairs, she turned back to me. I
moved to her, and she hugged me, tightly, pressing her body against me in
a way she hadn't before. We kissed then, lightly, on the lips. "Thank you,
Master J," she said softly, before heading downstairs.
As you can guess, I promptly went to my room alone after that. I don't think
it needs to be said what occurred there. Use your imagination. That was my
last night there, however. Early sunday morning, I was ready to head back
out on the road again. I hugged and kissed her again, hugged Andy and
shook his hand, and after making promises to do this again real soon, I
headed out.
That was last year. I haven't had the chance to visit them again, but
I do plan on doing so again in the future. The situation with Brenda and
Andy, and with me and Shelley, is complex. We are Goreans, and Masters and
slaves, but we are also deeply involved and in love with our partners. Does
this mean Brenda and I would never be together sexually? Perhaps, perhaps
not. Its not something we've talked about in so many words, but suffice
it to say, it remains a possibility.
Also, suffice it to say, the crossing of that line, that last night, is
one of my most repeated, most intense, fantasies.
(once again, the names have been changed to protect the ticklish...)
Okay, let's see how many of you have been paying attention to my stories so
far. Anyone want to guess where I met Brenda? Anyone? Anyone at all? Hmm?
Yer right! In an online chat room. Very good, you HAVE been paying attention.
Either that, or it was a lucky guess. Either way, that was just where
Brenda and I met, in the Gorean chat rooms online.
Brenda is a slave girl. When I say she is a slave girl, that is very true
and misleading. For those unfamiliar with the Gorean or D/s worlds, Brenda
is a woman that lives a lifestyle of submission, in where her actions are
determined by the will of another person, her Master. I do NOT mean that
she was literally bought or sold, that some person purchased her off the
Internet, and has her chained up somewhere, although I hear that kind of
thing does happen in some third world countries.
Anyway, I met Brenda and her Master, Andrew (who also happens to be her
husband) online, and as always, we hit it off instantly. Brenda is one of
the two slave girls that are generally my yardstick for measuring other
Gorean slaves or submissives. First of all, she is submissive. She shows
respect and kindness to everyone she meets, whether they are D or s, friend
or stranger. That's not to say she is a pushover. I've seen her handle some
rude and obnoxious people that thought 'slave' means 'target for abuse
and/or sex' and it wasn't pretty. She is definitely not a fool, and she
knows how to treat a person and how to react in any situation.
Secondly, she is erotic. VERY erotic. I fell instantly head over heels for
her within five minutes of speaking to her, which most people do. Long
before I ever saw her picture or met her face to face. Something about
her just screams eroticism. I've since seen her picture, and met her face
to face, and believe me, as beautiful and stunning as her glossy is, it
doesn't hold a candle to the real thing. Brenda is a beautiful, hot, sexy
blonde, about 5' 7" in heels, slightly shorter in bare feet, with a wasp
waist, sweet curves, a full D cup breast, and legs that go on forever. Her
body is lightly tanned, and one day I am going to go with her and Andy to
the beach and see just how she gets that all over body tan! (WOOHOO) Oh,
well, I'll probably be bringing my Shelley with me, of course...
Anyway. Brenda and I talked many a night onine, in the chat room, and in
private. Like most of my close friends, we developed a rapport, and like
most of my Gorean slave friends, we developed a rather sexual connection.
As always, one conversation we had turned to the subject of tickling, and
I found a kindred spirit in her. She was extremely ticklish, and if done
right, she'd often found herself sexually stimulated by it. Andy, it seems
had found the 'right way' to tickle her, but he, himself, was no ticklophile
just someone with the skill and temperment to send his slave girl over the
edge with the right touch in the right place, at the right time.
"So, just how ticklish ARE you?" I asked her, curious.
"Oooh, VERY."
"And just WHERE are you ticklish?" I asked, even more curious.
"Oh, practically everywhere," she replied. "It's probably easier to ask
where I'm NOT ticklish."
My mouth began to water then. "And... do you HATE being tickled? You don't
lash out and kick, or try to bite, or anything?" I asked, remembering
Sandy all too well. Shelley even bit and kicked on ocassion, if I ever
tickled her to extremes.
She only giggled. "No, of course not, Master J. I would never do that to
anyone I know and like. Besides, I kind of like it... even though I'm so
ticklish all over I can't stand it."
Perfection. On so many levels, she was perfection. For the record, Brenda
is the only woman I know that even gives me pause with Shelley, who wears
my heart (and my collar) around her neck. Shelley IS perfection for me, but
Brenda is a close second... close as in 99.999998%
The sweet obedient and subservient girl that she is, Brenda sent me some
pictures of herself when I asked, so that I might see her ticklish body.
I'd actually requested pictures of her feet, which I tended to focus on
the most, but she sent me pictures of her entire self, in slave poses,
wearing slave garb... and for you Goreans, you know how very exposed that
can be! I was beyond delighted. I sent her pictures of myself, dressed
normally, and for some unknown reason, she was as happy as I was to see
her pictures. (*grin*) Go figure.
Fast forward a few years. By now, Shelley and I were an item. I'd gone
to visit and stay with her several times, and she in turn had come here
a few times as well. We were an item. We were formally Master and slave,
real life as well as online, just like Brenda and Andrew. The only
difference was that we were only engaged, not yet married, as well. I'd
been working at the textile plant here for a number of years now, and had
made a pretty good name for myself. I was in charge of my shift, and was
pulling in pretty good money, enough that I could afford to travel across
the country fairly often to visit my slave girl. I was saving up my money
to move, to drive to the west coast and find a place and job there, and
work on starting a life together. Then... the balloon burst, and the plant
got shut down.
One more year, and I would have been set to move. As it was, I had about
65% of the cash I'd planned on saving up for the move, but seeing as how
I had nothing tying me here now, I decided to say, what the hell, and
move then. After discussing it with Shelley, I packed up my stuff, tuned
up my car, and prepared to drive cross country.
One of the people I told about my trip was Brenda. "Oh, Master, I'm so
happy for you! Have you decided on a route to get across country yet?"
"Not really," I admitted. "I have an atlas here, and I'm planning it out
now. It's going to be pretty long and complicated, however I go. Two
thousand miles... at least a five day trip."
"Well... I don't know if it's out of the way or not," she said after a
moment, "but if you happen to pass through Minnesota, and wouldn't mind
a slight detour, Master Andrew and I would LOVE to have you stay with
us a few days, kinda rest from the long trip and get to visit a while,
before you head back out."
"Really? That would be great!" I'd wanted to meet the sexy diva for a
long time. "Are you sure its no trouble? I mean, I wouldn't want to
impose."
"Oh no, not at all. In fact, I insist that you stay with us a few days
on your trip... er, I mean, as much as a slave could demand anything of
a Master," she added shyly.
I thought it over for all of two seconds. "Okay. You convinced me! I could
not live with myself if I refused such a heartfelt invitation. Besides,"
I said with a chuckle, "it will give me the chance to FINALLYT tickle you
silly."
She chuckled as well... then added in, slyly, "Among other things, Master
J."
Well, a few weeks later, I was on the road. I had directions to her house
and her home and work numbers, to make sure they knew where I was, and
when I would arrive. When I finally pulled into the driveway, Andrew came
out to meet me. We hugged deeply, and I handed him a little housewarming
gift. Two full cases of Mountain Dew.
If you don't get it, that's okay. It's a private joke between us. Suffice
it to say, I was now his new best friend.
"So, where's Brenda?" I asked, glancing around the lovely house. Andrew had
told me that he was into home decorating, as a hobby, and had bought the
entire collection of Time-Life books. It showed. He had completely
remodled his house from the way it had been in the pictures I'd seen. He'd
even constructed a work shed in the back yard, from scratch, and had put in
EVERYTHING, from the wood supports and skeletal structure, to the wiring,
to the air conditioning. The house itself was just as remodled, an just as
wonderfully done.
"Brenda's still at work," he said, offering me a seat on the couch. "SHe
called a little earlier to say that the meeting had run long, but that
she would be on her way as fast as she could. She knew you were coming in
today, but we weren't expecting you till later tonight."
"I know," I replied. "I managed to get lucky, and miss the traffic through
Chicago this time, and took a straight shot here along the Interstate."
Chicago traffice was MURDER, particularly at rush hour. It had taken me
almost six hours to drive from the bottom corner of Kentucky state to
the opposite upper corner, yet it took almost two hours, one-third of that
time, JUST to cross through the city of Chicago.
We talked a while, shooting the breeze, when a car pulled up into the
driveway. I'd wanted to go out and park next door, across the way, so
Brenda wouldn't know I'd arrived and would be surprised, but it was just
as well. I'll never forget the look on her face when she walked in, and
saw me standing there, smiling. She was dressed in her business suit, still
fresh from the office, but she squealed like a little girl, and ran over
and hugged me tightly.
"Master J! You're here! Finally!" she said. I kissed her gently, and
chuckled.
"Yes, finally. We've been trying to get me to visit for years now, but
you finally got me here. Nice welcome. If I'd know you would be this glad
to see me, I would have come to visit sooner!"
I'd first wanted to visit for a day or two, then get on my way again. Brenda
and Andrew, however, were so gracious and polietly insistant, that I ended
up staying FIVE days! They even had a barbecue the day I arrived, and
filled me so full of good food I was unable and unwiling to even consider
getting back on the road. Three days of fast food and potato chips on the
road could not compare to Gourmet Andrew at his finest. Finally, however,
I had to get going. We hugged, we kissed, I snapped a few HUNDRED pictures
to remind me of them, and I headed on my way.
I arrived in Shelley's hometown. I stayed there for a while, looking for
a job, searching for an apartment, living off the money I'd saved up for
the move, all the while enjoying being able to see my little one, and be
with her every day. Alas, it was not to be. It was around that time that
the economy first turned bad, and the three big companies that I'd contacted
before making the decision to move, the three I'd had interviews scheduled
for, all decided to cut back, and lay off people. Needless to say, with
so many other natives out of work, it was impossible for ME, an out-of-
towner, to find anything. Regretfully, I discussed it with Shelley, and we
agreed that I should go back home to South Carolina, at least until things
cleared up a bit there, and I had more money saved up to carry me through.
Making my way back home, I again stopped by to visit Brenda and Andrew.
While they were sorry the move hadn't worked out, they were both very happy
to see me again. I ended up spending another five days with them, and the
weekend concluded with me going with them to the Medieval Renassiance
Fair held in St. Paul that weekend. Brenda, the darling little slave, was
also a dancer. She had studied mediterranean dance for years, partially
for fun, and partially to please her Gorean Master. (Incidentially, she
performed an erotic slave dance for me and her Master during my first
visit, and boy is she talented!) At the festival, she and her classmates
were scheduled to perform, to dance in the mediterranean style before the
audience in five shows. She dressed up in her slave dancing garb, a nice
blue ensemble with a coin belt.
To help you imagine it, picture Barbara Eden, from 'I Dream of Jeannie'
in her get-up, but instead of pink, she is dressed in blue and gold. And
more scantily clad, showing her belly button and all. That was
Brenda.
Okay, fast forwarding again. The day went well. I met several of her
classmates, who, incidentially, turned out to be other Gorean slaves
to Masters I knew online. Small world. Anyway, arriving back home, we
were all a bit tired and pleasantly blissed by the day's events. Andrew
excused himself early, leaving the two of us alone. Brenda, changed back
into street clothes again, sat on the couch next to me, as we watched
the news. She smiled, and leaned against me, and we both sat there, just
enjoying the moment. She was barefoot, which she usually was at home, and
her lovely beautiful, exquisite feet were flexing and wiggling invitingly
just inches away from me. Brenda, however, was intently watching the news,
supposedly unaware of what she was doing, and what she was doing to me.
Or, was she?
I glanced at her face at one unguardded moment, and saw her smiling. I
glanced at her feet, and her toes were wiggling, and flexing, back and
forth. She was messing with me.
"So... you like to play games, do ye, lass?" I said, in my best Sean Connery
impersonation. "Well, I'm game if ye are."
"Why, whatever do you mean, Master J?" she asked innocently, wiggling her
toes even more.
I flushed lightly. "You know darn well what I mean, Brenda," I said tersely,
gesturing to her feet. "You've known all along about my interest in your
very pretty, very beautiful feet." She blushed, and lowered her eyes. "And
tickling them," I added, causing her to gasp softly. "I left last time
without getting the chance to really get at them, but not this time."
"Oh, but Master, you don't want to do that," she protested. "My feet are
in really bad shape. They're all hard, and callused, from going around
barefoot all the time. And all the dancing... you know?"
I wasn't convinced in the slightest. "Alright then, just prop them up here,
in my lap, and let me massage them for you." She frowned, uncertain. "You
said you always wanted to get one of those massages that everyone else
keeps talking about online, so here's your chance."
She looked as if she might protest again, but I gave her the glance I give
Shelley every so often, the 'I'm-the-Master-you're-the-slave' glance. Brenda
nodded, and slowly swung her legs up on the couch, and lay back, her head
on the cushions.
Imagery. Brenda was wearing a tight-fitting orange top, her sweet D-sized
breasts free of a bra. She also wore a pair of sexy, tight-fitting jeans
that acentuated every curve to the fullest degree. Her bare feet were now
in my lap, and they were as deeply tanned as the rest of her, the soles
a light pink from being on them most of the day (she'd worn only sandals
to dance at the festival). Her feet were TINY, a size four at the most,
at least two sizes smaller than my Shelley's baby sized feet. And SOFT!
Sandy's feet had been soft as silk, but compared to Brenda's soles, they
might as well have been concrete. I ran a fingernail down the center of her
bare sole, and she shrieked, jerking her foot away with such speed I almost
thought it disintegrated in my hand!
"EEEEK!! HEHEHEHEHE!" she laughed loudly, then covered her mouth, not
wanting to wake Andrew. "Don't tickle, Master!~ I'm way too ticklish!
Please?"
Well, I'd promised a massage, so I began, reluctantly, and as always, the
result had Brenda nearly in a puddle on the couch. I rubbed and caressed
her soles, using the palm of my hands to stroke and caress, to force out
every last trace of tension and pain, using my fingers to spread and work
between her soft pudgy little toes. They were painted a clear color, and
the sheen, and the softness of her feet, told me that she'd prepared for
my arrival by getting her cute little feet pedicured. The little minx!
"OOhhhhhh... Massstteeerrr," she said breathily, her eyes fluttering,
her hands rubbing lightly at her breasts, before returning to her lap.
"You... weren't joking... you really ARE good... mmmmm... I'd drive all
the way... so South Carolina... for this..."
I smirked. "And to think, I had to almost threaten you to get you to put
your feet up here. I could have been doing this from day one, you know."
She giggled, and sighed deeply. "Well, my feet are in your lap now,
Master," she pointed out. "And I think I'm enjoying myself as much as you
are." She slid her free foot a little more into my lap, touching the
telltale bulge of my pleasure. I blushed a bit, and grabbed that foot,
tickling her sole briskly.
"EEEEHEHEHEHEHE!! AAAAHH!! NOO NOO MASTER!! I'M SORRREEE HEHEHEHEHE!!"
I continued tickling her foot for a few more seconds, making her squirm
and laugh hysteically. She was so soft and sensitive, and combined with
the intentionally erotic massaging her other foot was receiving, she was
about to go out of her mind. Still, not wanting to wake up Andrew and
ruin it, I released her foot, which she swiftly slid in between the couch
cushions, out of further danger.
"Now now, put that foot back up here, in my lap," I said chidingly.
She looked at me and smiled, pouting lightly with her bottom lip. "No,
Master," she said.
"Oh, really?" I retorted, tickling her other captive foot. She shrieked
again, and returned her free foot quickly to my lap. I chuckled, and held
it as well, stroking both soles for a few more seconds, sending her into
fits, before taking pity on her, and returning to the massage again.
Her hair was disarranged, and her face and neck was colored, and I could
tell by her breathing that her pulse was racing. My massaging hands calmed
her, but the rhythmic massaging motions of my hands were soon matched by
her own breathing, and the soft random caresses of her hands along her
body. She lay back on the couch, and her eyes fluttered again. "Ohhhh...
Masssttteeerrrr..." she breathed softly, in that hot sexy voice I so loved.
I had my entire hand along her bare left foot now, rubbing lightly, my
fingers between her spread toes. Sensing that we were on a threshold of
some kind, I decided I had best end the session now, or cross a line that,
at least for now, shouldn't be crossed. So I lifted her feet to my face
and gently kissed her toes, one by one, before returning them to the couch.
"I think that'll do for now," I said, a bit breathless myself. "It's getting
a bit late. You'd better go on downstair and to bed, before you Master
begins wondering where you are."
"Yes, you're right." She stood up from the couch, a bit unsteadily, I
thought. As she stood at the top of the stairs, she turned back to me. I
moved to her, and she hugged me, tightly, pressing her body against me in
a way she hadn't before. We kissed then, lightly, on the lips. "Thank you,
Master J," she said softly, before heading downstairs.
As you can guess, I promptly went to my room alone after that. I don't think
it needs to be said what occurred there. Use your imagination. That was my
last night there, however. Early sunday morning, I was ready to head back
out on the road again. I hugged and kissed her again, hugged Andy and
shook his hand, and after making promises to do this again real soon, I
headed out.
That was last year. I haven't had the chance to visit them again, but
I do plan on doing so again in the future. The situation with Brenda and
Andy, and with me and Shelley, is complex. We are Goreans, and Masters and
slaves, but we are also deeply involved and in love with our partners. Does
this mean Brenda and I would never be together sexually? Perhaps, perhaps
not. Its not something we've talked about in so many words, but suffice
it to say, it remains a possibility.
Also, suffice it to say, the crossing of that line, that last night, is
one of my most repeated, most intense, fantasies.
