PeterVincentTGVK
1st Level Red Feather
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Hello! I am deciding to take a break from my Jenni and Leopard series to work on some original stories. I am taking commission requests on my DeviantArt page (link below) and wanted to share a story that I plan to include in my next book. Enjoy and please feel free to comment and let me know your thoughts!
MAKING THE PIG SQUEAL
Officer Jeremy Brandt wasn’t very happy about his job. He was 34 years old. He should have made Lieutenant by now, but that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon. He had just been assigned to the Vice Squad. How the Hell would he get anywhere in the Vice Squad? It was fairly well known as the division officers were put in where it was nearly impossible to advance.
It had only been two weeks and already he was undercover. He and another officer, Wendy Daniels, were running a sting operation. Apple Oaks was a small town, but there had been reports of soliciting and prostitution near a few of the bars downtown. She was posing as a prostitute and he was supposed to pose as a potential mark. But after four nights, they hadn’t come up with anything.
It all felt like such a waste of time. Brandt wasn’t even sure why prostitution was illegal to begin with. What two consenting adults did was not something he thought should be governed by the law. He recalled his last thought before leaving his apartment earlier. He had just thrown on a shoulder holster containing his S&W 5946 and wondered why he even needed the gun. He was physically fit enough to handle himself in nearly any foreseeable struggle, especially against a woman, but he knew it was better to be safe than sorry. The gun held 10 rounds. More than enough to put down a pimp. Or a hooker, for that matter.
It was almost one in the morning when Brandt and Daniels gave up for the night. In a week, she was to be re-assigned to a case involving potential cocaine dealers near the local high school. This gave Brandt only a few more nights to at least secure a suspect. He parked his car outside of a tavern called Dom’s and threw his dark blue bomber jacket on. He still wore the gun under it, but he wasn’t interested in anything at the moment that he couldn’t either drink, or screw.
The tavern was relatively small. Some might have used the term “compact”. Brandt would call it “cramped”. He passed by a pool table. There was a couple, a male and a female, shooting a game. He was well dressed and looked straight out of some Ivy League school. He wore brown dress pants, a light blue, buttoned shirt, and was clean shaven. She, on the other hand, looked like she was cut from a different cloth. She wasn’t what Brandt would call voluptuous, but her black, low cut blouse was a bit too tight for him not to notice. She had tight jeans with ripped knees, dark blue hair, and a stud in her nose. Brandt took one last look at them over his shoulder and moved to pull up a stool. The bartender, Ray, plopped a bottle of Coors Banquet in front of him.
“Haven’t seen you in a while, Officer Brandt. Not since last night.” Ray joked slyly. Ray was African American. He had a thin beard which was starting to sprout gray hairs. He was athletic, but loved the bar atmosphere. He had bought Dom’s from the original owner about five years back.
“Nah, none of that “Officer” stuff. Not liking the job tonight. Jeremy’s fine.” Brandt took his beer and unceremoniously dropped a couple of bucks onto the counter.
“Still trying to bust those hookers?”
“I don’t think there are any.” Brandt admitted. “I think that there might have been, but they’ve skipped town.”
“Has Daniels had any propositions?”
“Nope.”
“That’s surprising.” Ray picked up a rag and wiped down a section of the counter. “I would have asked her myself if I hadn’t known she was a uniform.”
Brandt turned to look back at the pool table. The well dressed man was bent over, lining up a shot. The girl stood, holding her cue vertically. She noticed Brandt looking and shot him an innocent wink, letting him know that she knew he was watching her.
“Don’t do it.” Ray advised.
“Don’t do what?” Brandt returned his attention to the bartender.
“You know what. She’s with someone.”
“So is Daniels.” Brandt reminded him.
“Fair enough. I just don’t want any drama in my bar.”
“What the fuck did you say to me?!” Both Brandt and Ray turned their attention to the couple at the pool table. The guy was getting an attitude with the girl.
“Hey now!” Ray raised his voice with assertion. “Keep it down over there. You got issues? Take em somewhere else.”
“Fuck off, old man.” The guy raised a fist to the girl. “Gonna just flirt with everyone in the fucking bar, huh?”
“Okay...” Brandt downed the rest of his beer. “That’s me.” The off duty cop grabbed his wallet out of his back pocket and opened it as he approached the pool table, flashing his badge. “I don’t know how much you’ve had to drink and I don’t care.” He told the young man. “You raise a hand to her, I’ll raise one to you. That’s a promise, kid.”
The guy at the pool table took a swing at Brandt. The officer’s training kicked in. He caught the arm and swept the punk’s left leg, bringing him to the ground. Brandt pushed him over onto his stomach and grabbed a pair of cuffs from his inner right jacket pocket. It had all happened so fast, the punk didn’t even realize he was cuffed until Brandt pulled him back up and shoved him against the pool table.
“Ray, call the department. Drunk and disorderly and assaulting an officer.”
“You really are a cop?” The girl asked quietly. She seemed surprised.
“Officer Jeremy Brandt.” He replied.
“You don’t mind, do you?” Brandt asked as he fired up a Camel Light. After the squad car had come to collect the asshole who had attacked him, Brandt had offered the girl a ride home. She accepted. Said her name was Brittany. She sat, cross-legged in his passenger seat.
“No. I used to smoke myself for a year or so. It was actually easy to quit. I don’t mind the smell or anything.” She told him.
“Really?” He replied. “Cause I’ve heard that after you quit, you grow to hate the smell of cigarette smoke.”
“Maybe for some people.” Brittany tilted her head to the right, running a few fingers through her hair. “Turn left, here.” She directed.
“So, who was that guy you were with?” Brandt knew it was none of his business, but he was strapped for ways to make conversation. “Boyfriend?”
“He probably thinks so.” She entertained the thought. “I don’t have a boyfriend though.” She told him. He turned to her and she smiled. “Available.” She gave a small, flirtatious laugh and a slight wave of her hand. It was impossible to know if she was seriously coming onto him, or simply making her comment in jest. “Right at the next light, by the way.”
“No problem.”
“So, how long have you been a cop?” She uncrossed her legs. He hoped that she didn’t catch him peeking before she crossed them again. She was attractive in an unconventional way. There was something about her that seemed almost waif-ish. It gave her an air of mystery that she could flaunt to gain his curiosity.
“Almost nine years.” Brandt said. “What do you do for a living?”
“I’m in retail. Just started a job at the mall.”
“Let me guess: Hot Topic.” He joked.
“You’re close.” She nodded. “Spencers. It’s this blue house on the left.” She pointed out to him.
“Doesn’t look like anyone else is home.” Brandt observed. “You can afford a place like this on a mall job salary?”
“Hardly. I share it with three other girls from work. They’re probably still out.” She said. “You don’t wanna come in, do you?” She asked the question with a certain amount of naivety, sounding not unlike a nervous girl with a crush after a first date.
“I should get heading home, actually.” He declined the offer. She had to have been at least a decade younger than him. Something about it just didn’t seem right.
“I’m sorry. I just noticed you don’t have a ring or anything.” Brittany drew a finger across the top of his right hand. “Besides, what if one of that guy’s friends come looking for me? He knows where I live, you know. It wouldn’t be horrible to have a cop in my home for a little while.” She batted her eyes slightly. It wasn’t obvious, though. She was somewhat subtle in her flirtations. But Brandt was old enough to notice them. He looked her over for what had to have been the 11th time that night. It had been a while for him. A few months in fact. He thought about the things he would like to do to her. It wasn’t sounding like such a bad idea anymore.
“You don’t need me to protect you.” Brandt said. “But I wouldn’t mind a drink.”
It had taken Brittany a second or two to get her key to work in the front door. Brandt started to suspect that she might not have lived here for very long. That suspicion was granted even more plausibility when they walked into the living room and there was next to nothing but a reclining couch, coffee table, and a large, flat screen TV on a stand. There were several boxes laying about, though. It looked as though someone had just moved in, or was about to move out. The pieces came together for Brandt a little bit later than they should have: She was a prostitute.
“You don’t work at the mall, do you?” He asked abruptly. Brittany opened her mouth to speak but stopped herself, giving him a brief smirk before responding.
“You know, for a cop, you’re pretty dense.” Brittany told him. “When I broke it to that guy earlier in the bar, he didn’t like knowing that he was gonna have to pay for it. You did me a favor, getting him out of there. So what?”
“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t take you to the station right this minute.” Brandt challenged.
“You don’t have any proof.” She claimed. “Not only that, but as I said, you helped me out earlier. What’s to stop me from saying that you were just getting your competition out of the way? That bartender saw you looking at me the way you were. Then you had that jackass arrested. And, after that, you were so quick to give me a ride home. Doesn’t look too good.”
Dammit, she was right. There wasn’t really a way to contradict her story. He could always claim innocence, but to almost anyone, it would look like he had been trying to go home with her. It was definitely a predicament.
“What do you want?” Brandt asked.
“Let’s call it 100 for the hour.” Brittany smiled and held out her wrists. “You can cuff me now, if you like.”
“I’m not going to pay you for sex.” He said.
“I’m pretty sure you will.” She countered. “Otherwise, you can kiss your career goodbye.” There was a slyness to her now. “Come on. Don’t pretend that you don’t want me.”
“What’s in this for you?” He reached into his jacket for his second pair of handcuffs. “It can’t just be 100 bucks. You could have gotten that from anybody. Especially with your figure.”
“Thanks.” She noted his compliment and looked genuinely flattered for a second. “But it would look pretty damn nice on my figurative resume if I had successfully hooked a cop.”
She was serious. She was just looking for a thrill. She wanted to say that she had a cop around her pinky finger. Nothing more. Fine, Brandt thought. If she wanted to say that she had playtime with a cop… then he would make sure that she was played with. A cruel plan formed in his mind.
“You said 100?” He pulled out his wallet and removed five twenties, setting them on the coffee table. “Deal. But I want to do this on the couch.” He proceeded to remove his jacket, and his gun holster, setting them on the floor.
“Do what… exactly?” She inquired in a sultry whisper.
“I’m sorry, Miss.” He announced. “I have to place you under arrest.” Brandt smiled and took Brittany by the wrists, clicking the cuffs on. “You’re gonna have to come with me.” He took the chain of the cuffs and pulled her to the couch.
“Oh no. I’m innocent, officer.” Brittany played along, enjoying the roleplay. He carefully sat her on the couch and motioned for her to lay on her back. She grinned as he mounted her, straddling her waist. Brandt took hold of the cuffs, pinning her arms above her head.
“Are you prepared to face judgment?” He asked.
“Oh, yes, officer.” She looked so sexy. But when he took hold of her right hip and pushed in with his thumb, her eyes shot open wide.
“Ticklish?” He started clawing her hip and up her side. The result was immediate.
“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA STOP THAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHATTT!” Brittany was super ticklish. She had never outgrown it.
“Sorry. I can’t stop.” He told her. “Don’t you know this is how we punish criminals in this town?” He seized her belly, tickling her with curling fingers through her shirt. It wasn’t long before he wormed his hand under the shirt and dug his fingers in.
“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!” Brittany spasmed underneath him. She tried to pull her arms down. She had a little slack, but not nearly enough. Thins got serious when he goosed the side of her groin where it met her thigh. She nearly bucked him right off of her each time he grabbed that horribly tender spot.
“Maybe this will teach you to blackmail a police officer.” Brandt wasn’t playing with her anymore. He brought his hand up to probe her right armpit as she started becoming short of breath, pleading as she giggled silently. He stopped and she tried to catch her breath. But he wasn’t giving her a break intentionally. Instead, he was taking a second to roll up her shirt and unsnap the front of her bra. He took her right breast into his hand and started to fondle it, squeezing it in a ticklish manner.
“Hehehehehe… you can hoohhoohld them… hahahaha… you don’t have to tiihihiihckle…” She was saying anything to get him to stop the torture. When his fingers dug into her breast near her ribs, she started bucking again and he tickled that spot mercilessly. This’ll teach her, he thought to himself. This will teach her for su-
“What the fuck is going on here?!” Brandt turned to see three women coming in through the front door. Brittany’s roommates. The one who had just spoken was thin with strawberry blonde hair. Maybe 5’5. She wore a blue tee shirt with a glittery unicorn on the front of her rather non-existent chest. What she lacked in curves, though, she made up for in sheer beauty. The kind of girl who probably had a crowd of boys around her in middle school, but just never really developed. Her small skirt topped her off, causing her to look overall like she was much younger than she probably was.
Behind her was another girl. This one was taller and had short, black hair in a pixie cut. She was a bit pale and had a very shapely hourglass figure. As Ray might have put it: Her ass could probably pull a bus. She had a tee shirt on as well, only hers looked a couple of sizes too big. Memento from an ex, maybe? She wore dark jeans as well that made her butt look even larger. He could almost hear her zipper screaming for sweet mercy.
The third girl was African American with wavy hair down her back. Her bulbous chest jutted out. Her back would start killing her once she reached her thirties. She wore a short sleeve black tee shirt with a plunging neckline and short shorts. Like Brittany, she had a stud in her left nostril.
“He’s a cop!” Brittany yelled. The short haired girl acted fast, rushing to grab Brandt’s gun holster off of the floor. The other two girls rushed to their roommate’s aid and shoved Brandt off of her. The officer hit the floor and hastily jumped to his feet. He wasn’t fast enough, though, as the short haired girl had already removed his S&W and had it pointed right at him.
“What is he doing in our house, Britt?” The thin one asked. Brittany got off of the couch and stood with the other girls.
“He drove me here after another guy bailed.” She answered the thin girl’s question.
“After I kept him from beating the shit out of you back at Dom’s, you mean?” Brandt revealed as he addressed the other girls. “My name is Jeremy Brandt. Your friend lured me back here to blackmail me.”
“Oh, so you thought you would torture her instead?” The black girl asked rhetorically, folding her arms across her chest.
“Well, Jeremy Brandt...” The thin one tossed her hair. “I guess there’s no point in secrets anymore. I’m Sammie. My black haired friend here is Veronica.” The pixie cut girl gave him a mock salute when introduced.
“And I’m Rachel.” The African American girl said. “And it seems that we caught you with your pants down.”
“Let me make something clear to you.” Brandt said sternly. “You have taken an officer’s weapon. You are pointing a loaded gun at a cop. Even if you weren’t all guilty of prostitution, we’re talking serious time here.”
“Not really.” Brittany told him. “Because nothing has really changed. You came home with me hoping to proposition me for sex. The only thing that has changed now is that I have three witnesses.”
“What should we do with him?” Sammie asked the other girls.
“Take off your clothes.” Veronica ordered as she continued to hold the gun on Brandt. “I’d like to see what we’re dealing with.” Sammie and Brittany giggled quietly at Veronica’s demand.
“I will not.” He asserted.
“How about this, Brittany? Another wrinkle in your narrative: We came home to find him on top of you and when I grabbed the gun, he came at me. I had to shoot him in the leg in self defense.” Veronica cocked the hammer on the gun.
“Okay. Okay. Fine.” Brandt understood that the situation was hopeless. He took his shirt off, pulling it over his head and dropping it to the floor.
“Slower.” Veronica demanded. Brandt was about to say something, but chose to be silent. He sat on the couch and pulled off his shoes. First the left, then the right. Next came the socks. He peeled them off one at a time, brushing some lint off of his soles and toes.
“Make sure to get between em.” Rachel joked, breaking the silence. All of the girls laughed for a moment. Once again, Brandt chose not to speak. He stood back up and unclasped his belt buckle, yanking the belt off in one deft motion.
“There you go.” Veronica giggled. Sammie started to hum a stereotypical stripper tune and there was more laughter. Brandt was beet red. He unzipped and pulled down his pants, kicking them off. Now he stood in only his boxers. Veronica spoke up again. “I don’t hear anyone telling you to stop.”
Brandt took a deep breath, exhaled, and pulled off his boxers.
“Now I really wish you had just taken my offer.” Brittany said, complimenting him on his penis size. “I wouldn’t have minded that at all.”
“Ladies, there is a naked man in our living room.” Sammie commented. “What should we do with him?”
“Well, he seemed to have a real good time tickle torturing me.” Brittany recalled. “Why don’t the four of us get him back?”
“Good luck with that.” Brandt laughed at the ludicrous notion. “I haven’t been ticklish since the fourth grade.”
“Then maybe you just need a trip down memory lane.” Veronica suggested.
“Veronica’s a domme.” Rachel informed the officer. “You know what that means?”
“Yeah.” Brandt rolled his eye. “It means she’s a sick bitch who likes whips and chains. Color me 50 shades of fucking terrified.” He remarked sarcastically.
“Actually, it means that I have extensive experience in discovering and exploiting the weaknesses of the flesh.” Veronica corrected. “Girls, I’m gonna grab something from my room real quick. Get him situated on the couch for his session.”
“This is so stupid.” He rolled his eyes again as Veronica handed the gun to Sammie. Brittany and Rachel approached him. There was a moment of something resembling panic as they came near him. Why, though? He couldn’t place it. Maybe it was because they were clothed and he wasn’t. Maybe because he knew he was at the mercy of all four of them. Maybe both. All he could do was try to hide his anxiety. Rachel took his left wrist and walked him over to the couch. Then, the two women laid him down onto his back on the couch. Brittany pulled his hands above his head and he felt her snap the cuffs on his wrists.
“What do we tie his feet with?” Rachel asked. Sammie shook her head as if to say she didn’t know.
“With these!” Veronica came back into the room and tossed a set of nylons over to Rachel. “We want to give him a little slack, but not too much. Tie the two nylons together, then tie one end around each ankle, slipping the nylons under the recliner lever where it meets the couch. That way, he can only pull one foot back at a time.” Brandt started to feel that fear again. Maybe Veronica really did know what she was doing. He saw that, in addition to the nylons, she had brought in a kind of handbag with her. Brittany pulled his wrists towards her, leaving a little bit of slack.
“Sammie, you’re skinny enough. Come here.” She requested. Sammie came over, knowing just what Brittany had in mind. She bent down and came up between Brandt’s arms. As she stood there against the armrest, him pulling his arms down was an impossible task. Brittany took the gun from her just as Rachel finished tying his ankles. He was stuck on the couch now, unable to sit up or pull his arms or legs.
“A bit make-shift, but it’ll do.” Veronica approved. She dropped a pillow down to the floor, unzipped her handbag and knelt down on the pillow in front of the couch, facing Brandt’s midsection. The officer watched as she pulled four small make-up brushes. “Anybody got any more of these?” She asked.
“I’ve got two in my purse on the counter.” Rachel replied, walking over to the kitchen counter about 20 feet from the couch.
“How exactly do you think you’re gonna tickle me with those?” Brandt mocked.
“There are two distinct kinds of tickle sensation.” Veronica told him. “You say you haven’t been ticklish since you were a kid. When kids tickle. They usually tickle rough. The feeling you get from that kind of touch is called Gargalesis.”
“Gesundheit.” Brandt muttered. Veronica wasn’t amused at the jest.
“As I was saying… Gargalesis can be caused by poking the ribs or vibrating your fingers into someone’s belly or under their arms. But not everyone is sensitive to it. Some outgrow it or, if it’s not done right, it just hurts more than anything else. The other kind of sensation is called Knismesis. It’s a ticklish reaction to a soft touch, like from a feather. And that’s what I want to test you for.”
Rachel came back with two more make-up brushes and moved over to Veronica, sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of Brandt’s thighs and privates. Brittany took two of the four brushes from Veronica and walked down to Brandt’s feet. Sammie seemed content to just stand where she was and act as a pole for the cuffs.
“Okay, girls. Here’s the score...” Veronica instructed. “Take a body part and start dusting. He probably won’t laugh right away cause he’s gonna try to fight. Just watch for spots that twitch or tense. Tickle spots can typically be seen by the naked eye due to how they respond to the touch.”
Brandt felt Brittany’s brushes first on the balls of his feet. She wiggled them as a french maid would with a feather duster. Short, rapid sweeps. It itched, and he was tempted to move his feet, but he didn’t want to show any weakness this early on. He just stared at the ceiling and tried to block out the annoying tingle on his soles.
Veronica herself was the next to step in. She placed her brushes on either side of his torso, directly between the lowest bones of his ribcage, and started to dust them, slowly drifting up and down, from front to back. This sensation was different. The nerves in the skin there were more responsive. And Brandt was now having difficulty keeping a stony expression. Veronica was watching his face attentively, waiting for that first smile.
And that smile started forming when Rachel joined the party, sweeping her two brushes up and down the tops of his bare thighs, dancing nimbly and focusing on the area near his hips.
“You were right, V.” Sammie was just looking down at Brandt’s face. “He’s fighting it. But he looks like it’s wearing on him.”
“Oh, it is.” Veronica concurred. She moved her brushes up a little, getting in between each rib for a few seconds, then climbing up to the next one, getting closer and closer to his underarms. At the same time, down by his feet, Brittany started brushing against the centers of his soles. It was then that he jerked his feet a bit and the first quiet chuckle escaped his lips. He wanted to try and regain control, but Veronica knew that this was the best time for some tickle talk.
“Hey, guess what?” She caught his attention and he looked her in the eye. “You’re ticklish.”
Her taunt was followed by snicker. Veronica knew that word was deadly.
“Do you know where you’re ticklish?” She asked him as he trembled, only able to suppress a couple of the giggles that were trying to force their way out. “You’re ticklish on your riiiiibs...” She dragged the last word out. “You’re ticklish on your feeeeeet… You’re ticklish on your hiiiiips… and you’re REALLY ticklish… under your arms!” She dusted the pits rapidly.
“Wait no-hehEHhEHHEhEHhEhHEHEHEHHEhEHhe...” The dam broke.
“Wait? Wait for what?” Veronica asked teasingly as she started spinning the brushes under his arms. The laughter was flowing freely from him now, like a stream.
Brittany was holding the toes back on his right foot and dusting the stems. Whenever he would try to pull a foot back, she just seized the other one. It was a devilish game that she was happily playing.
For her part, Rachel was now teasing the inner thighs, or at least what she could reach of them. He would try to push his legs together to either avoid or trap the brushes. She was quick, however, and stuck like lightning, keeping him in constant tickles. The naughty side of her enjoyed tickling near his groin and watching his penis start to bob it’s way to erection as she and the other two girls tormented him.
“He doesn’t sound like such a smartass now, does he?” Brittany observed.
“He don’t sound as uptight either.” Rachel added.
“Nah.” Veronica shook her head. “He just sounds ticklish.”
“Can I try?” Sammie was impatient now, watching the others having so much fun.
“Sure.” Veronica pulled her brushes away from Brandt’s armpits and the cop was relieved, until he soon felt Sammie’s nails dancing in them. He jerked his arms down so hard that he nearly pulled her down on top of him.
“Oh my! That was quite a reaction.” Sammie giggled. Her nails drew little circles in the centers of his pits, followed by plus signs and x’s. “Tickle tickle!”
“Does tickle talk actually do anything?” Rachel asked bluntly.
“It depends on the person, usually.” Veronica replied.
“I know that when I was growing up, I would always say coochie coo to my little brother when I tickled him and I actually made him pee a couple times.” Brittany offered the anecdote.
“Are we planning to do anything about the Leaning Tower of Pisa down there?” Sammie brought everyone’s attention to Brandt’s hard-on.
“I figured we were just making this up as we go.” Rachel said.
“Yeah, same here.” Veronica added. “Really though, I think it’s up to Brittany.” She turned to face her roommate, who was still merrily teasing Brandt’s toes. “What do you want to do? Do you think he’s had enough?”
“Oh, not by a long shot. I wanna keep tickling.” Brittany told them with playful enthusiasm.
“Well, then we should try tickling him in a different way.” Veronica said. “He’s not giggling as much anymore because he’s getting used to the feel of the brushes.
“I think we should each use a different technique.” Sammie suggested. “That way, he’s being tickled all over, but different sensations. I mean, I’m happy just letting my fingers do the walking, but we shouldn’t all be tickling him the same way.” The others quickly voiced their agreement.
“Well, I do have some more toys in here.” Veronica went back into her bag and pulled out an electric toothbrush. Brandt squirmed when he saw her hand it to Brittany. “Here, babe, he might have missed some of that sock lint earlier. You should make sure every inch is clean.” Veronica winked.
“This is insane!” He yelled. None of the girls even acknowledged him.
“Sammie can keep using her nails, since that’s what she wants.” Veronica looked like a terrific idea had just popped into her brain and she jumped up, running into the kitchen.
“What are you doing?”
“Gimme a sec.” Veronica reached under the kitchen sink. Brandt heard the faucet running for a bit and after nearly three minutes of unbearable suspense, He saw her return with a wash cloth and a bucket of soapy water. When he saw the cloth, he died a little inside.
“Wait, what do I do?” Rachel asked. They were all depending on Veronica to explain to them how best to torture him. At the moment, Brandt would have done anything for a drink.
“You like to give handjobs, right?” Veronica asked her ebony cohort.
“Are you kidding me? I’m the hand fucking master!” Rachel boasted obnoxiously.
“Okay, then.” Veronica pulled two gray, soft, fuzzy gloves out of the bag. “Use these.”
“Oh, come on!” Brandt complained.
“Hey!” Rachel snapped at him as she put the gloves on and modeled them for everyone. “It’s your own fault that you are in this situation. “And it’s your own fault for being so ticklish.”
“We’re gonna get you now.” Veronica whispered, drawing his attention to her. “And you are either gonna cum, or pass out. We really don’t care which.” The domme dipped her wash cloth into the bucket. “Okay, just like before, let’s attack one after the other. Let him suffer gradually. Then, we’ll all attack at once. He is definitely susceptible to the soft tickling and all of us have a different means to exploit that.”
Sammie went first this time, slowly creeping her fingertips up and down the insides of his arms down to his pits, back and forth from the hollows to his elbows.
“Tickle tickle...”
He snorted and chuckled each time her fingers arrived in his pits. Next was Brittany. Brandt heard the toothbrush buzzing and she started drawing it across his heels, getting giggles from him in no time at all. It got worse when she drew it higher, tracing the lines on his soles.
“Hehahehhahehahahahhahahahahehhaehehhaehhaehahaaa...”
Veronica’s cloth got him next. The water in the bucket was warm and soapy so the cloth glided over his ribs and sides easily. He tried to twist and jerk but she put a hand on his chest to hold him in place.
“HahahAHAHhAHhAhHAhAhahhhahHAhHAHhAHhAhA..”
That was also when Rachel took hold of his cock. She hadn’t just been boasting before. The other girls liked to joke from time to time, calling her “The Catch”. This was because she utilized every part of her body and offered just about every part to a client. Her bald pussy, her firm ass, her large breasts, her mouth with the stud in her tongue, her skilled fingers… She could service a man several different ways, “catching” him with any number of methods. She was, in fact, the top earner of the group. Legend had it that she had once given a hand job that only lasted 30 seconds. But she had no intention of making this quick. She gently but firmly pinched the erection at the front and back of the base and used the fingers of her other hand to tickle up and down the sides.
“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!” Full blown laughter filled the room as the four women exploited his ticklish form. The toothbrush and the gloves tickled him the most, but the wash cloth and Sammie’s nails were certainly doing their job. Veronica decided to try more tickle talk.
“Is this ticklish? Huh? Is this ticklish here on your tummy?”
“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”
“How about down here, officer?” Brittany joined in. “It’s not every day I get to piggy a piggy. Coochie coochie coo...”
“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”
“You’re so sweaty under here now.” Sammie rubbed her fingers in the pits, gliding and massaging. “Makes it easier to tickle ya!”
“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”
“You must like my tickling.” Rachel smiled. “You’re so hard, I almost have to register this as a backup weapon, officer. Tickle tickle.”
“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”
Sammie was now flicking her nails in his pits, remembering what Veronica had said about soft touches. Veronica herself was now soaping up his nipples and ribs with slippery fingertips. Brittany had him howling, sliding the brush between his toes. And Rachel was fluttering her fuzzy fingers against his testicles while tickling his penis around the base, occasionally sliding her hand up and down the shaft for a second to tease him.
“Tickle tickle!”
“Gitchy goo!”
“Awww… he’s shaking...”
“Jumping jellybeans, his balls are ticklish!”
“Look how purple his cheeks are!”
“I think this is the magic spot, right here under his bellybutton.”
“Officer, is your butt crack ticklish? Oh wow! I guess so!”
Eventually, Brandt gave out an earth shattering scream as he ejaculated. Rachel jumped back, not wanting any of it to get on her shirt. After about fifteen seconds of intense pleasure, Brandt sunk down into the couch, hardly able to move. He felt a bit lightheaded from the ordeal, and heard Veronica get up to go to the kitchen once again.
“Very good.” She said from behind him. “I’ll get him some water, and we’ll start again...”
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MAKING THE PIG SQUEAL
Officer Jeremy Brandt wasn’t very happy about his job. He was 34 years old. He should have made Lieutenant by now, but that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon. He had just been assigned to the Vice Squad. How the Hell would he get anywhere in the Vice Squad? It was fairly well known as the division officers were put in where it was nearly impossible to advance.
It had only been two weeks and already he was undercover. He and another officer, Wendy Daniels, were running a sting operation. Apple Oaks was a small town, but there had been reports of soliciting and prostitution near a few of the bars downtown. She was posing as a prostitute and he was supposed to pose as a potential mark. But after four nights, they hadn’t come up with anything.
It all felt like such a waste of time. Brandt wasn’t even sure why prostitution was illegal to begin with. What two consenting adults did was not something he thought should be governed by the law. He recalled his last thought before leaving his apartment earlier. He had just thrown on a shoulder holster containing his S&W 5946 and wondered why he even needed the gun. He was physically fit enough to handle himself in nearly any foreseeable struggle, especially against a woman, but he knew it was better to be safe than sorry. The gun held 10 rounds. More than enough to put down a pimp. Or a hooker, for that matter.
It was almost one in the morning when Brandt and Daniels gave up for the night. In a week, she was to be re-assigned to a case involving potential cocaine dealers near the local high school. This gave Brandt only a few more nights to at least secure a suspect. He parked his car outside of a tavern called Dom’s and threw his dark blue bomber jacket on. He still wore the gun under it, but he wasn’t interested in anything at the moment that he couldn’t either drink, or screw.
The tavern was relatively small. Some might have used the term “compact”. Brandt would call it “cramped”. He passed by a pool table. There was a couple, a male and a female, shooting a game. He was well dressed and looked straight out of some Ivy League school. He wore brown dress pants, a light blue, buttoned shirt, and was clean shaven. She, on the other hand, looked like she was cut from a different cloth. She wasn’t what Brandt would call voluptuous, but her black, low cut blouse was a bit too tight for him not to notice. She had tight jeans with ripped knees, dark blue hair, and a stud in her nose. Brandt took one last look at them over his shoulder and moved to pull up a stool. The bartender, Ray, plopped a bottle of Coors Banquet in front of him.
“Haven’t seen you in a while, Officer Brandt. Not since last night.” Ray joked slyly. Ray was African American. He had a thin beard which was starting to sprout gray hairs. He was athletic, but loved the bar atmosphere. He had bought Dom’s from the original owner about five years back.
“Nah, none of that “Officer” stuff. Not liking the job tonight. Jeremy’s fine.” Brandt took his beer and unceremoniously dropped a couple of bucks onto the counter.
“Still trying to bust those hookers?”
“I don’t think there are any.” Brandt admitted. “I think that there might have been, but they’ve skipped town.”
“Has Daniels had any propositions?”
“Nope.”
“That’s surprising.” Ray picked up a rag and wiped down a section of the counter. “I would have asked her myself if I hadn’t known she was a uniform.”
Brandt turned to look back at the pool table. The well dressed man was bent over, lining up a shot. The girl stood, holding her cue vertically. She noticed Brandt looking and shot him an innocent wink, letting him know that she knew he was watching her.
“Don’t do it.” Ray advised.
“Don’t do what?” Brandt returned his attention to the bartender.
“You know what. She’s with someone.”
“So is Daniels.” Brandt reminded him.
“Fair enough. I just don’t want any drama in my bar.”
“What the fuck did you say to me?!” Both Brandt and Ray turned their attention to the couple at the pool table. The guy was getting an attitude with the girl.
“Hey now!” Ray raised his voice with assertion. “Keep it down over there. You got issues? Take em somewhere else.”
“Fuck off, old man.” The guy raised a fist to the girl. “Gonna just flirt with everyone in the fucking bar, huh?”
“Okay...” Brandt downed the rest of his beer. “That’s me.” The off duty cop grabbed his wallet out of his back pocket and opened it as he approached the pool table, flashing his badge. “I don’t know how much you’ve had to drink and I don’t care.” He told the young man. “You raise a hand to her, I’ll raise one to you. That’s a promise, kid.”
The guy at the pool table took a swing at Brandt. The officer’s training kicked in. He caught the arm and swept the punk’s left leg, bringing him to the ground. Brandt pushed him over onto his stomach and grabbed a pair of cuffs from his inner right jacket pocket. It had all happened so fast, the punk didn’t even realize he was cuffed until Brandt pulled him back up and shoved him against the pool table.
“Ray, call the department. Drunk and disorderly and assaulting an officer.”
“You really are a cop?” The girl asked quietly. She seemed surprised.
“Officer Jeremy Brandt.” He replied.
“You don’t mind, do you?” Brandt asked as he fired up a Camel Light. After the squad car had come to collect the asshole who had attacked him, Brandt had offered the girl a ride home. She accepted. Said her name was Brittany. She sat, cross-legged in his passenger seat.
“No. I used to smoke myself for a year or so. It was actually easy to quit. I don’t mind the smell or anything.” She told him.
“Really?” He replied. “Cause I’ve heard that after you quit, you grow to hate the smell of cigarette smoke.”
“Maybe for some people.” Brittany tilted her head to the right, running a few fingers through her hair. “Turn left, here.” She directed.
“So, who was that guy you were with?” Brandt knew it was none of his business, but he was strapped for ways to make conversation. “Boyfriend?”
“He probably thinks so.” She entertained the thought. “I don’t have a boyfriend though.” She told him. He turned to her and she smiled. “Available.” She gave a small, flirtatious laugh and a slight wave of her hand. It was impossible to know if she was seriously coming onto him, or simply making her comment in jest. “Right at the next light, by the way.”
“No problem.”
“So, how long have you been a cop?” She uncrossed her legs. He hoped that she didn’t catch him peeking before she crossed them again. She was attractive in an unconventional way. There was something about her that seemed almost waif-ish. It gave her an air of mystery that she could flaunt to gain his curiosity.
“Almost nine years.” Brandt said. “What do you do for a living?”
“I’m in retail. Just started a job at the mall.”
“Let me guess: Hot Topic.” He joked.
“You’re close.” She nodded. “Spencers. It’s this blue house on the left.” She pointed out to him.
“Doesn’t look like anyone else is home.” Brandt observed. “You can afford a place like this on a mall job salary?”
“Hardly. I share it with three other girls from work. They’re probably still out.” She said. “You don’t wanna come in, do you?” She asked the question with a certain amount of naivety, sounding not unlike a nervous girl with a crush after a first date.
“I should get heading home, actually.” He declined the offer. She had to have been at least a decade younger than him. Something about it just didn’t seem right.
“I’m sorry. I just noticed you don’t have a ring or anything.” Brittany drew a finger across the top of his right hand. “Besides, what if one of that guy’s friends come looking for me? He knows where I live, you know. It wouldn’t be horrible to have a cop in my home for a little while.” She batted her eyes slightly. It wasn’t obvious, though. She was somewhat subtle in her flirtations. But Brandt was old enough to notice them. He looked her over for what had to have been the 11th time that night. It had been a while for him. A few months in fact. He thought about the things he would like to do to her. It wasn’t sounding like such a bad idea anymore.
“You don’t need me to protect you.” Brandt said. “But I wouldn’t mind a drink.”
It had taken Brittany a second or two to get her key to work in the front door. Brandt started to suspect that she might not have lived here for very long. That suspicion was granted even more plausibility when they walked into the living room and there was next to nothing but a reclining couch, coffee table, and a large, flat screen TV on a stand. There were several boxes laying about, though. It looked as though someone had just moved in, or was about to move out. The pieces came together for Brandt a little bit later than they should have: She was a prostitute.
“You don’t work at the mall, do you?” He asked abruptly. Brittany opened her mouth to speak but stopped herself, giving him a brief smirk before responding.
“You know, for a cop, you’re pretty dense.” Brittany told him. “When I broke it to that guy earlier in the bar, he didn’t like knowing that he was gonna have to pay for it. You did me a favor, getting him out of there. So what?”
“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t take you to the station right this minute.” Brandt challenged.
“You don’t have any proof.” She claimed. “Not only that, but as I said, you helped me out earlier. What’s to stop me from saying that you were just getting your competition out of the way? That bartender saw you looking at me the way you were. Then you had that jackass arrested. And, after that, you were so quick to give me a ride home. Doesn’t look too good.”
Dammit, she was right. There wasn’t really a way to contradict her story. He could always claim innocence, but to almost anyone, it would look like he had been trying to go home with her. It was definitely a predicament.
“What do you want?” Brandt asked.
“Let’s call it 100 for the hour.” Brittany smiled and held out her wrists. “You can cuff me now, if you like.”
“I’m not going to pay you for sex.” He said.
“I’m pretty sure you will.” She countered. “Otherwise, you can kiss your career goodbye.” There was a slyness to her now. “Come on. Don’t pretend that you don’t want me.”
“What’s in this for you?” He reached into his jacket for his second pair of handcuffs. “It can’t just be 100 bucks. You could have gotten that from anybody. Especially with your figure.”
“Thanks.” She noted his compliment and looked genuinely flattered for a second. “But it would look pretty damn nice on my figurative resume if I had successfully hooked a cop.”
She was serious. She was just looking for a thrill. She wanted to say that she had a cop around her pinky finger. Nothing more. Fine, Brandt thought. If she wanted to say that she had playtime with a cop… then he would make sure that she was played with. A cruel plan formed in his mind.
“You said 100?” He pulled out his wallet and removed five twenties, setting them on the coffee table. “Deal. But I want to do this on the couch.” He proceeded to remove his jacket, and his gun holster, setting them on the floor.
“Do what… exactly?” She inquired in a sultry whisper.
“I’m sorry, Miss.” He announced. “I have to place you under arrest.” Brandt smiled and took Brittany by the wrists, clicking the cuffs on. “You’re gonna have to come with me.” He took the chain of the cuffs and pulled her to the couch.
“Oh no. I’m innocent, officer.” Brittany played along, enjoying the roleplay. He carefully sat her on the couch and motioned for her to lay on her back. She grinned as he mounted her, straddling her waist. Brandt took hold of the cuffs, pinning her arms above her head.
“Are you prepared to face judgment?” He asked.
“Oh, yes, officer.” She looked so sexy. But when he took hold of her right hip and pushed in with his thumb, her eyes shot open wide.
“Ticklish?” He started clawing her hip and up her side. The result was immediate.
“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA STOP THAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHATTT!” Brittany was super ticklish. She had never outgrown it.
“Sorry. I can’t stop.” He told her. “Don’t you know this is how we punish criminals in this town?” He seized her belly, tickling her with curling fingers through her shirt. It wasn’t long before he wormed his hand under the shirt and dug his fingers in.
“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!” Brittany spasmed underneath him. She tried to pull her arms down. She had a little slack, but not nearly enough. Thins got serious when he goosed the side of her groin where it met her thigh. She nearly bucked him right off of her each time he grabbed that horribly tender spot.
“Maybe this will teach you to blackmail a police officer.” Brandt wasn’t playing with her anymore. He brought his hand up to probe her right armpit as she started becoming short of breath, pleading as she giggled silently. He stopped and she tried to catch her breath. But he wasn’t giving her a break intentionally. Instead, he was taking a second to roll up her shirt and unsnap the front of her bra. He took her right breast into his hand and started to fondle it, squeezing it in a ticklish manner.
“Hehehehehe… you can hoohhoohld them… hahahaha… you don’t have to tiihihiihckle…” She was saying anything to get him to stop the torture. When his fingers dug into her breast near her ribs, she started bucking again and he tickled that spot mercilessly. This’ll teach her, he thought to himself. This will teach her for su-
“What the fuck is going on here?!” Brandt turned to see three women coming in through the front door. Brittany’s roommates. The one who had just spoken was thin with strawberry blonde hair. Maybe 5’5. She wore a blue tee shirt with a glittery unicorn on the front of her rather non-existent chest. What she lacked in curves, though, she made up for in sheer beauty. The kind of girl who probably had a crowd of boys around her in middle school, but just never really developed. Her small skirt topped her off, causing her to look overall like she was much younger than she probably was.
Behind her was another girl. This one was taller and had short, black hair in a pixie cut. She was a bit pale and had a very shapely hourglass figure. As Ray might have put it: Her ass could probably pull a bus. She had a tee shirt on as well, only hers looked a couple of sizes too big. Memento from an ex, maybe? She wore dark jeans as well that made her butt look even larger. He could almost hear her zipper screaming for sweet mercy.
The third girl was African American with wavy hair down her back. Her bulbous chest jutted out. Her back would start killing her once she reached her thirties. She wore a short sleeve black tee shirt with a plunging neckline and short shorts. Like Brittany, she had a stud in her left nostril.
“He’s a cop!” Brittany yelled. The short haired girl acted fast, rushing to grab Brandt’s gun holster off of the floor. The other two girls rushed to their roommate’s aid and shoved Brandt off of her. The officer hit the floor and hastily jumped to his feet. He wasn’t fast enough, though, as the short haired girl had already removed his S&W and had it pointed right at him.
“What is he doing in our house, Britt?” The thin one asked. Brittany got off of the couch and stood with the other girls.
“He drove me here after another guy bailed.” She answered the thin girl’s question.
“After I kept him from beating the shit out of you back at Dom’s, you mean?” Brandt revealed as he addressed the other girls. “My name is Jeremy Brandt. Your friend lured me back here to blackmail me.”
“Oh, so you thought you would torture her instead?” The black girl asked rhetorically, folding her arms across her chest.
“Well, Jeremy Brandt...” The thin one tossed her hair. “I guess there’s no point in secrets anymore. I’m Sammie. My black haired friend here is Veronica.” The pixie cut girl gave him a mock salute when introduced.
“And I’m Rachel.” The African American girl said. “And it seems that we caught you with your pants down.”
“Let me make something clear to you.” Brandt said sternly. “You have taken an officer’s weapon. You are pointing a loaded gun at a cop. Even if you weren’t all guilty of prostitution, we’re talking serious time here.”
“Not really.” Brittany told him. “Because nothing has really changed. You came home with me hoping to proposition me for sex. The only thing that has changed now is that I have three witnesses.”
“What should we do with him?” Sammie asked the other girls.
“Take off your clothes.” Veronica ordered as she continued to hold the gun on Brandt. “I’d like to see what we’re dealing with.” Sammie and Brittany giggled quietly at Veronica’s demand.
“I will not.” He asserted.
“How about this, Brittany? Another wrinkle in your narrative: We came home to find him on top of you and when I grabbed the gun, he came at me. I had to shoot him in the leg in self defense.” Veronica cocked the hammer on the gun.
“Okay. Okay. Fine.” Brandt understood that the situation was hopeless. He took his shirt off, pulling it over his head and dropping it to the floor.
“Slower.” Veronica demanded. Brandt was about to say something, but chose to be silent. He sat on the couch and pulled off his shoes. First the left, then the right. Next came the socks. He peeled them off one at a time, brushing some lint off of his soles and toes.
“Make sure to get between em.” Rachel joked, breaking the silence. All of the girls laughed for a moment. Once again, Brandt chose not to speak. He stood back up and unclasped his belt buckle, yanking the belt off in one deft motion.
“There you go.” Veronica giggled. Sammie started to hum a stereotypical stripper tune and there was more laughter. Brandt was beet red. He unzipped and pulled down his pants, kicking them off. Now he stood in only his boxers. Veronica spoke up again. “I don’t hear anyone telling you to stop.”
Brandt took a deep breath, exhaled, and pulled off his boxers.
“Now I really wish you had just taken my offer.” Brittany said, complimenting him on his penis size. “I wouldn’t have minded that at all.”
“Ladies, there is a naked man in our living room.” Sammie commented. “What should we do with him?”
“Well, he seemed to have a real good time tickle torturing me.” Brittany recalled. “Why don’t the four of us get him back?”
“Good luck with that.” Brandt laughed at the ludicrous notion. “I haven’t been ticklish since the fourth grade.”
“Then maybe you just need a trip down memory lane.” Veronica suggested.
“Veronica’s a domme.” Rachel informed the officer. “You know what that means?”
“Yeah.” Brandt rolled his eye. “It means she’s a sick bitch who likes whips and chains. Color me 50 shades of fucking terrified.” He remarked sarcastically.
“Actually, it means that I have extensive experience in discovering and exploiting the weaknesses of the flesh.” Veronica corrected. “Girls, I’m gonna grab something from my room real quick. Get him situated on the couch for his session.”
“This is so stupid.” He rolled his eyes again as Veronica handed the gun to Sammie. Brittany and Rachel approached him. There was a moment of something resembling panic as they came near him. Why, though? He couldn’t place it. Maybe it was because they were clothed and he wasn’t. Maybe because he knew he was at the mercy of all four of them. Maybe both. All he could do was try to hide his anxiety. Rachel took his left wrist and walked him over to the couch. Then, the two women laid him down onto his back on the couch. Brittany pulled his hands above his head and he felt her snap the cuffs on his wrists.
“What do we tie his feet with?” Rachel asked. Sammie shook her head as if to say she didn’t know.
“With these!” Veronica came back into the room and tossed a set of nylons over to Rachel. “We want to give him a little slack, but not too much. Tie the two nylons together, then tie one end around each ankle, slipping the nylons under the recliner lever where it meets the couch. That way, he can only pull one foot back at a time.” Brandt started to feel that fear again. Maybe Veronica really did know what she was doing. He saw that, in addition to the nylons, she had brought in a kind of handbag with her. Brittany pulled his wrists towards her, leaving a little bit of slack.
“Sammie, you’re skinny enough. Come here.” She requested. Sammie came over, knowing just what Brittany had in mind. She bent down and came up between Brandt’s arms. As she stood there against the armrest, him pulling his arms down was an impossible task. Brittany took the gun from her just as Rachel finished tying his ankles. He was stuck on the couch now, unable to sit up or pull his arms or legs.
“A bit make-shift, but it’ll do.” Veronica approved. She dropped a pillow down to the floor, unzipped her handbag and knelt down on the pillow in front of the couch, facing Brandt’s midsection. The officer watched as she pulled four small make-up brushes. “Anybody got any more of these?” She asked.
“I’ve got two in my purse on the counter.” Rachel replied, walking over to the kitchen counter about 20 feet from the couch.
“How exactly do you think you’re gonna tickle me with those?” Brandt mocked.
“There are two distinct kinds of tickle sensation.” Veronica told him. “You say you haven’t been ticklish since you were a kid. When kids tickle. They usually tickle rough. The feeling you get from that kind of touch is called Gargalesis.”
“Gesundheit.” Brandt muttered. Veronica wasn’t amused at the jest.
“As I was saying… Gargalesis can be caused by poking the ribs or vibrating your fingers into someone’s belly or under their arms. But not everyone is sensitive to it. Some outgrow it or, if it’s not done right, it just hurts more than anything else. The other kind of sensation is called Knismesis. It’s a ticklish reaction to a soft touch, like from a feather. And that’s what I want to test you for.”
Rachel came back with two more make-up brushes and moved over to Veronica, sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of Brandt’s thighs and privates. Brittany took two of the four brushes from Veronica and walked down to Brandt’s feet. Sammie seemed content to just stand where she was and act as a pole for the cuffs.
“Okay, girls. Here’s the score...” Veronica instructed. “Take a body part and start dusting. He probably won’t laugh right away cause he’s gonna try to fight. Just watch for spots that twitch or tense. Tickle spots can typically be seen by the naked eye due to how they respond to the touch.”
Brandt felt Brittany’s brushes first on the balls of his feet. She wiggled them as a french maid would with a feather duster. Short, rapid sweeps. It itched, and he was tempted to move his feet, but he didn’t want to show any weakness this early on. He just stared at the ceiling and tried to block out the annoying tingle on his soles.
Veronica herself was the next to step in. She placed her brushes on either side of his torso, directly between the lowest bones of his ribcage, and started to dust them, slowly drifting up and down, from front to back. This sensation was different. The nerves in the skin there were more responsive. And Brandt was now having difficulty keeping a stony expression. Veronica was watching his face attentively, waiting for that first smile.
And that smile started forming when Rachel joined the party, sweeping her two brushes up and down the tops of his bare thighs, dancing nimbly and focusing on the area near his hips.
“You were right, V.” Sammie was just looking down at Brandt’s face. “He’s fighting it. But he looks like it’s wearing on him.”
“Oh, it is.” Veronica concurred. She moved her brushes up a little, getting in between each rib for a few seconds, then climbing up to the next one, getting closer and closer to his underarms. At the same time, down by his feet, Brittany started brushing against the centers of his soles. It was then that he jerked his feet a bit and the first quiet chuckle escaped his lips. He wanted to try and regain control, but Veronica knew that this was the best time for some tickle talk.
“Hey, guess what?” She caught his attention and he looked her in the eye. “You’re ticklish.”
Her taunt was followed by snicker. Veronica knew that word was deadly.
“Do you know where you’re ticklish?” She asked him as he trembled, only able to suppress a couple of the giggles that were trying to force their way out. “You’re ticklish on your riiiiibs...” She dragged the last word out. “You’re ticklish on your feeeeeet… You’re ticklish on your hiiiiips… and you’re REALLY ticklish… under your arms!” She dusted the pits rapidly.
“Wait no-hehEHhEHHEhEHhEhHEHEHEHHEhEHhe...” The dam broke.
“Wait? Wait for what?” Veronica asked teasingly as she started spinning the brushes under his arms. The laughter was flowing freely from him now, like a stream.
Brittany was holding the toes back on his right foot and dusting the stems. Whenever he would try to pull a foot back, she just seized the other one. It was a devilish game that she was happily playing.
For her part, Rachel was now teasing the inner thighs, or at least what she could reach of them. He would try to push his legs together to either avoid or trap the brushes. She was quick, however, and stuck like lightning, keeping him in constant tickles. The naughty side of her enjoyed tickling near his groin and watching his penis start to bob it’s way to erection as she and the other two girls tormented him.
“He doesn’t sound like such a smartass now, does he?” Brittany observed.
“He don’t sound as uptight either.” Rachel added.
“Nah.” Veronica shook her head. “He just sounds ticklish.”
“Can I try?” Sammie was impatient now, watching the others having so much fun.
“Sure.” Veronica pulled her brushes away from Brandt’s armpits and the cop was relieved, until he soon felt Sammie’s nails dancing in them. He jerked his arms down so hard that he nearly pulled her down on top of him.
“Oh my! That was quite a reaction.” Sammie giggled. Her nails drew little circles in the centers of his pits, followed by plus signs and x’s. “Tickle tickle!”
“Does tickle talk actually do anything?” Rachel asked bluntly.
“It depends on the person, usually.” Veronica replied.
“I know that when I was growing up, I would always say coochie coo to my little brother when I tickled him and I actually made him pee a couple times.” Brittany offered the anecdote.
“Are we planning to do anything about the Leaning Tower of Pisa down there?” Sammie brought everyone’s attention to Brandt’s hard-on.
“I figured we were just making this up as we go.” Rachel said.
“Yeah, same here.” Veronica added. “Really though, I think it’s up to Brittany.” She turned to face her roommate, who was still merrily teasing Brandt’s toes. “What do you want to do? Do you think he’s had enough?”
“Oh, not by a long shot. I wanna keep tickling.” Brittany told them with playful enthusiasm.
“Well, then we should try tickling him in a different way.” Veronica said. “He’s not giggling as much anymore because he’s getting used to the feel of the brushes.
“I think we should each use a different technique.” Sammie suggested. “That way, he’s being tickled all over, but different sensations. I mean, I’m happy just letting my fingers do the walking, but we shouldn’t all be tickling him the same way.” The others quickly voiced their agreement.
“Well, I do have some more toys in here.” Veronica went back into her bag and pulled out an electric toothbrush. Brandt squirmed when he saw her hand it to Brittany. “Here, babe, he might have missed some of that sock lint earlier. You should make sure every inch is clean.” Veronica winked.
“This is insane!” He yelled. None of the girls even acknowledged him.
“Sammie can keep using her nails, since that’s what she wants.” Veronica looked like a terrific idea had just popped into her brain and she jumped up, running into the kitchen.
“What are you doing?”
“Gimme a sec.” Veronica reached under the kitchen sink. Brandt heard the faucet running for a bit and after nearly three minutes of unbearable suspense, He saw her return with a wash cloth and a bucket of soapy water. When he saw the cloth, he died a little inside.
“Wait, what do I do?” Rachel asked. They were all depending on Veronica to explain to them how best to torture him. At the moment, Brandt would have done anything for a drink.
“You like to give handjobs, right?” Veronica asked her ebony cohort.
“Are you kidding me? I’m the hand fucking master!” Rachel boasted obnoxiously.
“Okay, then.” Veronica pulled two gray, soft, fuzzy gloves out of the bag. “Use these.”
“Oh, come on!” Brandt complained.
“Hey!” Rachel snapped at him as she put the gloves on and modeled them for everyone. “It’s your own fault that you are in this situation. “And it’s your own fault for being so ticklish.”
“We’re gonna get you now.” Veronica whispered, drawing his attention to her. “And you are either gonna cum, or pass out. We really don’t care which.” The domme dipped her wash cloth into the bucket. “Okay, just like before, let’s attack one after the other. Let him suffer gradually. Then, we’ll all attack at once. He is definitely susceptible to the soft tickling and all of us have a different means to exploit that.”
Sammie went first this time, slowly creeping her fingertips up and down the insides of his arms down to his pits, back and forth from the hollows to his elbows.
“Tickle tickle...”
He snorted and chuckled each time her fingers arrived in his pits. Next was Brittany. Brandt heard the toothbrush buzzing and she started drawing it across his heels, getting giggles from him in no time at all. It got worse when she drew it higher, tracing the lines on his soles.
“Hehahehhahehahahahhahahahahehhaehehhaehhaehahaaa...”
Veronica’s cloth got him next. The water in the bucket was warm and soapy so the cloth glided over his ribs and sides easily. He tried to twist and jerk but she put a hand on his chest to hold him in place.
“HahahAHAHhAHhAhHAhAhahhhahHAhHAHhAHhAhA..”
That was also when Rachel took hold of his cock. She hadn’t just been boasting before. The other girls liked to joke from time to time, calling her “The Catch”. This was because she utilized every part of her body and offered just about every part to a client. Her bald pussy, her firm ass, her large breasts, her mouth with the stud in her tongue, her skilled fingers… She could service a man several different ways, “catching” him with any number of methods. She was, in fact, the top earner of the group. Legend had it that she had once given a hand job that only lasted 30 seconds. But she had no intention of making this quick. She gently but firmly pinched the erection at the front and back of the base and used the fingers of her other hand to tickle up and down the sides.
“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!” Full blown laughter filled the room as the four women exploited his ticklish form. The toothbrush and the gloves tickled him the most, but the wash cloth and Sammie’s nails were certainly doing their job. Veronica decided to try more tickle talk.
“Is this ticklish? Huh? Is this ticklish here on your tummy?”
“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”
“How about down here, officer?” Brittany joined in. “It’s not every day I get to piggy a piggy. Coochie coochie coo...”
“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”
“You’re so sweaty under here now.” Sammie rubbed her fingers in the pits, gliding and massaging. “Makes it easier to tickle ya!”
“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”
“You must like my tickling.” Rachel smiled. “You’re so hard, I almost have to register this as a backup weapon, officer. Tickle tickle.”
“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”
Sammie was now flicking her nails in his pits, remembering what Veronica had said about soft touches. Veronica herself was now soaping up his nipples and ribs with slippery fingertips. Brittany had him howling, sliding the brush between his toes. And Rachel was fluttering her fuzzy fingers against his testicles while tickling his penis around the base, occasionally sliding her hand up and down the shaft for a second to tease him.
“Tickle tickle!”
“Gitchy goo!”
“Awww… he’s shaking...”
“Jumping jellybeans, his balls are ticklish!”
“Look how purple his cheeks are!”
“I think this is the magic spot, right here under his bellybutton.”
“Officer, is your butt crack ticklish? Oh wow! I guess so!”
Eventually, Brandt gave out an earth shattering scream as he ejaculated. Rachel jumped back, not wanting any of it to get on her shirt. After about fifteen seconds of intense pleasure, Brandt sunk down into the couch, hardly able to move. He felt a bit lightheaded from the ordeal, and heard Veronica get up to go to the kitchen once again.
“Very good.” She said from behind him. “I’ll get him some water, and we’ll start again...”
Link for commissions: https://www.deviantart.com/shelliefeathers123
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