WestchesterT
TMF Novice
- Joined
- Feb 7, 2002
- Messages
- 68
- Points
- 0
Hi, guys,
Maelstrom wrote in response to a post of a story of mine that he had enjoyed my writing since he read "Retail Wriggles parts 1 & 2" back in 1999. For those of you who missed it, here it is:
Retail Wriggles part one
(mm/f)
The department store manager and accountant discover several discrepancies in the daily register logs and realize a cashier is embezzling, but must have a partner in order to have continued for so long. The accountant arranges for two suspects in his department to work late one Friday. As the store closes, they call the cashier into the Product Testing Room.
“I’ve never been here before,” she says. She’s wearing a light pink blouse, and her breasts stand out nicely in her black lace bra. A tight black skirt and heels complete a very enticing ensemble.
“This is where we test products and get feedback before releasing product nationally. Here, try this new recliner,” smiles Dave the manager.
She sits and comments on comfort.
“Really stretch out and relax,” he instructs her as Martin the accountant is circling behind. She stretches arms up and yawns loudly, closing eyes, when suddenly Martin velcros her wrists together. She gives a startled yell, and Dave has sat across her thighs and is Velcroing her ankles together. She looks down, but now Martin is securing her wrists to the back of the recliner, her elbows bent over the top of seatback.
“Stacey, we know about the money, but we also know you have help. We want the name, and are willing to go easy on you. If you don’t cooperate…well, we have a plan to make you talk.”
“You can’t do this…” Stacey wails, a worried look on her face.
The two men grab chairs and sit on either side of her.
“Last chance to talk Stacey,” Dave intones menacingly.
She denies the charges, stating firmly that she doesn’t know what they’re talking about. “I have nothing else to say to you…except LET ME GO!”
Dave lightly drags one finger from her elbow down upper arms to edge of armpit and back slowly. Stacey shudders and fights the urge to giggle. This was no time to show any weakness, not in her position. “By any chance…would you just happen to be…slightly ticklish?” and with that all 5 of his fingers wiggle in the middle of her helpless armpit. She immediately howls with laughter and turns her body that way in a vain attempt to stop him. Just then, Martin tickles the other armpit and she jerks body back in that direction. They go back and forth like that for a while, enjoying their private “puppet show” as Stacey’s screams echo through the deserted store.
“NO-HOHOHOHOHOHO!…STO-O-O-O-O-HOP!PLEE-HEEHEEHEEHEE-HEEASE!”
Stacey pleads as they continued their alternate-attack method of torture. She is tiring as she continues jerking her body left to right and back again endlessly.
The two men stop momentarily and she gasps for air. When her breathing slows again, they simultaneously lightly tickle her tummy. This new area renews her cries for mercy.
“PLEASE – NO-O-OOO-OOO! AH-HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! OH, GOD, NO-OOOOO-HOHOHHOHO-OOOO! I DIDN’T STEA-HEEHEEHEEHEE-EAL!”
Once again, they stop. “We’re through being nice, Stacey. Tell us what we want to know NOW!” Martin snarls as he threateningly wiggles his fingers just above her ribcage.
“I …don’t know…what you’re…talking about’” she gasps, trying to catch her breath.
He leans over and pulls the lever on the side of the chair, and it abruptly reclines, elevating her feet to a dangerously accessible height. He grabs both heels and wiggles them back and forth slowly as fear grips her. “Sta-aa-acey!” he singsongs, “Don’t make me pull these o-oo-off!”
She begins to beg as he slips one off, exposing a very attractive and tender stockinged foot. He then slips the other one off and then runs the heel tips quickly up her feet. Her reaction is electric as she elevates her body off the seat and screams with laughter.
Martin always had a fetish for tickling pretty women, especially on their feet. The chances to do so were few and far between, however, and he was going to make the most out of this one. Her beautiful toes and soft, high arch were a foot-ticklers dream. He dropped the shoe and held her toes with his left hand. He slowly brought the right hand up and dragged his fingers up from her heel up to the ball of her foot. She giggled like a schoolgirl and he continued this slow and deliberate torture. Each time he reached the ball of her foot, her laughter increased and she arched her body off the recliner. Her lovely body writhing, twisting and struggling were his dreams come true. He was hoping she never gave up the name of her accomplice…
“Martin, you’re enjoying this too much’” Dave says, “Go in for the kill – we don’t have all night!”
Martin smiles and begins deeply scratching the balls of her feet and alternately running his fingers back and forth across the base of her toes.
Stacey almost rips out of her restraints, but the Velcro holds.
“AH-AH-AH-AHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHA! AH-AH-HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHH! NO MO-HOHOHOHOHORE! OH,
PLEA-HEEHEEHEEHEEASE NO! MERC-HEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEEE!”
Dave signals Martin to stop. He does so reluctantly, and a boner is evident in his pants.
“Are you ready to give up the name, Stacey? If not, Martin here would love nothing more than to reduce you to a giggling, babbling mass of flesh all night long. So, what’ll it be? Truth or tickles?”
She hesitates for a second as she considers the consequences of her actions. If she gives Deb up…
Dave and Martin each grab a foot and frantically rake their nails up and down those gorgeous, ticklish peds as the surprise attack makes her laugh hysterically once more. She is unable to plead, to speak, to utter even a single syllable of protest as the two men continue their frenzied assault on her soles. She collapses into silent laughter, her body shaking.
Once more, they stop and watch as her deep laughter continues for several seconds. As her chest heaves and her breath comes back, she begins laughing aloud again. Finally, she quiets and Dave approaches her.
“I think you’re ready now…” he says quietly. “I know you don’t want us to rip those hose off and tickles each toe one by one, do you?”
A panicked look come over her face as she quickly answers “Oh God, no! PLEASE don’t. It’s Deb…Deb in accounting…I SWEAR it’s her. It was her idea, in fact. PLEASE don’t tickle my feet anymore. NOOOOOO!” she screams as Martin places his hand flat against the bottom of her left foot. “I swear it’s her!” she looks at Dave, hoping he will call Martin off. “PLEASE make him go away…”
“OK, Stacey, I believe you. Martin, go back to accounting and tell Deb to meet us in the exercise area. You can send Karen home. But do I have plans for Deb…”
CONTINUED IN PART TWO
From the quill of The Westchester Tickler
Maelstrom wrote in response to a post of a story of mine that he had enjoyed my writing since he read "Retail Wriggles parts 1 & 2" back in 1999. For those of you who missed it, here it is:
Retail Wriggles part one
(mm/f)
The department store manager and accountant discover several discrepancies in the daily register logs and realize a cashier is embezzling, but must have a partner in order to have continued for so long. The accountant arranges for two suspects in his department to work late one Friday. As the store closes, they call the cashier into the Product Testing Room.
“I’ve never been here before,” she says. She’s wearing a light pink blouse, and her breasts stand out nicely in her black lace bra. A tight black skirt and heels complete a very enticing ensemble.
“This is where we test products and get feedback before releasing product nationally. Here, try this new recliner,” smiles Dave the manager.
She sits and comments on comfort.
“Really stretch out and relax,” he instructs her as Martin the accountant is circling behind. She stretches arms up and yawns loudly, closing eyes, when suddenly Martin velcros her wrists together. She gives a startled yell, and Dave has sat across her thighs and is Velcroing her ankles together. She looks down, but now Martin is securing her wrists to the back of the recliner, her elbows bent over the top of seatback.
“Stacey, we know about the money, but we also know you have help. We want the name, and are willing to go easy on you. If you don’t cooperate…well, we have a plan to make you talk.”
“You can’t do this…” Stacey wails, a worried look on her face.
The two men grab chairs and sit on either side of her.
“Last chance to talk Stacey,” Dave intones menacingly.
She denies the charges, stating firmly that she doesn’t know what they’re talking about. “I have nothing else to say to you…except LET ME GO!”
Dave lightly drags one finger from her elbow down upper arms to edge of armpit and back slowly. Stacey shudders and fights the urge to giggle. This was no time to show any weakness, not in her position. “By any chance…would you just happen to be…slightly ticklish?” and with that all 5 of his fingers wiggle in the middle of her helpless armpit. She immediately howls with laughter and turns her body that way in a vain attempt to stop him. Just then, Martin tickles the other armpit and she jerks body back in that direction. They go back and forth like that for a while, enjoying their private “puppet show” as Stacey’s screams echo through the deserted store.
“NO-HOHOHOHOHOHO!…STO-O-O-O-O-HOP!PLEE-HEEHEEHEEHEE-HEEASE!”
Stacey pleads as they continued their alternate-attack method of torture. She is tiring as she continues jerking her body left to right and back again endlessly.
The two men stop momentarily and she gasps for air. When her breathing slows again, they simultaneously lightly tickle her tummy. This new area renews her cries for mercy.
“PLEASE – NO-O-OOO-OOO! AH-HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! OH, GOD, NO-OOOOO-HOHOHHOHO-OOOO! I DIDN’T STEA-HEEHEEHEEHEE-EAL!”
Once again, they stop. “We’re through being nice, Stacey. Tell us what we want to know NOW!” Martin snarls as he threateningly wiggles his fingers just above her ribcage.
“I …don’t know…what you’re…talking about’” she gasps, trying to catch her breath.
He leans over and pulls the lever on the side of the chair, and it abruptly reclines, elevating her feet to a dangerously accessible height. He grabs both heels and wiggles them back and forth slowly as fear grips her. “Sta-aa-acey!” he singsongs, “Don’t make me pull these o-oo-off!”
She begins to beg as he slips one off, exposing a very attractive and tender stockinged foot. He then slips the other one off and then runs the heel tips quickly up her feet. Her reaction is electric as she elevates her body off the seat and screams with laughter.
Martin always had a fetish for tickling pretty women, especially on their feet. The chances to do so were few and far between, however, and he was going to make the most out of this one. Her beautiful toes and soft, high arch were a foot-ticklers dream. He dropped the shoe and held her toes with his left hand. He slowly brought the right hand up and dragged his fingers up from her heel up to the ball of her foot. She giggled like a schoolgirl and he continued this slow and deliberate torture. Each time he reached the ball of her foot, her laughter increased and she arched her body off the recliner. Her lovely body writhing, twisting and struggling were his dreams come true. He was hoping she never gave up the name of her accomplice…
“Martin, you’re enjoying this too much’” Dave says, “Go in for the kill – we don’t have all night!”
Martin smiles and begins deeply scratching the balls of her feet and alternately running his fingers back and forth across the base of her toes.
Stacey almost rips out of her restraints, but the Velcro holds.
“AH-AH-AH-AHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHA! AH-AH-HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHH! NO MO-HOHOHOHOHORE! OH,
PLEA-HEEHEEHEEHEEASE NO! MERC-HEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEEE!”
Dave signals Martin to stop. He does so reluctantly, and a boner is evident in his pants.
“Are you ready to give up the name, Stacey? If not, Martin here would love nothing more than to reduce you to a giggling, babbling mass of flesh all night long. So, what’ll it be? Truth or tickles?”
She hesitates for a second as she considers the consequences of her actions. If she gives Deb up…
Dave and Martin each grab a foot and frantically rake their nails up and down those gorgeous, ticklish peds as the surprise attack makes her laugh hysterically once more. She is unable to plead, to speak, to utter even a single syllable of protest as the two men continue their frenzied assault on her soles. She collapses into silent laughter, her body shaking.
Once more, they stop and watch as her deep laughter continues for several seconds. As her chest heaves and her breath comes back, she begins laughing aloud again. Finally, she quiets and Dave approaches her.
“I think you’re ready now…” he says quietly. “I know you don’t want us to rip those hose off and tickles each toe one by one, do you?”
A panicked look come over her face as she quickly answers “Oh God, no! PLEASE don’t. It’s Deb…Deb in accounting…I SWEAR it’s her. It was her idea, in fact. PLEASE don’t tickle my feet anymore. NOOOOOO!” she screams as Martin places his hand flat against the bottom of her left foot. “I swear it’s her!” she looks at Dave, hoping he will call Martin off. “PLEASE make him go away…”
“OK, Stacey, I believe you. Martin, go back to accounting and tell Deb to meet us in the exercise area. You can send Karen home. But do I have plans for Deb…”
CONTINUED IN PART TWO
From the quill of The Westchester Tickler
