Tickling Bandit
Gillian found it hard not to smirk as she began to read the next story off of the teleprompter. “Once again, the burglar that has been dubbed the Tickling Bandit has struck, this time targeting Mavis Harbinger, chairman of the local arts association as well as several other charities. She was found early this morning in her own bed, still tied and, according to police, suffering only from exhaustion. The bandit was able to coerce her to give up her safe combination as well as the pin number from her ATM card, which resulted in a several thousand-dollar withdrawal early this morning. Police still have no suspects in this bizarre case.”
The teleprompter indicated that the following story was for Jeff, Gillians’ fellow newscaster, leaving her time to think about the story she’d just reported. It was becoming a bit of a joke around the town, as a total of four wealthy women in the Dallas area had been robbed recently, each time being surprised in their sleep by a man in black, wearing a mask somewhat reminiscent of the costume worn by Zorro.
In each case they were already securely tied to the bed, spread-eagled, then zealously tickled until they were unwilling to withhold any information, to include safe combinations, pin numbers, and any other untraceable wealth they might possess. Each victim was viewed with a mixture of the sympathy anyone who was robbed might be afforded, and mild disdain. Tickling, after all, was so childish, and certainly not in any way threatening.
Responding to the teleprompter, Gillian finished out her final story for the news hour, then excused herself quickly, having a lunch date with her mother to discuss her sisters’ wedding, a year in planning and set to be the social event of the year. The match between Serena Compton and George Mayweather was considered ideal by anyone who moved in the upper class of Dallas, and every attempt was being made to ensure that no one who attended was left wanting. Gillian planned to discuss her mothers’ home security as well, very conscious that she matched the profile of the Tickling Bandits targets all too perfectly.
So did Gillian, of course, but she thought that she was strong minded enough to withstand a little tickling. Laughing lightly to herself as she slipped into the café, Gillian tried to imagine someone trying to torture her to tell them her access codes to computer accounts or her safe. Yeah, gootchie gootchie goo….
Spotting Irene Compton at their usual table in the corner of the café, Gillian waved and made her way across the room. She kissed her mother on the cheek lightly, then settled down to discuss inanities like favors and invitations, thank you letters and the like, completely forgetting about the Tickling Bandit and the silly threat that he posed.
******************************
Normally a restless sleeper, Gillian didn’t at first realize what had startled her awake. She’d gone to turn on her side and .. she was not able to move! She tugged at her left arm briefly, then with shock opened her eyes. She was tied securely to the bedpost, her arms over her head, not spread-eagled but in such a way as to have both hands slightly up over her head, tied together. She felt a faint tugging, realized that she had become the next target of the tickling bandit, and that he was even now finishing the process of tying her arms, making her virtually helpless. She cursed her habit of sleeping in the nude, feeling incredibly exposed.
The bandit walked around the edge of the bed, within her line of sight. She saw dark brown eyes, beautiful in a way, gazing at her, the only part of his upper face she could see behind a dark mask. Her arms were over her head, breasts pulled up high, a result of the bonds he’d just completed. Her legs were spread apart, each tied to a corner of her luxurious double bed, her blankets gone. She screamed at him, infuriated by the casual scrutiny he gave her full breasts, her neatly trimmed pubic area.
Or, she would have screamed, but her mouth was gagged, stuffed with something that all but prevented any sound. Of course. Emma was her live-in housekeeper, and lived in a small bedroom just downstairs, off of the kitchen. He would not risk waking her before the job was done. He apparently did not know that she was not a danger to him, being away this weekend.
He twisted a set of full lips at her, then walked out of the room as if she held no interest for him. She found herself being upset that he could casually go about his business when presented with her perfect form. Many men had been driven wild by her body, and few had ever had her at their mercy in quite the way this man had. Fear, anger, and a surprising amount of titillation were mixed up in her feelings this moment. This scenario rather closely matched one of the fantasies she’d often entertained herself with, when feeling too alone.
Minutes passed before the intruder reentered her bedroom, reaching for her in a way that inspired a brief moment of terror. While removing the gag, a deep yet soft timbered voice chuckled, then spoke for the first time. “Ahh, the intrepid Emma is away, no need to muffle your laughter, your squeals, or the begging.. all part of the game, don’t you think?”
Enraged, Gillian let fly a stream of curses she had learned from an older brother, managing in a very short time to let him know how she felt about his presumption. Tying her up, coming in to her home, touching her… and to even think he would have her begging for mercy!!!! The bastard!!!
“Ah, you feel you will prevail where others have not?” His eyes twinkled with amusement behind the mask. “Especially since you alone, out of all the victims, are nude from the start, every ticklish spot on your body immediately accessible? You will beg. You WILL plead. You will tell me all.” His assurances were met by more screaming, more words designed to insult him, his manhood, and his sanity.
In answer, he reached into a small bag at the side of the bed, pulling out .. a toothbrush? A feather.. well that made sense… a.. comb… a bottle of some kind of lotion… intrigued in spite of herself, Gillian craned her neck to follow his movements. A small giggle stifled by a groan of outrage followed his dragging the feather the length of her body, a quick sweep over both breasts, down between her legs, down the length of her right leg, ending at a small flourish on the sole of her foot. “You bastard!!” she spat at him, once she could breath again. “You can’t get me to tell you anything!!”.
The feather was lifted from her foot, replaced almost immediately by a slightly less giving object, which he circled around the sole of her foot, moving the.. yes, it was the toothbrush.. up to slide between her toes, driving her to distraction. While she stubbornly bit down on her tongue to prevent laughing in any way, she could not prevent the automatic reaction of her body. She thrashed slightly, and she felt… of all things.. her nipples harden. How humiliating.
“ahhh.. a good subject. I had hoped for that, when I saw you reporting Mrs. Harbingers’ fate this morning, so amused, so.. disbelieving. You obviously don’t understand the power of tickling, how a grown woman could be made to tell all at the prompting of a feather. You were not on my list until this morning, my dear. I just felt.. almost as if you’d thrown down the gauntlet.. So here I am.”
He sounded so pleased with himself that Gillian began cursing again, this time speculating about his parentage, education, and appearance in such a way that he did the only thing he could to shut her up. Foregoing the feather and the toothbrush, she felt his warm hands on her shoulders, gliding ever so gently down the curves of her breasts, the soft touch causing her to writh with.. was it desire? A moan escaped her lips before she could stop it, and his answering chuckle was like a slap in the face.
“You begin to see now? I have been told that my touch is like heaven. Do you agree?” He cut off any answer she might have made by dragging his fingers, slightly spread, down the length of her torso, dipping slightly to the increasingly moist center of the v created by her spread legs, a heated tingling following. He continued down towards her feet, where he began to tickle in earnest, alternating between the soft fingernail touch and gently digging his fingers in the classic tickling motion. Gillians’ only response was a loud long moan, her body writhing as much as her bonds would allow. She could not believe this. She actually was… turned on… by this thief. She found herself wishing he would touch her again, her breasts, her stomach, her…
Shaking her head to clear these thoughts, she bravely informed him, in a voice shaking, not with rage, but with desire, that he would fail. “I won’t tell you anything. I am not a little girl, to give up because some bully tickles me. Let me go!!.”
“Soon” was all he would say. He bent down and casually drew her little toe into his mouth, his slightly rough tongue caressing it in such a way that also tickled, had Gillian gasping for breath, straining against her bonds. He continued to lick at her toes, all the while continuing with gentle caresses of the bottoms of her feet, her calves, behind her knees. Gillian felt like a strobe light was going off behind her eyes, suffering from a mixture of desire and incredibly, a lack of air. She’d been holding her breath in her attempt to prevent him the satisfaction of knowing that what he did to her was driving her crazy. Now she was gasping for air, and nothing prepared her for the peals of laughter that escaped her own lips as he lunged for her stomach, tickling her sides determinedly.
“So,” he stepped back, appraising her sweat soaked body with only a slight hint of desire showing in eyes, behind that mask. “Do you still find it hard to believe that I could get you to tell me..” a quick reach for her underarms had Gillians’ body arching convulsively “anything I want to know?” His fingers traveled the length her body, relentlessly alternating between the soft, gentle glides that drove her to distraction, to the heavier kneading type tickles that had her howling with laughter, no longer able to maintain the pretense of fighting him.
Gasping, she queried “What aaaeeee! do want from me? I’ll tell you anything you want to know AAAAAEEEEEeeeee!!”. He grinned. “Actually, dear, I want from you what I have wanted with each of the other women I’ve entertained. Location of your safe, combination, atm pin number.” His walked his fingers up the inside of her thigh, stopping just before touching her most private spot, in response to tightening muscles.
Unable to understand where the words came from, Gillian burst out “I’ll tell you anything!! Just make love to me!!! I must have you!!!”
Smiling widely, he began to take off his clothes, tickling her briefly as each piece dropped to the floor. Then, as with each of his other victims, he climbed on top of her on the bed, sliding into her almost immediately, marvelling once again at how tickling her just as he entered caused a womans’ muscles to contract around him in a way no other stimulation could recreate.
*********************************
Gillian was found the following morning by her housekeeper, fully clothed, tied to her bed, spread-eagled. When reported to the police, it was discovered her safe had been robbed, her savings and checking accounts empty, and she was now the in the headlines as the Tickling Bandits next victim. She ignored the looks of sympathetic amusement often directed her way. She was too busy fantasizing about what she could do to become his victim again.
Gillian found it hard not to smirk as she began to read the next story off of the teleprompter. “Once again, the burglar that has been dubbed the Tickling Bandit has struck, this time targeting Mavis Harbinger, chairman of the local arts association as well as several other charities. She was found early this morning in her own bed, still tied and, according to police, suffering only from exhaustion. The bandit was able to coerce her to give up her safe combination as well as the pin number from her ATM card, which resulted in a several thousand-dollar withdrawal early this morning. Police still have no suspects in this bizarre case.”
The teleprompter indicated that the following story was for Jeff, Gillians’ fellow newscaster, leaving her time to think about the story she’d just reported. It was becoming a bit of a joke around the town, as a total of four wealthy women in the Dallas area had been robbed recently, each time being surprised in their sleep by a man in black, wearing a mask somewhat reminiscent of the costume worn by Zorro.
In each case they were already securely tied to the bed, spread-eagled, then zealously tickled until they were unwilling to withhold any information, to include safe combinations, pin numbers, and any other untraceable wealth they might possess. Each victim was viewed with a mixture of the sympathy anyone who was robbed might be afforded, and mild disdain. Tickling, after all, was so childish, and certainly not in any way threatening.
Responding to the teleprompter, Gillian finished out her final story for the news hour, then excused herself quickly, having a lunch date with her mother to discuss her sisters’ wedding, a year in planning and set to be the social event of the year. The match between Serena Compton and George Mayweather was considered ideal by anyone who moved in the upper class of Dallas, and every attempt was being made to ensure that no one who attended was left wanting. Gillian planned to discuss her mothers’ home security as well, very conscious that she matched the profile of the Tickling Bandits targets all too perfectly.
So did Gillian, of course, but she thought that she was strong minded enough to withstand a little tickling. Laughing lightly to herself as she slipped into the café, Gillian tried to imagine someone trying to torture her to tell them her access codes to computer accounts or her safe. Yeah, gootchie gootchie goo….
Spotting Irene Compton at their usual table in the corner of the café, Gillian waved and made her way across the room. She kissed her mother on the cheek lightly, then settled down to discuss inanities like favors and invitations, thank you letters and the like, completely forgetting about the Tickling Bandit and the silly threat that he posed.
******************************
Normally a restless sleeper, Gillian didn’t at first realize what had startled her awake. She’d gone to turn on her side and .. she was not able to move! She tugged at her left arm briefly, then with shock opened her eyes. She was tied securely to the bedpost, her arms over her head, not spread-eagled but in such a way as to have both hands slightly up over her head, tied together. She felt a faint tugging, realized that she had become the next target of the tickling bandit, and that he was even now finishing the process of tying her arms, making her virtually helpless. She cursed her habit of sleeping in the nude, feeling incredibly exposed.
The bandit walked around the edge of the bed, within her line of sight. She saw dark brown eyes, beautiful in a way, gazing at her, the only part of his upper face she could see behind a dark mask. Her arms were over her head, breasts pulled up high, a result of the bonds he’d just completed. Her legs were spread apart, each tied to a corner of her luxurious double bed, her blankets gone. She screamed at him, infuriated by the casual scrutiny he gave her full breasts, her neatly trimmed pubic area.
Or, she would have screamed, but her mouth was gagged, stuffed with something that all but prevented any sound. Of course. Emma was her live-in housekeeper, and lived in a small bedroom just downstairs, off of the kitchen. He would not risk waking her before the job was done. He apparently did not know that she was not a danger to him, being away this weekend.
He twisted a set of full lips at her, then walked out of the room as if she held no interest for him. She found herself being upset that he could casually go about his business when presented with her perfect form. Many men had been driven wild by her body, and few had ever had her at their mercy in quite the way this man had. Fear, anger, and a surprising amount of titillation were mixed up in her feelings this moment. This scenario rather closely matched one of the fantasies she’d often entertained herself with, when feeling too alone.
Minutes passed before the intruder reentered her bedroom, reaching for her in a way that inspired a brief moment of terror. While removing the gag, a deep yet soft timbered voice chuckled, then spoke for the first time. “Ahh, the intrepid Emma is away, no need to muffle your laughter, your squeals, or the begging.. all part of the game, don’t you think?”
Enraged, Gillian let fly a stream of curses she had learned from an older brother, managing in a very short time to let him know how she felt about his presumption. Tying her up, coming in to her home, touching her… and to even think he would have her begging for mercy!!!! The bastard!!!
“Ah, you feel you will prevail where others have not?” His eyes twinkled with amusement behind the mask. “Especially since you alone, out of all the victims, are nude from the start, every ticklish spot on your body immediately accessible? You will beg. You WILL plead. You will tell me all.” His assurances were met by more screaming, more words designed to insult him, his manhood, and his sanity.
In answer, he reached into a small bag at the side of the bed, pulling out .. a toothbrush? A feather.. well that made sense… a.. comb… a bottle of some kind of lotion… intrigued in spite of herself, Gillian craned her neck to follow his movements. A small giggle stifled by a groan of outrage followed his dragging the feather the length of her body, a quick sweep over both breasts, down between her legs, down the length of her right leg, ending at a small flourish on the sole of her foot. “You bastard!!” she spat at him, once she could breath again. “You can’t get me to tell you anything!!”.
The feather was lifted from her foot, replaced almost immediately by a slightly less giving object, which he circled around the sole of her foot, moving the.. yes, it was the toothbrush.. up to slide between her toes, driving her to distraction. While she stubbornly bit down on her tongue to prevent laughing in any way, she could not prevent the automatic reaction of her body. She thrashed slightly, and she felt… of all things.. her nipples harden. How humiliating.
“ahhh.. a good subject. I had hoped for that, when I saw you reporting Mrs. Harbingers’ fate this morning, so amused, so.. disbelieving. You obviously don’t understand the power of tickling, how a grown woman could be made to tell all at the prompting of a feather. You were not on my list until this morning, my dear. I just felt.. almost as if you’d thrown down the gauntlet.. So here I am.”
He sounded so pleased with himself that Gillian began cursing again, this time speculating about his parentage, education, and appearance in such a way that he did the only thing he could to shut her up. Foregoing the feather and the toothbrush, she felt his warm hands on her shoulders, gliding ever so gently down the curves of her breasts, the soft touch causing her to writh with.. was it desire? A moan escaped her lips before she could stop it, and his answering chuckle was like a slap in the face.
“You begin to see now? I have been told that my touch is like heaven. Do you agree?” He cut off any answer she might have made by dragging his fingers, slightly spread, down the length of her torso, dipping slightly to the increasingly moist center of the v created by her spread legs, a heated tingling following. He continued down towards her feet, where he began to tickle in earnest, alternating between the soft fingernail touch and gently digging his fingers in the classic tickling motion. Gillians’ only response was a loud long moan, her body writhing as much as her bonds would allow. She could not believe this. She actually was… turned on… by this thief. She found herself wishing he would touch her again, her breasts, her stomach, her…
Shaking her head to clear these thoughts, she bravely informed him, in a voice shaking, not with rage, but with desire, that he would fail. “I won’t tell you anything. I am not a little girl, to give up because some bully tickles me. Let me go!!.”
“Soon” was all he would say. He bent down and casually drew her little toe into his mouth, his slightly rough tongue caressing it in such a way that also tickled, had Gillian gasping for breath, straining against her bonds. He continued to lick at her toes, all the while continuing with gentle caresses of the bottoms of her feet, her calves, behind her knees. Gillian felt like a strobe light was going off behind her eyes, suffering from a mixture of desire and incredibly, a lack of air. She’d been holding her breath in her attempt to prevent him the satisfaction of knowing that what he did to her was driving her crazy. Now she was gasping for air, and nothing prepared her for the peals of laughter that escaped her own lips as he lunged for her stomach, tickling her sides determinedly.
“So,” he stepped back, appraising her sweat soaked body with only a slight hint of desire showing in eyes, behind that mask. “Do you still find it hard to believe that I could get you to tell me..” a quick reach for her underarms had Gillians’ body arching convulsively “anything I want to know?” His fingers traveled the length her body, relentlessly alternating between the soft, gentle glides that drove her to distraction, to the heavier kneading type tickles that had her howling with laughter, no longer able to maintain the pretense of fighting him.
Gasping, she queried “What aaaeeee! do want from me? I’ll tell you anything you want to know AAAAAEEEEEeeeee!!”. He grinned. “Actually, dear, I want from you what I have wanted with each of the other women I’ve entertained. Location of your safe, combination, atm pin number.” His walked his fingers up the inside of her thigh, stopping just before touching her most private spot, in response to tightening muscles.
Unable to understand where the words came from, Gillian burst out “I’ll tell you anything!! Just make love to me!!! I must have you!!!”
Smiling widely, he began to take off his clothes, tickling her briefly as each piece dropped to the floor. Then, as with each of his other victims, he climbed on top of her on the bed, sliding into her almost immediately, marvelling once again at how tickling her just as he entered caused a womans’ muscles to contract around him in a way no other stimulation could recreate.
*********************************
Gillian was found the following morning by her housekeeper, fully clothed, tied to her bed, spread-eagled. When reported to the police, it was discovered her safe had been robbed, her savings and checking accounts empty, and she was now the in the headlines as the Tickling Bandits next victim. She ignored the looks of sympathetic amusement often directed her way. She was too busy fantasizing about what she could do to become his victim again.
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