TicklishLurker
4th Level Red Feather
- Joined
- Jan 13, 2006
- Messages
- 1,949
- Points
- 0
((This story is meant to entertain and arouse, not offend, but if the fact Clara is blind does offend anyone then the mods can remove it and I offer my apologies to those offended. But I hope everyone enjoys instead.))
“Alright, folks, switch!”
Clara sighed. Another fifteen minutes wasted on a total loser. This one was worse then the rest. He had tried to show how he was so totally unfazed by her blindness by making a series of blind jokes. On top of that he reeked of a cologne that smelled like body odor and burnt sugar.
“Um, penny for your thoughts.” A voice said, a masculine, but slightly shy sounding voice. “I’m Jarod.”
Clara reached out, waiting, “I’m Clara.” She said when he had taken her hand and gave her a firm, friendly, if slightly damp shake.
“So, Clara,” Jarod said, sitting down, “how’d you end up in this meat market?”
The meat market in question was a speed dating service. The latest trend in a market of increasingly desperate singles.
“My friend runs it.” Clara said. “I dumped my stuff shirt boyfriend recently and she thought that I should get right back on the horse, so to speak. What about you?”
Jarod rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m a 35 year old Trekkie loser. Recently divorced. Not many women want to go out with a guy who likes to wear Spock ears.”
“I love Star Trek!” Clara said brightly. “Only sci-fi show I knew of that had a blind guy flying and fixing the ship.”
Jarod relaxed suddenly. She had brought up the subject he was thinking of how to avoid. In these politically correct times you never knew what would offend someone. Now he took a moment to study her. She was very pretty in a girl next door way. Soft, light brown hair framed her heart shaped face. Her lips were full without being freakish. Nose a little long and sharp, but not too much so. Though her golden-brown eyes were sightless, they still danced with merry mischief. Her body was a little on the hefty side, but it gave her a ripe appearance. Currently she was dangling her pump off her right foot, making Jarod sweat a bit as he saw that nylon clad appendage.
“Do you mind if I ask....” he began, to be swiftly interrupted.
“Since birth.” Clara replied. “Just like Geordi.”
Running a hand through his own darker brown hair, Jarod said, “Oh.” Then asked, “So what do you do?”
“By day I’m a lawyer for the poor people of Hell’s Kitchen, by night I dress in a devil’s costume and beat the crap out of bad guys.” She grinned, showing off a mouth of even, white teeth.
“A woman who knows her comics - at least I hope it’s the comics and not that god awful movie - want to get married?” Jarod joked. “No, seriously, are you a lawyer?”
“Nah, I’m a psychologist.” Clara said. “Who better to listen to people then someone who has no choice, right? Plus when I get a real whiner I can always just say “Hey, at least you’re not blind.” It usually shuts them up.” She was joking about the last part, of course, and chuckled. “What about you?”
Now Jarod was a little nervous. “Well, not as glamorous as you, but I’m a driver for a car service.”
“And what else?” Clara pressed. When Jarod was silent she said, “Jarod, I can tell from your voice you do a lot more then drive people around. Don’t be ashamed. I’ve heard it all in my practice. From gay porn stars who star in food fetish videos to sewage workers.”
“Funny you should mention porn.” Jarod said, running a finger around the collar of his shirt. “I write and illustrate fetish stories - tickling fetish ones to be exact....”
In a second Clara’s shoe was gone and her foot in Jarod’s lap. Normally she was not so bold with men, but she knew they only had ten, maybe even five minutes left. “I think I love you.” When Jarod was silent again she continued, “Jarod, I love being tickled. Adore it. Hell, the reason I dumped my boyfriend was because he was so bloody conventional in the sack. There were times when I pleaded with him to “take advantage” of my blindness. I begged him to tie me up and tickle me senseless. I even have fantasies about being held in stocks, with my arms stretched above my head, nude, in a room full of tickle-philes and a sign that reads “Tickle Me” at my feet. But he always whined that it would be wrong to do so, because of my blindness he never even liked to initiate sex. It was SO BORING!”
All the while Clara was wiggling her nylon covered toes at Jarod. He looked down at that foot resting between his thighs. She was wearing “nude” nylons with a reinforced toe and heel. Her foot was small and neither too narrow nor too wide. Her second toe was about a half inch longer then her big toe. While her words filtered into his brain, Jarod reached out and gentle stroked her sole. It was as soft as silk, with a plump ball and heel and well defined arch.
Clara squealed happily. Her nipples instantly stiffening. People turned to look. Her friend glared at Clara and Jarod. Disgusted.
“Time’s up! Switch!” Clara’s prudish friend shouted out, even though there was still three minutes to go.
...............................................................
“Is the driver here, Jasmine?” Clara asked, unfolding her cane. Her seeing eye dog, Data, had been put to sleep recently and she couldn’t bring herself to get a new one.
“Yes, doctor.” Jasmine replied with a stifled yawn. “It’s right outside. The driver’s cute, for a guy.”
Clara shook her head and headed for the door. She didn’t want to think of guys. Out of all the men from the speed dating service, the only one she got a reply from was BO-with-burnt-sugar-man. Perhaps she had been too forward with Jarod? Or maybe like so many he felt bad about even thinking of tying up a blind woman. It made her angry. Just because she couldn’t see did not mean she was mentally deficient. She was willing, damn it. It wouldn’t be taking advantage of her if she volunteered for it. Was she not a woman with a woman’s body, mind, and desires?
A gentle hand was leading her to the car. Helping her in without saying a word. She was encouraged with a tender touch to sit in the middle of the seat. Then a strange buckle was put over her. It came down over both shoulders, crossed under her breasts, and locked on either side of her. In the meantime she enjoyed the smell of the driver. Clean soap and water with just a hint of cinnamon.
Slipping out of her pumps, Clara felt around with her feet until she found what she wanted. A plastic divider between the front seats that served both as an armrest and extra glove box. “I hope you don’t mind if I put my feet up here, they’re killing me.”
The driver said nothing. Just got out and closed the door. Then went and got into the driver’s seat.
Suddenly Clara felt something lock over her ankles. She tried to pull her feet back but found something not unlike a small set of stocks. “Hey, what are you do....” she never got to finish for fingers fluttered over her nylon covered soles. She squealed and laughed. Nipples instantly engorged with blood.
As the car drove along felt her seat belt. It was in reality leather restraints, she could feel paddle locks on either side. At random moments five fingers would reach out and tickle her feet. Making her buck and squeal. She never knew when it would come. Making her feel all the more ticklish.
How long this went on she didn’t know. The driver never spoke. Just tickled. Leaving Clara in a sexual frustration. Then the car stopped. In the silence Clara could hear a garage door close.
“Who are you?” She demanded. “What do you want?!”
The answer came in the form of ruthless foot tickling. Plundering of her nylon covered soles. Clara squirmed and screamed with laughter, unable to help herself as she reached up and played with her own nipples through her silk blouse and bra. The tickler tormented her second toe. Then a warm mouth played along each digit, a soft tongue lapped at her feet, slipping between her trapped arches and tickling her horribly and wonderfully all at once.
Then it all stopped and Clara could hear the car door open, then the back one opened in turn. The seat shifted a bit as the driver settled next to her.
He slipped his hands up her skirt and began to tickle her legs. Starting with her knees and working both up and down. Clara laughed so hard she could feel herself crying. Her panties were completely soaked from her arousal.
Now he pulled her blouse up and exposed part of her belly. Ruthlessly plundering it with his fingers. Bending down and blowing raspberries on it, his tongue ticklishly worming it’s way under her waistband. She could think of a few other places she’d like to feel that terribly tickling tongue.
He tickled her ribs, the silk blouse making the tickling all the worse. She squirmed against her bonds. His fingers ran over the tops of her breasts, then up her neck, tickling her all the way to behind her ears. Then suddenly dived into her armpits, tickling her like crazy.
When Clara was totally weakened by the tickling, from laughing so hard that she could no longer wiggle and squirm, her tormenter released her. Then he began to relieve her of her clothing, tickling her the entire time. His tongue worming it’s way all over her ultra ticklish, extremely responsible body. So seduced was she by her silent tickler that she didn’t protest at all when he pulled her nylons down and began to tease her clit with the tip of his tongue. Bringing her over the edge instantly.
Now nude and utterly defeated, Clara’s senses were all off kilter. It wasn’t until she felt someone lifting her up by her feet and another behind her that she realized there was now more then one person. She swayed as she was carried from the garage into what she assumed was a house. Someone reached out and tickled her along the side of her stomach as she swayed between her two carriers.
She felt her feet placed into stocks, her wrists locked then the rattle of a chain as her arms restrained above her head. A pair of warm lips touched her ear.
“Are you comfortable, Clara?” Jarod whispered. Then reached out and began to tickle her nipples. Making her laugh. “Sounds like it.”
Though she couldn’t see, Clara could sense there were others in the room. She could practically feel their gazes on her most ticklish spots. Hear the swishing of their breaths. Her skin became alive with anticipation. Tingling. She wasn’t even being touched and she was already giggling and squirming.
“Everyone!” Jarod called out. “This is Clara. Clara informed me it was her fantasy to be bound helpless in a room full of tickle fanatics. So I thought I’d help her tickling dreams come true. I hope you’ll be tickled to help.”
After a moment of hesitation, someone bounded forward and began to tickle Clara’s belly with a feather. Even more ticklish after her recent orgasm, Clara instantly squirmed and laughed, shouting out to her tickler to not stop, that she loved it, all while laughing up a storm.
After her invite, the others descended upon their prey. Clara was never sure how many people were tickling her. There were feathers, brushes, fingers, and tongues all over her uber-ticklish body. No part of her was left untormented by the delightful tickles. At least three pairs of lips gave her feet ticklish kisses, yummy nibbles, and warm laps of tickling tongues. Clara was carried away on a wave of ticklish desire. Unable to stop the moans that came out with her laughs. It seemed like every bit of exposed skin was tickled viciously. And she loved every second.
The tickling lasted long into the night. Sometimes Clara would get a break, then without warning someone would begin to tickle her. Perhaps it would be fingers in a smooth hollow of an armpit. Maybe a feather across her ticklish nipples. Someone “painted” each and every ticklish rib at one point. Another used her mouth and tongue on Clara’s ticklish belly while reaching underneath to tickle what parts of her butt were exposed. Her legs were tickled by at least four people at one point.
And her feet - oh her feet! Such delicious, sensual torment on her soft feet! Clara rode wave after wave of pleasure as her feet were randomly tormented. It seemed like every foot fetishist in the world tortured her feet that night. And she loved every second of it.
Clara’s wasn’t the only female laughter that night. But her’s was by far the one heard the most.
“So would you like to come back for our next gathering?” Jarod asked as he gently tickled her armpits with some soft, fluffy feathers.
“Are you kidding?” Clara asked. “I never want to leave!”
~The End~
“Alright, folks, switch!”
Clara sighed. Another fifteen minutes wasted on a total loser. This one was worse then the rest. He had tried to show how he was so totally unfazed by her blindness by making a series of blind jokes. On top of that he reeked of a cologne that smelled like body odor and burnt sugar.
“Um, penny for your thoughts.” A voice said, a masculine, but slightly shy sounding voice. “I’m Jarod.”
Clara reached out, waiting, “I’m Clara.” She said when he had taken her hand and gave her a firm, friendly, if slightly damp shake.
“So, Clara,” Jarod said, sitting down, “how’d you end up in this meat market?”
The meat market in question was a speed dating service. The latest trend in a market of increasingly desperate singles.
“My friend runs it.” Clara said. “I dumped my stuff shirt boyfriend recently and she thought that I should get right back on the horse, so to speak. What about you?”
Jarod rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m a 35 year old Trekkie loser. Recently divorced. Not many women want to go out with a guy who likes to wear Spock ears.”
“I love Star Trek!” Clara said brightly. “Only sci-fi show I knew of that had a blind guy flying and fixing the ship.”
Jarod relaxed suddenly. She had brought up the subject he was thinking of how to avoid. In these politically correct times you never knew what would offend someone. Now he took a moment to study her. She was very pretty in a girl next door way. Soft, light brown hair framed her heart shaped face. Her lips were full without being freakish. Nose a little long and sharp, but not too much so. Though her golden-brown eyes were sightless, they still danced with merry mischief. Her body was a little on the hefty side, but it gave her a ripe appearance. Currently she was dangling her pump off her right foot, making Jarod sweat a bit as he saw that nylon clad appendage.
“Do you mind if I ask....” he began, to be swiftly interrupted.
“Since birth.” Clara replied. “Just like Geordi.”
Running a hand through his own darker brown hair, Jarod said, “Oh.” Then asked, “So what do you do?”
“By day I’m a lawyer for the poor people of Hell’s Kitchen, by night I dress in a devil’s costume and beat the crap out of bad guys.” She grinned, showing off a mouth of even, white teeth.
“A woman who knows her comics - at least I hope it’s the comics and not that god awful movie - want to get married?” Jarod joked. “No, seriously, are you a lawyer?”
“Nah, I’m a psychologist.” Clara said. “Who better to listen to people then someone who has no choice, right? Plus when I get a real whiner I can always just say “Hey, at least you’re not blind.” It usually shuts them up.” She was joking about the last part, of course, and chuckled. “What about you?”
Now Jarod was a little nervous. “Well, not as glamorous as you, but I’m a driver for a car service.”
“And what else?” Clara pressed. When Jarod was silent she said, “Jarod, I can tell from your voice you do a lot more then drive people around. Don’t be ashamed. I’ve heard it all in my practice. From gay porn stars who star in food fetish videos to sewage workers.”
“Funny you should mention porn.” Jarod said, running a finger around the collar of his shirt. “I write and illustrate fetish stories - tickling fetish ones to be exact....”
In a second Clara’s shoe was gone and her foot in Jarod’s lap. Normally she was not so bold with men, but she knew they only had ten, maybe even five minutes left. “I think I love you.” When Jarod was silent again she continued, “Jarod, I love being tickled. Adore it. Hell, the reason I dumped my boyfriend was because he was so bloody conventional in the sack. There were times when I pleaded with him to “take advantage” of my blindness. I begged him to tie me up and tickle me senseless. I even have fantasies about being held in stocks, with my arms stretched above my head, nude, in a room full of tickle-philes and a sign that reads “Tickle Me” at my feet. But he always whined that it would be wrong to do so, because of my blindness he never even liked to initiate sex. It was SO BORING!”
All the while Clara was wiggling her nylon covered toes at Jarod. He looked down at that foot resting between his thighs. She was wearing “nude” nylons with a reinforced toe and heel. Her foot was small and neither too narrow nor too wide. Her second toe was about a half inch longer then her big toe. While her words filtered into his brain, Jarod reached out and gentle stroked her sole. It was as soft as silk, with a plump ball and heel and well defined arch.
Clara squealed happily. Her nipples instantly stiffening. People turned to look. Her friend glared at Clara and Jarod. Disgusted.
“Time’s up! Switch!” Clara’s prudish friend shouted out, even though there was still three minutes to go.
...............................................................
“Is the driver here, Jasmine?” Clara asked, unfolding her cane. Her seeing eye dog, Data, had been put to sleep recently and she couldn’t bring herself to get a new one.
“Yes, doctor.” Jasmine replied with a stifled yawn. “It’s right outside. The driver’s cute, for a guy.”
Clara shook her head and headed for the door. She didn’t want to think of guys. Out of all the men from the speed dating service, the only one she got a reply from was BO-with-burnt-sugar-man. Perhaps she had been too forward with Jarod? Or maybe like so many he felt bad about even thinking of tying up a blind woman. It made her angry. Just because she couldn’t see did not mean she was mentally deficient. She was willing, damn it. It wouldn’t be taking advantage of her if she volunteered for it. Was she not a woman with a woman’s body, mind, and desires?
A gentle hand was leading her to the car. Helping her in without saying a word. She was encouraged with a tender touch to sit in the middle of the seat. Then a strange buckle was put over her. It came down over both shoulders, crossed under her breasts, and locked on either side of her. In the meantime she enjoyed the smell of the driver. Clean soap and water with just a hint of cinnamon.
Slipping out of her pumps, Clara felt around with her feet until she found what she wanted. A plastic divider between the front seats that served both as an armrest and extra glove box. “I hope you don’t mind if I put my feet up here, they’re killing me.”
The driver said nothing. Just got out and closed the door. Then went and got into the driver’s seat.
Suddenly Clara felt something lock over her ankles. She tried to pull her feet back but found something not unlike a small set of stocks. “Hey, what are you do....” she never got to finish for fingers fluttered over her nylon covered soles. She squealed and laughed. Nipples instantly engorged with blood.
As the car drove along felt her seat belt. It was in reality leather restraints, she could feel paddle locks on either side. At random moments five fingers would reach out and tickle her feet. Making her buck and squeal. She never knew when it would come. Making her feel all the more ticklish.
How long this went on she didn’t know. The driver never spoke. Just tickled. Leaving Clara in a sexual frustration. Then the car stopped. In the silence Clara could hear a garage door close.
“Who are you?” She demanded. “What do you want?!”
The answer came in the form of ruthless foot tickling. Plundering of her nylon covered soles. Clara squirmed and screamed with laughter, unable to help herself as she reached up and played with her own nipples through her silk blouse and bra. The tickler tormented her second toe. Then a warm mouth played along each digit, a soft tongue lapped at her feet, slipping between her trapped arches and tickling her horribly and wonderfully all at once.
Then it all stopped and Clara could hear the car door open, then the back one opened in turn. The seat shifted a bit as the driver settled next to her.
He slipped his hands up her skirt and began to tickle her legs. Starting with her knees and working both up and down. Clara laughed so hard she could feel herself crying. Her panties were completely soaked from her arousal.
Now he pulled her blouse up and exposed part of her belly. Ruthlessly plundering it with his fingers. Bending down and blowing raspberries on it, his tongue ticklishly worming it’s way under her waistband. She could think of a few other places she’d like to feel that terribly tickling tongue.
He tickled her ribs, the silk blouse making the tickling all the worse. She squirmed against her bonds. His fingers ran over the tops of her breasts, then up her neck, tickling her all the way to behind her ears. Then suddenly dived into her armpits, tickling her like crazy.
When Clara was totally weakened by the tickling, from laughing so hard that she could no longer wiggle and squirm, her tormenter released her. Then he began to relieve her of her clothing, tickling her the entire time. His tongue worming it’s way all over her ultra ticklish, extremely responsible body. So seduced was she by her silent tickler that she didn’t protest at all when he pulled her nylons down and began to tease her clit with the tip of his tongue. Bringing her over the edge instantly.
Now nude and utterly defeated, Clara’s senses were all off kilter. It wasn’t until she felt someone lifting her up by her feet and another behind her that she realized there was now more then one person. She swayed as she was carried from the garage into what she assumed was a house. Someone reached out and tickled her along the side of her stomach as she swayed between her two carriers.
She felt her feet placed into stocks, her wrists locked then the rattle of a chain as her arms restrained above her head. A pair of warm lips touched her ear.
“Are you comfortable, Clara?” Jarod whispered. Then reached out and began to tickle her nipples. Making her laugh. “Sounds like it.”
Though she couldn’t see, Clara could sense there were others in the room. She could practically feel their gazes on her most ticklish spots. Hear the swishing of their breaths. Her skin became alive with anticipation. Tingling. She wasn’t even being touched and she was already giggling and squirming.
“Everyone!” Jarod called out. “This is Clara. Clara informed me it was her fantasy to be bound helpless in a room full of tickle fanatics. So I thought I’d help her tickling dreams come true. I hope you’ll be tickled to help.”
After a moment of hesitation, someone bounded forward and began to tickle Clara’s belly with a feather. Even more ticklish after her recent orgasm, Clara instantly squirmed and laughed, shouting out to her tickler to not stop, that she loved it, all while laughing up a storm.
After her invite, the others descended upon their prey. Clara was never sure how many people were tickling her. There were feathers, brushes, fingers, and tongues all over her uber-ticklish body. No part of her was left untormented by the delightful tickles. At least three pairs of lips gave her feet ticklish kisses, yummy nibbles, and warm laps of tickling tongues. Clara was carried away on a wave of ticklish desire. Unable to stop the moans that came out with her laughs. It seemed like every bit of exposed skin was tickled viciously. And she loved every second.
The tickling lasted long into the night. Sometimes Clara would get a break, then without warning someone would begin to tickle her. Perhaps it would be fingers in a smooth hollow of an armpit. Maybe a feather across her ticklish nipples. Someone “painted” each and every ticklish rib at one point. Another used her mouth and tongue on Clara’s ticklish belly while reaching underneath to tickle what parts of her butt were exposed. Her legs were tickled by at least four people at one point.
And her feet - oh her feet! Such delicious, sensual torment on her soft feet! Clara rode wave after wave of pleasure as her feet were randomly tormented. It seemed like every foot fetishist in the world tortured her feet that night. And she loved every second of it.
Clara’s wasn’t the only female laughter that night. But her’s was by far the one heard the most.
“So would you like to come back for our next gathering?” Jarod asked as he gently tickled her armpits with some soft, fluffy feathers.
“Are you kidding?” Clara asked. “I never want to leave!”
~The End~