PeterVincentTGVK
1st Level Red Feather
- Joined
- Jun 25, 2007
- Messages
- 1,065
- Points
- 38
My name is Lucinda. My friends would probably call me Lucy... if I had any friends, that is. By the age of 25, I imagine that most women have many friends, but not me. I don't have the time. I was born in Greece. I was also born into the Guild: A secret society that has existed for centuries. The Guild has one purpose and one purpose only: To facilitate the fatalities of others. I am a Tickle Assassin. Myself and others like me have been responsible for the deaths of countless others throughout the last 700 years.
It sounds trite, I know. There is much to tell. My training began at the age of 5. Tickling is innocent when you are young. I was instructed by the woman who raised me, Maria. Maria taught me the secrets of the human body and the nervous system. I was taught about the psychology of tickling. How limiting a victim's mobility and introducing verbal teasing can add to the intensity of the sensations. I practiced at school, tickling my classmates at recess and learning from experience.
As I entered my teens, I learned about sexuality. I was instructed in the art of erotic tickling. On my 18th birthday, I was offered two naked adults, one male and one female, to tickle and tease as I saw fit.
But I was also trained throughout the years as a sniper. When I was 15, the Guild provided me with a rifle. It was a customized Springfield. Specifically, an M1903A1 with a 7.8x Unertl scope. It wasn't meant to shoot actual bullets, however. The secret of the Guild is that we don't believe in violence. When the Guild was first formed, A sorceress (and follower of the Cult of Renismelthin) developed a kind of special energy. It was a tiny feather that had no mass. It was simply a beam of pink light that was shaped as a feather. It was called the Shiver. The sorceress developed a way to weaponize the Shiver. Now in modern times, the other Tickle Assassins and I concealed the Shiver in our bullets. My rifle worked like any other, except that when it fired, the shell casing would eject and the Shiver would be fired into the victim. The Shiver caused no wound or even pain. It was a magical force, not a tangible object. However, once inside the victim, the Shiver would activate. It would cause unendurable and intense tickling sensations wherever it landed, causing the victim to literally laugh themselves to death. Once they have expired, the Shiver vanishes without a trace. The perfect assassination.
I have performed 17 assassinations in the last 7 years. 11 Men and 6 women. Now I was to perform my 18th: An up and coming young businessman whose ideals were threatening the economic balance in Nevada. I would have my chance to strike in that den of greed and evil known as Las Vegas.
Mr. Samuel King. Caucasian. 29 years old. Ivy League. Incredibly intelligent and a formidable businessman. All of that was know to the public. I needed to know more.
Tonight, Mr. King was staying at the Excalibur Hotel. I am not ashamed to admit that I played the slots for a brief period. I even won around 120 dollars before I noticed King enter the casino. He was reasonably handsome. That would make the seduction easier for me. The hit would take place the next morning. I had plenty of time to learn what I needed to know. To learn where he was the most ticklish.
I looked quite fetching if I may say so myself. My long black hair reached the small of my back. My soft, firm DD breasts were pushed up in my purple satin dress. I had noticed a number of men and even one or two women glancing at me in the casino. King walked to the bar, seating himself. I made my move, approaching and sitting beside him. He looked over to me, doing a double take. Men are so amusing.
“How's your luck tonight?” He asked me with a boyish smile. The kind that most men attempt when picking up a girl. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't.
“No complaints.” I return the smile, looking over his frame. He looks thin. Nothing wrong with that. “I won.”
“Congratulations.”
“Only some pocket change, but a win is a win.” I wink at him. No point in being subtle.
“Well, we should celebrate anyways. Let me buy you a drink.” He offered. “What are you drinking?”
“I would like a Strawberry Stripper.” I answered suggestively.
“Wouldn't we all?” He joked, summoning the bartender. He ordered my drink for me and a Tequila Sunrise for himself.
“I'm Sam.” He introduced himself.
“Lucinda.”
“Lucinda. That's a pretty name.”
“It means “light”.” I educate him with a soft voice.
“I don't think my name means anything unfortunately.” He muttered as the bartender brought our drinks.
“Not everything has to have meaning. Not every night does either.” I hope that he picks up on my innuendo.
“So what brings you to Vegas?” He asks.
“Business.”
“Same here. I wish I could say I was here for pleasure.”
“Why can't you be here for both?” I go for the gusto. To Hell with subtlety and nuance. “I see you aren't wearing a wedding ring.”
Of course, he took my invitation. Why wouldn't he? I would never invite a target to my room. It's an easy way to get caught. No. We go to his suite. It's impressive. His millionaire status shows when we walk in the door. He offers me a glass of champagne that I happily accept. There is some more small talk before we head into the bedroom. I waste no time locking lips with him, grinding against him, feeling his erection spring to life. His breathing becomes rapid and before long, I have him on the bed, stripping out of his white button shirt and black dress pants.
“How about letting me see what is under that dress?” His impatience makes me smile.
“All good things to those who wait.” I tell him. “I want to see you.”
“Your accent is so sexy.” He compliments me. “Where are you from?”
“Greece. Now lay down.” I purr. His naked body rests on the mattress. Now, it's time for my exploration to begin. I tell him to wait where he is and I go into the bathroom. As I had hoped, there are a few extra pillow cases in a small cupboard. I take 4 of them and return to the bedroom.
“I hope you don't mind being tied up. It's a fetish of mine.” I whisper in his ear. I hear no objections. I bind his wrists and his ankles firmly, stretching his body out in all directions. I then move on top of him, straddling his waist, lifting my dress and letting him feel my womanhood against him. He now notices my distaste for wearing panties... and my preference for having a bald pussy. I feel him, rock hard, against me. I will not let him in yet, though.
“I'm aching for you.” He gasps.
“You'll have to keep on aching.” I tease him. “I want to feel you first. All of you.”
There is a common belief that there are specific tickle spots on a person. In my experience, a person can be ticklish just about anywhere. One shouldn't just assume that the feet or underarms are the most ticklish place on a lover. As I have said, I have fired 17 Shivers in my career. Maybe 5 of them have been fired into feet. I have fired Shivers into bellies, necks, breasts, and even thighs. Of course, being a lady, I will not tell you where one would have to be fired into me, but my point is that a full body examination is best.
My trained fingertips drag along his arms into his elbows, making him shudder. So far so good. A lot of ticklers would make with the tickle talk fairly quickly. I can't, though. I need to know their most ticklish spot without the aid of other sensory inputs. My fingers pass through his underarms and he chortles. A ticklish reaction, but not nearly powerful enough.
“Hey, that tickles.” He smirks at me.
“Oh, my boy is ticklish?” I ask. Of course, he is not my boy. Hell, he is 4 years older than me. But that isn't the point. It's a psychological tactic used by ticklers to make the victim feel powerless. And that makes him more susceptible to my touch. I find his ribs, bringing some light chuckles from him. A man never looks cuter than when he is tickled. I let my heaving breasts rest on his tummy and bring my clever fingers to his sides. This area proves a bit more responsive. That doesn't surprise me, as skinny people usually are very ticklish on their sides. He starts squirming.
“Hehehehhehehehehhehehe...”
“I guess I should have warned you about my other fetish. I'm a tickler.”
“I nehehehehver would hahahahahve guessed.” He jokes and I laugh with him.
“Where are you the most ticklish, boy?” I ask.
“I will never tehehehehehlll.” Oh good. He wants to make a game of it. I drum my fingertips along his tummy, striking various chords of ticklishness in the handsome entrepreneur. I move off of him and scoot down to his feet, tracing the wrinkle son his arches with my nails.
“Hahahahahhahahahhahahahhahahahahhahaha...”
“I bet you were tickled a lot as a child.” I surmise. “Let me guess, your mother? A babysitter? A maid, perhaps? How many women have played with your body like this?” I tickle his toes. His laughter becomes more pronounced. His toes are very ticklish, but I doubt it's his most ticklish spot. He seems to be enjoying it too much. My fingers march up to his knees. I tease around the kneecaps and behind the knees. This seems to annoy him more than anything else. Like it itches more than it tickles.
I suddenly recall my first male target. His most ticklish spot had been his testicles. It had been a hard target to hit with my Shiver when the time came, but it had been effective in record time. I start to scuttle my nails up his inner thighs, bringing light, airy giggles from Samuel. My fingertips reach his testes, drawing little circles and spelling out the alphabet on the ultra soft skin.
“HehhHHehHhEhEHHEhehEhHEhehEhhEheheHHEhEhhe...”
“There's a good boy.” I smirk, It may not be his most ticklish spot, but it sure has him in stitches. His penis is like granite. I begin to wonder if I will be able to find a more ticklish area. A few feather-light touches on his erection bring a few chuckles but the balls are definitely more ticklish. I start tickling along the undersides of his balls when I decide that they will be the target tomorrow morning.
The one of my nails accidentally grazes a spot and his body jerks violently.
“Oh?” I graze the spot again, and he gives me a panicked look.
“Okay, c'mon, fun's over.” He tries to sound commanding.
“Oh I don't know about that.” I graze the spot again with my pinky nail and he sneezes a laugh.
“No! Don't touch that!” He pleads.
I wiggle my fingers in front of him in a teasing manner, and then lower my nails to the spot...
His butt.
I have him red in the face within seconds as I tease his cheeks, his crack, and even offer a few gentle pokes to the hole. He can't take it for even a minute. Tears start to run down his face. Now it's time for tickle talk.
“Awww.. is that a tickle spot? Is that a coochie woochie area on the poor boy?”
I torment him for a few minutes or so before untying him. I pull my dress off over my head and allow him to enter me. We exchange a few playful tickles during our lovemaking and I hold him tight as he fills me with his seed.
I leave his room around 5 A.M. in the morning. Long before he will awaken. While he was asleep, I took a glance at his cell phone and opened up his planner. He will leave the hotel just before 10 A.M. in order to be at a meeting by 10:30. I had specifically request a room facing the front of the hotel. I open my duffel and begin assembling my rifle, adding the scope and a heavy silencer. The last and final touch is the Shiver itself. I select one that is known to produce sensations that are akin to a soft caress instead of one with a firmer touch. I load the bullet, open the window, and take aim. After 3 or 4 minutes, I see the good Mr. King exit the hotel's main entrance and make his way to a limo that is waiting out front for him. There is a moment of terror on my part as my aim is blocked by a bodyguard who is following closely behind King. I have to fire the Shiver into Kin's backside for it to work. I swallow and try to find a shot that perfectly adjusts for wind and timing. I exhale, and take the shot, pulling back the bold and ejecting the shell onto a small towel that I have placed down on the floor to catch it.
It's a direct hit.
King's mind reels. He feels the pads of a hundred fingertips stroking and whispering over his bottom, his crack, and his hole. The intensity brings him to the ground and he laughs hysterically before his heart stops. My work here is done.
I close the window and pack away the gun, careful to retrieve the shell casing. I hop on my laptop and message Maria to let her know that the job is done. She lets me know that she has another job for me. This one is in Illinois: A young stripper named Lily who is believed to be a witch...
It sounds trite, I know. There is much to tell. My training began at the age of 5. Tickling is innocent when you are young. I was instructed by the woman who raised me, Maria. Maria taught me the secrets of the human body and the nervous system. I was taught about the psychology of tickling. How limiting a victim's mobility and introducing verbal teasing can add to the intensity of the sensations. I practiced at school, tickling my classmates at recess and learning from experience.
As I entered my teens, I learned about sexuality. I was instructed in the art of erotic tickling. On my 18th birthday, I was offered two naked adults, one male and one female, to tickle and tease as I saw fit.
But I was also trained throughout the years as a sniper. When I was 15, the Guild provided me with a rifle. It was a customized Springfield. Specifically, an M1903A1 with a 7.8x Unertl scope. It wasn't meant to shoot actual bullets, however. The secret of the Guild is that we don't believe in violence. When the Guild was first formed, A sorceress (and follower of the Cult of Renismelthin) developed a kind of special energy. It was a tiny feather that had no mass. It was simply a beam of pink light that was shaped as a feather. It was called the Shiver. The sorceress developed a way to weaponize the Shiver. Now in modern times, the other Tickle Assassins and I concealed the Shiver in our bullets. My rifle worked like any other, except that when it fired, the shell casing would eject and the Shiver would be fired into the victim. The Shiver caused no wound or even pain. It was a magical force, not a tangible object. However, once inside the victim, the Shiver would activate. It would cause unendurable and intense tickling sensations wherever it landed, causing the victim to literally laugh themselves to death. Once they have expired, the Shiver vanishes without a trace. The perfect assassination.
I have performed 17 assassinations in the last 7 years. 11 Men and 6 women. Now I was to perform my 18th: An up and coming young businessman whose ideals were threatening the economic balance in Nevada. I would have my chance to strike in that den of greed and evil known as Las Vegas.
Mr. Samuel King. Caucasian. 29 years old. Ivy League. Incredibly intelligent and a formidable businessman. All of that was know to the public. I needed to know more.
Tonight, Mr. King was staying at the Excalibur Hotel. I am not ashamed to admit that I played the slots for a brief period. I even won around 120 dollars before I noticed King enter the casino. He was reasonably handsome. That would make the seduction easier for me. The hit would take place the next morning. I had plenty of time to learn what I needed to know. To learn where he was the most ticklish.
I looked quite fetching if I may say so myself. My long black hair reached the small of my back. My soft, firm DD breasts were pushed up in my purple satin dress. I had noticed a number of men and even one or two women glancing at me in the casino. King walked to the bar, seating himself. I made my move, approaching and sitting beside him. He looked over to me, doing a double take. Men are so amusing.
“How's your luck tonight?” He asked me with a boyish smile. The kind that most men attempt when picking up a girl. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't.
“No complaints.” I return the smile, looking over his frame. He looks thin. Nothing wrong with that. “I won.”
“Congratulations.”
“Only some pocket change, but a win is a win.” I wink at him. No point in being subtle.
“Well, we should celebrate anyways. Let me buy you a drink.” He offered. “What are you drinking?”
“I would like a Strawberry Stripper.” I answered suggestively.
“Wouldn't we all?” He joked, summoning the bartender. He ordered my drink for me and a Tequila Sunrise for himself.
“I'm Sam.” He introduced himself.
“Lucinda.”
“Lucinda. That's a pretty name.”
“It means “light”.” I educate him with a soft voice.
“I don't think my name means anything unfortunately.” He muttered as the bartender brought our drinks.
“Not everything has to have meaning. Not every night does either.” I hope that he picks up on my innuendo.
“So what brings you to Vegas?” He asks.
“Business.”
“Same here. I wish I could say I was here for pleasure.”
“Why can't you be here for both?” I go for the gusto. To Hell with subtlety and nuance. “I see you aren't wearing a wedding ring.”
Of course, he took my invitation. Why wouldn't he? I would never invite a target to my room. It's an easy way to get caught. No. We go to his suite. It's impressive. His millionaire status shows when we walk in the door. He offers me a glass of champagne that I happily accept. There is some more small talk before we head into the bedroom. I waste no time locking lips with him, grinding against him, feeling his erection spring to life. His breathing becomes rapid and before long, I have him on the bed, stripping out of his white button shirt and black dress pants.
“How about letting me see what is under that dress?” His impatience makes me smile.
“All good things to those who wait.” I tell him. “I want to see you.”
“Your accent is so sexy.” He compliments me. “Where are you from?”
“Greece. Now lay down.” I purr. His naked body rests on the mattress. Now, it's time for my exploration to begin. I tell him to wait where he is and I go into the bathroom. As I had hoped, there are a few extra pillow cases in a small cupboard. I take 4 of them and return to the bedroom.
“I hope you don't mind being tied up. It's a fetish of mine.” I whisper in his ear. I hear no objections. I bind his wrists and his ankles firmly, stretching his body out in all directions. I then move on top of him, straddling his waist, lifting my dress and letting him feel my womanhood against him. He now notices my distaste for wearing panties... and my preference for having a bald pussy. I feel him, rock hard, against me. I will not let him in yet, though.
“I'm aching for you.” He gasps.
“You'll have to keep on aching.” I tease him. “I want to feel you first. All of you.”
There is a common belief that there are specific tickle spots on a person. In my experience, a person can be ticklish just about anywhere. One shouldn't just assume that the feet or underarms are the most ticklish place on a lover. As I have said, I have fired 17 Shivers in my career. Maybe 5 of them have been fired into feet. I have fired Shivers into bellies, necks, breasts, and even thighs. Of course, being a lady, I will not tell you where one would have to be fired into me, but my point is that a full body examination is best.
My trained fingertips drag along his arms into his elbows, making him shudder. So far so good. A lot of ticklers would make with the tickle talk fairly quickly. I can't, though. I need to know their most ticklish spot without the aid of other sensory inputs. My fingers pass through his underarms and he chortles. A ticklish reaction, but not nearly powerful enough.
“Hey, that tickles.” He smirks at me.
“Oh, my boy is ticklish?” I ask. Of course, he is not my boy. Hell, he is 4 years older than me. But that isn't the point. It's a psychological tactic used by ticklers to make the victim feel powerless. And that makes him more susceptible to my touch. I find his ribs, bringing some light chuckles from him. A man never looks cuter than when he is tickled. I let my heaving breasts rest on his tummy and bring my clever fingers to his sides. This area proves a bit more responsive. That doesn't surprise me, as skinny people usually are very ticklish on their sides. He starts squirming.
“Hehehehhehehehehhehehe...”
“I guess I should have warned you about my other fetish. I'm a tickler.”
“I nehehehehver would hahahahahve guessed.” He jokes and I laugh with him.
“Where are you the most ticklish, boy?” I ask.
“I will never tehehehehehlll.” Oh good. He wants to make a game of it. I drum my fingertips along his tummy, striking various chords of ticklishness in the handsome entrepreneur. I move off of him and scoot down to his feet, tracing the wrinkle son his arches with my nails.
“Hahahahahhahahahhahahahhahahahahhahaha...”
“I bet you were tickled a lot as a child.” I surmise. “Let me guess, your mother? A babysitter? A maid, perhaps? How many women have played with your body like this?” I tickle his toes. His laughter becomes more pronounced. His toes are very ticklish, but I doubt it's his most ticklish spot. He seems to be enjoying it too much. My fingers march up to his knees. I tease around the kneecaps and behind the knees. This seems to annoy him more than anything else. Like it itches more than it tickles.
I suddenly recall my first male target. His most ticklish spot had been his testicles. It had been a hard target to hit with my Shiver when the time came, but it had been effective in record time. I start to scuttle my nails up his inner thighs, bringing light, airy giggles from Samuel. My fingertips reach his testes, drawing little circles and spelling out the alphabet on the ultra soft skin.
“HehhHHehHhEhEHHEhehEhHEhehEhhEheheHHEhEhhe...”
“There's a good boy.” I smirk, It may not be his most ticklish spot, but it sure has him in stitches. His penis is like granite. I begin to wonder if I will be able to find a more ticklish area. A few feather-light touches on his erection bring a few chuckles but the balls are definitely more ticklish. I start tickling along the undersides of his balls when I decide that they will be the target tomorrow morning.
The one of my nails accidentally grazes a spot and his body jerks violently.
“Oh?” I graze the spot again, and he gives me a panicked look.
“Okay, c'mon, fun's over.” He tries to sound commanding.
“Oh I don't know about that.” I graze the spot again with my pinky nail and he sneezes a laugh.
“No! Don't touch that!” He pleads.
I wiggle my fingers in front of him in a teasing manner, and then lower my nails to the spot...
His butt.
I have him red in the face within seconds as I tease his cheeks, his crack, and even offer a few gentle pokes to the hole. He can't take it for even a minute. Tears start to run down his face. Now it's time for tickle talk.
“Awww.. is that a tickle spot? Is that a coochie woochie area on the poor boy?”
I torment him for a few minutes or so before untying him. I pull my dress off over my head and allow him to enter me. We exchange a few playful tickles during our lovemaking and I hold him tight as he fills me with his seed.
I leave his room around 5 A.M. in the morning. Long before he will awaken. While he was asleep, I took a glance at his cell phone and opened up his planner. He will leave the hotel just before 10 A.M. in order to be at a meeting by 10:30. I had specifically request a room facing the front of the hotel. I open my duffel and begin assembling my rifle, adding the scope and a heavy silencer. The last and final touch is the Shiver itself. I select one that is known to produce sensations that are akin to a soft caress instead of one with a firmer touch. I load the bullet, open the window, and take aim. After 3 or 4 minutes, I see the good Mr. King exit the hotel's main entrance and make his way to a limo that is waiting out front for him. There is a moment of terror on my part as my aim is blocked by a bodyguard who is following closely behind King. I have to fire the Shiver into Kin's backside for it to work. I swallow and try to find a shot that perfectly adjusts for wind and timing. I exhale, and take the shot, pulling back the bold and ejecting the shell onto a small towel that I have placed down on the floor to catch it.
It's a direct hit.
King's mind reels. He feels the pads of a hundred fingertips stroking and whispering over his bottom, his crack, and his hole. The intensity brings him to the ground and he laughs hysterically before his heart stops. My work here is done.
I close the window and pack away the gun, careful to retrieve the shell casing. I hop on my laptop and message Maria to let her know that the job is done. She lets me know that she has another job for me. This one is in Illinois: A young stripper named Lily who is believed to be a witch...
