PeterVincentTGVK
1st Level Red Feather
- Joined
- Jun 25, 2007
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Well, readers, there is only just over a month before I will be shutting down my deviantart page and removing my books from lulu.com. Make sure that you get your copies before time is up. Here is a tale from my book, Valerie's Week Of Tickles. The stories in the book all revolve around Valerie, a dominatrix with a device that allows her to create dreamscapes for her victims, in which she can take on any form. Enjoy, and make sure you check out the rest of the book at http://www.lulu.com/shop/shellie-feathers/valeries-week-of-tickles/ebook/product-23444018.html
I have a new client today: Mr. Benjamin Vital. A self made millionaire. Well educated. Calculating. At only 29 years of age, he has amassed a vast fortune playing the stock market. Mr. Vital is known far and wide for his wealth, but also, surprisingly, for his modesty. Quite an eligible bachelor, but few lovers. He is not religious as far as I can tell. But a quick analysis of his medical records (which I demand from all of my clients) indicated that he gets himself tested for STD's on a fairly regular basis. This hints to me that he has seen his share of brothels and street corners. He is likely no stranger to the concept of paying for sexual favors.
When he arrived at my doorstep, I greeted him in a nice pair of jeans and a pink Angora sweater. He was a bit overdressed in a very nice, dark blue, Armani suit. Only the wealthy can afford my services, so I am no stranger to men and women coming to me dressed as if they are going to their Prom.
“Mr. Vital.” I hold the door for him, ushering him inside.
“Ms...” He looks quizzical.
“Valerie is fine.” I smile in a friendly manner. “Won't you come in?”
I lead him into the living room and gesture for him to have a seat on my sofa by the window.
“Can I get you anything to drink?” I offer. He respectfully shakes his head no. I sit in my red Barcalounger, crossing my legs.
“So... uh... how does this work?” He asks. He doesn't seem nervous. Sometimes, new clients are flat out trembling when they first arrive. It is difficult to blame them. It's not until you've experienced the machine's capabilities firsthand that you understand how little there is to fear.
“I insist on payment first.” I tell him politely. He pulls out an iphone 7 and hits a few buttons.
“Done.” He coolly assures me. My own phone goes off. I open the screen to see the message that the money has been sent.
“Thank you. Now, do you have any questions about the procedure?”
“How real is it?” He asks. I get that one a lot.
“As real as you sitting on that sofa. At least that is how it will seem. Nothing will physically harm you in any way. It is much like a dream except for the level of detail. Some can dream and almost immediately realize that they are not in the waking world. Some can dream and be completely lucid, even able to control the dream around them with practice. That is not the case here. You will live the fantasy. But I will control it.”
“So I can do whatever I want?”
“No. Not exactly. You can only act as the fantasy allows you to. If you are a patient in a doctors office, you cannot suddenly learn to fly or change shape. It has to adhere to the reality and internal logic of the illusion.”
“Then what do you do?” Now he started to seem a tad skittish. He may have been under the impression that I was offering him invincibility before, but I needed to enlighten him.
“I control the dream. Not just myself, but you. The entire environment. All you do is set the stage. I enter your fantasy and take over from there.”
“What if I don't like what you have planned for me?” He is right to be concerned. The procedure requires a client to have complete trust in me. I reach down into a small chest beside my chair and pull out the device. It is about the size of a game system, with cables coming out of either side, connected to cap like pads that resemble yarmulkes. I also pull out an elastic wristband that I toss to him. There is a small button on the side of it
“Put that on your left wrist. It's an SW, a safeword device. If at any point during the fantasy, you begin to have second thoughts, simply press the button. It will appear in the dream as a small bead just under the skin on your wrist. I suggest that when the dream begins, you feel around for it so that you know where it is.” I instruct him as he puts the band on. “Now, Mr. Vital, tell me about your fantasy.”
“This is a bit awkward for me...” He stammered slightly. I can't blame him. Telling a dominatrix what to do is one thing, letting a stranger in on your innermost thoughts is something else.
“I work with utmost professionalism.” I promise him, hoping to put him at ease.
“What happens here between you and I is only between you and I. Unlike other women in my profession, there are no cameras here. What transpires is our secret. I am you lawyer and your priest. You can confide in me, if only me.
Outside of our business, we have no other contact. I'm your dream girl, Mr. Vital. Literally.”
“Well, in my fantasy...” He began. “I'm a thief. I am breaking into a house. A large, expensive house in Mexico. It's filled with all sorts of lavish and extravagant items. I find a safe in the upstairs bedroom and am caught and cornered by the gorgeous owner of the house.”
“I get the idea.” I smile. “Is this a random fantasy, or is there hidden meaning behind it?” I see him twiddling his thumbs anxiously. I can only imagine what is going through his mind. He knows that in his fantasy, he will be tickled. He will be tickled by me. I won't look like me, but that is the whole point. I will take on the role of the homeowner he plans to rob.
“You see, I've never really wanted for anything. Making money is kind of a talent of mine.”
“I'm aware.”
“But I remember a time when I was 11 years old. I stole 20 dollars from my mother's purse. Not because I needed it, but just for the thrill. I remember how afraid I was that she or somebody else would catch me. I want to feel that terror again.”
“But this time you want to get caught.” I deduce. He nods.
“Yes. Yes, exactly.”
“Oh, don't worry, Mr. Vital. I'll catch you.” I tell him with a mischievous tone and a curl of my lips. His cheeks take on an adorable pinkish hue. I get up from my chair and walk towards him with one of the caps, attaching it to his cranium. I then return to my chair and put my own cap on before pushing the green button on the device. I am excited that I get to speak another language as well, seeing as how I am fluent in French, Spanish, and Italian.
“Sweet dreams, Mr. Vital.”
Benjamin Vital pulled the black ski mask down over his face. It's dark out, and his
black turtleneck sweater and sweatpants will help camouflage his movements, at least until he gets inside. He recalls in the back of his mind that he is supposed to check for the bead in his skin on the underside of his wrist. He feels the skin. It feels like there is a small bump, like a mosquito bite that doesn't itch anymore but is not quite gone.
He looks over the villa from the sandy beach beside it. His best course of action would be to hop the stone fence and scale the tree near the back of the right side of the villa. Once he got to the branch 15 feet up, he could drop onto the terrace and pick the lock on the sliding door. If his calculations were correct, the sliding door would lead to the study. And down the hall from the study would be the bedroom.
He moved silently to the fence and crawled over it. He saw one security camera just above the terrace. He needed to neutralize the camera before he went any further. He pulled his suppressed Berreta Model 81 that had been tucked into the back of his pants and aimed. It luckily took only one shot.
PEW!
The camera fizzled and smoked. Time to move on. He found the tree and began scaling it. The leaves made some ruckus so he tried to climb more slowly. He set the gun down onto a wicker chair, positioned to look out at the ocean, and removed his lock pick from his left pants pocket. As he began to pick the lock, a horrible feeling washed over him.
What if there was an alarm on the door?
He had avoided using the front or back doors due to this very issue. Most rich people would have alarms attached to the main entrances of their home. But what if Ana Castillo had put an alarm on her terrace door? He began to sweat underneath his mask. There was a 50/50 chance that he was about to blow this whole thing. He felt the picks click.
This was it. The moment of truth.
He slid the door halfway open and...
Silence.
He breathed a sigh of relief and, crouched down, entered the house, sliding the door shut behind him. The study was shockingly small. Only a small desk area facing away from a series of custom crafted bookshelves full of books on various subjects. Some were about History. Some were collections of poetry in expensive bindings. Poe, Shakespeare, Dante, and more. It was the last shelf that caught Benjamin's attention though.
The first book was a first edition of The Joy Of Sex. Normal enough. Many people had that book at some point or another. But the others on that shelf were increasingly bizarre. There were three different books on knot work, two books about physiological responses in men and women, one book called Tortures Of The Orient, and... oddly enough... a book of old nursery rhymes.
What a strange collection of books to group together like that, Benjamin thought. He slowly opened the door and walked into the hallway. The lights were on but they were dim. Though Benjamin was almost 100% certain that Ms. Castillo was out of town, he didn't know if she had anyone watching the house for her. He had to act under the assumption that anybody could be in any one of these rooms. He had this thought as he neared the bedroom and he stopped. What if somebody was in the bedroom. He reached back for his Berreta.
It was still on the wicker chair outside! Goddamn it! He couldn't go back for it now. He needed to spend as little time in the house as possible. He put his hand on the doorknob... slowly turned it... and inched it open. He peered inside. There was nobody in the bedroom. He saw the large Four Post bed in the back of the room, but his attention was quickly drawn to the closet. He opened the closet door and, after moving some dresses aside, found the safe built into the carpeted floor.
Jackpot.
The lock would be easy enough to crack. The cash inside was as good as his. It was nothing for him to use his small stethoscope and figure out the lock. He lifted the top of the safe to reveal...
A 20 dollar bill. That was all. He had done all of that for 20 dollars?
“Dios mío!” He heard a woman shout from the other side of the house. It was Ana Castillo. She was home. And it sounded like she had just found the gun on the wicker chair. Shit! He heard footsteps exiting the study.
“Quién está ahí!” Her voice grew louder. She was coming towards the bedrooom.
And she had his gun. He heard her ask “Who is there?” one more time in her native tongue before she seemed to be right outside the bedroom. Benjamin quickly shut the closet door. He didn't have any other choice. It was either hide in the closet or hide under the bed. Neither option was very appealing, but he opted for the former.
The bedroom door opened, and Ana rushed in, waving the gun around like a madwoman. She knew there was someone in there with her.
“Dónde estás?” She asked softly. He knew enough Spanish to know that she had
just asked “Where are you?”. She looked ravishing in her blue satin pajamas. Her skin was delectable. Brown and soft. Her bust and rear were firm and in another life, he might have hit on her under different circumstances. She seemed young, close to his age. Her accent wasn't thick, but it was still very noticeable.
“Dónde estás...?” She asked again. But this time, her tone was different. She was smiling, hunched over a little. She seemed like she was playing hide and seek with a child. Was she crazy? Benjamin felt panic. It was a giddy kind of panic, though. She was coming closer and closer to the closet. She knew he was in there. Benjamin felt his heart pounding so hard, he thought it might burst from his chest.
The closet door flew open. She pointed the gun right in his face.
“Found you... American.” She grinned. “Stand up slowly.” Benjamin lifted his hands in surrender and obeyed her. “Move to the bed.” She commanded. He walked over to the bed. She kept the Berreta trained on him as he did.
“Listen, I can explain...” He started to speak but she interrupted him.
“I am not interested in your motives. You broke into my home. And with a gun, no less. You realize by law, I have the right to do just about anything I want to you, yes?”
“Wh-what do you want?”
“Get on the bed.” She ordered. He could tell she was serious. He layed down on the bed on his back. “Now stay there.” She told him as she walked over to the closet again. She pulled a handful of nylons down from the top shelf and walked back over to him. She hopped on top of him, straddling his chest. She set the gun down and gave him a threatening look, as if silently warning him against trying to stop her. She used the nylons to bind his wrists to the bed posts. After getting them nice and tight, she moved down to bind his ankles in a similar fashion. Once he was completely tied down, she picked the gun back up and stood at the foot of the bed. Despite his predicament, he couldn't deny how sexy she looked.
“¿Por qué has venido aquí?” She asked with authority in her voice.
“What?” He shook his head, not understanding.
“Silly American...” She mocked. “I said, What are you doing here?”
“I... uh...”
“You were in my closet.” She looked over at the open closet and saw the open
safe. Her jaw dropped. “You were going to rob me! Bastardo!” She swore in anger. “I could kill you! I could call the police! I could...” She paused, and Benjamin saw a sly grin climb onto her face as she slowly looked back at him.
“Or... I could do to you... what I did to the last person who snuck into my bedroom. The only difference is, that last person to do that... was my Four year old nephew, Alejandro.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Tell me, thief, eres cosquilloso?” He didn't answer her right away and she chuckled. “I'm sorry. What I asked was... are you ticklish?” She spoke with a playful menace.
“No.” He lied. It dawned on his pretty fast just how dire his predicament was. Whether she believed him or not, there was nothing to stop her from doing whatever she wanted to him. He could barely move a muscle. He noticed her nails were ruby red and quite sharp. He began to sweat inside his mask again. At least she couldn't see it.
“No?” She cocked an eyebrow, clearly believing him to be a liar. “Then you don't mind if I check for myself?” She reached down and yanked off his right sneaker. “Your mouth may tell deceptions.” She peeled off his thin, black sock. “But your flesh will be honest, always.” She bent down and introduced the nails of her right hand to his sole, lightly dragging the nails up and down in a faint motion.
There was one upside to the situation: The mask covered Benjamin's mouth. As long as he didn't laugh out loud, she wouldn't know how much her touch was affecting him. Good thing too, since a goofy smile was growing on his face as she tickled. The smile became wider when her nails started wiggling softly as she dragged them from the ball of his foot down to his heel.
“Certainly this must tickle, yes?” She asked. “My nails are nice and sharp, I know.”
Benjamin felt the nails scratch at the pads of his toes softly. This was worse than the sole tickling. And Ana noticed right away that his toes wiggled when she touched them.
“Now we are getting somewhere.” She declared. “I have just the thing for those.” Ana got up and walked up to an elaborately carved dresser. She opened one of the drawers and pulled out a stiff turkey feather. She returned to her spot in front of his foot and he had to grit his teeth when he felt her brushing his toes with the feather. It was so ticklish. Much softer than the nails, for sure. “Hold still, my little chico.” Ana held his foot in place as she feathered his toes. She held the feather sideways and swept it up and down the pads of the toes. She looked up at him and snapped her fingers as if something had just dawned on
her. “Oh, how silly of me.”
Benjamin looked down at her as she got up and walked over to the side of the bed. She pulled his ski mask off and smiled again.
“There we are. I want to see your face when I tickle you. No hiding your smiles from Mami.” She went back down to the foot of the bed and resumed tickling his toes with the feather. He couldn't keep the smile from his face anymore and she soon knew that she had him.
“What's so funny, Chico?” She asked teasingly as she feathered his poor toes.
“There must be something quite humerous running through your cerebro, because you look like a child trying not to laugh in school. You must be very ticklish indeed.”
“No, I-hehehehhehehhehehehehehehehehehhehehehehehe...” As soon as he had opened his mouth, she skittered the nials of her free hand against the sole of the foot while tickling his toes with the feather at the same time.
“A-ha! I knew it.” She dropped the feather pulled off his other shoe and sock, now tickling one foot with each hand.
“Noohohohoho hahahahhahahahahahahahaha...”
“I think I have found the perfect punishment for you.” She wiggled her fingers between his toes. This was the worst yet.
“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”
“Oh, is that where my little muchacho likes it? Looks like Mami found the magic spot!” She pulled his toes apart and slipped the turkey feather between each toe, one at a time, gently moving the feather in a sawing motion. Benjamin went crazy, banging his head against the pillows and begging frantically.
“STOOHHOHOHOPPP IT PLEEHHEHEHEEHASE HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA...”
“Mami will teach you to break into people's houses.” Ana promised as she continued to mercilessly tickle the webbing between Benjamin's toes with the feather. Soon, though, she became bored with the spot. She wanted more. She pulled the feather away and Benjamin silently thanked the Lord as he gasped for air.
“Where else are you ticklish, muchacho?” Ana asked as she moved onto the bed and sat between Benjamin's spread legs. She lifted up his sweater to reveal the pink, somewhat pudgy flesh of his tummy.
“Look at this panza! You need to excercise more, muchacho. How about we give this tummy a workout?”
“It won't work.” He tried to convince her. He was a lousy actor.
“Oh no?” The teasing look returned to her eyes. “Not even, if I do... this?” She placed all ten of her fingertips on his sides just under his ribs. He instantly flinched. “Wait for it...” She threatened.
“I won't laugh.” He insisted.
“Wait for it...”
“It's not gonna work.”
“Wait for it...” Ana's smile only grew.
“Just stop this!” He nearly shouted.
“Now!” She softly scuttled her fingertips up and down his sides rapidly, up and down and all around.
“HhehEHEHHEHEHhEHEHhEHeHeHheHEHHEHeHheHEHEHHEHeHEHHEhEH!!!”
“That's what I thought.” Ana tormented the soft sides with her lightning quick touches. “Look at this tummy jiggle. I think the burglar could use more crunches and fewer lock picks. Don't worry, though, I have no problem helping you burn calories. Tickle tickle tickle!” She darted her nails around his tummy like a woman possessed.
“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH AHA!”
“And what about this bellybutton? It's so deep!” She exclaimed. “Hey, muchacho, do you know this one: There was a little mouse... looking for his little house...” Her fingers crept around his tummy.
“Oh no, don't” He pleaded, knowing what she was about to do.
“Not here” She poked his side. “Not here” Pressing into his hip. “But here, here, HERE!” She dipped her finger into his bellybutton and wiggled it, letting her nail scratch inside the well.
“HAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHHAHAHAHHAHAHHAHHAHAHAHHAHHAHAHHA!!!”
Ana was having so much fun, but she knew that she was going easy on him. No more Ms. Ana, she decided. She stopped tickling him and bent down, looking him right in the eye.
“I will give you a choice, thief, which is more than you deserve.” She stated. “But first...” She got up and walked to her dresser once again. She opened a different drawer that contained various sewing supplies. She pulled out a large pair of sewing shears, snipping them together once or twice for dramatic effect, and came back to the bed. She grabbed Benjamin's ankle and started cutting his pantleg. He wanted to protest but he knew that if he moved too much, she might accidentally cut him. He had no choice in the matter. Soon she reached the waistline and then snipped all the way down to his other ankle. She then unceremoniously yanked the pants off of him. She wasn't done yet though. Next she did the same to his sweater, cutting it right off of him. Now he was only covered by his underwear. She pulled the boxers by the side and cut them off in a matter of seconds. She was pretty good with those scissors, he realized. She looked down at his naked body and sat beside him. “Now, as I was saying... a choice.”
“I'm... I'm listening...” He was terrified, but excited at the same time.
“I now have access to every inch of you.” She told him. “Tell me where you are the most ticklish. The absolute worst place on your body. And I will tickle you there however I see fit for Five straight minutes. Cinco minutos.” She held up five fingers to drive the point home. “Afterward I will let you go, and you will promise never to return. If, however, you don't tell me... I will tickle you everywhere... all night long. And believe me, eventually... I will find that spot no matter what. What do you say, muchacho?” Five minutes of total ticklish torture... or a whole night of exploration?”
Benjamin thought it over. Of course he knew where he was the most ticklish. But at the same time, he didn't know if he could stand Five straight minutes of it. It was a sensitive enough area that even Five minutes might be far too long. Still, he knew that an entire night at her mercy would be out of the question. He exhaled, resigning himself.
“Okay. I'll tell you.”
“I'm all ears, American.” She listened intently.
“It's... my armpits.” He admitted. He knew he had just sealed his fate. Ana threw her head back and laughed mockingly.
“Oh, is that the spot?” She smirked as she straddled his waist. “Well, are you ready, muchacho? Are you ready for the spot?” Ana asked with a smile.
“Oh no...” He whimpered. What had he done?
Ana put a hand on either of his biceps. It was coming. He knew it.
“This will be fun. It will only take the simplest motion” Ana told Benjamin as she let her fingers idly drag back and forth over his underarms. The nails lazily trailed from his ribs to his biceps with such ease. It was enough to bring the poor guy to silent laughter. Ana knew it was time to perfect time for some tickle talk.
“Tickle tickle tickle, muchacho... Mami's gonna get you. Coochie coochie coo. Oh, you're shaking so much... Have you got the giggles? It's a serious medical condition, you know. Hahaha.”
The nails drifted back and forth, back and forth. Suddenly, when Benjamin least expected it, Ana bent down and blew into his left underarm.
“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHH!!!! Benjamin screamed. As Ana zerberted his pits, she tickled his ribs with her fingers. Benjamin thought he was going to pass out. He reached down with his fingers and pushed the bead in his wrist.
Benjamin and I both awaken at the same instant back in my living room. The session was prematurely cut short. I look at him. His face is flushed. His brow is drenched with sweat. That nice suit of his needs to be laundered. He looks at me with an expression of amazement and frustration. His boner is threatening to burst through the soft fabric of his dress pants.
“I... uh...” He sputters out breathlessly.
“The bathroom is down the hall. First door on the left. Just don't leave a mess.” I tell him. He pulls off the cap and gets up carefully, but quickly, speedwalking out of the room.
This happens sometimes. Some achieve orgasm in the dream and wake up with stained undies. But some can't take the tickling for long enough and end the session prematurely. In the role of Ms. Ana Castillo, I had apparently been too much for him. I sit back and remove my cap, looking back on the session.
You have to understand that it is not enough for me to simply tickle my client in the guise of somebody else. I make the choices that shape the world once it is initially set up. The books on the shelf in the study? Me. The 20 dollar bill in the safe, harkening back to the 20 he had stolen from his mother as a child? Me. It's these little touches that make the experience so intense and pleasing for my clients. When you come to me for a session, you let me in your mind. And once you do, I will tease your psyche just as I tease your flesh. Mr. Benjamin Vital has learned that today.
I can't blame him though. Most people panic during the first session. Nearly everyone does, in fact. That's why I give them the SW before the session begins. If you are able to keep from pressing that button, I will take you all the way...
I have a new client today: Mr. Benjamin Vital. A self made millionaire. Well educated. Calculating. At only 29 years of age, he has amassed a vast fortune playing the stock market. Mr. Vital is known far and wide for his wealth, but also, surprisingly, for his modesty. Quite an eligible bachelor, but few lovers. He is not religious as far as I can tell. But a quick analysis of his medical records (which I demand from all of my clients) indicated that he gets himself tested for STD's on a fairly regular basis. This hints to me that he has seen his share of brothels and street corners. He is likely no stranger to the concept of paying for sexual favors.
When he arrived at my doorstep, I greeted him in a nice pair of jeans and a pink Angora sweater. He was a bit overdressed in a very nice, dark blue, Armani suit. Only the wealthy can afford my services, so I am no stranger to men and women coming to me dressed as if they are going to their Prom.
“Mr. Vital.” I hold the door for him, ushering him inside.
“Ms...” He looks quizzical.
“Valerie is fine.” I smile in a friendly manner. “Won't you come in?”
I lead him into the living room and gesture for him to have a seat on my sofa by the window.
“Can I get you anything to drink?” I offer. He respectfully shakes his head no. I sit in my red Barcalounger, crossing my legs.
“So... uh... how does this work?” He asks. He doesn't seem nervous. Sometimes, new clients are flat out trembling when they first arrive. It is difficult to blame them. It's not until you've experienced the machine's capabilities firsthand that you understand how little there is to fear.
“I insist on payment first.” I tell him politely. He pulls out an iphone 7 and hits a few buttons.
“Done.” He coolly assures me. My own phone goes off. I open the screen to see the message that the money has been sent.
“Thank you. Now, do you have any questions about the procedure?”
“How real is it?” He asks. I get that one a lot.
“As real as you sitting on that sofa. At least that is how it will seem. Nothing will physically harm you in any way. It is much like a dream except for the level of detail. Some can dream and almost immediately realize that they are not in the waking world. Some can dream and be completely lucid, even able to control the dream around them with practice. That is not the case here. You will live the fantasy. But I will control it.”
“So I can do whatever I want?”
“No. Not exactly. You can only act as the fantasy allows you to. If you are a patient in a doctors office, you cannot suddenly learn to fly or change shape. It has to adhere to the reality and internal logic of the illusion.”
“Then what do you do?” Now he started to seem a tad skittish. He may have been under the impression that I was offering him invincibility before, but I needed to enlighten him.
“I control the dream. Not just myself, but you. The entire environment. All you do is set the stage. I enter your fantasy and take over from there.”
“What if I don't like what you have planned for me?” He is right to be concerned. The procedure requires a client to have complete trust in me. I reach down into a small chest beside my chair and pull out the device. It is about the size of a game system, with cables coming out of either side, connected to cap like pads that resemble yarmulkes. I also pull out an elastic wristband that I toss to him. There is a small button on the side of it
“Put that on your left wrist. It's an SW, a safeword device. If at any point during the fantasy, you begin to have second thoughts, simply press the button. It will appear in the dream as a small bead just under the skin on your wrist. I suggest that when the dream begins, you feel around for it so that you know where it is.” I instruct him as he puts the band on. “Now, Mr. Vital, tell me about your fantasy.”
“This is a bit awkward for me...” He stammered slightly. I can't blame him. Telling a dominatrix what to do is one thing, letting a stranger in on your innermost thoughts is something else.
“I work with utmost professionalism.” I promise him, hoping to put him at ease.
“What happens here between you and I is only between you and I. Unlike other women in my profession, there are no cameras here. What transpires is our secret. I am you lawyer and your priest. You can confide in me, if only me.
Outside of our business, we have no other contact. I'm your dream girl, Mr. Vital. Literally.”
“Well, in my fantasy...” He began. “I'm a thief. I am breaking into a house. A large, expensive house in Mexico. It's filled with all sorts of lavish and extravagant items. I find a safe in the upstairs bedroom and am caught and cornered by the gorgeous owner of the house.”
“I get the idea.” I smile. “Is this a random fantasy, or is there hidden meaning behind it?” I see him twiddling his thumbs anxiously. I can only imagine what is going through his mind. He knows that in his fantasy, he will be tickled. He will be tickled by me. I won't look like me, but that is the whole point. I will take on the role of the homeowner he plans to rob.
“You see, I've never really wanted for anything. Making money is kind of a talent of mine.”
“I'm aware.”
“But I remember a time when I was 11 years old. I stole 20 dollars from my mother's purse. Not because I needed it, but just for the thrill. I remember how afraid I was that she or somebody else would catch me. I want to feel that terror again.”
“But this time you want to get caught.” I deduce. He nods.
“Yes. Yes, exactly.”
“Oh, don't worry, Mr. Vital. I'll catch you.” I tell him with a mischievous tone and a curl of my lips. His cheeks take on an adorable pinkish hue. I get up from my chair and walk towards him with one of the caps, attaching it to his cranium. I then return to my chair and put my own cap on before pushing the green button on the device. I am excited that I get to speak another language as well, seeing as how I am fluent in French, Spanish, and Italian.
“Sweet dreams, Mr. Vital.”
Benjamin Vital pulled the black ski mask down over his face. It's dark out, and his
black turtleneck sweater and sweatpants will help camouflage his movements, at least until he gets inside. He recalls in the back of his mind that he is supposed to check for the bead in his skin on the underside of his wrist. He feels the skin. It feels like there is a small bump, like a mosquito bite that doesn't itch anymore but is not quite gone.
He looks over the villa from the sandy beach beside it. His best course of action would be to hop the stone fence and scale the tree near the back of the right side of the villa. Once he got to the branch 15 feet up, he could drop onto the terrace and pick the lock on the sliding door. If his calculations were correct, the sliding door would lead to the study. And down the hall from the study would be the bedroom.
He moved silently to the fence and crawled over it. He saw one security camera just above the terrace. He needed to neutralize the camera before he went any further. He pulled his suppressed Berreta Model 81 that had been tucked into the back of his pants and aimed. It luckily took only one shot.
PEW!
The camera fizzled and smoked. Time to move on. He found the tree and began scaling it. The leaves made some ruckus so he tried to climb more slowly. He set the gun down onto a wicker chair, positioned to look out at the ocean, and removed his lock pick from his left pants pocket. As he began to pick the lock, a horrible feeling washed over him.
What if there was an alarm on the door?
He had avoided using the front or back doors due to this very issue. Most rich people would have alarms attached to the main entrances of their home. But what if Ana Castillo had put an alarm on her terrace door? He began to sweat underneath his mask. There was a 50/50 chance that he was about to blow this whole thing. He felt the picks click.
This was it. The moment of truth.
He slid the door halfway open and...
Silence.
He breathed a sigh of relief and, crouched down, entered the house, sliding the door shut behind him. The study was shockingly small. Only a small desk area facing away from a series of custom crafted bookshelves full of books on various subjects. Some were about History. Some were collections of poetry in expensive bindings. Poe, Shakespeare, Dante, and more. It was the last shelf that caught Benjamin's attention though.
The first book was a first edition of The Joy Of Sex. Normal enough. Many people had that book at some point or another. But the others on that shelf were increasingly bizarre. There were three different books on knot work, two books about physiological responses in men and women, one book called Tortures Of The Orient, and... oddly enough... a book of old nursery rhymes.
What a strange collection of books to group together like that, Benjamin thought. He slowly opened the door and walked into the hallway. The lights were on but they were dim. Though Benjamin was almost 100% certain that Ms. Castillo was out of town, he didn't know if she had anyone watching the house for her. He had to act under the assumption that anybody could be in any one of these rooms. He had this thought as he neared the bedroom and he stopped. What if somebody was in the bedroom. He reached back for his Berreta.
It was still on the wicker chair outside! Goddamn it! He couldn't go back for it now. He needed to spend as little time in the house as possible. He put his hand on the doorknob... slowly turned it... and inched it open. He peered inside. There was nobody in the bedroom. He saw the large Four Post bed in the back of the room, but his attention was quickly drawn to the closet. He opened the closet door and, after moving some dresses aside, found the safe built into the carpeted floor.
Jackpot.
The lock would be easy enough to crack. The cash inside was as good as his. It was nothing for him to use his small stethoscope and figure out the lock. He lifted the top of the safe to reveal...
A 20 dollar bill. That was all. He had done all of that for 20 dollars?
“Dios mío!” He heard a woman shout from the other side of the house. It was Ana Castillo. She was home. And it sounded like she had just found the gun on the wicker chair. Shit! He heard footsteps exiting the study.
“Quién está ahí!” Her voice grew louder. She was coming towards the bedrooom.
And she had his gun. He heard her ask “Who is there?” one more time in her native tongue before she seemed to be right outside the bedroom. Benjamin quickly shut the closet door. He didn't have any other choice. It was either hide in the closet or hide under the bed. Neither option was very appealing, but he opted for the former.
The bedroom door opened, and Ana rushed in, waving the gun around like a madwoman. She knew there was someone in there with her.
“Dónde estás?” She asked softly. He knew enough Spanish to know that she had
just asked “Where are you?”. She looked ravishing in her blue satin pajamas. Her skin was delectable. Brown and soft. Her bust and rear were firm and in another life, he might have hit on her under different circumstances. She seemed young, close to his age. Her accent wasn't thick, but it was still very noticeable.
“Dónde estás...?” She asked again. But this time, her tone was different. She was smiling, hunched over a little. She seemed like she was playing hide and seek with a child. Was she crazy? Benjamin felt panic. It was a giddy kind of panic, though. She was coming closer and closer to the closet. She knew he was in there. Benjamin felt his heart pounding so hard, he thought it might burst from his chest.
The closet door flew open. She pointed the gun right in his face.
“Found you... American.” She grinned. “Stand up slowly.” Benjamin lifted his hands in surrender and obeyed her. “Move to the bed.” She commanded. He walked over to the bed. She kept the Berreta trained on him as he did.
“Listen, I can explain...” He started to speak but she interrupted him.
“I am not interested in your motives. You broke into my home. And with a gun, no less. You realize by law, I have the right to do just about anything I want to you, yes?”
“Wh-what do you want?”
“Get on the bed.” She ordered. He could tell she was serious. He layed down on the bed on his back. “Now stay there.” She told him as she walked over to the closet again. She pulled a handful of nylons down from the top shelf and walked back over to him. She hopped on top of him, straddling his chest. She set the gun down and gave him a threatening look, as if silently warning him against trying to stop her. She used the nylons to bind his wrists to the bed posts. After getting them nice and tight, she moved down to bind his ankles in a similar fashion. Once he was completely tied down, she picked the gun back up and stood at the foot of the bed. Despite his predicament, he couldn't deny how sexy she looked.
“¿Por qué has venido aquí?” She asked with authority in her voice.
“What?” He shook his head, not understanding.
“Silly American...” She mocked. “I said, What are you doing here?”
“I... uh...”
“You were in my closet.” She looked over at the open closet and saw the open
safe. Her jaw dropped. “You were going to rob me! Bastardo!” She swore in anger. “I could kill you! I could call the police! I could...” She paused, and Benjamin saw a sly grin climb onto her face as she slowly looked back at him.
“Or... I could do to you... what I did to the last person who snuck into my bedroom. The only difference is, that last person to do that... was my Four year old nephew, Alejandro.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Tell me, thief, eres cosquilloso?” He didn't answer her right away and she chuckled. “I'm sorry. What I asked was... are you ticklish?” She spoke with a playful menace.
“No.” He lied. It dawned on his pretty fast just how dire his predicament was. Whether she believed him or not, there was nothing to stop her from doing whatever she wanted to him. He could barely move a muscle. He noticed her nails were ruby red and quite sharp. He began to sweat inside his mask again. At least she couldn't see it.
“No?” She cocked an eyebrow, clearly believing him to be a liar. “Then you don't mind if I check for myself?” She reached down and yanked off his right sneaker. “Your mouth may tell deceptions.” She peeled off his thin, black sock. “But your flesh will be honest, always.” She bent down and introduced the nails of her right hand to his sole, lightly dragging the nails up and down in a faint motion.
There was one upside to the situation: The mask covered Benjamin's mouth. As long as he didn't laugh out loud, she wouldn't know how much her touch was affecting him. Good thing too, since a goofy smile was growing on his face as she tickled. The smile became wider when her nails started wiggling softly as she dragged them from the ball of his foot down to his heel.
“Certainly this must tickle, yes?” She asked. “My nails are nice and sharp, I know.”
Benjamin felt the nails scratch at the pads of his toes softly. This was worse than the sole tickling. And Ana noticed right away that his toes wiggled when she touched them.
“Now we are getting somewhere.” She declared. “I have just the thing for those.” Ana got up and walked up to an elaborately carved dresser. She opened one of the drawers and pulled out a stiff turkey feather. She returned to her spot in front of his foot and he had to grit his teeth when he felt her brushing his toes with the feather. It was so ticklish. Much softer than the nails, for sure. “Hold still, my little chico.” Ana held his foot in place as she feathered his toes. She held the feather sideways and swept it up and down the pads of the toes. She looked up at him and snapped her fingers as if something had just dawned on
her. “Oh, how silly of me.”
Benjamin looked down at her as she got up and walked over to the side of the bed. She pulled his ski mask off and smiled again.
“There we are. I want to see your face when I tickle you. No hiding your smiles from Mami.” She went back down to the foot of the bed and resumed tickling his toes with the feather. He couldn't keep the smile from his face anymore and she soon knew that she had him.
“What's so funny, Chico?” She asked teasingly as she feathered his poor toes.
“There must be something quite humerous running through your cerebro, because you look like a child trying not to laugh in school. You must be very ticklish indeed.”
“No, I-hehehehhehehhehehehehehehehehehhehehehehehe...” As soon as he had opened his mouth, she skittered the nials of her free hand against the sole of the foot while tickling his toes with the feather at the same time.
“A-ha! I knew it.” She dropped the feather pulled off his other shoe and sock, now tickling one foot with each hand.
“Noohohohoho hahahahhahahahahahahahaha...”
“I think I have found the perfect punishment for you.” She wiggled her fingers between his toes. This was the worst yet.
“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”
“Oh, is that where my little muchacho likes it? Looks like Mami found the magic spot!” She pulled his toes apart and slipped the turkey feather between each toe, one at a time, gently moving the feather in a sawing motion. Benjamin went crazy, banging his head against the pillows and begging frantically.
“STOOHHOHOHOPPP IT PLEEHHEHEHEEHASE HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA...”
“Mami will teach you to break into people's houses.” Ana promised as she continued to mercilessly tickle the webbing between Benjamin's toes with the feather. Soon, though, she became bored with the spot. She wanted more. She pulled the feather away and Benjamin silently thanked the Lord as he gasped for air.
“Where else are you ticklish, muchacho?” Ana asked as she moved onto the bed and sat between Benjamin's spread legs. She lifted up his sweater to reveal the pink, somewhat pudgy flesh of his tummy.
“Look at this panza! You need to excercise more, muchacho. How about we give this tummy a workout?”
“It won't work.” He tried to convince her. He was a lousy actor.
“Oh no?” The teasing look returned to her eyes. “Not even, if I do... this?” She placed all ten of her fingertips on his sides just under his ribs. He instantly flinched. “Wait for it...” She threatened.
“I won't laugh.” He insisted.
“Wait for it...”
“It's not gonna work.”
“Wait for it...” Ana's smile only grew.
“Just stop this!” He nearly shouted.
“Now!” She softly scuttled her fingertips up and down his sides rapidly, up and down and all around.
“HhehEHEHHEHEHhEHEHhEHeHeHheHEHHEHeHheHEHEHHEHeHEHHEhEH!!!”
“That's what I thought.” Ana tormented the soft sides with her lightning quick touches. “Look at this tummy jiggle. I think the burglar could use more crunches and fewer lock picks. Don't worry, though, I have no problem helping you burn calories. Tickle tickle tickle!” She darted her nails around his tummy like a woman possessed.
“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH AHA!”
“And what about this bellybutton? It's so deep!” She exclaimed. “Hey, muchacho, do you know this one: There was a little mouse... looking for his little house...” Her fingers crept around his tummy.
“Oh no, don't” He pleaded, knowing what she was about to do.
“Not here” She poked his side. “Not here” Pressing into his hip. “But here, here, HERE!” She dipped her finger into his bellybutton and wiggled it, letting her nail scratch inside the well.
“HAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHHAHAHAHHAHAHHAHHAHAHAHHAHHAHAHHA!!!”
Ana was having so much fun, but she knew that she was going easy on him. No more Ms. Ana, she decided. She stopped tickling him and bent down, looking him right in the eye.
“I will give you a choice, thief, which is more than you deserve.” She stated. “But first...” She got up and walked to her dresser once again. She opened a different drawer that contained various sewing supplies. She pulled out a large pair of sewing shears, snipping them together once or twice for dramatic effect, and came back to the bed. She grabbed Benjamin's ankle and started cutting his pantleg. He wanted to protest but he knew that if he moved too much, she might accidentally cut him. He had no choice in the matter. Soon she reached the waistline and then snipped all the way down to his other ankle. She then unceremoniously yanked the pants off of him. She wasn't done yet though. Next she did the same to his sweater, cutting it right off of him. Now he was only covered by his underwear. She pulled the boxers by the side and cut them off in a matter of seconds. She was pretty good with those scissors, he realized. She looked down at his naked body and sat beside him. “Now, as I was saying... a choice.”
“I'm... I'm listening...” He was terrified, but excited at the same time.
“I now have access to every inch of you.” She told him. “Tell me where you are the most ticklish. The absolute worst place on your body. And I will tickle you there however I see fit for Five straight minutes. Cinco minutos.” She held up five fingers to drive the point home. “Afterward I will let you go, and you will promise never to return. If, however, you don't tell me... I will tickle you everywhere... all night long. And believe me, eventually... I will find that spot no matter what. What do you say, muchacho?” Five minutes of total ticklish torture... or a whole night of exploration?”
Benjamin thought it over. Of course he knew where he was the most ticklish. But at the same time, he didn't know if he could stand Five straight minutes of it. It was a sensitive enough area that even Five minutes might be far too long. Still, he knew that an entire night at her mercy would be out of the question. He exhaled, resigning himself.
“Okay. I'll tell you.”
“I'm all ears, American.” She listened intently.
“It's... my armpits.” He admitted. He knew he had just sealed his fate. Ana threw her head back and laughed mockingly.
“Oh, is that the spot?” She smirked as she straddled his waist. “Well, are you ready, muchacho? Are you ready for the spot?” Ana asked with a smile.
“Oh no...” He whimpered. What had he done?
Ana put a hand on either of his biceps. It was coming. He knew it.
“This will be fun. It will only take the simplest motion” Ana told Benjamin as she let her fingers idly drag back and forth over his underarms. The nails lazily trailed from his ribs to his biceps with such ease. It was enough to bring the poor guy to silent laughter. Ana knew it was time to perfect time for some tickle talk.
“Tickle tickle tickle, muchacho... Mami's gonna get you. Coochie coochie coo. Oh, you're shaking so much... Have you got the giggles? It's a serious medical condition, you know. Hahaha.”
The nails drifted back and forth, back and forth. Suddenly, when Benjamin least expected it, Ana bent down and blew into his left underarm.
“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHH!!!! Benjamin screamed. As Ana zerberted his pits, she tickled his ribs with her fingers. Benjamin thought he was going to pass out. He reached down with his fingers and pushed the bead in his wrist.
Benjamin and I both awaken at the same instant back in my living room. The session was prematurely cut short. I look at him. His face is flushed. His brow is drenched with sweat. That nice suit of his needs to be laundered. He looks at me with an expression of amazement and frustration. His boner is threatening to burst through the soft fabric of his dress pants.
“I... uh...” He sputters out breathlessly.
“The bathroom is down the hall. First door on the left. Just don't leave a mess.” I tell him. He pulls off the cap and gets up carefully, but quickly, speedwalking out of the room.
This happens sometimes. Some achieve orgasm in the dream and wake up with stained undies. But some can't take the tickling for long enough and end the session prematurely. In the role of Ms. Ana Castillo, I had apparently been too much for him. I sit back and remove my cap, looking back on the session.
You have to understand that it is not enough for me to simply tickle my client in the guise of somebody else. I make the choices that shape the world once it is initially set up. The books on the shelf in the study? Me. The 20 dollar bill in the safe, harkening back to the 20 he had stolen from his mother as a child? Me. It's these little touches that make the experience so intense and pleasing for my clients. When you come to me for a session, you let me in your mind. And once you do, I will tease your psyche just as I tease your flesh. Mr. Benjamin Vital has learned that today.
I can't blame him though. Most people panic during the first session. Nearly everyone does, in fact. That's why I give them the SW before the session begins. If you are able to keep from pressing that button, I will take you all the way...
