Hi - been a member for a while and life-long nylon tickling fan. This is my first attempt at fiction (2 hour train journey with nothing to do 
). Realise writing on this forum is the equivalent of standing on the shoulders of giants but I would love some feedback as I have a whole head full of ideas - thank you for reading K
Rachel - The Birthday Present
Stephen had that amazing, almost sick, excited feeling in the pit of his stomach. He could barely concentrate at work. The hours had crawled round since he had opened his birthday card in bed with his wife earlier that morning. The card was heartfelt and utterly sweet but it was the note inside that had got him so completely and nerve janglingly fired up inside. In his wife’s beautiful cursive script were the words, “This ticket entitles the bearer to one night of nylon naughtiness - I am yours to do with what you want xxx”. Secondly amongst the thoughtful presents were a pair of exquisite and very sheer black stockings. Rachel had smiled at her husbands obvious arousal, and kissing him chastely on the lips said, “I will be wearing these tonight when you get in from work but for now, birthday boy, you’ll just have to make do with your imagination as I need to get to the office”. Blowing him a kiss she jumped out of bed leaving Stephen tingling with excitement about this evening.
Stephen had been married for 4 years to the 5’ 6” raven haired Rachel. They both took their health seriously and had great bodies, even at 33 or in Stephens case 34. Their sex life was frequent and varied and on occasions Rachel was more than happy to surrender to her husbands fetishes. Stephen had three, feet, sheer nylon stockings and tickling. When all three came together he was in pure heaven. Early in their relationship he had been nervous about letting Rachel in on the latter - she had just smiled and laughed, wiggling her painted toes at him and saying in her best Penelope Pitstop voice, “the evil man wants to tickle my poor feet oh heeeyelp!.....” Stephen already knew his wife was incredibly ticklish but getting the tickling fetish out in the open had been a huge relief. Even more momentously it had meant that night, whilst role playing the “Hooded Claw” (to keep the analogy going) he had thoroughly tickled this wife’s nude pantyhosed soles whilst she she giggled, squirmed, begged and repeatedly squealed “heeeyelp!...you’ll never get your hands on my inheritance!”
Sitting in front of his lap top, unable to concentrate on anything, Stephen day dreamed about tonight and what he wanted from his “golden ticket”. So many fantasies to chose from - a wayward slave that needed punishing, a cat burglar who had picked the wrong apartment to rob, a witch whose soul needed saving by the Inquisition or a spy who had vital secret information - he decided on the latter. He sent the following text to his wife “Top Secret - for the eyes of Agent Rachel only - the nuclear launch code is 6969. If you fall into enemy hands this information MUST not be revealed even under torture. Good luck - the hour of our victory is close at hand!” He received the following reply, “Understood Sir - they will never break me even if they discover my terrible weakness for tickling - the secret is safe with me!”
He arrived home, almost breathless, at 6. He went straight upstairs to be greeted by the sight of his wife in a black satin gown, her make up immaculate and the air heady with his favourite perfume. “Welcome home birthday boy”, Rachel purred, kissing her husband passionately. “Why don’t you shower whilst I put these on?” she said picking up the packet of stockings and making a show of slowly opening the selophane and erotically unfolding the stockings and touching them to Stephens cheek. He showered rapidly and returning to the bed room was pleased to see Rachel had already attached the silken rope ties to each bedpost. She emerged from the en-suite, heels clicking on the tiles and dropped her gown to the floor. Stephen gasped - a sheer black g-string and peekaboo bra and those incredible stockings attached to her suspenders. She twirled around slowly, coyly asking him if her seams were straight. He kissed her with all the love and passion he had and secured her wrists and ankles into the fur lined manacles at the 4 corners of the bed. Adjusting the tension to immobilise her taught body. It began.
“Agent Rachel - thank you for joining us. I hope you are comfortable?” Stephen said with more than a hint of mischievous malice.
“You are wasting your time - you’ll get nothing from me you fiend!” she retorted.
“I admire your spirit but you will give me the launch code - millions of lives depend on it and we have ways to loosen your tongue.”
“I will never betray my organisation - do your worst you monster!”
Stephen retrieved his box of tickling tools from a drawer and selected a large, stiff turkey feather. Twirling it menacingly between his fingers he sat down on the bed teasing Rachel’s face and lips with the feathers’ wicked point.
“Do you know how I am going to get the codes from you......I am going to tickle them out of your helpless body - one giggling digit at a time - we have read your file and know your weak spot is tickling! This is your last chance - give me the code.”
“Go to hell - I will never talk!”
Stephen pulled a chair up to the foot of the bed admiring the expensive red soled high heels that would not be on for much longer. He slowly slipped off the shoes revealing Rachel’s beautiful, high arched black nylon covered soles. Her toes flexed in the cool air, the deep ruby nail polish visible through the lightly reinforced shadow toe of the stockings. Taking his time Stephen took the quill end of the feather and began methodically and inexorably poking the surface of Rachel’s soles to heighten their sensitivity. He was rewarded with some squirming and muffled giggles.
Dropping the feather (for now) he began to skitter his nails lightly over her heels, the nylon amplifying the sensations and feeling wonderfully smooth to the touch. He could tell Rachel was trying to hold her breath. Slowly he explored the sides of her stockinged feet and was rewarded by a strange keening sound as she fought back the laughter that threatened to come. It was when he spidered his fingers over the sheer surface of the tops of her feet paying close attention to her toe cleavage that she started to break,
“Meeeeeeeeep....eeeeeeek nuh nuh nuh aaaah heeeeeee! Pleeeeze!!!!”
“I believe you were going to give me the codes?”
“Neveeeeeer ha hahaha eeeeeeek!”
Which was music to Stephens ears as he ratcheted up the torture. Holding the nylon encased toes of her right foot back he gently tickled his nails over the ball of her foot and swept them down over her deep nylon covered arches. He repeated this gradually increasing the speed and pressure. Rachel was bucking in her tight bondage, desperate to stop the tickling on her stockinged sole. Having her arches tickled so expertly was pure torture and the nylon made it maddeningly worse. Not for the first time did she wish she had bought her husband a thicker pair of stockings to torture her in.
“Ohhhhhhhgod noooooooooo heeeeeeeeeee pleeeeeeeze not my feeeeeeeeet pleeeezeee heeeeeheeeeeee!!!!”
Changing tactics to keep Rachel guessing, Stephen, still holding her toes back, scrambled his nails over the base of her toes ensuring the nylon material amplified the tortuous sensations.
“Not my toes not my tooooooes not my toooooohohohoes” Rachel wailed. Her squirming and giggling doubled when Stephen tickled the base and tops of her toes at the same time.
“Anything to tell me yet, Agent Rachel?” Giggling and gulping breaths of air, Rachel met Stephens gaze, firmly shook her head and gave him a mischievous wink.
“Then we try your left foot!” And without waiting for a response from the captive spy he again held back her toes and began to trace the bristles of his favourite hairbrush over her nyloned sole. Rachel went mad, begging and pleading but refusing to submit. The brush continued its evil work exploring the sensitive ball of her foot and tracing the contours of her stockinged arch. The slight rasp the bristles made as they swept over the sheer black nylon material was music to Stephens ears as was the forced mirth and desperate babbling coming from his wife. Still no codes and Rachel had the audacity to blow her interrogator a kiss.
Smiling at the sheer joy of it all Stephen changed tactics. He knew Rachel had more than one weak spot. Straddling her torso, he brandished two stiff turkey feathers, making a point of staring at her armpits with a “you know what’s next” look on his face. Rachel tried to twist and move to no avail as the feather tips began poking the sensitive skin of her armpits and literally howled as, simultaneously, both feathers swirled all over their targets.
“Not theeeeeeeeeeere pleeeazeeee staaaaaaap!!!”
With n sign of the code that would save the world and with time running out, Stephen changed tactics. Pulling down the peekaboo bra to reveal her breasts he began feathering her sensitive skin and rapidly hardening nipples. Rachel’s squealing and giggling became more throaty as intense pleasure was mixed with the tickling. She began to try grinding her hips, a sure fire sign that her arousal levels were rising. Her begging changed from demanding he stopped to pleading that he didn’t. Stephen expertly deployed the feathers to increase her arousal but also frustration. Rachel’s cheeks flushed and her breathing became more laboured and rapid as the feathers did their deadly work. Suddenly he stopped and was rewarded with a wail of “Nooooooooo keep torturing me. Pleeeeeeeeeaze!!!”
“I’ll cut you a deal Agent Rachel. If you give me the codes I’ll feather your nipples and lick your clitoris until you have the biggest orgasm of your life - how does that sound?”
“I can’t betray my organisation but I’ll do anything else you want if you’ll just let me cum ........”
“No deal Agent Rachel. I’m almost, but not quite, sorry to have to up the ante as we really are running out of time to save the world.”
With that Stephen cut away Rachel’s g-string to reveal her perfectly shaven labia and already engorged clitoris.
“Unfortunately you have given me no choice, torturing your nylon soles, feathering your armpits and stimulating your nipples has not been enough. I will keep you on the verge of orgasm by edging you with a range of different feathers until you crack!” Rachel gasped.
“Nooooo that’s not fair pleeeeaze that’s too cruel!” she protested with a smiling twinkle in her eyes. Stephen used a fluffy ostrich feather first, grazing Rachel’s inner thighs and relentlessly feathering her increasingly wet lips. He then switched to a stiffer turkey feather to trace all over her pubic mound skirting ever closer to her engorged clitoris. Rachel was arching her back to desperately generate more pressure between her body and the tormenting feathers and all the time moaning and begging Stephen for release. Finally he picked two smaller goose feathers and began stroking them over either side of her clitoris agonisingly slowly before finally swirling them over her most sensitive spot.
“Okaaaaaaaaaay oakaaaaaay pleeeeeze no moooooore just finish me off pleeeeeeeaze it’s 6969 it’s 6969! I am begging yoooooooou pleeeeeeaze!!!!!!”
Slipping seamlessly out of role play Stephen kissed his wife and granted her wish, multiple times over.
Epilogue
Both sated and unbound they lay in each other’s arms. “Happy Birthday darling. I hope you enjoyed your treat - next time the feather will be on the other foot! Did you think my bosses would let you get away with torturing the code out of me with no consequences? Plus there’s the small matter of how you knew Angel Rachel had a weakness for tickling - there must be an informer and we need to know who it is!” That alluring and infinitely sexy twinkle was back in Rachel’s eyes and it said one thing “revenge”.
). Realise writing on this forum is the equivalent of standing on the shoulders of giants but I would love some feedback as I have a whole head full of ideas - thank you for reading KRachel - The Birthday Present
Stephen had that amazing, almost sick, excited feeling in the pit of his stomach. He could barely concentrate at work. The hours had crawled round since he had opened his birthday card in bed with his wife earlier that morning. The card was heartfelt and utterly sweet but it was the note inside that had got him so completely and nerve janglingly fired up inside. In his wife’s beautiful cursive script were the words, “This ticket entitles the bearer to one night of nylon naughtiness - I am yours to do with what you want xxx”. Secondly amongst the thoughtful presents were a pair of exquisite and very sheer black stockings. Rachel had smiled at her husbands obvious arousal, and kissing him chastely on the lips said, “I will be wearing these tonight when you get in from work but for now, birthday boy, you’ll just have to make do with your imagination as I need to get to the office”. Blowing him a kiss she jumped out of bed leaving Stephen tingling with excitement about this evening.
Stephen had been married for 4 years to the 5’ 6” raven haired Rachel. They both took their health seriously and had great bodies, even at 33 or in Stephens case 34. Their sex life was frequent and varied and on occasions Rachel was more than happy to surrender to her husbands fetishes. Stephen had three, feet, sheer nylon stockings and tickling. When all three came together he was in pure heaven. Early in their relationship he had been nervous about letting Rachel in on the latter - she had just smiled and laughed, wiggling her painted toes at him and saying in her best Penelope Pitstop voice, “the evil man wants to tickle my poor feet oh heeeyelp!.....” Stephen already knew his wife was incredibly ticklish but getting the tickling fetish out in the open had been a huge relief. Even more momentously it had meant that night, whilst role playing the “Hooded Claw” (to keep the analogy going) he had thoroughly tickled this wife’s nude pantyhosed soles whilst she she giggled, squirmed, begged and repeatedly squealed “heeeyelp!...you’ll never get your hands on my inheritance!”
Sitting in front of his lap top, unable to concentrate on anything, Stephen day dreamed about tonight and what he wanted from his “golden ticket”. So many fantasies to chose from - a wayward slave that needed punishing, a cat burglar who had picked the wrong apartment to rob, a witch whose soul needed saving by the Inquisition or a spy who had vital secret information - he decided on the latter. He sent the following text to his wife “Top Secret - for the eyes of Agent Rachel only - the nuclear launch code is 6969. If you fall into enemy hands this information MUST not be revealed even under torture. Good luck - the hour of our victory is close at hand!” He received the following reply, “Understood Sir - they will never break me even if they discover my terrible weakness for tickling - the secret is safe with me!”
He arrived home, almost breathless, at 6. He went straight upstairs to be greeted by the sight of his wife in a black satin gown, her make up immaculate and the air heady with his favourite perfume. “Welcome home birthday boy”, Rachel purred, kissing her husband passionately. “Why don’t you shower whilst I put these on?” she said picking up the packet of stockings and making a show of slowly opening the selophane and erotically unfolding the stockings and touching them to Stephens cheek. He showered rapidly and returning to the bed room was pleased to see Rachel had already attached the silken rope ties to each bedpost. She emerged from the en-suite, heels clicking on the tiles and dropped her gown to the floor. Stephen gasped - a sheer black g-string and peekaboo bra and those incredible stockings attached to her suspenders. She twirled around slowly, coyly asking him if her seams were straight. He kissed her with all the love and passion he had and secured her wrists and ankles into the fur lined manacles at the 4 corners of the bed. Adjusting the tension to immobilise her taught body. It began.
“Agent Rachel - thank you for joining us. I hope you are comfortable?” Stephen said with more than a hint of mischievous malice.
“You are wasting your time - you’ll get nothing from me you fiend!” she retorted.
“I admire your spirit but you will give me the launch code - millions of lives depend on it and we have ways to loosen your tongue.”
“I will never betray my organisation - do your worst you monster!”
Stephen retrieved his box of tickling tools from a drawer and selected a large, stiff turkey feather. Twirling it menacingly between his fingers he sat down on the bed teasing Rachel’s face and lips with the feathers’ wicked point.
“Do you know how I am going to get the codes from you......I am going to tickle them out of your helpless body - one giggling digit at a time - we have read your file and know your weak spot is tickling! This is your last chance - give me the code.”
“Go to hell - I will never talk!”
Stephen pulled a chair up to the foot of the bed admiring the expensive red soled high heels that would not be on for much longer. He slowly slipped off the shoes revealing Rachel’s beautiful, high arched black nylon covered soles. Her toes flexed in the cool air, the deep ruby nail polish visible through the lightly reinforced shadow toe of the stockings. Taking his time Stephen took the quill end of the feather and began methodically and inexorably poking the surface of Rachel’s soles to heighten their sensitivity. He was rewarded with some squirming and muffled giggles.
Dropping the feather (for now) he began to skitter his nails lightly over her heels, the nylon amplifying the sensations and feeling wonderfully smooth to the touch. He could tell Rachel was trying to hold her breath. Slowly he explored the sides of her stockinged feet and was rewarded by a strange keening sound as she fought back the laughter that threatened to come. It was when he spidered his fingers over the sheer surface of the tops of her feet paying close attention to her toe cleavage that she started to break,
“Meeeeeeeeep....eeeeeeek nuh nuh nuh aaaah heeeeeee! Pleeeeze!!!!”
“I believe you were going to give me the codes?”
“Neveeeeeer ha hahaha eeeeeeek!”
Which was music to Stephens ears as he ratcheted up the torture. Holding the nylon encased toes of her right foot back he gently tickled his nails over the ball of her foot and swept them down over her deep nylon covered arches. He repeated this gradually increasing the speed and pressure. Rachel was bucking in her tight bondage, desperate to stop the tickling on her stockinged sole. Having her arches tickled so expertly was pure torture and the nylon made it maddeningly worse. Not for the first time did she wish she had bought her husband a thicker pair of stockings to torture her in.
“Ohhhhhhhgod noooooooooo heeeeeeeeeee pleeeeeeeze not my feeeeeeeeet pleeeezeee heeeeeheeeeeee!!!!”
Changing tactics to keep Rachel guessing, Stephen, still holding her toes back, scrambled his nails over the base of her toes ensuring the nylon material amplified the tortuous sensations.
“Not my toes not my tooooooes not my toooooohohohoes” Rachel wailed. Her squirming and giggling doubled when Stephen tickled the base and tops of her toes at the same time.
“Anything to tell me yet, Agent Rachel?” Giggling and gulping breaths of air, Rachel met Stephens gaze, firmly shook her head and gave him a mischievous wink.
“Then we try your left foot!” And without waiting for a response from the captive spy he again held back her toes and began to trace the bristles of his favourite hairbrush over her nyloned sole. Rachel went mad, begging and pleading but refusing to submit. The brush continued its evil work exploring the sensitive ball of her foot and tracing the contours of her stockinged arch. The slight rasp the bristles made as they swept over the sheer black nylon material was music to Stephens ears as was the forced mirth and desperate babbling coming from his wife. Still no codes and Rachel had the audacity to blow her interrogator a kiss.
Smiling at the sheer joy of it all Stephen changed tactics. He knew Rachel had more than one weak spot. Straddling her torso, he brandished two stiff turkey feathers, making a point of staring at her armpits with a “you know what’s next” look on his face. Rachel tried to twist and move to no avail as the feather tips began poking the sensitive skin of her armpits and literally howled as, simultaneously, both feathers swirled all over their targets.
“Not theeeeeeeeeeere pleeeazeeee staaaaaaap!!!”
With n sign of the code that would save the world and with time running out, Stephen changed tactics. Pulling down the peekaboo bra to reveal her breasts he began feathering her sensitive skin and rapidly hardening nipples. Rachel’s squealing and giggling became more throaty as intense pleasure was mixed with the tickling. She began to try grinding her hips, a sure fire sign that her arousal levels were rising. Her begging changed from demanding he stopped to pleading that he didn’t. Stephen expertly deployed the feathers to increase her arousal but also frustration. Rachel’s cheeks flushed and her breathing became more laboured and rapid as the feathers did their deadly work. Suddenly he stopped and was rewarded with a wail of “Nooooooooo keep torturing me. Pleeeeeeeeeaze!!!”
“I’ll cut you a deal Agent Rachel. If you give me the codes I’ll feather your nipples and lick your clitoris until you have the biggest orgasm of your life - how does that sound?”
“I can’t betray my organisation but I’ll do anything else you want if you’ll just let me cum ........”
“No deal Agent Rachel. I’m almost, but not quite, sorry to have to up the ante as we really are running out of time to save the world.”
With that Stephen cut away Rachel’s g-string to reveal her perfectly shaven labia and already engorged clitoris.
“Unfortunately you have given me no choice, torturing your nylon soles, feathering your armpits and stimulating your nipples has not been enough. I will keep you on the verge of orgasm by edging you with a range of different feathers until you crack!” Rachel gasped.
“Nooooo that’s not fair pleeeeaze that’s too cruel!” she protested with a smiling twinkle in her eyes. Stephen used a fluffy ostrich feather first, grazing Rachel’s inner thighs and relentlessly feathering her increasingly wet lips. He then switched to a stiffer turkey feather to trace all over her pubic mound skirting ever closer to her engorged clitoris. Rachel was arching her back to desperately generate more pressure between her body and the tormenting feathers and all the time moaning and begging Stephen for release. Finally he picked two smaller goose feathers and began stroking them over either side of her clitoris agonisingly slowly before finally swirling them over her most sensitive spot.
“Okaaaaaaaaaay oakaaaaaay pleeeeeze no moooooore just finish me off pleeeeeeeaze it’s 6969 it’s 6969! I am begging yoooooooou pleeeeeeaze!!!!!!”
Slipping seamlessly out of role play Stephen kissed his wife and granted her wish, multiple times over.
Epilogue
Both sated and unbound they lay in each other’s arms. “Happy Birthday darling. I hope you enjoyed your treat - next time the feather will be on the other foot! Did you think my bosses would let you get away with torturing the code out of me with no consequences? Plus there’s the small matter of how you knew Angel Rachel had a weakness for tickling - there must be an informer and we need to know who it is!” That alluring and infinitely sexy twinkle was back in Rachel’s eyes and it said one thing “revenge”.
