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  1. #1
    Join Date
    Jul 2020

    The Shroud (f/f, non-consensual)

    The Shroud
    (f/f, non-consensual)

    by Tamira K.

    Chapter 1

    Lucinda stood tall in her familiar pose – her long, jet-black hair combed with precision straightness, her chin high and legs apart, wearing her favourite thigh-high leather boots and imported corset, with a sturdy riding crop bent between both hands as though the left hand was having to prevent the right from taking a big, eager swing at the submissive who crouched over the padded bench before her. This pose always made them nervous.

    She noticed the leather that covered the padded bench was missing a stud at one corner and skirted outwards, making it look tatty and uneven to her standards. On any other day this would have distracted her to the point that she would order whoever was in front of her to mend it before any play took place. But seeing as this was the final time she intended to use this bench and this little, out-of-the-way apartment, she could let it slide.

    The day she commissioned the spanking bench felt like a lifetime ago and she considered the long journey she had taken to get where she was. She must have been lost in thought for a while because at some point he had felt sanctioned enough to gaze up at her. She broke from her trance as though she had been present the entire time.

    ‘May I ask you something, my Lady?’ he said.

    ‘You may.’

    ‘Will I ever see you again?’

    There was a genuine sadness underlying his question that touched her. Many men had become attached to her over the years, but she knew they were largely driven by their libidos. It was not so with this one.


    ‘It’s a real tragedy,’ he said. ‘For me I mean, obviously. I’ve been with many dominatrixes over the years. You are the best by far. I doubt I’ll ever be this happy again.’

    ‘Come on – there are many new women out there for you to try. You haven’t looked for anyone else over the past eight years!’

    ‘And you look just as beautiful and sexy as you did on that first day, my Lady.’

    She appreciated this confirmation but she really didn’t need it. It was the summer when she was 28 that a passing limousine skidded to a halt and the chauffeured man on the back seat begged her to represent Indonesia in the Miss World contest. She immediately dismissed the idea, not least because she didn’t want the controversy of being English and Indonesian mixed race. Without bias she knew she probably looked even better as she approached 40 than she did in her twenties because she put a lot of effort into keeping fit. However, if she had known the years of hard work and secrecy that lay ahead of her, she would have considered the Miss World proposal more seriously.

    ‘Flattery won’t prevent you from getting the lashes you deserve, Gussie,’ she said as she pressed the tip of the crop against his chin until he was once again facing the wall.

    ‘No, my Lady.’

    She noticed a frisson pass through him in anticipation of the impending pain that had kept him coming back to her every week without fail. As it was their final time together, she decided that he deserved a session to end all sessions, not least because no other time in her life had reminded her more of the last day of school and she needed a point of focus. With her previous two clients it had been impossible not to concentrate on the future and at last having the time and money to be a full-time mother—even if her kids were 14 and 20—without the distraction of ex-husband or her unofficial second income. But Gus had been with her for eight out of the twelve years she had been a Professional Dominatrix and he deserved her full attention.

    She tapped him lightly and repeatedly on his backside before drawing back and delivering a moderate thwack!

    The sound of the impact still echoed through the apartment as the front door smashed open.

    Lucinda and Gus turned in shock to see two armed patrolmen in the doorway, aiming pistols at them. The sight of a stunning dominatrix and a dumpy middle-aged man in a duck-egg blue silk bra and panties set didn’t seem to phase them. The door swung from its top hinge with a single boot-print embossed into the wood.

    In a single move Gus leapt to a standing position and held up his hands. Lucinda was still firmly in Mistress mode.

    ‘What the hell are you doing?!’ she demanded.

    Without saying a word the two policemen stood either side of the door as the sound of high-heeled shoes clipped slowly and deliberately along the uneven wooden floorboards of the shadowy outer corridor. Soon they were joined by a stern-looking woman in an olive green military suit.

    There was something familiar about the woman but Lucinda couldn’t pinpoint why. Her hair was in such a tight bun that it performed the task of a year-old facelift. She was probably around the same age as Lucinda and fairly attractive, but the most striking thing about her was an aura that hung over her like a thunder cloud.

    Lucinda remained unmoved. The woman’s eyes didn’t even flicker as Gus grabbed his clothes from a nearby chair and dashed to the bathroom.

    The woman casually signalled with her hand and the patrolmen stood guard in the corridor and pulled the door back into place as she went over to a chair and sat down.

    ‘Sit,’ she said to Lucinda.

    Lucinda had never before been in a power struggle whilst dressed as her alter-ego and suddenly felt quite ridiculous. The fantasy world that took so much pride and care to create had been invaded by a crass reality, which was obviously too serious to ignore. She sat on the padded bench but said nothing.

    Chapter 2

    ‘You know who I am?’ the woman asked.

    Lucinda shrugged dismissively, prompting the woman’s nostrils to flare a little with contained anger.

    ‘You should,’ she said. ‘I know who you are, “Mistress Supernova”, real name: Lucinda Astria.’

    Again, Lucinda remained poker-faced. Her desire to verbally cut this woman off at the knees was superseded by the concern of having an absolute stranger speak her real name out loud. She always took the greatest of care to keep her two identities separate.

    ‘You must have been too busy with your debased way of earning undeclared income to take any interest in the momentous events or current affairs of the country in which you are privileged to live. And, as you are clearly ignorant, I shall educate you. My name is Annisa Wijaya…’

    She waited for the penny to drop. Lucinda recognised the name in the same way that she recognised her face; the reason why was still just out of reach. Impatient, the woman continued:

    ‘…and, as of today, you can address me as Police General Wijaya.’

    Lucinda felt gooseflesh rush up her back.


    ‘“Why would the newly-appointed Chief of the Indonesian National Police—and first woman to ever hold the position—make it her first point-of-call to visit the sordid workplace of an unscrupulous whore?” Is that your question?’

    Lucinda held her tongue.

    ‘I need someone with your experience.’

    ‘I’m retired,’ said Lucinda.

    ‘No. You’re not,’ stated Annisa, bluntly. ‘You are guilty of accumulating illicit earnings through illegal and immoral means. The issue was nebulous, now it is not: prostitution is illegal.’

    ‘I’m not a prostitute!’

    ‘Don’t elevate yourself – you perform sexual acts for money. You are a whore. And since your bank accounts have now been frozen…’

    Lucinda’s face dropped.

    ‘Oh, yes, Ms Astria. Even your income as a nurse now belongs to the state. You have nothing.’

    ‘There are thousands of Mistresses all over the country. Why are you doing this to me?!’

    The bathroom door unlocked. Gus reemerged in his daily work attire and stood awkwardly in the presence of the women. Annisa slowly turned her glare upon him.

    ‘Go home and wait,’ she said.

    Lucinda deflated. Suddenly it all made sense. Gus’s face wavered through the gamut of expressions from fear to apology. He tried to leave with dignity, but as he pulled open the front door, it swung from the top hinge and bonked him on the head. He hurried out.

    ‘I didn’t know,’ said Lucinda.

    Annisa said nothing.

    ‘What my clients tell me remain secret. I never share them with anyone—‘

    This provoked Annisa to stand straight up. The thunder cloud grew dark.

    ‘Put a coat on!’

    Chapter 3

    Lucinda was escorted to a military car with blacked-out windows. She and Annisa sat in the back. One of the patrolmen slung a black hood into her lap.

    ‘Put it on,’ he said.

    The drive through the streets of Jakarta was long and gave Lucinda the time to resolve to stay calm and deal with things as they arose.

    Throughout the journey Annisa Wijaya spoke only once. ‘That outfit suits you,’ she said. Lucinda didn’t reply. It wasn’t a compliment.

    Eventually the car pulled onto a gravel surface and stopped. She was taken abruptly by the arm and led inside a building that contained familiar scents of latex, leather and lubricants. They then walked through several corridors and some kind of large hall. By looking down and out the neck of the hood, she could distinguish a well-used and polished oak floor. One more corridor led to what felt like a small, soundproofed room. There were several clicks and clacks, followed by a large mechanical movement and they stepped inside an elevator.

    The hood was roughly pulled from her head. Annisa watched as Lucinda pulled her fingers through her hair just once, which had the enviable effect of making it instantly fall into an unruffled state most could only achieve after a visit to the salon.

    The elevator slowed and the doors opened to reveal a reception area and a prison style gate, beyond which was a long, and ominously-lit, red corridor. From the reception area Lucinda saw an office to her left – the door had no outer handle and a large and obviously bullet-proof window separated them from a handful of officious types who were busy setting up new computers. To their right was another gated long corridor, which was brightly lit and grey.

    Annisa clicked her fingers, causing one of the officious types to look up and hurry to the window where he tapped into a keypad and a green light flashed above the entrance to the red area. The gate slid open. The patrolmen remained by the elevator as Annisa gestured for Lucinda to enter the corridor.

    Lucinda hesitated. Going, without witnesses, into an underground prison with the Police Chief whose husband she had been spanking for the past eight years did not feel like the wisest idea, but she had little choice.

    Black iron doors adorned either side of the corridor, with one silver door at the far end. Each door was observed by its own security camera, which each evoked in Lucinda’s mind the image of the Ferryman of Hades accompanied by a pet crow. The vision didn’t help to calm her nerves.

    Annisa walked ahead and stopped outside one of the first doors. Above it, a digital panel displayed the number 003 in red numerals. She placed her palm on a plain silver fingerprint reader that, in response, glowed at the edges and the door unlocked.

    ‘Go in,’ she said.

    Lucinda did as she was told and the lights in the room blinked to life.

    The room was a pristine version of the BDSM dungeons she had frequented in the past, with red pained walls and black BDSM furniture – a bench, a cage, an X-frame, a bondage table and a vacuum bed.

    ‘You’ll be familiar with all of this, of course,’ said Annisa with a bitter aftertaste of contempt. ‘The black wardrobe contains tools for you to use and the silver cupboard near the sink contains your cleaning and sterilisation equipment.’

    ‘You want me to be a Mistress for you?’

    ‘Not a Mistress; a manager. You’re not pleasuring people here – you’re making them repent for their crimes. You will put in several shifts per day and oversee the other punishers. If the centre isn’t run to my standards, I will hold you responsible. And, in case you were under any misapprehension – you are monitored and recorded the entire time you are here.’ Annisa indicated cameras embedded into the tops of all four corners of the room.

    ‘It’s sterile in here. Upstairs smelt like a BDSM dungeon.’

    ‘Upstairs is a BDSM dungeon.’

    ‘Didn’t you say S&M is illegal?’

    ‘I did. And what better way to hide in plain sight? Brothels tend not to get raided when they are frequented by top government officials. And even less likely to be raided since I am now in charge. I was inspired to build this place after hearing about a such a facility elsewhere in the world that uses specific methods to successfully punish and rehabilitate criminals. It has been under construction for months and, as of this coming Monday, is ready to launch.’

    Lucinda recognised that she was being offered more information than it was safe for any everyday citizen to know.

    ‘I’m not experienced in torturing people. My skill is to know where people’s limits are and take them to it—‘

    ‘Now you will take them past it!’

    ‘Please,’ said Lucinda. ‘I want to leave this life behind.’

    ‘Committing adultery, prostitution and tax fraud have consequences, Ms Astria. I’m sure everyone who gets caught would like to just walk away! But I will give you a choice: you can work here, or you can go to prison for 30 years. By the time you come out you will no longer look like someone who men will want to pay for your services. And what about Gemi and Rez?’

    Hearing her children’s names made Lucinda’s palms sweat. Annisa obviously knew everything about her.

    ‘What about them?’

    ‘You’ve kept your duplicity a secret until now, but there would be no hiding it if you were incarcerated. Your daughter doesn’t have the smarts to run a household. She and your boy would inevitably end up with your ex-husband—‘

    ‘No!’ Lucinda shouted.

    Annisa smirked. She had exposed this woman’s weakness. She continued:

    ’14 is an impressionable age. He would probably grow up to be exactly like his father.’

    The room fell silent.

    ‘Why blindfold me if you want me to come here every day?’ Lucinda spat out.

    ‘In case you preferred the idea of spending the rest of your life in Kerobokan Prison,’ replied Annisa, her voice becoming more tranquil as she inhaled Lucinda’s increasing frustration. ‘But I’m glad you just accepted your circumstances – you are now the official manager of The Shroud punishment and rehabilitation facility. Its success now rests on your shoulders. As this is my pet project and I answer directly to the President, I can assure you that the price of failure is not something you would like to discover.’

    She then pulled a matchbox-sized intercom from her pocket and spoke into it. ‘We’re ready.’

    Chapter 4

    Moments later the door opened and in stepped four women. Lucinda sensed the air of dominatrix about three of them. The fourth was a diminutive, young and plain-looking Japanese woman with a spiky hairstyle. She stood before them with a collar around her neck and her hands cuffed behind her. She wore a loose white gown that hung open to reveal she was otherwise naked.

    One of the women tugged on her leash and she sank to her knees.

    ‘Meet your deputies,’ said Annisa, ‘Mistresses Sarah, Maria and Lolly.’

    Sarah was tall, dark-skinned and would not have looked out of place on a catwalk. Maria was shorter and looked as Lucinda expected a guard in an Indonesian prison to look. Lolly was a very pretty and very petite white woman with dyed-black hair and dressed in a leather shirt and suit trousers. Delicate tattoos snaked around her arms and legs and from her cleavage to her neck.

    Lucinda nodded a hello to the women. Each in their own way gave Lucinda the impression that they were not impressed to meet her.

    Maria turned and closed the door. Lolly glowered at Lucinda as she stepped forward and handed her the leash.

    ‘Over to you,’ she said with an American accent.

    Lucinda was going to have to prove herself in front of an audience. She was not used to dominating women, but supposed it couldn’t be much different.

    ‘Come,’ she said to the prisoner and tugged on the leash. The prisoner followed her over to the X-frame, which was attached to the wall. She made the young woman disrobe and face the wall and swiftly cuffed her to the frame – wrists high and wide and legs apart.

    Lucinda then stepped over to the black wardrobe. As she could snuff out a candle with a single snap from a leather bullwhip, she decided this would be one way she could demonstrate her prowess. However, when she opened the doors, the tools inside were not what she expected. There were no crops, canes or whips. Instead, among other things, she noted an array of brushes, oils, combs, guitar picks and a selection of feathers.

    Then she remembered something Annisa had said just a few minutes ago: ‘…a facility elsewhere in the world that uses specific methods to successfully punish and rehabilitate criminals.’

    ‘Precisely which methods am I supposed to be using in this place?’ she asked, turning to face Annisa.

    ‘That’s the correct question to ask,’ replied Annisa. ‘You are to use a method that infiltrates defences, causes incomparable suffering and is virtually undetectable if done by a skilled practitioner.’ She paused. ‘I want you to torture her… with tickling.’

    Lucinda was momentarily speechless.

    ’Are you serious?! I’ve never done that!’

    She noticed how this statement prompted Sarah, Maria and Lolly to look at one another with undiluted annoyance.

    ‘You’ve been a “Mistress” for over twelve years!’ exclaimed Annisa, enjoying the humiliation Lucinda felt in the presence of the other women. ‘Don’t tell me you need your deputies to show you what you should already know?’

    ‘No,’ said Lucinda, as she attempted to turn the situation around. ‘I mean I’ve never done it to a woman. It’s only unsatisfied men who sought me out.’

    Annisa’s glee evaporated. But Lucinda’s enjoyment of her barbed comment was short-lived.

    ‘If you can’t do it, I have no use for you! So, make her suffer as I have explained or I call the guards to take you away!’

    Lucinda turned her back to the other women and approached the restrained prisoner…

    Chapter 5

    Lucinda was a whipper. A spanker. A fan of canes. She enjoyed the ritual of taking a submissive from the eager anticipation that is felt before a D/s session all the way through to the floaty, far away feeling of subspace… while causing pain in the process. Life as a Mistress and life in the everyday world had taught her that this was the only place where a man could be trusted – on his knees and begging for her to hurt him.

    If they were respectful and paid her what she deserved, she might grow to be fond of them but she was never sexually attracted to them. It was impossible for her to be turned on by men with a submissive mindset. This was perspective that could help her in the current situation – attraction wasn’t necessary.

    All she had to do was tickle-torture this girl.

    That’s all I have to do, she thought to herself, ironically. I’ve never tickled anyone in my life! And now I have to be better than the gawkers behind me who probably do nothing else. Unless they are just trying to make me look stupid. So, where do you tickle someone? Ribs? “Rib-tickling” is an expression. I’ll try that…

    She looked the young woman up and down – she had the muscle definition that comes effortlessly to those in their twenties who are lucky enough to have a high metabolic rate. She closed her hands around the woman’s ribcage.

    Ai!’ said the woman in surprise and protest as she jumped in response.

    Lucinda was confident that she’d found the right spot and let her fingers pitter-patter lightly over her skin. The woman writhed gently but there was no laughter.

    Maybe this isn’t the right spot…

    Lucinda began tapping her fingertips with the same pressure up and down the woman’s ribs with the same response. She tried moving around to her spine. Her back arched and she moaned something in Japanese.

    One of the deputies let out an impatient sigh. Lucinda’s cheeks flushed with heat.

    ‘I said tickle-torture,’ said Annisa. ‘I don’t have time to watch you sensitise this urchin!’

    Lucinda clasped her lips tight to resist snapping at the Police Chief. Irritation overtook her and she smacked the girl’s firm bottom.

    ‘Aiii!’ cried the girl in response.

    ‘And no hitting! Tickle her!’

    Lucinda took a deep breath.

    Okay, her ribs aren’t working… Feet! Everyone has ticklish feet, don’t they? I’ll tickle her there… She looked down. Or I would do if I hadn’t just tied her ankles into place with her flat-footed on the damn floor!

    Lucinda tried to imagine where she herself might be ticklish, but she didn’t know. Nobody had ever tickled her, or, if they had, it was so long ago that she couldn’t remember.

    Maybe the X-frame itself is a clue? Her arms are up. Her underarms? Let’s try…

    She put her fingers into the woman’s underarms and scribbled lightly. This time the reaction was a little more animated. She shook left and right, tugged a little at the wrist restraints and muttered things that, even without translation, Lucinda could tell were irritated protestations that probably contained homophobic insults.

    Lucinda scribbled harder, this time with her fingernails, believing that more pressure would be more ticklish and predicting that this woman would finally break into laughter.

    ‘Aiiii! Yameru!’ she shouted in pain.

    Frustrated, Lucinda scratched even harder. The woman’s shouts increased.

    ‘Stop!’ called Annisa.

    Lucinda let go, gritting her teeth to hide her frustrations. She took a deep breath before facing the women. She held her head high, despite the four looks of contempt that were focussed at her like laser beams.

    ‘Well, if you’re going to deliberately give me someone who isn’t able to be tickled, what do you expect?’ she said.

    Annisa looked to Lolly, who stepped slowly forward, keeping her look of disdain locked on Lucinda as she arrived behind the prisoner.

    For some moments the only sounds in the room were those of the young Japanese woman as she tugged at the restraints and demanded to be freed…

    …then Lolly grabbed her waist.

    Her legs buckled and she hung by her wrists as laughter screamed from her open mouth.

    Lolly kept a dispassionate expression aimed at Lucinda while her body seemed operated by a different entity; with apparently zero effort and just the middle finger and thumb of both hands, she probed into the prisoner’s tummy muscles, causing her to go berserk.

    The young woman yanked at the restraints as laughter was forced from her throat. Lucinda observed that her dour expression was transformed into one of pure powerless delight. Her laugh was a repetitive high-pitched chatter. She obviously wanted to beg for the tickling to stop, but each time she go no further than the first syllable and, even though Lucinda didn’t understand Japanese, she could tell that the words she ended up saying were gibberish.

    This continued for a solid five minutes, until Annisa raised her hand.

    Lolly let go and shook her head at Lucinda before heading back to join her companions. The young woman hung, her chatters of irritation palpably replaced by those of compliance.

    ‘I’ll leave you to get to know each other,’ said Annisa. ‘The first influx of inmates arrive on Monday. You have three days to improve. A lot.’

    Lucinda literally bit her tongue to prevent from spitting an insult. The Police Chief left the room.

    Without saying a word, Sarah and Maria released the prisoner, re-cuffed her and led her by the leash out of the room. She shuffled past Lolly with her eyes to the floor.

    Lucinda and Lolly stared at one another in silence for some moments.

    ‘You know, this “evil eye” routine is going to get very old, very quick,’ said Lucinda.

    ‘It’s easy for me to carry on until you leave,’ said Lolly. It seemed that her voice might be naturally quite cute, but she put conscious effort into it not being so. Plus, there was nothing cute about her attitude.

    ‘Police Chief Wijaya wants me here.’

    ‘Yeah. And who knows why that is?! I came here to start a new life as manager of this facility! I’ve had years of experience as a dominatrix and several more years learning from the best of the best and puttin’ into practice precisely what this place is built for and, three days before we’re due to open, I get demoted and you replace me! You!

    ‘Well, that explains why you have such a problem with me, but I didn’t ask for this.’

    ‘Then resign! Leave!’

    ‘I can’t.’

    Lolly stepped forward. ‘You don’t have much guts for a “Mistress”. A mutt can call itself pedigree, but it’s still a mutt to anyone who knows what’s what.’

    ‘You have your specialities. So do I. This isn’t mine.’

    ‘Then you’ve got a hell of a lot of preparation to do for Monday, haven’t you? Prisoners need to respect us or they’ll be uncontrollable, and I’m not stepping up to do all your work as well as my own!’

    From the operations office, Annisa Wijaya’s face was illuminated by the screens that showed the footage from the security cameras. She relished in what she could see and hear as Lolly berated Lucinda before throwing open the door and leaving.

    Now all alone in the room, Lucinda’s head drooped for the first time.

    Annisa smiled to herself.

    Chapter 6

    The taxi ride from the facility back to the Air BnB apartment, plus the money it took to calm the owner of the apartment who had been alerted by neighbours about the busted door, cost Lucinda all she had earned from the evening’s session with Gus. She packed up her stuff, changed into her everyday clothes and drove home, all the while replaying over and over what had happened and how she could get out of it. By the time she arrived home she was no closer to finding a solution.

    There was a warm drizzle in the evening air but she hesitated on the crumbling pavement rather than going straight indoors. Her home was small but she was proud that it wasn’t as ramshackle as many of the other houses on her street, except for the distorted front wall that was bulging due to a badly-positioned ancient and unruly mango tree. It used to feel like her place of solace after her split from Edward – the house she found and was able to afford, thanks to her second income. While she couldn’t escape him altogether, she at least provided Gemi and Rez—who had been eight and two at the time—with a safe place to grow up.

    But now it was different. In just a few hours she had gone from being ready for her fresh start, to broke, under threat of incarceration, and having the kids thrown back into Edward’s seedy world. Gemi was indeed an adult now, but Annisa Wijaya was right about her not being able to take care of herself and Rez if their mother was put in jail – she had an unrelenting optimism and innocence that she refused to let go and the real world hadn’t yet forcibly squeezed out of her.

    Shadows leapt on the window blind accompanied by the sounds Rez and his schoolfriend Stanley playing boisterously in the living room. The same dread that was causing her to dwell outside also pulled her urgently indoors.

    The TV was on but no-one was watching it. Gemi read a newspaper while slumped sideways in an armchair with her legs hanging over the arm and flip-flops dangling from her toes. Rez and Stanley were struggling in a knot of arms and legs – both trying to demonstrate their superiority in the field of martial arts, even though they had only started lessons one month ago.

    Stanley jumped to his feet. ’Hello, Mrs Astria!’ he said.

    Rez rolled his eyes. Stanley developed crushes on most females over the age of 18 but the fact that he fancied Rez’s mom was an irritant because he always tried to behave suave in her presence, which always instantly drew any fun to a close.

    ‘Hello, Stanley,’ said Lucinda.

    ‘Hi, mama,’ said Gemi.

    Lucinda kissed her on the head and put down her bag. ‘And: hello, Rez,’ she said, pointedly.

    ‘Hi mama,’ said Rez without looking up. He was attempting to mend the frayed wires of his games console controller.

    ‘Do I get a hug?!’

    Rez put down the controller with a sigh and went over to Lucinda. She hugged him in tight. It wouldn’t be long until her boy was taller than she was. Stanley stood behind him with a beaming smile on his face, as though he was next in line for a hug.

    ‘Hiya!’ called a voice from the kitchen. It was Diann, Lucinda’s closest friend. ‘You want some gudeg?’

    ‘Hey! Yes, please!’ Lucinda replied. ‘You both let Auntie Diann cook for you?’

    ‘She said she wanted to!’ said Gemi.

    ‘And you protested strenuously, of course?’

    ‘Is it okay if I spend the night at Stanley’s?’ asked Rez as he extricated himself from his mother’s tight hug.


    ‘Well, the Playstation is broken here!’

    Lucinda felt a pang of guilt that she was now not able to buy him a new one for his birthday as she had planned. ‘Only if it’s okay with Stanley’s mother.’

    ‘It’s cool,’ said Stanley. Rez rushed to the bathroom and was back in seconds with all he needed for an overnight stay: his toothbrush. Lucinda bit her tongue to stop herself asking for a second hug as Rez rushed out the door. Stanley, on the other hand, stood with his arms open; as there had been no sign of a greeting hug, his plan was to move in for a goodbye one.

    Lucinda fleetingly obliged, ‘Say thank you to your parents for me.’

    Stanley nodded with a satisfied grin.

    ‘Come on!’ called Rez from outside.

    As the boys disappeared into the night, Stanley could just be heard saying, ‘Your mother is so hot…’ and Rez telling him to shut the hell up.

    ‘Here,’ said Diann, emerging from the kitchen with a plate of delicious-smelling stew that drew Lucinda straight to the table. Diann took a chair next to her. ’Tough day, Luce?’

    ‘You might say that,’ she replied and tucked in.

    ‘Anything interesting in the news, big girl?’ Diann called to Gemi, whose reading was causing a scowl of incredulity. ‘And don’t tell me about the general election! I’m bored with hearing about it!’

    ‘Listen to this: Menggelitik Raksasa on the Loose…’

    Lucinda froze, mid-chew.

    Gemi continued, ‘Police are advising people in Jakarta to lock their doors if they don’t want to fall prey to the Menggelitik Raksasa or “Tickle Monster”.

    ‘In the past month, three women have come forward, reporting that their houses were invaded as they slept and they awoke to find themselves tied to their own bed and forced to endure hours of tickle-torture…’

    ‘What the hell…?’ exclaimed Diann.

    ‘All cases are believed to be linked as victims describe the perpetrator as being around 5’8”, slim and wearing a black “ninja” outfit and balaclava. A video camera is also set up by the attacker, who films each ordeal, but says nothing.

    ‘No motive has been given for the attacks and so they are believed to be instigated due to some form of sexual perversion…’
    Gemi began to laugh as she read, ‘Tickling?! Really??’

    ‘What else does it say?’ asked Diann.

    ‘Police Sergeant Joyo Rosita told us, “If you don’t want people to come into your house, lock your doors at night. If we find this individual we will arrest him but most police officers have more serious crimes to focus on than this childishness.’

    ‘Typical Jakartan police response!’ said Diann.

    ‘I kinda agree though,’ said Gemi as she folded the newspaper, spun in her chair and put her feet on the floor. ‘I’d prefer the police to spend their time catching murderers and rapists than harmless perverts!’

    ‘You’ve got a lot to learn about boundaries, girl,’ said Diann.

    Gemi ignored the warning and kissed Diann on the head. ‘Thank you for dinner, auntie.’

    ‘You’re welcome,’ Diann replied as she tapped her on the bottom and admired her long, smooth legs.

    Gemi stepped round to kiss her mother on the cheek. ‘I’m going out with Kartika tonight.’

    ‘Well, you girls take care,’ said Lucinda.

    Gemi picked up a coat and bag. ‘Don’t worry, I won’t let anyone tickle us!’ she scoffed and left the house.

    ‘You’ve gotta be careful with that one,’ said Diann.

    ‘I know. She’s a little naive.’

    ‘A little naive and absolutely gorgeous. A dangerous combination.’

    ‘We all grow up at different times. You and I were a force of nature when we were that age.’

    ‘We still are!’ said Diann with joke indignation. ‘But we knew how to play it and we never wore cut-off shorts that showed the bottoms of our ass-cheeks!’

    Lucinda put down her fork.

    ‘Not hungry?’

    ‘I’m in a bad situation, D.’

    ‘What is it?’

    ‘I got found out by the police today.’

    ‘For your… sex work?’ She whispered these last two words.

    ‘Yes, but I keep telling you, it’s not “sex work”.’

    ‘Oh, sure(!)’ Diann moved from the table to the sofa. ‘So what happened?’

    ‘They’ve taken everything. And I mean everything. I’ve got no money and they’re forcing me to work for them.’

    ‘As what? A detective?!’

    ‘No…’ Lucinda checked the front door to reduce the chance of neighbours overhearing the conversation. ‘They want me to do my thing – as a form of corporal punishment.’

    ‘I didn’t know jacking guys off was classed as “punishment”.’

    Lucinda cocked her head, irritated.

    ‘I’m just joking!’

    Having known each other for over 30 years, Lucinda was well aware that Diann’s default method of dealing with serious situations was to use humour, which helped to alleviate her own stress, and was generally followed by useful advice. Still, she couldn’t help shake the feeling that, deep down, Diann was often entertained by the trials of her life.

    They had indeed been a force to be reckoned with as young women – both stunningly beautiful and, with the way she dressed, did her hair and put on make-up, Diann made the most of what little she had in order to look highly glamorous. She wasn’t a gold-digger, but didn’t waste her time with men who were not going to elevate her life considerably and her standards were met when she got together with Farrel, a head of finance in a large company, who quickly became Diann’s doting husband. Her life had been charmed ever since. And she still looked glamorous.

    Lucinda, on the other hand, fell in love with and married Edward who, not long after Rez was born, became easily irritated and one night he hit her. She didn’t stay around for it to happen a second time or for it to be unleashed on her children so quickly found a home but had to also find a way to increase her income, which is when she became a professional Dominatrix.

    BDSM and power play was always of interest to her but Edward had dismissed her interest in it. Transforming into Mistress Supernova not only earned her money but felt immeasurably liberating – she was born to dominate men and everything she discovered felt exciting and came to her with ease. Still, a job is a job and some clients were more challenging than others.

    Throughout it all, Diann was there for her as a confidant with unwavering emotional support. The entertainment Lucinda supposed she felt was not a malicious enjoyment of her suffering, but the kind of stimulation one gets from watching reality TV or soap operas: What’s Crazy Lucy up to now? Find out in this week’s edition of “Why Can’t I Catch a Break?!”

    Chapter 7

    Lucinda joined Diann on the sofa.

    ‘D, can I ask you something?’

    ‘Anything, you know that.’

    ‘Can I… tickle you?’

    Diann froze so still that she looked like she was in a movie that had just been paused.

    ‘Luce, I’ve known you a long time and that is the single weirdest thing you’ve ever asked me. What are you talking about?’

    ‘You can’t tell anyone.’


    ‘They’re making me work in a prison dungeon and they want me to punish and rehabilitate the prisoners, but I can only use tickle-torture to do it.’

    Diann looked at her sideways, an uncertain smirk on her lips. ‘They haven’t started writing about you in the newspapers too, have they?’

    ‘No. D, I’m serious.’

    ‘So why do you want to tickle me?’ said Diann, clearly anxious at the idea.

    ‘It’s not something I’ve ever had to do before and I’m supposed to be an expert at it by Monday morning!’

    ‘Exactly who is making you do this?!’

    ‘Someone high up in the police force tracked me down because I was domming her husband.’

    ‘Oh, Lord! Who?’

    As if in divine response, the television news began to deliver a report that caught Lucinda’s eye. A portrait photo of Annisa Wijaya in full uniform popped up over the newsreader’s shoulder as he spoke: ‘Today President Lestari confirmed the appointment of the new Police General, Annisa Wijaya – the first woman to hold the position and…’

    Diann followed Lucinda’s line of vision to the TV and slowly back to her.

    ‘Oh, no, Luce.’

    Lucinda nodded.

    ‘Well, you can’t practice on me!’ said Diann, seemingly drawing her arms in to protect her body.


    ‘Because I’m really ticklish! I can’t stand it. Whenever Farrel does it to me I try to hit him – I can’t help it.’

    ‘In the dungeon I can tie prisoners up—‘

    ‘Oh, sweet Lord! No way!’ Diann squirmed at this suggestion and withdrew further into her corner of the sofa.

    ‘I’m not suggesting I tie you up. But can I at least try some things on you?’

    ‘Like what?!’

    ‘Like… where are you ticklish?’


    ‘Can’t I just practice on you in one place? Please, Diann!’

    As ludicrous as this situation seemed and as instinctual as it was for every cell of Diann’s mind and body to do everything she could to avoid being tickled, she saw the look of genuine despair in her friend’s eyes.

    ‘One place,’ she said. ‘But I say stop, you have to stop.’

    ‘Of course,’ Lucinda replied gratefully. ‘Can I try your feet?’

    Diann shuddered at the thought but gave herself no time to contemplate. She lifted her legs and dropped them into Lucinda’s lap. Like a patient who has an aversion to injections, she braced herself and refused to watch.

    Lucinda looked down at her friend’s freshly pedicured toes and noticed for the first time, that she had feet that matched her Nubian film-star good looks. She removed Diann’s golden diamanté flip-flops and noticed how each foot twitched as each strap slipped from between her toes. With the removal of the second she also squeaked.

    ‘Even that is ticklish to you?’ asked Lucinda.

    Dianne nodded rapidly. She was now holding her breath.

    When caning a submissive there are areas of the buttocks that you should strike and areas you should avoid. Lucinda regarded the pale, pumiced skin of Diann’s soles and wondered whether there was something similar to consider with feet and tickling – are some places more ticklish than others?

    She placed the fingernails of one hand under Diann’s toes and wriggled gently. Diann jolted in the seat and gripped the material of the sofa. She stayed composed long enough to exclaim, ’Oh, sweet Lord!’ before exploding with a deep laughter that Lucinda had never before heard from her best friend. The reaction was extreme but she was doing her utmost to stay in place.

    Lucinda dragged her fingernails down further and scratched lightly at the ball of Diann’s foot. This caused Diann to bounce on the sofa and breathe almost maniacally as she struggled to sustain her position. The effect it was having on her—a woman whose glamour relied heavily on elegant composure—was a sight to behold.

    Intrigued, Lucinda trickled her fingernails down further, to the soft, wrinkled flesh of Diann’s arch. She let out an ungainly yelp and flailed her arms in the air. She pulled her feet from Lucinda’s lap and curled into the corner of the sofa. ‘Stop! Stop! You have to stop! Oh, my Lord!’

    ‘Wow. You are really tickly! I never knew that about you.’

    ‘Well, now you do!’ said Diann. A sheen of sweat covered her face and brow. ‘And you can stop smirking at me like that!’

    Lucinda checked herself. ‘Oh, was I? Sorry. We’ve laughed together a lot, D. I’ve just never seen you lose it quite like that.’

    ‘And you never will again! No more practicing on me! If you want to tickle someone – practice on your prisoners!’

    ‘I would, but there isn’t anyone there until Mond—‘ she cut herself short – there was one prisoner there…

    Chapter 8

    ‘We weren’t expecting you until Monday,’ said the receptionist behind the bullet-proof glass.

    ‘I am the manager here now,’ said Mistress Supernova. ‘I’ll be here whenever I see fit. There is one prisoner here, correct? The Japanese girl.’

    ‘Yes, Ma’am.’

    ‘Have her taken to room 003.’

    ‘Yes, Ma’am.’

    The receptionist pushed a button and one of the guards entered the grey wing. Lucinda went to the room they had been in before and took off her coat. She wore a white blouse, skintight trousers and leather riding boots – this was not playtime anymore and she didn’t feel the need to be dressed as a male’s archetypal vision of a Dominatrix.

    Jingling chains approached the door and the guard entered with the young prisoner. She glanced at Lucinda with apprehension.

    ‘What’s her name?’ Lucinda asked.

    ‘Tabe, Ma’am. Ichika Tabe,’ the guard replied as he uncuffed her.

    ‘And do you know why she’s here?’

    ‘Disturbance of the peace and destruction of public property, Ma’am.’

    ‘I see. On the bench, please.’

    The guard led Ichika to the leather bench, where she disrobed and knelt on the shin-rests. She laid her bare chest on the bench and rested her forearms into place.

    ‘She’s very compliant,’ said Lucinda as the guard strapped her into place.

    ‘She knows what happens if she isn’t,’ said the guard.

    Lucinda was curious as to what the consequences of disobedience were but decided it was a question for another time. Whatever it was, she was sure it violated the prisoner’s rights.

    Ichika appeared increasingly nervous and moaned something as the last cuff was strapped tight.

    Shizukani shite! Keep quiet!’ snapped the guard. ‘She’s all yours, Ma’am,’ he said and left the room.

    Lucinda approached Ichika from behind. The young woman’s bare soles were dainty and perfectly formed, even if they were a little dirty.

    ‘From now on you keep your feet clean before you see me. Do you understand?’

    Watashi wa anata no gengo o hanashimasen,’ Ichika replied.

    ‘Okay, we’re not going to get very far with conversation so I’m just going to practice on you.’

    Lucinda was glad to see that Ichika was wearing panties this time. She pulled up a stool to sit by her feet and placed the fingernails of one hand into the creases beneath her toes, just like she had done with Diann. The girl wriggled and her toes clenched but there was no instant explosion of laughter.

    ‘Release your toes,’ said Lucinda as she gripped them with the other hand and gave them a slight shake.

    Ichika understood and gave a brief moan of protest but relaxed her foot. Lucinda again lightly wriggled her fingernails into the crevices under and between her cute toes and the girl started to titter. She instinctively tried to flick her foot to avoid the invasive fingernails but the grip kept it in place.

    Exploring further, Lucinda let go of the toes and crawled up to the ball of her foot. The tittering continued, the strength of which was no more or less intense than before. She continued into the arch and did some light, spidery grabs up and down the edge of her foot. Ichika continued to giggle but it was starting to sound like she was very much at ease with the sensations and was actually finding it funny.

    Annisa Wijaya’s words came back to Lucinda: ‘I said tickle-torture! I don’t have time to watch you sensitise this urchin!’

    ‘“Sensitise”,’ she mused out loud. ‘That indicates that if I touch you lightly, you might become more ticklish, doesn’t it?’

    She tried gently stroking figure-8s over the girl’s bare sole that elicited squirms and titters but eventually these lessened until Ichika gave out an unmistakable moan of enjoyment.

    ‘I’m not here to pleasure you!’ Lucinda snapped with frustration and unleashed her scrabbling fingernails all over both soles.

    ‘Aiiii! Teishi shite kudasai!’ she squealed before releasing a fresh torrent of giggles and thrashing at her bonds.

    ‘Ahh!’ said Lucinda, pleased with the effect. ‘Took you by surprise, did I? That’s interesting…’

    She continued tickling the girl’s soles for some time, almost entranced by this new technique she was discovering and the control it had over her victim. She was starting to see how this could be very useful in a domination scenario.

    ‘In that case, what would happen if I took you surprise again and grabbed you… here?’ she said and jumped her hands to the Ichika’s waist. She mimicked the grip and movement that she had observed Lolly implement earlier. Ichika squealed again and fell into a different pattern of non-stop laughter. While the reaction wasn’t quite as intense as when Lolly did it, and Lucinda found that she had to use all her fingers to keep the Ichika’s laughter at a level that indicated she was in distress, she was glad that she’d finally found the spot – it was definitely helpful that the girl was laying on her front and that her laughter was already making her tummy muscles hard. Lucinda could feel the fibres in her waist that were having the greatest effect.

    Eager to explore further, she jumped her hands to Ichika’s underarms. ‘And what about here?!’ she shouted. This startled her victim to scream and intensified the helpless fear that she couldn’t stop herself laughing.

    Lucinda kept going for over an hour – jumping from one place to the next, maintaining Ichika’s level of hysteria whilst experimenting with positions and her strength and speed of touch.

    She knelt by Ichika’s side, while tickling her waist and armpit at the same time. The young woman’s face was flushed a deep red and sweat had formed a puddle on the ground beneath her. Almost subconsciously, Lucinda noticed that the girl she had considered as being plain when she first saw her now had a glow about her. Despite her obvious distress at being forced to laugh non-stop, the laughter brightened her appearance and revealed a prettiness to her.

    ‘I think you’ve had enough for now. But I’ll see you again tomorrow, yes?’

    Ichika mimicked Lucinda’s nod, even though she had no idea what had just been said. She was desperate for anything that might stop the relentless tickling.

    Lucinda moved over to a communication system on the wall and alerted the front office. ’You can take her back now.’

    She watched as the guard released an exhausted Ichika and almost had to hold her upright.

    ‘Tell her to wash her feet before I see her tomorrow,’ said Lucinda.

    The guard did so. Ichika whined at the knowledge that there would be a repeat performance the following day.

    Lucinda stood alone in the centre of the room and breathed a sigh of relief; she now knew a few more things about how to tickle-torture.

    She was then surprised to realise that the encounter had done something that she hadn’t felt in her professional Dominatrix career for a very long time: she was very, very aroused.

    Last edited by TamiraK; 05-08-2021 at 02:46 PM.

    I write tickle fiction!

    My stories include:
    A Day at the Beach
    The Wife & The Young Shoe Salesman
    The Pregnant MILF
    Gemma Visits the Doctor
    & The Cult of Tickle Assassins, episodes 1–6

    For the full list and links visit About Me on my profile page.

    If you would like to commission a story check out my site, TicklErotica
    Tamira x

  2. #2
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    Aug 2017
    Southwest United States
    Yes!! Whenever I see the name TamiraK pop up, I know it's going to be an awesome story!

  3. #3
    Join Date
    Oct 2010
    East Anglia
    Couldn't agree more with Saturn&Jupiter - always love your stories Tamira, and this is no exception!

  4. #4
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    Dec 2012
    brilliant! everything about it!

  5. #5
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    Jun 2005

  6. #6
    Join Date
    Jul 2005
    Very promising first instalment. Can't wait for more :-)

  7. #7
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    Jan 2002
    NY City
    Blog Entries
    Great story! This will be a fine series.
    <== the sacred soles of Goddess Shelly

    A link to my stories on the TMF.

    Buy my first novel "Sorority Sisters" here.

    Order one of my collections of short stories from MTJ Publishing here:

    Order Today!

    עם ישראל חי
    אֶרֶץ יִשְׂרָאֵל חי

  8. #8
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    Jul 2015
    Fantastic and totally original premise! Bravo!

  9. #9
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    Jul 2020
    Quote Originally Posted by Saturn&Jupiter View Post
    Yes!! Whenever I see the name TamiraK pop up, I know it's going to be an awesome story!
    Aww! Thank you S&J. I hope it lives up to your expectations!

    Quote Originally Posted by FJ12 View Post
    Couldn't agree more with Saturn&Jupiter - always love your stories Tamira, and this is no exception!
    Thank you! I'm glad you like it!

    Quote Originally Posted by cph4141 View Post
    brilliant! everything about it!
    Wow! Thank you cph!

    Quote Originally Posted by Iso View Post

    Quote Originally Posted by soxov View Post
    Very promising first instalment. Can't wait for more :-)
    I do like an eager reader!

    Quote Originally Posted by milagros317 View Post
    Great story! This will be a fine series.
    Thank you for your vote of confidence!

    Quote Originally Posted by Gaggedtickling View Post
    Fantastic and totally original premise! Bravo!
    I'm glad you like it. The idea of a secret BDSM lair / government tickle-torture place was given to me by the person who requested this story. I then had to find the angle and characters that appealed to me (and hopefully everyone here too!)

    I write tickle fiction!

    My stories include:
    A Day at the Beach
    The Wife & The Young Shoe Salesman
    The Pregnant MILF
    Gemma Visits the Doctor
    & The Cult of Tickle Assassins, episodes 1–6

    For the full list and links visit About Me on my profile page.

    If you would like to commission a story check out my site, TicklErotica
    Tamira x

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