“Legend of the Tickler Rose”
Astrid St. Croix was a middle-aged businesswoman who came from a long line of wealthy and influential aristocrats going back three hundred years to her ancestor the Duchess Anastasia St. Croix.
A painted portrait of the great matriarch was kept in a place of honor in her bed chambers.
The family business had slowly descended into the shadows and she would engage with business partners her great grandmother would certainly not approve of. But business was good and the future looked brighter than ever.
Astrid had only recently jettisoned her last husband and now she had the company of a much younger man. His name was Josh Anders.
Josh was young, handsome, athletic, lustful, and most importantly, ticklish. Astrid herself was not ticklish, but she loved dominating her submissive lovers with her eager tickling fingers.
Her tickling, as her lovemaking and her business deals, was intense, simple, and to the point.
That evening, she had Josh tied to the four bedposts of her bed. He was stretched taut to the four corners, his shaved and sculpted body was on display for her pleasure. He was a glutton for submission and she tickled him with a passion. Unlike former lovers, Josh was turned on by the tickling and it only made him more intense.
He screamed under her fingers which attacked his sides and slid in between marked abs. His manhood stood erect engorged as she teased and tortured him without mercy.
His cries for help fell on deaf ears. Her bedroom was soundproof and her bodyguards Francesca and Valentina would not allow her to be disturbed for any reason.
She wore him down, sucking on his toes, not because she liked his feet, but rather because it drove him madder yet.
Exhaustion set in but his throbbing cock was invitingly erect and saluting her.
Astrid took the engorged organ into her hand and mounted the young man sliding her sheath over his blade. She rode the young man in a frenzy attacking his underarms and sides causing him to screech in laughter, pleasure, and pain.
The young man was skilled and held out as reasonably could be expected. He exploded into her just as she twisted a final masterful stroke climaxing just seconds after him.
Perfection.
Enjoying the perks of being the socialite's lover, Josh's only regret was that Astrid was not ticklish. Try as he might, and search where he might, she was not ticklish in any way or form. Untied from his bonds, he fruitlessly ran his fingers up and down her sides.
Astrid was lulled to sleep with the futile tickling and slept deeply and without a worry in the world.
Despite her lack of worldly concerns, she dreamt of being captive in a pit of vipers. The writhing snakes twisted and turned around her slithering around her wrists and ankles pulling her taut.
She awoke suddenly, aware the snakes of the dream were thick silken ropes and she was tied down to her bed. Josh was restrained as well. They both grunted and thrashed testing the bonds. They were perfectly tied, stark naked, and absolutely vulnerable.
Astrid didn’t cry out. She had never been a damsel in distress. She would assess her situation and react when she knew the facts.
Josh was obviously nervous, but he looked to her for guidance and her calm demeanor kept him from acting desperately. They were both spread eagle with wrists secured at the head of the bed and ankles at the foot. The knots were tied by an expert. Someone focused on the beauty and form of the knots but also on the effectivity of the bondage. It was masterful work. There was no way either of them would be able to escape.
The only light was a lamp on her bedstand. The rest of the room was in darkness.
There was someone there in the room, observing them from the edge of the darkness.
“Whoever you are, come out,” Astrid commanded.
A woman came forth from the shadows. She was athletic and dressed in tight black spandex. She had sophisticated high-tech goggles that covered her eyes and the top of her face. Pink-colored hair and a dark black hood framed the face. The woman had different gadgets on her waist, wrists, and ankles. She had a pistol in its holster fastened to the outer side of her leg.
It was hard to determine her age.
“I am the Tickler Rose,” the mysterious woman presented herself to the couple. Her voice was firm and her stance was confident. She was not intimidated.
“My bodyguards? Francesca? Valentina?” Astrid asked. There was no sense calling out for them. This was clearly a professional and they would have been accounted for. Astrid feared for their lives.
“They are out cold for the night, sleeping the sleep of the just,” the intruder answered. “As are Benton, the butler, and Jana, the housekeeper.”
“You’ve studied me well and know my household well,” Astrid admitted. “I am at a disadvantage. I do not know you. Who do you work for? The Russians? The Triad?”
“I work for myself,” the woman said evenly drawing closer to the foot of the bed. “I've come for the diamonds that are kept in your safe.”
“Safe?” Astrid acted as innocently as she could. "There is no safe."
“Really?” the Tickler Rose asked, seeming slightly insulted. “Are we going to play it that way?”
The Tickler Rose tentatively ran her gloved fingers up and down Astrid's smooth bare size six soles.
“I am not ticklish, you idiot,” Astrid smirked at the Tickler Rose’s futile attempts to tickle her.
“But your lover here is ticklish, isn't he?” the Tickler Rose asked stepping over to the restrained young man. “You'd tell me anything, right, Josh?”
“No, I’d never betray the trust of—-” Josh said before he was rudely interrupted by the intruder’s gloved hands viciously tickling his large long soles with methodic precision. He laughed maniacally as the Tickler Rose inched her way up his body tickling behind the knees, over the knees to his inner thighs, and over his ticklish balls. All was invitingly sensitive. Josh flailed wildly, but he was clearly enjoying the attention as his cock turned hard. The intruder nibbled over his hard belly and ribs and her fingers danced over his chest and attacked the depths of his armpits. He was smooth and shaven from the neck down and it made it easier yet to tickle the smooth skin. Hitting his armpits he lost control laughing desperately and tugging madly on the restraints which so effectively held him in place.
“Anything! ANYTHING! STOP!” he screamed as he pulled with all his strength on the silken cords. “I’ll tell you ANYTHING! I’ll give you ANYTHING! Just STOP!”
“You don’t have what I want,” the Tickler Rose said ending her tickling assault and watching Josh’s body glisten with sweat.
“Madame St. Croix would not give you the combination to her gym locker,” Tickler Rose condescended. “And I do not blame her. Still, she will give me the combination to the safe.”
“You will have to kill me,” Astrid said nonchalantly. “I will not tell you where the safe is and I will never tell you the combination.”
Again, the Tickler Rose drew her finger across the comely soles, over her toes, and climbed up the lady’s creamy leg and thigh with her finger. There was no reaction.
“Torture will get you nowhere,” Astrid sneered at her captor. “I can withstand pain. Shoot my lover, see if I care. Shoot me. I do not care. Because I do not care, I negotiate from a position of power even bound and at your mercy as I am now.”
It was impressive. The oozing confidence had broken the will of more than one boardroom and crushed more than one enemy or lover.
The Tickler Rose drew her gloved finger past her hairless sex and up past her deep and round navel until she crept up to her elegant breasts that stood out proudly with her nipples erect on brown areolas.
“Now,” Astrid said, satisfied as if she was in the driver’s seat, “if you are ready to negotiate we can reach an agreement. I could use someone of your particular talents.”
“No, this is not a negotiation. Let’s better call it an interrogation,” Tickler Rose stated, ignoring Astrid’s proposal. As she pulled out the pistol and adjusted a dial on the side which appeared to be a safety. The pistol had a silencer on the end and it was pointed at her as the dial was turned.
Then death it is, Astrid thought bravely facing her opponent without fear.
Astrid stared down the barrel unafraid, challenging the intruder to fire and end it. The pistol was pulled away slightly and the trigger pulled. A muted sound was heard and a sharp pinch was felt in Astrid’s thigh where she saw a small pink feathered dart issuing from the point where she felt pain.
“Poison? Sleeping agent? Truth serum?” Astrid questioned, more curious than concerned.
“A type of truth serum, if you wish to think of it as such,” the intruder answered, replacing the pistol in its holster. “We can give it a few seconds to kick in.”
The Tickler Rose moved to the foot of the bed and pulled a thin and long case from her knapsack. The intruder calmly asked Astrid: “What is the combination to the safe?”
Convinced she was resisting any truth serum with pure force of will, she gave a crooked smile and simply stated: “What safe?”
The Tickler Rose opened the case and removed a long, wide, and stiff white feather. She took the feather by the point and twirled it expertly. It danced in her fingers as the Tickler Rose demonstrated her skill at wielding the instrument. The feather was placed at the very bottom of the heel of Astrid’s right sole and it pressed firmly against the sole. Nothing happened for a moment and then the feather was dragged gently up the sole. The foot thrashed wildly, Astrid’s eyes went wide and she screamed in terror as sensations she had never felt before flooded through her.
“What is this? What are you doing?” Astrid screamed feeling helpless and at the same time, she was guffawing as she had never done before. She simply could not resist these reactions.
“Interrogating you,” the intruder answered, now working between the round toes and in between them, with the feather’s perfect combination between firmness and softness making it a titillating weapon of persuasion. “What is the combination to the safe?”
“I spent a weekend tortured by the Syndicate’s best,” she grunted closing her eyes, thinking perhaps less visual stimulus would help. “I can handle this. Whatever it is.”
“The dart I hit you with contains TK 19, a neuro stimulus enhancer,” the Tickler Rose explained. “You are more ticklish now than your lover and you will remain so for a while.”
Josh, still bound, reached out with his foot ever so close to Astrid’s and he tickled her sole with his toes. She shouted and struggled and giggled frantically.
“You can have her when I’m done, tiger,” the Tickler Rose said, tickling the large mischievous male foot with her fingers. The feather was for Madame St. Croix only.
The Tickler Rose stopped tickling Josh’s foot and pulled free her pistol adjusting the dial again.
Without a word, she shot him with a black dart in the thigh and he quickly drifted off until he was senseless.
“You found a ticklish one who enjoys it. I am impressed,” the Tickler Rose said gently coaxing Josh's soles with her nails without any response. "I put him out as a courtesy. No need for him to see you break."
"I'll never tell you anything," Astrid promised.
The Tickler Rose dusted the knees of her victim with the feather and Astrid reacted violently. Could knees really be so ticklish? she asked herself incredulously. The feather went knee to knee eliciting laughter and intense struggling.
The thighs followed, brushing the insides with the feather careful to not stroke her sex despite Astrid's wild thrashing and howling.
Tickler Rose bid her time before continuing up her victims’s body. She patiently attacked the thighs enjoying Astrid’s futile attempts to escape.
The torture stopped but only for a moment so Astrid could gather her breath and watch the Tickler Rose approach her vulnerable groin.
Her sex, having been worshiped by countless submissive lovers had never been ticklish. Sensitive, yes. Ticklish, no.
The feather expertly explored between her exposed labia probing and exploring, twirling and pressing with a surgeon’s precision. Astrid's senses exploded. Arousal mixed with desperation was overshadowed by extreme laughter. She had never felt so desperate no so overwhelmed as she was at the mercy of this stranger.
Astrid felt herself getting faint and the Tickler Rose stopped for a brief moment. She drew a path with the feather up past her mons pubis and twisted the tip briefly in Astrid's deep navel before reaching her breasts and lightly dusting her nipples, hardening them and tickling them in the process.
The Tickler Rose placed the feather between the breast while Astrid looked down on the tool with apprehension.
“This is where I give you a chance,” the Tickler Rose said removing her black gloves and revealing manicured nails with electric pink polish. “You can tell me the combination now and then we will be done. I’ll put you off to sleep and I’ll leave and you will never see me again. Or, alternatively, I will tickle you without mercy, without interruption and when we are done you will tell me anything I want to know.”
“Do your worst,” Astrid said staring at the ceiling and bracing for the storm.
“Tenacity is admirable,” the Tickler Rose observed. “Stubbornness is plain stupid.”
She dug her fingers deep into Astrid’s underarms. It was different than the feather. As the nails dug into her sensitive flesh, a sort of electricity coursed through her shorting out all her senses. She screamed and laughed madly and her head shook left and right as if it could somehow limit her torturer’s access to the vulnerable pits.
Satisfied with her intro, the Tickler Rose moved the attention of her nails to her victim’s sides, digging in between the ribs. Astrid’s whole body shook and she reverted to silent laughter. She pulled so hard on her restraints she thought she would pull her arms from her sockets.
The laughter returned to the realm of the audible as the Tickler Rose moved down to her belly. Here she plunged her face and blew raspberries as he nails danced along the soft flesh of her sides below the ribs.
“Stop!” Astrid pleaded as the sensation of lips on her belly was too much. “Stop! I will tell you, just stop!”
“We’re not done yet,” the Tickler Rose said probing the depths of Astrid’s navel with her tongue.
“I’m done! I’m done!” Astrid shouted.
“We’re done once I say so,” the Tickler Rose said pulling away and moving down to the foot of the bed.
“No! No! Not the feet. I’ve had enough!”
The Tickler Rose pulled back the toes of Astrid’s right foot holding the sole steady and stretched. The nails of her other hand descended on the area tickling furiously.
Astrid screamed for her life feeling sensations she just could no longer process. “47, 17, oh, oh, oh stop, please. I’ll tell you!” She laughed and laughed as the Tickler Rose tickled her toes and in between her toes.
“88, 22,” Astrid finished as the tickler paused. “47, 17, 88, 22! There I gave it to you! Please, have mercy!”
The Tickler Rose did not answer. She simply reached out and tickled both soles simultaneously digging her nails into the fleshy soles.
“47, 17, 88, 22! 47, 17, 88, 22!” Astrid shouted as the fingers danced along both her soles. She took turns between guffaws and giggles depending on the stimulation and became incoherent in between her bouts of laughter.
“Almost done,” the Tickler Rose said moving over to her right foot again.
“No, done, done, please, I’ll do anything, take my fortune, anything, just stop!” Astrid said hoarsely, her body covered in sweat.
The Tickler Rose placed her captive’s toes into her mouth and sucked gently. It tickled and aroused Astrid equally and as the torturer’s agile tongue explored the ins and outs of her toes, Astrid screamed and a sort of machine-gun laughter began to issue from her. The Tickler Rose continued methodically, licking Astrid’s soles and nibbling playfully.
The ammunition for the machine-gun laughter slowly ran out as the Tickler Rose wound down the teasing and the tickling, ending the assault with a kiss on Astrid’s big toe.
The Tickler Rose stood up and put her black gloves on again. She strode to the Duchess's portrait and revealed the safe behind. She gingerly turned the dial inputting the combination and opening the safe. She took out the contents and placed them in her small black knapsack.
Satisfied, the tickler returned to Astrid.
“You had better kill me,” Astrid begged, “because I will not rest, I will not leave any stone unturned until I find you and make you pay.”
“You took these diamonds from someone who took them from someone else of an even more dubious reputation,” the Tickler Rose said as she placed the feather back in its case. “I have no quarrel with you. Your ancestor, the Duchess St. Croix was an honorable and respectful woman of her time. Perhaps you ought to reflect on her legacy.”
The Tickler Rose pulled the pistol out, pointed it at her thoughtfully, and then pulled the trigger.
A black dart on Astrid’s thigh and she started to feel sleepy quickly.
Her last memory was of the Tickler Rose smiling and waving goodbye.
* * * * *
Astrid awoke.
She was in Josh's arms.
Had it been a dream? All was in its place. Nothing was disturbed. The Duchess St. Croix portrait remained in its place. She was sure it must have been a dream and she was convinced it was until Josh gently touched her sides.
She reacted violently screaming as the ticklish sensations overwhelmed her.
“Stop! You idiot!” she shouted at him angrily pounding him with her fist.
He tickled her energetically and she could do nothing to stop him. She tried to move away off the bed and he simply followed her to the ground and continued to tickle her.
“We’re done! I’ll have you out on the street!” she laughed intensely making her threat unconvincing and only encouraging the enthusiastic Josh to continue tickling her newly discovered spots.
He grabbed her feet and tickled her silly remembering the many times he wasn’t really in the mood and she had tickle tortured his feet without mercy. He enjoyed her laughter and was aroused by the powerful dominant woman finally being dominated herself by tickling.
When she finished, she was breathless on the ground. He picked her up and placed her on the bed.
“I think that is the kind of thing that gets a guy fired or dumped or all of the above. I couldn't resist, Astrid,” Josh said gathering his clothes and leaving as Astrid recovered from the tickling bout.
Humiliated and breathless, Astrid gathered her energy and rushed to the portrait of her ancestor and cast it aside revealing the safe.
“It still might be okay,” she said to herself as she scrambled through the combination and the safe door clicked open.
Inside, the only content was a pink rose.
Naked, humiliated, breathless and three million dollars in stolen diamonds poorer, Astrid's mind smoldered thoughts of vengeance as she crushed the pink rose and hurled the petals across her bedroom.
* * * * *
"Ms. Chabeau," Allison Peters called approaching her employer on the pleasant cool morning. "It is Allison, from Accounting. Is now a good moment?"
Chastity Chabreau was an eccentric businesswoman. Instead of being at her desk, managing her affairs from the early morning, she was outside tending to her rose bushes carefully trimming here and there.
"As good as any, Miss Peters," she responded without looking at the accountant. "I trust you have good news. Your step has a certain spring to it, your tone of voice betrays your enthusiasm despite your efforts to mask it and you have the bank portal open on your tablet and a letter on fine stationery that alludes to some good augury.“
Ms. Chabeau was middle-aged. She wore a denim overall, had a woven hat on her head, and wore round wire-rimmed glasses.
“How did you know that?” Allison asked surprised by her employer’s assessment. The accountant was in her mid-20s, half a head taller, and had large black glasses framing her eyes.
Ms. Chabeau gestured to the window above the bushes and Allison’s reflection there.
Allison shook her head. “Of course, of course.”
“What is the news?” Ms. Chabaeu asked.
“We received an anonymous donation of 3 million dollars this morning for the orphanage,” Allison reported. “I have a letter, but it doesn’t say who is making the donation.”
“Splendid,” Ms. Chabaeu declared without looking back as she continued to snip at the bushes occasionally cutting away a particular rose and placing it in a basket. “All that mingling with the rich and powerful sometimes pays off.”
Allison frowned at the explanation. She had worked with Ms. Chabeau now for three years and this sort of happening was not unusual.
“Forgive me if I seem ungrateful, but it seems every time we are in financial trouble, some guardian angel comes along and bails us out,” the accountant said. “You know, your investigation laboratory burns through cash like there’s no tomorrow, it doesn't actually sell anything, but somehow, every time it is about to go under, it somehow gets another grant, another project funded with ambiguous deliverables.”
“What can I say?” Ms. Chabeau said finally turning to study Allison more closely. “Lady Luck has often been on my side.”
“You've spent your fortune on charity,” Allison said continuing now that she had finally had the courage to voice her observations. “You’ve built an orphanage of your family mansion but you rarely see you spend a penny on yourself. I’ve never known you to have a husband, a boyfriend, a girlfriend, or even friends for that matter.”
“Your point?” Ms. Chabeau coaxed smiling calmly.
“What's it all about?” Allison asked.
“What is what about?” Ms. Chabeau answered trimming away thoughtfully.
“The charade. The smoke and mirrors,” Allison said knowing full well this tirade could cost her a job.
“The orphanage is real, it supports youth giving them the opportunity to be contributors to their society.”
“Not that,” Allison responded “All the rest. What is it all for?”
Ms. Chabeau did not answer immediately.
“Why do you want to know? Can't a single, eccentric, relatively rich woman live a charmed life? Does it require a sort of suspension of belief regarding my life for it to make sense to you?”
“I don't want to know. I NEED to know.”
"Most are content to accept things for what they seem to be,” Ms. Chabeau said. “Curiosity killed the proverbial cat."
“I can’t keep protecting you if I don’t know what it is I am protecting,” Allison pleaded.
“Even if knowing put your job and career at risk?” Ms. Chabeau asked. “Even if put your life at risk?”
“Yes,” Allison responded. “I need to know. I need to know it's a worthy cause and I need to know if I am worthy.”
Ms. Chabeau pondered thoughtfully. Allison was her right arm. She was loyal and independent and she cared about what she was doing.
“If I show you what is behind the curtain, there is no pulling it back again,” Ms. Chabeau warned her accountant. “You can never go back to how things were before. You may regret it.”
“I'll take my chances,” Allison stated.
“You will,” Ms. Chabeau stated. “Come to my office tonight and I will pull back the curtain.”
Allison nodded in agreement, collected her tablet and documents, and returned to her office.
Chastity Chabeau continued her trimming but when she was done, she purposefully strode over to a particular favorite bush. She selected a rose and cut it. She drew in its powerful aroma savoring its scent and gently placed it on top of the roses in her basket.
This rose, contrary to the other roses in the basket, was an intense pink color.
The End
Astrid St. Croix was a middle-aged businesswoman who came from a long line of wealthy and influential aristocrats going back three hundred years to her ancestor the Duchess Anastasia St. Croix.
A painted portrait of the great matriarch was kept in a place of honor in her bed chambers.
The family business had slowly descended into the shadows and she would engage with business partners her great grandmother would certainly not approve of. But business was good and the future looked brighter than ever.
Astrid had only recently jettisoned her last husband and now she had the company of a much younger man. His name was Josh Anders.
Josh was young, handsome, athletic, lustful, and most importantly, ticklish. Astrid herself was not ticklish, but she loved dominating her submissive lovers with her eager tickling fingers.
Her tickling, as her lovemaking and her business deals, was intense, simple, and to the point.
That evening, she had Josh tied to the four bedposts of her bed. He was stretched taut to the four corners, his shaved and sculpted body was on display for her pleasure. He was a glutton for submission and she tickled him with a passion. Unlike former lovers, Josh was turned on by the tickling and it only made him more intense.
He screamed under her fingers which attacked his sides and slid in between marked abs. His manhood stood erect engorged as she teased and tortured him without mercy.
His cries for help fell on deaf ears. Her bedroom was soundproof and her bodyguards Francesca and Valentina would not allow her to be disturbed for any reason.
She wore him down, sucking on his toes, not because she liked his feet, but rather because it drove him madder yet.
Exhaustion set in but his throbbing cock was invitingly erect and saluting her.
Astrid took the engorged organ into her hand and mounted the young man sliding her sheath over his blade. She rode the young man in a frenzy attacking his underarms and sides causing him to screech in laughter, pleasure, and pain.
The young man was skilled and held out as reasonably could be expected. He exploded into her just as she twisted a final masterful stroke climaxing just seconds after him.
Perfection.
Enjoying the perks of being the socialite's lover, Josh's only regret was that Astrid was not ticklish. Try as he might, and search where he might, she was not ticklish in any way or form. Untied from his bonds, he fruitlessly ran his fingers up and down her sides.
Astrid was lulled to sleep with the futile tickling and slept deeply and without a worry in the world.
Despite her lack of worldly concerns, she dreamt of being captive in a pit of vipers. The writhing snakes twisted and turned around her slithering around her wrists and ankles pulling her taut.
She awoke suddenly, aware the snakes of the dream were thick silken ropes and she was tied down to her bed. Josh was restrained as well. They both grunted and thrashed testing the bonds. They were perfectly tied, stark naked, and absolutely vulnerable.
Astrid didn’t cry out. She had never been a damsel in distress. She would assess her situation and react when she knew the facts.
Josh was obviously nervous, but he looked to her for guidance and her calm demeanor kept him from acting desperately. They were both spread eagle with wrists secured at the head of the bed and ankles at the foot. The knots were tied by an expert. Someone focused on the beauty and form of the knots but also on the effectivity of the bondage. It was masterful work. There was no way either of them would be able to escape.
The only light was a lamp on her bedstand. The rest of the room was in darkness.
There was someone there in the room, observing them from the edge of the darkness.
“Whoever you are, come out,” Astrid commanded.
A woman came forth from the shadows. She was athletic and dressed in tight black spandex. She had sophisticated high-tech goggles that covered her eyes and the top of her face. Pink-colored hair and a dark black hood framed the face. The woman had different gadgets on her waist, wrists, and ankles. She had a pistol in its holster fastened to the outer side of her leg.
It was hard to determine her age.
“I am the Tickler Rose,” the mysterious woman presented herself to the couple. Her voice was firm and her stance was confident. She was not intimidated.
“My bodyguards? Francesca? Valentina?” Astrid asked. There was no sense calling out for them. This was clearly a professional and they would have been accounted for. Astrid feared for their lives.
“They are out cold for the night, sleeping the sleep of the just,” the intruder answered. “As are Benton, the butler, and Jana, the housekeeper.”
“You’ve studied me well and know my household well,” Astrid admitted. “I am at a disadvantage. I do not know you. Who do you work for? The Russians? The Triad?”
“I work for myself,” the woman said evenly drawing closer to the foot of the bed. “I've come for the diamonds that are kept in your safe.”
“Safe?” Astrid acted as innocently as she could. "There is no safe."
“Really?” the Tickler Rose asked, seeming slightly insulted. “Are we going to play it that way?”
The Tickler Rose tentatively ran her gloved fingers up and down Astrid's smooth bare size six soles.
“I am not ticklish, you idiot,” Astrid smirked at the Tickler Rose’s futile attempts to tickle her.
“But your lover here is ticklish, isn't he?” the Tickler Rose asked stepping over to the restrained young man. “You'd tell me anything, right, Josh?”
“No, I’d never betray the trust of—-” Josh said before he was rudely interrupted by the intruder’s gloved hands viciously tickling his large long soles with methodic precision. He laughed maniacally as the Tickler Rose inched her way up his body tickling behind the knees, over the knees to his inner thighs, and over his ticklish balls. All was invitingly sensitive. Josh flailed wildly, but he was clearly enjoying the attention as his cock turned hard. The intruder nibbled over his hard belly and ribs and her fingers danced over his chest and attacked the depths of his armpits. He was smooth and shaven from the neck down and it made it easier yet to tickle the smooth skin. Hitting his armpits he lost control laughing desperately and tugging madly on the restraints which so effectively held him in place.
“Anything! ANYTHING! STOP!” he screamed as he pulled with all his strength on the silken cords. “I’ll tell you ANYTHING! I’ll give you ANYTHING! Just STOP!”
“You don’t have what I want,” the Tickler Rose said ending her tickling assault and watching Josh’s body glisten with sweat.
“Madame St. Croix would not give you the combination to her gym locker,” Tickler Rose condescended. “And I do not blame her. Still, she will give me the combination to the safe.”
“You will have to kill me,” Astrid said nonchalantly. “I will not tell you where the safe is and I will never tell you the combination.”
Again, the Tickler Rose drew her finger across the comely soles, over her toes, and climbed up the lady’s creamy leg and thigh with her finger. There was no reaction.
“Torture will get you nowhere,” Astrid sneered at her captor. “I can withstand pain. Shoot my lover, see if I care. Shoot me. I do not care. Because I do not care, I negotiate from a position of power even bound and at your mercy as I am now.”
It was impressive. The oozing confidence had broken the will of more than one boardroom and crushed more than one enemy or lover.
The Tickler Rose drew her gloved finger past her hairless sex and up past her deep and round navel until she crept up to her elegant breasts that stood out proudly with her nipples erect on brown areolas.
“Now,” Astrid said, satisfied as if she was in the driver’s seat, “if you are ready to negotiate we can reach an agreement. I could use someone of your particular talents.”
“No, this is not a negotiation. Let’s better call it an interrogation,” Tickler Rose stated, ignoring Astrid’s proposal. As she pulled out the pistol and adjusted a dial on the side which appeared to be a safety. The pistol had a silencer on the end and it was pointed at her as the dial was turned.
Then death it is, Astrid thought bravely facing her opponent without fear.
Astrid stared down the barrel unafraid, challenging the intruder to fire and end it. The pistol was pulled away slightly and the trigger pulled. A muted sound was heard and a sharp pinch was felt in Astrid’s thigh where she saw a small pink feathered dart issuing from the point where she felt pain.
“Poison? Sleeping agent? Truth serum?” Astrid questioned, more curious than concerned.
“A type of truth serum, if you wish to think of it as such,” the intruder answered, replacing the pistol in its holster. “We can give it a few seconds to kick in.”
The Tickler Rose moved to the foot of the bed and pulled a thin and long case from her knapsack. The intruder calmly asked Astrid: “What is the combination to the safe?”
Convinced she was resisting any truth serum with pure force of will, she gave a crooked smile and simply stated: “What safe?”
The Tickler Rose opened the case and removed a long, wide, and stiff white feather. She took the feather by the point and twirled it expertly. It danced in her fingers as the Tickler Rose demonstrated her skill at wielding the instrument. The feather was placed at the very bottom of the heel of Astrid’s right sole and it pressed firmly against the sole. Nothing happened for a moment and then the feather was dragged gently up the sole. The foot thrashed wildly, Astrid’s eyes went wide and she screamed in terror as sensations she had never felt before flooded through her.
“What is this? What are you doing?” Astrid screamed feeling helpless and at the same time, she was guffawing as she had never done before. She simply could not resist these reactions.
“Interrogating you,” the intruder answered, now working between the round toes and in between them, with the feather’s perfect combination between firmness and softness making it a titillating weapon of persuasion. “What is the combination to the safe?”
“I spent a weekend tortured by the Syndicate’s best,” she grunted closing her eyes, thinking perhaps less visual stimulus would help. “I can handle this. Whatever it is.”
“The dart I hit you with contains TK 19, a neuro stimulus enhancer,” the Tickler Rose explained. “You are more ticklish now than your lover and you will remain so for a while.”
Josh, still bound, reached out with his foot ever so close to Astrid’s and he tickled her sole with his toes. She shouted and struggled and giggled frantically.
“You can have her when I’m done, tiger,” the Tickler Rose said, tickling the large mischievous male foot with her fingers. The feather was for Madame St. Croix only.
The Tickler Rose stopped tickling Josh’s foot and pulled free her pistol adjusting the dial again.
Without a word, she shot him with a black dart in the thigh and he quickly drifted off until he was senseless.
“You found a ticklish one who enjoys it. I am impressed,” the Tickler Rose said gently coaxing Josh's soles with her nails without any response. "I put him out as a courtesy. No need for him to see you break."
"I'll never tell you anything," Astrid promised.
The Tickler Rose dusted the knees of her victim with the feather and Astrid reacted violently. Could knees really be so ticklish? she asked herself incredulously. The feather went knee to knee eliciting laughter and intense struggling.
The thighs followed, brushing the insides with the feather careful to not stroke her sex despite Astrid's wild thrashing and howling.
Tickler Rose bid her time before continuing up her victims’s body. She patiently attacked the thighs enjoying Astrid’s futile attempts to escape.
The torture stopped but only for a moment so Astrid could gather her breath and watch the Tickler Rose approach her vulnerable groin.
Her sex, having been worshiped by countless submissive lovers had never been ticklish. Sensitive, yes. Ticklish, no.
The feather expertly explored between her exposed labia probing and exploring, twirling and pressing with a surgeon’s precision. Astrid's senses exploded. Arousal mixed with desperation was overshadowed by extreme laughter. She had never felt so desperate no so overwhelmed as she was at the mercy of this stranger.
Astrid felt herself getting faint and the Tickler Rose stopped for a brief moment. She drew a path with the feather up past her mons pubis and twisted the tip briefly in Astrid's deep navel before reaching her breasts and lightly dusting her nipples, hardening them and tickling them in the process.
The Tickler Rose placed the feather between the breast while Astrid looked down on the tool with apprehension.
“This is where I give you a chance,” the Tickler Rose said removing her black gloves and revealing manicured nails with electric pink polish. “You can tell me the combination now and then we will be done. I’ll put you off to sleep and I’ll leave and you will never see me again. Or, alternatively, I will tickle you without mercy, without interruption and when we are done you will tell me anything I want to know.”
“Do your worst,” Astrid said staring at the ceiling and bracing for the storm.
“Tenacity is admirable,” the Tickler Rose observed. “Stubbornness is plain stupid.”
She dug her fingers deep into Astrid’s underarms. It was different than the feather. As the nails dug into her sensitive flesh, a sort of electricity coursed through her shorting out all her senses. She screamed and laughed madly and her head shook left and right as if it could somehow limit her torturer’s access to the vulnerable pits.
Satisfied with her intro, the Tickler Rose moved the attention of her nails to her victim’s sides, digging in between the ribs. Astrid’s whole body shook and she reverted to silent laughter. She pulled so hard on her restraints she thought she would pull her arms from her sockets.
The laughter returned to the realm of the audible as the Tickler Rose moved down to her belly. Here she plunged her face and blew raspberries as he nails danced along the soft flesh of her sides below the ribs.
“Stop!” Astrid pleaded as the sensation of lips on her belly was too much. “Stop! I will tell you, just stop!”
“We’re not done yet,” the Tickler Rose said probing the depths of Astrid’s navel with her tongue.
“I’m done! I’m done!” Astrid shouted.
“We’re done once I say so,” the Tickler Rose said pulling away and moving down to the foot of the bed.
“No! No! Not the feet. I’ve had enough!”
The Tickler Rose pulled back the toes of Astrid’s right foot holding the sole steady and stretched. The nails of her other hand descended on the area tickling furiously.
Astrid screamed for her life feeling sensations she just could no longer process. “47, 17, oh, oh, oh stop, please. I’ll tell you!” She laughed and laughed as the Tickler Rose tickled her toes and in between her toes.
“88, 22,” Astrid finished as the tickler paused. “47, 17, 88, 22! There I gave it to you! Please, have mercy!”
The Tickler Rose did not answer. She simply reached out and tickled both soles simultaneously digging her nails into the fleshy soles.
“47, 17, 88, 22! 47, 17, 88, 22!” Astrid shouted as the fingers danced along both her soles. She took turns between guffaws and giggles depending on the stimulation and became incoherent in between her bouts of laughter.
“Almost done,” the Tickler Rose said moving over to her right foot again.
“No, done, done, please, I’ll do anything, take my fortune, anything, just stop!” Astrid said hoarsely, her body covered in sweat.
The Tickler Rose placed her captive’s toes into her mouth and sucked gently. It tickled and aroused Astrid equally and as the torturer’s agile tongue explored the ins and outs of her toes, Astrid screamed and a sort of machine-gun laughter began to issue from her. The Tickler Rose continued methodically, licking Astrid’s soles and nibbling playfully.
The ammunition for the machine-gun laughter slowly ran out as the Tickler Rose wound down the teasing and the tickling, ending the assault with a kiss on Astrid’s big toe.
The Tickler Rose stood up and put her black gloves on again. She strode to the Duchess's portrait and revealed the safe behind. She gingerly turned the dial inputting the combination and opening the safe. She took out the contents and placed them in her small black knapsack.
Satisfied, the tickler returned to Astrid.
“You had better kill me,” Astrid begged, “because I will not rest, I will not leave any stone unturned until I find you and make you pay.”
“You took these diamonds from someone who took them from someone else of an even more dubious reputation,” the Tickler Rose said as she placed the feather back in its case. “I have no quarrel with you. Your ancestor, the Duchess St. Croix was an honorable and respectful woman of her time. Perhaps you ought to reflect on her legacy.”
The Tickler Rose pulled the pistol out, pointed it at her thoughtfully, and then pulled the trigger.
A black dart on Astrid’s thigh and she started to feel sleepy quickly.
Her last memory was of the Tickler Rose smiling and waving goodbye.
* * * * *
Astrid awoke.
She was in Josh's arms.
Had it been a dream? All was in its place. Nothing was disturbed. The Duchess St. Croix portrait remained in its place. She was sure it must have been a dream and she was convinced it was until Josh gently touched her sides.
She reacted violently screaming as the ticklish sensations overwhelmed her.
“Stop! You idiot!” she shouted at him angrily pounding him with her fist.
He tickled her energetically and she could do nothing to stop him. She tried to move away off the bed and he simply followed her to the ground and continued to tickle her.
“We’re done! I’ll have you out on the street!” she laughed intensely making her threat unconvincing and only encouraging the enthusiastic Josh to continue tickling her newly discovered spots.
He grabbed her feet and tickled her silly remembering the many times he wasn’t really in the mood and she had tickle tortured his feet without mercy. He enjoyed her laughter and was aroused by the powerful dominant woman finally being dominated herself by tickling.
When she finished, she was breathless on the ground. He picked her up and placed her on the bed.
“I think that is the kind of thing that gets a guy fired or dumped or all of the above. I couldn't resist, Astrid,” Josh said gathering his clothes and leaving as Astrid recovered from the tickling bout.
Humiliated and breathless, Astrid gathered her energy and rushed to the portrait of her ancestor and cast it aside revealing the safe.
“It still might be okay,” she said to herself as she scrambled through the combination and the safe door clicked open.
Inside, the only content was a pink rose.
Naked, humiliated, breathless and three million dollars in stolen diamonds poorer, Astrid's mind smoldered thoughts of vengeance as she crushed the pink rose and hurled the petals across her bedroom.
* * * * *
"Ms. Chabeau," Allison Peters called approaching her employer on the pleasant cool morning. "It is Allison, from Accounting. Is now a good moment?"
Chastity Chabreau was an eccentric businesswoman. Instead of being at her desk, managing her affairs from the early morning, she was outside tending to her rose bushes carefully trimming here and there.
"As good as any, Miss Peters," she responded without looking at the accountant. "I trust you have good news. Your step has a certain spring to it, your tone of voice betrays your enthusiasm despite your efforts to mask it and you have the bank portal open on your tablet and a letter on fine stationery that alludes to some good augury.“
Ms. Chabeau was middle-aged. She wore a denim overall, had a woven hat on her head, and wore round wire-rimmed glasses.
“How did you know that?” Allison asked surprised by her employer’s assessment. The accountant was in her mid-20s, half a head taller, and had large black glasses framing her eyes.
Ms. Chabeau gestured to the window above the bushes and Allison’s reflection there.
Allison shook her head. “Of course, of course.”
“What is the news?” Ms. Chabaeu asked.
“We received an anonymous donation of 3 million dollars this morning for the orphanage,” Allison reported. “I have a letter, but it doesn’t say who is making the donation.”
“Splendid,” Ms. Chabaeu declared without looking back as she continued to snip at the bushes occasionally cutting away a particular rose and placing it in a basket. “All that mingling with the rich and powerful sometimes pays off.”
Allison frowned at the explanation. She had worked with Ms. Chabeau now for three years and this sort of happening was not unusual.
“Forgive me if I seem ungrateful, but it seems every time we are in financial trouble, some guardian angel comes along and bails us out,” the accountant said. “You know, your investigation laboratory burns through cash like there’s no tomorrow, it doesn't actually sell anything, but somehow, every time it is about to go under, it somehow gets another grant, another project funded with ambiguous deliverables.”
“What can I say?” Ms. Chabeau said finally turning to study Allison more closely. “Lady Luck has often been on my side.”
“You've spent your fortune on charity,” Allison said continuing now that she had finally had the courage to voice her observations. “You’ve built an orphanage of your family mansion but you rarely see you spend a penny on yourself. I’ve never known you to have a husband, a boyfriend, a girlfriend, or even friends for that matter.”
“Your point?” Ms. Chabeau coaxed smiling calmly.
“What's it all about?” Allison asked.
“What is what about?” Ms. Chabeau answered trimming away thoughtfully.
“The charade. The smoke and mirrors,” Allison said knowing full well this tirade could cost her a job.
“The orphanage is real, it supports youth giving them the opportunity to be contributors to their society.”
“Not that,” Allison responded “All the rest. What is it all for?”
Ms. Chabeau did not answer immediately.
“Why do you want to know? Can't a single, eccentric, relatively rich woman live a charmed life? Does it require a sort of suspension of belief regarding my life for it to make sense to you?”
“I don't want to know. I NEED to know.”
"Most are content to accept things for what they seem to be,” Ms. Chabeau said. “Curiosity killed the proverbial cat."
“I can’t keep protecting you if I don’t know what it is I am protecting,” Allison pleaded.
“Even if knowing put your job and career at risk?” Ms. Chabeau asked. “Even if put your life at risk?”
“Yes,” Allison responded. “I need to know. I need to know it's a worthy cause and I need to know if I am worthy.”
Ms. Chabeau pondered thoughtfully. Allison was her right arm. She was loyal and independent and she cared about what she was doing.
“If I show you what is behind the curtain, there is no pulling it back again,” Ms. Chabeau warned her accountant. “You can never go back to how things were before. You may regret it.”
“I'll take my chances,” Allison stated.
“You will,” Ms. Chabeau stated. “Come to my office tonight and I will pull back the curtain.”
Allison nodded in agreement, collected her tablet and documents, and returned to her office.
Chastity Chabeau continued her trimming but when she was done, she purposefully strode over to a particular favorite bush. She selected a rose and cut it. She drew in its powerful aroma savoring its scent and gently placed it on top of the roses in her basket.
This rose, contrary to the other roses in the basket, was an intense pink color.
The End
