• The TMF is sponsored by Clips4sale - By supporting them, you're supporting us.
  • >>> If you cannot get into your account email me at [email protected] <<<
    Don't forget to include your username

The TMF is sponsored by:

Clips4Sale Banner

Gargalaphobia 3

TamiraK

TMF Poster
Joined
Jul 12, 2020
Messages
122
Points
18
Start at the beginning...
Gargalaphobia 1
Gargalaphobia 2


Gargalaphobia 3
(features sex, corporal punishment, BDSM and intense non-consensual tickling. 

Mostly */f, one instance of */m, nylon, feet + all over)​


CHAPTER XIX

Brayden Sneed brushed specks of dust from the dashboard of his BMW. Keeping his most valued possession in good-as-new condition was a regular pastime to the point of obsessive compulsivity; however, at this moment he was seeking to keep himself occupied because he was parked outside the family home of Congresswoman Gabby Calhoun and he’d already been waiting 34 minutes.

Finally, the front door opened and she appeared, dressed in a white skirt-suit and white heels. She was handed a flask by her husband. She kissed him goodbye, put on some oversized sunglasses and strutted purposefully down the porch steps and along the long garden path. Brayden sensed an exaggerated showmanship in almost everything she did. He suspected it was because she consistently sought admiration, and he considered it was a trait that would serve her well if she was nominated for—or even became—president. She was always on form. At least, she had been up until last night. Her undignified response to what happened to Erina Tysinger was the first time he saw her so unnerved in public. He wasn’t the only one to notice, of course. Speculation swirled around the news and social media. She was in no mood to answer any questions from her staff when she came off stage, most of whom she blamed for the situation and sacked on the spot. As someone who was a few levels down in the hierarchy, Brayden was out of the firing line and got unexpectedly promoted. This probably had a great deal to do with why she was willing to listen to the idea he put to her earlier that morning.

As she approached the car he had to admit that, even though she was what many described as crazy and others would call “a dragon lady”, he found her to be incredibly sexy – she was a married older woman in a position of power and she was his boss! Not only that, she kept herself fit by spending a lot of time in her home gymnasium with her horde of personal trainers (often when the husband wasn’t home, and—if rumours were to be believed—occasionally when he was home…) and, most importantly, she had ankles that were right up his street. He liked that she flirted around her younger male staff. Most of them coveted her tits and ass, but he was enthralled by the contents of her shoes.

One evening after most of the staff had gone home, she called him into her office for something and, in a fantasy come true, when he entered she had her bare feet propped up on the desk. It took a conscious effort to prevent his mouth from dropping open at this sight. They were not tiny like those of the girls he regularly seduced and not as large as those of tall women like Vanessa Holbrook. Even more unexpected was how shapely and pedicured her soles were. For some reason he thought her feet would resemble the dry and overlooked variety that belonged to women he knew with similarly brash personalities. After a short while she detected he was not really taking notice of what she was saying, but instead of her usual short-tempered response, she gently flexed her toes. It seemed to be a pleasing novelty for her to have her feet admired.

Ever since that day, whenever he was required to attend staff meetings, he noticed that she occasionally fished for his attention by dangling a shoe from her toes.

She opened the passenger door and sidled in. Her sweet perfume perfectly complimented the morning sunshine.

‘Good morning, Ma’am,’ said Brayden.

‘I guess I’m too used to having doors opened for me in the morning,’ she replied without looking at him.

‘Sorry,’ he blushed.

‘I’m not one of those loud-mouth lesbians who opposes good manners in men.’

‘I know you’re not, Ma’am—’

‘Something for you to work on. Let’s go.’

He stole a glance at the sexy tops of her feet and the toe cleavage that peaked from her shoes as he released the handbrake.

She threw her purse onto the back seat, adjusted the air-con, placed her flask of coffee and a bottle of water in the central cup holders, set her phones to charge and soon commandeered everything except the steering wheel.

She opened her iPad and scrolled to her calendar. ‘Sweet Jesus. I’m gonna need you to find us some reliable staff ASAP. Do it when you’ve dropped me at this thing.’

‘Oh… I thought you might want me to stay around,’ said Brayden with an air of disappointment.

‘No, I’ll handle it myself this one time,’ she said. She sensed his eagerness and took a pleasure in keeping him in limbo. ‘I like your idea, though, Brayden. Run it by me again.’

‘I got a call late last night from a photographer who said she was tired of: “Seeing the libtards run you down,” is how she put it…’

Gabby nodded in agreement.

‘…she said, because she was a fan, she wanted to offer you a photography session and interview to get you on the front page of TIME Magazine—’

‘I didn’t know that part! She can do that?’

‘Yes, Ma’am. Apparently she has good contacts. And I thought, what happens if we own the liberals by using their insults to your advantage.’

‘You mean like the way queers call themselves queers, or blacks call—’

‘Yes, Ma’am… Just like that. I thought, if you said something like, “It takes crazy ideas to break the deadlock imposed by the political elites—”’

She took up the baton: ‘“…so call me Calhoun the Loon, if you want! I’ll be the loon who puts the USA on top!”’

‘Yeah,’ said Brayden.

Gabby noticed a bead of sweat dribble over his temple and into his collar. ‘No need to be nervous, Brayden. I like this idea. Good work.’

‘Thank you, Ma’am,’ he said, his eyes on the road.

- - -

A while later the BMW turned off the East 295 Beltway and eventually arrived on the parking lot of a disused industrial estate. They pulled up outside a building that obviously hadn’t been used for some time, despite being in decent condition. Just one other car was parked outside the entrance.

‘Never been here before,’ said Gabby. ‘This is where she works?’

‘Apparently it’s a good place for a discreet shoot,’ said Brayden. ‘You’re sure you don’t want me to stay with you?’

‘Don’t ask me the same thing twice, Brayden,’ she said, collecting her things. ‘Go find somewhere you can research and make calls. I’ll call you when I’m done. I want a good team, so poach ‘em if necessary.’ She got out of the car and slammed the door with unnecessary force.

Brayden watched her backside sway from side-to-side as she headed to the entrance doors. In the air-conditioned car, another bead of sweat ran down his cheek.


CHAPTER XX

Inside the building Gabby was greeted by a sight she didn’t expect: a range of BDSM furniture. In the corner by an empty bar stood a 10-foot-tall black plastic Christmas tree with red and silver skulls hanging from it in place of baubles. Iron chains looped across the ceiling like paper chains and on the floor discarded plastic cups, bottles and party hats lay among confetti. Everything was covered in a visible layer of dust except a medical bench with stirrups, which was wiped clean. On it rested a folded white material of some kind. A couple of studio lights stood either side of the medical bench. Between them was a tripod and DSLR camera.

‘Hello?’ called Gabby. The word echoed around the large room.

‘Hi! Is that Gabby?’ a woman’s voice with an unmistakable Texan twang called from a room behind the DJ booth. ‘I’ll be with ya in two shakes!’

‘This ain’t no photography studio,’ said Gabby, sauntering over to the bench and lifting up the white material, which fell open revealing it to be a straitjacket.

‘Oh, gosh no, but I thought it would be just peachy for this particular shoot.’ Out walked a tall woman in skintight jeans and a flowing blouse. She had a mass of red hair and glasses with such ludicrously thick black rims that Gabby immediately assumed she must be entrenched in the European fashion scene. ‘Oh, my dear, you look just perfect – no make-up required! We just need to get you into this costume…’

In an instant the photographer was behind Gabby and urging her out of her suit-jacket. Gabby moved quickly away, ‘I can do it myself,’ she said. ‘What’s your name, by the way?’

‘I’m Daphne. Let me help you on with this straitjacket…’

‘I don’t need help,’ insisted Gabby. ‘Why such a rush?’

‘TIME magazine has a deadline of today, plus we still need to do the interview. I apologise if it feels like I’m bein’ hasty with you…’

Gabby resisted saying “It does”. She disliked being hurried but wanted to keep this woman onside. All she had to do was put up with her annoying enthusiasm for an hour and TIME magazine would elevate her to the only intelligent choice for president.

She took off her suit jacket and brushed the dust off a nearby bench before laying it down. She then placed her arms into the long sleeves of the straitjacket.

‘You can do the rest now, Daphne,’ said Gabby.

‘Sure thing, May’am,’ said the photographer and approached her from behind.

Gabby distracted herself from the close proximity of the woman and a thought made her smile. ‘Straitjackets aren’t woke any more, are they?’

‘“Woke”?’

The sleeves were pulled tight and Gabby’s right arm pinned her left to her body. ‘The wokies say they’re a symbol of a “crueler time in medical history when mental health was not understood”,’ Gabby explained.

‘Does that give you second thoughts about doing this, Congresswoman?’

‘Nope, I love it. It’ll just give them another reason to talk about me in the news.’

‘Great,’ said the photographer, her Texan accent somewhat off-key. She then urged Gabby towards the medical chair. ‘Now, you just take a seat in here…’

‘I thought I’d be standing,’ said Gabby.

‘That’s not what I had in mind. Tell you what – we’ll do it my way, then we’ll do it yours, okay?’

‘Just as long as we do,’ said Gabby, reluctantly climbing into the chair.

‘Now, just put your legs in these thingies,’ said the photographer, indicating the leg rests.

Gabby did as she was told without much thought. She then noticed the photographer’s wedding ring. It didn’t look like a ring that matched her elaborate sense of style. In fact, she’d seen one just like it recently on…

She looked more closely at the photographer as a leather strap fastened in place around her right ankle and panicked. ‘Vanessa?!’

Before Gabby could move her other leg Vanessa grabbed it and flipped another leather strap over her left ankle. Both were now held fast to the stirrups.

‘What the hell!?’ Gabby yelled.

Vanessa stepped back and pulled off the red head wig and glasses. ‘Jesus, it’s hot in that,’ she said in her regular voice. ‘I really thought you were going to tell it was me. Phew!’

‘Get me out of here!’ Gabby shouted. ‘Help!’

‘It’s no good shouting. When you ordered the closure of the one good BSDM club in north Florida to please your Christian donors, you killed the other businesses around here too. There’s nobody around for miles. Fancy doing such a thing at Christmas!”

‘You are so screwed, Holbrook! I’m gonna put you away forever!’

‘I considered that, but you backed me into a corner. At first I wanted to nail you for your criminal plotting—’

‘What are you—?’

‘—then I wanted to take you down because your obnoxious attitude and nut-job lies are going to screw this country beyond repair.’

Gabby glowered at her.

‘I could have done those with my article. But then you threatened my family.’

Gabby screwed up her face, ‘You’re crazy!’

‘Just don’t, Gabby. If you’re gonna threaten me, you’d better believe I’ll come at you with all I’ve got.’

‘You got Brayden to set me up!’

‘No, I didn’t,’ Vanessa lied. ‘He fell for it just like you did. At least he wasn’t fooled by my Scooby Doo disguise.’

Gabby struggled in the seat but quickly knew it was pointless. ‘Let me outta here!’

‘Sure, I will – after you’ve confessed to everything,’ said Vanessa. She switched on her camera, moved it to one side, focussed it on Gabby and set it to record.

‘I’ve got nothin’ to confess!’

‘If that’s the way you want to play it…’ said Vanessa as she grabbed the heels of Gabby’s shoes, pulled them off and threw them to the floor. ‘You know, it’s really dumb to threaten my sister when you have the exact… same… weakness.’

Having her feet exposed at the same time as hearing the word weakness induced a pronounced fear in Gabby and her voice lost all authority. ‘I didn’t threaten your sister.’

Vanessa cocked her head. ‘The one piece of respect I had for you was: even when you were talking garbage, you believed you were telling the truth. But you just lied to me.’

Vanessa raised her hands towards Gabby’s bare soles causing her body to tense so much that her butt lifted off the chair. She held her breath and tried to retreat into the backrest. Her eyes widened in pure terror. ‘No! Nnnnnn…’ is all she could say. Her lungs filled to capacity, yet she kept trying to breathe in.

‘You asked for this,’ said Vanessa and she unleashed her scrabbling fingernails over Gabby Calhoun’s bare soles.

The effect was instantaneous. Over the months of getting to know her, Vanessa had witnessed every smug and cocky expression known to mankind. When Gabby laughed, it was only ever when she cracked a funny or to ingratiate herself. Neither seemed particularly genuine. Whether the current laugh could be classed as genuine, Vanessa did not know, but it was certainly out of her control.

Gabby’s head slammed back into the soft, semicircular headrest and her eyes rolled into the back of her head. Her full lungs squeezed out all the air in one go, until there was a wheezing and, in direct contrast to her fearful reaction, it seemed she was trying to expel air that she didn’t have. Eventually she gasped an intake of breath and tried to scream, but after a few seconds the scream shattered into desperate laughter. She then gasped deeply, her eyes staring into space, until she could take in no more air and the cycle began all over again.

The laughter looked as genuine as can be – her countenance joyful; her mouth wide and baring flawless teeth; her eyes scrunched like she’d just heard the world’s most hilarious joke; and the “hyuck-hyuck” sound of her laughter was that of a woman who was not attempting to restrain her hilarity. As the pattern repeated itself time and time again, Vanessa became fascinated by one particular moment—after the final laugh and just before she gasped for breath—a terrorised micro-expression of a woman captured in her own personal version of Hell on Earth.

Two dozen repetitions later and now shining with sweat, Gabby exchanged an inability to scream with the inability to speak. Several times she tried. After the long gasp for air, she cried: ‘YOU CAAAAA— HA HA HA HYA HYA HYAAAA!’ Initially, Vanessa thought she was attempting a crude insult and responded with a more intense action. It was only when Gabby managed: ‘YOU CAAAAN’T D-DO— HA HA HA HA HA…!’ that she knew what she was trying to say.

‘Oh, yes I can, Gabby! Admit it, you had me stopped and taken in by the Cape Coral PD,’ said Vanessa.

As she gasped for breath Gabby could only nod, and as she released her breath in a bombardment of laughter with her eyes squeezed tight, she screeched her confession: ‘YYYYEAHHHH HAE HAE HAA HA HA HA HA HYUCK HYUCK Hyuck..!’

Vanessa watched, enthralled at the effect her fingers were having. She could imagine Gabby raging and protesting like a martyr if the torture was painful. But tickling? Who would ever suspect it could be this effective? Until this week, she hadn’t tickled anyone for decades and, in her current position, she couldn’t imagine anything more potent. Forcing a confession from someone as stubborn as Gabby Calhoun, not with pain but with laughter, felt like wielding a weapon of enormous paradoxical power.

‘Now admit to what else you did!’ Vanessa shouted.

‘Wha—?’ the rest of Gabby’s word was lost to wheezing breath and laughter – she was trying to play the innocent.

‘Don’t give me that! I want to hear it from you!’ she said, scribbling faster at the soft skin of Gabby’s arches.

Gabby drew in a deep breath and tried to speak but after several attempts got no further than, ‘I DON’T KN— AHH HA HA HYA HYA HYACK HYACK…!’

Vanessa wondered what would happen if she stopped. So she did.

Gabby’s tense muscles instantly gave way. Her butt, which had this whole time been levitated due to her clenched thighs and glutes, dropped down onto the seat. She gasped for breath, and her cheeks fluttered; unable to find any controllable expression.

‘Are you ready to talk yet?’ asked Vanessa.

Gabby spoke through near hyperventilation: ‘I d-don’t know wh… wh… what you want me to ssss-say.’

‘Really?’ said Vanessa, incredulously. ‘You really want to keep putting yourself through this?’

‘No!’ cried Gabby. Her naturally husky voice sounded extra arid. She licked her pale, dry lips with a dry tongue. ‘I don’t! I don’t know—’

‘Fine, we’ll carry on…’

‘No! Please! Please! P—’ she cried, pleading in a way that Vanessa never would have believed she would ever hear from Gabby Calhoun. The plea was interrupted by a fine fountain of spittle as her pursed lips rasped with laughter. ‘PPPPPPPPPWWWAAA-HYA-HYA-HYA-HYA-HYUCK-HYUCK-hyuck…!’ Then she was again lost in her helpless cycle of gasp–scream–laughter–gasp–scream–laughter–gasp–scream–laughter and tears rolled from the corners of her eyes and dripped inky black stains onto the shoulders of the straitjacket.

It was at this point that Vanessa realised she had only been tickling the arches of Gabby’s soles and looked to see where else she could go. Obviously, the straitjacket plan ruled out an exploration of her upper body, so it was a good job her feet were so ticklish. Vanessa had a strong clue that would be the case after the way Gabby reacted the evening they sank margaritas on her boat – the evening Gabby had Vanessa arrested and tortured in a police interrogation room.

The thought made Vanessa scratch harder at Gabby’s arches but Gabby’s response was to flinch a little in pain and the strength of her laughter was momentarily reduced. Instead Vanessa moved up to the balls of her smooth and perfectly pedicured feet. If Gabby couldn’t stand to let anyone near her feet then she must do them herself.

And I’m willing to bet that she keeps them nice and pristine just to tease the young men in her office like Brayden, thought Vanessa. And with an illogical compulsion to remain the alpha foot goddess in Brayden’s eyes, Vanessa scuttled her fingernails faster, causing Gabby to howl like a mutating she-wolf. Her expression was a surreal 50/50 blend of mirth and dismay and the sweat from her brow mixed with tears to stream mascara down her face. Vanessa contemplated that she might look something like a patron who was forced to leave the festive party in this venue when Gabby sent the cops to shut it down.

‘I bet you think the “wokies” might have had a point about straitjackets now, eh, Gabby?’ said Vanessa.

Tilting her head back was the only way Gabby could expel the air from her lungs as quickly as she needed to. The only response she could manage was to look down at Vanessa through piteous tears while the howling “HOO-HOO-HOO-HOOOOO-HYUCK-HYUCK-Hyuck…!” of laughter was forced from her lungs.

It was only then that Vanessa felt the fixed grimace on her own face.

Is that a smile, Nessy? It sure feels like it. She felt it spreading wider. Yeah, it is. I must be enjoying this more than I thought—

Her thoughts were interrupted when Gabby made a wild screech and bucked in the chair. There was a next-level look of terror in her bulging eyes and she tried desperately to speak: ‘NO—! NOTTTT—! HAA HAA HAA HAA HAAA!’ she cried, her laughter even more intense than before.

‘“Not” what, Gabby? You goddamn lunatic!’ Vanessa taunted and increased in the ferocity of her tickling.

Again Gabby bucked and gasped as though in shock. ‘NOTMYTOES!’ she blurted out and was lost to a higher pitch of laughter, her upper body twisting frantically in the chair.

‘Ooo! Interesting!’ said Vanessa, her eyes bright. ‘I wasn’t even going for your toes, but I will now!’

‘NNNNNNNNN—!’ Gabby tried to protest but laughter stole her plea.

Vanessa realised how much she was relishing this. The only things she was missing were a trident and two little horns on her head.

You’re enjoying this, Vanessa, she thought. Whadayaknow, it seems you’re a sadist! And you’re entitled to be – this woman had you captured and tortured. This woman had Ryan molested. This woman threatened Faith. This woman is attacking and blackmailing people in order to become the next president! This bitch needs to pay.

She felt her evil grin transform into an expression of ire and her fingers slowed.

Gabby gasped rapidly for breath. The usually impeccable hair was a bedraggled mess. Rivulets of sweat mixed with make-up formed a stained ring around the neck and shoulders of the straitjacket like a necklace painted in abstract watercolours. Her body trembled with aftershocks of sensation and her pale countenance quivered between exhaustion and the ghosts of her uncontrollable laughter.

‘L-l-l-let… mmmme… g-go… Please!’ Gabby begged. ‘I c-can’t b-b-breathe and m-my ssstomach hurts.’

‘You get one last chance to confess, Gabby.’

‘I d-don’t—’

‘Stop lying!’ yelled Vanessa and reached for Gabby’s toes.

‘NO! Okayokay! I’ll admit it!’ she begged.

Vanessa stood vindicated and was, for a moment, lost for words. Finally, she said, ‘Okay, good. Look into the camera and confess everything you’ve been doing in detail. Otherwise, I go for your toes, and I don’t stop.’

Gabby looked to the camera. She wanted to say something but couldn’t. Tears welled in her bloodshot eyes. She shook her head in frustration and began to cry. ‘I don’t know what I’m confessing to!’ she yelled at Vanessa.

A red mist descended over Vanessa and she launched herself at Gabby’s feet. ‘NO! DON’T PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE!’ Gabby cried, clenching her toes and wrinkling her smooth soles.

‘Release them!’ said Vanessa, trying to force her fingers in between her toes.

‘No! Don’t! Please! I’m begging you! Have mercy! Oh, sweet Mother of God, have mercy! You’re gonna k-kill me!’

Unable to slip between the toes of both feet, Vanessa grasped the toes of Gabby’s left foot and tried to pull them back. Gabby resisted with everything she had, in a tug-of-war stalemate that strained the strength of both women.

‘Give it up, bitch!’ said Vanessa.

But Gabby gritted her teeth and refused to give in. That’s when it struck Vanessa that she only needed a moment’s weakness for the opportunity to get what she wanted, and she knew exactly how to achieve it. Switching tactic, she tickled in the centre of Gabby’s wrinkled arch. Gabby jumped and gasped in surprise, allow Vanessa to prise back her toes and slide her fingernails underneath.

Gabby spasmed with the strength of ten men and bawled an indescribable sound of distress that quickly collapsed into hysterical laughter. She threw herself back and forth in the seat, her eyes glassy and her mouth stretched wide. Unlike before, the reaction to the attack on her hyper-ticklish toes didn’t permit her the luxury of deep intakes of breath.

With a look of mania, she thrust her body as far forward as she could reach. Veins pulsed from her neck and face as a barrage of laughter was blown into Vanessa’s face. She stared with pleading eyes, unable to speak or breathe. Her lips verged on purple.

She appeared to focus on something over Vanessa’s shoulder but then her eyes rolled in their sockets, her head flopped forward into unconsciousness and she slumped back into the seat.

‘Uh-oh,’ said Vanessa.

That’s when she felt the impact from behind – she was instantly in a headlock that took away her ability to see and breathe.

Moments later, all was black.


CHAPTER XXI

Muffled sounds…

Becoming clearer…

Reality floating back together like a forming cloud.

Vanessa realised that her eyes were open and she was at floor level. Her senses awakened in time to see her breath disturb some confetti on the floor and a black hood was yanked over her head. She tried to jump to her feet and discovered her wrists were behind her back, bound by zip ties, as were her ankles.

‘What’s going on?’ she said.

She then heard Gabby moan and the sound of her bonds being unfastened.

‘Nunnnggg… Donnnn…’ Gabby slurred as she started to come round. In a weary croak she said, ‘Who…? It’s you… Please don’t tick… What are you…? You're saving me?’

Vanessa tugged against the zip ties and unsuccessfully strained to see what was going on through the microscopic holes of the hood material. She recognised the sound of bare feet on the tiled floor – Gabby’s bare feet.

‘You can’t let her go!’ said Vanessa. ‘You don’t understand—!’

‘Call the cops!’ demanded Gabby. ‘This crazy bitch is accusing me of things I haven’t done… Goddamned bitch!’ Her bare footsteps suddenly slapped close and there was a whoosh of air as something sailed close to Vanessa’s head. She guessed that Gabby had tried to kick her and missed. ‘Let me do it! She kidnapped me and tortured me!’

‘Just like you had done to me, you fascist cow!’ shouted Vanessa. ‘And my husband!’

‘I had you taken in by the CCPD to teach you a lesson, but I did nothin’ of the sort to your husband! Why in the name of God would I?’ yelling through her extra-dry throat provoked a coughing fit. She recovered in time to say, ‘You’re going into a psyche ward, lady! You can believe that!’

The door closed, leaving Vanessa alone in the dusty hall. There was no way to break free from the zip ties, so instead she tried to rub the hood against her shoulders and the floor to roll it off, but could get no grip. All she could hear from outside was Gabby’s raised voice, demanding for the police to be called.

The door opened again and footsteps—wearing flat shoes or sneakers—marched slowly closer. Vanessa was pulled up by the collar and dragged, off-balance, a few feet until she felt the medical chair at her back.

‘I’m not getting in tha—!’ her protest was cut short by a hand that pressed at her throat until she was forced to retreat into the chair. The forehead strap, which she saw no reason to use on Gabby, was fastened quickly, securing her head into the padded headrest.

‘Look, I don’t know who you are, but you’ve got the wrong idea – Gabby Calhoun is a psychopath and I’m just trying to show the world what she is—hey!’ She reacted as her legs were tugged to one side and pressed into one of the leg rests. A strap was fed between her legs and fastened over her kneecap. Next was her ankle.

‘Are you listening to me!?’ Vanessa shouted. ‘I’m not the criminal here! I was tortured, my husband attacked and my sister threatened— Get off me!’ The zip tie holding her ankles was snipped. One leg was momentarily released. She kicked out and hit thin air. ‘Gabby Calhoun is trying to destroy America – she’s blackmailing and assaulting politicians to vote her way.’ She paused, then kicked out again in frustration. ‘Say something!’

This time her leg was caught and forced into the other leg rest. In seconds both legs were immobile.

‘You think you’re being a hero, but you’ve picked the wrong side,’ said Vanessa. ‘I—’ she stopped as she felt the tip of a pair of scissors press against her throat. ‘Okay! What do you want…?’ she asked.

In response, the tip glided over her collarbone and grazed down her arm until it reached the zip ties holding her wrists. It jumped again to her neck.

‘I get it,’ said Vanessa. All the self-defence advice she heard over the years said to fight with everything you’ve got if someone tries to kidnap you, but that was easier said than done with a blade at your throat. In her current predicament, there was no way she could come out on top. ‘I won’t fight.’

She complied with a firm touch that urged her arms up. Her wrists were pulled behind the chair. Another zip-tie looped through the one holding her wrists and secured them to the back of the chair.

She was trapped.


CHAPTER XXII

Vanessa remained silent as her captor walked away. The sound of a clip and rummaging. Obscurely, she recognised the jangle of her own keys. Then the footsteps left the building once again.

She knew escape was impossible and panic wouldn’t help. Neither would the hope that someone would appear out of nowhere to rescue her.

The only chance is to bargain with him, thought Vanessa. But, to do that, I need to know what he wants.

Once again she could hear Gabby’s raised voice outside. She was evidently recovering from her ordeal: ‘No, I want her arrested now! … Why should I wait…?’

That means it’s not a cop, the FBI or secret service. If it’s a stranger, the obvious answers are either he’s trying to be a hero. …or he wants to assault me? Maybe something worse.

She felt a shiver of fear.

Keep it together, Holbrook. Let’s assume it’s someone I do know. It has to be. At least, Gabby recognised who it was. So, what’s the motive—?

Her thoughts were interrupted by the mumble of the other individual who was no longer whispering. She couldn’t make out the words but could hear the drone of speech and a vague recognition came to her. She struggled to put her finger on where she had heard that tone before, much like an actor you can’t place because of a radically different hairstyle.

Is it Brayden? He’s the only one who knows I’m here and what I was doing. Did the little bastard’s balls shrink and he came back to save Gabby? No. No, it’s not him. Wait…

Something itched in the back of her mind. Who, more than anyone would want to see her in this position? Who would be outside bargaining with Gabby Calhoun not to call the police straight away? Something she’d heard recently popped into her mind:

“What do I want more than anything? To see you tickled mercilessly, Vanessa.”

Jake Valentine.

‘Oh, Jesus,’ she said. An overwhelming resentment chilled her blood and she pulled at her bonds but the straps at her head, waist, wrists and legs wouldn’t budge one centimetre.

But he’s in prison, she thought. Maybe he broke out? Broke out and travelled here? Very unlikely. What else did he say…?


“…followers would do anything to please me.”

‘Oh, Jesus,’ she said again. ‘It’s a crazy fan-boy… But someone who Gabby knows.’

Meanwhile, outside Gabby’s voice had joined the unknown individual at the level of an indecipherable mumble and they were now discussing the situation in a civil tone. Then, out-of-the-blue, Gabby laughed. It was unlike any laugh Vanessa had heard from her before—it wasn’t for show and it wasn’t as a result of being tickled—it was a laugh of genuine pleasure.

Seconds later the voices bid farewell to one another and Vanessa heard her own car starting up and driving into the distance.

The door opened and the flat footsteps once again closed in on her.

Vanessa regretted every moment that brought her to this point and her mind inadvertently flashed back through each of them:

Seeking revenge on Gabby because…
The threat on Faith because…
The tickling of Erina Tysinger because…
Jake Valentine had information because…
Ryan was tickled by a professional because…
She had pushed Gabby too far because…
She couldn’t find evidence…
That she and Jaz were seeking because…
Jaz said there was a conspiracy because…
She met Jaz at the offices of the New York Express because…
Lyle Hughes said, “A colleague suggested we should meet.”

A colleague…

She felt a pinch at the top of the hood and it slowly slid between her forehead and the head strap.

She couldn’t find evidence.

Jaz said there was a conspiracy

“A colleague suggested we should meet.”


Realisation hit her like a cold ocean wave.

The hood popped off and her suspicions were confirmed…


CHAPTER XXIII

‘Hi Vani,’ said Jaz.

Vanessa could tell this was not the Jaz with whom she was most familiar. It wasn’t the boots, combat trousers or black vest top that showed off her toned muscles; it was her distinctively contrasting demeanour. Gone was the puppy-dog disposition and in its place was the side of Jaz she had only seen once – when Gabby insulted her sexuality. In that instant, Vanessa knew: this was the real Jaz.

‘Brayden told me what you were up to. You’re not the only one who can manipulate men to get what you want.’

‘I thought we were a team,’ said Vanessa.

Jaz snickered. ‘Really? When? When you were patronising me? Demeaning me? Sending me on menial tasks?’

‘You sold me out to Valentine!?’

Jaz responded with a shrug and a smile that showed zero regrets.

‘What about the story?’ asked Vanessa doubtfully.

For a moment Jaz looked confused. ‘Are you serious? The story that Gabby Calhoun was blackmailing and strong-arming Republicans to get herself into power? You still buy that?’

Vanessa felt her heart sink to have it confirmed: ‘It wasn’t real.’

‘Of course not!’ Jaz chuckled. ‘Republicans don’t need to be forced to get behind any random cretin if it’ll put them in office. I bet you still believe that Gabby had Ryan tickled. Or that someone in her team sent you the photo of your sister!’

Vanessa’s mind raced. She felt like she was going to pass out. She pictured the CCTV of the individual on the stairs in her building and could now see it was Jaz.

‘At least now you know: if you mess with Jake Valentine, you mess with his devoted fans.’

‘But why, goddamn it? I thought you were gay!’ Vanessa yelled.

‘What’s that got to do with it? I have a tickling fetish like he does, Vanessa; I don’t want to sleep with him. I started sending him letters as soon as you got him locked up. He told me all about his list. And you. He talked about you a lot. We developed a real connection and he said I had potential, but I had to prove myself to become his apprentice.’

‘So he sent you out to get me,’ said Vanessa.

‘No, it was my idea!’ said Jaz, inappropriately eager to take credit. ‘I only blagged the job at the Express to sow the seed in Hughes’s ear. It was a long-shot plan and I didn’t want to get Jake’s hopes up in case it didn’t work, but you fell for it!’ she grinned. ‘I think sending him a film of his number one target being tickled to insanity will definitely get me that apprentice position, don’t you?’ Jaz’s eyes gleamed.

‘I’m not ticklish,’ said Vanessa. She knew it was a feeble argument, easily disproved, but it was worth a try.

Regrettably, these words seemed to inspire a perverse arousal in Jaz. ‘I can tell just by looking at you that’s not true,’ she said. ‘The only question is: are you more or less ticklish than your dear hubby? As mature and masculine as he looks, he’s a real squealer and a wriggler, isn’t he? At one point I thought he was going to pee his panties.’

Vanessa’s face warmed with rage. It was the rage she felt for Gabby Calhoun and then some. Not only was Jaz the actual guilty party, but she set the trap, fooled her into thinking it was Gabby and, in the process, drove her to abandon all journalistic principles and stroll freely onto the wrong side of the law.

Jaz smirked. ‘You look a bit tense, Vani.’

‘Fuck you,’ said Vanessa.

Jaz cupped her cheeks and pulled a face of faux shock. ‘Such language! But I’ll pass, thanks. As tempting as you are Vanessa, I doubt you’ll be in much shape for it after our foreplay.’ With this, she took off a black, drawstring gymsack and rested it on the bench where Gabby’s jacket had been.

Vanessa couldn’t believe the change of fortunes that had occurred in such a short space of time.


CHAPTER XXIV

Jaz rummaged in the bag and produced a GoPro camera.

‘Thanks for bringing a tripod, by the way,’ she said, going over to Vanessa’s DSLR camera and switching it off. ‘Jake will love what you did with Gabby. It can be the bonus material to what I do to you, eh?’ She dismantled the DSLR camera from the tripod, replaced it with the GoPro and repositioned it. ‘You obviously don’t know much about good angles for capturing good tickling material. Don’t feel bad though – many tickle-porn makers don’t know about it either. But I’m impressed you brought lights!’

Vanessa subtly tested the substance of the wrist restraints and confirmed she would not be able to break from them. As she did so, the chair’s back support gave a slight chink sound and she saw Jaz smirk to herself, then set the GoPro to record.

‘Trying to get free already, Vanessa?’

Vanessa stayed tight-lipped.

Jaz faced the camera and waved. Her enthusiastic persona returned somewhat, letting Vanessa know it wasn’t a total act.

‘Hi Jake! It’s me, Jasmine! And: surprise…!’ she said, indicating Vanessa with both hands, like a magician introducing her assistant, ‘I got you a gift – Vanessa Holbrook herself! And so, for your viewing pleasure, let’s see how tick-l-ish she is…’

Vanessa noted how she embellished the word ticklish like a seductress.

Jaz swanked her way over to the chair, took hold of Vanessa’s left stiletto and turned to wink at the camera. Doing the pathetic most she could do in the current position, Vanessa clenched her toes and detected annoyance in Jaz that the removal wasn’t seamless. The struggle caused Vanessa’s palms and soles to sweat, which actually served to assist Jaz because, after just a few awkward seconds, off came the shoe.

‘I can tell you’re desperate to keep your shoes on, Vanessa. Why is that, may I ask?’ exclaimed Jaz with exaggerated pronunciation.

‘I didn’t wash my feet this morning,’ said Vanessa in a flat tone.

‘Oh, I don’t think that’s the reason.’ Jaz leant in and smelt Vanessa’s bare foot like it was a fresh rose. ‘Even though it looks a little sweaty, as I suspected – it has the unmistakable scent of a feminine foot and it’s perfectly clean. I can even tell that you moisturise. You must have another reason for wanting your high heels to stay on.’

With that, she grabbed the second stiletto and pulled it off before Vanessa had a chance to put up a struggle.

Vanessa couldn’t help but gulp when she felt the fresh air on both feet and knew there was nothing she could do to protect them – just like Gabby had felt not long before.

Jaz stood squarely between her feet and provocatively raised her hands, wriggling her fingers like two tarantulas slowly climbing an invisible wall. Vanessa recognised the leer in Jaz’s expression to be just like the one she displayed when torturing Gabby, but with the added ingredient of sexual arousal. The black painted fingernails, which were one of the first things she had noticed about Jaz, reached her heels. The first touch sent a sudden and unwelcome thrill up through her body causing her to visibly shiver. Jaz grinned. The first and second fingernails of each hand began to gently scrape at Vanessa’s heels. Vanessa looked to the ceiling and chewed on her cheek but, as much as she tried, she couldn’t stop the infuriating sensations that made her entire body spasm.

‘What’s up, Vanessa?’ said Jaz. ‘Why are you twitching like that?’

Vanessa looked down at Jaz and refused to speak. She wasn’t going to yield to any transparent attempts to make her contribute to fetishistic arousal by admitting she was “tick-l-ish”.

Jaz turned to the camera. ‘Vanessa has this cute way of pouting when she’s concentrating. It also happens when she’s been caught out and doesn’t want to admit it.’

This condescension irritated Vanessa beyond words. She was about to contradict Jaz when the fingernails scuttled over her heels and found the soft skin of her arches. Stimulation overwhelmed her and an unexpected titter burst from her lips. She tried to contain it but a flurry of laughter outstripped her efforts. ‘You b-WA HA HA HA HA!’

‘Aah! There we are, Vanessa! Do you know, I’ve never seen you laugh before? How wonderful it is to see you light up like this! You really do have a beautiful smile!’

Vanessa tried to glower in response, but found that she couldn’t – the smile and laughter bubbling up from within made it impossible to convey her anger with anything resembling sincerity.

Jaz looked to the camera, ‘That wasn’t difficult was it, Sir? Shall I get her to admit her weakness?’

With her head, body and limbs stuck in place, Vanessa could do nothing but look down and watch as Jaz, the snake, took command of her body and her mind. Not only was she physically helpless, but she couldn’t even control her emotions. It was humiliating to admit, even to herself, that it only took a few randomly-placed strokes on the soles of her feet to completely debilitate her. And she hated how easy it was to do so.

‘Fu-hucking bitchhhhh…’ she muttered through giggles and gritted teeth.

‘What was that, Vani?’ said Jaz. ‘Did you say something?’

Vanessa looked to the ceiling, desperately trying to focus on the solution to her escape as her body trembled with overstimulation. There was no escape for her body and she loathed to admit that there was no way to stop herself being ticklish. She also detested the way her laugh varied with each wave of tickles – whenever Jaz altered her approach even slightly, her laugh would change. From high-pitched and girly to wacky and unrestrained or—most irritating and paradoxical of all—the deep and unrestrained laugh of enjoyment.

Suddenly, Jaz’s fingernails scampered up to the balls of her feet. Vanessa shrieked, then guffaws surged from her diaphragm that she hadn’t heard since she was on raucous nights out with her college friends. Jaz hummed with lascivious appreciation. ‘Such a womanly laugh! I love it!’ Then, turning to the camera, she said, ‘I hope you’re enjoying this, Mr Valentine!’

Vanessa squeezed her eyes tight. ‘Fucking bitch!’ she mouthed to herself through her laughter. Her torture was to be the pièce de résistance of Jaz’s audition; the zenith of her trial. Captured on video forevermore.

She’s degrading me on film to send to the one person I despise most in the world, she thought. And who knows where copies might end up? I can’t escape, I can’t stop her tickling me and I can’t stop laughing! What the fuck can I do?

Whether it was divine intervention or total recall, through her increasingly frenzied laughter Vanessa’s senses came together just long enough to remember a random piece of advice she had read somewhere: “If you are wrong, admit it quickly and emphatically.”

What’s that got to do with anything?! she quibbled with the universe.

The answer came immediately: If Jaz wants to concoct an elaborate theatre that’s all about me being conquered by admitting that I’m ticklish, why not sweep the carpet from under her and just say it now?

‘What’s the problem, Mrs Holbrook?’ said Jaz with undiluted smugness.

Vanessa’s eyes popped open and she replied through her laughter, ‘O-oh, well done, Jaz! You’ve… You’ve discovered a h-human woman isss t-ticklish on the ssss-soles of her ffffffeet! Y-you must be a g-g-g-goddamned jee-genius! HA HA HA HA HAAA!’

Jaz’s fingers slowed and she showed a confused irritation. Even though nothing had changed, it no longer felt like Vanessa was laughing because of Jaz – it felt like she was laughing at her.

‘That’s not like you, Vanessa,’ she said, realisation hitting her as she spoke, ‘it’s as if you’re sinking your ship just to stop it being hijacked.’

‘An-nother brill—HAHA HA—brilliant insight! HA HAAA! And y-you w-WAAA HA HA-wonder why I g-gaaa-HA-HA-HA-ve you the shhhit assignments?!’ said Vanessa before tumbling into another bout of unreserved guffaws.

A malicious look came over Jaz’s face and she dug her nails hard into the creases under Vanessa’s long toes.

‘OW-HOW-HOUCH!’ Vanessa reacted and her laughter was instantly diminished to a low giggle. ‘I don’t thhhink you’ll get your apprenticeship by inflicting p-pain whenever you lose control of your em-em-emotions.’

Jaz knew precisely the game Vanessa was playing and couldn’t have resented more that she was putting up a fight despite her predicament.

Vanessa delighted in Jaz’s livid expression. Didn’t plan on this being part of your showreel, did you, you conniving rat?

For a moment Vanessa wondered if she’d actually said these words out loud because, seemingly in response, Jaz ducked out of view and returned holding the sharp scissors Vanessa previously felt against her throat. For a horrifying moment, it seemed as though she would resort to a new, violent tactic and Vanessa was somewhat relieved when she used the scissors to cut through the ankle of her skintight jeans. Nothing was said as Jaz sliced the denim up the inside leg on both sides and snipped apart the jeans’ crotch, eventually giving several clumsy tugs to pull them through the ankle and knee straps and throw them amongst the trash on the dusty floor. She then stood between Vanessa’s legs—as close as the medical chair would allow—and sliced up through the centre of her blouse. She pulled both sides of the blouse apart and gazed at Vanessa’s cleavage. Vanessa supposed what she saw must have aroused her as it undermined her attempt at a cursory glance. Jaz then casually placed the scissors down on a bench and checked the camera’s battery.

Vanessa was already sweating all over and the cool air highlighted to her exactly where she was now vulnerable. Everywhere except her back, shoulders and the areas covered by her bra and panties were exposed.

‘I was tired of tickling your feet anyway,’ said Jaz, returning to the space between her legs. ‘You look after them I guess, but they are huge and not very ladylike.’ As she spoke, she rested her nails lightly on Vanessa’s shins, just above the ankle restraints, and began to drag them gently up the insides of her calves.

Every muscle in Vanessa’s body strained as she attempted to resist these unexpected sensations. The stroking didn’t evoke laughter from her like the tickling at her feet, but the feeling was incessant and maddening all the same. Jaz must have sensed her discomfort because she revelled in staying exactly where she was for a very long time, simply drawing her nails up and down Vanessa’s lower legs with enduring slowness and no sign of the sensation dissipating. If anything, Vanessa began to feel more sensitive – not just on her legs but all over. Several times, as Jaz slowly approached the delicate area on the backs of her knees, the hairs on her back stood on end and she shivered.

The treatment must have continued for well over an hour. Within this time she had the chance to consider that anyone who was able to be so duplicitous was undoubtedly unpredictable and potentially dangerous. She may well be in the presence of a truly heinous individual.

Then her subconscious started to irritate her with a non-stop loop of: This is what Chinese water-torture feels like… This is what Chinese water-torture feels like… This is what Chinese water-torture feels like… And, just as she thought she was going to lose her mind, Jaz’s nails traversed the knee restraints and landed on the insides of her thighs.

Vanessa’s chest heaved as she gasped in surprise. Surprise, not just at the pattern being broken, but the incredible new sensitivity of her inner thighs and the astonishing sparkle that radiated from her between her legs. A resentful glare lasted no more than a second when she realised that the tops of her inner thighs were more ticklish than she had ever experienced, and she burst out laughing.

‘Ahhhhh,’ Jaz let out a satisfied sigh and kept her fingertips dancing in small, repeated circles on the smooth skin just inches away from the lacy hems of Vanessa’s panties.

Vanessa hooted and howled with laughter. Had she been able to move, she would be twisting into all kinds of shapes to escape the intense teasing of her sensitive thighs and she felt she was going to have to scream. …but the teasing stopped.

She held her breath expectantly, like a freeze-frame in a movie, before feeling the undeniable squeeze of expert fingers and thumbs just above both knees – strong enough to get a reaction, but tender enough not to cause any distracting pains.

‘OhmyGodnottherrrrrre…!’ she exclaimed despite herself and an outburst of laughter erupted from her throat, commencing with a prolonged sound similar to that of an especially chesty cough.

‘Nottherenotherenotthere…!’ she shrieked before disintegrating into bellows of laughter. Through tear-blurred vision, almost forced shut by her mirth, she could see the sadistic joy on Jaz’s face as she probed and squeezed again and again and again.

Palpitations bounced inside Vanessa’s ribcage. She had betrayed herself by pleading and realised that, no matter how much she wanted to, there was no way to combat this. Even though she had made a stand, when she was this ticklish, her mind was completely working on instinct.

And, if she was surprised by being forced into such gales of laughter, she was mortified with what happened next.


CHAPTER XXV

Without a pause, and almost as though being attacked by two people, the grasping hands at her knees jumped to her waist.

‘HHHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAAOOOOOOOOOOOO!’ Vanessa howled. ‘NOT THERE TOO! P-PL-PL-PL-EEEEASE! HA HA HA HA HA HAAA!’

She was devastated to hear herself beg but literally could not stop it – the words came from a last-resort emergency response part of her brain.

‘NO HHHHAAA HA HA HA HA HA! It tickles! It tickles! It tickles!’

She knows it tickles, Holbrook! Shut the fuck up! thought Vanessa. But she couldn’t. The physical restraints meant that the only outlet she had beyond laughter was to say things and, beyond the capacity for rational thought, narrating her current predicament was all she could muster.

Jaz remained in position for a very long time. Vanessa’s naturally toned waist and tummy was devastatingly ticklish; a fact that kept Jaz endlessly entertained.

‘I-I-I hhhh-hope y-ou-you’re en-j-j-joying y-y-yourselffff!’ Vanessa managed to say.

‘Oh, I am!’ said Jaz and, for a moment, she hesitated.

Vanessa breathed fast, hoping it was over and knowing it wasn’t. Despite the head restraint, strands of her raven hair clung to her face with sweat. Then a helpless whine of anticipation grew in her throat as she felt a single finger glide across her sweaty tummy en route to her belly button.

‘No,’ Vanessa whimpered.

‘Oh, yes,’ said Jaz.

And, as the fingertip slipped, gently and effortlessly into Vanessa’s navel and began to make circles, she heard herself produce a novel sound – that similar to war cries in old Western movies: ‘EEEEEEEEYA-YA-YA-YA-YA-YA-YA-YA-YA-YA-YA-YAAAA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HAAAA!’

‘Got a tickly, sweaty navel have we, Vani? Aw, you po’ liddle fing!

Vanessa again attempted to glare in anger, incensed by the mocking condescension but had zero chance to keep a straight face. She felt the veins in her neck pulse as her neck strained against the head strap. Her current stream of non-stop hilarity was particularly surprising because she had no idea her navel was ticklish and once again she could do nothing else but laugh out loud and pronounce the fact:

‘I-I-I-I didn’t kn-know I wa-HA HA HA HA HA HA HAAA…! I was t-t-t-ticklish th-herrrrrrre! HA HA HA HA HA HA HAAA!’

Jaz hummed with delectation. ‘I’m glad I could teach you something about yourself.’

Suddenly the head restraint snapped, Vanessa lurched forward and roared with rage, bringing Jaz to a startled halt. ‘YAAAARRRGH! You haven’t taught me anything, you fucking sewer rat!’ she yelled, her sweaty face contorting with the echoes of her prolonged laughter. ‘Nothing except not to trust little shits like you and to never give your sort a chance in life again!’

‘“My sort”?’ said Jaz.

‘Yeah. Whatever sort you are! I don’t give a damn if you’re a lesbian! I don’t give a damn where you’re from! You’re a psychotic freak! And you’re about a goddamn foot shorter than I am and the only reason you’ve tied me in here,’ she said, yanking hard against the restraints, ‘is because you know if I wasn’t, I’d kick the shit out of you with my “huge” goddamn feet!’

As Vanessa seethed in the seat Jaz became very calm. Without saying a word, she slowly made her way behind the chair and stood with her mouth very close to Vanessa’s ear. If she could’ve grabbed Jaz with her teeth, Vanessa was convinced she could shake her to death like a pit bull with a chihuahua. Unfortunately, her own arm and the semi-circular padded headrest formed a shield between them.

‘My height and my age bother you, don’t they?’ said Jaz quietly. ‘I know you’ve got an ego, Vani. It must really grate on you that a shorter, younger, sharper, more attractive—’

‘Ha!’ Vanessa shouted in contempt. She stopped herself adding, “Don’t make me laugh!”

‘—more assertive woman got the better of you. You’re stubborn and I know you’ll take some convincing. So I’ll let you in on a secret: I haven’t even started yet.’

‘Do you think I care? Tickling is tickling, you juvenile. I can laugh all day long. It’s just like a workout down the gym—’

‘The bravado doesn’t work, Vani. Haven’t you learned that yet? I’ve already seen you react and heard you beg me. I know what makes you more sensitive and where your worst spots are. You’re not in beginner territory, here. The point is that Jake loved your sister—’

‘Don’t talk about my sister!’ Vanessa snapped in a sudden fury.

‘I’m looking out for your sister. I know she has gargalaphobia. And I know Mr Valentine loves that in a woman. So, what better than for the woman he most desires to be that way? That would divert his attention from your sister, wouldn’t it? And that’s why I’m going to tickle you until you are gargalaphobic.’

‘That’s ridiculous,’ said Vanessa and for a moment she forgot that the camera was recording the doubt in her expression.

‘It’s an experiment, for sure. Most people get it very early but, as with other things like a fear of heights or flying, they can develop later in life. All it takes is that one little experience to push you over the edge…’

As Jaz spoke, Vanessa felt the tips of her fingernails begin to trickle up and down her sides, almost like the light strokes on her calves, causing her stomach to quiver uncontrollably and she tried to place a barrier at the back of her throat to stop laughter spilling through.

Then Jaz grasped the muscles of her waist and all was lost.

‘AAAAAAH HA HA HA HA HA HA HAAA!’ she bellowed in that contradictory deep belly-laugh of enjoyment.

‘God, I love this bit,’ Jaz growled with satisfaction. ‘Still think it’s just like a gym workout, Vani?’

‘FFFFF-UHHHHH-HA HA HA HA HA…! FU-HU-HU-HUCK HA HA Y-YOUUU HA HA HA HAAA!’

Jaz nodded to herself. Vanessa certainly was strong-willed. Her spirit needed to be broken as well as her body.

She stopped tickling.

‘Tell you what,’ she said, ‘if you can not laugh for the next minute, I’ll let you go. No arguments. If you do laugh in the next minute, I get you torture you all day. Fair?’

Vanessa didn’t answer.

‘Let’s do it,’ said Jaz. ‘Three… two… one.’

Jaz’s finger’s launched straight to where they had just been. Vanessa’s entire body tensed and she held her breath. Jaz’s probing fingers were getting all the right spots; the spots it had taken Ryan their whole relationship to discover, and she knew just how to exploit them.

‘Ten seconds…’ said Jaz, her fingers circling into the sinewy muscles of Vanessa’s abdominal muscles.

Vanessa bit hard on her bottom lip. She could feel herself turning purple and sweat wept from the pores in her brow. If she could keep this up, she just might be able to make it to one minute.

‘Twenty seconds…’ said Jaz.

One third down! thought Vanessa. I can do this!

That’s when Jaz’s fingers started to climb higher.

Oh, no. Not that…

Vanessa squeezed her eyes tight and tried to make her mind disappear to a lonely place far from anyone. A New England Forest. A mountain peak. The moon, perhaps. But it didn’t work.

She bit harder on her lip until she was sure she would pierce the skin. Her body vibrated. The spidery, probing fingertips crept slowly over her ribcage.

‘Thirty…’

Jaz’s fingers crossed the material of Vanessa’s bra. The vibration turned into a tremble and from the barrier at the back of her throat emanated an involuntary whine.

‘Forty…’

There is an undefinable line on the skin at the top of each person’s torso that separates the underarm from everything below it. It may be impossible to mark with a Sharpie, but when the line is crossed those with the most ticklish of armpits will let you know. Regretfully, Vanessa was aware that she was one of those people.

All it took was one light touch from a single fingernail.

‘YEEEE-HEEE-HEEE-HEEE-HEEE-HEEE-HEEEE-HEEE-HEEE-EEEEEEEEEE!’ Vanessa erupted, slinging her head into the backrest and throwing her laughter to the sky with such force that dust drifted from the ceiling beams like snowflakes caught in shafts of sunlight.

Jaz pressed her thighs together, utterly aroused as her fingertips scurried around inside the smooth hollows of Vanessa’s armpits, now slippery with sweat.

‘NOTTTT TTHHH-THHH-THHHERRRRE! HAHAHAHAHA!’ Vanessa begged before gasping for breath and screaming, ‘PLEEEEEEEEEASE! HAHA HA HAHAHA HAAAAA!

‘Actually, I think I’ll stay right her for quite some time,’ Jaz shouted over the sound of helpless laughter and winked at the camera that was recording every single moment.

- - -

Vanessa had no way of knowing how much later it was when Jaz held a bottle of water to her lips but it felt like several hours. Never before had she been so tormented and if she could have swapped this for the equivalent experience at the Cape Coral PD HQ she would have.

Jaz changed the card in her camera and stored the other safely in a zip pocket. She went to her bag, put the water away and retrieved something else that Vanessa couldn’t see. Vanessa moaned a little when she returned with an evil grin and made herself comfortable on a tall stool between her feet.

‘Aw, don’t be that way, Vani. Listen, I wasn’t telling the truth earlier when I said I didn’t like your feet. To be honest, they are quite beautiful and—if I am a little jealous of you in some way—it’s because they’re so gorgeous.’

Vanessa didn’t know how to react. She wasn’t in the mood to tell Jaz how pretty she was in a compliment-swapping contest; she wanted nothing more than to torture her in the most humiliating way possible. She then noticed what Jaz had taken from her bag – a jar of coconut oil and two pimply hairbrushes.

She recalled Jake Valentine saying something about them and didn’t know why at the time; however, though her cheeks were flushed, her hair a mess and her throat dry from laughter, she still had her spirit and the one thing she could still do was undermine Jaz’s authority.

‘Valentine talked about oil and hairbrushes when I went to see him,’ she said.

‘Oh yes?’ said Jaz happily, as if they were having a regular polite conversation.

‘Yeah. He said they were the tools of the complete novice.’

Jaz’s smile shrank. Vanessa couldn’t help but smirk at landing another blow.

‘You know what?’ said Jaz, irritated. ‘After I’ve finished with you I’ll let the cops find you just like this. They’ll have their own methods to question you, and finding you strapped up will probably be useful to them, especially as you’ll be pre-prepared and ultra sensitive. Do you even know how oil and brushes are used?’

Vanessa didn’t answer. She simply watched as Jaz smeared the slippery oil all over her impressive soles.

- - -

Outside in the Florida sunshine, trees rustled in the breeze, clouds formed over the ocean and a flock of grackles flew south.

Until the late evening, a disused building amplified hysterical laughter so loudly that it could be heard for miles around.

But because Vanessa had done her homework, there was nobody around to hear it.


CHAPTER XXVI

18 months later…

‘There. Signed,’ said Vanessa as she pushed divorce papers across a desk to Ryan, who was in the company of his solicitor.

‘Cool,’ he replied.

‘You’re looking good,’ she said, just for something to say. It was true. Since his recovery from Long Covid he appeared to be back in full competitive racquetball health. Unfortunately, the masculinity that first drew Vanessa to him was scarred with the memories of his encounter with Jaz. But she supposed that didn’t matter anymore.

‘Thanks. So do you,’ he replied. ‘I mean, considering.’

‘Thanks, Ryan,’ she said flatly. With her hair shaved short; no make-up; wearing the standard-issue Lowell Correctional Institution unflattering light blue shirt and pants; and around five hours’ sleep over the past five days due to her new cellmate’s chronic snoring, a little boost to her esteem wouldn’t have gone amiss.

From over Vanessa’s shoulder Correctional Officer Preston said, ‘Time’s up, Holbrook.’

Time wasn’t up – Preston was just bored and Vanessa knew it, but she didn’t care. Spending time with Ryan was like getting conversation out of a rock even outside of prison.

With the confirmation that no touching was allowed, Vanessa and Ryan just nodded goodbye to each other, and their marriage, and she was lead back to her cell where her new cellmate, Tiara, was sat on the lower bunk, impressively causing both levels to sag in the middle.

Before Tiara’s arrival, Vanessa was informed that she was a seasoned inmate; in and out of prison since her eleventh birthday. Vanessa suspected she knew why she always ended up with the worst cellmates in the facility. It was the same reason she was treated so unfairly by the CO’s – the warden was a republican.

Tiara held two envelopes.

‘Got mail already?’ asked Vanessa.

‘The fuck’s it gotta do wit’you?’ said Tiara.

Vanessa learned over the past 18 months that the best way to deal with aggression was head-on otherwise you get into a fight that results in the loss of a big handful of hair, which prompts you to cut it so short that no-one can grab it.

‘I was just making conversation, you fat bitch,’ said Vanessa. ‘If that’s not of interest to you, keep yourself to yourself and I’ll do the same. That includes your fucking snoring, which I’ll solve tonight with a plastic bag on your fucking head if you don’t shut the fuck up.’

‘I don’t need no friends in here,’ said Tiara, her aggression somewhat deflated.

‘Fine,’ said Vanessa and she climbed into the top bunk to try and catch up on sleep.

Tiara shuffled the two envelopes in her hand. One was from her mother and had been opened before she received it, as usual. She regarded the second with suspicion – it had no postmark, which meant it was hand-delivered. No officer in this building, even the warden, had envelopes as fancy and expensive as this. She held it so that the ceiling lights glinted off the surface and saw the faint hint of some kind of ink stamp that had been pressed against this envelope before it was dry.

She tore open the envelope.

‘Hey!’ barked Vanessa from the top bunk. ‘What did I say? Shut it!’

Tiara was tempted to shout back but she didn’t know this tall girl well enough yet to know if she could take her in a fight.

She pulled a letter from the envelope. It was on paper of quality similar to that of the envelope. There was no address, no name and no signature. Just a message that read:

Vanessa Holbrook is helplessly ticklish. It is her weakness.​

Tiara’s face wrinkled in confusion. She checked the back of the letter – it was blank. So she went to the cracked mirror above the sink and angled the envelope to try and read the shine of the faint ink print against the daylight.

It appeared to read: From the offices of President Calhoun.


THE END.
 
Last edited:
Fantastic to have you and your stories back Tamira! Really enjoyed all three parts of this as always, intense and detailed, and the tickling content fantastic as per usual. :)
 
This was by far the longest, most in-depth tickle story I have ever read. It was amazing from start to finish! Can't wait until you are free again for commissions.
 
Wow, this is very impressive. It was a lot of fun watching Vanessa slowly get drawn into the trap, which I certainly wasn’t expecting at the end. Excellent work!
 
Great story, I love your work. Thanks for writing and sharing this materpiece. I hope you'll find time to continue some of your other sagas.
 
Fantastic! Great story and intrigue and excellent telling of caracters personality
 
Fantastic to have you and your stories back Tamira! Really enjoyed all three parts of this as always, intense and detailed, and the tickling content fantastic as per usual. :)

Thank you! :) I had to post it in three parts because it was too long for the site to let me post it in one! :D

This was by far the longest, most in-depth tickle story I have ever read. It was amazing from start to finish! Can't wait until you are free again for commissions.

Thank you. It's certainly my most considered work to date. It was a delight to write as I developed some basic plot points, but events and characters also revealed themselves to me along the way! :idea:

Wow, this is very impressive. It was a lot of fun watching Vanessa slowly get drawn into the trap, which I certainly wasn’t expecting at the end. Excellent work!

I'm happy it did the job! I enjoyed the twists that setting it in this genre helped to create. :)

Great story, I love your work. Thanks for writing and sharing this masterpiece. I hope you'll find time to continue some of your other sagas.

Thank you! I'm happy you liked it so much! :blush: I don't know how much I will be writing from now on as, since the pandemic, life is getting back to normal and I'm getting busy with other things. But never say never! ;)

Fantastic! Great story and intrigue and excellent telling of characters personality

Thank you! It was nice to take the time to develop the characters over such a long story. :)
 
This is possibly my favourite ever story series! Congratulations sir!

I'd love it if you ever brought out an extended addition/director's cut where we get to read the rest of Jaz's tickle torment of Vanessa!
 
I'm happy you like it so much! :happyfloa but, er..., it's the first time I've been called "sir" here! :p

I don't think I'll ever get to writing the extended cut, but you may be interested to read the last story I wrote: Farah’s Odyssey part 1: Divide & Conquer

:)

This is possibly my favourite ever story series! Congratulations sir!

I'd love it if you ever brought out an extended addition/director's cut where we get to read the rest of Jaz's tickle torment of Vanessa!
 
I've already read it and am eagerly awaiting part 2!

Haha no problem I guess I will use my imagination!
 
I like how she was in prison but it gives me dread that a snake handler from Florida is in the White House.
 
What's New

3/29/2024
The TMF Gathering forums keep you up to date on where and when folk are meeting up.
Tickle Experiment
Door 44
NEST 2024
Register here
The world's largest online clip store
Live Camgirls!
Live Camgirls
Streaming Videos
Pic of the Week
Pic of the Week
Congratulations to
*** brad1701 ***
The winner of our weekly Trivia, held every Sunday night at 11PM EST in our Chat Room
Back
Top