Dave2112
Level of Cherry Feather
- Joined
- Apr 17, 2001
- Messages
- 10,295
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What to do, what to do? I hate it when it’s one of the girls who fucks up. I’m the one always handling that job. Sure, I didn’t get as bloody as Tony who got the pleasure of beating the snot out of male informants. But the ladies tended to cry, and that always got to me.
Now, I know Tony picked me for this job because of my “expertise” in the area of information retrieval from the fairer sex. Actually, I still owe him a lot. I was doing the “Dom” thing at a local S/M hangout when Tony stayed for a show. I enjoyed my time with the girls, but the pay sucked, the conditions were more suited to Hezzbollah freedom fighters and it was getting out of hand with the prostitution. It wasn’t an advertised special, but it happened and everyone knew it.
Especially the D.A.
Tony comes over to me and strikes up a conversation after witnessing one of my more brutal performances. I think I’ll always remember that one…Damn I did things to that girl you wouldn’t do to a farm animal….good times, good times…
Oh, yeah. Back to my reverie. Turns out Tony “took care” of our little problem with the local constabulary, much to the relief of my Probationated Ass. I had a drink, had a smoke and had a listen. Tony had a proposition. Seems as more and more of his associates were female these days, he was in need of a “corporal” as such. Same as his other guys…in charge of breaking fingers, busting kneecaps and the like. The problem was, Tony explained, was that he had a soft spot for the ladies. On top of that, if word got around that he was liquefying women, the upper echelon might not be so happy. Hey, we might pillage, extort, burn and deal…but we DO have honor. Old Country stuff.
The problem was, he explained, was that he DID occasionally have to extract information or simply make an example of a member of the female persuasion. But he only knew bone-breaking…and he had little room on his busy schedule for the time it took to break a female without killing them. He knew it took finesse. That’s where I came in.
Now, the higher-ups might not like female blood on their hands, but they didn’t mind it on their whips, so to speak. Tony had seen the work I’d done, and seeing as how his organization had just “insured” the place, he wanted to keep things in the family. He also knew my record, and reasoned that I wasn’t looking for any trouble. Just a nice, high-paying position.
And what a position it was. This was no run-down fetish club. This was Heaven. Racks of the finest Sicilian Wood. A Lace-up wall. Stocks. Bondage Horse. Sybian. X-Frame. Damn, the family had it covered. I could use the whip, electrical torture…pretty much anything my twisted heart desired as long as I didn’t send one to the hospital or break anything. Pretty loose limits.
Had a great time, too. One of Tony’s buddies finds out the chick he’s nailing is the sister of a rival organization gathering info on shipment times. I had her singing like a bird inside an hour. Wonder what ever happened to her?
That was going great…
…Until Misty showed up.
Not even Tony’s type for Crissakes! Blonde, for one. Tony always went for the dark ones. Model-type. Tony usually liked a bit of “meat on his bones” as he put it. But this girl was….wow! She had a body that you wouldn’t believe. Perfect little tits, long legs. Cute face, too, I remember.
I don’t know how she did it, but after about two months, she had Tony by the torpedo. That bitch was even sitting in on MY sessions, trying to tell me what to do. Hop on the rack and show me, I almost told her one day. Bitch. The day I found out she was my next “project” I about passed a VW.
Turns out Little-Miss-Fucksalot was an extremely brave (or stupid) squealer. She’d been nailing some cop and feeding him information on the side. Some rogue cop, I guess. Most of the Police Force left Tony alone, what with all of his contributions and day-care programs. Swell guy, my Boss. Well, seeing that it’s probably some vigilante cop gunning for Tony in a personal way, he figures it’s best to find out the identity of the soon-to-be-sinking individual.
Then he gets word from the Old Men.
If it’s a cop, don’t kill him.
And don’t hurt the girl.
Great. Something about an election year, and local politics and interests and all that bullshit. Anyway, he’s supposed to find the guy and “scare” him for now. And the girl we can interrogate, but we can’t leave any marks on her. If things go the way they’re planned, the Guys Up Top don’t want media images of a bruised and cut woman on T.V. to start things up.
So here I am.
What to do, what to do?
I’d interrogated her for about two hours now. I’d threatened her with everything I could think of, and she just sits, tied to that chair, telling me to Fuck Off. All of my fine instruments hanging alone on the wall, going to waste. Just let me flay a few layers of skin off of her and she’ll tell you her weight and age. But Nooooooo….we gotta play by these stupid rules.
That’s when I get a call from Reba.
Reba was a blonde about 30 that I worked with down at the ol’ Chez Crappe. She was a pro dominatrix and loved her job. She was wondering what I’d been up to. We still kept in touch, and even scened together a few times. Chit-chat led to me telling her about my latest “project.” I know, I know….hush, hush and all that. But Reba I trusted. She knew what I did, and thought it was a fantastic use of my…talents. She had a suggestion to make about my problem.
“Just let me come down,” she says, “I’ve got something that I think will work. I’ve used it at the club a lot, and you’d be amazed at well it works. Especially on women…..”
She trailed off, leaving me to wonder, as she was often wont to do. I made the arrangements to have her allowed in, and an hour later, she comes wiggling into my office.
“Hey, Hun,” she says as she gives me a quick hug and kiss, “Where is she?”
Right to the point, my girl.
“She’s tied to a chair??” she says, “Oh, man, you gotta do this right. You guys still have that rack here?”
“Yeah,” I tell her, “but I can’t break anything. What am I supposed to…”
“Just get her on it,” she interrupts, one of a few people who I’ll take that from, “Don’t pull her until she pops, just make it tight. Very tight.”
Ok. What the Hell? Reba wouldn’t do anything to get me in trouble. I give the signal and two of the men who wander the place “helping out” takes care of our request.
Leading Reba on, I entered the chamber that the rack was kept in. Oh, the screams I’ve heard coming off of that thing. Little Misty was its current resident. I had to admit, I could understand why Tony had this thing about her. She was something to see stretched out on my table. Her arms were up over her head and pulled so tight that she couldn’t get any bend to her elbows at all. Good. Just like I asked. Her long, sleek legs were pinned down above the knee by straps after she’d been tightened enough. Her slim ankles were trapped in the padded holes in the stocks at the foot of the rack, her delicate feet swinging in the air. Her body you could have bounced a quarter off of. I thought she’d pop if her ribs stuck out anymore. And you could play Jenga on her belly.
“Nice…..nice…” purred Reba as she saw the helpless blonde.
“I’m not telling you guys SHIT! I know you can’t hurt me….so FUCK OFF!!” Misty screamed.
“Not very pleasant, is she?” asks Reba with a smile, “Ok, here’s what we’re going to do…”
Reba started circling the rack, running her hand along the skin of the trapped girl.
“Back at the Club, I learned that you can’t always beat someone to break them. Some are so used to it, that it doesn’t work anymore. That, and some simply respond better to….other means of stimulation. Tell me, little one….” and Reba bent down to the level of Misty’s face and said lowly in her ear…
“Are you ticklish by any chance?”
Huh? What the hell was she talking about? If this was Reba’s brilliant plan, this was gonna be a long night. But then I saw the change in Misty. Her eyes widened and her breathing picked up.
“D-Don’t!! No, don’t do that!!!! Come on, I haven’t done anything wrong!!! Don’t tickle me, please?”
Stupid bitch could have at least shut up and tried to take it for a few, I thought. Maybe get Reba bored. Not her. She must have hated the thought of being tickled if the begging started this quick. Still, I had my doubts. Come on….tickling? I mean, I’d seen it enough at the club, but as an interrogation method?
Shows what I knew.
I was derailed from my train of thought by a piercing cry. I looked over and Reba was raking her long fingernails over Misty’s taut armpits. She wasn’t even tickling her like I thought she would, just raking those nails up and down the smooth skin, occasionally wiggling her fingers over a spot.
“AAAIIIGGGHHH!!!!!! …..OHGAAAAWWWWDDD!!!…HHAHAHHEHEEEEEE!!!!”
I saw that Reba had changed a little and was stroking lower now. Her fingers took on a crueler pinching motion and her hands had wandered down to the girl’s ribcage. Up and down the ticklish skin between the armpits and ribs, Reba was coaxing peals of laughter and begging from her victim.
“OHGGOODDDDNOOO!!!!!…HHAAHAHHEEEE…SSSSSTOOOPPPP…PLEASEPLEASEPLEASE…HHHEEHAAIIIIGGGHHHH!!!!!…N-NOMOOOOOOOOREEEEEEHEEELLLLPPP!!!”
It was when she placed the tips of those daggers on the perky tits and ran them over the nipples that Misty started to hitch her breath and Reba called me over. I approached the rack and was actually a bit turned on watching the cute if bitchy blonde writhing on its surface. She was doing this squirming thing due to the sensation coming from her stimulated nipples, and I imagined that it was what she must look like during sex. Hey, I may be a paid torturer…but I’m still a guy, ok?
“Ask away” said Reba as she backed off the breasts and went back to tickling Misty under her arms.
“So, Misty,” I began, “Do you feel compelled to tell me who you’ve been talking to yet?”
“HHAHAHHEEEEE…F..F…FUCKOFFFF!!!!!!….HHAHAHHEHEHEHEEHHEEEEEEEEEE!!”
“Hmmmm,” says Reba with a gleam in her eye, “Looks like is this is going to take as long as I’d hoped it would. Care to join in?”
What the hell? Maybe with two of us, she’d crack easier. Plus, I have to admit that this was turning out to be more enjoyable than I’d thought. We weren’t really hurting her, yet she was screaming in agony. And it WAS kinda sexy in a way. Hey, I said I worked in an S/M club, you don’t think my job turns me on from time to time?
I was more than happy to oblige. I had been watching the way that Misty’s tight little belly was rising up and down with her trying to catch her breath. Her body was wriggling and looking quite nice. The smooth skin of the side of her body was calling to me for a touch. I rested my hand over her waist and started to flutter my fingertips lightly over the skin. The boys had done their job well, her skin was tight as a drum and receptive to the touch. Reba was stroking the girl’s upper thighs, which was also brining Goosebumps to Misty’s flesh.
“So….Feel like talking yet?” I asked as I tickled both of her sides with the lightest of touches.
“HEEEE HEEEEEE……NONONONOOOOO!!!!!!…AAAAHHHAHAHAHAAAAAA…”
Apparently not.
“Ok, then,” I sighed in mock disapproval, “Guess we’re going to have to get serious. Sounds like someone just wants to be tickled….”
As Reba stroked and pinched Misty’s legs, knees, crotch and hipbones, I started to poke the flesh of her belly with my fingers, pressing in and wriggling it around when I found a spot that made her jump or squeal.
“Oh, you’re ticklish THERE….and HERE……and HERE……” I teased, letting her feel everything I touched scream in response.
“AAAIIIGGGHHHH!!!!!….SSSSTTTOOOOOOOOOOOPPPPPP!!!!!!…NOMORENOMORE….(GASSSSSP)….PLLLAAAEEESSSEEEEEPLEASEPLEASE?????….AAAHHAHAHHEEEEEEAAAWW!”
“Just tell me who you’ve been giving information to, and all of this stops” I said, tickling her ribs, kneading them into tickled hysteria.
“N-NO…OONNNEEEEE!!!!!….NOBODYYYYYAAAIIIGGGHHHH!!!!!…..NOMORE!!!!!!……PLEASEEEELEMMEGOLEMMEGOOOOO…….AAAAHAHAHHEEEEEEEEAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAA!”
“Seems she wants her feet tickled, too I guess,” said Reba as she positioned herself between the flailing appendages. As I continued to tickle poor Misty on her belly, she changed the tempo of her pleas.
“NNNNOOOOOOOO!!!!!…HHAHAHHANOTMYFEEEEET!!!!!! PLEASEPLEASEGODNOGODNOOOO!!!!!…..NOT…..(GASSSSP)…MYFEEEEEEEEEEEET!!”
Reba went to work the same way she started forty-five minutes ago. Raking her fingernails up and down the trapped soles, Misty was no longer using any known form of English, choosing to simply scream.
“AAAAAAIIIIIIIIII!!!!!!……AAAHHHAAAHHEHEHHEHEE…..HAHAHAHAHAHAAAAA!!!”
As Reba picked up the pace of the tickle torture of the little feet, I was going crazy on the girl’s body. I stroked her armpits and down her sides. Up and down the entire length of her body in a repeating pattern that tickled every nerve along her perfect flanks. Reba was holding Misty’s toes back and tickling her arch in a flurry. She alternated feet every minute or so. Misty’s face was contorted into a twisted wreck, sweat plastering her hair to her skin. Parts of her body were turning red as the tickling went on and on. She was hissing breath and silently laughing for about three minutes when I signaled Reba to stop tickling her feet, and I eased off the torment of her bound young body.
As Misty fought to retain consciousness and regain breath, I asked her for what I knew would be the last time.
“Misty, honey,” I asked as I stroked her hair back in a mock-loving gesture, “Who have you been giving information to? Last chance. You don’t tell me now, and I gag you and we tickle you for one hour. No questions, just torture. Got it?”
She shook her head yes and answered…
“Detective…..(gasp)…..Ralph…(pant, pant)….Everlast….”
“Very good, my dear,” I said as I got up, “I’m going to see our guest on her way after such a lovely evening, and then I’ll be back to ….release you.”
I left with Reba to the sound of the panting woman.
“Go easy on her, hun.” Reba said.
“Huh?” I oh-so-eloquently replied.
“Don’t give me that innocent little boy act,” she said as she kissed my cheek and gathered her purse, “I know you better than that. You found a new toy. You know you’re gonna….”
And with that she was out the door. And she was right.
That blonde bimbo in there had caused me a lot of trouble, even before all this. The attitude, the remarks. Why not have a little fun until Tony came and took her?
I entered the room and Misty gives me this look like I was rescuing her from the Hottentots or something.
“Please lemme go now. You got what you wanted. I’m sorry, I was confused, I never meant…..”
“Oh DO be quiet” I said as I reached for a large red ball-gag hanging on a hook.
“Wh-What’s that for?” she asked, eyeing me suspiciously.
“For you my dear….”
“No! PLEASE DON’T GAG ME!!!…NOPLEASEDON’TGAGMEEEEEMMMMNNNPPHHHH”
I pushed the rubber ball into her mouth, silencing her finally and buckled the strap behind her head.
“So..” I said as I circled the rack, “You think you’re out of the woods, don’t you? Know what I feel like doing?”
I bent down to her level. Face to face.
“I’m going to tickle you. I’m going to tickle you slow. I’m going to tickle you fast. I’m going to tickle you light. I’m going to tickle you hard…..and I’m going to tickle-torture you for a ….long….time….”
“MMMRRRRGGHHH!!!!!!…MMMNNNPPHHHHGGGRRR!!!”
Tears were in her eyes as I took two long feathers that I’d finally found a use for and circled the rack again, then hovered them over her armpits.
“I’m gonnnnnaaaaaa tiiiiickle yoooooouuuu….” I teased. I couldn’t help it. She was so bossy and self-assured and I had her whimpering like a baby. “Tickle you evvvveryyyyywheeeerrrrrrrrre…”
If the look on her gagged face was precious before I slowly lowered the feathers to her ticklish armpit, it was simply priceless after. The plumes were stroking their spidery tendrils over the smooth skin as Misty clenched her eyes shut. I could almost see the sensation shooting form the spot to her brain. And she could do nothing to stop it. Tied to a rack, stretched tight and helplessly gagged, she was doomed to endure nothing but tickling.
I ran the feathers over her body….tits, ribs, belly…even spending extra time dipping them into her navel, which had a profound effect on the mewling captive.
Then the phone rings. Great.
I picked it up and it’s Tony. He’s coming over for the girl.
“Well,” I said to Misty’s heaving form as I hung up the phone, “It looks like your former boyfriend is coming to collect you.”
Misty seemed to visibly relax.
“Yeah,” I said, “He called to say he’s stuck in a negotiation at the restaurant. He’ll be here in about two hours.”
Misty eyed me with pure terror.
“I figure a half-hour to clean you up….that leaves us….hmmmm…carry the one….an hour and a half to play!”
I approached Misty with my fingers clawed and wriggling. The look on her face was one of utter resignation. The tears had started to flow again as I neared her. Even though I knew I was a grown man, I couldn’t resist it as I inched my tickling fingers closer to her tight sides…
“….Heeeeere…iiiiiittttt….cccoooooommmmmeeessssss…..”
If I hadn’t started tickling the crap out of her at that time, I swear she would have passed out from fear alone.
Not bad for a day’s work.
Now, I know Tony picked me for this job because of my “expertise” in the area of information retrieval from the fairer sex. Actually, I still owe him a lot. I was doing the “Dom” thing at a local S/M hangout when Tony stayed for a show. I enjoyed my time with the girls, but the pay sucked, the conditions were more suited to Hezzbollah freedom fighters and it was getting out of hand with the prostitution. It wasn’t an advertised special, but it happened and everyone knew it.
Especially the D.A.
Tony comes over to me and strikes up a conversation after witnessing one of my more brutal performances. I think I’ll always remember that one…Damn I did things to that girl you wouldn’t do to a farm animal….good times, good times…
Oh, yeah. Back to my reverie. Turns out Tony “took care” of our little problem with the local constabulary, much to the relief of my Probationated Ass. I had a drink, had a smoke and had a listen. Tony had a proposition. Seems as more and more of his associates were female these days, he was in need of a “corporal” as such. Same as his other guys…in charge of breaking fingers, busting kneecaps and the like. The problem was, Tony explained, was that he had a soft spot for the ladies. On top of that, if word got around that he was liquefying women, the upper echelon might not be so happy. Hey, we might pillage, extort, burn and deal…but we DO have honor. Old Country stuff.
The problem was, he explained, was that he DID occasionally have to extract information or simply make an example of a member of the female persuasion. But he only knew bone-breaking…and he had little room on his busy schedule for the time it took to break a female without killing them. He knew it took finesse. That’s where I came in.
Now, the higher-ups might not like female blood on their hands, but they didn’t mind it on their whips, so to speak. Tony had seen the work I’d done, and seeing as how his organization had just “insured” the place, he wanted to keep things in the family. He also knew my record, and reasoned that I wasn’t looking for any trouble. Just a nice, high-paying position.
And what a position it was. This was no run-down fetish club. This was Heaven. Racks of the finest Sicilian Wood. A Lace-up wall. Stocks. Bondage Horse. Sybian. X-Frame. Damn, the family had it covered. I could use the whip, electrical torture…pretty much anything my twisted heart desired as long as I didn’t send one to the hospital or break anything. Pretty loose limits.
Had a great time, too. One of Tony’s buddies finds out the chick he’s nailing is the sister of a rival organization gathering info on shipment times. I had her singing like a bird inside an hour. Wonder what ever happened to her?
That was going great…
…Until Misty showed up.
Not even Tony’s type for Crissakes! Blonde, for one. Tony always went for the dark ones. Model-type. Tony usually liked a bit of “meat on his bones” as he put it. But this girl was….wow! She had a body that you wouldn’t believe. Perfect little tits, long legs. Cute face, too, I remember.
I don’t know how she did it, but after about two months, she had Tony by the torpedo. That bitch was even sitting in on MY sessions, trying to tell me what to do. Hop on the rack and show me, I almost told her one day. Bitch. The day I found out she was my next “project” I about passed a VW.
Turns out Little-Miss-Fucksalot was an extremely brave (or stupid) squealer. She’d been nailing some cop and feeding him information on the side. Some rogue cop, I guess. Most of the Police Force left Tony alone, what with all of his contributions and day-care programs. Swell guy, my Boss. Well, seeing that it’s probably some vigilante cop gunning for Tony in a personal way, he figures it’s best to find out the identity of the soon-to-be-sinking individual.
Then he gets word from the Old Men.
If it’s a cop, don’t kill him.
And don’t hurt the girl.
Great. Something about an election year, and local politics and interests and all that bullshit. Anyway, he’s supposed to find the guy and “scare” him for now. And the girl we can interrogate, but we can’t leave any marks on her. If things go the way they’re planned, the Guys Up Top don’t want media images of a bruised and cut woman on T.V. to start things up.
So here I am.
What to do, what to do?
I’d interrogated her for about two hours now. I’d threatened her with everything I could think of, and she just sits, tied to that chair, telling me to Fuck Off. All of my fine instruments hanging alone on the wall, going to waste. Just let me flay a few layers of skin off of her and she’ll tell you her weight and age. But Nooooooo….we gotta play by these stupid rules.
That’s when I get a call from Reba.
Reba was a blonde about 30 that I worked with down at the ol’ Chez Crappe. She was a pro dominatrix and loved her job. She was wondering what I’d been up to. We still kept in touch, and even scened together a few times. Chit-chat led to me telling her about my latest “project.” I know, I know….hush, hush and all that. But Reba I trusted. She knew what I did, and thought it was a fantastic use of my…talents. She had a suggestion to make about my problem.
“Just let me come down,” she says, “I’ve got something that I think will work. I’ve used it at the club a lot, and you’d be amazed at well it works. Especially on women…..”
She trailed off, leaving me to wonder, as she was often wont to do. I made the arrangements to have her allowed in, and an hour later, she comes wiggling into my office.
“Hey, Hun,” she says as she gives me a quick hug and kiss, “Where is she?”
Right to the point, my girl.
“She’s tied to a chair??” she says, “Oh, man, you gotta do this right. You guys still have that rack here?”
“Yeah,” I tell her, “but I can’t break anything. What am I supposed to…”
“Just get her on it,” she interrupts, one of a few people who I’ll take that from, “Don’t pull her until she pops, just make it tight. Very tight.”
Ok. What the Hell? Reba wouldn’t do anything to get me in trouble. I give the signal and two of the men who wander the place “helping out” takes care of our request.
Leading Reba on, I entered the chamber that the rack was kept in. Oh, the screams I’ve heard coming off of that thing. Little Misty was its current resident. I had to admit, I could understand why Tony had this thing about her. She was something to see stretched out on my table. Her arms were up over her head and pulled so tight that she couldn’t get any bend to her elbows at all. Good. Just like I asked. Her long, sleek legs were pinned down above the knee by straps after she’d been tightened enough. Her slim ankles were trapped in the padded holes in the stocks at the foot of the rack, her delicate feet swinging in the air. Her body you could have bounced a quarter off of. I thought she’d pop if her ribs stuck out anymore. And you could play Jenga on her belly.
“Nice…..nice…” purred Reba as she saw the helpless blonde.
“I’m not telling you guys SHIT! I know you can’t hurt me….so FUCK OFF!!” Misty screamed.
“Not very pleasant, is she?” asks Reba with a smile, “Ok, here’s what we’re going to do…”
Reba started circling the rack, running her hand along the skin of the trapped girl.
“Back at the Club, I learned that you can’t always beat someone to break them. Some are so used to it, that it doesn’t work anymore. That, and some simply respond better to….other means of stimulation. Tell me, little one….” and Reba bent down to the level of Misty’s face and said lowly in her ear…
“Are you ticklish by any chance?”
Huh? What the hell was she talking about? If this was Reba’s brilliant plan, this was gonna be a long night. But then I saw the change in Misty. Her eyes widened and her breathing picked up.
“D-Don’t!! No, don’t do that!!!! Come on, I haven’t done anything wrong!!! Don’t tickle me, please?”
Stupid bitch could have at least shut up and tried to take it for a few, I thought. Maybe get Reba bored. Not her. She must have hated the thought of being tickled if the begging started this quick. Still, I had my doubts. Come on….tickling? I mean, I’d seen it enough at the club, but as an interrogation method?
Shows what I knew.
I was derailed from my train of thought by a piercing cry. I looked over and Reba was raking her long fingernails over Misty’s taut armpits. She wasn’t even tickling her like I thought she would, just raking those nails up and down the smooth skin, occasionally wiggling her fingers over a spot.
“AAAIIIGGGHHH!!!!!! …..OHGAAAAWWWWDDD!!!…HHAHAHHEHEEEEEE!!!!”
I saw that Reba had changed a little and was stroking lower now. Her fingers took on a crueler pinching motion and her hands had wandered down to the girl’s ribcage. Up and down the ticklish skin between the armpits and ribs, Reba was coaxing peals of laughter and begging from her victim.
“OHGGOODDDDNOOO!!!!!…HHAAHAHHEEEE…SSSSSTOOOPPPP…PLEASEPLEASEPLEASE…HHHEEHAAIIIIGGGHHHH!!!!!…N-NOMOOOOOOOOREEEEEEHEEELLLLPPP!!!”
It was when she placed the tips of those daggers on the perky tits and ran them over the nipples that Misty started to hitch her breath and Reba called me over. I approached the rack and was actually a bit turned on watching the cute if bitchy blonde writhing on its surface. She was doing this squirming thing due to the sensation coming from her stimulated nipples, and I imagined that it was what she must look like during sex. Hey, I may be a paid torturer…but I’m still a guy, ok?
“Ask away” said Reba as she backed off the breasts and went back to tickling Misty under her arms.
“So, Misty,” I began, “Do you feel compelled to tell me who you’ve been talking to yet?”
“HHAHAHHEEEEE…F..F…FUCKOFFFF!!!!!!….HHAHAHHEHEHEHEEHHEEEEEEEEEE!!”
“Hmmmm,” says Reba with a gleam in her eye, “Looks like is this is going to take as long as I’d hoped it would. Care to join in?”
What the hell? Maybe with two of us, she’d crack easier. Plus, I have to admit that this was turning out to be more enjoyable than I’d thought. We weren’t really hurting her, yet she was screaming in agony. And it WAS kinda sexy in a way. Hey, I said I worked in an S/M club, you don’t think my job turns me on from time to time?
I was more than happy to oblige. I had been watching the way that Misty’s tight little belly was rising up and down with her trying to catch her breath. Her body was wriggling and looking quite nice. The smooth skin of the side of her body was calling to me for a touch. I rested my hand over her waist and started to flutter my fingertips lightly over the skin. The boys had done their job well, her skin was tight as a drum and receptive to the touch. Reba was stroking the girl’s upper thighs, which was also brining Goosebumps to Misty’s flesh.
“So….Feel like talking yet?” I asked as I tickled both of her sides with the lightest of touches.
“HEEEE HEEEEEE……NONONONOOOOO!!!!!!…AAAAHHHAHAHAHAAAAAA…”
Apparently not.
“Ok, then,” I sighed in mock disapproval, “Guess we’re going to have to get serious. Sounds like someone just wants to be tickled….”
As Reba stroked and pinched Misty’s legs, knees, crotch and hipbones, I started to poke the flesh of her belly with my fingers, pressing in and wriggling it around when I found a spot that made her jump or squeal.
“Oh, you’re ticklish THERE….and HERE……and HERE……” I teased, letting her feel everything I touched scream in response.
“AAAIIIGGGHHHH!!!!!….SSSSTTTOOOOOOOOOOOPPPPPP!!!!!!…NOMORENOMORE….(GASSSSSP)….PLLLAAAEEESSSEEEEEPLEASEPLEASE?????….AAAHHAHAHHEEEEEEAAAWW!”
“Just tell me who you’ve been giving information to, and all of this stops” I said, tickling her ribs, kneading them into tickled hysteria.
“N-NO…OONNNEEEEE!!!!!….NOBODYYYYYAAAIIIGGGHHHH!!!!!…..NOMORE!!!!!!……PLEASEEEELEMMEGOLEMMEGOOOOO…….AAAAHAHAHHEEEEEEEEAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAA!”
“Seems she wants her feet tickled, too I guess,” said Reba as she positioned herself between the flailing appendages. As I continued to tickle poor Misty on her belly, she changed the tempo of her pleas.
“NNNNOOOOOOOO!!!!!…HHAHAHHANOTMYFEEEEET!!!!!! PLEASEPLEASEGODNOGODNOOOO!!!!!…..NOT…..(GASSSSP)…MYFEEEEEEEEEEEET!!”
Reba went to work the same way she started forty-five minutes ago. Raking her fingernails up and down the trapped soles, Misty was no longer using any known form of English, choosing to simply scream.
“AAAAAAIIIIIIIIII!!!!!!……AAAHHHAAAHHEHEHHEHEE…..HAHAHAHAHAHAAAAA!!!”
As Reba picked up the pace of the tickle torture of the little feet, I was going crazy on the girl’s body. I stroked her armpits and down her sides. Up and down the entire length of her body in a repeating pattern that tickled every nerve along her perfect flanks. Reba was holding Misty’s toes back and tickling her arch in a flurry. She alternated feet every minute or so. Misty’s face was contorted into a twisted wreck, sweat plastering her hair to her skin. Parts of her body were turning red as the tickling went on and on. She was hissing breath and silently laughing for about three minutes when I signaled Reba to stop tickling her feet, and I eased off the torment of her bound young body.
As Misty fought to retain consciousness and regain breath, I asked her for what I knew would be the last time.
“Misty, honey,” I asked as I stroked her hair back in a mock-loving gesture, “Who have you been giving information to? Last chance. You don’t tell me now, and I gag you and we tickle you for one hour. No questions, just torture. Got it?”
She shook her head yes and answered…
“Detective…..(gasp)…..Ralph…(pant, pant)….Everlast….”
“Very good, my dear,” I said as I got up, “I’m going to see our guest on her way after such a lovely evening, and then I’ll be back to ….release you.”
I left with Reba to the sound of the panting woman.
“Go easy on her, hun.” Reba said.
“Huh?” I oh-so-eloquently replied.
“Don’t give me that innocent little boy act,” she said as she kissed my cheek and gathered her purse, “I know you better than that. You found a new toy. You know you’re gonna….”
And with that she was out the door. And she was right.
That blonde bimbo in there had caused me a lot of trouble, even before all this. The attitude, the remarks. Why not have a little fun until Tony came and took her?
I entered the room and Misty gives me this look like I was rescuing her from the Hottentots or something.
“Please lemme go now. You got what you wanted. I’m sorry, I was confused, I never meant…..”
“Oh DO be quiet” I said as I reached for a large red ball-gag hanging on a hook.
“Wh-What’s that for?” she asked, eyeing me suspiciously.
“For you my dear….”
“No! PLEASE DON’T GAG ME!!!…NOPLEASEDON’TGAGMEEEEEMMMMNNNPPHHHH”
I pushed the rubber ball into her mouth, silencing her finally and buckled the strap behind her head.
“So..” I said as I circled the rack, “You think you’re out of the woods, don’t you? Know what I feel like doing?”
I bent down to her level. Face to face.
“I’m going to tickle you. I’m going to tickle you slow. I’m going to tickle you fast. I’m going to tickle you light. I’m going to tickle you hard…..and I’m going to tickle-torture you for a ….long….time….”
“MMMRRRRGGHHH!!!!!!…MMMNNNPPHHHHGGGRRR!!!”
Tears were in her eyes as I took two long feathers that I’d finally found a use for and circled the rack again, then hovered them over her armpits.
“I’m gonnnnnaaaaaa tiiiiickle yoooooouuuu….” I teased. I couldn’t help it. She was so bossy and self-assured and I had her whimpering like a baby. “Tickle you evvvveryyyyywheeeerrrrrrrrre…”
If the look on her gagged face was precious before I slowly lowered the feathers to her ticklish armpit, it was simply priceless after. The plumes were stroking their spidery tendrils over the smooth skin as Misty clenched her eyes shut. I could almost see the sensation shooting form the spot to her brain. And she could do nothing to stop it. Tied to a rack, stretched tight and helplessly gagged, she was doomed to endure nothing but tickling.
I ran the feathers over her body….tits, ribs, belly…even spending extra time dipping them into her navel, which had a profound effect on the mewling captive.
Then the phone rings. Great.
I picked it up and it’s Tony. He’s coming over for the girl.
“Well,” I said to Misty’s heaving form as I hung up the phone, “It looks like your former boyfriend is coming to collect you.”
Misty seemed to visibly relax.
“Yeah,” I said, “He called to say he’s stuck in a negotiation at the restaurant. He’ll be here in about two hours.”
Misty eyed me with pure terror.
“I figure a half-hour to clean you up….that leaves us….hmmmm…carry the one….an hour and a half to play!”
I approached Misty with my fingers clawed and wriggling. The look on her face was one of utter resignation. The tears had started to flow again as I neared her. Even though I knew I was a grown man, I couldn’t resist it as I inched my tickling fingers closer to her tight sides…
“….Heeeeere…iiiiiittttt….cccoooooommmmmeeessssss…..”
If I hadn’t started tickling the crap out of her at that time, I swear she would have passed out from fear alone.
Not bad for a day’s work.
