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Swapping Tickles (F/m and same M/f)

Because I Can

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Apr 4, 2006
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Lindsay was the legendary mischief-maker of "Swapping Quarters." In Jason, however, she found someone who worked hard and played even harder

"So, Lindsay, what do you think?" Hannah Friesen asked her co-worker of her new contraption. It had a steel rod about four feet long at the back. Hanging overhead were two leather belts. At the front was a wooden plank with four holes, each about six inches wide. A large-headed nail was hammered right between the middle holes. At the right-hand side (Hannah was left-handed) was a plastic peg that served as a key.

Lindsay Masterson looked on, intrigued. In the relatively short time that "Swapping Quarters" had been on the air, she and Hannah had developed an unusually tight bond. The other members of the on-air crew were disgusted at their tendency to behave like giddy schoolgirls, but the two were an effective team. "Looks interesting, Hannah. What's it for?"

"It's a set of ankle stocks," Hannah replied. "Those belts at the top are designed to keep the wrists in the air, guaranteeing cheap and easy access to the underarms and ribs. The holes in front are for the ankles to go through. That peg at the end goes in once the gate is closed. The ankles remain in place for as long as you wish. I told you all those years of carpentry were going to pay off."

Lindsay was the youngest cast member and by far the most popular designer in the group. She had a thing for fetish culture, particularly foot torture. But until now, she never really paid much attention to stocks. "I think I know what that baby needs," she announced. "I've got some leftover paint and fabric. A good comfy seat and guys and girls will be begging to sit in that thing." Her baby blue eyes narrowed. "Especially Jason."

For the next two hours, the two of them worked on painting the stocks. The creation eventually ended up a dazzling crimson, with a coat of podge to protect the work and give it a more tolerable feel. Lindsay finished the job by attaching a wide leather seat covered in cotton and polyester. Each took a turn in the seat to test its comfort level.

"Excellent," Hannah replied. "Better than any room that dimwit Jeniene has ever done." Her nose scrunched up. "Who in their right mind wears slacks and backless high heels while handling a paint roller?"

"That's Jeniene Casey for you," sighed Lindsay. "Come on. We need some sleep. I know whom we can test that puppy out on tomorrow."

Hannah knew exactly whom Lindsay had in mind: Jason Gartner, the other carpenter in the on-air crew. Lindsay had wanted for the longest time to bed him, but with his own girlfriend it was almost impossible. However, once she had made up her mind to do something, almost nothing could slow her down.

Hannah sighed. Why me, Lord? she mused. What did I do to You to deserve being saddled with a bunch of misfits? Especially her?

The next morning, after breakfast, a barefoot Lindsay invited Jason into the room for an overview. "So, Jason, how about it?"

"Looks all right," Jason answered. At 35, nine years older than Lindsay and five older than Hannah, he still managed to maintain his cool surfer-dude looks. "But that contraption over there —" he pointed to the pillories, "— seems so out of place in this dump. Dare I ask what it's for?"

That was exactly what Lindsay was waiting to hear. If she couldn't jump in the sack with the little weasel, at least she could push him into a corner.

"Why don't you check out the seating?" Lindsay suggested, trying hard to contain the glee she suddenly felt exploding inside of her. "Hannah and I spent four hours prettying it up."

Hesitantly, Jason propped himself up on to the device. The seat fit his back and rear end almost perfectly. He had a hard time finding things to accommodate his six-foot-three frame, but this one suited him just fine. Then he took a look at the half-circles in front.

"Stretch out," Lindsay egged.

But no sooner had Jason extended his long muscular legs than Lindsay clamped the top half of the stockade down on his thick ankles and slid the bolt home. In record time she had his wrists up in the straps, leaving his elbows only halfway up. That caused Jason to jump. "What in blazes are you doing, you dirty little Jezebel?" he snapped. He felt his shoelaces loosen and his socks scraped off.

Lindsay proudly made her way over to Jason's face. "Hello, big boy," she taunted him. "As you might have guessed, Hannah was working on this little gem in her spare time. You know how handy she is with wood and power tools; you use them yourself. Gotta hand it to that girl, this was a stroke of pure genius. I would never have been able to build something like this — but at least I got to pretty it up. What do you think?"

Jason was not impressed. "I've known you to do some really loony things, Masterson, but this is a new low, even for you."

"Loony, huh?" Lindsay ran a fingernail over the edge of his right foot, causing him to grunt.

The full weight of what was about to happen had finally hit home in a big way. She was going to tickle him! Here it comes.

God, no.

Slowly she traced her right index finger over the arch on his left foot, sending shivers up his leg.

"You're gonna be a tough nut to crack," she groused, clearly enjoying his helplessness. Then she dug her nails in harder, causing him to snigger.

"You're cruel," he retorted.

"Of course I am," she taunted. "You won't go to bed with me, so here you go." She dug under his knees, causing him to buckle abruptly.

The torment intensified. She got behind him and raked his ribs, which rattled the stocks somewhat. Slowly she moved her way to underneath his arms. His upper-body muscles tightened quickly as he brought his elbows inward to fend off the attack.

"Ouch!" squawked his antagonist as her hands got caught underneath. "Smash my hands, will you?" She quickly made her way over to his feet and dug in as hard as she could.

"You're making me gag!!!" Jason howled as the stocks rattled even harder. "I know you have a thing for me, but you're pushing too far!"

"And loving every second of it," Lindsay shot back. "I can't tell you how long I've wanted to have you."

"Oh, come on, now, can't you do something else?" Jason snapped. "Why on earth do you always have to go after a taken guy? Why not get your own?"

Lindsay's eyes went wide and all at once the tickling stopped. "How did you know that?"

"Your friend Hannah."

She moved away from his twitching size 10s and headed over to his left rib. Slowly she inched in towards his face. "What did she tell you, Jason?" she demanded.

"You mean you don't know?" Jason snorted. "It's no big secret, Lindsay, really. Everyone on the set knows your ways with men. Your motto is ‘So many men — so little time.' Every man you screwed in college already had a girlfriend. Talk about a trail of broken hearts, you've got a long list of female enemies dating back to your sorrority. I heard that four of them tied you to your bed blindfolded at 4 A.M. and tickled the living tar out of you. You remember them wanting to chop your locks so you'd look like a billiard ball?"

Lindsay sighed. It was true. She thought back to her freshman year in college. She was a whirlwind of sexual activity. Strangely enough, she'd found her own boyfriend a year later. It was a long time coming, but for two years they were inseparable. Then, a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity led him to Cairo. When she learned he had been killed in a car crash on news assignment, she spent the next two months in tears and virtual isolation. The entire campus labelled her "Herman the Hermit Crab." She lost weight, her grades collapsed, and she found her will to live shot. Until a university course in interior decoration caught her eye. After a very weak start, she made her way back and graduated in position three in her class. And here she was, buoyed by the interest homeowners had shown in her handiwork. It all seemed so… distant.

"OK, tough bitch," Jason said sharply, pleased that he had smoked out her weak spot. "Based on the wall clock, I spent an hour holed up in here. You think you can go an hour?"

Lindsay hesitated.

"Or are you a big chicken?" Jason persisted, adding on a few clucks for good measure.

"Chicken, huh?" retorted Lindsay. "I'll show you a chicken!" She released Jason's arms and undid the stockade. Once he was out, she jumped on the seat and put her ankles onto the rest. She guided him through the securing process.

"Oh, am I gonna enjoy this," Jason gloated, stroking an index finger up and down the left side of Lindsay's rib cage. She jerked and grunted.

"Oh, brother," she groaned, feeling her tiny size sixes twitching all over the place. But this wasn't the time to recoil.

Jason repeated the process on the right side of her ribs. Again, she twisted. But the stocks didn't rattle.

"OK, girlfriend, time to rumble," he sneered, digging a hand into her armpit. This time, he felt the seat vibrate under her five-foot-two frame, followed by tittering.

"Bring it on, hotshot!" Lindsay squealed, determination evident in her sparkling blue eyes even as he dug into her other underarm.

Jason raised the bottom of her shirt to around her rib cage. There was her belly button in all its regal beauty, and such an inviting target. He moved all over the exposed area, just above her rump all the way to the top of her jiggling belly. A little cream cheese around that area, but so much the better — makes it even more jiggly and receptive to touch. Lindsay was at the shrieking stage.

And the stocks rattled a few inches away from the wall.

"I see those little tootsies wiggling over there," Jason announced gleefully.

Lindsay gulped, for she knew what was coming next; she pointed her perfectly-pedicured feet so that her soles were as far down as possible.

"That's not gonna save you," Jason shot back, pushing up the bottoms of her fat toes so he could get a view of her unblemished soles. "And just to make sure of that —" he removed a toothbrush from his trousers pocket, "— you forgot to search me, honey. Now you're really gonna laugh your head off."

The young designer felt her heart sink as the soft compact bristles, woven so close together, scratched firmly on the outside edge of her left foot. She felt a sudden sensory overload from within, leading to an ear-piercing shriek. But the last thing on Jason's mind was giving this mischief-making nymph a reprieve. The bristles went in harder.

Up and down, up and down, her small feet scrunched. Her tiny toes flexed in and out like fists, darting all around to stave off the brush. Lindsay's nerves weren't far from catching fire, but she felt her body temperature rising fast.

"And just think," Jason added nonchalantly, "this was said to be an effective means of torture during the Renaissance era. Girls of all ages were blindfolded and put in ankle pillories for offenses that would today be considered banalities. Even the Comanche tribe made good use of it." He brought the toothbrush to the undersides of her toes. That did it — her body temperature had skyrocketed and every nerve ending was blazing.

"Oh, now that's cheating!" Lindsay roared.

"Is it now?" Jason shot back. "I didn't get to breathe, now did I?"

"No, I don't think he did," came Hannah's voice from the entryway. "Good job, Jason. I'll take over from here."

"Oh!" Jason released his hold on Lindsay. "Hi, there, Hannah! Whooh! Almost had a heart attack!"

Lindsay's voice was weak. "Hannah! You've got to get me out of here! I've spent an hour in this damn contraption of yours. This guy is a crackpot!"

If Lindsay were hoping for sympathy or support, it certainly wouldn't come from Hannah. "Well, seeing as how it was your idea to want him in here, I can't blame him."

"But he said I could go free after an hour!" the designer wailed. "You promised me, Jason!"

"I did?" Jason scoffed. "I don't ever remember that. Still, if it's all the same to you, honey, if you can take an hour with her, you get to do her for a full hour. Same as you did with me. Sound fair?"

Lindsay nodded feebly. She shot Hannah a cold glare, relishing the idea of dropping her in her own creation.

"I'm cool with the idea," Hannah replied. "Besides, I could use a round of immature fun."
 
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