Nylon Goth
TMF Novice
- Joined
- Jun 9, 2005
- Messages
- 50
- Points
- 8
Hi all - having recovered from the Nylon Dungeon 2.0 series, I have decided to get back into some M/F nylon tickling. This is a scenario (I guess fantasy) that has been in my head for a while. If sheer stockings, nylon arches, deathly ticklish hosed toes are your thing then I think the Bat Cave may just be the place for you. As always this is purely fiction. Happy nylon tickling and as ever all comments and suggestions welcome as it’s fun trying to fit peoples personal fantasies into the narrative 🦇
Genesis of the Bat Cave Club
What would you do if you had a deep and insatiable love of nylons and tickling and the resources to fund it? That was exactly the question on the mind of Simon Baxter on an April morning in 1995 as he sat alone in the corner of the Trafalgar Tavern, Greenwich, London. Mid thirties, piercing blue eyes and a successful Audit partner in one of Londons “Big Six” accounting firms. Single as a life style choice, he had no shortage of lovers but no inclination to be tied down, well not in the conventional sense. And now fate, not content with the multiple blessings it had bestowed on him had seen fit to make him the largest Lottery winner in U.K. history. £22.5 million. Life changing.
At midday he met Joanne Best, estate agent for his appointment to view some riverside properties at the junction of Eastney and Crane street. Immaculately turned out, Ms Best, as she introduced herself, unlocked the door to 12A Crane street and explained its particulars. A large non- descript multi-floor 1950’s structure suitable for anything from retail to leisure space or even conversion into riverside apartments. She provided a comprehensive tour of the building which had been vacant for some time. She saved the best till last. Under the more modern structure was a network of storage rooms and tunnels that spoke to the original heritage of the building as part of Londons once thriving docks. Simon calculated there was almost as much floor space below street level than above it. Satisfied it was going to meet all of his very specific needs he agreed there and then to the purchase. Mystified and some what impressed by the decisiveness of her client she asked, “If it isn’t too forward what are you planning to do with your new purchase Mr Baxter?” He smiled and answered, “I have always been fascinated with the venerable gentleman’s clubs of Mayfair and Park Lane and whilst never a member I can now be an owner. This place is perfect with its mixture of the modern balanced on top of the ancient. My very own Bat Cave. In fact Ms Best I think you have just helped me christen my little venture,” he beamed. “Now if you have the time, would you like to help me celebrate with some lunch?” She agreed readily, a little star struck by her charming client.
3 hours later Joanne Best let out a long contented moan after some of the best sex of her entire life. Naked apart from the sheer black French stockings that Simon had asked her to wear. She watched as he gently undid her restraints and collected up the various feathers and tools he had applied to every inch of her flesh. The tickling had been excruciating, especially on the soles of her nylon covered feet but the orgasms, when they were finally allowed to her, more then made up for it. She had known about men having foot fetishes but tickling? That was new to her and lying there thinking about it made her begin to tingle again. More fun would have to wait though, Simon Baxter was a man on a mission.
The next 9 months progressed like clockwork. 12A Crane street was sheathed in scaffolding and awnings and far from prying eyes the real work began. The subterranean rooms and passages were stripped, tanked and brought lovingly into the 20th Century whilst retaining their gothic charms. The top floor turned into 5 luxury apartments, the floor below turned into a number of “play rooms” and the ground floor into a darkly baroque gentleman’s club complete with an extensive bar, fireplaces and the ubiquitous high backed chairs. A portion of the frontage facing Crane street was converted to small retail outlets, allowing the real building to “hide in plain sight” as Simon liked to think. A secretive, incredibly expensive but utterly discreet design agency, Studio 1919 were commissioned to bring the interior to life for their exacting client.
By The following February the works were complete and Simon turned his attention to the business model that would make his dream a reality. This was going to be an exclusive, members only establishment that provided for the needs of nylon tickling fetishists that could pay extensively to indulge their passions. His first master stroke was recruiting Claudine Cholet, or Madame Cholet as she was known in Soho as his “head of entertainments” as he liked to call it. Corseted, buxom and with a cruel smile but a wonderful head for business, Madame Cholet had jumped at the very generous package Simon tempted her with. Simons interests meant that they had business dealings in the past. She was no stranger to procuring 3 girls at a time for her client and briefing them that after dressing head to toe in sheer nylon one was to be a “spy” and the other two “interrogators” assigned to tickle torturing the password from their victim whilst their client watched and joined in if he wished. Madame Cholet was also a proficient “Ler” as Simon could attest from sessions when the feather was very much on the other foot.
As well as being an indomitable front of house hostess, Claudine Cholet’s primary duties were to recruit the women (and sometimes men) that the “Bat Cave” would base its operation on. Simon gave her clear and progressive (progressive for a pimp) guidelines. All employees were to be contracted, NDA’d, very well paid, free to leave at any point and above all members of the Bat Cave team because they chose to be. There was to be a strict no drugs and no harm policy, enforced by a very capable if brutal on site security team. All staff members were required to wear stockings as that was the usp of the establishment. However in a stroke of genius Madame Cholet came up with the idea that each employee would wear one of three different coloured garters on their thighs to differentiate their roles. A black garter meant the woman was totally off limits. A pink garter indicated that tickling was allowed. A red garter meant anything (within reason) was permissible for the clientele.
With the team and building complete the final stages we’re to stock the bar and kitchens, purchase enough tights and stockings to rival the hosiery department at Harrods as well as ensuring every conceivable outfit, uniform and revealing item of underwear were available to fulfil a life time of tickling fantasies. Using some of his contacts and the nascent internet, Simon soon had 30 very rich and very excited members signed up. 24 men and 6 women with a predilection for the finest in nylon tickling and teasing who also knew if they breathed a word about the Bat Caves true function it would ruin them personally and professionally. The final touch was to affix a small brass plate next to the entrance that depicted a bat with out stretched wings clutching a stylised feather in its claws. The Bat Cave was open for business.
Genesis of the Bat Cave Club
What would you do if you had a deep and insatiable love of nylons and tickling and the resources to fund it? That was exactly the question on the mind of Simon Baxter on an April morning in 1995 as he sat alone in the corner of the Trafalgar Tavern, Greenwich, London. Mid thirties, piercing blue eyes and a successful Audit partner in one of Londons “Big Six” accounting firms. Single as a life style choice, he had no shortage of lovers but no inclination to be tied down, well not in the conventional sense. And now fate, not content with the multiple blessings it had bestowed on him had seen fit to make him the largest Lottery winner in U.K. history. £22.5 million. Life changing.
At midday he met Joanne Best, estate agent for his appointment to view some riverside properties at the junction of Eastney and Crane street. Immaculately turned out, Ms Best, as she introduced herself, unlocked the door to 12A Crane street and explained its particulars. A large non- descript multi-floor 1950’s structure suitable for anything from retail to leisure space or even conversion into riverside apartments. She provided a comprehensive tour of the building which had been vacant for some time. She saved the best till last. Under the more modern structure was a network of storage rooms and tunnels that spoke to the original heritage of the building as part of Londons once thriving docks. Simon calculated there was almost as much floor space below street level than above it. Satisfied it was going to meet all of his very specific needs he agreed there and then to the purchase. Mystified and some what impressed by the decisiveness of her client she asked, “If it isn’t too forward what are you planning to do with your new purchase Mr Baxter?” He smiled and answered, “I have always been fascinated with the venerable gentleman’s clubs of Mayfair and Park Lane and whilst never a member I can now be an owner. This place is perfect with its mixture of the modern balanced on top of the ancient. My very own Bat Cave. In fact Ms Best I think you have just helped me christen my little venture,” he beamed. “Now if you have the time, would you like to help me celebrate with some lunch?” She agreed readily, a little star struck by her charming client.
3 hours later Joanne Best let out a long contented moan after some of the best sex of her entire life. Naked apart from the sheer black French stockings that Simon had asked her to wear. She watched as he gently undid her restraints and collected up the various feathers and tools he had applied to every inch of her flesh. The tickling had been excruciating, especially on the soles of her nylon covered feet but the orgasms, when they were finally allowed to her, more then made up for it. She had known about men having foot fetishes but tickling? That was new to her and lying there thinking about it made her begin to tingle again. More fun would have to wait though, Simon Baxter was a man on a mission.
The next 9 months progressed like clockwork. 12A Crane street was sheathed in scaffolding and awnings and far from prying eyes the real work began. The subterranean rooms and passages were stripped, tanked and brought lovingly into the 20th Century whilst retaining their gothic charms. The top floor turned into 5 luxury apartments, the floor below turned into a number of “play rooms” and the ground floor into a darkly baroque gentleman’s club complete with an extensive bar, fireplaces and the ubiquitous high backed chairs. A portion of the frontage facing Crane street was converted to small retail outlets, allowing the real building to “hide in plain sight” as Simon liked to think. A secretive, incredibly expensive but utterly discreet design agency, Studio 1919 were commissioned to bring the interior to life for their exacting client.
By The following February the works were complete and Simon turned his attention to the business model that would make his dream a reality. This was going to be an exclusive, members only establishment that provided for the needs of nylon tickling fetishists that could pay extensively to indulge their passions. His first master stroke was recruiting Claudine Cholet, or Madame Cholet as she was known in Soho as his “head of entertainments” as he liked to call it. Corseted, buxom and with a cruel smile but a wonderful head for business, Madame Cholet had jumped at the very generous package Simon tempted her with. Simons interests meant that they had business dealings in the past. She was no stranger to procuring 3 girls at a time for her client and briefing them that after dressing head to toe in sheer nylon one was to be a “spy” and the other two “interrogators” assigned to tickle torturing the password from their victim whilst their client watched and joined in if he wished. Madame Cholet was also a proficient “Ler” as Simon could attest from sessions when the feather was very much on the other foot.
As well as being an indomitable front of house hostess, Claudine Cholet’s primary duties were to recruit the women (and sometimes men) that the “Bat Cave” would base its operation on. Simon gave her clear and progressive (progressive for a pimp) guidelines. All employees were to be contracted, NDA’d, very well paid, free to leave at any point and above all members of the Bat Cave team because they chose to be. There was to be a strict no drugs and no harm policy, enforced by a very capable if brutal on site security team. All staff members were required to wear stockings as that was the usp of the establishment. However in a stroke of genius Madame Cholet came up with the idea that each employee would wear one of three different coloured garters on their thighs to differentiate their roles. A black garter meant the woman was totally off limits. A pink garter indicated that tickling was allowed. A red garter meant anything (within reason) was permissible for the clientele.
With the team and building complete the final stages we’re to stock the bar and kitchens, purchase enough tights and stockings to rival the hosiery department at Harrods as well as ensuring every conceivable outfit, uniform and revealing item of underwear were available to fulfil a life time of tickling fantasies. Using some of his contacts and the nascent internet, Simon soon had 30 very rich and very excited members signed up. 24 men and 6 women with a predilection for the finest in nylon tickling and teasing who also knew if they breathed a word about the Bat Caves true function it would ruin them personally and professionally. The final touch was to affix a small brass plate next to the entrance that depicted a bat with out stretched wings clutching a stylised feather in its claws. The Bat Cave was open for business.
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