Jaynin
4th Level Red Feather
- Joined
- Jul 12, 2003
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Felin's turn, this time.
---
A couch that folded out into a bed was really a wonderful thing. Relaxing on that bed, enjoying the dry, slightly cool atmosphere generated by an air conditioner with the lights dimmed save for the glow of electronic screens was an even better thing. And sharing that enjoyment with someone who regarded it as just a step below paradise was the best of all. I balanced my laptop computer on my lap, hands resting behind my head as I relaxed in nothing but a sleeveless white undershirt and boxer shorts, watching the display on the large TV right in front of me. A feline claw tapped in a slow rhythm against the hard plastic of the game controller as Felin pondered her next move, many things that needed to be done but very few moves left before her turn ended. I knew how she must be pondering the situation; how can I work as many variables as possible in my favor with what I have left? What can I leave to chance? What am I overlooking, or have forgotten?
Felin often liked to work her fingers against something while she thought, whether it was tapping the controller, her computer mouse, the desk, or in this case a very slow and soft back-and forth under my arm. Of course, it tickled and quite a lot at that, but it also sent an excited little shiver down my spine, and so I did my best to endure the situation. I could hear her "hmm"ing as she studied the screen, garnet eyes checking and re-checking the parade of statistics she called up on the screen, and finally she blinked, seeming to let the ideas roll around in the back of her head for a while and set the controller down, leaning against my side and focusing her attention on my laptop screen. "What're you doing?" she asked, and by way of answer I turned the screen a little bit in her direction so that she could see it:
Professor Felin
Height: 5 feet, 6 inches
Hair: Black and white
Eyes: Garnet
Bust: C-cup
Build: Slim
Weaknesses: Undersides of the breasts, brushes of all types, A-spot
"You know, I actually had smaller breasts before I met you," she remarked casually. "I'm not sure why being around you caused them to swell up a little. I guess it's your habit of playing with them." I wasn't sure if she was being serious or not. Felin was, at the moment, wearing a comfortable t-shirt with no bra and a pair of panties, which was, oddly, less revealing than her 'normal' clothing. Felin's fur was mostly white with black mottling, and her 'uniform' as she called it were two pieces of irregularly shaped clothing that were meant to look like two of the black patches which normally occurred, but conveniently placed over her breasts and between her legs. It had taken me some time to learn that the upper portion, in order to more convincingly look the part, actually constricted her breasts so that a large amount of cleavage didn't give away the fact that the 'fur' was fake. Felin's fur was very short in any case and the grey skin beneath was very, very sensitive. Having satisfied her curiosity, she decided to turn back to her game and make a move.
"I do like this database program you've set up," I said, watching her play. "It's not super fancy, but it does provide a pretty good way for me to get my thoughts in order. Arishna was the first entry, and I even attached a video to it and everything." Felin nodded, concentrating on the remainder of her move, letting out a sigh of relief as a calculated gamble paid off. Then she answered with a smirk:
"I know. I've seen it."
"How have you seen it?" I asked with some surprise."I didn't show it to anyone just yet." I had been going to use that little tidbit as a lead-in to the fact that I wanted to get her in a video for her entry, but the surprise announcement had been enough to divert my attention from the track I had been planning to follow. She just shrugged, but I narrowed my eyes in suspicion, a possibility belatedly occurring to me; the data was, of course, being stored on a database of Felin's making. The physical storage was in her laboratory, and it would have been child's play for her to give herself access to whatever she pleased. "Never mind... don't answer that," I said, and she snickered. In this case, I'd never win a war of words with her when she was obviously so pleased with herself, so if I was going to get the upper hand after this sudden reversal, I'd need some action rather than words. To that end, I reached for the toothbrush I had set aside on the side table after using earlier, and started to roll Felin's T-shirt up. She didn't object in any way as I rolled it up enough to let her left breast slide out.
That changed the instant she caught sight of the toothbrush in my hand. A startled yowl escaped her lips, and Felin quite literally leapt over the arm of the couch, to place it like a physical barrier between her and myself, crouching down behind it so I could only see her narrowed garnet eyes. "Don't you dare," she said suspiciously. I laughed, and her eyes darted to the electronic eye of the camera built into my laptop. "Oh, I get your game," she said, still not willing to return to her position on the couch as long as I held the toothbrush. I returned both toothbrush and laptop to the side table, though with the top tilted so the camera was on the two of us, and she very cautiously came back into bed. Now that the laptop was out of my lap, though, I could turn and lay on my side, and she accepted the unspoken invitation to burrow against my front and under the sheet, turning so that her back was against my front, and I stroked her black-and-white hair gently. "Okay," she said, more reasonably now that I was not threatening her with her absolute worst weakness, "let's deal, since I know you're not gonna let the A-spot thing drop until you've got it on video, and I'm not going to give you an excuse to restrain me and tickle me until I turn into a shrieking wreck."
"Fair enough," I said to her, "since that's pretty much exactly the case. So let's make a deal, then. You're right; I want a decent-length clip of a few minutes of tickling your A-spot." Felin was much more tolerant of my fingers skating up under her shirt to trace on her ticklish ribs, giggling and squirming for me as she made her next move, after a long period of hesitation. Surprisingly, at least for Felin, she had chosen two moves so far that trusted to luck far more than I would have thought she'd like... but it seemed that she was choosing one set of offensive gambles over a different set of defensive gambles. I felt her tense slightly in my arms as her attack failed, and she was left with but a single move to put herself in the best position before the enemy's turn. "In exchange, since tomorrow is Saturday, I will cook you breakfast and be your tickle slave all day."
"Breakfast is good," she said, wiggling against me, "but you're not as clever as you think you are. 'Tickle slave' usually means I tickle you - and you like it, don't lie - until I can't control myself and then I jump your bones and we do this several times, and I snuggle up to you all happy and purring and tickle you more, but after that I can't put you through the heavy tickling I really want to. All I can ever seem to manage is running my fingers around on your chest and in your underarms for a while until we're both ready to go again. You know me too well." Felin giggled, taking her last move to retreat a unit several spaces back before responding with her counter-offer. "I'll take the breakfast and the tickle slave, but I intend to take you down to the lab and put you in the tentacle combat trainer." Her grin was wicked; I felt a chill run down my spine. I'd never seen anyone, male and female alike, leave the tentacle combat trainer without looking as if they'd been chased down a hill by a dozen angry bulls. Driving jeeps. With machine guns. In essence, it was a sealed chamber in which the luckless 'trainee' was placed, and the tentacle being given free reign to do what it would while Felin (and any other observers) were able to watch with smug glee. One thing was for certain: Felin was driving a hard bargain.
"No tentacles," I said in reply, "but I'll accept goats." I had to wince as I said it; goats licking my feet was not exactly a physical weakness per se, but a huge psychological one. It absolutely drove me crazy. Felin knew it, as I could feel her squirm against me a little as she turned that image over in her mind, then held her breath. I watched the TV with her, as the whole thing came down to one move against her, gambling her entire strategy on surviving this single attack to lure enemies out from their fortified positions. And then she relaxed, a sigh of relief as the danger point was passed, barely, but passed. Hopefully she'd be a little more lenient in our little negotiation.
"Lots of goats," she said, "and a long time in the stocks. Plus, I'm going to use salt lick." I hesitated a moment, then nodded. Felin sighed. "Well... against my better judgment, then. Three minutes on my A-spot."
"With a toothbrush," I hedged.
"Fine," Felin said, quailing visibly as I took up the toothbrush, and took the controller away from her, to set it safely on the side table. "How do you want me to lay for this? You know I'll never keep still no matter how much you ask, so I hope you have a plan in mind." I did indeed, and in a few moments' time I was laying on my back, with Felin on top of me, her back still to my front, and her hands now up over her head, and fingers laced together behind my head. Thick, elastic bonds of dark energy formed themselves around her wrists, binding them in place, and I used my legs to cross over her slimmer legs and keep those from getting around too much. "Good thing you took the controller away," Felin murmured, trying to distract herself as her black T-shirt started coming up again, letting only that left breast spill out once again. I could feel the tension in her voice and in her body as she tried to banter. "I wouldn't want to waste a whole turn on random moves due to ticklish convulsions...!" Her breath was drawn in with a sharp hiss as the toothbrush touched her ribs, still shy of her A-spot.
The A-spot was, as one might have guessed, an incredibly sensitive spot on the underside of Felin's left breast. Granted, the undersides of both breasts were ticklish (but only there, not on top or around the sides) but this one spot really, REALLY drove her absolutely up the wall. Just one touch of the toothbrush in question proved that, and I nearly got whiplash as Felin's arms jerked hard against the back of my neck in a desperate but futile attempt to cover the spot in question the moment I touched it. "STOOOOOOOOP stopstopstopstopstospothahAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHNONONONO DAHAHAHAH AHAAHAHAH DAMMIT DAMMIT STHEHEHEHEH EHEHEHEHE EHEHEHEHEHEH ESTOP STOP STOOOOOOOOOOP!!!!" Felin's laughter was like a yowl, screeching past her lips as her eyes bulged with sudden, ticklish panic, all thanks to the stroke of some small, tiny bristles against an unassuming little spot beneath her breast. Stroke, stroke, stroke. I didn't even stroke back and forth like I was brushing teeth, just yet. I'd stroke in one direction, complete a full, deliberate stroke, and then bring the brush back to the beginning without touching her skin and do the same stroke again.
"Stop, stop, stopstopsshahahaHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAH NO NOHEHEHEHEHHEEHEH DA-AHAHAHAHAHEHEHEHEHEH ESTOOOOOOPP!!!" Felin screeched, as the bristly toothbrush gave her periodic breaks, but of the seconds-long variety, as I very slowly and methodically tormented her A-spot. "Damn you, damn you for talking me into this, you are so dead tomorrow, dead, deheHEHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHHAAHAHAHAHA!!!"
"You're so cute when you swear," I said, needling her a little bit while giving her a break with the toothbrush, but when she went to muster her reply I stroked her spot swiftly, obliterating her response in a cyclone of laughter, that ended up not abating because I decided to stroke back the other way and not give her a rest this time. The toothbrush stroked Felin's A-spot back and forth, back and forth, and even though I was prepared for her struggles, the frantic intensity of it still took me off guard. Yet I persisted, using my other arm to wrap around her midsection and hold it still, working relentlessly at the little spot which was not marked by anything special other than an unusual propensity towards being ticklish. Aware that I had only three minutes to demonstrate how devastatingly effective the spot was on her, I tickled it more firmly, and felt Felin nearly tear herself out of my grip with wild gyrations. She absolutely could not stand being tickled on her A-spot, not at all, not even for a bit.
"So how about you release me from my end of the bargain?" I asked her with a smirk. "Now that I've got you where I want you, there's no reason for me to stop at three minutes. So I think I'll keep going until you give up." This produced the expected howls of ticklish betrayal, although I really had no intention of shafting Felin, just teasing her. (Well, depending on one's definition of 'shafting', perhaps one could argue I had every intention of doing so.) Maybe she even knew that, or would know it if she could keep her thoughts together long enough to think it through logically. Probably not; the ticklish feline screamed in my lap, struggling mightily to get away from that torturing toothbrush, tickling her all out of proportion to its size. I didn't even need to scrub frantically in an attempt to make up for the lack of surface area afforded by the toothbrush. "Tickle, tickle, Professor... give me an A, and let me have sex with you, and don't ask after me if I don't show up to class for the rest of the semester..."
"I SWEHAHEHEAHAHEAHAEHEHHEAHEHEAHEHEEEAAAHAHAHAEEEAR YOU HAHAAHAHAH AHAHAHA HAHAHA AHAHAH AAAARE SOOOOOOOOO DE-HEHHE-HEHHE-HEHEHEHAHAHEHAHHAHAAAAD!! SHAHAHEHEHEHEHEEH SHIT SHAHAEHEHEH AHAHAH DAMN HHEHEHEEHEHEHEEEEEEEEEEE!!!" Damn, but this was going to be a grade-A tickle torture clip... pardon the pun. The fact that Felin hadn't collapsed instantly to meet my demands showed how hard she was fighting to hold onto this... and I imagine that her screeches of hysterical laughter fed the indignation that kept her going. I momentarily regretted not preparing an electric toothbrush, but that might have been just a bit too obvious. Felin was more than aware that I could smooth-talk her into situations like these, and sometimes grew a little surly if I took too much advantage of that fact. Of course, if I had really annoyed her, she'd say nothing and I would wake up tomorrow morning in the tentacle chamber. Felin took great pleasure in being devious and exacting revenge. The feline did have a wonderful snarky side to her; though she was usually even-tempered, there were a few things that could set her on edge, but her style of revenge was cold, calculating, and thorough. Very thorough.
The toothbrush did have a wonderful effect on her, though. As she screamed and squealed with laughter, still bursting with frenetic energy that manifested itself in frequent struggling, arching, and threats, she squirmed against me in a way I couldn't deny was arousing. Yet she still refused to give in: "Just let me out of my end of the bargain and the tickling will stop..." I teased, breathily, into her ear, eye glancing over to the time displayed on the laptop. My three minutes were just about up, and when Felin, breathless and teary-eyed, shook her head no, I murmured into her ear again: "Well, then, there's only one thing left for me to do." It sounded like a threat to escalate the tickle torture, and I knew she would take it as one, tensing her body up, but I set the toothbrush aside and dissolved the magic bonds around her wrists and ankles. "Congratulations, kitten," I whispered. "You held out. The three minutes are up."
Felin blinked, as if genuinely surprised, then turned around, looked at me, fixed her shirt, and sat up on top of me, seeming a bit dazed. Then her gaze regained that suspicious steely quality and she narrowed her eyes at me. "So that part about tickling your way out of the deal was all just a lie, wasn't it? A lie to get me nice and worked up for your little... arrrrgh. You know me too well." I just grinned, and Felin crossed her arms over her chest. "Very well. I'll admit it, well played, sir." A grin lit up her face. "You got your three minutes of tickle torture, got your video, and got me riled up, but you did it without pushing too far. I'm going to enjoy watching you suffer the goats tomorrow." That made my grin wither, replaced by a nervous chuckle and a bit of a cough. I reached over to the side table and extended to Felin her controller, and she looked back at the TV, as if having completely forgotten the epic mental struggle she'd gone through just a few minutes before, and the short-lived triumph.
"Now then I guess I can get to work on finishing the game," she said, settling back to nestle against my side. "One arm behind your head," she commanded, and I obeyed, feeling a bit perplexed at the sudden change, but amused. "You did say that you'd be my tickle slave 'tomorrow', did you not?" I nodded. "And that video of yours was three minutes long or so, right?" Another nod; I wasn't sure where she was going with this, but I had a sinking feeling that I was about to get sandbagged. "Tell me what time it is?"
I looked. "One minute past midnight... oh, shit."
"Tomorrow has already started," Felin said with a grin, "and while I'll save the goats for later today, I want my tickle slave to help me think while I finish up this game. I've still got a ways to go, but the night's young yet, and I'm not tired at all..." she said, fingers sneaking into my exposed underarm while her other fingernails tapped on the controller...
---
A couch that folded out into a bed was really a wonderful thing. Relaxing on that bed, enjoying the dry, slightly cool atmosphere generated by an air conditioner with the lights dimmed save for the glow of electronic screens was an even better thing. And sharing that enjoyment with someone who regarded it as just a step below paradise was the best of all. I balanced my laptop computer on my lap, hands resting behind my head as I relaxed in nothing but a sleeveless white undershirt and boxer shorts, watching the display on the large TV right in front of me. A feline claw tapped in a slow rhythm against the hard plastic of the game controller as Felin pondered her next move, many things that needed to be done but very few moves left before her turn ended. I knew how she must be pondering the situation; how can I work as many variables as possible in my favor with what I have left? What can I leave to chance? What am I overlooking, or have forgotten?
Felin often liked to work her fingers against something while she thought, whether it was tapping the controller, her computer mouse, the desk, or in this case a very slow and soft back-and forth under my arm. Of course, it tickled and quite a lot at that, but it also sent an excited little shiver down my spine, and so I did my best to endure the situation. I could hear her "hmm"ing as she studied the screen, garnet eyes checking and re-checking the parade of statistics she called up on the screen, and finally she blinked, seeming to let the ideas roll around in the back of her head for a while and set the controller down, leaning against my side and focusing her attention on my laptop screen. "What're you doing?" she asked, and by way of answer I turned the screen a little bit in her direction so that she could see it:
Professor Felin
Height: 5 feet, 6 inches
Hair: Black and white
Eyes: Garnet
Bust: C-cup
Build: Slim
Weaknesses: Undersides of the breasts, brushes of all types, A-spot
"You know, I actually had smaller breasts before I met you," she remarked casually. "I'm not sure why being around you caused them to swell up a little. I guess it's your habit of playing with them." I wasn't sure if she was being serious or not. Felin was, at the moment, wearing a comfortable t-shirt with no bra and a pair of panties, which was, oddly, less revealing than her 'normal' clothing. Felin's fur was mostly white with black mottling, and her 'uniform' as she called it were two pieces of irregularly shaped clothing that were meant to look like two of the black patches which normally occurred, but conveniently placed over her breasts and between her legs. It had taken me some time to learn that the upper portion, in order to more convincingly look the part, actually constricted her breasts so that a large amount of cleavage didn't give away the fact that the 'fur' was fake. Felin's fur was very short in any case and the grey skin beneath was very, very sensitive. Having satisfied her curiosity, she decided to turn back to her game and make a move.
"I do like this database program you've set up," I said, watching her play. "It's not super fancy, but it does provide a pretty good way for me to get my thoughts in order. Arishna was the first entry, and I even attached a video to it and everything." Felin nodded, concentrating on the remainder of her move, letting out a sigh of relief as a calculated gamble paid off. Then she answered with a smirk:
"I know. I've seen it."
"How have you seen it?" I asked with some surprise."I didn't show it to anyone just yet." I had been going to use that little tidbit as a lead-in to the fact that I wanted to get her in a video for her entry, but the surprise announcement had been enough to divert my attention from the track I had been planning to follow. She just shrugged, but I narrowed my eyes in suspicion, a possibility belatedly occurring to me; the data was, of course, being stored on a database of Felin's making. The physical storage was in her laboratory, and it would have been child's play for her to give herself access to whatever she pleased. "Never mind... don't answer that," I said, and she snickered. In this case, I'd never win a war of words with her when she was obviously so pleased with herself, so if I was going to get the upper hand after this sudden reversal, I'd need some action rather than words. To that end, I reached for the toothbrush I had set aside on the side table after using earlier, and started to roll Felin's T-shirt up. She didn't object in any way as I rolled it up enough to let her left breast slide out.
That changed the instant she caught sight of the toothbrush in my hand. A startled yowl escaped her lips, and Felin quite literally leapt over the arm of the couch, to place it like a physical barrier between her and myself, crouching down behind it so I could only see her narrowed garnet eyes. "Don't you dare," she said suspiciously. I laughed, and her eyes darted to the electronic eye of the camera built into my laptop. "Oh, I get your game," she said, still not willing to return to her position on the couch as long as I held the toothbrush. I returned both toothbrush and laptop to the side table, though with the top tilted so the camera was on the two of us, and she very cautiously came back into bed. Now that the laptop was out of my lap, though, I could turn and lay on my side, and she accepted the unspoken invitation to burrow against my front and under the sheet, turning so that her back was against my front, and I stroked her black-and-white hair gently. "Okay," she said, more reasonably now that I was not threatening her with her absolute worst weakness, "let's deal, since I know you're not gonna let the A-spot thing drop until you've got it on video, and I'm not going to give you an excuse to restrain me and tickle me until I turn into a shrieking wreck."
"Fair enough," I said to her, "since that's pretty much exactly the case. So let's make a deal, then. You're right; I want a decent-length clip of a few minutes of tickling your A-spot." Felin was much more tolerant of my fingers skating up under her shirt to trace on her ticklish ribs, giggling and squirming for me as she made her next move, after a long period of hesitation. Surprisingly, at least for Felin, she had chosen two moves so far that trusted to luck far more than I would have thought she'd like... but it seemed that she was choosing one set of offensive gambles over a different set of defensive gambles. I felt her tense slightly in my arms as her attack failed, and she was left with but a single move to put herself in the best position before the enemy's turn. "In exchange, since tomorrow is Saturday, I will cook you breakfast and be your tickle slave all day."
"Breakfast is good," she said, wiggling against me, "but you're not as clever as you think you are. 'Tickle slave' usually means I tickle you - and you like it, don't lie - until I can't control myself and then I jump your bones and we do this several times, and I snuggle up to you all happy and purring and tickle you more, but after that I can't put you through the heavy tickling I really want to. All I can ever seem to manage is running my fingers around on your chest and in your underarms for a while until we're both ready to go again. You know me too well." Felin giggled, taking her last move to retreat a unit several spaces back before responding with her counter-offer. "I'll take the breakfast and the tickle slave, but I intend to take you down to the lab and put you in the tentacle combat trainer." Her grin was wicked; I felt a chill run down my spine. I'd never seen anyone, male and female alike, leave the tentacle combat trainer without looking as if they'd been chased down a hill by a dozen angry bulls. Driving jeeps. With machine guns. In essence, it was a sealed chamber in which the luckless 'trainee' was placed, and the tentacle being given free reign to do what it would while Felin (and any other observers) were able to watch with smug glee. One thing was for certain: Felin was driving a hard bargain.
"No tentacles," I said in reply, "but I'll accept goats." I had to wince as I said it; goats licking my feet was not exactly a physical weakness per se, but a huge psychological one. It absolutely drove me crazy. Felin knew it, as I could feel her squirm against me a little as she turned that image over in her mind, then held her breath. I watched the TV with her, as the whole thing came down to one move against her, gambling her entire strategy on surviving this single attack to lure enemies out from their fortified positions. And then she relaxed, a sigh of relief as the danger point was passed, barely, but passed. Hopefully she'd be a little more lenient in our little negotiation.
"Lots of goats," she said, "and a long time in the stocks. Plus, I'm going to use salt lick." I hesitated a moment, then nodded. Felin sighed. "Well... against my better judgment, then. Three minutes on my A-spot."
"With a toothbrush," I hedged.
"Fine," Felin said, quailing visibly as I took up the toothbrush, and took the controller away from her, to set it safely on the side table. "How do you want me to lay for this? You know I'll never keep still no matter how much you ask, so I hope you have a plan in mind." I did indeed, and in a few moments' time I was laying on my back, with Felin on top of me, her back still to my front, and her hands now up over her head, and fingers laced together behind my head. Thick, elastic bonds of dark energy formed themselves around her wrists, binding them in place, and I used my legs to cross over her slimmer legs and keep those from getting around too much. "Good thing you took the controller away," Felin murmured, trying to distract herself as her black T-shirt started coming up again, letting only that left breast spill out once again. I could feel the tension in her voice and in her body as she tried to banter. "I wouldn't want to waste a whole turn on random moves due to ticklish convulsions...!" Her breath was drawn in with a sharp hiss as the toothbrush touched her ribs, still shy of her A-spot.
The A-spot was, as one might have guessed, an incredibly sensitive spot on the underside of Felin's left breast. Granted, the undersides of both breasts were ticklish (but only there, not on top or around the sides) but this one spot really, REALLY drove her absolutely up the wall. Just one touch of the toothbrush in question proved that, and I nearly got whiplash as Felin's arms jerked hard against the back of my neck in a desperate but futile attempt to cover the spot in question the moment I touched it. "STOOOOOOOOP stopstopstopstopstospothahAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHNONONONO DAHAHAHAH AHAAHAHAH DAMMIT DAMMIT STHEHEHEHEH EHEHEHEHE EHEHEHEHEHEH ESTOP STOP STOOOOOOOOOOP!!!!" Felin's laughter was like a yowl, screeching past her lips as her eyes bulged with sudden, ticklish panic, all thanks to the stroke of some small, tiny bristles against an unassuming little spot beneath her breast. Stroke, stroke, stroke. I didn't even stroke back and forth like I was brushing teeth, just yet. I'd stroke in one direction, complete a full, deliberate stroke, and then bring the brush back to the beginning without touching her skin and do the same stroke again.
"Stop, stop, stopstopsshahahaHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAH NO NOHEHEHEHEHHEEHEH DA-AHAHAHAHAHEHEHEHEHEH ESTOOOOOOPP!!!" Felin screeched, as the bristly toothbrush gave her periodic breaks, but of the seconds-long variety, as I very slowly and methodically tormented her A-spot. "Damn you, damn you for talking me into this, you are so dead tomorrow, dead, deheHEHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHHAAHAHAHAHA!!!"
"You're so cute when you swear," I said, needling her a little bit while giving her a break with the toothbrush, but when she went to muster her reply I stroked her spot swiftly, obliterating her response in a cyclone of laughter, that ended up not abating because I decided to stroke back the other way and not give her a rest this time. The toothbrush stroked Felin's A-spot back and forth, back and forth, and even though I was prepared for her struggles, the frantic intensity of it still took me off guard. Yet I persisted, using my other arm to wrap around her midsection and hold it still, working relentlessly at the little spot which was not marked by anything special other than an unusual propensity towards being ticklish. Aware that I had only three minutes to demonstrate how devastatingly effective the spot was on her, I tickled it more firmly, and felt Felin nearly tear herself out of my grip with wild gyrations. She absolutely could not stand being tickled on her A-spot, not at all, not even for a bit.
"So how about you release me from my end of the bargain?" I asked her with a smirk. "Now that I've got you where I want you, there's no reason for me to stop at three minutes. So I think I'll keep going until you give up." This produced the expected howls of ticklish betrayal, although I really had no intention of shafting Felin, just teasing her. (Well, depending on one's definition of 'shafting', perhaps one could argue I had every intention of doing so.) Maybe she even knew that, or would know it if she could keep her thoughts together long enough to think it through logically. Probably not; the ticklish feline screamed in my lap, struggling mightily to get away from that torturing toothbrush, tickling her all out of proportion to its size. I didn't even need to scrub frantically in an attempt to make up for the lack of surface area afforded by the toothbrush. "Tickle, tickle, Professor... give me an A, and let me have sex with you, and don't ask after me if I don't show up to class for the rest of the semester..."
"I SWEHAHEHEAHAHEAHAEHEHHEAHEHEAHEHEEEAAAHAHAHAEEEAR YOU HAHAAHAHAH AHAHAHA HAHAHA AHAHAH AAAARE SOOOOOOOOO DE-HEHHE-HEHHE-HEHEHEHAHAHEHAHHAHAAAAD!! SHAHAHEHEHEHEHEEH SHIT SHAHAEHEHEH AHAHAH DAMN HHEHEHEEHEHEHEEEEEEEEEEE!!!" Damn, but this was going to be a grade-A tickle torture clip... pardon the pun. The fact that Felin hadn't collapsed instantly to meet my demands showed how hard she was fighting to hold onto this... and I imagine that her screeches of hysterical laughter fed the indignation that kept her going. I momentarily regretted not preparing an electric toothbrush, but that might have been just a bit too obvious. Felin was more than aware that I could smooth-talk her into situations like these, and sometimes grew a little surly if I took too much advantage of that fact. Of course, if I had really annoyed her, she'd say nothing and I would wake up tomorrow morning in the tentacle chamber. Felin took great pleasure in being devious and exacting revenge. The feline did have a wonderful snarky side to her; though she was usually even-tempered, there were a few things that could set her on edge, but her style of revenge was cold, calculating, and thorough. Very thorough.
The toothbrush did have a wonderful effect on her, though. As she screamed and squealed with laughter, still bursting with frenetic energy that manifested itself in frequent struggling, arching, and threats, she squirmed against me in a way I couldn't deny was arousing. Yet she still refused to give in: "Just let me out of my end of the bargain and the tickling will stop..." I teased, breathily, into her ear, eye glancing over to the time displayed on the laptop. My three minutes were just about up, and when Felin, breathless and teary-eyed, shook her head no, I murmured into her ear again: "Well, then, there's only one thing left for me to do." It sounded like a threat to escalate the tickle torture, and I knew she would take it as one, tensing her body up, but I set the toothbrush aside and dissolved the magic bonds around her wrists and ankles. "Congratulations, kitten," I whispered. "You held out. The three minutes are up."
Felin blinked, as if genuinely surprised, then turned around, looked at me, fixed her shirt, and sat up on top of me, seeming a bit dazed. Then her gaze regained that suspicious steely quality and she narrowed her eyes at me. "So that part about tickling your way out of the deal was all just a lie, wasn't it? A lie to get me nice and worked up for your little... arrrrgh. You know me too well." I just grinned, and Felin crossed her arms over her chest. "Very well. I'll admit it, well played, sir." A grin lit up her face. "You got your three minutes of tickle torture, got your video, and got me riled up, but you did it without pushing too far. I'm going to enjoy watching you suffer the goats tomorrow." That made my grin wither, replaced by a nervous chuckle and a bit of a cough. I reached over to the side table and extended to Felin her controller, and she looked back at the TV, as if having completely forgotten the epic mental struggle she'd gone through just a few minutes before, and the short-lived triumph.
"Now then I guess I can get to work on finishing the game," she said, settling back to nestle against my side. "One arm behind your head," she commanded, and I obeyed, feeling a bit perplexed at the sudden change, but amused. "You did say that you'd be my tickle slave 'tomorrow', did you not?" I nodded. "And that video of yours was three minutes long or so, right?" Another nod; I wasn't sure where she was going with this, but I had a sinking feeling that I was about to get sandbagged. "Tell me what time it is?"
I looked. "One minute past midnight... oh, shit."
"Tomorrow has already started," Felin said with a grin, "and while I'll save the goats for later today, I want my tickle slave to help me think while I finish up this game. I've still got a ways to go, but the night's young yet, and I'm not tired at all..." she said, fingers sneaking into my exposed underarm while her other fingernails tapped on the controller...
