Paul Jones1
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- Oct 16, 2006
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(Previously published elsewhere)
James and Director M were locked in the enemy torture room. It would be hours
before they could be rescued.
Although somewhat older the James, she was still quite attractive. He couldn’t help
being captivated by her, especially after what he’d recently learned about her.
Without prelude, James approached the lady, and began tickling her vigorously. She
squealed with laughter, and struggled violently.
But he kept her in his grip, lifted her, and placed her onto the padded table. He held
her down, and quickly fastened her wrists in place with the table’s restraints. Then
he managed to remove her shoes and stockings, and fasten her ankles as well.
As she protested, he undid the buttons that ran down the front of her dress, beneath
which she was wearing only a brassiere and panties.
“How very thoughtful of you not to be wearing a slip,” he quipped, in his usual style.
“Oh you scoundrel!” she shouted.
Amid more protests, he undid her brassiere, and slipped it up. To his delight, her
breasts were simply enchanting!
“Double-0! What do you think you’re doing?” she roared.
“I’m overpowering the wickedest woman in the world,” came his prompt rejoinder.
His eyes twinkled with merriment as he gazed at the Director, “the formidable M,”
completely at his mercy, which is exactly where he wanted her.
“I’LL HAVE YOU SHOT FOR THIS!” she bellowed.
“Maybe,” he replied. “Maybe not.”
Then he played his trump card. “I saw you tickling that lad the other day, and I saw
the look on your face.”
“I was afraid that you had,” she replied, somewhat sheepishly. She closed her eyes,
deeply embarrassed that her secret had been discovered.
He smiled indulgently, while wiggling his fingers teasingly. She gulped in dismay.
“Oh please, James, not that! I’m so frightfully ticklish!” she cried, in her best
English idiom.
”Oh, I’m so glad to hear that. Because I’m going to find every spot you wish I wouldn’t,
and give you the tickling of your life!” She groaned fretfully.
Then he confessed, “You see, I enjoy tickling, too.” Her heart skipped a beat.
For she had hoped all along that he—
Her reverie was interrupted by his rhythmically squeezing her thighs to create a deep
tickling effect. She roared with laughter.
But she giggled and blushed with embarrassment as he adroitly tickled her inner
thighs. “Well, now. You like that, don’t you, you vixen?” he teased mirthfully.
“Oh, you devil!” she exclaimed, her blush deepening.
There were peals of rich, robust laughter (and simply delightful squirming) as he
skillfully tickled her tempting underarms and her lovely breasts.
He tickled her ribs vigorously, making her roar with hysterical laughter.
Then he resumed devilishly tickling her tummy. She wiggled her torso as much as
her bonds would allow, and wailed with laughter.
And then, he playfully tickled her feet. “No! Please, James! NOT MY FEET!
That’s AGONY for me!” she cried out.
"AGONY! That’s wonderful! How you encourage me!” he responded, with impish glee.
Then he began a merciless foot-tickling assault. She went wild, and howled with
riotous laughter.
“I’m sorry, dear lady, but you know you deserve it,” he chided puckishly.
“Remember that ticklish lad? And how many others, I wonder? Other young men?
Enemy prisoners, perhaps?” he added, with a knowing wink.
Then he stepped up the tickling of all her sensitive spots, driving her to new levels
of hilarity, and bestowing upon her the most excruciating pleasure she’d ever
experienced.
(For the first time in her life, she realized that tickling was exactly that for her:
excruciating pleasure!)
She howled as the tickling sensations exploded in her brain, and shook the room
with the vibrations of her bellowing laughter.
Tears were in her eyes, and she laughed louder and longer than ever before in her
life. She had been tickled before (though not often in recent years), but nothing
in her experience had prepared her for Double-0’s devastating tickling skills.
Finally, he stopped.
She lay exhausted from her ordeal, while he stood above her, smiling mischievously.
“Oh, you’re such a ticklish creature! Nobody as ticklish as you are should ever
become an intelligence officer,” he observed. “Suppose you fell into enemy hands,
and they did this to you!” She flinched at the image.
He continued in the same vein, “If only your staff (or—even better—your enemies)
could see you now!”
“They would be overjoyed to see how exquisitely vulnerable you are—especially
to something as childish as tickling. And they would just love to see and hear you
laughing like a hyena! Moreover, they would adore your utter humiliation.”
“Oh, you beast!” she wailed, horrified by his train of thought.
But he pressed on, in typical Double-0 style, amused by her discomfiture. “Perhaps
I’ll invite some of them next time. I might even let them participate in the festivities.”
“Oh, no!” she cried out, utterly appalled by the prospect. She silently prayed that
it would never happen.
Her eyes rested on him, pleadingly. His eyes, on the other hand, sparkled with
passion.
He blew into her ears, causing her to squeal with delight—and intense desire. She
blushed beautifully, prompting him to tease, “Oh, you feel that down there, eh?”
Then he kissed her passionately on the mouth. M was thrilled, and her heart pounded.
He slipped down her panties, and began caressing her most feminine spots with
uncanny skill. She cried out with acute pleasure.
“They say that the most ticklish women are the sexiest. Do you suppose that could
be true?” Her blush deepened.
“I have two hands,” he said. “One for tickling, and the other for pleasuring.”
With one hand, he began tickling her upper body. With the other, he began
caressing her organs.
She responded with shrieks of laughter colored by intense sexual pleasure.
“You know,” he said, “although a man can climax only once before having
to recharge, a woman can have successive climaxes.”
“Now, if I keep it up, I think I can engulf you in a succession of passionate climaxes.”
She gasped in anticipation, seeing where this was leading.
“And soon, perhaps, they’ll coalesce into one, ongoing climax: no beginning, no end,
just an ongoing now! Shall we try it?
She spoke not a word, but her eyes answered for her. (She now realized that all
she’d heard of his sexual savoir faire must be true!)
He artfully caressed her remarkably sensitive organs with superb skill and growing
intensity, electrifying her now hyper-sensitive body with unspeakable pleasure.
She moaned beautifully, “Oh, James! Don’t stop!” He stepped up the caressing,
and her moaning grew in passion.
Her eager, quivering body was soon overwhelmed by unutterable, stupefying rapture,
and she succumbed to a blissful series of climaxes.
And soon, they did indeed melt into one, continuous climax, just as he had predicted.
She lost all sense of time or succession. The breath-taking experience seemed to go
on, and on, and on.
Finally, she cried out loudly, in pure ecstasy, an ecstasy so exquisitely intense
that she lost consciousness.
She awoke in his arms, and they embraced lovingly for a long, delicious interval.
A little later, they were rescued. Predictably, M decided not to have James shot.
After all, she knew a better way to get even with her new lover.
For she remembered everything that he had done to her during her tickle torture,
everything.
When her turn came, she would repay Double-0 in kind.
:hug:
