The Longest Night
Rem sighed in relief as he finally turned the corner and
headed down the Street of Soft Desires.
"Almost there," he thought. Rem S. was a tall man, not
terribly old, with about 27 years to his name. He was fit, because in
his line of work it helped to be so, but not bulging with muscle
because it also helped not to be noticed.
Rem ran his hand through his sand colored hair and stopped to
look around. This street was a major part of the reason he had come to
this world. The buildings were an eclectic mix of brick, wood and stone,
but whatever a building was made of, it was always colorful. The
ground before Rem was paved with with a sparkling black stone unique
to this world, and it was very beautiful in the half-light of dusk. A
sudden cool breeze brushed across Rem and he pulled his jacket close
around his body.
He continued moving down the street, looking from one side of
the street to the other, almost like a tourist. He was, actually, a
little nervous.
Stopping, he examined the House of Gentle Touches. This
building, with its white marble exterior was why he had come, and it
was where he was going. Taking a deep, excited breath he deliberately
made his way up the marble steps, his heart beating just a little
faster.
"Mr. S.," the madam greeted him inside. She was an older
woman, but she had aged well. "I'm glad you were able to make it." Rem
feeling very nervous now, could only nod in reply.
"You understand of course that before you may begin there is
the formality?"
"Yes, I know." Rem lifted his arms straight out. The madam
smiled reassuringly and slid her hands under Rem's jacket, and under
his t-shirt. For a moment, she gently rested her hands there.
Rem's heart pounded. Quickly, lightly, expertly her fingertips
teased and attacked his sides, and Rem was obliged first to grin, and
then to laugh, trying very hard not to squirm, and not entirely
succeeding.
"Acceptable," she said, withdrawing her hands from Rem's
sensitive flesh. Rem was embarrassed to realize he was already
aroused.
"Here," Rem said, and he handed the madam a black silk pouch
heavy with silver coins.
"Ah, all night," the women said, feeling the pouch's weight.
"Good." The woman led him deeper inside the House. Rem was relieved,
he had of course known himself to be, well, ticklish, but you could
never be sure on what grounds the House decided these things. His
thoughts were interrupted by the madam politely coughing. Rem suddenly
became aware of his surroundings. There were standing before a dark
oak door. On the door's panels were carvings of nymphs and satyrs
cavorting. Raising that hand which had just so recently tormented
Rem's sides the madam knocked on the door. Presently it was opened,
and Rem's breath was stopped momentarily. The woman who had answered
the door had eyes that sent shivers through Rem. She looked him up and
down, as if appraising him, and smirked dismissively at his
discomfort.
"This is Althea," saying this, the madam wasted no time
turning and leaving before Rem had even entered the room.
For a moment, he stood there awkwardly, staring. Althea's
beauty was worth of this house and of this street. Her hair was copper
gold, curly and wild, tresses just kissing the tops of her bare
shoulders.
"Come in already," she said. Rem entered the room. The floor of the
room was white marble. In the far corner there was a bath built into the
floor.
"Remove your clothes." Shaking his head in bewilderment, Rem began by removing his shirt. Althea turned her back to him so he could have some privacy.
"You must be washed," she said.
"I know," came the frustrated reply. Turning back towards Rem, and
taking his hand, Althea leads the unclothed Rem to the bath. She gestured,
indicating he should enter.
Rem lowered himself into the water. It was warm and relaxing. He
looked up to notice Althea has lathered her hands with soap. Wasting no time, she reaches down and began to vigorously scrub Rem's chest and belly.
"Hey!" Rem protested, but Althea was not deterred. Finishing with his
body, she dunked Rem's head under the water and scrubbed his hair with equal ferocity. Finally she let Rem come up for air.
"Ok, Ok, I'm clean!" Rem gasped for breath.
"Yes, you are acceptable now," said Althea. "But first, you will take
a nap."
"A nap?"
"A nap." Althea guided Rem out of the water and handed him a towel.
While Rem dried himself Althea busied herself arranging the bedclothes on a divan.
"Now, sleep" she said. Rem lay down on the divan, still naked. He
wasn't sure where his clothes had gotten too. Well, she was right about one
thing, he was definitely clean. And he was feeling a little tired. He felt
almost surprised as his eyelids closed and he drifted into slumber.
When Rem awakened he found he was bound. Silk ropes had been tied
around his wrists, and his arms had been move up over his head. Likewise, his
legs were bound together at the ankles. Althea was standing over him.
"I hope you rested well." Althea bent down just above his knees. She
turned her head and smiled mischievously at Rem. Forming the fingers her
right hand into a closed claw she placed her nails on top of the top of his
knee. Slowly, maddeningly she unclenched her fingers, her nails gliding
across Rem's sensitive kneecap. Rem grinned and squirmed. Standing up, Althea
traced a single finger down Rem's leg as she made her way to the end of the
divan. Turning, she quickly tickled Rem's exposed feet with both her hands
for the barest of moments. Rem started and laughed, his heart racing
already.
"Tickles, doesn't it?" She was tracing her finger slowly up and down
and down and up Rem's instep. He desperately held the laughter at bay, hating
this itching, torturous half-tickling.
Althea's fingertips flew across the bottoms of his feet. Rem cried
out, he couldn't take it anymore, he laughed. Her fingers sent electric
tingles up from the soles of his feet throughout his whole body
"Please," he begged in the rare moments between laughing. She just
smiled, never stopping in teasing, testing probe of his ticklishness.
Mercifully, she stopped.
"Thank you," Rem sighed. He was starting to wonder if maybe this
hadn't been such a good idea. His thoughts were interrupted by the desperate
cry, "That tickles!" of his inner thighs. While he had been thinking, her
twin instruments of torture had slipped between his legs to knead and massage
and torture. Again the laughter bubbled out uncontrollably from Rem's mouth.
He bucked against his restraints. Relentless, Althea lowered her mouth to
Rem's exposed, taut belly and gave him a raspberry. Rem laughed all the more
wildly. Althea smiled, liking the reaction. She lowered her head again, still
not stopping with the mad tickling of Rem's poor, sensitive legs, and traced
a nimble tongue in, out and around Rem's navel. Rem shook his head from side
to side spasmodically laughing, his sides aching.
"I can't take it," he gasped. "Please, no more." Althea dug her
fingers into his sides, teasing caressing, tickling with practiced skill. Rem
shuddered, laughing, crying. Her hands made their way to his underarms and
attacked them with vengeance.
Tears filled Rem's vision as she went to work on him. His voice had
become too hoarse to complain, or even laugh anymore, so his body shook
silently under her expert treatment.
"Does that tickle?" She paused for a moment. Rem nodded. "Good!" Her
fingers did an elaborate dance across Rem's tummy, a little gentler perhaps,
and Rem shook with great silent laughs, a manic grin painted on his face.
"You will have a break now." Rem nodded in relief. Once again,
despite his bindings, he felt sleep come over him.
For a little while Althea watched her client sleep. She smiled when
she saw he appeared to be troubled by dreams, since he would occasionally
giggle while he slept. After a few minutes, she began to prepare for the next
part of Rem's Long Night.
When Rem awoke, he found that he had once again been bound, but he
was no longer on the divan. Instead, he was bound standing, his arms above
his head, tied together by a rope that reached the vaulted ceiling. Something
pressed against his back and arms wrapped around his torso, Althea's palms
stroking gently up and down his sides.
"Miss me?" she asked. Rem groaned, or maybe moaned in response.
Althea squeezed his sides, and he jumped.
"No, not there, not yet." Removing Rem from her embrace she lightly
tickled his neck. It didn't quite cause Rem to laugh, but it forced him to
squirm to the right and to the left, forward and back, trying to escape her
fingers. Soon she set her sights higher first tickling under Rem's chin,
surprising him and causing him to scrunch up his shoulders trying to get
away.
"Oh did that tickle? Oops," she taunted. She then plied her trade on
Rem's poor ears, making Rem try and bring his arms in to protect them. Althea
took the opportunity to give his underarms a vigorous workout that left him
gasping and laughing.
"Tickle, tickle tickle," Althea's fingers worked there way up and
down his sides and underarms, her hands going lower and lower each time
until they stopped. With her hands rested lightly on Rem's hips Althea can
almost feel him quiver.
"Feel free to struggle," Althea whispered softly in his ear. She
squeezed his hips and Rem laughed almost immediately. His hips are so
ticklish. Rem bucked, and squirmed laughing, desperately trying to get away,
and then gasping, and laughing harder, surrenders, as Althea stops tickling
his hips. She has moved her attention to just below Rem's waistline and has
brought him to the edge of madness.
"No, please!" he begged desperately as she tickled him there.
"Please!" Her tongue flicked out, and slid across his neck for a moment, her
fingers tickling just above his swollen erection. Rem bucks wildly back and
forth hurting for release from this torture. Althea, taking pity on him,
moves her attention to his belly and navel. Rem continued laugh, but less
desperately, and Althea could hear the relief in his voice. She tickled his
chest for a while, and then returned to his sides, Rem's laughter filling her
ears the whole time.
The next morning, Rem walked out of the The House of Gentle Touches
with a tremendous smile on his face. He would certainly return.
Rem sighed in relief as he finally turned the corner and
headed down the Street of Soft Desires.
"Almost there," he thought. Rem S. was a tall man, not
terribly old, with about 27 years to his name. He was fit, because in
his line of work it helped to be so, but not bulging with muscle
because it also helped not to be noticed.
Rem ran his hand through his sand colored hair and stopped to
look around. This street was a major part of the reason he had come to
this world. The buildings were an eclectic mix of brick, wood and stone,
but whatever a building was made of, it was always colorful. The
ground before Rem was paved with with a sparkling black stone unique
to this world, and it was very beautiful in the half-light of dusk. A
sudden cool breeze brushed across Rem and he pulled his jacket close
around his body.
He continued moving down the street, looking from one side of
the street to the other, almost like a tourist. He was, actually, a
little nervous.
Stopping, he examined the House of Gentle Touches. This
building, with its white marble exterior was why he had come, and it
was where he was going. Taking a deep, excited breath he deliberately
made his way up the marble steps, his heart beating just a little
faster.
"Mr. S.," the madam greeted him inside. She was an older
woman, but she had aged well. "I'm glad you were able to make it." Rem
feeling very nervous now, could only nod in reply.
"You understand of course that before you may begin there is
the formality?"
"Yes, I know." Rem lifted his arms straight out. The madam
smiled reassuringly and slid her hands under Rem's jacket, and under
his t-shirt. For a moment, she gently rested her hands there.
Rem's heart pounded. Quickly, lightly, expertly her fingertips
teased and attacked his sides, and Rem was obliged first to grin, and
then to laugh, trying very hard not to squirm, and not entirely
succeeding.
"Acceptable," she said, withdrawing her hands from Rem's
sensitive flesh. Rem was embarrassed to realize he was already
aroused.
"Here," Rem said, and he handed the madam a black silk pouch
heavy with silver coins.
"Ah, all night," the women said, feeling the pouch's weight.
"Good." The woman led him deeper inside the House. Rem was relieved,
he had of course known himself to be, well, ticklish, but you could
never be sure on what grounds the House decided these things. His
thoughts were interrupted by the madam politely coughing. Rem suddenly
became aware of his surroundings. There were standing before a dark
oak door. On the door's panels were carvings of nymphs and satyrs
cavorting. Raising that hand which had just so recently tormented
Rem's sides the madam knocked on the door. Presently it was opened,
and Rem's breath was stopped momentarily. The woman who had answered
the door had eyes that sent shivers through Rem. She looked him up and
down, as if appraising him, and smirked dismissively at his
discomfort.
"This is Althea," saying this, the madam wasted no time
turning and leaving before Rem had even entered the room.
For a moment, he stood there awkwardly, staring. Althea's
beauty was worth of this house and of this street. Her hair was copper
gold, curly and wild, tresses just kissing the tops of her bare
shoulders.
"Come in already," she said. Rem entered the room. The floor of the
room was white marble. In the far corner there was a bath built into the
floor.
"Remove your clothes." Shaking his head in bewilderment, Rem began by removing his shirt. Althea turned her back to him so he could have some privacy.
"You must be washed," she said.
"I know," came the frustrated reply. Turning back towards Rem, and
taking his hand, Althea leads the unclothed Rem to the bath. She gestured,
indicating he should enter.
Rem lowered himself into the water. It was warm and relaxing. He
looked up to notice Althea has lathered her hands with soap. Wasting no time, she reaches down and began to vigorously scrub Rem's chest and belly.
"Hey!" Rem protested, but Althea was not deterred. Finishing with his
body, she dunked Rem's head under the water and scrubbed his hair with equal ferocity. Finally she let Rem come up for air.
"Ok, Ok, I'm clean!" Rem gasped for breath.
"Yes, you are acceptable now," said Althea. "But first, you will take
a nap."
"A nap?"
"A nap." Althea guided Rem out of the water and handed him a towel.
While Rem dried himself Althea busied herself arranging the bedclothes on a divan.
"Now, sleep" she said. Rem lay down on the divan, still naked. He
wasn't sure where his clothes had gotten too. Well, she was right about one
thing, he was definitely clean. And he was feeling a little tired. He felt
almost surprised as his eyelids closed and he drifted into slumber.
When Rem awakened he found he was bound. Silk ropes had been tied
around his wrists, and his arms had been move up over his head. Likewise, his
legs were bound together at the ankles. Althea was standing over him.
"I hope you rested well." Althea bent down just above his knees. She
turned her head and smiled mischievously at Rem. Forming the fingers her
right hand into a closed claw she placed her nails on top of the top of his
knee. Slowly, maddeningly she unclenched her fingers, her nails gliding
across Rem's sensitive kneecap. Rem grinned and squirmed. Standing up, Althea
traced a single finger down Rem's leg as she made her way to the end of the
divan. Turning, she quickly tickled Rem's exposed feet with both her hands
for the barest of moments. Rem started and laughed, his heart racing
already.
"Tickles, doesn't it?" She was tracing her finger slowly up and down
and down and up Rem's instep. He desperately held the laughter at bay, hating
this itching, torturous half-tickling.
Althea's fingertips flew across the bottoms of his feet. Rem cried
out, he couldn't take it anymore, he laughed. Her fingers sent electric
tingles up from the soles of his feet throughout his whole body
"Please," he begged in the rare moments between laughing. She just
smiled, never stopping in teasing, testing probe of his ticklishness.
Mercifully, she stopped.
"Thank you," Rem sighed. He was starting to wonder if maybe this
hadn't been such a good idea. His thoughts were interrupted by the desperate
cry, "That tickles!" of his inner thighs. While he had been thinking, her
twin instruments of torture had slipped between his legs to knead and massage
and torture. Again the laughter bubbled out uncontrollably from Rem's mouth.
He bucked against his restraints. Relentless, Althea lowered her mouth to
Rem's exposed, taut belly and gave him a raspberry. Rem laughed all the more
wildly. Althea smiled, liking the reaction. She lowered her head again, still
not stopping with the mad tickling of Rem's poor, sensitive legs, and traced
a nimble tongue in, out and around Rem's navel. Rem shook his head from side
to side spasmodically laughing, his sides aching.
"I can't take it," he gasped. "Please, no more." Althea dug her
fingers into his sides, teasing caressing, tickling with practiced skill. Rem
shuddered, laughing, crying. Her hands made their way to his underarms and
attacked them with vengeance.
Tears filled Rem's vision as she went to work on him. His voice had
become too hoarse to complain, or even laugh anymore, so his body shook
silently under her expert treatment.
"Does that tickle?" She paused for a moment. Rem nodded. "Good!" Her
fingers did an elaborate dance across Rem's tummy, a little gentler perhaps,
and Rem shook with great silent laughs, a manic grin painted on his face.
"You will have a break now." Rem nodded in relief. Once again,
despite his bindings, he felt sleep come over him.
For a little while Althea watched her client sleep. She smiled when
she saw he appeared to be troubled by dreams, since he would occasionally
giggle while he slept. After a few minutes, she began to prepare for the next
part of Rem's Long Night.
When Rem awoke, he found that he had once again been bound, but he
was no longer on the divan. Instead, he was bound standing, his arms above
his head, tied together by a rope that reached the vaulted ceiling. Something
pressed against his back and arms wrapped around his torso, Althea's palms
stroking gently up and down his sides.
"Miss me?" she asked. Rem groaned, or maybe moaned in response.
Althea squeezed his sides, and he jumped.
"No, not there, not yet." Removing Rem from her embrace she lightly
tickled his neck. It didn't quite cause Rem to laugh, but it forced him to
squirm to the right and to the left, forward and back, trying to escape her
fingers. Soon she set her sights higher first tickling under Rem's chin,
surprising him and causing him to scrunch up his shoulders trying to get
away.
"Oh did that tickle? Oops," she taunted. She then plied her trade on
Rem's poor ears, making Rem try and bring his arms in to protect them. Althea
took the opportunity to give his underarms a vigorous workout that left him
gasping and laughing.
"Tickle, tickle tickle," Althea's fingers worked there way up and
down his sides and underarms, her hands going lower and lower each time
until they stopped. With her hands rested lightly on Rem's hips Althea can
almost feel him quiver.
"Feel free to struggle," Althea whispered softly in his ear. She
squeezed his hips and Rem laughed almost immediately. His hips are so
ticklish. Rem bucked, and squirmed laughing, desperately trying to get away,
and then gasping, and laughing harder, surrenders, as Althea stops tickling
his hips. She has moved her attention to just below Rem's waistline and has
brought him to the edge of madness.
"No, please!" he begged desperately as she tickled him there.
"Please!" Her tongue flicked out, and slid across his neck for a moment, her
fingers tickling just above his swollen erection. Rem bucks wildly back and
forth hurting for release from this torture. Althea, taking pity on him,
moves her attention to his belly and navel. Rem continued laugh, but less
desperately, and Althea could hear the relief in his voice. She tickled his
chest for a while, and then returned to his sides, Rem's laughter filling her
ears the whole time.
The next morning, Rem walked out of the The House of Gentle Touches
with a tremendous smile on his face. He would certainly return.
