tkl-pen
1st Level Orange Feather
- Joined
- Dec 30, 2001
- Messages
- 2,001
- Points
- 0
THE TICKLISH TRAVELS OF RACHEL COOK
PART TWO – HONG KONG
Rachel’s next stop on her international travels was Hong Kong, the great old British trading port in the Pearl River delta, where she sought out the very best and most authentic Chinese restaurants. She had visited several restaurants in Japan and found herself entertaining a mysterious visitor in her hotel room who provided a great deal more amusement than she had anticipated. She shuddered whenever she thought about it. She had been tickled a few times by her parents, hers brothers and even some of the boys at school, but never anything like that. Helplessly tied to the bed, completely naked and every part of her tickled relentlessly. Well, now she was in Hong Kong, a completely different place.
As she toured around Hong Kong Island, Kowloon Peninsula, Aberdeen, Repulse Bay and even Silvermine Bay on Lantau Island with her videographer, she tasted all sorts of Chinese dishes, mostly Cantonese as this was the south of China, some of which were wonderful, others were better left to the Chinese residents. She did like some of the shark fin dishes, though, and the pork here seemed to taste better than in any of the Chinese restaurants back in America.
She drew a fair bit of attention wherever she went, being a pretty, young blonde American woman with a cameraman following her. On her last night in Hong Kong, she finally found the perfect Chinese restaurant among the narrow streets and alleys of Hong Kong’s Kowloon Peninsula. The food was so tasty and the ambience of the restaurant was more reminiscent of the old China she had seen in the movies. The staff was very helpful, too, explaining everything that she wanted to know through a Chinese interpreter.
“Miss Cook,” said the interpreter, “the staff would like you to come back at about ten o’clock tonight for a special surprise, but you will have to come alone, without your cameraman. They normally have their own dinner after the restaurant closes and the paying customers are gone. They will take you back to your hotel afterward.”
“Oh, that sounds interesting,” Rachel said, “did they tell you what they would be preparing then?”
“No,” he said, “they say it will be a surprise.”
“Tell them thank you,” she said, “but how will I be able to communicate if there is no interpreter with me.”
“They assure me that will not be a problem,” he said.
“Go ahead, Rachel,” said Ed, the cameraman who travelled with Rachel, “I’ll know where you are and if you’re not back at the hotel by two o’clock I’ll come down to get you, with the police.”
“Tell them,” she said, “I would be honoured to accept their invitation.”
Rachel arrived at the restaurant right about ten o’clock and was admitted by two of the girls who had been serving meals there the previous afternoon and evening. She had decided to wear her denim pants and vest with a white knit t-shirt, quite a change from the better clothes she had worn earlier. The girls indicated that she should follow them and they escorted her to the downstairs kitchen where most of the processing of the food is done before it goes to the upstairs kitchen for final preparation and serving to the customers.
Everyone was very pleasant, smiling and bowing but nobody could speak any English. One of the men gave her a bottle of Chinese Singtao beer, which had been perfectly chilled, and soon they all shared a wonderful dinner of sweet-and-sour fish with vegetables and rice. It was so good Rachel could hardly stop herself from picking at the big fish on the table before her. She didn’t know what kind of a fish it was, but it was so delicious. She didn’t even notice that she had been drinking the Singtao continuously and that she had already consumed three bottles by the time supper was finished. She was beginning to feel a little sleepy after the long day visiting restaurants, a big fish dinner here and three bottles of Chinese beer.
Two of the Chinese girls, the same two who had met her at the door, helped her over to the big stainless steel food preparation table in one part of the kitchen. She assumed that they would let her lie down on that table until she regained some of her senses. Well, the lie down part turned out to be right.
The two girls helped her onto the table and she was soon sitting on the side of it with her feet dangling toward the floor. They helped her to remove her denim jacket and her knit t-shirt. Then suddenly they unclasped her bra and removed it. Rachel hardly even noticed, though, as she sat there very nearly asleep. They let her lie down on the stainless steel table and Rachel started to fall asleep.
“Miss Lachel,” called one of the Chinese girls, “Miss Lachel, wake up – you ferr asreep.”
“Huh,” said Rachel, as she began to awaken and saw the Chinese girl’s face close to her own, “where am I – what happened?”
Rachel realized that she couldn’t move her arms or legs by this time. She looked up at her wrists and saw that these had been tied to the corners of the table with strips of cloth. She lifted her head and saw that she was completely naked and that her ankles had been tied to the other corners of the table in the same way.
“What the hell,” she exclaimed, “who did this to me? How dare you tie me up like this? I want my clothes back, now! I want to leave!”
Understandably, her threats and please fell on deaf ears. Not only had these people placed her in this very predicament but none of them could speak any English. She clenched her fists and flexed her toes as she pulled on the strips of cloth holding her arms and legs to the corners of the big stainless steel table.
The next thing she saw was one of the cooks coming toward her with a big, round apple, and another with a sharp knife. As the one cook tried to put the apple in her mouth, she firmly clenched her teeth to prevent him gagging her with an apple – like a pig, of all things, gagging her with an apple in her mouth. The other cook put the sharp edge of his knife along the base of her right nipple and indicated that the nipple would be cut off if she didn’t open her mouth. She complied, and the first of the cooks pushed the apple deeply into her mouth, forcing it wide open and pushing the apple right onto her back teeth. She tried to complain, of course, but hardly any sound came out.
One of the cooks then brought out a terrible looking meat cleaver. She screamed into the apple gag in her mouth as she rolled her head from side to side, tears now flowing down the sides of her face. The two girls took firm hold of her thighs and held them widely apart, while the second cook held her stomach down. The first cook then shaved off her pubic hair with the meat cleaver. It hurt so much to have her pubic hair dry shaved like that, with a meat cleaver of all things, that she pissed herself and it ran all over the stainless steel table. They all laughed at her, intent on finding out what this American girl was made of.
“Aaaahmph” she screamed as she felt the two girls begin to tickle her feet with their long finger nails, “Mmmmmph, aaaaahmph, mmmmmph, nnnph.”
After a few minutes, the two cooks returned with hand held blenders to which they had attached basting brushes. The leader of the two said something in Chinese to the girls, who then left and started warming up some peanut oil. Starting from her feet, and working up to her armpits, the two cooks tickle tortured Rachel with the basting brushes, having set the hand blenders on the slowest possible speed. She arched her back and twisted and struggled, screaming her protestations into the apple in her mouth, as they kept tickling her.
“Nnnnnnnnnn,” she screamed, as she saw the girls coming toward her with the hot oil and two more basting brushes. She didn’t realize that the oil was only warm and it was not going to burn her. The sheen of sweat from both the muggy heat of Hong Kong and fear glistened all over her perfect pink skin, deeply shaded pink now because of the tickling.
With the two basting brushes, the girls generously applied the warm peanut oil to every part of Rachel’s body. She twisted and squirmed with the sensations as every nook and cranny of her young female body received its attention, and its oil, in turn.
When the two girls were finished oiling her, the two cooks returned with the hand blenders and held them directly over each of her breasts. Rachel’s eyes went wide as she realized what they were about to do. The four brushes on each blender would turn around the circumference of each breast and as they lifted them higher the brushes would move toward the center and ultimately her nipples.
“Nnnnnnnmph,” she pleaded as she saw the blenders lowered slowly toward her breasts, her nipples already engorged with blood and standing at attention, “Nnnnnnmpn!”
She arched her back, squirmed and twisted from side to side, as the two blenders and their brushes continued to tickle torture her breasts. This continued for at least fifteen minutes.
The two girls, meanwhile, had found a foot long piece of Chinese sausage which had been on the barbecue and was not stiff and greasy. They fed this length of sausage into Rachel’s vagina and started moving it in and out, in and out, in and out, while the mean continued their efforts with the blenders and brushes on her breasts and belly. It wasn’t long before Rachel’s entire body stiffened into a fist-clenching, toe-curling orgasm.
The two chefs went to another table and opened a can of tuna fish, mixing this with a thick oil, and passing the bowl along to the girls who applied the mixture of tuna fish and oil to Rachel’s armpits and the soles of her feet. The two men then brought in several cats and put them on the table to which Rachel was tied. They immediately started to lick her armpits and then her feet to remove the tuna which had been generously applied there. The girls continued to apply the tuna and oil mixture to her belly button, her genitals and her toes.
“Mmmmmmmph!” screamed Rachel, desperately trying to bite the apple and force it out of her mouth. She pissed herself again, thanks to the three bottles of Chinese beer that she had with dinner. Then she passed out.
Rachel woke up in a van, dressed in a short Chinese robe cinched around her waist with a silken belt, her clothes packed in a plastic bag, along with her apple. The van stopped outside of her hotel and the driver indicated that she was to get out. Barefoot, sweaty and fishy, the beautiful Rachel Cook made her way into the hotel and up to her room where she promptly took a shower and then fell asleep.
PART TWO – HONG KONG
Rachel’s next stop on her international travels was Hong Kong, the great old British trading port in the Pearl River delta, where she sought out the very best and most authentic Chinese restaurants. She had visited several restaurants in Japan and found herself entertaining a mysterious visitor in her hotel room who provided a great deal more amusement than she had anticipated. She shuddered whenever she thought about it. She had been tickled a few times by her parents, hers brothers and even some of the boys at school, but never anything like that. Helplessly tied to the bed, completely naked and every part of her tickled relentlessly. Well, now she was in Hong Kong, a completely different place.
As she toured around Hong Kong Island, Kowloon Peninsula, Aberdeen, Repulse Bay and even Silvermine Bay on Lantau Island with her videographer, she tasted all sorts of Chinese dishes, mostly Cantonese as this was the south of China, some of which were wonderful, others were better left to the Chinese residents. She did like some of the shark fin dishes, though, and the pork here seemed to taste better than in any of the Chinese restaurants back in America.
She drew a fair bit of attention wherever she went, being a pretty, young blonde American woman with a cameraman following her. On her last night in Hong Kong, she finally found the perfect Chinese restaurant among the narrow streets and alleys of Hong Kong’s Kowloon Peninsula. The food was so tasty and the ambience of the restaurant was more reminiscent of the old China she had seen in the movies. The staff was very helpful, too, explaining everything that she wanted to know through a Chinese interpreter.
“Miss Cook,” said the interpreter, “the staff would like you to come back at about ten o’clock tonight for a special surprise, but you will have to come alone, without your cameraman. They normally have their own dinner after the restaurant closes and the paying customers are gone. They will take you back to your hotel afterward.”
“Oh, that sounds interesting,” Rachel said, “did they tell you what they would be preparing then?”
“No,” he said, “they say it will be a surprise.”
“Tell them thank you,” she said, “but how will I be able to communicate if there is no interpreter with me.”
“They assure me that will not be a problem,” he said.
“Go ahead, Rachel,” said Ed, the cameraman who travelled with Rachel, “I’ll know where you are and if you’re not back at the hotel by two o’clock I’ll come down to get you, with the police.”
“Tell them,” she said, “I would be honoured to accept their invitation.”
Rachel arrived at the restaurant right about ten o’clock and was admitted by two of the girls who had been serving meals there the previous afternoon and evening. She had decided to wear her denim pants and vest with a white knit t-shirt, quite a change from the better clothes she had worn earlier. The girls indicated that she should follow them and they escorted her to the downstairs kitchen where most of the processing of the food is done before it goes to the upstairs kitchen for final preparation and serving to the customers.
Everyone was very pleasant, smiling and bowing but nobody could speak any English. One of the men gave her a bottle of Chinese Singtao beer, which had been perfectly chilled, and soon they all shared a wonderful dinner of sweet-and-sour fish with vegetables and rice. It was so good Rachel could hardly stop herself from picking at the big fish on the table before her. She didn’t know what kind of a fish it was, but it was so delicious. She didn’t even notice that she had been drinking the Singtao continuously and that she had already consumed three bottles by the time supper was finished. She was beginning to feel a little sleepy after the long day visiting restaurants, a big fish dinner here and three bottles of Chinese beer.
Two of the Chinese girls, the same two who had met her at the door, helped her over to the big stainless steel food preparation table in one part of the kitchen. She assumed that they would let her lie down on that table until she regained some of her senses. Well, the lie down part turned out to be right.
The two girls helped her onto the table and she was soon sitting on the side of it with her feet dangling toward the floor. They helped her to remove her denim jacket and her knit t-shirt. Then suddenly they unclasped her bra and removed it. Rachel hardly even noticed, though, as she sat there very nearly asleep. They let her lie down on the stainless steel table and Rachel started to fall asleep.
“Miss Lachel,” called one of the Chinese girls, “Miss Lachel, wake up – you ferr asreep.”
“Huh,” said Rachel, as she began to awaken and saw the Chinese girl’s face close to her own, “where am I – what happened?”
Rachel realized that she couldn’t move her arms or legs by this time. She looked up at her wrists and saw that these had been tied to the corners of the table with strips of cloth. She lifted her head and saw that she was completely naked and that her ankles had been tied to the other corners of the table in the same way.
“What the hell,” she exclaimed, “who did this to me? How dare you tie me up like this? I want my clothes back, now! I want to leave!”
Understandably, her threats and please fell on deaf ears. Not only had these people placed her in this very predicament but none of them could speak any English. She clenched her fists and flexed her toes as she pulled on the strips of cloth holding her arms and legs to the corners of the big stainless steel table.
The next thing she saw was one of the cooks coming toward her with a big, round apple, and another with a sharp knife. As the one cook tried to put the apple in her mouth, she firmly clenched her teeth to prevent him gagging her with an apple – like a pig, of all things, gagging her with an apple in her mouth. The other cook put the sharp edge of his knife along the base of her right nipple and indicated that the nipple would be cut off if she didn’t open her mouth. She complied, and the first of the cooks pushed the apple deeply into her mouth, forcing it wide open and pushing the apple right onto her back teeth. She tried to complain, of course, but hardly any sound came out.
One of the cooks then brought out a terrible looking meat cleaver. She screamed into the apple gag in her mouth as she rolled her head from side to side, tears now flowing down the sides of her face. The two girls took firm hold of her thighs and held them widely apart, while the second cook held her stomach down. The first cook then shaved off her pubic hair with the meat cleaver. It hurt so much to have her pubic hair dry shaved like that, with a meat cleaver of all things, that she pissed herself and it ran all over the stainless steel table. They all laughed at her, intent on finding out what this American girl was made of.
“Aaaahmph” she screamed as she felt the two girls begin to tickle her feet with their long finger nails, “Mmmmmph, aaaaahmph, mmmmmph, nnnph.”
After a few minutes, the two cooks returned with hand held blenders to which they had attached basting brushes. The leader of the two said something in Chinese to the girls, who then left and started warming up some peanut oil. Starting from her feet, and working up to her armpits, the two cooks tickle tortured Rachel with the basting brushes, having set the hand blenders on the slowest possible speed. She arched her back and twisted and struggled, screaming her protestations into the apple in her mouth, as they kept tickling her.
“Nnnnnnnnnn,” she screamed, as she saw the girls coming toward her with the hot oil and two more basting brushes. She didn’t realize that the oil was only warm and it was not going to burn her. The sheen of sweat from both the muggy heat of Hong Kong and fear glistened all over her perfect pink skin, deeply shaded pink now because of the tickling.
With the two basting brushes, the girls generously applied the warm peanut oil to every part of Rachel’s body. She twisted and squirmed with the sensations as every nook and cranny of her young female body received its attention, and its oil, in turn.
When the two girls were finished oiling her, the two cooks returned with the hand blenders and held them directly over each of her breasts. Rachel’s eyes went wide as she realized what they were about to do. The four brushes on each blender would turn around the circumference of each breast and as they lifted them higher the brushes would move toward the center and ultimately her nipples.
“Nnnnnnnmph,” she pleaded as she saw the blenders lowered slowly toward her breasts, her nipples already engorged with blood and standing at attention, “Nnnnnnmpn!”
She arched her back, squirmed and twisted from side to side, as the two blenders and their brushes continued to tickle torture her breasts. This continued for at least fifteen minutes.
The two girls, meanwhile, had found a foot long piece of Chinese sausage which had been on the barbecue and was not stiff and greasy. They fed this length of sausage into Rachel’s vagina and started moving it in and out, in and out, in and out, while the mean continued their efforts with the blenders and brushes on her breasts and belly. It wasn’t long before Rachel’s entire body stiffened into a fist-clenching, toe-curling orgasm.
The two chefs went to another table and opened a can of tuna fish, mixing this with a thick oil, and passing the bowl along to the girls who applied the mixture of tuna fish and oil to Rachel’s armpits and the soles of her feet. The two men then brought in several cats and put them on the table to which Rachel was tied. They immediately started to lick her armpits and then her feet to remove the tuna which had been generously applied there. The girls continued to apply the tuna and oil mixture to her belly button, her genitals and her toes.
“Mmmmmmmph!” screamed Rachel, desperately trying to bite the apple and force it out of her mouth. She pissed herself again, thanks to the three bottles of Chinese beer that she had with dinner. Then she passed out.
Rachel woke up in a van, dressed in a short Chinese robe cinched around her waist with a silken belt, her clothes packed in a plastic bag, along with her apple. The van stopped outside of her hotel and the driver indicated that she was to get out. Barefoot, sweaty and fishy, the beautiful Rachel Cook made her way into the hotel and up to her room where she promptly took a shower and then fell asleep.
