Featherscape Tickle Story Collection

A Tickle Writer's Fantasy

'Carlotta gazed out the passenger side window of Martha's Porsche, watching the familiar elms and birches skim by. Images which once seemed so monotonous, so melancholic, then appeared full of life; a beauty only truly discovered after embracing the appreciation of what all stood before her. Carlotta sat upright in her car seat. The smile she wore was more than enough to speak to the power of quiet contemplation. The car ride was silent, save for the hypnotic lull of the engine. With their destination approaching, Martha spoke for the first time in hours.

"I hope that this trip helped," said Martha. "I'm so glad that you could come out with me."

"It did," said Carlotta. "It did help. Thank you for inviting me. I haven't had a weekend away in a long time."

"Anytime you want to come to the cottage with me and unwind, you're more than welcome to. I know that you've been through a lot recently, looking for a way to unwind and release tension. I really glad I could help you." Martha pulled the car into Carlotta's driveway and parked.

"Thank you," said Carlotta. "I have been focusing a lot of relieving stress around the house, but this getaway was amazing."

"I'm glad," said Martha. "Let me help you with your bag."

"No thanks, I got it." Carlotta stepped out of the car and opened the door to the back seat.

"You sure?"

"Absolutely," said Carlotta. "It's late and you've been driving this whole way. You have a great night and get some rest, okay?"

"Will do," said Martha. "You too." Carlotta pulled out the suitcase and closed the door. She walked up to her front porch, suitcase rolling behind her on a pair of wheels. The gentle hum of the engine purred as it pulled out of the driveway. Carlotta gave one last wave to her friend for a pleasant weekend away before turning back to her home.

Her house had a new energy, a scent which the woman was certain she had never noticed before. She smiled, letting the warm familiarity of home fill her soul. It was a hug from old friend, a kiss from a rekindled lover. Rejuvenated and confident, Carlotta soaked in the tender atmosphere of her abode, free from the stresses of work and family drama. Her mind had been set, though, the entire ride home. She knew her first course of action upon returning. Carlotta set her suitcase by the front door, promising herself that she would unpack her luggage later, and headed for her bedroom. The anticipation of playing with her latest, greatest toy had become the one thing she could not let go of on her retreat.

Pushing the door open to her bedroom, she glanced immediately at her bed. A slender young man, no more than half of her age, laid across her bed. His wrists tied with frayed rope at the top two spokes; ankles tied in similar fashion. The boy was blindfolded and gagged. He had made a slight mess of Carlotta's comforter, just as the woman had expected. She hummed a lingering tune as she approached the young man. He moaned and groaned at the brutal treatment in which he so desired. She ran her long nails up his legs and across his bare belly, causing him to whimper and weakly struggle.

"Looks like mommy's little boy had made a mess of himself," Carlotta said. "Well, we know how naughty little boys need to be punished, don't we?" The boy nodded. She launched her kneading fingers into his sides. The boy bucked and wailed into his gag. The woman giggled as her fingers toyed with his bare, sensitive skin. "Momma's missed her little boy. I've been waiting all weekend for this." As the boy rose to ticklish ecstasy with Carlotta ruthlessly teasing his soft, neglected body, she felt no need to contain her own desires. She scribbled inside the boy's shallow navel with one hand, keeping him in a muffled screaming fit, while her other hand reached out and grabbed-.'

Knock. Knock. Knock.

The boy's laughter faded, replaced by the light rapping at the door. The room evaporated, transformed into a sweet, homey living room. Carlotta disappeared, and Annette Gardner was left staring at the white glow of her computer screen, inputting the words of her latest contribution onto BlogDSM.com. A half full glass of wine sat bathing in the light of the screen. The knocks continued in another set of three. Annette glanced over at the clock. 4:35.