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I felt the all-too-familiar pit form in my stomach as I stared in the rearview mirror at the flashing bar of light on the police car following me.
Before I could find a good place to pull over, the cop goosed his siren for effect, shattering my nerves even more. "Not another ticket!" I thought, fearing what this one would do to my insurance and possibly even my license. I watched in my side mirror as the officer got out of his car and sauntered up to my window.
I could tell by the deliberate and cool stride exactly who this cop was--Jeff McAllister. Jefferson Davis McAllister IV, to be more precise. His father is the police chief of this lazy, backwards tourist town I'd moved to a few years ago. And he followed in his father's footsteps and his grandfather's footsteps, a law enforcement legacy this family takes very seriously. Somehow I knew this snot-nosed, straight, uptight Southern boy
was going to enjoy giving me, the outsider, a big fat ticket.
I looked up at the towering figure of unyielding authority as he stared into my car, the setting sun forming an eye-squinting backdrop that dramatically silhouetted the formidable, powerful young McAllister's body. Jeff is an all-American boy, former high-school football hero, muscular hunk who cuts a noticeable form; at 6'3", his athletic body retains not one ounce of fat, his torso forming a perfect "V" shape starting at his broad shoulders, powerful chest and arms of steel and tapering beautifully down to his trim waist. This is clearly visible thanks to the perfectly pressed, form-fitting police uniform he wears that causes all of the local girls to swoon when he walks by.
"License and registration, please," he demanded emotionlessly.
I fished for
the registration in my glove box and handed both to him out my window. This
boy was a bit too cocky for his own good, I'd always thought, taking himself
and his job way too seriously. After high school and a stint in the
Marines--figures!--he returned to Junctionville to claim his rightful and
inherited position in the police department. He showed little humor and
really impressed me as being pretty much a prick. Now, it appeared, I would
have a chance to find out just how accurate this assumption was.
"Was I speeding, Jeff?" I asked timidly, trying to look relaxed.
"72 in a 35, sir," was his gruff reply. "Y'know that Arkansas state law
allows me to arrest drivers exceedin' the speed limit by 25 miles an hour?"
He seemed almost pissed.
"Uh, no," I replied, somewhat dumbfounded. "I just moved here six months
ago." I wanted to kick myself for throwing in that last, stupid confession.
I knew what was next.
"Well, well, well," he replied mockingly. "Thinking about staying long?"
"Yes."
"Then perhaps you'd better get an Arkansas license, Mr. Jacobs. State law
dictates that new residents must obtain a new license within 60 days of
moving into the state."
"Well, uh, yeah, I know but um...I was planning to get it tomorrow!" was all
I could manage to sputter out. I was getting pissed at the arrogance this
23-year-old pain in the ass was displaying towards a person 10 years senior
to him. But all I could do was stew, because he had the upper hand and he
knew it.
"Listen, Jeff," I tried to sound as nice and respectful as possible. "This ticket could kill me on insurance, you know with this stupid imported car and all. Is there anyway you could see clear to let me off?"
"We have a saying 'round here that goes 'you sleep with the devil, you may
just wake up in hell.'"
He flashed an almost evil grin, delighted to have this California boy nailed and at his mercy. Wait here while I call this in." He returned to his car and began talking into the transmitter.
Then he sat there writing something down on his clipboard. This whole incident seemed to be happening in slow motion and I thought I'd never be back on my way. I glanced at the clock on the dashboard and realized I was late for a meeting with my insurance broker. Hell, what did this asshole care? He seemed to enjoy dragging this humiliation and pain out. Cars drove by slowly, the drivers looking at me and knowing how lucky they were I was the one who got caught, this time. I looked in my rearview mirror at the cop. He displayed a serious look on his chiseled, handsome, rugged face. His short-cropped, jet black, perfectly trimmed hair blew a little in the late afternoon air but hardly a hair moved out of place. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he returned to the side of my car. He stared down at me again, never once having removed his dark, aviator-style sunglasses to reveal his steely blue eyes.
"Seems you're no stranger to speedin' tickets, Mr. Jacobs."
The sonofabitch flashed the most sarcastic, evil smile showing his perfectly aligned pearly whites, the first time he even smiled during this whole ordeal. "I'm citin' you for dangerous and reckless driving in addition to excessive speeding, failure to obtain a valid license and improperly maintained equipment."
"Improperly maintained equipment?!" I shouted, definitely losing my patience.
"One of your tail lights isn't working, and I'd watch your attitude sir, if you don't want to face additional charges." He was clearly basking in the rush of unbridled and total unchecked power.
He had me and he knew it. I was both scared and pissed beyond belief, beginning to regret ever having left the big city to move to this utopian hell hole.
"Today's your lucky day, mister, 'cause I'm going to let you off easy," he continued. "I could haul your ass down to the jail for just the first two charges, 'specially in light of your previous tickets. Instead, I'm simply revoking your license, and giving you a summons to appear in court next week."
"Court?!" I exclaimed, not believing what was happening.
"Yes, sir," he responded matter of factly. "If you're lucky, you'll get off with just a slap on the wrist and a fine of $500."
"Lucky?!" I was dumbfounded.
"Yes, sir. Have a good day." He handed me a citation and my registration and sauntered back to his car.
"Fuck! He probably has a goddamned hard on after this one!" I muttered to
myself as I watched him drive away.
My night was ruined. I just wanted to leave this stupid state and return to civilization. But no such luck, since I'd plunked down a ton of money on a quaint little inn here in this podunk tourist trap town to escape civilization and 80-hour work weeks. So I returned home dejected and depressed, wondering what was in store for me with the judge next week.
I woke up the next day but unfortunately life didn't seem any better. Since we were in the off season and only a few guests were in the inn, I didn't have any maids on staff and had to clean the rooms myself. Pulling up the room list on my computer--one of the few vestiges of civilization I've allowed myself--I printed the list for reference. Fortunately, I only had to clean three rooms. I started with the two rooms where guests were still staying. Finding them empty, I cleaned those rooms, my mind remembering all of the good times I had in the city (it always happens that way--the good memories come back when life isn't going so well here in Junctionville).
One room to go. This one was reserved by Lila Jones, one of Junctionville's few "ladies of the evening." I liked Lila, and we had a standing agreement during off-season that she always gets room 210, a special room over the garage and away from the rest of the inn where she can be assured of solitude and not being overheard by other guests. I always could count on her being gone by the time I cleaned the room so I didn't even bother
knocking, instead simply unlocking the door and backing the maid cart into the dark room.
Turning on the light, I turned around ready to clean the room and my jaw dropped open at the sight before me. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. Of all things, here was young, studly Jeff McAllister completely naked (or nekkid as they say down here) and hand cuffed spread-eagled to the king-sized, four-poster bed in the center of the room. Completely shocked, I burst out laughing at the cock-sure cop in such a vulnerable and embarrassing position. It was the first time since my incident the previous night that I'd laughed, and frankly it felt good. Jeff started pulling at the chains restraining his wrists and ankles and trying to say something to me, but a strip of duct tape covering his mouth prevented me from understanding him.
"Why Jefferson Davis McAllister the fourth," I taunted, feeling just a tad heady at my sudden turn of good fortune. "Have you been doing the wild thing with little Lila Jones?" I chuckled out loud, fully enjoying sitting in the catbird's seat. He was visibly upset, pulling at the chains and yelling indistinguishably through the duct tape. I reached down, grabbed the edge of the tape and gave it a good yank off his mouth. I winced, knowing that had to hurt.
"Ouch!" he yelled. And then he really laid into me. "Get me the fuck out of these goddamn handcuffs now or I'll shut this fleabag motel down for good!"
He went on to sputter a number of other obscenities. I couldn't believe his arrogance wasn't even the least bit diminished given the turn of events.
"Well, well, well, don't we have an attitude," I mocked. "How in the hell
did Lila ever convince you to let her chain you up like this?"
"She didn't, you idiot! She spiked my fucking drink, next thing I knew I woke up like this. Now unlock the cuffs with those keys, before I really get pissed!" I glanced down at his keys on the nightstand and then looked around, realizing that was the only thing of Jeff's in the room. She must have taken his clothes and gun with her. I wondered what he did to deserve this but then I remembered his cockiness the night before and realized he probably was just being himself! I was getting real tired of his attitude so I took the tape and put it back over his mouth. Boy, did that piss him off!
Fortunately, I didn't have to listen to his complaints thanks to the tape. "You know, boy," I said in my best lecture intonation, "I've had about enough of your attitude. In fact, I'd say you could really use an attitude adjustment."
I looked down smugly at my prisoner. Boy, he looked even better without clothes! His body was a study in muscular perfection. And I was pleasantly surprised to discover this boy sported a lush coat of hair on his buffed torso. His powerful, sculpted chest was coated with a full matte of silky black hair, a thick dark line of hair running from the center of his breastbone straight down to his crotch and flaring out around his belly button providing a sexy dusting of silky hair across his washboard abs. He
was quite a sight, and he was all mine!
"Right now," I continued, "I'm going to get to work while you cool your
jets. And then we'll talk about setting you free."
He was pissed but I didn't care. Turning to my cart, I pulled out a few supplies, picked up a feather duster and began gliding it over the nightstand beside the bed. Jeff had shut up so I looked over at him as I dusted and noticed his eyes were wide open. He watched my every movement of my fist full of feathers as I flicked them back and forth across the table surface. My heart pounded with excitement as I pondered his look. When my hand moved over to the bed with the feather duster, his eyes really bugged out and I recognized the look of pure panic and fear in his eyes.
He was mumbling something through the tape and his whole body tensed up. I knew I had him right where I wanted him! I ripped the tape off of his mouth again.
"Uh, what was that man?" I asked.
"I said, let me the fuck up," he replied, very deliberately enunciating each word.
"Sheesh!" I exclaimed. "Relax, man, I was just going to dust off this headboard here."
I moved the feather duster up to the headboard and stroked it across the fine wood surface, watching his eyes out of the corner of my eye. His arms were completely taut against the chains, his bugged out eyes following my every move. "You know, the only person I've ever seen react that way to the sight of a bunch of feathers was a guy I knew once who was really, really...ticklish!"
His whole body tensed and his chest moved up and down in response to his heavy breathing.
"Why, surely a big, strong, tough guy like you, Jeff, isn't so ticklish that you'd be afraid of a few feathers, are you?"
I couldn't believe my own cockiness as I reveled in his misfortune.
"Let me the fuck up!" he shouted, pulling wildly at the handcuffs wrapped securely around his wrists. He definitely looked panicked. Smiling what must have been the most evil smile I'd ever donned, I slowly lowered the duster toward his outstretched arm.
"C'mon, this ain't funny!" he insisted.
The feathers struck his arm just below the handcuff and I slowly dragged it down his unprotected arm. He jerked his arm and let out a startling deep rumbling of laughter.
"Hmmm..." I teased as I continued moving the feathers down his side, bouncing along his vulnerable rib cage to his hip. I began randomly dancing the feathers all across his torso as he bucked, rocked and cried out with laughter. "Sounds to me like you DO find this to be funny, Officer McAllister!" I taunted, enjoying having this jerk at my mercy. My dick pressed hard against my jeans, thoroughly excited by my discovery of just how unbearably ticklish officer Jeff was. I moved the feather duster down the center of his torso stopping for a moment to gently dust his limp cock which sprang almost immediately to attention. He was giggling and squirming as I tickled his long, thick shaft and swollen balls, sensations which apparently got him terribly excited. He cried out with loud laughter as the feathers danced down his thighs, left vulnerable by his legs being stretched apart and chained to posts at the corners of the bed.
As the pack of dancing feathers neared his ankle, he started pulling wildly on the cuffs restraining his legs.
"No, man, c'mon," he pleaded, "NOT my feet!" When the feathers began sliding across the top of his bare foot, he went nuts and really started laughing and thrashing about wildly.
“My, my, my," I taunted, "have I hit upon a particularly weak spot, my friend?" I dragged the bunch of feathers up and over his wriggling toes to his waiting, helpless sole. As I tickled the bottom of his bare foot with the shafts, he roared with laughter and his whole body arched off the bed in exasperation. He rolled his foot from side to side trying to escape the feathery touches so I climbed onto the bed, straddled his ankle with my
knees and held the sides of his foot between my legs while plunging my feather duster down to his captive sole. He got even more wild, feeling even more helpless and was in hysterics.
"No, please, stop!" he cried out desperately but his reaction only encouraged me more. Finally, I dropped the feather duster and replaced it with my fingertips dancing rhythmically up and down his quivering sole. He was totally in hysterics and thrashing about now, the full force of his baritone voice booming out with raucous laughter. I could barely understand the words escaping between laughs but it was clear he was begging me to stop. I had a raging hard on, delighted that I'd turned the tables on this kid, the cop with an attitude, to the point he was now begging me for mercy.
After a few minutes, I got up and decided to give him a break. "Well, well, well. Looks like the invincible officer McAllister isn't quite so invincible after all."
It took him a minute just to stop laughing, every nerve in his body apparently jolted by the intense tickle attack I'd just delivered. It took him even longer to regain his breath. Picking up his keys off the nightstand, I left the room leaving him chained to the bed to contemplate what I was planning next. I discovered his cruiser tucked away behind the garage and out of sight of the street. I got in, started it up and pulled it into the garage to hide it and not let anyone know whom I had captive. Looking around the car, I found the clipboard Jeff was holding the night before when he gave me the citation. Glancing through the completed tickets, I quickly found mine.
"Something tells me I can get this taken care of today!" I muttered to myself, thrilled at how my situation was suddenly looking brighter. Thumbing through the thick mass of completed tickets, I realized old Jeff had been quite the busy boy. And then I came across one for Ms. Lila and things started to fall into place. I theorized he was going to let her buy her way out of the ticket and she ended up showing him a trick or two.
Stopping off at my apartment to pick up my trusty bag of tickle toys, I returned to the room with the clipboard in hand. My bound hunk was still waiting helplessly for my next move.
"Okay, Jeff my boy, are you ready for some fun?" I announced with an evil grin.He gave a big yank on his chains and demanded to be let go.
"You know, I don't think you've quite gotten the picture here yet. You're not in a situation to be making demands, Officer McAllister. Perhaps I need to make the situation clearer."
I moved toward the bed with my bag.
"No, no!" he cried out. "You've made it perfectly clear already. You've had your fun tormenting me." His tone had changed quite a bit. "I don't blame you for taking advantage of the situation but enough is enough. Please, don't tickle me any more." He looked rather pitiful and for a split moment, I felt sorry for him. But then I recalled the previous night and how he showed me absolutely no mercy.
"Hmm, how can I put this, Jeff," I mused philosophically.
"Let's just say that 'if you sleep with the devil, you're may just wake up in hell!'"
He rolled his eyes recalling his same statement to me when he had the upper hand. "Besides," I continued, sitting on the side of the bed to take off my shoes and socks, "I suspect I've only begun to scratch the surface of your super sensitive body. I think there's plenty more fun to be had!"
I punctuated my comment by poking my index finger into his ribcage which caused him to jump with a start.
"Please!" he pleaded, "I can't take any more. I'm really too ticklish. Won't
you at least show me some mercy?"
I stood up and unbuttoned my jeans, pulling them down my legs and allowing my excited cock to spring through the hole in my cotton boxers.
"I tell you what, my friend," I answered as I climbed onto the bed and straddled his waist,
"I promise you that I'll show you every bit as much mercy as you showed me last night!"
I looked at my gorgeous prisoner, his ticklish torso completely unprotected and vulnerable and smiled wickedly at the feast before me. I began to run my fingertips slowly across his ripped belly drawing random patterns in the soft hair swirling across his stomach. He gritted his teeth and tried with every ounce of strength not to reveal how bad that tickled. I moved my fingers up his sides and alternated between poking and light
tapping across his sensitive skin. He yanked furiously at his restraints and closed his eyes, biting his lip and trying to be tough. I allowed my fingertips to graze across his chest, enjoying the thick carpet of hair, encircling his nipples until they grew firm and raised up, then moving sideways to his open armpits. His whole body tensed up and he squealed
softly. As my fingers danced through the swirls of hair in his pits, he began softly repeating "no, no, no" as if trying to make the sensations go away magically.
"Go ahead and laugh, Jeff," I taunted, "you know you want to so badly!"
My finger tips moved up his arms dancing across the underneath side of his muscular upper arms. His chanting sped up and got louder but soon he couldn't hold back any longer and spewed forth with laughter. I stepped up the pace and began running my maddening fingers up and down his whole torso while he roared with laughter and wrenched back and forth in frustration. I spent the next 30 minutes exploring every inch of his bound, helpless body while he filled the room with nonstop laughter and pleading for me to stop.
I knew that this had to be the single worst nightmare this poor boy had ever experienced. Finally, I climbed off of him and got my bag from across the room while he worked to regain his breath. I picked up the book of traffic citations and pulled mine out. Moving back to the bed, I sat beside his outstretched torso and held my citation in my hand.
"There's nothing I can do about that!" he sputtered defensively.
"Oh, really?" I asked innocently. "Gee, that's really a shame. 'Cause it could've bought you a reprieve. Guess there'll be no rest for you, then." I reached into my bag and pulled out a fist of various feathers, far more effective and tormenting than the simple ones used in the feather duster. His eyes opened wide with horror as I brought them down to his awaiting body.
"No, please, stop!" he cried out. "No more...I can't stand it...ah hah hahhahhhah!" He dissolved into laughter as the feathers began dancing across his body. Standing beside the bed, I would separate the batches of feathers and work on two parts at once, like his armpit and abdomen. To add insult to injury, I lowered my head to his ribs and starting nipping playfully with my mouth which really drove him wild. This phase went on for another full half hour while he roared with uncontrollable laughter.
When I stopped, I pulled a loaded Polaroid camera out of my bag and snapped a picture of Jeff bound and smiling widely. He looked up in horror.
"What the fuck are you doing?!" he cried out, returning quickly to his cocky
self.
"Insurance," I answered simply. "And you know, I don't think I've worked you over enough because you still seem to have quite a bit of attitude. Better step it up." This time I pulled out a bunch of soft bristled paint brushes and began dragging them randomly over his body. He was soon in hysterics again.
This pattern continued for another hour and a half, every 30 minutes or so stopping to see if he'd changed his mind about the ticket. He was quickly losing his resolve so I kept it up, and snapped a number of photos from different angles. I finally took out my worst weapon, a stiff bristled brush, oiled up his tingling soles and sent him into hysterics by dragging the bristles up and down his soles. He laughed so hard he went hoarse, his body dripped with sweat. After stopping, I offered him a break once again if he would take care of the ticket. This time, completely worn out and seeing that I wasn't tiring, he finally agreed. He slowly revealed exactly how to cancel it so it wouldn't come back to haunt me and told me where in his car my license was. I repeated the action with Lilah's ticket making sure she was off the hook.
"Okay, now will you fucking let me go?!" he asked dejectedly.
"Oh, I don't know. You see, in a small town like this, retribution is a very real possibility. That's why I've taken these photographs. I'm going to take them to the bank now and put them in a safe deposit box. If you dare ever stop me again, harass me or do the same to Lilah, I'll pull them out and circulate them to the local newspaper. I don't think that would be such a good move for your career, what do you think?"
He just looked at me, obviously pissed but realizing he was in no position to argue. I put on my pants, retaped his mouth and took the pictures to the bank, putting them safely in the safe deposit box. When I returned, I removed the tape again.
"Now in case you're thinking about killing me or anything like that, you should know that I stopped by my lawyer's while I was out and put a provision in my will indicating to check the safe deposit box in case of my death. Furthermore, I gave my lawyer the
key and he put it in his safe so I can only access those pictures with his cooperation. Any questions?"
He just stared at me, taking it all in and realizing he couldn't argue. I kicked off my shoes and began removing my jeans again.
"Wait a minute!" he cried out. "What the hell are you doing? Aren't you letting me go?"
I just smiled. "No, you know, while I was out, I started remembering how much fun it was to see you humbled and begging and decided I couldn't let you go quite yet."
"You sonofabitch!" he cried out in exasperation, and began yanking on his chains again. This time, I dropped my underwear and removed my shirt so that I was completely naked.
"Hey, wait a minute you homo!" he challenged. "What...what are you going to do?"
"I still think you need to learn when you have the upper hand and when you don't, pal!" I answered as I climbed back on top. I then put him through another grueling two hours of sheer torture, using every tool at my disposal. I finally needed some relief so I climbed up on his chest and placed my swollen dick against his lips. He tried to fight but I just reached down and tickled his armpits, forcing his mouth open. I continued tickling him while he--and I found this a tad odd--instinctively sucked me off. I even snapped a photo of him, eyes closed and my cock in his mouth. I knew that would be good insurance. As I exploded, I withdrew from his mouth and sprayed my jism all over his hairy chest.
Falling back, I laid there for a moment and caught my breath while he did the same.
"Uh, what about me?" he asked meekly.
"Now that's more the attitude, Jeff!" I offered, as I turned over and picked up a feather. I began stroking up and down his shaft, reaching underneath and tickling his balls and even dipping the feather down into the crack of his ass. He writhed and giggled, both enjoying and hating the sensation. I began tickling his belly with one hand while rubbing the head of his cock with my other hand soaked in my own juices. He laughed loudly alternating
between laughter and moaning. Finally, he couldn't stand it anymore and shot his load into the air. Finally I stood up, and sat back down on the bed beside his torso. I allowed my fingernail to playfully draw random patterns across his fur-coated chest and belly causing him to giggle and outright laugh and jump when I'd hit a particularly sensitive spot. "Now, Jeff, I don't want you to think I'm completely heartless. In fact, I'm willing to
let you buy back these photos if you'd like."
"How much?" he asked suspiciously.
"Well, they're awfully valuable and it would cost you plenty, but I know you've got the assets to afford it. You see, all you have to do is submit to another session like this one and I'll give you one of the photos. I've snapped a dozen shots so it means you'd only have to endure a ruthless, merciless tickling session twelve times and you'd own all the evidence against you."
He rolled his eyes in disgust, realizing that was an awful high price to pay. But I knew that his honor was at risk and he would eventually agree to it again. I looked forward to a year full of these sessions as I unlocked the handcuffs and gave him back his freedom. He looked incredibly worn out, the thick hair of his chest and stomach matted and sticky with jism. He was really a mess, and his clothes were gone. Feeling sorry for the guy, I
grabbed a bath towel and gave it to him. He stood up, his imposing body standing next to me and he started out the door.
"Bye, Jeff. I really enjoyed this. I'll wait for your call."
He stopped and looked at me in disgust. Then he carefully opened the door and snuck out trying to get to his car without being seen. I just smiled and laid back on the bed smiling
from ear to ear.
"You know, I think I'm really going to like living here after all!" I said out loud and began laughing heartily at how things had really turned around.
