The Fanny Tickler Ch. 02byCareBearPunk©
One morning whilst checking my inbox I was surprised to find an email from a researcher for a television production company they were making a 'non broadcast' pilot for a game show for some obscure satellite channel had seen my website and wondered if I could phone them to discuss further my possible involvement in the format. Although suspicious that I was on the receiving end of some kind of "wind up" I decided there was little harm in phoning Julia, the researcher to at the very least find out what on earth they would want me to do in a game show. Julia explained that the game show was to be one of these 'reality television' affairs with contestants competing to win cash prizes avoid humiliating forfeits. I have little time for such shows personally preferring the Antiques Roadshow to the sort of ghastly fare on commercial television but I kept that view to myself.
Julia said that they were going to be filming a round with two girls aged 19 and 20 competing against each other answering quiz questions. For every incorrect answer they would have to remove an article of clothing. The first of the girls to lose all of her clothes would not only lose the game and thus her chance at the cash prize but also be awarded a forfeit, a kind of extra humiliation on top of being nude.
Julia said that they were hoping that I would agree to use my considerable skill and experience in the field to tickle the loser's fanny .This hardly sounded an original idea to my ears I remembered such strip games from the dormitories of my time at boarding school. Indeed it was where I first discovered my skills. I was intrigued though on three counts. Firstly the idea of a consenting but nevertheless presumably reluctant subject was a rather exciting one and also, vulgar though it may sound, I was promised a very lucrative sum for my participation. Money aside if the pilot became a series it stood to be a priceless opportunity to publicise my services beyond the realm of the internet. Therefore I agreed.
The following week I arrived at the studio in Bristol where I was met by Julia. I was told that I would get my own dressing room as they did not want the contestants to realise who I was until the vital moment. After what seemed like an age sat reading a paperback and helping myself to the various nibbles in my quarters I was introduced to the host. Abigail is what one might refer to as a C list celebrity. I had a vague knowledge of her from the lifestyle section of the paper. She was a model for the sort of publications read by spotty adolescents and lager louts and had been 'romantically linked' to a variety of footballers, cage fighters and other assorted oafs. She was actually very polite and we had a brief discussion about my trade and its various tricks. The producers had provided me with a feather duster for the occasion, correctly presuming that it was one of my main instruments of tickling. It was however one of those ghastly synthetic affairs and so I politely informed them that I prefer to use my own equipment and had brought my Tickle Bag with me containing my ostrich feather duster.
When the time came for the filming to commence I was led round to the wings where I could view the proceedings on a monitor. Abigail appeared first after her opening spiel announced the two contestants, Sharon from Manchester and Lizzie from Edinburgh. I was amazed at how far they'd come but then remembered how many women of their age will simply do anything to get on the television. Abigail briefly interviewed the two women before the game commenced. Sharon was 19 and a leisure centre lifeguard. She was as you would expect rather slender and toned and was wearing jeans and a strappy green top. Her blonde hair was tied back in a ponytail. Lizzie, 20 years old worked at a bookmaker's and was what one may describe as 'pleasantly plump' she wore a black top similar to Sharon's but I must say she rather filled it more than her sportier opponent. She also had jeans on (presumably in the name of fairness they had been advised to dress similarly). Her hair was dark and short.
Both girls were rather loud and brash, these so called 'ladettes' who try to keep up with the 'lads'. The sort of young ladies who viewed someone like Abigail as a role model. Both claimed in their interviews to have no qualms about the prospect of being starkers in front of a studio audience in fact Lizzie boasted of regularly exposing what she proudly referred to as her "bangers" on drunken nights out. After this tawdry chat, Abigail explained to the girls and the audience the rules of the game but crucially said that the loser's extra forfeit would not be revealed until the moment of truth. I wondered to myself which one would lose and also which I would prefer to lose and be subjected to my tickle treatment. Both were the epitome of the sort of silly, frivolous young woman who sorely needed to be taken down a peg and would undoubtedly benefit in the long run from the undignified experience of a very public tickle round her unmentionables. Whichever one lost though, I knew that I had to show no mercy whatsoever if I was to be invited back on the show.
As I watched the proceedings over the monitor I was amazed at the simplistic questions being asked for such high stakes. The questions were all to do with awful soap operas and supposed celebrities that I'd certainly never heard of. It was less a test of knowledge and more a contest to see which one had filled their head with the most rubbish. Both were down to their underwear before long. Sharon was wearing a rather nice matching bra and bikini briefs in light purple, Lizzie looked a little more tarty with her 'bangers' contained within a black lacy brassiere and complimentary knickers with pink bows at the front. It stood to reason that one would wear one's best undergarments in a situation such as this. The removal of outer clothing was of course greeted with various hoots and hollers from the largely male audience. Next Sharon's pert pear shaped breasts were exposed to a chorus of wolf whistles although they were nowhere near as large as Lizzie's they were pleasant to behold with surprisingly long nipples.
After Lizzie relieved herself of her bra allowing her large round bosoms to tumble free there was much tension as both girls now only had their knickers to protect their modesty. Whoever got the next wrong answer would be in a very ticklish situation indeed. Knowing the time was near, I checked the contents of my Tickle Bag, brushed myself down and prepared for my big entrance.
The next question was put to Sharon. It was about the winner of some 'reality show' that I'd sooner have watched paint dry than view. Of course she knew the answer and clapped her hands together with glee having retained her knickers. Lizzie's question was about football , something she loudly protested the unfairness of. I know next to nothing of football myself but one would have thought working for a bookmakers would have meant acquiring some knowledge of sports and even I wouldn't have said George Best scored the winning goal in the 1966 World Cup.
After some hand wringing and whinging, Lizzie was reminded that she had agreed to the rules of the game and with a roll of her eyes pulled down her lacy black knickers to reveal a shock of dark pubic hair between her thick thighs as Sharon cheered and squealed , her breasts jiggling as she bounced around in victory before being handed a robe to cover herself. Clearly Lizzie had less bravado about her lower regions than her chest and covered herself with both hands before being smugly informed by Abigail that the rules prohibited losing contestants covering up. Lizzie stood blushing beet red with her hands on her broad doughy hips as Abigail reminded her that it was now time for her forfeit.
When Abigail asked Lizzie if she was ticklish her facial expression turned from one of dejection to one of horror. She gasped and declared that she went 'mad' if she was tickled. Abigail informed Lizzie that she would be tickled for five minutes in one area as her forfeit. I broke into a smile as Lizzie asked fearfully if it was her feet that were to be tickled. When she was informed of where she was going to be tickled her jaw dropped and she instinctively covered herself again as the audience roared with laughter. Lizzie was even less impressed when Abigail informed her that in order to make her even more ticklish she was to have her pubic hair shaved off there and then and that it would be rather amusing if Sharon were to do the honours on her defeated opponent.
I must admit I did feel rather guilty as I watched from the wings as Lizzie with a face like thunder was swiftly epilated around her nether regions by the grinning, gloating Sharon using a bright pink electric razor. It was after all I who mentioned during my dressing room chat to Abigail the fact that a smooth fanny was much easier to tickle. After the addition of some talc Lizzie was ready for me and introducing me with the rather grand title of "the United Kingdom's Premier professional Fanny Tickler", Abigail brought me onstage to much cheering and foot stomping from the crowd. Lizzie seemed completely wrong footed by the sight of me. I'm not sure what she expected a "professional fanny tickler" to look like but obviously she didn't envision a fairly ordinary middle aged woman in a business suit.
After Lizzie had begrudgingly shaken my hand, Abigail asked me how I'd like her positioned for her 'treatment'. This was a tricky one. A large part of me wanted Lizzie on all fours. Many women are surprised by how ticklish their bums are and I thought that Lizzie discovering how sensitive her posterior was might make for compelling viewing. However if I was behind her I'd miss her bosom jiggling and more importantly her facial expressions. On her back legs apart might be too rich for the blood of the censor so I decided to instruct Lizzie to remain in the position she was in and asked for a chair. Abigail signalled to some stage hands who swiftly fetched a suitable one which I quickly adjusted so that I could sit in front of Lizzie with my field of vision at crotch height.
I told Lizzie to put her legs wider apart and then asked if she was ready to have her fanny tickled. She muttered something about getting it over with but Abigail immediately saw an opportunity to humiliate Lizzie further and informed her that I would not begin the task at hand until she had asked me politely to tickle her fanny and address me as 'Miss'. She did this with much disgruntlement and glaring and then I was given the signal to commence.
I decided to begin with some finger tickling to warm Lizzie up. As she saw my hand gravitate towards her she shut her eyes and then nearly jumped out of her skin as I cupped her fanny with my right hand. Her labia were plump and smooth and of course very sensitive having just been shaved clean. As I began tickling them I looked up to see that Lizzie was biting her lip. She must have come close to hurting herself as I ran my manicured fingernails along her slit up to her mound and then began to tickle it briskly with both hands. After some shaking and jerking I finally elicited a snort and a giggle. As I reached back underneath her and tickled her perineum with my right index finger tip the giggles turned to outright laughter. I kept this motion going and with my other hand reached into my Tickle Bag and gripped the handle of my duster.
Keeping the finger tickling up with my right hand I began to use the left to work the duster over Lizzie's soft lower tummy, hips and then her inner thighs. That did the trick. As soon as she felt the duster on her legs, Lizzie spluttered and let out a loud cackling laugh rocking back and forth and bucking her hips. The hilarity was increased as the duster's ostrich feather plume made contact with her smooth plump mound, the feathers getting round every nook and cranny as I "dusted" her most intimate parts. Glancing at the clock on the studio wall I realised I had only a little over two minutes left. It was time for the grand finale.
As she heard the buzzing noise, Lizzie must have presumed I was turning on a vibrator. When she opened her eyes to see my electric toothbrush in my hand her eyes went wide as saucers. The toothbrush I use is the most high powered on the market and most reputable dentists swear by it. I could smell Lizzie's arousal and her clitoris had become rather swollen so I reached out and began to gently tickle and twiddle it with one finger causing Lizzie to gasp and throw back her head. Her thighs now parted as instinctively as they had earlier tried to shut. As her breathing began to grow heavier I pressed the whirring bristles of the toothbrush into her perineum causing her to cry out at the simultaneous tickling and clitoral manipulation. Lizzie's legs began to quiver to the point where I feared she might fall over and she began to pant and gasp before finally the twin sensations caused to her to howl like a banshee as she climaxed, her wetness trickling down her thighs and her eyes crossing.
As she fell backwards into the safe grip of the stage hands who were positioned either side of her presumably in case of an attempted escape, the buzzer indicating that the time was up rang throughout the studio. I had narrowly beat the clock. As Lizzie was helped into her robe and given a glass of water Abigail asked her how she'd liked her treatment. 'Intense' was all she could muster.