Tickle His Name

By Jason Pinaster

In this story of erotic tickling, Melody makes the mistake of telling Kira, her best friend, that inflicting physical pain is the only way to force someone to disclose information. She agrees that tickling isn’t physical pain. Kira smiles and tickles her so well that Melody is forced to give up the name of her new boyfriend. But Kira doesn’t stop there; she doesn’t stop until Melody climaxes into a raucous orgasm.

A few days later it’s Kira’s turn to be tickled. Will she surrender the name of her new lover? And what will happen if she does?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jason Pinaster
• Release date: Apr 3, 2021
• ISBN: 9781005928353

Jason Pinaster

If you would like to be on my mailing list, please click on the box at the very bottom of the column under my photo. You will receive prompt notification of my new publications and special offers.I have heard say that the first obligation of a writer is to entertain. If so, the first obligation of a writer of erotica is to arouse and I hope you feel that I have succeeded.I believe that story sets the scene. A story lets the reader start to care for the characters in it. And if the reader cares about the characters, it is easier for him or her to identify with their arousal, to let that arousal tingle the reader’s own skin.Christopher Carter is a lawyer who’s into BDSM and other hijinks, most of them sexual. His stories feature a little fun, lots of sex, a little adventure, and Carter's special brand of justice. Lusty Lee was a private investigator whose nemesis forced her to pursue him through a new kink in each episode. The Mistress Megan stories take her through her development as a dominatrix during which she must satisfy their every fetish.While my current focus is on stories featuring (in order of frequency) erotic combat, wet and messy, action-adventure and tickling, I’m open to anything which turns me (and hopefully you) on. I dabble in sex games and BDSM. I have published two novellas set in Hedonism II, the notorious Jamaican resort and even one featuring a sentient sex robot.At present, I’m developing a Patreon page showcasing erotic combat vignettes: www.patreon.com/JasonPinasterPlease feel free to contact me at [e-mail] And don’t forget to click on the box at the very bottom of the column under my photo. Cheers!

Book preview

Tickle His Name © 2021 by Jason Pinaster

Jason Pinaster has published numerous other stories, most notably the Christopher Carter Series and the Lusty Lee Logs. For a full list of his stories, please see his author profile or the notes at the back of this story.

Copyright Notice: Copyright by Jason Pinaster 2021; all rights reserved.

This is a work of fiction; the characters are not you.

Cover Notes and Credits

Back Notes: About Jason Pinaster, other books and stories by the author.

Previous Jason Pinaster stories featuring tickling:

Tickle Test

Pay Back

Tickled Back

Cosplay Clue

Bondage, Lusty Lee Log 27

Third Degree Tickle

By, Bi, Bye

And Her Soles Will Howl

Strip Tickle

Tickle His Name

Torture always involves pain.

I shook my head. You can torture someone without inflicting pain.

Melody raised an eyebrow. I’m talking real torture, Kira. Where you’re trying to get information from someone and he doesn’t want to give it up.

We were on a layover in Washington, D.C. having arrived from Moscow an hour ago. This was our regular route as flight attendants; and we enjoyed the regular routine. We had two nights and two full days to relax after the fourteen hour flight. Tonight we would sleep. Tomorrow we would go out into the city.

Our discussion about torture had been spawned by the ‘what-if’ spy games we had played during the Russia to U.S. flight. We liked to guess who was a spy and who was a legitimate diplomat. We had a special code to keep us out of trouble with the actual spooks who flew back and forth between east and west: ‘Gin’ was a British spy, ‘Bourbon’ was an American spy, while ‘potato’ was a Russian spy since ‘Vodka’ would have been too obvious. Diplomats were ‘gimlets’ while tourists were ‘virgins’.

I got the first shower when we arrived at the hotel, having earned the privilege by finding a photo of one of our passengers online. He had been going into a Russian secret service building. It had felt so good to strip out of my bra and panties, even better to have hot water spray the accumulated sweat and oil off my body.

I was catching up on my social media accounts when Melody came out of the shower toweling off her light brown hair. A shiver went up my spine as I admired her perfect figure, her hairless body. She was half a foot taller than I was, perfect for kissing and dancing. A hint of green in her blue eyes sparkled.

Melody had the looks of an American girl-next-door. My black hair and grey eyes, plus the fact that I looked like the high-class hookers who prowled the hotels in Moscow, meant that I played the Russian character in our spy games. I had been propositioned more than once during our layovers in the Russian capital and Melody often joked that I should pick up some extra cash.

What had set off our discussion about the nature of torture was the interrogation scene in this month’s inflight movie. The hero, an international spy, had withstood some serious pain. I pulled up a video clip of the scene on my computer and turned it towards Melody.

She winced. No wonder he gave up the classified codes.

I nodded. But pain isn’t the only way.

I’m not talking trickery or blackmail. Two people in a room. One restrained. A specific piece of information. The victim knows what the torturer wants and is committed to safeguarding the secret. Pain is the only way.

I shook my head. I bet I can break you without inflicting pain.

Hah.

Melody pulled out a T-shirt and loose-fitting cotton shorts from her suitcase. Her breasts dangled as she bent over. I wished I was close enough to give them a gentle squeeze.

The way you said ‘Hah’, sounded as if you’d be willing to make a wager of it.

She shrugged. What did you have in mind?

Put on your red lingerie, I said.

Her red bra and panties were old