Having just been “buzzed in” and standing in front of a door left slightly ajar, I find I’m very cautious for a couple of reasons. First, there is no Ms. Tammy to greet me and to “talk me down”, so I’m still stuck on the proverbial “ledge”. Second… even though I know Pretty Lady is here somewhere (the upside of a particularly keen sniffer), she has not made her presence obvious. Which usually means a “surprise” is in store. Rabbits rarely appreciate “surprises”. Still, I miss the lady, so I ignore my initial instincts, and with ears flat and belly to the ground, I creep inside.
It’s a nice place. Very nice. The tiling on the floor in the hallway is some sort of textured stone which tickles my tummy as I slink across it. From the main hallway, I take a little detour to the right in what must be a living room area. It has some nice things, including some leather furniture (not great for fur or claws) and a TV… but no girl. Hmmmph.
I cautiously slither around the corner and find myself in a dining room / kitchen area (not a comfortable place when one is frequently mistaken for food). Again, a fancy décor very pleasing to the senses, but the table does not look like it would be stable enough to hold a rotund rabbit… and while the counters look like they could handle this kind of strain; the attached drawers undoubtedly hold all sorts of instruments for applications that would make the “Aunt Jemima Treatment” seem pedestrian. No, this room is for advanced Ticklers, not vermin hacks. And besides… no girl here either. Hmmmph.
Then I crawl further until I’m back in the original hallway, and moving towards two doorways at the end (and the way the tiles are rubbing my belly, I’m close to not needing to see Pretty Lady). Straight ahead is a lavatory, with all sorts of comforts laid out to be used. And to the right is a bedroom turned ritual site, with mirrors and candles and spooky music… and a sleigh variety mattressed altar as its centrepiece. I’m curious about THIS place, but that’s short lived, because I feel one hand grab my scruff, one hand push my tail in the direction of the loo, and a familiar, sweet warm breath in my ear say “God you’re nasty. Clean up.”
So I did. Or at least I tried. There’s a lot of pressure with a Pretty Lady staring at you with disappointment and disgust. And when I failed to do it right, she tried to fix it. At least until she realised that one can’t “clean” ugly. At which point she pretty much gave up and told me to get in the shower. Which is actually in a tub. A tall, deep tub with fancy jets. So I tried that too. But… it’s so high up, and I have tiny little legs, and so I ended up hanging there by my “armpits” with my hind paws scurrying frantically and fruitlessly beneath me. “Wouldn’t happen to have a ladder, would you?” I asked. “Figure it out yourself. I’ll be waiting…” she replied, making her way to the altar room. “… idiot.”
Whoever said “necessity is the mother of invention” didn’t have a scantily clad hottie in the next room waiting for them, ‘cause duly motivated I turned into MacGyverabbit. Or, more accurately, Bunndiana Jones, swinging from the vanity by the shower curtain and finally completing my de-nastification mission.
So, “clean” and “ready” (both very relative terms), I’m now in the bedroom, towel and things in my arms. Ms. Lilith is spread out across the bed. I would say “seductively” – and that would certainly be accurate – but I’m pretty easily seduced by her. She is a lovely young thing: tiny, toned, and tanned. She beams a smile at me and I fidget uncomfortably. She rolls her beautiful eyes and tells me to drop my things and come to her. So I do. But I’m not used to the change in routine, and don’t know what I should do, so I aimlessly paw at her feet. Unimpressed, she starts throwing her lacy underthings at me, but after the second “shot”, she’s out of ammunition. And she’s nekkid. Yay!
Ms. Lilith eventually comes to the realisation that if there is going to be any tickling at all today, she’s going to have to break the inertia. So she does, and I get the game plan in small, digestible instructions. “Do this, bunny.” “Do that better, bunny.” “Don’t touch, bunny.” “Play with it, bunny.” It's really, really fun. LOTS of fun (both quantity and quality). But eventually I get too tired, and have to stop. So Ms. Lilith gives me a sippy-cup and snuggles a little bit. And with this last little kindness, I finally find myself disarmed and truly comfortable, believing that there was no trap for me afterall....
*thumpthumpthumpthumpthump*
A feeling that lasted just long enough for her to tell me “someone I actually like will be here soon, so you should go.” No time to slink out, dear readers … in fact, there was barely even time for Bunndiana to grab his hat….
Nice place. Nice time. Nicest lady.
Happy Thumping, All!
It’s a nice place. Very nice. The tiling on the floor in the hallway is some sort of textured stone which tickles my tummy as I slink across it. From the main hallway, I take a little detour to the right in what must be a living room area. It has some nice things, including some leather furniture (not great for fur or claws) and a TV… but no girl. Hmmmph.
I cautiously slither around the corner and find myself in a dining room / kitchen area (not a comfortable place when one is frequently mistaken for food). Again, a fancy décor very pleasing to the senses, but the table does not look like it would be stable enough to hold a rotund rabbit… and while the counters look like they could handle this kind of strain; the attached drawers undoubtedly hold all sorts of instruments for applications that would make the “Aunt Jemima Treatment” seem pedestrian. No, this room is for advanced Ticklers, not vermin hacks. And besides… no girl here either. Hmmmph.
Then I crawl further until I’m back in the original hallway, and moving towards two doorways at the end (and the way the tiles are rubbing my belly, I’m close to not needing to see Pretty Lady). Straight ahead is a lavatory, with all sorts of comforts laid out to be used. And to the right is a bedroom turned ritual site, with mirrors and candles and spooky music… and a sleigh variety mattressed altar as its centrepiece. I’m curious about THIS place, but that’s short lived, because I feel one hand grab my scruff, one hand push my tail in the direction of the loo, and a familiar, sweet warm breath in my ear say “God you’re nasty. Clean up.”
So I did. Or at least I tried. There’s a lot of pressure with a Pretty Lady staring at you with disappointment and disgust. And when I failed to do it right, she tried to fix it. At least until she realised that one can’t “clean” ugly. At which point she pretty much gave up and told me to get in the shower. Which is actually in a tub. A tall, deep tub with fancy jets. So I tried that too. But… it’s so high up, and I have tiny little legs, and so I ended up hanging there by my “armpits” with my hind paws scurrying frantically and fruitlessly beneath me. “Wouldn’t happen to have a ladder, would you?” I asked. “Figure it out yourself. I’ll be waiting…” she replied, making her way to the altar room. “… idiot.”
Whoever said “necessity is the mother of invention” didn’t have a scantily clad hottie in the next room waiting for them, ‘cause duly motivated I turned into MacGyverabbit. Or, more accurately, Bunndiana Jones, swinging from the vanity by the shower curtain and finally completing my de-nastification mission.
So, “clean” and “ready” (both very relative terms), I’m now in the bedroom, towel and things in my arms. Ms. Lilith is spread out across the bed. I would say “seductively” – and that would certainly be accurate – but I’m pretty easily seduced by her. She is a lovely young thing: tiny, toned, and tanned. She beams a smile at me and I fidget uncomfortably. She rolls her beautiful eyes and tells me to drop my things and come to her. So I do. But I’m not used to the change in routine, and don’t know what I should do, so I aimlessly paw at her feet. Unimpressed, she starts throwing her lacy underthings at me, but after the second “shot”, she’s out of ammunition. And she’s nekkid. Yay!
Ms. Lilith eventually comes to the realisation that if there is going to be any tickling at all today, she’s going to have to break the inertia. So she does, and I get the game plan in small, digestible instructions. “Do this, bunny.” “Do that better, bunny.” “Don’t touch, bunny.” “Play with it, bunny.” It's really, really fun. LOTS of fun (both quantity and quality). But eventually I get too tired, and have to stop. So Ms. Lilith gives me a sippy-cup and snuggles a little bit. And with this last little kindness, I finally find myself disarmed and truly comfortable, believing that there was no trap for me afterall....
*thumpthumpthumpthumpthump*
A feeling that lasted just long enough for her to tell me “someone I actually like will be here soon, so you should go.” No time to slink out, dear readers … in fact, there was barely even time for Bunndiana to grab his hat….
Nice place. Nice time. Nicest lady.
Happy Thumping, All!