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THE TICKLISH TRAVELS OF RACHEL COOK
PART FOUR – THAILAND
Rachel’s flew on to Thailand from her stop in Shanghai. She still had some pain in her most private parts from the various dildos that had worked on her the night before in the research laboratory. Some of those dildos like the dildo of the ox, the tiger and the horse were enormous. At least, they were all thoroughly lubricated and probably didn’t do any damage to her insides. The tickling had been terrible – a machine in the dark tickling all of her most sensitive places at once with her completely unable to move or even to call for help.
Having been in Thailand for a few days, Rachel had accumulated quite a lot of information and video footage about the cuisine of this beautiful country, not only in the capital city of Bangkok, but also in the resort city of Phuket. One of her main interests in Thailand, though, had been the birds nests that were so dreadfully expensive and used in Chinese cooking. These were swallows nests that were collected on cliffs high above the ground in limestone caves. Some people in Thailand made a great deal of money from this business, and they soon became aware that Rachel had been asking about the swallows nests everywhere she went.
She was invited to visit the actual limestone caves where the birds nest were collected and to see how it was done. Unfortunately, the invitation did not include Ed, her cameraman, because the boat was very small and there was only room for one extra person. It was an opportunity Rachel did not want to pass up, though, and she told Ed that she would be okay and to take the day off in Bangkok. She would meet him later that night, probably quite late, as the cliffs were some three hundred miles away from the capital. She put on her jeans and a red t-shirt and joined the gentleman who came to pick her up at the hotel.
It was quite a trip to reach the limestone cliffs, though, with a one-hour plane ride on Bangkok Airways turboprop plane, a forty five minute drive to the boat dock in one of the local villages, and then a ride in a motorized canoe to the actual caves where the cliffs were located, some miles offshore from the mainland. Thailand was so beautiful, she thought, but she had no idea some places were as remote as the nesting cliffs of the birds that produced the wonderful birds nests for soup and other delicacies.
When she entered the cave, she looked up at the cliffs some two hundred feet above her with the many birds flying about attending to their business. Her eyes went wide at the sight, as they often did, and she was simply agape with the view of these cliffs and the men who would climb on bamboo structures to reach them.
“Miss Cook,†said the man who had escorted her from Bangkok, “the business of harvesting and marketing the swallows nests is a very private one, as are the majority of the recipes used in their preparation. My associates in Bangkok and I would like to know why you are asking so many questions about our business.â€
“I am the host of a cooking show in America,†she started.
“Wait just a moment, Miss Cook,†he said, “I hardly believe your present state of attire is conducive to a truthful and thorough interview. Would you be so kind as to remove your clothes for us, and then we can proceed.â€
“What did you say,†she asked, looking at the six local men who had encircled her, “remove my clothes?â€
“Yes, that is what I said,†he responded, “either you remove them, or these gentlemen will remove them for you.â€
“What are you going to do,†she asked, as her trembling fingers removed each of her clothing pieces, her shoes, her t-shirt, her jeans, her bra and her panties.
“There,†she said defiantly, “are you happy now?â€
“In part, Miss Cook,†he said, “now please hold out your arms.â€
He fastened leather cuffs with chrome D-rings on each of her wrists and attached these to a leather thong which had been attached to the frame of one of the bamboo climbing structures. Her arms were then drawn up above her head until she was standing high up on her toes, her muscles straining under the tension of the position with her heels so high up off the ground. She started to sweat.
Two of the other men lifted her legs off the floor and backwards so that the man could fasten similar leather cuffs onto her ankles. These leather cuffs were also attached to a leather thong and Rachel now found herself hanging at a forty five degree angle with her feet up behind her and facing the floor. The strain on her arms, shoulders and upper back was considerable.
“Much better,†the man said, “now we can conduct a much more precise interview.â€
“Fuck you,†said Rachel, “this hurts – let me go.â€
“Aaaaaah, shit,†she screamed, as she felt the lash of a leather strap across the soles of her feet.
“Now, perhaps you would like to tell me why you have been making so many inquiries into our business.â€
“Like I said, I am a cooking show host from America,†she said, as the next lash fell onto the soles of her feet, “aaaaah, please, that hurts!â€
“Who do you work for, Miss Cook?â€
“The culinary television network in America,†she said, screaming again as another last landed onto the soles of her feet, “aaaaah, shit, that hurts, please don’t!â€
PART FOUR – THAILAND
Rachel’s flew on to Thailand from her stop in Shanghai. She still had some pain in her most private parts from the various dildos that had worked on her the night before in the research laboratory. Some of those dildos like the dildo of the ox, the tiger and the horse were enormous. At least, they were all thoroughly lubricated and probably didn’t do any damage to her insides. The tickling had been terrible – a machine in the dark tickling all of her most sensitive places at once with her completely unable to move or even to call for help.
Having been in Thailand for a few days, Rachel had accumulated quite a lot of information and video footage about the cuisine of this beautiful country, not only in the capital city of Bangkok, but also in the resort city of Phuket. One of her main interests in Thailand, though, had been the birds nests that were so dreadfully expensive and used in Chinese cooking. These were swallows nests that were collected on cliffs high above the ground in limestone caves. Some people in Thailand made a great deal of money from this business, and they soon became aware that Rachel had been asking about the swallows nests everywhere she went.
She was invited to visit the actual limestone caves where the birds nest were collected and to see how it was done. Unfortunately, the invitation did not include Ed, her cameraman, because the boat was very small and there was only room for one extra person. It was an opportunity Rachel did not want to pass up, though, and she told Ed that she would be okay and to take the day off in Bangkok. She would meet him later that night, probably quite late, as the cliffs were some three hundred miles away from the capital. She put on her jeans and a red t-shirt and joined the gentleman who came to pick her up at the hotel.
It was quite a trip to reach the limestone cliffs, though, with a one-hour plane ride on Bangkok Airways turboprop plane, a forty five minute drive to the boat dock in one of the local villages, and then a ride in a motorized canoe to the actual caves where the cliffs were located, some miles offshore from the mainland. Thailand was so beautiful, she thought, but she had no idea some places were as remote as the nesting cliffs of the birds that produced the wonderful birds nests for soup and other delicacies.
When she entered the cave, she looked up at the cliffs some two hundred feet above her with the many birds flying about attending to their business. Her eyes went wide at the sight, as they often did, and she was simply agape with the view of these cliffs and the men who would climb on bamboo structures to reach them.
“Miss Cook,†said the man who had escorted her from Bangkok, “the business of harvesting and marketing the swallows nests is a very private one, as are the majority of the recipes used in their preparation. My associates in Bangkok and I would like to know why you are asking so many questions about our business.â€
“I am the host of a cooking show in America,†she started.
“Wait just a moment, Miss Cook,†he said, “I hardly believe your present state of attire is conducive to a truthful and thorough interview. Would you be so kind as to remove your clothes for us, and then we can proceed.â€
“What did you say,†she asked, looking at the six local men who had encircled her, “remove my clothes?â€
“Yes, that is what I said,†he responded, “either you remove them, or these gentlemen will remove them for you.â€
“What are you going to do,†she asked, as her trembling fingers removed each of her clothing pieces, her shoes, her t-shirt, her jeans, her bra and her panties.
“There,†she said defiantly, “are you happy now?â€
“In part, Miss Cook,†he said, “now please hold out your arms.â€
He fastened leather cuffs with chrome D-rings on each of her wrists and attached these to a leather thong which had been attached to the frame of one of the bamboo climbing structures. Her arms were then drawn up above her head until she was standing high up on her toes, her muscles straining under the tension of the position with her heels so high up off the ground. She started to sweat.
Two of the other men lifted her legs off the floor and backwards so that the man could fasten similar leather cuffs onto her ankles. These leather cuffs were also attached to a leather thong and Rachel now found herself hanging at a forty five degree angle with her feet up behind her and facing the floor. The strain on her arms, shoulders and upper back was considerable.
“Much better,†the man said, “now we can conduct a much more precise interview.â€
“Fuck you,†said Rachel, “this hurts – let me go.â€
“Aaaaaah, shit,†she screamed, as she felt the lash of a leather strap across the soles of her feet.
“Now, perhaps you would like to tell me why you have been making so many inquiries into our business.â€
“Like I said, I am a cooking show host from America,†she said, as the next lash fell onto the soles of her feet, “aaaaah, please, that hurts!â€
“Who do you work for, Miss Cook?â€
“The culinary television network in America,†she said, screaming again as another last landed onto the soles of her feet, “aaaaah, shit, that hurts, please don’t!â€
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