The Giggle Girls Pt. 01

Bicurious

Jack should have known better. He’d spent much of his 25 years pulling some sort of hustle or scam or another and could definitely safely class himself as “streetwise” without leaving himself open to mockery. He definitely should have known better than to underestimate Samantha.

Jack was medium height and slightly out of shape with close cropped hair and arms full of tattoos. Although he could be classed as a gangster of sorts he was more the type for t shirt jeans and battered leather jacket than fancy Italian suits. Jack wasn’t a particularly nasty or violent man but he could look after himself if need be.

His main work was “cashing” that is going into shops and pubs with counterfeit bank notes and buying the cheapest item he could in order to break the note. He drove around with a car boot full of packets of mints, chewing gum and razor blades.

Small sleepy towns were best for this sort of work, little shops with doddery old women or disinterested girls behind the counter who either didn’t realise or just plain didn’t care what Jack was up to. This particular town had seemed ripe for “cashing” but last night when he’d mentioned it to his mate Gaz, the two of them sat in a seedy Bristol pub, he was surprised when his crony spat out some of his pint and turned white as a sheet at the mere mention of the place.

“You don’t wanna go cashing round there mate. Trust me.” Gaz said wiping his mouth with a trembling hand.

“Why not?” Jack had said “I’ve never been there before, no-one knows me. There’s hardly any Old Bill just those PCO milk monitors. It’s bloody ripe for it!”

“I’m not on about the Old Bill. I’m on about Samantha!” hissed Gaz glancing over his shoulder “That’s her turf.”

Samantha? Who the hell was Samantha? Her turf? Her? Jack had never heard of a woman having turf. Surely Gaz was winding him up here but he didn’t look like he was joking. His face was ashen as he filled Jack in. How could he have not heard of Samantha? The whole South West underworld grapevine was buzzing with talk of her and her gang of girls. Jack snorted with derisive laughter at the idea. The idea of a gang of girls running a town , even one that small was a preposterous notion to him and the notion of a seasoned villain like Gaz being scared of them was doubly so.

“What do they do?” Jack chuckled sardonically “Batter people with their handbags?”

“They don’t batter people Jack.” replied Gaz “Samantha don’t play by the usual rules. Trust me mate stay out of her turf.”

Yes Jack should have known better. Any other time if Gaz warned him off an area he’d have heeded it but he’d be fucked if he was going to be scared off a profitable days cashing by a gang of birds. This was surely Gaz’s idea of a joke or maybe he was trying to scare Jack off so he could go there himself. But Gaz wouldn’t do that, they’d gone to school together, done jobs together and served time together. Maybe he was on something. Who knew but Jack was definitely going there cashing tomorrow and this Samantha sort would have to lump it.

The next morning Jack went to Ronnie’s garage as usual to pick up the notes. Jack was one of Ronnie’s best, a good earner. Bill had worked for Ronnie since he was at school doing “this and that”. Protection money, dodgy credit cards, moody passports, hooky gear and smuggled fags. Jack was a jack of many dishonest trades but cashing was his favourite. It was the travel he liked, visiting different towns, drinking in different pubs and most of all copping off with different women. In his cashing career Jack had shagged bored housewives , barmaids and drunken brides to be on their hen nights. For him it was the shagging more than the money that made cashing his favourite bit of dodgy business.

As he drove down the M4 he could already feel himself stiffening Betturkey at the thought of potential conquests. Maybe he’d even bump into this Samantha and end up giving her a good seeing to. It’d be worth it just to see the look on Gaz’s face when he told him the tale over a pint that evening. She probably didn’t even exist anyway. Female gangsters? Ridiculous.

Lacey was 19 and she’d first met Samantha a year ago when she’d seen Lacey holding in an arm lock a boy who she’d found out had written her mobile number on the wall of the One Stop shop with a caption saying that Lacey was a “slag” and promising “bumsex” to anyone who dialled the number. The boy was whimpering pained apologies and begging to be released as Lacey’s mates fell about laughing swigging from bottles of Blue WKD. Seeing this spectacle made Samantha feel a warm glow of nostalgia for 20 years ago when she had been that age. Samantha had approached Lacey shaken her hand and introduced herself. Lacey had heard of Samantha of course. Everyone had. And it was every tough young girl’s dream to be like her and her gang. Samantha invited Lacey into her limousine and proceeded to tell the younger girl her story.

Samantha’s three older brothers were right tearaways and were forever tormenting her when she was little , cutting the manes off her My Little Ponies, melting her Barbie Dolls and drawing cartoon penises on her posters of Simon le Bon. A teenage growth spurt soon put paid to this treatment though. Samantha filled out into a tall broad barrel shaped young lady and soon her brothers attempts to bully her ended with them begging for mercy on their knees their hair being wrenched nearly out of the scalp by Samantha’s hard plump fingered grip.

Before long Samantha was queen of the secondary school playground. Even the meanest bullies were terrified of her and any dinner money they extorted from their prey was always extracted from them at the day’s end by Samantha using her favourite method of squashing the hapless bully to the ground with her bulk and mercilessly tickling his ribs and armpits until the money was handed over. Her Bugsy Malone inspired nickname “Fat Sam” was only ever used in terrified whispers.

While her schoolyard reign of terror was going on Samantha’s older brothers were busy muscling their way into every racket in their small sleepy hometown starting off as foot soldiers for the town’s gangsters before building their own unopposed empire of extortion, fraud and general skulduggery.

Then when five years ago the three of them were caught put of their depth trying to hijack a security van and banged up for 20 years apiece they were initially dismissive when their sister came to visit them in Horfield Prison and offered to look after their interests while they were inside. The idea of a woman taking over their empire seemed patently ludicrous. There would be all kinds of hard men wanting to take over now they were safely incarcerated. Samantha told them not to worry about that. Men didn’t scare her. She knew how to deal with them. The evil glint in Samantha’s eyes that peered over her pudgy cheeks told her brothers that she was deadly serious about this and so control was transferred and Samantha was crowned the town’s queen of crime.

Initially many breathed a sigh of relief. The club owners and sellers of pirate DVDs and smuggled booze who had been paying the brothers for the privilege of operating thought that they’d not have to pay at all now. After all this Samantha woman had sacked all of her brothers’ henchmen and replaced them with girls. What were they going to do if they decided they weren’t going to cough up protection money anymore? They soon found out what would happen as examples were made.

The first of these was called Jason a 20 something man who was always Betturkey Giriş in the towns pubs selling stolen mobile phones. This was a profitable business for him but ten percent had to be paid to the brothers as well. When Samantha took over, Jason had been going around saying that he wasn’t going to pay Samantha anything and she could “stick her hand up her fat arse and fish for her money”. This insolence had got back to Samantha by closing time and as he left the White Hart pub Jason was grabbed by five girls and bundled into the back of a pink cab which whisked him away in full view of his confused drinking buddies.

A few days later when they saw Jason again his mates were amazed that there was not a mark or a bruise on him but nevertheless he’d said he was now paying Samantha 20 percent and that only a prize mug would refuse to pay her. He wouldn’t talk about what had been done to him that night and there was much speculation about what this woman could have done to Jason to change his mind so vehemently. Speculation that was ended when an internet video clip started doing the rounds showing exactly what had happened.

The video showed Jason in just his boxer shorts strapped to a pink X shaped bench in the basement of “Rizzo’s” Samantha’s nightclub that she had named after her favourite movie character and which was infamous locally for its raucous hen parties and ladies nights where only the bravest male strippers dared to work. Surrounding Jason, who struggled against his bonds, were four girls aged between 18 and 22. All were wearing the low cunt pink strappy tops and tight jeans that were recognised by the local police as the uniform of the gang.

Samantha walked in front of them in a dark navy business suit the jacket of which struggled to contain her 44GG bosom. Her large belly roll was visible through the short skirt and her peroxide hair with its brown roots was scarped back into a business like ponytail. Addressing the camera Samantha declared that this video should be seen as a warning to anyone who thought that just because a woman had taken over they could neglect their protection payments. With that she stepped aside so that the viewer could see the four henchgirls descend on Jason and tickle him half to death.

One girl scraped her long hot pink nails up and down the soles of his feet, another straddled him and attacked his ribs and armpits, a third wiggled her fingers around his knees and thighs and the remaining girl tickled his ears and neck with a stiff pink feather. Jason howled, screamed and cackled in hysterics for about 20 full minutes until Samantha called for the girls to stop. She then re-addressed the viewers reiterating that they had been lenient with Jason, who was a now gibbering sweating wreck on the bench behind her, and that there was worse in store for anyone else who underestimated her. She then walked over to Jason and put one of her hands inside his boxer shorts. Within a split second Jason was roaring and shrieking with laughter again as Samantha expertly tickled his balls and perineum for a further ten minutes..

The video went viral overnight and soon the whole town had seen Jason’s humiliating plight and money collections from that day on went largely smoothly. Occasionally examples from both sexes had to be made but largely the threat of the bench was enough to keep things in order and Samantha in the lifestyle she was now accustomed to.

Lacey had been awestruck as she listened to this story and when Samantha asked her if she’d like to become the gang’s newest member she didn’t need asking twice. She was then taken to Rizzo’s for her initiation. This involved Lacey standing naked with one foot on a chair and maintaining this position whilst the whole gang took turns to tickle her all over with Samantha going last. Betturkey Güncel Giriş The tickling was intensive and various implements from fingers to electric toothbrushes were used on her mound and lips but Lacey bit her lip, crossed her eyes ,gritted her teeth and managed to maintain her pose throughout the whole undignified ordeal. The final part of the initiation was the gang tattoo, a pink feather on the left hip pointing in the direction of the pussy. This was applied by a large female biker and Samantha was pleased that Lacey didn’t flinch or cry under the needle.

“Welcome aboard Lacey.” Samantha had grinned as Lacey pulled her knickers back on “I’ll see you here tomorrow at 10 am sharp for training.”

Lacey’s training was of course in the fine art of tickling. The unfortunate test subjects were a married middle class couple in their 30s of which the husband had rather foolishly taken out a sizable loan with Samantha’s brothers which they were both repaying by being strapped naked to the tickle bench and used to train new gang members. Samantha showed Lacey all the worst spots to tickle and how to best use fingertips, nails, feathers, brushes, dusters and the dreaded electric toothbrush to reduce victims to quivering wrecks. The next day Lacey began work. That was a year ago and since them Lacey had become one of Samantha’s main lieutenants. There were four of them in Samantha’s organisation and they were known to the police as the Giggle Girls.

Donna was 20 and had been a Goth before Samantha had spotted her severely pummelling a lad in a football shirt who had thrown a pint of lager over her. Although Donna had swapped her black dresses and large cyber boots for the pink Giggle Girls uniform she retained the severe black panda eye makeup of her previous style.

Jessica a chubby black 21 year old had come to Samantha’s attention when she’d been arrested for breaking a Smirnoff Ice bottle over the head of a local racist oaf who should have looked over his shoulder before reciting Jim Davidson jokes in the pub. Samantha had bailed her out and taken her straight to Rizzo’s the following morning. The pub joke teller dropped all charges shortly after being threatened with a day on the tickle bench. Samantha showed Jessica better and more amusing ways of cutting men down to size than bottling them.

Then there was bouncy blonde Katie a former TGI Friday greeter aged 22 who had been chosen not for her toughness (although she was a sturdy size 16 and 5’10) but for her ridiculously bubbly and giggly demeanour that made one feel ticklish just by being in her presence. Her high pitched giggle was a sound that caused even the most street tough local yobbo to run away in terror.

At 19 Lacey was the baby of the group but also the most loyal and enthusiastic dyeing her short spiky hair pink and only wearing pink underwear. During the previous summer the Giggle Girls had embarked on a reign of ticklish terror. A chunky female pub landlord who’d complained about Rizzo’s late license had been ambushed in her own pub by the Giggle Girls. Donna and Jessica had removed her t shirt and brassiere for Katie and Lacey to tickle her huge doughy bosom and long rubbery nipples with shaving brushes in front of a large Saturday night crowd. A boy racer who’d cut Samantha up on the dual carriageway had a refresher in road etiquette as he was tickled naked onstage at Rizzo’s in front of a baying mob of women including his own girlfriend. Even the Lady Mayor was not safe. A mention of cracking down on organised crime in a speech she had made had led to her being threatened with an ostrich feather round her more sensitive regions.

Lately though the town had been quiet. The Giggle Girls had been a little too effective it had seemed and Lacey in particular , eager beaver that she was, was going up the wall with frustration. She hoped and prayed for someone, anyone, male or female to come and mess with them. Her prayers were answered as Jack drove smugly into town with a bag full of counterfeit notes and no idea who he was about to be dealing with.


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