Doddy's Dead- a Jacky Graham PI Fetish story

Discussion in 'The Big Bookshelf (Library)' started by sjdrake2006, Oct 21, 2018.

  1. sjdrake2006 New Member

    Blog Posts:
    This is purely a fetish fantasy; it is intended to be tongue-in-cheek fiction. To be clear, the author would not wish the sort of things which happen in the story to happen to anyone – male or female – in real life. All characters in this story are fictitious and are not intended to represent any real person, living or dead.

    The story contains: bondage, mild violence, knock-outs, peril and nudity. If any of these bother you then please do not continue. Thanks

    Fetishes featured:- Bare feet, Sleepy/knockout/unconscious, Bondage, Peril/Adventure.


    Doddy's Dead

    A Jacky Graham PI Short Story

    By Sarah Drake
    Copyright 2018 Sarah Drake

    A short story that topically notes the sad passing of one of the very greatest of comedian/singers, Sir Ken Dodd, RIP, March 2018. This fictitious story is about the subsequent interest in one of his stage props.


    It had been a blisteringly hot day on the Lancashire strand and the family had done all that a nuclear family of two adults and two children might expect- riding a tram, seeing Blackpool Tower, spending time on the pleasure beach!

    The day had started out sedately enough- Richard had pressed for some family time on the beach, complete with thermos flask of coffee, a tribute to his London childhood and trips to Southend on Sea. At least it was warm, but Mrs. Simons- this being her real married name, not her 'professional name' of Mrs Graham, which reflected her beginnings in the private detective world under her maiden name in her twenties- was sure of why her husband had plumped for time on the admittedly fabulous sands.

    Having motored down from Tarbolton on Friday night, the family had time only for dinner at a Harry Ramsdens fish, chip and mushy peas emporium before retiring to bed. August placed big challenges in getting hotel rooms, let alone at a reasonable price and they had to settle for a family room. That meant that 'nooky' was out of the question- so Richard had resorted to a second best solution. At least on the beach, he would get to see - and maybe even touch- Jacky's bare feet! As her feet were clearly the part of his wife's anatomy he got off to most enthusiastically- it was obviously a major fetish for him- he often yearned to hear of her professional jaunts, snooping silently at night bodystockinged and with naked peds, yet in reality he only saw them in the bedroom.

    So the blonde bloodhound decided to reward her loving husband- who had tracked down and paid for the hotel- by walking from it that morning, the whole five minute walk to the beach, in her bare feet. Richard could see his beloved's bare soles sandwiched in direct contact with the warm hard gritty pavement, as indeed they had borne her for 49 years across three continents! Whilst the kids felt embarrassed by their Mum's public display, the effect upon her husband was marked. Richard was obliged to slouch forward as he walked to avoid the display of a hardon in his trousers! Walking the pavement barefoot was markedly more unhygienic than snooping a warehouse or abandoned cellar, so Jacky was glad to promptly paddle in the sea once they made beachfall. Yet she pulled her wet, sandy feet demurely up to her skirt and at least this allowed Richard a little surreptitious fingering of her heels and soles.

    With the big kid sorted, now was time for the real focus of the break- the real kids! The tram was taken to the pleasure beach and now the kids could have their fun.

    Naturally the kids had wanted to go on the rollercoasters- the bigger the better! To Jacky's intense disappointment, given her generous display of barefootedness for his gratification, Richard had flunked out of 'The Big One', claiming a heart murmur as a baby debarred him, though the sexy sleuth had never heard him mention it before. Some repayment! Perhaps it was true- or- well, she felt the same on seeing 'The Big One' but had no alternative!

    Two and one half minutes later, a giddy gumshoe staggered back to her waiting spouse, as the kids ran on to the next delight. Richard did however, do his duty on the antique 'Grand National' wooden rollercoaster and a couple of turns on a space flying roundabout.

    The family thrilled to the great waterfall ride - 'You will get wet- you may get very wet!' was the accurate warning, notwithstanding plastic watersheeters.

    Finally came the funfair attractions- shooting gallery, pick a fish, throw-a -ball and such like- Richard won a large teddy bear for the children, of which he felt extremely proud.

    Following dinner, Richard took the family to the Winter Gardens, where the family watched a Ken Dodd tribute evening. It wasn't a series of impersonations but rather one young man giving an two-hour evening show in the style of the great, late lamented recently passed star. Doddy had been a feature at the Grand Theatre for over half a century, so memories of the funnyman remained fresh and Jacky had initially felt it might be in poor taste or at least, too soon after Doddy's passing for tribute acts. She was wrong. The young man had decided to pitch at Doddy's early career, the part the sassy Scot remembered from old TV shows of her childhood, which she imagined everyone but she had forgotten.

    He was quite good. He was funny. He had Diddymen. He had the other props and a decent supply of gags. The kids found it all rather ancient and old hat and would have preferred a Michael Jackson tribute act which was on next week. But Jacky and Richard had a decent laugh and the warmth of sitting together, not to mention a supply of coke and popcorn.

    It was a happy family that trooped back to the hotel.

    In bed, even if active intimacy was out of the question, there were hugs and some discreet and arousing finger-fucking, invisible so long as no sounds resulted.


    At breakfast next morning, the family discussed the show, over grapefruit, eggs, fried bread and coffee. An elderly couple at the next table took an interest, came across and introduced themselves.

    "Rachel Robinson- my husband, Robert. Robert was a funny man on the clubs and pubs circuit over many years. Started as a pianist but found his jokes routine got a good laugh."

    "I loved it. It really gives you a thrill to make people laugh. Better even than being Brain of Britain! So I thought I'd Ask the Family what they thought of the performance? I've met the young fella, he's keen but just a shadow of the real thing."

    After the mixed review, Mr Robinson explained that he had actually known the legendary funnyman for many years and that Doddy had promised him one of his tickling sticks as a memento of himself when he should pass.

    "Why not just give you one of them whilst he was alive though?" Jacky enquired.

    "Because then there would be no record of its veracity. But as a donation in a will, there would be."

    "So, did you pick your tickling stick up? He's been gone four or five months now."

    "No- haven't had a chance. They wrote two months ago to ask me to stop by the home to pick it up. I was going to head on from here to get it as it's just an hour 's run, but I've had a recurrence of heart trouble and wont risk it in the hot weather. We go back to Dumbarton tomorrow."

    "That's a shame. Gol-LY, So near, yet so far! Look, maybe I can run down there tomorrow morning and pick it up. Would they let me do that for you, and on a Sunday?"

    "That's incredibly kind of you! Yes, the housekeeper wouldn't mind, I know. I called her last night, to check, oddly enough, because I was telling that tribute act fellow about it after the show. You know, he's staying at the Allanadale Hotel, along the road from here? He also offered to go but then realised he would be needing to do a matinee and couldn't be sure of getting back in time. So I'm terribly grateful! Ill reimburse your petrol."

    "That's OK, consider it done, my pleasure."

    Having swapped numbers and details, Jacky turned to the family..

    "Ill head off this morning. Ought to be back by lunchtime. Cool Beans!"

    "Oh, MUM! We were going to go swimming! They have a terrific flume here!"

    "Don't worry- Richard can take you this morning, while I'm away. It sounds very interesting. Nice to do a favour too!



    Jacky took the car- the Zafira had been required to hold family and luggage, whilst the motorhome was too unwieldy for parking by the hotel. With the Garmin programmed, the journey ought to take an hour and a half each way, so after parking and pickup Jacky hoped to be back by 2 at the latest.

    The sultry snoop had slipped into her basic black top and slacks for the trip. With a pair of black flats on her shapely feet, she was clad and shod for convenience rather than for style.

    "Rather you than me, sweetheart. It's miles out of the way- over 50 miles each way- for a favour?"

    "Why not? It's nice to help someone out. We've done OK recently too. That Fraser case paid out very nicely!"

    The journey proved fairly easy on a Sunday morning and by 11.30 Jacky was calling at the legendary residence in Knotty Ash.

    "Good morning dear. Nice of you to call for Mr. Robinson's ticklestick but he already had somebody else come by to pick it up this morning!"

    "Oh, MAN! Raticus! All this way! Who was that toad of Toadem Hall that called?"

    "Pardon? I didn't catch what you said. Maybe it's your Scots accent."

    "Sorry. Did the person who called say who they are?"

    "Just a Mr. Smith. Said he was calling on behalf of Mr. Robinson. "

    "Did he leave an address or phone number? I think you've just been had!"

    "How? Here's the number. Hope you sort it out."

    And that was that. Naturally, the number turned out to be non-existent- as non-existent as Mr. Smith.

    A few minutes' reflection left it likely that the person involved was the tribute act comic from last night's theatre show. Mr Robinson had given him all this information last night! Wasn't his name something like Roger Robb? Of course, that might be just a stage name.

    'Hang on! He's staying at the Allanadale Hotel! Only around the corner from our own. Hel-LO! I'll go and see what I can do. Maybe he did intend to do Mr. Robinson a favour after all.'


    It was 1.40 when the doughty detective arrived at the Allanadale Hotel, Blackpool. Jacky had called Richard to let him know where she was going but Richard's phone had been off or out of signal, so she'd left him a message.

    The receptionist had been quite helpful.

    "A tallish blonde lady here to see you, Mr. Robb. Says her name is Mrs. Graham."

    "Ok, send her along."

    "Self catering chalet apartment 12, ground floor."

    This turned out to be a quite comfortable chalet with separate entrance, self-contained. Quite useful for a comic getting back late and looking after himself on tour.

    Mr Roger Robb, as he introduced himself to the pretty blonde, was all affability, welcoming the attractive visitor, albeit a lady at least 15 years older than he. He was about 5 feet 8, same height as the Tarbolton 'tec, and looked to be in his mid-30s.

    "Yes, I picked up the tickle stick, intended to drop it off for him. I have in this must be quite a detective, tracking me down.."

    "Actually I am a private detective. But this is just gratis for a mutual friend. Mr Robinson's had a touch of heart trouble. He's heading back home today."

    Jacky followed Mr Robb into the room. It was a mess. Clothes, artefacts, props everywhere!
    "I have it here."


    Taking the tickle stick, Jacky turned to leave the room.



    A vase cracked into the back of the Ayrshire ace's head! Room spinning, Mrs Graham twisted her head about to look at the source of the problem, even as her legs buckled and she fell to her knees.

    Swaying, Jacky instinctively used her hands to try to steady herself against the door jamb. Her eyes began to swivel upward even as she fought to stay awake. Somehow, she had to get up, get out!

    "Drat! Sorry about that- I thought that one was the prop vase made to break! This one's just must have a hard head! Ah, here it is."



    The impact was spectacular and again over the back of Mrs. Graham's blonde head; this time, the vase splintered into 100 pieces.

    This time, there was no fighting it, no defiance, no determination.

    Jacky's eyes swung decisively upward into the back of her head and her eyes snapped shut; with a groan of pain, Jacky flopped forward, facefirst, onto the carpeted floor, limbs splayed out. She went limp.

    Mrs. Jacky Graham had been knocked unconscious.

    Jacky lay, knocked out, very still, her limp body twisted awkwardly but no longer moving or feeling, breathing slowly and shallowly. A little blood oozed into her golden hair at the base of her oft-tested skull. She wasn't getting up any time soon.

    Roger Robb stooped down and grabbed the fallen feminine form by her slack ankles. Then he dragged Jacky into the room pull by pull, facedown, along the pile carpet. Pulling the downed detective through the room, her unfeeling form ploughing unresponsively through the litter, arms trailing behind, Roger decided to aim not for the sofa, his original intention, but for his bedroom.

    Had Jacky been called upon to choose where her unconscious body were to lie for the coming time,, she might have found it hard to call as both were in a somewhat derelict state lacking the loving care of a proud owner. But it wasn't her decision. In her varied career, Jacky had become involuntarily acquainted with a variety of furniture used to hold the recumbent human form: most of it past its best, so she had become rather an unwilling connoisseur of the genre. But it still beat that other always- available standby for her unconscious body- the floor.

    Having conveyed the impacted investigator (who was, so far as he was aware, just a nosy, nice looking mature blonde) into his bedroom, Roger was discomfited to find that the tallish, broad-shouldered, big boned woman's deadweight was more than he could hold; on TV, carrying a downed person seemed far easier!

    He tried dragging the woman up onto the bed by her ankles, but she kept falling back and slumped back to the hard, unforgiving floor. He tried gathering the flaccid form under her armpits and nearly made it, before having to set her down in a sitting position, only for the woman to flop sideways like a ragdoll.

    Eventually Roger's persistence paid off; he hit on the method of laying upon the edge of the bed and grasping Jacky's left wrist and left ankle; pulling her limp form up to the bed, then rolling himself and pulling the flaccid female on top of the bed! Roger lay panting, for a few minutes. Moving this woman’s unconscious deadweight had been harder than he had anticipated! She was quite pretty though, and the sight of her body flopping around helplessly had gotten him aroused - enough to overcome his trepidation at what he had done.

    His breath restored, the thin comic turned to contemplate the woman laying beside him. Clad completely in black, her face blank in oblivion, the woman looked temptingly available. Turning to one side, Roger Robb took her in his arms and began to kiss her face passionately, albeit unrequitedly. Moving his left leg across, he wrapped his trouser-clad limb about the knocked-out woman's thighs.

    Then it occurred to him he might enjoy the scene better if he removed some of her clothes and that she couldn’t stop him doing that right now; he realised though, that he had no idea the woman might stay obligingly out cold. He had best tie her up!

    Laying alongside the silent sleuth, Roger raised her up and made to pull the black track top off of her floppy arms and over her head. He was amazed to find that she wore nothing whatever underneath the top!

    "Streuth! Her tits are all showing!"

    Pulling the top off, he allowed Jacky's limp form to drop nervelessly back onto the bed, again cracking her head a little on the headboard.

    "I hope she's got a hard head."

    He fell to kissing, sucking and massaging the now-topless older woman's mature melons, enjoying Jacky's limp breasts and nipples alike with abandon.

    Once-temporarily- sated with his tongue, Roger removed Jacky's flats and enjoyed a further five minutes tonguing her delicious, knocked-out older woman's bare feet, still fragrant from their morning shower albeit now showing evidence of being inside the flat pumps all morning. His tongue could detect the hardened skin and ridges around the soles of the fortysomething factfinder's fabulous, active feet.

    As a climax, Robb then pulled the black tracksuit bottoms from Jacky's heavy, unresisting legs, taking several pulls till they were wholly removed and thrown to the floor with the rest of the nosy woman's clothes.

    She lay, unconscious, on her back. Naked- but for a very thin g-string!

    "WOW!!! JACKPOT!!" Roger breathed excitedly, licking Jacky's long legs from her erotic peds up to her thighs.

    Roger took a minute to divest himself of all his clothes, barring his underpants. His penis stuck through the fly opening of the boxer shorts and in an excess of enthusiasm he lay atop the slugged sleuth and allowed the tip of his knob to press against the opening to the woman's pussy, pushing against the g-string which was now the last line of defence to defend husband Richard's special prerogative.. He willed himself to screw her, thoroughly. Then he pulled back.

    "'s not right!"

    But he had to release his pent up sexual pressure somehow.

    Frustrated in the knowledge, he pulled back and vented himself upon the woman's bare feet, cupping his dick between her rough soles and twisting the limp mature foot flesh. Within seconds, he had cum all over Jacky's senseless soles, fluming and pumping in his sheer unrestrained arousal.

    When he had finished, he took control of himself. He saw his cum dripping in large splodges down the unconscious woman's flaccid feet, which remained wholly unaware of the sexual encounter they had been involved in.

    "Streuth again- what have I gone and done! Id best tie her up good!"

    Rummaging around the flat, Robb pulled out string and twine and scissors. Then it was decision time. How to tie her up? To a chair? To the bed headboard? Or maybe a hogtie?

    The chairtie had to be out. After his exertions, Roger just couldn't face dragging the sexy mature blonde's deadweight over to the chair, then trying to tie her up whilst she kept on flopping to the floor. The hogtie appealed, but while the blonde would look erotic displayed like that, she would flop to one side and apart from ease of access to her feet he couldn't really do much.

    So Roger settled for lashing the still knocked-out blonde's wrists to the headboard and ankles to the legs of the bed, using longer lengths of twine. After he had finished he could see welts around the woman's joints where the rope chafed her skin, but he had to make sure she couldn't escape!

    He had commenced to feel quite affectionate toward the woman. Why, she was almost HIS woman- he had known her, nearly,- well, intimately. he'd kissed her face, sucked her breasts and bellybutton, ravished her legs and gnawed her feet till his tongue knew the contours. Oh- and he'd cum on those feet too!

    And he'd come jolly close to Rogering her!

    Then he remembered that though his flat was self-contained, he didn't want her screaming at him. He took a pair of clean socks from his drawer, stuffed them into the tall mature blonde's slack mouth, then cleave-gagged her with a couple of long pieces of sheet he cut from the bedsheet.

    With the woman safely secured and restrained, Roger went to get a drink from the fridge then settled down next to her still-unconscious body, holding it tight, left hand resting on her right breast, fingers gripping the nipple, kissing her on the cheek, pushing his left leg across her stomach and letting his penis push into her leg. Then, tired after 'expressing himself'- he went to sleep.


    Mrs. Jacky Graham had one of her more unusual awakenings. She thought she was in bed at home. Then she remembered she was on holiday in Blackpool. Richard was hugging her affectionately close, which was nice. He seemed to like 'claiming' her by pinning her stomach with his leg.

    Then she found she couldn't move her arms and legs to respond, which wasn't so nice! Was it a dream, like being stuck in treacle? Her confused, butterfly-like leaps of thought were more soberly focussed by the pains and aches all across the back of her head, which told the pounded-out PI that this wasn't actually a dream- not for the first time for her, it was an awakening from unconsciousness- from being knocked out! The pains at the back of her head coalesced and she felt like crap.

    Jacky pulled, fruitlessly, at whatever was holding her wrists above her head but couldn't pull free of it. How had she got here- wherever this was- like this? What was the time? Where were Richard and the kids? Did they know what had happened to her?

    Memories of turning to walk from the hotel apartment room, with the ticklestick came back to the 49 year old mother of two- then the pain- the blows- two blows! After that. Black nothingness. Now she was here. So- who was cuddling her? And- she was tied up spreadeagle- and...and nearly NAKED! She felt quite cold, despite the proximity of another body.

    And Jacky felt angry, very angry with herself! Just because her errand had been a favour, because it seemed so lighthearted in its way and divorced from reality- she had let her guard down. She had committed the cardinal sin of turning her back upon a complete stranger inside his own home; and he had taken the opportunity she had so carelessly proffered, to strike her down!

    Now she was having to deal with the consequences.

    Those consequences initially being that she was gagged and tightly tied up, virtually naked, on a grubby soiled bed, with her attacker sleeping next to her. She looked at him. He was sleeping peacefully, naked but for his underpants. About the same height as she, thin and wiry. He had a nice face, quite kind looking which rather belied the consciousness- stopping blows he had dealt her.

    Her attacker was still apparently asleep, or drunk. With his leg draped across her stomach and wrists and ankles tied spreadeagle on the bed, her poor groggy bean still aching from the force of the blows from the object or objects he had cracked her over the head with...she couldn't see an escape straight away. And because she was on holiday and not expecting trouble, she wasn't wearing her ring blades-- those were still in her hotel room! Raticus!! Raticus squared!

    And what would the lunatic who had kidnapped her for Ken Dodd's tickle stick be like to deal with when he awoke?

    And lastly- but most significantly- Mrs Graham could not help but note that having entered the room wearing her black tracksuit top and bottom and black flats- she was now wearing none of these! She was- oh, MAN!- naked, but for her tiny g-string. That wasn't going to stop anybody. The removal of all her clothes might have been a search for ID, but she hadn't been wearing very much and would have been easy to check out. It was most likely, as her clothes had all been completely removed, stripped from her inert body, that this had been done with sexual activity in mind. And indeed, the guy was laying next to her in bed, cuddling her like she were his wife!

    So- what HAD this man been doing to her unconscious body, after he had laid her out with those knockout blows? Her skin crawled with revulsion and apprehension at the thought of him enjoying and defiling her! On the other hand, Jacky noted that her pussy didn't feel like it had been molested and filled against her will and knowledge. She didn't feel pawed over at all, apart from a scrunchy feeling of something dried crystalline and dropping off of the soles of her feet when she flexed them. As a private detective and from experience, Jacky recognised that as dried cum - as so often, her kidnapper appeared to have got off on her feet as she lay knocked out. The pretty PI breathed a silent prayer of thanks that her feet seemed to have such a vibrant sexual attractiveness that they apparently attracted attention like a magnet, drawing activity away from more intimate parts of her body!

    Jacky noted a murmur of apprehension and could feel a leg squirming over her stomach. Her captor was waking up- the shrewd sleuth surmised that he had become torpid after his sex session on her pinioned peds and he had nodded off. Richard tended to do the same.

    "Urrhhh, Ohhh.. need a cup of tea..oh yes, it's nearly teatime I suppose! Hello..Miss...Mrs...Graham, that's it- nice to meet you. Again." Slightly embarrassed at the cause of the interruption of their meeting.


    Jacky tried to emphasise that she couldn't really hold any meaningful conversation whilst heavily gagged.

    "I didn't catch that, sorry. "


    Jacky shook her held wildly- making it hurt again- and tried flexing her legs and feet too, for emphasis.

    This seemed to get through to Roger.

    He scurried around, closing the bedroom door after shutting a sheet around and over it to act as a sort of muffler.

    "OK. I'm going to remove your gag so we can talk. But understand- we are in a room that does not abut any neighbours (this was true) and the room is soundproofed. (an exaggeration, this in describing a sheet over the door.). If you start to scream and shout, I'll have no choice but to bop you over the head again and replace the gag."

    Mrs. Graham nodded her eager assent to these terms. As she was thoroughly tied up, it would be difficult to prevent him carrying out his threats. She had also noticed a small, heavy ceramic vase or block of wood close to his hand. If he used it to 'bop her over the head again', who might say what damage he might do?

    Roger Robb crawled on his knees around the bed to the back of Jacky then pulled her up under her armpits, using his knee lodged behind her back to keep the tall Scots' blonde half upright, arms now taut to her bindings at the bedstead, whilst he fiddled with the knots on the cleave gag.

    "Errr!! You've gone and bled onto my pillow!" Jacky couldn't see it of course, but a small congealed black-red stain disfigured the middle of the pillow.

    "Ah, done it!" Roger finally released the gag and assisted his bound captive in spitting his socks out of her mouth, along with what seemed like a half-pint of drool!

    Jacky spluttered and coughed, able to breathe- and talk- once more! Roger Robb gallantly allowed her to fall back onto the bed without trying to make the drop gentler. Now it was the doughty detective's turn to respond.

    "Roger Robb, before we come to the issue of why I came here and what you have done, there are two matters I really have to raise urgently."

    "Ok. What? " Roger nodded.

    "First- I need to pee, badly. Shortly there may be 'number twos' as well. What are you going to do about it or do you want your bedroom more soiled than it already is?

    Second- My husband will start looking for me. I told him where I was going. what's the time? When I went to leave, it was getting on for 2pm. How long have I been out?"

    Roger checked his watch.
    "About 75 minutes. Hour and a quarter. I thought you were never waking up. Married?"

    "Crap. You shouldn't have hit me so hard then. All that holiday time wasted and a bloody headache! Yes, I'm married. Happily. With kids. See the rings on my wedding ring finger, junior?"

    "No, I didn't"

    "Well, it's lucky I'm the detective and observant. Toilet, Roger!"

    "Oh yes- you said you were a private detective. I've seen TV. You must have this sort of thing happen to you all the time." Roger climbed on top of Jacky's legs, effectively immobilising them, then freed one ankle at a time, lashing the ankles together again whilst still sitting atop them. Then he went behind Jacky again, pushing her upwards and after undoing each wrist, twisting each behind her back before tying them together. Throughout, his solid little weapon remained in hand or closeby. The still-groggy gumshoe still felt too giddy and unsteady to try to take him. She didn't need another unplanned sleep! But it took another 10 minutes which seemed agonising to her bladder. At last, Roger helped Jacky to her tied-together feet.

    "It's not like you seem to think, being a detective. It's mostly quite mundane. Not like TV at all, most of the time." She hopped through the door for the ensuite.

    "It's not got a lock, so don't think you can hide in there. Let me know when you're ready and I'll help you wash your hands. For number twos, I'll leave your hands free." Jacky noted that.

    Roger picked up the phone line in the bedroom to reception.

    "My visitor left through my private exit 30 minutes ago and I'm leaving now. If anyone calls for me, I'm out."

    "Yes, Sir." That sorted Mrs private detective's hubby if he came calling.

    At last, Jacky was sitting on the bed again. Roger preferred her there.

    "I've sorted it so your husband will get turned away if he come looking for you. You left, private exit an hour ago. I'm out. Don't think he's gonna come rescue you."

    "Eventually, it'll be the Police, Roger. You ready for that?"


    "You have some nerve, complaining about my bleeding onto your precious pillow! You going to charge me for it? If you hadn't hit me so hard on my head, I wouldn't have bled so much there. What did you hit me with?"

    "Umm..a vase. First time."

    "First time? Why did you need to hit me again? And- WHY? Why did you do it to me?"

    "First time, I meant to hit you with a perspex prop vase that shatters into 100 pieces. I used the wrong one- a normal, heavy china vase. Your head cracked it. Then I used the perspex prop and it worked splendidly!"

    "I'm very pleased to hear it. Glad to know you used my poor head as a test subject for your props. Are you going to charge me for damaging your other vase as well with my hard skull? I repeat- WHY???? Why couldn't you let me just go home with the tickle stick?"

    "Because..... "


    "Because when Mr Robinson told me about Ken Dodd's tickle stick last night, I realised that was what I really need- more than anything- to make my act work. Complete. Supported by his actual props, invested with his spirit!"

    "You are a little....eccentric, you know? So, when you told Mr Robinson you couldn't do it, you intended to go down next day and claim it on his behalf? Then I went and showed up at Knotty Ash, then came knocking at your door!"

    "Yes. I panicked. I thought I might be in trouble once Mr. Robinson found out. And I wasn't expecting you, so I got flustered. But mostly, I just didn't want to part with the tickle stick. It means such a lot to me! As you turned to go, I just had a rush of blood- and I belted you with what came to hand!"

    Jacky turned the back of her head, ruefully, to look at the pillow. Its centre was stained with small pieces of dried blood. Her blood.

    "You certainly hit me hard. Twice. No wonder you knocked me out for over an hour. Intentionally?"

    "Yes, sort of. I needed time to think. What to do with the tickle stick- and what to do with you."

    "OK. What did you do with me then, after I got knocked unconscious?"

    "I dragged you into this bedroom and tied you to the bed."

    "Anything else? Because I couldn't help noticing- you took all my clothes off of me as well. Apart from this g-string. And you aren't wearing any clothes yourself, apart from your underpants. And you've a raging hard-on sticking out of them. " Jacky nodded at her almost exposed crotch, and his hard dick.

    "Well_ I searched you for ID."

    "And that meant stripping me naked? And taking all your clothes off too? Are you saying that you didn't sort of -take any sexual advantage of me? Because it looks mighty like sex is what you wanted." She flexed her bare feet, crusty with cum.

    "I didn't find anything, if that's what you mean. All I know is that you're Mrs. Graham. Well, I'll be honest- You're very attractive! I haven't been with a woman before. I gave you a sort of -hug. A cuddle!"

    "Nothing else? Nothing more- physical? With all the time in the world just to play about with my floppy old bod? And that boner waiting to be used somewhere? You didn't stick in me when I was a limp piece of helpless flesh and couldn't do anything about it, to stop you? Into my mouth, or pussy?"

    Roger flushed bright red. Almost to a beetroot.

    "I did- kiss you. Quite a lot. All over. Almost. I didn't go down there!! Really! I wouldn't touch you there! Alright. I kissed your sweet teats. Your breasts. They are incredible sexy! And your legs. Your face. Your cheeks. Also- your feet."

    "So- basically you sucked me off all over, bar my pussy? And hugs. Otherwise- almost chaste, like kissing an aunt? Didn't you have the urge to cum, using me somehow? Because I did notice something- about the soles of my feet?"

    "No, it was more - enthusiastic than that. I did think of ...taking you completely. But I knew that was wrong. So I kissed and massaged your superb breasts. Then...I rolled my rod between your amazingly sexy feet and came on them! It was brilliant!"

    "I did notice the residue. I am a detective. So nothing else more intimate?"

    "No! I did come close- but I couldn't do it without your wanting it. I want it to be romantic when I do it for the first time with a woman. Can we...make love now?"

    "So you think this is suitably romantic? You knock me out, tie me up and meddle about with my body violating me while I'm unconscious, get off on my feet, then ask me for sex when I wake up?"

    "Well- yes. Can we? Please? Perhaps we can become lovers?"

    To support his petition, Roger went to get the tickle stick and started tickling Jacky's feet with it! Jacky began to laugh, almost uncontrollably, and Roger applied the tickle stick to her feet and under her arms.

    "If you agree to having sex together- making love- I'll stop!"

    Jacky continued to laugh and Roger, emboldened, began to massage her melons. His dick, large again, was also rubbed against the sexy shamus' soles, leaving a streak. Clearly, Roger was building toward a climax.

    "Roger, stop it, please!" Jacky giggled. Naturally, Roger persisted. He started to kiss Jacky's face and laying upon the bed next to her, fondle her body and suck her nipples. Then he would start tickling again.

    "That's enough Roger, stop please!"

    Roger stopped at once, shocked by the change in tone from laughter to sternness.

    "Actually Roger, I'm not ticklish at all. My husband tries regularly and it doesn't affect me, so tickle torture is out. But I did wonder what you might do once you started. I was laughing because the whole thing is so- well, incongruous! Here I am, kidnapped, taken captive, tied up, being tickled on my bare feet by Ken Dodd's actual tickle stick, wielded by a Ken Dodd impersonator! All with a view to asking me to make love."

    "So- you don't want to make love to me?" He looked terribly downcast.

    "I'm a married woman, Roger- with children. I'm faithful and take it seriously. And it's lucky you didn't succumb to temptation and Roger me when you had the chance. If you don't let me go- now- the Police are going to come looking for me. Do you know what you get for kidnapping? And do you know what you get for sexually molesting me? That's a lot of jail time, Roger. Rather a shame when you have a pretty decent career starting off. You lose the lot"

    Roger was visibly shaken, seeing his actions in the cold light of day.

    "You really think I have a career as a Ken Dodd tribute act? My uncle helped get me the gig."

    "Yes I do. Very strongly- My family- all of us- saw you last night, at the Winter Garden. It was talking about you this morning that got Mr Robinson to introduce himself - he was most impressed too."

    Jacky diplomatically forbore to add that her kids hadn't liked the act- or that when she watched him last night, she little knew that next afternoon he would be kidnapping her and using her peds for exploratory sex!

    "Look, Roger, you're at a crossroads in life. Right now. I'm prepared to be reasonable. You can either go down the horrible path of getting put away for years, or you can pull back, right now. No harm's been done as yet apart from my getting a headache, a cut at the back of my head and a sperm icing on my soles. You're not by any means the first person to knock me unconscious, or that I've given a foot job! You can go on to a wonderful and exciting career, maybe even stardom. At the very least you'll have fun and probably find a girl or two too. You're not a bad looking chap, you know- you just lack confidence. Your technique needs improving. The caveman method of' knock her out and drag her home' which you did to me, went out ages ago..Go down the gym and pump a little iron even- that can help! And no, again, we can't have sex. You've made a mistake- I'm offering you a chance to correct it. Ask Mr Robinson- he may even let you keep the tickle stick on loan, for your act. I can ring and ask him. "

    Roger sat, thoughtfully inspecting his soul introspectively.

    "Roger, could you do me a favour please? Undo my hands as you promised and then go sit outside whilst you think about this. I need to pay a visit again and it's a little more private?"

    Roger untied Jacky's wrists, then twisted her right arm behind her back and lashed her right wrist to her neck by a series of knots. That left Jacky with one free arm, her left. Then Roger complied and sat in the living room. Jacky stood up, hopped a couple of steps, bent down to pick up her tracksuit bottoms, then hopped into the ensuite again.

    When Jacky emerged, she was carrying her iphone. She hopped to the bedroom door and hopped out into the living room. Roger looked up at her, startled from his reverie.

    "Roger, an announcement. You checked me so carefully for ID, you neglected to look at the iphone in my slacks pocket. I realise you were thinking with another part of your anatomy at the time. Hopefully you've thought with the right instrument this time.

    I've telephoned my husband. it's about 4pm and he was wild with anxiety. I've told him that I've been held up discussing the ticklestick with you., but I've not told him what you did to me. However, I've also told him that if I'm not back at my hotel with him in twenty minutes, he must call the cops- and I've told him where we are. I suggest you let me get dressed without delay, take the ticklestick and get back. I'll call you to let you know if Mr Robinson will agree to lend it to you.


    Roger understood the jist of it, though he didn't know what capiche meant. He got up to find the scissors to cut Jacky's bonds.

    "I think the scissors are here. I'll find them. You win. Thank you for talking kindly to me about it. "

    "Sensible chap, Roger. Thank you for seeing sense." The relieved Scots' lass sat on the rather soiled sofa.

    "Tell you what, Roger, as you've been a good fellow, I'll treat you to a foot job before I go- a voluntary foot job this time- not one taken on me when I don't know anything about it! Cut the rope and let's get going, time is short!" That ought to make him feel more secure that she wasn't going to rat on him!

    "Thank you, Mrs Graham. Do you have a first name? Actually, Id really get off on a foot job with your feet still tied up."

    "Understood, Roger. Let's just keep it at Mrs. Graham, eh?" Jacky proffered her sexy, soiled soles and Roger sucked the toes and balls of both feet , then he inserted his hard rod between them. Jacky rolled and flexed and twisted her feet as best she could with them tied together at the ankles and shortly Roger was spurting ferociously into them, globs of his jizz coating them and running down onto the carpet.

    "Thank you, Mrs. Graham. I'll go get a tissue and the scissors."

    "You're welcome, Roger- but we've got to get a move on." Jacky stood, hopping on the balls of her feet, which Roger had sucked but not much cum upon. She made to hop into the bedroom where her clothes lay. In any case, the soiled carpet could hardly be made much worse by a little of its owners jizz.

    Progress was slow however. Jacky hopped unevenly in the litter-strewn room, handicapped by literally having one hand tied behind her back. Roger looked frantically hither and thither for the scissors, then passed Jacky to look in the bedroom.

    The bouncing, bound bloodhound hopped awkwardly backwards, then her feet landed upon an upturned three point plug, attached to a cord and lamp strewn on the ground.


    Jacky reflexively pitched forwards and sideways, lost her balance altogether and crashed to the floor, hitting the back and side of her blonde-bobbed head against a coffee table, whilst her almost-naked body fell onto a variety of items, sprawling onto her side.



    Red pain filled the inveterate investigator's eyes for a few seconds, she writhed in shock and pain; then her blue irises rotated upward and glooped to white. With a deep, finishing sigh, Jacky went limp. Her feet rocked over to their sides. Knocked out. Completely unconscious, she lay utterly still.

    Roger returned to the room for a shock! He had found the scissors but now Mrs. Graham lay unmoving upon the floor, besides the coffee table. His dick went hard and stood out in front of him as he look at the unconscious, almost-naked woman. For a brief moment, his impulse was to take her, for sex, as she was, utterly unable to stop him this time! Then he realised he was in deep trouble! It was still wrong to do that, even though he hadn't knocked her cold, this time. He guessed she'd fallen whilst hobbling. How badly might the woman be hurt? Mrs Graham lay senseless, almost nude, with his glutinous gobs of cum shining upon her upturned, crinkly soles, already white-scored with hardened skin testifying to decades of hard use. It looked as though he had knocked her cold, then used her. If he couldn't waken this sexy older woman, his life as he knew it might be over!

    The cursing comic ran into his bathroom, took a handful of tissue paper and soaked it in water, then took a plastic tumbler of water and brought them in to the prone PI. There, Robb frantically cleaned his cum from Mrs. Graham's flaccid feet, then threw the glass of water into her face, sponging it down urgently and hoping it might revive her.

    Mrs. Graham remained resolutely, stubbornly, limply unconscious.

    Taking a brief second to suck the toes of her left foot, Robb sprinted back into the bedroom to retrieve the fallen factfinder's clothing and he began to try to pull the stretchy tracksuit top and bottoms onto Mrs. Graham's, flaccid, heavy, legs and arms, pulling her legs into the air to pull the bottoms on so that ironically he was closer to penetrating her than before; but alas for him, this was not the time nor the place!

    Pulling the slumped snoop's body up by the armpits, Robb now had to execute the reverse of the removal so snappily achieved two hours ago, shaking her torso as he applied the sleeves over limp, floppy arms, watching her body writhe and vibrate as he shook her, pulling the top down over her ample, wobbling breasts, but the blow to her head still kept the sexy Scotswoman senseless.

    Roger replaced the pumps onto Jacky's still-floppy feet and having dressed her, dragged the knocked-out Scotswoman toward the door to his apartment, dragging her by the wrists.

    "Wake up, Mrs. Graham! WAKE UP, you stupid, dozy old cow! Why did you need to knock yourself out, like that!" He slapped Jacky's cheeks, in desperate frustration.

    But Jacky remained obstinately insensate.

    The tickle stick was slotted into Jacky's track top, between her breasts, and the desperate Dodd-imitator decided to try to stimulate her, pushing his hands inside the stretchy black top and rubbing Jacky's muscular melons enthusiastically, pinching her nipples and trying to make her waken. Slotting a finger down her bottoms, he tried hand stimulation by rubbing her rubbery, knocked-out labia.

    But even the sexy sleuth's sexual entrance was- like the rest of the bloodhound's buffeted body, limp, flaccid and unconscious.

    Roger Robb toyed with the idea of just pushing Mrs Graham out of the door, letting her roll down the steps and claim she must have slipped and fallen.

    But what if the fall killed her?

    Ought he to try to make a call on the mature woman's iphone and try to talk to her husband and explain? Would the phone have reverted to password by now?

    It had.

    Roger Robb realised that if he were to revive Mrs. Graham and get out of this hole, he must look, deep inside himself, for a solution.

    He found it.

    So it was, that the apartment, and those nearby echoed to the songs 'Happiness' and 'Tears for Souvenirs' as Roger Robb had never sung it before, resonant with the deepest emotions, redolent with the desire to make everyone- and especially the slugged sleuth before him.- Happy.

    His career was launched from this point on.

    And Mrs. Graham began to come to, reviving rapidly.

    " head...............UNNhhh...what...what hit me? Do you have an aspirin? My head is singing...for some's bloody Ken Dodd. Can't stand him!"



    The married couple lay thankfully abed; kids asleep, holiday laundry done and the weekend break complete.

    "Well, sweetheart, tell me at last- why were you so late back yesterday? What was that cryptic text 'If I'm not home within the hour, please call the police- I'm at Apartment 12, etc.'? And why did you refuse to talk about it till we were home in bed tonight?

    Jacky rolled over to face Richard. She was dog tired- it had been a long day, driving home, unpacking and washing. But her husband deserved that explanation; she had promised it. She drew breath.

    "Well Richard, as you may have guessed it wasn't quite as straightforward a good errand as I'd hoped! I arrived at the Dodd residence in Knotty Ash, only to find that someone had paid a visit earlier that morning to claim the ticklestick; it turned out to be last night's Winter Gardens Act, Mr. Roger Robb!"

    "You mean he did go to help old Robinson after all?"

    "Not exactly. He didn't give a scooby about Robinson. He went to help himself. But I'm getting ahead of myself, don't interrupt, it's late and I want to get some sleep. Gol-LY! They kindly told me who took it and where he was and I thought 'Cool Beans!' and headed straight back to Blackpool. I'm sorry I didn't phone you first to let you know, but I had no reason to expect it was anything other than a mix-up, I had to head back anyway and you were going to the pool with the kids and I didn't want to bother you, even if you were contactable anyway."

    "I forgive you."

    "Thanks. Hel-LO! No interruptions?"

    "I'll try, sweetheart. So- what happened?"

    "Robb is doing sufficiently Okay in his act to hire a self catering apartment at the Allanadale Hotel- you know, the one that specialises in Stag and Hen parties? It's that sleazy- and he has a dirty, greasy accommodation to match. So I headed over there and reception sent me right across to see him. And guess what? He had the tickle stick!"

    "So- why didn't you just come over to the pool? It can't have been much past 1.30."

    "Ten to 2 actually when I got to see him. He was all kindness and friendliness. Lives in an utter mess- place hasn't been cleaned for months I'd say. Anyway, I could do Hee-Haw about it and didn't care in any case- just take the ticklestick and get out. He very politely gave it me, I turned to go and- WHAM!"

    "Wham? You hit something?"

    "Something hit me. In the head. From behind. I fell to my knees, clutching at the door for support, feeling like my head was exploding. Then something went WHAM! again. And that's all I knew."

    "He knocked you unconscious? You got knocked out?" Richard's voice was tremulous, high pitched. He swivelled his lower body to avoid prodding his wife with his sudden, extreme, hard-on! He could feel pre-cum dribbling.

    "I was gone, totally out. out cold. Nancy Drewed. When I woke up, I was tied up, spreadeagle. On his greasy bed. Oh- and naked, except for my G-string. Robb explained that he'd hit me with a vase, then tested one of his vase props on my poor nut, dragged me into his bedroom, peeled my track suit top and bottom off of my poor hurt body and tied me up. I hadn't been wearing a bra so he didn't have to remove much clothing to get at my tits.."

    "Did he...did...he - violate you?"

    "Depends what you mean by violate. If you mean did he cuddle and grope my unconscious body, kiss it all over, massage my breasts, nibble my nipples, fuck my feet and spurt his sperm all over my soles, the answer is yes, very much. He admitted to it. He's a bit like you with his preference for cumming over my feet. While I was unconscious, he says he treated me as a floppy sex doll, except he said he didn't actually have sex. So if you mean did he have full penetrative sex with me, fuck me for all he could whilst I was knocked out, I’m pretty sure the answer’s no. I didn’t feel like I’d been taken.That’s another reason I couldn’t discuss it last night in the family room - I couldn’t risk the kids overhearing that their mother got hit over the head, knocked out, stripped virtually naked, tied up and that their mother’s unconscious body was used as a floppy toy to make whoopee with whilst she was helpless!”

    "Understood. But - are you sure he didn’t go all the way? He wouldn't admit to that, would he?"

    "I reckon so. he's very awkward with women. Claims not to have been with one. I didn't feel molested there and the only evidence was dried cum on my feet. I can go with that - I’ve given foot jobs myself at times, if I had to, like at thst Cats Meow Club case when I went undercover as a singer and ‘sex worker’. However, full sex is different. Seems also to be a sort of code of honour with him. He was so proud of having behaved 'properly' and by his ideas 'honourably' - he had the complete gall to ask me if I'd make love to him as a reward! "

    "What a nutter! You didn't did you?"

    "Of course not, Richard! I'm very upset you even need to ask that.”

    "You'd just taken two big blows to your head."

    "It knocked me out. Spark out! I couldn't do anything about being him playing about with me while I was out for the count. But it didn't remove my faithfulness as a wife and mother when I woke up! I remonstrated with him. Told him what a huge mistake he was making with his life. that I could never make love to him as I'm married. You know- he backed down. He was frightened all right- took care to keep me well tied when I had to pay a visit- but you could see he was shaken! he said as much- when I turned up out of the blue, he just panicked and without thinking it through, he whacked me over the head and tied me up."

    "Why did he want that blasted stick?"

    "He thought it would be the final touch needed to get him to the big time. Like, with Doddy's approval from on High. A fetish, I think they call it. I told him Robinson might be willing to loan it to him. Stealing it wouldn't get him cosmic support! He seemed to be mulling it over. he just hadn't thought anything through. It was all panic."

    "A great consolation for the lumps on your poor head. How did you get out of it then?" Richard twisted again. He wanted to burst, to bang his wife hard. He was imagining her getting knocked unconscious, being dragged limp into the bedroom, tied up, being meddled with, touched, kissed and sucked, her knocked-out leathery bare feet sucked and used.

    "I showed him the iphone. He failed to find it when he stripped me, though he claimed to have searched me for ID. I think all he cared about was humping me while I was helpless, to be honest. He wasn't thinking of anything at all. I texted that message to you when I went into the toilet and when I explained to him after coming out, he caved in altogether." Jacky omitted to mention the foot job she's given to Roger Robb. No point pushing that down Richard's throat. She'd make it up to him- probably he was about to claim her feet now, anyway. He always went mad for her after she'd sustained a 'setback'; kind of like rubbing it better, in his mindset.

    "Why'd it take you so long to get back then? It was nearly that hour gone when you contacted me to say you were coming back."

    "Because he'd tied me up like a pretzel to go to the toilet- both ankles tied together and my right arm twisted and tied behind my back. When I hopped out of the bedroom to find him, he rushed back into the bathroom to find his scissors to free me, but I trod on something sharp, overbalanced, fell and hit my head on the edge of a coffee table- Lights out again, Jacky! I was knocked unconscious for a second time that afternoon, completely knocked myself out this time! I was gone.”

    "Oh, Sweetheart! You poor, hurt angel! Let me kiss it better....” Richard couldn't contain himself. Thinking of Jacky knocked out- twice- naked and tied up - he had to have her! He threw himself upon her, lips trying to lock with hers, rubbing his wife's chest, trying to make foot-to foot contact!

    "I'm OK, Richard, as you know I got home!..MMMMMMMMpphh...I love you too...let me finish then we can get some sleep." Sleep wasn't really on Richard's mind. In his mind, Jacky had had more than enough sleep. Forced sleep. He was touching her body, limbs, that had been limp and unconscious yesterday afternoon. Twice. He hand went to rub her head in sympathy. There were at least two big bumps at the back and side of Jacky's beautiful blonde head.

    "OWWW! That hurts, Richard! It's where I got hit...OK, I know you are rubbing it better and I know you're probably hot as hell thinking about me tied up naked on the bed!" Richard nodded. His wife was quite right on both counts. What his gorgeous wife didn't realise was his 'sleepy' fetish- getting off on the idea of his sexy wife getting knocked out and being unconscious. It was rather difficult to articulate that and Jacky was fairly vanilla and straight sexually; she could accommodate his powerful fetish for her feet and also for her being tied up, but he didn't reckon she'd understand the sleepy fetish as well. Don't push too far. At his core, the man loved his wife with every fibre of his being; adored her; admired her; lived to make her happy. But he also had these fetishes....

    “Did he..take advantage this time?”

    "Nope, when I woke up the second time, he'd actually dressed me in my clothes and shoes again! I didn’t feel meddled with in any way either. Believe it or not - He was singing Ken Dodd numbers to try to break me out of unconsciousness, to make me come to. He had an amazingly powerful and emotional voice too! Happiness...and Tears for Souvenirs. The tickle stick was stuffed down my top between my breasts and he couldn't push me out the door quickly enough. I promised to ask Robinson to loan him the stick. So I called you and made my way back to our hotel."

    "Why didn't you want to talk about it?"

    "Because I know you- you're overreacting now, and it's going to end in sex. lots of sex. In the family room last night we just couldn't, plus as I said I didn’t want the kids to hear about my getting knocked out twice, stripped, tied up and touched up. Also I needed a good sleep. A proper sleep, not the getting knocked out unconscious sleep. my head hurt, we had to drive home next day. I just needed to get rest. You do if you've been knocked out- and I had been, twice! Also I didn't want you to get into trouble by going to sort Robb out. He's 20 years younger than you, too."

    Richard was fiddling just like Robb, sucking her feet, gnawing the hard skin on the balls of her feet, then inserting his hard rod between Jacky's feet, erupting like a fountain over her much-cum on soles. He sighed with relief.

    "That's just for starters, sweetheart. Much as I respect the great late comedian, it was the diddymen I enjoyed. But I'm not Diddy now, I assure you. Nods to Dodd, he was great, but I'm ready to bang you senseless again! I've missed your closeness all weekend and I'm desperate to make love and restore your bodily strength again!"

    Jacky sighed. "I thought you said Sod Dodd."

    "No disrespect to the departed, but in the land of the living, I'm going to show you that Happiness, Happiness is the greatest gift that I possess -and the only souvenir I want is you, no tears! Now let's make out!" Having shot his first bolt, Richard felt he could now do justice to prolonged sex- and make love to his beloved wife as she deserved.

    Jacky opened wide. She took her throbbing husband into her hands.