My wife arrived home from her first meeting with a new group she was involved in. She had joined a group of women who had traced their roots to direct ancestry of one of the original United States colonies. She was wearing a black business suit and a a pair of black heeled loafers over her tan sheer nylons.
"Hey honey," I greeted her.
"Hey there." she replied. She walked over to the couch and sat down swinging her feet onto my lap.
"How was your day," I asked.
"Oh alright," she said this as she flexed her ankles rotating each foot in its shoe. I knew what she wanted. My wife knew I liked feet and, being a homemaker she didn't dress up that much. I hesitated and she started pointing at her feet stating, "Please rub my feet." Being a smart alec, I started to rub her feet still shod in her dress shoes. My wife grinned, "I bet it would feel better without my shoes."
"Oh," I replied, pulling on the heel of each shoe to expose her nylon clad pink painted toes. Her feet were somewhat moist coming out of her shoes which I placed on the floor. I ran a finger up her right sole. "See, now your tootsies are unprotected and vulnerable."
"Oh no," she laughed wiggling her toes, "My feet are in trouble again today." I wondered to myself, did I just hear her say "again today?"
"What do you mean again today?" I asked.
She started to tell me about her day and I of course closely listened. "Well, you know, I went to my ancestry meeting today. The speaker we had at our meeting was an expert on colonial punishment. She talked about different ways people were punished and for what they were punished for in colonial america."
I was beginning to like what I was hearing.
"What does that have to do with your feet?" I asked.
"She actually had a prop there. It was a set of stockade thingys. It held two people. Me and another girl Amy, being new members, ended up in them."
Of course I knew what stocks were, but she really didn't so I asked. "Why did you volunteer to go into stocks?"
"We were the new members. We didn't volunteer really, but the leader picked us when no one in the group of about 40 women volunteered. So I reluctantly walked up front. There was a bench and the lady instructed Amy and I to sit down. We did as we were told and there was a part out in front for us to put our ankles. She closed the piece of wood down and then told us to put our hands in another piece of wood higher up. It wasn't very comfortable."
I was loving where this was going. It was my lucky day. I asked, "Did they actually hold you in tight?"
"Sure did," she replied. "Amy and I pulled hard and our hands and wrists were stuck. I remember looking at Amy and we sorta could tell that this wasn't good. The "expert" starting talking about some stuff I don't remember and then I got a little scared when she assigned each of us a crime and said we were going to be punished."
I, of course, wanted to know more about this.
"Amy was first to be punished. She is a cute 30 something year old lady. Her crime -dressing provocatively."
"How was she dressed," I asked.
"Not bad, but I guess bad for colonial times. She had on dress pants and a blouse. She was also wearing mules with a small heel. I was about to find out that her feet were bare under those mules."
"How did you know that?" I asked, already hoping I knew the answer.
"Well, her punishment was to have her feet bared before the group. I remember this being announced and hearing Amy gulp. I mean, who wants to be the center of attention in front of a group of people. So the lady asked the leader to come up and carry out the first part of the punishment. I remember literally hearing Amy gasp as the leader pulled her shoes off her feet. At the time I thought, wow, look at her. She is trapped and her bare feet are being stared at. I mean she couldn't cover them up as the whole room was staring at the bottoms of her completely bare feet."
"Let me guess," I inquired, "You had your feet bared too."
She answered, "Well, I told you my feet were in trouble. But, I have on hose, remember." She wiggled her toes as I rubbed her feet. "So my feet were not ever bare today."
She continued with the story, "So poor Amy sat there with her feet bare to a room full of strangers and then I remembered that I was sitting next to her locked in the same stocks. My feet were very much at risk and my crime was announced. I was going to be punished for skipping church. My punishment was 40 lashings."
"Wow" I asked, "didn't that hurt?"
"Well," she replied, "40 lashings is a bit severe so she was going to think of a substitute punishment. Amy looked over still blushing about her bare feet and wanted to know why I got to keep my shoes on. It didn't take everyone present long to agree that I should lose my shoes too. So then it happened, the group leader walked over and stood at my feet and reached for the heels of my shoes. I scrunched my toes and she pulled hard. I guess it was instinct on my part. I mean, I wasn't crazy about the idea of having all these ladies staring at my feet. Eventually though, she won out and my shoes were removed. I remember thinking how cold and exposed they felt almost like a cool breeze hitting them. A few ladies giggled and commented on our situation and how even though I had hose on they would still hate to be in our position."
My wife continued her story as I listened intently, "Then the "expert" decided our punishment. Instead of 40 lashings, get this ... we were going to be tickled on our feet by everyone in the room. It turns out that there were about 40 ladies there. So we are sitting there and there wasn't a damn thing we could do about it. I freaked out when everyone lined up in front of us. The first lady got Amy first and she howled. Her tootsies were ticklish and I thought she was going to break the stocks. Then after about 10 seconds the lady approached me and dragged her very long nails up and down my soles. It tickled like hell and she had the nerve to comment about the protection of my hose. The next lady quickly corrected her, however, talking about how her feet are much more sensitive in hose. This became a debate as a room full of women each had a turn raking their nails up and down our feet. We must have looked pretty silly laughing our heads off. I looked over and saw Amy laughing so hard she had tears running down her cheek messing up her make-up."
I was stunned and didn't know what to say but finally asked, "I bet that was torture."
She replied, "Well, first off, not everyone tickled much. Some ladies were embarrassed and just did a quick finger up each sole. They finally let us out with a round of applause for being good sports. Amy and I were talking afterward and agreed it was unique experience. I mean our shoeless feet were on display and it was all in good fun. I walked out and a few ladies game up to me and said they were glad it wasn't them in there. I mean everyone there was dressed up so losing their shoes would mean bare or nearly bare feet. One lady said she almost volunteered to go up before Amy and I did but was glad she didn't as she had terribly ticklish feet, especially with hose on. She lifted up her pant leg and sure enough under her loafer she had on nylons. She sure did dodge a bullet. I guess I am glad that the "expert" lady is coming back next month and we have some new members joining."
I replied, "Sounds like fun. Can I come?" I put my wife's feet into an arm-lock and attacked her soles.
She started laughing and answered, "No but maybe we can borrow the stocks."
I was starting to like that idea.
"Hey honey," I greeted her.
"Hey there." she replied. She walked over to the couch and sat down swinging her feet onto my lap.
"How was your day," I asked.
"Oh alright," she said this as she flexed her ankles rotating each foot in its shoe. I knew what she wanted. My wife knew I liked feet and, being a homemaker she didn't dress up that much. I hesitated and she started pointing at her feet stating, "Please rub my feet." Being a smart alec, I started to rub her feet still shod in her dress shoes. My wife grinned, "I bet it would feel better without my shoes."
"Oh," I replied, pulling on the heel of each shoe to expose her nylon clad pink painted toes. Her feet were somewhat moist coming out of her shoes which I placed on the floor. I ran a finger up her right sole. "See, now your tootsies are unprotected and vulnerable."
"Oh no," she laughed wiggling her toes, "My feet are in trouble again today." I wondered to myself, did I just hear her say "again today?"
"What do you mean again today?" I asked.
She started to tell me about her day and I of course closely listened. "Well, you know, I went to my ancestry meeting today. The speaker we had at our meeting was an expert on colonial punishment. She talked about different ways people were punished and for what they were punished for in colonial america."
I was beginning to like what I was hearing.
"What does that have to do with your feet?" I asked.
"She actually had a prop there. It was a set of stockade thingys. It held two people. Me and another girl Amy, being new members, ended up in them."
Of course I knew what stocks were, but she really didn't so I asked. "Why did you volunteer to go into stocks?"
"We were the new members. We didn't volunteer really, but the leader picked us when no one in the group of about 40 women volunteered. So I reluctantly walked up front. There was a bench and the lady instructed Amy and I to sit down. We did as we were told and there was a part out in front for us to put our ankles. She closed the piece of wood down and then told us to put our hands in another piece of wood higher up. It wasn't very comfortable."
I was loving where this was going. It was my lucky day. I asked, "Did they actually hold you in tight?"
"Sure did," she replied. "Amy and I pulled hard and our hands and wrists were stuck. I remember looking at Amy and we sorta could tell that this wasn't good. The "expert" starting talking about some stuff I don't remember and then I got a little scared when she assigned each of us a crime and said we were going to be punished."
I, of course, wanted to know more about this.
"Amy was first to be punished. She is a cute 30 something year old lady. Her crime -dressing provocatively."
"How was she dressed," I asked.
"Not bad, but I guess bad for colonial times. She had on dress pants and a blouse. She was also wearing mules with a small heel. I was about to find out that her feet were bare under those mules."
"How did you know that?" I asked, already hoping I knew the answer.
"Well, her punishment was to have her feet bared before the group. I remember this being announced and hearing Amy gulp. I mean, who wants to be the center of attention in front of a group of people. So the lady asked the leader to come up and carry out the first part of the punishment. I remember literally hearing Amy gasp as the leader pulled her shoes off her feet. At the time I thought, wow, look at her. She is trapped and her bare feet are being stared at. I mean she couldn't cover them up as the whole room was staring at the bottoms of her completely bare feet."
"Let me guess," I inquired, "You had your feet bared too."
She answered, "Well, I told you my feet were in trouble. But, I have on hose, remember." She wiggled her toes as I rubbed her feet. "So my feet were not ever bare today."
She continued with the story, "So poor Amy sat there with her feet bare to a room full of strangers and then I remembered that I was sitting next to her locked in the same stocks. My feet were very much at risk and my crime was announced. I was going to be punished for skipping church. My punishment was 40 lashings."
"Wow" I asked, "didn't that hurt?"
"Well," she replied, "40 lashings is a bit severe so she was going to think of a substitute punishment. Amy looked over still blushing about her bare feet and wanted to know why I got to keep my shoes on. It didn't take everyone present long to agree that I should lose my shoes too. So then it happened, the group leader walked over and stood at my feet and reached for the heels of my shoes. I scrunched my toes and she pulled hard. I guess it was instinct on my part. I mean, I wasn't crazy about the idea of having all these ladies staring at my feet. Eventually though, she won out and my shoes were removed. I remember thinking how cold and exposed they felt almost like a cool breeze hitting them. A few ladies giggled and commented on our situation and how even though I had hose on they would still hate to be in our position."
My wife continued her story as I listened intently, "Then the "expert" decided our punishment. Instead of 40 lashings, get this ... we were going to be tickled on our feet by everyone in the room. It turns out that there were about 40 ladies there. So we are sitting there and there wasn't a damn thing we could do about it. I freaked out when everyone lined up in front of us. The first lady got Amy first and she howled. Her tootsies were ticklish and I thought she was going to break the stocks. Then after about 10 seconds the lady approached me and dragged her very long nails up and down my soles. It tickled like hell and she had the nerve to comment about the protection of my hose. The next lady quickly corrected her, however, talking about how her feet are much more sensitive in hose. This became a debate as a room full of women each had a turn raking their nails up and down our feet. We must have looked pretty silly laughing our heads off. I looked over and saw Amy laughing so hard she had tears running down her cheek messing up her make-up."
I was stunned and didn't know what to say but finally asked, "I bet that was torture."
She replied, "Well, first off, not everyone tickled much. Some ladies were embarrassed and just did a quick finger up each sole. They finally let us out with a round of applause for being good sports. Amy and I were talking afterward and agreed it was unique experience. I mean our shoeless feet were on display and it was all in good fun. I walked out and a few ladies game up to me and said they were glad it wasn't them in there. I mean everyone there was dressed up so losing their shoes would mean bare or nearly bare feet. One lady said she almost volunteered to go up before Amy and I did but was glad she didn't as she had terribly ticklish feet, especially with hose on. She lifted up her pant leg and sure enough under her loafer she had on nylons. She sure did dodge a bullet. I guess I am glad that the "expert" lady is coming back next month and we have some new members joining."
I replied, "Sounds like fun. Can I come?" I put my wife's feet into an arm-lock and attacked her soles.
She started laughing and answered, "No but maybe we can borrow the stocks."
I was starting to like that idea.
