Persephone
2nd Level Red Feather
- Joined
- Sep 24, 2008
- Messages
- 1,483
- Points
- 0
Enjoy my story! Thanks 
It was another lazy, sunny day down at the private beach of this very elite resort. The fact it cost almost three thousand euros a night was no problem to a model as successful as Paige Harren. She was completely content spending her vacation time here every time her scheduled opened up enough and she could leave New York for just a few weeks for rest and relaxation.
Paige was a very beautiful model at the tender age of twenty-six. However she knew her modeling career would soon come to an end. Sure she was still beautiful, young, and vivacious, but unfortunately the models seemed to be getting younger as each year passed. She herself had started out with her first agency at the age of fourteen!
By this point after her long career, Paige knew she could retire into a very lavish and comfortable lifestyle. She had no husband, children, or any sort of commitment to tie her down from enjoying the rest of her twenties.
As she sipped her margarita and laid back enjoying the sun baking down on her slender form, a shadow was suddenly cast over her face. She frowned and blinked as she looked up and realized she was looking into the face of her manager.
“What is it Whitney?” Paige asked with annoyance as she set her drink aside. Paige sat up more as her agent seemed busy with her blackberry.
“Actually Miss Harren, a message just came in from a new shoe collection from a big designer in Paris. He was looking for a model and your name came up and now he really wants you to be his newest shoe model,” Whitney explained as she pulled the e-mails up on her phone.
A frown passed over Paige's flawless face as she brushed the dirty blonde hair from her eyes. “Foot modeling? Have I really sunk so low?” she dramatically collapsed back into the beach chair.
“He's actually very famous in Europe, and he's trying to get the attention of America's fashion designers now. His name his Jean Devereau, and his collection is called Chien Rouge,” Whitney explained as she held out a magazine she had kept tucked under her arm.
“These are his designs?” Paige asked, looking at the many cute designs of heels, sandels, and stilletos. She bit her lower lip as she studied the shoes, they did look very high fashion like, and if she become the spokesmodel, maybe that would breathe a new life into her career.
“You know what Whit, go ahead and call Mister Devereau and let him know I am greatly interested in being his new shoe model,” she smiled, pushing the sunglasses up from her nose and to rest on top of her head for now as she picked up her drink. She swirled it lazily in the large glass as her manager did all the necessary managing on her phone.
“Okay, it's not set in stone yet. We need to fly to Paris in the next few days, meet Monsieur Devereau and then sign some contracts,” Whitney explained.
“Yeah yeah, paper mumbo jumbo, I don't care about all that confusing business aspect. That's why I hired you Whit, now make this happen,” Paige flicked her hand in a gesture she wanted to be left alone to sun bathe.
Whitney disappeared without another word to leave her most important client alone while she began to arrange all the travel expenses and such for when they would leave the south of France for Paris.
“Welcome, bienvenue to our boutique!” a pretty young woman greeted Paige and Whitney as they entered the headquarters of the Chien Rouge in the heart of Paris.
“I am Monique, Monsieur Devereau's personal assistant! May I get you some water, perhaps a cold glass of wine?” she politely asked, leading them to the back of the store where the offices were located.
“Actually a bottle of water would just be heavenly,” Paige smiled as the attendant nodded eagerly, almost trying to please too hard. But her boss had told her the importance of their new client, and she was to get the VIP treatment, no matter how crazy her demands.
“Welcome!” a deep, and thickly accented voice cheerfully boomed from behind them. Paige and Whitney both jumped as Monique smiled politely.
“Your guest of honor has arrived sir,” Monique politely stated as she then scurried off to find some water for her guest.
“Ah yes, Madamemoiselle Harren! It is such an honor you accepted our request to be our new shoe model,” the tall, and lanky Parisian grinned, as he shook her hand gleefully.
“How could I turn such an offer down?” Paige smiled as she took a seat on a plush sofa, across from the shoe designer, as Whitney sat down beside of her.
“Now about the contracts,” Whitney began, digging through her briefcase as Monique appeared with two bottles of chilled water.
Jean Devereau threw his head back with hearty laughter and shook his head. “Straight to business I see? Non, non first we must discuss Madamemoiselle Harren's future with the Chien Rouge! First of all, since you are our newest shoe model, you do understand the requirements?” He smiled politely.
“Well obviously I need to keep my feet routinely pedicured. I go once every two weeks anyway, so my feet are in good condition,” Paige smirked.
Jean glanced at Whitney, and she caught the obvious sign he wanted to be alone to make these transactions with his newest client, not with her agent.
“Yes, well I will just be outside whenever we need to start the business discussion,” Whitney stood up and politely shook his hand again and walked off.
“May I see your foot, if I may be so bold?” Jean asked innocently enough.
Paige was taken aback by the strange question, especially because he was being so forward. But she was going to be his shoe model after all. She shrugged and bent down and unstrapped the wedge sandles she had worn to the boutique and slid her pretty sole from the shoe.
Carefully she placed her leg on the leather ottoman between the two of them. “May I?” Jean asked as he meant to reach over and delicately grasp her ankle.
“Of course,” she smiled a bit uneasily. The Parisian picked up her ankle tenderly and held her foot a few inches from his face as his looked up and down the delicate sole, from her nicely polished toes to the smooth heels.
“Very nice, you must be a size..er...what is your shoe size in American terms?” he asked.
Paige smiled as she responded, “Size eight and a half.”
“Ah, ah...good, an average enough size for the common female. Yes, your foot is in excellent shape. Very smooth skin, a nice skin tone as well. However I am afraid since you will be our new shoe model for the next six months, as your contract dictates, you must begin to get more frequent pedicures, since we will have many photoshoots for you,” he set her ankle down gently.
“So...once a week instead of every two weeks?” she asked innocently as she slid her foot back into the wedge sandle and strapped it around her ankle.
“No, I would prefer at least two times a week. Possibly every Tuesday and Friday I would suggest you get a fresh pedicure,” he nodded his head, as he took a sip of his own water Monique had handed him.
Paige bit her lower lip nervously as her toes wiggled nervously in her sandles. Her feet were so sensitive to begin with...but this new job as a shoe model would surely boost her career back into the limelight. What was a few more times going to the salon for a pedicure? No big deal.
“Yes that sounds fine,” she agreed.
“Very good, I actually have the name of an amazing new salon who opened just a few streets away, she will gladly give you the most thorough and excellent pedicures you've ever experienced,” Jean chuckled beneath his breath.
Paige nodded as she faked a smile, “Great, sounds like a plan!”
“So I will be back at five-thirty to pick you up then in the car,” Whitney was busy with her blackberry yet again.
Paige stared up at the this very pristine and expensive looking salon, with the name Glace painted across both windows in an exotic styled font.
“I guess, I don't understand why I need to be here two hours for a pedicure,” Paige whined a bit.
“It's your first one ever, I am sure Monsieur Devereau just wants to be thorough, after this they will probably only be a half hour long,” Whitney shrugged as Paige opened the door to climb out.
“Yeah, you are probably right, see you in a few hours then,” Paige responded as she shut the door and took a deep breath and bravely entered the salon, having no idea what she had just walked herself into.
“Welcome to the Salone Glace!” a happy young woman chirped from behind a front desk as she stood up and shook hands with Paige, “you must be Monsieur Devereau's newest model! He wanted us to treat you with extra special care today! Only the best for his girls.”
Paige smiled weakly as she shook the girls hand and took the glass of carbonated water they offered her.
“Right this way. You can relax here in our nice waiting room while we finish prepping your special room. It won't take more than five more minutes,” the woman explained and disappeared behind a black door as Paige watched.
She sipped the fizzy water and sat down on a comfy chair as she stared around at the pictures on the walls, a few of manicured hands, and a few of pedicured feet.
“Suddenly the pictures began to get fuzzy, and Paige shook her head and laughed slightly as she yawned. “I need to sleep more and less partying,” she sarcastically mumbled as she yawned again. Without realizing it, her body became limp as she passed out on the couch, dropping the glass of fizzy water to the floor. Too late for poor Paige to realize her water had been drugged.
“Mmm...what's going on...?” Paige groaned as she yawned and began to slowly come to. As she opened her dark brown eyes she blinked in confusion as she realized she was in a pitch black room.
“Hey!” she cried out in confusion. She tried to sit up and search for a light switch but she soon realized she was going no where. From what she could feel, she was settled into a very plush and squishy recliner like chair. There was heavy straps across her wrists, one beneath her breasts, across her waist, and a few across her spread legs, keeping them still.
“What's going on!” she shrieked, writhing in the bondage, not understanding what predicament she found herself in.
Suddenly a bright light was flashed on and Paige cried out in shock and turned her face away. As she looked back slowly, and struggled to blink her eyes adjusted. She gasped as she realized what was happening.
First of all she had been changed from her fashionable summer dress into a pair of white shorts and a white tank top. She was strapped down snugly into this chair but as she looked forward she realized there was a glass wall separating her from her feet. Her ankles were poking out through two very plush holes in the wall keeping her ankles comfy but immobile.
On the other side of the glass she observed a few women talking amongst themselves, smoking cigarettes and laughing as if they were on a lunch break. They all wore the same sterile white outfits, down to the white heels.
Suddenly one of the three woman gestured to the squirming feet on their side of the glass. That meant their newest victim had woken up. Too bad Paige didn't realize this women did not care about how much her feet would suffer while they cared for them. All these women cared about were her feet, and giving them a very thorough tending to.
Paige did not exist to them, only her writhing feet, which could only twitch and wiggle a bit from side to side as all her toes were individually tied back to small bolts in the glass wall.
The women immediately walked over and one sat down at either of Paige's feet, which were spread about two feet apart.
Paige's feet twitched even more as the women sat before them, and all she could do was watch with wide eyes as they could do whatever they pleased to her feet and not be bothered by her screams through the thick glass separation.
The third woman sat between them, preparing various items on a cart. Each women seemed to have her own ideas in mind on how to start Paige's 'pedicure'. One reached for a small hand brush resting in a bowl of steamy, soapy water.
The other reached for a pumice stone, not bothering with warming her feet up. Paige couldn't even have anticipated when they would begin.
Immediately both women began to personally tend to their individual writhing foot, while the third woman sat patiently between them to hand them whatever they may ask for from the cart.
On her right foot, the pedicurist began to scrub the skin directly beneath her toes, and all around her toe pads, and in between the trembling toes, held immobile in the toe bondage.
Followed immediately by the other woman who began to scrape the pumice stone across the smooth, round pink globes of Paige's heels.
Paige arched her back in the recliner and threw her head back in anguish as the tickling was too much for her poor body to handle, especially on her delicate, tender feet.
“Not thereEaEEHaaAHHAaa!” Paige squealed, as she thrashed in the squishy chair but the straps held firm.
No matter how shrill her screams of laughter, or how desperate her pleads for mercy, they fell on deaf ears as the women continued on, giggling at how the feet twitched in immense sensitivity and there was nothing they could do to escape the torment.
As the woman flaked away whatever dry skin was left on Paige's foot, she would rub hot baby oil across the freshly revealed skin, making it glisten a healthy shade of pink.
The other woman scrubbed all around the foot that flexed, drying to escape the thousands of bristles that invaded every nook and cranny and left in it's wake a flowery scent and freshly scrubbed skin.
“EeahaaHAAHaaa NnnOOOOEEhaa!! HhaaheeaahaEEEE!” Paige squealed as the woman rubbed oil into her tender arch after she had scrubbed away at it with the pumice stone for over ten minutes.
Meanwhile the other woman was busying herself picking up another scraping tool and beginning to scrape away at whatever dead skin was left on the now moist, clean sole of Paige's writihing size eight and a half.
So it continued like this for over an hour. Many different tools, treatments, and lotions were used on Paige's tingling feet.
All the while she just had to lay strapped there in the plushy chair and endure it as her feet become far more tender and supple as each second passed.
Now that the woman were through with the pedicure phase, it was time to begin the teasing and testing.
Paige gripped her fists and screamed in laughter as each woman began to dig their insanely sharp nails, or what felt more like talons, into her freshly pedicured soles.
The third woman grinned as she observed Paige's soles, now in an almost complete state of perfection. The women had given her a very thorough pedicure, so much so that now her toes were pink and tender with a fresh coating on polish on top to match. The balls of her feet were smooth and supple and slid down to her creamy arches, wrinkled slightly and very delicate and to her heels which were even smoother and glowing a healthier shade of pink than before.
They just looked highly sensitive and ticklish to the touch and the three woman practically watered at the mouth, thinking of all the things they could do these supple soles.
One pedicurist couldn't hold back and brushed her lips against Paige's sole while she howled in protest and agony on the other side of the wall.
“Such...beautiful skin and soles,” the French woman teased as she kissed the trembling skin. Her lips brushed over the trembling skin, nibbling down the wrinkly arches, her tongue invading nook and crevice as she suckled on the heels, all the while her fingers playing cutely with the immobile toes.
“Stoopp itttEEhaahHAAHAa!!!” Paige screamed, but the woman just ignored her pleas and chuckled at her frazzled appearance through the glass wall.
The other woman began to rake her soles up and down the soles, non stop, basking in how the silky skin trembled beneath her touch. Sher preferred a more cruel and hands on approach while her fellow tickler enjoyed teasing, licking and tasting the creamy flesh and making her victim suffer a more gentle, but just as agonizing torment.
“LeeaveEEehaa my feEEEateEHaahatt aloneEeahaaa!” Paige thrashed in the bondage, regretting she ever stepped through that front door!
Still the torture continued on with her silky soles writhing in the bondage, as she could do nothing but watch as both torturers held up two very ticklish, bristled brushed and lowered them towards her trembling, sensitive feet.
(To be continued...?)
It was another lazy, sunny day down at the private beach of this very elite resort. The fact it cost almost three thousand euros a night was no problem to a model as successful as Paige Harren. She was completely content spending her vacation time here every time her scheduled opened up enough and she could leave New York for just a few weeks for rest and relaxation.
Paige was a very beautiful model at the tender age of twenty-six. However she knew her modeling career would soon come to an end. Sure she was still beautiful, young, and vivacious, but unfortunately the models seemed to be getting younger as each year passed. She herself had started out with her first agency at the age of fourteen!
By this point after her long career, Paige knew she could retire into a very lavish and comfortable lifestyle. She had no husband, children, or any sort of commitment to tie her down from enjoying the rest of her twenties.
As she sipped her margarita and laid back enjoying the sun baking down on her slender form, a shadow was suddenly cast over her face. She frowned and blinked as she looked up and realized she was looking into the face of her manager.
“What is it Whitney?” Paige asked with annoyance as she set her drink aside. Paige sat up more as her agent seemed busy with her blackberry.
“Actually Miss Harren, a message just came in from a new shoe collection from a big designer in Paris. He was looking for a model and your name came up and now he really wants you to be his newest shoe model,” Whitney explained as she pulled the e-mails up on her phone.
A frown passed over Paige's flawless face as she brushed the dirty blonde hair from her eyes. “Foot modeling? Have I really sunk so low?” she dramatically collapsed back into the beach chair.
“He's actually very famous in Europe, and he's trying to get the attention of America's fashion designers now. His name his Jean Devereau, and his collection is called Chien Rouge,” Whitney explained as she held out a magazine she had kept tucked under her arm.
“These are his designs?” Paige asked, looking at the many cute designs of heels, sandels, and stilletos. She bit her lower lip as she studied the shoes, they did look very high fashion like, and if she become the spokesmodel, maybe that would breathe a new life into her career.
“You know what Whit, go ahead and call Mister Devereau and let him know I am greatly interested in being his new shoe model,” she smiled, pushing the sunglasses up from her nose and to rest on top of her head for now as she picked up her drink. She swirled it lazily in the large glass as her manager did all the necessary managing on her phone.
“Okay, it's not set in stone yet. We need to fly to Paris in the next few days, meet Monsieur Devereau and then sign some contracts,” Whitney explained.
“Yeah yeah, paper mumbo jumbo, I don't care about all that confusing business aspect. That's why I hired you Whit, now make this happen,” Paige flicked her hand in a gesture she wanted to be left alone to sun bathe.
Whitney disappeared without another word to leave her most important client alone while she began to arrange all the travel expenses and such for when they would leave the south of France for Paris.
“Welcome, bienvenue to our boutique!” a pretty young woman greeted Paige and Whitney as they entered the headquarters of the Chien Rouge in the heart of Paris.
“I am Monique, Monsieur Devereau's personal assistant! May I get you some water, perhaps a cold glass of wine?” she politely asked, leading them to the back of the store where the offices were located.
“Actually a bottle of water would just be heavenly,” Paige smiled as the attendant nodded eagerly, almost trying to please too hard. But her boss had told her the importance of their new client, and she was to get the VIP treatment, no matter how crazy her demands.
“Welcome!” a deep, and thickly accented voice cheerfully boomed from behind them. Paige and Whitney both jumped as Monique smiled politely.
“Your guest of honor has arrived sir,” Monique politely stated as she then scurried off to find some water for her guest.
“Ah yes, Madamemoiselle Harren! It is such an honor you accepted our request to be our new shoe model,” the tall, and lanky Parisian grinned, as he shook her hand gleefully.
“How could I turn such an offer down?” Paige smiled as she took a seat on a plush sofa, across from the shoe designer, as Whitney sat down beside of her.
“Now about the contracts,” Whitney began, digging through her briefcase as Monique appeared with two bottles of chilled water.
Jean Devereau threw his head back with hearty laughter and shook his head. “Straight to business I see? Non, non first we must discuss Madamemoiselle Harren's future with the Chien Rouge! First of all, since you are our newest shoe model, you do understand the requirements?” He smiled politely.
“Well obviously I need to keep my feet routinely pedicured. I go once every two weeks anyway, so my feet are in good condition,” Paige smirked.
Jean glanced at Whitney, and she caught the obvious sign he wanted to be alone to make these transactions with his newest client, not with her agent.
“Yes, well I will just be outside whenever we need to start the business discussion,” Whitney stood up and politely shook his hand again and walked off.
“May I see your foot, if I may be so bold?” Jean asked innocently enough.
Paige was taken aback by the strange question, especially because he was being so forward. But she was going to be his shoe model after all. She shrugged and bent down and unstrapped the wedge sandles she had worn to the boutique and slid her pretty sole from the shoe.
Carefully she placed her leg on the leather ottoman between the two of them. “May I?” Jean asked as he meant to reach over and delicately grasp her ankle.
“Of course,” she smiled a bit uneasily. The Parisian picked up her ankle tenderly and held her foot a few inches from his face as his looked up and down the delicate sole, from her nicely polished toes to the smooth heels.
“Very nice, you must be a size..er...what is your shoe size in American terms?” he asked.
Paige smiled as she responded, “Size eight and a half.”
“Ah, ah...good, an average enough size for the common female. Yes, your foot is in excellent shape. Very smooth skin, a nice skin tone as well. However I am afraid since you will be our new shoe model for the next six months, as your contract dictates, you must begin to get more frequent pedicures, since we will have many photoshoots for you,” he set her ankle down gently.
“So...once a week instead of every two weeks?” she asked innocently as she slid her foot back into the wedge sandle and strapped it around her ankle.
“No, I would prefer at least two times a week. Possibly every Tuesday and Friday I would suggest you get a fresh pedicure,” he nodded his head, as he took a sip of his own water Monique had handed him.
Paige bit her lower lip nervously as her toes wiggled nervously in her sandles. Her feet were so sensitive to begin with...but this new job as a shoe model would surely boost her career back into the limelight. What was a few more times going to the salon for a pedicure? No big deal.
“Yes that sounds fine,” she agreed.
“Very good, I actually have the name of an amazing new salon who opened just a few streets away, she will gladly give you the most thorough and excellent pedicures you've ever experienced,” Jean chuckled beneath his breath.
Paige nodded as she faked a smile, “Great, sounds like a plan!”
“So I will be back at five-thirty to pick you up then in the car,” Whitney was busy with her blackberry yet again.
Paige stared up at the this very pristine and expensive looking salon, with the name Glace painted across both windows in an exotic styled font.
“I guess, I don't understand why I need to be here two hours for a pedicure,” Paige whined a bit.
“It's your first one ever, I am sure Monsieur Devereau just wants to be thorough, after this they will probably only be a half hour long,” Whitney shrugged as Paige opened the door to climb out.
“Yeah, you are probably right, see you in a few hours then,” Paige responded as she shut the door and took a deep breath and bravely entered the salon, having no idea what she had just walked herself into.
“Welcome to the Salone Glace!” a happy young woman chirped from behind a front desk as she stood up and shook hands with Paige, “you must be Monsieur Devereau's newest model! He wanted us to treat you with extra special care today! Only the best for his girls.”
Paige smiled weakly as she shook the girls hand and took the glass of carbonated water they offered her.
“Right this way. You can relax here in our nice waiting room while we finish prepping your special room. It won't take more than five more minutes,” the woman explained and disappeared behind a black door as Paige watched.
She sipped the fizzy water and sat down on a comfy chair as she stared around at the pictures on the walls, a few of manicured hands, and a few of pedicured feet.
“Suddenly the pictures began to get fuzzy, and Paige shook her head and laughed slightly as she yawned. “I need to sleep more and less partying,” she sarcastically mumbled as she yawned again. Without realizing it, her body became limp as she passed out on the couch, dropping the glass of fizzy water to the floor. Too late for poor Paige to realize her water had been drugged.
“Mmm...what's going on...?” Paige groaned as she yawned and began to slowly come to. As she opened her dark brown eyes she blinked in confusion as she realized she was in a pitch black room.
“Hey!” she cried out in confusion. She tried to sit up and search for a light switch but she soon realized she was going no where. From what she could feel, she was settled into a very plush and squishy recliner like chair. There was heavy straps across her wrists, one beneath her breasts, across her waist, and a few across her spread legs, keeping them still.
“What's going on!” she shrieked, writhing in the bondage, not understanding what predicament she found herself in.
Suddenly a bright light was flashed on and Paige cried out in shock and turned her face away. As she looked back slowly, and struggled to blink her eyes adjusted. She gasped as she realized what was happening.
First of all she had been changed from her fashionable summer dress into a pair of white shorts and a white tank top. She was strapped down snugly into this chair but as she looked forward she realized there was a glass wall separating her from her feet. Her ankles were poking out through two very plush holes in the wall keeping her ankles comfy but immobile.
On the other side of the glass she observed a few women talking amongst themselves, smoking cigarettes and laughing as if they were on a lunch break. They all wore the same sterile white outfits, down to the white heels.
Suddenly one of the three woman gestured to the squirming feet on their side of the glass. That meant their newest victim had woken up. Too bad Paige didn't realize this women did not care about how much her feet would suffer while they cared for them. All these women cared about were her feet, and giving them a very thorough tending to.
Paige did not exist to them, only her writhing feet, which could only twitch and wiggle a bit from side to side as all her toes were individually tied back to small bolts in the glass wall.
The women immediately walked over and one sat down at either of Paige's feet, which were spread about two feet apart.
Paige's feet twitched even more as the women sat before them, and all she could do was watch with wide eyes as they could do whatever they pleased to her feet and not be bothered by her screams through the thick glass separation.
The third woman sat between them, preparing various items on a cart. Each women seemed to have her own ideas in mind on how to start Paige's 'pedicure'. One reached for a small hand brush resting in a bowl of steamy, soapy water.
The other reached for a pumice stone, not bothering with warming her feet up. Paige couldn't even have anticipated when they would begin.
Immediately both women began to personally tend to their individual writhing foot, while the third woman sat patiently between them to hand them whatever they may ask for from the cart.
On her right foot, the pedicurist began to scrub the skin directly beneath her toes, and all around her toe pads, and in between the trembling toes, held immobile in the toe bondage.
Followed immediately by the other woman who began to scrape the pumice stone across the smooth, round pink globes of Paige's heels.
Paige arched her back in the recliner and threw her head back in anguish as the tickling was too much for her poor body to handle, especially on her delicate, tender feet.
“Not thereEaEEHaaAHHAaa!” Paige squealed, as she thrashed in the squishy chair but the straps held firm.
No matter how shrill her screams of laughter, or how desperate her pleads for mercy, they fell on deaf ears as the women continued on, giggling at how the feet twitched in immense sensitivity and there was nothing they could do to escape the torment.
As the woman flaked away whatever dry skin was left on Paige's foot, she would rub hot baby oil across the freshly revealed skin, making it glisten a healthy shade of pink.
The other woman scrubbed all around the foot that flexed, drying to escape the thousands of bristles that invaded every nook and cranny and left in it's wake a flowery scent and freshly scrubbed skin.
“EeahaaHAAHaaa NnnOOOOEEhaa!! HhaaheeaahaEEEE!” Paige squealed as the woman rubbed oil into her tender arch after she had scrubbed away at it with the pumice stone for over ten minutes.
Meanwhile the other woman was busying herself picking up another scraping tool and beginning to scrape away at whatever dead skin was left on the now moist, clean sole of Paige's writihing size eight and a half.
So it continued like this for over an hour. Many different tools, treatments, and lotions were used on Paige's tingling feet.
All the while she just had to lay strapped there in the plushy chair and endure it as her feet become far more tender and supple as each second passed.
Now that the woman were through with the pedicure phase, it was time to begin the teasing and testing.
Paige gripped her fists and screamed in laughter as each woman began to dig their insanely sharp nails, or what felt more like talons, into her freshly pedicured soles.
The third woman grinned as she observed Paige's soles, now in an almost complete state of perfection. The women had given her a very thorough pedicure, so much so that now her toes were pink and tender with a fresh coating on polish on top to match. The balls of her feet were smooth and supple and slid down to her creamy arches, wrinkled slightly and very delicate and to her heels which were even smoother and glowing a healthier shade of pink than before.
They just looked highly sensitive and ticklish to the touch and the three woman practically watered at the mouth, thinking of all the things they could do these supple soles.
One pedicurist couldn't hold back and brushed her lips against Paige's sole while she howled in protest and agony on the other side of the wall.
“Such...beautiful skin and soles,” the French woman teased as she kissed the trembling skin. Her lips brushed over the trembling skin, nibbling down the wrinkly arches, her tongue invading nook and crevice as she suckled on the heels, all the while her fingers playing cutely with the immobile toes.
“Stoopp itttEEhaahHAAHAa!!!” Paige screamed, but the woman just ignored her pleas and chuckled at her frazzled appearance through the glass wall.
The other woman began to rake her soles up and down the soles, non stop, basking in how the silky skin trembled beneath her touch. Sher preferred a more cruel and hands on approach while her fellow tickler enjoyed teasing, licking and tasting the creamy flesh and making her victim suffer a more gentle, but just as agonizing torment.
“LeeaveEEehaa my feEEEateEHaahatt aloneEeahaaa!” Paige thrashed in the bondage, regretting she ever stepped through that front door!
Still the torture continued on with her silky soles writhing in the bondage, as she could do nothing but watch as both torturers held up two very ticklish, bristled brushed and lowered them towards her trembling, sensitive feet.
(To be continued...?)
!
... Very intense
