ElFewja
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An older work of mine that I don't care much for. M/F, nylon feet tickles. Enjoy.
A Ticklish Scenario
It was about nine-a-clock P.M., and Chrissy normally would have been preparing to leave around then, but today decided to stay late and work on a few things. An average secretary - not too bright but very pretty - with shoulder length, beautiful brown hair, sparkling blue eyes, long lashes, and a shapely body. A few papers and the sort had to be done by Monday morning, and Chrissy had slackened off the past few days so that they remained un-finished. As a secretary at a large business, she was overlooked, and it didn’t matter that she slacked off most of the time. A few hours passed and she still hadn’t finished the papers, though every one else had left. Soon she yawned, and noticed how late it was. Uncontrollably, she yawned again. "Just rest my eyes...a bit," she muttered to herself as she leaned back into her chair. Unbeknownst to her, though, sleeping gas was being filtered into the room, and since it was so late, and unfortunately for her, she didn’t notice the odd scent in the air.
A few minutes, or hours later, Chrissy wasn’t sure, she awoke. The first thing she noticed was that even though she opened her eyes, everything was pitch-black to her. Secondly she noted that she was unable to move an inch, with her wrists seemingly tied to the arms of her chair, and her ankles tied to the legs. Still a tad bit groggy, Chrissy had no idea how dire the situation was, figuring she was just extremely tired or dreaming. It was then she realized two men were talking rather loudly, arguing, she decided. The words weren't clear at first, but she soon was able to distinguish the words. “.... Just aren't there! This is bad, what if he took them with him?", a voice spoke.
"Well, it doesn't matter much, we have insurance," the second voice took a pause, then continued, "We just make her talk, she must know something if she works here."
It was then she realized, and thought, wait...I cant move. Kidnappers? No, Im
their insurance...they are searching for something then?
"I'll keep looking. You just find a way to make her talk. She probably knows something," spoke the first voice, followed by a few footsteps, and the opening and closing of a door.
Then Chrissy heard footsteps approaching her, and she quivered. Make me talk, she thought, about what? What's going on? "Humph, so you're awake are you? Well, what do you know of your boss's little program to put the place across the street out of business? See, I don’t want to lose my job..."
Silence. What project, she thought to herself? I never heard any about this. "I don’t know what you're talking about." she replied.
"Wrong answer. Funny though, when I was tying you up, I kept brushing up against you. You kept pulling away and giggling every time I did." Said the voice, and Chrissy felt her legs being untied, and put onto a desk that must have been in front of her. Her ankles were quickly tied together and placed bacl onto the table. A few seconds passed, and soon Chrissy felt her left shoe being removed from her foot, "You can always talk, you know..."
As soon as her shoe was removed, Chrissy gasped, realizing that he meant to tickle her and make her talk. "No, no not my feet! I'm too ticklish! I don’t know anything, honest!" she yelled, but to no avail. A finger crept up her nylon sole, and she gasped and screamed, "No, no-ho-ho-ho, not my fe-he-he-he-et, rehehehehehe!" Then as soon as the tickling torture began, it stopped. Just as soon though, she felt something squeeze her right foot, with its shoe still on it.
"Just talk, that’s all you have to do."
But Chrissy was still gasping, trying to catch her breath from the last few minutes of tickling. "I...I don’t...don’t know what you're talking about...re...really. Please don’t...don’t tickle me anymore...I cant...cant take it..." she spluttered.
Suddenly a door opened and slammed off to Chrissies right. "Hey, what the hell are you doing? I heard yelling...oh I didn’t find anything by the way," spoke the first voice from earlier.
"You said make her talk. I decided to have a little fun while I was at it. She'll talk."
"Humph...whatever works for you...I’m gonna go look around here," said the voice, and the man thumped off. There was a rustle of papers in the background. Chrissies right shoe came off, and this time the man didn’t just draw a finger up and down one of her soles. Nothing could have prepared her for this tickling, as her capture quickly drew his hands across her soles and toes. Chrissy screamed, and struggled against her bonds, but soon broke down laughing when she realized there really was no way out. Tell him what he wants...but I never heard of any of this! The tickling was unbearable. Unfortunately for Chrissy, she was excrutiatingly ticklish, especially on the soles of her feet, and the nylons just made them that more ticklish. She screamed when his fingers stroked her toes, laughed deeply when they spidered down her arches, and then continued their path around her feet. All the time she laughed loudly, praying silently for some escape from the tickling, with no luck. This time there was no break after a few minutes, and she soon found herself gasping for breath, begging the man to stop.
"I..I ha-ha-ha-ha-a, I cant ha-ha-ha-ha, ca-ha-ha-ha-ha-nt ta-he-he-he-ke an-he-he, an-he-he-he, anymore! Ple-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-ase, sto-ha-ha-ha-ha, sto, he-he-he, stopppp! No, not that! Haaaaaaah, hahahahahahaha!" The tickling was relentless. As expected, he wanted her to talk, not waste his time tickling her, so he would do his best. Seemingly for an hour the tickling went on like that, and then it stopped quite suddenly. Gasping and giggling, she tried to calm herself and reclaim some self-control.
"So, do you feel like giving me the info I’m looking for? Certainly no job is worth this," he said as a finger slowly drew up her right arch, she bucked and giggled madly until it stopped, "Bah, she's ticklish but...hey, did you find anything?" At that time she realized the other man must have come in without her knowing.
The gruff voice responded, "Nothing, that bastard must have taken the papers with him, or something. Any luck with her?"
"Nothing."
"Blast! What are we going to do?"
"Go down to my car, and look in the trunk. I think I have some feathers there, maybe some other things. Bring them back up, and I guarantee that this girl will talk."
When he said that Chrissy gulped. She had had hopes that maybe he was done, and hopefully, she would be released. Obviously not, though. Then she felt his warm hands on her left foot and whimpered, and tried to pull her foot back. Damnit, she thought, he would have a strong grip! Wonderment and thankfulness came over her when she realized he had no intention of tickling her. Then horror, when Chrissy heard and felt her the nylon around her foot ripped off. Wiggling the bare toes of her left foot, she felt dazed, and then the same occurred to her right. Barefoot, she realized, and then asked herself, what does he plan now? Nothing happened, thankfully, and she sat, waiting. In its own way the waiting was more agonizing than the tickling, knowing that she was going to be tortured, but not when, or how. A few minutes passed, and still nothing happened, until a door opened and closed, and the familiar thump-thump of one of the men walking, or both, she couldn’t be sure, came closer, louder. Then the first man spoke, "Feathers, and a load of other stuff. I don’t know what this is, but I brought it, some kind of tanning oil? You queer or something?"
"Whatever works, you said. I like seeing girls smile and laugh," a finger crept up Chrissies right arch, and she gasped, laughed, "And tickling does that for me. Just hand me the feathers and I can continue."
"Whatever..."
Then it occurred to Chrissy, of course, feathers! Tickling, feathers, it makes sense. Instantly she shuddered, realizing again that she was the one being tickled. A stiff feather crept up her right foot, and wiggled its way around. Screaming, laughing, she remembered the tickling from a few moments ago. "Ahhhhh hahahahahahaha! Sto-ha-ha-ha-ha-aaaooopppp! No-ho-ho-ho-ho, not my to-he-he-he-he-es! I do-ho-ho-ho-ho-nt kn-he-he-he-he-he-ow an-he-he, an-ha-ha-ha, anything! I sw-he-ea-ha-ha-ha-r!" she pleaded. Unfortunately for her, the pleading only made the man tickle her more, and focus on her toes. She gasped, pleaded, bucked, but to no avail. Her laughter soon became desperate, and then after a half an hour she just couldn’t laugh anymore, and her mouth was wide open, but nothing came out. The feather was so ticklish on her bare feet though, she thought, this is madness. Up and down her sole the feather went, up and down and in-between her toes, and across them. Fluttering, then stroking, slow and fast, she couldn’t keep tract, it tickled too much. Eventually, after an amount of time, since Chrissy lost tract, the feather stopped.
"You said she would talk, she isn’t talking! It’s getting late, and I’m tired!"
"Some things take time. Hand me that tanning oil though, this one always works."
Great, thought Chrissy, they still aren't done. I can’t take this, and they wont stop! I don’t even know what they want! A click, like a jar cap being pulled off, sounded, and Chrissy felt her feet being rubbed. She moaned, and slid back in her chair, as far as the rope would allow at least. The rubbing felt so good on her tired and tickled feet. What she didn’t realize was that tanning oil had been applied to her feet. "There," said the second voice, "If this doesn’t work, I don’t know what will. Why don’t you take her left, Ill take her right?"
"Sure, whatever gets this done faster..."
Realizing she was going to be tickled again, she tried to pull her feet back, but knew she couldn’t escape. I'm going to be tickled until I talk, tell them what they want, and I don't know a damn thing! Then the tickling came on, and she screamed and laughed loudly, louder than before. "AHHHHH-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha! No-ho-ho-ho-ho! Stooooooooop! I don’t know a thing! Nothing! Just stoooooop! It tiiiickkkklllleeeesss soooo muuuuch!" screamed Chrissy. The tanning oil, she realized! Of course, they applied it to my feet, and its slick...aaaahhh it tickles! Truly the tickling was worse, with two hands on either of her feet, one to hold the foot completely still and the other to rake it, with the oil added, and not to mention she was out of it from the tickling before hand. With her feet completely still, the tickling was defi multiplied ten fold. No chance to even get away for half a second, and they just keep raking up and down the arches and soles of her feet. With no virtual end to her torture in sight, Chrissy sat back, and tried to beg. By now though she had completely lost her voice from laughing so hard. It couldn't be past two A.M., she thought, and no one works tomorrow since its Saturday night, early Sunday morning. It was going to be a long, ticklish night, Chrissy decided.
A Ticklish Scenario
It was about nine-a-clock P.M., and Chrissy normally would have been preparing to leave around then, but today decided to stay late and work on a few things. An average secretary - not too bright but very pretty - with shoulder length, beautiful brown hair, sparkling blue eyes, long lashes, and a shapely body. A few papers and the sort had to be done by Monday morning, and Chrissy had slackened off the past few days so that they remained un-finished. As a secretary at a large business, she was overlooked, and it didn’t matter that she slacked off most of the time. A few hours passed and she still hadn’t finished the papers, though every one else had left. Soon she yawned, and noticed how late it was. Uncontrollably, she yawned again. "Just rest my eyes...a bit," she muttered to herself as she leaned back into her chair. Unbeknownst to her, though, sleeping gas was being filtered into the room, and since it was so late, and unfortunately for her, she didn’t notice the odd scent in the air.
A few minutes, or hours later, Chrissy wasn’t sure, she awoke. The first thing she noticed was that even though she opened her eyes, everything was pitch-black to her. Secondly she noted that she was unable to move an inch, with her wrists seemingly tied to the arms of her chair, and her ankles tied to the legs. Still a tad bit groggy, Chrissy had no idea how dire the situation was, figuring she was just extremely tired or dreaming. It was then she realized two men were talking rather loudly, arguing, she decided. The words weren't clear at first, but she soon was able to distinguish the words. “.... Just aren't there! This is bad, what if he took them with him?", a voice spoke.
"Well, it doesn't matter much, we have insurance," the second voice took a pause, then continued, "We just make her talk, she must know something if she works here."
It was then she realized, and thought, wait...I cant move. Kidnappers? No, Im
their insurance...they are searching for something then?
"I'll keep looking. You just find a way to make her talk. She probably knows something," spoke the first voice, followed by a few footsteps, and the opening and closing of a door.
Then Chrissy heard footsteps approaching her, and she quivered. Make me talk, she thought, about what? What's going on? "Humph, so you're awake are you? Well, what do you know of your boss's little program to put the place across the street out of business? See, I don’t want to lose my job..."
Silence. What project, she thought to herself? I never heard any about this. "I don’t know what you're talking about." she replied.
"Wrong answer. Funny though, when I was tying you up, I kept brushing up against you. You kept pulling away and giggling every time I did." Said the voice, and Chrissy felt her legs being untied, and put onto a desk that must have been in front of her. Her ankles were quickly tied together and placed bacl onto the table. A few seconds passed, and soon Chrissy felt her left shoe being removed from her foot, "You can always talk, you know..."
As soon as her shoe was removed, Chrissy gasped, realizing that he meant to tickle her and make her talk. "No, no not my feet! I'm too ticklish! I don’t know anything, honest!" she yelled, but to no avail. A finger crept up her nylon sole, and she gasped and screamed, "No, no-ho-ho-ho, not my fe-he-he-he-et, rehehehehehe!" Then as soon as the tickling torture began, it stopped. Just as soon though, she felt something squeeze her right foot, with its shoe still on it.
"Just talk, that’s all you have to do."
But Chrissy was still gasping, trying to catch her breath from the last few minutes of tickling. "I...I don’t...don’t know what you're talking about...re...really. Please don’t...don’t tickle me anymore...I cant...cant take it..." she spluttered.
Suddenly a door opened and slammed off to Chrissies right. "Hey, what the hell are you doing? I heard yelling...oh I didn’t find anything by the way," spoke the first voice from earlier.
"You said make her talk. I decided to have a little fun while I was at it. She'll talk."
"Humph...whatever works for you...I’m gonna go look around here," said the voice, and the man thumped off. There was a rustle of papers in the background. Chrissies right shoe came off, and this time the man didn’t just draw a finger up and down one of her soles. Nothing could have prepared her for this tickling, as her capture quickly drew his hands across her soles and toes. Chrissy screamed, and struggled against her bonds, but soon broke down laughing when she realized there really was no way out. Tell him what he wants...but I never heard of any of this! The tickling was unbearable. Unfortunately for Chrissy, she was excrutiatingly ticklish, especially on the soles of her feet, and the nylons just made them that more ticklish. She screamed when his fingers stroked her toes, laughed deeply when they spidered down her arches, and then continued their path around her feet. All the time she laughed loudly, praying silently for some escape from the tickling, with no luck. This time there was no break after a few minutes, and she soon found herself gasping for breath, begging the man to stop.
"I..I ha-ha-ha-ha-a, I cant ha-ha-ha-ha, ca-ha-ha-ha-ha-nt ta-he-he-he-ke an-he-he, an-he-he-he, anymore! Ple-he-he-he-he-he-he-he-ase, sto-ha-ha-ha-ha, sto, he-he-he, stopppp! No, not that! Haaaaaaah, hahahahahahaha!" The tickling was relentless. As expected, he wanted her to talk, not waste his time tickling her, so he would do his best. Seemingly for an hour the tickling went on like that, and then it stopped quite suddenly. Gasping and giggling, she tried to calm herself and reclaim some self-control.
"So, do you feel like giving me the info I’m looking for? Certainly no job is worth this," he said as a finger slowly drew up her right arch, she bucked and giggled madly until it stopped, "Bah, she's ticklish but...hey, did you find anything?" At that time she realized the other man must have come in without her knowing.
The gruff voice responded, "Nothing, that bastard must have taken the papers with him, or something. Any luck with her?"
"Nothing."
"Blast! What are we going to do?"
"Go down to my car, and look in the trunk. I think I have some feathers there, maybe some other things. Bring them back up, and I guarantee that this girl will talk."
When he said that Chrissy gulped. She had had hopes that maybe he was done, and hopefully, she would be released. Obviously not, though. Then she felt his warm hands on her left foot and whimpered, and tried to pull her foot back. Damnit, she thought, he would have a strong grip! Wonderment and thankfulness came over her when she realized he had no intention of tickling her. Then horror, when Chrissy heard and felt her the nylon around her foot ripped off. Wiggling the bare toes of her left foot, she felt dazed, and then the same occurred to her right. Barefoot, she realized, and then asked herself, what does he plan now? Nothing happened, thankfully, and she sat, waiting. In its own way the waiting was more agonizing than the tickling, knowing that she was going to be tortured, but not when, or how. A few minutes passed, and still nothing happened, until a door opened and closed, and the familiar thump-thump of one of the men walking, or both, she couldn’t be sure, came closer, louder. Then the first man spoke, "Feathers, and a load of other stuff. I don’t know what this is, but I brought it, some kind of tanning oil? You queer or something?"
"Whatever works, you said. I like seeing girls smile and laugh," a finger crept up Chrissies right arch, and she gasped, laughed, "And tickling does that for me. Just hand me the feathers and I can continue."
"Whatever..."
Then it occurred to Chrissy, of course, feathers! Tickling, feathers, it makes sense. Instantly she shuddered, realizing again that she was the one being tickled. A stiff feather crept up her right foot, and wiggled its way around. Screaming, laughing, she remembered the tickling from a few moments ago. "Ahhhhh hahahahahahaha! Sto-ha-ha-ha-ha-aaaooopppp! No-ho-ho-ho-ho, not my to-he-he-he-he-es! I do-ho-ho-ho-ho-nt kn-he-he-he-he-he-ow an-he-he, an-ha-ha-ha, anything! I sw-he-ea-ha-ha-ha-r!" she pleaded. Unfortunately for her, the pleading only made the man tickle her more, and focus on her toes. She gasped, pleaded, bucked, but to no avail. Her laughter soon became desperate, and then after a half an hour she just couldn’t laugh anymore, and her mouth was wide open, but nothing came out. The feather was so ticklish on her bare feet though, she thought, this is madness. Up and down her sole the feather went, up and down and in-between her toes, and across them. Fluttering, then stroking, slow and fast, she couldn’t keep tract, it tickled too much. Eventually, after an amount of time, since Chrissy lost tract, the feather stopped.
"You said she would talk, she isn’t talking! It’s getting late, and I’m tired!"
"Some things take time. Hand me that tanning oil though, this one always works."
Great, thought Chrissy, they still aren't done. I can’t take this, and they wont stop! I don’t even know what they want! A click, like a jar cap being pulled off, sounded, and Chrissy felt her feet being rubbed. She moaned, and slid back in her chair, as far as the rope would allow at least. The rubbing felt so good on her tired and tickled feet. What she didn’t realize was that tanning oil had been applied to her feet. "There," said the second voice, "If this doesn’t work, I don’t know what will. Why don’t you take her left, Ill take her right?"
"Sure, whatever gets this done faster..."
Realizing she was going to be tickled again, she tried to pull her feet back, but knew she couldn’t escape. I'm going to be tickled until I talk, tell them what they want, and I don't know a damn thing! Then the tickling came on, and she screamed and laughed loudly, louder than before. "AHHHHH-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha! No-ho-ho-ho-ho! Stooooooooop! I don’t know a thing! Nothing! Just stoooooop! It tiiiickkkklllleeeesss soooo muuuuch!" screamed Chrissy. The tanning oil, she realized! Of course, they applied it to my feet, and its slick...aaaahhh it tickles! Truly the tickling was worse, with two hands on either of her feet, one to hold the foot completely still and the other to rake it, with the oil added, and not to mention she was out of it from the tickling before hand. With her feet completely still, the tickling was defi multiplied ten fold. No chance to even get away for half a second, and they just keep raking up and down the arches and soles of her feet. With no virtual end to her torture in sight, Chrissy sat back, and tried to beg. By now though she had completely lost her voice from laughing so hard. It couldn't be past two A.M., she thought, and no one works tomorrow since its Saturday night, early Sunday morning. It was going to be a long, ticklish night, Chrissy decided.
