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The Incumbents: Part 2 (MF/MF)

Joined
Feb 24, 2009
Messages
135
Points
16
As he slammed the cars trunk, swigged his beverage, and hoisted himself to a seated position on the Town Car’s front hood, he couldn’t help but admire his handy work. There, dangling from the rafters on their overpriced, patent leather tippy-toes, were two of New York’s truly elite; none other than the renowned legislative team of Trevor Worthington and Hillary Bancroft. And as he sat there, anticipating the arrival of his employers (and the dastardly plan they had concocted), he couldn’t help but feel a sudden rush of adrenaline course through his veins. For the first time all evening, he was starting to get a sense of just how much fun this was going to be.

Taking another swig of water, the driver glanced at his watch and noticed that it was nearing 10pm. His employers would not be arriving until closer to midnight, after having wrapped up their other business across the river. As he glanced at the dynamic duo of Trevor and Hillary, hanging still unconscious from the crossbeams, he began to wonder if he’d be able to resist having a bit of pregame warm-up fun with his new friends. Finishing off the water, he threw the empty plastic bottle onto the front seat of the limo, and steadily made his way over to the suspended bodies. Pulling a random strand of bangs from in front of Hillary’s face, the driver took a deep breath of her fragranced hair and incurred a second, this time slightly stronger, rush of adrenaline. Personally, he didn’t see any harm in having a bit of enjoyment. After all, he had done all of the work, and taken all of the risks, up until this point. Why not engage in a little selfish gratification.

Running his eyes up and down Hillary’s figure caused a stir of more than just adrenaline now, as the un-protested proximity that her current state of unconsciousness allowed was quite exhilarating. Her lanky 5’9 frame was flawlessly proportioned, and he could only imagine how much more of it he’d be introduced to this evening as a result of his employer’s plans. For now, he took the opportunity to enjoy his prisoner’s proportions in their current state of full dress. After all he was a patient man, at least for the most part. One overwhelming urge was getting the better of him, however, and he took a knee beside Hillary’s limp frame. He reached down, grabbing the bottom of her pump, and began to slowly slide the shoe off of her slender but long foot. He guessed her to be a size 10, big for a woman, and he’d enjoy having a more up close and personal look at that as well. As the pump slipped off with a pop, revealing the black tights encasing the foot beneath, the driver caught a slight whiff of what seemed to be a mix of baby powder, leather, and pleasant female perspiration.

Glancing inside the pump, he confirmed his suspicion as to the size of Hillary’s feet; they were indeed a female size 10. He couldn’t resist taking a deep breath of the shoes pungent aroma before tossing it aside, grabbing her ankle, and lifting it to his face. As he breathed in the intoxicating fumes from his captives nylon encased toes, his urge to unwrap this present even further got the best of him. Tugging her suit pant leg up and out of the way, he reached up to grab hold of the top of the knee high tights elastic band, pulling down with his fingers, and rolling the tight over her calf. Grabbing the tight firmly, he pulled the garment down behind Hillary’s heel, and peeled the sock off of her foot completely. In doing so, he revealed five of the most delicious looking toes he’d ever had the pleasure of being this close to. Hillary’s feet, while arguably large for a woman, were impeccable. Her toes were long, and polished a nearly blinding cherry apple red. The driver laughed to himself, thinking that Madame legislator probably spent more on spa treatments and pedicures for her perfectly groomed feet than the average person did on their mortgage. And all of that exorbitant foot pampering was bound to have an absolutely debilitating effect where the likely sensitivity of her feet was concerned. Ironic in a way that all of that spending on something as frivolous as her feet was now apt to work completely against her; not that her feet were likely to be the only place exploited tonight. He reached down to her middle toe, and gave what looked to be a very overpriced toe ring a slight twist, adjusting the band on her long, slender second toe. Hillary was also sporting what looked to be an equally overpriced tennis bracelet around her ankle. Boy oh boy, this woman spared no expense. And to think, all of this money had been spent on items that barely anyone ever even got to see. He began to wonder if one of her alleged “extra-curricular” male interests had a foot fetish of his own. After all, she had to be dressing up her sexy peds for someone, and it sure as heck wasn’t her husband; at least not based on what he’d come to learn of the evening’s sponsors. Realizing that a bit of self-restraint was essential, the driver quickly balled the knee high tight up, and stuffed it into Hillary’s shoe. He left the shoe on the concrete floor, next to the dangling figure of the now half bare footed Ms. Westcott. He stepped back to admire Hillary’s new predicament, with her now one bare foot precariously poised on her delectable tippy toes.

As he made his way back to the limo, he was startled by the sudden sound of the warehouse gate once again beginning its upward accent. Hmm, looks as though his employers were arriving ahead of schedule. Perhaps their own adrenaline rush had gotten the better of them as well. Glancing over at the gate, he was momentarily blinded by the glaring halogen bulbs of the approaching car’s headlights. As the gate slipped up, a pristine jet-black Rolls began to inch forward into the warehouse. Parking a few feet back, behind the already parked limo, the driver of the Rolls Royce threw the car into park and killed the engine. Seconds later, two figures emerged from the front seats of the Rolls. Mitzy Preston & Ronny Westcott, the respective spouses of Trevor and Hillary, were still dressed to the nines in their evening attire, having obviously come to the Brooklyn warehouse directly from their benefit gala in town.

“Well, well, Ronny, looks like Carl here has been having a bit of premature fun with that snooty wife of yours”, uttered Mitzy as she made her way over to the dangling couple and picking up Hillary’s discarded shoe and sock, “I guess his curiosity got the best of him after all.”

“No harm in that, my dear”, replied Ron, “there’s still plenty more unwrapping to do.”

At that, the two spouses enjoyed a heartfelt laugh.

“Carl, my lad, would you be a chum and grab the duffle bag out of my trunk for me”, requested Ron, “there are some necessary tools in there for the task at hand.”

Ah, the task at hand eh. Carl would be lying to himself if he said he truly had a crystal clear picture of what the evening’s task actually was, besides a bit of long-overdue comeuppance for the dastardly duo of Hillary and Trevor.

“Certainly Mr. Westcott, at once”, replied Carl dutifully as he made his way towards the Rolls Royce.

“They look so harmless like this, don’t they Ronny”, commented Mitzy, “almost as if they were just an average pair of folks. They don’t look the part of the power-duo at all in this state. I guess we’ll need them awake, and kicking & screaming for that.”

Carl released the trunk of the Rolls with the remote on Ron’s keychain, and reached in to grab a large black duffle bag. Goodness, this was one heck of a heavy bag. Carl fancied himself a strong guy, but this bag had to be pushing 50+ pounds easy. He lugged the duffle bag across the warehouse floor, and placed it down beside Ron and Mitzy.

“Thank you Carl, and now if you would be so kind as to help us with a bit of the set-up” Ron politely requested.

“Ha Ha Ha, the set-up indeed”, quipped Mitzy, “that’s exactly what this evening’s events will do to this political power-team. Set them up for a short-lived future in politics, at any rate!”

“Now, now my dear Mitzty” replied Ron, “no need to be so short-sighted. This evening’s events, if properly handled, will do far worse than that. I intend to settle for nothing less than years of lingering humiliation for our beloved legislative team, as well as an end to their political careers. After all, there’s little these two would fear worse than that.”

“Exactly, Ronald, why else would they have been taking such great pains to skulk around behind our backs, and the media’s backs for that matter. After all, a decade’s worth of well concealed extra-curricular affairs is no easy task, especially when one is in such a high-profile state of public attention as these two have been.”

Carl took a sudden active interest in his employer’s conversation as he began removing some items from the duffle bag. He had to admit he was damn curious to see what Mitzy and Ronald had in store for the dynamic duo tonight. A bit of humiliation would be quite exhilarating to watch. Removing a camera bag and tripod from the duffel, he began to set up the small handy cam where it would have the best view of the bound pair, careful at the same time to frame out any of the vehicles in the warehouse.

While Carl began setting up the camera gear, Mitzy reached in to the duffle bag and removed a small first aid kit and a long thin strip of fabric. Walking over to Trevor and Hillary, she first wrapped the fabric around Hillary’s head, fashioning a makeshift blindfold, and then proceeded to remove an ammonia tablet from the first aide kit. Breaking it, she waved it under Hillary’s nose.

Snapping back to consciousness, Hillary began to frantically twist her head from side to side, taking in her current predicament as best she could through the sensory hampering blindfold.

“Good evening, darling”, snickered Mitzy, “so nice of you to join us back here in the land of the living.”

“What the hell is going on here”, demanded the now adamant politician, “what is meaning of this? Who are you?”

“Questions, questions. Now, now, just relax, Ms Westcott”, chimed Ronald from just out of Hillary’s line of sight, “we’re just about to get started with a little experiment in humility. I think it’s fair to say that you and your bound cohort there will stand to benefit from a little humbling, wouldn’t you agree?”

Suddenly aware of the ice cold concrete below her, Hillary attempted to glance down below the blindfold at the now bare toes of her left foot, and noticed the cool air as it skirted its way up her pant leg. Feeling suddenly self-conscious, she attempted to hide the bare foot behind the calf of her right pant leg, clenching her toes in mild embarrassment.

“Hillary, darling”, chuckled Mitzy, who was still holding Hillary’s shoe and stocking in her grasp, “there’s no need to be embarrassed. Carl was just letting his curiosity get the best of him as he was binding you, and decided to sneak a well-deserved peak at your tootsy. Just a divine foot, by the way, simply delectable. A bit large, though, wouldn’t you agree? Tell me dear, are your feet ticklish?”

Hillary cringed at the mention of the word ticklish, and at the same time felt a slight twinge of embarrassment at the big foot comment. She had always been painfully aware that she had larger than average feet, her one physical flaw that certain detractors had always used against her growing up. For that reason, she had learned to endure the ticklish process of her weekly pedicures, in an effort to keep her feet looking as sexy as possible despite their size. As it was, her one weakness that had plagued her since she was a small child was her hyper-ticklishness. On her feet, for certain, but in choice other spots across her body as well. For some strange reason, and due to a slight air in her voice as she commented, Hillary got the distinct impression that her captor was well aware of this little tidbit of info as well.

“I bet they are ticklish, aren’t they. All that pampering, and weekly pedicures! That’s bound to turn even the most resilient of peds ultra-ticklish. Let’s see!”

With that, Mitzy slipped off one of her own black high heels, and used her nylon-clad toes to tickle the bottom of Hillary’s milky white sole. Hillary reflexively convulsed into a fit of laughter, as the sensation of Mitzy’s toe nails through the scratchy nylon fabric did a number on her very sensitive feet. Mitzy chased Hillary’s dancing bare foot with her pantyhose encased own, and couldn’t help but chuckle at the site of the usually well kept legislature slipping into a state of near hysteria.

“WOW, they are some ticklish feetsies you have there! This is going to be way more fun than I dared hope. Now tell me Carl, how are we doing with the camera set-up” questioned Mitzy as she eyed the driver.

“Ready to go, Miss White. Just say the word and we can begin filming,” replied Carl.

“Alright, in that case let me slip into something a bit more comfy, and less identifying. After all, we can’t have any of our Internet friends recognizing their mystery torturers now can we” mused Mitzy, “that would just take all the fun out of things!”

Mitzy glided over and reached into the duffle bag, pulling out a set of black overalls, thick black wool socks, a pair of black Doc Marten boots, and a black ski mask. She tossed an identical disguise over to Ronald, and the two began the change into the masked abductors.

Carl simply stared as Mitzy, not the least bit modest, began shedding her evening gown to reveal a pair of very sexy lingerie. She stood there, just 10 or so odd feet away, in a pair of purple thong panties, lacey (and VERY revealing) purple bra, and ultra-sheer black pantyhose. Mitzy bent down, unstrapped and discarded her remaining high heel, and began rolling her stockings off of her long legs. Carl couldn’t help but notice that Mitzy was no stranger to the spa either. Her pedicured toes were polished jet black, and complimented very nicely with her French manicured fingernails. Once she had stripped to her near non-existent skivvies, Mitzy began stepping into the overalls. She pulled them up and over her shoulders, and zipped up the front of the uniform to her neck. Seating herself, still barefoot, on the cold concrete warehouse floor, Mitzy began putting on the socks, and lacing up the clunky Doc Marten boots. Carl noticed out of the corner of his eye that Ronald had begun to don the same wardrobe, but he couldn’t quite seem to take his eyes off of the lovely Miss Preston who was proving a worthy distraction.

“Well Carl, you’re welcome for that,” uttered Mitzy, now fully dressed in her all-out assailant wardrobe, including the ski mask, “but if you would, please re-focus your attention to the task at hand.”

“Yes Miss Preston, of course,” he replied, grateful for the strip show but resentful that she had used his name in front of the now awakened Hillary for a second or third time that evening.

Carl reached into the bag, removed a small mini-DV tape from a case of 10, and popped the tape into the camera. Meanwhile, Mitzy walked over to the duffle bag and removed a few additional items including a razor sharp pair of gardening shears, two pairs of ankle cuffs, and an additional role of rope.

“Ready, Mr. Blakc?” Mitzy questioned impatiently.

“But of course, Miss White, ready indeed.”

With that, the two would-be assailants stepped into frame as Carl hit the red record button on camera. The pair of figures, now dressed in head to toe black and unrecognizable, turned to face the camera as if addressing an unseen audience.

“For those of you watching this from the comfort of your own computer, you may recognize the disheveled pair behind us as none other than the power politico duo of Trevor Worthington and Hillary Westcott, famed legislatures from the great state of New York. However, if you are like the majority of upstanding citizens, duped over the years into believing that these two civil servants have your, the voters, best interest in mind, the events you will witness take place here should prove to be quite eye-opening.”

With that, Mitzy stopped speaking long enough to walk closer to the bound pair and grab Trevor by the chin, tilting his head up to the camera for the sake of audience recognition.

“For years now, just about a full term in office in fact, these two “do-gooders” have had the unsuspecting voting public believing that they are indeed the quintessential politicians, abiding by the long heralded mantra of “by the people, for the people”. Unfortunately, that is not nearly the case. In fact, this tandem is one of the most corrupt and self-serving pairs ever to serve in State office. It seems only just, that with their first term in office coming to a close in a few short months, that you the people should get a chance to hear the real story.”

As if on scripted cue, Ron stepped in to take over for Mitzy and close out the opening remarks.

“Tonight, you will be given a chance to hear directly from Mr. Worthington and Miss Westcott as to the extent of their corruption and public misdirection. And while it’s fair to assume that this pair will be initially resistant to such a career ending confession, it is our sincere belief that in the end all dirty laundry will have been aired; to whatever consequence. So, without further ado, we give you what we hope will be an eye opening, and mildly entertaining, glimpse of what has really been going on within the hallowed walls of the Empire State Capitol building for that past three and a half years.”

On that note, the overall-outfitted pair approached the captives. Ron cracked an ammonia tablet under the unsuspecting nostrils of Trevor as well, and the two watched as Hillary’s male counterpart was thrust back into consciousness.
Meanwhile, Mitzy walked behind Hillary and used the shears to cut the now unnecessary blindfold from her captive’s eyes.

“Huh, wha, what’s going on here,” questioned Trevor, still in a daze from his chemical induced slumber and brash awakening, “whu, where am I?”

“Ahh, Mr. Legislature, why you and the lovely Miss Westcott are our guests this evening, but of course. So, welcome.”

“Bu, but, what is the meaning of all this,” started Trevor, just now taking in the equally bound Hillary dangling just a foot or so in front of his face, “and why for crying out loud are we tied up like animals? Hillary, what in the hell is going on here?”

I’m not certain Trevor, but we’ve been abducted against our will. It seems that these two people mean to blackmail us, or extort us into offering a false confession. They have a camera across the room that is filming us,” Hillary managed to offer slyly.

Trevor, offering a knowing glance back, and a slight nod of recognition, refocused now that Hillary had let on about the camera.

“Well, well, well, very sneaky Miss Westcott; very sneaky indeed. No matter. Even though the two of you are well versed in the art of public deception, your usually effective tactics in deceit will prove no match for our interrogation plans. So, shall we continue where we left off ealier then?”

On that note, Mitzy reached down to Hillary’s still un-clad foot and once again began to relentlessly tickle the sensitive woman. Grabbing her ankle firmly in one hand, she began raking her long fingernails over the creamy wrinkled sole of Madame Legislature’s foot. Delighted in doing so, she began to evoke a gut-wrenching laughter from the normally well-mannered Hillary, who could only thrash about helplessly as her bare foot was mercilessly tortured.
Looking over at the ski-masked Ronald, Mitzy thought for a moment before offering a suggestion.

“Tell you what, Mr. Black, why don’t we go ahead and trade,” she said, letting go of Hillary’s ankle and walking around behind the suspended Trevor.

“Why, excellent suggestion Miss White,” replied the obliging Ron.

Kneeling down behind the still unsuspecting Trevor, Mitzy used the shears to cut open the laces of his dress shoe before pulling the shoe off, giving it a quick sniff, and tossing it aside. She then grabbed the gold toe of his dress sock, and snipped off the tip with the shears, revealing his slightly hairy bare toes.

“Let’s see if Mr. Trevor here is as ticklish as his partner in crime, shall we?”

Mitzy, by no means a novice when it came to the subtle art of tickling, began slowly dragging her long fingers across the long, manly toes of Trevor’s slightly sweaty foot. Trevor, twitching his toes in an attempt to escape her grasp, began to laugh out loud. Pulling his bare toes up to the nose of her ski mask, Mitzy inhaled the slightly stinky aroma of Trevor’s sweaty feet.

“Wew, a bit stinky there Mr. Legislature,” quipped the attacker, “I’m surprised that such a well kept young lad as yourself would allow his feet to wreak like that. Tsk, tsk, such a disappointment to your adoring fans at watching at home, no doubt.”

Trevor, now slightly more aware of the extent their captors might go to humiliate them, bit his tongue in protest and resisted the urge to comment.

“How do the lovely Miss Westcott’s toes smell Mr. Black,” inquired Mitzy “equally pungent are they?”

“Excellent question! Let’s just see, shall we?”

Lifting the now slightly dusty bare toes of Hillary to his nose, Ron inhaled deeply in an effort to gauge their smelliness.

“Only slightly stinky, it seems. But then again these toes have had more time to air out. Let’s see what a freshly unwrapped set of piggies might smell like!”

Ron took the shears from Mitzy and used them to cut the strap of Hillary’s right heel, tossing the shoe off to the side. Grabbing the back of her pant leg, just above her knee, Ron used the shears to slice a two inch wide gash in the pant leg, and proceeded to cut the fabric from completely around her leg. Once the pant leg was cut, he let it fall to the floor where it balled up around the now stocking clad right foot of Hillary, which was squarely flat against the cold concrete surface below. Peeling down her right knee high, and pulling it from Hillary’s clenching toes, Ronald lifted the sweaty bare foot to his nose and once again inhaled deeply.

“Aaahh yes, much better. Quite stinky, and a bit damp as well.”

Placing the shears on the floor next to him, Ronald began to lightly spider tickle the crevice of Hillary’s leg, on the back side of her knee, and let his fingers lazily drag down the back of her leg and across the wrinkled flesh of her now equally bare right foot.

This sent her into a renewed fit of laughter, and Hillary fought to bring enough air into her lungs between the deep guffaws of hysterical screams. The sensation was nearly unbearable for her, and she began to fear that this tickling might ultimately force her to pass out. What might become of her fate then, she wondered. The dangling Hillary forced a resolve as she stared into the eyes of Trevor, who was battling against his own tickle attack at the hands of the female captor. She was determined to resist the incriminating effects of the confession her captors were determined to force from her, and she was hoping that Trevor could dig deep to resist a similar fate-inducing confession. After all, if one of them leaked they were both doomed.

Mitzy, meanwhile, grew curious and began to tear the remaining fabric of the sock from Trevor’s foot. She then grabbed the shears and hastily began to cut from cuff to buttocks up the back of Trevor’s right pant leg, revealing a pair of baby blue boxer shorts in the process.

“Oh how cute, a boxer guy! Would have pegged you as the briefs type,” uttered Mitzy innocently, in a ploy towards misdirection. She, of course, had been the one who had changed Trevor from a “briefs guy” to a “boxer guy” in the first place. “Mr. Black, tell me, what type of undies does our dear Miss Westcott prefer?”

“Well, let’s see” Ron replied, as he used brute force, rather than the shears, to tear the pant leg up to her belt. In so, he ended up reveling a pair of lace trimmed, ultra-sheer pink panties.

“Seems she opts for racey panties, best I can tell Ms White,” uttered Ron light heartedly, while stealing a glance at his wife’s bare ass cheeks and crack through the near transparent fabric of her panties.

Hillary cringed once again, wishing she’d chosen ANY other panties besides the ones she found herself wearing. As she thought this, she felt a cool wisp of cold, warehouse air whirl its way up the back of her leg and across her nearly naked rear.

“Oh, how interesting. I wonder if our duo suffers from equally ticklish behinds? Perhaps we should find out!”

“Indeed, Miss White, indeed we should!”

At that, the captors began to lightly brush the backs of Trevor and Hillary’s upper thighs, slowly working their way up towards the pair’s now inviting backsides in the process. And to think, things were just getting started!
 
This is a cool tale you are weaving for our enjoyment. I like the dialogue especially. Keep going! :D
 
This is really a masterfully told tale! I have thoroughly enjoyed reading it and I cannot wait for the next part!

By all means, please continue!
 
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