malevolend
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This is a story that I had knocking around the ol' noggin, and decided to hammer it out today because I felt it was a great form of procrastination, and because I never contribute to this great community. After stepping back to read it, I realized that the actual tickling parts are pretty small, so I've indicated them with ****** in order that the reader can avoid all the other rubbish! Don't say I didn't warn you!
Content: sock fetish, brief M/F socked foot tickling, F/M tickling.
Robert and Brittany had been friends since starting college, and even though it was a nominally platonic relationship due to Robert's girlfriend, many of their encounters were characterized by a strong, excitingly sexual undertone. Now things had changed. Robert had broken it off with his long distance girlfriend only a week or two before, and had been spending more time than usual with Brittany. And somehow that had brought him here, suffering the embarrassing silence after revealing to Brittany that he had a fetish.
He didn't even know what had gotten a hold of him. It had taken him 6 months to tell his first girlfriend that he had one fetish, let alone two. His secret desires had always been a source of constant self-antagonism as well as a nearly crippling fear of “being found out.” When one girl in high school jokingly accused him of having a foot fetish because of his constant attempts to tickle her feet, he freaked out and never talked to her again, without ever giving her a reason. She was left bewildered and hurt by what she saw as just another dick move by a high school guy. But after he had some practice with it, he became better and more open about his fetishes, and was able to enjoy several satisfying relationships. But he had never told a girl about something this personal before even beginning to date her. That was just out of the question. What would stop her from telling other people? What had he done?
So, in that moment, he began to nervously backtrack. Brittany, for her part, was enormously curious. She had always found Robert interesting, and although he was very dedicated to his girlfriend at the time, she could tell her interest in him was mutual. Brittany stood 5'6”, had blond hair, and had an athletic body. And they had been spending more time together, drinking and getting high together, alone. Her mind raced back to the time they spent together, trying to find any indication or clue as to what his fetish could be. She wasn't even sure what fetishes there were. She simply had to find out more.
“Look, I'm sorry I even mentioned it. I don't know what I was thinking. You don't need to hear about that, I think it was just the weed talking. And maybe some of the whiskey,” he was saying.
“No, Robert, we're friends. If you feel like talking about it, go on. I'm curious”
“Well, it's just something so personal, I'm so afraid that it could get out and people would think of me differently, like a weirdo or something.”
“No one thinks of you like that”
“Well, not yet they don't. I don't know, do you think you could forget I ever said anything about it?”
“Sure, if you want,” she said, and after an awkward pause added, “Do you mind if I ask when you first told Jenny about it?”
She was being sneaky, she knew. He obviously was still not over his ex, but distance had proven too much of a burden, and they had started to fight, and without the benefit of seeing each other during (and after) those fights, their relationship had dwindled. But he still had feelings for her, and she was certainly a wild girl. Brittany had been jealous of her whenever she visited, especially because he basically disappeared into “Jenny” land for days at a time.
“Uh, well, I told her after about a month.”
“And how did she take it?”
“She was excited. I mean, curious, at least. I don't think she really knew what I was talking about. The, uh, specifics, are.....well, not immediately apparent.” He realized that Brittany was successfully getting him to continue to talk about it, but he was excited that she was curious. After all, the whole point of having a fetish, he figured, was to share it with other people. But they were still just friends....right?
“What do you mean, not apparent? Isn't it just like, you have a foot fetish and you get turned on by feet? Or whatever?” She probed.
“Well, not exactly. And it's not a foot fetish, but nice try.”
She smiled coyly at him. He was definitely going to tell her. She was already imagining what this new interesting aspect of her friend could be.
“Look, Brittany, I, uh, really think I should go, I have tons of work to catch up on before Monday. Sorry about all this. Are you sure we are ok?”
Brittany was disappointed, but just smiled and said “Sure thing, see you tomorrow.”
The next day Robert woke up with a hangover, and it took a few blissful seconds before he remembered the details of the previous night. He groaned loudly when the fog cleared. What was he thinking? Jesus, what a mistake. It's not that he didn't like Brittany, it's just, well, she wasn't his girlfriend. Plus there was the whole issue of his ex, who he thought of often. What a mess.
He got up and checked his email. Two new messages from Brittany. Great. The first dated at 2:36 AM, just after he left her room, saying “Don't worry about tonight, your secret is safe with me.” Thats pretty benign, he thought. Maybe he would get away with this mistake after all.
But the second email, dated just a few minutes ago, was definitely not as benign. “But that doesn't mean I'm not curious.” He was both excited and frightened. There's no way she could figure it out on her own, was there? What if she did? What would she do? And more importantly, what would he do?
Brittany had spent the time after he left her apartment looking at social networking pictures of Robert and his previous girlfriend. She was very pretty, and seeing her flung all over Robert like a pancake made her nauseous. But the first thing she noticed was that she almost never wore flip-flops, even in pictures from spring break when every other girl was. So, definitely not a foot fetish. Or maybe there was more to it? She seemed to wear an awful lot of sneakers and boots. After a quick google, she confirmed that there were apparently thousands of pages dedicated to fetishes for both sneakers and boots. This might be more difficult than she thought. As she looked back, she noticed many pictures where his girlfriend had her feet in his lap, and she was always wearing white socks. Google confirmed that this was a fetish as well. So she had a few hypotheses to test out, and it was going to be fun.
The next week was busy for both of them, and they did not have any time alone together. Brittany continued her online investigation, and in addition to the fetishes she already suspected had found websites dedicated to a plethora of fetishes,literally a dizzying array of fetishes. She had no idea there were so many fetishes. There literally seemed to be a fetish for everything. Her eye was especially drawn to a fetish for tickling. It was always something she enjoyed doing with her previous boyfriends and even some of her girlfriends. She never knew it could be a fetish, and it threw her entire concept of the idea of what constituted a fetish into question. It was almost overwhelming. She became more and more curious as to what Robert was hiding.
He was getting more and more anxious as to what Brittany's previous message had indicated. It felt as if he was beginning a relationship with her, even though they had not even talked since the weekend except for a few brief encounters in between classes. Yesterday he saw her across campus wearing a short skirt, tank top, and her new balance sneakers and white socks. His heart raced, and he had to sit down to hide his inconvenient erection. He had seen her wear this combination before, but she was definitely more of a flip flops girl than a sneakers girl, but of course this was probably just a coincidence.
Finally, it was Friday. Which, as it does in colleges around the world, actually falls on a Thursday night. Robert and Brittany, as well as most of their friends, had been at one of their favorite bars, the one with the Thursday night drink specials. They were now on their way back home, in a group of drunken people, and Brittany nudged Robert and asked if he wanted a quick smoke before passing out. He had noticed that she was wearing jeans and black boots, but he had already learned from many previous occasions that she usually wore black socks with her boots. He agreed, and they set off to her apartment.
He was still anxious when they arrived at her apartment, but the booze was loosening some of his inhibitions, as it tends to do. Upon entering her apartment, he awaited expectantly to be disappointed by Brittany taking off her boots to reveal black socks, which usually happened around this time of night. But not tonight. She walked right past the collection of shoes by her door into the kitchen to make another drink. Ok, thought Robert, maybe she's just too drunk to care.
“Have a seat on the couch I'll be right there. Jameson ok for you?”
Jesus, more whiskey? Not that he was complaining. He sat down on her couch and even in his drunken state thoughts whizzed by in his mind. He was deciding what he would say if she brought up their discussion from last weekend. Or maybe he should bring it up? Was he seriously going to tell this girl that he had a fetish for girl's sweaty white socks and for tickling? Seriously?
She brought the glasses and bowl over to the couch and sat down next to him, handing him his glass. She looked particularly great tonight. Revealing top, tight jeans, boots, and just the right amount of makeup. He was pretty sure that he had never seen her look better. Or at least that he had never wanted her this much before.
“I must be drunk, I forgot to take my shoes off!”
Robert gulped. She leaned over and lifted up her jeans above her boots, and slowly, almost deliberately slowly unzipped the boot. Robert was practically drooling, but attempted to keep watching the TV straight ahead, or to look deep into his glass of whiskey, pretending to be inspecting it for color and consistency. Down and down the zipper went, until it hit the bright white tops of her socks. He nearly choked on his drink. She never wore white socks with her boots! This he was very confident of. Having a sock fetish meant that he knew the footwear habits of all the girls he was in close contact with. It was automatic. Even girls he wasn't interested in; it was almost like keeping a consensus. Was this also merely a coincidence? His heart was racing as she fully unzipped her boot and let it hit the floor with a thud that nearly stopped his breathing. She did the same with her other boot, slowly unzipping it to reveal the matching white ankle sock, and then brought her legs up onto the couch and left her feet just inches away from where he sat. She took a hit from her bowl, seemingly ignorant to what was going through his mind.
This was always one of the best parts of having a fetish for something that almost everyone wears, at least occasionally. Wherever he was, on a flight, in a train station, at the gym, Robert was able to watch girls in socks without really worrying about getting caught. It usually just looked like he was staring at the floor. But now there was a risk, and he didn't want to be too obvious; but he was a man after all and this is one of those things men don't tend to do well. He wondered whether he had already been caught.
“Oh god, these boots kill my feet. I ran out of clean thick socks and had to wear these ones,” Brittany started, wriggling her white socked feet to emphasize her point. She had of course noticed Robert's almost pathetic attempts to remain calm and collected during her little show. She was thoroughly enjoying every aspect of this tease, especially because somehow he had remained clueless. Typical.
“Would you mind, I mean, if not it's cool, but would you mind giving me a foot massage?” she asked.
Robert was caught agape. He looked first at her white socked feet, which he could see were dirty around the heel and toes where the boot had worn on them, and then to Brittany's face. She raised her eyebrows in a mock-pleading gesture, and then proceeded to lift her feet one at a time, slowly so he could catch a long glimpse, and leave them right in his lap. Well, nearly right in his lap. Brittany smirked to herself when she felt her feet against his erection. She looked at him, and he had turned a hilarious shade of red. “Come on, “ she prodded nonchalantly, “I bet this is something you're pretty good at.”
He managed a weak smile. “I'm not bad,” he said, and nervously placed his hands on her size 7 socked feet.
He had of course fantasized about this situation numerous times, and it was essentially all he could ask for. He could feel how damp her socks were from being in her boots all night, and he began to slowly massage each foot, one at a time. He was, he thought, quite good at this, since every previous girlfriend had taken full advantage of his fetish in this manner. After all, it was a win-win situation for everyone. So he went to work, trying to show off to Brittany a bit. Within a minute, she let out a moan. It took him by surprise, but when he looked up at her, she was lying with her head resting back and her eyes closed, a thin smile on her lips. He kept at it. He was getting more and more turned on, and wanted so much to tickle her feet, and to smell her socks. He had to at least find out whether she was ticklish on her feet. He had once before tickled her sides from behind, and she had jumped in response, but he had never before had the opportunity to tickle her feet before. If not now, he thought, then when?
******
He decided to go for it. He carefully slipped one finger up her socked sole, in a seemingly accidental stroke. The effect was immediate and satisfying. Brittany jumped, pulled both feet back, and shrieked loudly. He apologized immediately.
“Wow, sorry, I didn't realize how ticklish you were,” he said.
“It's no problem. I'm just incredibly ticklish on my feet, its by far my worst spot,” she was practically goading him now. Was this another fetish? “You're very good at that. I'm sorry, did you want me to take off these dirty socks?” She said, as she went over to slip off her socks.
“No, uh, no, thats alright. Don't worry about it,” he said unconvincingly. She knew she had him now.
“So, your feet are your worst spot? I'll have to make a note of it,” Robert added. This was almost too good to be true. In for a penny, in for a pound, he thought. And with that, and with a whole bunch of liquid courage, he went for an all out tickle attack on her socked soles.
He grabbed both legs at the ankles, just above where the white tops of her socks met her tanned legs and blue jeans. Holding her crossed ankle down with his right hand, he began to spider tickle her right foot, which was on top of her left. At first he barely touched her, but even the feeling of having her feet trapped in his lap, and the threat of tickling, had left her a giggling mess. This girl was seriously ticklish, he thought, and methodically increased the intensity of his tickling. Her head was bobbing up and down on the couch, and her whole body was wriggling so much that she almost fell off the couch. Spotting an opportunity, he quickly lifted his right leg over both of hers, locking her ankles between his thighs in order to free up both hands to tickle her. She continued to laugh hysterically, and he was probably going overboard here, but the whole evening had worked him up to such a frenzy that he didn't care. He let loose on her damp, sweaty socked soles again, and her torture continued. He tickled under her toes, her heels, and even on top of her feet. She was definitely most ticklish under her toes, although when he lightly scratched the arches of her feet she wriggled and writhed particularly violently. Finally, when he regained some semblance of self-control, he relented, and let go of her feet.
She was a sweaty, disheveled mess. She laughed for many seconds after the assault had stopped, although she never took her feet out of his lap. As she calmed down, she noticed that in between her feet was Robert's raging erection. He was clearly very excited by this evening's events. She slowly began rubbing her feet against him, at which point he looked up at her like a deer in headlights.
“I can't believe you did that!” she said playfully. “I told you my feet are my most ticklish spots. I'm just glad you kept my socks on, even if they are so dirty,” she added, and noticed a subtle twinge in his pelvis as she said the last word.
“You realize, of course, “she continued, “that this means I have to get you back. And its not fair that you are so much bigger than me, and can hold me down. We might have to even the playing field. Are you ticklish?”
He was. Incredibly so. And the only thing that he liked more than tickling a girl silly was being tickled and dominated by one. It was something that his ex-girlfriend had done better than he could possibly hope for, manipulating him and owning him during their sexual encounters with tickling and her knowledge of his sock fetish. Could Brittany do so as well? He had realized by this point that she should have a pretty good idea of what is fetishes were. Had she planned all this? If so, didn't that make her about the sexiest girl he had ever met? He decided to play along, and see where she was taking him.
“I'm excruciatingly ticklish, when I get tickled I immediately go on the defense, and will probably be forced to overpower you and tickle you to teach you a lesson,” he teased. He was in heaven.
“Well, we might just have to tie you up,” Brittany shot back with a smile, continuing to rub her feet in his lap. He was as good as hers, and she knew it. She secretly liked being tickled as well, it was a thrill, but the thought of having him tied up and helpless turned her on immensely. And she could also tease out, as it were, exactly what this sock fetish of his was all about, and what his ultimate fantasy was. She had never encountered a guy who got so turned on by what she considered to be so little. If he was turned on by socks, she thought, he must be horny all day, every day. All the girls in their building constantly walked around in socks, including herself occasionally. Her curiosity was deepening.
“I'm not so sure about that. I'd probably break the handcuffs,” he said, from experience. Was this really happening to him?
With one deft maneuver, Brittany swung herself around on the couch so she was straddling him, looking down on him. They began to passionately kiss, and he began rubbing her body, her ass, her legs, and sneaking a few caresses of her feet. She leaned in and whispered in his ear, the hot breath tickling him and sending shivers down his spine, “I think I could find something that could handle you.”
He looked up at her, completely in her spell. “If you say so,” he dared, and continued to kiss her. But she had made up her mind, and stood, took his hand, and led him to the bedroom. He happily followed.
She began scrummaging through her closet, and he continued to fondle and kiss her from behind. Once she found what she was looking for, she turned around and pushed him onto the bed, stripping him of his shirt in the process, and then each article of clothing was removed until he was completely naked in her bed. She was straddling his waist (still completely clothed, he noticed), letting him kiss her neck, as she guided his right arm to the right corner of her bed, and began tying a scarf around her bedpost. After that, she tied the other end tightly around his wrist. He didn't think it was possible, but he was even more turned on now. He wondered what she would do. He had a brief moment of panic when he realized he had no idea what she was going to do. She was already tying his left wrist to the bedpost.
“Hey, uh, what are you going to do?” he nervously asked.
“Well, we are going to have a little chat, and I am going to tickle you. A lot. Any questions?” she looked down at him. He stared up at her, and only managed to stammer, “Uh, no, just...checking.”
“Good,” she smiled sexily as she moved down the bed to tie his legs spread eagle to the bed posts.
“Is that really necessary?” he asked, having the novel feeling of second thoughts mixed in with an avalanche of desire. He had only ever been tied up by girlfriends, who he had described in detail what turned him on, and only after they had built up trust in each other. He had to keep reminding himself that this was not his girlfriend. This was.....well, it was Brittany. What was she?
“Fair is fair,” she said cryptically, and then she was done. She moved back to a straddling position over Robert. She was exhilarated. This had gone better than she could ever have hoped. She couldn't believe she had let it get this far. She couldn't believe they had let it get this far.
She enjoyed straddling him, looking down at him. She was in complete control of him, and she could tell he loved it. He looked up at her, awaiting her next movement, her next word, her next anything. He didn't have a choice, and this loss of control was blissful.
“I want to know all about your fetish,” she began. “Although I think I have some strong hunches.”
“I see,” he said, uncomfortably. This was not anticipated. He was hoping to avoid talking about what was happening and just let it happen. But she clearly was enjoying his predicament.
“What do you want to know?” he asked.
She pivoted around on the bed and planted her dirty socked feet on his chest, just in front of his face.
“What do you like about them? Is it the socks, the feet, the boots?” she asked, as she took advantage of her position to play with his erect cock, stroking it gently.
“The socks!” he blurted out as she grabbed a strong hold of his dick. “And the boots, too, but only because you were wearing white socks underneath them.”
“So you like these socks? White socks? Even if they are dirty?” She gave another tug.
“Especially since they're dirty,” he gasped.
She had moved up to his face in a flash, her face inches above his face, and she spoke slowly, deliberately, “So you like my dirty white socks?”
His eyes nearly rolled back in his skull. He only managed to nod his head in approval. Every word she spoke drove through him like a shockwave of lust.
“So do you want to touch them? Smell them? Taste them?” She asked
“Everything,” he said. “I like just looking at them, watching you in socks do anything would turn me on. I constantly think about how sweaty they are, how they smell, and how good it would feel to put my nose in between your toes and smell them,” he said, and was past caring how much he was divulging to her.
Taking her cue, she bent her knees and brought her feet up to right in front of his face again, but this time she was far enough up the bed that she could see how he stared at them. He was transfixed. She wiggled her toes in her socks, and he attempted to thrust his dick into the air in some vain hope of rubbing off something, anything. She couldn't help but giggle a little.
“Wow, you really do like my socks. So if I just kept them here, and didn't let you smell them, that would be what, torture for you? Would it drive you crazy if I just kept them this close to your face?” she teased, wiggling her toes to enforce her words.
******
“Well, I think that's enough chatting for the moment. I owe you quite a bit of revenge, and now that you are all tied up here, it would be rude not to tickle you, right? But it's pretty late, and I'm afraid you are going to make some noise,” she said, and her mind searched for something to cover his mouth with. She could put tape over his mouth, like they did all the time in movies, but then she smiled a mischievous smile as a wicked idea popped into her head.
“I am going to give you a bit of what you want,” she said, as she slowly slipped her right sock off and brought it towards his face. He tried vainly to move closer to it, but she stopped just short of his nose. After what seemed like an eternity of teasing, she pushed it against his nose for a painfully brief second, and then sneakily shoved it into his mouth. She tied another scarf around his mouth. She was very impressed by her idea, and her handiwork. So was Robert. He was beginning to think she was better at this than she let on.
She moved back to her straddling position and contemplated what to do first. She liked being able to see his reactions to every move that she made, so she decided that this would be her starting position. Now that he was gagged, she had one more level of control over him, and she was beginning to see how people got off on it. She began to verbally taunt him about what was inevitably going to happen to him.
“You really tickled me back there on the couch. I mean, you really didn't hold back. But you had to deal with me moving all over the place, you didn't enjoy this level of control over me, that I now have over you. Your continued erection tells me that this is as pleasurable for you as it is for me. I am going to enjoy tickling you. Tickle torture, isn't that what they say? And you can't do anything about it. And then, when I am through, maybe we can talk more. Or maybe I will have so much fun tickling you that I will forget to stop! Where should I start? Here?” she playfully poked his side, and he jumped, as much as he was allowed by his bonds. He also let out a deep laugh into the gag.
“Here maybe?” she prodded a rib, with a similar effect.
“Down here?” as she reached around to grab just above his knee, causing his entire leg to shake.
“Or here?” As she gave a quick tickle under his arms. This sparked a reaction that Brittany was not prepared for. His whole body seemed to jump straight up off the bed a few inches before being brought back by the scarves. He was ferociously laughing into the gag, and violently moving his head in all directions. His eyes were screwed shut, and he had turned bright red. Her curiosity piqued, she continued to probe in and around his armpits.
“I think this is probably a good place to start. You really weren't kidding, you probably would break one of those cheap handcuffs. You should never start a tickle fight with someone when you are this ticklish. Unless, of course, you * wanted * to be tickled. Do you want to be tickled? Well, I suppose I can help you with that. I can tickle you all night. After all, it just takes a flick of one of my fingernails,” and as she said so she dug one finger into his armpits, “and you go absolutely hysterical!”
He was thrashing as hard as he could against the scarves, but they were holding him relatively still. His arms were held in full elevation above his head, and despite his most heroic attempts they remained frustratingly immobile. He wondered how much more he could take. He remembered one birthday when Jenny tickled him like this, but they had a safeword and he had used it. Now there was no safeword, in fact he wasn't even sure if Brittany knew that there was such a thing. He wouldn't be able to speak it anyway. Brittany was now tickling one armpit, and then the other, sending him into fits every other second. He looked up at her, and she was staring right into his eyes, laughing wildly at his torture. She was incredible, he thought. Or he would have thought, if Brittany hadn't just started tickling both armpits at the same time. His eyes screwed shut again and he started to silently laugh into the gag, as his head tried valiantly to loosen him from his bonds by throwing itself from side to side. It was no use. He was in tickle agony, and he simultaneously couldn't get enough of it and would have given anything, absolutely anything, to make it stop. He gasped for breath. This was truly torture. As if she had read his mind, Brittany stopped, and let him try to fill his lungs with audible breaths through his nose.
“That was fun!” Brittany blurted happily. “Do you think you can take more?” She leaned over him, staring intimately and intimidatingly into his eyes. . Even though it probably didn't matter what he did, he looked into her eyes, and nodded.
Content: sock fetish, brief M/F socked foot tickling, F/M tickling.
Robert and Brittany had been friends since starting college, and even though it was a nominally platonic relationship due to Robert's girlfriend, many of their encounters were characterized by a strong, excitingly sexual undertone. Now things had changed. Robert had broken it off with his long distance girlfriend only a week or two before, and had been spending more time than usual with Brittany. And somehow that had brought him here, suffering the embarrassing silence after revealing to Brittany that he had a fetish.
He didn't even know what had gotten a hold of him. It had taken him 6 months to tell his first girlfriend that he had one fetish, let alone two. His secret desires had always been a source of constant self-antagonism as well as a nearly crippling fear of “being found out.” When one girl in high school jokingly accused him of having a foot fetish because of his constant attempts to tickle her feet, he freaked out and never talked to her again, without ever giving her a reason. She was left bewildered and hurt by what she saw as just another dick move by a high school guy. But after he had some practice with it, he became better and more open about his fetishes, and was able to enjoy several satisfying relationships. But he had never told a girl about something this personal before even beginning to date her. That was just out of the question. What would stop her from telling other people? What had he done?
So, in that moment, he began to nervously backtrack. Brittany, for her part, was enormously curious. She had always found Robert interesting, and although he was very dedicated to his girlfriend at the time, she could tell her interest in him was mutual. Brittany stood 5'6”, had blond hair, and had an athletic body. And they had been spending more time together, drinking and getting high together, alone. Her mind raced back to the time they spent together, trying to find any indication or clue as to what his fetish could be. She wasn't even sure what fetishes there were. She simply had to find out more.
“Look, I'm sorry I even mentioned it. I don't know what I was thinking. You don't need to hear about that, I think it was just the weed talking. And maybe some of the whiskey,” he was saying.
“No, Robert, we're friends. If you feel like talking about it, go on. I'm curious”
“Well, it's just something so personal, I'm so afraid that it could get out and people would think of me differently, like a weirdo or something.”
“No one thinks of you like that”
“Well, not yet they don't. I don't know, do you think you could forget I ever said anything about it?”
“Sure, if you want,” she said, and after an awkward pause added, “Do you mind if I ask when you first told Jenny about it?”
She was being sneaky, she knew. He obviously was still not over his ex, but distance had proven too much of a burden, and they had started to fight, and without the benefit of seeing each other during (and after) those fights, their relationship had dwindled. But he still had feelings for her, and she was certainly a wild girl. Brittany had been jealous of her whenever she visited, especially because he basically disappeared into “Jenny” land for days at a time.
“Uh, well, I told her after about a month.”
“And how did she take it?”
“She was excited. I mean, curious, at least. I don't think she really knew what I was talking about. The, uh, specifics, are.....well, not immediately apparent.” He realized that Brittany was successfully getting him to continue to talk about it, but he was excited that she was curious. After all, the whole point of having a fetish, he figured, was to share it with other people. But they were still just friends....right?
“What do you mean, not apparent? Isn't it just like, you have a foot fetish and you get turned on by feet? Or whatever?” She probed.
“Well, not exactly. And it's not a foot fetish, but nice try.”
She smiled coyly at him. He was definitely going to tell her. She was already imagining what this new interesting aspect of her friend could be.
“Look, Brittany, I, uh, really think I should go, I have tons of work to catch up on before Monday. Sorry about all this. Are you sure we are ok?”
Brittany was disappointed, but just smiled and said “Sure thing, see you tomorrow.”
The next day Robert woke up with a hangover, and it took a few blissful seconds before he remembered the details of the previous night. He groaned loudly when the fog cleared. What was he thinking? Jesus, what a mistake. It's not that he didn't like Brittany, it's just, well, she wasn't his girlfriend. Plus there was the whole issue of his ex, who he thought of often. What a mess.
He got up and checked his email. Two new messages from Brittany. Great. The first dated at 2:36 AM, just after he left her room, saying “Don't worry about tonight, your secret is safe with me.” Thats pretty benign, he thought. Maybe he would get away with this mistake after all.
But the second email, dated just a few minutes ago, was definitely not as benign. “But that doesn't mean I'm not curious.” He was both excited and frightened. There's no way she could figure it out on her own, was there? What if she did? What would she do? And more importantly, what would he do?
Brittany had spent the time after he left her apartment looking at social networking pictures of Robert and his previous girlfriend. She was very pretty, and seeing her flung all over Robert like a pancake made her nauseous. But the first thing she noticed was that she almost never wore flip-flops, even in pictures from spring break when every other girl was. So, definitely not a foot fetish. Or maybe there was more to it? She seemed to wear an awful lot of sneakers and boots. After a quick google, she confirmed that there were apparently thousands of pages dedicated to fetishes for both sneakers and boots. This might be more difficult than she thought. As she looked back, she noticed many pictures where his girlfriend had her feet in his lap, and she was always wearing white socks. Google confirmed that this was a fetish as well. So she had a few hypotheses to test out, and it was going to be fun.
The next week was busy for both of them, and they did not have any time alone together. Brittany continued her online investigation, and in addition to the fetishes she already suspected had found websites dedicated to a plethora of fetishes,literally a dizzying array of fetishes. She had no idea there were so many fetishes. There literally seemed to be a fetish for everything. Her eye was especially drawn to a fetish for tickling. It was always something she enjoyed doing with her previous boyfriends and even some of her girlfriends. She never knew it could be a fetish, and it threw her entire concept of the idea of what constituted a fetish into question. It was almost overwhelming. She became more and more curious as to what Robert was hiding.
He was getting more and more anxious as to what Brittany's previous message had indicated. It felt as if he was beginning a relationship with her, even though they had not even talked since the weekend except for a few brief encounters in between classes. Yesterday he saw her across campus wearing a short skirt, tank top, and her new balance sneakers and white socks. His heart raced, and he had to sit down to hide his inconvenient erection. He had seen her wear this combination before, but she was definitely more of a flip flops girl than a sneakers girl, but of course this was probably just a coincidence.
Finally, it was Friday. Which, as it does in colleges around the world, actually falls on a Thursday night. Robert and Brittany, as well as most of their friends, had been at one of their favorite bars, the one with the Thursday night drink specials. They were now on their way back home, in a group of drunken people, and Brittany nudged Robert and asked if he wanted a quick smoke before passing out. He had noticed that she was wearing jeans and black boots, but he had already learned from many previous occasions that she usually wore black socks with her boots. He agreed, and they set off to her apartment.
He was still anxious when they arrived at her apartment, but the booze was loosening some of his inhibitions, as it tends to do. Upon entering her apartment, he awaited expectantly to be disappointed by Brittany taking off her boots to reveal black socks, which usually happened around this time of night. But not tonight. She walked right past the collection of shoes by her door into the kitchen to make another drink. Ok, thought Robert, maybe she's just too drunk to care.
“Have a seat on the couch I'll be right there. Jameson ok for you?”
Jesus, more whiskey? Not that he was complaining. He sat down on her couch and even in his drunken state thoughts whizzed by in his mind. He was deciding what he would say if she brought up their discussion from last weekend. Or maybe he should bring it up? Was he seriously going to tell this girl that he had a fetish for girl's sweaty white socks and for tickling? Seriously?
She brought the glasses and bowl over to the couch and sat down next to him, handing him his glass. She looked particularly great tonight. Revealing top, tight jeans, boots, and just the right amount of makeup. He was pretty sure that he had never seen her look better. Or at least that he had never wanted her this much before.
“I must be drunk, I forgot to take my shoes off!”
Robert gulped. She leaned over and lifted up her jeans above her boots, and slowly, almost deliberately slowly unzipped the boot. Robert was practically drooling, but attempted to keep watching the TV straight ahead, or to look deep into his glass of whiskey, pretending to be inspecting it for color and consistency. Down and down the zipper went, until it hit the bright white tops of her socks. He nearly choked on his drink. She never wore white socks with her boots! This he was very confident of. Having a sock fetish meant that he knew the footwear habits of all the girls he was in close contact with. It was automatic. Even girls he wasn't interested in; it was almost like keeping a consensus. Was this also merely a coincidence? His heart was racing as she fully unzipped her boot and let it hit the floor with a thud that nearly stopped his breathing. She did the same with her other boot, slowly unzipping it to reveal the matching white ankle sock, and then brought her legs up onto the couch and left her feet just inches away from where he sat. She took a hit from her bowl, seemingly ignorant to what was going through his mind.
This was always one of the best parts of having a fetish for something that almost everyone wears, at least occasionally. Wherever he was, on a flight, in a train station, at the gym, Robert was able to watch girls in socks without really worrying about getting caught. It usually just looked like he was staring at the floor. But now there was a risk, and he didn't want to be too obvious; but he was a man after all and this is one of those things men don't tend to do well. He wondered whether he had already been caught.
“Oh god, these boots kill my feet. I ran out of clean thick socks and had to wear these ones,” Brittany started, wriggling her white socked feet to emphasize her point. She had of course noticed Robert's almost pathetic attempts to remain calm and collected during her little show. She was thoroughly enjoying every aspect of this tease, especially because somehow he had remained clueless. Typical.
“Would you mind, I mean, if not it's cool, but would you mind giving me a foot massage?” she asked.
Robert was caught agape. He looked first at her white socked feet, which he could see were dirty around the heel and toes where the boot had worn on them, and then to Brittany's face. She raised her eyebrows in a mock-pleading gesture, and then proceeded to lift her feet one at a time, slowly so he could catch a long glimpse, and leave them right in his lap. Well, nearly right in his lap. Brittany smirked to herself when she felt her feet against his erection. She looked at him, and he had turned a hilarious shade of red. “Come on, “ she prodded nonchalantly, “I bet this is something you're pretty good at.”
He managed a weak smile. “I'm not bad,” he said, and nervously placed his hands on her size 7 socked feet.
He had of course fantasized about this situation numerous times, and it was essentially all he could ask for. He could feel how damp her socks were from being in her boots all night, and he began to slowly massage each foot, one at a time. He was, he thought, quite good at this, since every previous girlfriend had taken full advantage of his fetish in this manner. After all, it was a win-win situation for everyone. So he went to work, trying to show off to Brittany a bit. Within a minute, she let out a moan. It took him by surprise, but when he looked up at her, she was lying with her head resting back and her eyes closed, a thin smile on her lips. He kept at it. He was getting more and more turned on, and wanted so much to tickle her feet, and to smell her socks. He had to at least find out whether she was ticklish on her feet. He had once before tickled her sides from behind, and she had jumped in response, but he had never before had the opportunity to tickle her feet before. If not now, he thought, then when?
******
He decided to go for it. He carefully slipped one finger up her socked sole, in a seemingly accidental stroke. The effect was immediate and satisfying. Brittany jumped, pulled both feet back, and shrieked loudly. He apologized immediately.
“Wow, sorry, I didn't realize how ticklish you were,” he said.
“It's no problem. I'm just incredibly ticklish on my feet, its by far my worst spot,” she was practically goading him now. Was this another fetish? “You're very good at that. I'm sorry, did you want me to take off these dirty socks?” She said, as she went over to slip off her socks.
“No, uh, no, thats alright. Don't worry about it,” he said unconvincingly. She knew she had him now.
“So, your feet are your worst spot? I'll have to make a note of it,” Robert added. This was almost too good to be true. In for a penny, in for a pound, he thought. And with that, and with a whole bunch of liquid courage, he went for an all out tickle attack on her socked soles.
He grabbed both legs at the ankles, just above where the white tops of her socks met her tanned legs and blue jeans. Holding her crossed ankle down with his right hand, he began to spider tickle her right foot, which was on top of her left. At first he barely touched her, but even the feeling of having her feet trapped in his lap, and the threat of tickling, had left her a giggling mess. This girl was seriously ticklish, he thought, and methodically increased the intensity of his tickling. Her head was bobbing up and down on the couch, and her whole body was wriggling so much that she almost fell off the couch. Spotting an opportunity, he quickly lifted his right leg over both of hers, locking her ankles between his thighs in order to free up both hands to tickle her. She continued to laugh hysterically, and he was probably going overboard here, but the whole evening had worked him up to such a frenzy that he didn't care. He let loose on her damp, sweaty socked soles again, and her torture continued. He tickled under her toes, her heels, and even on top of her feet. She was definitely most ticklish under her toes, although when he lightly scratched the arches of her feet she wriggled and writhed particularly violently. Finally, when he regained some semblance of self-control, he relented, and let go of her feet.
She was a sweaty, disheveled mess. She laughed for many seconds after the assault had stopped, although she never took her feet out of his lap. As she calmed down, she noticed that in between her feet was Robert's raging erection. He was clearly very excited by this evening's events. She slowly began rubbing her feet against him, at which point he looked up at her like a deer in headlights.
“I can't believe you did that!” she said playfully. “I told you my feet are my most ticklish spots. I'm just glad you kept my socks on, even if they are so dirty,” she added, and noticed a subtle twinge in his pelvis as she said the last word.
“You realize, of course, “she continued, “that this means I have to get you back. And its not fair that you are so much bigger than me, and can hold me down. We might have to even the playing field. Are you ticklish?”
He was. Incredibly so. And the only thing that he liked more than tickling a girl silly was being tickled and dominated by one. It was something that his ex-girlfriend had done better than he could possibly hope for, manipulating him and owning him during their sexual encounters with tickling and her knowledge of his sock fetish. Could Brittany do so as well? He had realized by this point that she should have a pretty good idea of what is fetishes were. Had she planned all this? If so, didn't that make her about the sexiest girl he had ever met? He decided to play along, and see where she was taking him.
“I'm excruciatingly ticklish, when I get tickled I immediately go on the defense, and will probably be forced to overpower you and tickle you to teach you a lesson,” he teased. He was in heaven.
“Well, we might just have to tie you up,” Brittany shot back with a smile, continuing to rub her feet in his lap. He was as good as hers, and she knew it. She secretly liked being tickled as well, it was a thrill, but the thought of having him tied up and helpless turned her on immensely. And she could also tease out, as it were, exactly what this sock fetish of his was all about, and what his ultimate fantasy was. She had never encountered a guy who got so turned on by what she considered to be so little. If he was turned on by socks, she thought, he must be horny all day, every day. All the girls in their building constantly walked around in socks, including herself occasionally. Her curiosity was deepening.
“I'm not so sure about that. I'd probably break the handcuffs,” he said, from experience. Was this really happening to him?
With one deft maneuver, Brittany swung herself around on the couch so she was straddling him, looking down on him. They began to passionately kiss, and he began rubbing her body, her ass, her legs, and sneaking a few caresses of her feet. She leaned in and whispered in his ear, the hot breath tickling him and sending shivers down his spine, “I think I could find something that could handle you.”
He looked up at her, completely in her spell. “If you say so,” he dared, and continued to kiss her. But she had made up her mind, and stood, took his hand, and led him to the bedroom. He happily followed.
She began scrummaging through her closet, and he continued to fondle and kiss her from behind. Once she found what she was looking for, she turned around and pushed him onto the bed, stripping him of his shirt in the process, and then each article of clothing was removed until he was completely naked in her bed. She was straddling his waist (still completely clothed, he noticed), letting him kiss her neck, as she guided his right arm to the right corner of her bed, and began tying a scarf around her bedpost. After that, she tied the other end tightly around his wrist. He didn't think it was possible, but he was even more turned on now. He wondered what she would do. He had a brief moment of panic when he realized he had no idea what she was going to do. She was already tying his left wrist to the bedpost.
“Hey, uh, what are you going to do?” he nervously asked.
“Well, we are going to have a little chat, and I am going to tickle you. A lot. Any questions?” she looked down at him. He stared up at her, and only managed to stammer, “Uh, no, just...checking.”
“Good,” she smiled sexily as she moved down the bed to tie his legs spread eagle to the bed posts.
“Is that really necessary?” he asked, having the novel feeling of second thoughts mixed in with an avalanche of desire. He had only ever been tied up by girlfriends, who he had described in detail what turned him on, and only after they had built up trust in each other. He had to keep reminding himself that this was not his girlfriend. This was.....well, it was Brittany. What was she?
“Fair is fair,” she said cryptically, and then she was done. She moved back to a straddling position over Robert. She was exhilarated. This had gone better than she could ever have hoped. She couldn't believe she had let it get this far. She couldn't believe they had let it get this far.
She enjoyed straddling him, looking down at him. She was in complete control of him, and she could tell he loved it. He looked up at her, awaiting her next movement, her next word, her next anything. He didn't have a choice, and this loss of control was blissful.
“I want to know all about your fetish,” she began. “Although I think I have some strong hunches.”
“I see,” he said, uncomfortably. This was not anticipated. He was hoping to avoid talking about what was happening and just let it happen. But she clearly was enjoying his predicament.
“What do you want to know?” he asked.
She pivoted around on the bed and planted her dirty socked feet on his chest, just in front of his face.
“What do you like about them? Is it the socks, the feet, the boots?” she asked, as she took advantage of her position to play with his erect cock, stroking it gently.
“The socks!” he blurted out as she grabbed a strong hold of his dick. “And the boots, too, but only because you were wearing white socks underneath them.”
“So you like these socks? White socks? Even if they are dirty?” She gave another tug.
“Especially since they're dirty,” he gasped.
She had moved up to his face in a flash, her face inches above his face, and she spoke slowly, deliberately, “So you like my dirty white socks?”
His eyes nearly rolled back in his skull. He only managed to nod his head in approval. Every word she spoke drove through him like a shockwave of lust.
“So do you want to touch them? Smell them? Taste them?” She asked
“Everything,” he said. “I like just looking at them, watching you in socks do anything would turn me on. I constantly think about how sweaty they are, how they smell, and how good it would feel to put my nose in between your toes and smell them,” he said, and was past caring how much he was divulging to her.
Taking her cue, she bent her knees and brought her feet up to right in front of his face again, but this time she was far enough up the bed that she could see how he stared at them. He was transfixed. She wiggled her toes in her socks, and he attempted to thrust his dick into the air in some vain hope of rubbing off something, anything. She couldn't help but giggle a little.
“Wow, you really do like my socks. So if I just kept them here, and didn't let you smell them, that would be what, torture for you? Would it drive you crazy if I just kept them this close to your face?” she teased, wiggling her toes to enforce her words.
******
“Well, I think that's enough chatting for the moment. I owe you quite a bit of revenge, and now that you are all tied up here, it would be rude not to tickle you, right? But it's pretty late, and I'm afraid you are going to make some noise,” she said, and her mind searched for something to cover his mouth with. She could put tape over his mouth, like they did all the time in movies, but then she smiled a mischievous smile as a wicked idea popped into her head.
“I am going to give you a bit of what you want,” she said, as she slowly slipped her right sock off and brought it towards his face. He tried vainly to move closer to it, but she stopped just short of his nose. After what seemed like an eternity of teasing, she pushed it against his nose for a painfully brief second, and then sneakily shoved it into his mouth. She tied another scarf around his mouth. She was very impressed by her idea, and her handiwork. So was Robert. He was beginning to think she was better at this than she let on.
She moved back to her straddling position and contemplated what to do first. She liked being able to see his reactions to every move that she made, so she decided that this would be her starting position. Now that he was gagged, she had one more level of control over him, and she was beginning to see how people got off on it. She began to verbally taunt him about what was inevitably going to happen to him.
“You really tickled me back there on the couch. I mean, you really didn't hold back. But you had to deal with me moving all over the place, you didn't enjoy this level of control over me, that I now have over you. Your continued erection tells me that this is as pleasurable for you as it is for me. I am going to enjoy tickling you. Tickle torture, isn't that what they say? And you can't do anything about it. And then, when I am through, maybe we can talk more. Or maybe I will have so much fun tickling you that I will forget to stop! Where should I start? Here?” she playfully poked his side, and he jumped, as much as he was allowed by his bonds. He also let out a deep laugh into the gag.
“Here maybe?” she prodded a rib, with a similar effect.
“Down here?” as she reached around to grab just above his knee, causing his entire leg to shake.
“Or here?” As she gave a quick tickle under his arms. This sparked a reaction that Brittany was not prepared for. His whole body seemed to jump straight up off the bed a few inches before being brought back by the scarves. He was ferociously laughing into the gag, and violently moving his head in all directions. His eyes were screwed shut, and he had turned bright red. Her curiosity piqued, she continued to probe in and around his armpits.
“I think this is probably a good place to start. You really weren't kidding, you probably would break one of those cheap handcuffs. You should never start a tickle fight with someone when you are this ticklish. Unless, of course, you * wanted * to be tickled. Do you want to be tickled? Well, I suppose I can help you with that. I can tickle you all night. After all, it just takes a flick of one of my fingernails,” and as she said so she dug one finger into his armpits, “and you go absolutely hysterical!”
He was thrashing as hard as he could against the scarves, but they were holding him relatively still. His arms were held in full elevation above his head, and despite his most heroic attempts they remained frustratingly immobile. He wondered how much more he could take. He remembered one birthday when Jenny tickled him like this, but they had a safeword and he had used it. Now there was no safeword, in fact he wasn't even sure if Brittany knew that there was such a thing. He wouldn't be able to speak it anyway. Brittany was now tickling one armpit, and then the other, sending him into fits every other second. He looked up at her, and she was staring right into his eyes, laughing wildly at his torture. She was incredible, he thought. Or he would have thought, if Brittany hadn't just started tickling both armpits at the same time. His eyes screwed shut again and he started to silently laugh into the gag, as his head tried valiantly to loosen him from his bonds by throwing itself from side to side. It was no use. He was in tickle agony, and he simultaneously couldn't get enough of it and would have given anything, absolutely anything, to make it stop. He gasped for breath. This was truly torture. As if she had read his mind, Brittany stopped, and let him try to fill his lungs with audible breaths through his nose.
“That was fun!” Brittany blurted happily. “Do you think you can take more?” She leaned over him, staring intimately and intimidatingly into his eyes. . Even though it probably didn't matter what he did, he looked into her eyes, and nodded.
