Fantasy Turned Reality (F/F Feet, with a little bit of other areas targeted)

Be forewarned; this is a monstrously long story (10k words). I… got a little carried away. Basically, wrote this in ’07 as a sort of practice piece for the Tickle Theater story contest (the actual document title is short quick babysitter…haha…)… I had a story that I wanted to write, because it was so fantastical, but… well, I didn’t feel ready to do it (and admittedly I have never finished it. I intend for it to be the culmination of all my tickling related works). What ended up happening was that I wrote this, and then Zucchini (found here) afterwards… but yeah, this has been in my editing folder for three years for a variety of reasons. It’s insanely long, for one, and took a long time to edit… but beyond that, I had a hard time picking a name for it, and I absolutely despise the characters. You know, maybe the ‘Ler’s motive is believable, or even something that actually could/does happen, but… I just don’t like her. I don’t like what she did, and I don’t like how she admitted to what she was doing, going so far as begging/pleading just before she tickles the lee (I need this). It just… it seemed so pathetic to me that I hated it. But it worked, and it had to be that way, so I left it. I actually like the ending, but my former lee (my ex) didn’t think it fit; I don’t actually see that problem and think it fits quite well, but… well, I’m open to arguments. If anyone manages to finish this and wants to comment about it, I’m more than willing to go back and change it; it’ll need to be a very good argument though, obviously, or at least good enough to convince me that it should be changed (if you’re into my writing, check out the Ariel/Ursula story I threw up a few months back; a reader made an argument there that proved to be worth exploring).
Well anyway, enjoy it. I certainly did enjoy the tickling parts of this story. It’s.. hm. It felt like an accurate portrayal of time and how a tickling scenario would actually play out.

Fantasy Turned Reality (F/F Feet, with a little bit of other areas targeted)

Summer was just ending; turning to fall, rather. Leaves were turning into lovely shades of gold and red, but had not yet begun to drop. Of course, the day still seemed to linger on unnaturally, as the sun would hang at its zenith for long hours. At some point over the last few days, it had rained very hard; whether or not it was extremely hot as a result was unknown to Esther, though.

Regardless of the season turning to fall in a matter of days, it was extremely hot, and with no working air conditioner in her house, she had become fatigued by the heat, though her lethargy was influenced more by the fact that she had not slept very much the night before, if at all; she couldn’t remember if she had slept, really. This truth didn’t change her reality; she was stuck baby sitting her only neighbor’s 7 or 8 year old, whom the heat did not seem to take a toll upon.

Unfortunately for Esther, the kid had wanted to play outside all day around Esther’s yard and in the fields behind her house. Normally, she would not allow this, but the fields had recently been harvested, so their near endless expanse was fair game as far as she was concerned. Very few trees were located in the area, save the one in her front yard, so Esther chose to sit upon her front porch and watch as the child ran about in the fields. Once or twice, he had made her come with, despite how tired she was; in flip flops too, none the less! She could not possibly keep up with him, and after five minutes had become exhausted near the point of collapsing. That was how she had spent the first hour of her babysitting; 5 minutes of running, and nearly 55 of watching the child run about beneath the blazing sun, neither a care for the world nor the incredible heat imposed by said searing star.

Esther let a sigh escape as she closed her eyes and dropped her head backwards upon the wall. It was too hot to be outside, but she knew it to be just as unbearable inside. Well, it could be worse, she decided; though her hair acted almost as a scarf due to it reaching past her shoulder blades, at least it was blonde and not a darker color that would have absorbed heat. Still, she was getting too old to baby-sit and this attitude acted against her; the pay was fine, sure, but her nineteenth would be next month, and though that wasn’t necessarily too old, she greatly desired to be doing something else with her life.

In the distance, probably half a mile away if not more, she could hear a car making its way down her road; the only one within a few miles, really. Typical country girl senses, she knew; oh, how she desired to be out of this dead area and in the depths of some great city. Ah well, it wasn’t as bad as that. After all, she had a good family and equally nice friends. Esther’s thoughts trailed from images of close relatives to the rain from the other day as her eyes fell upon the sight of a single, white and puffy cloud, slowly canoeing its way across the too blue sky. Once again, she rested her head against the wall, this time to stare at the cloud as thoughts of nothingness grazed across her mind in search of some simple morsel to feast upon. Reality seemed to quiver and shift around her, but that single cloud remained a constant, crawling in such a manner that she thought to be surreal. Though, truth be told, that was only in reference to how she perceived her surroundings, as they quivered in the heat; in retrospect, she realized, everything but the cloud had been surreal, but through the current lens, that was not the case.

Her thoughtless thoughts were broken by the sound of rocks tumbling beneath a sizeable substance; a car parking in her front yard? She leapt to her feet and jogged around front to see who it was, but by the time she had gotten halfway, she had already heard the car door open and slam shut, followed by her house door. As she rounded the house though, she recognized the dark blue car that had become parked beneath the oak tree as Irene’s: her best friend. Strange that she would come without calling, but no matter, she was welcome any time, and would often walk straight into Esther’s house without announcing herself, much as she had just done.

Naturally, Esther smiled and ran across the well trimmed grass towards the three step staircase that led to her front door. With what energy she had, she darted up the wooden planks, her flip flops slapping loudly against her foot skin as she climbed. When she laid her hand upon the knob to enter, she quickly realized that it had become locked; unfortunately, she had been moving with such momentum from running that she ran smack into the door. Not that it hurt, but it did startle her. It was funny, though, and Irene did do this often enough, usually yielding the same result; though, this time, her parents weren’t home to let her in. With a tinge of jovial anger, she began banging upon the glass frame of the door with her fists.

“Come on Irene, let me in! This isn’t funny!” She shouted to no avail. A rather long minute passed before the curtain was brushed aside, revealing Irene.

“Huh,” Irene shouted from the interior, “I could have sworn I heard somebody making a racket at the door. Nobody there, though. Oh well!” With that, the curtain fell back across the window, obscuring Irene to nothing more than a shadow.

“Come on, Irene!” Was all Esther could think to shout as she began banging on the door again, though this time, she heard the latch of her door unlocking. Admittedly, she waited a few seconds, expecting Irene to open it, but all in vain. Another quick smile and she opened the door and burst into her own house, but as she soon realized, Irene was not in sight. Strange, that.

Esther traveled through her moderately decorated living room, which for the most part was barren aside from piles of old magazines, books, and boxes scattered upon the floor. She lived here, and could not even begin to fathom what all the boxes might hold inside of them, nor was it of much interest to her. Cluttered, to be sure, but hardly decorated; two wooden, almost antique chairs, and a small coffee table made from the same Norwegian wood, which her mother always commented on. On the side of the coffee table that was not complemented by chairs was a very soft and comfortable three seat puke green sofa, a very well worn sofa that one could fall asleep on if not careful; the thing was so soft that you fell into it as if it were Jello, sitting inside of it more than on top of it. Beneath all of the clutter and furniture was a barely visible soft green rug, covering a small segment of the Norwegian hardwood floor. Despite not having much in it, it was a large room; complete with a balcony-esque large glass window, giving a glorious view of the oak tree outside, as well as the field beyond. Though it was nice now, the view was that much more amazing view when lightning streaked the sky, parting a bulbous sea of black clouds, instantaneously crashing into a row of crops. Next to the window was a large 6 or 7 foot mirror; though, truthfully, Esther never understood why that was in the living room of all places. No place was better for her parents to store it, she supposed.

Of course, Esther was familiar with all of this, and took it in without any true thought as she darted forward, past the upper stairwell and into her kitchen. Here, she found Irene buttering a piece of toast, which she must have managed to put into the toaster before Esther could even get to the door. Irene was a beauty, to be sure; long flowing red hair, green eyes, and very attractively built. It was amazing that she had never managed to befriend a boy well enough to date; though, admittedly, Esther herself had never done so, either, she realized. Really, and she was maybe a month older; all the worse that she had failed to find a boyfriend before Irene. It made her look so immature, after all.

Today, Irene wore a tight pair of denim shorts, accompanied by a white tank top, and the same sneakers and white socks she always wore. Even indoors, she always wore them; in fact, though it wasn’t today she realized it, Esther had noticed before that she never saw Irene barefoot. She was seen only wearing socks on occasion, but never barefoot, even at sleepovers. Hardly strange, she supposed, but something you do pick up upon; a ritual of sorts, she guessed.

The kitchen was dirty; it would need swept today before Esther’s parents got home. The sink was full, as well; dishes tonight too, then. Though, that was her fault, since she did blow them off last night in favor of more adventurous things. Esther’s thoughts drifted back to how long she had stayed up, causing her to yawn before she could greet her friend the usual way.

“Eating all of my bread, I see.” Esther opened the conversation with.

“For one, hun,” Irene began to smugly reply, “I haven’t begun to eat. I’m at the buttering phase. Two, its toast, not bread. Three… you owe it to me anyway.”

“And what’s that for?”

“For coming all the way out here, of course. You do want to be a good hostess, right?”

“I’d say you didn’t call, but you never do.”

“Why should I?”

“I’d at least like to know you’re coming over. Besides,” she nodded to the window facing the back fields, “I’m working.”

“You call this work? Watching me eat your toast,” Irene spoke with a devilish smile on her mouth, as she took a loving bite from the toast in hand, followed by loud munching.

“Burnt it, I see.” Esther snipped back quickly as a retort.

“Hush. I had to let you in, didn’t I?”

For a few brief moments silence encased the two, allowing Esther to dwell upon her friends sudden appearance, before she asked, “So what brings you out here?”

“What, I need a reason to come visit my friends, now?”

“I never said that. Besides, you usually have a reason.”

“Usually. Not always.”

“Hush!”

After the last remark, the girls giggled a bit, followed by silence as their eyes trailed off outside, watching the child run about in the fields. There was something of a twinkle in Irene’s eyes the entire time, Esther took special notice of. She wondered if Irene came for a special reason, but her thoughts were quickly put to rest when Irene began again.

“Steph said you stayed up all night talking with her again,” Said Irene in the sort of way that implied a question through a statement of fact.

“I was bored.”

“It happens. Still, you’ve been up how long?”

“I dunno… probably 25 or 26 hours.”

“You aren’t tired?”

“Of course I am! But, you know,” again, she nodded her head towards the window. “You know how it is. I’d sleep if I could.”

“What if I said that’s exactly why I came over?”

A short silence followed, while Esther attempted to come up with a witty retort.

“I mean, I dunno. Why don’t you try it?”

“Well, Steph said that, and also that you were babysitting today. Actually, she said you didn’t go to bed at 5 because you needed to be up at 7, truthfully. Of course, I only found out maybe an hour ago. Thought I’d come over and give you a break.”

To this, Esther closed her eyes and smiled as large as possible, blinding her to the almost wicked twinkle within Irene’s eyes.

“You’re a really good friend, you know that?”

“Honestly,” Irene began before taking another bite of her toast, “I really just wanted some of your home made bread. But, well, best play the hand you’re dealt, right?”

“You’re no good at poker.”

“Hush. You want the break or not?”

“Of course! Back doors unlocked, but I guess if it wasn’t you could just unlock it. Just keep an eye on him, and make sure he doesn’t run down to the stream or the mountain range. Other than that…”

“I know how to baby-sit, dear”

Once again, Esther smiled in response to her friend’s wit.

“I’ll be asleep on the couch. Wake me up in an hour; his parent’s will be home to pick him up in two, and I’d like to be somewhat coherent for that,” the words left Esther’s lips as she turned around and walked back into the living room, diving upon her couch face first and pulling one of the cushions over her head to block the sunlight from her strained eyes.

From the kitchen she could hear Irene saying, “I’ll wake you whenever I feel like. Just get some rest,” just before the screen door slammed shut. Esther realized she had forgotten to kick her flip flops off before she dove upon the couch, but decided that it would take too much energy to rid her feet of them off at this point, or even maneuver into a better position to do so. She was much too comfortable where she was, enough that she fell asleep within a single minute.

***

Back in the Kitchen, Irene finished her toast while watching the child play through the screen door. The door slamming rouse was usually effective against people, she heard, and assumed that it was. Esther became quiet fast; snoring within a minute, as she heard a few seconds afterwards. Out cold already, Irene imagined; though, she did stay up very long, to be fair. Out cold or not, though, Irene still went through the cupboards quietly, afraid to wake Esther. Really, if she did, it wouldn’t matter at this point; a small fib, just that she was looking for a pan to cook for that kid or something.

The first cupboard yielded nothing of use; spices and other such additives. Probably, she thought, what she sought wouldn’t be in the one next to it, then. She was here often enough, but never browsed the cupboards, so she had no idea where the object she sought might be hidden. Well, she had opened a few occasionally, but she had never glanced at even half of them; the ones above the oven probably had pans, she realized, and now she knew the ones above the microwave had spices. It suddenly occurred to her that the thing she sought was likely underneath the bread shelf.

A few feet to the left of the refrigerator lay the shelf where the family’s bread was piled. Beneath that counter was another cupboard, which she opened, and… bingo, she thought to herself. A lot of miscellaneous things rested inside of this cabinet, saran wrap included. That was what she needed. Quickly, she flit the lid open to make sure there was enough… there was. With her right hand clasping the box, she rose, quietly shutting the door once her hand and the box within cleared the opening.

Quickly, quietly, Irene made her way into the living room. Walking on the tile and wood silently was difficult, but by the time she reached the rug, she need not be so discreet. Poor Esther, she thought; fell asleep the moment she fell upon her couch. It would be difficult to do what she planned, though not impossible. Looking up from Esther’s sleeping body Irene caught a glimpse of the large mirror that stood in the gap between the window and the couch, thinking to herself that she could use it to her advantage. Not now, of course, but soon. To the right of the mirror a cat lay sleeping in what appeared to be a shoe box; well, not just a cat, but Boxy as she was called. Apparently, she always slept in the boxes, thus her name. It was very adorable looking, as if the cat resided in a little home it had made. Knowing she had come here with a purpose, she stopped letting herself be distracted and silently set the saran wrap upon the coffee table and reached across, grabbing one of the chairs that sit there, then lifting it and placing it beside the couch. The next step would be tricky.

Irene stood still for a few seconds, exacting in her mind what she had planned before making any attempt to do so. First she poked Esther, to see if she would wake; then, softly, she spoke into her perfectly curved ear. Nothing. This time she tried louder, in a stronger attempt to wake her friend up by speaking normally. Still nothing. Third time’s the charm, she thought, as she lay her hands upon Esther’s shoulders and rolled her over upon the couch. Still no reaction from the sleeping beauty, save a much louder snore. Good so far, at any rate, Irene thought. Well, if flipping her over didn’t wake her, it shouldn’t be too hard to fix her to the chair.

After setting the chair as close to the couch as possible, she began to pull Esther’s body upwards until she appeared to sit up by her own power. Carefully, Irene slid Esther into the chair, rotating her as she did so, so that she faced the mirror. With the most difficult part done, all that need yet be done was to create an impromptu binding before she woke, which she would soon, Irene realized as she watched Esther’s eyes flutter lightly much like the blue and pink butterfly that flew past her this morning when Irene entered her car.

Now that she was in the chair, Esther would be supported by the chair’s back. It was a good thing that this chair happened to have armrests, as it would be easy to fix her to the chair because of it. Before grabbing the box of saran wrap, Irene carefully placed each of Esther’s arms upon the arm rests, and then just as quickly began wrapping her left arm. Not too much, of course, just enough to keep her still should she try to struggle. Three times around was enough. She applied just as much to the right arm, even quicker than the first time, as she noticed Esther’s head twisting about as her mind swam from the world of her imagination back to reality’s own public dream world. With both arm’s wrapped, the important part came next; the legs. Keeping the arms bound wasn’t a priority so much as it was the legs, both because those muscles should be stronger and because having her arms free did not mean she could escape; free legs, on the other hand, would keep Irene from playing for very long.

As Irene knelt to continue the process, Esther’s perfectly coated brilliant blue nail polish caught her eyes. She did always keep her feet so well tended for some reason; though, she supposed, she did always wear flip flops, so it made sense that she would take special care of her feet. As her thoughts focused more upon her feet, she came to the realization that those atrocious black things still adorned Esther’s feet amazingly enough. Irene had not really noticed when she flipped Esther over; though, now that she thought of it, she had not noticed any tempting soles facing her, either, so it wasn’t all that surprising. Still entranced by the blue nail polish, she couldn’t help but bring her finger towards the soon to be bound feet and scratch the part slightly beneath the nail of her big toe for a few seconds. In her sleep, Esther giggled, but as Irene realized, the tickling began to wake her up. Very quickly, she spun the roll around her right leg and the right chair leg five times, then six, then ten. The leg was bound completely, but Esther had woken by the time she started on the left.

“What… chair…?” she began to ask, as she went to rub her eyes, before realizing she couldn’t. This caused her to awaken extremely fast, though not before Irene could bind her remaining leg. Done, she thought!

“What… hey, what’s going on? Irene?” A tinge of fear was within Esther’s light blue eyes; of course, though, what else could be expected?

By this time, Irene was more than a little horny, prepared to have her way with her now nearly defenseless friend as she was. The look in her eyes must have told Esther as much, as they widened with increased fear. Still, she couldn’t think of much to say.

“You’ll see,” was all she could come up with, and even those words dripped with anticipation. With the swiftness that young eyes often possess, she assessed that her friend was not close enough to the couch to hit it if the chair fell over. Well, no need to allow that scenario, she thought just before placing her sneaker clad foot at the seat of the chair, and pushed. A loud thud sounded as the chair landed upon the rug covered floor, the force of the fall knocking off Esther’s right flip flop, unveiling the smooth foot that it scantily covered previously, toes and all.

“Irene…” The look in her eyes was fearful, but had a sort of innocence to them. A sort of trust, that read, she won’t really hurt me, right? Not really, was the response she thought of, but what came out was…

“We’re friends, right?”

“Well, yes, but this is a little…”

“Friends… do things for each other, right? I need this.” It felt a little weird, describing it now, but… well, whether it was to Esther or herself, she had to justify it. “See, I had this baby sitter once… gorgeous young woman. Used to tickle me every once and a while; nothing dirty or sexual, mind you. Just playful like. I used to tickle her, too. I remember, she used to just lie on the floor, on her stomach - she never wore shoes in our house, but she always had such pretty feet - and I would just sit on her legs and play with her feet and toes… I guess she was trying to keep me busy, in retrospect. She giggled so lightly, though, I just… I used to write on her feet every now and then, too. Well, not just specifically on her feet… her legs and arms too, but… it was really fun, you know? I only did it maybe a handful of times, and then she stopped coming around; I don’t remember why. I always wanted to tickle her again and again… to tickle my babysitter, you know? You understand, right?”

“I… think so?”

“I need to tickle someone, Esther. You know what I’ve always wanted to do, ever since I met you? I always wanted to just run my finger up and down your sole…”

The last bit of her speech was delivered as more of a trance than a recollection. Throughout her monologue, she had reminisced and felt ashamed of herself, but when her gaze fell back upon that defenseless and bare foot, all she could think of was tickling. A distant voice called her back to reality, or at least, somewhat back to reality.

“I think… you need to untie me right now, Irene. This isn’t funny.”

“It will be.”

“I’ll scream.”

“Yeah you will. You don’t have neighbor’s, so who’s going to rescue you? Besides, it’s only a little tickling; I guarantee you’ll like it.”

“Irene…” Despite the nearly terrified sounding plea, Irene’s gaze had again fallen upon her soon to be victims foot.

“Such well kept feet, too… you are ticklish, right? I checked while I was tying you up…” It was too much for Irene to bear, seeing that foot unable to defend itself and not being tickled. Slowly, she ran a lone fingernail carefully from the heel up the arch, and straight to the big toe and back, watching Esther’s poor foot quiver, scrunch itself, flex, and wiggle in an attempt to avoid the sensations.

“Irehehehene… don’t.”

“I always wanted to tie her up. Kind of like a fantasy, tying up the babysitter and just tickling the shit out of her. Well, I guess you’re the babysitter, Esther.” She chided, running the finger up and down her sole slowly, watching it writhe in response. A few seconds of the light tickling, and giggling that resulted, passed before her eye caught the flip flop that had fallen. She stopped the torment momentarily, and picked it up, examining the black piece of rubber with a small 9 imprinted upon the top.

“Size nine, huh… oh, this will be awful for you. So much space to tickle, you know?” Again, she dragged her finger nail directly down the center of Esther’s foot, this time eliciting such a lovely shriek that Irene almost moaned. With that shriek, she tossed the flip flop across the room. “You won’t need this. Trust me,” she said, fully aware of the horny and lustful light that was reflecting from her eyes.

Visible struggle was now clear to Irene, so she decided to step up the tickling. Instead of one nail, she now used two, directly next to each other, and employed a slightly faster pace. The combined effort resulted in a mess full of laughter and giggles, as well as the cutest flailing of her foot.

“Irehehehenee… stohahahahap…!” Esther howled, louder with each passing instant, in particular when her toes were struck. As Esther’s nails began to scratch at Esther’s big toe, her eyes grew wide, and she began to scream even louder, “Oh gohohoohod! That tickles! Ahahaha!” Each time she scratched up Esther’s poor big toe, she would scrunch her soles together in an absolutely beautiful manner, wrinkling them in such a way that just made Irene want to tickle them even more, to run her nail through every crevice. An attempt was always made at this, which caused more flailing and flexing, finally straightening the foot out. Down the arch she would go, then back up to the toe, repeating the process.

“Nooooohohohohoho! Not the toes!! Not the toes!!” she would scream each time. The wrinkling was adorable, indeed, and served as a nice juxtaposition to the normally smooth, flat flesh of her foot, and though she desperately wanted to pinch and pick at those wrinkles, the screams caused by touching her toes were too enticing to give up. After playing with a wrinkle, as she could not resist, she began a small attack on the toes. Of course, as soon as she touched them, her foot scrunched up, defending those vulnerable parts. Another pinch of a wrinkle and wiggling that bit of skin in the center of her foot, and another assault on the toes; this time, making sure to get her fingers beneath the bases just before she scrunched them shut.

“Ahhhhhahahahahahahaa!” Laughter filled the air as she wiggled her fingers, lightly caressing the toe pads and bases of all of her toes. It became boring fast, and again she wanted to play with the wrinkles despite how much chaos touching Esther’s toes created. Grasping the wrinkles caused them to disappear in another flex of the foot, leaving the toes vulnerable, as well as the arch. Irene drug her index finger down the arch one more time, then playfully wiggled her fingers upon the toe bases before standing up to look her victim in her now bright pink face. Irene decided a quick break was in order before any real torment began.

One final stroke upward Esther’s sole and she stopped, resting the palm of her hand against her friend’s footbottom. Lust filled her as she watched Esther gasping for quick breaths in-between light giggles, obviously still feeling the aftermath of the light tickles Irene had forced upon her. Irene counted to ten, albeit much faster than she should have, before she began to move. A step to her left, a step forward, and then she knelt down, her head now over top of Esther’s torso. Esther had not spoken since the foot torment stopped, but she began again as Irene to pull Esther’s white shirt just slightly above her ribs in preparation for more tickling.

Irene was aware of Esther pulling at her arms, though not her legs, and attempting to inch herself away from the chair; truthfully, she was much more aware of the smile that crept upon Esther’s mouth as she spoke. Light laughter in anticipation to what was to come accompanied her words, as she said, “Oh god, this is going to be worse, isn’t it?”

“Maybe, hun,” was all Irene thought to say, as her gaze was fixated upon her friends now bare midriff. Very slowly, she raised her hands, and wiggled them while slowly lowering them. Esther struggled to pull her arms free as Irene lowered her hands, to no avail. At long last, Irene’s nails touched Esther’s flesh, causing her to laugh ever so lightly. For a second, Irene let that initial touch cause her friend to giggle, but quickly grabbed the far side of her body and, dropping her head upon Esther’s stomach, began blowing with all of her might as soon as she made contact.

With every exhalation Irene made, Esther shrieked alongside it in unison. “AHHHHHAHAHAHAHAHA! Oh god, my dad used to AHHHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA do thishehe he to AHHHHAHAHAHAHAHA Meeeheheheheee! Stop stop stop! Stop! AHHHHHAHAHAHAHAH! Shit, I had no idea this would AHHHHHHAHAHAHAHAH Tihheheckle so much! AHHHHAHAHAHAHAHAHASTAHAAAAP!”

Irene had only intended to do it five times max, but the last statement inspired her to do one last, long raspberry. That probably had been too much for poor Esther, she thought to herself as she noticed Esther resting her head on its side, panting heavily through a wide smile.

Between breathes, Esther drawled out, “What… is that all… you’ve got?” Immediately in response, Irene let her nails begin dancing upon Esther’s midriff. The technique she used to wiggle her fingers reminded her of a spider’s legs, or any other bug’s, legs for that matter, as it mimicked the quick darting to and fro that a bug utilized to move, resulting in Esther attempting to jump out of the chair, causing it to lift slightly off the ground and fall back with what would have been a deafening thud had the rug not been there. Really, Irene thought, throwing her weight up and down like that was making such a racket; Irene was glad that she had chosen to put Esther on the carpet, rather than anywhere else. It dulled the still audible thuds.

The laughter produced from this was music to Irene’s ears; it was deep, but still melodic. Guffawing, if she knew anything about defining laughter; they were long deep breaths, and it sounded almost if she were saying huhuhuh over and over again, with the occasional squeal when a sensitive spot was touched. Across Esther’s ribs, her fingers glided; Esther howled at that, lifting her head up to do so, then letting it fall again as she twisted it and turned, still struggling to escape from her bondage.

Irene decided to be more playful, so as to let Esther catch her breath some, and took her left hand away from the fray, though she still lightly stroked Esther’s uppermost ribs with her right. After another second of that, she decided to finish that as well and laid her palm upon Esther’s quickly rising and falling ribcage, allowing her poor victim a few seconds of rest. The seconds took too long to pass, she thought, as she lifted her hand in such a way that the only thing touching Esther’s body was the fingernail of her right index finger. With this nail, she slowly traced a few shapes upon Esther’s poor belly, causing it to spasm lightly. Light giggles escaped Esther’s lips as a circle was drawn.

Though Irene drew shapes, she slowly closed her finger in upon Esther’s belly button ever so subtly, before reaching it and tracing around it. Another squeal told Irene that she had found a good spot, and she lapped it once more, then a second and finally a third time before letting her finger dart inside ever so quickly. The sweet sound of Esther’s squealing laughter accompanied by the rhythm produced from her fighting to free her arms from their bonds created a melody of ecstasy for Irene. For a long minute, she circled the inside of Esther’s quivering belly button with her finger nail, listening to the song she was creating intently, as well as focusing upon her belly with a great intensity. The melody became increasingly chaotic and frantic as Esther’s struggles became more and more desperate, before she finally began to sing outside of the chorus of laughter.

“Eeeeeehehehehehe! Stop! Stoheheheeepp itt. Go back to my foot, pleeehehehehease!” Though Irene was smiling already, as she was greatly enjoying herself, it widened enough that it hurt at the words Esther’s lips had relinquished. Looking up, and without stopping the strokes of her fingernails, Irene noticed Esther’s nipples protruding through her shirt, raising a question within Irene’s mind, but before she could say anything, Esther begged yet again, “The feeheheheet! Tickle my feet! Tickle my feeheheheheet!”

“Do you like it?” Irene asked, quickening her pace and going back to full out tickling at the same time.

Now the song had reached its climax; Esther’s laughter again took on the tortured near screams of before, and the rhythm of struggling became extremely fast paced. Though this was the case, Esther still managed a reply, “I liked it more when it was the feet!” During this response, the sound of a slight rip joined to the rhythm of struggling, creating a unique harmony that was soon followed by another slight ripping sound; another second passed before an all out tear was heard. The sound caught Irene’s attention a second too late, as she realized what the tearing must have been; one of Esther’s arms now attempted to guard her belly from the tickling in a chaotic manner; rather, it was a futilie mix of guarding and grabbing at Irene’s own arm.

Taking this into account, she decided to move from the ribs to the sides of Esther’s body, knowing full well that she would only be able to defend against an attack on either one of her sides or the other. This, however, was quickly accompanied by, in addition to hysterical laughter, another audible tear, soon followed by Esther’s remaining arm becoming free. Because of how much the second rip surprised Irene, Esther had actually managed to grab and stop Irene from tickling her for a few seconds. However, Irene still had the advantage, as Ether was not completely free yet, and used this fact to back up slightly and pull her arms free. As she backed away, she drew her nails upon the fabric of Esther’s skirt, wiggling her fingers down Esther’s thighs and to her knees as Esther continued to giggle and attempt to stop Irene. Down the shins, Irene drew her fingers, until she reached the tops of Esther’s feet, which she gave the same attention before stopping completely.

“I’m going to get you back so bad when I’m out of this,” Esther said between deep breaths that were interrupted by giggles. Irene was aware of the threat, but hardly took notice of it; a sort of ecstasy filled her, as she very clearly remembered Esther asking to have her feet tickled, all the while staring at the bare, bound sole that tempted her, as well as the foot still covered by flimsy rubber. The breathing break was unbearable for her, and she could only allow it to last for thirty odd seconds or so before lust took hold of her. With her left hand, she began a very light attack upon Esther’s long and adorable toes, causing Esther to giggle in a forced but pleasurable sounding way, while Irene quickly freed Esther’s other foot from it’s flip flop with her right hand. Both soles scrunched in defense, but Irene continued to lightly wiggle her nails over the unprotected pads of the ever so slightly quivering foot as she tossed the flip flop away to be forgotten. With her now free hand, she began a similar attack on the foot that had been very much left out before, changing the pleasurable giggles from before to a light laughter that reminded Irene of the extreme lust that filled her.

Though Irene was enjoying herself immensely, she was also ready to move on to more fun things; despite this, she decided to prolong the toe tickling with conversation, as she noticed Esther not making an attempt to free herself or stop the tickling, but instead seemed to grip the carpet as if to prevent herself from doing so.

“So you like having your feet tickled, huh?”

Through strained laughter, Esther managed to reply. “Hehehe… I hehehe… don’t knohohohow yehehehet. It tickles!” There seemed to be more to the response, but if there was, Esther did not voice her opinions. Irene imagined it to be difficult for Esther to describe her feelings right now, as she was being tickled. It was simply adorable to watch Esther’s reactions as her toes were lovingly stroked; her mouth seemed to spasm in such a way that made her look as if she herself wasn’t sure if she was enjoying the torture, or if she truly could not stand it, or perhaps some twisted combination of the two. The entire time, though, she kept her head extremely still in a peculiar way. It was even stranger, Irene thought, that Esther kept her brilliant eyes open the entire time, occasionally looking in the direction of Irene, much unlike her babysitter from years ago that always clenched her eyes shut as if to deny the existence of her feet or the tickling that was committed to her soles; Esther’s eyes showed the same uncertainty that her words had voiced, but also showed the light of sexuality within them. As Irene would find out some years later, Esther was not only occasionally watching her instead of the ceiling from time to time, but also was watching her own feet being caressed through the mirror, as Irene had originally intended but forgotten to employ; but at this time, she was completely unaware of it.

“How about we play a game, dear Esther,” Irene asked in a much hornier voice than she had intended; probably, she thought, it sounded terribly creepy. However, she was unable to disguise her emotions at this point in time. After saying this, she ended the torture directed at Esther’s toes, as to give her time to answer.

Again, the aftermath of feelings took over the majority of Esther’s actions; she breathed heavily and deeply, and continued to giggle for a few seconds before responding, still slightly giggling as she did so. “What… hehe… what kind of game hehe?”

“Se-cr-et~”

“Do I have..hehehe… a choice?”

“Not at all. I’ll be right back.”

A quick glance to her left revealed to Irene exactly what she sought. Technically, they were connected in such a manner – the living room and the dining room - that one would consider them a single room in an initial glance, but Esther’s family considered the two area’s separate rooms despite there not existing any division between the two. Ironically, at Esther’s house, the dining table was never eaten at; it was more of a commodity for business and working, so it was no surprise that Irene immediately noticed several writing utensils lying upon the table top.

Perhaps within the span of ten seconds, Irene had managed to stride across the room, locate and place a pen within her pocket, and return to Esther, who not only made no attempt to escape, but seemed to be flexing her soles in preparation. In fact, Esther was paying Irene no mind; she seemed to be looking at something outside the window. No matter, she decided, as she once again faced the newly found body parts of her deepest desires.

“For this game,” Irene began to explain, as she stealthily pulled the pen out of her pocket, keeping it low and behind her thigh so that she was sure Esther could not see it, “You will need to hold your foot completely still. If you fidget too much, I’ll hold you still.” As she said the final part, she used her right thumb to pop the cap off of the ballpoint pen she had taken, flicking it somewhere under the chair Esther was currently bound to. “I need to make sure it’ll write,” she concluded, as she touched the tip to Esther’s left heel, making the mental note that Esther’s left foot was to her right, and began scribbling right to left very swiftly.

The response was instantaneous, and carried a much more maddened sound than she had anticipated. Immediately, Esther responded with “Oh shit!” followed by wave after wave of hysterical laughter. Luckily, ink did not immediately flow forth from the pen, enabling Irene to continue the tickling, as she was in no hurry to spare her friend from such apparently tremendous sensations. As the first few strokes gently kissed Esther’s succulent heal, Irene realized that she would have to hold her friend’s feet very still; it was hardly a problem now, as Esther was unable to move her heel effectively, but the girl flayed her foot in such an erratic manner that she would never be able to write legibly when it came time for it. Still, a part of Irene wished that she could allow Esther to flex her feet like this longer; her toes splayed back, arch entirely - and quite temptingly - exposed, the entire upper and middle of her foot flailing from left to right with such intensity… it was incredibly beautiful.

Continuing to wiggle the pen back and forth for several seconds, Irene took notice of Esther’s eyes, which appeared to be opened as wide as she could possibly manage, as she shook her head back and forth repeatedly in an attempt to handle the ticklish sensations that were evoked upon her. At one point, she could no longer keep her right hand restrained, and attempted to reach toward her foot to stop the tickling. Because of how she had been bound, Esther only managed to reach slightly past her knee, and could neither stop the torturous pen that harassed her heel nor pull herself up to make a better attempt. As though struggling with this concept, Esther flexed her finger and hand multiple times, grabbing at her knee and holding it firmly enough to turn the skin around it bright when, then a hot white. Eventually, she let her arm fall above her head, closing her eyes, and allowing rivers of laughter to pour from her mouth. Finally, the ink had run forth, blackening her cream colored sole ever so slightly; Irene continued the motions for several seconds, though, as she enjoyed watching Esther squirm so, though she told herself that she needed to confirm that the pen would continue being able to splash ink against her friends vulnerable flesh. Deciding that the torture had been enoug, Irene concluded the tickling for a few brief moments in order to really explain the game.

“Basically, it’s tic tac toe. The board will be your feet.”

“What?!”

“Let me finish!”

“How am I supposed to play if I can’t seehehehehehe!” Annoyed that she was interrupted, Irene began to quickly scratch at Esther’s right foot big toe with her free hand, watching the toe flex violently with a devilish grin upon her face.

“May I continue?”

“Yes! Yehehes!”

“Good. I won’t stop then,” she teased, continuing to tickle the toe for several seconds, before stopping, having quickly lost interest in it and wanting to move on. “I say, basically, because we’re competing. See, everytime I win, you lose a toe, so to speak.”

“Oh no!”

“The toes you lose are mine. We’ll keep track with smiley and frowny faces; if you lose a toe, its a frowny face, if you win it’s a smiley. Best to five wins.”

“Wins what?”

“Well… if you win, I’ll let you tickle me.”

“If I lose?”

“I’m going to tickle you more, of course. But it’ll be worse.”

“Oh, goodie,” Esther said sarcastically, rolling her eyes. To this, Irene could only laugh.

“Shall we?”

“I guess I’m ready.”

“K. Hold still. Wouldn’t want to ruin the board, now…” As Irene said this, her hand very quickly moved to the toes of Esther’s left foot, pushing them back so that the flesh of her sole was pulled taut. Doing this notified Esther that it would soon begin, causing her to close her eyes and bite her lip in anticipation. Though she tried to prepare herself, she still yelped between her closed lips and twitched her foot harshly as the pens tip struck the ball of her foot, nearly ruining the line Irene tried to draw. As Irene drew and redrew the pen quickly up and down multiple parts of Esther’s foot, she reacted in an increasingly stronger manner. At first she had held her foot almost entirely still, but as the last of the four lines was being established, Esthers toes slapped at Irene’s palm, though it achieved nothing. With the box finished, Irene loudly hummed at her imperfect work.

“Hehe…what…?” Esther asked, wondering why the game hadn’t begun.

“Hmm.. do you want to go first, or should I?” Irene asked, using this as an excuse to drag each hands index finger up one of Esther’s arches, causing her to laugh lightly and struggle against her bondage.

“Hahaha you can hahahaha!”

“What?”

“You can go first!! Hehehehe!”

“Are you sure?”

“Yehehehes!”

“I’ll have an advantage then, you know…”

“I don’t care! I don’t care! Stop hahaha!”

“Alright, if you insist,” Irene said with that sinister smile adorning her face, as she looked at the hand drawn board. “Hmm… do I want to go here…” she spoke diabolically as she scratched at the top right corner of the box on Esther’s feet, causing her to giggle. “Or… should I go here…” she spoke again, this time picking the far left, middle box, which fell upon the spot just left of Esther’s ball, as she began to scratch that sensitive and difficult to protect piece of flesh. Esther laughed harder, sporadically wiggling her toes to wrinkle her skin in an attempt to protect it. “I just can’t decide…” Irene drawled out, continuing to scratch at random boxes while her friend tried to roll herself away from her captor.

“Just… haha… just go!”

“Fiiiine” Choosing the central box, Irene slowly and carefully drew the circle, marking that part of Esther’s sole her own, in addition to blackening it with that silky ink which glistened so nicely upon her bare foot. Doing this elicited such lovely sounds of laughter that she didn’t want to stop, so Irene traced her circle several times, almost making the board a complete mess due to Esther’s fidgeting.

“You really need to hold still, you know. Almost messed up the board, and then we’d need to start over…” Truthfully, Irene wouldn’t mind writing on Esther’s feet all day long, and her tone spoke this. “So, where do you want to go?”

“Where did you go?”

“I went right here, in the center…” Again, Irene began to lightly scratch at Esther’s foot, this time denoting where she went; in the center of the board, which was also the center of the ball of Esther’s foot. “You can go here…” she said, tracing her finger from the space she had tortured to the one directly to its right, scratching at it. “Or here…” she teased some more, now lightly tickling the flesh denoted by the top right corner again, as Esther continued to giggle in a pool of laughter on the floor.

“There!”

“Here?” Irene asked playfully, scratching at the spot she had been.

“Yes! Yehehes!”

“Are you sure?” she asked again, continuing to tease her sensitive soles.

“Yehehehes!”

“Ok, ok! Don’t need to yell. You act like someone is tickling you, or something.”

“You are!” Irene laughed at Esther’s last statement; it was so cute. Slowly, deliberately, Irene filled the blank space with one slash, making sure to trace it repeatedly to get the most laughter out of Esther, finally moving on to the next slash after several torturous strokes of the pen. With the X complete, Irene chose her next location, the top left spot, filling it in with her ticklish circle as Esther laughed lightly.

“So, I went…”

“I know. I knohahahahahahah!” Despite her pleads of knowing where she went, Irene still scratched at the spot, causing poor Esther to wiggle helplessly on the floor. “The bottom left hahaha! To blohahahack!”

With another sinister smile, Irene stopped torturing Esther, simply saying ok. An idea had crept into Irene’s head, and she chose to follow it up. Pen in hand, she began to blacken the bottom left space with Esther’s X, knowing full well that she had meant for the other corner, but had literally said left.

“Whahahahat! Not there! Not thereheheher! The other sihihihide!”

“What? Oh. You meant YOUR left! Oh well.” Slowly, she let the pens tip lightly caress the ball of Esthers foot as she moved from the far left box to the far right, allowing Esther to revel in her own ticklishness for just a little longer. Now that the pen gently touched the far right box, she slowly filled it with her circle, and then drew a long deliberate line connecting the three circles, before drawing the pen back up it, forcing Esther to laugh as the line was repeatedly drawn. Finally Irene decided to give Esther a break. “I win.” She proclaimed.

“You cheated!” Esther shouted back between pants.

“You said left.”

“I meant the other left!”

“Too bad. Hmm.. which toe should I claim.” As Irene said this, Esther clenched her toes firmly against her soles, revealing the blue nail polish again, driving Irene wild; the deep blue looked so heavenly against the cream color of Esther’s delicate soles.

“Nope. Not happening. You cheated.” Responded Esther, but Irene hardly heard her due to her infatuation with the color of blue against flesh. Though she had a long, drawn out plan to continue torturing Esther, involving forcing draws so as to prolong the game of Tic Tac Toe, she no longer had interest in doing so. Even the part that she had waited so patiently for – the ritualistic furious scratching out of the board with the pen – was no longer important.

“I choose this one.” Irene said, half in a daze, drawing her nail up the exposed part of Esther’s big toe. Instinctively, the toe twitched away, revealing the rest of its succulent bottom to Irene, but from her angle she could see the polish on the toes of Esther’s other foot, which called to her. In one swift motion, she gently let her hand fall upon the top of Esther’s foot, allowing it to slide down as she moved her mouth closer. Breath abated, she opened her mouth just wide enough, and then engulfed Esther’s big toe. Esther gasped in surprise, half giggling and half moaning very lightly as her toe left Irene’s mouth with a barely audible pop. With a flick of Irene’s tongue up her big toe, Esther shivered. Again, the toe entered Irene’s mouth, this time to be lashed at repeatedly by her tongue as it licked all around the base before touching all along both sides sporadically. The light pop resounded again as Esther’s now wet toe left Irene’s mouth, to be greeted by a light kiss as the air of the room cooled it.

Realizing what she had begun to do, Irene looked to Esther, slightly afraid of how her friend would respond to what she was now doing to her helpless feet. Esther’s eyes were nearly closed, her lids flitting almost as fast as a hummingbird’s wings, and she was breathing heavily but quickly; aware that Irene had stopped; she opened her eyes, revealing an almost angry, but dreadfully hungry look. “Don’t stop,” she lightly pleaded in a hot, breathy voice.

Just as desire had consumed Irene, an alarm began to ring from within the kitchen. Unaware of it, she began to quickly kiss Esther’s big toe, seconds later becoming aware of her pleads to stop. Questioningly, Irene looked at Esther, awaiting an explanation. “I set that so I knew when the parents would be coming. They’ll be here soon. Help me out of this.” Understanding, but still horny beyond speech, Irene helped Esther rip off the saran wrap that bound her legs. After becoming free, stood up and walked away, her rising footfalls telling Irene that she had gone upstairs. A knock at the door brought Irene back from her dreamlike trance; before she had fully risen to answer it, she became aware of quick thuds from above, growing closer and louder, until Esther reappeared at the base of the stairs. A quick turn of her heels and she sped towards the door, opening it to allow the kid’s parents into the house.

They didn’t seem to think anything out of the ordinary, thankfully, as they sat down on the couch while Esther pulled Irene towards the porch. Though she was still slightly unaware of her surroundings, Irene had noticed that Esther now wore clean, white socks on her light stepping feet; it took Irene a few moments to realize that if she had not hidden her feet away within those atrocious husks that the ink upon them would have been very noticable. Esther yelled into the field that the child’s parents were here, and he came running up to, then around the house, finally appearing at the door. Typical words fell between the reunited parties about having a good time, what to have for dinner, and other such topics as they left the house, closing the door behind them.

“So.” Esther began.

“So.”

“Want to go out back?”

“Sure.”

It was a brief conversation, but both girls knew what the other thought. After some searching, the two had found both of Esther’s black flip flops, which quickly found their way upon Esther’s feet. Together, they walked outside and into Esther’s backyard, continuing off a fair distance, until the house, as well as the other nearby ones, were far out of sight.

“So…” Irene began, as Esther let herself fall to her knees, then onto her stomach, kicking off the flip flops as she did so.

“I think, if you sit on top of me, it’ll work out.” Knowing what Esther meant, Irene let herself gently fall onto Esther’s back side, so that she was also lying on her stomach. As she began to remove Esther’s right sock, she felt the breeze that was blowing gently caress her foot through its sock, realizing that her sneaker was no longer on her foot. That foot lost its sock as she removed Esther’s remaining sock; for a few moments, she waited, allowing Esther to remove her other shoe and sock before beginning. However, Esther began raking her long nails up what was exposed of Irene’s heel before the sock had been completely removed, tickling her immensely. Unable to respond, as Esther used one hand upon each vulnerable foot, Irene merely pressed her face into Esther’s ankles and laughed. Probably, and she had known this going into the situation, she was more ticklish than Esther. Maybe not more so, but being tickled definitely inhibited her.

“Do what you were doing before, or I won’t stop.” Esther commanded from behind her. Forcing herself upwards, Irene looked towards the pale, creamy and slightly wrinkled soles directly in front of her. Through laughs, she kissed the right one up to the toes slowly, her speed increasing as Esther became aroused and tickled Irene less. For long hours, the two sat, playing with each others feet, and enjoying the sensations that they today discovered together.