ElFewja
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To The Victor (P. 2 Contest) (F/F, feet)
Haha. One of the notes, as I was editing this, said that this was supposed to be short. Yeah that didn’t happen. Oh well. I probably should have let this series alone as a single story, since the first wasn’t very good and neither is this one, but I saw quite some time ago someone either ask for or state that tandem stock stories are rare, so I decided to go with it. It worked sort of well with this particular setting, so I chose to continue the series a bit. Actually I ended up writing a few more parts to this series, not that they’re particularly long or good, but etc. The main thing with this one is that it lacks description; I had the notes of their physical descriptions but I never felt like I wanted to include them. Well, this was written around that time I had thought about experimenting with such things and relying instead upon the imagination, but.. rambling. Etc.
Oh. Part one is here: To The Victor (M/FF, F/F Feet)
To The Victor (P. 2 The Contest) (F/F, feet)
The cold night, during which Rena had slept on still damp dirt with neither pillow nor blanket, had not abated her rage towards Tira. If anything, her inability to sleep well only increased her anger as she had had nothing to do but think for long hours that night. The tingling upon the bottoms of her feet throughout the night trapped her mind on that blatant betrayal.
Both Rena and Tira were woken early by the light of dawn, rudely thrown from their sleep by their captor to do miscellaneous chores, such as gathering water, cleaning, and preparing meals. Unlike the day before and the years before that, Rena chose her boots over her sandals, because though she enjoyed showing off her feet, she felt that that would work against her, here, and favored instead guarding them from sight. Though the two were sent together, they hardly spoke. Tira attempted to break the silence multiple times with apathetic apologies, but Rena refused to listen and continued to avoid any looks toward Tira when she could afford it. Due to their close proximity to a river bed, the area was little more than brown and gray mud packed tightly by the armies constant movement within the camp, with little else to be seen; what was not obscured by the cloth of the tents was guarded by a thick fog. It mirrored her mood, that thick fog, whose white water molecules could be seen wafting in the air upon close inspection, greatly amplifying Rena’s emotions simply because she was so confined by it.
Little actually happened that morning; Rena ignored Tira, and that was all. They washed clothes and cooked food in silence while watching their captors eat what little food was available. The scenery never changed; the fog had not burned off by mid day, the soldiers hardly moved about, and the tents still rested in their uniform rows. After their second meal, the soldiers – at least those crowded in the small space around Rena – had tired of lazing about. Some began to practice sword play with one another, but the large majority began to call for entertainment. After but a minute at least twenty or so had gathered around the small fire where Tira and Rena worked, their cries loud now as Rena noticed the group eyeing Tira and herself, though they seemed much more interested in Tira, going so far as to prod and poke her while she worked, but still the two women attempted to ignore the attention they received as best they could. Soon after they had become rowdy, their benefactor – that unshaven block of a man – arrived from somewhere unseen. A quick shout of entertainment was followed by hearty cheers as Rena’s heart fell within her chest, leaving a sense of dread at what she anticipated would soon become of her feet. He whispered to one man – she thought she heard him say get that, with a strong emphasis on the word that – causing that person to gleefully trot off, almost at a skip.
The crowd had grown quite restless, forming a circle about the two girls so that they lost sight of anything beyond the men, including their benefactor. The hungry eyes of the men in that circle, full of lust as they measured both Rena and Tira like large hunks of meat, caused the two to rise and instinctively back into one another so that nobody could sneak behind them. Mere seconds passed as the men closed in before the man that claimed proprietorship of them broke through the thick crowd that blocked all else, dragging a large piece of wood, setting it nearer to Tira than Rena. Rena now noticed, as she analyzed it, that the contraption was actually two pieces of wood, which appeared to be similar to that of the stockade she had seen in town the day before, but was longer and contained four holes instead of two, though it hardly mattered what it was or how many holes it had, as she knew it would hold them still for their torture regardless of any particular features. Like she expected the top piece of wood was lifted, and the girls were told to place their ankles in the rests; obediently the two followed their orders, approaching the stockade with the knowledge that disobeying may very well result in far worse consequences. Immediately, the two were scolded for sitting side by side, and were instead instructed to sit on their knees, facing different directions, so that when they were locked in place, they faced away from one another. Their benefactor moved towards them, lifting Tira’s ankles and placing them in the two middle holes, leaving the outer holes to hold Rena’s ankles, causing Rena to smile at the unfair advantage bestowed to her, as Tira’s feet would be much easier to tickle than her own; while that man did this, Rena noticed a sick yet warm smile upon the man’s face that she had been unfamiliar with until then. Rena watched as one man strode forward and stole Tira’s boots from her feet, leaving her pretty soles bare beneath Rena, while she felt her own disappear somewhere unseen as well, freeing them to the warm muggy air that caressed her slightly sweaty soles.
After the plank had been firmly locked in place, Rena looked to her left, seeing her benefactor appear from beyond the crowd while trying to gather everyone’s attention as she enjoyed the nice breeze on her now naked feet. “Alright. Each girl has the others pair of feet in front of them; the one who laughs the most wins.” Assuming they both participated, that would be excellent; though last time, Tira had given in almost immediately and turned on her, rather than holding out and refusing to play these ridiculous games. Not that Rena intended to be so kind this time; she desired nothing more than to make that poor girl suffer for betraying her like she did, and could hardly contain herself upon seeing those feet bared and locked in place before her.
With a sinister smile brought on by the thought of revenge, Rena pressed her palms against Tira’s defenseless feet, which shuddered at the sensation; they felt very soft and were extremely pleasant to touch, she mused to herself. In fact, they were so nice to touch that Rena began to conclude that this girl’s feet secretly desired to be touched, or needed to be, as they had such a silky luster to them. Maybe that was this girl’s only purpose in life; to have her feet touched, tickled and toyed with against her will. It certainly fit well, considering how responsive she was. Using the thumb and finger of her right hand, she pinched at the second toe – the longest on Tira’s foot – and spoke quietly over her shoulder, just loud enough for Tira to hear. “Should I torture this one,” she said evily before pinching the toe in the very middle in a similar manner, causing the foot to jerk in response, “Or this one?”
“Don’t. Please, Rena.”
“Did you stop when I begged you to?” She retorted.
Their benefactor continued his self important speech as this went on; Rena decided to listen to it again, and though she listened, she did not take her eyes off those small, smooth soles that peeked out at her beneath her hands. “The game begins in five,” he said as he started to count down, but by the four Rena had already lost interest in waiting, clenching her hands slightly, curving them just enough that her nails no longer over extended past Tira’s toes, but instead touched them. Immediately after she began to dig in, scratching lightly, quickly. That girl screamed, interrupting their benefactor who asked them to wait, but Rena hardly heard him over Tira’s yelps and crazed laughter. Though she clenched her toes to her soles in an attempt to protect them, Rena’s nails had already penetrated that defense, and instead of being locked out, were locked in. All she had to do was wiggle her fingers slightly, and Tira’s feet, which kicked helplessly against her bondage, practically tickled themselves by brushing against Rena’s fingers.
She made a game of it after some light tickles, choosing instead of out right tickling to set her long nails against the centers of Tira’s feet, smiling deviously as they ferociously fought to avoid the touches and in doing so tickled themselves silly. For long minutes Tira cried out with laughs so shrill that you would think that by merely touching her feet she would die; however, Rena simply found it delicious that she could control Tira simply by touching those sensitive things, and enjoyed it more so that Tira herself, through no fault of Rena’s, was causing those feelings which she could not stand.
After some time, furious scribbles were felt on her very bare, right foot, stunning her for a moment while she gave way to her own feet’s demands that Rena, too, should laugh. But this lasted but a moment before she quickly took the foot on her left and, gripping it tightly by the toes so that it might not escape, gave it a similar treatment.
As soon as Rena’s nails discovered Tira’s flesh once more the entire stockade shook violently as the poor girl desperately fought with her bondage. For a few seconds, the nails upon her own foot struck violently at her poor toes, feeling them wiggle spasmodically as they tried to escape those touches, but though it tickled, she knew that Tira would soon give in if she continued attacking, so that the increased raid upon her own foot in turn spurred the demon within Rena to decimate her poor friend’s arch with her long nails while laughing at her plight.
The torture Rena gave soon took effect, and the tickles on her own feet ceased, allowing her to pay more attention to her adversary’s wiggling feet. Allowing the captive foot its freedom once more, Rena took to raking her nails rapidly up and down both soles. From the puzzling array of sounds that Tira emitted, from screams to laughs, and even her hands slapping against the mud, Rena soon learned that Tira had no way of handling the feelings if they were spread against both of her unfortunate feet. Though she wanted to turn about and watch the torment take effect on Tira, Rena could not take her eyes away from those feet, as they acted as a sort of symbol for the power and control she had over her former friend. They truly were gorgeous, and so much fun to tickle that Rena began to understand the men’s motives, even going so far as to, for but one swift second, understand why Tira would have tortured her so the other night.
For some time the torture continued this way, with Tira’s loud, wild laughs filling the countryside with their beautiful melody. Every now and then she felt Tira try to tickle her again, probably in hopes that the surprise would cause Rena to stop even for a second, allowing Tira to take the high ground, but though those light, quick touches caused Rena to laugh heartily – even scream out at times when they found the more sensitive regions near the center of her feet – Rena’s attacks upon Tira’s soles never ceased. But then, all too soon, their benefactor announced the match to be over. While he spoke again some man came up to Rena and gripped her wrists together with one very strong hand, lifting them away from Tira’s feet so that she might be forced to stop. Tira, however, was given no such punishment, as Rena could feel those too familiar nails screaming down both of her feet at once; somehow, having her wrists held together as such increased the feeling of the sensations, and Rena cried out wildly, but the situation was soon rectified by what Rnea could only assume to be another soldier stopping Tira in much the same way.
For but a split second, the stockade cracked its mouth open, yawning just wide enough to allow Rena temporarily release; it happened so quickly; two men grabbed her legs – one to each man – and pulled her free while a third held the bucking Tira in place. Looking back as the stockade slammed shut, she could see that Tira was held inside of them so that she would not escape their vice grip. Now free, Rena was handed her boots again so that she might once more protect her own, sensitive feet from the men around her who seemed as if they might fall upon her at any moment so that they might secure her to the ground, gang up on her and tickle the day lights out of her.
Their benefactor spoke again, stating that Tira had won the contest, and her prize would be more tickling. Looking about, Rena saw the hungry and greedy eyes of all those men ogling her friend’s feet, but felt an overwhelming desire to have at them herself, feeling the same look radiating from her own eyes as she too ogled those defenseless feet from her now safe location. “Sir,” she spoke simply – she decided it best to be careful around her benefactor, referring to him only as Sir, and always with the utmost respect she could think possible, lest she lose the privilege of her shoes and enter the stockade unnecessarily, or to some fate far worse, as she imagined this horrendous group capable – “Allow me the honor, please.”
All at once the crowd hooted and cheered, speaking to her that, though they all wanted a chance to torment poor Tira, they would just as easily enjoy watching another woman - whose own feet were quite ticklish - tickle a fellow woman’s feet. An approving nod was granted to her from their benefactor, and as Rena strode forward, Tira began to plead.
“Rena, don’t! Please!”
As she sat down without receiving any sort of sign that she would be allowed to torment her friend, Rena lost herself to meandering thoughts; oh, you bitch, she heard that inward voice almost yell, as if I would allow you to escape any punishment I could deal out. With a flick of her long hair, so that it was entirely out of her face, Rena rested her palms upon Tira’s heels, feeling a surge of satisfaction at the ability to have control over someone; the satisfaction of making Tira suffer by such simple means tasted wonderful, she thought while licking her lips. “When I say jump, Tira, you’ll jump.” She spoke loudly, so that the crowd of horny men behind her could hear her clearly. “And you’ll laugh when I want you to.” She finished simply to the cheering crowds approval.
“No! Don’t! Ahhh!” Tira screamed out as Rena’s nails began wiggling across her heels, which, as much as those feet wiggling about, could not escape the torment. After this Tira’s laughter echoed outward while Rena’s nails leapt down both arches, immediately heading for those rapidly curling toes so that she could strike at them with gusto, not heeding to Tira’s pleads in the least, which only served to earn those bare soles more tickles. They were so soft beneath Rena’s fingers that she hardly wondered why anyone would put any woman through this torture; Tira’s feet, despite her cries, all but begged to be touched and tormented, by both their creamy, delightful beauty and the amazing way that they felt.
“Rena, pleahehehease! Stop! No more! I can’t take it! Please!” The howls became louder and more desperate as her laughter reached crazed levels, but with each scream for an end Rena tickled harder and faster, desiring to hear her friend plead more. This, however, was not enough; the feet wiggled and flexed about too much. Rena recalled their first night here, and how her poor toes had been pinned to the ground, eliminating any form of escape; she also recalled that Tira had tortured her despite this.
“Bring me a length of yarn, so that I might bind her toes together.” Rena shouted over the cackling cries of the woman that had betrayed her.
“Not that! Not that! Don’t! Don’t do it! Please Rena! Please!” The men seemed all too eager to grant her wish despite Tira’s cries, and one man quickly handed her a long piece of filthy yarn from somewhere out of her field of vision. Allowing Tira the slightest moment of solitude, Rena stopped and gripped her two big toes tightly together; the poor girl was famished for air and breathed deeply, seemingly unaware of what torture would soon begin. As fast as Rena could manage, she strung the string about the ends of Tira’s two toes, tiny things, like two delicious cream colored grapes; she fought back, struggling to prevent this bit of bondage, but Rena held her too tightly. As the string weaved its restrictive loops, Tira giggled lightly; even this string tickles the poor thing, Rena thought to herself.
The binding took no longer than a few seconds, and as Rena finished she sat back to eye her handiwork she took in the sight of Tira’s utterly vulnerable feet. Truly, the added bondage increased those lovely feet’s beauty, as well as enchanting her and likely the men around her with the mystic twitches and struggles against her bondage, making louder still their sirens call of their need to be tickled. But, while she sat there, Rena felt that more needed to be done, finally spontaneously concluding that she had to exact what Tira had put her through, despite her friends whimpering.
Setting her right hand upon the flesh of her heels, enjoying the feeling of that particularly rough yet supple flesh, Rena moved her mouth close to Tira’s soles, allowing her breath to warm them so that Tira would know what was coming. “Rena! Oh god, Rena! No!” A sinister smile crept onto her lips as she let her tongue taste that flesh, savoring it while she slowly ran her tongue down the quivering sole on her right. Tira let out a blood curdling cry as Rena thought to herself, yes, this is what you put me through the other night.
Tira had taught Rena everything she needed to know about torturing feet the other night, and she employed every tactic that Tira had utilized against her. Each lash of her tongue down the poor girl’s velvety arch and sole, the mere taste of which increasing Rena’s voracious appetite, caused those feet to spasm, but as they were tied together, the movements were limited at best. Rena licked down the far edge, and then moved so that she could nibble on it; all the while Tira howled with laughter but had at some point transitioned from wildly fighting against the stockade to becoming quite tense and stiff, much like a brittle twig that has fallen from a tree, ready to crumble at the slightest provocation. But Rena knew that she had hardly begun, the urge to try those tiny toes – so sensitive, and so vulnerable – was great, but she needed to draw out the sensations as long as possible, knowing that the longer she waited to taste those lovely toes, the greater the satisfaction of it would be. Suddenly, a new thought occurred to her and she immediately acted upon it; spreading her lips from her teeth, she laid her incisors against the center of Tira’s right foot and began quickly raking back and forth, causing the poor girl to scream with wickedly delightful laughter, informing Rena that this new method was indeed extremely effective; as such, she continued to use it between the occasional tongue lash as she attacked that sensitive area that is impossible to protect just below the toes and just above the ball as she felt enthralled by giving out the same horrible torture she had received not long ago.
Distantly, Rena considered the danger of the position she was in; should the crowd turn on her– not unlikely as she was taunting them with her actions – she too would be subject to these terrible feelings once more. And yet, the idea that she could control Tira by touching her feet gave her a sort of incredible feeling of power over them, so that, as she moved to the other foot – to Tira’s behest – she used her free hand to remove her own shoes and slowly drop them to the earth behind her. After repositioning she sat upon her crossed legs, her two feet now bare and defenseless beneath her, drinking in the pleasure of controlling these men, too, by barring her feet to them, and though she knew it endangered herself, she also greatly enjoyed the irony of a barefoot woman tickling the naked feet of another woman. While tormenting Tira, she occasionally wiggled her feet and toes, taunting those cruel crowds that cheered her on. Oh boys, she thought to herself as a particularly spine chilling cry followed by a mix of whimpers and laughter left Tira while Rena gnawed at the ball of her foot, they’re so ticklish, too, and they’re right there, with nothing to stop you from tickling them, too.
Quite suddenly, she felt her legs tugged at slightly, feeling rope wrap itself about her ankles while the hurried voice of her benefactor instructed her to continue tickling Tira. Now, she knew, now for the toes; the word all but leapt at her from a void, in bold, red lettering, until there was nothing left to think of. As the rope tightly knotted itself, perhaps forever binding her bare feet together to be tickled, Rena allowed herself to taste those forbidden fruits, forcing Tira’s second toe to enter her mouth, nibbling and wrapping her tongue all around it at once Rena nearly moaned at finally having them. The sensations started just then – her feet became alive with the touch of fingers, tens of them, perhaps hundreds, and she smiled, her friend’s foot plugging the laughter inside of her. For some time she continued, allowing the second toe freedom so that she could have at the pinky toe, drowning it in her own cascading pools of laughter, and though she enjoyed it, she desired more than anything Tira’s largest toe. Without the slightest hesitation, Rena engulfed Tira’s big toe, licking at the roughened flesh that scraped against her tongue while the poor, trembling thing wiggled and kicked at the walls of her mouth as it attempted to find some sort of exit, the toe’s nail stabbing at her teeth as the sensations upon Rena’s feet grew in intensity, furthering the smile upon her lips until it was too wide to keep her mouth closed, resulting in laughter escaping from her. The toe left her mouth and Rena rested her head upon those feet, falling into laughter as it was all she found herself capable of.
For a few seconds, she sat, giggling as any number of hands caressed her feet all over despite their wiggling and shirking away. After trying to move closer to the stockade to get away, she felt herself held down by firm hands on her shoulders as her benefactor instructed her to continue tickling Tira. For a brief second, the idea that all women – including herself – should be tickled as such existed, but Rena immediately smote the idea from existence, though the feeling implanted by it could not be quelled. She did not want to like what she did, or what was done to her, but she feared that she very well might. Deciding that Tira had been given enough of a break, she began to nibble on several of her toes at once, sucking upon them when given the opportunity, but the tickling she received made it increasingly difficult, until she could no longer tickle, but only laugh incessantly; repeatedly she whispered to herself that she wasn’t ticklish in hopes that by willing away the sensations she would be able to focus upon her friends torture again in the hopes that by doing so she could avoid re-entering the stocks, but her feet refused to listen; her hitherto unknown desires would not allow this, as she could not run from what she secretly wished would occur, and as such she continued to laugh upon Tira’s quivering soles.
Some seconds after she lost the ability to tickle, she was lifted and the rope was cut away. The stockade opened for but a second, during which time she was placed within the stockades so that she sat in front of Tira, upon her knees so that her feet faced the merciless men, but unlike Tira’s, Rena’s feet were far from one another, secluded so that one could not defend the other. For how long the two laughed she could not say, but their twin vocals – Rena’s lower, rhythmic laugh and Tira’s higher, wild, uncontrollable shrieks and giggles – echoed about the encampment pleasantly. Eventually, the men had tired of their games, but it was well after the sun had set that the two were freed from the stockade. Their shoes, however, had disappeared, likely held hostage or even taken as a prize by one of the men, leaving the two women barefoot and quite vulnerable to anyone that might have considered tickling them in the roughly hewn, recently formed street as they returned to their tent for the night.
Haha. One of the notes, as I was editing this, said that this was supposed to be short. Yeah that didn’t happen. Oh well. I probably should have let this series alone as a single story, since the first wasn’t very good and neither is this one, but I saw quite some time ago someone either ask for or state that tandem stock stories are rare, so I decided to go with it. It worked sort of well with this particular setting, so I chose to continue the series a bit. Actually I ended up writing a few more parts to this series, not that they’re particularly long or good, but etc. The main thing with this one is that it lacks description; I had the notes of their physical descriptions but I never felt like I wanted to include them. Well, this was written around that time I had thought about experimenting with such things and relying instead upon the imagination, but.. rambling. Etc.
Oh. Part one is here: To The Victor (M/FF, F/F Feet)
To The Victor (P. 2 The Contest) (F/F, feet)
The cold night, during which Rena had slept on still damp dirt with neither pillow nor blanket, had not abated her rage towards Tira. If anything, her inability to sleep well only increased her anger as she had had nothing to do but think for long hours that night. The tingling upon the bottoms of her feet throughout the night trapped her mind on that blatant betrayal.
Both Rena and Tira were woken early by the light of dawn, rudely thrown from their sleep by their captor to do miscellaneous chores, such as gathering water, cleaning, and preparing meals. Unlike the day before and the years before that, Rena chose her boots over her sandals, because though she enjoyed showing off her feet, she felt that that would work against her, here, and favored instead guarding them from sight. Though the two were sent together, they hardly spoke. Tira attempted to break the silence multiple times with apathetic apologies, but Rena refused to listen and continued to avoid any looks toward Tira when she could afford it. Due to their close proximity to a river bed, the area was little more than brown and gray mud packed tightly by the armies constant movement within the camp, with little else to be seen; what was not obscured by the cloth of the tents was guarded by a thick fog. It mirrored her mood, that thick fog, whose white water molecules could be seen wafting in the air upon close inspection, greatly amplifying Rena’s emotions simply because she was so confined by it.
Little actually happened that morning; Rena ignored Tira, and that was all. They washed clothes and cooked food in silence while watching their captors eat what little food was available. The scenery never changed; the fog had not burned off by mid day, the soldiers hardly moved about, and the tents still rested in their uniform rows. After their second meal, the soldiers – at least those crowded in the small space around Rena – had tired of lazing about. Some began to practice sword play with one another, but the large majority began to call for entertainment. After but a minute at least twenty or so had gathered around the small fire where Tira and Rena worked, their cries loud now as Rena noticed the group eyeing Tira and herself, though they seemed much more interested in Tira, going so far as to prod and poke her while she worked, but still the two women attempted to ignore the attention they received as best they could. Soon after they had become rowdy, their benefactor – that unshaven block of a man – arrived from somewhere unseen. A quick shout of entertainment was followed by hearty cheers as Rena’s heart fell within her chest, leaving a sense of dread at what she anticipated would soon become of her feet. He whispered to one man – she thought she heard him say get that, with a strong emphasis on the word that – causing that person to gleefully trot off, almost at a skip.
The crowd had grown quite restless, forming a circle about the two girls so that they lost sight of anything beyond the men, including their benefactor. The hungry eyes of the men in that circle, full of lust as they measured both Rena and Tira like large hunks of meat, caused the two to rise and instinctively back into one another so that nobody could sneak behind them. Mere seconds passed as the men closed in before the man that claimed proprietorship of them broke through the thick crowd that blocked all else, dragging a large piece of wood, setting it nearer to Tira than Rena. Rena now noticed, as she analyzed it, that the contraption was actually two pieces of wood, which appeared to be similar to that of the stockade she had seen in town the day before, but was longer and contained four holes instead of two, though it hardly mattered what it was or how many holes it had, as she knew it would hold them still for their torture regardless of any particular features. Like she expected the top piece of wood was lifted, and the girls were told to place their ankles in the rests; obediently the two followed their orders, approaching the stockade with the knowledge that disobeying may very well result in far worse consequences. Immediately, the two were scolded for sitting side by side, and were instead instructed to sit on their knees, facing different directions, so that when they were locked in place, they faced away from one another. Their benefactor moved towards them, lifting Tira’s ankles and placing them in the two middle holes, leaving the outer holes to hold Rena’s ankles, causing Rena to smile at the unfair advantage bestowed to her, as Tira’s feet would be much easier to tickle than her own; while that man did this, Rena noticed a sick yet warm smile upon the man’s face that she had been unfamiliar with until then. Rena watched as one man strode forward and stole Tira’s boots from her feet, leaving her pretty soles bare beneath Rena, while she felt her own disappear somewhere unseen as well, freeing them to the warm muggy air that caressed her slightly sweaty soles.
After the plank had been firmly locked in place, Rena looked to her left, seeing her benefactor appear from beyond the crowd while trying to gather everyone’s attention as she enjoyed the nice breeze on her now naked feet. “Alright. Each girl has the others pair of feet in front of them; the one who laughs the most wins.” Assuming they both participated, that would be excellent; though last time, Tira had given in almost immediately and turned on her, rather than holding out and refusing to play these ridiculous games. Not that Rena intended to be so kind this time; she desired nothing more than to make that poor girl suffer for betraying her like she did, and could hardly contain herself upon seeing those feet bared and locked in place before her.
With a sinister smile brought on by the thought of revenge, Rena pressed her palms against Tira’s defenseless feet, which shuddered at the sensation; they felt very soft and were extremely pleasant to touch, she mused to herself. In fact, they were so nice to touch that Rena began to conclude that this girl’s feet secretly desired to be touched, or needed to be, as they had such a silky luster to them. Maybe that was this girl’s only purpose in life; to have her feet touched, tickled and toyed with against her will. It certainly fit well, considering how responsive she was. Using the thumb and finger of her right hand, she pinched at the second toe – the longest on Tira’s foot – and spoke quietly over her shoulder, just loud enough for Tira to hear. “Should I torture this one,” she said evily before pinching the toe in the very middle in a similar manner, causing the foot to jerk in response, “Or this one?”
“Don’t. Please, Rena.”
“Did you stop when I begged you to?” She retorted.
Their benefactor continued his self important speech as this went on; Rena decided to listen to it again, and though she listened, she did not take her eyes off those small, smooth soles that peeked out at her beneath her hands. “The game begins in five,” he said as he started to count down, but by the four Rena had already lost interest in waiting, clenching her hands slightly, curving them just enough that her nails no longer over extended past Tira’s toes, but instead touched them. Immediately after she began to dig in, scratching lightly, quickly. That girl screamed, interrupting their benefactor who asked them to wait, but Rena hardly heard him over Tira’s yelps and crazed laughter. Though she clenched her toes to her soles in an attempt to protect them, Rena’s nails had already penetrated that defense, and instead of being locked out, were locked in. All she had to do was wiggle her fingers slightly, and Tira’s feet, which kicked helplessly against her bondage, practically tickled themselves by brushing against Rena’s fingers.
She made a game of it after some light tickles, choosing instead of out right tickling to set her long nails against the centers of Tira’s feet, smiling deviously as they ferociously fought to avoid the touches and in doing so tickled themselves silly. For long minutes Tira cried out with laughs so shrill that you would think that by merely touching her feet she would die; however, Rena simply found it delicious that she could control Tira simply by touching those sensitive things, and enjoyed it more so that Tira herself, through no fault of Rena’s, was causing those feelings which she could not stand.
After some time, furious scribbles were felt on her very bare, right foot, stunning her for a moment while she gave way to her own feet’s demands that Rena, too, should laugh. But this lasted but a moment before she quickly took the foot on her left and, gripping it tightly by the toes so that it might not escape, gave it a similar treatment.
As soon as Rena’s nails discovered Tira’s flesh once more the entire stockade shook violently as the poor girl desperately fought with her bondage. For a few seconds, the nails upon her own foot struck violently at her poor toes, feeling them wiggle spasmodically as they tried to escape those touches, but though it tickled, she knew that Tira would soon give in if she continued attacking, so that the increased raid upon her own foot in turn spurred the demon within Rena to decimate her poor friend’s arch with her long nails while laughing at her plight.
The torture Rena gave soon took effect, and the tickles on her own feet ceased, allowing her to pay more attention to her adversary’s wiggling feet. Allowing the captive foot its freedom once more, Rena took to raking her nails rapidly up and down both soles. From the puzzling array of sounds that Tira emitted, from screams to laughs, and even her hands slapping against the mud, Rena soon learned that Tira had no way of handling the feelings if they were spread against both of her unfortunate feet. Though she wanted to turn about and watch the torment take effect on Tira, Rena could not take her eyes away from those feet, as they acted as a sort of symbol for the power and control she had over her former friend. They truly were gorgeous, and so much fun to tickle that Rena began to understand the men’s motives, even going so far as to, for but one swift second, understand why Tira would have tortured her so the other night.
For some time the torture continued this way, with Tira’s loud, wild laughs filling the countryside with their beautiful melody. Every now and then she felt Tira try to tickle her again, probably in hopes that the surprise would cause Rena to stop even for a second, allowing Tira to take the high ground, but though those light, quick touches caused Rena to laugh heartily – even scream out at times when they found the more sensitive regions near the center of her feet – Rena’s attacks upon Tira’s soles never ceased. But then, all too soon, their benefactor announced the match to be over. While he spoke again some man came up to Rena and gripped her wrists together with one very strong hand, lifting them away from Tira’s feet so that she might be forced to stop. Tira, however, was given no such punishment, as Rena could feel those too familiar nails screaming down both of her feet at once; somehow, having her wrists held together as such increased the feeling of the sensations, and Rena cried out wildly, but the situation was soon rectified by what Rnea could only assume to be another soldier stopping Tira in much the same way.
For but a split second, the stockade cracked its mouth open, yawning just wide enough to allow Rena temporarily release; it happened so quickly; two men grabbed her legs – one to each man – and pulled her free while a third held the bucking Tira in place. Looking back as the stockade slammed shut, she could see that Tira was held inside of them so that she would not escape their vice grip. Now free, Rena was handed her boots again so that she might once more protect her own, sensitive feet from the men around her who seemed as if they might fall upon her at any moment so that they might secure her to the ground, gang up on her and tickle the day lights out of her.
Their benefactor spoke again, stating that Tira had won the contest, and her prize would be more tickling. Looking about, Rena saw the hungry and greedy eyes of all those men ogling her friend’s feet, but felt an overwhelming desire to have at them herself, feeling the same look radiating from her own eyes as she too ogled those defenseless feet from her now safe location. “Sir,” she spoke simply – she decided it best to be careful around her benefactor, referring to him only as Sir, and always with the utmost respect she could think possible, lest she lose the privilege of her shoes and enter the stockade unnecessarily, or to some fate far worse, as she imagined this horrendous group capable – “Allow me the honor, please.”
All at once the crowd hooted and cheered, speaking to her that, though they all wanted a chance to torment poor Tira, they would just as easily enjoy watching another woman - whose own feet were quite ticklish - tickle a fellow woman’s feet. An approving nod was granted to her from their benefactor, and as Rena strode forward, Tira began to plead.
“Rena, don’t! Please!”
As she sat down without receiving any sort of sign that she would be allowed to torment her friend, Rena lost herself to meandering thoughts; oh, you bitch, she heard that inward voice almost yell, as if I would allow you to escape any punishment I could deal out. With a flick of her long hair, so that it was entirely out of her face, Rena rested her palms upon Tira’s heels, feeling a surge of satisfaction at the ability to have control over someone; the satisfaction of making Tira suffer by such simple means tasted wonderful, she thought while licking her lips. “When I say jump, Tira, you’ll jump.” She spoke loudly, so that the crowd of horny men behind her could hear her clearly. “And you’ll laugh when I want you to.” She finished simply to the cheering crowds approval.
“No! Don’t! Ahhh!” Tira screamed out as Rena’s nails began wiggling across her heels, which, as much as those feet wiggling about, could not escape the torment. After this Tira’s laughter echoed outward while Rena’s nails leapt down both arches, immediately heading for those rapidly curling toes so that she could strike at them with gusto, not heeding to Tira’s pleads in the least, which only served to earn those bare soles more tickles. They were so soft beneath Rena’s fingers that she hardly wondered why anyone would put any woman through this torture; Tira’s feet, despite her cries, all but begged to be touched and tormented, by both their creamy, delightful beauty and the amazing way that they felt.
“Rena, pleahehehease! Stop! No more! I can’t take it! Please!” The howls became louder and more desperate as her laughter reached crazed levels, but with each scream for an end Rena tickled harder and faster, desiring to hear her friend plead more. This, however, was not enough; the feet wiggled and flexed about too much. Rena recalled their first night here, and how her poor toes had been pinned to the ground, eliminating any form of escape; she also recalled that Tira had tortured her despite this.
“Bring me a length of yarn, so that I might bind her toes together.” Rena shouted over the cackling cries of the woman that had betrayed her.
“Not that! Not that! Don’t! Don’t do it! Please Rena! Please!” The men seemed all too eager to grant her wish despite Tira’s cries, and one man quickly handed her a long piece of filthy yarn from somewhere out of her field of vision. Allowing Tira the slightest moment of solitude, Rena stopped and gripped her two big toes tightly together; the poor girl was famished for air and breathed deeply, seemingly unaware of what torture would soon begin. As fast as Rena could manage, she strung the string about the ends of Tira’s two toes, tiny things, like two delicious cream colored grapes; she fought back, struggling to prevent this bit of bondage, but Rena held her too tightly. As the string weaved its restrictive loops, Tira giggled lightly; even this string tickles the poor thing, Rena thought to herself.
The binding took no longer than a few seconds, and as Rena finished she sat back to eye her handiwork she took in the sight of Tira’s utterly vulnerable feet. Truly, the added bondage increased those lovely feet’s beauty, as well as enchanting her and likely the men around her with the mystic twitches and struggles against her bondage, making louder still their sirens call of their need to be tickled. But, while she sat there, Rena felt that more needed to be done, finally spontaneously concluding that she had to exact what Tira had put her through, despite her friends whimpering.
Setting her right hand upon the flesh of her heels, enjoying the feeling of that particularly rough yet supple flesh, Rena moved her mouth close to Tira’s soles, allowing her breath to warm them so that Tira would know what was coming. “Rena! Oh god, Rena! No!” A sinister smile crept onto her lips as she let her tongue taste that flesh, savoring it while she slowly ran her tongue down the quivering sole on her right. Tira let out a blood curdling cry as Rena thought to herself, yes, this is what you put me through the other night.
Tira had taught Rena everything she needed to know about torturing feet the other night, and she employed every tactic that Tira had utilized against her. Each lash of her tongue down the poor girl’s velvety arch and sole, the mere taste of which increasing Rena’s voracious appetite, caused those feet to spasm, but as they were tied together, the movements were limited at best. Rena licked down the far edge, and then moved so that she could nibble on it; all the while Tira howled with laughter but had at some point transitioned from wildly fighting against the stockade to becoming quite tense and stiff, much like a brittle twig that has fallen from a tree, ready to crumble at the slightest provocation. But Rena knew that she had hardly begun, the urge to try those tiny toes – so sensitive, and so vulnerable – was great, but she needed to draw out the sensations as long as possible, knowing that the longer she waited to taste those lovely toes, the greater the satisfaction of it would be. Suddenly, a new thought occurred to her and she immediately acted upon it; spreading her lips from her teeth, she laid her incisors against the center of Tira’s right foot and began quickly raking back and forth, causing the poor girl to scream with wickedly delightful laughter, informing Rena that this new method was indeed extremely effective; as such, she continued to use it between the occasional tongue lash as she attacked that sensitive area that is impossible to protect just below the toes and just above the ball as she felt enthralled by giving out the same horrible torture she had received not long ago.
Distantly, Rena considered the danger of the position she was in; should the crowd turn on her– not unlikely as she was taunting them with her actions – she too would be subject to these terrible feelings once more. And yet, the idea that she could control Tira by touching her feet gave her a sort of incredible feeling of power over them, so that, as she moved to the other foot – to Tira’s behest – she used her free hand to remove her own shoes and slowly drop them to the earth behind her. After repositioning she sat upon her crossed legs, her two feet now bare and defenseless beneath her, drinking in the pleasure of controlling these men, too, by barring her feet to them, and though she knew it endangered herself, she also greatly enjoyed the irony of a barefoot woman tickling the naked feet of another woman. While tormenting Tira, she occasionally wiggled her feet and toes, taunting those cruel crowds that cheered her on. Oh boys, she thought to herself as a particularly spine chilling cry followed by a mix of whimpers and laughter left Tira while Rena gnawed at the ball of her foot, they’re so ticklish, too, and they’re right there, with nothing to stop you from tickling them, too.
Quite suddenly, she felt her legs tugged at slightly, feeling rope wrap itself about her ankles while the hurried voice of her benefactor instructed her to continue tickling Tira. Now, she knew, now for the toes; the word all but leapt at her from a void, in bold, red lettering, until there was nothing left to think of. As the rope tightly knotted itself, perhaps forever binding her bare feet together to be tickled, Rena allowed herself to taste those forbidden fruits, forcing Tira’s second toe to enter her mouth, nibbling and wrapping her tongue all around it at once Rena nearly moaned at finally having them. The sensations started just then – her feet became alive with the touch of fingers, tens of them, perhaps hundreds, and she smiled, her friend’s foot plugging the laughter inside of her. For some time she continued, allowing the second toe freedom so that she could have at the pinky toe, drowning it in her own cascading pools of laughter, and though she enjoyed it, she desired more than anything Tira’s largest toe. Without the slightest hesitation, Rena engulfed Tira’s big toe, licking at the roughened flesh that scraped against her tongue while the poor, trembling thing wiggled and kicked at the walls of her mouth as it attempted to find some sort of exit, the toe’s nail stabbing at her teeth as the sensations upon Rena’s feet grew in intensity, furthering the smile upon her lips until it was too wide to keep her mouth closed, resulting in laughter escaping from her. The toe left her mouth and Rena rested her head upon those feet, falling into laughter as it was all she found herself capable of.
For a few seconds, she sat, giggling as any number of hands caressed her feet all over despite their wiggling and shirking away. After trying to move closer to the stockade to get away, she felt herself held down by firm hands on her shoulders as her benefactor instructed her to continue tickling Tira. For a brief second, the idea that all women – including herself – should be tickled as such existed, but Rena immediately smote the idea from existence, though the feeling implanted by it could not be quelled. She did not want to like what she did, or what was done to her, but she feared that she very well might. Deciding that Tira had been given enough of a break, she began to nibble on several of her toes at once, sucking upon them when given the opportunity, but the tickling she received made it increasingly difficult, until she could no longer tickle, but only laugh incessantly; repeatedly she whispered to herself that she wasn’t ticklish in hopes that by willing away the sensations she would be able to focus upon her friends torture again in the hopes that by doing so she could avoid re-entering the stocks, but her feet refused to listen; her hitherto unknown desires would not allow this, as she could not run from what she secretly wished would occur, and as such she continued to laugh upon Tira’s quivering soles.
Some seconds after she lost the ability to tickle, she was lifted and the rope was cut away. The stockade opened for but a second, during which time she was placed within the stockades so that she sat in front of Tira, upon her knees so that her feet faced the merciless men, but unlike Tira’s, Rena’s feet were far from one another, secluded so that one could not defend the other. For how long the two laughed she could not say, but their twin vocals – Rena’s lower, rhythmic laugh and Tira’s higher, wild, uncontrollable shrieks and giggles – echoed about the encampment pleasantly. Eventually, the men had tired of their games, but it was well after the sun had set that the two were freed from the stockade. Their shoes, however, had disappeared, likely held hostage or even taken as a prize by one of the men, leaving the two women barefoot and quite vulnerable to anyone that might have considered tickling them in the roughly hewn, recently formed street as they returned to their tent for the night.
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