ElFewja
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Finally took the time to go through Tickling Paradise and get my old stories back. Old as in written in 2003/2004. This one? I don’t remember much about it, so I guess I can’t say much, either. Oh well. At the time I had had a thing for the idea of a canvas being used in a similar fashion to a stockade; well, a more thorough stockade that surrounded the edges of the foot/between the toes, entirely immobilizing, etc. Somewhere in my editing folder is a more recent story that utilizes the device but, well, it doesn’t sound sturdy enough to work well, in my opinion.
Anyway, don’t mind the name; way back then I couldn’t conceive of getting everything into one story, so I had planned it to be divided into parts. Pretty much every story from back then is set up in the same manner, and like all of those, I never completed the series. The ideas behind this one no longer interest me, anyway.
Etc.
Painting Models (Part 1 Colleen Arrives) (M/F Feet)
Through one of the local newspapers, Coleen finally found another job. Being a model in NY wasn't as easy or glamorous as it sometimes was made out to be. Models were at low demand, and there’s a large group of them for people needing models to pick from, making it nearly impossible for Coleen to get a job. But this morning she had scheduled one with a local painter, not a big one like she would have preferred though. A job's a job, though, and it didn't matter who paid her so long as she was paid.
Quickly, Coleen went to the standing mirror in her apartment to check herself. With her short, dark hair in curls, and her natural brown eyes, which caught the light and appeared nearly golden, she thought she looked fabulous.
After nearly an hour drive, Coleen arrived at a small, homely building in the middle of nowhere. The job was to be a model for a painter, interestingly enough. Such a job seemed rare, but amazingly no one else had applied. So after walking up the beaten path to the porch, she walked up and knocked on the door. "Come in." was the only reply she got.
After walking up a flight of stairs, she entered a small room that held a table, a few chairs, a window, some paints and brushes, and a fairly dirty rug underneath it all. A blank canvas was set in the corner, and beside it sat a tall man. Tall was the only thing she could make out of him; there was no window in this room, and shadows covered him.
"Sit." he spoke, and waved off to a chair beside the table. Coleen did as instructed, as the man prepared the stand for the canvas. After a few minutes the stand was set up, and the man walked towards Coleen. He reached under the arms of the chair, pulled straps that must have been attached to them, and trapped her wrists to the chair. Of course, Coleen didn't expect to become trapped so easily, or to even be trapped by this person. After testing her bonds, she cried out in terror. The man laughed at her, and spoke again in his rough voice, "Don't worry, I won't hurt you. Now, what size shoe do you wear?"
She sat in wonderment for a few seconds before she decided to answer, "Uhm, six, I think. Why?"
"Oh, nothing in particular, just curious.." he answered, and left the room. Down the hall came the sound of objects being moved and thrown, though she was not sure how far away it came from. Patiently she waited for what seemed like ten minutes. During this time she came to think that maybe this was just how he wanted to paint her in the portrait, and didn't ask because she most likely would not have let him. So she waited patiently, until he arrived with a canvas under his arms, which she couldn't see clearly. Approaching her, he set it on the floor out of her site, and sat down by her feet. Carefully he removed her shoes, which she didn't realize at first. Of course she wondered at this, but didn't take much mind to it.
After he was done, which didn't take long at all, he set up the canvas. Now Coleen noticed something odd. There were holes in the center, and coincidently, shaped like feet. It was then she realized this man had some sick desire, and that she was trapped to it. He lifted her left foot off the ground by the ankle, and questioned her before he continued, "Now, you wouldn't be ticklish, would you?"
Coleen laughed, at both the situation, and the sick man in front of her. When she was little she remembered being tickled by her father and brothers, and it had been horrible at the time, but she grew up. That was years ago, I couldn’t be ticklish anymore, she thought. "No." she answered confidently.
The tall man hmphed, and raised his free hand to stroke a finger from the heel of her foot, up her arch, and under her toes, where he dabbled for a few seconds. This brought uncontrolled giggles from her, and she mindlessly struggled at the bonds holding her wrists. As a child her feet had been one of her more ticklish spots, but that was so long ago. It stopped as soon as it had begun, but she continued giggling. He nodded, and then began placing her foot into the canvas hole. After he had picked up her other foot, and began placing it into the canvas, she truly became aware of the situation. The man before her was going to tickle her, childish as that sounded, and she still was horribly ticklish. Then dread filled her, because even though he had barely done anything, just ran his finger up her sole once, it was unbearable. By then her feet were trapped in the canvas, and he had walked around the other side of the table, which her legs hovered over, and began preparing something she couldn't see.
Tugging with her feet, she realized that he had had bondings fit into it, too. Something clamped her toes lightly so that she couldn't move them at all, but left them bare on the soles that stuck out the other side. The way they were held, by the tip, the sides of the toes were vulnerable too, or at least, most of the sides. Another held her ankles tightly in place, and if there were anymore, she couldn't feel them. Now she understood why he had asked her shoe size; the canvas fit perfectly to her feet. Coleen was frightened now, at the mercy of someone who would most likely show none, and he was going to tickle her of all things.
That ad really paid off, thought Rafel. This was, after all, the fifth girl whom he had caught with it, and she was by far the sexiest. The most ticklish so far, at that, he decided. Or at least, he thought she was the most ticklish; he hadn't begun yet, after all. The mirror in the back of the room had been prepared for moments such as these long before, and reflected the woman's feet so she could see precisely what he was going to do. After a small study, Rafel concluded that seeing the torture but being unable to stop it was the most effective form to go about this. Rafel sat in the chair slightly to the side of Coleen, so as not to block the mirror. He sat facing her soft, delicate soles. Oh, she had high arches, and perfectly sized toes, the second being the longest. Her tan wasn't extremely deep, but it was a very nice tone, and her soles were a milky white to match.
The canvas twitched as she struggled to escape, now understanding her predicament. But of course she couldn't, know the depth of it, had no idea how much what he would do would tickle. Just the same, she began to beg, "Please..." Well, at least she believed she was ticklish. That was, at least, a good sign. Preparing a long, stiff white feather that Coleen couldn't see, Rafel wondered how ticklish she really was. Only the most ticklish were put through the full plan, because they were the only ones that were truly fun to torment. Besides that, pretty feet were required as well. Coleen's were gorgeous to say the least.
To find extremely ticklish women, Rafel had prepared a test. Simple really, for all he did was stroke the soles of whomever he had caught with a feather for a half hour. During that time he estimated just how ticklish she was, where, and how well she could handle the tickling. Rafel hoped he had finally caught a perfect example of what he was looking for as he raised the feather.
Not long after Rafel had sat down, Coleen had noticed the mirror in the back of the room. In it she could see herself, and her feet in the canvas, stretched and immobile. She watched anticipated, beginning to become nervous just because he simply didn't do anything. Then the feather came into sight, a stiff white, approaching her toes slowly. Coleen never anticipated what she would feel, never imagined anything like it. To her surprise it didn't touch her toes, but the spot underneath them. Before now, any time she had been tickled on her feet, she had been able to writhe away, or protect the tickled spot by clenching her toes or covering one foot with the other. Now that her soles were completely immobile to the torture that would plague them, the feeling that shocked through her was electrifying.
Screaming with all her might, she tried to break free now more than ever, but to no avail. When the feather had found its way around her right foot twice, she realized how hopeless the situation was. Her only thoughts were how helpless her bare feet were, and how ticklish she was. Growing up had not made her any less ticklish, but more so. In the mirror she watched the feather dance across her soles, move up her arch, strike across her toes, and tickle in-between them. The whole while she laughed and screamed, and begged for mercy.
When she saw the feather approach her toes she always begged not to be tickled there. It was the worst spot, she soon realized. The only other spot worse than that was the spot of her sole just under the toes, which she estimated to be her most ticklish spot. The majority of the time, the feather was there.
This was a better reaction than Rafel had expected. The mirror played its part in showing her when he would strike her worst spots, which he figured out were the toes, underneath them, and the arches. The melodious laughter filled the room. One of his favorite parts of all this was making her laughs a song, scream, and beg. It was music to his ears. Amidst constant laughter, she squealed stop. It was becoming increasingly harder for her to complete the word though. Every time he approached her toes, she screamed "NOOO NOT MY TOES! PLEASE!!" But this didn't stop him, of course.
Rafel decided to be a little mean, and drew the feather very slowly to her big toe. With the tip stopped on the very center of it, he spoke "This little piggy went to market..." and brushed back and forth for nearly a minute before moving on to the next toe. So he went on until he had finished with the right foot's toes, then moved to the left to do the same. Her face was a great joy to see while he slowly spoke the words of the old children's game. Although he stopped temporarily, dread must have filled her knowing that soon, the tickling would become far worse than before.
After a half hour had passed, or longer, there was no clock in the room after all, Rafel began to slow down with the tickling. For the first time he actually observed Coleen, and noted the tears streaming from her eyes, insane from the small amount of tickling. She slumped in her chair, only being held by the feet and wrist restraints most likely. Exactly the model he wanted, she passed the test. Then Rafel heard a knocking at the door. "Good..." he said before leaving the room to answer.
The tickling administered to Coleen's feet left her a true mess. Long after it was over, she remembered it still tickling, and not being able to rub them to make it go away. For long minutes she giggled, and cried at the same time, which was very odd indeed, or at least she thought so. When she fully came to her senses, about ten minutes later, she realized that the tickling must have stopped a while ago. Rafel was nowhere to be seen, and she was alone in the bindings that held her. Only one wish filled her; to never be tickled again.
Of course Rafel knew who was there, he had only forgotten in his excitement. It was Jen, another of the models. Or he hoped it was, anyway. Luckily enough, Rafel would be allowed to get right to the tickling with her, and not have to go through any of these tests. At a great coincidence, when he was on the phone with Jen, someone - a boyfriend or child perhaps, Rafel had no idea - had walked up and begun tickling her lightly in the ribs. The laugh gave away that it wasn't much, but that she was also very ticklish as well.
He answered the door and welcomed her, then took her to the room Coleen was in. Going through the same procedures as he had with Coleen, he put her feet into another canvas, so that her size 9 soles were facing Coleen, but to the right, and that the same applied to Coleen's feet from Jen's view. Thankfully Coleen had recovered from the tickling, but kept silent, knowing that saying anything would only double her torment. Now Rafel decided to get real, and took a different feather from a drawer he had, along with a small can of off white powder.
Jen had questioned what was happening when she had been strapped to the chair, and her shoes removed so her feet could be placed in the canvas, but hadn't fought either. Now with the feather, this one black so he could measure the powder on it, he carefully dipped it into the powders and traced it onto each foot of the girls, causing them to laugh uncontrollably, until every spot had been covered. Both of them voiced similar questions, "What did you just do?"
Rafel merely laughed, and walked off. Counting to 30, he waited. Quite suddenly, even though expected, both girls screamed and laughed madly, Coleen even louder than before. The only acknowledgement to the laughter that Rafel gave was a nod before he walked off. The thought crossed his mind of how much fun he would have as soon as the process was done.
End of Part 1
Anyway, don’t mind the name; way back then I couldn’t conceive of getting everything into one story, so I had planned it to be divided into parts. Pretty much every story from back then is set up in the same manner, and like all of those, I never completed the series. The ideas behind this one no longer interest me, anyway.
Etc.
Painting Models (Part 1 Colleen Arrives) (M/F Feet)
Through one of the local newspapers, Coleen finally found another job. Being a model in NY wasn't as easy or glamorous as it sometimes was made out to be. Models were at low demand, and there’s a large group of them for people needing models to pick from, making it nearly impossible for Coleen to get a job. But this morning she had scheduled one with a local painter, not a big one like she would have preferred though. A job's a job, though, and it didn't matter who paid her so long as she was paid.
Quickly, Coleen went to the standing mirror in her apartment to check herself. With her short, dark hair in curls, and her natural brown eyes, which caught the light and appeared nearly golden, she thought she looked fabulous.
After nearly an hour drive, Coleen arrived at a small, homely building in the middle of nowhere. The job was to be a model for a painter, interestingly enough. Such a job seemed rare, but amazingly no one else had applied. So after walking up the beaten path to the porch, she walked up and knocked on the door. "Come in." was the only reply she got.
After walking up a flight of stairs, she entered a small room that held a table, a few chairs, a window, some paints and brushes, and a fairly dirty rug underneath it all. A blank canvas was set in the corner, and beside it sat a tall man. Tall was the only thing she could make out of him; there was no window in this room, and shadows covered him.
"Sit." he spoke, and waved off to a chair beside the table. Coleen did as instructed, as the man prepared the stand for the canvas. After a few minutes the stand was set up, and the man walked towards Coleen. He reached under the arms of the chair, pulled straps that must have been attached to them, and trapped her wrists to the chair. Of course, Coleen didn't expect to become trapped so easily, or to even be trapped by this person. After testing her bonds, she cried out in terror. The man laughed at her, and spoke again in his rough voice, "Don't worry, I won't hurt you. Now, what size shoe do you wear?"
She sat in wonderment for a few seconds before she decided to answer, "Uhm, six, I think. Why?"
"Oh, nothing in particular, just curious.." he answered, and left the room. Down the hall came the sound of objects being moved and thrown, though she was not sure how far away it came from. Patiently she waited for what seemed like ten minutes. During this time she came to think that maybe this was just how he wanted to paint her in the portrait, and didn't ask because she most likely would not have let him. So she waited patiently, until he arrived with a canvas under his arms, which she couldn't see clearly. Approaching her, he set it on the floor out of her site, and sat down by her feet. Carefully he removed her shoes, which she didn't realize at first. Of course she wondered at this, but didn't take much mind to it.
After he was done, which didn't take long at all, he set up the canvas. Now Coleen noticed something odd. There were holes in the center, and coincidently, shaped like feet. It was then she realized this man had some sick desire, and that she was trapped to it. He lifted her left foot off the ground by the ankle, and questioned her before he continued, "Now, you wouldn't be ticklish, would you?"
Coleen laughed, at both the situation, and the sick man in front of her. When she was little she remembered being tickled by her father and brothers, and it had been horrible at the time, but she grew up. That was years ago, I couldn’t be ticklish anymore, she thought. "No." she answered confidently.
The tall man hmphed, and raised his free hand to stroke a finger from the heel of her foot, up her arch, and under her toes, where he dabbled for a few seconds. This brought uncontrolled giggles from her, and she mindlessly struggled at the bonds holding her wrists. As a child her feet had been one of her more ticklish spots, but that was so long ago. It stopped as soon as it had begun, but she continued giggling. He nodded, and then began placing her foot into the canvas hole. After he had picked up her other foot, and began placing it into the canvas, she truly became aware of the situation. The man before her was going to tickle her, childish as that sounded, and she still was horribly ticklish. Then dread filled her, because even though he had barely done anything, just ran his finger up her sole once, it was unbearable. By then her feet were trapped in the canvas, and he had walked around the other side of the table, which her legs hovered over, and began preparing something she couldn't see.
Tugging with her feet, she realized that he had had bondings fit into it, too. Something clamped her toes lightly so that she couldn't move them at all, but left them bare on the soles that stuck out the other side. The way they were held, by the tip, the sides of the toes were vulnerable too, or at least, most of the sides. Another held her ankles tightly in place, and if there were anymore, she couldn't feel them. Now she understood why he had asked her shoe size; the canvas fit perfectly to her feet. Coleen was frightened now, at the mercy of someone who would most likely show none, and he was going to tickle her of all things.
That ad really paid off, thought Rafel. This was, after all, the fifth girl whom he had caught with it, and she was by far the sexiest. The most ticklish so far, at that, he decided. Or at least, he thought she was the most ticklish; he hadn't begun yet, after all. The mirror in the back of the room had been prepared for moments such as these long before, and reflected the woman's feet so she could see precisely what he was going to do. After a small study, Rafel concluded that seeing the torture but being unable to stop it was the most effective form to go about this. Rafel sat in the chair slightly to the side of Coleen, so as not to block the mirror. He sat facing her soft, delicate soles. Oh, she had high arches, and perfectly sized toes, the second being the longest. Her tan wasn't extremely deep, but it was a very nice tone, and her soles were a milky white to match.
The canvas twitched as she struggled to escape, now understanding her predicament. But of course she couldn't, know the depth of it, had no idea how much what he would do would tickle. Just the same, she began to beg, "Please..." Well, at least she believed she was ticklish. That was, at least, a good sign. Preparing a long, stiff white feather that Coleen couldn't see, Rafel wondered how ticklish she really was. Only the most ticklish were put through the full plan, because they were the only ones that were truly fun to torment. Besides that, pretty feet were required as well. Coleen's were gorgeous to say the least.
To find extremely ticklish women, Rafel had prepared a test. Simple really, for all he did was stroke the soles of whomever he had caught with a feather for a half hour. During that time he estimated just how ticklish she was, where, and how well she could handle the tickling. Rafel hoped he had finally caught a perfect example of what he was looking for as he raised the feather.
Not long after Rafel had sat down, Coleen had noticed the mirror in the back of the room. In it she could see herself, and her feet in the canvas, stretched and immobile. She watched anticipated, beginning to become nervous just because he simply didn't do anything. Then the feather came into sight, a stiff white, approaching her toes slowly. Coleen never anticipated what she would feel, never imagined anything like it. To her surprise it didn't touch her toes, but the spot underneath them. Before now, any time she had been tickled on her feet, she had been able to writhe away, or protect the tickled spot by clenching her toes or covering one foot with the other. Now that her soles were completely immobile to the torture that would plague them, the feeling that shocked through her was electrifying.
Screaming with all her might, she tried to break free now more than ever, but to no avail. When the feather had found its way around her right foot twice, she realized how hopeless the situation was. Her only thoughts were how helpless her bare feet were, and how ticklish she was. Growing up had not made her any less ticklish, but more so. In the mirror she watched the feather dance across her soles, move up her arch, strike across her toes, and tickle in-between them. The whole while she laughed and screamed, and begged for mercy.
When she saw the feather approach her toes she always begged not to be tickled there. It was the worst spot, she soon realized. The only other spot worse than that was the spot of her sole just under the toes, which she estimated to be her most ticklish spot. The majority of the time, the feather was there.
This was a better reaction than Rafel had expected. The mirror played its part in showing her when he would strike her worst spots, which he figured out were the toes, underneath them, and the arches. The melodious laughter filled the room. One of his favorite parts of all this was making her laughs a song, scream, and beg. It was music to his ears. Amidst constant laughter, she squealed stop. It was becoming increasingly harder for her to complete the word though. Every time he approached her toes, she screamed "NOOO NOT MY TOES! PLEASE!!" But this didn't stop him, of course.
Rafel decided to be a little mean, and drew the feather very slowly to her big toe. With the tip stopped on the very center of it, he spoke "This little piggy went to market..." and brushed back and forth for nearly a minute before moving on to the next toe. So he went on until he had finished with the right foot's toes, then moved to the left to do the same. Her face was a great joy to see while he slowly spoke the words of the old children's game. Although he stopped temporarily, dread must have filled her knowing that soon, the tickling would become far worse than before.
After a half hour had passed, or longer, there was no clock in the room after all, Rafel began to slow down with the tickling. For the first time he actually observed Coleen, and noted the tears streaming from her eyes, insane from the small amount of tickling. She slumped in her chair, only being held by the feet and wrist restraints most likely. Exactly the model he wanted, she passed the test. Then Rafel heard a knocking at the door. "Good..." he said before leaving the room to answer.
The tickling administered to Coleen's feet left her a true mess. Long after it was over, she remembered it still tickling, and not being able to rub them to make it go away. For long minutes she giggled, and cried at the same time, which was very odd indeed, or at least she thought so. When she fully came to her senses, about ten minutes later, she realized that the tickling must have stopped a while ago. Rafel was nowhere to be seen, and she was alone in the bindings that held her. Only one wish filled her; to never be tickled again.
Of course Rafel knew who was there, he had only forgotten in his excitement. It was Jen, another of the models. Or he hoped it was, anyway. Luckily enough, Rafel would be allowed to get right to the tickling with her, and not have to go through any of these tests. At a great coincidence, when he was on the phone with Jen, someone - a boyfriend or child perhaps, Rafel had no idea - had walked up and begun tickling her lightly in the ribs. The laugh gave away that it wasn't much, but that she was also very ticklish as well.
He answered the door and welcomed her, then took her to the room Coleen was in. Going through the same procedures as he had with Coleen, he put her feet into another canvas, so that her size 9 soles were facing Coleen, but to the right, and that the same applied to Coleen's feet from Jen's view. Thankfully Coleen had recovered from the tickling, but kept silent, knowing that saying anything would only double her torment. Now Rafel decided to get real, and took a different feather from a drawer he had, along with a small can of off white powder.
Jen had questioned what was happening when she had been strapped to the chair, and her shoes removed so her feet could be placed in the canvas, but hadn't fought either. Now with the feather, this one black so he could measure the powder on it, he carefully dipped it into the powders and traced it onto each foot of the girls, causing them to laugh uncontrollably, until every spot had been covered. Both of them voiced similar questions, "What did you just do?"
Rafel merely laughed, and walked off. Counting to 30, he waited. Quite suddenly, even though expected, both girls screamed and laughed madly, Coleen even louder than before. The only acknowledgement to the laughter that Rafel gave was a nod before he walked off. The thought crossed his mind of how much fun he would have as soon as the process was done.
End of Part 1
