Nestor Blue
TMF Poster
- Joined
- Dec 6, 2009
- Messages
- 104
- Points
- 0
Meredith was a normal, level-headed person most of the time. She was meticulous about planning her day, always made sure the bills were paid on time, and kept a to-do list for things around the house that was updated to what seemed like the minute.
So why couldn't she stay away from online poker?
Meredith could keep a handle on her wild streak most of the time, but with all the effort she needed to keep some of her impulses under control, sometimes a wild idea would grab her, and that would be that. But usually it was a few extra drinks or a playfully sassy remark to John while she was tied up; how was she going to tell her husband she had blown eight hundred bucks?
Hesitantly, she headed into the kitchen.
"John honey?" said Meredith.
John was absorbed as usual in the morning paper. "Yes?"
"Remember that time I won five hundred at Vegas?" she chirped.
"Mmm-hmm."
"Well," said Meredith, nervously twirling a strand of her red hair and biting her lip, "this is kind of the opposite of that."
John peered over the top of his newspaper.
"Let's see," he said, studying her face. "By the look of your face, I'd saaaay...six-fifty?"
Meredith blushed. John's eyebrow arched up, just slightly.
"Seven?"
Meredith kept getting redder. She nervously slid her bare foot up and down her calf.
"Well, this is new territory. Eight?"
Meredith gave a sheepish grin. "I'm in trouble, aren't I?"
John looked up for a moment, lost in thought. "Well, this is the latest in your less than successful poker escapades. And definitely the largest. What we need is a way to...discourage, this."
John tapped his finger on his chin. He suddenly allowed a corner of his mouth to rise playfully into a half-grin.
"It's a simple matter of paying it back. That's all."
Meredith went cold. She loved having John both as a husband and a Master, but he had a wicked imagination, especially when it came to punishments. She dreaded whatever had come into his head.
John fixed Meredith with a deadly serious look.
"Keep this coming Saturday free."
Then he went back to his paper. Meredith felt a deep unease enter her stomach. She had expected a scolding. But what she got instead was a thousand times worse; three days to guess at what was in store for her.
--------------------------------------------------
On Saturday morning, Meredith awoke with an even mixture of dread, and relief at the prospect of at least finally knowing what was coming. John had come in with breakfast and a kiss on her cheek. Just as she began to take encouragement from the usual affection of her husband, he whispered into her ear.
"You'll need your strength."
Meredith felt the blood drain instantly away from her face. She looked up at John.
"Jesus, will you please at least tell me what's going on!?" Meredith pleaded.
John smirked.
"I want you to get showered, put on your black bikini, and head downstairs. You'll find out soon enough, my little card shark."
John left, and almost immediately afterward, Meredith thought she heard the sound of moving furniture downstairs.
--------------------------------------------
As Meredith padded down the stairs, the first thing she saw was that the front room by the door had been almost entirely cleared. John had set up privacy screens (with the red fabric, which she liked to provocatively undress behind sometimes) about ten feet in front of the door, on either side of the set of stocks that John had made out of the heaviest oak he could find. She shivered despite herself; as she nervously eyed the padded leather cuffs for stretching her arms over her head, and stared at the open jaws of the business end of John's stocks, awaiting her ankles. She knew it was going to be a long day.
She obediently sat down in the padded chair in the middle of the apparatus. John appeared behind her, and began strapping her in. He carefully lifted Meredith's wrists and strapped them into the cuffs, stretching her arms high enough to allow for total exposure of her underarms. John allowed himself a moment to appreciate the sight of her perfectly sized breasts. He then closed the stocks down around Meredith's thin ankles, snapping a heavy padlock closed a bit louder than necessary. He then completed the effect by fastening the leather knee straps and the wide leather waist strap; Meredith wasn't going anywhere.
"So, I get the stocks; you're going to tickle me without mercy," said Meredith.
"That's a bit of an understatement," retorted John.
"But why all the screens?" said Meredith, trying vainly to keep the tremor out of her voice.
"Well, let me explain" said John, tenting his fingers together. "I decided that you should pay off your debt immediately, rather than just let it sit on the credit card. So I decided to sell some...time, over the internet."
Meredith's eyes widened. "You...you didn't..."
"Oh, indeed I did," said John, now letting his smile light up his whole face. "I've booked some quality time with those cute little feet for some very gracious customers. And by the sound of their replies, they're very eager indeed."
Meredith tried to stammer out a response. Her feet were horribly ticklish; how much "quality time" had John put her down for?
"Oh, and the screens. To protect your privacy, I decided to drape these screens across the room, including this one," said John, throwing a long piece of red fabric over a crossbar between the two adjoining privacy screens on either side of the stocks, and obscuring Meredith's view. "I'm not a total sadist, you know. Of course, you won't be able to see what's coming. But I'm sure you won't have a problem with that," John chuckled.
Meredith was horrified; she had no idea what was in store for her poor soles. Lucky for her, however, the screens hid the dirty look that she shot at John, else the tickling might have started in earnest right then and there.
Just then, the doorbell rang. Meredith's blood froze.
John clapped his hands. "Our first guest! How exciting!" He opened the door.
Meredith felt the breeze from the open door sweep across her bare, hyper-sensitive feet. Why had she picked yesterday to get a pedicure? She heard someone enter the house and close the door.
-----------------------------------------------------
"As you can see, she's all ready" John said to the tall, white-haired gentleman.
The tall, older man, who only gave his name as Mr. Smith, surveyed the breathtaking scene before him. Surrounded by red satin, locked in a pair of stocks were a pair of delicate, pale-skinned size 5 feet, with high arches and pink heels. He noticed with appreciation a small freckle right in the middle of Meredith's left arch. As she nervously flexed her toes back and forth, Mr. Smith caught a glimpse of the brand-new, dark blue paint on her toenails.
"Now remember Mr. Smith, you do whatever you want with these pretty feet. Pay no attention to any pleas or threats you might hear. I'll check up on you two in an hour. Until then, be my guest!"
Mr. Smith nodded silently, then fixed his gaze on Meredith's soles. John headed back into the house under one of the side screens, and gave Meredith a wink on his way upstairs. The floor creaked slightly as Mr. Smith approached the stocks.
-------------------------------------------
Meredith heard Mr. Smith's steps as he approached her feet. She was frozen with fear; what was he going to do to her?
Meredith was interrupted in her ruminations by a hand, firmly grasping her right foot. For a moment, fear was replaced by indignation.
"I don't know what you're doing over there, you creep, but you better...you better..."
The feeling of a tongue, lightly flicking the pads of her toes, interrupted her harangue. The tongue flicked one, two, three times on her little toe, before moving on to the next. Meredith bit down on her lower lip and tried to stifle her reaction.
"Oh no, please hee hee please don't hee hee don't do hahahaha that" Meredith said through her giggles. The tongue kept flicking the toes on her right foot. The hand then grabbed her left foot, and started in earnest, as she felt a mouth take each of her toes into it, starting with her big toe, the tongue slowly moving back and forth, around each toe as it worked its way towards her little toe.
"AH! That's hahahaha, that's worse HAHA, please sto-ahaha-p! Please hee hee stop hee hee hahaha!" giggled an increasingly frantic Meredith. As soon as the mouth arrived at her little toe, she felt teeth, nibbling ever so lightly, moving back and forth across her toes. Meredith opened her mouth wide as her torment truly begun.
----------------------------------------------------
Mr. Smith found himself wondering what face belonged to these feet as he started nibbling on the delicate little toes. And while he was curious, the mystery of it, he had to admit, was intriguing. As he moved back to her right foot, he became aware of a torrent of laughter and pleading behind the red curtains, but it was of little concern to him as he sucked and nibbled on the wiggling blue toes. It was becoming harder to keep her feet steady, but Mr Smith had strong hands, and for the most part all Meredith could do was wiggle her free foot wildly while it waited its ticklish turn.
After he'd had his fill of her toes, Mr Smith stepped back and admired the rest of Meredith's feet. Those high arches looked wonderful. He pondered which foot to start with, then decided to leave the best for last.
Glancing at the freckle on Meredith's left foot before turning away, Mr. Smith grabbed hold of her right foot, and gently pulled her toes back. He traced a single finger, slowly, starting underneath Meredith's toes and lazily down to her heel in an "s". The foot twitched wildly in his grasp as he ran his finger back and forth, up and down her sole. Now he began to pay more attention to the sounds behind the curtain, and noticed that the laughter had stopped. Well, he thought to himself, that will have to change.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Meredith had scrunched her eyes closed tight and tried to fight the maddening sensations of the finger lightly meandering across her right sole. Her only hope, she thought, would be to keep from laughing, and maybe he would lose interest, and go back to nibbling on her toes; that was bad enough, but she didn't think she could take dedicated tickling on her feet. Something about the prospect of the silent, relentless stranger attacking her feet, combined with not being able to see what would happen next, made it even harder than when John tickled her. But she put all of her effort in keeping silent.
Suddenly, the finger stopped. Had he given up? Meredith didn't dare let up her concentration yet. The finger started again, but now it was traveling straight up and down, directly attacking her stretched, vulnerable arch. Meredith's eyes shot open, and what was left of her concentration shattered.
"AHAHAHA! HAHA NOT THERE HEEHEE HAHAHA! STOP! STOP AHAHAHAHA! PLEASE NOT THERE EEEHEEE HEE HAHA!"
Meredith struggled as much as she could against her bonds, wildly thrashing her head back and forth as laughter pealed from her mouth, her face a forced mask of twisted hilarity. Her legs were bound tightly, and it was impossible for her to escape the tickling sensations even a little, between the straps on her legs and Mr. Smith's tight grip on her foot. One finger became two, and soon she felt five wiggling digits attacking her right sole, traveling up and down her sensitive arch, stopping only occasionally to dig in and tickle her under her toes.
"AHH HAHAHA, OKAY OKAY, STOP AHAHAHA, STA-HAHAHA-AAHP, EEEHEEEHEE, HAHAHA, YOU BASTARD AHAHAHA!"
As she hurled the insult, Meredith felt a new sensation start on her left sole. A tongue was now flicking lightly up and down the middle of her foot, tracing the same pattern up and down her arches. Meredith shrieked and frantically tried to wiggle her left foot away from the licking tongue, but it always seemed to find her arch and continued licking up and down, up and down.
"HEEEHEE haha HAHAHAHA! HAHAHA HA AHAHAHA! NOT MY FEET! NOT MY FE-HEE-EET! HAHAHA ahaha HAHAHA!"
Meredith threw back her head and howled with hysterical laughter as the stranger teased and tickled her trapped feet. Her laughter would let up occasionally as she struggled for breath, only to begin anew as she futilely tried to fight the overwhelming tickling sensations on her soles. Tears began to stream down her face as the torture wore on.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Mr. Smith listened to the frantic, shrieking laughter with contentment as ran his fingers up and down Meredith's captive right foot. The freckle on her left foot, meanwhile, served as a great target, as he slid his tongue up and down the wildly dancing left foot. He could hear the wooden stocks creaking from behind the red curtains as the woman struggled against her bonds, laughing and pleading. This one was feisty, and it took some guts to hurl out an insult while your ticklish feet are completely helpless. Still, he thought he would take a little more of the fight out of the owner of these delicious, sensitive feet.
Mr. Smith stopped the tickling momentarily, and walked over to the table that John had set up near the door. As he poured himself a glass of ice water (John was indeed a thoughtful host), he heard Meredith gasping for breath behind the curtains. It sounded like she was murmuring "no more", but he couldn't quite hear. He took the chair from the table and put it down in front of the stocks. Mr. Smith took a seat in front of Meredith's bound feet, her soles flexing, trying to recover from the tickling that they had received.
Mr. Smith looked down at his glass, and picked an ice cube out of the water. He held the ice cube between his thumb and forefinger, and quickly poked the freckle on Meredith's left sole with it. Instantly he heard a shriek from behind the curtain. He smiled, waited for about ten seconds, then touched the ice cube to her other foot. He was rewarded with another, slightly higher shriek. He quickly touched her sole again with the ice cube, and heard Meredith draw a sharp intake of breath this time before shrieking.
He repeated this ice torture, randomly touching an ice cube to Meredith's soles at varying intervals for about fifteen minutes, reaching in for a new ice cube every time the one he was using melted. By the time he was finished, a sheen of cold water covered the redhead's feet, and he thought he heard soft tears coming from behind the curtain. Mr. Smith looked at his watch. Ten minutes left. It was time to wrap things up. He pulled his chair closer, and cracked his knuckles.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Meredith's nerves were completely on edge after fifteen minutes of the ice-torture on her feet, and she felt ready to leap out of her skin as she tried to fight back the crying. How was she going to get through this? As she heard the chair in front of her creak and the stranger crack his knuckles, she instantly started to struggle anew against her bonds.
"No! No please! No more, my feet are so ticklish! I'll do whatever you want, I'll-"
Meredith was cut off by the feeling of ten fingers wiggling up and down both of her soles, as the stranger attacked her feet with both hands.
"HAHAHAHAHA! AIEEEE HEEHEEE HEE HAhahahaAHAHAHA! STOP STOP STOP HAHAHAHA! HAHAHA! HAHA heeheehee AHAHAHAHA! PLEASE AHAHAHA PLEASE STOP! AHAHA!"
Meredith thrashed wildly as the tickling continued without pause all over her soles. Her tears were flowing freely now as she shook her head back and forth, the laughter pouring out of her mouth as it stretched wide in hysterics. She wiggled her feet as much as she could, but it was no use. The fingers stayed on target and mercilessly tormented her sensitive, pale soles.
"PLEASE STO-HAHAHAHAHA, STO-HAHAHA, STOP! AHAHAHAHA! NOT ON MY FEEET HAHAHAHAHA!"
Just as she thought she was going to lose her mind, the tickling stopped. Moments later, however, she felt the stranger start nibbling on her right heel. She immediately launched into giggles as she felt tiny, maddening sensations teasing her heels, which made her scrunch up her toes. Whenever she did this, the stranger began attacking her soles again, alternating between tickling her arches and nibbling her heels.
"hee hee hee ahahaha AHAHAHAAHAA, STOP, STOP hee hee aheeheehee HAHAHAHA, NOT THERE AHAHAHAHA, HAHAHA eeehee hee, hahahaha ahahaha, HAHAHAHA AHAHA HAHAHA, PLEASE STOP AHAHAHA!"
As the alternating tickling and nibbling went on, Meredith was too busy screaming and laughing to hear John start walking down the stairs. He stopped and observed his bound wife thrashing and bucking, her laughter filling the house. Whatever Mr. Smith was doing, thought John, he sounded like he was getting his money's worth.
He passed his hysterical wife and passed under one of the red curtains towards the front of the house. He observed Mr. Smith seated at Meredith's feet, spidering his fingers up and down her desperately wiggling soles, her toes dancing, giving him flashes of the blue toenail polish that he favored.
"Well, the house regrets to inform you that your hour is up, Mr. Smith" said John.
Mr. Smith stopped his tickling, and Meredith audibly slumped in her restraints, heaving ragged breaths as she tried to register the fact that her feet had just gotten a reprieve from their unbearable torture. Mr. Smith got up, and put on his coat.
"A good day to you, Mr. Smith! I'll make sure to send you an e-mail in the future if my wife forgets when to fold 'em or when to hold 'em, so to speak," John said with a smile.
Mr. Smith nodded. "Much obliged," he spoke, before heading out the door and closing it behind him.
John waited a moment before peeking his head through the curtains to look at Meredith. Her head was slumped down, her red hair matted with sweat on her forehead, her face bright red. She was still gasping for breath.
"And how is our performing talent? You seem to be a crowd pleaser," cooed John.
Meredith continued panting, struggling to form words. "Is...he...gone...?" she asked.
"I'm afraid so, darling, but you definitely seemed to make a positive impression on our friend Mr. Smith. I dare say he'd be interested in any repeat performances," said John.
Meredith uttered a low groan. "Are we...finished now?" she said as she slowly regained her composure.
John smiled. "If by 'finished', you mean 'partway towards settling a large gambling loss', then yes," he said. "But don't worry, your next appointment isn't for another two hours, so you can rest up in the meantime."
Meredith closed her eyes, and began to relax her muscles a little bit. "I don't think I'll ever go online, anywhere, again. God, you're cruel." She looked up, but John had disappeared back on the other side of the curtains. She hated not being able to see past the stocks. "Are you going to let me out now?"
John was dragging something from under the table by the door. "Momentarily, my dear. We need to do a little clean-up work first. Quality control and all that, my darling."
She heard the sound of something dripping water. Panic set in. "What is that?!" she pleaded.
"You know, they say these brushes are designed for cleaning fingernails, but I think they'd work equally well on toenails, don't you think?" chirped John. He dipped his brush in the bucket of soapy water.
Meredith shuddered. "I'm sure there are ways of cleaning my feet that don't involve stiff bristles," she said bravely but with a slight hitch in her voice.
John gently pinched Meredith's little toe. "Yes, but what fun would that be?" He touched the soapy bristles to Meredith's left sole and started scrubbing. "And why do these things unless they're fun, don't you agree, darling?"
Meredith screamed in reply. "HAHAHAHA NO! NOOO! HAHAHA AHAHA! NOT ON MY FEET! STOP! PLE-HEE HEE-EASE STOP AHAHAHA HAHA HAHAHA! NO MORE! AHAHAHA!"
John scrubbed away at his screaming wife's writhing soles, humming as he dipped his brush back in the soapy water and brushed Meredith's feet clean. As he listened contentedly to her begging and hysterical laughter, he couldn't help but wonder about planning a trip to Vegas next month.
So why couldn't she stay away from online poker?
Meredith could keep a handle on her wild streak most of the time, but with all the effort she needed to keep some of her impulses under control, sometimes a wild idea would grab her, and that would be that. But usually it was a few extra drinks or a playfully sassy remark to John while she was tied up; how was she going to tell her husband she had blown eight hundred bucks?
Hesitantly, she headed into the kitchen.
"John honey?" said Meredith.
John was absorbed as usual in the morning paper. "Yes?"
"Remember that time I won five hundred at Vegas?" she chirped.
"Mmm-hmm."
"Well," said Meredith, nervously twirling a strand of her red hair and biting her lip, "this is kind of the opposite of that."
John peered over the top of his newspaper.
"Let's see," he said, studying her face. "By the look of your face, I'd saaaay...six-fifty?"
Meredith blushed. John's eyebrow arched up, just slightly.
"Seven?"
Meredith kept getting redder. She nervously slid her bare foot up and down her calf.
"Well, this is new territory. Eight?"
Meredith gave a sheepish grin. "I'm in trouble, aren't I?"
John looked up for a moment, lost in thought. "Well, this is the latest in your less than successful poker escapades. And definitely the largest. What we need is a way to...discourage, this."
John tapped his finger on his chin. He suddenly allowed a corner of his mouth to rise playfully into a half-grin.
"It's a simple matter of paying it back. That's all."
Meredith went cold. She loved having John both as a husband and a Master, but he had a wicked imagination, especially when it came to punishments. She dreaded whatever had come into his head.
John fixed Meredith with a deadly serious look.
"Keep this coming Saturday free."
Then he went back to his paper. Meredith felt a deep unease enter her stomach. She had expected a scolding. But what she got instead was a thousand times worse; three days to guess at what was in store for her.
--------------------------------------------------
On Saturday morning, Meredith awoke with an even mixture of dread, and relief at the prospect of at least finally knowing what was coming. John had come in with breakfast and a kiss on her cheek. Just as she began to take encouragement from the usual affection of her husband, he whispered into her ear.
"You'll need your strength."
Meredith felt the blood drain instantly away from her face. She looked up at John.
"Jesus, will you please at least tell me what's going on!?" Meredith pleaded.
John smirked.
"I want you to get showered, put on your black bikini, and head downstairs. You'll find out soon enough, my little card shark."
John left, and almost immediately afterward, Meredith thought she heard the sound of moving furniture downstairs.
--------------------------------------------
As Meredith padded down the stairs, the first thing she saw was that the front room by the door had been almost entirely cleared. John had set up privacy screens (with the red fabric, which she liked to provocatively undress behind sometimes) about ten feet in front of the door, on either side of the set of stocks that John had made out of the heaviest oak he could find. She shivered despite herself; as she nervously eyed the padded leather cuffs for stretching her arms over her head, and stared at the open jaws of the business end of John's stocks, awaiting her ankles. She knew it was going to be a long day.
She obediently sat down in the padded chair in the middle of the apparatus. John appeared behind her, and began strapping her in. He carefully lifted Meredith's wrists and strapped them into the cuffs, stretching her arms high enough to allow for total exposure of her underarms. John allowed himself a moment to appreciate the sight of her perfectly sized breasts. He then closed the stocks down around Meredith's thin ankles, snapping a heavy padlock closed a bit louder than necessary. He then completed the effect by fastening the leather knee straps and the wide leather waist strap; Meredith wasn't going anywhere.
"So, I get the stocks; you're going to tickle me without mercy," said Meredith.
"That's a bit of an understatement," retorted John.
"But why all the screens?" said Meredith, trying vainly to keep the tremor out of her voice.
"Well, let me explain" said John, tenting his fingers together. "I decided that you should pay off your debt immediately, rather than just let it sit on the credit card. So I decided to sell some...time, over the internet."
Meredith's eyes widened. "You...you didn't..."
"Oh, indeed I did," said John, now letting his smile light up his whole face. "I've booked some quality time with those cute little feet for some very gracious customers. And by the sound of their replies, they're very eager indeed."
Meredith tried to stammer out a response. Her feet were horribly ticklish; how much "quality time" had John put her down for?
"Oh, and the screens. To protect your privacy, I decided to drape these screens across the room, including this one," said John, throwing a long piece of red fabric over a crossbar between the two adjoining privacy screens on either side of the stocks, and obscuring Meredith's view. "I'm not a total sadist, you know. Of course, you won't be able to see what's coming. But I'm sure you won't have a problem with that," John chuckled.
Meredith was horrified; she had no idea what was in store for her poor soles. Lucky for her, however, the screens hid the dirty look that she shot at John, else the tickling might have started in earnest right then and there.
Just then, the doorbell rang. Meredith's blood froze.
John clapped his hands. "Our first guest! How exciting!" He opened the door.
Meredith felt the breeze from the open door sweep across her bare, hyper-sensitive feet. Why had she picked yesterday to get a pedicure? She heard someone enter the house and close the door.
-----------------------------------------------------
"As you can see, she's all ready" John said to the tall, white-haired gentleman.
The tall, older man, who only gave his name as Mr. Smith, surveyed the breathtaking scene before him. Surrounded by red satin, locked in a pair of stocks were a pair of delicate, pale-skinned size 5 feet, with high arches and pink heels. He noticed with appreciation a small freckle right in the middle of Meredith's left arch. As she nervously flexed her toes back and forth, Mr. Smith caught a glimpse of the brand-new, dark blue paint on her toenails.
"Now remember Mr. Smith, you do whatever you want with these pretty feet. Pay no attention to any pleas or threats you might hear. I'll check up on you two in an hour. Until then, be my guest!"
Mr. Smith nodded silently, then fixed his gaze on Meredith's soles. John headed back into the house under one of the side screens, and gave Meredith a wink on his way upstairs. The floor creaked slightly as Mr. Smith approached the stocks.
-------------------------------------------
Meredith heard Mr. Smith's steps as he approached her feet. She was frozen with fear; what was he going to do to her?
Meredith was interrupted in her ruminations by a hand, firmly grasping her right foot. For a moment, fear was replaced by indignation.
"I don't know what you're doing over there, you creep, but you better...you better..."
The feeling of a tongue, lightly flicking the pads of her toes, interrupted her harangue. The tongue flicked one, two, three times on her little toe, before moving on to the next. Meredith bit down on her lower lip and tried to stifle her reaction.
"Oh no, please hee hee please don't hee hee don't do hahahaha that" Meredith said through her giggles. The tongue kept flicking the toes on her right foot. The hand then grabbed her left foot, and started in earnest, as she felt a mouth take each of her toes into it, starting with her big toe, the tongue slowly moving back and forth, around each toe as it worked its way towards her little toe.
"AH! That's hahahaha, that's worse HAHA, please sto-ahaha-p! Please hee hee stop hee hee hahaha!" giggled an increasingly frantic Meredith. As soon as the mouth arrived at her little toe, she felt teeth, nibbling ever so lightly, moving back and forth across her toes. Meredith opened her mouth wide as her torment truly begun.
----------------------------------------------------
Mr. Smith found himself wondering what face belonged to these feet as he started nibbling on the delicate little toes. And while he was curious, the mystery of it, he had to admit, was intriguing. As he moved back to her right foot, he became aware of a torrent of laughter and pleading behind the red curtains, but it was of little concern to him as he sucked and nibbled on the wiggling blue toes. It was becoming harder to keep her feet steady, but Mr Smith had strong hands, and for the most part all Meredith could do was wiggle her free foot wildly while it waited its ticklish turn.
After he'd had his fill of her toes, Mr Smith stepped back and admired the rest of Meredith's feet. Those high arches looked wonderful. He pondered which foot to start with, then decided to leave the best for last.
Glancing at the freckle on Meredith's left foot before turning away, Mr. Smith grabbed hold of her right foot, and gently pulled her toes back. He traced a single finger, slowly, starting underneath Meredith's toes and lazily down to her heel in an "s". The foot twitched wildly in his grasp as he ran his finger back and forth, up and down her sole. Now he began to pay more attention to the sounds behind the curtain, and noticed that the laughter had stopped. Well, he thought to himself, that will have to change.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Meredith had scrunched her eyes closed tight and tried to fight the maddening sensations of the finger lightly meandering across her right sole. Her only hope, she thought, would be to keep from laughing, and maybe he would lose interest, and go back to nibbling on her toes; that was bad enough, but she didn't think she could take dedicated tickling on her feet. Something about the prospect of the silent, relentless stranger attacking her feet, combined with not being able to see what would happen next, made it even harder than when John tickled her. But she put all of her effort in keeping silent.
Suddenly, the finger stopped. Had he given up? Meredith didn't dare let up her concentration yet. The finger started again, but now it was traveling straight up and down, directly attacking her stretched, vulnerable arch. Meredith's eyes shot open, and what was left of her concentration shattered.
"AHAHAHA! HAHA NOT THERE HEEHEE HAHAHA! STOP! STOP AHAHAHAHA! PLEASE NOT THERE EEEHEEE HEE HAHA!"
Meredith struggled as much as she could against her bonds, wildly thrashing her head back and forth as laughter pealed from her mouth, her face a forced mask of twisted hilarity. Her legs were bound tightly, and it was impossible for her to escape the tickling sensations even a little, between the straps on her legs and Mr. Smith's tight grip on her foot. One finger became two, and soon she felt five wiggling digits attacking her right sole, traveling up and down her sensitive arch, stopping only occasionally to dig in and tickle her under her toes.
"AHH HAHAHA, OKAY OKAY, STOP AHAHAHA, STA-HAHAHA-AAHP, EEEHEEEHEE, HAHAHA, YOU BASTARD AHAHAHA!"
As she hurled the insult, Meredith felt a new sensation start on her left sole. A tongue was now flicking lightly up and down the middle of her foot, tracing the same pattern up and down her arches. Meredith shrieked and frantically tried to wiggle her left foot away from the licking tongue, but it always seemed to find her arch and continued licking up and down, up and down.
"HEEEHEE haha HAHAHAHA! HAHAHA HA AHAHAHA! NOT MY FEET! NOT MY FE-HEE-EET! HAHAHA ahaha HAHAHA!"
Meredith threw back her head and howled with hysterical laughter as the stranger teased and tickled her trapped feet. Her laughter would let up occasionally as she struggled for breath, only to begin anew as she futilely tried to fight the overwhelming tickling sensations on her soles. Tears began to stream down her face as the torture wore on.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Mr. Smith listened to the frantic, shrieking laughter with contentment as ran his fingers up and down Meredith's captive right foot. The freckle on her left foot, meanwhile, served as a great target, as he slid his tongue up and down the wildly dancing left foot. He could hear the wooden stocks creaking from behind the red curtains as the woman struggled against her bonds, laughing and pleading. This one was feisty, and it took some guts to hurl out an insult while your ticklish feet are completely helpless. Still, he thought he would take a little more of the fight out of the owner of these delicious, sensitive feet.
Mr. Smith stopped the tickling momentarily, and walked over to the table that John had set up near the door. As he poured himself a glass of ice water (John was indeed a thoughtful host), he heard Meredith gasping for breath behind the curtains. It sounded like she was murmuring "no more", but he couldn't quite hear. He took the chair from the table and put it down in front of the stocks. Mr. Smith took a seat in front of Meredith's bound feet, her soles flexing, trying to recover from the tickling that they had received.
Mr. Smith looked down at his glass, and picked an ice cube out of the water. He held the ice cube between his thumb and forefinger, and quickly poked the freckle on Meredith's left sole with it. Instantly he heard a shriek from behind the curtain. He smiled, waited for about ten seconds, then touched the ice cube to her other foot. He was rewarded with another, slightly higher shriek. He quickly touched her sole again with the ice cube, and heard Meredith draw a sharp intake of breath this time before shrieking.
He repeated this ice torture, randomly touching an ice cube to Meredith's soles at varying intervals for about fifteen minutes, reaching in for a new ice cube every time the one he was using melted. By the time he was finished, a sheen of cold water covered the redhead's feet, and he thought he heard soft tears coming from behind the curtain. Mr. Smith looked at his watch. Ten minutes left. It was time to wrap things up. He pulled his chair closer, and cracked his knuckles.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Meredith's nerves were completely on edge after fifteen minutes of the ice-torture on her feet, and she felt ready to leap out of her skin as she tried to fight back the crying. How was she going to get through this? As she heard the chair in front of her creak and the stranger crack his knuckles, she instantly started to struggle anew against her bonds.
"No! No please! No more, my feet are so ticklish! I'll do whatever you want, I'll-"
Meredith was cut off by the feeling of ten fingers wiggling up and down both of her soles, as the stranger attacked her feet with both hands.
"HAHAHAHAHA! AIEEEE HEEHEEE HEE HAhahahaAHAHAHA! STOP STOP STOP HAHAHAHA! HAHAHA! HAHA heeheehee AHAHAHAHA! PLEASE AHAHAHA PLEASE STOP! AHAHA!"
Meredith thrashed wildly as the tickling continued without pause all over her soles. Her tears were flowing freely now as she shook her head back and forth, the laughter pouring out of her mouth as it stretched wide in hysterics. She wiggled her feet as much as she could, but it was no use. The fingers stayed on target and mercilessly tormented her sensitive, pale soles.
"PLEASE STO-HAHAHAHAHA, STO-HAHAHA, STOP! AHAHAHAHA! NOT ON MY FEEET HAHAHAHAHA!"
Just as she thought she was going to lose her mind, the tickling stopped. Moments later, however, she felt the stranger start nibbling on her right heel. She immediately launched into giggles as she felt tiny, maddening sensations teasing her heels, which made her scrunch up her toes. Whenever she did this, the stranger began attacking her soles again, alternating between tickling her arches and nibbling her heels.
"hee hee hee ahahaha AHAHAHAAHAA, STOP, STOP hee hee aheeheehee HAHAHAHA, NOT THERE AHAHAHAHA, HAHAHA eeehee hee, hahahaha ahahaha, HAHAHAHA AHAHA HAHAHA, PLEASE STOP AHAHAHA!"
As the alternating tickling and nibbling went on, Meredith was too busy screaming and laughing to hear John start walking down the stairs. He stopped and observed his bound wife thrashing and bucking, her laughter filling the house. Whatever Mr. Smith was doing, thought John, he sounded like he was getting his money's worth.
He passed his hysterical wife and passed under one of the red curtains towards the front of the house. He observed Mr. Smith seated at Meredith's feet, spidering his fingers up and down her desperately wiggling soles, her toes dancing, giving him flashes of the blue toenail polish that he favored.
"Well, the house regrets to inform you that your hour is up, Mr. Smith" said John.
Mr. Smith stopped his tickling, and Meredith audibly slumped in her restraints, heaving ragged breaths as she tried to register the fact that her feet had just gotten a reprieve from their unbearable torture. Mr. Smith got up, and put on his coat.
"A good day to you, Mr. Smith! I'll make sure to send you an e-mail in the future if my wife forgets when to fold 'em or when to hold 'em, so to speak," John said with a smile.
Mr. Smith nodded. "Much obliged," he spoke, before heading out the door and closing it behind him.
John waited a moment before peeking his head through the curtains to look at Meredith. Her head was slumped down, her red hair matted with sweat on her forehead, her face bright red. She was still gasping for breath.
"And how is our performing talent? You seem to be a crowd pleaser," cooed John.
Meredith continued panting, struggling to form words. "Is...he...gone...?" she asked.
"I'm afraid so, darling, but you definitely seemed to make a positive impression on our friend Mr. Smith. I dare say he'd be interested in any repeat performances," said John.
Meredith uttered a low groan. "Are we...finished now?" she said as she slowly regained her composure.
John smiled. "If by 'finished', you mean 'partway towards settling a large gambling loss', then yes," he said. "But don't worry, your next appointment isn't for another two hours, so you can rest up in the meantime."
Meredith closed her eyes, and began to relax her muscles a little bit. "I don't think I'll ever go online, anywhere, again. God, you're cruel." She looked up, but John had disappeared back on the other side of the curtains. She hated not being able to see past the stocks. "Are you going to let me out now?"
John was dragging something from under the table by the door. "Momentarily, my dear. We need to do a little clean-up work first. Quality control and all that, my darling."
She heard the sound of something dripping water. Panic set in. "What is that?!" she pleaded.
"You know, they say these brushes are designed for cleaning fingernails, but I think they'd work equally well on toenails, don't you think?" chirped John. He dipped his brush in the bucket of soapy water.
Meredith shuddered. "I'm sure there are ways of cleaning my feet that don't involve stiff bristles," she said bravely but with a slight hitch in her voice.
John gently pinched Meredith's little toe. "Yes, but what fun would that be?" He touched the soapy bristles to Meredith's left sole and started scrubbing. "And why do these things unless they're fun, don't you agree, darling?"
Meredith screamed in reply. "HAHAHAHA NO! NOOO! HAHAHA AHAHA! NOT ON MY FEET! STOP! PLE-HEE HEE-EASE STOP AHAHAHA HAHA HAHAHA! NO MORE! AHAHAHA!"
John scrubbed away at his screaming wife's writhing soles, humming as he dipped his brush back in the soapy water and brushed Meredith's feet clean. As he listened contentedly to her begging and hysterical laughter, he couldn't help but wonder about planning a trip to Vegas next month.
Almost...
Brutally ingenious!! Really well thought out!!
) TOO sadistic... 
