By request, I am posting this oldie, but goodie. I had looked for it for years before someone posted a collection of stories in which it was included. I'm not sure who wrote it, all I know is that I didn't, I don't claim to, and I'm sure all characters in it are 18+. Enjoy!
****
A Sole Cleansing Confession
A dozen chickens squawked and scattered to the winds as the frantic girl tore around the corner past the trading booths, shattering the relative serenity of the Holy Day bazaar. Cursing the billowing clouds of dust raised by the runaway's churning feet, the noontime shoppers and merchants coughed and gagged while the object of their sudden misery shot past them and bolted down the street. The air was still thick with dust seconds later when approaching shouts of rage were heard from the area where the girl had first appeared. Four burly men charged around the corner with fire in their eyes.
"Which way did she go?" one of them shouted. The innocent bystanders were still trying haplessly to unclog their caked throats, but one managed to point down the unpaved road and croak, "That way." Without preamble or thanks, the newcomers took off in hot pursuit, trampling over, across and through carefully stacked rows of fruits and other edibles while the dust clouds rose anew.
Farina looked over her shoulder in panic, clutching a small leather sack that she'd snatched out of the unsuspecting hands of a goldsmith down the street, just as he had been about to consummate a transaction with a wealthy-looking customer. She didn't know what was inside, but from the vigor of her pursuit she assumed it would be worth her while to make a successful getaway. Her ample breasts were even now heaving from increasing exhaustion, and Farina knew that her escape would be far from an easy task.
Already the angry shouts from behind appeared to be edging a little closer to her heels. Breathing heavily, she turned into a deserted alleyway and stopped, her eyes darting frantically in search of a hiding place. There was none. The sounds of pursuit were dangerously close. With sudden decisiveness, Farina stashed the sack behind a low- hanging gutter and resumed her mad dash toward freedom. She managed to get through the alley and around the corner before her pursuers could see that she was now carrying nothing.
For several excruciating minutes Farina ran on, putting several blocks between herself and her cache. Her lungs were fast giving out and her tired legs were by this time grinding out a staggering rhythm on the dusty streets of Baghdad. Just as she felt she could go on no longer, she came upon an intoxicated nobleman who'd passed out some minutes earlier upon emerging from a smoke-filled tavern. His turban was askew and his silken robes were spattered with dust and spilled wine, but he was obviously a person of some distinction. Farina squatted at the nobleman's feet with her back toward the street.
She tried her best to control her tortured lungs so as not to give the obvious appearance of a dog-tired fugitive-- which she was--but her sudden scheme was about the best that could be devised under the circumstances. She hoped that when the pursuing men arrived, they would assume that she was the nobleman's slave girl, waiting dutifully for her master to revive so that she could lead him home. If they should happen to recognize her, she would have to play it by ear.
Maybe the nobleman would wake up and recognize what was going on and take appropriate advantage of the situation, even through his drunken stupor. Farina would gladly play along and pretend to be the oaf's slave, especially if that would enable her to get out of this jam scot-free. She could always escape from the nobleman's harem later.
With a rush of pounding feet, the four pursuing men ran by. The huge fellow in the lead recognized Farina and came to a screeching halt, his companions piling up behind him. Red-faced with mixed rage and exhaustion, he went over to the girl and yanked her up by the hair, a curse on his lips.
"Foul wench! Did you think you could escape us so easily?" He drew back a hand as if to strike her but was restrained by the goldsmith, who had done an admirable job keeping up with the other men despite his full flowing robe. He was still gasping for breath as he tried to form his words coherently.
"Stay, Salim, I beg you. We've caught the girl; all I seek from her is a return of my rubies." He looked beseechingly at Farina, who turned her head away in defiance. The big one addressed as Salim, who was seemingly in charge of the situation, shook the girl impatiently by the shoulders.
"We're wasting time," he roared. "Search her and get those rubies for me. I've bought them and they're mine by rights." The search was really quite brief, as Farina's garments were skimpy indeed. Her one-piece sheepskin frock barely covered her monstrous bosom and extended only a few inches or so below her pubic area, leaving little to the imagination and much to be desired.
Despite her disheveled appearance, she was quite a beautiful young woman. The fullness of her breasts in no wise signalled heftiness elsewhere, as witness her trim and tapered waistline. Her arms and legs were bare, and her feet were shod in thin-soled sandals which offered scant protection from the heat of the sun-baked streets.
The men searched her comely body far longer than was necessary to convince them that the missing jewels must surely be somewhere else. The thwarted customer was by this time nearly frothing at the mouth, his incandescent rage a terrible thing to behold. He shook Farina again, this time much more vigorously, until her teeth rattled within her head. This was starting to get out of hand, so she surreptitiously poked the sprawled nobleman with her toe in an effort to bring him around.
His only reaction was to shift his weight against the tavern wall with a sodden snore. He would be of little help to Farina in her dire predicament. Farina decided that come what may, she would resolve to hold her tongue so that she could later claim that bag of rubies as her very own. But looking around at the determined scowls on the men's faces, she realized with a sinking feeling that she had bitten off quite a chaw. She swallowed drily.
Salim was still in a dither. "Enough of this nonsense. I say we turn her over to the sheik and see that justice is done. If memory serves me correctly, the penalty for thievery is a public lopping off of both hands." A chorus of angry assent echoed these last words. Ashen-faced, the comely Farina shrank away from Salim and put her hands behind her back. This was more than she had bargained for!
The goldsmith once again interceded in her behalf. "Such a lovely girl," he said suavely, finding it impossible to keep the lust out of his eyes. "Surely we can find some other means to persuade this young vixen to talk, short of pointless mutilation of her person."
As if struck by inspiration, the merchant impulsively stepped up to the girl and dug his fingertips into her ribcage. Still locked in Salim's steely grip, Farina shrieked and put up a mighty struggle to avoid the goldsmith's wriggling fingers. Her efforts were unsuccessful, and in a few seconds she was howling with hysterical abandon, helpless before the onslaught of the relentless tickling appendages.
A look of delight crept over Salim's craggy features. "Ah, but she's a ticklish wench, Ali-Sada. Perhaps your inspiration shall serve as our boon, as I starve for some good entertainment this day. Let us bring her back to the market place." The others, sensing that they were in for a real treat, eagerly grabbed the luckless Farina and half led, half dragged her kicking and screaming back the way they'd come. The commotion drew a curious crowd along the way, growing to a quite sizeable throng by the time the party reached the fringes of the bazaar.
Still struggling furiously, Farina spat out a constant torrent of vituperation as she was hustled inexorably toward the slave auction block. The sun was now blazing with its usual afternoon fury, and the four men were sweating profusely from their recent exertions. Salim yelled for a few stout lengths of rope, which the auctioneer who had been lounging nearby produced in short order. Then it was a simple matter to hoist the captured girl onto the huge limestone block, where she was sat down roughly with her back flush against an adjoining wall and her comely legs spread wide.
Her arms were quickly tied behind her back, following which it was a matter of but a few minutes to lash her tightly to the wall and secure her ankles with the assistance of several large iron rings bolted to the stone. These rings had been placed there for a purpose, for slaves frequently had an eye out for any available means of escape from unwary owners. They were now to serve a different, but equally practical function.
After securing their captive, the men removed their sweat- soaked ceremonial robes, thus baring themselves to the waist. They then drew lots to determine who would have the honors, ignoring Farina's desperate but totally ineffective struggles to free herself from her bonds. Ali-Sada plucked the short straw from Salim's huge fist and turned with a triumphant cry to his victim.
The other three men and the onlooking crowd watched in breathless anticipation as the goldsmith slowly loosened the straps of Farina's sandals and slipped them deftly off her feet. A ripple of oohing and aahing went up through the audience as the girl's bare soles were exposed to full view. Although her feet were filthy from caked dust and dirt collected during her mad race with the men, the soles were relatively clean. The two-toned coloring of the alluring surfaces--a healthy pink at the heels, graduating to creamy white at mid-sole, then back to pink at the balls of the feet and toes--suggested a very delicate and sensitive pair of tickling objects.
The populace of Baghdad could well recognize these signs, as they had been privy on many occasions to a public tickling, one of this culture's favorite means of chastising female miscreants. Sometimes these spectacles ended in disappointing failure when the victim turned out not to be ticklish. However, the combined effect of Farina's soft soles and the look of abject terror on her pretty face served notice to the townspeople that they could look forward to an interesting afternoon.
Ali-Sada politely stood to one side of the auction block to afford the viewers an unobstructed view, then reached out to bring his wriggling fingers scampering over the unprotected sole of Farina's nearest foot. The toes lurched as if touched with a hot iron, followed immediately thereafter by a screeching wail that sprang from the victim's lips and began rapidly rising in pitch. One of the other four original pursuers, unable to resist, came around to the other side of the block and began teasing the girl's other foot with skilled fingertips, sending her into a cascading paroxysm of laughter.
The watchers broke out with a cheer, lustily signalling their approval of the proceedings. Some of those near the front sat cross-legged in the dusty street, making private bets among themselves as to the likely duration of the girl's torture or punishment, whichever the case may be. It was evident to all those present that this particular victim was altogether too ticklish to withstand such cruel treatment for any appreciable length of time.
Farina's hysterics continued to fill the air and drown out the excited conversations taking place all around the auction block. The two men were equally skilled in their tickling techniques, and they bent to their pleasant task with unmistakable relish as they maintained their steady stimulation of the girl's feet. Although each was acting independently, one would take care to watch what the other was doing so as to co-ordinate their efforts for maximum effect. Whenever Ali-Sada would clutch the flailing toes and pull them back, bringing the sole taut to allow the fingers of his other hand to prance unimpeded across the smooth skin, the other man would do the same. Whenever he applied his raffish nails to the delicate flesh, raking it ever so gently with a circular motion, his efforts were diligently matched by his companion.
The crowd roared its delight, thrilling to the agonized sounds of the girl's hysteria. The two men persisted in tickling the lovely feet nonstop for many minutes, allowing their victim no surcease from her shrieking torture. That was the Baghdad way of doing things, and Ali-Sada was enjoying the fluttering feeling in his loins too much to consider any changes in the customary routine. However, the muscular Salim, who had the best view of any of the onlookers, noticed with interest that thin rivulets of perspiration were beginning to run down the girl's feet and across her legs, streaking the dusty skin with a web of wet trails.
Struck with sudden inspiration, he gave out a yell and stepped forward, waving his thick arms in a gesture of dismissal. The two ticklers reluctantly ceased their devilish ministrations, forcing a chorus of hoots and catcalls from the still-frenzied crowd. Salim tried to shut them up with more vigorous arm waving. "Quiet, please. I have just had the glimmerings of an idea, but be patient. Rest assured that this wench's ordeal is far from concluded." He turned to the other three in his party.
"See if you can arrange the loan of a few goats from yon shepherd." While they rushed off to comply, Salim paid a brief visit to a nearby merchant and came back with a large chunk of rock salt. This he put into a bucket and pounded it repeatedly with a rock, reducing it to a fine powder. Then, humming to himself, he located a bag of drinking water and filled the bucket with it, stirring the mixture with the hilt of his dagger. He could see the three men returning with two healthy-looking goats in tow when he dipped his finger into the saline solution and tasted of it. He made a wry face and spat. Perfect, he thought, displaying an oily grin.
In the meantime, Farina had done her best to take advantage of the respite by gulping huge quantities of air into her tortured lungs. The position in which she'd been bound allowed her absolutely no leverage to squirm this way and that in avoidance of the incessant tickling. She hadn't realized until this very day just how ticklish she really was; if she'd even suspected how intolerable the sensations could be, she would never have risked getting herself in this fix in the first place. Maybe she could gain her freedom by telling these men where she hid the jewels.
But on the other hand, they would probably continue tickling her even after recovering the stolen loot, simply to appease their animal lust. So she decided to hold out just as long as she could. Grin and bear it, so to speak. Salim handed an official-looking document to Ali-Sada and turned to the girl, hands on hips.
"I trust you've enjoyed all the attention you've been getting, you little vixen," he said. "It's but a taste of what could follow. However, I want you to know that we're not entirely merciless in our dealings with thieves." He grinned toothily and bowed to his comrades in a magnanimous gesture. I've conferred with my colleagues, and we've decided to spare you any further discomfort and turn you loose if you'll tell us where you stashed the rubies and sign that confession."
At this, some in the crowd muttered angrily, but Salim silenced them by displaying a pair of crossed fingers behind his back. But Farina had already made up her mind. She tossed her head insolently and yawned as if she didn't have a care in the world. The muscular fellow didn't appear too displeased with his victim's decision. Grinning broadly, he shrugged and dipped a sponge into the briny solution, then applied it liberally to the soles of the girl's pretty feet.
She gasped and giggled involuntarily, but little did she know that she hadn't felt ANYTHING yet. Salim then whistled for the men to bring the goats hither.
"You might not recall," he said, addressing the helpless girl, "but you very rudely interrupted the beauty sleep of these fine animals when you tore through the bazaar in your haste to get away. I rather suspect they didn't appreciate this disturbance, so we'll give them a chance to show their displeasure."
The goats lost their appearance of indolence when they approached the exposed bare soles and sniffed the pungent mixture. Their tongues hungrily snaked out and rasped lingeringly over the dampened flesh. The salt tasted good, so they licked some more. And then some more. The effect on Farina was instantaneous and absolute in its devastation. Clenching her toes violently in sudden shock, she opened her mouth wide and screamed to the high heavens in unadulterated hysteria.
The busy animals didn't seem in the least affected by the constant stream of maniacal laughter assaulting their tender ears from a range of just a few feet, for they stood stoically in place while maintaining their greedy lapping of the sensitive skin. For the most part, the throng of onlookers was delighted at this unexpected turn of events, but within a few minutes it had become evident that all earlier bets were now off. The violence of the girl's raw hysterics in response to the steady licking made it apparent to all that she was no match for the goats in an endurance contest.
Salim watched spellbound as the soft broad tongues ventured with delicious deliberation across the alabaster whiteness of Farina's soles, his groin nearly bursting against the confines of his lower garments. He nearly lost his mind when one of the goats discovered several grains of undissolved rock salt lodged between the girl's toes and eagerly went after them, forcing its tongue between the pretty pink toes and bringing on an increased torrent of anguished laughter.
Farina had lost all semblance of coherence, having long ago dissolved into a fit of helpless hysteria. She would sign literally anything at this point if it would mean relief from the staggeringly intense sensations caused by the uncaring tongues running rampant across her sensitive flesh. She had never in her starkest nightmares envisioned such a hellish torture, let alone the possibility that she would ever be its recipient.
After ten minutes had passed while Farina's hysterical agony continued unabated, Salim felt that it was surely time to reapply the brine to his victim's feet in order to maintain the goats' interest. Yet they continued to slurp noisily as if they were partaking of the Horn of Plenty.
"By Allah, Ali-Sada," he said, "I cannot for the life of me understand why these animals have not long since tired of this activity. But let it not be said that I ever questioned a good thing. This is indeed good sport."
Salim could not have been expected to know, of course, that the palms of the hands and the soles of the feet contain more sweat glands per unit area than any other skin surface on the body. Thus, the intolerable sensation caused by tickling Farina's feet stimulated profuse production of salty sweat which, in turn, induced the goats to continue licking.
This state of affairs amounted to a terrible irony insofar as Farina was concerned. Her own ticklish feet were her own worst enemies, themselves generating the enticement which prolonged her torture. By sundown, neither goats nor spectators had lost significant interest in the proceedings. Farina now had the cleanest feet in town, but it remained to be seen whether or not she would ever have the opportunity to reap the benefits of her ill-gotten gains.
At last count she was still hanging on gamely through gales of high-pitched laughter, much to the delight of the captivated townspeople. Funny, but not one of those mercenary traders ever thought of charging admission to Farina's ordeal until it was all over. You see, their thoughts and attention were riveted elsewhere!
The End
****
A Sole Cleansing Confession
A dozen chickens squawked and scattered to the winds as the frantic girl tore around the corner past the trading booths, shattering the relative serenity of the Holy Day bazaar. Cursing the billowing clouds of dust raised by the runaway's churning feet, the noontime shoppers and merchants coughed and gagged while the object of their sudden misery shot past them and bolted down the street. The air was still thick with dust seconds later when approaching shouts of rage were heard from the area where the girl had first appeared. Four burly men charged around the corner with fire in their eyes.
"Which way did she go?" one of them shouted. The innocent bystanders were still trying haplessly to unclog their caked throats, but one managed to point down the unpaved road and croak, "That way." Without preamble or thanks, the newcomers took off in hot pursuit, trampling over, across and through carefully stacked rows of fruits and other edibles while the dust clouds rose anew.
Farina looked over her shoulder in panic, clutching a small leather sack that she'd snatched out of the unsuspecting hands of a goldsmith down the street, just as he had been about to consummate a transaction with a wealthy-looking customer. She didn't know what was inside, but from the vigor of her pursuit she assumed it would be worth her while to make a successful getaway. Her ample breasts were even now heaving from increasing exhaustion, and Farina knew that her escape would be far from an easy task.
Already the angry shouts from behind appeared to be edging a little closer to her heels. Breathing heavily, she turned into a deserted alleyway and stopped, her eyes darting frantically in search of a hiding place. There was none. The sounds of pursuit were dangerously close. With sudden decisiveness, Farina stashed the sack behind a low- hanging gutter and resumed her mad dash toward freedom. She managed to get through the alley and around the corner before her pursuers could see that she was now carrying nothing.
For several excruciating minutes Farina ran on, putting several blocks between herself and her cache. Her lungs were fast giving out and her tired legs were by this time grinding out a staggering rhythm on the dusty streets of Baghdad. Just as she felt she could go on no longer, she came upon an intoxicated nobleman who'd passed out some minutes earlier upon emerging from a smoke-filled tavern. His turban was askew and his silken robes were spattered with dust and spilled wine, but he was obviously a person of some distinction. Farina squatted at the nobleman's feet with her back toward the street.
She tried her best to control her tortured lungs so as not to give the obvious appearance of a dog-tired fugitive-- which she was--but her sudden scheme was about the best that could be devised under the circumstances. She hoped that when the pursuing men arrived, they would assume that she was the nobleman's slave girl, waiting dutifully for her master to revive so that she could lead him home. If they should happen to recognize her, she would have to play it by ear.
Maybe the nobleman would wake up and recognize what was going on and take appropriate advantage of the situation, even through his drunken stupor. Farina would gladly play along and pretend to be the oaf's slave, especially if that would enable her to get out of this jam scot-free. She could always escape from the nobleman's harem later.
With a rush of pounding feet, the four pursuing men ran by. The huge fellow in the lead recognized Farina and came to a screeching halt, his companions piling up behind him. Red-faced with mixed rage and exhaustion, he went over to the girl and yanked her up by the hair, a curse on his lips.
"Foul wench! Did you think you could escape us so easily?" He drew back a hand as if to strike her but was restrained by the goldsmith, who had done an admirable job keeping up with the other men despite his full flowing robe. He was still gasping for breath as he tried to form his words coherently.
"Stay, Salim, I beg you. We've caught the girl; all I seek from her is a return of my rubies." He looked beseechingly at Farina, who turned her head away in defiance. The big one addressed as Salim, who was seemingly in charge of the situation, shook the girl impatiently by the shoulders.
"We're wasting time," he roared. "Search her and get those rubies for me. I've bought them and they're mine by rights." The search was really quite brief, as Farina's garments were skimpy indeed. Her one-piece sheepskin frock barely covered her monstrous bosom and extended only a few inches or so below her pubic area, leaving little to the imagination and much to be desired.
Despite her disheveled appearance, she was quite a beautiful young woman. The fullness of her breasts in no wise signalled heftiness elsewhere, as witness her trim and tapered waistline. Her arms and legs were bare, and her feet were shod in thin-soled sandals which offered scant protection from the heat of the sun-baked streets.
The men searched her comely body far longer than was necessary to convince them that the missing jewels must surely be somewhere else. The thwarted customer was by this time nearly frothing at the mouth, his incandescent rage a terrible thing to behold. He shook Farina again, this time much more vigorously, until her teeth rattled within her head. This was starting to get out of hand, so she surreptitiously poked the sprawled nobleman with her toe in an effort to bring him around.
His only reaction was to shift his weight against the tavern wall with a sodden snore. He would be of little help to Farina in her dire predicament. Farina decided that come what may, she would resolve to hold her tongue so that she could later claim that bag of rubies as her very own. But looking around at the determined scowls on the men's faces, she realized with a sinking feeling that she had bitten off quite a chaw. She swallowed drily.
Salim was still in a dither. "Enough of this nonsense. I say we turn her over to the sheik and see that justice is done. If memory serves me correctly, the penalty for thievery is a public lopping off of both hands." A chorus of angry assent echoed these last words. Ashen-faced, the comely Farina shrank away from Salim and put her hands behind her back. This was more than she had bargained for!
The goldsmith once again interceded in her behalf. "Such a lovely girl," he said suavely, finding it impossible to keep the lust out of his eyes. "Surely we can find some other means to persuade this young vixen to talk, short of pointless mutilation of her person."
As if struck by inspiration, the merchant impulsively stepped up to the girl and dug his fingertips into her ribcage. Still locked in Salim's steely grip, Farina shrieked and put up a mighty struggle to avoid the goldsmith's wriggling fingers. Her efforts were unsuccessful, and in a few seconds she was howling with hysterical abandon, helpless before the onslaught of the relentless tickling appendages.
A look of delight crept over Salim's craggy features. "Ah, but she's a ticklish wench, Ali-Sada. Perhaps your inspiration shall serve as our boon, as I starve for some good entertainment this day. Let us bring her back to the market place." The others, sensing that they were in for a real treat, eagerly grabbed the luckless Farina and half led, half dragged her kicking and screaming back the way they'd come. The commotion drew a curious crowd along the way, growing to a quite sizeable throng by the time the party reached the fringes of the bazaar.
Still struggling furiously, Farina spat out a constant torrent of vituperation as she was hustled inexorably toward the slave auction block. The sun was now blazing with its usual afternoon fury, and the four men were sweating profusely from their recent exertions. Salim yelled for a few stout lengths of rope, which the auctioneer who had been lounging nearby produced in short order. Then it was a simple matter to hoist the captured girl onto the huge limestone block, where she was sat down roughly with her back flush against an adjoining wall and her comely legs spread wide.
Her arms were quickly tied behind her back, following which it was a matter of but a few minutes to lash her tightly to the wall and secure her ankles with the assistance of several large iron rings bolted to the stone. These rings had been placed there for a purpose, for slaves frequently had an eye out for any available means of escape from unwary owners. They were now to serve a different, but equally practical function.
After securing their captive, the men removed their sweat- soaked ceremonial robes, thus baring themselves to the waist. They then drew lots to determine who would have the honors, ignoring Farina's desperate but totally ineffective struggles to free herself from her bonds. Ali-Sada plucked the short straw from Salim's huge fist and turned with a triumphant cry to his victim.
The other three men and the onlooking crowd watched in breathless anticipation as the goldsmith slowly loosened the straps of Farina's sandals and slipped them deftly off her feet. A ripple of oohing and aahing went up through the audience as the girl's bare soles were exposed to full view. Although her feet were filthy from caked dust and dirt collected during her mad race with the men, the soles were relatively clean. The two-toned coloring of the alluring surfaces--a healthy pink at the heels, graduating to creamy white at mid-sole, then back to pink at the balls of the feet and toes--suggested a very delicate and sensitive pair of tickling objects.
The populace of Baghdad could well recognize these signs, as they had been privy on many occasions to a public tickling, one of this culture's favorite means of chastising female miscreants. Sometimes these spectacles ended in disappointing failure when the victim turned out not to be ticklish. However, the combined effect of Farina's soft soles and the look of abject terror on her pretty face served notice to the townspeople that they could look forward to an interesting afternoon.
Ali-Sada politely stood to one side of the auction block to afford the viewers an unobstructed view, then reached out to bring his wriggling fingers scampering over the unprotected sole of Farina's nearest foot. The toes lurched as if touched with a hot iron, followed immediately thereafter by a screeching wail that sprang from the victim's lips and began rapidly rising in pitch. One of the other four original pursuers, unable to resist, came around to the other side of the block and began teasing the girl's other foot with skilled fingertips, sending her into a cascading paroxysm of laughter.
The watchers broke out with a cheer, lustily signalling their approval of the proceedings. Some of those near the front sat cross-legged in the dusty street, making private bets among themselves as to the likely duration of the girl's torture or punishment, whichever the case may be. It was evident to all those present that this particular victim was altogether too ticklish to withstand such cruel treatment for any appreciable length of time.
Farina's hysterics continued to fill the air and drown out the excited conversations taking place all around the auction block. The two men were equally skilled in their tickling techniques, and they bent to their pleasant task with unmistakable relish as they maintained their steady stimulation of the girl's feet. Although each was acting independently, one would take care to watch what the other was doing so as to co-ordinate their efforts for maximum effect. Whenever Ali-Sada would clutch the flailing toes and pull them back, bringing the sole taut to allow the fingers of his other hand to prance unimpeded across the smooth skin, the other man would do the same. Whenever he applied his raffish nails to the delicate flesh, raking it ever so gently with a circular motion, his efforts were diligently matched by his companion.
The crowd roared its delight, thrilling to the agonized sounds of the girl's hysteria. The two men persisted in tickling the lovely feet nonstop for many minutes, allowing their victim no surcease from her shrieking torture. That was the Baghdad way of doing things, and Ali-Sada was enjoying the fluttering feeling in his loins too much to consider any changes in the customary routine. However, the muscular Salim, who had the best view of any of the onlookers, noticed with interest that thin rivulets of perspiration were beginning to run down the girl's feet and across her legs, streaking the dusty skin with a web of wet trails.
Struck with sudden inspiration, he gave out a yell and stepped forward, waving his thick arms in a gesture of dismissal. The two ticklers reluctantly ceased their devilish ministrations, forcing a chorus of hoots and catcalls from the still-frenzied crowd. Salim tried to shut them up with more vigorous arm waving. "Quiet, please. I have just had the glimmerings of an idea, but be patient. Rest assured that this wench's ordeal is far from concluded." He turned to the other three in his party.
"See if you can arrange the loan of a few goats from yon shepherd." While they rushed off to comply, Salim paid a brief visit to a nearby merchant and came back with a large chunk of rock salt. This he put into a bucket and pounded it repeatedly with a rock, reducing it to a fine powder. Then, humming to himself, he located a bag of drinking water and filled the bucket with it, stirring the mixture with the hilt of his dagger. He could see the three men returning with two healthy-looking goats in tow when he dipped his finger into the saline solution and tasted of it. He made a wry face and spat. Perfect, he thought, displaying an oily grin.
In the meantime, Farina had done her best to take advantage of the respite by gulping huge quantities of air into her tortured lungs. The position in which she'd been bound allowed her absolutely no leverage to squirm this way and that in avoidance of the incessant tickling. She hadn't realized until this very day just how ticklish she really was; if she'd even suspected how intolerable the sensations could be, she would never have risked getting herself in this fix in the first place. Maybe she could gain her freedom by telling these men where she hid the jewels.
But on the other hand, they would probably continue tickling her even after recovering the stolen loot, simply to appease their animal lust. So she decided to hold out just as long as she could. Grin and bear it, so to speak. Salim handed an official-looking document to Ali-Sada and turned to the girl, hands on hips.
"I trust you've enjoyed all the attention you've been getting, you little vixen," he said. "It's but a taste of what could follow. However, I want you to know that we're not entirely merciless in our dealings with thieves." He grinned toothily and bowed to his comrades in a magnanimous gesture. I've conferred with my colleagues, and we've decided to spare you any further discomfort and turn you loose if you'll tell us where you stashed the rubies and sign that confession."
At this, some in the crowd muttered angrily, but Salim silenced them by displaying a pair of crossed fingers behind his back. But Farina had already made up her mind. She tossed her head insolently and yawned as if she didn't have a care in the world. The muscular fellow didn't appear too displeased with his victim's decision. Grinning broadly, he shrugged and dipped a sponge into the briny solution, then applied it liberally to the soles of the girl's pretty feet.
She gasped and giggled involuntarily, but little did she know that she hadn't felt ANYTHING yet. Salim then whistled for the men to bring the goats hither.
"You might not recall," he said, addressing the helpless girl, "but you very rudely interrupted the beauty sleep of these fine animals when you tore through the bazaar in your haste to get away. I rather suspect they didn't appreciate this disturbance, so we'll give them a chance to show their displeasure."
The goats lost their appearance of indolence when they approached the exposed bare soles and sniffed the pungent mixture. Their tongues hungrily snaked out and rasped lingeringly over the dampened flesh. The salt tasted good, so they licked some more. And then some more. The effect on Farina was instantaneous and absolute in its devastation. Clenching her toes violently in sudden shock, she opened her mouth wide and screamed to the high heavens in unadulterated hysteria.
The busy animals didn't seem in the least affected by the constant stream of maniacal laughter assaulting their tender ears from a range of just a few feet, for they stood stoically in place while maintaining their greedy lapping of the sensitive skin. For the most part, the throng of onlookers was delighted at this unexpected turn of events, but within a few minutes it had become evident that all earlier bets were now off. The violence of the girl's raw hysterics in response to the steady licking made it apparent to all that she was no match for the goats in an endurance contest.
Salim watched spellbound as the soft broad tongues ventured with delicious deliberation across the alabaster whiteness of Farina's soles, his groin nearly bursting against the confines of his lower garments. He nearly lost his mind when one of the goats discovered several grains of undissolved rock salt lodged between the girl's toes and eagerly went after them, forcing its tongue between the pretty pink toes and bringing on an increased torrent of anguished laughter.
Farina had lost all semblance of coherence, having long ago dissolved into a fit of helpless hysteria. She would sign literally anything at this point if it would mean relief from the staggeringly intense sensations caused by the uncaring tongues running rampant across her sensitive flesh. She had never in her starkest nightmares envisioned such a hellish torture, let alone the possibility that she would ever be its recipient.
After ten minutes had passed while Farina's hysterical agony continued unabated, Salim felt that it was surely time to reapply the brine to his victim's feet in order to maintain the goats' interest. Yet they continued to slurp noisily as if they were partaking of the Horn of Plenty.
"By Allah, Ali-Sada," he said, "I cannot for the life of me understand why these animals have not long since tired of this activity. But let it not be said that I ever questioned a good thing. This is indeed good sport."
Salim could not have been expected to know, of course, that the palms of the hands and the soles of the feet contain more sweat glands per unit area than any other skin surface on the body. Thus, the intolerable sensation caused by tickling Farina's feet stimulated profuse production of salty sweat which, in turn, induced the goats to continue licking.
This state of affairs amounted to a terrible irony insofar as Farina was concerned. Her own ticklish feet were her own worst enemies, themselves generating the enticement which prolonged her torture. By sundown, neither goats nor spectators had lost significant interest in the proceedings. Farina now had the cleanest feet in town, but it remained to be seen whether or not she would ever have the opportunity to reap the benefits of her ill-gotten gains.
At last count she was still hanging on gamely through gales of high-pitched laughter, much to the delight of the captivated townspeople. Funny, but not one of those mercenary traders ever thought of charging admission to Farina's ordeal until it was all over. You see, their thoughts and attention were riveted elsewhere!
The End
