wearyfoxes
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- Jun 24, 2005
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It was a brisk fall day last Friday, and my girlfriend and I decided to take a trip to one of New England's colonial places where the air smells like wood, smoke, and apples and where interpreters walk about in period dress. After touring the houses and having a glass of hot cider, we walked by the pillory in the village center. Like all the other couples, I took a few pictures of my girlfriend with her hands and head in the pillory. We were joking back and forth how awful it must have felt to be stuck in there with the ridicule of the public upon you.
We were almost ready to move on, when my girlfriend got this quizzical look on her face. She pointed to the stocks that were located right next to the pillory. "Why don't I take one more picture with you in there? C'mon, it will be fun." I looked around to see whether anyone else was close because I hate to have peoples' attention on me.
"Alright, but be quick."
I dutifully sat down on the low wooden bench whose iron cover uncomfortably dug into my buttocks. My girlfriend lifted the heavy bar, all to eagerly in retrospect, so that I could place my feet in the two holes cut out for restraining the prisoner's ankles. When the bar dropped down, my girlfriend asked me to try to wiggle my feet. Once I did, both of us realized that I could not have escaped the stocks without her help at this point even if I had wanted to.
"C'mon, take your picture and be done with it," I said under my breath, as I saw a group of people approaching from two blocks down.
Instead of doing just that my girlfriend demonstratively put the camera in her coat pocket.
"What are you doing? I thought you are taking a picture?"
'You know what, I think I can do whatever I want right now since I have you where you can't get away."
That's when I began to get a little nervous, because I knew that she got crazy ideas sometimes, like when she buried me in the sand at the beach earlier this summer and then tickled my neck for what seemed an eternity.
"You are not going to..." I muttered in disbelief, my eyes shifting to the side keeping track of what turned out to be a large tour group of noisy high school students.
"Of course not like THAT! Where's the fun in that?" she grinned approaching the stocks, reaching for my feet.
"Leave...it...NOW," I tried to convince her as quietly as possible through clenched teeth so that the approaching people wouldn't hear what was going on.
How foolish of me to think that I could stop my girfriend at this point.
"These shoes will have to come off to make it REALLY authentic. You know prisoners were usually barefoot while being placed in the stocks."
With that, she took a hold of my right canvas shoe and slipped it right off my foot.
"Stop...it," I whispered feebly, trying to wiggle my still shod foot away from her hand, to no avail. The other shoe was also removed in no time at all.
"If you cause more of a ruckus everyone will be here in no time," she pointed at the teenagers who had congregated a block down from us being busy listening to one of the interpreter's nasal explanations of 18th century colonial architecture.
"You know very well these kids are like wolves when it comes to sniffing out a helpless guy who is the recipient of a little torture. And you wouldn't want this little delicate situation you are in exposed to the world, now, would you?"
The smirk on her face silenced me into submission.
Hoping that the tour group would move on in a different direction I stopped struggling and let my girlfriend reach under the rim of each of my socks, pulling them over the ankle and stripping me off them.
"It's cold," I complained, feeling the brisk autumn air rush through my exposed toes."
"C'mon, baby, I think you can manage. After all, people back then did, too," she said as if she didn't have a care and all the time in the world.
"I just don't like people looking at my feet."
"Right now, I am the only one looking at them, "she smiled, "and I think that they should be given a proper good ol' time tickle treatment as a punishment for their owner's refusal to comply with the directions of his girlfriend.
Without further warning, she took my bare foot into her left hand and began to scribble with her fingers all over my sole.
I instantly went into convulsions, which led my buttocks to dig deep into the metal bar on which I was sitting.
"Heehehehehehahahahaha,hahahahaahhhhhhhhhh!"
I don't know what was worse, the horribly sensual tickling sensation on my bare soles or my fear that the commotion I was causing would call the group of students on the plan.
When I managed to look to the side with teary eyes, I thought I could already see some heads turning.
"See, I told you it's in your best interest to be quiet," my girlfriend smirked, while doing everything she could so that I wouldn't.
"Maybe I need to use a different tactic," she said after digging her nails into my arches, the balls and the instep of my soles for a minute or so.
With that, she knelt down in front of me and lifted my bare foot up to her tongue.
"No, please," I whispered in panic.
Two blocks down, the tour group had started to move in our direction.
At this point I closed my eyes, for all seemed lost to me...
TO BE CONTINUED...
We were almost ready to move on, when my girlfriend got this quizzical look on her face. She pointed to the stocks that were located right next to the pillory. "Why don't I take one more picture with you in there? C'mon, it will be fun." I looked around to see whether anyone else was close because I hate to have peoples' attention on me.
"Alright, but be quick."
I dutifully sat down on the low wooden bench whose iron cover uncomfortably dug into my buttocks. My girlfriend lifted the heavy bar, all to eagerly in retrospect, so that I could place my feet in the two holes cut out for restraining the prisoner's ankles. When the bar dropped down, my girlfriend asked me to try to wiggle my feet. Once I did, both of us realized that I could not have escaped the stocks without her help at this point even if I had wanted to.
"C'mon, take your picture and be done with it," I said under my breath, as I saw a group of people approaching from two blocks down.
Instead of doing just that my girlfriend demonstratively put the camera in her coat pocket.
"What are you doing? I thought you are taking a picture?"
'You know what, I think I can do whatever I want right now since I have you where you can't get away."
That's when I began to get a little nervous, because I knew that she got crazy ideas sometimes, like when she buried me in the sand at the beach earlier this summer and then tickled my neck for what seemed an eternity.
"You are not going to..." I muttered in disbelief, my eyes shifting to the side keeping track of what turned out to be a large tour group of noisy high school students.
"Of course not like THAT! Where's the fun in that?" she grinned approaching the stocks, reaching for my feet.
"Leave...it...NOW," I tried to convince her as quietly as possible through clenched teeth so that the approaching people wouldn't hear what was going on.
How foolish of me to think that I could stop my girfriend at this point.
"These shoes will have to come off to make it REALLY authentic. You know prisoners were usually barefoot while being placed in the stocks."
With that, she took a hold of my right canvas shoe and slipped it right off my foot.
"Stop...it," I whispered feebly, trying to wiggle my still shod foot away from her hand, to no avail. The other shoe was also removed in no time at all.
"If you cause more of a ruckus everyone will be here in no time," she pointed at the teenagers who had congregated a block down from us being busy listening to one of the interpreter's nasal explanations of 18th century colonial architecture.
"You know very well these kids are like wolves when it comes to sniffing out a helpless guy who is the recipient of a little torture. And you wouldn't want this little delicate situation you are in exposed to the world, now, would you?"
The smirk on her face silenced me into submission.
Hoping that the tour group would move on in a different direction I stopped struggling and let my girlfriend reach under the rim of each of my socks, pulling them over the ankle and stripping me off them.
"It's cold," I complained, feeling the brisk autumn air rush through my exposed toes."
"C'mon, baby, I think you can manage. After all, people back then did, too," she said as if she didn't have a care and all the time in the world.
"I just don't like people looking at my feet."
"Right now, I am the only one looking at them, "she smiled, "and I think that they should be given a proper good ol' time tickle treatment as a punishment for their owner's refusal to comply with the directions of his girlfriend.
Without further warning, she took my bare foot into her left hand and began to scribble with her fingers all over my sole.
I instantly went into convulsions, which led my buttocks to dig deep into the metal bar on which I was sitting.
"Heehehehehehahahahaha,hahahahaahhhhhhhhhh!"
I don't know what was worse, the horribly sensual tickling sensation on my bare soles or my fear that the commotion I was causing would call the group of students on the plan.
When I managed to look to the side with teary eyes, I thought I could already see some heads turning.
"See, I told you it's in your best interest to be quiet," my girlfriend smirked, while doing everything she could so that I wouldn't.
"Maybe I need to use a different tactic," she said after digging her nails into my arches, the balls and the instep of my soles for a minute or so.
With that, she knelt down in front of me and lifted my bare foot up to her tongue.
"No, please," I whispered in panic.
Two blocks down, the tour group had started to move in our direction.
At this point I closed my eyes, for all seemed lost to me...
TO BE CONTINUED...
