Welcome back...
A huge thanks to everyone who read and enjoyed my first little torturous tale. Seeing the positive responses gave me the impetus to continue with the ticklefic in all haste.
Now before I go any further, the first part can be found here:
The Lestrange Girl Part I
Now to part II. It follows hot on the heels of the previous story. Again this one concentrates almost entirely feet and foot tickling, however it is poor Ginny Potter at the centre of attention this time. It is perhaps a little more racy, but I think it's vague enough in its writing to stop short of being explicit. Again comments and constructive criticism on this or the actual writing are very welcome.
And in case anyone needs a little inspiration there's a few images that I came across that were very handy... I found this one to be particularly helpful.
You can also get an idea of the Quidditch gear from google...
Enjoy!
The Lestrange Girl: Part II – Ginny Potter
Ginny strode out of her Quidditch team's practice area mopping her brow with a towel. She was heading back to the changing rooms after the two hour training session, and was stiff and sweaty from aerial drills and goal shooting. All she wanted to was to get home and have an early night. As she passed the reception desk she smiled at the attendant.
“Hey Rebecca.”
“Oh, Mrs. Potter! This arrived for you.”
Ginny reached out to take the enveolope and said, “Please call me Ginny.”
“Will do Mrs. Potter... Er Mrs. Ginny,” Rebecca sputtered. Ginny smiled as Rebecca fidgeted with stationary.
“Thanks, have a good evening.”
“Your too Ginny Potter... I mean Mrs... Oh...” Rebecca buried her face in some papers.
In the changing room Ginny sat down on the bench in front of her locker. She gratefully toed her trainers off and flexed her sweaty toes with a sigh. She was about to peel one of the white ankle socks off when she remembered the letter. She opened the envelope and the card inside immediately floated out of her hand and hovered before her.
Hi Ginny.
I thought with the guys away we could hang out. Feeling a bit blue, would be great if you could come over.
Hermione.
Ginny took the envelope.
It was certainly Hermione's signature... A little shaky, but still...
“Hmmm...” she breathed.
Ginny didn't like it. It wasn't like Hermione to pine. She missed Ron sure, but she was too together, too busy to feel sorry for herself. It wasn't right; it didn't feel right.
“Well...” She said to herself, drawing her wand. “Let's investigate!”
Ginny made her way down the street still clad in her Quidditch gear, minus the dark green Harpies' jersey and robes of course. It was dark enough that she could get away with the pads in public. She'd just claim she was late back from playing polo if anyone asked. It wasn't as if she'd had much choice anyway. She was keen to investigate the note as quickly as possible and hadn't time to go home and change. She had opted to wear her pads out rather than carry them in case there was trouble. Not that they'd do much against magic, but useful if she had to deploy a swift knee to someone she felt deserved it.
An attempt to get in touch with Luna via the Floo network had proved futile. She wasn't home, but that was pretty standard with Luna. Every other week she was disappearing off to some far flung quarter in search of a creature that only she thought existed. Ginny had sent a message via owl instead hoping it would get to her quickly, but as the time had dragged on no reply had come and Ginny had been forced to go it alone. She wasn't happy about it, but she wanted to find out what was going on. Stifling a yawn she blinked her eyes, trying to stay focussed and stave off the weariness that threatened to creep over her.
Ginny had also hoped Luna would have been able to shed more light on Hermione's mood. The three of them were very close, or at least they had been before they'd all got so busy. Ginny felt a pang of regret as she realised she hadn't spoken to her friends properly or at length in far too long. The last occasion they'd all been together was her wedding. Even then she and Harry had been too caught up with one another for her to spend much time with their friends. And that was almost three months ago. She had no idea what Hermione was up to at the Ministry or which imaginary thing Luna was currently chasing through the wilderness.
She was so lost in reverie that Ginny almost walked straight passed Hermione and Ron's house. The three storey town-terrace looked dark and unoccupied.
She checked over her shoulder and carefully walked up the front path. Everything looked quiet and still. There was a note on top of the bins. Ginny plucked it up and turned it over.
“V. funny! No collection next week!” was written in scratchy biro. Ginny pursed her lips and replaced the note, not knowing what to make of it. Glancing at the dark upstairs windows she noticed one was ajar. A slightly scratty cat peered down at her from the window sill. It mewed quietly, the bell around its neck tinkling.
“Hello, kitty,” she said softly. Had Ron and Hermione got a new cat? She reached out and checked the front entrance.
The door was off the latch.
Ginny drew her wand and slowly pushed the door open. The hall and front room were wrapped in shadow. Wan light shone through the windows, moonlight painting pale shapes on the walls and floors. There was also a glow spilling down the stairs; lights from a back room on the first floor.
“Hermione!” Ginny called. and immediately scolded herself, wondering whether that had been a good idea. She had just announced her presence to whoever was in the house. She was too tired, wasn't not thinking properly. However her thoughts were interrupted by a reply.
“Ginny! Hi! I'm upstairs!”
Ginny paused. It was Hermione's voice but Ginny still felt on edge. Something didn't feel right. Her friend sounded bright and cheerful. Not exactly the mood she'd been expecting given the nature of the note that brought her here. The voice called again.
“What you doing? Come on up!”
“Just a minute... Hermione!” Ginny replied.
“Don't worry about your shoes! Come on up!”
Ginny felt a chill run through her adrenaline suddenly giving her focus and dispelling the cloud of weariness from her mind. Something was definitely wrong! Hermione was so totally inflexible about her no-shoes-in-the-house rule Ginny sometimes wondered if there was a weird reason behind it.
“Be right up!” she called.
She took a wide path trying to get a good view up the stairs before she began her ascent. It all seemed quiet. Suddenly someone appeared at the top of the stairs. Ginny looked up into Hermione's smiling face.
“What you doing down there in the dark?”
“Are you okay, Hermione?” Ginny asked.
There was a tiny pause before she replied.
“Fine!” Hermione said, smiling and ducking back into the bedroom on the left.
“You sounded a bit down in your letter,” Ginny called stepping carefully towards the stairs.
“Oh... Yeah I was in a funny mood when I wrote that,” Hermione stuck her hand around the door frame and flapped it dismissively. “Much better now though.”
Slowly Ginny started up the stairs. She kept her wand tucked underneath her forearm ready to bring to bear with a flick of the wrist.
As she drew level with the landing Hermione's face appeared around the bedroom doorway again.
“Come on. I want to show you something,” she said disappearing once again into the lit, back bedroom.
“A new cat?” Ginny asked approaching with great caution.
“Cat?” came the reply. “What cat?”
As she approached the doorway, Ginny glimpsed something out of the corner of her eye through an opposite door on her right. In the corner of the front room, illuminated only by the moonlight through the open window was a figure hunched in the corner. Ginny leant in, peering closer.
Hermione, hugging her legs to her chest, sat there wide-eyed, hair dishevelled, staring back at Ginny. There was a cruel-looking metal collar around her neck.
“Help me!” she mouthed silently in the gloom.
Ginny, turned back to the other Hermione, her face set with a cold fury.
“Don't make a move!” she yelled, her wand at the ready. The other Hermione stood stock still and raised her hands palms open and empty. The grin on her face didn't falter.
“Who are you!” Ginny snarled, brandishing her wand.
“A better question,” said the first Hermione, her voice quite different now, “may be: who is that?”
“What?” Ginny asked and turned in time to see the second Hermione lash out with her wand. A jinx hit Ginny in the shoulder and spun her round. She landed against the hallway wall, listening to the sound of her wand clattering away.
“Good shooting, Tex!” said the first Hermione from the back room, her voice heavy with sarcasm. She stepped out of the lit room as the other Hermione stepped out from the dark into the hallway.
Ginny stared at the two copies of Hermione standing side by side, her eyes suddenly heavy again. Neither of them, she realised with a racing heart, were her old friend.
“Stupefy!” said the first and Ginny was knocked unconscious.
“You need to practice your aim a bit, wouldn't you say?” said the first Hermione.
The other Hermione gave a non-committal grunt in reply. The sound was deep and throaty.
“I know you're unhappy in that body, but cheer up, Quent,” the first went on, turning towards the stairs. “It was excellent work with the polyjuice. Really top drawer stuff! We've got what we came for. If you could bring Mrs. Potter downstairs I'll get the fire going. We'll get home, you can change back again and then we can have some fun.”
The second Hermione grinned.
Ginny awoke with a start and looked about her. She was in a pool of stark white light and it dazzled her. Blinking she tried to move but found she was held fast to an ornate chair, her arms and legs locked in place with thick leather straps. She strained against the bonds but there was absolutely no give at all.
“Ginny! You're finally awake!” came a familiar voice out of the gloom.
“Hermione?” Ginny mumbled, squinting against the light.
“Yes it's me!” the voice called back.
“How do I know it's not another polyjuice trick?” Ginny asked. However ss her eyes finally adjusted she saw Hermione bathed in a similar pool of light and her question became moot when she noticed her old friend was similarly restrained.
“I guess it's obvious, isn't it?” said Hermione resignedly.
“Hermione! Thank goodness. Are you all right? What's happening?” Ginny asked.
“I'm fine, I guess. But it's Belltrix's daughter! Ariadne. She kidnapped me...” Hermione blurted, becoming agitated.
“Bellatrix had a daughter?” asked Ginny incredulously.
“I know! I thought the the same thing,” Hermione replied. “But it's true! Oh, Ginny... I can't believe she caught you too.”
Ginny's heart sank when she heard the disappointment in her old friend's voice. It was true. She'd walked into the trap. She'd been so tired, too impetuous. She was about to enquire further when she noticed Hermione's bare feet hanging over the edge of the bench she was restrained to.
“What's going on?” she asked. Hermione followed her friend's gaze and flexed her feet.
“Oh...” she looked back at Ginny, an awkward expression on her face. She took a breath before explaining. “That's why she's caught us. She's obsessed with my feet! Any feet. She hasn't left them alone. I don't want to alarm you but she's been talking about yours too.”
“That's just slightly... odd,” Ginny replied, simultaneously checking her own footwear was still in place. Her legs and feet were still clad in her Quidditch boots and pads.
“You're telling me!” Hermione said. “I've lost track of the time, but it must have been hours she spent tickling my feet. I was a wreck by the end of it. It was like torture! She only gave up when she left to go after you.”
“You weren't under the Imperius Curse?” Ginny asked.
“No she was not!” called Ariadne, before Hermione could answer. The witch walked out of the darkness toying with her wand. “Even after all my hard work she still managed to resist it. If it hadn't been so much fun listening to her squeal for all that time I'd be quite annoyed. Anyway... That's quite enough out of you for now, Miss Granger. Locomotor bench!”
Hermione and the bench she was on lifted into the air. “I won't forget about you,” Ariadne explained to Hermione. “I'll bring you back later, but right now I want to be alone with Mrs. Potter.”
She turned and grinned unpleasantly at Ginny as she said this.
“Leave her alone!” Ginny yelled.
“Don't worry, Ginerva.” replied Ariadne. “Quentin will look after Hermione, Ginerva. You'll be getting all of my attention from now on, Ginerva. Ginerva... Potter.” Ariadne repeated Ginny's given name with a tone mocking scorn. She seemed to be practising different ways of saying it, different inflections and stresses.
“Who's Quentin...?” Ginny began to ask, but became distracted by what was happening in front of her.
“Ginny!” Hermione shouted plaintively as she and the bench landed in an alcove. Almost immediately a sheet of magic crackled across the opening in the wall.
“Ginny...” cried Ariadne, mimicking Hermione perfectly, and cackled. Behind her Hermione herself disappeared from view as the wall of energy shimmered and solidified, becoming as firm and immutable as any other wall in the dungeon. It was all over in a moment, but when it was finished Hermione was almost completely trapped behind the wall. Only her little, bare feet protruded from the magical brickwork. They wriggled and Ginny could hear her friend shouting from behind the wall, though her voice was muted and distant.
With the sound of a tinkling bell, a cat leapt up onto a brick step below the trapped and wiggling feet. It playfully batted its paws at the squirming toes. Ginny heard a high pitched shriek from behind the wall.
“Stop it!” Ginny shouted, glaring at Ariadne.
“Oh, don't worry about Quentin,” said Ariadne raising an eyebrow at the pale toes that were flexing and fanning, trying to escape the feather light touches. She grinned at the antics and then snapped her head around to face Ginny.
“I'd be more concerned about yourself.” Ariadne let the words hang before continuing. “Right then!” she said, still grinning. “Let's get started, shall we?”
“What the hell is all this about?” Ginny yelled at Ariadne as the witch walked over to the chair where she was held fast.
“You want to talk first?” Ariadne shrugged. “Fair enough, understandable given the circumstances. I think you got most of the basics anyway,” she said, distractedly playing with Ginny's long red hair. “Let's see... Evil Ariadne, daughter of the infamous Bellatrix, is capturing lovely, young, famous witches to have her wicked way with them...” She daintily lifted a lock of Ginny's hair to her face and inhaled gently. “Yes I think that's about it. That cover everything for you?”
Ginny, staring at the witch and lost for words, took a few moments to gather her thoughts and reply.
“And you're obsessed...?”
“With feet, yes!” Ariadne finished, her eyes snaking down Ginny's body to linger on her booted feet.
“All this effort because you like feet?” Ginny asked.
Ariadne's eyes twinkled and she bit playfully on the end of her wand.
“Not just that,” she said coyly. “I have an evil plan in the works too.”
“Really?” said Ginny.
“No... Well sort of,” Ariadne began to pace around Ginny's chair. “It's more of a side effect, if I'm honest. You're right, actually, I'm more interested in getting your boots and socks off.”
Ginny just looked at Ariadne, mouth slightly agape, not entirely sure how to proceed.
“Oh don't look like that...” said Ariadne and she perched on the edge of Ginny's chair, almost sitting on her lap. “You seem a little more... adventurous than our friend over there.” Ariadne nodded towards Hermione's feet. Quentin was now dabbing his little pink tongue over Hermione's soles. Her high-pitched squeals of laughter were just audible. “You can't be totally surprised. You must have come across this sort of thing... Maybe even dabbled?”
“No!” Ginny said, recoiling. Ariadne lowered her head, looking deep into Ginny's eyes. At the same time she placed a hand around Ginny's trapped wrist. A grin slowly spread across her face.
“Liar...” Ariadne breathed.
Ginny's mind raced as she returned Ariadne's gaze. It was true. She had thought about it. A fair amount if she was honest. It wasn't an obsession. It was just how she was. She liked to play. To experiment.
On their honeymoon she'd made a few suggestions to Harry. At one point she'd asked him to suck her toes... He'd played along, had fun, but it was obvious that his heart wasn't in it. She'd loved every moment. Her heart leapt just thinking about it now, looking at him at the end of the bed, hands cradling her foot, bringing her toes towards his mouth...
She loved Harry completely, but he was just not quite adventurous enough at times. She'd hoped that afterwards he'd start making suggestions. Anything he wanted, to spice things up. When he didn't she had hinted about her feet once more. He'd replied “if you like”... She'd never brought it up with him again after that. She began thinking she'd been wrong to ask for it at all. But she'd thought about it.
This was different though, this was all wrong. She'd been abducted, imprisoned... It wasn't right. But her heart raced anyway; her breathing got deeper.
“Okay, on with the fun,” Ariadne said, distractedly playing with Ginny's hair again. “Which one first, left or right?”
Ginny took a moment to shake off her reverie.
“What?” she asked, hoping she'd misheard the question.
Ariadne's reply was spoken in slow, breathy purr.
“Which foot would you like me to start with?” she asked. “Your left, or your right?”
Without waiting for an answer she sprang up and made her way to the end of the bench. She ran her hands over the leather of Ginny's knee-high boots, squeezing the padding over the ankles. All the while she kept her eyes fixed on Ginny's.
“Lefty...” Ariadne said with a smile. She adjusted a lever near the base of the chair and Ginny yelped quietly as her left leg began to rise as part of the chair pivoted upwards. Ariadne only stopped winding the crank Ginny's foot was level with her waist. Then the witch pouted her lips and pointed her wand at the first clasp on Ginny's bulky Quidditch boots. Muttering something under her breath she tapped the clasp and it popped open. Ariadne kept her head bowed and looked up at Ginny through wisps of her frizzy black hair. Her fixed grin widened and she moved her wand to the next buckle.
Ginny watched for a moment and then began to fight against her restraints. They wouldn't budge. She frantically looked around but couldn't see anything that would help. Ariadne was progressing slowly, savouring the process, but eventually the last clasp sprang open.
Placing her wand away Ariadne grasped the heel and toe of the boot. Her lips tightening with effort she worked the footwear back and forth, muttering to herself all the while, until it started to slide down Ginny's leg. It thumped onto the floor.
“There now,” said Ariadne, gently puffing with exertion. Ginny just glared back at the other witch, though Ariadne seemed uninterested and unconcerned. She was totally focussed on Ginny's foot, still covered by the knee length Quidditch sock. The thick material was dark green; Ginny's team's colours. Ariadne reached down and gently began to work her fingers into the sole of Ginny's foot.
“Mmmm,” Ariadne breathed. “It's so warm.” She kept kneading Ginny's foot for a few moments, eyes closed, swaying slightly with the motions of her hands. Then her eyes slowly opened and she asked, “How does that feel?”
Ginny maintained her cold stare, but inwardly she had felt her heart beat a little harder in her chest as soon as the witch had laid hands on her foot. Her toes flexed unbidden.
“Ooh. So strong. So shapely...” Ariadne cooed. Leaning forward she buried her face into the sole of Ginny's foot, her nose nestled beneath the toes. She inhaled deeply, her body quivering.
“You freak!” Ginny said, more to cover the quickening breath than to express the sentiment. The other witch paused and stared back at her for a moment. Then her eyes began to twinkle with delight.
“You love it!” Ariadne said and cackled playfully in realisation. “Oh this is too good! Ginny Potter likes foot-play!”
“No...” Ginny began, shaking her head, her red hair tumbling about her shoulders.
“Liar!” Ariadne said again, this time more emphatically. She worked her hands harder into Ginny's socked foot, the thick dark-green material of the Quidditch sock sliding over the smooth skin underneath. Ariadne took Ginny's foot in both hands and gently bent her captive's toes back and spread them with her thumbs. Ginny gave a little gasp that made Ariadne squeal in delight. She studied Ginny a moment longer and then slid her hand up the witch's shapely leg to take hold of the dark green calf-length sock.
“Off comes the little sock...” chimed Ariadne.
Ginny remained silent. She closed her eyes and rested her head back, trying to ignore what Ariadne was doing with her foot. She hated the tingling sensation the massage had sent spreading up her leg and around her hips. She'd actually found it... pleasant... exciting. She tried unsuccessfully to control her breathing.
Humming tunelessly Ariadne began to draw the sock down Ginny's leg. Her leggings ended around the knee and the pale skin of her leg became visible as the sock was pulled back. Ariadne was making a stream of little delighted noises as she removed the sock, her mouth open wide, eyes bright with the joy of the act. She stopped to tug the sock through the restraint that held Ginny's leg in place, and halted again when the sock was around Ginny's ankle. Taking the bunched material in both hands Ariadne eased the sock over the shapely ankle and around the smooth heel. More of Ginny's sole became visible, the wide ball of her foot. Finally, with a flourish, Ariadne whipped the sock away, flinging it onto the floor.
“Well...” she breathed. “Isn't that just lovely.”
Ginny's bare foot, held tense, looked small and pale in the stark light from above. Her gently curled toes were bent back, leaving the soft ridges where they met the instep, which was smooth with exquisite contours. Ginny's sole, was sumptuous, its flesh creamy and soft, the colour of buttermilk. The slimness of the heel contrasted with the wide ball of her foot; the arch was deep and curved beautifully. Her plump toes ascended in a wonderful arc towards her big toe, each pressed up against the its neighbour; the nails pink and natural.
Ariadne, for once, was silent. Even Quentin had stopped tormenting Hermione's feet and sat, watching intently. The witch reached out and ran a hand down the sole of Ginny's bare foot.
Ginny's shoulders trembled and her lips tightened. Ariadne sighed in delight and stroked the naked, helpless foot again. Ginny snorted, feeling her neck and cheeks warm as they flushed red. Ariadne flexed her finger and danced them over Ginny's trapped foot, playing over the smooth curves of her arch, the soft skin of her sole. Ginny's whole body shook and bucked as she was unable to stop herself from laughing out loud. She cackled and rolled her head, red hair cascading over her face.
“Stop it!” she yelled, giggling.
“Too perfect,” Ariadne mumbled and continued to caress every delicious inch of Ginny's bare foot. She twirled a finger around the middle of the sole, playing it over the ridges of skin that appeared as Ginny's foot flexed and jiggled against the restraints. Her creamy-soft toes fanned and curled and Ariadne worked her fingers into the tender flesh beneath them, easing the toes back when they bunched up in response to her teasing.
“Oh, please...” Ginny gasped between fits of laughter. “Please...” She felt the intensity of the tickling flow up for body and tighten into a knot low in her abdomen. The ache that was building was almost unbearable, a sensation that thrilled and tormented in equal measure. She twisted her foot, wriggled her toes, anything to escape from the feeling, but as it continued to crackle through her she let out a sound that was halfway between a shriek and a moan. “It's too much! It's too much!” she panted. Unable to hold it in any more she literally screamed laughter as Ariadne raked her fingers up and down the vulnerable bare sole.
Then in the next instant. It stopped.
“Oh...” Ginny panted. “Ah...”
“Well that...” Ariadne said, sitting back, “was a treat!”
Ginny gulped down air, her breathing was deep and quick, her ample chest rising and falling beneath her tight sweater. She rolled her head, blinked and looked down at Ariadne looming over her single, bare foot.
“Oh...” she sighed again and let her head flop to the side.
Looks like I wasn't the only one who enjoyed that, huh?” Ariadne asked. She hadn't expected a reply and Ginny volunteered none.
“Now as good as that was, I'm sure we're going to be able to top it,” Ariadne went on. “Here's something you might really enjoy!” She stepped back and knelt to adjust something low on the chair. Her face happened to be very close to Ginny's trapped foot. On a whim she playfully nibbled on the plump, rounded flesh or Ginny's big toe, which brought a high-pitched yelp from her captive. Ariadne grinned and finished with the chair, sliding something out from its base. Ginny, her composure returning, craned her neck to try and see what was happening.
“Here we are,” Ariadne chimed in a sing-song voice. She presented a wooden box to Ginny. It looked innocuous enough, the only distinctive thing was a metal grille on one side.
“And?” Ginny said curtly, trying to flick her long hair out of her face.
Ariadne bit her lower lip and slid back the grille to reveal a slot in the box's side. Initially nothing happened, but then a long pink tongue began to snake it way out of the hole.
“What... the hell... is... that?” Ginny asked, wide-eyed and staring at the coiling tongue.
“I've no idea,” Ariadne replied quickly. “Cute though! Wanna say hello?” she offered it up to Ginny, thrusting the box into her face. The red-headed witch recoiled away from it as it tried to touch her face with its moist, pink flesh.
“Get it away from me!” she yelled.
“Aw...” sighed Ariadne. “That's not nice.” She cradled the box like a child and cooed over it. “Never mind,” she went on, “I think its more interested in your dainty, little feet anyway.”
Ginny curled her toes involuntarily. As if sensing the movement the sinuous tongue lolled and coiled in the air. Eye's twinkling Araidne knelt and began to fix the box back into a metal stirrup near the base of the chair. Almost eighteen inches clear above the box, Ginny's bare foot flexed an squirmed.
“What...” Ginny started exasperated. “But... What does it do?” She was stammering and writhing in the chair. Ariadne finished her work and stood, cocking an eyebrow.
“One guess,” said said.
Ginny became still and looked straight at the other witch.
“Don't. Please.” She said the words simply. Without emotion. Ariadne seemed only too delighted by the reaction. She reached down and grasped a handle on the chair.
“Here we go...” she said in that sing-song voice again and began to work the crank. Gears turned and Ginny's leg began to pivot downwards; her foot descending towards the tongue-in-the-box.
“No no no no no...” Ginny muttered jiggling up and down in her seat. The tongue-thing was unnatural. The thought of it near her terrified her; made her skin crawl. She couldn't stand the idea of her defenceless, naked foot within its reach.
“Stop it! Now!” Ginny yelled at Ariadne. The other witch just shook her head. Ginny's bare foot got lower. The pink tongue strained to its full reach.
“Please!” she screamed, eyes screwed shut. Her leg juddered to a halt, the tongue lolling back and forth, a fraction below the pale sole of her bare foot.
Ginny, breathing hard, looked down at her foot, tension twisting her gut. She looked over at Ariadne and Ariadne looked back. Her eyes twinkled malevolently.
“Ready?” she asked Ginny.
“NO!” Ginny wailed, arching her back. She curled her toes, ridges of pale skin appearing down the sole of her foot.
The crank turned, Ginny's foot descended just enough. With one long slow movement the tip of the tongue dragged across the sole of Ginny's bare foot, from heel to ball, bumping over the ridges of smooth, velvet flesh.
Ginny gasped. The tongue slithered across her sole again and she snorted with laughter. It licked again and a fourth time. Ginny giggled uncontrollably.
With a few last turns Ariadne finished her work with the chair's mechanism and stood back. Ginny's bare foot was just inches from the box now and the tongue could reach every inch of the soft, pale skin. It swirled around the hollow of her arch, then slapped up and over onto the top of her quaking foot. Ginny squealed with laughter and held her foot rigid, the soft contours of tendons appearing on her instep. The tongue worked its way over each, flicking over the tops of her toes before sliding back and down, to continue licking Ginny's bare sole.
“Make it stop,” Ginny yelped, breathing deeply. Ariadne ignored her. She smiled as Ginny sighed and moaned between fits of laughter. Then the witch walked around the chair and started to unstrap Ginny's other boot, by hand this time. She tugged eagerly at the buckles, like a child with a present.
Ginny was too preoccupied to notice. The tongue worked its way between her toes, rubbing against the fleshy pad of each. It curled around her big toe then slowly slathered along the entire length of her foot. Her pale skin glistened with moisture as the tongue relentlessly continued its work, running over the ball of her foot again and again.
Ginny yelped and sighed. It was terrible. The sensation, the situation, it was all awful. But against her will, despite everything she did to prevent it, she felt exhilarated as well. The restraints, her helplessness, the ache around her thighs and hips. She squealed and wailed as the tongue slapped against her sole, its moist flesh pressed against her supple skin, her naked foot totally at its mercy.
She didn't notice at all as her right boot was pulled off. Ariadne emitted a little shriek of delight and darted off to get her stool. Positioning it in front of the trembling, socked foot Ariadne sat. Grabbing the toe of the sock she yanked hard on it, dragging it down Ginny's leg. It caught on a restraint as the redheaded-witch struggled. Ariadne grabbed a fistful of empty sock and tugged again, stripping Ginny's right foot bare. Trapped and vulnerable, Ginny's foot lay before Ariadne's flexing fingers. Placing her hands around Ginny's bare foot Ariadne leant forward and placed her lips around the big toe. With a long, slow drag, she sucked on it. She trembled slightly and then leant in again, this time mouthing Ginny's second and third toes; each plump and wriggling. She pressed her pink tongue against the smooth flesh working it back and forth. As she licked and sucked upon Ginny's juicy toes she brought her hand up and scratched at the unprotected sole,
Ginny was already howling, tears streaming down her face, her long red hair clinging to her face and neck. This new attention lavished upon her other foot gave the laughter a new, shrill quality. Ariadne laughed herself, a dirty, throaty sound and spread Ginny's toes, licking passionately between each one. She worked her way down the red-head's foot, lingering upon the exquisitely tender skin beneath beneath arch. Rising from her seat Ariadne pressed her lips into Ginny's instep,mouthing and licking the smooth curves and contours, feeling the lines of tendons held rigid beneath her wet tongue. All the while she was raking her fingers up and down the sole of Ginny's wriggling, naked foot.
As the ticklish torments continued Ginny's upper body rocked back and forth, held in place by her restraints. Her head lolled form side to side, and she shook with peals of laughter.
Seemingly satisfied for the moment Ariadne looked up. Then, kicking away her stool she reach down and grabbed another of the levers in the chair's base. Slowly Ginny's right foot descended so it came to rest just above the second box's grille. Bending down Ariadne pulled the metal plate aside. Almost at once another tongue-creature squirmed out and began to drag itself around the sole of Ginny's other bare foot. The pair of them were unyielding, swirling and flicking, licking and stroking, not an inch of Ginny's trapped feet were left untouched. Her naked, luscious soles were defenceless, no matter how she turned and flexed them. Ginny gave a deep, breathless cackle, and her whole body shuddered as her feet were mercilessly licked and tickled. Tears flowed down her cheeks, moistening her long red hair. It clung to her face despite her struggles.
Ariadne watched all this and clapped her hands with glee. An idea struck her and she reached for her wand, pointing it at Ginny's helpless feet.
“Peditatus Titillatio!” she shouted
Ginny strained aganist her bonds, shaking her head frantically.
“NOOOOO!” she howled. She turned and fought and screamed, but it didn't help a bit. Although every part of her body was alive with sensation, her feet flaring brighter in her mind than anything else. Hot electric waves ran up each leg as the tongues and Ariadne's charm worked their way around each foot; teasing, titillating; tingling. Beneath each of her high arches; between each toe, up and down each sole, the tickling was ceaseless.
Standing off to one side, admiring her handiwork, Ariadne took a dainty, slightly unsteady step backwards. She reached up with a hand and stroked her face as she continued to back away. The hand dropped to her throat, then her chest working its way lower as she disappeared into the shadows.
Ginny was left alone, the charms traced tingling magic over her trapped feet; the slathering tongues working back and forth around her captive soles. One began to plunge between each of her toes again, moving back and forth, reaching every last tender spot of oh-so-soft skin around her squirming toes. As if in competition the other whorled around the sole of her foot, caressing the almost white hollow of her arch, the tip of the pink fluttering around smooth skin. Between the staccato laughter and gasps Ginny tried to cry out.
“I can't... I can't...” she gasped. The sensation built and blazed throughout her body and mind as the tongues licked and slapped at her naked feet. Her back arched and her toes curled as the charms teased and tickled them. The intensity of the feeling was flooding into her, pulsing from her feet, coursing up each leg and into the very centre of her. She held her breath, unable to force any more laughter out. Every muscle in her body was held tense... She gasped and strained.... Then she collapsed, limp against the chair, her breathing quick and ragged.
She lost track of how long she lay there, her mind buzzing and unable to focus; exhausted. She wriggled languidly letting the waves of exhilaration wash over her. Somewhere far away she could still feel the tongues running up and down her bare soles. Her whole body shuddered with each pulse of warmth that crept up from her feet...
Perhaps he fell unconscious, but it took her quite some time to realise that she was no longer being tickled by anything, magic or otherwise. She gulped down air in deep breaths, still trying to collect her thoughts. Eventually, haltingly, she raised her head, blinking her damp hair from her eyes.
The whole chamber seemed quiet and deserted.
“That... Was special!” Ariadne croaked somewhere from the shadows. Ginny peered around blearily and then let her head flop down onto the headrest. Her gaze fell upon Quentin the cat. He was sitting in the pool of light where Hermione had originally been. His penetrating stare met Ginny's. Slowly the cat stood. He bounded forward, towards Ginny, leaping as he neared the edge of the light. Somewhere in the gloom the silhouette of the cat unfolded, its shadow seeming to fold open. What stepped into the light beside Ginny was a tall, muscular man, clad in black with a heavy iron collar around his neck. Untidy black hair that reached his shoulders framed an angular face that was flecked with patterns of old scars. He paused and let his piercing green eyes roam over Ginny's body. She noticed his gaze lingered on her bare feet, but eventually he dragged his attention back to her face. Ginny looked back at him, her brown eyes, cold and fierce, meeting his, implacable and emerald green. She flinched as he raised a hand, but she controlled herself as he brought it close to her face. Gently he brushed her damp hair away from her eyes. Then he did the same around her cheeks and pale neck. Despite his craggy face, the skin of his hands was smooth.
Ginny's collar was in disarray after her struggles and had folded back to reveal a patch of creamy skin on her shoulder. He let his hand fall onto it, stroking her almost perfect-white skin. A filthy leer spread over his face
“My turn!” said the animagus.
Next Time:
The Lestrange Girl Part III – Luna Lovegood.
Luna Lovegood finished pulling up her knee high hiking socks and brushed her jeans back down around her ankles. Despite a few little splashes she had remained mostly dry, though she wished she'd had time to bring some more appropriate equipment. Gaiters for a start. Reaching up she lifted up her boots that hung by their tied laces about her neck. She began to pick the knot apart, staring at the map that lay on the log next to her. The babbling stream she had just crossed appeared to be her final obstacle. Dropping her boots to the ground, she worked her socked feet into them then leant over to tie the laces.
“Nearly there,” she said to herself airily.
The rest of the collection:
The Lestrange Girl Part I
The Lestrange Girl Part III
The Lestrange Girl Part IV
A huge thanks to everyone who read and enjoyed my first little torturous tale. Seeing the positive responses gave me the impetus to continue with the ticklefic in all haste.
Now before I go any further, the first part can be found here:
The Lestrange Girl Part I
Now to part II. It follows hot on the heels of the previous story. Again this one concentrates almost entirely feet and foot tickling, however it is poor Ginny Potter at the centre of attention this time. It is perhaps a little more racy, but I think it's vague enough in its writing to stop short of being explicit. Again comments and constructive criticism on this or the actual writing are very welcome.
And in case anyone needs a little inspiration there's a few images that I came across that were very handy... I found this one to be particularly helpful.
You can also get an idea of the Quidditch gear from google...
Enjoy!
The Lestrange Girl: Part II – Ginny Potter
Ginny strode out of her Quidditch team's practice area mopping her brow with a towel. She was heading back to the changing rooms after the two hour training session, and was stiff and sweaty from aerial drills and goal shooting. All she wanted to was to get home and have an early night. As she passed the reception desk she smiled at the attendant.
“Hey Rebecca.”
“Oh, Mrs. Potter! This arrived for you.”
Ginny reached out to take the enveolope and said, “Please call me Ginny.”
“Will do Mrs. Potter... Er Mrs. Ginny,” Rebecca sputtered. Ginny smiled as Rebecca fidgeted with stationary.
“Thanks, have a good evening.”
“Your too Ginny Potter... I mean Mrs... Oh...” Rebecca buried her face in some papers.
In the changing room Ginny sat down on the bench in front of her locker. She gratefully toed her trainers off and flexed her sweaty toes with a sigh. She was about to peel one of the white ankle socks off when she remembered the letter. She opened the envelope and the card inside immediately floated out of her hand and hovered before her.
Hi Ginny.
I thought with the guys away we could hang out. Feeling a bit blue, would be great if you could come over.
Hermione.
Ginny took the envelope.
It was certainly Hermione's signature... A little shaky, but still...
“Hmmm...” she breathed.
Ginny didn't like it. It wasn't like Hermione to pine. She missed Ron sure, but she was too together, too busy to feel sorry for herself. It wasn't right; it didn't feel right.
“Well...” She said to herself, drawing her wand. “Let's investigate!”
Ginny made her way down the street still clad in her Quidditch gear, minus the dark green Harpies' jersey and robes of course. It was dark enough that she could get away with the pads in public. She'd just claim she was late back from playing polo if anyone asked. It wasn't as if she'd had much choice anyway. She was keen to investigate the note as quickly as possible and hadn't time to go home and change. She had opted to wear her pads out rather than carry them in case there was trouble. Not that they'd do much against magic, but useful if she had to deploy a swift knee to someone she felt deserved it.
An attempt to get in touch with Luna via the Floo network had proved futile. She wasn't home, but that was pretty standard with Luna. Every other week she was disappearing off to some far flung quarter in search of a creature that only she thought existed. Ginny had sent a message via owl instead hoping it would get to her quickly, but as the time had dragged on no reply had come and Ginny had been forced to go it alone. She wasn't happy about it, but she wanted to find out what was going on. Stifling a yawn she blinked her eyes, trying to stay focussed and stave off the weariness that threatened to creep over her.
Ginny had also hoped Luna would have been able to shed more light on Hermione's mood. The three of them were very close, or at least they had been before they'd all got so busy. Ginny felt a pang of regret as she realised she hadn't spoken to her friends properly or at length in far too long. The last occasion they'd all been together was her wedding. Even then she and Harry had been too caught up with one another for her to spend much time with their friends. And that was almost three months ago. She had no idea what Hermione was up to at the Ministry or which imaginary thing Luna was currently chasing through the wilderness.
She was so lost in reverie that Ginny almost walked straight passed Hermione and Ron's house. The three storey town-terrace looked dark and unoccupied.
She checked over her shoulder and carefully walked up the front path. Everything looked quiet and still. There was a note on top of the bins. Ginny plucked it up and turned it over.
“V. funny! No collection next week!” was written in scratchy biro. Ginny pursed her lips and replaced the note, not knowing what to make of it. Glancing at the dark upstairs windows she noticed one was ajar. A slightly scratty cat peered down at her from the window sill. It mewed quietly, the bell around its neck tinkling.
“Hello, kitty,” she said softly. Had Ron and Hermione got a new cat? She reached out and checked the front entrance.
The door was off the latch.
Ginny drew her wand and slowly pushed the door open. The hall and front room were wrapped in shadow. Wan light shone through the windows, moonlight painting pale shapes on the walls and floors. There was also a glow spilling down the stairs; lights from a back room on the first floor.
“Hermione!” Ginny called. and immediately scolded herself, wondering whether that had been a good idea. She had just announced her presence to whoever was in the house. She was too tired, wasn't not thinking properly. However her thoughts were interrupted by a reply.
“Ginny! Hi! I'm upstairs!”
Ginny paused. It was Hermione's voice but Ginny still felt on edge. Something didn't feel right. Her friend sounded bright and cheerful. Not exactly the mood she'd been expecting given the nature of the note that brought her here. The voice called again.
“What you doing? Come on up!”
“Just a minute... Hermione!” Ginny replied.
“Don't worry about your shoes! Come on up!”
Ginny felt a chill run through her adrenaline suddenly giving her focus and dispelling the cloud of weariness from her mind. Something was definitely wrong! Hermione was so totally inflexible about her no-shoes-in-the-house rule Ginny sometimes wondered if there was a weird reason behind it.
“Be right up!” she called.
She took a wide path trying to get a good view up the stairs before she began her ascent. It all seemed quiet. Suddenly someone appeared at the top of the stairs. Ginny looked up into Hermione's smiling face.
“What you doing down there in the dark?”
“Are you okay, Hermione?” Ginny asked.
There was a tiny pause before she replied.
“Fine!” Hermione said, smiling and ducking back into the bedroom on the left.
“You sounded a bit down in your letter,” Ginny called stepping carefully towards the stairs.
“Oh... Yeah I was in a funny mood when I wrote that,” Hermione stuck her hand around the door frame and flapped it dismissively. “Much better now though.”
Slowly Ginny started up the stairs. She kept her wand tucked underneath her forearm ready to bring to bear with a flick of the wrist.
As she drew level with the landing Hermione's face appeared around the bedroom doorway again.
“Come on. I want to show you something,” she said disappearing once again into the lit, back bedroom.
“A new cat?” Ginny asked approaching with great caution.
“Cat?” came the reply. “What cat?”
As she approached the doorway, Ginny glimpsed something out of the corner of her eye through an opposite door on her right. In the corner of the front room, illuminated only by the moonlight through the open window was a figure hunched in the corner. Ginny leant in, peering closer.
Hermione, hugging her legs to her chest, sat there wide-eyed, hair dishevelled, staring back at Ginny. There was a cruel-looking metal collar around her neck.
“Help me!” she mouthed silently in the gloom.
Ginny, turned back to the other Hermione, her face set with a cold fury.
“Don't make a move!” she yelled, her wand at the ready. The other Hermione stood stock still and raised her hands palms open and empty. The grin on her face didn't falter.
“Who are you!” Ginny snarled, brandishing her wand.
“A better question,” said the first Hermione, her voice quite different now, “may be: who is that?”
“What?” Ginny asked and turned in time to see the second Hermione lash out with her wand. A jinx hit Ginny in the shoulder and spun her round. She landed against the hallway wall, listening to the sound of her wand clattering away.
“Good shooting, Tex!” said the first Hermione from the back room, her voice heavy with sarcasm. She stepped out of the lit room as the other Hermione stepped out from the dark into the hallway.
Ginny stared at the two copies of Hermione standing side by side, her eyes suddenly heavy again. Neither of them, she realised with a racing heart, were her old friend.
“Stupefy!” said the first and Ginny was knocked unconscious.
“You need to practice your aim a bit, wouldn't you say?” said the first Hermione.
The other Hermione gave a non-committal grunt in reply. The sound was deep and throaty.
“I know you're unhappy in that body, but cheer up, Quent,” the first went on, turning towards the stairs. “It was excellent work with the polyjuice. Really top drawer stuff! We've got what we came for. If you could bring Mrs. Potter downstairs I'll get the fire going. We'll get home, you can change back again and then we can have some fun.”
The second Hermione grinned.
Ginny awoke with a start and looked about her. She was in a pool of stark white light and it dazzled her. Blinking she tried to move but found she was held fast to an ornate chair, her arms and legs locked in place with thick leather straps. She strained against the bonds but there was absolutely no give at all.
“Ginny! You're finally awake!” came a familiar voice out of the gloom.
“Hermione?” Ginny mumbled, squinting against the light.
“Yes it's me!” the voice called back.
“How do I know it's not another polyjuice trick?” Ginny asked. However ss her eyes finally adjusted she saw Hermione bathed in a similar pool of light and her question became moot when she noticed her old friend was similarly restrained.
“I guess it's obvious, isn't it?” said Hermione resignedly.
“Hermione! Thank goodness. Are you all right? What's happening?” Ginny asked.
“I'm fine, I guess. But it's Belltrix's daughter! Ariadne. She kidnapped me...” Hermione blurted, becoming agitated.
“Bellatrix had a daughter?” asked Ginny incredulously.
“I know! I thought the the same thing,” Hermione replied. “But it's true! Oh, Ginny... I can't believe she caught you too.”
Ginny's heart sank when she heard the disappointment in her old friend's voice. It was true. She'd walked into the trap. She'd been so tired, too impetuous. She was about to enquire further when she noticed Hermione's bare feet hanging over the edge of the bench she was restrained to.
“What's going on?” she asked. Hermione followed her friend's gaze and flexed her feet.
“Oh...” she looked back at Ginny, an awkward expression on her face. She took a breath before explaining. “That's why she's caught us. She's obsessed with my feet! Any feet. She hasn't left them alone. I don't want to alarm you but she's been talking about yours too.”
“That's just slightly... odd,” Ginny replied, simultaneously checking her own footwear was still in place. Her legs and feet were still clad in her Quidditch boots and pads.
“You're telling me!” Hermione said. “I've lost track of the time, but it must have been hours she spent tickling my feet. I was a wreck by the end of it. It was like torture! She only gave up when she left to go after you.”
“You weren't under the Imperius Curse?” Ginny asked.
“No she was not!” called Ariadne, before Hermione could answer. The witch walked out of the darkness toying with her wand. “Even after all my hard work she still managed to resist it. If it hadn't been so much fun listening to her squeal for all that time I'd be quite annoyed. Anyway... That's quite enough out of you for now, Miss Granger. Locomotor bench!”
Hermione and the bench she was on lifted into the air. “I won't forget about you,” Ariadne explained to Hermione. “I'll bring you back later, but right now I want to be alone with Mrs. Potter.”
She turned and grinned unpleasantly at Ginny as she said this.
“Leave her alone!” Ginny yelled.
“Don't worry, Ginerva.” replied Ariadne. “Quentin will look after Hermione, Ginerva. You'll be getting all of my attention from now on, Ginerva. Ginerva... Potter.” Ariadne repeated Ginny's given name with a tone mocking scorn. She seemed to be practising different ways of saying it, different inflections and stresses.
“Who's Quentin...?” Ginny began to ask, but became distracted by what was happening in front of her.
“Ginny!” Hermione shouted plaintively as she and the bench landed in an alcove. Almost immediately a sheet of magic crackled across the opening in the wall.
“Ginny...” cried Ariadne, mimicking Hermione perfectly, and cackled. Behind her Hermione herself disappeared from view as the wall of energy shimmered and solidified, becoming as firm and immutable as any other wall in the dungeon. It was all over in a moment, but when it was finished Hermione was almost completely trapped behind the wall. Only her little, bare feet protruded from the magical brickwork. They wriggled and Ginny could hear her friend shouting from behind the wall, though her voice was muted and distant.
With the sound of a tinkling bell, a cat leapt up onto a brick step below the trapped and wiggling feet. It playfully batted its paws at the squirming toes. Ginny heard a high pitched shriek from behind the wall.
“Stop it!” Ginny shouted, glaring at Ariadne.
“Oh, don't worry about Quentin,” said Ariadne raising an eyebrow at the pale toes that were flexing and fanning, trying to escape the feather light touches. She grinned at the antics and then snapped her head around to face Ginny.
“I'd be more concerned about yourself.” Ariadne let the words hang before continuing. “Right then!” she said, still grinning. “Let's get started, shall we?”
“What the hell is all this about?” Ginny yelled at Ariadne as the witch walked over to the chair where she was held fast.
“You want to talk first?” Ariadne shrugged. “Fair enough, understandable given the circumstances. I think you got most of the basics anyway,” she said, distractedly playing with Ginny's long red hair. “Let's see... Evil Ariadne, daughter of the infamous Bellatrix, is capturing lovely, young, famous witches to have her wicked way with them...” She daintily lifted a lock of Ginny's hair to her face and inhaled gently. “Yes I think that's about it. That cover everything for you?”
Ginny, staring at the witch and lost for words, took a few moments to gather her thoughts and reply.
“And you're obsessed...?”
“With feet, yes!” Ariadne finished, her eyes snaking down Ginny's body to linger on her booted feet.
“All this effort because you like feet?” Ginny asked.
Ariadne's eyes twinkled and she bit playfully on the end of her wand.
“Not just that,” she said coyly. “I have an evil plan in the works too.”
“Really?” said Ginny.
“No... Well sort of,” Ariadne began to pace around Ginny's chair. “It's more of a side effect, if I'm honest. You're right, actually, I'm more interested in getting your boots and socks off.”
Ginny just looked at Ariadne, mouth slightly agape, not entirely sure how to proceed.
“Oh don't look like that...” said Ariadne and she perched on the edge of Ginny's chair, almost sitting on her lap. “You seem a little more... adventurous than our friend over there.” Ariadne nodded towards Hermione's feet. Quentin was now dabbing his little pink tongue over Hermione's soles. Her high-pitched squeals of laughter were just audible. “You can't be totally surprised. You must have come across this sort of thing... Maybe even dabbled?”
“No!” Ginny said, recoiling. Ariadne lowered her head, looking deep into Ginny's eyes. At the same time she placed a hand around Ginny's trapped wrist. A grin slowly spread across her face.
“Liar...” Ariadne breathed.
Ginny's mind raced as she returned Ariadne's gaze. It was true. She had thought about it. A fair amount if she was honest. It wasn't an obsession. It was just how she was. She liked to play. To experiment.
On their honeymoon she'd made a few suggestions to Harry. At one point she'd asked him to suck her toes... He'd played along, had fun, but it was obvious that his heart wasn't in it. She'd loved every moment. Her heart leapt just thinking about it now, looking at him at the end of the bed, hands cradling her foot, bringing her toes towards his mouth...
She loved Harry completely, but he was just not quite adventurous enough at times. She'd hoped that afterwards he'd start making suggestions. Anything he wanted, to spice things up. When he didn't she had hinted about her feet once more. He'd replied “if you like”... She'd never brought it up with him again after that. She began thinking she'd been wrong to ask for it at all. But she'd thought about it.
This was different though, this was all wrong. She'd been abducted, imprisoned... It wasn't right. But her heart raced anyway; her breathing got deeper.
“Okay, on with the fun,” Ariadne said, distractedly playing with Ginny's hair again. “Which one first, left or right?”
Ginny took a moment to shake off her reverie.
“What?” she asked, hoping she'd misheard the question.
Ariadne's reply was spoken in slow, breathy purr.
“Which foot would you like me to start with?” she asked. “Your left, or your right?”
Without waiting for an answer she sprang up and made her way to the end of the bench. She ran her hands over the leather of Ginny's knee-high boots, squeezing the padding over the ankles. All the while she kept her eyes fixed on Ginny's.
“Lefty...” Ariadne said with a smile. She adjusted a lever near the base of the chair and Ginny yelped quietly as her left leg began to rise as part of the chair pivoted upwards. Ariadne only stopped winding the crank Ginny's foot was level with her waist. Then the witch pouted her lips and pointed her wand at the first clasp on Ginny's bulky Quidditch boots. Muttering something under her breath she tapped the clasp and it popped open. Ariadne kept her head bowed and looked up at Ginny through wisps of her frizzy black hair. Her fixed grin widened and she moved her wand to the next buckle.
Ginny watched for a moment and then began to fight against her restraints. They wouldn't budge. She frantically looked around but couldn't see anything that would help. Ariadne was progressing slowly, savouring the process, but eventually the last clasp sprang open.
Placing her wand away Ariadne grasped the heel and toe of the boot. Her lips tightening with effort she worked the footwear back and forth, muttering to herself all the while, until it started to slide down Ginny's leg. It thumped onto the floor.
“There now,” said Ariadne, gently puffing with exertion. Ginny just glared back at the other witch, though Ariadne seemed uninterested and unconcerned. She was totally focussed on Ginny's foot, still covered by the knee length Quidditch sock. The thick material was dark green; Ginny's team's colours. Ariadne reached down and gently began to work her fingers into the sole of Ginny's foot.
“Mmmm,” Ariadne breathed. “It's so warm.” She kept kneading Ginny's foot for a few moments, eyes closed, swaying slightly with the motions of her hands. Then her eyes slowly opened and she asked, “How does that feel?”
Ginny maintained her cold stare, but inwardly she had felt her heart beat a little harder in her chest as soon as the witch had laid hands on her foot. Her toes flexed unbidden.
“Ooh. So strong. So shapely...” Ariadne cooed. Leaning forward she buried her face into the sole of Ginny's foot, her nose nestled beneath the toes. She inhaled deeply, her body quivering.
“You freak!” Ginny said, more to cover the quickening breath than to express the sentiment. The other witch paused and stared back at her for a moment. Then her eyes began to twinkle with delight.
“You love it!” Ariadne said and cackled playfully in realisation. “Oh this is too good! Ginny Potter likes foot-play!”
“No...” Ginny began, shaking her head, her red hair tumbling about her shoulders.
“Liar!” Ariadne said again, this time more emphatically. She worked her hands harder into Ginny's socked foot, the thick dark-green material of the Quidditch sock sliding over the smooth skin underneath. Ariadne took Ginny's foot in both hands and gently bent her captive's toes back and spread them with her thumbs. Ginny gave a little gasp that made Ariadne squeal in delight. She studied Ginny a moment longer and then slid her hand up the witch's shapely leg to take hold of the dark green calf-length sock.
“Off comes the little sock...” chimed Ariadne.
Ginny remained silent. She closed her eyes and rested her head back, trying to ignore what Ariadne was doing with her foot. She hated the tingling sensation the massage had sent spreading up her leg and around her hips. She'd actually found it... pleasant... exciting. She tried unsuccessfully to control her breathing.
Humming tunelessly Ariadne began to draw the sock down Ginny's leg. Her leggings ended around the knee and the pale skin of her leg became visible as the sock was pulled back. Ariadne was making a stream of little delighted noises as she removed the sock, her mouth open wide, eyes bright with the joy of the act. She stopped to tug the sock through the restraint that held Ginny's leg in place, and halted again when the sock was around Ginny's ankle. Taking the bunched material in both hands Ariadne eased the sock over the shapely ankle and around the smooth heel. More of Ginny's sole became visible, the wide ball of her foot. Finally, with a flourish, Ariadne whipped the sock away, flinging it onto the floor.
“Well...” she breathed. “Isn't that just lovely.”
Ginny's bare foot, held tense, looked small and pale in the stark light from above. Her gently curled toes were bent back, leaving the soft ridges where they met the instep, which was smooth with exquisite contours. Ginny's sole, was sumptuous, its flesh creamy and soft, the colour of buttermilk. The slimness of the heel contrasted with the wide ball of her foot; the arch was deep and curved beautifully. Her plump toes ascended in a wonderful arc towards her big toe, each pressed up against the its neighbour; the nails pink and natural.
Ariadne, for once, was silent. Even Quentin had stopped tormenting Hermione's feet and sat, watching intently. The witch reached out and ran a hand down the sole of Ginny's bare foot.
Ginny's shoulders trembled and her lips tightened. Ariadne sighed in delight and stroked the naked, helpless foot again. Ginny snorted, feeling her neck and cheeks warm as they flushed red. Ariadne flexed her finger and danced them over Ginny's trapped foot, playing over the smooth curves of her arch, the soft skin of her sole. Ginny's whole body shook and bucked as she was unable to stop herself from laughing out loud. She cackled and rolled her head, red hair cascading over her face.
“Stop it!” she yelled, giggling.
“Too perfect,” Ariadne mumbled and continued to caress every delicious inch of Ginny's bare foot. She twirled a finger around the middle of the sole, playing it over the ridges of skin that appeared as Ginny's foot flexed and jiggled against the restraints. Her creamy-soft toes fanned and curled and Ariadne worked her fingers into the tender flesh beneath them, easing the toes back when they bunched up in response to her teasing.
“Oh, please...” Ginny gasped between fits of laughter. “Please...” She felt the intensity of the tickling flow up for body and tighten into a knot low in her abdomen. The ache that was building was almost unbearable, a sensation that thrilled and tormented in equal measure. She twisted her foot, wriggled her toes, anything to escape from the feeling, but as it continued to crackle through her she let out a sound that was halfway between a shriek and a moan. “It's too much! It's too much!” she panted. Unable to hold it in any more she literally screamed laughter as Ariadne raked her fingers up and down the vulnerable bare sole.
Then in the next instant. It stopped.
“Oh...” Ginny panted. “Ah...”
“Well that...” Ariadne said, sitting back, “was a treat!”
Ginny gulped down air, her breathing was deep and quick, her ample chest rising and falling beneath her tight sweater. She rolled her head, blinked and looked down at Ariadne looming over her single, bare foot.
“Oh...” she sighed again and let her head flop to the side.
Looks like I wasn't the only one who enjoyed that, huh?” Ariadne asked. She hadn't expected a reply and Ginny volunteered none.
“Now as good as that was, I'm sure we're going to be able to top it,” Ariadne went on. “Here's something you might really enjoy!” She stepped back and knelt to adjust something low on the chair. Her face happened to be very close to Ginny's trapped foot. On a whim she playfully nibbled on the plump, rounded flesh or Ginny's big toe, which brought a high-pitched yelp from her captive. Ariadne grinned and finished with the chair, sliding something out from its base. Ginny, her composure returning, craned her neck to try and see what was happening.
“Here we are,” Ariadne chimed in a sing-song voice. She presented a wooden box to Ginny. It looked innocuous enough, the only distinctive thing was a metal grille on one side.
“And?” Ginny said curtly, trying to flick her long hair out of her face.
Ariadne bit her lower lip and slid back the grille to reveal a slot in the box's side. Initially nothing happened, but then a long pink tongue began to snake it way out of the hole.
“What... the hell... is... that?” Ginny asked, wide-eyed and staring at the coiling tongue.
“I've no idea,” Ariadne replied quickly. “Cute though! Wanna say hello?” she offered it up to Ginny, thrusting the box into her face. The red-headed witch recoiled away from it as it tried to touch her face with its moist, pink flesh.
“Get it away from me!” she yelled.
“Aw...” sighed Ariadne. “That's not nice.” She cradled the box like a child and cooed over it. “Never mind,” she went on, “I think its more interested in your dainty, little feet anyway.”
Ginny curled her toes involuntarily. As if sensing the movement the sinuous tongue lolled and coiled in the air. Eye's twinkling Araidne knelt and began to fix the box back into a metal stirrup near the base of the chair. Almost eighteen inches clear above the box, Ginny's bare foot flexed an squirmed.
“What...” Ginny started exasperated. “But... What does it do?” She was stammering and writhing in the chair. Ariadne finished her work and stood, cocking an eyebrow.
“One guess,” said said.
Ginny became still and looked straight at the other witch.
“Don't. Please.” She said the words simply. Without emotion. Ariadne seemed only too delighted by the reaction. She reached down and grasped a handle on the chair.
“Here we go...” she said in that sing-song voice again and began to work the crank. Gears turned and Ginny's leg began to pivot downwards; her foot descending towards the tongue-in-the-box.
“No no no no no...” Ginny muttered jiggling up and down in her seat. The tongue-thing was unnatural. The thought of it near her terrified her; made her skin crawl. She couldn't stand the idea of her defenceless, naked foot within its reach.
“Stop it! Now!” Ginny yelled at Ariadne. The other witch just shook her head. Ginny's bare foot got lower. The pink tongue strained to its full reach.
“Please!” she screamed, eyes screwed shut. Her leg juddered to a halt, the tongue lolling back and forth, a fraction below the pale sole of her bare foot.
Ginny, breathing hard, looked down at her foot, tension twisting her gut. She looked over at Ariadne and Ariadne looked back. Her eyes twinkled malevolently.
“Ready?” she asked Ginny.
“NO!” Ginny wailed, arching her back. She curled her toes, ridges of pale skin appearing down the sole of her foot.
The crank turned, Ginny's foot descended just enough. With one long slow movement the tip of the tongue dragged across the sole of Ginny's bare foot, from heel to ball, bumping over the ridges of smooth, velvet flesh.
Ginny gasped. The tongue slithered across her sole again and she snorted with laughter. It licked again and a fourth time. Ginny giggled uncontrollably.
With a few last turns Ariadne finished her work with the chair's mechanism and stood back. Ginny's bare foot was just inches from the box now and the tongue could reach every inch of the soft, pale skin. It swirled around the hollow of her arch, then slapped up and over onto the top of her quaking foot. Ginny squealed with laughter and held her foot rigid, the soft contours of tendons appearing on her instep. The tongue worked its way over each, flicking over the tops of her toes before sliding back and down, to continue licking Ginny's bare sole.
“Make it stop,” Ginny yelped, breathing deeply. Ariadne ignored her. She smiled as Ginny sighed and moaned between fits of laughter. Then the witch walked around the chair and started to unstrap Ginny's other boot, by hand this time. She tugged eagerly at the buckles, like a child with a present.
Ginny was too preoccupied to notice. The tongue worked its way between her toes, rubbing against the fleshy pad of each. It curled around her big toe then slowly slathered along the entire length of her foot. Her pale skin glistened with moisture as the tongue relentlessly continued its work, running over the ball of her foot again and again.
Ginny yelped and sighed. It was terrible. The sensation, the situation, it was all awful. But against her will, despite everything she did to prevent it, she felt exhilarated as well. The restraints, her helplessness, the ache around her thighs and hips. She squealed and wailed as the tongue slapped against her sole, its moist flesh pressed against her supple skin, her naked foot totally at its mercy.
She didn't notice at all as her right boot was pulled off. Ariadne emitted a little shriek of delight and darted off to get her stool. Positioning it in front of the trembling, socked foot Ariadne sat. Grabbing the toe of the sock she yanked hard on it, dragging it down Ginny's leg. It caught on a restraint as the redheaded-witch struggled. Ariadne grabbed a fistful of empty sock and tugged again, stripping Ginny's right foot bare. Trapped and vulnerable, Ginny's foot lay before Ariadne's flexing fingers. Placing her hands around Ginny's bare foot Ariadne leant forward and placed her lips around the big toe. With a long, slow drag, she sucked on it. She trembled slightly and then leant in again, this time mouthing Ginny's second and third toes; each plump and wriggling. She pressed her pink tongue against the smooth flesh working it back and forth. As she licked and sucked upon Ginny's juicy toes she brought her hand up and scratched at the unprotected sole,
Ginny was already howling, tears streaming down her face, her long red hair clinging to her face and neck. This new attention lavished upon her other foot gave the laughter a new, shrill quality. Ariadne laughed herself, a dirty, throaty sound and spread Ginny's toes, licking passionately between each one. She worked her way down the red-head's foot, lingering upon the exquisitely tender skin beneath beneath arch. Rising from her seat Ariadne pressed her lips into Ginny's instep,mouthing and licking the smooth curves and contours, feeling the lines of tendons held rigid beneath her wet tongue. All the while she was raking her fingers up and down the sole of Ginny's wriggling, naked foot.
As the ticklish torments continued Ginny's upper body rocked back and forth, held in place by her restraints. Her head lolled form side to side, and she shook with peals of laughter.
Seemingly satisfied for the moment Ariadne looked up. Then, kicking away her stool she reach down and grabbed another of the levers in the chair's base. Slowly Ginny's right foot descended so it came to rest just above the second box's grille. Bending down Ariadne pulled the metal plate aside. Almost at once another tongue-creature squirmed out and began to drag itself around the sole of Ginny's other bare foot. The pair of them were unyielding, swirling and flicking, licking and stroking, not an inch of Ginny's trapped feet were left untouched. Her naked, luscious soles were defenceless, no matter how she turned and flexed them. Ginny gave a deep, breathless cackle, and her whole body shuddered as her feet were mercilessly licked and tickled. Tears flowed down her cheeks, moistening her long red hair. It clung to her face despite her struggles.
Ariadne watched all this and clapped her hands with glee. An idea struck her and she reached for her wand, pointing it at Ginny's helpless feet.
“Peditatus Titillatio!” she shouted
Ginny strained aganist her bonds, shaking her head frantically.
“NOOOOO!” she howled. She turned and fought and screamed, but it didn't help a bit. Although every part of her body was alive with sensation, her feet flaring brighter in her mind than anything else. Hot electric waves ran up each leg as the tongues and Ariadne's charm worked their way around each foot; teasing, titillating; tingling. Beneath each of her high arches; between each toe, up and down each sole, the tickling was ceaseless.
Standing off to one side, admiring her handiwork, Ariadne took a dainty, slightly unsteady step backwards. She reached up with a hand and stroked her face as she continued to back away. The hand dropped to her throat, then her chest working its way lower as she disappeared into the shadows.
Ginny was left alone, the charms traced tingling magic over her trapped feet; the slathering tongues working back and forth around her captive soles. One began to plunge between each of her toes again, moving back and forth, reaching every last tender spot of oh-so-soft skin around her squirming toes. As if in competition the other whorled around the sole of her foot, caressing the almost white hollow of her arch, the tip of the pink fluttering around smooth skin. Between the staccato laughter and gasps Ginny tried to cry out.
“I can't... I can't...” she gasped. The sensation built and blazed throughout her body and mind as the tongues licked and slapped at her naked feet. Her back arched and her toes curled as the charms teased and tickled them. The intensity of the feeling was flooding into her, pulsing from her feet, coursing up each leg and into the very centre of her. She held her breath, unable to force any more laughter out. Every muscle in her body was held tense... She gasped and strained.... Then she collapsed, limp against the chair, her breathing quick and ragged.
She lost track of how long she lay there, her mind buzzing and unable to focus; exhausted. She wriggled languidly letting the waves of exhilaration wash over her. Somewhere far away she could still feel the tongues running up and down her bare soles. Her whole body shuddered with each pulse of warmth that crept up from her feet...
Perhaps he fell unconscious, but it took her quite some time to realise that she was no longer being tickled by anything, magic or otherwise. She gulped down air in deep breaths, still trying to collect her thoughts. Eventually, haltingly, she raised her head, blinking her damp hair from her eyes.
The whole chamber seemed quiet and deserted.
“That... Was special!” Ariadne croaked somewhere from the shadows. Ginny peered around blearily and then let her head flop down onto the headrest. Her gaze fell upon Quentin the cat. He was sitting in the pool of light where Hermione had originally been. His penetrating stare met Ginny's. Slowly the cat stood. He bounded forward, towards Ginny, leaping as he neared the edge of the light. Somewhere in the gloom the silhouette of the cat unfolded, its shadow seeming to fold open. What stepped into the light beside Ginny was a tall, muscular man, clad in black with a heavy iron collar around his neck. Untidy black hair that reached his shoulders framed an angular face that was flecked with patterns of old scars. He paused and let his piercing green eyes roam over Ginny's body. She noticed his gaze lingered on her bare feet, but eventually he dragged his attention back to her face. Ginny looked back at him, her brown eyes, cold and fierce, meeting his, implacable and emerald green. She flinched as he raised a hand, but she controlled herself as he brought it close to her face. Gently he brushed her damp hair away from her eyes. Then he did the same around her cheeks and pale neck. Despite his craggy face, the skin of his hands was smooth.
Ginny's collar was in disarray after her struggles and had folded back to reveal a patch of creamy skin on her shoulder. He let his hand fall onto it, stroking her almost perfect-white skin. A filthy leer spread over his face
“My turn!” said the animagus.
Next Time:
The Lestrange Girl Part III – Luna Lovegood.
Luna Lovegood finished pulling up her knee high hiking socks and brushed her jeans back down around her ankles. Despite a few little splashes she had remained mostly dry, though she wished she'd had time to bring some more appropriate equipment. Gaiters for a start. Reaching up she lifted up her boots that hung by their tied laces about her neck. She began to pick the knot apart, staring at the map that lay on the log next to her. The babbling stream she had just crossed appeared to be her final obstacle. Dropping her boots to the ground, she worked her socked feet into them then leant over to tie the laces.
“Nearly there,” she said to herself airily.
The rest of the collection:
The Lestrange Girl Part I
The Lestrange Girl Part III
The Lestrange Girl Part IV
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