A Colonial Tickle by my Girlfriend PART 3 (f/m)

“Let’s take some pictures,” the brunette girl said to her blonde friend while positioning herself to the right of the stocks in which my girlfriend had trapped by bare feet. The others in the group were cheering, some of them filming my embarrassing predicament with their cell phones.

The blonde girl took position to my right and mustered my freezing soles.

“Cold?” she asked sardonically. Before I had a chance to answer, she turned to the others.
“You are getting this on camera?” and dug her fingers into the flesh of my exposed foot. Her friend was a more shy at first, eying my foot which she held cupped around the heel in her gloved hand. After overcoming her initial reservation, though, she proved the more vicious tickler, eying my every response to her fingers spidering to this spot and that, tracing my arches, scribbling along my instep and kneading the fleshy section right under my
toes.
The more I wriggled, the more I screamed for mercy, the more cheers erupted from the crowd, encouraging my tormentor to continue her vicious attack. In a matter of 5 agonizing minutes, the flesh of my soles had turned beet red, and I could hardly feel my bruised ankles from hitting the wood that kept my legs securely in place.

“Hold on, hold on, let’s give him a break!” the brunette girl suddenly held her friend back. This immediately raised discontentment in the audience.
This is when someone, I was too exhausted to differentiate who or when this was, had the idea of misusing the situation for a game of dare.
I listened in horror how suddenly all sorts of proposals were called in to my two female tormentors.

“I dare you to kiss his foot!”
“Use your lighter! That’ll warm his soles!”
“No! Tickle him until he pees!”

The girls listened to every proposition cocking their heads like birds of prey, then turning to me.
The brunette gave my big toe a quick flick with her finger, asking “What do YOU think we should do? How do we get your poor freezing footsies warm, huh?”

“By letting me out?” I tried halfheartedly. Of course, my answer didn’t please the crowd, which responded with one wholehearted round of Boo.

“Punish him!” someone called, followed by an agreeing communal chant of:
“Punish! Punish Punish! Punish! Pusnish!”

The blond girl giggled. “Hand me my backpack.” From it, she pulled out two plastic lunchboxes, each of which was held shut with a thick blue rubber band.” She removed the bands handing one to her brunette friend.
Nodding, they pulled each over my left and right feet. The rubber bands were so tight that I could feel the skin on the top and bottom of my feet being pushed together.

“This might sting a bit,” the blonde exclaimed, loud enough for the cameras to pick up what was happening. Counting to three the two girls each pulled the rubber band as far back from the bottom of my foot as they
could. The crowd watched my feet with a mixture of awe and expectation.

“One…”
“Please…” I begged.
“Two…”
I closed my eyes in anticipation of the pain to come.
“Three!”

I don’t remember what came first—the cracking sound or the shooting pain moving from my foot into my leg— when the girls released the tension on the bands which forced the rubber to snap back with an incredible force on the naked flesh of my soles.
Tears began to well up in my eyes, so that I felt more than saw the girls triumphantly removing the limp rubber bands from my feet to the cheer of the crowd.

“Oh, wow,” the blonde girl pointed at my still stinging soles. “This will leave marks.” She called over to one of the bystanders. “Hey, Jessie, get a close picture of those red streaks for online!”
At that point, I heard a familiar voice.

“People, please! Stop that child’s play!”

My girlfriend had returned! For a brief moment, I felt hopeful that I would be released, and my embarrassing torture would finally be over.
The girls and the crowd eyed her wearily for a moment.
“Is he your boyfriend?”
The crowd began to murmur, upset at the prospect of fun being over.
However, the cards were to my disadvantage yet again.

Instead of answering, my girlfriend said matter-of-factly: “If you want to REALLY punish his feet, you gotta do it right.”

I watched in growing horror as my girlfriend dropped what looked like a bucket with ominous content, tree switches, candles and other items I had no clue where she got them so quickly.
All I knew for sure was that the three girls began to smile knowingly at one another.
The blonde girl picked up a decent size wooden switch and traced the red streak running across the naked sole of my left foot.

How could I survive these new tools of torture in the hands of these insane tickle torturers and a drooling crowd thirsty for my continued torment?



To be continued…

Damn, those ladies are some real fucking sadists lol

I just finished reading this series. (to date) I have always thought that this was a good scenario for a story, because there is a little part in each of us who would wonder what they would do in this situation, be it ler or lee. Congratulations on a good topic, well written.

Geez, you really took this up a notch. Kudos

The scariest part is that it really does seem like this might happen.

Id love to see a part 4 of this some day. Such a great story! Your stuff is very good in general!