View Full Version : Ancient torture: Tickled by goat (f/goat)

12-30-2002, 04:34 PM
Story excerpt from "24-hour boy toy Tiffany", 1999 by Dr. Wu

For whole story and other stories from author, see:

Have fun.

Tiffany came down the stairs slowly, nervously. She had dressed as demurely and modestly as she could, but it was summer in Texas, and she hadn't been expecting this turn of events. The best she could do was to get back into the white peasant blouse and shorts she had worn over earlier. She had no jeans, no long pants, and no dresses packed. She had pulled her beautiful long blonde hair back into a ponytail and put on no makeup in hopes of looking dowdy for the boys. Fat chance. Tiffany Daniels was a stunning 18-year-old girl, as every male from 9 to 90 knew instantly upon seeing her. Her luscious teenaged body had just ripened into full womanly curves, and her face, with its pouty-lipped, pubescent beauty, was frequently compared to that of the teen tennis star Anna Kournikova. "Matt, may I see you alone a moment?" Tiffany called nervously. "Sure, Tiffany," Matt answered. Now was the time to play his babysitting cousin just right, the boy thought, and that meant as little attitude as possible. Tiffany didn't know what to say about what Matt had just done to her, so she decided not to say anything. "Do you want to go to the Renaissance Festival?" she asked. "You and your friends?" "Well, yeah, I guess," Matt said. "Sure. When did you want to go?" "No time like right now!" Tiffany said brightly. "Tell your friends to get in your mom's car and we'll go." Matt ran into the kitchen to talk to his friends, and Tiffany went out and started the car. Soon the boys piled out of the house and into the Ford Taurus, Matt up front, "shotgun!," and his three friends in back. "Hey guys, this is my cousin, Tiffany," Matt called out, matter-of-factly. "Tiffany, this is Luke, Mark, and the guy on the right is Johnny, although sometimes we call him Little John." "Like in Robin Hood?" Tiffany asked. The boys looked at each other, puzzled, then burst out laughing. "Yeah, right, Tiff, whatever you say," Matt said, mockingly. Tiffany didn't get the joke. She would, of course, later in the day. "Yo! What's up, Tiff?" said Luke. Tiffany bristled. She hated it when dumb little white boys from the suburbs, rich white boys, pretended to be homeys from the hood, hated them wearing their jeans falling down off their ass and talking about their posses and their cribs. She wanted to bitch-slap them all. But she just gripped the steering wheel tighter, and drove. A half hour later they were turning into the open field that served as a parking lot. Normally, Tiffany wouldn't have wanted to go to something geeky like a Renaissance Festival - she was way too cool for such events now, unless a really cute older boy had asked her, maybe. She had been with a group of friends several years ago, though, and she knew the basic routine. A mock "village," meant to represent 16th century England or Europe usually, was built in a big field. Performers were hired, some local, and some parts of touring groups who travelled the country, to put on shows and act as if they were really in 16th century England. There'd be a king, a queen, a jester, a dark knight, a lot of peasants, a soothsayer, etc., on and on. Part of the "fun" for the suburbanites who paid $15 a head to get in was to interact with the actors as if the whole scene were really 16th century England instead of the United States in 1999. Staying in character was crucial for the players. Oh well, thought Tiffany. At least I can let the boys go off and watch jousting and magic shows, and I can wander around safely in the crowd for most of the day. I'll be safe. The sun was beating down harsh already at 11 a.m. as Tiffany and her four young charges went through the main gates and down the "main street" of the festival. It was hot, and getting hotter. "Listen up, guys," she told Matt and his obnxious friends. "We'll meet back here at the entrance at 5 p.m. Here's $20 each for food and drink. Don't get sunburned and stay out of trouble." "Gee, cuz, are you trying to get rid of us?" Matt asked. "I thought we could pal around together." He was mocking her, and Tiffany fought down the urge to smack the punk. "Oh, you don't want to hang out with me," Tiffany said. As soon as the words were out of her mouth, a horse and rider trotted by. The horse was black, and the young man astride the beast was clad all in black too, with a black goatee, a feathered cap atop his head and a sword and scabbard dangling from his waist. He looked at the boys, and Little John gave a nod. Tiffany saw the boy nod and thought it was odd. She looked up quickly at the man on the horse and thought she saw him nod as well. But he wheeled and rode off, and just like that, the boys were all saying, "OK, whatever. See ya back here at five. They walked off in a pack, giggling, appearing to share some secret joke. Half an hour later, the gorgeous blonde cheerleader had found a patch of shade and was sipping a lemonade. Although she was lightly tanned, she knew that the fierce Texas sun today would burn her badly if she stayed in the sun for long, and she hadn't brought sunscreen. Suddenly a shadow fell over her. She looked up and saw the dark man on his dark horse. He dismounted gracefully. "Good day, fair lady," he said in the speech that all the Renaissance players affected. "What is a beautiful maiden like you doing all alone, if I may be so bold?" Tiffany was flattered. He was darkly handsome, and his eyes sparkled. She guessed him to be in his early 20s, just old enough to be dangerous but not old enough to be gross and middle-aged. "Kind sir," she replied, trying to mimic the speech, "I am just enjoying my drink. I'm afraid if I stay in the sun too long my skin will burn." "That would be a terrible shame, to see such fair skin burned. Art thee alone?" "It's a long story," Tiffany answered. "And a boring one. What's your name?" "I am Sir Reginald. Some call me the dark knight, but I'm really a pretty good guy when I'm not playing dress-up." He broke character and smiled warmly at her. "Seriously," he continued, now speaking regularly, "if you're just trying to get out of the sun, come back to where the performers hang out. We can only stand to be out for 30 minutes at a time in these damn outfits." He laughed, and Tiffany joined him. Sure, the young beauty said, she'd love to see where the performers hung out. It would be like a backstage tour or something, she thought, and anything beat just hanging around in the heat for six hours trying to avoid her cousin and his little brat friends. Before she knew it, Sir Reginald had swept her onto his horse, mounted in front of her, and galloped off toward the permieter of the festival. He aimed the horse for a gap in the fence where a sign read "NO EXIT - AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY" and shot through it. "Here we are, my lady," he said, all formal again. "But I forgot to ask your name." "Tiffany." "Very good, Lady Tiffany, step inside please." The tent was dark. Very dark, Tiffany realized. And no sooner had that realization struck her than she felt several sets of hands grabbing her, and realized she was surrounded by bodies. Large male bodies. She could smell their sweat and BO, and feel their muscles as they grabbed her. Her arms were pulled roughly behind her back and held there firmly, and as soon as she started to scream for help, a hairy hand was clapped firmly over her mouth. "Jesus, Reg, you sure can pick 'em!" a voice exclaimed. "What a beauty!" "She wasn't random," Reg replied. "This was, shall we say, a special order." "Man, I hate to waste this one on the usual stuff," said a third voice. "I'd like to strip this one down, oil her up and give her ye olde stake, if you know what I mean!" The young men all laughed. "Naw, come on, man, you know the rules. A little fun and games is one thing, but no gang rape. Although if I were ever gonna break the rules, it would be with Tiffany here. Look at them fuckin' tits!" Tiffany struggled, but it was no use. She was held firmly. Suddenly, the hand was withdrawn from her mouth, and she opened it to scream, again. But in a split second the hand was replaced by cloth, some sort of gag. She was being gagged! She tried to kick out against her assailants, but there were too many of them, and they had strength and numbers and even experience at doing this on her. The cloth on the gag was wrapped around a thick stick, about six inches long, so it stuck out either side of her mouth. Quickly one of the men wrapped another piece of cloth around the back of her head and tied off both ends of the stick tightly. She tried to scream, but all that came out was a muffled moan. No one would be able to understand a word the poor girl was saying. "Let's get it on, guys," Reg said, and Tiffany felt herself being stripped of her clothes. Off came the peasant blouse, the shorts, her sandals, and finally her bra and panties. She was stark naked, and could feel one of the sets of hands roaming over her pussy, while another one squeezed her large nipples. A finger tip inserted itself into her pussy, only an inch or so, and she screamed like a madwoman, but all that came out was "MMpppfffff!!" "Man, I hate to pass on this one!" she heard, the same voice of the guy who had wanted to rape her. "Yeah, and get arrested and convicted of a felony, dickwad!" Reg barked back. "Stick to the plan, and even if she presses charges, we just say Hey, it was all part of the Festival, we didn't know she was gonna freak out over a fun little game." Tiffany felt her hands pulled roughly over her head, and some sort of garment being lowered over her. Simultaneously, strong hands grabbed her ankles and started tying rope to them. She had never felt so helpless and powerless, even when she was being abused by the men back at Daniels High School! The garment, which she couldn't see because of the darkness in the small tent, was horribly scratchy as they lowered it over her skin. She tried to figure out what it was, and realized it must be burlap. They were dressing her in a burlap bag, and she was naked underneath. All as preparation for some sort of horrible game! Her mind was spinning with anxiety and panic. The burlap "dress" was sleeveless, and the sides were cut low, so that the sides of her bare breasts were partly visible, or would be when she was back outside. It hung only a few inches below her crotch and ass, and her legs were bare. She tried to kick again, and realized they had tied her ankles together with a rope, leaving about two feet of play in the rope: enough to shuffle along, but not enough to run if she were able to break away. They then tied her wrists behind her back with another short length of rope, which pulled her arms back and forced her to thrust her tits out. The nipples made contact with the awful burlap, and the harsh fabric irritated the sennstive nubbins. She felt someone put something else over head, on some sort of string. Finally, she heard, "OK, guys, it's show time!:" The rope tying her wrists was yanked, and Tiffany stumbled forward. In a few short steps, she was outside the tent, back in the hard Texas sunlight, blinking rapidly and trying to get her bearings. She looked around and saw four of the Renaissance Players, including Reg. One man was leading her by the rope around her wrists, like a dog on a leash. They went back through the opening of the fence and into the fairgrounds. She was barefoot, but fortunately the grass was soft on the soles of her feet. 'HEAR YE1 HEAR YE1 HEAR YE!" one of the men started bellowing at the top of his lungs. "All persons wishing to see what happens to lascivious young women, please follow us to the Town Square! We have here a prize strumpet, a whore, who has been caught seducing the young son of our good king. Even worse, we think she may be a witch! She will be made to pay! Come one! Come all!" Everyone at the festival was staring at her. She tried to shout, to protest, but all that came through the gag was another mumbled "Mmmmmpfffff!" She shook her head wildly, and her blonde hair flew around her shoulders, but this just made the gathering crowd laugh. It struck her that everyone else thought she was one of the players, a part of the show, instead of an innocent girl who had been kidnapped. The men continued to pull Tiffany relentlessly through the grounds. She stumbled with her ankles tied, but managed to walk. A large crowd, mostly male, was trailing behind her and the men, yelling comments like "Yeah, get the whore! Punish her! We want to see some punishment!" Several of the men were carrying large beers and appeared to be drunk, even before noon. Finally they got to the Town Square, and Tiffany's stomach turned a flip flop when she was what was there: two sets of old-fashioned stocks, the kind she had seen in history books about the Puritans. Oh God, she realized, they were going to put her in the stock in front of this drunken, cheering crowd of men! The panicky teenager happened to glance down at this point and read (upside down, from her vantage) the sign they had hung around her neck. It read: For Unlawful Carnal Knowledge. Each capital letter was large and emphasized. "Up you go, strumpet!" ordered Sir Reginald, and he lifted her onto the raised platform that held the stocks. "Ladies and gentlemen!" he shouted. "This woman has been found guilty of sexual crimes against the crown! Plus, there is evidence that she is a witch! She will be punished. Do you want us to show mercy, or no mercy?" "NO MERCY!" screamed the mob. Tiffany scanned their faces. There were only two or three women, and they were looking uncomfortable at this display. They turned to leave. Everyone left seemed to be male, from teenagers to middle-aged men in shorts and black socks and sandals, cameras around their necks, beers in hand. Many had probably come to the festival grudgingly, but now the day was looking a whole lot brighter. This young wench they'd gotten to play the strumpet looked really terrified. What a great actress! Tiffany tried to break free, but strong hands forced her to her knees. Her head was pulled forward, and the heavy wooden top half of the front stock dropped into place and locked firmly. She tried to pull back, but she was trapped. Her hands were still bound behind her back, and she realized that bent over like this, the top of her burlap garment was hanging down so that the men in the front row had a good look at her tits. Two men pulled out camcorders and started taping the proceedings. Hands grabbed her ankles and jerked back, and she felt her ankles being locked into a second set of stocks behind her. These were smaller and lower, and they immobilized her lower legs. She was a prisoner, at the mercy of these men for whatever their cruel game was. "Behold the witch!" shouted one of her captors. Tiffany screamed and shook her head frantically, and the crowd just laughed. "Looks more like a bitch than a witch!" yellled a spectator. "Yeah, and a pretty little bitch witch at that!" said another man, setting off another wave of laughter. "Gentlemen, please!" said Sir Reginald, holding up his hand for quiet. "We have ways of dealing with wanton young witches like this one. She will be punished for practicing witchcraft and her lascivious ways. Her time has come!" Tiffany felt a captor bend over and attach something to the hem of the burlap gown. It hung down just barely over her ass cheeks, preserving her modesty by only an inch of fabric. But her long legs were bare, she knew, and her tits were partially on view. She had already noticed tell- tale bulges in the pants of several of the men watching, and she was ashamed to know that her plight was making them hard. She shifted her weight, and heard a bell ring. They had clipped a bell to the hem of her dress, and it dangled down over the backs of her thighs, for reasons she did not understand yet. She was about to. Soon she heard a strange sound coming from behind her, and the crowd started to roar. "Meehhhh-hehhh," went the sound. What the hell? thought Tiffany. It sounds like a goat! "Gentlemen, hear me out!" said Reginald. "This wanton little whore is guilty of witchcraft and much more. While some might burn her at the stake or drown her, we have a less, uh, permanent plan. Our little witch will have the soles of her feet licked by this goat. If she can stay perfectly still for one minute without making the bell ring, she will be set free. But every time the bell rings, we start over again. Are we ready to begin!" "Yes!" shouted the crowd. Some seemed a little disappointed, thinking maybe the goat was going to fuck the poor victim, but then they remembered where they were, and that their wives and children could wander up at any minute, not to mention a cop. Oh, well. A captor pulled out a large jar of honey and brushed the souls of Tiffany's feet with the sweet goo. Then they set an hour-glass, timed for one minute, on the stocks next to Tiffany's head. There was a pause for a second, and then she felt it. The goat's tongue made contact with the cheerleader's naked sole, and she jumped. Instantly the bell rang. The goat was pulled back on its rope leash, the glass was tilted so the sand ran back, and it was set up again. Again the animal's tongue began to lick, and again she jumped. The crowd was loving it, laughing and pointing. Several camcorders were going now, recording her humiliation. One man in front seemed to be zooming in exclusively on her large breasts as they jerked and swayed under the burlap. Tiffany had never been partciularlly ticklish, but the goat's tongue on her bare foot was unlike anything she had ever felt. The animal's tongue was rough and harsh, it was dry and wet at the same time, and when he dragged his tongue along her sole, slurping up honey, it was the most maddening tickling she had ever felt. Every time the goat even touched her foot, it would jerk, and the bell attached to her would jingle. "Boy, folks, looks like we could be here all day!' announced Sir Reginald with a grin. "Of course, maybe our little witch likes her punishment, and she's trying to prolong it!" The mob whooped and hollered, and Tiffany shook her head, no-no-no-no, and screamed into the cloth-wrapped gag, which only made the crowd whoop more. The tormented cheerleader was sweating profusely in the heat, and the sweat on her skin as the burlap rubbed against it itched horribly. With her hands bound behind her back she was unable to scratch. Her ordeal looked as if it would stretch on forever. The public humiliation was more than she could bear. This was even worse than what had happened in the mall a few months ago, she thought. This was so demeaning, so degrading, so public. She tried holding her breath as she felt the goat's tongue carress her foot again. Up and down swiped the animal tongue, up and down, lapping up honey, and the sensations raced up her legs, and straight to her brain, although strangely they also went right through her pussy, which also felt as if it were being tickled. A horrible image flashed through her mind, of Sir Reginald lifting her burlap dress and letting the animal bury its nasty snout in her exposed pussy and lick away at her. The thought was appalling, but also made her damp between her legs, and not with sweat. She forced it from her mind. Just then the goat switched feet and attacked her left foot for the first time, its tongue making contact with her naked toes, and Tiffany nearly jumped out of her skin. Tinkle-tinkle went the bell, and the crowd laughed and pointed. Tiffany scanned their grotesque faces, and realized she was probably just as grotesque, in a different way. Sweat was streaming down her face, her beautiful blonde hair was damp and matted, and her face had to be beet red by now with the sun and the screaming. She always prided herself on her looks and her grooming, and here she was, bordering on ugly! She had to get control of herself and of the situation. As she looked into the crowd from her pinned-down position, she suddenly gasped into the gag. Was that Stephanie, her sister, way back there in the crowd of men, peeking through and smiling? It coudn't be. She blinked, and the girl was gone. It had to have been a mirage. Her parents were off camping, and Stephanie was spending the weekend at a friend's house; it would be too much of a coincidence for Steph to show up right at this moment of Tiffany's utter embarrassment. But it wasn't a coincidence when she saw Matt and his friends. There they were, the little bastards, hanging out on the fringe, laughing at her! Ooh, she'd kill them when she got free! And then it hit her. She'd been set up! Reginald has said something back in the tent about a "special order," and Little John or whatever his name was had nodded at Reginald earlier in the day when he was standing with Tiffany. Somehow, the boys had conspired with Reginald and the Renaissance actors to bring her to this point. She was furious, and her body strained against the confining stocks. But of course, all that did was set the little bell tinkling again. Reginald upended the hour-glass, let the sand shift, and turned it over for another minute. The goat attacked Tiffany's bare foot with relish, licking between her tender toes, running his nasty tongue everywhere. She concentrated on holding her feet motionless, but the teasing tickling of the goat was too much, she couldn't bear it, and she jerked her feet away, ringing the bell again. "Whoa, methinks this is never going to end!" said Sir Reginald jovially, and the crowd cheered again. "Time for a fresh coat of honey!" And she felt more honey being spread over her feet. So it went, for almost an hour. The goat was single-minded, relentless. It was a machine, programmed to lick honey from her bare feet. And no matter what she did, Tiffany could not suppress her relfexes. She screamed into the gag in rage and frustration as the humiliation grond on and on. Her sweat-soaked nipples kept rubbing against the burlap as they swung to and fro, and they were beginning to chafe. Sweat ran down her face and down her thighs. Flies began buzzing around the honey, but the goat's non-stop licking chased them off. The flies decided they liked the sweat on Tiffany's tender thighs, and landed there. The feeling of the flies crawling on her bare skin was more than she could bear, but every time she wiggled her thighs to try to dislodge the flies, the bell would ring and she would have to start all over again. She could see Matt, Mark, Luke and Little John enjoying themselves in the crowd. All four boys had erections bulging the fronts of their jeans cut-offs, little pup-tents pointing straight at her, taunting her like everything else was in this horrid place. "I think our little witch-bitch is getting too hot!" Sir Reginald announced to the crowd. "Even though I'm not inclined to show mercy, perhaps I can cool her off!" Tiffany felt the evil man grab the hem of the burlap dress that hung down a little below her ass and lift it up. He began a fanning motion with the dress, lifting it up and down quickly. Yes, it was circulating some air up under the burlap, which felt exquisite, but he was also exposing her bare ass to the entire Festival. Reginald looked down, as if unaware of what he had been doing, and put on a pop-eyed face, as if just discovering he was showing off Tiffany naked from the waist down. The crowd in front quickly realized the best view was now from behind, and stampeded around the platform to get a better look. Reginald timed it perfectly and dropped the burlap just as they got into their news positions. "Sorry, gentlemen, but even a witch-bitch has to maintain some modesty. Did you know" - and he dropped his voice into a loud stage whisper - "Did know she isn't wearing any undergarments!!!" The men yelled and surged forward. The goat, frightened by the tumult, stopped licking and pulled on the rope around its collar. Tiffany tried to turn to look, but the stocks kept her face pointing forward. "Show us! Show us Show us!" the mob chanted. "Gentlemen, gentlemen!" Sir Reginald spoke. "I am sorry, but the Renaissance Festival is, after all, a family affair. Apparently our young actress here was even more into the part than my friends and I realized, and decided not to wear underwear under her dress today. Apparently she was really in character all along!" he chortled. "And even though she never did manage one minute of stillness, there comes a point when we must move on to other events. How about a big round of applause for our little witch-bitch today, who was so in character she underwent her torment without any panties!" The men cheered lusilty, as Tiffany burned with shame. Reginald and the others unlocked the stocks and led the goat away. She was so stiff from being locked in a kneeling position for an hour that her muscles ached when she tried to stand. She glared at the men and tried to tell them they were worthless scum, that she was an unwilling victim, but all that came out from behind the gag was the same incoherent gibberish she'd been shouting for an hour now. Quickly, Sir Reginald grabbed her around the waist, swung one leg up over his horse, and the two of them were astride the horse, Reginald sitting and Tiffany laying over his lap, her ass in the air. The burlap dress ballooned up to her waist, and she was naked from the waist down, her sweet white teen buttocks on display for the crowd's enjoyment. One last cheer of lust arose from the weary men as Sir Reginald galloped away, holding the sqirming, humiliated girl firmly in his grip.

Tiffany's knuckles were white with anger as she gripped the steering wheel of the Taurus, zipping it down the highway well above the speed limit. In the backseat, her cousin's friends Luke, Little John and Mark were giggling and punching each other. Matt hummed quietly in the shotgun seat beside her. The 18-year-old beauty just wanted to get as far away from the Renaissance Festival as possible, and as fast as possible. Get back to Aunt Peggy and Uncle Paul's house and take a bath, to wash the degradation off her skin, not to mention the pungent smell of goat off her feet. After her public humiliation in the stocks at the festival, Tiffany had been carried back to the tent where she'd been stripped by Sir Reginald. There she found her clothes, and as she dressed, she attacked the young man verbally. "You sick bastard!" she had yelled at him. "I'm going to have you arrested, you perverted asshole! My daddy is a city councilman in Beverly, and my family is rich and powerful, and they'll see that you and your friends are thrown in jail with homosexual rapists!" Sir Reginald laughed in her face, which enraged her even further. "Take a chill pill, little Tiffany," he had said calmly. "When you calm down, you'll see that nothing really that bad happened to you. You weren't physically hurt, you weren't molested. You just had a goat licking your feet for a little while, that's all. If you insist on having us arrested, my lawyer will just find one of the guys who was taping the whole performance. We can play the tape in open court and let the judge or jury decide, sweetheart. I'm sure a jury would love to see you having your feet licked by a goat. And your family sitting in the courtroom, I'm sure they'd enjoy it, too."

01-01-2003, 11:22 AM
Welcome to TMF, Hansmeyer! :D The "Post Stories" forum is my favorite, and I'm always happy to see somebody's first post here.

01-02-2003, 12:36 PM
should of made it go on all day......:devil: :devil: :p ;) :D
great story!:D

06-05-2018, 10:36 AM
Gotta love them Goats

06-25-2018, 05:43 PM
*love* :-)