TheGodfeather
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- Oct 2, 2009
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Here is a little story I wrote on a whim. I am posting it here in case someone out there might enjoy it. I have also posted a few pictures to give you a general idea of the Princess's appearance (yes, Cintia Dicker is kind of what I had in mind). Comments are of course very welcome!
The Haughty Princess and Her Ticklish De-feet
"That oughta do it" the Queen's head guard mumbled.
The head guard was a fairly handsome man and was not intimidating in appearance: his face was thin and gaunt, and his uniform seemed more like a loose skin that clung to him and distorted his figure more than it displayed any military prowess. After a session, a victim would wonder if he wore his uniform this way intentionally. To distinguish himself, he wore a monocle over his left eye to give his victims more of an impression of great inspection into their thoughts . . . and lies. It would not take long for a victim to realize the power of his intellect, and then to fully grasp the true nature of the head guard -- lanky though he was, his mind was a powerful force that penetrated his victims deeply.
"Shall we release him?" asked the head guard's colleague. The colleague was a tall, strong man, arms heavy with furry hair and several days of growth on his chiseled face; quite a contrast from the head guard. Indeed, he had no trouble picking up a tavern wench or two in the evenings with his intense masculinity. Between the two men, a victim would cower decidedly at the stronger guard before realizing who was the true, manipulative, sadistic mastermind of the interrogation sessions.
"Go ahead. We have received the information we needed and we'll report to the Queen immediately. The last hour was just for fun" the head guard muttered, a thin smile creeping over his pale face.
The other guard forcefully unlocked the device in which the victim was imprisoned, and with great eagerness, the victim sprung out from the device, ran to the nearest corner of the room, and cowered in fear.
"Please, let me go! I can scarcely walk after being in that thing!" the prisoner exclaimed in a quivering voice.
"You may take him back to his cell while I go and meet the Queen."
Before the head guard could turn around to leave, he was met by a stunning beauty, and after regaining his composure, he realized . . . it was the Princess!
"And how are we today? Another poor young man tortured I see? I hope you got what little information you were looking for. I know what a barbaric sadist you can be. Sometimes I have to wonder if you're more of an animal than a man, but I digress" said the Princess in her most arrogant, demeaning voice.
"Well, yes Princess, I understand . . . I think. We have received very valuable information and I was just about to report to the Queen" the head guard said sternly.
"What you have to say to my mother you may say to me" the Princess retorted.
"He has admitted to his crime. It did take several hours, but he finally did admit to it."
"How bad could his crime have been? Let me guess, did he rape some peasant girl? She probably deserved it. Is this what you call justice? You know my mother will not be pleased; her time is very valuable indeed." The princess was beginning to take on an air of superiority, and her haughtiness was beginning to irritate the head guard.
"I know what will do the trick . . ." thought the head guard.
"Why are you smiling like that? Disgusting. You are a wicked, beastly man, do you know that?"
At this point, the other guard returned. "What's going on? Your majesty . . . is everything all right?"
"Don't worry -- she is just upset because she does not understand our ways. But let me ask the Princess . . . this contraption that you seem to be predisposed to hating . . . how would you like to . . . try it out? You would then realize it isn't nearly as bad as you think it is. My methods do not hurt the victim in any way, and I would love to demonstrate only for a mere minutes how it works." The head guard's smile became bigger at the thought knowing the gullibility of the Princess.
"That is ludicrous! How could you even suggest such a thing! That . . . contraption or whatever you want to call it . . . is terrible!"
The head guard was already enjoying the Princess's expressions. He could tell she was yielding to the idea. As she spouted off for another minute, the head guard studied her carefully:
"Heart shaped face . . . nice cheek bones . . . very rosy dimpled cheeks, like that of a harlot . . . every man that has met her surely can instantly tell what a whore she is . . . it's no wonder that the servant girls caught her in a most absurd position the other week, something that I never would have thought possible . . . yes, such a tall, well-built girl, full thighs, bosom, and ass . . . long legs and flowing, auburn hair . . . big, full mouth; big green eyes . . . hmmm, and her feet . . . how lovely . . . they are . . . quite large . . . yes, large indeed! Sparkling silver heels . . . peeping toes painted a fresh pink through those nylons . . . and those toe rings! Oh what a tease she is with those things!"
"Are you listening?!" the Princess snapped impatiently.
"Oh, um, yes your majesty. So what do you say?" he said with a grin.
"As I said . . . you are nothing but a pile of rubbish . . . and . . . well, fine, but only for five minutes! If you can't make your point by then, I will tell my mother and she shall behead you without question, do you understand me?!"
"Of course my dear! Now, step this way and we shall show you how this all works. I'm sure you shall see how innocent it all is in no time! In fact, I think you'll laugh your fool head off at the idea once you figure out the harmless trick!"
The other guard was silent and worried, but the head guard was fully aware that he too wanted to exact his revenge on the stubborn bitch for deeds that he hoped she would confess to during their session, namely for her shameless foot flirting. He was also aware that as he enjoyed playing "dumb" to the Princess; he was able to get away with quite a bit more than the seemingly arrogant head guard.
The Princess eyed the contraption anxiously. It was most intimidating.
"Do your . . . feet . . . stick out through there?" she thought.
Indeed the Princess was onto something -- the dark-stained, wooden crate was shaped like an octagon, and was open revealing padded walls and a chair for the victim to sit on while enduring his or her torture. There were five holes, and the Princess was trying to make sense of how it all worked. An eyebolt was visible in the back. A fairly thin piece of wood attached to a crank rested on the top between the two holes and in front of the third and was fastened securely to the structure. The cranks made the Princess perspire with anxiety and anticipation.
"Why your majesty, you're biting your lip! I assure you, this will be fine! Now please, I insist . . . get in!" the head guard coaxed her.
She sat on the padded chair within the crate, and the guards held her legs up until she was nearly a human pretzel.
Thud!
The crate was closed tightly around the Princess and a heavy lock ensured she would not be going anywhere. She quickly realized her predicament . . . an uncomfortable predicament indeed!
She looked on either side of her, and to her amazement, there were . . .
"My feet!" she exclaimed in terror. She shook them a bit just to be sure, watching her high-heels slightly glimmer in the dim light. It all happened so fast, she didn't think there was any way the guards could have molded her into this position, but to her horror . . . she was! She was certain her feet would have been in front of her, but instead before her were her hands, tied together but in two separate holes. She moved them just to be sure they were exposed as they were not visible from where her head sat. The piece of wood was before her face and was just long enough to stretch before her ear-to-ear. She still was not sure what it was for.
"I hope you're comfortable your majesty!" replied the usually quiet guard, now becoming increasingly excited by the situation and the absurd sight of the Princess both in spirit and in his trousers. "And now for your crown!"
The head guard produced the finishing touch -- a cylindrical, studded, padded piece made out of thick, tanned leather. They tied her shimmering, flowery smelling auburn hair into a ponytail and pulled it through a hole out through the top. The piece acted as a hood to ensure her head was now as fully immobile as the rest of her, a vast majority of which was no longer visible. In front of the hood was just enough room for her face to be exposed. The tightness of the hood pushed her cheeks, now beet red with embarrassment, together so she could hardly utter a word. The hood was fastened to the contraption, ensuring that her entire head couldn't budge an inch.
"Mmmphhhkay gentlemffen . . . I ffseee how fffunny fis is! Mnow pfleaase let mfee mgoo!" she mumbled through her pouty, constricted lips as she attempted to struggle. The padding within the crate made this impossible, of course.
The guards took a moment to take in the sight of the haughty princess transformed into their perfect, helpless victim. The completely retrained beauty did her best to wiggle her fingers and move her feet, as much as moving was even possible. She could at least still blink.
She was now only a face, a pair of hands, and a pair of helpless, vulnerable, flailing feet, which unknown to her were about to become the true victims and her ultimate demise. From the distance, the guards enjoyed the sight of the heavy wooden, octagon crate housing their beautiful victim, and from the front could be seen a pair of hands, a pretty, freckly face protruding from the thick, cylindrical, leather hood, auburn hair turned ponytail poking out the top of the hood, the crank device before her face, and two pairs of feet encased in sparkling, silver high heels flanking either side of her head -- yes, the image was absurd to the 9th degree!
The Princess's entire face was blushing deep red with humiliation, her freckly little button nose contorting with frustration -- she was on full display to the guards, her teasing feet fully immobile and awaiting their defeat.
The head guard pondered his next moves. He had immense knowledge of the anatomy of the foot and designed the device with his massive foot fetish in mind; in this way, gaining information would be exceedingly more fun. He couldn't wait to indulge on this snobbish beauty!
"Sferiously gfuuys!" the Princess strained.
The guards ignored her pleas and stood on either side of her, poised to remove her heels.
"My oh my, what big, fat feet you have Princess! Size 11? 12? 13? Let's find out!" and with great relish, the straps were undone and her sparkling high heels were slowly, and carefully removed and hung by the heels off the sides of the crate, ensuring they were still visible to the trapped Princess.
The Princess felt the cool, thick, dungeon air caressing her newly exposed foot bottoms, now only "protected" in white nylons -- she was becoming incredibly anxious at this point and was beginning to tire herself out by writhing to no avail within her wooden prison. She wiggled her toes as the guards watched hungrily, enjoying the site of her nylons stretching and contorting with each tantalizing wiggle of of her pretty piggies. Her pink polish was visible, making them even more hungry for her feet. Beads of sweat were dripping from her forehead as she began to spit out, albeit as lady-like as she muster, the saliva collecting in her mouth.
"Lffeeemme go lffeeemmee gooo!" she began to scream, her echoes carrying through the halls of the dungeon.
"All right Princess, hold on and don't get your panties in a bunch . . . all this perspiration and we haven't even begun! This ought to cool you off a bit!" and with that, each guard grabbed the edge of the restrained the Princess's nylons, pinching her thick, big toes.
The Princess winced and let out a gasp, a large smile wiping across her face with surprise.
"Oh my Princess! What is the matter?!" the head guard exclaimed mockingly.
"Whell, mit's jfust fvat, mmm, muh ffffeet . . ."
"Mmmmm yes, your . . . feet? Continue . . ."
"Muh fffeet far . . . vreaallly thickklissh!"
"Hahahaha, you silly girl. Well now, you can't be that dumb! Don't you understand? The whole part of this torture that will cause you to laugh is, well . . . tickling!" the head guard laughed raucously, and without hesitation, nodded to the other guard, and both pulled off the entire length of the poor girl's nylons in unison, completely exposing her now fully bare naked feet!
The Princess's big green eyes were practically bulging out of her sockets with surprise and terror -- she studied over each completely exposed foot while the head guard collected her nylons. She gazed on at her heels, hanging before her, and longed for her feet to be encased in them again. She was pouring sweat, and her ponytail hung in the same place it had when the hood was placed on her head, constantly making her further aware of her immobility. She wiggled her bare toes, the cool, musky dungeon air taking each big, milky sole as a captive, and she began to cry realizing that her torment would not end any time soon!
"Look at how she wiggles her pretty piggies. A nice shade of polish if I dare say so myself . . . my favorite, actually! 'Tickled Pink' I presume? And these toe rings! What a little tramp you are! Two on this foot, and one on the other! You have teased me many a time your majesty with your dainty toes, and I'm sure many a man, and now they shall be owed their due punishment!"
The Princess noticed the bulges beginning to form in the men's pants as they looked her over again, now completely barefoot and awaiting her doom. She eyed her toes a little more, in disbelief at how creamy and soft they appeared . . . how creamy and soft she knew they were. Every day she paid meticulous attention and care to her size 12 feet, admiring their power. As she wiggled her bare toes, she could feel how soft they were between each other, and the feeling always made her tingle with delight. She began to take in the thrill of her predicament and found herself becoming strangely moist as she wiggled her toes, seemingly beckoning the two men.
"Why did I do this? How did I end up here? Did I secretly want this to happen? How did the head guard know? Am I that obvious? Look at my second toes . . . they're just barely longer than my big toes! That's so silly! Oh dear, what is wrong with me?!"
She was beginning to get very hot within her padded confines, and the head guard wiped the perspiration forming on her face with a damp rag.
"Now, let us begin, shall we? You have been quite the little cock tease as of late, and since you agreed to have a little taste of our 'torture,' we might as well make this as realistic as possible, correct?" the head guard teased, folding up the rag and tossing it aside.
"I . . . I . . . dunt mknow what you mmmean . . ."
"Oh yes you do!" exclaimed the other guard. "Every day you nearly get the butler beheaded when you prop up your big feet on the dining table!" he said, pacing around the helpless redhead beauty.
"Dear, dear. Don't you see? Our lives are in your hands . . . or feet should I say . . . thanks to you! And that incident last week . . . why that poor young man was clearly taking advantage of your limber nature! He would have been hung if he wasn't royalty! I have no doubt that he was well-hung, otherwise you wouldn't have bothered with him, but . . . aren't you going to apologize?!"
"Mmm-mmm! Mwwhhy shuld I??" the Princess retorted stubbornly.
The head guard sighed, realizing the Princess thought too highly of herself and that she possessed an impenetrable ignorance.
"Well then you little slut . . . open up your big fat mouth! I've got to gag you, or else the Queen will hear!"
"Mmffnooo! Mlleeet out off heerre, you bvaaastaaarrds!"
"Oh, my lady, such language!" he beckoned, and with a smile, danced the tips of his fingers across her milky arches. This caused the Princess to immediately respond with a great surprised bellow of laughter, and her big mouth opened wide and was met with . . .
"My nylons?!"
The head guard eagerly stuffed the nylons into the Princess's big, begrudging mouth, and pushed the piece of wood, on a hinge, tightly to her mouth, trapping the haughty princess's nylons effectively within her now fully restrained jaws.
"MmmmMMpppphh!" the Princess futilely whimpered, her eyes pleading longingly and fully revealing her stress to the guards.
The other guard produced a long rope and threw one end to the head guard, and they immediately took hold of the Princess's big toes and began binding them methodically.
"Oh my god! What are you doing! Hee hee that tickles! My god that rope tiiiiicklllles!!" Of course, to the men, this really just sound like "mmmmppphhh!" over and over, but they could make out most of what the poor princess was saying.
The rope was threaded through an eyebolt behind the Princess's head, and then attached on either side of her wooden bridle-gag.
"And now one of my favorite parts!" the head guard squealed with joy. He took hold of the crank and began to turn it.
"Mmmmppphh!" the Princess's big emerald eyes bulged as she tried to scream in horror. The nylons were forced further to the back of her throat as the bridle became tighter and tighter and her big toes were simultaneously stretched taut with each turn of the crank -- she couldn't believe the true horror of this device!
"Now now, we've had full grown men in this contraption and we've turned them into practically giggling, teary-eyed school girls by the end of a session, but that doesn't mean you can't take it!"
"Tighter! Tighter!" the other guard exclaimed like an excited little boy. He began to salivate as he watched the Princess's big toes stretched tauter and tauter still as the force was concentrated through the eye-bolt and through the bridle.
"This has only begun my dear! Now you are ready to face your true demise . . ."
The other guard brought out a leather case and gave it to the head guard. The head guard placed it on a small table, which he positioned carefully beside the Princess. He stared into the Princess's eyes, ravishing the site of her . . . her two, big, wide, flawless size 12 soles, completely bare naked before him, her soft, teasing piggies begging to be raped by his tickling instruments. Oh yes, the slut would suffer!
The case plopped open, and to the Princess's horror were a mass of tools, with hog bristle, feathers, cotton, and steel!
"Where shall we begin? Here . . . take this one. I shall begin on her right foot and we shall give the little bratty bitch a taste of our special techniques!"
The head guard waved the tool before her big green eyes. It was some kind of brush, and no doubt at one point it was to be used for the teeth. The device had been worn down considerably, the bristles wiry and disheveled from use.
She moaned, tears running down her face, her rosy cheeks full and chubby with the force of the bridle and thick, leather hood, her entire body including her head fully immobile and compacted. At this point, she had limited movement of her hands and her soft, inviting bare toes . . . all she could do is laugh and blink.
"Mmmmmpphh . . . Mmmmmmpph . . ."
"What was that? 'Please tickle my slutty piggies?' Well, if you say so!"
The guards began to gently scrub her soles; the head guard began with her heel, slowly moving upward, taking in the beauty of her shapely feet. Her feet were immaculate and stunning . . . and big. There was plenty of room for him to explore and drive her wild, every sensation producing a powerful jolt of controlled energy and stimuli . . . and all she could do was react, all of which was fully controlled other than to laugh!
And laugh she did. The head guard wielded the bristles masterfully, dancing a ticklish jig on her buttery arches with fervor, her little wrinkles folding and stretching as much as possible, causing the sensations of the brush to affect her to a seemingly quantum degree; he moved to the base of her toes, letting each bristle take in a mouthful of her delicious piggies as she was devoured with laughter, shivering sensations, and spasmodic contractions with every bristly touch!
"My feeeheeet!! Hahaha, they're tickling my FEEEhEEET!!! Hahaha, oh my gaaahaaad, they're so BIG! And TICKLIIHHISH!" she sobbed into her soaking wet nylons.
"I think this haughty bitch is enjoying this! What do you say!" proclaimed the head guard. The other guard was lost in lust and entertainment with the Princess's soles -- he couldn't believe his fantasies were finally coming true!
"You know, we should get the butler and servant girls in on this!" as he dug into her deep, ballerina arches with vigor.
Her cries became screams through her gag; her entire body was sore from muscle contractions, even though she couldn't budge an inch to save her life. Her eyes were salty and wet, and her nylons were drenched in saliva as she was beginning to literally gag on her own laughter -- the connection of her laughter through her nylons, to the bridle connected with rope to her restrained, excruciatingly ticklish piggies haunted her subconscious as she was constantly reminded that she was nothing but a pair of feet and billowing heaps of hysterical laughter!
The sensations were driving her wild, and her cries for mercy became dominated and punished her beyond her wildest dreams. She was now fully submitting as the guards switched to their fingers, and then to feathery tools that sawed relentlessly between her helpless piggies, dabbling a bit on her big toes and relishing the reactions of her "ring" toes. Her slutty feet were punished beyond all hope, and just as she thought they would let up, she realized the head guard was ready to take it to the next level.
"Bring me . . . the tongs!"
His colleague appeared holding a pair of tongs, each with a hot coal lodged within their cruel grasp. The head guard took them, eyed her sneeringly, and brought the tongs closer to her, hovering them in front of her face. She could feel the heat emanating from them and winced, trying to pull away with no luck. He handed the tongs to the guard and then approached her feet. The other guard knew at this point in the session that the victim "solely" became the head guard's game.
He eyed her intently through his monocle, inspecting her and probing her, aware that this "game" would have serious consequences. He would have to break her if he was going to keep his job . . . or his life.
He took a foot in one hand and felt the Princess shiver; he brought his face to her deep, deliciously wrinkled arch and buried his nose within it, taking a deep, sensual whiff. The smell was of lavender, like perfume from a celestial plane; the smell, free and wild was turning burning into a feverish, druid-like lust.
Her arch was deep enough to allow the full length of his nose to be smothered in it, as though it were a special cave of solace for his senses. He buried his face in the entirety of her rather large, shapely foot, and began to plant slow, sensual kisses across each of her fully restrained toes, enjoying her moans and cries of distress -- and pleasure. He was fully aware that his psychological torture was making the Princess quite wet within her confines. He also knew that if his skills were good enough, that she could be all his . . . a Princess turned slave.
He tongued her arches, and hungrily lapped away like a kitten enjoying a bowl of milk; he took each toe into his mouth and slathered his saliva between each one, sucking, nibbling, and tugging gently using his lips and teeth. The tantalizing teething of her soles caused her to giggle deliriously as the sensations were startlingly arousing. She was becoming very wet, fully embracing her predicament and surrendering herself to his powerful mind control.
The monocle helped to magnify her weak areas, areas where the head guard could tell the nerves and sensations were more concentrated for his ticklish exploits.
He abruptly stopped lavishing her bare soles with love, pulled himself away, then faced the other guard. He snatched the tongs from the guard and stood before the Princess as she gazed up at him. Her big green eyes saw him differently now -- he was a powerful, towering dictator, punishing her bare soles cruelly, ensuring that every inch of bitch was wrung out of her. He stood sternly, staring into her eyes, knowing that she was becoming more broken, and without cracking a smile, kicked the table out of the way, and brought the tongs inches above her bare, pure white soles.
"MMMmmmpppHH! Mmmmppphh!!!" she squealed as the heat was unbearable. Her immaculate bare soles had scarcely ever faced such raw elements, other than the stony floor of her bathroom, and their softness and purity were about to become completely violated.
He moved the tongs closer until they were practically making contact with her bare flesh. She wailed into her gag, wanting and hoping that she would pass out from the torment. Her stress manifested itself in drops of sweat, the leather hood becoming salty and itchy as the peril overtook her.
The head guard rotated the tongs, properly roasting the poor girl's raw, bare soles until they were puffy and red. He knew at a certain point, he would cause her harm, and just when she thought she could take no more, he stopped.
She nearly passed out from the terror, the trauma of what had just happened to her precious beauties. Her toe rings stung her toes as the heat had turned them practically into torture instruments themselves. The head guard then pulled out a sack made from animal skins, and took a thick painter's brush from the case. Still standing in front of her, the table pushed to the side, he dipped the painter's brush into the mysterious sack and pulled it out. A golden dust shimmered from the bristles.
"Do you know what this is?"
The Princess tried to shake her head "no," realizing that the other guard was no where to be seen. She gazed into his eyes, her eyes doing all they could to beg for mercy, to show some semblance of expression, expression that the hood and gag cruelly restrained.
"This is itching powder. Your soles will burn and itch like you cannot believe."
Her eyes bulged again, and she began to scream and beg through her gag, but to no avail -- the head guard coldly took the brushes and sternly applied the them to the girls red and puffy bare feet.
Up and down he firmly applied the brush, in long, lavish strokes upon the girls taut soles. The dust appeared like golden glitter, a beautiful sight upon her tortured tootsies.
"How does this feel upon your piggies my dear? Does the princess have itchy piggies?" he mocked as he continued to apply the powder harshly.
He continued to paint the girl's soles, properly and fully, coating every square inch. The bristles tickled, and barely provided any kind of scratch, but rather caused the itching to be even worse as they jeered at her soles -- indeed the powder was unbearable, and felt like a thousand red ants crawling and a thousand little pincers biting into her completely vulnerable foot flesh.
Tears poured from her eyes, the haughty bitch now fully surrendered to the first two hours of the session, psychologically plagued and traumatized; ripe with feelings of seething hate and a burning lust in her loins as she was constantly brought to the edge and back.
The head guard sat down at a table and allowed the powder to work its own torture. He pulled out a book, and studied the anatomy of the human foot while the brat suffered.
The girl was ravaged, sore, and her entire body cramping as the powder ate at her soles. She was afraid to look and see if they were still there as it almost felt like some kind of acid was poured on them, eating them alive. More strangely, the powder made her feel even more ticklish, and the combination of the roasting and the powder sent her over the edge with cries of laughter and groaning.
It felt like another hour had gone by when the head guard put the book down and approached her again with a bucket. He dipped a brush into the bucket, and a look of fear swept over her face as he pulled the brush out -- it looked like some kind of grease.
Yes, steam was rising from the brush, and he took it without hesitation and slathered the substance across her feet, effectively "greasing" up the girl's bare soles with the stuff.
She moaned as it cured the itching, but nearly burned into her flesh, making her feet slick and sensitive.
He stopped. He pulled out the toothbrush he used on her earlier and looked at it longingly with a smile. To her horror, he began to brush his teeth with it!
"This will be my little souvenir my dear -- I shall never wash this, and you can count on it as being your special tickle brush!"
He loosened the bridle and pulled out the nylons, which were drenched with saliva. He set them in a pile in front of her, allowing her to catch her breath, but also to make her realize that at any time they could be trapped in her jaws again. He gave her a little water.
"No need to speak yet my dear. I am not completely finished with you. Yes, I just greased up your soles, so as you can imagine, you still have a little fun in store for you, some fun that I think you might enjoy."
Surprisingly, the girl greedily lapped at the water without uttering a word; she was afraid that her nylons would be forcefully trapped in her mouth again if she did.
"All done?" He set the cup down and pulled out a fork to use in conjunction with the toothbrush.
He rested the prongs of the steel fork and bristles of the brush across the girl's bare toes, one cruel instrument on each foot, relishing the moment and anticipating her vocal cries of ticklish agony. He then began to steadily rake the girl's greased up soles.
"Laugh for me, bratty bitch!"
And with that she did, now able to yell and express her ticklish agony to the world!
"Waaaahahahaha! My feeeheeet! My feet are so ticklish! Teehee! Oh my gaaahaaad! Not my piggies! My piggies! My toes are so ticklish! Ticklish toes!!!"
"Mmmmm yes! My, ticklish toes indeed!" The head guard enjoyed hearing the girl's verbal admittance to her silly hubris. She was now a babbling mess as he ravished her soles with the forks and his fingernails. The grease heightened the sensations considerably, and they were driving the poor little redhead brat absolutely wild!
She could feel the sensations from the tips of her toes, her arches, even her soft heels, transferring to her brain, and welling up in her loins as she couldn't believe . . . she was on the brink of orgasm!
"Yes my dear, you know you want to. I am the master, and between this grease and the relentless sensations on your soles, I know you want sweet release!!"
She moaned and moaned and laughed and laughed, until . . . to her surprise . . . she was beginning to cum!
There was nothing she could do, surrendered to the throes of the head guard's masterful tickling ways, the sensations ravaging across her big, shapely tootsies were getting the best of her. She was a blob of putty, and the head guard has transformed her from a princess into his fully-devoted foot-ticklish slave! Crashing wave after crashing wave obliterated the poor girl in peril as her moans echoed loudly through the halls of the dungeon, no doubt some emerging into halls of the palace!
"Oh yes little bitch! Oh how you just love me having my way with your big titillating feet! Now I'm going to lay down some rules. First, you must promise not to tell the Queen."
"Oh yes!" she muttered, still tingling from the depth of her orgasm.
"You must promise to be my fully devoted foot-slave, agreeing to be placed into this predicament whenever I please."
"Yes! Oh yes master! Whatever you say!" she panted.
"Gooood . . . " the head guard said with a smile, still having his way with the girl's feet. His bulge was enormous, and the girl's "free" hands had undone his trousers and were openly exploring and fondling his balls and shaft while he pleased himself with her piggies. A big, delirious smile swept over her as she was completely mad with lust!
After minutes of getting completely lost in her feet and with the help of her soft, skilled hands, he directed his spunk towards the girl's helpless soles, projecting the biggest load his lecherous soul had ever witnessed, and the girl, a muttering blob at this point, was willing to give him whatever he pleased! His head reeled back in pleasure, his monocle dropped to his side, and before he could gag the girl again, he was rudely interrupted:
"What is going on here?!" a familiar voice yelled.
The head guard pulled up his pants. "The Queen?! Your majesty!"
The Queen eyed her poor daughter, a plaything for this miserable lecher.
"How dare you! Release her this instant! I have your comrade to thank for this, as well as all the laughter coming through the walls."
"What?! How could you! I mean, of course your majesty, of course I will release her . . ."
"Yes, and then you will immediately get into this device and get a taste of your own medicine! It's the least we can do to repay my poor daughter's suffering! Then we'll decide your ultimate fate thereafter."
"Yes your majesty . . ." the head guard gulped with fear.
The Haughty Princess and Her Ticklish De-feet
"That oughta do it" the Queen's head guard mumbled.
The head guard was a fairly handsome man and was not intimidating in appearance: his face was thin and gaunt, and his uniform seemed more like a loose skin that clung to him and distorted his figure more than it displayed any military prowess. After a session, a victim would wonder if he wore his uniform this way intentionally. To distinguish himself, he wore a monocle over his left eye to give his victims more of an impression of great inspection into their thoughts . . . and lies. It would not take long for a victim to realize the power of his intellect, and then to fully grasp the true nature of the head guard -- lanky though he was, his mind was a powerful force that penetrated his victims deeply.
"Shall we release him?" asked the head guard's colleague. The colleague was a tall, strong man, arms heavy with furry hair and several days of growth on his chiseled face; quite a contrast from the head guard. Indeed, he had no trouble picking up a tavern wench or two in the evenings with his intense masculinity. Between the two men, a victim would cower decidedly at the stronger guard before realizing who was the true, manipulative, sadistic mastermind of the interrogation sessions.
"Go ahead. We have received the information we needed and we'll report to the Queen immediately. The last hour was just for fun" the head guard muttered, a thin smile creeping over his pale face.
The other guard forcefully unlocked the device in which the victim was imprisoned, and with great eagerness, the victim sprung out from the device, ran to the nearest corner of the room, and cowered in fear.
"Please, let me go! I can scarcely walk after being in that thing!" the prisoner exclaimed in a quivering voice.
"You may take him back to his cell while I go and meet the Queen."
Before the head guard could turn around to leave, he was met by a stunning beauty, and after regaining his composure, he realized . . . it was the Princess!
"And how are we today? Another poor young man tortured I see? I hope you got what little information you were looking for. I know what a barbaric sadist you can be. Sometimes I have to wonder if you're more of an animal than a man, but I digress" said the Princess in her most arrogant, demeaning voice.
"Well, yes Princess, I understand . . . I think. We have received very valuable information and I was just about to report to the Queen" the head guard said sternly.
"What you have to say to my mother you may say to me" the Princess retorted.
"He has admitted to his crime. It did take several hours, but he finally did admit to it."
"How bad could his crime have been? Let me guess, did he rape some peasant girl? She probably deserved it. Is this what you call justice? You know my mother will not be pleased; her time is very valuable indeed." The princess was beginning to take on an air of superiority, and her haughtiness was beginning to irritate the head guard.
"I know what will do the trick . . ." thought the head guard.
"Why are you smiling like that? Disgusting. You are a wicked, beastly man, do you know that?"
At this point, the other guard returned. "What's going on? Your majesty . . . is everything all right?"
"Don't worry -- she is just upset because she does not understand our ways. But let me ask the Princess . . . this contraption that you seem to be predisposed to hating . . . how would you like to . . . try it out? You would then realize it isn't nearly as bad as you think it is. My methods do not hurt the victim in any way, and I would love to demonstrate only for a mere minutes how it works." The head guard's smile became bigger at the thought knowing the gullibility of the Princess.
"That is ludicrous! How could you even suggest such a thing! That . . . contraption or whatever you want to call it . . . is terrible!"
The head guard was already enjoying the Princess's expressions. He could tell she was yielding to the idea. As she spouted off for another minute, the head guard studied her carefully:
"Heart shaped face . . . nice cheek bones . . . very rosy dimpled cheeks, like that of a harlot . . . every man that has met her surely can instantly tell what a whore she is . . . it's no wonder that the servant girls caught her in a most absurd position the other week, something that I never would have thought possible . . . yes, such a tall, well-built girl, full thighs, bosom, and ass . . . long legs and flowing, auburn hair . . . big, full mouth; big green eyes . . . hmmm, and her feet . . . how lovely . . . they are . . . quite large . . . yes, large indeed! Sparkling silver heels . . . peeping toes painted a fresh pink through those nylons . . . and those toe rings! Oh what a tease she is with those things!"
"Are you listening?!" the Princess snapped impatiently.
"Oh, um, yes your majesty. So what do you say?" he said with a grin.
"As I said . . . you are nothing but a pile of rubbish . . . and . . . well, fine, but only for five minutes! If you can't make your point by then, I will tell my mother and she shall behead you without question, do you understand me?!"
"Of course my dear! Now, step this way and we shall show you how this all works. I'm sure you shall see how innocent it all is in no time! In fact, I think you'll laugh your fool head off at the idea once you figure out the harmless trick!"
The other guard was silent and worried, but the head guard was fully aware that he too wanted to exact his revenge on the stubborn bitch for deeds that he hoped she would confess to during their session, namely for her shameless foot flirting. He was also aware that as he enjoyed playing "dumb" to the Princess; he was able to get away with quite a bit more than the seemingly arrogant head guard.
The Princess eyed the contraption anxiously. It was most intimidating.
"Do your . . . feet . . . stick out through there?" she thought.
Indeed the Princess was onto something -- the dark-stained, wooden crate was shaped like an octagon, and was open revealing padded walls and a chair for the victim to sit on while enduring his or her torture. There were five holes, and the Princess was trying to make sense of how it all worked. An eyebolt was visible in the back. A fairly thin piece of wood attached to a crank rested on the top between the two holes and in front of the third and was fastened securely to the structure. The cranks made the Princess perspire with anxiety and anticipation.
"Why your majesty, you're biting your lip! I assure you, this will be fine! Now please, I insist . . . get in!" the head guard coaxed her.
She sat on the padded chair within the crate, and the guards held her legs up until she was nearly a human pretzel.
Thud!
The crate was closed tightly around the Princess and a heavy lock ensured she would not be going anywhere. She quickly realized her predicament . . . an uncomfortable predicament indeed!
She looked on either side of her, and to her amazement, there were . . .
"My feet!" she exclaimed in terror. She shook them a bit just to be sure, watching her high-heels slightly glimmer in the dim light. It all happened so fast, she didn't think there was any way the guards could have molded her into this position, but to her horror . . . she was! She was certain her feet would have been in front of her, but instead before her were her hands, tied together but in two separate holes. She moved them just to be sure they were exposed as they were not visible from where her head sat. The piece of wood was before her face and was just long enough to stretch before her ear-to-ear. She still was not sure what it was for.
"I hope you're comfortable your majesty!" replied the usually quiet guard, now becoming increasingly excited by the situation and the absurd sight of the Princess both in spirit and in his trousers. "And now for your crown!"
The head guard produced the finishing touch -- a cylindrical, studded, padded piece made out of thick, tanned leather. They tied her shimmering, flowery smelling auburn hair into a ponytail and pulled it through a hole out through the top. The piece acted as a hood to ensure her head was now as fully immobile as the rest of her, a vast majority of which was no longer visible. In front of the hood was just enough room for her face to be exposed. The tightness of the hood pushed her cheeks, now beet red with embarrassment, together so she could hardly utter a word. The hood was fastened to the contraption, ensuring that her entire head couldn't budge an inch.
"Mmmphhhkay gentlemffen . . . I ffseee how fffunny fis is! Mnow pfleaase let mfee mgoo!" she mumbled through her pouty, constricted lips as she attempted to struggle. The padding within the crate made this impossible, of course.
The guards took a moment to take in the sight of the haughty princess transformed into their perfect, helpless victim. The completely retrained beauty did her best to wiggle her fingers and move her feet, as much as moving was even possible. She could at least still blink.
She was now only a face, a pair of hands, and a pair of helpless, vulnerable, flailing feet, which unknown to her were about to become the true victims and her ultimate demise. From the distance, the guards enjoyed the sight of the heavy wooden, octagon crate housing their beautiful victim, and from the front could be seen a pair of hands, a pretty, freckly face protruding from the thick, cylindrical, leather hood, auburn hair turned ponytail poking out the top of the hood, the crank device before her face, and two pairs of feet encased in sparkling, silver high heels flanking either side of her head -- yes, the image was absurd to the 9th degree!
The Princess's entire face was blushing deep red with humiliation, her freckly little button nose contorting with frustration -- she was on full display to the guards, her teasing feet fully immobile and awaiting their defeat.
The head guard pondered his next moves. He had immense knowledge of the anatomy of the foot and designed the device with his massive foot fetish in mind; in this way, gaining information would be exceedingly more fun. He couldn't wait to indulge on this snobbish beauty!
"Sferiously gfuuys!" the Princess strained.
The guards ignored her pleas and stood on either side of her, poised to remove her heels.
"My oh my, what big, fat feet you have Princess! Size 11? 12? 13? Let's find out!" and with great relish, the straps were undone and her sparkling high heels were slowly, and carefully removed and hung by the heels off the sides of the crate, ensuring they were still visible to the trapped Princess.
The Princess felt the cool, thick, dungeon air caressing her newly exposed foot bottoms, now only "protected" in white nylons -- she was becoming incredibly anxious at this point and was beginning to tire herself out by writhing to no avail within her wooden prison. She wiggled her toes as the guards watched hungrily, enjoying the site of her nylons stretching and contorting with each tantalizing wiggle of of her pretty piggies. Her pink polish was visible, making them even more hungry for her feet. Beads of sweat were dripping from her forehead as she began to spit out, albeit as lady-like as she muster, the saliva collecting in her mouth.
"Lffeeemme go lffeeemmee gooo!" she began to scream, her echoes carrying through the halls of the dungeon.
"All right Princess, hold on and don't get your panties in a bunch . . . all this perspiration and we haven't even begun! This ought to cool you off a bit!" and with that, each guard grabbed the edge of the restrained the Princess's nylons, pinching her thick, big toes.
The Princess winced and let out a gasp, a large smile wiping across her face with surprise.
"Oh my Princess! What is the matter?!" the head guard exclaimed mockingly.
"Whell, mit's jfust fvat, mmm, muh ffffeet . . ."
"Mmmmm yes, your . . . feet? Continue . . ."
"Muh fffeet far . . . vreaallly thickklissh!"
"Hahahaha, you silly girl. Well now, you can't be that dumb! Don't you understand? The whole part of this torture that will cause you to laugh is, well . . . tickling!" the head guard laughed raucously, and without hesitation, nodded to the other guard, and both pulled off the entire length of the poor girl's nylons in unison, completely exposing her now fully bare naked feet!
The Princess's big green eyes were practically bulging out of her sockets with surprise and terror -- she studied over each completely exposed foot while the head guard collected her nylons. She gazed on at her heels, hanging before her, and longed for her feet to be encased in them again. She was pouring sweat, and her ponytail hung in the same place it had when the hood was placed on her head, constantly making her further aware of her immobility. She wiggled her bare toes, the cool, musky dungeon air taking each big, milky sole as a captive, and she began to cry realizing that her torment would not end any time soon!
"Look at how she wiggles her pretty piggies. A nice shade of polish if I dare say so myself . . . my favorite, actually! 'Tickled Pink' I presume? And these toe rings! What a little tramp you are! Two on this foot, and one on the other! You have teased me many a time your majesty with your dainty toes, and I'm sure many a man, and now they shall be owed their due punishment!"
The Princess noticed the bulges beginning to form in the men's pants as they looked her over again, now completely barefoot and awaiting her doom. She eyed her toes a little more, in disbelief at how creamy and soft they appeared . . . how creamy and soft she knew they were. Every day she paid meticulous attention and care to her size 12 feet, admiring their power. As she wiggled her bare toes, she could feel how soft they were between each other, and the feeling always made her tingle with delight. She began to take in the thrill of her predicament and found herself becoming strangely moist as she wiggled her toes, seemingly beckoning the two men.
"Why did I do this? How did I end up here? Did I secretly want this to happen? How did the head guard know? Am I that obvious? Look at my second toes . . . they're just barely longer than my big toes! That's so silly! Oh dear, what is wrong with me?!"
She was beginning to get very hot within her padded confines, and the head guard wiped the perspiration forming on her face with a damp rag.
"Now, let us begin, shall we? You have been quite the little cock tease as of late, and since you agreed to have a little taste of our 'torture,' we might as well make this as realistic as possible, correct?" the head guard teased, folding up the rag and tossing it aside.
"I . . . I . . . dunt mknow what you mmmean . . ."
"Oh yes you do!" exclaimed the other guard. "Every day you nearly get the butler beheaded when you prop up your big feet on the dining table!" he said, pacing around the helpless redhead beauty.
"Dear, dear. Don't you see? Our lives are in your hands . . . or feet should I say . . . thanks to you! And that incident last week . . . why that poor young man was clearly taking advantage of your limber nature! He would have been hung if he wasn't royalty! I have no doubt that he was well-hung, otherwise you wouldn't have bothered with him, but . . . aren't you going to apologize?!"
"Mmm-mmm! Mwwhhy shuld I??" the Princess retorted stubbornly.
The head guard sighed, realizing the Princess thought too highly of herself and that she possessed an impenetrable ignorance.
"Well then you little slut . . . open up your big fat mouth! I've got to gag you, or else the Queen will hear!"
"Mmffnooo! Mlleeet out off heerre, you bvaaastaaarrds!"
"Oh, my lady, such language!" he beckoned, and with a smile, danced the tips of his fingers across her milky arches. This caused the Princess to immediately respond with a great surprised bellow of laughter, and her big mouth opened wide and was met with . . .
"My nylons?!"
The head guard eagerly stuffed the nylons into the Princess's big, begrudging mouth, and pushed the piece of wood, on a hinge, tightly to her mouth, trapping the haughty princess's nylons effectively within her now fully restrained jaws.
"MmmmMMpppphh!" the Princess futilely whimpered, her eyes pleading longingly and fully revealing her stress to the guards.
The other guard produced a long rope and threw one end to the head guard, and they immediately took hold of the Princess's big toes and began binding them methodically.
"Oh my god! What are you doing! Hee hee that tickles! My god that rope tiiiiicklllles!!" Of course, to the men, this really just sound like "mmmmppphhh!" over and over, but they could make out most of what the poor princess was saying.
The rope was threaded through an eyebolt behind the Princess's head, and then attached on either side of her wooden bridle-gag.
"And now one of my favorite parts!" the head guard squealed with joy. He took hold of the crank and began to turn it.
"Mmmmppphh!" the Princess's big emerald eyes bulged as she tried to scream in horror. The nylons were forced further to the back of her throat as the bridle became tighter and tighter and her big toes were simultaneously stretched taut with each turn of the crank -- she couldn't believe the true horror of this device!
"Now now, we've had full grown men in this contraption and we've turned them into practically giggling, teary-eyed school girls by the end of a session, but that doesn't mean you can't take it!"
"Tighter! Tighter!" the other guard exclaimed like an excited little boy. He began to salivate as he watched the Princess's big toes stretched tauter and tauter still as the force was concentrated through the eye-bolt and through the bridle.
"This has only begun my dear! Now you are ready to face your true demise . . ."
The other guard brought out a leather case and gave it to the head guard. The head guard placed it on a small table, which he positioned carefully beside the Princess. He stared into the Princess's eyes, ravishing the site of her . . . her two, big, wide, flawless size 12 soles, completely bare naked before him, her soft, teasing piggies begging to be raped by his tickling instruments. Oh yes, the slut would suffer!
The case plopped open, and to the Princess's horror were a mass of tools, with hog bristle, feathers, cotton, and steel!
"Where shall we begin? Here . . . take this one. I shall begin on her right foot and we shall give the little bratty bitch a taste of our special techniques!"
The head guard waved the tool before her big green eyes. It was some kind of brush, and no doubt at one point it was to be used for the teeth. The device had been worn down considerably, the bristles wiry and disheveled from use.
She moaned, tears running down her face, her rosy cheeks full and chubby with the force of the bridle and thick, leather hood, her entire body including her head fully immobile and compacted. At this point, she had limited movement of her hands and her soft, inviting bare toes . . . all she could do is laugh and blink.
"Mmmmmpphh . . . Mmmmmmpph . . ."
"What was that? 'Please tickle my slutty piggies?' Well, if you say so!"
The guards began to gently scrub her soles; the head guard began with her heel, slowly moving upward, taking in the beauty of her shapely feet. Her feet were immaculate and stunning . . . and big. There was plenty of room for him to explore and drive her wild, every sensation producing a powerful jolt of controlled energy and stimuli . . . and all she could do was react, all of which was fully controlled other than to laugh!
And laugh she did. The head guard wielded the bristles masterfully, dancing a ticklish jig on her buttery arches with fervor, her little wrinkles folding and stretching as much as possible, causing the sensations of the brush to affect her to a seemingly quantum degree; he moved to the base of her toes, letting each bristle take in a mouthful of her delicious piggies as she was devoured with laughter, shivering sensations, and spasmodic contractions with every bristly touch!
"My feeeheeet!! Hahaha, they're tickling my FEEEhEEET!!! Hahaha, oh my gaaahaaad, they're so BIG! And TICKLIIHHISH!" she sobbed into her soaking wet nylons.
"I think this haughty bitch is enjoying this! What do you say!" proclaimed the head guard. The other guard was lost in lust and entertainment with the Princess's soles -- he couldn't believe his fantasies were finally coming true!
"You know, we should get the butler and servant girls in on this!" as he dug into her deep, ballerina arches with vigor.
Her cries became screams through her gag; her entire body was sore from muscle contractions, even though she couldn't budge an inch to save her life. Her eyes were salty and wet, and her nylons were drenched in saliva as she was beginning to literally gag on her own laughter -- the connection of her laughter through her nylons, to the bridle connected with rope to her restrained, excruciatingly ticklish piggies haunted her subconscious as she was constantly reminded that she was nothing but a pair of feet and billowing heaps of hysterical laughter!
The sensations were driving her wild, and her cries for mercy became dominated and punished her beyond her wildest dreams. She was now fully submitting as the guards switched to their fingers, and then to feathery tools that sawed relentlessly between her helpless piggies, dabbling a bit on her big toes and relishing the reactions of her "ring" toes. Her slutty feet were punished beyond all hope, and just as she thought they would let up, she realized the head guard was ready to take it to the next level.
"Bring me . . . the tongs!"
His colleague appeared holding a pair of tongs, each with a hot coal lodged within their cruel grasp. The head guard took them, eyed her sneeringly, and brought the tongs closer to her, hovering them in front of her face. She could feel the heat emanating from them and winced, trying to pull away with no luck. He handed the tongs to the guard and then approached her feet. The other guard knew at this point in the session that the victim "solely" became the head guard's game.
He eyed her intently through his monocle, inspecting her and probing her, aware that this "game" would have serious consequences. He would have to break her if he was going to keep his job . . . or his life.
He took a foot in one hand and felt the Princess shiver; he brought his face to her deep, deliciously wrinkled arch and buried his nose within it, taking a deep, sensual whiff. The smell was of lavender, like perfume from a celestial plane; the smell, free and wild was turning burning into a feverish, druid-like lust.
Her arch was deep enough to allow the full length of his nose to be smothered in it, as though it were a special cave of solace for his senses. He buried his face in the entirety of her rather large, shapely foot, and began to plant slow, sensual kisses across each of her fully restrained toes, enjoying her moans and cries of distress -- and pleasure. He was fully aware that his psychological torture was making the Princess quite wet within her confines. He also knew that if his skills were good enough, that she could be all his . . . a Princess turned slave.
He tongued her arches, and hungrily lapped away like a kitten enjoying a bowl of milk; he took each toe into his mouth and slathered his saliva between each one, sucking, nibbling, and tugging gently using his lips and teeth. The tantalizing teething of her soles caused her to giggle deliriously as the sensations were startlingly arousing. She was becoming very wet, fully embracing her predicament and surrendering herself to his powerful mind control.
The monocle helped to magnify her weak areas, areas where the head guard could tell the nerves and sensations were more concentrated for his ticklish exploits.
He abruptly stopped lavishing her bare soles with love, pulled himself away, then faced the other guard. He snatched the tongs from the guard and stood before the Princess as she gazed up at him. Her big green eyes saw him differently now -- he was a powerful, towering dictator, punishing her bare soles cruelly, ensuring that every inch of bitch was wrung out of her. He stood sternly, staring into her eyes, knowing that she was becoming more broken, and without cracking a smile, kicked the table out of the way, and brought the tongs inches above her bare, pure white soles.
"MMMmmmpppHH! Mmmmppphh!!!" she squealed as the heat was unbearable. Her immaculate bare soles had scarcely ever faced such raw elements, other than the stony floor of her bathroom, and their softness and purity were about to become completely violated.
He moved the tongs closer until they were practically making contact with her bare flesh. She wailed into her gag, wanting and hoping that she would pass out from the torment. Her stress manifested itself in drops of sweat, the leather hood becoming salty and itchy as the peril overtook her.
The head guard rotated the tongs, properly roasting the poor girl's raw, bare soles until they were puffy and red. He knew at a certain point, he would cause her harm, and just when she thought she could take no more, he stopped.
She nearly passed out from the terror, the trauma of what had just happened to her precious beauties. Her toe rings stung her toes as the heat had turned them practically into torture instruments themselves. The head guard then pulled out a sack made from animal skins, and took a thick painter's brush from the case. Still standing in front of her, the table pushed to the side, he dipped the painter's brush into the mysterious sack and pulled it out. A golden dust shimmered from the bristles.
"Do you know what this is?"
The Princess tried to shake her head "no," realizing that the other guard was no where to be seen. She gazed into his eyes, her eyes doing all they could to beg for mercy, to show some semblance of expression, expression that the hood and gag cruelly restrained.
"This is itching powder. Your soles will burn and itch like you cannot believe."
Her eyes bulged again, and she began to scream and beg through her gag, but to no avail -- the head guard coldly took the brushes and sternly applied the them to the girls red and puffy bare feet.
Up and down he firmly applied the brush, in long, lavish strokes upon the girls taut soles. The dust appeared like golden glitter, a beautiful sight upon her tortured tootsies.
"How does this feel upon your piggies my dear? Does the princess have itchy piggies?" he mocked as he continued to apply the powder harshly.
He continued to paint the girl's soles, properly and fully, coating every square inch. The bristles tickled, and barely provided any kind of scratch, but rather caused the itching to be even worse as they jeered at her soles -- indeed the powder was unbearable, and felt like a thousand red ants crawling and a thousand little pincers biting into her completely vulnerable foot flesh.
Tears poured from her eyes, the haughty bitch now fully surrendered to the first two hours of the session, psychologically plagued and traumatized; ripe with feelings of seething hate and a burning lust in her loins as she was constantly brought to the edge and back.
The head guard sat down at a table and allowed the powder to work its own torture. He pulled out a book, and studied the anatomy of the human foot while the brat suffered.
The girl was ravaged, sore, and her entire body cramping as the powder ate at her soles. She was afraid to look and see if they were still there as it almost felt like some kind of acid was poured on them, eating them alive. More strangely, the powder made her feel even more ticklish, and the combination of the roasting and the powder sent her over the edge with cries of laughter and groaning.
It felt like another hour had gone by when the head guard put the book down and approached her again with a bucket. He dipped a brush into the bucket, and a look of fear swept over her face as he pulled the brush out -- it looked like some kind of grease.
Yes, steam was rising from the brush, and he took it without hesitation and slathered the substance across her feet, effectively "greasing" up the girl's bare soles with the stuff.
She moaned as it cured the itching, but nearly burned into her flesh, making her feet slick and sensitive.
He stopped. He pulled out the toothbrush he used on her earlier and looked at it longingly with a smile. To her horror, he began to brush his teeth with it!
"This will be my little souvenir my dear -- I shall never wash this, and you can count on it as being your special tickle brush!"
He loosened the bridle and pulled out the nylons, which were drenched with saliva. He set them in a pile in front of her, allowing her to catch her breath, but also to make her realize that at any time they could be trapped in her jaws again. He gave her a little water.
"No need to speak yet my dear. I am not completely finished with you. Yes, I just greased up your soles, so as you can imagine, you still have a little fun in store for you, some fun that I think you might enjoy."
Surprisingly, the girl greedily lapped at the water without uttering a word; she was afraid that her nylons would be forcefully trapped in her mouth again if she did.
"All done?" He set the cup down and pulled out a fork to use in conjunction with the toothbrush.
He rested the prongs of the steel fork and bristles of the brush across the girl's bare toes, one cruel instrument on each foot, relishing the moment and anticipating her vocal cries of ticklish agony. He then began to steadily rake the girl's greased up soles.
"Laugh for me, bratty bitch!"
And with that she did, now able to yell and express her ticklish agony to the world!
"Waaaahahahaha! My feeeheeet! My feet are so ticklish! Teehee! Oh my gaaahaaad! Not my piggies! My piggies! My toes are so ticklish! Ticklish toes!!!"
"Mmmmm yes! My, ticklish toes indeed!" The head guard enjoyed hearing the girl's verbal admittance to her silly hubris. She was now a babbling mess as he ravished her soles with the forks and his fingernails. The grease heightened the sensations considerably, and they were driving the poor little redhead brat absolutely wild!
She could feel the sensations from the tips of her toes, her arches, even her soft heels, transferring to her brain, and welling up in her loins as she couldn't believe . . . she was on the brink of orgasm!
"Yes my dear, you know you want to. I am the master, and between this grease and the relentless sensations on your soles, I know you want sweet release!!"
She moaned and moaned and laughed and laughed, until . . . to her surprise . . . she was beginning to cum!
There was nothing she could do, surrendered to the throes of the head guard's masterful tickling ways, the sensations ravaging across her big, shapely tootsies were getting the best of her. She was a blob of putty, and the head guard has transformed her from a princess into his fully-devoted foot-ticklish slave! Crashing wave after crashing wave obliterated the poor girl in peril as her moans echoed loudly through the halls of the dungeon, no doubt some emerging into halls of the palace!
"Oh yes little bitch! Oh how you just love me having my way with your big titillating feet! Now I'm going to lay down some rules. First, you must promise not to tell the Queen."
"Oh yes!" she muttered, still tingling from the depth of her orgasm.
"You must promise to be my fully devoted foot-slave, agreeing to be placed into this predicament whenever I please."
"Yes! Oh yes master! Whatever you say!" she panted.
"Gooood . . . " the head guard said with a smile, still having his way with the girl's feet. His bulge was enormous, and the girl's "free" hands had undone his trousers and were openly exploring and fondling his balls and shaft while he pleased himself with her piggies. A big, delirious smile swept over her as she was completely mad with lust!
After minutes of getting completely lost in her feet and with the help of her soft, skilled hands, he directed his spunk towards the girl's helpless soles, projecting the biggest load his lecherous soul had ever witnessed, and the girl, a muttering blob at this point, was willing to give him whatever he pleased! His head reeled back in pleasure, his monocle dropped to his side, and before he could gag the girl again, he was rudely interrupted:
"What is going on here?!" a familiar voice yelled.
The head guard pulled up his pants. "The Queen?! Your majesty!"
The Queen eyed her poor daughter, a plaything for this miserable lecher.
"How dare you! Release her this instant! I have your comrade to thank for this, as well as all the laughter coming through the walls."
"What?! How could you! I mean, of course your majesty, of course I will release her . . ."
"Yes, and then you will immediately get into this device and get a taste of your own medicine! It's the least we can do to repay my poor daughter's suffering! Then we'll decide your ultimate fate thereafter."
"Yes your majesty . . ." the head guard gulped with fear.
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