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The Ticklish Webs We Weave, FF/M, F/F

malevolend

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This story came to me the other day, and I actually wrote a bit of the ending before going back to the beginning. So once that is finalized I will post it (hopefully not in another year or two as usual). There is, as usual, some sock fetish content. Also as usual it is a work of complete fiction etc etc. Finally, as usual (got to stop saying that), I got carried away with the back story, so after the first bit if you want to cut straight to the tickling you can ctrl-F for "* * *"

Hope you enjoy!




As he awoke slowly, before his mind came get to grips with the totality of his situation, he was only aware of a vague sensation of vulnerability. Uncomfortable. Hot. Restricted. Thirsty. The words flashed somewhere near the periphery of his consciousness, disappearing when he tried to turn his focus on them. It felt like the worst hangover of his life. But somehow worse. He felt like his whole body was heating up, smothered under something hot and heavy. As the fog started to come to, he thought maybe it was just the blanket covering his body and head. He tried to throw it off him....and came to his next startling realization. He couldn't move his arms. Or his legs. He could feel the muscles contracting, but it felt like they were....tied down. He became aware of an unpleasant taste in his mouth, and something in his mouth. But when he tried to spit it out he found he was unable to. Now he began to panic, wrestling his body against the apparently complete restriction he found himself in. He could tell he was standing, but there was something pushing against his back, arching it out a bit, with his hands and feet secured at full extension. His legs and arms were spread far apart. He felt naked, but hot. His pulse quickened, his adrenaline pumped, his awareness focused. For some reason he couldn't hear a thing, but it felt like something was pressing on his ears, like he was underwater. What the fuck went down last night? Just as he started to rack his brain to figure out how he got into this ridiculous place he found himself in, what felt like two icepicks starting pressing against his protruding ribs, one on each side. Because his body had been so hot, the cold objects felt like they were stabbing him, even though he could tell they were only lightly being applied. He started to feel more cold objects, multiple ones on each side of his ribcage. The initial temperature shock had hidden the other competing sensation now starting to make itself known in his brain stem. Ticklishness. The word triggered some memory about the night before....but now the cold objects had started to press slightly harder into his ribs and forced him to start squirming as much as he could. He tried to shout out, but the object in his mouth muffled his efforts. He suddenly became aware of more cold sensations on his legs, moving down to his feet. What he first thought to be icepicks turned out to be remarkably dextrous, working their way slowly from his ribs and legs to his vulnerable and extremely ticklish pits and feet, respectively. It felt like someone was tickling him purposely, and they seemed to know his worst spots right from the start. Again he had a brief deja vu moment from the night before. But this recollection was ripped from his consciousness as all of the ice cold, cruel objects zoned in on his armpits and feet, and he screamed into his gag for mercy that he suspected was not going to given.

- - - - -

Jill and Nichole made for unlikely best friends. Jill was tall, shy, and athletic. She had worked hard in high school, working her way to captain of the women's soccer team and earning a scholarship to college. Her time at college was mostly dedicated to her team, and she studied diligently to keep up her grades to maintain her scholarship. Although she occasionally did feel sorry about missing out on the typical college craziness – the boys, the parties – she never wavered from her athletic pursuits. That is, until she met Nichole.

Nichole was everything that Jill wasn't. She was anti-athletic and anti-academic. She came from money, and had the security of knowing that no matter what she did in college her future was pretty well set. She spent her days sleeping through classes, recovering from her constant partying. Not surprisingly, she went through a slew of roommates, who despite her desirable off campus apartment could not stand to live with her for very long. Which is how she ended up posting yet another roommate wanted ad in the beginning of her senior year.

When her own apartment plans fell through for senior year, Jill came across the ad in her frantic last minute search for a place to live. It seemed too good to be true, but she had few options so she responded to the ad and arranged to view the apartment.

When she arrived and met Nichole for the first time, she could tell there was something about her that was, if not dangerous, then certainly edgy. She answered the door in jeans and a sweatshirt, and filthy converse sneakers that Jill would soon realize almost never left her feet. They spoke casually and despite Jill's initial concerns, Nichole didn't raise any more red flags. She obviously wasn't the type of person Jill would typically associate with, but that wasn't a deal-breaker for her. In fact, now that she was in her last year of college, she was hoping that living with Nichole would give her the opportunity to experience a little of the college life that she had deprived herself of thus far.

They became close friends early on. Nichole would even go to some of Jill's soccer games. And Jill started going out with her new friend to bars and parties. The only real friction between them would occur when Nichole would have one of her “gentlemen guests” over the night before a big game, and keep Jill up with the sounds of whatever it was they did. A lot of muffled moans. Although it bothered her, it also made her very curious as to what Nichole did to these men. Jill barely saw them. Whatever it was they did, they seemed to be happy to stay in her room.

Finally Jill worked up the nerve to ask Nichole about her sexual exploits. They were sitting on their couch having a glass of wine, which probably helped her finally broach the topic. Nichole eyed her friend cautiously, and seemed to make some internal decision.

“Promise you won't be freaked out, but I have a bit of a confession,” Nichole started off.

Her curiosity piqued, Jill nodded.

“Ok, well I had a boyfriend in high school who had a major sock fetish.”

“A sock fetish? What's that?” Jill answered, looking reflexively at her own socked feet.

“Well, he liked to smell, lick, and kiss my feet in socks. Especially dirty ones. I was a little weirded out at first, but after seeing how much it turned him on, I started to get into it. It really opened up a whole fetish world for me.”

Jill was dumbfounded. This was far beyond the scope of what she had expected to hear.

“Wait, he liked to smell your feet? Like, when they were dirty?”

“Especially when they were dirty. If I really wanted to turn him on, I would wear socks for a few days in a row to get them really smelly.”

Jill looked again at her socks. Being an athlete, her hamper was constantly full of dirty socks. She had never considered that it would be a turn on for some people.

Sensing her thought process, Nichole continued, “Yeh, you would be like a dream come true for him.”

“I don't think I could let someone smell my feet. I can barely stand the smell myself.”

“You'd be surprised what some people are turned on by...”

“Have you ever been with another man with a fetish?”

Nichole paused.

“Uhm, so remember when I said it opened up a whole fetish world to me? Well, I ended up really enjoying the sock fetish. He also liked to be dominated by me, and I really enjoyed that too. I would make him worship me and the more he did so, the more I liked it. So when I moved here and we broke up, I looked for....other ways to dominate men. And so I became....a dominatrix. Like, professionally.”

Now Jill was truly speechless.

“Wait....are those men that come here.....”

“No, no, they are purely personal pursuits. I work at a fetish dungeon downtown a few days a month. Nothing sexual at work.”

Jill took a moment to digest this. Nichole really didn't seem to be the typical dominatrix that she was aware of. Not that she really know anything about it, clearly. She wanted to know more, but she was honestly scared to even ask. She pictured whips, chains, bondage, leather....

“So what....uhm, do you do to the men who come to the dungeon?”

“All sorts of stuff. And there are occasionally women too. But I don't want to freak you out with all the details. I tend to take clients who have foot fetishes most often, because I enjoy it as well. I also have one client who likes....tickling.”

“Tickling?” Jill asked.

“Yeh but not the playful type. He likes to be tied down and tickled. Like, tortured. It's amazing how much he can take, and keep coming back for more. I wouldn't be able to stand a fraction of the tickling I've given him.”

Jill shuddered at the thought herself. She was extremely ticklish and the idea of being tied down and unable to get away....was simply too much.

“I think it has a lot to do with power, and domination, and submission. With that client I like to combine the tickling with other fetishes, making him worship my feet in between tickling sessions, and sometimes even while I tickle him. The last session I had another of the girls come in to double team him. It was a lot of fun. We don't get too many men who like tickling, and it's so much fun to make them squirm with such little effort. Some of the other girls have asked to sit in on sessions to learn themselves about the fetish. And also just to have some fun. It's actually pretty addicting.”

Jill had to admit to being a little turned on at the thought of dominating a man, although she didn't think she would be able to make someone suffer. From the glint in Nichole's eyes as she spoke, though, it didn't seem that Nichole had any issue with it.

Over the next few weeks, Jill became more and more fascinated by her friend's revelation. She even nervously looked up online about fetishes, and was amazed to see the abundance of fetishes. She would ask Nichole about which ones she had experience with, and which ones she found exciting.

It was in this context that Jill met John. It was a chance meeting at the library, definitely awkward, but he seemed like a sweet guy. When he finally got around to asking her out, she decided to give it a shot.

Their relationship flourished quickly. Soon they were spending most of their time together, which annoyed Nichole. She was so used to having full access to her friend, whenever she wanted, and it bothered her that she had found it so easy to let John take her spot in her life.

The night that everything changed started out innocently enough. John and Jill were having a quiet night in, watching TV on the couch. Jill was lying down and put her feet in John's lap, without thinking about it. John didn't say anything and they continued to watch TV. Jill was wearing white socks that were a little dirty on the bottom, and she mindlessly rubbed her feet together in his lap. Soon she felt something hard in his lap, and looked at him to find him sheepishly looking at the floor while her feet rubbed his now rock hard dick.

“Thinking of something...?” Jill asked, playfully tapping his dick with her foot.

“Uhm....I have something to tell you.”

Jill took her feet out of his lap and sat up, but his eyes were still fixed on the floor.

“I know this sounds weird, but I have a.....thing for your feet. In socks. It's kind of a fetish. I haven't really told many people about it and I don't expect you to do anything, but I want you to know,” he was so nervous when he spoke that his voice wavered.

“You.....you have a sock fetish?”

“Er, yes. Have had my whole life.”

Jill got very excited. She thought about telling him about Nichole's experiences, but stopped herself. She somehow felt that telling him would be dangerous, would make him think of Nichole in a way she wasn't comfortable. So instead she laid back again and plopped her feet right back into his lap, and continued to rub them together.

John looked surprised, and then relieved.

“So what do you want to do to my socks?” Jill asked, seductively.

“Uhm, I really, really want to smell them.”

“Well, I think you are going to have to earn that. For now, you can start by massaging my feet.”

As John got to work on her foot massage, Jill was already making a mental note to check back on those websites to learn more about his fetish.

- - -

Over the next few days Jill thought more and more about John and his fetish. She really liked him, and wanted to make him happy, but felt out of her comfort zone with his fetish. She had looked online and read some stories, and although she found the idea of dominating him erotic, she didn't have any experience with it. What she needed, she thought, was some guidance.

And so the next day when she was sitting with Nichole, making small talk, she asked her friend for some advice. She tried to keep the discussion very general, but Nichole saw right through her.

“So John has a sock fetish,” she said, matter of factly.

“How – how did you know?”

“I always catch him checking out your feet.....and mine. In fact I have had a lot of fun teasing him,” she added, pointedly.

“Really? You can tell?”

“Once you know what to look for, it's easy.”

“I suppose so.....wait, you saw him checking out your feet too?”

“Don't be angry. For a sock fetishist, seeing feet in socks is like seeing a girl naked. It would be weird if he didn't look. And I do have a bit of experience with it.”

“Well, that's what I wanted to talk to you about. I feel like I don't know what I'm doing, and I am looking for some advice.”

Nichole pondered this for a moment, and then her eyes lit up when she came up with the idea.

“I think I can do you one better. The best way to learn is by learning first-hand, right?”

“I guess...”

“So why dont you come by the dungeon with me this weekend,”

Seeing her response, Nichole pressed on before Jill could say no.

“You don't have to do anything. They won't even know you're there, if you want. Ill keep them blindfolded. You can just watch. I have a client this weekend, the one who likes tickling. But I can do some sock worship as well, to show you how it's done. Think about it.”

Jill did just that. She thought about it. Constantly. The mere thought of going to the dungeon made her nervous, excited, filled her stomach with butterflies....but she couldn't deny that it made her excited, and more than a little turned on.

- - -

John thought it was a bit odd that Nichole reached out to him. He kind of thought she didn't like him. But she had called him out of the blue and invited him out for drinks on a Friday night. They met at a local bar, and sat near the back. Nichole went to the bar and brought back two beers.

“So I wanted to talk to you about something....personal,” she started.

“Ok, what's up?”

“Well, I know you and Jill are getting serious, which I think is great. I just want....I just want her to be happy.”

“Ok.....”

“And I am only telling you this because I know she would never, ever tell you. Because she is so shy.”

“...”

“She has a....fetish....” she pronounced the last word very slowly.

John nearly choked on his beer. This was exactly the effect she had been hoping for.

“A...fetish? Uhm, what kind of fetish?” he said, trying not to sound too hopeful or excited.

“A tickling fetish.”

John had come across tickling sites before, and had to admit that the idea of tickling Jill's socked feet did excite him.

“She likes....being tickled?”

“Well, yes, but what she really likes, is being the tickler.”

John paused. He hadn't expected that. He was incredibly ticklish, and while he did like the idea of tickling Jill, he didn't think he would be able to stand being on the receiving end.

He was also beginning to feel a lot more drunk than he had any right being after only half of a beer.

“Do you think you could do that for her? What she would really like to do is to tie you down....and tickle torture you.....” Nichole said, seductively.

John began to squirm in his seat. Although the topic made him uncomfortable, for some reason he also was getting turned on. It didn't hurt that Nichole was wearing her usual converse sneakers, and he had already caught a glimpse of her white socks. He hoped she hadn't noticed.

“I...think I could maybe let her try. I don't know that I would be able to take very much though.”

“Why not? Are you....ticklish?”

“Extremely.”

“Really....” Nichole said, and now raised her legs and rested her feet on the chair next to John. He tried not to stare.

This was all going according to Nichole's plan. As soon as she had confirmed that John had a sock fetish, she had wanted to take advantage of it. It's not that she found him incredibly attractive – at least not at first. Initially, her desire for him sprung from the mere fact that Jill had such strong feelings for him, and taking John away would bring Jill back to Nichole. But once she learned of his fetish, her feelings...changed.

What she hadn’t told Jill that night was that the client that like tickling was her favorite client. She so thoroughly enjoyed tickling him that she had tried it out on other men, but most of them weren't able to take it and would stop coming to her. Even men who were into hardcore BDSM begged for mercy at the lightest touch. She loved the power it gave her, and craved more. Learning of his fetish, and now hearing of his extreme ticklishness, only made her want to tickle him more.

She had hatched this plan the same night that Jill had divulged his secret to her. After this, not only would she have him to play with whenever she wanted, but she would teach Jill to never, ever, leave her again. She coyly played with her feet in the chair next to him, putting one foot on top of the other, and applied pressure so that the heel of her sweaty foot just started to pop out of her converse. She watched with delight as he tried not to stare. She checked her watch. It wouldn’t be long now....

“So....where are you most ticklish?”

“Hah, everywhere. My armpits and feet are the worst though....the absolute worst. Even though I want Jill to be happy, I don't know that I would ever let her tickle me there.”

Now he was outright staring at her feet. She had worked one shoe almost entirely off, and the shoe was dangling sexily off her socked toes.

“Well, I think all you need is....practice. I could help you out, if you want.”

“Uhm, how exactly.”

“I'll show you. Why don't you come with me?” She said, and abruptly slipped her shoe back on and stood up.

It took him a little longer to stand up. He felt like he had had seven beers, not one. As he stumbled out of the bar, he just looked like another patron who had had one too many. As they got into her car, though, he realized that something was seriously wrong. And that's when the drug that Nichole had slipped in his drink overpowered him and he finally passed out.

- - -

Jill found herself, that Saturday afternoon, walking with Nichole into a nondescript building downtown. They walked past a doorman who looked more like a security guard, down a flight of stairs, and into the dungeon.

They took the “employee” entrance so that no one would see her. Jill had worn her workout gear, including her grungy sneakers and white socks, as instructed by Nichole. They walked down a corridor lined with numbered rooms and entered one.

Jill stood back and took stock of the room. The walls were lined with bondage devices, and in the middle of the room was a large table with padding and multiple points of restraint. The room was otherwise empty.

“Wait here while I get dressed. Then we will have some fun.”

As she waited for Nichole, she walked around the room. She hesitantly touched the restraints, feeling the warm leather. She tried to picture all the things that have happened in this room. She wondered what Nichole had done here.

When Nichole walked into the room, Jill practically did a double take. Instead of her usual jeans and sweatshirt, Nichole was wearing thigh high black patent leather boots, a leather miniskirt and halter top. She now stood about 3 inches taller, standing almost even to Jill.

“Shall we?”

“Wait....what exactly are we going to do?”

“Well, I have the client next door. He has requested a really long session. In fact, one of the new girls just finished a session with a few minutes ago. Now don't be alarmed by the, er, position you find him in. And don't worry about being seen, he is totally blindfolded and will remain so the entire time. Once I get started, you can sit back and watch. Or, if you want.....you can get involved. We will see how it goes.”

Jill was so nervous she was shaking. But it was a good kind of nervous energy. She was actually looking forward to it. And since the guy had paid for this, he obviously really wanted it. So it wasn't really torture at all. Actually it was a great way to get introduced to the fetish world. She flexed her toes in her shoes and felt how sweaty they were. Then she followed Nichole out of the room, down the hall, and into the room.

* * *

The room was empty, with the notable exception of the naked man tied up to the far wall. Well, he was almost naked. He had a hood on, one of those leather hoods that Jill had seen on BDSM websites. She could only make out his nose, which protruded from the hood. His arms and legs were spread far apart, and restrained to the wall. He seemed to be arching forward, and realized that right in the middle of his back the wall jutted out, so that his ribs were sticking out.

Nichole walked over to him and pressed a button on the wall, and a heat lamp activated above him.

“Don't worry, he has ear plugs in, too, so he can't hear us either. You can say anything you like and he won't hear a peep,” Nichole said.

For her part, Nichole couldn't wait to get her hands on John. After she drugged him at the bar, she brought him here to “recover.” He slept most of the night, and when he started to stir this morning she had restrained him here before leaving to get Jill.

“What is the...heat lamp for?”

“Oh that was an idea I got from another client. It makes the skin even more sensitive. Especially if you hands are cold,” Nichole could barely contain her excitement. On a table next to him was a bowl filled with ice, which she plunged her hands into.

“Right now he is waiting for us to start, but he has no idea when we will. The first touch is very important. It sets the....tone. Here, grab some ice to get your hands cold. We can start on him at the same time, so he knows immediately that there are two of us. At least two. For all he knows, there could be ten of us about to tickle him. He'd love that,” Nichole said, passing Jill a handful of ice cubes.

Jill accepted the ice cubes, and stared at them in her hands. There was something familiar about the man tied up in front of her, but she couldn't place it. This was all happening very quickly, but then again, if this is what he wanted....

“Are we also going to, uhm, play with his sock fetish?” Jill asked.

“Well, right now he is gagged with one of my dirty socks, so that's a start. Oh, and even though he can't hear you, refer to him only as 'slave' from now on. Kind of a house rule. Ready?”

Jill was ready. They positioned themselves on either side of John. Nichole expertly placed each of her index fingers on each side of his vulnerable ribcage. The response was immediate. His body tensed and his head flung from side to side.

As Nichole added her other fingers to his ribs, Jill placed her fingers on his thighs, and relished in the response she got. If just the softest touch was having this effect, she wondered how he would respond to a full-on tickling.

“Oh, and one more thing. His most ticklish spots are his armpits and his feet. So let's slowly tickle our way to those spots and then really let him have it,” Nichole said.

Jill spider tickled her way down his thighs. She could hear him screaming into his gag, and could tell she was doing a good job. She wondered what he was thinking now, or if he could even think. She glanced up at Nichole, who was lightly tickling in circles around his armpits. Nichole had a transfixed look on her face, her lips curled into a tight smile as she tickled. Jill marveled at her friend, at the power she was demonstrating at that moment. She turned her focus back to what she was doing. She wanted to make sure that he knew where she was heading, but wanted to prolong it as much as possible. She lightly tickled the backs of his knees, and he almost buckled as she did so. She liked this response so much, she decided to focus all her fingers there. The effect was instantaneous. Nichole even paused what she was doing to see what was driving him so crazy.

“Wow, keep doing that. We are going to have to keep that spot in mind.”

“Yeh he is really sensitive there. How much longer should we go before giving him a break?”

“He can take it. I told you, its amazing how much he can withstand. And the best part is, he loves every minute of it,” Nichole said, and resumed tickling just at the edges of his armpits, the smile still on her face.

John was hating every minute of it. He was in pure ticklish hell. Not being able to see, hear, or say anything only heightened his ticklishness. When the tickling behind his knees started, he couldn't even manage to keep standing. All his weight fell on this bound arms. As if sensing this, whoever was tickling his ribs picked that moment to unleash a ticklish assault on his armpits. He thought he would pass out. In fact, he wished for it. But the tickling just kept on going.

Nichole stopped tickling him, and after a few more torturous seconds Jill realized that Nichole had stopped and did as well. They stood back and watched his body continue to shake, watching him breathe hard to catch his breath. Jill stepped close and gave him another quick tickle, “just to throw him off,” she said.

“Now that we have got him going, let's play with him a little,” Nichole said, as she started to unzip her boots. She removed both her socks. Jill could see that they were extremely dirty.

“Feel this,” Nichole said, offering her one of her socks. A little hesitantly, Jill reached out to feel the damp, practically wet fabric.

“These boots trap the sweat. Most of my slaves would do anything to just to feel this. So let's reward him, and give him something to think about while we tickle him next.”

She walked up to John and again gave a quick tickle to his ribs. Then another tickle. Soon he was thrashing again. Then she raised her hands up to his head, and slowly pressed the dirty socks again his nose.

John knew immediately what was being pressed on his face, and despite the suffering he had just endured, he could feel himself getting hard.

“Wow, that was quick,” Jill said. “How does he know what it is?”

“Oh, he knows. Just the feeling of the fabric would probably be enough, but the smell is another giveaway,” Nichole was slowly dragging the dirty socks back and forth across his nose, as he turned his face to try to follow it.

“Can.....can I try?' Jill asked.

“Sure, but why don't you use your own socks. We can see if he can tell the difference.”

Jill hesitated, but slipped her sneakers off, and slid each of her socks off. She could feel how damp they were. She walked over to the bound slave, as Nichole stepped back.

“Tickle him a little first, to warm him up.”

Jill had an idea. She started to run her damp socks across his bound arms, down from his wrist towards his armpits. He squirmed at the new sensation. When she got to his armpit, she stopped and started again at his wrists. On the third (or was it fourth?) time, when she got to his pits she tickled him hard for a full minute. Nichole had been right – it really was addicting. She could feel all his energy trying to get away from the tickling, and all the power she had over him. She was mesmerized. When she stopped, she couldn't help giving one more little tickle and watching him squirm. Then she waited, and waited, and finally pressed her sweaty socks again his nose. She watched as his dick started to twitch again. He was still breathing hard, taking in full breaths through her socks.

“That's really amazing,” she said. “But why doesn't he get hard when we tickle him?”

“It's not easy to keep an erection going through tickling. I use tickling a lot for that exact purpose.”

As Jill continued to tickle John and make him smell her socks, Nichole surreptitiously checked her phone. On the screen was an image of Jill tickling John. Many clients ask for videos of their sessions to relive their torments over and over, and Nichole could barely wait to show this to John. To make him think that it was Jill who had done this to him. Her plan was working out even better than she had hoped. By alternating tickling with sock worship, she was hoping to associate the two in John's mind. And once John saw this video he would think Jill was a crazy sadist, and come crawling to Nichole....who would know exactly what to do. She put her phone away. For now, what she really wanted to do, was to tickle him some more. A lot more, actually.

To be continued.
 
Dang, John is in for a rough time. And Nichole is quite the schemer. Great story! Can't wait for the next part!
 
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