Hi guys!
Haven't posted for a while, and wondered if anyone would be interested in this part of a story I started to write - I haven't finished it yet, but if anyone's interested I will do and post it here! Let me know!
The characters are fictional (and over 18), although this is a fantasy I have about a woman I work with
“No, NOO!! Don’t tickle..my..feeEEEEEEEEE-HE-HE-HE-HE-HE-HEEEET!!!!!” she screamed before once again lapsing into silent laughter and tears began to form at the corners of her eyes. I ran the long, white feather ever so gently over the soles of her right foot, slowly circling up towards her toes. I could hear her struggling for breath as her laughter got heavier still, and I could see her legs buckling as she desperately tried to move away from the torture on her soles. But I didn’t stop. She couldn’t move, being bound as she was; on her back, with her legs up at a 90 degree angle and her ankles trapped in tight stocks.
She opened her eyes for a second, took a deep breath and then screamed again as I gently pushed the feather under her toes, slowly dragging along her foot one way, then another, then back again. She was buckling less now – she was getting tired. That beautiful point when she had no strength left, and realised there was nothing at all she could do but lay there while I tickled her beautiful feet, was coming.
I paused for a second while I switched the feather to my other hand. I watched as her laughter started to die down slowly, and she managed to get control again. The tears were by now running down the sides of her face, and her cheeks had a lovely red glow. She opened her eyes as she gulped in air, grateful for the reprieve. My eyes roved down over her chest to where her shirt lay unbuttoned, exposing her large, perfect breasts, drenched in sweat. By now her nipples were rock hard and erect, making me struggle even more to control myself.
“Please…” she said between gulps of air, snapping me back from my admiration of her body. “Please…I can’t…I neeNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA!!!” she screamed again as I gently ran the feather up her left sole. Her screams quickly returned to silent laughter as I gently ran the feather down her sole, around her heel, and then gently and slowly back up, across her perfect sole, towards her toes. She could feel where I was going next, and desperately tried to speak through her laughter.
“NO….NO..ahahah..N..PLEASE!!” she screamed. I gently ran the feather over her sole, waiting. She couldn’t speak anymore, she simply laughed while shaking her head at me, hoping I wouldn’t do it. I did – I ran the feather up under her beautiful toes, first to the right, under her big toe, then gently across to her little toe. Then back again. Then again. Then again. She wanted to scream, to beg me to stop – I could see it. But she couldn’t – she was barely even buckling against the tickling by now. She was worn out, and my favourite moment was approaching. Her arms stopped pulling at the restraints on her wrists, her head stopped thrashing around. Her mouth was wide open, her chest heaving as her body was racked with silent laughter. Her perfect ass stopped thrusting as she tried to free herself – even her foot stopped moving. She simply lay there, devoid of fight and energy, silent laughs pouring out of her as I ran the feather left and right under her toes, occasionally doing a figure of 8 onto her sole, then going back again.
After a few seconds I stopped to let her rest. I watched the silent laughter continue even after I’d stopped tickling, showing how complete her demolition at the hands of my tickling had been. I watched a couple more tears run down her cheek, the red glow in her cheeks even stronger now. I looked at her gorgeous feet, feeling my already rock hard cock stiffen more instantly. They were perfect – I couldn’t describe them any other way. They were small, maybe a size 4 or 5, with small, perfectly straight toes. She’d painted her toe nails a deep red, knowing that I’d like it. I let my eyes run down her toes, which ended on a small but flawless sole. The skin wasn’t completely soft, but was a little tougher; the feet of someone who was barefoot a lot. Given that she was a gymnast, this wasn’t surprising. My eyes roved further down to her heel, large and red, and also flawless. I licked my lips as I imagined what those feet would taste like, and how she’d laugh when my tongue was running over those lovely soles. Soon, I told myself, soon…
A slight whimper brought me back to reality. She looked at me, finally calming down. Her face was still streaked with tears and a light sheen of sweat covered her skin. Her cheeks were rosy red, and her short, dirty-blonde hair slightly matted to her forehead. She looked at me, a big smile on her face. She’d begged, she’d pleaded, she’d screamed so loud I wasn’t sure I wasn’t hurting her. And yet she had loved every second. And that look said something else. As I sat there, rock hard, desperate to come all over her feet but at the same time wanting to tickle more screams out of this beautiful girl, and she laid there, tied down to a bench, wrists in leather restraints, shirt wide open, utterly exhausted, that look said one thing and one thing only. She wanted more.
Haven't posted for a while, and wondered if anyone would be interested in this part of a story I started to write - I haven't finished it yet, but if anyone's interested I will do and post it here! Let me know!
The characters are fictional (and over 18), although this is a fantasy I have about a woman I work with
“No, NOO!! Don’t tickle..my..feeEEEEEEEEE-HE-HE-HE-HE-HE-HEEEET!!!!!” she screamed before once again lapsing into silent laughter and tears began to form at the corners of her eyes. I ran the long, white feather ever so gently over the soles of her right foot, slowly circling up towards her toes. I could hear her struggling for breath as her laughter got heavier still, and I could see her legs buckling as she desperately tried to move away from the torture on her soles. But I didn’t stop. She couldn’t move, being bound as she was; on her back, with her legs up at a 90 degree angle and her ankles trapped in tight stocks.
She opened her eyes for a second, took a deep breath and then screamed again as I gently pushed the feather under her toes, slowly dragging along her foot one way, then another, then back again. She was buckling less now – she was getting tired. That beautiful point when she had no strength left, and realised there was nothing at all she could do but lay there while I tickled her beautiful feet, was coming.
I paused for a second while I switched the feather to my other hand. I watched as her laughter started to die down slowly, and she managed to get control again. The tears were by now running down the sides of her face, and her cheeks had a lovely red glow. She opened her eyes as she gulped in air, grateful for the reprieve. My eyes roved down over her chest to where her shirt lay unbuttoned, exposing her large, perfect breasts, drenched in sweat. By now her nipples were rock hard and erect, making me struggle even more to control myself.
“Please…” she said between gulps of air, snapping me back from my admiration of her body. “Please…I can’t…I neeNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA!!!” she screamed again as I gently ran the feather up her left sole. Her screams quickly returned to silent laughter as I gently ran the feather down her sole, around her heel, and then gently and slowly back up, across her perfect sole, towards her toes. She could feel where I was going next, and desperately tried to speak through her laughter.
“NO….NO..ahahah..N..PLEASE!!” she screamed. I gently ran the feather over her sole, waiting. She couldn’t speak anymore, she simply laughed while shaking her head at me, hoping I wouldn’t do it. I did – I ran the feather up under her beautiful toes, first to the right, under her big toe, then gently across to her little toe. Then back again. Then again. Then again. She wanted to scream, to beg me to stop – I could see it. But she couldn’t – she was barely even buckling against the tickling by now. She was worn out, and my favourite moment was approaching. Her arms stopped pulling at the restraints on her wrists, her head stopped thrashing around. Her mouth was wide open, her chest heaving as her body was racked with silent laughter. Her perfect ass stopped thrusting as she tried to free herself – even her foot stopped moving. She simply lay there, devoid of fight and energy, silent laughs pouring out of her as I ran the feather left and right under her toes, occasionally doing a figure of 8 onto her sole, then going back again.
After a few seconds I stopped to let her rest. I watched the silent laughter continue even after I’d stopped tickling, showing how complete her demolition at the hands of my tickling had been. I watched a couple more tears run down her cheek, the red glow in her cheeks even stronger now. I looked at her gorgeous feet, feeling my already rock hard cock stiffen more instantly. They were perfect – I couldn’t describe them any other way. They were small, maybe a size 4 or 5, with small, perfectly straight toes. She’d painted her toe nails a deep red, knowing that I’d like it. I let my eyes run down her toes, which ended on a small but flawless sole. The skin wasn’t completely soft, but was a little tougher; the feet of someone who was barefoot a lot. Given that she was a gymnast, this wasn’t surprising. My eyes roved further down to her heel, large and red, and also flawless. I licked my lips as I imagined what those feet would taste like, and how she’d laugh when my tongue was running over those lovely soles. Soon, I told myself, soon…
A slight whimper brought me back to reality. She looked at me, finally calming down. Her face was still streaked with tears and a light sheen of sweat covered her skin. Her cheeks were rosy red, and her short, dirty-blonde hair slightly matted to her forehead. She looked at me, a big smile on her face. She’d begged, she’d pleaded, she’d screamed so loud I wasn’t sure I wasn’t hurting her. And yet she had loved every second. And that look said something else. As I sat there, rock hard, desperate to come all over her feet but at the same time wanting to tickle more screams out of this beautiful girl, and she laid there, tied down to a bench, wrists in leather restraints, shirt wide open, utterly exhausted, that look said one thing and one thing only. She wanted more.
