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"A Crime of Passion" (F/F)

nariac

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Jan 11, 2006
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My first story. Hope you enjoy! Set around the 18th Century, in London.

Hannah regained consciousness slowly, and blinked her eyes blearily as she realised she was lying on her back. She could not see – something was tied over her face. A blindfold. She tried to scream for help, but found her mouth filled with a hard smooth ball. It tasted like wood, and seemed to be tied around her head. Oh my god, what’s happening to me? She squirmed helplessly, her wrists and ankles bound behind her back. She felt cold cobblestones under her hands. Then she remembered the evening’s drinking in the tavern. The ale had flowed freely, as had the wine, and that young girl who had seemed so friendly had always insisted on buying more. Then the memories became dim, and confused. Suddenly, Hannah stiffened in her bonds. She heard someone clear their throat next to her. She was not alone.

Anne was annoyed. She had gone to a lot of trouble buying drinks and pretending to be friends with this naïve young noblewoman who thought she could be one of the people. Now that she had managed to drug her and guide her into an alley to rob her, there was nothing of value to be found in the wretched woman’s purse. Anne looked at her trussed up captive warily, who was lying on her back on the cold cobblestones of the alley, but she seemed to be unconscious still. That was all to the good, as the woman – Hannah, that was her name – was much taller than Anne and probably far stronger. Well she’s no threat now that’s for sure, Anne thought, reassuring herself. The tall girl was very securely bound.

Hannah jerked in her bonds as she felt the light touch of fingers on her sides. There was a gasp from next to her. “So, you are awake,” a voice said. She recognised Anne, the girl who had befriended her in the tavern. “Well you’re not going anywhere so you may as well stay still. I won’t hurt you.” What the hell are you doing to me? Hannah thought in panic, as the fingers returned and slid up under her blouse, against her bare skin. She squirmed, but it was highly uncomfortable to do so. Ropes were bound around her wrists and ankles. Her ankles were given some protection by her long white stockings, but the bare skin of her wrists was chafed by the rope. The fingers slid further up her sides, almost as if searching. You have my purse, what do you want now? The tickling sensation made her arch her back reflexively, and another rope bit into her, and she gasped. This rope ran snugly across her crotch.

Anne was running out of patience. The alley was deserted, rubbish strewn, and empty, but it wouldn’t stay that way forever. She needed to find where the damn woman had hidden her gold so she could escape before the night watchmen found her. Her fingers explored the squirming woman’s sides. No hidden purse. Then she felt something, a leather strap it seemed. Her fingers stroked it. No, not leather, much softer. Lace? The straps ran around the sides of the woman’s body and across her chest. Anne followed it with her fingers, under the blouse, and found what felt like two pouches. Clever, she’s wearing the purses over her breasts. She smirked as Hannah squirmed desperately, and slid her fingers up under the pouches. Then she frowned. There was no clinking of coins. There did not seem to be anything inside the pouches at all for that matter, they were far too thin.

Hannah had wriggled involuntarily as the fingers slid over her tummy. The rope tied across her crotch seemed to have knots in it, and was pressed far too tightly against her lace panties. Wriggling was not helping her to get loose, although it might help her get off. Then, that thought process was rudely cut short, as Hannah felt Anne’s fingers slide up under her bra. She must still think I have money. It was a terrifying thought because it was true. Hannah was not so much a fool as to have kept her big money in a purse. The leather pouch had some silver, and a fair bit of copper. Enough to convince a thief they had taken what they wanted. Hannah’s gold coins were hidden somewhere much more safe, somewhere no thief would think to look. They were in her socks.

Anne’s fingers moved desperately under the ridiculously lacy undergarment. There was nothing but soft, warm flesh. Her fingers touched upon something hard, and she felt a moment’s excitement, but it was not a coin. It was a nipple. She scowled and pinched it hard, which made her captive gasp and thrash about wildly. Anne withdrew her hands, startled, as Hannah managed to roll over onto her chest. So, I guess she doesn’t like her breasts being touched. Tough luck for her. When Anne had held an actual job, carrying tankards of ale to the unruly patrons of countless inns, she had been groped enough times. You want to be one of the people, my lady? It starts here.

Hannah gasped for breath against her gag. The cold, damp cobblestones were soothing as they pressed against her tender nipples. The blouse and the bra beneath it were both very thin, and the stone was a welcome protection compared to what had come before. Thinking about the way those fingers had caressed her breasts and tickled her nipples made her sweaty toes curl, and she felt a clink from inside her socks. The coins. Don’t let her know they’re there. She tried to remain still.

Anne sat back on the cold cobblestones and rested for a moment, staring at her bound captive. Even drunk, the tall girl was strong, and had been difficult to subdue. Despite her stature, she was still pretty. Those big hands were still slim and elegant, with their long fingers. It wasn’t fair. As well as having money, this noble had strength and looks too. Some people had everything, Anne reflected with disgust. Still, if Hannah didn’t have gold, she certainly had well-tailored clothes. Those shoes looked to be high quality leather. She scooted closer to sit by her captive’s bound feet, and began to ease them off. The bound woman thrashed about wildly again, almost more so than when Anne had stroked her nipples. Maybe she has ticklish feet as well, she thought with a smirk as she pulled the shoes off. Anne pulled her own battered boots off and slipped her small feet into Hannah’s expensive looking leather shoes. They were far too large, she noted with disgust. Still, they would likely sell for something. Anne smirked at her captive, and reached out with her dainty fingers to tickle the woman’s large feet in their white stockings. She froze. There was something hard inside the socks. Round and hard like metal discs.

Hannah whimpered a little as her shoes were pulled off. She couldn’t even squirm around to try to keep them on, the crotch rope had rubbed her until she was moist. She simply lay still, and hoped the bloody girl would be content with stealing her patent leather shoes. The damn things pinched her long toes anyway, it wouldn’t be so bad to lose them. Then she felt what she had been dreading, as Anne’s fingers danced across her stockings, and stopped, resting on something.

The feet squirmed, and tried to cover each other as Anne let her fingers run up and down the sweaty soles of Hannah’s socks. A layer of fat coins clinked under the fabric. Very clever. But how to remove them? The stockings ran all the way down to Hannah’s thighs, and the tight rope binding her ankles held them on. Untying the ankles would allow Anne to pull the socks off, but Hannah might then be able to run. Then Anne sighed. It would be a shame to ruin such valuable clothes, but the money was worth more. She drew her pocket knife.

Hannah covered the sole of her left foot with her right foot, and clenched her long toes inside her socks. Go on, untie my legs. Then I’ll show you. Then she felt a strange sensation, as the girl gripped the toes of her socks and pulled, stretching the fabric as far as it would go. There was a sound of tearing fabric, and suddenly her toes were cold. Cold and very bare. She’s cut the toes off my socks, she thought in horror. Hannah felt fingertips on her long toes, as they tried to slip into her socks. She thrashed her feet about, squirming them around, covering one with the other when Anne tried to get her fingers into the socks.

Anne sat back in fury, and dug through her bag. She had more rope, that was one thing which was always cheap, but she would need string for this. She cut off a long thin length, and turned back to the feet, which were now crossed one over the other. She has such long toes, Anne thought, looking at how tightly they were curled. Just makes it easier to tie them together though. She made the string into a loop, and began the slow, patient process of trying to wrap it around the woman’s big toes.

Hannah knew what was coming when she felt the string being sawed between her curled toes, and moved her feet desperately back and forth, trying to dislodge the string. Each time that noose encircled her big toes, she managed to wriggle them free. But she was blindfolded and hogtied. There could only be one winner in this situation. She managed to resist for nearly three minutes, her long slender feet thrashing wildly from side to side, but Anne only needed to be lucky once. At last, Hannah felt the thin loop of string begin to slide down around her big toes. She bucked and heaved wildly, her toes straining, spreading wide and flexing desperately, but the noose slid lower bit by bit, tightening around her squirming toes. As the string was wound around her long toes and tied firmly, she knew it was the beginning of the end.

Anne slid her fingers over the wriggling toes and deep inside the torn socks. There was the gold. She removed each coin carefully and pocketed it. They were slightly damp, probably with the woman’s sweat, Anne assumed. Wearing coins in one’s socks for a whole evening of drinking in a tavern no longer seemed smart to her, it seemed like torture. As her fingers slid over the woman’s long soles, Anne could almost feel the imprints the hard metal had made in the soft sweaty skin. For a moment she felt almost sorry for the person she was robbing, and she moved her fingers around inside the socks to hold the sides of the captive feet, so her thumbs could rub the soles gently, massaging them.

Hannah had been trying to repress the shudders that wracked her body each time the girl’s fingers slid inside her socks, gliding over her ticklish soles, to steal another coin from deeper within. It was maddening the way they did it, an almost dainty caress which seemed calculated to tickle and humiliate. It was then she felt a surprising sensation. Slow, gentle rubbing on her soles. What are you doing? Hannah squirmed in her bonds as the thumbs pressed almost sensually into her tender arches, and she shivered as they slid easily up and down her sweaty soles, before rubbing the undersides of her curled toes. Tingles ran down her legs into her pussy. She shifted and the crotch rope dug into her juicy slit again, forcing a weak moan from her lips.

Anne stared at her captive. Did she just moan? Does she like this? After the amount of time Anne had wasted trying to find the damn woman’s money, the last thing she was going to do was pleasure her. Within the socks, she curled her fingers against the relaxed, helpless soles, and began to tickle. As the trussed up woman squealed mutely through her gag, Anne slowly worked over every inch of the huge, defenceless feet, from the heels all the way to the writhing toes. She paid special attention to the soft tender soles, which had been made even more sensitive by the massage. As the feet flexed, she could feel how the smooth skin became wrinkled, and Anne dragged her fingernails across the moist sweaty soles, relishing how Hannah shuddered under such torture. Anne noticed how Hannah’s long pretty toes had curled again, as if that would do any good. The big toes were tied, however, so they couldn’t curl. They were pointed straight towards Anne’s lips.

The tickling was forcing Hannah to squirm against her will, the knots in the rope gliding back and forth against her soaked panties. If it continued, the only question would be whether she would cum or pee first. Her tender arches were caressed without mercy, and she strained against the rope, her bound hands clenched into helpless fists. Her fingers were unable to reach her heels, let alone protect her long soles. All she could do was drool helplessly around the gag as fingernails dragged against her sweaty feet. She arched her back, suppressing a giggle, but then she felt something warm and wet on her big toes and her eyes widened in horror. No, no, you can’t be doing that! But she was. Anne’s lips had wrapped themselves around Hannah’s toes and were sucking them. It was the ultimate humiliation. Hannah had always been sensitive about her feet, especially their size and how ticklish they were. She never let anyone even see them if she could help it, and now when she knew they were embarrassingly sweaty, her toes were being sucked. She could only feel the sensations, yet even blindfolded, she found herself picturing Anne's small fingers stroking her moist soles, those full lips sliding up and down her glistening toes, sucking and sucking. It was too much. She gasped, and it was not with pain.

Anne didn’t understand the urge that had compelled her to suck the woman’s toes. Perhaps it was how they were tied, and helpless. Or how they had been pointing at her mouth. Maybe it was simple curiosity. She was discovering however, that she liked it. She liked the way they wriggled in her mouth as she slid her tongue over their tips. She liked the way they tasted. Warm, and salty. Most of all, Anne liked the sounds Hannah was making as her lips glided easily up and down the long toes. Her fingers had been gentle in their hiding place within Hannah's socks, stroking the woman’s soles while she sucked the toes, but now they curled and continued to tickle, the fingernails ravishing the deep soft wrinkles in a devastatingly sensual caress.

For Hannah, the twin sensations were unbelievable. The suckling on her toes was so sensual and so slow it threatened to make her cum, yet the tickling of her soles was so teasing she could not help but laugh breathlessly into the gag. She writhed in her bonds, her wrists and ankles straining uselessly, her erect nipples rubbing against the fabric of her loosened bra. Moans mixed with gasps and mingled with giggles. That maddening tongue pushed its way between her toes, caressing them. Teeth were nibbling on their tips. Those cruel fingernails were sensually ravishing every inch of her scrunched soles. As the torture continued, Hannah could feel a warm glow building between her thighs. She thrust against the rope, deliberately grinding those delicious knots against her soaked panties and the tender clit they clung to, rubbing and rubbing. So close now.

Anne pulled the ruined socks all the way back to the ankles, exposing the long, creamy pale soles. She wanted more of that salty taste, and she also wanted to drive the captive woman wild. She closed her eyes as her tongue slid slowly along the moist soles, licking every sweaty wrinkle from the heels to the squirming toes as Hannah thrashed and moaned, seemingly trying to hump the cobblestones. She couldn't resist, and licked faster. She let her tongue wash every inch of those beautiful, defenceless feet until the soles were glistening and the curled toes dripping with saliva. Then her eyes opened wide. The law. I have to get out of here. She looked fondly down at the trussed up woman, who seemed lost in her own pleasure, and pressed her lips against the tied toes in a soft lingering kiss. Then she gave the well-licked soles a last, teasing tickle, caressing the slippery arches, before taking her bag and fleeing into the night.

Hannah didn’t notice her go. She had a far more pressing matter to deal with, and by pressing, she realised it wasn’t. At some point during her squirming, the crotch rope had come loose. She wriggled desperately, but there was nothing to rub herself against any more, the cobbled road maddeningly smooth beneath her. Her nipples almost ached with lust and she whimpered in frustration, the cold night’s air chilling her bare feet as they shone in the moonlight. She needed to cum. She needed to cum!

The cobbler’s apprentice had been watching the proceedings for quite a while, and not without interest. He had already cum once, from the safety of his room, as he watched what was being done from his grimy window. By the time he had recovered from that burst of pleasure, he was surprised to see the woman still lying there – her captor apparently having run. Well, no sense leaving that to waste. The other thief had clearly taken everything, but doubtless the woman was wealthy. Maybe she had jewels at home. Certainly more gold. She would no doubt reward him for letting her go.

As he stepped outside the workshop into the alley, he realised he had absent-mindedly picked up one of the brushes his master used to shine shoes. He looked at the woman’s bare feet. They really were very large, he thought as he knelt beside them. His hands lingered on the knots. Maybe just one tickle. He picked up the brush, and ran a fingertip along the bristles. Remember lad, gentle even strokes to deliver a good shine, his master’s voice said. The boy grinned, and began to scrub the defenceless, tingling soles.

Eyes watched the events with interest. Eager hands held items as they waited their turn. The tailor had brought a lint brush, the barber a set of combs. The upholsterer had even bought fine goose feathers. They would end up in the finest pillows within a week, but before that, he had decided to try them on those huge, helpless feet he had seen from his attic window.

A crowd was gathering.






Part Two, The Revenge
 
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Thanks for the feedback, guys. :) I'm sure you'll be pleased to hear that not one, nor two, but three sequel parts are planned for this story, the first one coming ... soon!

Stay tuned. :D
 
Damn what a part one! I read part two first. I love this series! Cannot wait for the finale. Maybe both ladies finally get to cum
 
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