Found it! It dawned on me to search way back machine's archive for the site. Here it is in case anyone else wanted to read it.
The Kinky Burglar
By: The Tickling Fiend
Contents: M>f, bond, tickling, feet
She could only sit there while the masked intruder ransacked her apartment.
A washcloth gag silenced her cries, the blindfold prevented her from
seeing, and she could barely move, he had lashed her to the kitchen chair
so well. Wearing only her string bikini and sandals, as was common for her
during these hot summer months, the cotton cord held her hands crossed
behind the back of the chair with more cord crossing her waist and
crisscrossing her breasts. Her ankles were tied to the front legs of the
chair.
"Are you gonna tell me where you've stashed your jewelry?"
She shook her head.
"Oh yeah, well we'll just see about that!"
He untied her left ankle from the chair leg and pulling it up to the back
leg of the chair, then retied it so her heel was near the seat with her
toes pointed downward. He similarly retied her right ankle.
"Gonna tell me where your jewelry is?" he asked again.
"Uh uh," she shook her head.
"That's okay," her captor smiled. "Your jewelry isn't the main reason I
broke into your place."
"Uh?" she mewed through the gag.
He continued. He began stroking the instep of her left foot, stroking from
the ankle strap down along the thong and over her toes. "I first saw you
two weeks ago, walking across the mall parking lot wearing these beautiful
white sandals and showing off these pretty, sexy feet. From then on, I
just had to possess you and your feet. I wanted your beautiful feet
completely in my power, completely at my mercy."
She squeaked through the gag and began wiggling her foot to keep it away
from his touch.
He smiled, then unbuckled the brass buckle on the ankle strap and slipped
off the sandal, exposing her tender sole. He began stroking the soft
foot-flesh of her left ped, running his fingers gently over the heel and
down across the arch. Her toes curled and the sole crinkled in a vain
attempt to pull away from the probing fingers. She began to whimper
through the gag.
The burglar took a brief break to examine her sandal. Nice flats, with a
white leather insole; wide, white leather straps that buckled around the
ankle and a broad tapered thong. He checked the number on the sole of the
sandal. Size ten.
"You have beautiful soft feet," he remarked with a smile. "BIG, beautiful,
soft feet." Running his forefinger down the outer edge of her foot, he
tweaked her little toe between his thumb and forefinger. She jerked
against her bonds. "Pretty toes, too."
He removed her other sandal, then with some short lengths of twine, secured
her big toes to the chair legs, totally immobilizing her feet but for
wiggling her little toes.
Then, while gently stroking her left sole with his right hand, he began
whispering into her ear.
"You know," he continued, "it's said that a woman's feet are the second
most sensitive part of her body. And there are few things I enjoy more
than playing with a pretty pair of feminine feet. Massaging them, kissing
them, licking them, tickling them. I love dreaming up all kinds of wild
torments for a lady's tender and helpless bare feet."
The she heard him opening kitchen drawers and cupboards, apparently looking
for something. She felt a tug at the little bows of her bikini bottom and
then felt it yanked completely off. His hand slipped over her furry mound
and fingers began manipulating her clit. Her cries against the gag quickly
turned to moans.
She felt something large being slipped into her pussy. She wiggled in the
chair in an attempt to avoid it, but her movement only made it's goal
easier. It took her a second to realize the identity of the object. It
was a cucumber from the refrigerator, it was large and it was *cold*!
Then he positioned himself behind her and began playing with both her feet,
alternating rubbing the pad of his thumb or a fingernail down her delicate
soft soles. She jerked, trying to pull her feet away from the sensation
but it was no use - it only jiggled the vegetable inside her. She realized
its motion was making her hot.
"These feet are so beautiful," he muttered. Then he leaned forward and
kissed both of her soft heels.
She felt him squeeze her big toes between thumb and forefinger.
"These little piggies went to the market," he began. Then he moved to her
number two toes, squeezing and wiggling them. "These little piggies stayed
home..."
She realized what was coming and made a vain attempt to pull her helpless
toes from his grasp. The cucumber's motion and cold presence inside her
accelerated her arousal.
"These little piggies had roast beef..."
She squealed against the gag, her breathing becoming heavy. Her tormentor
only snickered and continued his game.
"These little piggies had none..."
He then ran his fingernails under the curl of her toes. The tickling
sensation seemed to shoot up her legs and collide at her pussy. He
tightened his grip on her little toes and began to squeeze and twist.
"And these little piggies cried 'weeeeeee' and ran all the way home!"
Her pelvic muscles began thrusting in what little play they had in her
bondage and the cucumber's responsive motion drove her the rest of the way.
"MMMMMHHHHHHHH!" she moaned against her gag as the orgasm hit. She slumped
over in the chair, her breathing still heavy.
Her tormentor admired her beautiful form, head slouched over, her long
black hair draped down, matted with sweat. For that matter, her entire
body was covered in sweat.
"My, my," he said. "Don't *you* have responsive feet! I'm really going to
enjoy the next few hours."
She only barely heard his words as the orgasmic fog cleared from her mind.
She lurched against her bonds yet again as the tickling sensation resumed
on her helpless bare soles.
This time it was from one of her hair brushes. The kind with the little
plastic balls on the ends of the bristles. He moved it slowly over her
soles, alternating between her left and right foot - starting at the heel
and pressing as it glided up her arch to the soft area of foot-flesh just
below the ball of her foot - then back.
She continued her valiant struggle, wiggling her toes, thrusting her torso,
screaming against the gag. Her screams turned to moans as the cucumber
began gyrating within her again.
"Your struggles are so sexy," he whispered into her ear. "I bet you'd
struggle even harder if I were rougher on your feet."
She swallowed, nervously shaking her head. "Uh, uh," she grunted through
the gag.
"What kind of goodies do you have in this kitchen that I could use to
torture your feet? Got any ideas?"
She shook her head and whimpered.
"Hmmmm. There's the stove. Maybe I could re-tie you on the counter and
place these pretty feet in a hot skillet. Maybe spread some butter on the
soles. Fry 'em up. I'd bet they'd taste delicious. How's that sound?"
"Uh, uh," she cried against the gag.
"Maybe I could find some needles or thumbtacks? I could torture your feet
for hours with those.
"*I* know what I can do," he said, and began rifling through the drawers.
There was a brief sound of the tap being turned on, then a moment later,
her tormentor returned.
"While that's getting ready, I shouldn't ignore you."
And with that line, he began running the tines of a fork over her helpless
soles.
Again, she tried to pull her bound feet away from the torment but it was no
use. Again, her struggles on served to move the cucumber inside her.
Again, she felt the orgasm slowly building within her.
Apparently satisfied that he'd sufficiently tortured her soles, at least
for now, he began slipping the points of the fork tines between her toes.
She jumped at the sensation, crying, giggling, and squealing behind the gag.
Then came the sound.
It took a few seconds for her to identify it.
It was the whistling coffee pot. The water had reach boiling.
The tickling on her feet stopped.
"Ah," he said, "the water's ready."
Her mind raced ahead to the possible implications.
She heard the distinctive sound of the water being poured into a coffee
cup. Once. Twice.
There was a long pause.
Then it hit.
The sensation was so strong against her arch, she shuddered to think he had
poured that boiling water on her tender foot. She was wrong, but it was
too late. The ice cube had done its work, forcing the flesh of her entire
body to convulse. Her fingers clenched and unclenched. Her toes curled
and uncurled. And the last thrust of her abdomen enabled that vile
vegetable to finish its job.
*Oh, God! I'm coming!* her mind cried.
She screamed against the gag, then fell forward. Her long, sweat-soaked
hair covering her face.
He removed her gag and lifted off the blindfold. With a forefinger he
lifted her face to his. With the free hand he pulled off his ski-mask.
"Your coffee, dear?" he smiled, motioning to the steaming cup on the table
before her. He raised his cup and took a sip.
"You are a sneaky little pervert," she sighed, her breathing slowly
returning to normal.
"And you love me for it."
"Yes," she smiled. "And I'll love you even more after you've tied me to
the bed and used something in me livelier than this cucumber!"
He leaned down and kissed his beautiful, loving, and *very* kinky wife.
FINIS
