malevolend
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This is a continuation of a long-abandoned story, found here:
http://ticklingforum.com/showthread.php?245432-The-Ticklish-Webs-We-Weave-FF-M-F-F
All names and characters are fictional, over 18, etc.
As usual, it's way too long and full of back story.
Oh yeh and full of sock fetish related material.
Hope you enjoy.
***
John had been drugged, bound, brought to an S&M dungeon, and tickle tortured by two women that were very close to him. But the mastermind behind the whole stunt was Nichole. He had been tickled until he passed out, and now he awoke alone, in an empty dungeon room. Well, almost empty. He was naked and groggy. He didn't know where he was, and the last thing he remembered, before being bound, blindfolded, and tickled, was being at a bar....but everything else was a haze.
Now, in front of him, wearing a pleated leather skirt and thigh high shiny black boots, was his girlfriend's roommate Nichole, looking for all the world like a dominatrix.
She...looked amazing.
“So how did you get here?”
“I...I don't know. I just woke up, remember being...uh....tickled.....and then I must have passed out again.”
“Well, it would be hard for me to believe that, John. This is a professional dungeon. We have tight control on what goes on here. No one just 'shows up.' It's all by invite. Don't make up a story just to cover up your reason to be here.”
John was at a loss. Why was he still naked, exactly?
“Wait....why are you here?”
“Well....I have worked here for a while. Keep this between us. Jill has no idea. But I...am a professional dominatrix.”
John was again at a loss. And, noticing her shiny black boots, intrigued.
“What...do you do here?” was about all he could muster.
Knowing he had taken the bait, Nichole moved in to get him hooked.
“Well, all sorts of things. I specialize though....in clients with foot fetishes. More specifically, sock fetishes.”
She watched him squirm, and so couldn't help adding: “Have you ever heard of a sock fetish, John?”
Just saying the word “sock” to him clearly brought out his vulnerability on the matter.
Never mind the fact that she was dressed as a domme, and he was naked. In her dungeon. That he couldn't quite explain how he got there, and felt slightly guilty about it, put him in the perfect position to be dominated.
“John, lots of people come here to live out their fantasies. It is nothing to feel ashamed of.”
“But...I swear...this is nothing I have ever done before! I can't even remember going to sleep last night, let alone...what day is it?”
“John. Stop it. Really. Its unbecoming. Just admit that you are here to live out your fantasies, like everyone else.”
“I'm not! I don't....”
“You dont what? You dont...have a fantasy? Or have a....fetish?”
Now she moved closer to him.
“John, I bet I could figure out your deepest darkest fantasy in less than 5 minutes.”
He was well and truly flummoxed. He had definitely fantasized about Nichole before...she seemed to always be wearing white socks when he was around, and she constantly wiggled her socked feet around, almost as if purposely teasing him.
And here she was, totally in control of him and his situation. He didn't even know how to get out. And those boots....he wondered what was under those boots.
“Under....5 minutes?”
“Probably quicker,” she added, shrugging. “It's kind of my job.”
He wanted so badly to give in to her...but he thought of Jill.
“Aren't....you worried that Jill will find out? About you coming to this dungeon?”
“Jill already knows about...” he cut himself short, realizing what he was about to say.
“About what, John? About you coming here? How many times have you been here? Do you come once a month....once a week? Tell me.”
“I've never been here! Honestly. I must have been set up.”
“John, what I think you really want, is for me to dominate you. For me to find out your fetish, and fulfill your every fantasy. I think you owe it to me to try. Plus, I can't have you telling Jill that I work here. She would freak out and not want to live with me anymore. So I need some...leverage on you.”
This was getting too complicated for John to follow. But he was pretty sure Jill wouldn't like living with a professional sex worker. And he definitely didn't want her finding out about this....
“Here's the deal John. You came here to my place of work, with some crazy story. You don't want Jill finding out about your darkest fantasies...and I don't want Jill finding out about my...extracurricular activities. So, what are we to do?”
John looked at her, blankly.
“I am going to dominate you. For leverage....to make sure this stays between us.”
He was almost convinced.
“Now, lie down on this table.”
Without thinking, he did so, Only when she had his hands chained above his head did this all seem rather backwards. Jill already knew about his sock fetish....but not about the dungeon visit. But he didn't even come here on his own....right?
Now Nichole put his ankles into bonds, and tied them tight. He was completely vulnerable.
She sat on the table between his legs and placed her boots on his chest.
“Most of the time, its a foot fetish. Sometimes a boot fetish, or a nylon fetish, or.....”
She paused. He didn't take the bait. So she tried a different tack.
“John, the girls who you played with first said you liked being tickled.”
His whole body tightened. He was still profoundly sore, both mentally and physically, from that experience.
“No!” he screamed, instinctively.
“Ahhhh. I think the lady doth protest too much.”
And so she started running her nails lightly over his skin.
Dammit, he thought. This was pure stupidity. She was a dominatrix after all...what else did he think she'd do?
She kept up the light tickling, covering his whole torso with both her hands.
She leaned in close to him, whispering in his ear.
“I know you have a sock fetish, John.”
He spasmed. Did a literal double take.
“H-how?”
“Are you kidding? You literally stare at my socked feet whenever you are over.”
There was no denying that.
“And before you ask...I am indeed wearing socks under these boots. In fact...I have worn these socks all week. In my converse...and my workout shoes.....and now these. They....really don't breathe well.”
Despite himself, he was already hard.
“But I have a secret, too, John. I have a fetish.”
He couldn't believe his ears. She had a sock fetish too? This couldn't be happening to him.
Of course, it wasn't.
“It just so happens...that I have an unquenchable desire....to tickle people. Especially when they are extremely ticklish. And especially when they have a fetish I can exploit in the process.”
He gulped.
“Do...you want to see what my socks smell like?”
He nodded his head.
“Then you are about to experience a tickle torture session unlike any other. Those other girls who toyed with you are amateurs. Clients specifically ask for me when they want to be pushed past their limits...way past their limits.”
“Oh I should mention now. Because once I start your tickling, you aren't going to be much of a conversationalist. More of a begging, desperate mess. I have lots of experience with socks fetishists. I consider myself somewhat of an aficionado. So I can, and will, make every one of your fantasies come true.
You just have to accept that you will be mercilessly tickled the entire time.”
With that, and without waiting for confirmation or rebuttal from John, she started her sadistic ritual.
She shoved a pair of socks into his mouth...they were Jills from the last session but he won't be able to tell the difference. She always found that taking away the ability to really laugh aloud and let loose seems to make the torment worse. Another element of control. Another element of suffering. Her goal was to optimize every possible element of his torment. And knowing his intense sock fetish will allow her to have total control over him, so that by the end, he will willingly subject himself to her torments. At which time, he will be Nichole's total and complete slave.
She walked around the table, keeping her fingers lightly touching him the entire time. Her long, red fingernails were perfect for this kind of teasing torment. Never losing contact.. Exploring, teasing, keeping a mental note of where he responded more or where he anticipated the tickling being worse. Of course, she already knew his spots from his last torture session, but the important thing was that he didn't know that.
She enjoyed this part best. The anticipation. Watching her slave realize that there is no way out. There is no way to avoid what is coming. And watching them realize how much she intends to fully torment them....and to thoroughly enjoy it the entire time. Their fear, nervousness, helplessness...it all feeds back into her satisfaction. Making her want to drive them further and further into their inevitable submission.
She walked around the table three times, making John squirm continuously.
He hated this. He felt more and more confined and helpless with each second. Gagged, bound, naked, and constantly squirming from Nichole's light tickles. He was also petrified. What was he doing? How did he let this woman outsmart him into doing exactly what she clearly wanted?
But at the same time....how serious was she about fulfilling his sock fetish fantasies?
Nichole was truly enjoying herself. The only thing she might enjoy more than building the anticipation was her second favorite part, Nichole thought to herself. The absolute best, the most fulfilling part of a torture session, was escalating the torment to the highest level, and keeping it there. After the anticipation, her victims are perfectly set up for this. She attacks, making them beg and scream more than they ever thought possible...and then doesn't slow down. Not for a second. Keeping them at that supreme suffering for longer than they thought possible.
Finally slowing down to let them breathe....before bringing them right back to tickle agony. When they least expect it....
“Well, let's get started, shall we?” Nichole said, before digging both hands into John's waiting and exposed armpits.
The effect was exactly what she wanted. His eyes went wide, his muscles stiffened for a second, before giving in to the sensations. His whole body wracked against the table, but of course it was built for that. He wasn't going anywhere.
She looked right into his eyes, which pleaded back at her. She playfully and condescendingly shook her head at his begging eyes. Of course, he could only manage muffles into his sock gag. So all he had was his eyes....and his pathetic pleading look made her want to bring him to even more suffering. For a final few seconds she picked up the pace even more, flicking different spots, finding one spot that made him shake and then keeping at it, methodically....before finally pausing.
Just for a second. He looked right into her eyes.
Hers beamed with excitement and wickedness.
His pleaded for mercy.
She arched an eyebrow, bringing her fingers to rest in his arms again.
He screwed his eyes tight in anticipation.
“Open your eyes and look at me.”
He did as he was told. And then screwed them tight as he was immediately tickled again.
His whole body ached from his ongoing torment. He couldn't think straight. All he could think about were the sensations in his body, each sensation feeling like a betrayal, his own body so easily succumbing to this woman.
He had to admit. He had never imagined being tickled this much. She knew all his spots, almost like she had explored his body before. In his clouded mind, he wandered if she had talked with whoever had tortured him before. Or even had witnessed it somehow...
She finally relented in her torment. He gasped for air through his nostrils. The socks in his mouth were heavy with sweat and his saliva.
“See, that wasn't so bad, right?”
He couldn't even get words out yet.
“Well, after that, I do think you deserve a reward. One thing though, around here, slaves always have to address me as mistress. Kind of a house rule. Understood?”
“yes....mistress,” he managed.
“Good slave. Now we are going to play a game. It's called: sock or tickle. You get to tell me whether you want socks on your face, or to be tickled.”
He sensed a trap.
“Of course, there are some rules. Whenever I am fulfilling you desire for socks, I will also be keeping you....interested down here.”
With that she gently tugged at his manhood. It responded obligingly.
“Another house rule though. And they are very, extremely strict about this. There are absolutely not orgasms allowed here.
...At least, not for you. And the penalties are quite...severe.”
She grabbed his cock hard, emphasizing her point.
“So when you feel yourself getting close....you really have no choice but to ask for tickling, until you....calm down....enough for more socks.”
She started lightly stroking him. Immediately he realized how horny he was.
“Remember. Under no circumstance will you orgasm. You would * not * enjoy the punishment. Oh, and I don't think I'll be removing your gag. You're just going to have to try to muffle very clearly so I can understand you.”
Without stopping her stroking, she eased herself onto the table, on John's left side. She brought both her boots up and rested them right on his chest.
“Do you want me to take these hot, sweaty boots off?”
“Yes!”
“Yes, what, slave?” she corrected quickly, with a tight squeeze that made him shudder.
“Yes, mistress.”
She unzipped one boot, and then the other. She slowly removed them, one at a time, letting them hit the floor with a solid thud. Then she planted them right back on his chest, wiggling her toes to air them out.
John was looking at possibly the dirtiest, sweatiest socks he had ever seen. Each toe was imprinted with the sweat and dirt of different shoes that she had worn. The heel and ball o f the foot were likewise outlined in sweat. There were black scuff marks from her dominatrix boots. With her flexing and wiggling her toes in those socks so close to him, he became more and more turned on.
She continued to stroke, now a bit faster.
She went on to tell him all the different shoes she had worn that week. And working out. Stuffing the socks into her shoes at the end of the workout to keep them sweaty until the next session. She said she had a session with a sock slave yesterday and simply forgot to change her socks.
Of course, she had been doing all this in anticipation of this exact moment.
“I bet they smell....awful,” she said.
And then she placed both of them directly on his face.
Gagged with socks. And now smothered by the dirtiest pair he had ever seen. It would be fair to say he had never felt so satisfied. The smell was divine. She rubbed each part of her socked foot into his nose and mouth, pushing deeper against his sock gag. He was, simply put, in heaven.
But he was also in trouble. He felt the familiar surge within him and started clenching back the built-up orgasm within him.
“Tickle!”
Of course, his shout was muffled by the sock gag. And she was doing all she could to smother him with her feet.
She played coy, and pretended not to know what he was saying. And instead of stopping her stroking, she upped the pace.
“What was that, slave? Socks? You're already getting socks. You are being very greedy.”
He screamed again and again, tensing all his muscles in his abdomen and pelvis trying to resist the mounting orgasm.
She made him repeat it three times before making a big show of finally understanding him.
“Well, why didn't you say so?”
She took her feet off his face, and although he wanted more he realized that he was a mere stroke or two away from losing total control. She finally released him, and crawled up to him.
She now was straddling his chest, facing him, her legs on either side of him.
“Well, you may think you know what comes next. And in one sense, you are right. Lots of tickling. But watching you get so excited about my socks, and bringing you so close to orgasm, has me feeling left out. I think I want to take advantage of your....predicament, for myself. Open your mouth.”
He obliged. She reached in to take one of the socks out. She made a face when she touched it, soaked now in his saliva. She turned it inside out, and ordered him to stick out his tongue.
Then she placed it over his tongue, so that his tongue was directly against the inside, sweaty toe imprints.
“Hold that there.”
She reversed herself, so now she was facing his body and feet, and slowly brought herself up to his face. Then she lowered herself, placing her clit directly onto his waiting tongue, covered by her best friends dirty sock.
His girlfriend's dirty sock.
Well, former girlfriend, after all this.
She lowered herself down, putting her full weight on him, and ordered him to start licking.
And then she placed her fingers right on his chest, and leaned over so he could feel her hot breath on his stomach, right near his navel.
“This....is going to tickle.”
Then she let loose on him, with her fingers scattering around his upper chest and of course armpits, and her tongue and lips finding sensitive spots on his stomach and sides.
His response was delicious. He tried to buck her off but she only forced herself harder back onto him. His laughter caused him to involuntarily stroke her clit, and she could feel the wet sock rubbing against her. She found she could control his licking, with a forceful tickle in this armpit making him gasp against her.
And so she did that again, and again. Each time, he responded to her tickling ministrations like a puppet, doing exactly what she wanted. She kept attacking this same spot over and over again, trying to get a stronger and more forceful reaction....making her wetter and closer to her own orgasm.
She figured she could probably come three or four times like this before having to let him rest. She didn't want him passing out on her.
"It just occurred to me, that between your gag and being smother by me, I probably won't be able to hear when you call for 'socks' again.
Oh well, it was a fun game while it lasted. I think you're going to like this game even better...
...I know I will.”
http://ticklingforum.com/showthread.php?245432-The-Ticklish-Webs-We-Weave-FF-M-F-F
All names and characters are fictional, over 18, etc.
As usual, it's way too long and full of back story.
Oh yeh and full of sock fetish related material.
Hope you enjoy.
***
John had been drugged, bound, brought to an S&M dungeon, and tickle tortured by two women that were very close to him. But the mastermind behind the whole stunt was Nichole. He had been tickled until he passed out, and now he awoke alone, in an empty dungeon room. Well, almost empty. He was naked and groggy. He didn't know where he was, and the last thing he remembered, before being bound, blindfolded, and tickled, was being at a bar....but everything else was a haze.
Now, in front of him, wearing a pleated leather skirt and thigh high shiny black boots, was his girlfriend's roommate Nichole, looking for all the world like a dominatrix.
She...looked amazing.
“So how did you get here?”
“I...I don't know. I just woke up, remember being...uh....tickled.....and then I must have passed out again.”
“Well, it would be hard for me to believe that, John. This is a professional dungeon. We have tight control on what goes on here. No one just 'shows up.' It's all by invite. Don't make up a story just to cover up your reason to be here.”
John was at a loss. Why was he still naked, exactly?
“Wait....why are you here?”
“Well....I have worked here for a while. Keep this between us. Jill has no idea. But I...am a professional dominatrix.”
John was again at a loss. And, noticing her shiny black boots, intrigued.
“What...do you do here?” was about all he could muster.
Knowing he had taken the bait, Nichole moved in to get him hooked.
“Well, all sorts of things. I specialize though....in clients with foot fetishes. More specifically, sock fetishes.”
She watched him squirm, and so couldn't help adding: “Have you ever heard of a sock fetish, John?”
Just saying the word “sock” to him clearly brought out his vulnerability on the matter.
Never mind the fact that she was dressed as a domme, and he was naked. In her dungeon. That he couldn't quite explain how he got there, and felt slightly guilty about it, put him in the perfect position to be dominated.
“John, lots of people come here to live out their fantasies. It is nothing to feel ashamed of.”
“But...I swear...this is nothing I have ever done before! I can't even remember going to sleep last night, let alone...what day is it?”
“John. Stop it. Really. Its unbecoming. Just admit that you are here to live out your fantasies, like everyone else.”
“I'm not! I don't....”
“You dont what? You dont...have a fantasy? Or have a....fetish?”
Now she moved closer to him.
“John, I bet I could figure out your deepest darkest fantasy in less than 5 minutes.”
He was well and truly flummoxed. He had definitely fantasized about Nichole before...she seemed to always be wearing white socks when he was around, and she constantly wiggled her socked feet around, almost as if purposely teasing him.
And here she was, totally in control of him and his situation. He didn't even know how to get out. And those boots....he wondered what was under those boots.
“Under....5 minutes?”
“Probably quicker,” she added, shrugging. “It's kind of my job.”
He wanted so badly to give in to her...but he thought of Jill.
“Aren't....you worried that Jill will find out? About you coming to this dungeon?”
“Jill already knows about...” he cut himself short, realizing what he was about to say.
“About what, John? About you coming here? How many times have you been here? Do you come once a month....once a week? Tell me.”
“I've never been here! Honestly. I must have been set up.”
“John, what I think you really want, is for me to dominate you. For me to find out your fetish, and fulfill your every fantasy. I think you owe it to me to try. Plus, I can't have you telling Jill that I work here. She would freak out and not want to live with me anymore. So I need some...leverage on you.”
This was getting too complicated for John to follow. But he was pretty sure Jill wouldn't like living with a professional sex worker. And he definitely didn't want her finding out about this....
“Here's the deal John. You came here to my place of work, with some crazy story. You don't want Jill finding out about your darkest fantasies...and I don't want Jill finding out about my...extracurricular activities. So, what are we to do?”
John looked at her, blankly.
“I am going to dominate you. For leverage....to make sure this stays between us.”
He was almost convinced.
“Now, lie down on this table.”
Without thinking, he did so, Only when she had his hands chained above his head did this all seem rather backwards. Jill already knew about his sock fetish....but not about the dungeon visit. But he didn't even come here on his own....right?
Now Nichole put his ankles into bonds, and tied them tight. He was completely vulnerable.
She sat on the table between his legs and placed her boots on his chest.
“Most of the time, its a foot fetish. Sometimes a boot fetish, or a nylon fetish, or.....”
She paused. He didn't take the bait. So she tried a different tack.
“John, the girls who you played with first said you liked being tickled.”
His whole body tightened. He was still profoundly sore, both mentally and physically, from that experience.
“No!” he screamed, instinctively.
“Ahhhh. I think the lady doth protest too much.”
And so she started running her nails lightly over his skin.
Dammit, he thought. This was pure stupidity. She was a dominatrix after all...what else did he think she'd do?
She kept up the light tickling, covering his whole torso with both her hands.
She leaned in close to him, whispering in his ear.
“I know you have a sock fetish, John.”
He spasmed. Did a literal double take.
“H-how?”
“Are you kidding? You literally stare at my socked feet whenever you are over.”
There was no denying that.
“And before you ask...I am indeed wearing socks under these boots. In fact...I have worn these socks all week. In my converse...and my workout shoes.....and now these. They....really don't breathe well.”
Despite himself, he was already hard.
“But I have a secret, too, John. I have a fetish.”
He couldn't believe his ears. She had a sock fetish too? This couldn't be happening to him.
Of course, it wasn't.
“It just so happens...that I have an unquenchable desire....to tickle people. Especially when they are extremely ticklish. And especially when they have a fetish I can exploit in the process.”
He gulped.
“Do...you want to see what my socks smell like?”
He nodded his head.
“Then you are about to experience a tickle torture session unlike any other. Those other girls who toyed with you are amateurs. Clients specifically ask for me when they want to be pushed past their limits...way past their limits.”
“Oh I should mention now. Because once I start your tickling, you aren't going to be much of a conversationalist. More of a begging, desperate mess. I have lots of experience with socks fetishists. I consider myself somewhat of an aficionado. So I can, and will, make every one of your fantasies come true.
You just have to accept that you will be mercilessly tickled the entire time.”
With that, and without waiting for confirmation or rebuttal from John, she started her sadistic ritual.
She shoved a pair of socks into his mouth...they were Jills from the last session but he won't be able to tell the difference. She always found that taking away the ability to really laugh aloud and let loose seems to make the torment worse. Another element of control. Another element of suffering. Her goal was to optimize every possible element of his torment. And knowing his intense sock fetish will allow her to have total control over him, so that by the end, he will willingly subject himself to her torments. At which time, he will be Nichole's total and complete slave.
She walked around the table, keeping her fingers lightly touching him the entire time. Her long, red fingernails were perfect for this kind of teasing torment. Never losing contact.. Exploring, teasing, keeping a mental note of where he responded more or where he anticipated the tickling being worse. Of course, she already knew his spots from his last torture session, but the important thing was that he didn't know that.
She enjoyed this part best. The anticipation. Watching her slave realize that there is no way out. There is no way to avoid what is coming. And watching them realize how much she intends to fully torment them....and to thoroughly enjoy it the entire time. Their fear, nervousness, helplessness...it all feeds back into her satisfaction. Making her want to drive them further and further into their inevitable submission.
She walked around the table three times, making John squirm continuously.
He hated this. He felt more and more confined and helpless with each second. Gagged, bound, naked, and constantly squirming from Nichole's light tickles. He was also petrified. What was he doing? How did he let this woman outsmart him into doing exactly what she clearly wanted?
But at the same time....how serious was she about fulfilling his sock fetish fantasies?
Nichole was truly enjoying herself. The only thing she might enjoy more than building the anticipation was her second favorite part, Nichole thought to herself. The absolute best, the most fulfilling part of a torture session, was escalating the torment to the highest level, and keeping it there. After the anticipation, her victims are perfectly set up for this. She attacks, making them beg and scream more than they ever thought possible...and then doesn't slow down. Not for a second. Keeping them at that supreme suffering for longer than they thought possible.
Finally slowing down to let them breathe....before bringing them right back to tickle agony. When they least expect it....
“Well, let's get started, shall we?” Nichole said, before digging both hands into John's waiting and exposed armpits.
The effect was exactly what she wanted. His eyes went wide, his muscles stiffened for a second, before giving in to the sensations. His whole body wracked against the table, but of course it was built for that. He wasn't going anywhere.
She looked right into his eyes, which pleaded back at her. She playfully and condescendingly shook her head at his begging eyes. Of course, he could only manage muffles into his sock gag. So all he had was his eyes....and his pathetic pleading look made her want to bring him to even more suffering. For a final few seconds she picked up the pace even more, flicking different spots, finding one spot that made him shake and then keeping at it, methodically....before finally pausing.
Just for a second. He looked right into her eyes.
Hers beamed with excitement and wickedness.
His pleaded for mercy.
She arched an eyebrow, bringing her fingers to rest in his arms again.
He screwed his eyes tight in anticipation.
“Open your eyes and look at me.”
He did as he was told. And then screwed them tight as he was immediately tickled again.
His whole body ached from his ongoing torment. He couldn't think straight. All he could think about were the sensations in his body, each sensation feeling like a betrayal, his own body so easily succumbing to this woman.
He had to admit. He had never imagined being tickled this much. She knew all his spots, almost like she had explored his body before. In his clouded mind, he wandered if she had talked with whoever had tortured him before. Or even had witnessed it somehow...
She finally relented in her torment. He gasped for air through his nostrils. The socks in his mouth were heavy with sweat and his saliva.
“See, that wasn't so bad, right?”
He couldn't even get words out yet.
“Well, after that, I do think you deserve a reward. One thing though, around here, slaves always have to address me as mistress. Kind of a house rule. Understood?”
“yes....mistress,” he managed.
“Good slave. Now we are going to play a game. It's called: sock or tickle. You get to tell me whether you want socks on your face, or to be tickled.”
He sensed a trap.
“Of course, there are some rules. Whenever I am fulfilling you desire for socks, I will also be keeping you....interested down here.”
With that she gently tugged at his manhood. It responded obligingly.
“Another house rule though. And they are very, extremely strict about this. There are absolutely not orgasms allowed here.
...At least, not for you. And the penalties are quite...severe.”
She grabbed his cock hard, emphasizing her point.
“So when you feel yourself getting close....you really have no choice but to ask for tickling, until you....calm down....enough for more socks.”
She started lightly stroking him. Immediately he realized how horny he was.
“Remember. Under no circumstance will you orgasm. You would * not * enjoy the punishment. Oh, and I don't think I'll be removing your gag. You're just going to have to try to muffle very clearly so I can understand you.”
Without stopping her stroking, she eased herself onto the table, on John's left side. She brought both her boots up and rested them right on his chest.
“Do you want me to take these hot, sweaty boots off?”
“Yes!”
“Yes, what, slave?” she corrected quickly, with a tight squeeze that made him shudder.
“Yes, mistress.”
She unzipped one boot, and then the other. She slowly removed them, one at a time, letting them hit the floor with a solid thud. Then she planted them right back on his chest, wiggling her toes to air them out.
John was looking at possibly the dirtiest, sweatiest socks he had ever seen. Each toe was imprinted with the sweat and dirt of different shoes that she had worn. The heel and ball o f the foot were likewise outlined in sweat. There were black scuff marks from her dominatrix boots. With her flexing and wiggling her toes in those socks so close to him, he became more and more turned on.
She continued to stroke, now a bit faster.
She went on to tell him all the different shoes she had worn that week. And working out. Stuffing the socks into her shoes at the end of the workout to keep them sweaty until the next session. She said she had a session with a sock slave yesterday and simply forgot to change her socks.
Of course, she had been doing all this in anticipation of this exact moment.
“I bet they smell....awful,” she said.
And then she placed both of them directly on his face.
Gagged with socks. And now smothered by the dirtiest pair he had ever seen. It would be fair to say he had never felt so satisfied. The smell was divine. She rubbed each part of her socked foot into his nose and mouth, pushing deeper against his sock gag. He was, simply put, in heaven.
But he was also in trouble. He felt the familiar surge within him and started clenching back the built-up orgasm within him.
“Tickle!”
Of course, his shout was muffled by the sock gag. And she was doing all she could to smother him with her feet.
She played coy, and pretended not to know what he was saying. And instead of stopping her stroking, she upped the pace.
“What was that, slave? Socks? You're already getting socks. You are being very greedy.”
He screamed again and again, tensing all his muscles in his abdomen and pelvis trying to resist the mounting orgasm.
She made him repeat it three times before making a big show of finally understanding him.
“Well, why didn't you say so?”
She took her feet off his face, and although he wanted more he realized that he was a mere stroke or two away from losing total control. She finally released him, and crawled up to him.
She now was straddling his chest, facing him, her legs on either side of him.
“Well, you may think you know what comes next. And in one sense, you are right. Lots of tickling. But watching you get so excited about my socks, and bringing you so close to orgasm, has me feeling left out. I think I want to take advantage of your....predicament, for myself. Open your mouth.”
He obliged. She reached in to take one of the socks out. She made a face when she touched it, soaked now in his saliva. She turned it inside out, and ordered him to stick out his tongue.
Then she placed it over his tongue, so that his tongue was directly against the inside, sweaty toe imprints.
“Hold that there.”
She reversed herself, so now she was facing his body and feet, and slowly brought herself up to his face. Then she lowered herself, placing her clit directly onto his waiting tongue, covered by her best friends dirty sock.
His girlfriend's dirty sock.
Well, former girlfriend, after all this.
She lowered herself down, putting her full weight on him, and ordered him to start licking.
And then she placed her fingers right on his chest, and leaned over so he could feel her hot breath on his stomach, right near his navel.
“This....is going to tickle.”
Then she let loose on him, with her fingers scattering around his upper chest and of course armpits, and her tongue and lips finding sensitive spots on his stomach and sides.
His response was delicious. He tried to buck her off but she only forced herself harder back onto him. His laughter caused him to involuntarily stroke her clit, and she could feel the wet sock rubbing against her. She found she could control his licking, with a forceful tickle in this armpit making him gasp against her.
And so she did that again, and again. Each time, he responded to her tickling ministrations like a puppet, doing exactly what she wanted. She kept attacking this same spot over and over again, trying to get a stronger and more forceful reaction....making her wetter and closer to her own orgasm.
She figured she could probably come three or four times like this before having to let him rest. She didn't want him passing out on her.
"It just occurred to me, that between your gag and being smother by me, I probably won't be able to hear when you call for 'socks' again.
Oh well, it was a fun game while it lasted. I think you're going to like this game even better...
...I know I will.”
