As the hostess entered the room, the small group of women quickly moved back to the side of the room where several other feminie guests were still chatting. The Centerpiece, truly now the center of attention centered in the room surrounded by the quiet chatter, whispers, gossip, laughing, drinking, women. Had the Centerpiece not been so unusual, it would appear to be any other social gathering of socialites. But as far as Robert knew...he was alone in the dark somewhere stuck in a storeroom or warehouse. The beautiful raven haired hostess picked up a glass and quickly rapped it several times with a teaspoon to get everyone's attention and a polite hush fell over the guests. At the same time, the music inside the box stopped playing and Robert heard a distinct click of the speakers and a woman's soft voice and he too ceased his struggles, listening intently. "Ladies...Friends...Guests...Thank you for all coming tonight. Its been such a pleasure to see you all again...and Welcome! Tonight I have prepared something devilishly delightful for your pleasure." Around the room, smiles lit the faces of the women as they all turned their attention to the Centerpiece. She continued, "Tonight is your time to play relax, release some of that stress and tension, relieve some boredom...and enjoy yourselves, but I do ask that you share...and be gentle, at least at first....Remember, he has to last all night, and the evening has just begun!" There was giggling and chatter among the women and Robert still confused stiffened and twisted within the box. "But first," she continued as she walked to the box and laid her crossed arms over it, her chin resting on them as her long nails lightly tapped the hard outside of the lid and she spoke teasingly and seductively to the occupant snuggled helplessly within..."Tonight is all about you...well, what we can see of you. And I hope you enjoy yourself as well. Tonight...we are going to tickle your feet...endlessly...mercilessly...intently. All our attention...our complete focus...our every desire will be focused on those vulnerable, completely helpless, exquisitley ticklish bare soles of yours. We are going to slowly steal your sanity as we tease and tickle every soft wrinkle. We will spend hours just tickling...and tickling...and tickling your soft adorable ticklish soles until you have no thought...no sanity...Tonight...we are going to...tickle...your...feet...until you lose your mind...pass out...and we will keep tickling. Scream if you understand."
Within the box Robert lay perfectly still, his mouth dry, his eyes wide with fear, his heart beating like a jackhammer ready to explode when the reality of this nightmare clicked and he began yelling and shouting within the box, flailing his body as much as the padded confines would allow. While the padding absorbed much of the frantic protests, the outside of the box shuddered but only very quiet muffled yet frantic sounds could be heard within. The hostess smiled, , stood up from her leaning position and addressed her guests one last time. "Ladies, I think he might be a little upset right now", sarcasm dripping from her red lips, "so let's let him exhaust himself in his struggles and stew for a bit. Give him a few minutes to think about his um...ticklish situation" she chuckled at her own joke. Inside the box, Robert struggled, pulling desperately at his ankles, pounding the thick padding surrounding him, yelling and screaming in frantic desperation. Outside the box, the woman could hear very little other than the now excited chatter and hush whispers of the other women in the room as they chatted excitedly about just how they were going to tickle him to insanity. As the hostess moved to talk with the other women, with little flourish, she pulled a linen napkin from a tray that had been sitting on a serving table et the end of the box to reveal a silver platter aligned neatly with various feathers, artist brushes, forks, chopsticks, etc. She pulled a chair from the side of the room and placed it at the bottom of the box so the women would be comfortable as they teasd and tickled her Centerpiece into oblivion. She looked over the scene, her hands on her hips, and quickly brought over a few more chairs that created a small intimate semi-circle facing the stretched and helpless bare soles. She smiled in contentment and walked back to join some of the women as they talked and laughed, snacking lightly at the small sandwiches. Meanwhile, Robert quickly exhausted himself and lay helpless, his mind racing, his heart pounding, no longer alone...but still in the dark. He realized that at some point, the music had been turned back on. He could do nothing...every attempt at escape, every persuasion had failed...and it seemed as if hours ticked by.
Outside the box, one would have thought that a roomful of excited women would have rushed the box, but suddenly, everyone seemed bashful and shy, waiting for someone else to approach the box as they giggled nervously.The hostess looked around the room and while wanting her guests to have the first opportunity to tickle the barefeet of the Centerpiece, realized they would need a little encouragement and prodding. She took the hands of the two ladies closest to her and lead them to the Centerpiece, inviting them to sit on the provided chairs as she took the center one. They shyly but excitedly complied. The chattering and visiting stopped as all the women quickly moved to surround the the chairs vying for the best spot to see and observe. The hostess smiled and turned in her chair laughing and spoke cheerfully, "Well, that was easy!" Many of the women blushed, embarrassed by their own shyness but soon their eyes were fixed on the long narrow bare soles and the tray of impliments...few realizing that their own toes were scrunched tightly in their heels at the thought of being in this poor guy's place. Robert was oblivious as to this new developement and lay still, trying to gain his composure and strength.
The hostess, her long black hair falling across her shoulders as she turned back to the feet, selected a long narrow turkey feather from the tray. She ran it's pointed tip over the palm of her hand and quickly jerked her hand away as the soft pointed tip tickled it intensly. She looked at the stiff, yet giving tendrils of the feather and smiled...wickedly. She took just the very very tip of the feather, her face, her eyes mere inches from the soft bare arches of the smooth soles before her, and with the precision of a surgeon, delicately and so very very lightly stroked the tip just up and down his arch...slowly...intently...purposefully...over and over again. The result was immediate and explosive! Wild cackling could be heard as muffled frantic cries as the box shuddered slighly but steadily. The hostess's eyes lit up and her smile spread across her face in a wide toothy grin! Inside the box, Robert cackled, his laughter wild and frantic, the senation on his arches so hellishly ticklish as to be almost incomprehensible! The skin on his stretched bare arches screamed in ticklish agony as just the soft tip of the feather tickled him to madness. His toes strained to curl, to somehow stop the trail the feather traced alonghis arch but all he could do was feel...and laugh...and cackle mindlessly as it traced up and down...over and over.
The hostess watched with excited glee. The sounds coming from within the box while muffled, were far more frantic and louder than anything they had previously heard from within. The box actually shuddered steadily and all he women began giggling with now excited anticipation for their turn. As the hostess continued to slowly tease the arch, tracingi every line, teasingly, mercilessly over and over, she turned to the woman seated to her right, and commended her sweetly, "Wow Melody! You weren't kidding! This guy is off the charts ticklish!!!" The massage therapist smiled pleasingly at the compliment and blushed deeply, pleased that she had done so well. She was not reaally a part of this upper-class socialite society, but she obviously had skills they enjoyed and appreciated. RObert was oblivious to the polite conversation as he screamed in cackling laughter his body writhing as wave after wave of explosive ticklish sensations coursed from his trapped bare arches, coursed up his legs and exploded in his brain. HAHAHAHAHHAHHHAHHAHHAAAHAHHA STOOOOOOP HHAHAHAHAHAHHHAHAHAAHAHAHHAHAHHAAHHAAHHH P- PLEEEEAAAAAAA HAHAHAHAHHHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHHAAAHAHHHAHAHAHHAHAHA HEEEEEELLLLL PPP HAHAHAHHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHHAHAH MAKE IT STOOO HAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHHAHAAHHAHA!!!!
The fine pointed tip of the feather flexed and bent ever so slightly against the soft skin of his arch as it traced and dipped following every subtle curve, her eyes watching its progress intently, her hands steady...controlling the feather as it tickled and teased and teased and tickled slowly...mercilessly,...watching the tendons and muscles within try to flex. Her smile now covered her face as the only movement she could detect was the subtle quivering of those muscles, but the frantic muffled cackling from within told her another story. She was mesmerized at what she was doing to him and lost in his delicious laughter when she realized she had other guests waiting. Not yet ready to give up her place, she looked over at Melody, who seemed to be in a trance of her own as she too watched the feather slowly trail up and down the arch. "Melody, he has another foot and I am quite happy to tease and tickle this one for a bit. Would you like to join me?" she asked smiling. Melody wasted no time and picked up a small exquisitely soft sable haired artist brush and stared at the bare yet untouched sole in front of her. She glanced over at her friend's technique and fearful that both his arches tickled at once may drive him to insanity too soon, opted for a more confusing, yet equally devious technique! Melody took the soft brush and deftly began to "paint" just the bottom of his toes, dipping the brush between them, teasing and tracing the loops and swirls of his toe prints. The arch of his right foot being sadistically teased and tickled by the feather, the toes of his left foot being gently and sweetly assaulted with the artists brush made Robert frantic and as much as he flailed and sreamed and laughed and struggled he could not move his feet at all and his laughter if possible escalted an octave! HAHAHHAHAHAHAAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHHAAHAHNOMORENOMORENOMORE HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHSTOOOOP!!!HHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!!!!!!HAHAAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHHAAHHAHAAHHA!!!!!
Within the box Robert lay perfectly still, his mouth dry, his eyes wide with fear, his heart beating like a jackhammer ready to explode when the reality of this nightmare clicked and he began yelling and shouting within the box, flailing his body as much as the padded confines would allow. While the padding absorbed much of the frantic protests, the outside of the box shuddered but only very quiet muffled yet frantic sounds could be heard within. The hostess smiled, , stood up from her leaning position and addressed her guests one last time. "Ladies, I think he might be a little upset right now", sarcasm dripping from her red lips, "so let's let him exhaust himself in his struggles and stew for a bit. Give him a few minutes to think about his um...ticklish situation" she chuckled at her own joke. Inside the box, Robert struggled, pulling desperately at his ankles, pounding the thick padding surrounding him, yelling and screaming in frantic desperation. Outside the box, the woman could hear very little other than the now excited chatter and hush whispers of the other women in the room as they chatted excitedly about just how they were going to tickle him to insanity. As the hostess moved to talk with the other women, with little flourish, she pulled a linen napkin from a tray that had been sitting on a serving table et the end of the box to reveal a silver platter aligned neatly with various feathers, artist brushes, forks, chopsticks, etc. She pulled a chair from the side of the room and placed it at the bottom of the box so the women would be comfortable as they teasd and tickled her Centerpiece into oblivion. She looked over the scene, her hands on her hips, and quickly brought over a few more chairs that created a small intimate semi-circle facing the stretched and helpless bare soles. She smiled in contentment and walked back to join some of the women as they talked and laughed, snacking lightly at the small sandwiches. Meanwhile, Robert quickly exhausted himself and lay helpless, his mind racing, his heart pounding, no longer alone...but still in the dark. He realized that at some point, the music had been turned back on. He could do nothing...every attempt at escape, every persuasion had failed...and it seemed as if hours ticked by.
Outside the box, one would have thought that a roomful of excited women would have rushed the box, but suddenly, everyone seemed bashful and shy, waiting for someone else to approach the box as they giggled nervously.The hostess looked around the room and while wanting her guests to have the first opportunity to tickle the barefeet of the Centerpiece, realized they would need a little encouragement and prodding. She took the hands of the two ladies closest to her and lead them to the Centerpiece, inviting them to sit on the provided chairs as she took the center one. They shyly but excitedly complied. The chattering and visiting stopped as all the women quickly moved to surround the the chairs vying for the best spot to see and observe. The hostess smiled and turned in her chair laughing and spoke cheerfully, "Well, that was easy!" Many of the women blushed, embarrassed by their own shyness but soon their eyes were fixed on the long narrow bare soles and the tray of impliments...few realizing that their own toes were scrunched tightly in their heels at the thought of being in this poor guy's place. Robert was oblivious as to this new developement and lay still, trying to gain his composure and strength.
The hostess, her long black hair falling across her shoulders as she turned back to the feet, selected a long narrow turkey feather from the tray. She ran it's pointed tip over the palm of her hand and quickly jerked her hand away as the soft pointed tip tickled it intensly. She looked at the stiff, yet giving tendrils of the feather and smiled...wickedly. She took just the very very tip of the feather, her face, her eyes mere inches from the soft bare arches of the smooth soles before her, and with the precision of a surgeon, delicately and so very very lightly stroked the tip just up and down his arch...slowly...intently...purposefully...over and over again. The result was immediate and explosive! Wild cackling could be heard as muffled frantic cries as the box shuddered slighly but steadily. The hostess's eyes lit up and her smile spread across her face in a wide toothy grin! Inside the box, Robert cackled, his laughter wild and frantic, the senation on his arches so hellishly ticklish as to be almost incomprehensible! The skin on his stretched bare arches screamed in ticklish agony as just the soft tip of the feather tickled him to madness. His toes strained to curl, to somehow stop the trail the feather traced alonghis arch but all he could do was feel...and laugh...and cackle mindlessly as it traced up and down...over and over.
The hostess watched with excited glee. The sounds coming from within the box while muffled, were far more frantic and louder than anything they had previously heard from within. The box actually shuddered steadily and all he women began giggling with now excited anticipation for their turn. As the hostess continued to slowly tease the arch, tracingi every line, teasingly, mercilessly over and over, she turned to the woman seated to her right, and commended her sweetly, "Wow Melody! You weren't kidding! This guy is off the charts ticklish!!!" The massage therapist smiled pleasingly at the compliment and blushed deeply, pleased that she had done so well. She was not reaally a part of this upper-class socialite society, but she obviously had skills they enjoyed and appreciated. RObert was oblivious to the polite conversation as he screamed in cackling laughter his body writhing as wave after wave of explosive ticklish sensations coursed from his trapped bare arches, coursed up his legs and exploded in his brain. HAHAHAHAHHAHHHAHHAHHAAAHAHHA STOOOOOOP HHAHAHAHAHAHHHAHAHAAHAHAHHAHAHHAAHHAAHHH P- PLEEEEAAAAAAA HAHAHAHAHHHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHHAAAHAHHHAHAHAHHAHAHA HEEEEEELLLLL PPP HAHAHAHHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHHAHAH MAKE IT STOOO HAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHHAHAAHHAHA!!!!
The fine pointed tip of the feather flexed and bent ever so slightly against the soft skin of his arch as it traced and dipped following every subtle curve, her eyes watching its progress intently, her hands steady...controlling the feather as it tickled and teased and teased and tickled slowly...mercilessly,...watching the tendons and muscles within try to flex. Her smile now covered her face as the only movement she could detect was the subtle quivering of those muscles, but the frantic muffled cackling from within told her another story. She was mesmerized at what she was doing to him and lost in his delicious laughter when she realized she had other guests waiting. Not yet ready to give up her place, she looked over at Melody, who seemed to be in a trance of her own as she too watched the feather slowly trail up and down the arch. "Melody, he has another foot and I am quite happy to tease and tickle this one for a bit. Would you like to join me?" she asked smiling. Melody wasted no time and picked up a small exquisitely soft sable haired artist brush and stared at the bare yet untouched sole in front of her. She glanced over at her friend's technique and fearful that both his arches tickled at once may drive him to insanity too soon, opted for a more confusing, yet equally devious technique! Melody took the soft brush and deftly began to "paint" just the bottom of his toes, dipping the brush between them, teasing and tracing the loops and swirls of his toe prints. The arch of his right foot being sadistically teased and tickled by the feather, the toes of his left foot being gently and sweetly assaulted with the artists brush made Robert frantic and as much as he flailed and sreamed and laughed and struggled he could not move his feet at all and his laughter if possible escalted an octave! HAHAHHAHAHAHAAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHHAAHAHNOMORENOMORENOMORE HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHSTOOOOP!!!HHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!!!!!!HAHAAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHHAAHHAHAAHHA!!!!!
