Robert was lost in wild ticklish abandon, his sense of reality slipping fast away. Laughter exploded from his lungs like water through a broken dam. His body writhed and thrashed in ticklish agony but his feet...his soles...remained....perfectly...still. The hostess of the party, with deft skill slowly...so very slowly stroked just the very tip of the long feather up and down his right arch while Melody used the soft sable artist brush to "paint" and tickle the soft bottom of his toes. The tip of the artist brush was so delicate and exact, that even one toe allowed for plently of room for Melody to draw intricate designs as her vitim screemed mindlessly, though her "canvas" remained perfectly still. The hostess giggled and looked to her side at the third sitting woman who watched in fascination. Scooting her chair closer to Melody's while continuing her slow and sadist tickling, she spoke quietly, "Let me join Melody on this foot and you can have his left foot." For but a moment, the feather left Robert's right arch and moved to his left arch and with the ititial touch, both the artist brush on the toes of his left foot and the feather tracing delicately now on the arch of his left foot, Robert screamed with renewed vigor and desperation cackling now in sccreaming laughter and the box shuddered violently for a few seconds causing all the women to giggle, eye brows raised and many biting their bottom lip. Sara, the woman to the hostess's left scooted her chair closer to the man's bare left sole, looking at it intently. The laughter now heard audibly from within the box was wild and out of control. But Sara didn't care. She longed to feel the softness of his soles...to explore and exploit every ticklish nerve, one at a time. She had sat patiently, yet mesmerized as she had watched the other two women...but she longed to feel the slight wrinkles of his stretched arch rippling under her fingernails. Oh how she loved that feeling...but she didn't want to gobble him down ...she wanted to take her time...explore...enjoy.
As Melody and their hostess teased and tormented his right foot, as Robert screamed in ticklish agony, Sara took just the tip of her finger...just her soft skin and began to lightly trace with apparent admiration the skin and contours of the left sole. She enjoyed the feeling of his soft arch twitching spatically beneath his fingertip as she barely grazed the skin. Moving her fingertip to the soft round heels, circling, exploring incessantly caused wave after wave of ticklish explosions as Robert began to sob in the uncontrolled laughter. Her fingertip traced from his heel to his pinky toe and she marvelled at the textures of his sole.Her finger crossed under his toes where they met the ball of the foot and then traced intricate circular patterns are the ball of his foot. Her touch was soft and gentle...loving and intimate but to Robert, it was mind numbing in ticklish intensity! His body could not take Melody'd artist brush teasing under and around his toes, the soft meticulous slow stroking of his arch which had not stopped since his ordeal began, and now the loving ticklish attention of Sara's exploring fingertip. None of them really cared at the suffering of their victim. On the contrary, they smiled or giggled when his cackling laughter turned especially frantic or the box gently shook from his thrashings. Every woman in the room watched in excied and eager anticipation, tittering and giggling, their tos often curled imagining if they were in the box! RObert's fists pummled frantically into the padding, tears of laughter pouring from his eyes, his laughter almost inhuman in its intensity...and the women smiled...the artist brush "painting" in great detail, the feather trailing up and down up and down and Sara's soft finger lovingly exploring the trapped vulnerable bare sole. If Robert could think, he would cherish the time he felt alone in the dark.
The hostess looked over at Sara and motioned her to scoot her chair over to allow a fourth woman to join them and this time, there was no shyness. As soon as the chair vacated, the shoulder length haired blond Brittany dropped to her knees to fill the vacated spot. But soon another chair was brought to the semi-circle for her convenience by one of the waiting women. She looked over at her hostess trailing and tracing the very tip of the feather over the man's right arch, Melody's artist brush deftly tickling his toes, and now Sara's meandoring finger tracing between and around Melody's and the hostesses tickling instruments and she visibly shuddered at the slow teasing subtle torture all focused on the stretched helpless bare sole of Robert's right foot. And then she grinned wickedly.
Brittany held up her nails for the rest of the ladies to see. Long, sharp, gleaming black polished nails and wiggled her fingers like she was just admiring a fresh manicure. In truth, she had actually spent the afternoon at the salon doing just that in preparation for this evening's event. She took the linen napkin that had covered the tickling implements and folded it in half and then rolled it up. Robert's toes were tied snuggly back to the padding on the box but she grasped his foot, wedging the linen pillow between the box and the top of his foot effectively stretching the foot tighter and forcing the ball of his foot to protrude outward..to jut forward as if begging to be ticked. Robert was vaguley aware his left foot was being manipulated, but was in too much agony from the tickling of his right foot. The women watching Brittany oohed and awed in admiration of Brittany's inventiveness. Brittany looked one more time at Robert's right foot and the slow loving tortured being inflicted upon him...the gentleness of the tickling was sensual to watch. And as she turned back to Robert's right foot, the ball of his foot jutting toward her, she took her nails and began to lightly scritch at the tightened skin on the balls of his feet. Scritching so gently she could feel her nails tickling across the very ridges of his foot print and had it not been for the giggling of the women observing and the now animalistic noises emanating from the box, she could have heard her nails scrathing lightly against the skin. Her fingers wiggled gently and slowly but her sharp nails tickled ferociously and his sanity fled. His laughter had turned from animalist screeching laughter to incoherent babbling the tickling so intense that he could not laugh hard enough to meet the sensation! The box actually began to rock gently and the sounds from within werenow clearly audible though incoherent. This only fueled Brittany who began to tickle faster and harder focusing just on the balls of his feet. The gentle scritching turned to wild scrabbling!
It was the confusing hellish mixture of the techniques that brought Robert to his first meeting with pure unadulterated insanity. The soft gentle unbearable tickling of his right foot and the equally intense scrabbling on the balls of his feet with Brittany's polished nails...and it just would not stop! His laughter was maniacal and he was way past any fathomable limit...but the tickling went on...and on and all four women stared mesmerized at the bare trapped soles grinning with a devilsh wicked gleam in their eyes, smiles plastered across all four faces. The women observing giggled and laughed, pacing with eagerness for a turn. Robert longed to pass out.
As Britanny scrabbled her nails deeply into the stretched balls of his left foot, she picked up a chopstick with her other hand and simply held it in the air. And just as quickly, a fifth woman snatched it and knelt beside her. There was no more room for a fifth chair, but the gorgeous red head named Rachelle didn't care. She took the chopstick and seeing the position of Robert's left foot began to giggle in excited anticipation at what she was about to do. Sje knew from watching the other ladies, the really her hostess's intitial touch that Robert's feet were horribly hellishly ticklish, but she nnoticed his arches were his weakness. And she looked lustily not just at Robert's soft arch, but the new position Brittany's napkin had put it in. Not only did the rolled napkin push the ball of Robert's foot forward, but it tightened and flexed his arch till it couldn't flex any tighter and it was COMPLETELY immobile! The tendon's along his arch extended, clearly outlined and stretched like a piano wire and that was where the chopstick would play. Robert's right foot exploded with ticklish agony as the feather stroked incessantly slowly up and down the arch, the paint brush teased the toes as the soft bristles dip in and arond the soft bottoms, and the never ceasing exploring finger tip meanering aimlessly around the sole...all so slow and teasing. Brittany's glossy black nails scrabbling deeply into the ball of his left foot brought inhuman cries of ticklish anguish and now, the sharp hard tip of the chopstick traced softly up and down the tightly stretched tendon along Robert's arch. WOrds cannot describe the sensations...the pure raw torture that Robert was experiencing...but his body stiffened and the raucous laughter turned silent as it continued causing his body to shudder violently. He could not think...could not reason...lost in such ticklish agony that nothing else existed but his feet and the sensations screeching up his legs and exploding like a rapid fire machine gun in his brain. His lungs burned and his face wet with tears of hysteria...too weak now to fight or struggle and just succumbing to the madness.
Outside the box, the woman worked in happy lustful silence, occasional giggling...the hostess careful to keep just the very tip of the feather stroking up and down his arch...Melody focused intently on the intricate designs her paint brush traced along his toes, Sara truly mesmerized by the feel of Robert's soft soles as her finger tip slowly explored. Brittany grinned through gritted teeth as her nails scrabbled wildly on the jutting balls of his feet and Rachelle watched intently as her chopsticked traced lightly but firmly along the extended tendon of his arch. All were content and happy in their work and had no care of the suffering and screeching from the box, other than bringing them great joy. Each was lost in thought, completely focused at their tickling. Robert's sanity, or what little was left of it was in their hands. But his sanity was not their cooncern. They craved his laughter...his mad cackling and sought to wrack every laugh from his body. Robert had been sadistically mercilessly tickled into complete oblivion and it was clear by the now murmuring women in waiting that he may not last the night. Fortyfive minutes had passed though to Robert it seemed like an eternity of tickle torture. He could not form a single thought let alone remember his own name. All he could do was laugh...and laugh...and laugh.
The night was still young and the vast majority of the party guests had not yet had the opportiunity to tickle the hapless, now delerious, man and were afraid they would miss the opportunity. The party would last into the wee hours of the morning but what good would that do them if their Centerpiece passes out? The hostess herself realized the unfortunate situation and as much as she now regretted it, realized she had to share her Centerpiece. As she continued to tease and tickle Robert's arches she addressed her guests as her four cohorts continued their teasing. "I'm sorry ladies, I kind of got lost in tickling these helpless adorable feet and I am afraid this boy is tickled nearly to death from the sounds of it...but the five of us are about to step back and I need four women to take our place." The four other present ticklers groaned but realized too that they needed to share with the others so listened intently for the instructions to follow. At the same time, four new women clamoured for the next place and stood waiting eagerly. "Ladies, we don't really want to tickle this guy to death...just nearly. So, as soon as we stand, please take our seats immediately but only use your mouths and lips and tongues please! Kiss his soles softly...lick under and between his toes, suckle them gently and let's drive him mad with tickling and desire!...Ready? One, Two, Three...Switch!
As Melody and their hostess teased and tormented his right foot, as Robert screamed in ticklish agony, Sara took just the tip of her finger...just her soft skin and began to lightly trace with apparent admiration the skin and contours of the left sole. She enjoyed the feeling of his soft arch twitching spatically beneath his fingertip as she barely grazed the skin. Moving her fingertip to the soft round heels, circling, exploring incessantly caused wave after wave of ticklish explosions as Robert began to sob in the uncontrolled laughter. Her fingertip traced from his heel to his pinky toe and she marvelled at the textures of his sole.Her finger crossed under his toes where they met the ball of the foot and then traced intricate circular patterns are the ball of his foot. Her touch was soft and gentle...loving and intimate but to Robert, it was mind numbing in ticklish intensity! His body could not take Melody'd artist brush teasing under and around his toes, the soft meticulous slow stroking of his arch which had not stopped since his ordeal began, and now the loving ticklish attention of Sara's exploring fingertip. None of them really cared at the suffering of their victim. On the contrary, they smiled or giggled when his cackling laughter turned especially frantic or the box gently shook from his thrashings. Every woman in the room watched in excied and eager anticipation, tittering and giggling, their tos often curled imagining if they were in the box! RObert's fists pummled frantically into the padding, tears of laughter pouring from his eyes, his laughter almost inhuman in its intensity...and the women smiled...the artist brush "painting" in great detail, the feather trailing up and down up and down and Sara's soft finger lovingly exploring the trapped vulnerable bare sole. If Robert could think, he would cherish the time he felt alone in the dark.
The hostess looked over at Sara and motioned her to scoot her chair over to allow a fourth woman to join them and this time, there was no shyness. As soon as the chair vacated, the shoulder length haired blond Brittany dropped to her knees to fill the vacated spot. But soon another chair was brought to the semi-circle for her convenience by one of the waiting women. She looked over at her hostess trailing and tracing the very tip of the feather over the man's right arch, Melody's artist brush deftly tickling his toes, and now Sara's meandoring finger tracing between and around Melody's and the hostesses tickling instruments and she visibly shuddered at the slow teasing subtle torture all focused on the stretched helpless bare sole of Robert's right foot. And then she grinned wickedly.
Brittany held up her nails for the rest of the ladies to see. Long, sharp, gleaming black polished nails and wiggled her fingers like she was just admiring a fresh manicure. In truth, she had actually spent the afternoon at the salon doing just that in preparation for this evening's event. She took the linen napkin that had covered the tickling implements and folded it in half and then rolled it up. Robert's toes were tied snuggly back to the padding on the box but she grasped his foot, wedging the linen pillow between the box and the top of his foot effectively stretching the foot tighter and forcing the ball of his foot to protrude outward..to jut forward as if begging to be ticked. Robert was vaguley aware his left foot was being manipulated, but was in too much agony from the tickling of his right foot. The women watching Brittany oohed and awed in admiration of Brittany's inventiveness. Brittany looked one more time at Robert's right foot and the slow loving tortured being inflicted upon him...the gentleness of the tickling was sensual to watch. And as she turned back to Robert's right foot, the ball of his foot jutting toward her, she took her nails and began to lightly scritch at the tightened skin on the balls of his feet. Scritching so gently she could feel her nails tickling across the very ridges of his foot print and had it not been for the giggling of the women observing and the now animalistic noises emanating from the box, she could have heard her nails scrathing lightly against the skin. Her fingers wiggled gently and slowly but her sharp nails tickled ferociously and his sanity fled. His laughter had turned from animalist screeching laughter to incoherent babbling the tickling so intense that he could not laugh hard enough to meet the sensation! The box actually began to rock gently and the sounds from within werenow clearly audible though incoherent. This only fueled Brittany who began to tickle faster and harder focusing just on the balls of his feet. The gentle scritching turned to wild scrabbling!
It was the confusing hellish mixture of the techniques that brought Robert to his first meeting with pure unadulterated insanity. The soft gentle unbearable tickling of his right foot and the equally intense scrabbling on the balls of his feet with Brittany's polished nails...and it just would not stop! His laughter was maniacal and he was way past any fathomable limit...but the tickling went on...and on and all four women stared mesmerized at the bare trapped soles grinning with a devilsh wicked gleam in their eyes, smiles plastered across all four faces. The women observing giggled and laughed, pacing with eagerness for a turn. Robert longed to pass out.
As Britanny scrabbled her nails deeply into the stretched balls of his left foot, she picked up a chopstick with her other hand and simply held it in the air. And just as quickly, a fifth woman snatched it and knelt beside her. There was no more room for a fifth chair, but the gorgeous red head named Rachelle didn't care. She took the chopstick and seeing the position of Robert's left foot began to giggle in excited anticipation at what she was about to do. Sje knew from watching the other ladies, the really her hostess's intitial touch that Robert's feet were horribly hellishly ticklish, but she nnoticed his arches were his weakness. And she looked lustily not just at Robert's soft arch, but the new position Brittany's napkin had put it in. Not only did the rolled napkin push the ball of Robert's foot forward, but it tightened and flexed his arch till it couldn't flex any tighter and it was COMPLETELY immobile! The tendon's along his arch extended, clearly outlined and stretched like a piano wire and that was where the chopstick would play. Robert's right foot exploded with ticklish agony as the feather stroked incessantly slowly up and down the arch, the paint brush teased the toes as the soft bristles dip in and arond the soft bottoms, and the never ceasing exploring finger tip meanering aimlessly around the sole...all so slow and teasing. Brittany's glossy black nails scrabbling deeply into the ball of his left foot brought inhuman cries of ticklish anguish and now, the sharp hard tip of the chopstick traced softly up and down the tightly stretched tendon along Robert's arch. WOrds cannot describe the sensations...the pure raw torture that Robert was experiencing...but his body stiffened and the raucous laughter turned silent as it continued causing his body to shudder violently. He could not think...could not reason...lost in such ticklish agony that nothing else existed but his feet and the sensations screeching up his legs and exploding like a rapid fire machine gun in his brain. His lungs burned and his face wet with tears of hysteria...too weak now to fight or struggle and just succumbing to the madness.
Outside the box, the woman worked in happy lustful silence, occasional giggling...the hostess careful to keep just the very tip of the feather stroking up and down his arch...Melody focused intently on the intricate designs her paint brush traced along his toes, Sara truly mesmerized by the feel of Robert's soft soles as her finger tip slowly explored. Brittany grinned through gritted teeth as her nails scrabbled wildly on the jutting balls of his feet and Rachelle watched intently as her chopsticked traced lightly but firmly along the extended tendon of his arch. All were content and happy in their work and had no care of the suffering and screeching from the box, other than bringing them great joy. Each was lost in thought, completely focused at their tickling. Robert's sanity, or what little was left of it was in their hands. But his sanity was not their cooncern. They craved his laughter...his mad cackling and sought to wrack every laugh from his body. Robert had been sadistically mercilessly tickled into complete oblivion and it was clear by the now murmuring women in waiting that he may not last the night. Fortyfive minutes had passed though to Robert it seemed like an eternity of tickle torture. He could not form a single thought let alone remember his own name. All he could do was laugh...and laugh...and laugh.
The night was still young and the vast majority of the party guests had not yet had the opportiunity to tickle the hapless, now delerious, man and were afraid they would miss the opportunity. The party would last into the wee hours of the morning but what good would that do them if their Centerpiece passes out? The hostess herself realized the unfortunate situation and as much as she now regretted it, realized she had to share her Centerpiece. As she continued to tease and tickle Robert's arches she addressed her guests as her four cohorts continued their teasing. "I'm sorry ladies, I kind of got lost in tickling these helpless adorable feet and I am afraid this boy is tickled nearly to death from the sounds of it...but the five of us are about to step back and I need four women to take our place." The four other present ticklers groaned but realized too that they needed to share with the others so listened intently for the instructions to follow. At the same time, four new women clamoured for the next place and stood waiting eagerly. "Ladies, we don't really want to tickle this guy to death...just nearly. So, as soon as we stand, please take our seats immediately but only use your mouths and lips and tongues please! Kiss his soles softly...lick under and between his toes, suckle them gently and let's drive him mad with tickling and desire!...Ready? One, Two, Three...Switch!
Will there be an epilogue when Robert is removed from the box in the morning?
