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View Full Version : "A Crime of Passion - The Revenge" (F/F, Non-con, Sexual)



nariac
02-12-2017, 12:57 PM
The sequel to my first story! Set in 18th Century London, around a week after Part One. Enjoy!

Part One (http://www.ticklingforum.com/showthread.php?250517-quot-A-Crime-of-Passion-quot-(F-F))

Night had fallen outside the tavern, yet London was always busy. Darkness meant the end of Anne’s shift though, and she gratefully left the busy common room behind. Stealing from Lady Hannah the previous week had been a dangerous risk, and it was safer to keep her head down. Even if she had vowed never to work in a tavern again, it was something she knew how to do. Anne wearily climbed the stairs to the top floor, and the tiny garret bedroom that was currently her home. She was happy to get away from Bethany and her sister Ruth. The twin barmaids made a point of lording over Anne and the other servants, although they were scarcely higher up the pecking order. Beth in particular had been in a foul mood after spilling a flagon of ale on her dress, and Anne was already regretting teasing her about it. The woman could be spiteful at the best of times.

Anne unlatched her door and pushed it open, resisting the urge to scratch as she walked into her room. The cheap linen clothes she wore for work were scarcely better than sackcloth and chafed the bare skin beneath, and as for her shoes, well, the less thought about that the better. Nice work if you can get it, she thought tiredly. Her toes ached, and her soles felt like they were on fire as she walked over to her small chest of drawers, and lit the small lantern that perched there, but the first thing she took off was the most important. Anne opened her blouse and pulled it from around her neck. It was a necklace, of sorts, fashioned from a battered signet ring on a length of thin, cheap chain. It had been a gift from her mother. Everything else had long since been sold. She placed it carefully on top of the drawers. So long as she kept the ring, she could never be called a pauper.

Anne moved a small wooden chair aside and sat down on the edge of the rickety bed. A pewter pitcher of cold water sat on the bedside table. Someone must have brought it up for her. She drank it down in one go, but then regretted it. It might have been nice to soak her feet in. She crossed one leg over the other and was about to unlace her shoe when there was a knock on the door. Probably the innkeeper wanting his pitcher back.

“Coming,” she said tiredly, getting up again.

She opened the door, and a horrifyingly familiar sight greeted her. A tall young woman, elegant in lace and silk. Her brown hair cascaded in an artful tumble around her shoulders, and her blue eyes were beautiful even in their icy wrath. It was Lady Hannah standing before her, a hand on her hip, six feet and two inches of feminine aristocratic fury.

“Hello, Anne,” she said coldly.

Anne backed away in horror. “No, it can’t be you,” she slurred. Her tongue felt like it was made of pudding. The room blurred.

“Did you really think I wouldn’t be able to find you?” Hannah stalked into the room, closing the door behind her. “I assumed you’d be thirsty after such a long day,” she said, with a glance at the table, before looking back at Anne. “So I had something sent up for you.”

“You drugged me?” Anne managed to murmur, as the room began spinning. Gentle arms caught her around the waist as she fell.

“A trick I learned,” Hannah whispered in her ear as her vision went dark. “From someone I thought was a friend.”

Hannah pulled her shoes off and placed them neatly in the corner. They were new, to replace the ones that had been stolen, and hurt as new shoes always did. She walked slowly around the small room, the polished wooden floorboards pleasantly cool on her stockinged soles, examining it. The ceiling was so low she had to duck under the beams, and there was barely any furnishing. It was a miserable place to live. She glanced at the unconscious figure of Anne, tied hand and foot, sitting upright on the flimsy chair with a hemp bag over her head, in her threadbare clothes and those horrible cheap shoes servants always had to wear. Hannah felt a moment of pity for the girl, as she flexed her own cramped toes, before she crushed it. She was not here for pity. The wretched girl had fondled her and robbed her. She was the enemy, no matter how much of a friend she had seemed in the hours before the betrayal, and what had happened after it.

Hannah scowled at Anne, remembering all too well what had been done to her feet after the girl had run off into the night. That dark, dingy alleyway had been the site of her humiliation and torment. The sensation of the scrubbing of her soles still haunted her dreams. The feathers sliding in between her toes had been the stuff of nightmare. But the price she had paid for her tormentors to release her from the hogtie had been the worst. Before that night, she had never known there was such a thing as a foot job, but she had learned, as in desperation she had used her tied bare feet to milk her captors. Her soft soles had slid up and down for what had seemed like hours, and her long toes had caressed shaft after aching shaft until they became slippery and wet. Cum had flowed over her tender soles and soaked her toes until they were sticky and cramped from the unusual exertion, but at long last, her opportunistic tormentors had untied her as promised. Her feet had been so slippery with their cum that she had nearly skidded and fallen while fleeing down the cobbled streets, chased by catcalls and the sounds of mirth.

Anne opened her eyes to darkness. She felt a moment of panic, before realising it was merely a brown hemp bag over her head. It smelled like soap, and she realised it was her cleaning bag, with the tools and brushes removed. She felt hardness under her bottom, and realised she was seated in the wooden chair now. Her wrists were bound behind her back. Her ankles were tied firmly. Anne felt her toes trying to curl inside her shoes, and forced herself to relax. She wasn’t dead. That meant she had a chance to escape. She tugged at her wrists. They were very securely tied. Maybe only a slim chance then, but she would take anything she could get. Then without warning the sack was pulled off her head. Hannah was standing there, tall and beautiful even in her radiant fury.

“You can yell for help,” Hannah said coldly. “But then the law will come, and questions will be asked. I’m sure you don’t want that.”

“What’s the difference?” Anne muttered, flexing her bound limbs, testing the ropes. “You’ll give me to them anyway.”

“Believe me, I’m tempted,” Hannah said, pacing the room like a caged lioness. “But we were friends, and even when you betrayed that to rob me, you were gentle. I expected you to cut my throat, not …” Hannah suddenly looked flustered, and glanced away. “Not what happened.”

“What do you want then?” Anne asked, rubbing her tied wrists together behind her back. The ends of the rope tickled her palms.

“Among other things, a bit of revenge.”

“For what?” Anne said to distract her. Her fingers curled, exploring the knots binding her wrists.

Hannah gave her the sort of look reserved for slow children. “You robbed me. You left me in that alley, tied up and helpless. I might have been raped, or murdered.”

“No,” Anne said with surprising fierceness. “If anyone had tried that I would have knifed them.”

“So, you stayed to watch then. I’m not sure if that makes it worse, since you must have seen what they did to my feet. I guess your mercy didn’t extend to stopping that.”

Anne hesitated. She had been about to stop it, but there had been too many people for her to risk herself. That, and it had been so arousing to watch. Yet there had been something else, as well, something unexpected. As she had hidden in the shadows, touching herself while watching Hannah’s squirming toes become soaked with more and more cum, something within Anne had begun to feel oddly possessive. As if Hannah’s feet somehow belonged to her, and were not for others to despoil. A mad notion. Anne realised suddenly that her fingers had curled. She had lost the knot!

“I’ll let you go,” Hannah said, cutting into her thoughts. “But not until you return my money.”

“I can’t do that,” Anne said quietly.

“Can’t or won’t?” Hannah demanded. “You couldn’t possibly be spending it or you wouldn’t be living in a hole like this.”

Anne remained silent, watching as Hannah turned in disgust and explored the room with redoubled intent. She had hidden the gold somewhere else. Hannah could turn the room upside down if she liked, she would never find it. Anne hadn’t stolen it for fun. It was needed to pay off a debt, and until she paid that off, she would be in danger. That was something which Hannah - despite her clear intelligence - would never be able to comprehend. She had been born into wealth and never wanted for anything. You had to live with poverty and debt to understand them. You had to survive without money to appreciate its value. Then she saw Hannah pick up the necklace.

“Don’t touch that,” Anne muttered.

Hannah looked at her with a raised eyebrow. “Where did you steal this from?”

“I didn’t steal it,” Anne said fiercely. “My mother gave it to me before she died. It’s a family trinket.”

“Oh.” Hannah’s expression softened a little. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Anne said quietly. “I’m over it.”

Hannah gave her a long look. Then she turned and opened the top drawer, placing the necklace inside. She closed the drawer and turned around, folding her arms under her breasts. “Where’s my money?”

“I can’t tell you,” Anne said again, warily.

“I’ll find out,” Hannah said, stepping closer. “There’s a few things I want to find out from you.” With that she sat on the floor in front of Anne’s chair, stretching out her long legs to hook a stool over. She placed it in front of her, folded her arms on it, and rested her chin on them while staring at Anne. “You sucked my toes,” she said suddenly, in a very matter-of-fact tone. “Why? That’s disgusting.”

Anne bit her lower lip. In theory, it should have been. If anyone had suggested worshiping a woman’s sweaty bare feet before the event, Anne would have been both amused and revolted by the idea. Certainly not intrigued. Yet when it came to it, it had been enjoyable. Hannah’s feet were so pretty, and when those delicious toes had writhed in Anne’s mouth, it had been all she could do not to nibble them immediately. Anne remembered closing her eyes and sliding her lips up and down those long sweaty toes, and how exhilarating their warm salty taste had been. It had been like sucking a cock, or even two at once. Anne shivered a little. Somehow, she didn’t think her ladyship would be impressed with that explanation, and so she remained silent.

“Well,” Hannah said. “I guess I’ll have to find out the appeal for myself.”

Anne shook her head wildly.

“Give me your legs,” Hannah said, sitting up straight and tapping the top of the stool.

“No,” Anne said, forcing what defiance she could into her tone.

“I’ll call the la-aw,” Hannah said in a sing-song voice.

Anne hesitated, before extending her tied legs resignedly and propping her heels on the stool. She watched, feeling her cheeks becoming flushed with embarrassment as Hannah unlaced her shoes and pulled them off, exposing her bare feet for the first time.

Hannah frowned at them, then up at the young woman. “You don’t wear socks?”

“Not for work,” Anne muttered, her cheeks going a rosy pink. “They’re expensive.”

Hannah guessed the reason for Anne’s blushing. The undersides of her small feet were filthy, with dirt deeply embedded in the wrinkles of her soles, and even in between her slender pretty toes. Hannah held the bound ankles with one hand, and curled her fingers and ran her nails lightly up and down the soles. Anne twitched and her tied ankles bucked in an attempt to escape, but Hannah easily held them down against the stool. It was not dirt, she saw now, but dust falling away under her slow lazy tickling, exposing pale pink lines of soft skin. Grey and black, almost like ash.

“As clean as you keep these floorboards, I’m surprised,” Hannah said, over the sound of Anne’s suppressed laughter. “Do you never wash your feet?”

There was no answer, so Hannah slowed her tickling, focusing her fingernails on the centres of Anne’s dusty arches. She lightly scratched at the tender, grey-stained skin. If Anne’s feet were like her own, the insteps were the most sensitive.

Anne shivered and giggled helplessly, resisting for a mere couple of minutes. “It’s from the coal cellar,” she eventually admitted in a small voice. “Innkeeper doesn’t want me traipsing dirt all over the floor upstairs with dusty shoes. I have to go down there barefoot.”

“They make you do that?” Hannah asked. There was a strange expression on her face, almost one of pity.

Anne wanted none of it. “Some of us have to work for a living,” she said acidly.

“When you’re not stealing,” Hannah shot back, and Anne had no retort for that. Hannah’s expression became more relaxed. “Well, I guess I won’t be sucking your toes then.”

Anne felt herself relax a little as well.

“Until I’ve cleaned them,” Hannah added, with the barest hint of a smile.

Anne jerked violently, shoving herself away from the other woman almost instinctively. The chair fell backwards with a crash, and Anne winced as the back of her head hit the floorboards. “Ouch,” she muttered, looking up at the rafters dazedly. Then Hannah’s head came into view, her face framed by her long brown tresses.

“Are you alright?” she asked, her stern expression softened briefly by concern.

“What’s it to you?” Anne muttered.

“I’m here to teach you a lesson, not hurt you,” Hannah said, hauling her and the chair upright with little apparent effort. “Some of us obey the laws.”

Anne watched her warily as Hannah dug through the collection of cleaning tools that had been in the bag. She squirmed a little, but Hannah had said she couldn’t hurt her. Well that was fine then. All she had to do was keep her mouth shut and endure whatever the other woman tried to loosen her tongue. That resolve melted away almost instantly as Hannah turned to face her feet, this time holding a very bristly hand brush. Anne shuddered simply looking at it. It was the one she used to scrub the common room. Not even the ancient oak floorboards down there could resist its cleansing bristles for long.

“No, look, wait,” Anne blurted out. “Don’t do this …”

“Where’s my money?” Hannah asked.

Anne chewed her lip, but remained silent.

“As you wish. I can assure you this gives me no pleasure at all,” Hannah lied, as she held the squirming ankles by the knot that bound them, pinning the heels against the top of the stool, and set to work.

Anne gritted her teeth and thrashed her head from side to side, determined not to squeal, but the scrubbing on her soles was relentless, and thorough. Her fingers writhed and her wrists tugged at the rope which bound them, as waves of tingles surged up her shivering legs. It was already too much. “No, please,” she snorted. “Plea-hea-hease!” The bristles slid in between her toes, no matter how tightly she curled them.

Hannah ignored the desperate pleas. She knew the girl was not broken yet, and she remembered what Anne had done to her own feet. How sensually Anne had caressed her helpless soles. She remembered most of all how Anne’s tongue had washed her sensitive skin, and slid in between her toes until she had nearly climaxed.

“No God please, no!” Anne’s captive legs were almost vibrating, and she was giggling like a schoolgirl. “Please please sta-ha-ha-hap!”

Hannah smiled thinly, and applied the bristles to the tender arches of Anne’s feet, making her cackle like a witch. She scrubbed Anne’s soles for revenge, but also because she wanted to see what they looked like under all the dirt.

“No, no, no!” Anne was almost bouncing in her chair now. “Oh God. Oh God. Oh my Ga-ha-ha-had!”

Hannah slowed the pace of the scrubbing, watching Anne’s face with polite interest as she slowly ran the bristles inch by inch along Anne’s scrunched soles. Her hysterical laughter slowed into an almost crooning moan of despair, until Hannah scrubbed faster again, and the cackles exploded from between her lips once more. Nobody would hear her. The evening crowd downstairs was making far more noise. And so Hannah smiled, and devoted herself to the task, leaning forwards intently as she ravished the squirming feet without mercy.

Anne writhed uselessly, desperate begging gushing from her mouth as her soles were scrubbed. “No please. No God. Just stop, please stop! Please! Puh-leah-he-he-he-hease!” The bristles forced tingles up her legs, wave after wave of them, crashing into her mind, her nipples, her pussy. She whimpered and giggled and squirmed as her toes were daintily scrubbed, and almost fell over again when her arches were given another good ravaging.

At long last, Hannah laid the brush aside, her task done. Anne was slumped limply in her bonds, staring at her knees. Hannah surveyed the clean, petite feet in front of her. They were certainly pretty. The small toes were adorably scrunched up but it was the soles, flushed pink from all the scrubbing, that demanded Hannah’s notice. She had never seen such deep wrinkles before. Soft, warm crevasses that almost called out to her tongue, yearning to be explored and caressed and licked. No! I'm not here to do that! She composed herself with an effort.

“Ready to talk?” Hannah asked, but Anne simply stared at her with a dazed expression.

Hannah shrugged to herself, and pressed her thumbs deep into the soft warm soles, rubbing them brusquely, smoothing the wrinkles and forcing the feet to relax under the insistent massage, only to curl her fingers and ravish the soles once again, this time with her nails. Screamy giggles filled the room, and the bound feet jerked wildly. She massaged them again, using her thumbs on the soft pads just beneath Anne's toes, rubbing them sensually. The giggles were replaced with groans as the toes writhed helplessly, almost alluringly. Hannah leaned a little bit nearer to watch them wriggle under the massaging. They were so cute, and so squirmy. She found herself enjoying the sounds Anne was making, and remembering again what Anne had done to her own feet, to her toes ...

“No ... no ... what are you doing?” Anne tried to pull her feet away, but uselessly. Hannah leaned closer, curious, before nuzzling her nose in between the toes. They wriggled desperately as she gave them a cautious sniff. The scent was far from unpleasant, instead almost spicy and alluringly feminine. Then she realised her lips were pressed against the scrunched soles. They were so soft, and so warm. It was the work of an instant to surrender to the urge. She kissed the tender skin, coaxing a soft squeal from Anne. Hannah began to lick, and Anne bounced wildly as giggles burst from her lips. Hannah barely noticed. The wrinkles felt so good against her tongue, and she washed them with dedication until they glistened wetly.

“Don’t … lick … them,” Anne gasped as her wrists rubbed together in vain. She arched her back, lifting her bottom wholly off the chair as Hannah’s tongue snuggled the undersides of her toes. It was so warm, so wet … “Ple-hee-hee-heese!” she almost cried, frustrated tears running down her cheeks as she writhed, but that loving tongue never stopped.

Hannah wrapped her lips around the writhing toes and suckled on them softly, as her fingertips worked over Anne’s scrunched soles. The bound woman was almost bouncing in her chair, her face flushed crimson and her eyes screwed shut. She was making a lot of noises, some of them very interesting indeed, but she wasn’t talking. Hannah suckled harder, nibbling the plump toes and pushing her tongue in between them as her nails caressed the wrinkled insteps.

Anne nearly melted as she felt the tongue snuggle in between her toes. She threw her head back as giggles wracked her sweaty body, and felt the fabric of her clothes brush against her aching nipples. Surges of warmth now accompanied the tingles that flowed through her, and she knew that she was close to climaxing. She knew also that she needed it, wanted it. Had to have it.

Hannah frowned as Anne giggled, panted and grunted like some farmyard animal. The bloody girl still wasn’t breaking, but she was obviously on the edge of something. Hannah casually ravished Anne’s scrunched and slippery arches with her nails, as her mind raced, letting the hysterical giggles soothe her. What more could she do? Then she allowed herself a small smile. There were other places to tickle. She kissed the tips of Anne’s toes coldly, causing another panicked giggle, before standing up. It would be her last concession to mercy.

Anne leaned back in the chair, her chest heaving for air, as Hannah reached out for her, but she could only wriggle as her top was unbuttoned and pulled off, exposing her small chest. A look of surprise flittered across Hannah’s face. “You don’t wear a brassiere?”

“What’s that?” Anne gasped. Her fingers writhed behind her back as she fought the useless urge to cover her obviously hard nipples.

“One of these.” Hannah unbuttoned her own blouse and took it off, revealing a lacy confection of silk that hung from her shoulders and cradled her large breasts.

“Oh. Yes,” Anne said dryly as she panted for breath. “I must have left it. With my cosmetics. In the carriage. On the return from the debutante’s ball.”

“Sarcasm. How charming.” Hannah folded her blouse and placed it on the chest of drawers. “You’d be right at home at court. That’s a nest of traitorous vipers the like of which even you’ve never seen,” she said, before turning and giving her a cold stare. “You remember your own betrayal, and what you did to me, I’m sure.”

Anne did remember. “No, no,” she said, shaking her head desperately, but that was a mistake she realised, as Hannah’s expression hardened.

“Perhaps you need a reminder,” the tall woman said, turning Anne’s chair to face away from the bed, before she herself sat down on it behind her. “You tickled my sides,” her voice whispered in Anne’s ear.

Anne squirmed, trying to look over her shoulder, but there was no need. Hannah reached both arms around her, as if preparing to give her a hug, but those curled fingers were like talons. Anne had time for a single whimper, before she shrieked. The fingertips had burrowed between her ribs, and were beginning to wiggle. “No god, no please. I didn’t do-ho-ho-ho that to you-ho-ho!” she gasped between explosive giggles.

“You did,” Hannah’s voice said from behind her. “Perhaps not for this long, but … details.”

Anne could only writhe as her ribs were tortured, looking down helplessly at the sight. Hannah’s hands were as beautiful as her feet. Soft creamy pale palms, and slender fingers tipped with perfect unpainted nails. Those fingers belonged on a pianoforte, or a harp, but instead they were upon Anne’s bare skin, and she shuddered as they coaxed musical laughter from her lips. “Staha-ha-hap!” she begged. “Puh-lea-he-he-hease!” Those cursed fingers were everywhere, dancing from her hips up and down her sides. Anne clenched her arms against her sides, but then the fingers simply spider tickled her tummy, before one fingertip snuggled into her bellybutton and caressed the depths of that tender hollow, nearly making her explode. Then the fingers were gone, and she was left alone with the tingles and the moist warmth of arousal between her thighs.

“You did something else to me,” Hannah’s voice said calmly over the desperate gasping. “You fondled my breasts.”

Anne slumped in her bonds, those words seeming to drain the last of her strength. Her sweaty blonde hair hung around her face as she looked down in exhaustion at her own naked breasts. Hannah’s strong hands slid up her sides, cupped the breasts and began to brusquely massage them. Anne groaned aloud, writhing in the ropes as Hannah’s soft palms slid over her bare breasts, up and down, over and over again. It wasn’t a tender gesture. She clearly wanted to make them more sensitive. Anne willed her nipples not to stiffen, but she could not stop her feet from scrunching as her teats were caressed by gentle fingertips. Anne squirmed weakly, but was only able to watch as those long fingers set to work on tickling her nipples. They stroked her teats until her bare toes writhed with lust, as moan after weak moan was coaxed from her lips. Every inch of her breasts was tickled, the slopes, the undersides, and most of all the nipples. Her moans were driven away by desperate giggles, yet the fingernails continued to slide over the tender skin with almost maddening gentleness, as if it was not supposed to be brutal torture at all. But it was.

“You just have to talk, and it’ll be over,” Hannah promised, but Anne simply panted for breath.

Hannah felt the rising tide of annoyance. Anne still wasn’t broken, and yet … her nipples were so hard. Then she remembered what the ultimate torture was, as it had been done to her. It was to be denied an orgasm. Hannah cupped one breast, massaging it gently, rubbing the erect nipple. She slid her other palm down over the heaving plain of Anne’s tummy, down lower still, sliding into her skirt. The squirming increased, but to Hannah’s surprise, her fingertips encountered moistness. Her fingers caressed, exploring the wet curls of Anne’s pubic hair and the tender slit hidden there. No, Anne’s pussy was more than just moist, it was soaked. She wanted this. Well she wasn’t going to have it, not until Hannah got what she wanted back. What was stolen.

“Talk, and I’ll give you what you want,” Hannah whispered in Anne’s ear. “I’ll stop the torture. I’ll let you climax.”

Anne clenched her bound hands into fists and gritted her teeth. The hand upon her breast was caressing her nipple slowly, maddeningly. The long fingers between her thighs slowly ran up and down the sides of her pussy, stroking the moist lips with a relentlessly gentle repetition. They never changed their speed or position, simply sliding up and down, up and down. “Oh God please … just let me …” Anne gasped as the fingers coaxingly tickled her tender folds. “Please I’ll … oh …” The fingers had stopped.

“Then talk,” Hannah whispered, and Anne felt a soft kiss on her ear as her nipple was pinched teasingly.

Those divine fingers began to move again as they sought out her most special place, caressing that tingling nubbin of sensitive flesh, stroking its swollen tip over and over. Anne felt the heat spreading through her crotch and she gasped, her hips trying to lift off the hard, wooden seat. She felt the fingers moving faster now on her clit, up and down. So close now! Hannah kissed the back of her neck. Anne's toes curled up, scrunching. So close! The fingers were stroking and stroking, faster and faster. Her bare heels drummed on the floorboards. yes... Yes! But then the delicious fingertips were all gone again.

Anne almost wailed.

“Talk,” Hannah said softly.

“Smithfield Market, north side. Building has gutters painted green,” Anne blurted out, between exhausted gasps. “Drain underneath is loose. Bricks missing under the grate on the left. Room for a box.”

“Good girl,” Hannah whispered, before standing up and walking around in front of her.

Anne slumped over again, trying simply to breathe. The lie had come easily to her lips, as it had been true, until the previous week, when she had moved her stash to another hiding place. She looked up pleadingly, but Hannah had picked up her blouse and shrugged it back on. She looked like she was going to leave!

“Wait,” Anne gasped. “You promised …”

“I said I’d let you climax, and I will,” Hannah said, quickly refastening the buttons with her long deft fingers. “You’re allowed to now.”

Anne stared speechlessly at her for a long moment, before she realised it was not a joke. She squirmed in her bonds, uselessly. Her pussy was almost dripping with lust, but there was nothing to rub it anymore. Nothing! She whimpered as Hannah approached her, ready to beg, but the tall woman simply picked her up easily, lifting her off the chair, her bound arms sliding up and over the back of it. Hannah was so strong. Anne could only lie helplessly in her arms, naked except for her skirts, as she was deposited on her bed.

“Wait,” Anne begged. “You can’t just leave me tied up like this!”

“You left me,” Hannah pointed out sharply, before her expression softened. “Look, I just don’t want you following me again, not after last time. I left instructions for the barmaid to untie you, but not until morning.”

Hannah pulled the thin blanket over her, but the wretched thing was so small it left her tied feet exposed. She thinned her lips, and pulled it down to cover the feet and keep them warm, but that only bared Anne’s pert breasts instead. Hannah couldn’t avoid looking at them. The pink teats which crowned them seemed almost achingly hard. The poor girl was so aroused, but there would be no mercy for her. Yet Hannah remembered everything she had felt for Anne, before things had become … unpleasant. She leaned down over the tied body of her erstwhile captor, and placed a single tender kiss on the tip of each nipple. She let each of those kisses linger, using the tip of her tongue to give the barest hint of a lick as she withdrew. Anne moaned softly, and it was almost enough for Hannah to give her mercy. Almost, but not quite.

“Why did you have to betray me?” Hannah asked, almost sadly. “I thought we had something.”

Anne clenched her fingers behind her back. The urge just to tell all was nearly overwhelming. But she still had her pride, and Hannah had refused to let her climax, so she remained stubbornly silent.

Hannah pulled the blanket back up over Anne’s nipples, and gave her newly exposed feet a last gentle squeeze. “Do you know what the saddest thing is?” she said quietly, rubbing the toes to warm them. “If you had asked me, and explained why you needed it, I would have given you the money.”

“I’m sorry!” Anne whispered, but it was too late.

Hannah got off the bed and turned away from her. Anne watched her in silence, waiting for her to turn around, to come back. Yet Hannah pulled on her shoes and left the room without another word nor a backward glance, and the door closed behind her with a very final click.

Anne was alone in the gloom from the single lamp, frustratingly moist, and tied at wrists and ankles. She squirmed, but she couldn’t pull her feet free, nor unpick the knots which bound her hands. Yet perhaps there was another kind of release, one at her very fingertips. By pressing her soles against the thin mattress, arching her back and lifting her bottom high, Anne could just about reach her pussy with her bound hands. She strained against the ropes, scrabbling with her fingers to pull her skirts up and out of the way, before beginning to stroke herself with the tips of her fingers. Soon she felt the approach of what she desperately needed, and thought about Hannah's stockinged feet, imagining sniffing those long sweaty toes. Yes, oh yes. There had been so much teasing, too much to endure. Her fingers moved faster, sliding up and down her moist slit, as she focused on the memory of Hannah’s tongue on her nipples. Yes! So … close. She imagined the sensation of those aristocratic lips suckling her aching teats. YES! If she could … just … cum, she might even be able to sleep in the uncomfortable ropes.

The door opened.

Anne slammed her bottom back down against the mattress, her tied hands squirming behind her back, fingertips moist with growing pleasure that had been cruelly cut short. Her bare toes curled tightly as they peeped out from under the blanket, but it was with horror now, not desire. A matching pair of redheaded women had entered the room, with green eyes that glinted like those of cats. Both Ruth and Bethany, still dressed in their barmaid’s clothes. They must have come straight up after the last shift had ended. No, why are they here? They weren’t supposed to come until the morning, as Hannah had said. Anne wriggled a little on her bed, watching the approaching women warily. They gave her twin evil smiles, and she could almost feel the juices chilling on her pussy.

“I’m sorry I teased you earlier,” Anne muttered desperately. “I’ll wash your dress for you if you like.”

“It’s too late for that,” Beth said coldly.

Ruth gave her a predatory smile. “You think yourself so much better than us, with your airs and graces.”

The twins sat down on the end of her bed, one on either side. Anne tried to tuck her tied feet under the blanket, but the bloody thing was too damn short. Worse, it seemed her efforts had not gone unnoticed. Beth reached over and ran her fingernails over Anne’s exposed arches, making her shudder. Then she frowned, and looked up at her sister. Then they both stared at her.

“How are your feet so clean and soft?” Beth narrowed her eyes. “We saw you going into the coal cellar today.”

Anne remained silent, until the fingernails began to move again, sliding up the length of her bare soles. She wiggled in the ropes, biting her lip, but the nails caressed higher, gliding over the wrinkles, stroking the soft skin until they began brushing the undersides of her clenched toes. “She washed them,” Anne muttered at last. “Lady Hannah.”

“You expect us to believe that tripe?” Ruth said with a dismissive snort. “We know why her Ladyship was here. To give you a thrashing, not a bathing.”

“It’s probably just Anne’s fantasy.” Beth glanced at her sister. “She likes feet, the little pervert. I saw her staring at yours the other evening when you took your stockings off after work.”

Anne winced. It had been true, but only because Ruth’s were so plain looking compared to Hannah’s slender lickable beauties.

“She certainly takes good care of her own,” Ruth commented, and both the women looked down at the defenceless feet. Then they smiled at the same time.

Anne made the mistake of trying to pull her feet away. Two hands seized her ankles, and two more began to spider up and down her scrunched soles. Anne struggled uselessly, clenching her teeth. Hannah’s scrubbing had tenderised her feet beyond belief, and even the slightest touch was torment. Yet there was no escape. The twins were too strong for her. She shuddered with suppressed giggles as they lifted her bound ankles, leaning close and examining her toes even as they tormented her soles.

“They don’t even smell,” Beth said, in awestruck tones.

Anne knew all too well why that was. Hannah had sucked the sweat from between her toes and washed them with her tongue. She writhed as her soft arches were ravished. It was nearly enough to make her cum just remembering how it felt. Nearly, but again, not quite.

“I think she wants out,” Ruth said at last, with a glance at her sister. Then the twins looked at her.

“If you want us to untie you,” Bethany said slowly. “You’ll clean our feet like you did yours.”

Ruth and Bethany grinned with matching sets of glinting teeth. They mirrored each other, as they both crossed their legs and unlaced their work shoes.

“But since you obviously like them so much,” Ruth said, pulling off her shoes. “You’ll be using your tongue.”

“And we’ll be tickling your feet until you finish,” Beth added, as she peeled off her dirty white stockings.

With that the barmaids lay down on either side of Anne, facing her naked feet, bringing their bared legs up onto the bed. Anne tried to push herself further up the bed as twin sets of moist soles slid over the blanket and snuggled up to her face, but her tied ankles were held, and she was pulled back down. Her shoulder blades burrowed into the mattress as sweaty toes curled against her nose and pushed between her protesting lips.

“No!” she managed to gasp.

Then the torture began.

Anne thrashed her head from side to side, and sank her teeth into her pillow to stifle her desperate giggles. She would not give them the satisfaction of hearing them. But now both sets of merciless hands tormented her tied feet. With two hands for each small foot, there was no respite. Her toes clenched so hard they began to cramp as the fingernails ravished them and her scrunched soles alike. She felt her pussy moistening all over again, but she knew amidst the giggles that it would never be enough to make her cum. On top of that, the twins both liked men and hated her. They would never show the kind of mercy she wanted in a hundred years. As the relentless foot tickling slowly broke her resistance, Anne was forced to swallow her pride and submit.

She turned her face away from the sanctuary of her pillow, and softly licked Ruth’s bare feet, and so humiliation replaced torture.

Anne whimpered as twin soles gently rubbed her nose and her cheeks. The fingers were ready on her own feet, caressing her arches, prepared to tickle at a moment’s notice. She suckled obediently on Bethany’s toes, trying to pretend they were Hannah’s. Yet she realised with mounting horror, as the minutes slipped past and became an hour, that the girls had no intention of letting her go before sunrise.

It was going to be a very long night indeed.

putri@nila
02-12-2017, 07:19 PM
Owwwhh amazing

tiger11
02-12-2017, 11:21 PM
very very nice story indeed

nariac
02-21-2017, 04:23 PM
Glad you enjoyed. :)

Wally West
02-21-2017, 06:42 PM
Awesome story. Thanks for psoting.

Cameron
02-26-2017, 03:43 AM
Fantastic revenge! ;) :)