This story was a special request from another TMFer, and since they enjoyed it I'd like to share it here!
Vera's Punishment
“I have no idea how you managed to get a reservation for this place,” said Sofia as she looked around the restaurant that her friend Vera had brought her to.
“Oh, you just have to know who to talk to,” said Vera, taking in the crowded dining room with satisfaction. Like her friend, Vera was Asian and slender with a light complexion and straight black lustrous hair past her shoulders. This evening Vera was dressed in a yellow satin blouse and a thin black skirt: costly as most of her clothing usually was, but her most expensive article was her gold open-toed stiletto sandals. They were her favorites and she wore them almost everywhere she could: the sandals had a strap across the heel but showed off her shapely feet and painted toes in a way that she couldn’t get enough of.
Sofia had often eyed the sandals, knowing that they were far too expensive to be within her price range. Both of them were college students and receiving a limited paycheck from the university, but Vera’s family came from lots of money, which explained why she could always afford expensive clothes and expensive restaurants like this one.
In fact, Sofia had heard a lot about this particular restaurant. It was new in town, but already all the magazines had given it top ratings. In addition to having five-star quality food, it also had an attached boutique where after eating, customers could shop for some of the most popular brand-name clothing. Dresses, handbags, and above all rows and rows of designer shoes were displayed in the boutique. It was all too expensive for Sofia, but she imagined Vera could afford most of it, and she looked forward to at least some window-shopping after their meal was finished.
However as much money as Vera had, she had a habit of acting immaturely in public. Sofia had often watched her draw attention to herself, and tonight looked like it would be no exception. Almost as soon as they were sitting at their booth with their drinks in hand, Vera leaned back and put her feet up on her seat.
“Do you have to do that?” asked Sofia, rolling her eyes. “I feel like I’m out with a child.”
“Oh, you always complain too much,” said Vera, taking a sip from her cosmo as she stretched out her legs. But then the habit which had always annoyed Sofia the most surfaced, just as it always did in public: Vera began to slip off her sandals, dangling them between her toes before she carelessly let them drop to the floor.
Vera would take every opportunity she could to showcase her bare feet in public, and she was always slipping her sandals off despite the heel strap to keep them in place. As much as this exhibitionism annoyed Sofia, she couldn’t deny that Vera’s feet were practically flawless. With long toes, high arches, and silky smooth soles, Vera’s feet were pampered to an extraordinary degree. With all her money, she could afford weekly pedicures from the priciest spas. She spent more on foot care products than Sofia did on groceries: those perfect feet cost her so much, it was little wonder she incessantly had to show them off.
“I really wish you would keep your shoes on, you know,” said Sofia, annoyed. But Vera just laughed at her and made even more of a show of her feet, flexing them and wiggling her toes for everyone.
“They need to learn a thing or two about mixing drinks here,” said Vera, looking discontentedly at the glass she had already emptied. “There was almost no vodka in that one. Want me to get you anything while I’m up?”
“I think I’ll be OK,” said Sofia, and she watched Vera get up from their booth barefoot, her sandals still on the ground as she walked up to the bar. Sofia sighed. With Vera’s bad habits it was difficult to be around her sometimes.
“Can I get some service here?” asked Vera, snapping her fingers after having been forced to wait an intolerable ten seconds.
“May I help you, madam?” asked a server who walked up to her.
“I should hope so,” said Vera impatiently. “I want another cosmo, and this time I want it made right! I didn’t ask for cranberry juice, so if you want a tip this time, don’t think about giving me another drink like the last one.”
“My apologies, madam,” said the server wearily, trying her best to force a smile. It had been a long day and she had been on her feet for two shifts now without a break. She tried her best to mix the drink as requested, handing it to Vera with the hope that she would find it acceptable.
“Better,” said Vera, taking a sip of her drink with only a half-scowl. “But don’t get lazy again, or I’ll have a mind to talk to your manager.”
As Vera daintily walked back to her table barefoot, the server watched her sit down, lying back in her seat dangling her bare feet in view of the entire restaurant. She stretched them out and wiggled her toes again, making a show of her beautiful feet for everyone. She probably spent more on pedicures each month than the serving staff at the restaurant earned. This girl, thought the server to herself, had a lesson coming to her. As Vera continued her display, however, the server noticed something fall out of her pocket: it was a set of car keys. She was about to walk over and inform the customers that they had dropped their keys when she stopped and smiled to herself. She had a plan.
Dinner continued with only pleasant but empty conversation between Vera and Sofia. Neither of them noticed when a waitress walked by their table and dropped some silverware, and when she bent down to pick it up, she secretly pocketed Vera’s car keys. The waitress walked past the bar on the way to the kitchen, and without anyone noticing she slipped the car keys to the bar server. The server smiled to herself: now the trap was set.
After dinner and several more drinks, Vera stood up from the table, explaining that she needed to go to the car to get her makeup. She stood up and slipped her sandals back on as an afterthought, walking out the door to the parking lot. The server at the bar watched her go, and as soon as she was out of the door, she walked over to the table where Sofia sat alone.
“Was that your friend?” asked the server as she walked up to the table.
“Oh, yes, I’m sorry she was so rude to you,” said Sofia. She was used to apologizing for Vera and was getting tired of it.
“Oh, don’t worry about it,” said the server to Sofia’s surprise. “She really does like to go barefoot, doesn’t she?”
“Yes, she loves it,” said Sofia. “She takes such good care of her feet, so she’s always showing them off in public. I get a little tired of it, but she really does have the prettiest feet of anyone I know. Back on campus, she’s almost always barefoot, showing off her feet to her students. But even still, her feet always look so soft! She must spend so much time taking care of them.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised,” said the server casually. “Of course, feet that are so well taken care of sometimes have…weaknesses.”
“Oh? What do you mean?” asked Sofia.
“Oh, it’s nothing,” said the server with a smile, “It’s just that I’ve heard that feet like that can tend to be a little…ticklish.”
The thought hadn’t occurred to Sofia, and immediately she wondered why it hadn’t. “Do you think she might be?” asked Sofia, suddenly interested. Watching Vera getting tickled might be just what this evening needed, she thought to herself.
“I wouldn’t know,” said the server. “You’re her friend, you don’t know whether she’s ticklish or not?”
“No,” admitted Sofia, “But I know who would know!”
In a few seconds, Sofia was on the phone, calling the number for Vera’s sister. The two of them were friends on campus and often helped each other with their classwork. After a minute of hellos and pleasant conversation, Sofia got to the point of her call, and switched her phone to speakers so the server could hear it.
“You know,” said Sofia, “We were wondering something about Vera. Do you know whether she’s ticklish or not?”
Vera’s sister laughed on the other end. “Are you kidding? She’s incredibly ticklish!” Sofia and the server grinned at each other.
“Do you know where?” asked Sofia.
“Oh, just about all over,” said Vera’s sister. “Under the arms, on the sides and belly, behind the knees, just about any spot you could think of, Vera’s ticklish there! But of course, she has one spot that makes all the rest of them look like nothing.”
“And what’s that?” asked Sofia hopefully.
“Her feet,” answered Vera’s sister, and the grins of Sofia and the server widened. They had hit the jackpot.
“Sensitive, are they?” asked Sofia, trying to contain her excitement.
“Oh, you have no idea how ticklish they are,” Vera’s sister replied, obviously enjoying the conversation. “I was with her the first time she got a pedicure. The second her feet were touched, she squealed and jumped out of the chair! I had to hold her down so she could get through it, and she didn’t stop struggling and laughing the entire time. She had put on all her most expensive makeup before we went out, and by the time we were done with her pedicure, all her tears had washed her mascara and eye shadow all over her cheeks. She was so embarrassed, she made me promise not to tell!
“But of course, she loved her pretty feet too much to give up pedicures. She kept going back every week, and it tickles her like crazy every time. She’s learned to hold it in, though: she bites her lip and giggles beneath her breath as though it’s a secret or something. Not much of a secret!”
“Ooh, interesting! Did you ever tickle her yourself?” asked Sofia.
“All the time! I used to torture her with it!” said Vera’s sister. “Sometimes I would sneak into her bedroom on weekends and tie her up with blankets while she was still sleeping. Then when she woke up, I’d tell her it was time for her weekend pedicure and show her my foot brush. You should have seen how terrified she was! I would brush those pretty feet of hers until she was begging for mercy: up and down the arches and underneath her dancing toes until she was laughing so hard she could barely talk.”
“So is that the best way to get her?” asked Sofia, carefully taking mental notes.
“Oh, it’s good,” agreed Vera’s sister, “But by far the best way to tickle Vera is with fingernails on her bare feet. After I had warmed up her feet with brushing, I would stroke her arches with my nails, and I swear you’ve never seen a reaction like hers before. She would scream, beg, and promise anything to make it stop. Those soft little pedicured feet of hers can’t stand to be touched for even a second. But I would rake my fingernails up and down her feet until she laughed herself hoarse. Her soles are ticklish all over, but the absolute worst spot is right in the center of her arches. When I would press into that, I seriously thought she was going to die laughing.”
“Wow, now that’s more information than I had hoped for!” giggled Sofia. “You don’t mind if we, say, put it to good use?”
“Be my guest,” said Vera’s sister with a quick laugh. “I’m tired of hearing about all the people Vera offends on a daily basis. I think she needs to learn some humility. Give her a good tickling for me.”
After she hung up, Sofia looked back at the server. “It looks like you were right,” Sofia said. “So what exactly do you have in mind?”
“Why don’t you come with me, and I’ll show you?” asked the server.
Sofia followed the server into a room marked “Staff Only”, and was amazed at what she saw. The room was filled with banks of monitors: some showing different angles of the dining room, others of various other areas of the building. Specifically, the server showed Sofia four monitors in one corner of the room. One of them focused on the clothing boutique next door, while three others showed a room Sofia had never seen before. The three cameras all faced what looked like an exercise bench with handcuffs at the head of it, and a set of stocks at the feet. Sofia had no idea something like this was in the restaurant.
“It’s something we keep for entertainment purposes,” said the server with a wicked grin. “If anyone is locked into it, the cameras provide a view of their body, feet, and face. I’d suggest you stay here for the time being. I’m sure you won’t want to miss what’s going to happen in this room very shortly.” Sofia was sure that she wouldn’t either.
In the meantime, Vera had reached her car and noticed the absence of her car keys. Grumbling to herself, she walked back inside the restaurant, prepared to blame someone for it. The bar server watched her walk back inside, and positioned herself by the door to meet her.
“Excuse me,” Vera said to the server impatiently. “I think my keys were misplaced somewhere in the restaurant.”
“Oh my, I’m so sorry to hear that,” said the server, not sounding sorry at all. “I’m afraid all lost-and-found requests have to be taken to management. If you would be so kind as to follow me.”
“Just get me my keys back, now!” snapped Vera.
“I’m sorry, but I’m afraid all lost-and-found requests have to be taken to management,” repeated the server patiently. “Would you please follow me?”
Vera sourly followed, deciding that it would probably be less work not to argue. She smoldered as she walked after the server into an unmarked door in the back of the restaurant. Expecting to see a manager, she was surprised to see a group of servers inside, all waiting around a strange-looking device that looked like an exercise bench with stocks attached.
“What’s going on here?” Vera demanded.
“Actually,” said the server, “There’s something I didn’t quite tell you. Since you left the restaurant, the keys are now technically property of the management, I’m afraid.”
“What?!” cried Vera, outraged. “This is ridiculous! I demand you give them to me right now!”
“Oh, don’t worry,” said the server, smiling. “Of course we’re going to give them back to you. But first, there’s a kind of…ritual we ask our lost-and-found victims to go through.”
“Sort of a practical joke,” explained another woman who Vera recognized as their waitress.
“What is it?” asked Vera, still displeased.
“We just want you to lie in this device here and have a quick picture taken,” said the server.
Vera took another look at the device. It was a padded bench where she would lie down, with handcuffs that would hold her wrists over her head. Her legs would be elevated and her ankles would be trapped in a pair of padded stocks at the bottom. She didn’t like the look of it at all.
“I don’t want to get in that thing!” protested Vera.
“I’m sorry,” said the server, smiling sweetly. “Those are the house rules. Just a quick picture.”
All Vera wanted was to get out of this place, and finally she decided to play along. If this would get her keys back more quickly than arguing, she may as well. She sighed and lay down on the padded bench, and immediately the servers placed her hands in the handcuffs and put her ankles in the stocks, locking them. How bad could it be, she thought?
“Oh, but I’m afraid one thing is missing,” said the server, while all the women around her grinned evilly. With Vera bound and helpless, the server plucked her expensive sandals off her feet and placed them on a nearby table.
“Wh—what are you doing?” asked Vera, suddenly worried.
“Why? Are you feeling...vulnerable?” asked the server teasingly, dangling Vera’s sandals just out of her reach.
“N—no!” lied Vera, her toes beginning to curl. Suddenly her bare feet felt very, very exposed.
“I was just thinking that if you enjoyed being barefoot so much, you can’t have much use for these sandals, can you?” asked the server with a smile. “In fact, I don’t think you really want these at all, do you?” She turned to the other servers next to her. “Ladies,” she said, “Take these sandals to the boutique next door and put them up for sale.”
“No! Give me my sandals back!” shouted Vera, her anger coming back. “Do you have any idea how expensive those sandals are? They cost more than you make all week in this lousy job! I swear, if you don’t give those back right now I’m going to make all of you so sorry you’ll wish you’ll wish you never worked in this second-rate restaurant!”
“Oh, but if we did that, we couldn’t see your lovely feet, could we?” said the server with a smile that caused Vera to begin sweating. “In fact, they look so soft, I’d just like to touch them. Like…this!”
With her last work, the server pressed her fingertip into the soft pink flesh of Vera’s sole. Immediately Vera’s entire body shook, and only by biting her lip was she able to avoid squealing out loud.
“H—how did you know?” asked Vera, looking up at the server in terror.
“That you were ticklish?” asked the server sweetly. “Why, you just told me, little rich girl.” She pressed her finger against Vera’s other foot as well.
“No…please not there…” begged Vera, fighting back the laughter.
“Such a bad, bad habit going barefoot in public,” grinned the server. “Not even the straps on these lovely sandals could keep them on you, hmm? I’m surprised! It must be so hard to be touched here, no?” She slowly dragged her fingernails across the soles of both feet as Vera squirmed helplessly.
“Mmmmph!! Stop!! Hehehehehehe!!” Vera giggled as the sharp nails touched her soft, pampered feet. Already the gentle touches were unbearable, but she was powerless to escape them.
“Tickle tickle!” teased the server as she ran her long fingernails across Vera’s creamy soles in long, slow circles. “How do you like this, rich girl? Did all those pedicures prepare you for this?”
They did not: this was much worse than any pedicure Vera had ever had. The sensation was unbearable: her lip trembled and tears trickled down her cheeks as she tried to fight it, but her feet were much too ticklish. She could feel her self-control slipping: it was humiliating, but she could do nothing to stop it. Even worse, the server knew exactly how to tickle her: the circles around her feet were closing in on the centers of her arches, the most ticklish spot on her entire feet. The moment those fingernails touched them, she could no longer hold it in.
“MMMMPHHHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! IT TICKLES!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!” screamed Vera, throwing back her head and breaking into hysterics.
“Koochie-koochie-koo! Just keep laughing!” said the server teasingly, exploring every inch of those ticklish soles but paying special attention to the extra-sensitive centers of her soles. That information had definitely been worth it: Vera’s arches were even more ticklish than the rest of her soles, and touching them made her go crazy.
“Now,” said the server, “I want you to tell me how ticklish these pampered little feet of yours are! Say it for me!”
“THEY’RE TOO TICKLISH!!! AAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!” Vera yelled through her laughter. It was so humiliating to be forced to say it, but she couldn’t resist. It was a feeling of helplessness like she had rarely ever known.
“And the arches?” cooed the server, enjoying every moment of her suffering. “Tell me about those, dear.”
“MY WORST SPOT!!! NOT THEHEHEHEHEHEHEHERE!!!” screamed Vera, who was already too far gone to lie. Being forced to confess her own ticklish spots was cruel, but not nearly as cruel as the ruthless tickling that her poor arches were suffering. The server already knew the answer: she just wanted to hear Vera say it.
In the monitor room, Sofia was enjoying the spectacle nearly as much as the server. The cameras provided perfect angles for her to view Vera’s torment in perfect detail. The first camera showed her squirming body: thrashing and helpless with her arms behind her head and her feet locked securely in place. The second camera showed a close-up of Vera’s feet: just as soft and pink as ever, wriggling back and forth with toes squirming as her soles were subjected to unbearable torture. She had a first-class view of the fingernails sliding across Vera’s pretty little feet, tickling those curved arches she was so proud of.
But the best was the third camera, focusing on Vera’s face. Her eyes were closed tight and crying, her carefully-kept hair was thrown into a mess, and her mouth was twisted in unstoppable forced laughter. Her expression was one of pure torture, and Sofia could not get enough of it. As she watched Vera laugh and laugh, she realized that she had been waiting to see this for years: Vera had always been such a spoiled brat, showing off her bare feet to get attention. She desperately needed a lesson just like this. Sofia had never realized how badly she had really wanted to see Vera be tickled and humiliated, but now that it was happening she hoped it would never end.
Over on the fourth monitor, Sofia could se the boutique next door. She turned to watch it as one of the servers walked into it carrying Vera’s precious sandals. She wondered how much they were going to charge for them: at the mall a pair like that would have cost at least $300, probably more. Sofia could barely keep from laughing when she saw the price tag on them: ten dollars! She chuckled to herself as she turned back to the cameras showing Vera’s torture. Maybe next time she won’t leave such expensive sandals just lying around.
Back in the torture room, Vera could just barely see the monitor showing the boutique through her tears. She saw the price tag of ten dollars: she had paid hundreds for them!
“PLEASE!! DON’T SELL MY SHOES!!” begged Vera, wishing more than anything that she had them on right now. They had cost her so much money, and now they were being sold for almost nothing while she was forced to watch! She saw a customer come in and remark on how inexpensive these sandals were. Vera wanted to beg her not to take the sandals, she wanted them back so badly! But Vera could do nothing but watch helplessly as the customer tried on her sandals, posing in them while Vera was tickled out of her mind. It was like being in a nightmare.
Vera tried to cry out again, in the hopes that somehow the woman buying her sandals could hear her, but the fingernails scribbling across her soles tickled so badly that only laughter could escape her mouth. The talon-like nails showed no mercy to her baby-soft feet, scratching in wild random patterns until Vera was a crying, hysterical wreck. She saw the customer put ten dollars on the counter and walk off with her shoes, her precious sandals that she had never respected until it was too late.
“Oh, do you miss your sandals now?” asked the server mockingly, her sharp nails drilling into Vera’s soft spots without mercy. “Well, it’s too late. When we’re through with you, you’ll be begging to walk out of here barefoot all the way home!”
Vera only just realized the importance of the word “we” as three more servers entered the room carrying ball-point pens. “Ooh, are these our playing surfaces?” asked one of the servers, looking at Vera’s bright pink tortured feet. Between the four of them, two of them held her feet still while the other two drew slow, embellished tic-tac-toe boards all over Vera’s feet, complete with retraced boldface lines. Vera screamed with laughter as the sharp pen-tips were dragged over her soles, but her feet were held perfectly still the entire time.
“Stop! You can’t draw on my feet!” shouted Vera as she looked up at the servers, ready to begin their games. In her brief rest from being tickled, anger and shame rose up inside her. She loved her pretty feet so much, and these women were dirtying them against her will!
But Vera was powerless to stop them. Immediately one of the servers grinned and drew a large, torturous “X” across the center of Vera’s arches, causing Vera to howl with laughter until she cried. On her other foot, a large lazy “O” was drawn across her instep just below the ball of her foot. Marks were drawn on every available inch of her soles, and every one of them tickled like mad. The worst was when one of the servers won a game: they would draw a long, scribbling line across their winning marks, back and forth across her helpless feet with their sharp, tickling pens.
“NO MORE!!! NO MOOHOOHOOHOOHOORRRRREEE!!” howled Vera, but the servers only smiled and continued their games.
Vera’s soles were soon covered in ink and sweat, but the servers were not done with her. Two of hem brought buckets of soapy water and stiff-bristled brushes, and once her soles were completely covered with tic-tac-toe boards, the servers would cover her feet with soapy water and scrub them clean. It took minutes of scrubbing to get every last trace of the ink off, while Vera screamed until she thought she would die. And then, once her soles were brushed glistening clean, the servers would draw new tic-tac-toe boards and start their games again.
After six full rounds of games, Vera was sobbing uncontrollably even between the tickling. Her poor feet had never been punished like this before in her life. She could barely even hear when one of the servers called a stop at last, and showed Vera what looked like a document.
“W—what is it?” Vera sniffed, her eyes still filled with tears.
“An employment contract,” smiled the server holding it. “It says that you agree to take a job around here and make amends for how rude you’ve been. For the next two months, after your classes, you’ll be coming here as a maid to clean the kitchen and scrub all the bathrooms in the building, plus any other dirty jobs we see fit to give you. All unpaid, of course. And there’s a special contract we’ve added just for you. Since you enjoy going without shoes in public, all your work will be done barefoot.”
“Barefoot?” asked Vera, shocked. “But I can’t do all that dirty work without shoes! Not when I spend so much taking care of my feet!”
“Well, we can’t force you to sign,” said the server with a broad smile. “But, we can keep torturing these pretty feet of yours until you change your mind. The choice is yours.”
The thought of having her feet tickled by these merciless women was too much for Vera to bear. Defeated and humiliated, she took up the pen and signed her name to the contract.
* * * * *
The next day Vera showed up at the restaurant, hoping that she would regain at least some of her dignity. She wore an expensive black evening dress and a pair of red pumps, hoping that if she looked good the servers might take pity on her. But she had no such luck. They immediately gave her a plain white janitorial dress to wear and sent her to put it on right away. It was cheap, poorly fitting, and uncomfortable: Vera felt defeated already.
“What will happen to my other clothes?” she asked after she had changed.
“They become property of the management,” said the server who had forced her to sign the contract. “Don’t expect to get them back. From now on, you’re to show up in this dress with no shoes.”
“Can’t I wear at least some shoes?” asked Vera, looking down miserably at her bare feet.
“Why, I would have thought you would like it,” the server said with a smirk. “After all, don’t you enjoy being barefoot in public all the time? Well, now is your chance to go without shoes for the next two months! And now, you’re to start by mopping up the entire kitchen barefoot, and if there’s even a speck of dirt left over, I’ll make you do it again and again until I’m satisfied!”
As the server left, Vera walked sorrowfully into the kitchen to begin her work. It was enormous, and it looked like every inch of the floor was covered in black grease. As she walked over the kitchen floor her bare feet left tracks in the dirt and grease behind her, blackening her soft and pampered feet with every step she took. The humiliation of it was so great, Vera felt like crying as she looked down at her filthy bare feet and remembered the days when she had enjoyed being barefoot.
As Vera walked by a window, she was able to see into the boutique next door. There on display was a pair of gold open-toed sandals almost identical to the ones she had worn yesterday to the restaurant. She looked at them longingly, and then back down at her dirt-covered feet as she trudged across the kitchen floor, mopping and getting down on her knees to scrub the stains that the mop wouldn’t get out. When this was over, thought Vera sadly, she would never take her shoes for granted again.
Vera's Punishment
“I have no idea how you managed to get a reservation for this place,” said Sofia as she looked around the restaurant that her friend Vera had brought her to.
“Oh, you just have to know who to talk to,” said Vera, taking in the crowded dining room with satisfaction. Like her friend, Vera was Asian and slender with a light complexion and straight black lustrous hair past her shoulders. This evening Vera was dressed in a yellow satin blouse and a thin black skirt: costly as most of her clothing usually was, but her most expensive article was her gold open-toed stiletto sandals. They were her favorites and she wore them almost everywhere she could: the sandals had a strap across the heel but showed off her shapely feet and painted toes in a way that she couldn’t get enough of.
Sofia had often eyed the sandals, knowing that they were far too expensive to be within her price range. Both of them were college students and receiving a limited paycheck from the university, but Vera’s family came from lots of money, which explained why she could always afford expensive clothes and expensive restaurants like this one.
In fact, Sofia had heard a lot about this particular restaurant. It was new in town, but already all the magazines had given it top ratings. In addition to having five-star quality food, it also had an attached boutique where after eating, customers could shop for some of the most popular brand-name clothing. Dresses, handbags, and above all rows and rows of designer shoes were displayed in the boutique. It was all too expensive for Sofia, but she imagined Vera could afford most of it, and she looked forward to at least some window-shopping after their meal was finished.
However as much money as Vera had, she had a habit of acting immaturely in public. Sofia had often watched her draw attention to herself, and tonight looked like it would be no exception. Almost as soon as they were sitting at their booth with their drinks in hand, Vera leaned back and put her feet up on her seat.
“Do you have to do that?” asked Sofia, rolling her eyes. “I feel like I’m out with a child.”
“Oh, you always complain too much,” said Vera, taking a sip from her cosmo as she stretched out her legs. But then the habit which had always annoyed Sofia the most surfaced, just as it always did in public: Vera began to slip off her sandals, dangling them between her toes before she carelessly let them drop to the floor.
Vera would take every opportunity she could to showcase her bare feet in public, and she was always slipping her sandals off despite the heel strap to keep them in place. As much as this exhibitionism annoyed Sofia, she couldn’t deny that Vera’s feet were practically flawless. With long toes, high arches, and silky smooth soles, Vera’s feet were pampered to an extraordinary degree. With all her money, she could afford weekly pedicures from the priciest spas. She spent more on foot care products than Sofia did on groceries: those perfect feet cost her so much, it was little wonder she incessantly had to show them off.
“I really wish you would keep your shoes on, you know,” said Sofia, annoyed. But Vera just laughed at her and made even more of a show of her feet, flexing them and wiggling her toes for everyone.
“They need to learn a thing or two about mixing drinks here,” said Vera, looking discontentedly at the glass she had already emptied. “There was almost no vodka in that one. Want me to get you anything while I’m up?”
“I think I’ll be OK,” said Sofia, and she watched Vera get up from their booth barefoot, her sandals still on the ground as she walked up to the bar. Sofia sighed. With Vera’s bad habits it was difficult to be around her sometimes.
“Can I get some service here?” asked Vera, snapping her fingers after having been forced to wait an intolerable ten seconds.
“May I help you, madam?” asked a server who walked up to her.
“I should hope so,” said Vera impatiently. “I want another cosmo, and this time I want it made right! I didn’t ask for cranberry juice, so if you want a tip this time, don’t think about giving me another drink like the last one.”
“My apologies, madam,” said the server wearily, trying her best to force a smile. It had been a long day and she had been on her feet for two shifts now without a break. She tried her best to mix the drink as requested, handing it to Vera with the hope that she would find it acceptable.
“Better,” said Vera, taking a sip of her drink with only a half-scowl. “But don’t get lazy again, or I’ll have a mind to talk to your manager.”
As Vera daintily walked back to her table barefoot, the server watched her sit down, lying back in her seat dangling her bare feet in view of the entire restaurant. She stretched them out and wiggled her toes again, making a show of her beautiful feet for everyone. She probably spent more on pedicures each month than the serving staff at the restaurant earned. This girl, thought the server to herself, had a lesson coming to her. As Vera continued her display, however, the server noticed something fall out of her pocket: it was a set of car keys. She was about to walk over and inform the customers that they had dropped their keys when she stopped and smiled to herself. She had a plan.
Dinner continued with only pleasant but empty conversation between Vera and Sofia. Neither of them noticed when a waitress walked by their table and dropped some silverware, and when she bent down to pick it up, she secretly pocketed Vera’s car keys. The waitress walked past the bar on the way to the kitchen, and without anyone noticing she slipped the car keys to the bar server. The server smiled to herself: now the trap was set.
After dinner and several more drinks, Vera stood up from the table, explaining that she needed to go to the car to get her makeup. She stood up and slipped her sandals back on as an afterthought, walking out the door to the parking lot. The server at the bar watched her go, and as soon as she was out of the door, she walked over to the table where Sofia sat alone.
“Was that your friend?” asked the server as she walked up to the table.
“Oh, yes, I’m sorry she was so rude to you,” said Sofia. She was used to apologizing for Vera and was getting tired of it.
“Oh, don’t worry about it,” said the server to Sofia’s surprise. “She really does like to go barefoot, doesn’t she?”
“Yes, she loves it,” said Sofia. “She takes such good care of her feet, so she’s always showing them off in public. I get a little tired of it, but she really does have the prettiest feet of anyone I know. Back on campus, she’s almost always barefoot, showing off her feet to her students. But even still, her feet always look so soft! She must spend so much time taking care of them.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised,” said the server casually. “Of course, feet that are so well taken care of sometimes have…weaknesses.”
“Oh? What do you mean?” asked Sofia.
“Oh, it’s nothing,” said the server with a smile, “It’s just that I’ve heard that feet like that can tend to be a little…ticklish.”
The thought hadn’t occurred to Sofia, and immediately she wondered why it hadn’t. “Do you think she might be?” asked Sofia, suddenly interested. Watching Vera getting tickled might be just what this evening needed, she thought to herself.
“I wouldn’t know,” said the server. “You’re her friend, you don’t know whether she’s ticklish or not?”
“No,” admitted Sofia, “But I know who would know!”
In a few seconds, Sofia was on the phone, calling the number for Vera’s sister. The two of them were friends on campus and often helped each other with their classwork. After a minute of hellos and pleasant conversation, Sofia got to the point of her call, and switched her phone to speakers so the server could hear it.
“You know,” said Sofia, “We were wondering something about Vera. Do you know whether she’s ticklish or not?”
Vera’s sister laughed on the other end. “Are you kidding? She’s incredibly ticklish!” Sofia and the server grinned at each other.
“Do you know where?” asked Sofia.
“Oh, just about all over,” said Vera’s sister. “Under the arms, on the sides and belly, behind the knees, just about any spot you could think of, Vera’s ticklish there! But of course, she has one spot that makes all the rest of them look like nothing.”
“And what’s that?” asked Sofia hopefully.
“Her feet,” answered Vera’s sister, and the grins of Sofia and the server widened. They had hit the jackpot.
“Sensitive, are they?” asked Sofia, trying to contain her excitement.
“Oh, you have no idea how ticklish they are,” Vera’s sister replied, obviously enjoying the conversation. “I was with her the first time she got a pedicure. The second her feet were touched, she squealed and jumped out of the chair! I had to hold her down so she could get through it, and she didn’t stop struggling and laughing the entire time. She had put on all her most expensive makeup before we went out, and by the time we were done with her pedicure, all her tears had washed her mascara and eye shadow all over her cheeks. She was so embarrassed, she made me promise not to tell!
“But of course, she loved her pretty feet too much to give up pedicures. She kept going back every week, and it tickles her like crazy every time. She’s learned to hold it in, though: she bites her lip and giggles beneath her breath as though it’s a secret or something. Not much of a secret!”
“Ooh, interesting! Did you ever tickle her yourself?” asked Sofia.
“All the time! I used to torture her with it!” said Vera’s sister. “Sometimes I would sneak into her bedroom on weekends and tie her up with blankets while she was still sleeping. Then when she woke up, I’d tell her it was time for her weekend pedicure and show her my foot brush. You should have seen how terrified she was! I would brush those pretty feet of hers until she was begging for mercy: up and down the arches and underneath her dancing toes until she was laughing so hard she could barely talk.”
“So is that the best way to get her?” asked Sofia, carefully taking mental notes.
“Oh, it’s good,” agreed Vera’s sister, “But by far the best way to tickle Vera is with fingernails on her bare feet. After I had warmed up her feet with brushing, I would stroke her arches with my nails, and I swear you’ve never seen a reaction like hers before. She would scream, beg, and promise anything to make it stop. Those soft little pedicured feet of hers can’t stand to be touched for even a second. But I would rake my fingernails up and down her feet until she laughed herself hoarse. Her soles are ticklish all over, but the absolute worst spot is right in the center of her arches. When I would press into that, I seriously thought she was going to die laughing.”
“Wow, now that’s more information than I had hoped for!” giggled Sofia. “You don’t mind if we, say, put it to good use?”
“Be my guest,” said Vera’s sister with a quick laugh. “I’m tired of hearing about all the people Vera offends on a daily basis. I think she needs to learn some humility. Give her a good tickling for me.”
After she hung up, Sofia looked back at the server. “It looks like you were right,” Sofia said. “So what exactly do you have in mind?”
“Why don’t you come with me, and I’ll show you?” asked the server.
Sofia followed the server into a room marked “Staff Only”, and was amazed at what she saw. The room was filled with banks of monitors: some showing different angles of the dining room, others of various other areas of the building. Specifically, the server showed Sofia four monitors in one corner of the room. One of them focused on the clothing boutique next door, while three others showed a room Sofia had never seen before. The three cameras all faced what looked like an exercise bench with handcuffs at the head of it, and a set of stocks at the feet. Sofia had no idea something like this was in the restaurant.
“It’s something we keep for entertainment purposes,” said the server with a wicked grin. “If anyone is locked into it, the cameras provide a view of their body, feet, and face. I’d suggest you stay here for the time being. I’m sure you won’t want to miss what’s going to happen in this room very shortly.” Sofia was sure that she wouldn’t either.
In the meantime, Vera had reached her car and noticed the absence of her car keys. Grumbling to herself, she walked back inside the restaurant, prepared to blame someone for it. The bar server watched her walk back inside, and positioned herself by the door to meet her.
“Excuse me,” Vera said to the server impatiently. “I think my keys were misplaced somewhere in the restaurant.”
“Oh my, I’m so sorry to hear that,” said the server, not sounding sorry at all. “I’m afraid all lost-and-found requests have to be taken to management. If you would be so kind as to follow me.”
“Just get me my keys back, now!” snapped Vera.
“I’m sorry, but I’m afraid all lost-and-found requests have to be taken to management,” repeated the server patiently. “Would you please follow me?”
Vera sourly followed, deciding that it would probably be less work not to argue. She smoldered as she walked after the server into an unmarked door in the back of the restaurant. Expecting to see a manager, she was surprised to see a group of servers inside, all waiting around a strange-looking device that looked like an exercise bench with stocks attached.
“What’s going on here?” Vera demanded.
“Actually,” said the server, “There’s something I didn’t quite tell you. Since you left the restaurant, the keys are now technically property of the management, I’m afraid.”
“What?!” cried Vera, outraged. “This is ridiculous! I demand you give them to me right now!”
“Oh, don’t worry,” said the server, smiling. “Of course we’re going to give them back to you. But first, there’s a kind of…ritual we ask our lost-and-found victims to go through.”
“Sort of a practical joke,” explained another woman who Vera recognized as their waitress.
“What is it?” asked Vera, still displeased.
“We just want you to lie in this device here and have a quick picture taken,” said the server.
Vera took another look at the device. It was a padded bench where she would lie down, with handcuffs that would hold her wrists over her head. Her legs would be elevated and her ankles would be trapped in a pair of padded stocks at the bottom. She didn’t like the look of it at all.
“I don’t want to get in that thing!” protested Vera.
“I’m sorry,” said the server, smiling sweetly. “Those are the house rules. Just a quick picture.”
All Vera wanted was to get out of this place, and finally she decided to play along. If this would get her keys back more quickly than arguing, she may as well. She sighed and lay down on the padded bench, and immediately the servers placed her hands in the handcuffs and put her ankles in the stocks, locking them. How bad could it be, she thought?
“Oh, but I’m afraid one thing is missing,” said the server, while all the women around her grinned evilly. With Vera bound and helpless, the server plucked her expensive sandals off her feet and placed them on a nearby table.
“Wh—what are you doing?” asked Vera, suddenly worried.
“Why? Are you feeling...vulnerable?” asked the server teasingly, dangling Vera’s sandals just out of her reach.
“N—no!” lied Vera, her toes beginning to curl. Suddenly her bare feet felt very, very exposed.
“I was just thinking that if you enjoyed being barefoot so much, you can’t have much use for these sandals, can you?” asked the server with a smile. “In fact, I don’t think you really want these at all, do you?” She turned to the other servers next to her. “Ladies,” she said, “Take these sandals to the boutique next door and put them up for sale.”
“No! Give me my sandals back!” shouted Vera, her anger coming back. “Do you have any idea how expensive those sandals are? They cost more than you make all week in this lousy job! I swear, if you don’t give those back right now I’m going to make all of you so sorry you’ll wish you’ll wish you never worked in this second-rate restaurant!”
“Oh, but if we did that, we couldn’t see your lovely feet, could we?” said the server with a smile that caused Vera to begin sweating. “In fact, they look so soft, I’d just like to touch them. Like…this!”
With her last work, the server pressed her fingertip into the soft pink flesh of Vera’s sole. Immediately Vera’s entire body shook, and only by biting her lip was she able to avoid squealing out loud.
“H—how did you know?” asked Vera, looking up at the server in terror.
“That you were ticklish?” asked the server sweetly. “Why, you just told me, little rich girl.” She pressed her finger against Vera’s other foot as well.
“No…please not there…” begged Vera, fighting back the laughter.
“Such a bad, bad habit going barefoot in public,” grinned the server. “Not even the straps on these lovely sandals could keep them on you, hmm? I’m surprised! It must be so hard to be touched here, no?” She slowly dragged her fingernails across the soles of both feet as Vera squirmed helplessly.
“Mmmmph!! Stop!! Hehehehehehe!!” Vera giggled as the sharp nails touched her soft, pampered feet. Already the gentle touches were unbearable, but she was powerless to escape them.
“Tickle tickle!” teased the server as she ran her long fingernails across Vera’s creamy soles in long, slow circles. “How do you like this, rich girl? Did all those pedicures prepare you for this?”
They did not: this was much worse than any pedicure Vera had ever had. The sensation was unbearable: her lip trembled and tears trickled down her cheeks as she tried to fight it, but her feet were much too ticklish. She could feel her self-control slipping: it was humiliating, but she could do nothing to stop it. Even worse, the server knew exactly how to tickle her: the circles around her feet were closing in on the centers of her arches, the most ticklish spot on her entire feet. The moment those fingernails touched them, she could no longer hold it in.
“MMMMPHHHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! IT TICKLES!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!” screamed Vera, throwing back her head and breaking into hysterics.
“Koochie-koochie-koo! Just keep laughing!” said the server teasingly, exploring every inch of those ticklish soles but paying special attention to the extra-sensitive centers of her soles. That information had definitely been worth it: Vera’s arches were even more ticklish than the rest of her soles, and touching them made her go crazy.
“Now,” said the server, “I want you to tell me how ticklish these pampered little feet of yours are! Say it for me!”
“THEY’RE TOO TICKLISH!!! AAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!” Vera yelled through her laughter. It was so humiliating to be forced to say it, but she couldn’t resist. It was a feeling of helplessness like she had rarely ever known.
“And the arches?” cooed the server, enjoying every moment of her suffering. “Tell me about those, dear.”
“MY WORST SPOT!!! NOT THEHEHEHEHEHEHEHERE!!!” screamed Vera, who was already too far gone to lie. Being forced to confess her own ticklish spots was cruel, but not nearly as cruel as the ruthless tickling that her poor arches were suffering. The server already knew the answer: she just wanted to hear Vera say it.
In the monitor room, Sofia was enjoying the spectacle nearly as much as the server. The cameras provided perfect angles for her to view Vera’s torment in perfect detail. The first camera showed her squirming body: thrashing and helpless with her arms behind her head and her feet locked securely in place. The second camera showed a close-up of Vera’s feet: just as soft and pink as ever, wriggling back and forth with toes squirming as her soles were subjected to unbearable torture. She had a first-class view of the fingernails sliding across Vera’s pretty little feet, tickling those curved arches she was so proud of.
But the best was the third camera, focusing on Vera’s face. Her eyes were closed tight and crying, her carefully-kept hair was thrown into a mess, and her mouth was twisted in unstoppable forced laughter. Her expression was one of pure torture, and Sofia could not get enough of it. As she watched Vera laugh and laugh, she realized that she had been waiting to see this for years: Vera had always been such a spoiled brat, showing off her bare feet to get attention. She desperately needed a lesson just like this. Sofia had never realized how badly she had really wanted to see Vera be tickled and humiliated, but now that it was happening she hoped it would never end.
Over on the fourth monitor, Sofia could se the boutique next door. She turned to watch it as one of the servers walked into it carrying Vera’s precious sandals. She wondered how much they were going to charge for them: at the mall a pair like that would have cost at least $300, probably more. Sofia could barely keep from laughing when she saw the price tag on them: ten dollars! She chuckled to herself as she turned back to the cameras showing Vera’s torture. Maybe next time she won’t leave such expensive sandals just lying around.
Back in the torture room, Vera could just barely see the monitor showing the boutique through her tears. She saw the price tag of ten dollars: she had paid hundreds for them!
“PLEASE!! DON’T SELL MY SHOES!!” begged Vera, wishing more than anything that she had them on right now. They had cost her so much money, and now they were being sold for almost nothing while she was forced to watch! She saw a customer come in and remark on how inexpensive these sandals were. Vera wanted to beg her not to take the sandals, she wanted them back so badly! But Vera could do nothing but watch helplessly as the customer tried on her sandals, posing in them while Vera was tickled out of her mind. It was like being in a nightmare.
Vera tried to cry out again, in the hopes that somehow the woman buying her sandals could hear her, but the fingernails scribbling across her soles tickled so badly that only laughter could escape her mouth. The talon-like nails showed no mercy to her baby-soft feet, scratching in wild random patterns until Vera was a crying, hysterical wreck. She saw the customer put ten dollars on the counter and walk off with her shoes, her precious sandals that she had never respected until it was too late.
“Oh, do you miss your sandals now?” asked the server mockingly, her sharp nails drilling into Vera’s soft spots without mercy. “Well, it’s too late. When we’re through with you, you’ll be begging to walk out of here barefoot all the way home!”
Vera only just realized the importance of the word “we” as three more servers entered the room carrying ball-point pens. “Ooh, are these our playing surfaces?” asked one of the servers, looking at Vera’s bright pink tortured feet. Between the four of them, two of them held her feet still while the other two drew slow, embellished tic-tac-toe boards all over Vera’s feet, complete with retraced boldface lines. Vera screamed with laughter as the sharp pen-tips were dragged over her soles, but her feet were held perfectly still the entire time.
“Stop! You can’t draw on my feet!” shouted Vera as she looked up at the servers, ready to begin their games. In her brief rest from being tickled, anger and shame rose up inside her. She loved her pretty feet so much, and these women were dirtying them against her will!
But Vera was powerless to stop them. Immediately one of the servers grinned and drew a large, torturous “X” across the center of Vera’s arches, causing Vera to howl with laughter until she cried. On her other foot, a large lazy “O” was drawn across her instep just below the ball of her foot. Marks were drawn on every available inch of her soles, and every one of them tickled like mad. The worst was when one of the servers won a game: they would draw a long, scribbling line across their winning marks, back and forth across her helpless feet with their sharp, tickling pens.
“NO MORE!!! NO MOOHOOHOOHOOHOORRRRREEE!!” howled Vera, but the servers only smiled and continued their games.
Vera’s soles were soon covered in ink and sweat, but the servers were not done with her. Two of hem brought buckets of soapy water and stiff-bristled brushes, and once her soles were completely covered with tic-tac-toe boards, the servers would cover her feet with soapy water and scrub them clean. It took minutes of scrubbing to get every last trace of the ink off, while Vera screamed until she thought she would die. And then, once her soles were brushed glistening clean, the servers would draw new tic-tac-toe boards and start their games again.
After six full rounds of games, Vera was sobbing uncontrollably even between the tickling. Her poor feet had never been punished like this before in her life. She could barely even hear when one of the servers called a stop at last, and showed Vera what looked like a document.
“W—what is it?” Vera sniffed, her eyes still filled with tears.
“An employment contract,” smiled the server holding it. “It says that you agree to take a job around here and make amends for how rude you’ve been. For the next two months, after your classes, you’ll be coming here as a maid to clean the kitchen and scrub all the bathrooms in the building, plus any other dirty jobs we see fit to give you. All unpaid, of course. And there’s a special contract we’ve added just for you. Since you enjoy going without shoes in public, all your work will be done barefoot.”
“Barefoot?” asked Vera, shocked. “But I can’t do all that dirty work without shoes! Not when I spend so much taking care of my feet!”
“Well, we can’t force you to sign,” said the server with a broad smile. “But, we can keep torturing these pretty feet of yours until you change your mind. The choice is yours.”
The thought of having her feet tickled by these merciless women was too much for Vera to bear. Defeated and humiliated, she took up the pen and signed her name to the contract.
* * * * *
The next day Vera showed up at the restaurant, hoping that she would regain at least some of her dignity. She wore an expensive black evening dress and a pair of red pumps, hoping that if she looked good the servers might take pity on her. But she had no such luck. They immediately gave her a plain white janitorial dress to wear and sent her to put it on right away. It was cheap, poorly fitting, and uncomfortable: Vera felt defeated already.
“What will happen to my other clothes?” she asked after she had changed.
“They become property of the management,” said the server who had forced her to sign the contract. “Don’t expect to get them back. From now on, you’re to show up in this dress with no shoes.”
“Can’t I wear at least some shoes?” asked Vera, looking down miserably at her bare feet.
“Why, I would have thought you would like it,” the server said with a smirk. “After all, don’t you enjoy being barefoot in public all the time? Well, now is your chance to go without shoes for the next two months! And now, you’re to start by mopping up the entire kitchen barefoot, and if there’s even a speck of dirt left over, I’ll make you do it again and again until I’m satisfied!”
As the server left, Vera walked sorrowfully into the kitchen to begin her work. It was enormous, and it looked like every inch of the floor was covered in black grease. As she walked over the kitchen floor her bare feet left tracks in the dirt and grease behind her, blackening her soft and pampered feet with every step she took. The humiliation of it was so great, Vera felt like crying as she looked down at her filthy bare feet and remembered the days when she had enjoyed being barefoot.
As Vera walked by a window, she was able to see into the boutique next door. There on display was a pair of gold open-toed sandals almost identical to the ones she had worn yesterday to the restaurant. She looked at them longingly, and then back down at her dirt-covered feet as she trudged across the kitchen floor, mopping and getting down on her knees to scrub the stains that the mop wouldn’t get out. When this was over, thought Vera sadly, she would never take her shoes for granted again.
