The Agency part 3 "Search for the truth"
Three weeks had gone by since Special Agent Rita Johnson and I had conducted our first interrogation together and I didn't see much of her. She was constantly in meetings and chasing down the false leads of the confession of Mrs. Quigley regarding her slime ball husband's whereabouts. I got stuck doing all the paper work, and I felt like dung.
While Rita had left the room and left me in charge of carrying on with the tormenting of Marla's immaculate size 11 bare soles I got carried away and broke the continuity of our ruse that she was in some beauty parlor…which she apparently she already knew was a sham. In her aroused state and excitement she promised me that she would reveal the truth to me and me alone. I did not know why.
When I left "studio A" I ran down the corridor in a blur speeding for the nearest bathroom, not for the sake "taking care of business". No, I had to take a mother of a whiz and in my rush completely forgot about the oil that had been slathered onto Marla Quigley's tortured bare toes that drove her into hysterics. Let me just say this, the next 5 hours there after were some of the most agonizing that I've ever known. And if Rita had ever found out she would have killed me.
Under the weighty responsibility of what I had taken on in this pact with the enemy, Mrs. Quigley, my wits began to fray no end. If the Agency found out that I let my boss be fooled by an accomplice to a smuggler they would no doubt call me an accomplice too. I'd be fired for sure and probably jailed as well. Not bad for the first month on the job!
Somehow I had to get to Bismarck, North Dakota and meet with Marla without anyone knowing. Which I assumed would not be easy considering that the Agency was already watching her like a hawk. And even when I got there how would I know it wasn't a trap? Or that she would even tell me the truth? Well, I had a hunch, and it was based on the strange desperation that rang in Marla's voice when she begged me not to stop, I sensed a strange appreciation coming from her so I believed her.
On a Saturday morning I took a charter flight to St. Paul, Minnesota and from there I rented a car and drove 7 hours into the Bismarck area heading for a little town about an hour south of the city. I was scared but determined, determined to get the truth and get it over with… before my boss found out that she'd been lied to by Mrs. Quigley. And betrayed by me.
When I pulled up in front of the church I found that it was nothing more than a double- wide trailer with several glass louvered windows on either side. It was attached to a small bungalow style house. I cautiously walked up to the door on the side of the church which was already half open and observed a note that was on the floor. It said, "OPEN, I'm in the back."
I cautiously crossed the threshold on to the peeling linoleum flooring that creaked beneath my weight. Only the sound of crickets outside and the faint tinkling of wind chimes made the place seem less lonely. Looking around the room I saw stacks of old bibles and hymnbooks neatly placed on rows of folding chairs. At the front of the room was a lectern made out of 2x4s and plywood stained picnic table red. I called out to the empty room, "Hello, anyone home?"
From behind a frosted glass window of a door next to the lectern a light came on and voice answered back. "A'hm back here, hang on." Which followed by shuffling and bumping noises that reverberated through the floorboards. I saw a shadow pass behind the windowed door and then it creaked open.
"You alone?" Marla asked firmly.
"Yeah, it's just me, the uh…man from the agency."
"Good, come on back and close the front door," she said.
I closed the door and then slowly walked over to the half-ajar "office" door not sure whether this was an ambush, a seduction, or both that I was walking into. Swinging the door open I saw to my right more stacks of books, an old army cot, a few wooden chairs, and oddly enough a pair of brown leather snake skin high heeled shoes that looked like they'd never fit Mrs. Quigley in a million years. To my left sat Marla sitting on a wooden chair in front of a rack of choir robes. She was wearing a blue sweatshirt, blue jeans, and the same clogs from the picture I'd seen her in. She was holding a sawn off shotgun in her lap.
"Siddown." She said calmly smirking at my surprised expression.
"Wow, hey I'm not armed! Let's not do anything rash here. Okay?" I blurted out in fit of nervousness.
"Relax G-man, Ah keep it around just in case." She smiled wryly. "Now, Ah need you to take off them pants and toss em over here…I don't want you runnin' out on me before we finish our business."
"Y-you know you're a lot prettier in person…I mean from your picture and all…" I chuckled trying to keep things friendly. "You're even wearing make up…I mean not that you need it…I'll shut up now." I said as stood there, holding my khaki pants in front of my plaid boxers.
She slowly held her hand out for the pants and smiled, "Well thank you very kindly mister, now gimme the pants and siddown." Needless to say I did.
"Now before Ah tell you anything about that son-of-bitch I call my husband Ah have somethin' I think you should see." Marla said. Then she stood up and parted the crimson choir robes that hung on a rack behind her like a curtain to reveal an ancient top loading VCR and a TV.
"Did that lady you work with tell you she came out here askin' all kinds of questions about mah husband?" She inquired as she turned the TV and VCR on.
"Uh, yes, as a matter of fact she did, but that's standard procedure mam…"
"Uh huh," she interrupted me. "And is it also standard procedure ta break inta folks houses in the middle of the friggin night too?" She looked over her shoulder scowling, to which I had no answer…then again I had no pants either.
She went on, "Now sure Ah mighta' been lyin' to her and all, but that was to protect mah man…no matter what he's done! But that sure as HELL don't give nobody the right to come around sneakin' and snoopin' inta mah business. Ah'll admit, ya kinda fooled with that whole weekend getaway deal at first, but as soon as she started tigglin' me Ah knew
exactly who she was and what she was up to!"
"She had me laughin' like a damn fool! Ah don't feel too bad though…cause I got her good that night she broke in here! By time Ah was done with her she ran outta here with piss in her pants and didn't even stop to take her shoes." And with that being said she pressed play on the VCR and sat down on the cot next to my chair; shotgun still in hand.
After a few clicks, whirls, squeaks, and groans the machine turned the once snowy TV picture into a scene that took place in the very room we sat in. Marla turned off the overhead lights.
At first there was nothing but a view of the cot and a wooden chair, then suddenly it changed. Lying on the cot was Rita in a white long sleeve blouse, brown slacks, and very shoes I'd seen on the floor when I entered the room. Her wrists were duct-taped to the cot frame on either side of her head. She was blindfolded with some unrecognizable material. Her legs were tied together above the knees with what looked like gold decorative ropes complete with frilly tassels. Agent Johnson's hips had also been duct-taped to the cot. She lay there motionless for a bit and then began to stir mumbling something about her head through a badly made cloth gag. That's when Mrs. Quigley entered the picture, her face could not be seen because the camera was setup at about waist level. What could be see was she was apparently wearing a long red nightshirt. Marla spoke, "Hey there slick, you awake yet?" Rita just groaned.
At that point I looked over at Marla who was starring intently at the screen wearing a big shit-eating grin. When I looked back to the TV Marla was seated in the chair at the foot of the cot and casually brushing her long dark hair humming to herself. She spoke again, "Hang on darlin', I'll be right with ya…hell you're not goin' anywhere soon anyhow."
Rita began to stir a bit more, I can only assume that's when she figured out she was bound and in a bad spot. Once again Marla spoke, "You know what lady ah shoulda' called the sheriff on your ass, but Ah'm a good Christian soul darlin' and thought we could just settle this between you and me like two grown ups. You know what I mean?"
Rita stopped her protest upon the mention of the local authorities, no doubt knowing that would only make things worse if she had to explain herself to them…and then her boss at The Agency.
"Whoo-wee darlin', what are we gonna do with you? It's a good thing mah hubby 'ain't here, cause I know he'd have some ideas about that…and darlin' he's a real fire and brimstone kinda preacher. He thinks the good Lord want to kick everybody's ass…" Marla stopped brushing her hair, kicked off her house slippers and propped her big bare feet up on the end of the cot.
"But enough about him…lets talk about you. Shall we? Ooo let's talk about these shoes! Those must'a cost you a fortune girl! And will you look at these tiny little ol' feet, you are so lucky let me tell you they do not make shoes like that for women wearin' boats like mine. Let me see these…" With that Mrs. Quigley leaned forward and grabbed the one of Rita's ankles with one hand and heel of her shoe with the other and began tugging. Rita could be quite clearly through the gag, "No!"
"What? Let go girl, I wanna see what the name is on the inside!" And after a few seconds of struggling and desperate muffled curses from Rita the heel of the shoe came free from her foot. "Come on girl leggo…leggo or I'll tiggle you!"
Without hesitation Rita's lifted her head as far off the cot as possible and began screaming "No!" through the gag as Marla wiggled her long fingernails into the widening gap between the shoe and Rita's soft heel. Finally the shoe came off when Marla leaned back in her chair. Rita's thinly veiled stocking foot could be seen writhing madly against her other foot still shod…all the while she was giggling.
"Mah goodness woman! You sure do put up a fight, you act like I was gonna kill ya or somethin'! Mah goodness that a tiny foot." Marla exclaimed as she held the high heeled shoe up to the big wrinkled sole of her own bare foot, "Listen to you girl…carrying on like a fool…lemme see these tiny little feet." Marla said scooping up Rita's stocking heel in her big hand. "Look, now see what you made me do…now you got a big ol' run in yer pannyhose…tsk…tsk…I' bet I can fix that with some nail polish." She said as she lightly ran her finger over the barely visible tear in the sheer fabric and Rita exploded into muffled laughter again with her toes curled tightly.
"Darlin' you aren't tigglish are ya…hmm?" Marla asked as she applied the tip of her fingernail to the tip of Rita's big toe sending her father into hysterical laughter and pleading. Rita's toes began wriggling like mad as Marla very lightly teased each one.
As I watched the scene unfold before me I could only muster one emotion, enraged jealousy! I looked over at Marla sitting on the cot and she looked at me with an almost romantic smile, and then at my crotch. Then I looked down too and crossed my legs to hide my obvious excitement as best as possible, she just laughed nervously and said, "Um hum…I though so." She laid the shogun down on the floor kicked off one her clogs to reveal a gorgeous foot, then she cradled it in her lap with the plush wrinkled sole in the pale glow of the TV.
I turned my attention back to the TV and the picture skipped again only now Rita's legs were propped up by a rolled up sleeping bag putting the rest or her out of view. Marla was leaned back in the chair again holding the other shoe in one hand with the other massaging Rita's foot with a now sizable hole in the stocking at the heel. She piped up again, "Lady yer feet are soooo soft Ah can't believe it, no wonder yer so tigglish."
Rita was obviously doing her best to keep her feet perfectly still so as not to entice more torment, but no such luck. Every time Marla's thumb passed over the exposed middle of the bare heel her toes would twitch involuntarily. "Now we're gonna play a little game…Ah'm gonna ask you a question and yer gonna answer me real polite like. And if you don't Ah'm gonna tiggle these purty lil' feet some more."
Apparently the gag was off because I hear a hoarse but clear, "Screw you."
"Oh now don't be like that darlin', or else this hole in yer stockin' is gonna get a lot bigger," she said and began poking the tender bare skin with her pinky finger sending my captive boss into a fit of giggling curses as both soles flexed.
"EEEEEEEEEEEEhehehehhehe! Stop it…please stop tickling me!"
"Well, okay now that we understand each other…where are you from?" Marla quizzed.
The question was met with silence.
"Okay darlin' have it your way. Ya know, Ah think Ah can fit a finger in that hole now…" Marla laughed and Rita tried desperately to cover the hole with toes of the other foot, but alas her tender pink size 8s were just far enough apart to make it impossible. Hysterical laughter ensued as Marla wiggled an index finger underneath the thin fabric and teased the creamy rippled middle of Rita's foot.
"Nahhhhhhhhhhhhhhahahahahaha NO NO Nahhhhahahahahaha…I can't tell you! I swear I can't! AHHHHHHH hahahahahahaahaha," she screamed as Marla's fingernail slowly caressed and writhed against the soft bare foot beneath the stocking. All the while the hole was indeed getting A LOT bigger, so much so that by the time Marla stopped the ragged material hardly covered Rita's blushing plump curled toes.
Marla sat back and laughed at the desperately ticklish bare foot as it writhed still tingling from her last assault. The she reached over to the other foot a tore hole in the stocking until the all five wiggling toes and the pink plump ball of her foot were exposed accompanied by the sounds of…
"Noooooo! Please no not that! No more please don't HAAAAAAhahahahahah don't tickle my BARE FEET! Stop! Stop! Pleeeeease! Not the bare feeeeaheheheheheheeet…" And the like for several minutes as Marla slowly but surely tickled the stockings to smithereens. Then she sat back and admired her handy work saying, "Ah think ah like tiggling these bare much better…now come on lady where are you from? Who sent you all the way out here to bother lil' ol me?"
"I c-I can't tell…you that …look I'm sorry I broke in …just let me go and you you'll never see me again …I swear!" Rita begged piteously as her deliciously soft bare foot bottoms cowered towards each other, toes half curled in anticipation of more completely unbearable torment. That's when Marla lost all compassion and self-restraint.
She grabbed the top of the closest foot with one hand roughly. With her other hand she stroked the soft wrinkled arch with her long nails in staccato teasing strokes. Then she used the heel and toe of the expensive high heel shoe, continuously up and down from heel to toes slowly and lightly saying, "Oh the poor baby with soft lil' feet…can't tell me who you are or where you're from…good 'cause this is fun!" As one foot was immobilized the other would squirm, point flex, and wave hilariously after receiving brief but intense tickles; having drawn the attention of the tormentor.
"Coochie coochie coo lil' tender foot!" Then she grabbed the other foot palming Rita's itching arch and instep and began scrambling her fingernails all over the helpless ball of the foot and wavering toes!
Rita let loose the tortured laughter of a woman gone mad, her howling left no room for begging or cursing. At that point I looked over at Mrs. Quigley, whom was watching the video just as intently as I had been. I noticed she was grazing her fingernails up and down the sole of her own bare foot and smiling…I was about to go into erotic overload and hiding my excitement was becoming more painful by the minute.
The video skipped again. The camera was aimed directly down at the now upturned glowing pink bare soles wherein Marla's hands could be seen lightly tickling across both bare foot bottoms…meticulously tracing the path of each wrinkle…giggles and occasional bursts of loud laughter could still be heard though muffled again. For a moment one hand disappeared and then brought back into the picture the hairbrush she'd been using earlier.
"Mmmm…let's see…how about these nice fat little heels…" Was about the last I heard because as soon as the soft bristled brush began making slow circles over the Rita's plump, pink (and at that point), sweaty heels tortured gawfaws drown everything else out.
"Ahhhhhhhhhhh hahahahahahaha not there not my BARE HEEEELS NOOO MORE NO MORE! NOT AGAIN… " On and on Rita sobbed and cackled as she tried to kick her feet free as fingernails and bristles caressed every inch of the ticklish bare feet.
At that point I reached over into Marla's lap and began lightly working my fingers over the soft fleshy wrinkled sole. She turned toward me bashfully laughing as her toes curled and spread rhythmically and said, "First of all, you're gonna hafta tie me up…"
I interrupted and said, "No…first of all you're gonna pay in spades for what you did to my partner and second…you're gonna give me every God damned scrap information on your husband if it takes me all God damned night!"
The next ten minutes were intensely silent as I got up from my chair and shut off the TV and flicked on the lights, then I proceeded to bind Marla. To get the maximum effect I wanted her to see and anticipate every touch so I laid her on the cot propped up by a rolled up sleeping bag. Next I tied her wrists together in front of her and then I tied each ankle to a corner of the cot also propped up with a large throw pillow I found on the floor of the church. I did it such a manner that her thighs were spread apart but her big bare soles were facing each other, up turned and several inches apart. The idea was to force her to look at the soft bottoms of her feet while they were being tickled and teased while she was helpless to stop it.
When I was done the look on her face changed from a sweet smirk of guilty pleasure to that of a woman who had just realized how much trouble she was in. I sat in the chair in front of her silently for about a minute while her eyes nervously shifted from my face to her vulnerable cream colored naked soles. I picked up Rita's empty shoes and placed them in between her legs to remind her of what she had done to my boss.
"Now, Mrs. Quigley you seem like a pretty smart cookie. So what say we dispense with all the BS and get down to business. Though you seem to enjoy this kind of thing it is completely unnecessary, and if I start I'm not going to stop any time soon. So, if you want to spare yourself the agony and just get on with your life tell me where your husband is and I'll leave you in peace with full amnesty." I said flatly.
She just sat there for a few seconds biting her bottom lip and starring at her upturned wrinkly arches, beads of sweat formed on her brow. "Ah …Ah can't just tell you like that. See that would be betrayal…b-but if Ah was forced to then mah husband, well he'd understand that. He wouldn't come after me …Ah'm afraid of what he'd do to me. He, uh, he used to make fun of my feet 'cause they're so big and sometimes he would tiggle me, but when saw that Ah kinda liked it he'd stop." She admitted frankly.
"Mister mah husband he didn't never give me no children to look after and care for, matter of fact he hardly ever touched me at all," The sadness in her voice began to seep through as her eyes welled up. "When y'all had me before all cocooned up and was tigglin' me…well that lady didn't do nothin' for me as a woman. But when I felt a man's hands…your hands it made me feel, I don't know different…special. I got excited, I hadn't been touched in so long…" She began to sob softly.
"Look, Marla I'm sorry your husband treated you like that…he's obviously an asshole. And you, you're a beautiful woman who could probably have any man in town…well aside form being the preacher's wife that is. But the point here is that he's out there in the world hurting people, all kinds of honest people, people so poor they don't 2 nickels to their names and he's cheating them. He's getting them hooked on drugs, involving them in all kinds of illegal activity…Marla he needs to be brought to justice. And you're our only link, our only hope. I want you think about that. Isn't there anything in your faith that tells you helping us is the right thing to do?" I sighed.
She looked up at me half-smiling and sniffling, "Ah know we made a deal, but you hafta do this. Ah wouldn't be able to look at myself in the mirror if just handed him over to ya without a fight…asshole or not he's mah man. You just do what you do best and you'll get your information. Okay? Anyway Ah can tell you enjoy your work…" She laughed referring to the tent in my boxers earlier.
"Suit yourself lady, but I AM going to put my pants back on…gotta be professional about this ya know." I bashfully chuckled as I retrieved my slacks. She blushed herself and starred at her feet, wriggling her toes and flexing her soles.
Upon the floor next to my slacks I noticed the hairbrush Marla had used to torture Special Agent Rita Johnson with. I picked it up and felt the thick soft bristles against the palm of my hand. Then I spotted a tiny whiskbroom next to a dustpan in another corner of the room, all the while concealing what I'd found in my wadded up pants. I placed the items on the floor beneath my wooden chair and donned my pants.
I asked her where the bathroom was so I could take a whiz before I got started and she obliged me with directions to a mudroom just inside the tiny bungalow that the church was attached to. In the bathroom I found a bucket and half filled it with hot water adding a modicum liquid hand soap. I also grabbed an old toothbrush, a towel, a wide paintbrush I found under the sink. I also snatched a feather off a dream catcher that hung in the kitchen window. I stuffed my back pockets with most of the treasures and returned to 'office/storeroom' where Marla was told to sit tight.
When I returned I noticed Marla testing her bonds and trying to see if she could bring her soft soles together. She had her toes pointed in such a way that both pale pink foot bottoms were wrinkled from heels to toes. It was the first time I noticed her pedicured toenails were painted a glossy candy apple red. Unable to resist such a spectacle I set down the bucket at the end of the cot and squatted next to the chair.
"That won't do you any good," I said as I employed 10 fingertips scrambling up and down her plump warm rippling foot bottoms about half a dozen times. Her eyes opened wide and what started as a chuckled soon turned into a full on womanly howl of laughter!
This was made complete by her soft bare soles flexing until the skin was smooth and her toes spread wide, as if to invite more of the same.
"Eeee hee heee he hehehe (gasp) AHHH HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA OH NO! NOT YET! AH'M NOT READY YET!" She laughed as I concentrated on her big, soft, round toes until they curled in submission.
Marla continued to giggle as I stood up and grabbed a floor lamp I'd spotted earlier, I set it up next to the cot and killed the over head lights. And after a few seconds of her giggling in the dark I switched the floor lamp on so that illuminated only her big beautiful bare feet at the end of the cot.
"Oh no…what're you gonna do mister? What're gonna do to mah feet?" She giggled nervously. "What's all that stuff down there? Oh mah Lord help me…Ah'm so tigglish right now Ah can't stand it!"
I didn't say a word. Instead, I grabbed the top of her right foot with my left hand and pulled the feather from my back pocket with my other hand. I leaned in close so that my gaze was fixed on the tender upturned sole and hovered the feather's tip barely and inch above her flexed arch. I slowly stroked the air over the womanly curvature of her captive foot, from heel to toes, as if trying to decide where to let it touch down. She giggled like mad and kept saying "Oh no…don't tease me like this…Ah can't stand it!" I glanced up at her face in the half-light to find her toothy elated grin as she excitedly followed the feather's path with her eyes.
That's when I struck with quick sweeping strokes across her heel and kept working up the bare foot bottom, lingering at the arch and then dusting the rosy ball of her foot. She burst into a fit of strained laughter as I wildly feathered her pink bare foot up and down determined to make her toes curl in ticklish submission, but she held out. Then I looked into her eyes and said, "You have such pretty toes!" With that I sent the feather dusting back and forth across her tender pink toe pads and their pale white undersides!
"AHAHAHAHAHAHAA NOOOOO NOT THE TOES NOT MAH TOES AHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH HAAAAAAAAAAAAAA HA HAAAAA…"She screamed as I dipped and sawed the feather between her helpless digits. "NO MORE FEATHER NO MORE HEE HEEEE HEEEE STOP OH PLEASE STAHAHAHAHAHAP…mah toes are so tigglish he heeeee…" Her laughter faded to silence and all at once her resolve had broken and the toes started wriggling like crazy.
I stopped and when I heard her draw a breath I started again by feathering the ball of her foot and arch until she squealed and curled the plump piggies in desperation for relief.
I relentless worked her right foot over! The wrinkled bare foot bottom shook and seemed to shiver in response to long smooth strokes accentuated by brief and light tickling just above her heel with the other end of the feather just to keep her cackling. And just when she realized I'd stopped for a few seconds I put the feather's tip to work quickly dusting her left foot whose toes curled wiggled without hesitation as the feather lapped and teased the ticklish wrinkled sole.
"AH (gasp)… AH (gasp)… AH (gasp) AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA…NO MORE FEATHER NO MORE FEATHER PLEEEEEASE! Haaaaaaa ha aha aha heee…"
Her laughter subsided as I placed the feather inside one of Rita's shoes and leaned back in my chair. "Ready to talk Mrs. Quigley?"
She sat there heaving with exhaustion tears rolling down her redden cheeks and grinning a lusty hungry grin, "You ain't licked me yet G-man…" She panted defiantly.
"Is that so…" I retorted and leaned my face close to writhing bottoms of her bare feet. Her toes half curled as I cradled the top of each foot in my hands. I looked up at her and her expression was one of quiet disbelief as turned my face directly towards her right arch and began sniffing and barely letting my lips skim the sole of her foot…letting her feel my hot breath on her soft bare instep.
"Oh…oh God…please…please…" She whispered in a desperate but passionate whimper.
I started lightly kissing up and down the tender wrinkled foot, which slowly relaxed until I devilishly nibbled and nipped at her heel and arch producing sensually tortured giggles and moans. I turned my face to her left foot, which opened up to me completely to me toes spreading as if begging to be sucked and nibbled. With the tip of my nose I gently cuddled the length of Marla's size 11 sole and ended by licking the pad of her big toe with just tip of my tongue. She let out a frustrated giggling moan and I felt the whole cot shudder.
"Uhhhggg…oh God…what're doing to me…oh that feels so good …mah feet will never be the same…God I'm so tigglish," She whispered.
I leaned back again smiling calmly. "Now, either you can tell me where your old man is …and we can do more of that, or we can do this," I pulled my pocket a small glass vile of the "itching/tickling" oil Rita had used on Marla's toes only weeks before and uncapped it carefully.
"Ah don't understand. W-What is it?"
I took the cap and touched the inside of it to the tip of the big toe of the left foot and she gasped. Then to the middle of her right foot just beneath the plump wide ball of the foot. She let out a squeal and a brief cackle when the cap tickled the tender spot. She wriggled all ten toes adorably, smiling and anticipating some new form of tickle torment. Wondering what else I had devised for the bottoms of her desperately ticklish bare feet.
Before A full minute went by she couldn't stop giggling. Her left foot writhed rhythmically searching for some way the cure the tingling itch at the tip of her big toe. While her right foot squirmed toes spreading, curling, and pointing as she looked on.
Her eyes filled with euphoric dismay as the tender tickle spot in the middle of her right foot got worse.
"Eeeeee Eeeeeee heeeeee heeeee what did you do to me? Ah AH! Ooooooo hoo hoooo it's driving me crazy! It itches! It tiggles so bad…make it stop! Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee hehehehehehehehheeeeeeee…"
"I'm afraid not Mrs. Quigley, you have to come clean first." I said as I pulled the paintbrush from my back pocket and started sporadically flicking it against her, now reddened bare heels. She dissolved into a new wave of cackling laughter unable to form words let alone sentences, but the pleading for mercy or rapture was clearly in her eyes.
I took the vile and poured a measured amount on to the tip of the brush while she desperately shook her head no with new tears forming in her eyes. I applied the oil liberally to both fidgeting soft soles with broad quick painting strokes until each foot had a slight glistening sheen. I even tickled it in between and underneath each of the ten plump bare toes! The effect was devastating.
"BWAAAAAAAA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH
Three weeks had gone by since Special Agent Rita Johnson and I had conducted our first interrogation together and I didn't see much of her. She was constantly in meetings and chasing down the false leads of the confession of Mrs. Quigley regarding her slime ball husband's whereabouts. I got stuck doing all the paper work, and I felt like dung.
While Rita had left the room and left me in charge of carrying on with the tormenting of Marla's immaculate size 11 bare soles I got carried away and broke the continuity of our ruse that she was in some beauty parlor…which she apparently she already knew was a sham. In her aroused state and excitement she promised me that she would reveal the truth to me and me alone. I did not know why.
When I left "studio A" I ran down the corridor in a blur speeding for the nearest bathroom, not for the sake "taking care of business". No, I had to take a mother of a whiz and in my rush completely forgot about the oil that had been slathered onto Marla Quigley's tortured bare toes that drove her into hysterics. Let me just say this, the next 5 hours there after were some of the most agonizing that I've ever known. And if Rita had ever found out she would have killed me.
Under the weighty responsibility of what I had taken on in this pact with the enemy, Mrs. Quigley, my wits began to fray no end. If the Agency found out that I let my boss be fooled by an accomplice to a smuggler they would no doubt call me an accomplice too. I'd be fired for sure and probably jailed as well. Not bad for the first month on the job!
Somehow I had to get to Bismarck, North Dakota and meet with Marla without anyone knowing. Which I assumed would not be easy considering that the Agency was already watching her like a hawk. And even when I got there how would I know it wasn't a trap? Or that she would even tell me the truth? Well, I had a hunch, and it was based on the strange desperation that rang in Marla's voice when she begged me not to stop, I sensed a strange appreciation coming from her so I believed her.
On a Saturday morning I took a charter flight to St. Paul, Minnesota and from there I rented a car and drove 7 hours into the Bismarck area heading for a little town about an hour south of the city. I was scared but determined, determined to get the truth and get it over with… before my boss found out that she'd been lied to by Mrs. Quigley. And betrayed by me.
When I pulled up in front of the church I found that it was nothing more than a double- wide trailer with several glass louvered windows on either side. It was attached to a small bungalow style house. I cautiously walked up to the door on the side of the church which was already half open and observed a note that was on the floor. It said, "OPEN, I'm in the back."
I cautiously crossed the threshold on to the peeling linoleum flooring that creaked beneath my weight. Only the sound of crickets outside and the faint tinkling of wind chimes made the place seem less lonely. Looking around the room I saw stacks of old bibles and hymnbooks neatly placed on rows of folding chairs. At the front of the room was a lectern made out of 2x4s and plywood stained picnic table red. I called out to the empty room, "Hello, anyone home?"
From behind a frosted glass window of a door next to the lectern a light came on and voice answered back. "A'hm back here, hang on." Which followed by shuffling and bumping noises that reverberated through the floorboards. I saw a shadow pass behind the windowed door and then it creaked open.
"You alone?" Marla asked firmly.
"Yeah, it's just me, the uh…man from the agency."
"Good, come on back and close the front door," she said.
I closed the door and then slowly walked over to the half-ajar "office" door not sure whether this was an ambush, a seduction, or both that I was walking into. Swinging the door open I saw to my right more stacks of books, an old army cot, a few wooden chairs, and oddly enough a pair of brown leather snake skin high heeled shoes that looked like they'd never fit Mrs. Quigley in a million years. To my left sat Marla sitting on a wooden chair in front of a rack of choir robes. She was wearing a blue sweatshirt, blue jeans, and the same clogs from the picture I'd seen her in. She was holding a sawn off shotgun in her lap.
"Siddown." She said calmly smirking at my surprised expression.
"Wow, hey I'm not armed! Let's not do anything rash here. Okay?" I blurted out in fit of nervousness.
"Relax G-man, Ah keep it around just in case." She smiled wryly. "Now, Ah need you to take off them pants and toss em over here…I don't want you runnin' out on me before we finish our business."
"Y-you know you're a lot prettier in person…I mean from your picture and all…" I chuckled trying to keep things friendly. "You're even wearing make up…I mean not that you need it…I'll shut up now." I said as stood there, holding my khaki pants in front of my plaid boxers.
She slowly held her hand out for the pants and smiled, "Well thank you very kindly mister, now gimme the pants and siddown." Needless to say I did.
"Now before Ah tell you anything about that son-of-bitch I call my husband Ah have somethin' I think you should see." Marla said. Then she stood up and parted the crimson choir robes that hung on a rack behind her like a curtain to reveal an ancient top loading VCR and a TV.
"Did that lady you work with tell you she came out here askin' all kinds of questions about mah husband?" She inquired as she turned the TV and VCR on.
"Uh, yes, as a matter of fact she did, but that's standard procedure mam…"
"Uh huh," she interrupted me. "And is it also standard procedure ta break inta folks houses in the middle of the friggin night too?" She looked over her shoulder scowling, to which I had no answer…then again I had no pants either.
She went on, "Now sure Ah mighta' been lyin' to her and all, but that was to protect mah man…no matter what he's done! But that sure as HELL don't give nobody the right to come around sneakin' and snoopin' inta mah business. Ah'll admit, ya kinda fooled with that whole weekend getaway deal at first, but as soon as she started tigglin' me Ah knew
exactly who she was and what she was up to!"
"She had me laughin' like a damn fool! Ah don't feel too bad though…cause I got her good that night she broke in here! By time Ah was done with her she ran outta here with piss in her pants and didn't even stop to take her shoes." And with that being said she pressed play on the VCR and sat down on the cot next to my chair; shotgun still in hand.
After a few clicks, whirls, squeaks, and groans the machine turned the once snowy TV picture into a scene that took place in the very room we sat in. Marla turned off the overhead lights.
At first there was nothing but a view of the cot and a wooden chair, then suddenly it changed. Lying on the cot was Rita in a white long sleeve blouse, brown slacks, and very shoes I'd seen on the floor when I entered the room. Her wrists were duct-taped to the cot frame on either side of her head. She was blindfolded with some unrecognizable material. Her legs were tied together above the knees with what looked like gold decorative ropes complete with frilly tassels. Agent Johnson's hips had also been duct-taped to the cot. She lay there motionless for a bit and then began to stir mumbling something about her head through a badly made cloth gag. That's when Mrs. Quigley entered the picture, her face could not be seen because the camera was setup at about waist level. What could be see was she was apparently wearing a long red nightshirt. Marla spoke, "Hey there slick, you awake yet?" Rita just groaned.
At that point I looked over at Marla who was starring intently at the screen wearing a big shit-eating grin. When I looked back to the TV Marla was seated in the chair at the foot of the cot and casually brushing her long dark hair humming to herself. She spoke again, "Hang on darlin', I'll be right with ya…hell you're not goin' anywhere soon anyhow."
Rita began to stir a bit more, I can only assume that's when she figured out she was bound and in a bad spot. Once again Marla spoke, "You know what lady ah shoulda' called the sheriff on your ass, but Ah'm a good Christian soul darlin' and thought we could just settle this between you and me like two grown ups. You know what I mean?"
Rita stopped her protest upon the mention of the local authorities, no doubt knowing that would only make things worse if she had to explain herself to them…and then her boss at The Agency.
"Whoo-wee darlin', what are we gonna do with you? It's a good thing mah hubby 'ain't here, cause I know he'd have some ideas about that…and darlin' he's a real fire and brimstone kinda preacher. He thinks the good Lord want to kick everybody's ass…" Marla stopped brushing her hair, kicked off her house slippers and propped her big bare feet up on the end of the cot.
"But enough about him…lets talk about you. Shall we? Ooo let's talk about these shoes! Those must'a cost you a fortune girl! And will you look at these tiny little ol' feet, you are so lucky let me tell you they do not make shoes like that for women wearin' boats like mine. Let me see these…" With that Mrs. Quigley leaned forward and grabbed the one of Rita's ankles with one hand and heel of her shoe with the other and began tugging. Rita could be quite clearly through the gag, "No!"
"What? Let go girl, I wanna see what the name is on the inside!" And after a few seconds of struggling and desperate muffled curses from Rita the heel of the shoe came free from her foot. "Come on girl leggo…leggo or I'll tiggle you!"
Without hesitation Rita's lifted her head as far off the cot as possible and began screaming "No!" through the gag as Marla wiggled her long fingernails into the widening gap between the shoe and Rita's soft heel. Finally the shoe came off when Marla leaned back in her chair. Rita's thinly veiled stocking foot could be seen writhing madly against her other foot still shod…all the while she was giggling.
"Mah goodness woman! You sure do put up a fight, you act like I was gonna kill ya or somethin'! Mah goodness that a tiny foot." Marla exclaimed as she held the high heeled shoe up to the big wrinkled sole of her own bare foot, "Listen to you girl…carrying on like a fool…lemme see these tiny little feet." Marla said scooping up Rita's stocking heel in her big hand. "Look, now see what you made me do…now you got a big ol' run in yer pannyhose…tsk…tsk…I' bet I can fix that with some nail polish." She said as she lightly ran her finger over the barely visible tear in the sheer fabric and Rita exploded into muffled laughter again with her toes curled tightly.
"Darlin' you aren't tigglish are ya…hmm?" Marla asked as she applied the tip of her fingernail to the tip of Rita's big toe sending her father into hysterical laughter and pleading. Rita's toes began wriggling like mad as Marla very lightly teased each one.
As I watched the scene unfold before me I could only muster one emotion, enraged jealousy! I looked over at Marla sitting on the cot and she looked at me with an almost romantic smile, and then at my crotch. Then I looked down too and crossed my legs to hide my obvious excitement as best as possible, she just laughed nervously and said, "Um hum…I though so." She laid the shogun down on the floor kicked off one her clogs to reveal a gorgeous foot, then she cradled it in her lap with the plush wrinkled sole in the pale glow of the TV.
I turned my attention back to the TV and the picture skipped again only now Rita's legs were propped up by a rolled up sleeping bag putting the rest or her out of view. Marla was leaned back in the chair again holding the other shoe in one hand with the other massaging Rita's foot with a now sizable hole in the stocking at the heel. She piped up again, "Lady yer feet are soooo soft Ah can't believe it, no wonder yer so tigglish."
Rita was obviously doing her best to keep her feet perfectly still so as not to entice more torment, but no such luck. Every time Marla's thumb passed over the exposed middle of the bare heel her toes would twitch involuntarily. "Now we're gonna play a little game…Ah'm gonna ask you a question and yer gonna answer me real polite like. And if you don't Ah'm gonna tiggle these purty lil' feet some more."
Apparently the gag was off because I hear a hoarse but clear, "Screw you."
"Oh now don't be like that darlin', or else this hole in yer stockin' is gonna get a lot bigger," she said and began poking the tender bare skin with her pinky finger sending my captive boss into a fit of giggling curses as both soles flexed.
"EEEEEEEEEEEEhehehehhehe! Stop it…please stop tickling me!"
"Well, okay now that we understand each other…where are you from?" Marla quizzed.
The question was met with silence.
"Okay darlin' have it your way. Ya know, Ah think Ah can fit a finger in that hole now…" Marla laughed and Rita tried desperately to cover the hole with toes of the other foot, but alas her tender pink size 8s were just far enough apart to make it impossible. Hysterical laughter ensued as Marla wiggled an index finger underneath the thin fabric and teased the creamy rippled middle of Rita's foot.
"Nahhhhhhhhhhhhhhahahahahaha NO NO Nahhhhahahahahaha…I can't tell you! I swear I can't! AHHHHHHH hahahahahahaahaha," she screamed as Marla's fingernail slowly caressed and writhed against the soft bare foot beneath the stocking. All the while the hole was indeed getting A LOT bigger, so much so that by the time Marla stopped the ragged material hardly covered Rita's blushing plump curled toes.
Marla sat back and laughed at the desperately ticklish bare foot as it writhed still tingling from her last assault. The she reached over to the other foot a tore hole in the stocking until the all five wiggling toes and the pink plump ball of her foot were exposed accompanied by the sounds of…
"Noooooo! Please no not that! No more please don't HAAAAAAhahahahahah don't tickle my BARE FEET! Stop! Stop! Pleeeeease! Not the bare feeeeaheheheheheheeet…" And the like for several minutes as Marla slowly but surely tickled the stockings to smithereens. Then she sat back and admired her handy work saying, "Ah think ah like tiggling these bare much better…now come on lady where are you from? Who sent you all the way out here to bother lil' ol me?"
"I c-I can't tell…you that …look I'm sorry I broke in …just let me go and you you'll never see me again …I swear!" Rita begged piteously as her deliciously soft bare foot bottoms cowered towards each other, toes half curled in anticipation of more completely unbearable torment. That's when Marla lost all compassion and self-restraint.
She grabbed the top of the closest foot with one hand roughly. With her other hand she stroked the soft wrinkled arch with her long nails in staccato teasing strokes. Then she used the heel and toe of the expensive high heel shoe, continuously up and down from heel to toes slowly and lightly saying, "Oh the poor baby with soft lil' feet…can't tell me who you are or where you're from…good 'cause this is fun!" As one foot was immobilized the other would squirm, point flex, and wave hilariously after receiving brief but intense tickles; having drawn the attention of the tormentor.
"Coochie coochie coo lil' tender foot!" Then she grabbed the other foot palming Rita's itching arch and instep and began scrambling her fingernails all over the helpless ball of the foot and wavering toes!
Rita let loose the tortured laughter of a woman gone mad, her howling left no room for begging or cursing. At that point I looked over at Mrs. Quigley, whom was watching the video just as intently as I had been. I noticed she was grazing her fingernails up and down the sole of her own bare foot and smiling…I was about to go into erotic overload and hiding my excitement was becoming more painful by the minute.
The video skipped again. The camera was aimed directly down at the now upturned glowing pink bare soles wherein Marla's hands could be seen lightly tickling across both bare foot bottoms…meticulously tracing the path of each wrinkle…giggles and occasional bursts of loud laughter could still be heard though muffled again. For a moment one hand disappeared and then brought back into the picture the hairbrush she'd been using earlier.
"Mmmm…let's see…how about these nice fat little heels…" Was about the last I heard because as soon as the soft bristled brush began making slow circles over the Rita's plump, pink (and at that point), sweaty heels tortured gawfaws drown everything else out.
"Ahhhhhhhhhhh hahahahahahaha not there not my BARE HEEEELS NOOO MORE NO MORE! NOT AGAIN… " On and on Rita sobbed and cackled as she tried to kick her feet free as fingernails and bristles caressed every inch of the ticklish bare feet.
At that point I reached over into Marla's lap and began lightly working my fingers over the soft fleshy wrinkled sole. She turned toward me bashfully laughing as her toes curled and spread rhythmically and said, "First of all, you're gonna hafta tie me up…"
I interrupted and said, "No…first of all you're gonna pay in spades for what you did to my partner and second…you're gonna give me every God damned scrap information on your husband if it takes me all God damned night!"
The next ten minutes were intensely silent as I got up from my chair and shut off the TV and flicked on the lights, then I proceeded to bind Marla. To get the maximum effect I wanted her to see and anticipate every touch so I laid her on the cot propped up by a rolled up sleeping bag. Next I tied her wrists together in front of her and then I tied each ankle to a corner of the cot also propped up with a large throw pillow I found on the floor of the church. I did it such a manner that her thighs were spread apart but her big bare soles were facing each other, up turned and several inches apart. The idea was to force her to look at the soft bottoms of her feet while they were being tickled and teased while she was helpless to stop it.
When I was done the look on her face changed from a sweet smirk of guilty pleasure to that of a woman who had just realized how much trouble she was in. I sat in the chair in front of her silently for about a minute while her eyes nervously shifted from my face to her vulnerable cream colored naked soles. I picked up Rita's empty shoes and placed them in between her legs to remind her of what she had done to my boss.
"Now, Mrs. Quigley you seem like a pretty smart cookie. So what say we dispense with all the BS and get down to business. Though you seem to enjoy this kind of thing it is completely unnecessary, and if I start I'm not going to stop any time soon. So, if you want to spare yourself the agony and just get on with your life tell me where your husband is and I'll leave you in peace with full amnesty." I said flatly.
She just sat there for a few seconds biting her bottom lip and starring at her upturned wrinkly arches, beads of sweat formed on her brow. "Ah …Ah can't just tell you like that. See that would be betrayal…b-but if Ah was forced to then mah husband, well he'd understand that. He wouldn't come after me …Ah'm afraid of what he'd do to me. He, uh, he used to make fun of my feet 'cause they're so big and sometimes he would tiggle me, but when saw that Ah kinda liked it he'd stop." She admitted frankly.
"Mister mah husband he didn't never give me no children to look after and care for, matter of fact he hardly ever touched me at all," The sadness in her voice began to seep through as her eyes welled up. "When y'all had me before all cocooned up and was tigglin' me…well that lady didn't do nothin' for me as a woman. But when I felt a man's hands…your hands it made me feel, I don't know different…special. I got excited, I hadn't been touched in so long…" She began to sob softly.
"Look, Marla I'm sorry your husband treated you like that…he's obviously an asshole. And you, you're a beautiful woman who could probably have any man in town…well aside form being the preacher's wife that is. But the point here is that he's out there in the world hurting people, all kinds of honest people, people so poor they don't 2 nickels to their names and he's cheating them. He's getting them hooked on drugs, involving them in all kinds of illegal activity…Marla he needs to be brought to justice. And you're our only link, our only hope. I want you think about that. Isn't there anything in your faith that tells you helping us is the right thing to do?" I sighed.
She looked up at me half-smiling and sniffling, "Ah know we made a deal, but you hafta do this. Ah wouldn't be able to look at myself in the mirror if just handed him over to ya without a fight…asshole or not he's mah man. You just do what you do best and you'll get your information. Okay? Anyway Ah can tell you enjoy your work…" She laughed referring to the tent in my boxers earlier.
"Suit yourself lady, but I AM going to put my pants back on…gotta be professional about this ya know." I bashfully chuckled as I retrieved my slacks. She blushed herself and starred at her feet, wriggling her toes and flexing her soles.
Upon the floor next to my slacks I noticed the hairbrush Marla had used to torture Special Agent Rita Johnson with. I picked it up and felt the thick soft bristles against the palm of my hand. Then I spotted a tiny whiskbroom next to a dustpan in another corner of the room, all the while concealing what I'd found in my wadded up pants. I placed the items on the floor beneath my wooden chair and donned my pants.
I asked her where the bathroom was so I could take a whiz before I got started and she obliged me with directions to a mudroom just inside the tiny bungalow that the church was attached to. In the bathroom I found a bucket and half filled it with hot water adding a modicum liquid hand soap. I also grabbed an old toothbrush, a towel, a wide paintbrush I found under the sink. I also snatched a feather off a dream catcher that hung in the kitchen window. I stuffed my back pockets with most of the treasures and returned to 'office/storeroom' where Marla was told to sit tight.
When I returned I noticed Marla testing her bonds and trying to see if she could bring her soft soles together. She had her toes pointed in such a way that both pale pink foot bottoms were wrinkled from heels to toes. It was the first time I noticed her pedicured toenails were painted a glossy candy apple red. Unable to resist such a spectacle I set down the bucket at the end of the cot and squatted next to the chair.
"That won't do you any good," I said as I employed 10 fingertips scrambling up and down her plump warm rippling foot bottoms about half a dozen times. Her eyes opened wide and what started as a chuckled soon turned into a full on womanly howl of laughter!
This was made complete by her soft bare soles flexing until the skin was smooth and her toes spread wide, as if to invite more of the same.
"Eeee hee heee he hehehe (gasp) AHHH HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA OH NO! NOT YET! AH'M NOT READY YET!" She laughed as I concentrated on her big, soft, round toes until they curled in submission.
Marla continued to giggle as I stood up and grabbed a floor lamp I'd spotted earlier, I set it up next to the cot and killed the over head lights. And after a few seconds of her giggling in the dark I switched the floor lamp on so that illuminated only her big beautiful bare feet at the end of the cot.
"Oh no…what're you gonna do mister? What're gonna do to mah feet?" She giggled nervously. "What's all that stuff down there? Oh mah Lord help me…Ah'm so tigglish right now Ah can't stand it!"
I didn't say a word. Instead, I grabbed the top of her right foot with my left hand and pulled the feather from my back pocket with my other hand. I leaned in close so that my gaze was fixed on the tender upturned sole and hovered the feather's tip barely and inch above her flexed arch. I slowly stroked the air over the womanly curvature of her captive foot, from heel to toes, as if trying to decide where to let it touch down. She giggled like mad and kept saying "Oh no…don't tease me like this…Ah can't stand it!" I glanced up at her face in the half-light to find her toothy elated grin as she excitedly followed the feather's path with her eyes.
That's when I struck with quick sweeping strokes across her heel and kept working up the bare foot bottom, lingering at the arch and then dusting the rosy ball of her foot. She burst into a fit of strained laughter as I wildly feathered her pink bare foot up and down determined to make her toes curl in ticklish submission, but she held out. Then I looked into her eyes and said, "You have such pretty toes!" With that I sent the feather dusting back and forth across her tender pink toe pads and their pale white undersides!
"AHAHAHAHAHAHAA NOOOOO NOT THE TOES NOT MAH TOES AHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH HAAAAAAAAAAAAAA HA HAAAAA…"She screamed as I dipped and sawed the feather between her helpless digits. "NO MORE FEATHER NO MORE HEE HEEEE HEEEE STOP OH PLEASE STAHAHAHAHAHAP…mah toes are so tigglish he heeeee…" Her laughter faded to silence and all at once her resolve had broken and the toes started wriggling like crazy.
I stopped and when I heard her draw a breath I started again by feathering the ball of her foot and arch until she squealed and curled the plump piggies in desperation for relief.
I relentless worked her right foot over! The wrinkled bare foot bottom shook and seemed to shiver in response to long smooth strokes accentuated by brief and light tickling just above her heel with the other end of the feather just to keep her cackling. And just when she realized I'd stopped for a few seconds I put the feather's tip to work quickly dusting her left foot whose toes curled wiggled without hesitation as the feather lapped and teased the ticklish wrinkled sole.
"AH (gasp)… AH (gasp)… AH (gasp) AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA…NO MORE FEATHER NO MORE FEATHER PLEEEEEASE! Haaaaaaa ha aha aha heee…"
Her laughter subsided as I placed the feather inside one of Rita's shoes and leaned back in my chair. "Ready to talk Mrs. Quigley?"
She sat there heaving with exhaustion tears rolling down her redden cheeks and grinning a lusty hungry grin, "You ain't licked me yet G-man…" She panted defiantly.
"Is that so…" I retorted and leaned my face close to writhing bottoms of her bare feet. Her toes half curled as I cradled the top of each foot in my hands. I looked up at her and her expression was one of quiet disbelief as turned my face directly towards her right arch and began sniffing and barely letting my lips skim the sole of her foot…letting her feel my hot breath on her soft bare instep.
"Oh…oh God…please…please…" She whispered in a desperate but passionate whimper.
I started lightly kissing up and down the tender wrinkled foot, which slowly relaxed until I devilishly nibbled and nipped at her heel and arch producing sensually tortured giggles and moans. I turned my face to her left foot, which opened up to me completely to me toes spreading as if begging to be sucked and nibbled. With the tip of my nose I gently cuddled the length of Marla's size 11 sole and ended by licking the pad of her big toe with just tip of my tongue. She let out a frustrated giggling moan and I felt the whole cot shudder.
"Uhhhggg…oh God…what're doing to me…oh that feels so good …mah feet will never be the same…God I'm so tigglish," She whispered.
I leaned back again smiling calmly. "Now, either you can tell me where your old man is …and we can do more of that, or we can do this," I pulled my pocket a small glass vile of the "itching/tickling" oil Rita had used on Marla's toes only weeks before and uncapped it carefully.
"Ah don't understand. W-What is it?"
I took the cap and touched the inside of it to the tip of the big toe of the left foot and she gasped. Then to the middle of her right foot just beneath the plump wide ball of the foot. She let out a squeal and a brief cackle when the cap tickled the tender spot. She wriggled all ten toes adorably, smiling and anticipating some new form of tickle torment. Wondering what else I had devised for the bottoms of her desperately ticklish bare feet.
Before A full minute went by she couldn't stop giggling. Her left foot writhed rhythmically searching for some way the cure the tingling itch at the tip of her big toe. While her right foot squirmed toes spreading, curling, and pointing as she looked on.
Her eyes filled with euphoric dismay as the tender tickle spot in the middle of her right foot got worse.
"Eeeeee Eeeeeee heeeeee heeeee what did you do to me? Ah AH! Ooooooo hoo hoooo it's driving me crazy! It itches! It tiggles so bad…make it stop! Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee hehehehehehehehheeeeeeee…"
"I'm afraid not Mrs. Quigley, you have to come clean first." I said as I pulled the paintbrush from my back pocket and started sporadically flicking it against her, now reddened bare heels. She dissolved into a new wave of cackling laughter unable to form words let alone sentences, but the pleading for mercy or rapture was clearly in her eyes.
I took the vile and poured a measured amount on to the tip of the brush while she desperately shook her head no with new tears forming in her eyes. I applied the oil liberally to both fidgeting soft soles with broad quick painting strokes until each foot had a slight glistening sheen. I even tickled it in between and underneath each of the ten plump bare toes! The effect was devastating.
"BWAAAAAAAA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH
