ElFewja
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Offering -- M/F mostly feet
The Sun's gilded rays whispered across the drying, orange leaves of the trees before splattering against the cracked stones that rose before her. The rocky stairway curved back and forth with the hill, wavering like the branches that graciously scraped at one another in the dying wind. He hunched forward, quickly stepping up the organized rubble.
Stepping gingerly, she hurried after him, the steps barely large enough to hold even her small feet. Her heels draped over the steps haphazardly as she rose through the shadows that sifted about, ready to gobble her up. Crossing her arms in front of her bare stomach, she reached up and drew the ends of her white robe tightly across her shoulders. A shiver laced down her spine, ruffling her wheat-colored curls.
Thoughts of the morning danced before her blushing bronze eyes as she strode upward, the summit approaching too quickly. Her body moved of its own accord, as though strings happily lifted her limbs, sending her surging forward. The planks of the hastily crafted stage appeared before her, crackling down one at a time like a series of lightning. The wood wobbled and creaked beneath her, and suddenly she stood before the small oaken box again.
Dropping her hand into it, she sifted through the puddle of smoothed orbs before plucking a small pebble that easily fit within her palm. Withdrawing her hand, she drew it to her chest, carefully covering her hand with her other while she tucked the clump of a fist under her chin. She stepped back into the crowd of three dozen women, their eyes glistening with eagerness and piercing right through her, towards the box.
Gulping, she stepped onto a tiny landing, then crossed the other way, stepping over a cracked and raised slab of stone that a tree root peeked through. Ahead of her, the man threw his arm through the air, slapping voraciously at the air as he bid her to hurry. Covertly touching the tip of her tongue to her upper lip, she nodded and hastened upward.
Shade from the trees brushed across her eyes like smoke, and she saw the shifting crowd of women as they laughed and talked amongst themselves. As she shuffled into place, she pointed the toes of her narrow, wrinkled boots together. The woman next to her lifted her chin, speaking boisterously to another woman in front of her. "The last woman," she shouted with a broad smile on her face, "displeased the Sun Goddess. This drought, this shame... I'll break it," she said, stepping forward and shaking her fist. Around her, the women laughed and cheered. She bit her lower lip and hunched her shoulders against her neck as her thumbs ran over the smooth pebble in her palm.
The Sun dragged on through the sky, breaking the thick clouds into grizzly afterthoughts as it passed through them. One by one the women strode forward, hungrily grabbing into the box and holding their blackened stones aloft, pride melting into disappointment as their grand smiles collapsed into graceless grimaces. Each one cast their stone aside before huffing either down the street or back into the crowd. A final, eager woman skipped ahead, her thin golden curls bouncing around her beaming face. Reaching into the box, she withdrew the stone and held it above for all to see. With closed eyes, she nodded and regally touched her fingers just below her neck. Raising her eyebrows at the silence, she opened her eyes, a jet-black stone staring back at her.
One by one the woman began barking at one another, revealing their empty hands and pointing at each other. They threw their arms into the air and yelled and bickered while looking around wildly. Biting lower lip, she felt her cheeks turn to stone, her arms shaking. Spreading her fingers just a bit, she peered through her hand, catching a glimpse of radiant pearl sparkling back at her. Her breath faltered, and her shoulders shook. "I'm not worthy," she whispered as she raised her hands to her chin, gently pressing her lips against her knuckles before uttering out, "This is a mistake."
Still, the women around her cheered, grabbing her and shaking her by her thin shoulders, congratulating her while spittle sprayed across her shoulders and face. The woman that had professed to appease the Sun Goddess sniffed loudly and crossed her arms before stomping off while the rest guided her away, forming a protective circle around her as they brought her towards the Guide. They strode down the narrow street, curving around the two story tall buildings that fenced in the cobbled road. They funneled down the road and the buildings thinned, until at last they arrived at The House at the edge of town.
A door clicked open, and several women vanished, funneling into the lonesome building. Setting her on a raised chair in the middle, the women took to their work, pulling her arms taut and straightening her back. They lifted her feet and removed her boots, measuring her toes and soles, her arms and her back before scurrying away. She sat there, her head bowed forward, her eyes flitting around the musty room while the women worked, carefully cutting silver fabrics and leathers.
A handful appeared around her as if from nowhere. They carried small glass vials of colored liquids and powders in their dusty hands. At once they leaned in, crowding around her face and dabbing at her with various brushes while firm hands gripped her fingers and toes while light sensations tinkled against them. In a blur the crowd backed off and she was made to stand, her clothing stripped from her while the women spun around her like a tornado, and soon she was fashioned in the holy whites and silvers of The Messenger. The Guide eagerly took off through the doorway and down the dirt path, towards the hill, while the women ushered her through the door, shouting congratulations and wishing her luck.
Her heart sank through her chest as the pavilion stretched before her. Pressing her bony hands into her chest, she drew in a noisy breath of air as she faltered. A circle of stone ached and yawned before her as she took another step upwards, setting the thin silver sandals that now blessed her feet firmly against the step. Turning her head, she held her breath as she took in its radiance. The grey bricks of the pavilion glittered in the Sun's dying light while the purple and white flowers that fenced it in danced and sparkled in the long rays of gold that smuggled themselves through the shifting branches. In the middle, bathed in sunlight, stood a raised throne of tenderly smoothed stone. It glistened with dew, its back reaching tall and proud. Hedging backward, she lifted her bare heel away from the sacred leather that guided her as she shifted her shoulder at an angle. Shaking her head, she sniffled and bent forward, rubbing at her ears with her shoulders.
The creak of leather clashing with stone resounded, and a firm warmth pressed onto her shoulder. A quiet, resilient voice like oak soothed her while warmth massaged her spine. "The Goddess chose you," he said simply before leaving her side and stepping up two steps. Turning, he extended his arm. Looking at his hand, as smooth as the pebble that had selected her, she stared for a moment before her eyes swam up his arm and into his face. His eyes carried a solemn and sullen look, as though he too were worried that she would not suffice. He withdrew his hand and let his arm fall to his side while straightening his back. With a nod, he turned his back to her and continued upwards, "When you are ready," he said simply before wistfully striding towards and sitting before that hallowed altar that so many honorable women had graced before her. Bowing his head, he brought his hands together and closed his eyes.
A twisting gale entered their forbidden sanctum, sending leaves to scrape circles around the edge of the pavilion. They danced majestically, skipping and tumbling. The breeze suddenly tore through the air, whipping around her like fabric while blowing the edges of her robe back. Looking around, she brought her hands to her chest and bit down over her lower lip, faltering down a step while her chestnut hair blustered around her face. Turning her back to the altar, she sniffled while tears burned at the edges of her eyes.
Thrusting her head back, she closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath. Images of the dry, cracked soil and yellow grass rustled before her. Throwing her head into her shoulder, she rubbed her fingers down her chest, leaving little pale streaks. Digging her fingers into her flesh, she nodded and strode up, her palpable footfalls clicking like ripples on a moonlit pond.
She stepped forward nervously, her small silver sandals barely passing one another. With each step, she stopped and drew in a small, private breath. Her eyes remained fixed on the ground before the throne. A whimsical gust blew, scattering the rays of sunlight that blessed the pavilion while the branches above her screeched in discord. Raising her chin, she shook her head and regally glided towards the throne.
Skirting around the man, she hesitantly ran her hand over the smoothed arm rest while eyeing the stone, polished by countless bursts of rain. Glancing down the sparkling backside, her eyes rested for a moment upon the invitingly carved seat. Tucking her chin downward, she spun around and collapsed into the throne, a rush of resolve coursing through her.
At once everything grew quiet and she felt a sense of purpose bolster her. Extending her arms along the rests, she sat tall and straight, a weak smile shimmer along her lips like a firefly’s whimsical imitation of the Sun. Within moments the smile grew stony and stiff, her upper eyelids smothering the top half of her bronze eyes. Spreading her shoulders apart, she raised her pointed chin while her heart whittled away at her chest, her every thought focused upon the queen-like appearance that suddenly felt so natural to her.
Blustering upward, the Guide, her servant, bowed quickly and deeply. He strode behind the throne while she held her gaze forward, the sight of her village instilling her with the flames of a crazed fervor. Lowering her chin ever so slightly, she whispered to herself, "I will break this drought."
A rustle of cloth unwinding vied for her attention, but still she focused upon the distant buildings. As she danced back and forth between wild, selfish excitement and a fear of failure, she felt the wind nip at her shoulders. Without shifting her eyes, she watched as her cloth robe slowly seeped away like the morning tide, leaving her exposed, fair skin bare to the sun above her. The sound of silk rushing against itself like the rapids of a flowing river nuzzled her ears, and she felt a gentle tightness pull her towards the armrests. Beneath and behind her, she felt her body melt into the stone, her muscles loosening as her body seemed to lose its weight.
Her servant appeared before her again, a nervous smile plastered onto his open, cracked lips. He bowed his head several times as he stepped in front of her, the hems of his russet robes scraping against her stone pavilion. With a gentle, passionate touch, he let his fingers lace around her delicate ankles, carefully lifting her soles from this undeserving, celestial body. Her heels fell slack as they flew through the air, the ends of the silver sandals that protected her soles whipping about defiantly, exposing her to the wicked elements. Within moments the backs of her ankles rested within two small grooves carved into the top of a small stone footrest. A quick moment passed, her servant flourishing his arms in front of the block as though he weaved a spell. Another moment passed before he revealed a small slab of stone carved into two arches. Setting it down gently, he fixed it over top of her ankles while guiding small pillars at the ends into tiny holes etched into the footrest.
Standing straight, he brushed his hands together quickly, their striking resounding like a knife scraping away at leather. While her breath leapt erratically like flies on a river, his eyes glazed over, his chest barely moving. As he lifted a hand and stroked his rounded chin, his eyes flitting up and down her body, she sat, fidgeting, biting the inside of her lip while swirling admiration soared through her chest. He paced around to her left side, his heavy shoes clonking loudly against the pavement. His eyes ran up and down her, appraising her like a piece of metal to be melted and reforged. Crossing back into her sight, he shifted by, his torso hardly moving as he slipped by her. All the while she stared straight ahead, towards the thatch covered buildings and the field of yellowing crops beyond them.
Slowly tapping his finger against his cheek, he crossed in front of her, barring her vision of the various lopsided houses. In a swift motion he dropped to his knees, vanishing behind the small stone totem that held her tiny feet. Pressing her toes into the sandals, she felt the material curve into her arch as his legs extended to either side of the throne while folding them underneath himself. A brief awareness of her feet came to her and she tugged them back briefly, her crimson nails sparkling in the sunlight. As she looked upon them the thought of her feet, half naked and imprisoned before her, brought them full and center of her mind. Before the thought diminished, his hands appeared from around the sides of the stone, his fingers gently stroking at her ankles.
At once she sniffled sharply and twisted in her throne. The touch prickled lightly, as though he pressed the very tip of several needles onto her flesh without any force or weight so that they did little more than scrape over top of her. Tugging at her arms, she felt the silk force them to heel at the armrests. Shoving her arms forward, she gripped her fingers into the edges of the armrest while the silk whooshed up her forearms. As his fingers nipped and nibbled at her ankles like a swarm of pesky gnats, she tucked her chin into her chest. Her lips creased across her face, forming a thin, wide smile that puffed up into her cocky cheeks, turning them into bulbous masses. Wiggling her large toes wildly, her flesh clicked against the leather of those hallowed sandals that dared grace her feet. With all of her weight, she shifted her hips, rapping her body into the side of her throne as she bartered with the stone wedge that held her, pointing her toes forward and pulling backward. The stone obelisk rebuked her and refused to so much as budge.
Scattering his fingers like rain, he whimsically allowed them to flutter over the tops of her feet briefly before returning to her thin ankles. With a loud gasp, she turned her head and slammed her eyes shut. Her lips spread apart, showing her barred teeth. Turning her head downward, she fanned her nose against her shoulder while he dusted his fingers across the tops of her feet. His gentle, warm hands stung at her like long, biting feathers forged by a blacksmith for such an occasion. For a moment she considered all of the women that had allowed him to perfect his craft, chuckling at the thought of the loud woman from the square ever sufficing for such a task. She panted quickly, her teeth slicing up the air as it snuck through the miniscule gaps between those pearly pillars.
With great attention he strung several careful etchings into the top of her floundering feet, beguiling them into an amused state. Beneath her, her legs shimmied back and forth like the stokes of a wheel, constantly pushing and pulling her feet towards a dawn like salvation. Pressing her lips together, she squeezed her eyes shut, focusing her mind on her task. Resistance, she thought as she opened her eyes and pushed herself up in her throne. The Sun Goddess would never balk and crack at such frivolities, she assured herself as she froze her twitching toes. Extending them forward, she exposed herself, allowing him free reign to sift over top of her skin while she absorbed all of the sensations before packing them tightly and stowing them away. Her sandals bent, curving tightly into her arches while forgoing their duty and exposing the rims of her heels.
Inwardly, she pressed her hands into her cheeks, howling and screaming like the winds that tore around her, yet she refused to allow her body to budge. With all of her might she drew her eyelids down and sat back, focusing her mind on the warmth that the sun blasted between her toes. Still, his hands flew between her and her savior, clouding her with crawling, inescapable shadows that rippled across her mind. Despite her best efforts, the muscles in her face twitched and twanged like the string of a bowman eager to loose his payload. Likewise, her toes flickered ever so slightly, her resolve rippling like wet cement.
Chuckling with amusement, the hands vanished for a moment. Almost immediately her shoulders sagged ever so slightly, and she exhaled with relief. Sharpening her thoughts, she hastily blew over the wet cement of her resolve, hoping to become immutable herself. With a thin inhale she sat up while grasping thoughts of the arid air and using them as a whetstone, striking her body into a terse arrow. She would do her best, she assured herself with a nod, better than any before her. The edges of her lips moved ever so slightly as thoughts continued to pour over her; there would be so much rain, she thought, that there would be a near endless harvest. Her sandals wiggled slightly. Yes, she thought as she lifted herself, spreading her shoulders outward, the river would overflow, and she would birth the lake once again. It would be remembered as the Great Harvest, she cooed to herself.
A spiked claw of a shadow scratched at the cobble work around her, slowly inching towards her. Looking up, she peered through the branches above her, tilting her head at a slight angle and squinting at the bright light that blessed her. A small cloud with spiked edges quietly and carefully crossed over the sun, engulfing its light. The air around her grew decidedly chill as the light faded.
Everything around her seemed to slow into a sappy haze. A whisper crossed her soles, slowly scratching up the bottoms of her feet while a calming weight vanished from her. With raised eyebrows she lowered her head, unabashedly, thoroughly unaware of the transgression over her sovereign soil. Her toes pinched shut and her heels kicked forward, her feet forming a great arc as words drizzled over her mind at a blazing pace. A flash of silver came and went as her Guide carefully laid her royal sandals on either side of the pedestal that held her aloft. Gazing upward, she saw the tops of her now naked feet, a chill running down her spine. Her toes overlapped one another as her feet turned towards each other, her left foot diving in front of her right. Lifting her arms, she attempted to wrap them around herself, the silk hushing her movement with a quiet whoosh. She suddenly felt as though she wore nothing at all. The icy fingers of the shade pecked into her shoulders, calling for goosebumps to rally at the back of her neck.
A sudden rumbling of wind roared around her. The shade spottily vanished as the sun burst through the cloud, rending it into thin wisps that soon deteriorated into nothingness. Warmth hugged her all over. The rays that swaggered through the golden leaves singed her soles with a forbidden light. At once the past few seconds whirled into one as sensations blossomed along the middles of her soles.
Her eyes bulged, and her jaw dropped as she snorted out a birdlike cacaw of a gasp. Unable to stifle her joy any longer, she bowed her head and hissed out a sweet serenity of giggles. At once her hands lifted back, the silk that bound her wrists nurturing them into compliance while her fingers plunged their nails into her palms. The sensations stung unbearably, prickling her like the holy rays of a forgotten paradise brimming with lush greenery and swelling streams. With scrunched toes she pressed her ankles further into her bindings, brushing the backs of her feet into the palisade while her heels flew forward. Clamping her teeth down, she lifted her neck away and pressed her shoulders out and downward. Her gaze remained firmly fixed upon her sparkling, crimson toes as her feet turned further inward, her feet crossing at the arches into a blessed X.
For a moment she sat, her muscles tense and ready to burst. Slowly, she exhaled, allowing her elbows to swoop back onto their respective perches. Sitting back, she shook her head slightly, scattering her hair from overtop of her eyes. Lowering her shoulders, she lifted her chin like the Queen she represented, though her feet still sat huddled together, awaiting their trials.
Her servant shifted about, his elbows extending past the prison of stone that held her. Shuffling back, two thin, darkly colored sticks spun above the stockade before vanishing again. A muscle on the left side of her lip twitched, the tip of her nose rising ever so slightly as it scrunched together. In a dark blur, the sticks bobbed above the stockade again, their ends freezing, pointed upward. Her eyes winced as she eyed the many stiff, tan bristles that came together like a budding flower shutting itself against the night. At once she felt her feet collapse further onto their inner sides so that they fell almost perfectly perpendicular to the ground. Visions of sensations washed over her feet as she pinched her toes tighter, small balls of pain forming in the upper middle of her soles. As the brushes ducked downward, away from her sight, she bit her lower lip.
A snapping breeze rustled over her soles, rattling her toes and abducting a quiet squeak of a squeal from her. Spreading her lips, she dashed out a small exclamation of relief just before the bristles landed against the foot that stood stalwartly in front of her other one. With a wide smile she drew in a thorough breath of air. The brush strokes echoed hollowly against her skin like a hundred viper tongues, there and gone before she had time to grasp sense of them. It was a soft, calming touch, and yet it sparkled against her delicate skin. Though they mimicked a single entity, she could feel each rough, individual bristle as though the breath of a hundred furry animals spirited across her. Her shoulders pushed back and downwards into an upside-down V and she extended her neck. The ends of her lips curved upward, and she strangled her tongue between her teeth, closing her eyes and spewing out a quiet, hissing laughter that rhymed with the feelings that delegated themselves across her feet.
Moments after the assault began her feet relaxed slightly, turning half upright and reforming their x-shaped cross. The toes of her hidden foot cowered over top of her other foot while it weathered the assault, its own toes flicking and wiggling with the madness that was gently engineering circles across it. The two brushes flew up and down her sole in opposition, slowing to draw heinous, dissident patterns above and around her heel and around the middle of her foot. The bristles sprayed and spread as the brush head dashed up her arch, a disquiet rebellion forming as the bristles broke apart to claim their own private riches from her.
Shaking her hips, she wiggled her fingers and smiled brighter than the sun. Bending her toes backward, she felt the skin of her foot twitch like restless grass on a windy day. Wrinkles rippled into then out of existence at a moment’s notice while the brushes painstakingly painted dried rivers of laughter into her. The Guide toiled away, dusting off and revealing hidden troves of ticklishness she had long ago secreted away in her feet. Though vaporous as the morning mist, the brushstrokes were warm and pleasant like the dawn. It felt as though they carved a golden glow into her sweltering soles.
More and more, her feet slowly split apart as the harassed foot balked from its self-ascribed devotion. Through winced eyes she looked upon her helpless ruby toes as her sole was rained upon with foreign feelings. Letting out a whimpering "skhehe" she fought with herself, commanding her foot to stand its ground while it slipped further to the side. She extended her arms forward, her elbows leaning in front of her ribs while her neck stretched away from her torso. The toes of her left foot scrambled up the back of her other foot then wrapped around her large toe just before it could flutter away with the rest of her toes. Digging in, her toes flapped wildly while her foot suffocated from the sensations that her servant drizzled over top of her.
With a careless swipe, the bristles trickled over top of her forcefully exposed toes. Gasping, her feet split part, pointing away from each other at a wide angle so that they formed a small V-shape. Imagining a smirk upon her servant's face, she turned her cheek and grit her teeth just as the brushes vanished from her foot. Her toes flew backward, their tips touching the smooth stones that held them firmly in place. A brief curse flung through her mind at the thought of her exposed arches before it was dispelled by the sensations that bubbled upon those most delicate regions.
Letting out a surprised "Kahh!" as she was overcome with blistering humor and humility, she flew forward, her eyes popping out and her jaw seeming to unhinge itself. Balling her fingers into fists, she rapped at her throne with her knuckles while shaking her head like a leaf, pointing her forehead wide with each sway, the angle thinning until her chin came to rest in her chest while she wept with quiet, secretive giggles. Though her feet flailed from side to side, bashing into each other, they were assailed without reservation by the brushes as they neatly and accurately spiraled coils up and down her arches.
All at once she wanted to cry and scream, to laugh endlessly, and yet all she could manage was to sit, chattering like a squirrel with her pristine, private giggles. The sensations that comprised her soles sent tremors through her mind, crackling the foundation that formed herself, but she knew it to not be enough. Tears singed her eyes as she pushed her shoulders into her neck, heated agony churning through her chest. She was blindingly ticklish, she thought to herself as a sob wrenched through her throat, yet it was not enough. Thoughts of desolate sand where once there had been blessed soil flooded her mind. She sat, sniffling quietly, her sorrow masked with happy, chirping chuckles.
A short reprieve came, and she limped forward, huffing in air. The silence was all but immediately broken by a tight, soft warmth that gripped around the front of her foot. Bending back in the chair, she closed her eyes and turned her head away while clamping her lips over her tongue. Like a great storm that swept over the horizon, a torrent of bristles slathered across her toes. At once, she sprung upward, chittering and giggling as the bristles splashed and frayed, fighting and splitting apart so that some poked and chipped into her while others lathered across of her. His hand moved quickly, sprinkling the brush against her so fast that each of her wiggling toes seemed to feel the assault at once. As the brush jumped from toe to toe, the rogue bristles leapt between her toes, gently kissing up the sides of them while still more slipped beneath her nails. Leaning forward, she gripped the armrests and shagged her head up and down, giggling through a toothy smile.
With a quick, firm sweep the infestation of laughter that had so readily raided her feet slumped away. As though she had long been held aloft only to find her support wrenched from her, she suddenly sagged in her throne, her shoulders spread out to her sides while her feet fell lax, her toes spreading apart. Her entire body rose and fell with her chest as she lapped up air. Every part of her lilted, her fingers and elbows dripping over the armrest while her cheek swooped down against her shoulder. Shaking her nose, she grit her teeth and pinched her eyes shut, frustration at her failure sending shockwaves through her. Pressing her kneecaps down as hard as she could, she slammed her ankles within the stockade, flapping her feet beyond them while phantom ticklers continued to goad her feet for anything she had left to offer them.
Her servant rose up solemnly, his head bowed as he approached her. Lifting her head, she craned forward, pleading with him. "No, please!" she mewled out, her arms shaking in their regal bindings. With slow steps, he closed the distance, passing her knees and stopping at her side. Careening her face upward, tears surged down her cheeks, blighting her regal appearance with streams of sooty makeup. His lips stood flat and stern, his eyes fixed firmly on her, their deep blue, unwavering gaze seeming to absorb her. Slowly shaking her head, she quickly foamed out, "I can do this."
Her eyes bulged, and she leapt in place as the soft but stiff bristles drew circles of light just below her ribs. Letting out a surprised "sssshehe," she shoved her chin down, her eyes stabbing at the brushes that traced around her belly as though her look alone would freeze them. Dancing in her chair, she squirmed back and forth, slapping her hips against the slabs of stone that held her arms. Tugging at her wrists, she rattled her fingernails against the armrests and shook her head back and forth, skirmishing with her stately seat of sovereignty.
The strokes sluggishly slithered around her midriff, decorating her with ticklishness. With each breath she giggled out a silky, rapid, "Shh-shh-shh-shh," before sharply sniffing and beginning again. Pushing back into her throne, she felt the stone bite into her spine and force her to bear the brunt of the brushes. They swept over her flat belly indiscriminately, swinging around her sides and back again, their snakelike kisses blowing her thoughts of doubt out of her mind as she focused upon their creamy caresses.
With a flick of his wrist, her servant ushered the brush head into the recesses of her belly button, diving through it and out, then circling around it. Brandishing a quick gasp, she bit her lower lip and clamped her eyes shut. Pushing her left shoulder into the back of the throne, she shirked away, edging her right shoulder up and stabbing her chin into the upper end of her bicep.
As she sat, she felt the brush stride further and faster, covering more ground in each stroke as it leapt up and down her torso. The featherlike bristles gently stroked her ribs before diving down, nearing her spasming hips. Her shoulders rose near her ears and she shoved her elbows firmly into the armrests, reveling in the holiness of her body. A brief thought of selfishness flicked across her mind and her lips curved upwards. Duty or not, she would enjoy this private moment.
The brushes leapt higher, dabbing just beneath her breasts before titillating her hips. Releasing her lips, her lower jaw rose and fell with the brush as she exhaled a shaky breath that mirrored the secluded passion that welled within her. With each loving touch of the brush she thrashed away, a secretive joy secreting through her as she failed to dislodge the tools. Suddenly, both cursed tools dove downward sharply, swirling a cyclone of feeling at the uppermost region of her thighs and across their sides. Sucking her lips in, her head bobbed down then up. She shoved the top of her head into the back of her seat and drooped forward, opening her lips and blowing a thin wire of air through a tiny hole. A brief, wispy "oh," escaped her.
Though the gentle tickles that kissed up and down her body held her attention, she sensed her feet in the distance, past the dark void that wrapped her shut eyes. Her soles throbbed with jealousy, demanding penance of her. The brushes disappeared for a brief moment before dancing over top of her swelling breasts. Sinking in her seat, she forced her head back further, her back growing straighter and sharper than a blacksmith's most prized blade as she hissed out a steamy breath.
The image of her carefully wrinkled soles and their tightly bound ruby nails toes biting into them harangued her. Unable to shake them from her mind, she sat as her servant very softly scraped the brushes down her nose. He very gently touched them to her ears, rounding down them, then flicked the bristles around the sides of her neck. Molten joy bubbled and churned within her, and still the images of her imprisoned feet dominated her thoughts.
Her head swayed back and forth, shifting away from the touches that rained upon her neck so that she exposed herself to her servant's tyranny. A wave of heat washed over her, and she tightly bundled herself together, pushing her elbows into her ribs as a brush swept burnished swift, smart flicks over her ribcage. The other, meanwhile, contented itself to skitter along her neck and plant forbidden desires within her.
A fresh bout of silence chipped away at her, and she soon noticed the absence of sensation. Sitting up, she allowed her eyes to flutter open. The golden grove seemed to yawn forth around her while her slave gingerly stepped towards one of the trees. Drawing in a long, cool breath, she sat up, her body thick and heavy, weighed down as though she had just exited a steaming bath. Rolling her shoulders, she felt all the tightness and worry from her journey to this sacred grove float away like sickly morning fog. Squinting, she watched as the man bent over, his burgundy robes shimmering in the deep orange light of the setting sun.
Looking over the village, she stared at that bright globe as it hung above the roofs, washing the buildings in long shadows. Wincing slightly, her thoughts briefly fell upon the withering crops before landing back upon her soles. The sun lavished them with great affection, blasting them with a thorough, radiant heat. The thin lines that the bristles ran over her still throbbed against her flesh, their twisted teachings crying for vengeance. A shuffle came from her side and she saw the man rise.
Turning on his heels, he slowly approached her, a glass jar of a pinkish-purple quivering substance in his hands. The contents seemed to jostle like jelly as he strode towards her. Sitting up, she thrust her shoulders back and reformed her queenly visage from earlier, the mangled mess of her amber curls bobbing in front of her eyes as she focused her image into form.
Stopping by the stone stockade, he looked up, his sodden eyes falling upon her face. With rigid words of iron, he called out to her, "Only the most devoted are truly chosen." Solemnly setting the jar down, he gazed at her feet for a moment then crossed his arms, shoving them into the long, sweeping sleeves that covered his arms. Above her the leaves danced and scratched at their manacles. The fingers of a thin cloud stretched across the middle of the sun, scattering a long tendril of shadow across her.
Her soles still sung the song he had imprinted upon her, her flesh singed with a chirping happiness. Biting the inside of her lower lip, she pressed her elbows against the arm rests and lifted her head, trying to peek at the glass jar that remained out of her sight. Her feet shuffled together, the toes of her left foot clamping over top of the toes of her right while the memories of a hundred maidens howling through the night chiseled through her. Looking away, her servant turned and shuffled, murmuring, "Your resolve wavers."
"No," she barked out while twisting towards him. Slowly throwing his head against his shoulder, he turned, a sullen gaze meeting hers. "No," she repeated staunchly, the cries of the other chosen echoing within her as though she bore their suffering, "I just..." Sighing, she sucked in her lower lip and turned away from him as thoughts of dried crops wavered before her. Bowing her head, she brushed her nose against her shoulder and mewled out, "I'm not worthy." Clamping several of her left teeth over her lip, she felt the right side of her lips curve upward as she whimpered out, "I'm not ticklish enough."
Drawing in a deep breath, the man bent backward, staring at the sky. Closing his eyes, he silently blew the air back out, words oozing along the carefully crafted gust of wind that exited him. "I believe," he spoke simply, his voice slicing clean through the air as though he were sawing his words off of a large block of wood, "That should you give it your all, you will succeed." Withdrawing his left hand from his sleeve, he drew his thumb to his lips, brushing it above them. Looking down, he tilted his head, "You are more ticklish than most, if it’s any comfort, and perhaps the most devoted of all I have escorted along this path."
Freezing in place, she gently lifted her head, her lips parting. Turning slowly, she felt her coppery eyes grow wide and damp, her feet separating as she turned towards him. The cloud that danced across the sun vanished and she felt warmth ooze across her face and feet once more. Smiling warmly, he twisted his head at an angle and closed his eyes. "Shall we continue?"
"Yes, yes!" She chirped out excitedly as she forced herself to sit straight up, her majestic demeanor marred by a single tear that dashed around the bulging cheek formed by her wide smile. As he moved towards her and crouched, she bent her toes backward, kicking her feet up and down with zealous fervor. Gleeful thoughts of her service and of her sacrifice for her town beamed through her. Her lips chipped away into her cheeks and she shuffled in place with unrestrained enthusiasm. A sudden pallor dampened her thoughts when the glass clinked against the stone. Raising an eyebrow, she shuffled to the side and extended her head above her right shoulder, peeking towards the man as she hesitantly called to him, "Ah… what is that?"
Before responding she felt a globule of gooey material drizzle across the elevated space beneath her toes. Small, sinister streaks ached down her foot. At once she sucked in a sudden breath of air through her teeth at the wiggling, cold material that stuck to her. As the substance oozed down her sole, she scrunched her toes together and pulled back with her foot, chuckling at the damp bristles that sanctioned her with a reminder of what they could do to her. Shaking her foot lightly, she felt the mass of goo jiggle back and forth, her movements failing to dislodge it though hastening its claim across her sole. It felt as though she had stepped in mud; it possessed a damp, sucking sensation that was slightly unpleasant. Another stroke of it dabbed across her arch and she shuddered, shivering at the foreign material that laid claim to her. With determined words, her servant simply blustered out, "Sap from a distant holy tree."
Licking her lips, she opened her mouth to ask a second question when a sudden fire seemed to ignite against her flesh. At once her eyelids spread apart and she hunched back into her seat, her fingers tightly choking the armrests. All at once it felt as though a thousand tiny roots spread across the areas subjected to the sap and her foot began to burn and buzz while a great itch coated her. It seemed as though the sap vibrated at an incredible pace against her foot, ripping it asunder with tickling.
Her foot pulsed and throbbed with delicious agony. Pulling her toes in tightly, she felt the slick material drip down her wrinkles as she flapped her foot in a vain attempt to cast it off. Instead the material spread further, the fiery vine-like sensation gripping into her tightly. The brush dabbed at her heel, leaving a cool, gelatinous streak across it while her knees quaked at the loss of more ground. Valiantly, her other foot leapt in front of it, pressing its back into her sticky sole.
Reeling forward, she gasped and howled as the sensations plucked away at the top of her foot like it was a hapless harp. Desperately pulling her foot away, it snapped back against her sole, the paralyzing itch tackling her. Throwing her head back, she extended her fingers and slapped at the armrests with flat hands, her servant tucking her feet apart with a soul-sucking schlorp. Shivering, she felt the substance drip and ooze slimy trails down her foot, spreading the torrent of vines that burrowed deeply into her, striking straight at her nerve endings.
Throwing her mouth open, she laughed deeply, throwing out a sickled "Ahhh—hahaha!" over and over, her soul feeling like a great moonlit ravine, its sharp cliffs marred by distant, silver water that chided at her from below. Thrashing back and forth, she slapped at her throne with her shoulders, her elbows rattling against the armrest as they shifted about on top of it. The brush toiled at her slowly, endlessly, eagerly covering her sole with the murk while her foot rattled back and forth, helplessly assisting in the brush's endeavor. Globules of the stuff sifted as she flexed and pointed her toes, the thickest parts harrowing her further and further as they lapped down her arch, only to be reset by a quick dab of the devil's bristles.
It felt as though a hundred fires combusted against her, the vines striking at her like flint, sending shattering sparks all over her. Over and over, the word "Tickling," hounded her mind, baying at her from some unseen recess so deep within her that she feared to venture there. "Tickling! Tickling!" scrawled against her skin, taking root within her. The thought blazed across her mind, burning away everything else. Leaning onto her elbows, she extended her neck and roared with laughter. The world had to know of her suffering.
The brush kept at its demonic work, converting her skin against her. Thrashing her head from side to side, she slashed at her shoulders with her hair before biting her lip and shaking her ankles within their bindings. Her whole body felt like a frayed sheet as she sat, laughing and writhing in the sun's burning light. Then the brush trickled across her toes, dabbing between them, its bristles sticking to her skin.
Her eyes flew open and she screamed "No!" as she watched the translucent pinkish-purple goop seep around her crimson nails. Within a few fluttering moments her toes seethed with the barbs of a hundred of the buzzing vines. Looking straight up at the sun, she cawed out a delirious "Aiee!!!" Distantly, she heard her own voice alongside the chorus of the other women that had come before her, her gilded tones harmonizing beautifully into their choir. The villagers dotted before her eyes as she pinched her eyelids into a tight knot. All at once, it felt as though she were laughing for all of them, every person that had ever lived or would live within the village, but she laughed especially for the others that had shared this chair with her. Perhaps, someday, she would sit among them and quietly gossip about how enlightening the experience was against her feet.
As her toes were soaked with the succulent sap, she felt as though her servant had espied an especially rebellious strand amongst the cloth that formed her frayed skin, his too-skilled brush tugging at it with magnificent gusto. At that instant she felt herself unraveling, her body melting into a writhing puddle of sensitivity. Images of her past danced before her, of herself blushing and rubbing the toe of her shoe against the dusty planks of the general store while she spoke with the young, smooth man employed there. As she extended her jaw, loudly proclaiming how ticklish her feet truly were, she wondered at that blushing maiden who so adamantly hid away her true intentions.
Flexing her foot, she felt the entirety of it clothed by the sap as she slowly wiggled her toes, the lifeblood of that holy tree allowing her this tiny reprieve. At once she yelped as the sensations popped and burst, seemingly magnified by the movement. Releasing her muscles, she let the sap snap her toes back in place her. Leaning forward, she focused upon forcing them still with every conscious thought she had, fearful to move them lest she torture herself further. As though an icicle stabbed at her, she felt a damp dab at the middle of her left foot. Immediately she screamed with laughter as the sensations nestled into her flesh. Even though the slick sensations only seemed to double as her foot was quickly and expertly coated, the daggers that struck at her mind increased a hundredfold. It suddenly felt as though her feet were elated by the glory of a hundred years of ticklish knowledge all compressed into a single moment.
As her foot became coveted by the holy tree's essence, she felt her innards ripple. An uneasy pleasantness spiraled within her like a whirlpool, sucking away at the parts of herself she thought she had understood so well. Despite her cries and screams and the whirling miasma of wonderful agony that seeped across her soles, she felt a stretching calmness ache within her chest, near the center of the whirlpool. Twisted torrents of searing suffering streamed through the rapids, and though the waters tore at her insides they appeared to hardly move at all, their crystalline ripples barely budging. Without hesitation, she let herself get carried away by the rapids, somehow sensing that they would take her to true herself that hid deep within those impenetrable regions within her, where the tickling pulsated at its fiercest.
Looking down, she watched as he carelessly dabbled his weapon within the jar before sending it back to its journey. Though her throat grew dry and ragged and her mouth cried out, "No more! Please, stop!" between her perilous laughter, she spread her toes back, welcoming the brush to paint alive their true, ticklish nature, greeting the sticky bristles with a throaty "Eeeyaaah!!" Sagging forward, she shook her head in the air, her eyes firmly fixed upon the oozing pink liquid that revealed to her secrets unknown, her smile broadening at the prospect of further suffering. A sneering pride soared through her as she eyed the glossy purple that seeped around the edges of her feet, and she imagined how tragically beautiful her small, wrinkled soles must look beneath that translucent nightmare. The messy image stood before her, blocking any other thought from her mind as she watched herself fall to her knees in great worship of her soles’ sacred nature.
Slipping back and forth through time, she felt as though she lived a hundred ticklish lives as her guiding beacon diminished beyond those distant, envious mountains. Streaks of greyish-purple stretched across the sky as it swindled the very colors she so passionately bore for it. A muscle twitched at the edge of her right foot, her pinky toe attempting to lean forward but finding itself unable to, as though it were tightly bound at all ends. Gasping, she pushed with all of her might, her toes refusing to follow her orders while a small amount of powdery dust fell away from her toes.
Even though the outer layer dried, encasing her foot in a prism of ticklish agony, the inside still jiggled and writhed. All around her foot, she felt the goo compress against her skin, their sly tendrils vibrating even faster than before, striking at her from all angles. Feeling her mind crackle and shatter, she screamed louder than a siren, her voice echoing around the hill. Pushing her shoulders into her neck, she shook as she slowly spread the toes of her left foot apart, only to have them snap back together with great ferocity. The sap punished her greatly for her transgression with a furious bout of wild, overgrown tendrils that wrapped around her toes, spreading a delirium of agony across them.
As she laughed and laughed, expelling all of the golden energy that seared through her, she felt her left foot grow stiff while the sap licked and lapped at her, laughing alongside of her as she thrashed within the confines of her throne. Locked away within her body, she rifled through her ribcage for more laughter to send into the cool night sky in her desperate attempt to appease the gods. Loneliness gripped her heart and her eyes grew wide as a deluge of thoughts overtook her, searing her entire body. A tightness rent at her eyes as she realized that everything until now lead to this moment, this sacrifice, this offering. Her feet, frozen in place within their beautiful prism of crystal sap, pulsed and throbbed with the overgrowth of vines that layered over top of one another, fighting with and snaking between one another for just the opportunity to lick her tender flesh. As she railed against the burgeoning night sky with her anguished, conflicted cries, she felt an overabundance of warmth tear at her while the creeping tendrils that choked her feet laughed alongside of her. Thrashing her head back and forth, she felt herself fade before large, towering words that bubbled within the cauldron of her mind. This is truly who she is. This is her purpose. Her throat crackled as she screamed and screamed, yet a wide smile coursed along her face. Only she could do this.
Smacking his lips together, her servant dropped the brush into the jar and rose. Pressing his hands into his hips, he stretched backwards while she squawked and cackled. Looking at him with pleading eyes, she shook her head back and forth. Smiling and nodding, he turned on his heel and approached the steps, looking to the sky and holding out his hand. A gem of water landed within his palm and at once he balled his hand into a fist while lowering his arm. Bowing his head, he looked up and smiled, tears welling in his eyes as a distant rumble of thunderous applause mirroring her own cries rallied at her performance. Stepping forward, he descended the steps, vanishing from her sight.
The Sun's gilded rays whispered across the drying, orange leaves of the trees before splattering against the cracked stones that rose before her. The rocky stairway curved back and forth with the hill, wavering like the branches that graciously scraped at one another in the dying wind. He hunched forward, quickly stepping up the organized rubble.
Stepping gingerly, she hurried after him, the steps barely large enough to hold even her small feet. Her heels draped over the steps haphazardly as she rose through the shadows that sifted about, ready to gobble her up. Crossing her arms in front of her bare stomach, she reached up and drew the ends of her white robe tightly across her shoulders. A shiver laced down her spine, ruffling her wheat-colored curls.
Thoughts of the morning danced before her blushing bronze eyes as she strode upward, the summit approaching too quickly. Her body moved of its own accord, as though strings happily lifted her limbs, sending her surging forward. The planks of the hastily crafted stage appeared before her, crackling down one at a time like a series of lightning. The wood wobbled and creaked beneath her, and suddenly she stood before the small oaken box again.
Dropping her hand into it, she sifted through the puddle of smoothed orbs before plucking a small pebble that easily fit within her palm. Withdrawing her hand, she drew it to her chest, carefully covering her hand with her other while she tucked the clump of a fist under her chin. She stepped back into the crowd of three dozen women, their eyes glistening with eagerness and piercing right through her, towards the box.
Gulping, she stepped onto a tiny landing, then crossed the other way, stepping over a cracked and raised slab of stone that a tree root peeked through. Ahead of her, the man threw his arm through the air, slapping voraciously at the air as he bid her to hurry. Covertly touching the tip of her tongue to her upper lip, she nodded and hastened upward.
Shade from the trees brushed across her eyes like smoke, and she saw the shifting crowd of women as they laughed and talked amongst themselves. As she shuffled into place, she pointed the toes of her narrow, wrinkled boots together. The woman next to her lifted her chin, speaking boisterously to another woman in front of her. "The last woman," she shouted with a broad smile on her face, "displeased the Sun Goddess. This drought, this shame... I'll break it," she said, stepping forward and shaking her fist. Around her, the women laughed and cheered. She bit her lower lip and hunched her shoulders against her neck as her thumbs ran over the smooth pebble in her palm.
The Sun dragged on through the sky, breaking the thick clouds into grizzly afterthoughts as it passed through them. One by one the women strode forward, hungrily grabbing into the box and holding their blackened stones aloft, pride melting into disappointment as their grand smiles collapsed into graceless grimaces. Each one cast their stone aside before huffing either down the street or back into the crowd. A final, eager woman skipped ahead, her thin golden curls bouncing around her beaming face. Reaching into the box, she withdrew the stone and held it above for all to see. With closed eyes, she nodded and regally touched her fingers just below her neck. Raising her eyebrows at the silence, she opened her eyes, a jet-black stone staring back at her.
One by one the woman began barking at one another, revealing their empty hands and pointing at each other. They threw their arms into the air and yelled and bickered while looking around wildly. Biting lower lip, she felt her cheeks turn to stone, her arms shaking. Spreading her fingers just a bit, she peered through her hand, catching a glimpse of radiant pearl sparkling back at her. Her breath faltered, and her shoulders shook. "I'm not worthy," she whispered as she raised her hands to her chin, gently pressing her lips against her knuckles before uttering out, "This is a mistake."
Still, the women around her cheered, grabbing her and shaking her by her thin shoulders, congratulating her while spittle sprayed across her shoulders and face. The woman that had professed to appease the Sun Goddess sniffed loudly and crossed her arms before stomping off while the rest guided her away, forming a protective circle around her as they brought her towards the Guide. They strode down the narrow street, curving around the two story tall buildings that fenced in the cobbled road. They funneled down the road and the buildings thinned, until at last they arrived at The House at the edge of town.
A door clicked open, and several women vanished, funneling into the lonesome building. Setting her on a raised chair in the middle, the women took to their work, pulling her arms taut and straightening her back. They lifted her feet and removed her boots, measuring her toes and soles, her arms and her back before scurrying away. She sat there, her head bowed forward, her eyes flitting around the musty room while the women worked, carefully cutting silver fabrics and leathers.
A handful appeared around her as if from nowhere. They carried small glass vials of colored liquids and powders in their dusty hands. At once they leaned in, crowding around her face and dabbing at her with various brushes while firm hands gripped her fingers and toes while light sensations tinkled against them. In a blur the crowd backed off and she was made to stand, her clothing stripped from her while the women spun around her like a tornado, and soon she was fashioned in the holy whites and silvers of The Messenger. The Guide eagerly took off through the doorway and down the dirt path, towards the hill, while the women ushered her through the door, shouting congratulations and wishing her luck.
Her heart sank through her chest as the pavilion stretched before her. Pressing her bony hands into her chest, she drew in a noisy breath of air as she faltered. A circle of stone ached and yawned before her as she took another step upwards, setting the thin silver sandals that now blessed her feet firmly against the step. Turning her head, she held her breath as she took in its radiance. The grey bricks of the pavilion glittered in the Sun's dying light while the purple and white flowers that fenced it in danced and sparkled in the long rays of gold that smuggled themselves through the shifting branches. In the middle, bathed in sunlight, stood a raised throne of tenderly smoothed stone. It glistened with dew, its back reaching tall and proud. Hedging backward, she lifted her bare heel away from the sacred leather that guided her as she shifted her shoulder at an angle. Shaking her head, she sniffled and bent forward, rubbing at her ears with her shoulders.
The creak of leather clashing with stone resounded, and a firm warmth pressed onto her shoulder. A quiet, resilient voice like oak soothed her while warmth massaged her spine. "The Goddess chose you," he said simply before leaving her side and stepping up two steps. Turning, he extended his arm. Looking at his hand, as smooth as the pebble that had selected her, she stared for a moment before her eyes swam up his arm and into his face. His eyes carried a solemn and sullen look, as though he too were worried that she would not suffice. He withdrew his hand and let his arm fall to his side while straightening his back. With a nod, he turned his back to her and continued upwards, "When you are ready," he said simply before wistfully striding towards and sitting before that hallowed altar that so many honorable women had graced before her. Bowing his head, he brought his hands together and closed his eyes.
A twisting gale entered their forbidden sanctum, sending leaves to scrape circles around the edge of the pavilion. They danced majestically, skipping and tumbling. The breeze suddenly tore through the air, whipping around her like fabric while blowing the edges of her robe back. Looking around, she brought her hands to her chest and bit down over her lower lip, faltering down a step while her chestnut hair blustered around her face. Turning her back to the altar, she sniffled while tears burned at the edges of her eyes.
Thrusting her head back, she closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath. Images of the dry, cracked soil and yellow grass rustled before her. Throwing her head into her shoulder, she rubbed her fingers down her chest, leaving little pale streaks. Digging her fingers into her flesh, she nodded and strode up, her palpable footfalls clicking like ripples on a moonlit pond.
She stepped forward nervously, her small silver sandals barely passing one another. With each step, she stopped and drew in a small, private breath. Her eyes remained fixed on the ground before the throne. A whimsical gust blew, scattering the rays of sunlight that blessed the pavilion while the branches above her screeched in discord. Raising her chin, she shook her head and regally glided towards the throne.
Skirting around the man, she hesitantly ran her hand over the smoothed arm rest while eyeing the stone, polished by countless bursts of rain. Glancing down the sparkling backside, her eyes rested for a moment upon the invitingly carved seat. Tucking her chin downward, she spun around and collapsed into the throne, a rush of resolve coursing through her.
At once everything grew quiet and she felt a sense of purpose bolster her. Extending her arms along the rests, she sat tall and straight, a weak smile shimmer along her lips like a firefly’s whimsical imitation of the Sun. Within moments the smile grew stony and stiff, her upper eyelids smothering the top half of her bronze eyes. Spreading her shoulders apart, she raised her pointed chin while her heart whittled away at her chest, her every thought focused upon the queen-like appearance that suddenly felt so natural to her.
Blustering upward, the Guide, her servant, bowed quickly and deeply. He strode behind the throne while she held her gaze forward, the sight of her village instilling her with the flames of a crazed fervor. Lowering her chin ever so slightly, she whispered to herself, "I will break this drought."
A rustle of cloth unwinding vied for her attention, but still she focused upon the distant buildings. As she danced back and forth between wild, selfish excitement and a fear of failure, she felt the wind nip at her shoulders. Without shifting her eyes, she watched as her cloth robe slowly seeped away like the morning tide, leaving her exposed, fair skin bare to the sun above her. The sound of silk rushing against itself like the rapids of a flowing river nuzzled her ears, and she felt a gentle tightness pull her towards the armrests. Beneath and behind her, she felt her body melt into the stone, her muscles loosening as her body seemed to lose its weight.
Her servant appeared before her again, a nervous smile plastered onto his open, cracked lips. He bowed his head several times as he stepped in front of her, the hems of his russet robes scraping against her stone pavilion. With a gentle, passionate touch, he let his fingers lace around her delicate ankles, carefully lifting her soles from this undeserving, celestial body. Her heels fell slack as they flew through the air, the ends of the silver sandals that protected her soles whipping about defiantly, exposing her to the wicked elements. Within moments the backs of her ankles rested within two small grooves carved into the top of a small stone footrest. A quick moment passed, her servant flourishing his arms in front of the block as though he weaved a spell. Another moment passed before he revealed a small slab of stone carved into two arches. Setting it down gently, he fixed it over top of her ankles while guiding small pillars at the ends into tiny holes etched into the footrest.
Standing straight, he brushed his hands together quickly, their striking resounding like a knife scraping away at leather. While her breath leapt erratically like flies on a river, his eyes glazed over, his chest barely moving. As he lifted a hand and stroked his rounded chin, his eyes flitting up and down her body, she sat, fidgeting, biting the inside of her lip while swirling admiration soared through her chest. He paced around to her left side, his heavy shoes clonking loudly against the pavement. His eyes ran up and down her, appraising her like a piece of metal to be melted and reforged. Crossing back into her sight, he shifted by, his torso hardly moving as he slipped by her. All the while she stared straight ahead, towards the thatch covered buildings and the field of yellowing crops beyond them.
Slowly tapping his finger against his cheek, he crossed in front of her, barring her vision of the various lopsided houses. In a swift motion he dropped to his knees, vanishing behind the small stone totem that held her tiny feet. Pressing her toes into the sandals, she felt the material curve into her arch as his legs extended to either side of the throne while folding them underneath himself. A brief awareness of her feet came to her and she tugged them back briefly, her crimson nails sparkling in the sunlight. As she looked upon them the thought of her feet, half naked and imprisoned before her, brought them full and center of her mind. Before the thought diminished, his hands appeared from around the sides of the stone, his fingers gently stroking at her ankles.
At once she sniffled sharply and twisted in her throne. The touch prickled lightly, as though he pressed the very tip of several needles onto her flesh without any force or weight so that they did little more than scrape over top of her. Tugging at her arms, she felt the silk force them to heel at the armrests. Shoving her arms forward, she gripped her fingers into the edges of the armrest while the silk whooshed up her forearms. As his fingers nipped and nibbled at her ankles like a swarm of pesky gnats, she tucked her chin into her chest. Her lips creased across her face, forming a thin, wide smile that puffed up into her cocky cheeks, turning them into bulbous masses. Wiggling her large toes wildly, her flesh clicked against the leather of those hallowed sandals that dared grace her feet. With all of her weight, she shifted her hips, rapping her body into the side of her throne as she bartered with the stone wedge that held her, pointing her toes forward and pulling backward. The stone obelisk rebuked her and refused to so much as budge.
Scattering his fingers like rain, he whimsically allowed them to flutter over the tops of her feet briefly before returning to her thin ankles. With a loud gasp, she turned her head and slammed her eyes shut. Her lips spread apart, showing her barred teeth. Turning her head downward, she fanned her nose against her shoulder while he dusted his fingers across the tops of her feet. His gentle, warm hands stung at her like long, biting feathers forged by a blacksmith for such an occasion. For a moment she considered all of the women that had allowed him to perfect his craft, chuckling at the thought of the loud woman from the square ever sufficing for such a task. She panted quickly, her teeth slicing up the air as it snuck through the miniscule gaps between those pearly pillars.
With great attention he strung several careful etchings into the top of her floundering feet, beguiling them into an amused state. Beneath her, her legs shimmied back and forth like the stokes of a wheel, constantly pushing and pulling her feet towards a dawn like salvation. Pressing her lips together, she squeezed her eyes shut, focusing her mind on her task. Resistance, she thought as she opened her eyes and pushed herself up in her throne. The Sun Goddess would never balk and crack at such frivolities, she assured herself as she froze her twitching toes. Extending them forward, she exposed herself, allowing him free reign to sift over top of her skin while she absorbed all of the sensations before packing them tightly and stowing them away. Her sandals bent, curving tightly into her arches while forgoing their duty and exposing the rims of her heels.
Inwardly, she pressed her hands into her cheeks, howling and screaming like the winds that tore around her, yet she refused to allow her body to budge. With all of her might she drew her eyelids down and sat back, focusing her mind on the warmth that the sun blasted between her toes. Still, his hands flew between her and her savior, clouding her with crawling, inescapable shadows that rippled across her mind. Despite her best efforts, the muscles in her face twitched and twanged like the string of a bowman eager to loose his payload. Likewise, her toes flickered ever so slightly, her resolve rippling like wet cement.
Chuckling with amusement, the hands vanished for a moment. Almost immediately her shoulders sagged ever so slightly, and she exhaled with relief. Sharpening her thoughts, she hastily blew over the wet cement of her resolve, hoping to become immutable herself. With a thin inhale she sat up while grasping thoughts of the arid air and using them as a whetstone, striking her body into a terse arrow. She would do her best, she assured herself with a nod, better than any before her. The edges of her lips moved ever so slightly as thoughts continued to pour over her; there would be so much rain, she thought, that there would be a near endless harvest. Her sandals wiggled slightly. Yes, she thought as she lifted herself, spreading her shoulders outward, the river would overflow, and she would birth the lake once again. It would be remembered as the Great Harvest, she cooed to herself.
A spiked claw of a shadow scratched at the cobble work around her, slowly inching towards her. Looking up, she peered through the branches above her, tilting her head at a slight angle and squinting at the bright light that blessed her. A small cloud with spiked edges quietly and carefully crossed over the sun, engulfing its light. The air around her grew decidedly chill as the light faded.
Everything around her seemed to slow into a sappy haze. A whisper crossed her soles, slowly scratching up the bottoms of her feet while a calming weight vanished from her. With raised eyebrows she lowered her head, unabashedly, thoroughly unaware of the transgression over her sovereign soil. Her toes pinched shut and her heels kicked forward, her feet forming a great arc as words drizzled over her mind at a blazing pace. A flash of silver came and went as her Guide carefully laid her royal sandals on either side of the pedestal that held her aloft. Gazing upward, she saw the tops of her now naked feet, a chill running down her spine. Her toes overlapped one another as her feet turned towards each other, her left foot diving in front of her right. Lifting her arms, she attempted to wrap them around herself, the silk hushing her movement with a quiet whoosh. She suddenly felt as though she wore nothing at all. The icy fingers of the shade pecked into her shoulders, calling for goosebumps to rally at the back of her neck.
A sudden rumbling of wind roared around her. The shade spottily vanished as the sun burst through the cloud, rending it into thin wisps that soon deteriorated into nothingness. Warmth hugged her all over. The rays that swaggered through the golden leaves singed her soles with a forbidden light. At once the past few seconds whirled into one as sensations blossomed along the middles of her soles.
Her eyes bulged, and her jaw dropped as she snorted out a birdlike cacaw of a gasp. Unable to stifle her joy any longer, she bowed her head and hissed out a sweet serenity of giggles. At once her hands lifted back, the silk that bound her wrists nurturing them into compliance while her fingers plunged their nails into her palms. The sensations stung unbearably, prickling her like the holy rays of a forgotten paradise brimming with lush greenery and swelling streams. With scrunched toes she pressed her ankles further into her bindings, brushing the backs of her feet into the palisade while her heels flew forward. Clamping her teeth down, she lifted her neck away and pressed her shoulders out and downward. Her gaze remained firmly fixed upon her sparkling, crimson toes as her feet turned further inward, her feet crossing at the arches into a blessed X.
For a moment she sat, her muscles tense and ready to burst. Slowly, she exhaled, allowing her elbows to swoop back onto their respective perches. Sitting back, she shook her head slightly, scattering her hair from overtop of her eyes. Lowering her shoulders, she lifted her chin like the Queen she represented, though her feet still sat huddled together, awaiting their trials.
Her servant shifted about, his elbows extending past the prison of stone that held her. Shuffling back, two thin, darkly colored sticks spun above the stockade before vanishing again. A muscle on the left side of her lip twitched, the tip of her nose rising ever so slightly as it scrunched together. In a dark blur, the sticks bobbed above the stockade again, their ends freezing, pointed upward. Her eyes winced as she eyed the many stiff, tan bristles that came together like a budding flower shutting itself against the night. At once she felt her feet collapse further onto their inner sides so that they fell almost perfectly perpendicular to the ground. Visions of sensations washed over her feet as she pinched her toes tighter, small balls of pain forming in the upper middle of her soles. As the brushes ducked downward, away from her sight, she bit her lower lip.
A snapping breeze rustled over her soles, rattling her toes and abducting a quiet squeak of a squeal from her. Spreading her lips, she dashed out a small exclamation of relief just before the bristles landed against the foot that stood stalwartly in front of her other one. With a wide smile she drew in a thorough breath of air. The brush strokes echoed hollowly against her skin like a hundred viper tongues, there and gone before she had time to grasp sense of them. It was a soft, calming touch, and yet it sparkled against her delicate skin. Though they mimicked a single entity, she could feel each rough, individual bristle as though the breath of a hundred furry animals spirited across her. Her shoulders pushed back and downwards into an upside-down V and she extended her neck. The ends of her lips curved upward, and she strangled her tongue between her teeth, closing her eyes and spewing out a quiet, hissing laughter that rhymed with the feelings that delegated themselves across her feet.
Moments after the assault began her feet relaxed slightly, turning half upright and reforming their x-shaped cross. The toes of her hidden foot cowered over top of her other foot while it weathered the assault, its own toes flicking and wiggling with the madness that was gently engineering circles across it. The two brushes flew up and down her sole in opposition, slowing to draw heinous, dissident patterns above and around her heel and around the middle of her foot. The bristles sprayed and spread as the brush head dashed up her arch, a disquiet rebellion forming as the bristles broke apart to claim their own private riches from her.
Shaking her hips, she wiggled her fingers and smiled brighter than the sun. Bending her toes backward, she felt the skin of her foot twitch like restless grass on a windy day. Wrinkles rippled into then out of existence at a moment’s notice while the brushes painstakingly painted dried rivers of laughter into her. The Guide toiled away, dusting off and revealing hidden troves of ticklishness she had long ago secreted away in her feet. Though vaporous as the morning mist, the brushstrokes were warm and pleasant like the dawn. It felt as though they carved a golden glow into her sweltering soles.
More and more, her feet slowly split apart as the harassed foot balked from its self-ascribed devotion. Through winced eyes she looked upon her helpless ruby toes as her sole was rained upon with foreign feelings. Letting out a whimpering "skhehe" she fought with herself, commanding her foot to stand its ground while it slipped further to the side. She extended her arms forward, her elbows leaning in front of her ribs while her neck stretched away from her torso. The toes of her left foot scrambled up the back of her other foot then wrapped around her large toe just before it could flutter away with the rest of her toes. Digging in, her toes flapped wildly while her foot suffocated from the sensations that her servant drizzled over top of her.
With a careless swipe, the bristles trickled over top of her forcefully exposed toes. Gasping, her feet split part, pointing away from each other at a wide angle so that they formed a small V-shape. Imagining a smirk upon her servant's face, she turned her cheek and grit her teeth just as the brushes vanished from her foot. Her toes flew backward, their tips touching the smooth stones that held them firmly in place. A brief curse flung through her mind at the thought of her exposed arches before it was dispelled by the sensations that bubbled upon those most delicate regions.
Letting out a surprised "Kahh!" as she was overcome with blistering humor and humility, she flew forward, her eyes popping out and her jaw seeming to unhinge itself. Balling her fingers into fists, she rapped at her throne with her knuckles while shaking her head like a leaf, pointing her forehead wide with each sway, the angle thinning until her chin came to rest in her chest while she wept with quiet, secretive giggles. Though her feet flailed from side to side, bashing into each other, they were assailed without reservation by the brushes as they neatly and accurately spiraled coils up and down her arches.
All at once she wanted to cry and scream, to laugh endlessly, and yet all she could manage was to sit, chattering like a squirrel with her pristine, private giggles. The sensations that comprised her soles sent tremors through her mind, crackling the foundation that formed herself, but she knew it to not be enough. Tears singed her eyes as she pushed her shoulders into her neck, heated agony churning through her chest. She was blindingly ticklish, she thought to herself as a sob wrenched through her throat, yet it was not enough. Thoughts of desolate sand where once there had been blessed soil flooded her mind. She sat, sniffling quietly, her sorrow masked with happy, chirping chuckles.
A short reprieve came, and she limped forward, huffing in air. The silence was all but immediately broken by a tight, soft warmth that gripped around the front of her foot. Bending back in the chair, she closed her eyes and turned her head away while clamping her lips over her tongue. Like a great storm that swept over the horizon, a torrent of bristles slathered across her toes. At once, she sprung upward, chittering and giggling as the bristles splashed and frayed, fighting and splitting apart so that some poked and chipped into her while others lathered across of her. His hand moved quickly, sprinkling the brush against her so fast that each of her wiggling toes seemed to feel the assault at once. As the brush jumped from toe to toe, the rogue bristles leapt between her toes, gently kissing up the sides of them while still more slipped beneath her nails. Leaning forward, she gripped the armrests and shagged her head up and down, giggling through a toothy smile.
With a quick, firm sweep the infestation of laughter that had so readily raided her feet slumped away. As though she had long been held aloft only to find her support wrenched from her, she suddenly sagged in her throne, her shoulders spread out to her sides while her feet fell lax, her toes spreading apart. Her entire body rose and fell with her chest as she lapped up air. Every part of her lilted, her fingers and elbows dripping over the armrest while her cheek swooped down against her shoulder. Shaking her nose, she grit her teeth and pinched her eyes shut, frustration at her failure sending shockwaves through her. Pressing her kneecaps down as hard as she could, she slammed her ankles within the stockade, flapping her feet beyond them while phantom ticklers continued to goad her feet for anything she had left to offer them.
Her servant rose up solemnly, his head bowed as he approached her. Lifting her head, she craned forward, pleading with him. "No, please!" she mewled out, her arms shaking in their regal bindings. With slow steps, he closed the distance, passing her knees and stopping at her side. Careening her face upward, tears surged down her cheeks, blighting her regal appearance with streams of sooty makeup. His lips stood flat and stern, his eyes fixed firmly on her, their deep blue, unwavering gaze seeming to absorb her. Slowly shaking her head, she quickly foamed out, "I can do this."
Her eyes bulged, and she leapt in place as the soft but stiff bristles drew circles of light just below her ribs. Letting out a surprised "sssshehe," she shoved her chin down, her eyes stabbing at the brushes that traced around her belly as though her look alone would freeze them. Dancing in her chair, she squirmed back and forth, slapping her hips against the slabs of stone that held her arms. Tugging at her wrists, she rattled her fingernails against the armrests and shook her head back and forth, skirmishing with her stately seat of sovereignty.
The strokes sluggishly slithered around her midriff, decorating her with ticklishness. With each breath she giggled out a silky, rapid, "Shh-shh-shh-shh," before sharply sniffing and beginning again. Pushing back into her throne, she felt the stone bite into her spine and force her to bear the brunt of the brushes. They swept over her flat belly indiscriminately, swinging around her sides and back again, their snakelike kisses blowing her thoughts of doubt out of her mind as she focused upon their creamy caresses.
With a flick of his wrist, her servant ushered the brush head into the recesses of her belly button, diving through it and out, then circling around it. Brandishing a quick gasp, she bit her lower lip and clamped her eyes shut. Pushing her left shoulder into the back of the throne, she shirked away, edging her right shoulder up and stabbing her chin into the upper end of her bicep.
As she sat, she felt the brush stride further and faster, covering more ground in each stroke as it leapt up and down her torso. The featherlike bristles gently stroked her ribs before diving down, nearing her spasming hips. Her shoulders rose near her ears and she shoved her elbows firmly into the armrests, reveling in the holiness of her body. A brief thought of selfishness flicked across her mind and her lips curved upwards. Duty or not, she would enjoy this private moment.
The brushes leapt higher, dabbing just beneath her breasts before titillating her hips. Releasing her lips, her lower jaw rose and fell with the brush as she exhaled a shaky breath that mirrored the secluded passion that welled within her. With each loving touch of the brush she thrashed away, a secretive joy secreting through her as she failed to dislodge the tools. Suddenly, both cursed tools dove downward sharply, swirling a cyclone of feeling at the uppermost region of her thighs and across their sides. Sucking her lips in, her head bobbed down then up. She shoved the top of her head into the back of her seat and drooped forward, opening her lips and blowing a thin wire of air through a tiny hole. A brief, wispy "oh," escaped her.
Though the gentle tickles that kissed up and down her body held her attention, she sensed her feet in the distance, past the dark void that wrapped her shut eyes. Her soles throbbed with jealousy, demanding penance of her. The brushes disappeared for a brief moment before dancing over top of her swelling breasts. Sinking in her seat, she forced her head back further, her back growing straighter and sharper than a blacksmith's most prized blade as she hissed out a steamy breath.
The image of her carefully wrinkled soles and their tightly bound ruby nails toes biting into them harangued her. Unable to shake them from her mind, she sat as her servant very softly scraped the brushes down her nose. He very gently touched them to her ears, rounding down them, then flicked the bristles around the sides of her neck. Molten joy bubbled and churned within her, and still the images of her imprisoned feet dominated her thoughts.
Her head swayed back and forth, shifting away from the touches that rained upon her neck so that she exposed herself to her servant's tyranny. A wave of heat washed over her, and she tightly bundled herself together, pushing her elbows into her ribs as a brush swept burnished swift, smart flicks over her ribcage. The other, meanwhile, contented itself to skitter along her neck and plant forbidden desires within her.
A fresh bout of silence chipped away at her, and she soon noticed the absence of sensation. Sitting up, she allowed her eyes to flutter open. The golden grove seemed to yawn forth around her while her slave gingerly stepped towards one of the trees. Drawing in a long, cool breath, she sat up, her body thick and heavy, weighed down as though she had just exited a steaming bath. Rolling her shoulders, she felt all the tightness and worry from her journey to this sacred grove float away like sickly morning fog. Squinting, she watched as the man bent over, his burgundy robes shimmering in the deep orange light of the setting sun.
Looking over the village, she stared at that bright globe as it hung above the roofs, washing the buildings in long shadows. Wincing slightly, her thoughts briefly fell upon the withering crops before landing back upon her soles. The sun lavished them with great affection, blasting them with a thorough, radiant heat. The thin lines that the bristles ran over her still throbbed against her flesh, their twisted teachings crying for vengeance. A shuffle came from her side and she saw the man rise.
Turning on his heels, he slowly approached her, a glass jar of a pinkish-purple quivering substance in his hands. The contents seemed to jostle like jelly as he strode towards her. Sitting up, she thrust her shoulders back and reformed her queenly visage from earlier, the mangled mess of her amber curls bobbing in front of her eyes as she focused her image into form.
Stopping by the stone stockade, he looked up, his sodden eyes falling upon her face. With rigid words of iron, he called out to her, "Only the most devoted are truly chosen." Solemnly setting the jar down, he gazed at her feet for a moment then crossed his arms, shoving them into the long, sweeping sleeves that covered his arms. Above her the leaves danced and scratched at their manacles. The fingers of a thin cloud stretched across the middle of the sun, scattering a long tendril of shadow across her.
Her soles still sung the song he had imprinted upon her, her flesh singed with a chirping happiness. Biting the inside of her lower lip, she pressed her elbows against the arm rests and lifted her head, trying to peek at the glass jar that remained out of her sight. Her feet shuffled together, the toes of her left foot clamping over top of the toes of her right while the memories of a hundred maidens howling through the night chiseled through her. Looking away, her servant turned and shuffled, murmuring, "Your resolve wavers."
"No," she barked out while twisting towards him. Slowly throwing his head against his shoulder, he turned, a sullen gaze meeting hers. "No," she repeated staunchly, the cries of the other chosen echoing within her as though she bore their suffering, "I just..." Sighing, she sucked in her lower lip and turned away from him as thoughts of dried crops wavered before her. Bowing her head, she brushed her nose against her shoulder and mewled out, "I'm not worthy." Clamping several of her left teeth over her lip, she felt the right side of her lips curve upward as she whimpered out, "I'm not ticklish enough."
Drawing in a deep breath, the man bent backward, staring at the sky. Closing his eyes, he silently blew the air back out, words oozing along the carefully crafted gust of wind that exited him. "I believe," he spoke simply, his voice slicing clean through the air as though he were sawing his words off of a large block of wood, "That should you give it your all, you will succeed." Withdrawing his left hand from his sleeve, he drew his thumb to his lips, brushing it above them. Looking down, he tilted his head, "You are more ticklish than most, if it’s any comfort, and perhaps the most devoted of all I have escorted along this path."
Freezing in place, she gently lifted her head, her lips parting. Turning slowly, she felt her coppery eyes grow wide and damp, her feet separating as she turned towards him. The cloud that danced across the sun vanished and she felt warmth ooze across her face and feet once more. Smiling warmly, he twisted his head at an angle and closed his eyes. "Shall we continue?"
"Yes, yes!" She chirped out excitedly as she forced herself to sit straight up, her majestic demeanor marred by a single tear that dashed around the bulging cheek formed by her wide smile. As he moved towards her and crouched, she bent her toes backward, kicking her feet up and down with zealous fervor. Gleeful thoughts of her service and of her sacrifice for her town beamed through her. Her lips chipped away into her cheeks and she shuffled in place with unrestrained enthusiasm. A sudden pallor dampened her thoughts when the glass clinked against the stone. Raising an eyebrow, she shuffled to the side and extended her head above her right shoulder, peeking towards the man as she hesitantly called to him, "Ah… what is that?"
Before responding she felt a globule of gooey material drizzle across the elevated space beneath her toes. Small, sinister streaks ached down her foot. At once she sucked in a sudden breath of air through her teeth at the wiggling, cold material that stuck to her. As the substance oozed down her sole, she scrunched her toes together and pulled back with her foot, chuckling at the damp bristles that sanctioned her with a reminder of what they could do to her. Shaking her foot lightly, she felt the mass of goo jiggle back and forth, her movements failing to dislodge it though hastening its claim across her sole. It felt as though she had stepped in mud; it possessed a damp, sucking sensation that was slightly unpleasant. Another stroke of it dabbed across her arch and she shuddered, shivering at the foreign material that laid claim to her. With determined words, her servant simply blustered out, "Sap from a distant holy tree."
Licking her lips, she opened her mouth to ask a second question when a sudden fire seemed to ignite against her flesh. At once her eyelids spread apart and she hunched back into her seat, her fingers tightly choking the armrests. All at once it felt as though a thousand tiny roots spread across the areas subjected to the sap and her foot began to burn and buzz while a great itch coated her. It seemed as though the sap vibrated at an incredible pace against her foot, ripping it asunder with tickling.
Her foot pulsed and throbbed with delicious agony. Pulling her toes in tightly, she felt the slick material drip down her wrinkles as she flapped her foot in a vain attempt to cast it off. Instead the material spread further, the fiery vine-like sensation gripping into her tightly. The brush dabbed at her heel, leaving a cool, gelatinous streak across it while her knees quaked at the loss of more ground. Valiantly, her other foot leapt in front of it, pressing its back into her sticky sole.
Reeling forward, she gasped and howled as the sensations plucked away at the top of her foot like it was a hapless harp. Desperately pulling her foot away, it snapped back against her sole, the paralyzing itch tackling her. Throwing her head back, she extended her fingers and slapped at the armrests with flat hands, her servant tucking her feet apart with a soul-sucking schlorp. Shivering, she felt the substance drip and ooze slimy trails down her foot, spreading the torrent of vines that burrowed deeply into her, striking straight at her nerve endings.
Throwing her mouth open, she laughed deeply, throwing out a sickled "Ahhh—hahaha!" over and over, her soul feeling like a great moonlit ravine, its sharp cliffs marred by distant, silver water that chided at her from below. Thrashing back and forth, she slapped at her throne with her shoulders, her elbows rattling against the armrest as they shifted about on top of it. The brush toiled at her slowly, endlessly, eagerly covering her sole with the murk while her foot rattled back and forth, helplessly assisting in the brush's endeavor. Globules of the stuff sifted as she flexed and pointed her toes, the thickest parts harrowing her further and further as they lapped down her arch, only to be reset by a quick dab of the devil's bristles.
It felt as though a hundred fires combusted against her, the vines striking at her like flint, sending shattering sparks all over her. Over and over, the word "Tickling," hounded her mind, baying at her from some unseen recess so deep within her that she feared to venture there. "Tickling! Tickling!" scrawled against her skin, taking root within her. The thought blazed across her mind, burning away everything else. Leaning onto her elbows, she extended her neck and roared with laughter. The world had to know of her suffering.
The brush kept at its demonic work, converting her skin against her. Thrashing her head from side to side, she slashed at her shoulders with her hair before biting her lip and shaking her ankles within their bindings. Her whole body felt like a frayed sheet as she sat, laughing and writhing in the sun's burning light. Then the brush trickled across her toes, dabbing between them, its bristles sticking to her skin.
Her eyes flew open and she screamed "No!" as she watched the translucent pinkish-purple goop seep around her crimson nails. Within a few fluttering moments her toes seethed with the barbs of a hundred of the buzzing vines. Looking straight up at the sun, she cawed out a delirious "Aiee!!!" Distantly, she heard her own voice alongside the chorus of the other women that had come before her, her gilded tones harmonizing beautifully into their choir. The villagers dotted before her eyes as she pinched her eyelids into a tight knot. All at once, it felt as though she were laughing for all of them, every person that had ever lived or would live within the village, but she laughed especially for the others that had shared this chair with her. Perhaps, someday, she would sit among them and quietly gossip about how enlightening the experience was against her feet.
As her toes were soaked with the succulent sap, she felt as though her servant had espied an especially rebellious strand amongst the cloth that formed her frayed skin, his too-skilled brush tugging at it with magnificent gusto. At that instant she felt herself unraveling, her body melting into a writhing puddle of sensitivity. Images of her past danced before her, of herself blushing and rubbing the toe of her shoe against the dusty planks of the general store while she spoke with the young, smooth man employed there. As she extended her jaw, loudly proclaiming how ticklish her feet truly were, she wondered at that blushing maiden who so adamantly hid away her true intentions.
Flexing her foot, she felt the entirety of it clothed by the sap as she slowly wiggled her toes, the lifeblood of that holy tree allowing her this tiny reprieve. At once she yelped as the sensations popped and burst, seemingly magnified by the movement. Releasing her muscles, she let the sap snap her toes back in place her. Leaning forward, she focused upon forcing them still with every conscious thought she had, fearful to move them lest she torture herself further. As though an icicle stabbed at her, she felt a damp dab at the middle of her left foot. Immediately she screamed with laughter as the sensations nestled into her flesh. Even though the slick sensations only seemed to double as her foot was quickly and expertly coated, the daggers that struck at her mind increased a hundredfold. It suddenly felt as though her feet were elated by the glory of a hundred years of ticklish knowledge all compressed into a single moment.
As her foot became coveted by the holy tree's essence, she felt her innards ripple. An uneasy pleasantness spiraled within her like a whirlpool, sucking away at the parts of herself she thought she had understood so well. Despite her cries and screams and the whirling miasma of wonderful agony that seeped across her soles, she felt a stretching calmness ache within her chest, near the center of the whirlpool. Twisted torrents of searing suffering streamed through the rapids, and though the waters tore at her insides they appeared to hardly move at all, their crystalline ripples barely budging. Without hesitation, she let herself get carried away by the rapids, somehow sensing that they would take her to true herself that hid deep within those impenetrable regions within her, where the tickling pulsated at its fiercest.
Looking down, she watched as he carelessly dabbled his weapon within the jar before sending it back to its journey. Though her throat grew dry and ragged and her mouth cried out, "No more! Please, stop!" between her perilous laughter, she spread her toes back, welcoming the brush to paint alive their true, ticklish nature, greeting the sticky bristles with a throaty "Eeeyaaah!!" Sagging forward, she shook her head in the air, her eyes firmly fixed upon the oozing pink liquid that revealed to her secrets unknown, her smile broadening at the prospect of further suffering. A sneering pride soared through her as she eyed the glossy purple that seeped around the edges of her feet, and she imagined how tragically beautiful her small, wrinkled soles must look beneath that translucent nightmare. The messy image stood before her, blocking any other thought from her mind as she watched herself fall to her knees in great worship of her soles’ sacred nature.
Slipping back and forth through time, she felt as though she lived a hundred ticklish lives as her guiding beacon diminished beyond those distant, envious mountains. Streaks of greyish-purple stretched across the sky as it swindled the very colors she so passionately bore for it. A muscle twitched at the edge of her right foot, her pinky toe attempting to lean forward but finding itself unable to, as though it were tightly bound at all ends. Gasping, she pushed with all of her might, her toes refusing to follow her orders while a small amount of powdery dust fell away from her toes.
Even though the outer layer dried, encasing her foot in a prism of ticklish agony, the inside still jiggled and writhed. All around her foot, she felt the goo compress against her skin, their sly tendrils vibrating even faster than before, striking at her from all angles. Feeling her mind crackle and shatter, she screamed louder than a siren, her voice echoing around the hill. Pushing her shoulders into her neck, she shook as she slowly spread the toes of her left foot apart, only to have them snap back together with great ferocity. The sap punished her greatly for her transgression with a furious bout of wild, overgrown tendrils that wrapped around her toes, spreading a delirium of agony across them.
As she laughed and laughed, expelling all of the golden energy that seared through her, she felt her left foot grow stiff while the sap licked and lapped at her, laughing alongside of her as she thrashed within the confines of her throne. Locked away within her body, she rifled through her ribcage for more laughter to send into the cool night sky in her desperate attempt to appease the gods. Loneliness gripped her heart and her eyes grew wide as a deluge of thoughts overtook her, searing her entire body. A tightness rent at her eyes as she realized that everything until now lead to this moment, this sacrifice, this offering. Her feet, frozen in place within their beautiful prism of crystal sap, pulsed and throbbed with the overgrowth of vines that layered over top of one another, fighting with and snaking between one another for just the opportunity to lick her tender flesh. As she railed against the burgeoning night sky with her anguished, conflicted cries, she felt an overabundance of warmth tear at her while the creeping tendrils that choked her feet laughed alongside of her. Thrashing her head back and forth, she felt herself fade before large, towering words that bubbled within the cauldron of her mind. This is truly who she is. This is her purpose. Her throat crackled as she screamed and screamed, yet a wide smile coursed along her face. Only she could do this.
Smacking his lips together, her servant dropped the brush into the jar and rose. Pressing his hands into his hips, he stretched backwards while she squawked and cackled. Looking at him with pleading eyes, she shook her head back and forth. Smiling and nodding, he turned on his heel and approached the steps, looking to the sky and holding out his hand. A gem of water landed within his palm and at once he balled his hand into a fist while lowering his arm. Bowing his head, he looked up and smiled, tears welling in his eyes as a distant rumble of thunderous applause mirroring her own cries rallied at her performance. Stepping forward, he descended the steps, vanishing from her sight.
