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Two thumbs up (*/f feet)

Deus Pater

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Joined
Apr 21, 2005
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Hope you enjoy this story, though I guess it has a bit of a long build up. It's divided into a few sections if you wish to skip certain parts.

Feedback is most welcome.



Two thumbs up

A pair of thumbs, that’s all it took to break her. Within the first few seconds of working on her, she was determined to reveal anything, anything to make them stop. But they weren’t stopping anytime soon.

To be fair, those were no ordinary thumbs. Hell, they weren’t even human. The way she was restrained didn’t help either. Someone spared no expense to make sure she couldn’t move in the least, which made it all the worse. All her brain could do is thoroughly process the information coming from very specific nerve endings, almost as if her entire being was condensed in the two skin surfaces stimulated in that moment.

There was no choice in the matter, she would sit there (quite comfortably) and endure the ministrations of the hellish digits before her, for who knows how long. There wasn’t even a single soul in sight to plead to for mercy. But how did she get herself in this horrible bind?

________________________________

Being young and pretty is a way to get attention. Being part of a pseudo anarchist movement also does the trick, particularly if it happens to be on the CIA watchlist and the leader happens to be one of your older brothers. To hide the first fact, you’d try to dress inconspicuously. A light gray hooded sweatshirt and dorky glasses to hide gorgeous honey eyes and wavy light brown hair, along with a petite well rounded frame. Add a pair of dark gray loose sweatpants and some plain white sneakers, and you’re all set.

As for the second fact, you’d want to stick to a seemingly normal routine and keep communications to a minimum. And you’d also need a way of recognizing fellow members in the crusade for freedom. Thing is, the so called “freedom seekers” probably lacked imagination, cause doing a two thumbs up signal with the hands close to the chest isn’t exactly discreet. How they named this salute wasn’t any better: the “secret sign”.

Ever since she turned 20 (no more than 6 months ago) our rebel hero joined the seekers’ family at the behest of her brother, to chat with like-minded people, smoke some weed and listen to tons of conspiracy theories and anti-government propaganda. In every meeting, she would put her thumbs up to greet or say good-bye to her comrades.

All in all, she thought it was a good life. However, she couldn’t help worrying whenever the higher ranks gathered behind closed doors, planning stuff that would probably get the FBI’s attention. She was glad she didn’t know anything about those plans, that way she wouldn’t compromise her brother if she ever got captured. Still, being nabbed never really crossed her mind as a serious scenario. Little did she know.

It was on a typical Saturday that everything changed. That morning she went to get a cup of coffee in a local spot, as usual. Mind you, she didn’t like coffee at all. It was all part of a routine she came up to “seem normal”. Like any other day, she sat down at a small table and drank her beverage. One of the employees approached her to ask if she wanted anything else, to which she politely replied no. He smiled and did the secret sign for her, but he was wiggling his thumbs while doing it. She hesitated a little before greeting him back. Surely they had met before? She was obviously popular within the seekers and could not be realistically expected to remember everyone’s faces, right? But what was up with his thumbs? He returned to work, not saying another word.

Some minutes passed and she left. As she walked down the street, she started to feel observed. Turning to look, she saw a guy across the road looking at her. She froze on the spot, unsure what to do, but then she saw him doing the sign. That was a relief! She was more popular than she could have imagined. He’s wiggling his thumbs too? Maybe he and the other guy are newbs? Is it that hard to learn the sign? Anyhow, the guy started walking on the opposite direction and she carried on.

Half an hour later she was at an electronics store. This was no charade, she actually wanted to get a new TV cause her’s was kind of old. Boy were there expensive screens. Maybe mom or dad would cough up the cash, though. As she was strolling down the aisles, she came across a dark demonstration booth, something about a new home theater experience. She scurried in and took a seat to watch whatever lame movie was playing. Pretty much what anyone would expect from a home theater, until the image changed abruptly to a white screen with a giant smiley face (like the emoji) in the middle. A malfunction? She made nothing of it until the smiley sprouted a couple of arms and did the sign, thumbs wriggling of course.

Panic set in. Was this it? Was the government out to get her? Those people earlier must be following her. She took her phone out to call her brother but on its screen was another smiley with jiggling thumbs. She literally bolted towards the exit, leaving the phone behind. Ran into the first back alley she saw, hoping to lose whoever was on her trail. She didn’t even make it to the end of that alley when someone grabbed her from behind, put a moist rag over her face and dozed her off.

________________________________

As she started to regain consciousness her head was pounding, though that only lasted for half a minute. She tried to open her eyes, but there was a strong white light on top of her so she closed them for the time being. Her next instinct was to take her hands to her head… nope, neither her arms nor her head would move. What about her upper body? Pinned down. And her legs? No good either. She was trying to speak, except there was something like a big ball stuck in her mouth, snug behind her teeth and pressing down quite effectively on the tongue. Trying to spit it out yielded no results.

All she could tell with her eyes closed was she was seating in something like a dentist chair, with the back slightly reclined, her arms bent at the elbows and stuck to armrests, and her legs pointing straight forward. She wasn’t in any pain or physical strain, on the contrary, her positioning as well as the chair materials were quite comfy. Only drawback was of course that she really couldn’t move at all, save for opening her eyes. There was no other way around it, scared as she was, she’d have to if she wanted to know more.

It took her a moment to adjust her sight. There was no way to tell where she was, or if the room she was being held in was big or small. The single light coming from the ceiling made it impossible to see anything beyond the immediate vicinity she was in. She couldn’t even see her feet at the end of the chair’s leg rest. Not that she had thought about them yet.

It all started to make a bit of sense though. Even if her head wouldn’t budge, she was seeing countless straps across her arms and legs. Even her hands were bound, palms resting flat with the fingers spread and pointing out, individually secured with a strong rubbery element. She guessed there were straps holding her torso and, come to think of it, there had to be one across her forehead, as well as something holding the ball gag in her mouth. All of her clothing was apparently still on her. That was a plus.

Even with this level of bondage, her whole body felt extremely relaxed. The cushions were made of some kind of memory foam, with pre-made contours and depressions for her head, arms and legs to rest in. What was all this for? If they wanted to question her, surely this wasn’t the right strategy. In any case, she loved her brother too much, there was no way she would rat out on him.

She suddenly noticed something she hadn’t seen yet. Close to her right arm, near the edge of her field of vision was a small round table, tall enough for her to see what was on top. A pair of pretty white sneakers, with pink socks stuffed in them… It didn’t take her long to realize those were her sneakers, which made her immediately conscious of her feet.

Still couldn’t see them though, or move them for that matter. She could feel the length of the ankles encased in something firm, like clay maybe? It wasn’t hurting her but it was a weird feeling nonetheless. And the rest? She sensed that most of each foot was naked out in the air, but the same material around the ankles was somehow pressing down on the base of the toes, spreading them, bending them backwards almost to their limit and also encasing them, except for the very tips.

This made her incredibly anxious. She hated being barefoot and would avoid it at any cost. For as long as she could remember, wether inside her house, or even at the beach or a pool, unless she was taking a shower or swimming, she would always wear her socks and sneakers. It gave her a sense of safety because her foot skin has always been very sensitive, particularly the soles. Right now, feeling her feet were naked and displayed like this was a major cause of stress, especially if they were likely the target of her captors. Just what would be done to them?

As if someone had read her mind, a second light came on. Sure enough, she now saw her ankles disappearing inside a strange gray “clay” block, along with the head of all her toes sticking out further up from the same side. The sight on the opposite side was something worthy of beholding indeed (not to her though). A pair of flawless milky white soles, the skin gloriously stretched highlighting the curvature of her arches, incapable of flinching in the slightest. There was also some space between the block and the top sides of the feet.

She sat there, trying to soothe herself and preparing for whatever was next, when a low humming started. A platform was elevating near the end of the chair. It even went higher than the gray block, clearly so she could check what was on it.

A white metal cube, with a yellow smiley painted on the side, just like the one at the electronics store. What the fuck? Was this a sick joke? The cube whirred briefly, panels opened from the top and out came a pair of mechanical hands. She wasn’t a mechatronics expert or anything, but she could tell those hands were very articulate and expensive. They were waving hello, but the thumbs were folded towards the palms… This entire scenario made her even more worried of course, but she had yet to understand her predicament.

After waving, the hands assumed the “secret sign” position, giving her the thumbs up. There’s no way to describe her confusion at this point. The oddest thing were the thumbs. She managed to distinguish short whiskers coming out of the pads. The thumbs began wriggling and the platform started lowering itself out of sight. Soon the hands were at the right height in front of her feet.

________________________________

She couldn’t see what was happening now, and this served to heighten any sensation thereafter. Pain would have to be the goal…? Except pain never arrived. Instead she felt the hands placing each of their four fingers gently on the top side of each foot, as if to get a good hold on them to do a massage with the thumbs. She thought this cause she saw it on TV once.

A massage? They want her to relax before an interrogation? But… with those bristles on the thumbs it wouldn’t be rubbing as much as brushing. Wouldn’t that ti- All of a sudden, the thumb pads made contact with her foot bottoms. The sensation made her skin tingle incredibly, and a hint of a smile forced itself on the corners of her mouth, even with a gag on. In that instant her brain scrambled to put the pieces together, much to her dismay. The way she was bound to that chair, why her feet were exposed with the toes bent like that, the smiley, the sign with waggling thumbs and those brushes resting against her skin. Her heart sank as she tried to scream and implore to not be tortured like this. Anything but this.

She was starting to cry when the devilish hands started their work, changing her pitiful sad sobs to muffled forced laughter in a split second. The first ten minutes, all the thumbs did was trace a constant path up and down each sole, up and down, from the ball of the foot to the heel and back up, making her wish she was dead.

Just as she thought she was going to faint, the hands stopped. The brushes became separated from the skin, but the other fingers were still pressing on the backs. The soles would still twitch instinctively for several moments as she giggled, heaved and grasped for breath (the ball gag didn’t make it easy). Yet this gave her the slightest hope. If the tickling had stopped maybe someone would appear to ask questions. She was determined to share anything she knew just to escape this torment.

The thumb pads made contact again. No more downtime, as they started drawing random patterns on the smooth skin, exploring the whole surface available with those unbearable bristles, treating the soles to a hellish tickle fest. A suppressed stream of laughter tried to escape her mouth constantly, tears falling from her eyes. 8 figures, zig zags, loops, you name it, the thumbs were doing it. This lasted for what felt to her like an eternity and again, the tickling ceased as she was about to faint. Still her feet transmitted residual sensations, making it more difficult to catch her breath. She was pretty much a mess of quivering nerves.

The low humming was heard again, and the hands raised into view. Was it finally over? From behind the hands appeared a pair of strange pincers attached to mechanical arms, that unscrewed the brushed thumbs and replaced them with normal looking ones. A weight came off her mind. Those brushes were hell on earth. The pincers returned inside the cube and came back out with with a small ointment tube… Foot cream?

The platform lowered as the hands began to open the tube. She was screaming again, bracing for the worst, when she felt the hands simply applying the cream on the whole length of the soles, with deliberate motions as to avoid tickling completely. She really wanted to believe this wasn’t a bad thing.

The platform came back up. The hands had cream residue all over them. The tube was already gone, probably inside the cube. The pincers came out yet again though, unscrewed the normal thumbs and screwed another pair. This time the pads were… black. At first she thought they were plain pads, but as she focused she saw small hard rubbery spikes, dozens of them. The idea of them sliding across her foot bottoms filled her with dread. The platform lowered…

The fingers grabbed hold once more and the thumbs landed on their targets. The crazed laughing came instantly. They drew lines up and down, just like in the beginning of her ordeal, except now the sensation was tenfold because of the cream and the stiffer spikes. As expected, this lasted for quite a while. Mind you, it took them about one second to go from the ball to the heel and another to return. And within every one of those motions, the absolute worst part was when they stroked past the middle. It made her shiver every time.

Were the hands acting on some basic programming or were they part of some A.I.? Not that she could ponder about this, given her current state, but it was probably the latter. How else could you explain the following? The thumbs stopped just for a brief moment, and repositioned themselves dead center on the middle of each sole, to make small circular movements without leaving that area. The hoarse guffaws pouring and the body shaking made it evident that those were indeed the worst spots on her feet. Soon she reached the silent laughter stage, and all she could do was tremble as her existence seemed to be reduced to a pair of twitching soles being stimulated relentlessly. The skin was on overdrive, properly informing her brain of every single stroke with every single rubbery tip and compounding the sensitivity with each passing.

She only endured five minutes of this before she finally fainted.

With a startle, she woke up… She was in her room, lying barefoot on the bed and wearing her clothes, but her sneakers and socks were nowhere to be seen.

Her phone rang, making her jump. It was next to her right hand. A message, from an unknown number. She sat on the bed to look at it and as she did, she became paralyzed. On the screen was a big smiley, and a recording started to play out.

“You are required to obtain information regarding the freedom seekers’ agenda. Instructions will be sent on this phone. If you refuse or if you tell anyone at all about this, a much longer session between the happy thumbs and the soles of your feet will take place, and next time you might not return home”.

Instinctively her toes curled, hard. She started crying, torn between the prospect of betraying her brother or going through something like that ever again.
 
This was fantastic! Hopefully there isn't a year between your stories again, I'd love to read more soon. Both have been great so far.
 
Thanks man! Sadly I can’t seem to come up with story ideas very quickly. I’m trying to improve that though.
 
Thank you all!

I'd definitely like to make a sequel, but I feel like I have to step back from this particular story for a while, just to get new ideas. I'm actually working on another piece, which I hope you'll like as well.
 
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