The Trainer (F/m)

This story contains extreme F/m tickle torture, domination, foot worship, and some adult material. If that will offend you, then don't read it. All of the characters in this story are over 18 years of age.

The Trainer (F/m)
by Milagros


January 2003
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Harold Lamb was preparing all of his applications to college and university athletic departments. He had a bachelor's degree in sports medicine, an M.Ed. in athletic training from the prestigious University of Virginia, and five years experience as assistant to the head trainer at Wilson College on his resume. Also, he was certified by NATA, the National Athletic Trainers Association, having passed their examinations. The head trainer at Wilson was too young for Harold to wait for promotion there. Already 30 years old himself, Harold was anxious to get his career moving forward.

Harold was now looking for a job as head trainer at a small or medium sized institution. He could picture doing that for five years, and then moving up to head trainer at a large state university system. He had selected twelve advertisements appropriate for him, and had added a thirteenth: Distaff College, an all women's liberal arts college in California, was seeking a new assistant trainer.

Although he was overqualified for the job, he decided to apply. Actually, it was because he was overqualified. They were notorious for rarely hiring men in any capacity; they seemed to be overtly hostile to all men. That was where Karen, his ex-wife, had gone to college. He had neither seen nor spoken to her since 1998, when they were divorced. With little money and no children, the divorce had been relatively painless. But he always felt that Distaff College has warped her attitude towards men.

It was in Karen's alumnae magazine that he had read about a male Professor of Philosophy winning a lawsuit against Distaff. The man had proved that he was better qualified than the successful applicant for a faculty position. Rather than have him on campus, they paid a lump sum settlement of an undisclosed amount. Harold could see collecting a nice sum from them, since they clearly would not want to hire him, and he was going to be better qualified than anybody they did hire. He smiled in anticipation of adding a nice settlement to his meager savings when his plan bore fruit.


April 2003
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Harold was really depressed. He had had three interviews, but in each case he did not get the job. They were always surprised that he was only 5'7" tall and 140 pounds. As if somebody had to have been a football or basketball player himself to seek a career in athletic training! Not that they said anything, but he could see the surprise in their eyes when they first saw him.

With no interviews pending, it seemed he would be unemployed as of September. Too confident of getting a better job, he had already given his notice at Wilson. Now he was desperate to get any job in his field. He would have sent off more applications, but the deadlines for applying had passed.


May 2003
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With the hiring season over, and the academic year almost over, Harold was stunned to get a phone call at home from Alice Hansen, head trainer at Distaff College. She quickly got to the point of her call.

"Let me be honest with you, Mr. Lamb," she said, "we had already hired someone for the position, but she got a higher paying job and has backed out on us. Your resume shows that you're really overqualified. You have excellent educational background, and five years experience at a larger school than we are, with the same job title. I'm wondering why you applied."

"I always wanted to live and work in California," said Harold, thinking quickly, "and I thought it would be worth it to take a job with the same title that I now hold. I understand that your campus is right on the Pacific, and the ad said that a free apartment on campus comes with the job."

"Yes, we're just south of Santa Barbara on the mainland, and part of our campus is on one of the Channel Islands off the coast. We have our athletic training facility there. The students who are in the fall sports will report on August 5. We're in something of a bind with Elizabeth backing out of the job, it being so late in the academic year. The job does include free housing for you on campus, and it's already furnished. If you're satisfied with the salary that we advertised, and free to come to work for us on August 1, then you're hired."

"I'm happy to accept, Ms. Hansen."

"We'll mail you the contract today. It's for an initial appointment of two years, as we advertised. Glad to have you with us, Mr. Lamb."


Friday, August 1, 2003
-----------------------

Harold got off the plane at LAX. He had sold his car back in Pennsylvania, in that it would not have met California's strict pollution laws anyway. He had sold his furniture, too, given the promise of furnished housing on campus. He couldn't get out of paying August rent, so he just left a note saying that his security deposit would cover it. He had already transferred his savings and checking accounts to a bank in Santa Barbara, and instructed Wilson College to send his last paychecks to his account in that bank.

When his luggage came, Harold was pleased to see that a man had arrived in the baggage claim area with a sign bearing his name. He introduced himself, and the driver said his name was Ned. Ned grabbed the suitcases, and led him to the car.

Traffic was ghastly, the freeways living up to their reputation. Ned made only one remark to him, and then turned on the radio.

"I've picked up many new employees for Distaff College here at the airport, but you're the first one who's not a woman," was what he said.

Harold just nodded, and then listened to Ned's favorite station as they worked their way northward.

At last they reached the campus. Ned and his Lincoln Towncar seemed to be known to the security guard at the gatehouse; she just waved him through. Ned proceeded to the western edge of campus, to the dock. There were three boats there. On one boat, a young woman waved to them.

"You're going to the island part of campus," said Ned, "that's what they told me, to let you off at their dock."

When Ned unloaded his bags, Harold tried to tip him.

"No, no, the College already paid me, including tip," he said.

As he drove off, the young woman from the boat came over and took his bags. She introduced herself as Becky, and said that she was a senior, or would be in September when classes started.

She added that she was a member of the basketball team. Harold could believe that; she was 6'4" tall, very athletic, with a beautiful face, and a fine figure as well. Her black hair glowed in the sunlight. Working at a women's college could be very pleasant, he thought, as they boarded.

They seemed to be the only passengers, although there were ten chairs on the deck, and room for at least ten standees as well. They sat in neighboring chairs.

"So," said Becky as they were underway, "you must be the new assistant to Ms. Hansen. We all love her, she's so good at keeping us athletes from getting injured. Will you be working with the basketball team?"

"I'm not sure yet which teams will be among my assignments here," said Harold, "I have to talk about that with Ms. Hansen."

"Well," said Becky, "I'm very prone to sprained ankles. Dr. Chang doesn't trust the student trainers to tape me properly. So if you do work with the basketball team, you'll be taping my ankles yourself, every day."

She got up, stood on one leg, and slowly rotated the other ankle in front of him. she was wearing shorts, and he could not help but notice her fabulous legs. It would be a pleasure to tape her ankles every day, he thought. But he better not say that.

"Who's Dr. Chang?" was all he said.

"The physician in residence," said Becky. "She's an internist, and runs the College's infirmary, but she also is interested in sports medicine. She was a soccer player at UCLA before she went to medical school."

As she explained this, she walked around behind his chair. She spoke to him again from behind him.

"Just one thing. When you tape my ankles, you must never tickle my feet. I hate it."

"Of course not," said Harold, "that would be unprofessional."

Just as he got out the last syllable of 'unprofessional', she dug into his rib cage on both sides with her fingers. He shrieked, and jumped out of the chair.

Becky ran over to him, hooked his legs with her own, and tripped him. Soon he was flat on his back, and she was sitting on his stomach, with her knees pinning down his upper arms. She was in perfect position to tickle his rib cage and his armpits, and she proceeded to do so with relish. He howled with laughter, and wriggled desperately, but there was no way in the world that he could get the 180 pound beauty off of him. Her fingers poked and prodded, and kept coming back to the spots that gave the most reaction. As he laughed and laughed, unable to speak a word of protest, she taunted him.

"Tickle, tickle, tickle. You really are so cute for a little man! Tickle, tickle, tickle. I can't resist the urge to tickle you, a lot. Tickle, tickle, tickle. And there's no need to resist, either. Tickle, tickle, tickle. There's not a thing you can do about it. Not a thing. Tickle, tickle, tickle. No escape for you, none. I'm going to tickle you until we dock. Tickle, tickle, tickle. Oh, this is so much fun!"

Harold was unable to breathe, red in the face, and quivering in ticklish agony. He didn't notice that the boat had docked at the island. Becky was having so much fun torturing him that she didn't notice either, as she continued to taunt him.

"Tickle, tickle, tickle. Your face is all red, how amusing. Tickle, tickle, tickle. I've found the perfect spot in your armpits, just perfect. Tickle, tickle, tickle. And I know just how hard to poke there, Tickle, tickle, tickle. Such a cute ticklish little fellow you are. Tickle, tickle, tickle."

"Becky, I'm ashamed of you," said a voice from behind her, and she looked around, and finally stopped tickling Harold.

"I'm sorry, Ms. Hansen," said Becky.

There were two women now on board. The one she knew was Alice Hansen, head trainer at Distaff. She was just as tall as Becky, and about the same weight and build, but with blonde hair. And, of course, at 31 she was ten years older.

The other woman she did not know. She seemed to be in her late twenties, and was a little shorter than Ms. Hansen, perhaps 6'2". Her lustrous long hair was red.

"You should be ashamed of yourself, Becky," said Ms. Hansen, "and you certainly should be sorry."

Harold had his breath back now, and waited for Ms. Hansen to order Becky to get off of him. And he hoped that Becky would be suitably punished for embarrassing him so badly in front of his new boss. But when she spoke to Becky, her words put him in a state of shock.

"That's no way to tickle a man. Didn't anybody every teach you that tickling is best done on bare skin? You've left him fully dressed. That's the first thing that you should be ashamed of. Your first step should have been to strip him. Go on, don't goggle at me, strip him as naked as the day he was born, go ahead, do it now."

With a grin on her face, still sitting on him, but releasing his upper arms, Becky tore off his shirt and undershirt. She then moved to sit on his legs, and take off his shoes and socks. She reached over and unfastened his belt, and then yanked his pants off.

To do this she had had to get off of him, and he managed to stand up. She tripped him again adroitly, and yanked off his boxer shorts. She pinned him down again, this time lying on his stomach, as she sat on the small of his back.

"This is an outrage! Let me up!" screamed Harold, squirming futilely under Becky.

Alice came over and twisted his ear until he screamed. Then she let it go.

"You shut up, Harry. Speak only when you're spoken to. Or it will go very badly for you."

Harold decided that they were likely all insane, and that would go to the police as soon as possible, but it was best not to provoke them just now, with Becky sitting on him. So he shut up.

"What else should I be ashamed of, Ms. Hansen?" asked Becky, still grinning.

"That you didn't bring along something to tie him up with. If you really want to give somebody a thorough tickling, then bondage is essential. Fortunately, I believe that Cathy can remedy that."

The other woman, the redhead, opened the bag that she was carrying, and tossed a thick roll of athletic tape to Becky. The tape was 4" wide. Becky wasted no time in taping Harold's legs together at the ankles, below the knees, and above the knees. She grabbed his arms, and taped his wrists together. He wasn't flexible enough for her to tape his elbows together also, but she did tape them towards each other. Then she taped his ankles to his wrists behind his back, finishing a stringent hogtie.

"Well done, Becky," said Alice, "he's quite helpless. You and Cathy can carry him to the car. Oh, pardon my manners. This is Cathy Cooper, my new assistant trainer."

"What?" said Harold, hogtied on the deck, but still listening.

"I warned you, Harry, not to speak. You'll be punished for that. Yes, Cathy has the job that you thought you had. We have other plans for you. Now shut up, and stay shut up, if you know what's good for you."

Cathy and Becky picked him up by his knees and shoulders, and carried him off the boat. Alice carried his luggage, into which she had put the clothes that Becky tore off of him.

"You seemed to be enjoying yourself tickling him, Becky," said Alice.

"Yes, Ms. Hansen, very much. I miss the chance to tickle my little brother since I went away to college."

"Well, then, I have the perfect part-time job for you. You haven't selected a job from the financial aid office for the fall semester yet, have you?"

"No, Ms. Hansen."

"Fine. You can be one of Karen's assistants. You'll meet her tomorrow. It's 20 hours a week, and I'm sure that you'll love the work. In fact, you can start work tomorrow, and earn some extra money for yourself."

They had reached the car, which was actually an SUV. They put Harold in the cargo area, along with his luggage, and the three women sat up front. In ten minutes, they arrived at a medium sized house, isolated from the rest of the buildings on the island. There was a beautiful sunset over the ocean.

"This will be your new home, Harry," said Alice. "Fully furnished, but not as you expected. We have lots of plans for you."

Alice took a blindfold out of her purse, and strapped it securely around his head.
As they carried him inside, he felt a sense of dread. When they put him down on his belly, it felt like on a bed, he heard a new voice.

"I'm Doctor Chang. This will just sting a bit, don't worry."

He felt an injection in a vein in his foot, and then he felt very woozy, and went to sleep.


Saturday, August 2, 2003
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Harold woke up. He didn't have any idea what time it was, and he opened his eyes to see only the black padding on the inside of the blindfold, which was still strapped around his head. He was more comfortable than he had been in the hogtie, but he still couldn't move much. He wriggled, and felt canvas all around him, from his neck to his groin. His arms were in front of his chest, and he could only wriggle them a bit. A straightjacket, then. When he tried to move his whole body sideways on the bed, he realized that the straightjacket was anchored, tied to the bed somehow. He could feel ankle cuffs around his ankles, and that they had been locked together and tied to the bed also. His legs were bound together above and below the knees, but with something softer than the athletic tape. His mouth was filled with a ball gag, and he felt the drool all over his chin. He waited; he could do nothing else.

He felt somebody unbuckling the crotch strap of his straightjacket. He tensed, but didn't even try to say anything through his gag.

"Don't be afraid, silly," said a voice, and he recognized it as Becky. "I'm just going to put a bedpan under you. It is good that you remembered that you're not allowed to talk, and didn't try to. You've already got a punishment session coming for talking back yesterday."

She eased the bedpan under him, and he urinated with great relief. She went away, and refastened the strap when she came back.

"Now for some fun before breakfast," she said.

He felt her tying his big toes together, and then tying them back to his ankle cuffs. She began by running her fingernails furiously up and down his flexed soles. He howled with laughter, and thrashed in his bonds, but she kept right on tickling his vulnerable soles.

"Tickle, tickle, tickle, Harry-poo. That's what I'm going to call you from now on. My own ticklish little Harry-poo, to tickle and play with. Tickle, tickle, tickle. Do you wish that I would stop? Do you? Tickle, tickle, tickle. I'm not going to stop. Oh, no. I'm just going to tickle your poor defenseless soles all morning. Tickle, tickle, tickle. Or until Ms. Hansen comes, and says it's time for your breakfast. It's only 8am now, and I do think that she'll be sleeping late today. Tickle, tickle, tickle. So I'll just have fun until she gets here. You're even more ticklish on your soles than in your armpits! Tickle, tickle, tickle. How amusing. Now I'm going to try using different implements on your soles, and see what works best. Tickle, tickle, tickle, and tickle, tickle, tickle even more, Harry-poo. That's part of my job, to discover the best methods for driving you mad with tickling. Tickle, tickle, tickle. To tickle you insane, Harry-poo. Tickle, tickle, tickle."

True to her word, she began trying out different implements. A soft bristled toothbrush was not as good as her fingernails, but a stiff bristled toothbrush was better. When raked over his soles slowly, a wooden backscratcher produced violent thrashing, and shrieks that could be heard through the ball gag. A knitting needle proved disappointing, and a dry ballpoint pen wasn't much better.

Becky struck gold with the last implement: dragging the tines of an ordinary table fork slowly over his soles drove him wild. Experimenting with the pressure, she soon found just the right touch, and had him howling and thrashing like a madman.

She kept it up, with no break, until he was bright red in the face with tears streaming down his cheeks. Unable to struggle any longer, too weak, he just suffered in ticklish agony, laughing silently, quivering, a defeated, helpless lump of ticklish flesh, listening to her taunts.

"Suffer, Harry-poo. Tickle, tickle, tickle. That's what you're here for, to suffer and be tickled. Tickle, tickle, tickle. This is so much fun, I can't believe that I'm getting paid for it. Tickle, tickle, tickle. $8 an hour, the same as any senior would get for a job from the financial aid office. Tickle, tickle, tickle. My, my, you're quite the ticklish one, aren't you, Harry-poo. Tickle, tickle, tickle. Ms. Hansen had told me to flirt with you, and then tickle you on the boat trip, but I never dreamed it would become a paid job. Tickle, tickle, tickle. No rest for you, Harry-poo, and no hope of escape. Tickle, tickle, tickle."

"Excellent, Becky, you've got him on the edge, nearly unconscious, and wishing he were, but suffering unbearably. Carry on."

Harry recognized the new voice as that of Dr. Chang from the night before. As Becky continued to tickle him, he felt fingers on his neck, taking his pulse.

"Keep right on Becky," said Dr. Chang, "his pulse rate is elevated, but not dangerously. This is a really good workout for him." She chuckled, and then left the room.

Alice came in about ten minutes later, at 9am, and told Becky to stop, because it was time to feed him. Then she addressed Harold.

"Your punishment session is scheduled for after lunch, although I have something else planned as additional punishment right after breakfast. You _will_ learn to never speak, unless we order it or ask you a direct question. In case you have any ideas of escaping, let me give you a few facts. Each of your ankle cuffs has a locator beacon in it, and we'll never take off both at the same time. The location of those beacons is monitored 24/7 by our island security people. Not that you'd ever get past Becky, or the other student keepers that I've hired to watch you. Each room in this house has its own purpose. This is your bedroom, where you'll be secured each night. It's also used for light ticklings, as you've been getting this morning."

Alice paused to let that sink in. Harold, who believed that Becky had nearly tickled him to death that morning, shivered in fear.

"After breakfast, you're getting a shower. Then you'll go to the extreme tickling room. I'm now going to remove your gag, so that Becky can feed you, and then your blindfold. Open your eyes slowly, so you don't get hurt by the light. Nod your head if you understand."

Harold nodded, and felt his gag being removed, and then his blindfold. He squinted, and let his eyes get accustomed to the light again. He could see that D-rings in the shoulders of his straightjacket were tied to the headboard of the sturdy brass bed, and the D-rings on the sides were tied to the sides of the bed. D-rings in his ankle cuffs were tied to the footboard. The bedroom window had thick iron bars outside the glass, he noted.

Becky proceeded to untie these, so that he was loose in the bed, still in his straightjacket and cuffs. She propped him up against the headboard, and fed him cold cereal, juice, and a corn muffin. She wiped his mouth and chin carefully.

"Now I'm going to let you take a shower by yourself," said Becky. "Keep in mind that I'm 6'4", 180 pounds, and that I have a third degree black belt in karate. Also, there's no mirror in the bathroom, and a plastic cup. It's an interior bathroom with no window. No glass for you to break and use as a weapon. Do you promise to behave, and take your shower like a good little boy? You may answer."

"Yes, Becky."

"I'll let it go this time, but in the future address me as 'Ms. Rebecca'. It's also 'Ms. Hansen', 'Ms. Cooper', and 'Dr. Chang' should you ever be allowed to talk the them."

It took a bit of time to get him out of the jacket, and Becky left on one ankle cuff, as promised. He found the bathroom exactly as described, with nothing in that could remotely be used as a weapon. Depressed, he took a shower, used the toilet, and came back into the bedroom.

"Sit on the bed, I want to put the cuff back on," said Becky. He did, and she locked it back around his ankle. Two more cuffs were produced and put on his wrists.

"Now," said Alice, "the first punishment for your talking without permission yesterday. I had intended to use the ball gag again until lunch, but we'll do something else instead. Ready, Becky?"

"Yes, Ms. Hansen," said Becky, and she sat in a chair and began to remove her sneakers.

"Stick your tongue out, way out," said Becky, and Harold obeyed.

She removed both of her white gym socks. They looked far too grimy and soiled to have been worn only that morning.

"These are the same socks that I wore all day yesterday," said Becky with a grin, as she turned one of them inside out. "Now the part that my big, size 12 sole was pressed against is going around your tongue."

She wrapped the sole of the sock around his tongue, and shoved both tongue and sock into his mouth.

"Close your mouth," she ordered, and he was just barely able to do so, with the top part of the sock, that had been around her calf, sticking out.

Becky then wrapped athletic tape, 4" wide, around his head three times, securing the sock inside his mouth. She turned the other sock inside out as well, and press the sole against his nose. More athletic tape held it in place there, loosely, so he could breathe through it.

"There!" said Becky, "you can taste my foot sweat, and every breath of air you have is filtered through it as well. Serves you right, for talking out of turn!"

"Now get down on your hands and knees," said Alice, "and crawl behind us."

Harold crawled, following them out of the room, down the hall, and into the next bedroom. It was furnished with a rack, and a half dozen folding chairs. Rather than flat, the bed of the rack was arched upward in the middle.

"Get up on the rack," said Alice, and Harold obeyed.

Becky produced an adult sized diaper, and put it on him. She explained that he would not get any bathroom breaks during his extreme tickling sessions. The blindfold was put back over his eyes. His wristcuffs were locked together, and then locked to the large wheel at the head of the rack. His anklecuffs were locked down to rings in the bed of the rack. A horizontal bar was placed over his anklecuffs, and they were locked to it as well. It attached to both sides of the rack. Each of his toes was tied back; the bar had ten metal rings on it for that purpose. A broad leather strap went around his forehead, and held his head to the padded surface of the rack.

Harold heard a cranking noise, and his wrists were now being pulled towards the head of the rack. They stretched him taut, but it was not painful. The arched bed of the rack made his ribcage protrude upward. Cold sweat ran down his forehead. He heard more people coming into the room, but of course couldn't see them.

"We're about to begin, Harry-poo," said Becky, "and I'll give you one hint about what you're about to experience. I'll be at your left foot, and my friend Barbara will be at your right foot, and we'll each have two forks."

"OK," said Alice, "it's just 10am, so we'll give him a nice, three hour torture session. Ready, on your marks, get set .... go!"

Becky and Barbara went to work on his flexed soles, with a fork in each hand. That alone would have been worse than his earlier tickling. Alice was on his left side, digging into his rib cage with one hand, and into his armpit with the other. Cathy Cooper was on his right side, doing the same. Dr. Chang sat near his knees, tickling them with one hand and his belly with the other. A sixth woman was near his head, tickling his collarbones with both hands. He was extremely ticklish on the collarbones, and he wondered how they knew that, it wasn't a cliche tickle spot, and Becky hadn't discovered it earlier.

He went wild, attempting to thrash, but unable to move much. He couldn't even move his head; he would have pounded it on the rack to distract himself from the maddening tickling. He was totally overloaded. The grimy sock in his mouth was now sodden with his own saliva, and kept any laughter from getting out.

Becky was in heaven, watching him squirm and wriggle futilely, knowing that, as he labored for air, that it was pungent with her foot sweat when it got to his nose.

"Tickle, tickle, tickle, Harry-poo. Does the sweat of my feet taste good? Tickle, tickle, tickle. Does it smell good, too? Are you enjoying this? Tickle, tickle, tickle. I don't think so! It's so much worse that just me tickling you with just one fork, isn't it? Tickle, tickle, tickle, baby boy! This is so much fun, yes, it is. Tickle, tickle, tickle, and then even more tickling for you, Harry-poo."

"You really like to taunt him, don't you, Becky?"

"Yes, Dr. Chang. It's good to let him know that I savor his helplessness, that I just love torturing him this way, that I know that he wishes it would stop, and that it's not going to stop, not for hours. Hours and hours, Harry-poo. Tickle, tickle, tickle. No hope for you, no way to stop us, no escape. Tickle, tickle, tickle, endlessly."

Harold fervently wished that he could faint, but Dr. Chang warned the other women when to slow down because he was to fainting. At 11:45, she even removed the sock from over his nose, so that he could breathe more easily, and stay awake, and suffer more tickle torture. His armpits ached, his ribs ached, his soles were on fire, and his diaphragm ached as well. Each minute seemed like forever to him, as they tickled him more and more. He never even noticed when he wet his diaper.

The women were having such a good time tickling him, that they lost track of time and kept it up until twenty minutes past the appointed stopping time of 1pm.

They released the wheel on the rack, and he lay inert, tickled out of his senses, too weak to move. Becky removed the tape from around his head, and then the sodden sock from his mouth. Dr. Chang took out her medical bag, and checked his heart with her stethoscope.

"He's in very good physical condition, and there's he can easily survive these extreme tickling sessions, twice a day. No problem," she pronounced.

Harold felt his heart sink, but wisely said nothing. Barbara had left the room, and now returned with his lunch. He happily ate the hamburger and cole slaw that she fed him, still blindfolded. Then she and Becky helped him to stand up, and led him to a bathroom which was nearby. They removed his soiled diaper, and cleaned him up, but did not put on a clean diaper. They led him down the hall to a room. Alice was waiting there, and spoke to him.

"This is the punishment room, and you'll see it when your blindfold is taken off after your punishment session. You'll dread this room, and hate the thought of being brought here. That will inspire you to behave well. If I ever have to tell you that you're going to spend the night in this room, then start praying."

To Barbara and Becky she said, "Secure him to the horse."

Harold was lifted up, and placed so that his stomach rested on a padded surface, with his arms hanging over it on one side and his legs on the other. Soon his wrist- and anklecuffs were locked to rings in the base of the horse, and he was immobilized, stretched over the device, with his bare bottom pointing upwards. Alice gave him a firm smack on the bottom with her bare hand.

"All ready for your spanking, Harry," she said, "and let me make a few things clear to you. You are still not allowed to talk. You'll likely scream, and cry, but not one word is to come from your lips. I'll just be watching. Your punishment will come from the woman who was tickling your collarbones, that I told you that you'd meet today. She's going to give you your spanking. When she's all done, she's going to take your blindfold off and introduce herself. If she gives you permission to speak, the first thing you must do is thank her for taking the time and effort to correct your disobedient behavior. If you don't thank her properly, then you get double the punishment all over again. Now, as to your sentence. First offense, speaking without permission. One hundred spanks."

Harold heard some shifting around in the room, and then silence. Then came a whack that caused him to scream out loud. A very painful whack on his right buttock. Then one on his left. Right, left, right, left, and then several more, harder than ever, all on the left. His screams continued with each blow, but now he was crying also.

"Ten. You're not doing so well, Harry-poo," said Becky. "I'll be counting for you. Didn't expect you to be crying already."

Now came a long succession on the right buttock, and he quaked and sobbed, and screamed until his throat was sore. Just when he thought it couldn't get any worse, when he distantly heard Becky say thirty, the whack came on his upper thighs, which hurt him tremendously. He was in real agony now, sobbing as hard as he could.

"Forty. You're likely not going to make it, Harry. And you're not even bruised yet. Your bottom is bright red, but not bruised."

Harry was too stunned and hurt to scream any more, he just hung there in despair, and sobbed. The blows now went up again to his buttocks, and the spanker, perhaps taking pity on him, seemed to ease up a bit.

"Eighty."

I'm going to get through this, he thought, it's not as bad as it was.

"Ninety."

The last ten were savage, the hardest of all, five in a row on each cheek. He screamed like a damned soul.

"One hundred," said Becky. "You made it."

She and Barbara removed him from the horse, and deposited him, on his back, on the floor, naked except for the blindfold and the cuffs. For the next five minutes they just let him sob, and Becky wiped his nose for him.

"On your hands and knees, now," said Alice, and Harry managed to comply.

Alice removed the blindfold, and he opened his eyes to a terrible sight: Karen, his ex-wife, Karen Fletcher, standing in front of him with a thick wooden paddle, covered in leather, in her hands. The women all laughed at the look on his face.

She looked great at, he did a quick mental calculation, 28 years old. She had cut her blonde hair fairly short, and now wore glasses instead of the contacts she had worn when they were married. She stood 5'11", making her the shortest woman in the room, an unusual situation for her, no doubt. She looked as if she weighed the same 160 pounds as when he last saw her. She was wearing blue jeans, and a Distaff College Class of 1996 t-shirt, and she was barefoot.

"Hello, Harry," she said, "it's such a joy to see you under these particular circumstances. You don't know how much I enjoyed that. Oh, my, what a great pleasure it was to beat your sorry rump and see you cry. Now speak to me."

Remembering Alice's instructions, Harry came out with "Thank you so much for taking the time and effort to correct my bad behavior."

"Not good enough, Harry," said Alice. "Address her properly, and add a request that she continue to correct your behavior in the future. She will be the sole judge of whether your thanks are sincere enough, and thus whether you get another 200, no, make that 400, right now."

Harry gulped, as Karen whacked the paddle softly against her own hand.

"Ms. Fletcher, it is a great pleasure to see you again, and to see that you are well, and more beautiful than ever. You have my deepest thanks for taking the time and effort to correct my bad behavior. I humbly request that you continue in that role, and punish me in the future, whenever I do anything wrong."

"I'll accept your thanks, Harry, and spare you the 400 more spanks, on two conditions. I want you to remedy two particular grievances from when we were married. Will you?"

"Of course, Ms. Fletcher."

"Fine. You'll find out one of the conditions right now, and the other during your dinner. And let me clear some things up for you, since you're not allowed to ask questions. You may wonder what I'm doing here at my alma mater. When the dotcom bubble burst, I became unemployed. I got a job here, at Computer Services. I maintain the software for the registrar's office. You may wonder why the College pretended to hire you, and kidnapped you. Ah, we're not so stupid here at Distaff. After losing that lawsuit by the philosophy professor, the administration realized that men would try to set us up for more such suits. This house was adapted to be a prison two years ago. One of our last male employees, who was planning to sue us, spent a miserable year here, and then we dumped his body into the ocean. It's a big ocean, Harry. He was never found. When you applied for a job here, a job for which you were clearly overqualified, that was a red flag. The administration circulated your name, and asked if anybody knew you. Knew you! I was married to you for a year. And I remembered that you commented on the article in my alumnae magazine about the suit, too. So it was very clear what you were doing. I told them that you were extremely ticklish Harry, and that you hated to be tickled. Absolutely hated it! So that's a form of torture that can last a long time, a lot longer than the guy who lived here before you. We can keep you alive, without a mark on you, for years and years here. And what fun it will be! Officially, you're one of two assistant trainers, and Cathy is the other. We decided to hire you both, and your duties are all on the island here. Isn't that convenient? Don't speak, Harry, that was a rhetorical question."

"Don't forget to tell about the reconciliation," said Alice.

"Oh, yes, Harry, we're going to be married again. Or at least the records will show it. Dr. Chang will submit our blood tests, and the College chaplain will perform the ceremony and send the certificate to Sacramento. You don't need to attend. We'll have a joint checking account, and all of your funds, present and future, will go into it. So I'll be glad of your salary as assistant trainer. And I won't be working for Computer Services any longer. As of today, I move into this house, and do just what you asked me to: devote my time to training you, correcting your bad behavior, and seeing to it that you become a decent human being and a model husband. Speaking of which, it's time for you to satisfy the first condition. Bring him to my bedroom, ankles cuffed together and wrists behind his back."

Karen left the room. Barbara and Becky wasted no time in locking his wristcuffs together behind his back, and cuffing his ankles together. They also put a clean diaper on him. They carried him down the hall to the largest bedroom, the only one that was furnished normally.

Karen was waiting for him, stark naked, in bed. Becky and Barbara were somewhat embarrassed, but just put him down on the foot of the bed.

"When this creep was my husband," Karen said to them, "he never once gave me oral sex. He said he didn't like the taste. As if I liked the taste of his private parts! I did it to please him, because I loved him. He claimed to love me, but never satisfied me. Not once! And he wouldn't even try by giving me head. So, Harry, now is when you make up for that. Are you willing, or should they carry you back to the punishment room?"

"Very willing, it will be an honor, Ms. Fletcher," said Harry.

"Put him in position, and then close the door behind you," said Karen.

Giggling, Barbara and Becky stuck Harry's head between her legs, and left the room.

Harry went at his task with energy, if not eagerness. He still hated the taste, but his sore bottom kept his mind on satisfying her. He licked and licked, traced all the letters of the alphabet onto her clitoris with his tongue, as he'd read it was a good technique.

Quite excited already by the joy of tickling him senseless, and then beating his sorry rump, she came when he reached 'Q'.

"Don't stop, I want another orgasm," she ordered.

The second climax took longer, and Harry's tongue felt a bit sore when he got to 'M' for the third time, which was when it happened.

"Enough," she said, and Harry wriggled a few inches away from her private parts.

"You may speak, Harry, and make it good. Tell me why you're sorry, and what you promise to do in the future to make it up to me. Or else."

"It was a very great honor to give you pleasure, Ms. Fletcher," said Harry. "I am extremely sorry that I never did so when we were married. It was a terrible flaw on my part, and entirely my fault. I am ever so sorry. I will make it up to you by following your orders to give you pleasure in this manner, as often as you wish, whenever you want."

"Very good, Harry, it seems you can learn. I'll see you at dinner."

Karen called Becky on the house intercom, and went into her bathroom. Soon Becky and Barbara appeared, and carried him back to his own bedroom. There they put him back into his straightjacket, and left his ankles cuffed together. They tossed him onto his bed, and told him that they would get him after the women had eaten their own dinner, when it was time for his.

Becky and Barbara came for Harold at 8pm. He had dozed off, lying on his stomach on his bed. They woke him up by tickling his feet for a minute. Then they carried him into the living room, and placed him on the floor on his back. They put a comfortable armchair over him, so that he head protruded in front of the chair, and his legs behind it.

Becky and Barbara sat down on the couch, next to a young woman that he had never seen before. Alice, Cathy, and Sarah Chang were all seated on another couch. Karen came in, and sat down in the chair over him. She put her large feet, still bare, on either side of his head.

"I should introduce Beverly over there," said Karen, and Beverly smiled at him. "She, like Becky and Barbara, is a student here, and on the basketball team. The three of them are my assistants, or, if your prefer, your keepers. Of course, you will obey all of them."

She paused for dramatic effect. "And now, for the second condition, required for my accepting your thanks as sincere. You probably don't even remember the incident, but it really stung me at the time. It hurt my pride. It was right after our honeymoon, when we moved into the apartment on Hall Street. You came home, and I was standing on the kitchen table, installing a new light fixture in the ceiling. Do you remember what you said to me? You may speak."

Harold looked confused. "No, Ms. Fletcher, I confess that you were correct, and that I don't remember that incident at all."

"You said, 'Do you have to stand with your big dirty bare feet on our kitchen table? We eat off that table.' Now do you remember?"

"Now that you mention it, yes, I do. I really hadn't remembered it. And I never should have said such a thing. I'm really sorry."

"Saying that you're sorry isn't enough, Harry. Now you'll make it up to me. My feet were clean that day, but not today. I've been going barefoot all day, and they're filthy now. Your dinner tonight is going to be peanut butter, licked off of my soles. You're going to lick and lick, until every speck of dirt is gone, and my lovely feet are clean. I hope that you do a good job. When you're done, I expect thanks, and promises for the future. God help you if your thanks aren't profuse and sincere, and your promises aren't generous. Today's little spanking will seem like a joke, if you make me angry. Remember how hard the last ten spanks were? If I'm not pleased with you, then you'll get several hundred a day, every day, just as hard."

Harold winced at the thought, and his bottom seemed to burn all over again.

Karen lifted both feet off the ground, holding her legs out horizontally. Beverly and Barbara, each holding a jar of peanut butter and a plastic knife, spread it generously over her soles, the entire length, including the bottoms of her toes. Then they put more peanut butter between her toes.

Karen put her left foot down over Harold's mouth, and he began to lick. The women all laughed at him, and Becky taunted him.

"Does it taste better than my sock did? Does it? You're lucky she only wears size 10, my feet are two sizes larger. Lick, lick, lick, Harry-poo."

It took Harold more than half an hour to get all of the peanut butter off, and Karen had to help by moving her foot for him, and allowing him to suck it off her toes. He licked until his tongue hurt, and the gritty dirt mixed with it made the peanut butter taste sour.

"Alright, my left foot is clean now. Good job. Now the right."

Harold had had more than enough peanut butter, but he had no choice. He licked and licked her right sole, the whole length of it, and swallowed as he licked.

"This is a lot of fun," said Karen, "and not just the symbolism of it, which I knew that I would enjoy, having you lick my dirty soles. But the actual sensation. I like the way your soft tongue feels on my soles. It's quite pleasing."

Finally, at 9:30, she pronounced that her right foot was clean. She ordered him to speak. All of the women listened intently, to see if his words would sufficiently please Karen.

"I apologize, most profusely, for ever having said anything uncomplimentary about your lovely feet, Ms. Fletcher. They are extremely beautiful, and it was a very great privilege to be allowed to lick them. Thank you ever so much for allowing me this honor. I am deeply grateful to you. In the future, I will be ever so grateful to be allowed this honor again. I will gladly lick your soles as much as you wish, whenever you wish."

"I'm so glad to hear that, Harry," said Karen, and his face relaxed. "There's just one thing that you left out of your promise, and I'll allow you to add it. You see, I'm going to grant you the honor that you seek. I would like to allow you to lick all of your meals, every single day, off my soles. But I won't be available seven days a week. So, I ask you this, are you willing to add my friends here to your promise? You may speak."

"Certainly, Ms. Fletcher, it will be a great honor to lick the lovely soles of any or all of these women, if you aren't here. I'll gladly do it, three meals a day."

"Excellent, then that's settled," said Karen. "But I'll bet that all that peanut butter has made you very thirsty. Is that so? Just nod."

Harold nodded yes.

"Sit him up so he can drink," she said to the students, and she left the room. Becky and Beverly came forward, and pulled Harry away from under the chair, and then sat him in it.

Karen came back into the room, holding an 8 ounce plastic cup, nearly full with her urine.

"You're going to drink it up, Harry. Each drop that you leave over will be one hundred hard spanks. So drink it all."

She held the glass to his lips, and tilted it as he drank. The other women all hooted and laughed at him. He blushed with humiliation, but drank down all of it.

"As I'm sure you've already guessed, this will be your usual drink at dinner time. It's only my kindness that keeps it from being all that you drink, ever. The seven of us could produce more than enough. You'll drink as much as we wish, each night after your dinner, from as many of us as wish to indulge. Any others tonight?"

All six of the other women were enthusiastic, and went to get more plastic cups. Barbara had just gone to the bathroom, so she drank a large glass of beer, and soon had no trouble filling her cup.

It took quite some time, but Harry drank it all. He was ordered to thank them, one by one, and he did so. If his thanks didn't sound sincere, he was obliged to repeat them. Sarah, Cathy, and Beverly made him repeat his thanks. When they were all satisfied, Karen allowed him to beg for a sip of water, to get the taste of urine out of his mouth. He begged most humbly, and she let him have a half cup.

"You have three keepers now, Harry, because they can all work long hours during the summer. Once classes start, they'll only work twenty hours a week each, so we'll hire at least twelve more. You'll have two keepers with you all of your waking hours, from now on. I'll be in charge, and overseeing your training, even when I'm not personally on duty. I'll cut down to five days a week once I feel that your routine is settled. Sarah will check on your health at least once a week, and come as often as it pleases her to tickle and torment you. Cathy and Alice will also be here whenever it amuses them to torture you. But you'll never lack for keepers. There are hundreds of young women at Distaff College who'll be glad to be paid to torture you. All in line with the College's philosophy of strong independent women. Tomorrow will be a model day for you, Harry, a model of what the rest of your life will be like. As of now, you aren't scheduled for a visit to the punishment room. It would behoove you to behave, and keep it that way. But I do warn you, in one certain way, tomorrow will be worse for you than today was."

Dr. Chang laughed at that, and Harry felt a chill go up his spine.

"Secure him for the night," Karen said to the students.

All three of them carried him to his bedroom. They stripped him naked, and gave him a bath. They put a fresh diaper on him, put him back in the straightjacket, locked him in anklecuffs, and secured him to the bed, tying the D-rings as they had been that morning. They blindfolded him, and, on their way out, tickled his feet with their fingernails.

"Just a tiny good-night tickle," said Beverly. "And remember, tomorrow will be worse."


Sunday, August 3, 2003
------------------------

Harold was awakened at 8am by Beverly and Becky. They untied him from the bed, but left him in his straightjacket, and placed him on the floor. They put a chair over him, so that he would be ready to lick his breakfast from Karen's soles. She came in, barefoot, carrying a bowl of hot oatmeal.

"I do recall how much you hate oatmeal, Harry, so I made a great big bowl for you. I'm going to keep spreading it, and you're going to keep licking it. You can expect oatmeal for your breakfast every day, dear."

She sat down, and used a spoon to spread the hot cereal on her left foot. She put it in place, and he licked and licked. She switched feet whenever he had cleaned off one sole. She ordered him to lick faster, noting that he had better be done with the whole bowl in half an hour, or face a visit to the punishment room.

Harry slurped it down as fast as he could, and met the deadline.

"Get him cleaned up, let him drink water, and put him into the rack," she said, as she left his bedroom.

Barbara came in to help, and the three of them got him out of his bondage and into the shower. He was surprised that they didn't put on a clean diaper afterwards; just the four cuffs.

They carried him into the extreme tickling room, and attached him to the rack securely. They stretched him taut, and tied his toes back. Karen and Sarah came in, and Sarah ordered him to swallow a pill.

"That's Viagra," said Karen. "Today, besides being tickled senseless, you're going to be kept in a constant state of excitement, without ever having a climax. Isn't that amusing?"

Harold wisely recognized that no answer was expected. Alice and Cathy entered the room, and they picked up forks, and took places at his feet. Barbara sat by his left ribs and armpit, and Beverly by his right. Becky went to his collarbones. Sarah, armed with a soft paintbrush, was ready to work on his ears and neck. Karen picked up a basting brush, and held it up in front of his eyes.

"I'm going to stand right by your private parts. Every time you seem to be lagging, I'll stroke you with this, until you're fully erect. Every time you're fully erect, I'll just taunt you that you aren't going to get any satisfaction. OK, it's just 9am. He gets a full three hour session. Let's get going."

The Viagra had begun to do its job, and he was about 3/4 erect. As the others all began to tickle him, Karen stroked his penis softly with the basting brush.

"Tickle, tickle, tickle," said Becky, "all over again, today, Harry-poo. Tickle, tickle, tickle. And we've only begun. Look at you thrash! Tickle, tickle, tickle. And it's so nice to hear your laughter, it's better when you're not gagged. Tickle, tickle, tickle, and then tickle even more. That's what's on today's agenda, Harry-poo."

"Poor baby," said Karen, as she stopped stroking him, "it's as big as it ever gets now. Just under six inches, about average, I suppose. All erect, straight up in the air, with nowhere to go. Nowhere at all, not even into your own hand. Oh, no, Harry, baby, you're going to be quite frustrated indeed."

The women all laughed at him, and continued to tickle him with relish.

"Tickle, tickle, tickle," said Becky, "that's what you're in for, Harry-poo. All morning long. Oh yes, tickle, tickle, tickle it will be. Poor baby, indeed."

Within thirty minutes he was reduced to the jelly state, too weak to struggle, unable to laugh out loud, just quivering under their attentions, and suffering enormously. With Sarah warning them not to let him faint, they kept him in ticklish agony, never allowing him a rest, but never driving him to unconsciousness either.

At 10am, Sarah had him swallow another Viagra. They changed positions then also, so they each got a chance at a different ticklish spot. At first Karen wanted to stay at his groin, but she saw that Becky was eager to tease him in this manner, and she allowed her to take over. Becky delighted in stroking him to a full erection, and taunting him that he would never be allowed to have an orgasm.

It seemed to Harold that he had been in tickle hell for years and years, but it was only two hours, at 11am, when they had him swallow a third Viagra, and moved to new places around his body.

"How amusing," said Sarah, now working on his collarbones. "His eyes are unfocused. He's conscious, but not really with us. He's drooling, even though he's not gagged. I wonder if it really is possible to tickle somebody insane."

"We have years and years to find out," said Karen, "and I intend to enjoy every minute of it."

"Absolutely," said Alice, "and he richly deserves it."

"This is so cool," said Becky. "All of the women in Tau Kappa Lambda will want to get these jobs, as his keepers."

"I'm sure we'll have a waiting list," said Sarah, "but we will give priority to the members of your sorority. Over the years, they become our most loyal and generous alumnae."
They all grinned with joy, as they continued to tickle and tickle Harry, who lay mute and drooling on the rack.

------------------------

When Karen announced that it was noon, they reluctantly stopped.

"Get him ready for his lunch, in my bedroom," said Karen, "I'll be there at 1pm, after I've eaten my own."

While the three students got him cleaned up and into a diaper and his straightjacket, the older women all went to have their lunch. Barbara and Becky carried him into Karen's room, and put him under the chair in preparation. His eyes were focused again, he seemed to be breathing normally, and was no longer drooling. They checked that his anklecuffs were securely locked to each other, and tied his legs together above and below his knees.

When Karen came in, they went off to the kitchen to eat.

"I've taken your lunch, a ham and cheese sandwich with lettuce and mustard, and put it through the blender, so its all mush now. Everything you eat has to be in lickable form."

She sat down and spread the mush on her left sole. Soon he was licking with long strokes, and swallowing it, dirt and all. Karen apparently went barefoot all the time now, and her soles were filthy again. He soon had both spotlessly clean, licked thoroughly from heel to toe.

Karen removed the chair, and got a baby bottle, complete with plastic nipple, full of milk.

"I clearly recall that you don't like milk, dear, and I'm sorry that I didn't remember to bring the bottle full of milk to your breakfast. But milk from a baby's bottle is what you'll get from now on, at breakfast and at lunch."

She stuck another Viagra in his mouth, and then the nipple. She held the bottle as he drank it all down. Then she felt his genitals through the diaper.

"Good," she said, "you're fully erect again. And you're now going to satisfy me, three times I think, at least three, without any satisfaction for yourself. None at all, poor baby."

Karen put on her favorite radio station, and adjusted the volume of the music. The she stripped off all of her clothes, and lowered herself right onto his face, leaving him lying on the floor.

"Go to it," she commanded, "and just presume that I want you to continue forever. I'll let you know when to stop."

Once again excited by the morning of torturing him, she was quite lubricated already when he started to lick. Her first climax came in just ten minutes. With her instructions in mind, Harold ignored the liquid all over his face, and kept right on licking.

Karen had closed her eyes, and was pressing herself into his face in rhythm with the music. As time went by, her excitement built, and she spoke to him.

"You're doing alright, Harry, I'm going to train you into the model husband yet. Isn't that ironic? You're officially hired as a trainer, but you're the one being trained. Nice job, baby, we might have stayed married if you had done this six years ago. Oh, nice. Oh, very good, very good, almost, yes, it's near, yes, Yes YES YES!!! ... Oh, fine, keep going, that was only two, keep it up. Oh, that was fine."

Fully sated, Karen felt that it would be quite a long time before she had a third climax, if at all. But there was plenty of time, her watch showed only 2:40pm, and Harry was in no position to complain, even if it took until dinner time.

She concentrated on how utterly helpless he was, how completely under her control, how powerless, and how amusing it would be to torment him, day after day. She began to think that maybe seven days a week would be fine indefinitely, as long as it was this much fun. She began to get excited all over again.

----------------------------------

By 5:30pm, Karen had had her fifth orgasm, and, in lieu of telling Harry to stop, she just got up and left him lying there, his tongue sore, and his jaw aching.

She showered and dressed, and went to join the other women in the living room. Sarah and Cathy had gone back to the mainland, and only the students and Alice were there. Alice smiled at her contented look.

"Well, he seems to be doing a good job at something," she said.

"Yes," said Karen, "he is trainable."

They all laughed.

"Please wipe off his face, and get him out here for his dinner," she added, to the students.
The three of them went to her bedroom, got his face clean, and brought him out. Alice went to get coffee for herself, and beers for the students. They intended to make up for the two absent women.

Karen applied the peanut butter herself, and kept the jar and plastic knife right by her. As he licked and licked, with long strokes and tongue fully extended, the students drank their beers, and went to get more.

"All this beer is for you, Harry-poo," said Becky, "and should I get you a beer, or more coffee, Ms. Hansen?"

"More coffee would be fine, Becky, and a bottle of water, too."

When Karen decreed that Harry had licked her soles well enough, she went to the kitchen and came back with a large pitcher.

"We'll consolidate it, so he can see how much he has to drink. It will add to his misery."

They all laughed. Karen went into the bathroom first, and left the pitcher in there. The others went in, one at a time, and added their contributions. The beer and coffee had worked wonders; the look on Harry's face, when he saw the pitcher more than half full, was priceless.

Becky and Beverly hoisted him up into a chair, and Becky asked if she could help in making him drink it. Karen generously let her, and they took turns pouring out glasses for him and holding them to his lips as he drank.

At last Harold managed to drink it all. No sooner had he finished, then Karen spoke of his next torture.

"Get him onto the rack now, please. Harry, we're going to have our own dinners in shifts, so that you can have a full four hours of extreme tickle torture before bedtime. Isn't that nice of us, to forgo eating together just so we can give you extra attention? We do spoil you, dear."

As Karen went to eat dinner first, Barbara, Becky, and Beverly carried him into the room with the rack, and Alice got the bottle of Viagra ready. Working together, they had him stretched out, erect and frustrated, and under tickle torture, in fifteen minutes flat.

By the time Karen came back from eating, he was already in the jelly state, quivering futilely, red in the face, tears coming down his cheeks, unable to laugh out loud. she took over stroking his penis, relieving Alice, who then went to eat. She taunted him when it was fully erect again.

"You gave me five orgasms today, dear, and you'll be getting none. Just a lot of frustrated longing. At first, I thought that one year of this would be enough, the same length of time that we were married. I thought I might let you gratify yourself a year from now. But no, now that I see what fun it is to tease you, to tease you and deny you, I think that it will be permanent. You in for lifelong celibacy, dear. But you'll keep me very well satisfied, or face the punishment room. I think I can count on the sisters of Tau Kappa Lambda to be as vigilant as I am, to make sure that you'll never be allowed a waking climax."

They all laughed at this, and tickled him even more intently.

By the time Alice came back from her dinner, he was in a stupor again. Eyes unfocused, drooling, and twitching futilely, trying to avoid the maddening tickling, which went on, and on, and on.

-------------------------------------------------------

At midnight, after Barbara and Becky had secured him to his bed in his straightjacket, Karen came over to say a few words before allowing him to sleep. He was alert again, and listening to her.

"Remember what I told you, dear, about today being a model for the rest of your life? That's just what it was, dear, that's just what it was."

As she left the room, she could hear him thrashing uselessly in his bondage.

-the end-

fantastic but cruel story..... poor him... ahh revenge can be so sweet.

isabeau

wow another awsome story, not a spanking fan but love the way thay tied his toes to tickle tprture his feet............... excalent

Great story, LOVE the foot worship parts. The denial too.