• The TMF is sponsored by Clips4sale - By supporting them, you're supporting us.
  • >>> If you cannot get into your account email me at [email protected] <<<
    Don't forget to include your username

The TMF is sponsored by:

Clips4Sale Banner

The Nylon Dungeon: Betty Lynn

MTJpub

Verified
Joined
Apr 16, 2001
Messages
7,159
Points
38
The Nylon Dungeon: Betty Lynn
By XODLIRV

Betty Lynn awoke slowly, still groggy. She did not know where she was. She tried to remember what had happened to her. The last thing she remembered was leaving the TV studios, and walking across the darkened parking lot to her car. Then she remembered. Someone had come up behind her as she was unlocking her car, grabbed her, put something over her face...and then nothing. She must have been drugged, chloroformed! Where was she now?

She tried to move, but found she could not. She could not raise her arms, which lay at her sides, or move her legs. She was lying at an angle, as though in a reclining chair. She looked down at herself. She was still wearing the black dress and gray hose she had worn in the studio that day; she could not see her feet, but she could tell they still wore the black pumps she had worn with the outfit. She was lying on some kind of wooden contraption, inclined like a reclining chair, and plushy upholstered; her confinement was not in the least uncomfortable. Her wrists were locked to the sides of the contraption by little wooden stocks. Her legs vanished into a wooden board at the ankles; obviously a larger stocks, trapping her feet. Betty Lynn looked around her, her terror mounting. The room was not large. There were two other such restraining devices in the room, one on either side of her; they were unoccupied at present. The devices were on elevated platforms, so that a person standing in front of them would be at roughly chest-level with her imprisoned feet.

Betty Lynn rotated her feet as much as the stocks would allow. They were the most uncomfortable part of her. She had been in her shoes all day, and longed to remove them; she hated the confines of the attractive pumps she wore on the air. What was she doing here? Was she being held for ransom?

Just then, the door to the strange room opened. A man entered, a man apparently in his early thirties, with brown hair and glasses. He smiled at Betty Lynn as he closed the door behind him.

"Good evening, Miss Rau," he said politely. "I'm glad you're awake. You've been sleeping so long, we were beginning to worry."

"Who are you?" Betty Lynn demanded, showing as little fear as possible. "Where am I?"

"Who I am is not important," the man said, "but where you are is. This is the Nylon Dungeon, your new home."

"The what? You're crazy! Let me go!"

"I'm sorry, but that is not an option," the man said, walking closer to Betty Lynn. "You see, you have been selected to join the inmates of the Nylon Dungeon. A select group, one you should feel privileged to have been selected for. It's very rare that we take a celebrity such as yourself--the complications of doing this are obvious--but you have been teasing us for so long, we couldn't resist any longer."

"What the Hell are you talking about? Teasing you?" Betty Lynn did not understand.

"Slipping out of your shoes on the air whenever you could," the man explained. "Showing us the briefest glimpse of your stocking feet. Making us wonder how those feet would feel in our hands...how you would react. What it would be like to...tickle them."

Betty Lynn gasped audibly. Was this man serious? She had been kidnapped and brought here, so that he could tickle her stocking feet?

"In fact, so many of the organizers of the Nylon Dungeon have wanted to get their hands on your stocking feet for so long," the man said, as his fingers grasped the heel of Betty Lynn's right pump, "we had to use a lottery system to determine who would have the honor of going first. I, obviously, was the lucky winner." And with one swift motion, he plucked the shoe from Betty Lynn's foot. The aroma of nylon and female flesh filled the air; Betty Lynn felt the cool air on her stockinged toes.

"Oh no," she heard herself plead. "Please, mister, don't do this! I--I can get you money! Lots of money!"

"What would I buy with it, that's sweeter than this?" the man asked, lazily drawing a finger up the bottom of Betty Lynn's nylon-covered foot.

"EEK!" Betty Lynn squealed. She was impossibly ticklish; the slightest touch on her stocking feet was enough to make her scream. "No! Stop! Please!"

But the man had no intention of stopping. His fingers ran lazily up and down her stocking foot. Betty Lynn's foot wiggled and jerked as much as the confining stocks allowed, in a desperate attempt to escape the tickling fingers. But it was no use. Her lipstick mouth was a wide-open O as laughter flowed from it. Her blonde hair became matted with sweat.

Her torturer varied his attack. He gently scratched under the balls of her foot with just his index finger; he furiously scrabbled all his fingers across her arch; he made tiny circles on the pads of her toes. Each touch seemed more ticklish than the one before it. Tears, mixed with mascara, ran down Betty Lynn's pretty face. She could not even plead for mercy anymore, the laughter came from her with such force.

Finally the man stopped tickling her right foot, and her laughter subsided to gasping sobs. But terror shot through her like lightning as she felt her left shoe being removed!

"Oh no! Not that foot too! Please, I can't stand any more--AAHH!" Betty Lynn's plea turned to screams as she felt the man's fingertips gently squeezing her toes, "piggy" them as though she were a little girl. She couldn't stand that! After the tiniest toe had been squeezed, the man grasped all five toes and bent them slightly back, stretching out the sole of her foot. He then began running the fingernails of his free hand up and down them, slowly at first but faster and faster with each stroke. Betty Lynn's screams of laughter filled the room, echoing off the walls.

After what seemed like hours of this torture, but was actually only fifteen minutes, the man stopped. Betty Lynn gasped for breath. She looked up at her tormentor, her face stained with her dark tears, and begged for mercy.

"Please, don't tickle me any more! I beg you! I'll do anything you want! Just no more tickling! I can't take it!"

"Be patient, Miss Rau," the man said. "You'll have a rest soon enough." He turned his gaze to the door. "You can come in now, Ann."

Betty Lynn watched as the door opened. A young woman, a blonde in her mid-twenties, walked in, closing the door behind her. Betty Lynn gaped in astonishment. This young woman wore thigh-high stockings, a taupe brown-and nothing else. The expression on her face was hard to read; resignation? Acceptance of a situation she could not change?

"Miss Rau, this is Ann, one of your fellow inmates here at the Nylon Dungeon. She has agreed to provide-a certain service for me while I tickle your feet, in exchange for one day's freedom from being in your position."

Betty Lynn watched as Ann sat down on the floor, next to the wooden contraption which held her prisoner. She could not see her tormentor below his stomach, but she saw the motions of his arms and heard a zipper being undone.

"Are you ready, Ann?" the torturer asked. The blonde woman said nothing; simply nodded. Betty Lynn saw her lean back on her elbows, and raise her legs in the air, her stocking feet towards the man. She realized what must be going on; the woman was going to masturbate the man with her stocking feet, while he tickled her!

Her shock must have shown on Betty Lynn's face, for the man chuckled. "Don't look so surprised, Miss Rau. It won't be long before you're willing to do this, and much more, just to escape being tickled for a day." And with that, his fingertips began scrabbling all over the bottoms of her stocking feet. All five fingers on each sole, rapidly moving across their entire surfaces like hyperactive spiders. Betty Lynn howled in laughter, and struggled as much as her bonds allowed. She glanced down at Ann, and saw her legs pumping back and forth. Her torturer was now focusing on her toes, tickling their undersides, their tops, in between them. Betty Lynn shrieked loudly. The tickling torture went on for long minutes, until she barely heard the man groan over her own peals of laughter. Ann's legs ceased pumping.

"Oh, my," the man said, zipping up. "That was even better than I imagined!" He reached out and patted the top of Betty Lynn's right foot, lovingly. "Thank you for the pleasure you gave me, Miss Rau. You don't know how long I waited for it."

Betty Lynn was gasping for breath. "Are...are you going to let me go, now?" she asked, hopefully.

"Oh, heavens, no," the man smiled. "I told you, you will be an inmate of the Nylon Dungeon for the rest of your days. But you will be given a short rest now."

"Rest?" Betty Lynn whimpered.

"Certainly. Remember, I said I won the honor of going first with you. First. The next will be in in about twenty minutes."

"NO!" Betty Lynn shrieked, as she watched the man leave the room. She lay there in the wooden restraining device, sobbing, knowing the horrible torture would begin again all too soon.

THE END
 
Nylon Dungeon:Betty Lynn

After watching youtube,I thought of this story & had to ask ,was the main character inspired by Debbie Flint,who frequently shows off her pretty stocking feet on a British Home Shopping channel?
 
What's New

3/28/2024
Stop by the TMF Welcome Forum and take a second to say hello!
Tickle Experiment
Door 44
NEST 2024
Register here
The world's largest online clip store
Live Camgirls!
Live Camgirls
Streaming Videos
Pic of the Week
Pic of the Week
Congratulations to
*** brad1701 ***
The winner of our weekly Trivia, held every Sunday night at 11PM EST in our Chat Room
Back
Top