Kelley violently yanked on her bonds when she felt the first touches. On her nyloned soles, five fingertips each started to rake up and down over her taut arches. Her ribs alos exploded with sensation as a pair of claw-hands dug into her flesh. She shrieked into her ballgag and writhed (though the bonds provided very little wiggle-room). Never before had she been so helpless.
Her fists clenched and unclenched as the fingers cruelly explored her flesh. Up and down her ribs, all over her soles, across her belly, stroking her underarms, scratching the balls of her feet…she wondered just what it was that she had gotten herself into. The fingertips tortured her skin and nyloned feet, and try as she might, she knew there was no escape.
She could hear nothing, see nothing, say nothing. This was what she asked for…but she was going to get a lot more than that.
One and Two grinned at each other and worked their torture victim over.
“So how long should we work this way?” Two asked of One.
“I figure an hour or so will get her broken in well enough. She seems to have a fairly strong will..” he said as he dug his fingers into her underarm, eliciting a muffle scream from behind her gag, “…so I think we can really take poor Kelley here for the full ride.”
“Good call,” Two said, as his fingertips pressed against the woman’s stocking-clad heels and raked down to the balls of her feet. The woman’s leg muscles spasmed, but she didn’t move at all.
So for the next hour, Kelley’s senses were viciously assaulted by twenty wicked fingertips, and she was so utterly helpless to stop them. At first it was limited to her feet, ribs, underarms, and belly, but soon, she felt the upper body fingertips roaming along the flesh of her breasts. She squealed like a little schoolgirl, and her breasts jiggled at the tickly touch. Soon she felt fingernails lightly scratching her nipples, and with a few minutes of that she could also feel her own love juices dripping down her left thigh. She craved release like nothing else.
As if sensing this, her captors started her erotic torture. It had been over an hour already, oh how fast time flies when fun is had.
One said to Two, “I will go get a couple of feather, you keep working those sexy little feet of hers.”
“Gladly!” Two said. With renewed vigor his fingers flew over the woman’s soles and she screamed with gagged laughter, breathing heavily through her nose. Her blindfold was not able to hold back her tears of laughter, and they slid down over her cheeks.
After a moment, One returned to the table. In each hand, he held a long, stiff, red feather. He said nothing, knowing that Two was aware of this plan: he had seen it time and time again.
If not for the blindfold, One would have seen his victim’s eyes go wide when she felt the tendrils of the feathers gliding over her stiff, puckered nipples. Her breath caught and she tried to squeal in delight, but the torturous ticking of her nyloned, pinkening soles made her unable. Instead, no noise came from her for a long moment as her breath was caught, and she wiggled in her bonds as her feet and nipples were tickled.
She knew that this was going to be too much. Within minutes she was willing to do anything for an orgasm, and for a moment, she thought her wishes were going to be granted. She felt one of the feathers leave her chest and she felt it’s return between her legs. She knew she was shamefully soaked, and the feathers were torture on her spread lips. The stiff, teasing tendrils tickled like nothing else, too, and she lapsed into silent, uncontrollable laughter. Meanwhile, Two had pulled on gloves with long, sharp, fake fingernails attached to them, and was raking these up and down the girl’s immobile, over-sensitized feet. So desperate was she that she literally would have become their slave for life, if only they’d allow her an orgasm. But no, instead, unable to do anything, she clenched her fists and cried heavily into her gag as her torture continued, the feather gliding over her clit hood and inner pussy lips, the fake nails sliding over her stockinged soles. After the second hour of torture, Kelley’s blindfold was soaked with her own tears of laughter and desperation, and the inner thighs of her nylons were mostly moist too, from her dripping juices.
One looked at the clock. Three hours left. He grinned at Two, and they nodded in tacit agreement: time to bring out the big guns.
To Be Continued….
Her fists clenched and unclenched as the fingers cruelly explored her flesh. Up and down her ribs, all over her soles, across her belly, stroking her underarms, scratching the balls of her feet…she wondered just what it was that she had gotten herself into. The fingertips tortured her skin and nyloned feet, and try as she might, she knew there was no escape.
She could hear nothing, see nothing, say nothing. This was what she asked for…but she was going to get a lot more than that.
One and Two grinned at each other and worked their torture victim over.
“So how long should we work this way?” Two asked of One.
“I figure an hour or so will get her broken in well enough. She seems to have a fairly strong will..” he said as he dug his fingers into her underarm, eliciting a muffle scream from behind her gag, “…so I think we can really take poor Kelley here for the full ride.”
“Good call,” Two said, as his fingertips pressed against the woman’s stocking-clad heels and raked down to the balls of her feet. The woman’s leg muscles spasmed, but she didn’t move at all.
So for the next hour, Kelley’s senses were viciously assaulted by twenty wicked fingertips, and she was so utterly helpless to stop them. At first it was limited to her feet, ribs, underarms, and belly, but soon, she felt the upper body fingertips roaming along the flesh of her breasts. She squealed like a little schoolgirl, and her breasts jiggled at the tickly touch. Soon she felt fingernails lightly scratching her nipples, and with a few minutes of that she could also feel her own love juices dripping down her left thigh. She craved release like nothing else.
As if sensing this, her captors started her erotic torture. It had been over an hour already, oh how fast time flies when fun is had.
One said to Two, “I will go get a couple of feather, you keep working those sexy little feet of hers.”
“Gladly!” Two said. With renewed vigor his fingers flew over the woman’s soles and she screamed with gagged laughter, breathing heavily through her nose. Her blindfold was not able to hold back her tears of laughter, and they slid down over her cheeks.
After a moment, One returned to the table. In each hand, he held a long, stiff, red feather. He said nothing, knowing that Two was aware of this plan: he had seen it time and time again.
If not for the blindfold, One would have seen his victim’s eyes go wide when she felt the tendrils of the feathers gliding over her stiff, puckered nipples. Her breath caught and she tried to squeal in delight, but the torturous ticking of her nyloned, pinkening soles made her unable. Instead, no noise came from her for a long moment as her breath was caught, and she wiggled in her bonds as her feet and nipples were tickled.
She knew that this was going to be too much. Within minutes she was willing to do anything for an orgasm, and for a moment, she thought her wishes were going to be granted. She felt one of the feathers leave her chest and she felt it’s return between her legs. She knew she was shamefully soaked, and the feathers were torture on her spread lips. The stiff, teasing tendrils tickled like nothing else, too, and she lapsed into silent, uncontrollable laughter. Meanwhile, Two had pulled on gloves with long, sharp, fake fingernails attached to them, and was raking these up and down the girl’s immobile, over-sensitized feet. So desperate was she that she literally would have become their slave for life, if only they’d allow her an orgasm. But no, instead, unable to do anything, she clenched her fists and cried heavily into her gag as her torture continued, the feather gliding over her clit hood and inner pussy lips, the fake nails sliding over her stockinged soles. After the second hour of torture, Kelley’s blindfold was soaked with her own tears of laughter and desperation, and the inner thighs of her nylons were mostly moist too, from her dripping juices.
One looked at the clock. Three hours left. He grinned at Two, and they nodded in tacit agreement: time to bring out the big guns.
To Be Continued….
