Headsnap
1st Level Orange Feather
- Joined
- Jun 28, 2004
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Well, here it is. After moons of lurking and leering at other people's work, I've decided to actually get my head straight and contribute something of my own. It's the first tickling story I've written, so if you're going to post feedback or whatever then be gentle, or I might cry.
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A cheer went up from the assembled scumbags as the glasses were placed before the contestants. Each one got three; one for drinking, one for filling up, and one reserve in case they were drinking faster than the barstaff could fill the glasses. After the barmaid had put down Leona's third glass, Bastian snatched it away.
"You won't need this", he said with a sneer, "Spares is only for the REAL drinkers." A roar of laughter went up as Bastian threw the glass against the wall. However, not to be outdone, Leona decided to score a few points for herself. She grabbed both of Bastian's spare glasses, cocked her head to one side and raised an eyebrow.
"In that case, you DEFINITELY won't be needing these", she said sarcastically, dropping the glasses to the floor and smashing both with the sole of her boot. The crowd were stunned into silence for a second, but then a cheer of approval went up around the room. The girl had some pluck, you had to give her that; Bastian, however, was furious. He gritted his teeth and slammed his hand on the bar, which silenced the bikers immediately.
"Bring us more glasses", he growled. The bar staff immediately obliged. This time, as Leona's glasses were set on the bar, Bastain grabbed all of them. He held the first one up as though making a toast.
"This one, is for your health". He grocked a horrendous wad of phleghm into his throat, rolled it around in his mouth for a second or two, and then spat it into the glass. The thick, disgusting phleghm filled the glass half way, and Bastain swilled it around a bit before dumping it out and then placing the glass back on the bar.
"This one is for your wealth", he said as he drove his little finger into his ear, swirled it around and removed it. It was covered in a thick layer of wax, which, when Leona saw it, made her baulk. Bastian smiled politely, and then rubbed the earwax all around the inside of the glass. Leona almost vomited as he slammed it back onto the bar and slid it to her, managing to get it to stop right in front of her disgusted eyes. Finally, he held up the third glass.
"And this....this one, is for your happiness!" A huge childish grin broke across his bearded face as he stood up, glass in hand, and opened up his fly. He reached in with his free hand and pulled out his thick, flaccid, purple penis. He rolled the glass between his fingers and nodded at Leona, who half turned away in revulsion as he placed the glass over the end of his dick and twirled it around, as though chalking a pool cue. Leona leaned on her hand and shook her head, and, after Bastian was fully satisfied with his handywork, he put his dick away and slid the final glass towards Leona. The mess he'd made of this glass was indescribable; Leona took one look and couldn't set eyes near it again.
"No fair!", she said, "That's disgusting!! I can't drink out of these now!!! I want new glasses!!"
"Nein!!" yelled the bartender, "Das glass is de last vuns ve haf!! Now, fillenzie uppen!!" The busty barmaid did as she was instructed, tipping a fair slug of jagermeister into each of Bastian's glasses. She then walked to Leona and, with an apologetic look on her face, poured her drinks. Leona pushed them away.
"I am NOT drinking this!!" she yelled, "Not out of these glasses!! I want new ones; CLEAN ones!!"
"I hef said nein!!! Das minuten starts.......NOW!!!"
The clock began ticking, and Bastian slammed al three glasses so fast that the barmaid was struggling to keep up, even with three glasses. Leona was still screaming at the barman to bring her new glasses as Bastian slammed number four, five, then six, and as the clock hit thirty seconds, the score was fifteen nil to Bastain.
"Give me a new glass otherwise the bet's off!!", Leona screamed, to yet more refusals by the barstaff. The barman simply yelled NEIN!! every time she asked, and the barmaid, who looked sympathetic, was nonetheless unable to help her out for fear of retribution. Bastain, seeing that Leona was unwilling to drink out of the glasses and was too preoccupied arguing with the barstaff to notice the timer, decided to slow the pace. He took glass number one in his hand and rolled it under his nose like a wine taster, pretending to savour the horrid smell of the dirty German spirit before tipping the glass to his lips and sipping it off, pinky raised, as though he were at a dinner party. The second glass he drank in one gulp, swirling it around his mouth for a little while before swallowing it. As he did, he placed the glass back on the bar and turned to the room.
"Fantastic bouquet, scintilating aroma, and a fuckin' disgusting flavour; just the way I like it!", he yelled, to roars of laughter. Leona was still trying to cajole a new glass out of the barstaff, and as she made her tenth attempt, there was a shrill bleeping sound as the minute ran out.
"That's it, time is finish!", yelled the barman. "Bastian vins, seventeen to none!!" Bastain slammed the last drink in his third glass, then turned to his followers and punched the air in triumph. The bikers were ecstatic, and as they celebrated, Leona decided that now would be a good time to do a bit of running. She leapt from her stool, grabbed it, and crashed it into the skull of the portly biker who was assigned to stop her escaping with a vicious blow to the head. The unfortunate Angel went down like a sack of potatoes, and before anyone could react, Leona had leapt from a standing start and cleared the bar and was accelerating towards the door to the back room. However, she had gotten about three feet when she felt a heavy, vice-like grip around her left arm; she tried to run against it, but the grip was too strong. She grabbed a bottle of liquor from the gantry and swung it wildly at the head of the man who'd grabbed her, but the man, drunk as he was, somehow managed to duck the blow. Before she could catch him with the backswing, the bartender nad grabbed her arm and wrestled the bottle from her grasp. It then degenerated into a free-for all, with bikers and bitches leaping over the bar to try and restrain the mad woman and she bit, kicked and swore at anyone and anything within her range. After a few seconds, Leona found herself pinned to the floor, held fast by the muscular arms of at least seven Hell's Angels. She struggled in vain to free herself, but found herself completely unable to move. She was, however, able to swear, spit and bite, and, as Bastian knelt next to her and stared triumphantly into her face, this is exactly what she did.
"You fucking pig, let go of me!! Get your stinking Nazi kraut hands off-a me!! Let me go, before I cut your dick off and serve it up for breakfast!!" Bastian smiled in approval.
"Feisty, fearsome, and totally helpless; just the way I like 'em." he said with a wry smile, before standing up and turning to the bikers.
"Enough business; time for some fun!! Bring out The Chair!!!"
As Bastian spoke and the bikers cheered, a thousand horrible thoughts ran through Leona's mind, however before she could dwell on them, Bastian's voice rang out again.
"On the bar!! Schnell!!"
The bikers hoisted Leona from the floor and plonked her onto the bar, holding her arms and legs to keep her still. She craned and cricked her neck to try and get a look at the Chair, however, Bastain approached her as she did.
"Don't worry", he whispered, "You'll find out what it is soon enough." With that, he took a dirty bandana from his pocket and tied it around her eyes. Leona tired frantically to stop him from blindfolding her, and at one point she managed to sink her teeth into his hand; however, Bastian simply laughed and tapped his head.
"No sense, no feeling, meine liebling." he said with a chuckle. "Okay, take her to the wall!"
Leona felt herself hoisted onto the bikers' shoulders as they picked her up and carried her over to the wall. There, dangling behind a pinball machine, were a pair of shackles suspended from the ceiling by thick chains. As they approached, Bastian dragged the pinball machine away with one hand, and the bikers dropped Leona onto her feet, shackling her quickly to prevent her from trying to escape again. Bastian laughed as he watched her struggle and curse.
"Whatever you sick fucks are going to do to me, you should know I know people!!", she yelled, still convinced she could scare the bikers into submission. "I know a helluva lot of people!!"
"Really??", quipped Bastian, "Me too!! Put the bar on." One of the bikers grabbed a long, thin iron bar from the corner of the room, which he then fitted to the shackles. When he was finished, Leona's arms were suspended over her head, and the bar kept them apart. She struggled some more and started kicking wildly.
"None of you better be near me, otherwise you're gonna catch it bad in th balls!!" She swung her legs wildly, and as she did the bikers laughed. She looked like a little marionette, except a lot sexier and dressed in leather, as she dangled from the chains and flailed her free limbs about in a vain and somewhat comical attemtp to hit someone, anyone. Bastian shook his head.
"Careful, gorgeous; you'll take out someone's eye with those heels! Put her in the Chair before she hurts someone." Two of the bikers ran to the back room and emerged a few seconds later pushing an odd contraption in front of them. It was a long table, fitted at one end with a pair of medieval stocks with holes of each ankle set about a foot apart. Between them was another larger hole, meant to accomodate both ankles at once, and on the top above this hole were a set of eleven eylets, each one with a length of string attached to it. As the Chair was wheeled towards Leona, two bikers lifted her off the floor and straightened her legs out. As the did, she screamed and volleyed one square on the nose; he yelped like a puppy and fell to the floor, cursing in German and crying like a baby as blood poured from his nose. The remaining bikers fell about laughing as Leona was seated on the table and her legs were pulled forward. bastain himself came forward and produced a gold key from his pocket, before kneeling next to the stocks and unlocking them, As he did, the bikers cheered, and Bastian helped his comrade to put Leona's ankles into the outer holes of the stocks.. As she felt the top close, realisation hit Leona.
"Is this...."
"Yes!" exclaimed Bastian, "It is! the world famous, one and only, Munich Mangler's Initiation Chair!!" A lump rose in Leona's throat, but Bastian wasn't finished yet.
"Now, fetch me the Table!" A biker ran to the back and came out wheeling a small doctor's table in front of her, a gleeful grin on his face. Bastian took the table off him, wheeled it over to Leona, and stood next to his prisoner.
"Every woman who wants to join the Munich Manglers has at one time seated in this Chair", he said, sounding oddly like a museum guide showing off an exhibit. "It is an age old tradition steeped in history. It dates from the last time Bayern won the European Cup, when Karl here was attractive; so it wasn't yesterday we started doing this." The bikers laughed. "The proposition of The Chair is simple; sit still and stay silent for as long as you can, and you're in. Or, in your case, out." He pulled the blindfold off Leona's eyes for a second, and directed her attention to the table.
"However, simple as it sounds, it isn't quite that easy......" The barmaid and all the other women in the room watched and winced with pity as Bastian threw off the cover. Leona was somewhat bemused as she looked at the items on the table; a long, soft ostrich feather, a stiff gull's feather, a ballpoint pen, an eletrical device for lighting gas cookers, a small plastic device with the word "Vibro" printed on it, a bottle of tanning oil, a wooden spoon, and a large clay pot with a shaving brush in it. Bastian saw the puzzled look on Leona's face, before yanking her blindfold back down.
"Standing in the way of you and your goal are the objects on this table. Them, and a room full of sadistic, depraved bikers who have been aching to see a pretty girl like yourself in the Chair for a long time now." He walked to the stocks and ran his hand over Leona's biker boots. "I assume you have some idea what's going to happen now?"
"Yeah", said Leona, "You're gonna walk around like an idiot and talk crap until I die of boredom." Bastian chuckled and pulled a knife from his pocket. Leona heard it click, and started to sweat just a little.
"No;", said Bastian, deftly cutting the laces on her boots, "We're gonna tickle your feet!!" As the words left his mouth and the bikers cheered, Leona almost laughed at the absolute, incomprehensible absurdity of what Bastian had just said. Here she was, held captive by men who would most probably shoot their own mothers if they looked at them the wrong way, in the roughest bar in the roughest part of supposedly the toughest city in Germany, and yet the worst thing that these sadists could think to do to her was to tickle her a bit. She didn't like it, she'd rather not have had these perverts touching her at all, but in light of her predicament, there were probably far worse things that could happen to her. Yeah it was unpleasant, but there were far worse things they could be doing to her than tickling her feet. She wasn't even that ticklish.
"Okay....", she said, still struggling to comprehend what was going on. As she shook her head and smirked in disbelief, Bastian yanked her shoes off, exposing her pretty little feet to the room. Her feet were extremely cute; tiny little size threes, with soft, fleshy soles and plump little toes, which Leona wiggled as the cold air from the ceiling fan hit them. The soles of her feet were extremely pretty, uncalloused, soft and silky, and bone-china white, which contrasted with the dark midnight blue nail polish which had been neatly applied to her toenails. She rolled her feet around a bit in the holes in the stocks, seemingly impatient to get her "trial" started. The sight of this unbearably cute girl with these unbearably cute little feet all tied up and ready for him was almost too much for Bastian, and after watching her wiggle her feet for a few seconds, he pulled up a chair and sat down in front of them, rubbing his hands with glee.
"Ladies and gentlemen, the doctor is in. Let's begin, shall we?"
Hie picked up the ostrich feather from the table, and as he did so the bikers and babes started clamouring for position as Bastian brought the feather down on Leona's left foot. He started at the base of her big toe and dragged it slowly along the soft, tender skin of her arch, down to the heel and then back up again. Leona giggled a little bit as the feather stroked her foot, however the contact was too soft to cause any real tickling sensations. It was, in fact, quite pleasant, however after a few passes she found herself instinctively flicking her ankle to get her pretty little foot away from the feather. Bastian sat upright and stopped tickling her.
"Oooh, strike one", he said gruffly.
"What?"
"I said before, you have to sit still and keep quiet." Bastian replied, "And you just moved and giggled. You have one more chance; move again, and you're gonna wish you hadn't."
"No way!!", Leona shouted, "That's not fair! You can't possibly expect me to stay stock still and not laugh while you're tickling me!!"
"That's the test, though", he said, "If you're tough enough to do that, you're....well, it don't prove you're tough, but it sure as hell gives us a good laugh watching you!!"
"No, that test sucks!! I.... I can't do that!!!"
"Well, you never know until you try, eh?", said Bastian unsympathetically, before starting up with the feather again. This time, he beckoned two of the biker babes over to help him.
"Greta, hold her still; Ellie, open her up." A smile crept across Ellie's face. Greta's taloned hands closed around Leona's cute little foot, holding it still whilst Ellie gently took hold of her big toe and her little toe, and pulled them apart. Leona felt all of her toes spreading slightly as the German girl pulled them apart, but before she could try to bring them together Bastian repeated his warning.
"Remember, still and silent, otherwise you fail." The bikers murmured and smirked, and Bastian picked the gull feather up from the table. He pondered for a second where to start, and then placed the feather in between her third and fourth toe and began drawing it backwards and forwards over the vulnerable super-sensitive skin, causing Leona to let out a muffled grunt, which had started as a laugh she managed to supress without moving. As the feather sawed between her toes, Leona found her brain beseiged by ticklish sensations, shooting up her leg to her brain. However, even as the stiff feather glid up and down slowly, almost tenderly, between her poor little toes, Leona somehow managed to keep her composure and stay completely still. She pressed her eyes shut, gritted her teeth and tried to blank her mind out. Sweat was pouring from her entire body as Bastian changed it up, drawing the feather slowly between each toe once, moving from her big toe to her little toe and back again at least twenty times as the girls kept their hands and Leona's foot steady. They needn't have bothered, as Leona was doing an admirable job of hiding her almost overwhelming desire to giggle and jerk her foot away. As the electric shocks the feather delivered to her soft, sesitive feet pulsed through her body, she crushed her jaws even harder together and almost bruised her eyelids she was pressing so hard, all the time telling her racing mind that moving would do her no good because she was firmly locked up, that it wouldn't help, it would only make things worse, that she had to keep still, had to. If she could manage it for just another little while, they'd get bored and let her go. Just a few minutes longer.......
Bastian was beginning to get frustrated with Leona. Her feet were soft, cute and obviously well looked after, and usually women with feet like this crack after a few passes. Yet here he was, ten minutes after her first giggle, and she hadn't even so much as twitched a finger. The bikers were beginning to get bored and some had even abandoned all hope of hearing Leona laugh desperately, preferring to play a game of pool or slam some Jagermeister than watch Bastian try and fail to break her. However, Bastian was determined, and, worse still for Leona, he had experience. He knew the telltale signs that Leona was about to crash and burn, and they were all here; she was sweating, her head was shaking ever so slightly, she'd clamped her mouth shut and was breathing heavily. The last ten minutes of keeping still had taken a lot out of her; now all he had to do was throw in a little something different, and she'd be his. He shook his head and waved Greta and Ellie away, then let Leona breathe for a second. As Leona felt the girls release their grip on her foot, she heaved a sigh of relief. For the first time in what seemed like an eternity, she was able to close her toes and, hopefully, protect the horribly ticklish flesh between them from the feather. She heaved in another deep breath, but as she was halfway through drawing it, Bastian launched a devastating attack which took Leona completely by surprise. He turned the feather upside down and, whilst holding the quill, began tracing patterns up and down the sole of her foot with the sharp end, as though writing with a quill. The sheer shock of the point digging into the tender sole of her foot made Leona jump, and she immediately clamped her teeth and eyes shut again. This latest attack was so much worse than the sawing between her toes; Bastain was moving the feather quickly, sending short, sharp shocks to Leona's brain with each flick of his wrist. The sawing between her toes had been bad, but the sensations were fairly light and slow, almost sensuous; what Bastian was doing now was just plain sadistic. Leona felt her leg muscles getting heavier with the strenuous effort of not moving her feet, however the harder she tried, the faster Bastian flicked the feather across the milky white sole, across the ball, then the arch, then her heel, and then all along the length of her foor from the base of her heel to the little ledge beneath her toes. He had started by doing random movements, but as he went on he found he could move the feather faster by repeatedly tracing his signature across the stricken girl's foot. The fact that he was essentially signing her foot as she struggled so hard to keep the torturous sensations he knew she was gfeeling in check gave Bastian a lot of pleasure.
"Hey, you know I've signed your little tootsie about fifty times now?", he taunted, "Does that mean I own it now?" The words didn't register with Leona; who was still desperately trying to keep her composure against the gushing tide of horrendous tickling shocks that the feather was sending through her foot. Bastian watched with glee as she struggled and fought and battled against him, fatigue and her own bodily instincts to keep from moving. She was tough, he had to admire that; and he also had to admit that the longer she kept still, the more he began to enjoy torturing her sweet little sole with this feather. Watching the feather flick across her soft skin while her foot remained motionless was something new to Bastian; normally, they all crack during this particular brand of tickle torture, but Leona had taken it all with a smile. Eventually, his thick, tree-trunk arm got tired, and Bastian decided to give Leona her due.
"Mein gott...", he sighed as he slowly finished his last signature and finished it with a flourish across the ball of her foot, "You are the toughest girl we've ever had in this chair. Cute, courageous and ticklish; If you hadn't smashed up my bar, I'd be in love." He placed the feather down on the table again, and Leona allowed herself another deep breath. "How about a big hand for our little survivor!!" The bikers cheered and hollered, and Leona's brain throbbed. Her jaw was beginning to hurt from clenching her teeth so much, and she found that the blindfold was so damp with the tears and sweat of her superhuman effort to stay still that every time she opened her eyes, she found herself having to close them again to keep the stinging water out. She had no idea how she managed to last through the last round of tickling; it was pure, unadulterated torture from the moment the feather first hit her to the moment Bastian signed off on her. Her poor, tormented little foot still felt as though it was being tickled, and every inch of the skin was throbbing. Indeed, Bastian notice some small red lines appear on the soft white flesh where he had pressed a bit too hard, and he let himself smile a little bit as he saw them gradually appear across the balls and perfect little arches of her soles. Leona herself had an inkling she'd been injured, but she was simply so relieved to be rid of that horrible feather that it was all she could do not to scream out in relief. She had never, ever been tickled like this before; or rather, she may have done, but had repressed the memory, and she began to understand why. The fact that she was ticklish and that this man obviously knew what to do to harrass a ticklish girl's feet was bad enough; but the sheer effort it took to suppress her urges, to stop herself calling out, begging him to stop, was the worst part. If she'd known this was going to happen, she wouldn't have bothered giving herself a pedicure before she came out tonight.
Meanwhile, Bastian was plotting something wicked. After about a minute of silence, he decided Leona had had enough of a rest, and that she'd thwarted his attempts to get her to cry out for long enough. It was time to go to Plan B; something he usually saved for the final punishment after a girl had broken down, but, in this case, something he was probably going to have to do to get any reaction at all out of this brave little spitfire. The bikers and babes had long since abandoned him, and had started going about their nightly business of drinking too much and groping each other. However, one of the bikers spotted Bastian reaching for the little clay pot on the table, and immediately issued a rallying call. No sooner had he done so than the crowd was gathered around Leona and her poor little feet once more. Bastian removed her blindfold and leaned on the top of the stocks to speak to her.
"Okay Leona", said Bastian resignedly, pulling on a pair of surgeon's gloves, "We've worked out you're tough. Christ, every woman who's ever sat in this table got broken in minutes; you've lasted a whole half hour and haven't flinched yet. That's respectable. Plus, you kicked out a couple of my guys and are still alive to tell about it, which is just amazing. So, I've decided to let you go, scot free, with our respect; if, you pass one last little test." After what she'd just suffered through, Leona was ready for just about anything; so when she felt the soft bristles of a shaving brush hurriedly scurrying across her feet, she wasn't particularly concerned. It didn't even tickle that bad; more of a scratching sensation which she easily coped with. She wasn't even particularly bothered when Bastian pulled her toes apart and angrily forced the brush between them, making sure to hit every inch of skin on the bottoms and the tops of her toes as he did so. It hurt a bit, but not much, and as he swiped it all over her foot, along the blades, around the arches and balls and over ther heels, before taking it around and lightly dusting the tops of her feet, Leona was busy making plans for the rest of her evening. However, Bastian and the bikers knew something she didn't; the pot in which the brush had been contained itching powder, an extremely virulent brand which was guaranteed to keep itching unless scrubbed off with ice cold, soapy water. Bastian put the finishing touches to her feet with the brush, making sure he'd covered a good portion of the skin from her ankles to the soles of her feet with powder, and then decided to give her sweet, perfect arches a few more strokes purely for the pleasure as the bikers murmured and leered knowingly.
"That it?", said Leona, "Are you done now?"
"Yep", said Bastian, grinning wryly, "I'd say we're just about finished here."
"So you gonna let me go then?"
"Not yet", said Bastian, "Soon though. All you have to do is sit still and not speak for thirty seconds, and you're out." Leona sighed through boredom. Bastian was now dusting her toes sideways with the brush, enjoying the anticipation of what was to come and even more so having the pretty feet of this pretty girl entirely at his mercy, but Leona decided to just let it ride. However, after a few seconds, the soft scratching of the brush began to get a lot harder. Rather, it didn't get harder, but it seemed to feel harder. The brush seemed to be making her toes itchy; very itchy, in fact. Not just her toes, either; her left foot, all the way down her sole from the tip of her toes to her heel, suddenly felt like it had been pinched all over. Then her right foot began to itch, between her toes at first, and then slowly the unpleasant feeling began to spread to her toes, and down the top of her foot all the way to the ankle. Within seconds, both of her feet began to feel like they were on fire. As he saw Leona's mouth screw up into a grimace, Bastian put the brush down and sat back, folded his arms and admired his handywork. He watched Leona grinding her teeth and puffing and panting, and he beamed.
"So it begins.", he said. Leona was only half listening, but the feeling in her feet was starting to reach very unpleasant heights. Her breathing became heavy and she started to sweat like crazy as the itching powder saoked into her supple skin, and she fought both the horrific itching all over her feet and the enormous desire to scratch them. The torture she was experiencing now was so much worse than the tickling, a million times worse in fact. She tried clenching her teeth and squeezing her eyes shut, but it was no good; her soft, sweet little feet were completely overcome. She wanted so much to wriggle her toes to try and alleviate some of the itching, but knew if she did, the bikers would probably do something much worse to her. She was now getting desperate; her mind was racing as her little toes were prickled by the powder, and all she could do was sit there and let it eat away at her, let it surge and tear through her. After little more than twenty seconds, the itching became totally unbearable.
"Oh my god!!", she shreiked, "What the hell have you done to my feet, you bastard??? Grraaah!!!" She grunted and groaned loudly, thrashing and yanking at her bonds, desperately trying to free her feet and hands so she could end the itching. As she did, a huge cheer went up from the crowd, and Bastian stood up and bowed.
"The magic of the Chair, ladies and gents!", he said motioning towards Leona, who was now frantically screaming and growling, trying with all her might to free herself from the stocks and chains, all so she could scratch her feet. She was pulling and pushing and struggling so much that Bastian was afraid she might injure her feet; something he didn't want until he'd had his fun with them, and so he placed a specially shaped pillow between her feet and the stocks to keep her from banging them. She screamed and growled and gasped and roared in inhuman torment as the itching got worse and worse; and this was how Bastian left her, thrashing and screaming like a banshee caged, to go and watch Bayern play Dortmund.
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Two hours later Bastian returned to the bar-room. Everyone had left, and only a few of the younger prospects and their women remained. The barmaid looked at him disdainfully as he entered the room.
"What's your problem?", he spat. The barmaid tutted.
"Look at her!", she said angrily, "Look what you've done to her!" Bastian looked over at Leona; she was still struggling against her bonds, clenching her toes, flexing her soles, and trying like mad to bring her feet together to rub them on each other in the hope that might stop the fucking itching. The fire still seemed to be burning in her belly, but she looked extremely tired now. Her hair was matted with sweat, and her screams and groans were getting more and more laboured. Bastian tutted and shook his head.
"She's fine", he said, "Doing a lot better than you did anyway. Remember how you cried and begged me to let you out of the Chair?" The barmaid flipped him the finger and carried on about her business. Bastian walked over to Leona and sat down in front of her feet again.
"So, how are you doing now?"
"Get this shit off me!!!" she roared at him, all the frustration, torment and sheer, unadulterated itching of the last two hours crystalising in her voice. She struggled and gasped and groaned and roared even as Bastian sat and watched.
"Okay, you've had enough I think", he said sympathetically, "Dietmar, go and fetch some water from the hose. It needs to be cold, so put some ice in it; and a shit-load of washing up liquid, and get a sponge and the nail brush out of my bathroom. And a toothbrush. Get one of those. Actually, make it two. We'd best get the powder washed off her before she goes completely nuts." Dietmar, a scrawny Prospect who just happened to be the only one without a woman, nodded enthusiastically and ran off. Bastian turned back to Leona, who was now trying to stare a hole through his chiselled German face. He smiled, and as he did so, she screamed again.
"AAARGH!!! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU SMILING AT YOU SICK BASTARD???!!" Bastian started to laugh as she screamed, and the Prospects and their molls joined in. This mockery, coupled with the fact her feet still felt as though the skin was about to fall off them, only served to make Leona even more angry.
"Let me go right now!! Let me go, let me go!!! You fucking asshole bastards, prick motherfuckers!!! Get these frigging chains off me RIGHT NOWW AAAAAARRRGGGHHH!!!!" A sarcastic cheer went up from the assembled rabble as Leona thrashed about against her chains once more. She was now almost completely exhausted, and as the thrashing gently sapped away what was left of her resolve she fell forward and hung, limp and debilitated, from her chains. Her feet were still itching, but she didn't have the energy to kick them any more. Instead she just hung there and panted for breath. After a few seconds, Dietmar arrived with a large metal bucket full of water, which he plonked down next to Bastian, and a handful of the implements Bastian had asked for, which he gave to the biker boss. Bastian rubbed his hands together in glee and licked his lips.
"You must be getting pretty cheesed off with all this itching, huh?", he teased. Leona nodded exhaustedly. "Heh, you're lucky. I normally make the girls sit here all night with this stuff on their feet. Like, eight, maybe ten hours. You only had two and you're already in this state; maybe you're not as tough as we thought." He reached around his back and plucked a pair of handcuffs from his belt, which he then secured around Leona's left ankle. He then turned to the bar and rubvbed his chin thoughtfully.
"So, who wants to wash her feet?" he asked. Most of the bar simply sat and looked at Bastian. "Come on, the poor little thing's in agony here! Someone wash her feet!" Again, there was silence. Bastian shook his head, and went and sat down at the bar.
"I ain't fucking doin' it." he said. Leona's eyes widened in horror.
"No!", she gasped, "No, you have to wash this off me!! Please, I'm gonna friggin' die here!!!" Bastian poured himself a drink.
"DO I look like a butler?" he said curtly, "Do it yourse....oh, wait..... haha. Looks like you're gonna have to put up with it for a little while longer."
"I'll do it."
The entire room turned to the door as the voice rang out, none more intently than Leona. Standing in the doorway was the archetypal biker chick; dyed black hair with purple and silver streaks, skin-tight leather camisole, gothic make-up and thigh high boots with fishnets. Bastian's face lit up.
"Alex!", he proclaimed happily, "I was wondering when you were gonna show up." Alex smirked as she walked towards Leona.
"I heard you had the Chair out again...." She looked Leona over once or twice and nodded in approval. "Hey, she's a purdy one; where'd you find her?"
"Didn't", replied Bastian, "She found us. She KO'ed Lisa and Rose with a barstiool, then smashed the bar up trying to get away, so we decided to punish her.
"Beats calling the schwein", said Alex with a smile.
"So, you gonna clean her up?", said Bastian. Alex looked Leona's feet over; they were cute, very cute, about as cute as Alex had seen, and they looked really soft and supple. She ummed a little, and as she did Leona piped up.
"Please god wash my feet!!", she howled, scrunshing her toes and rubbing them together as she did so. Seeing her pretty little toes wiggling and wriggling sealed the deal; Alex leered and nodded, and sat down in Bastian's torture chair.
"Here you go", he siad, flinging Alex the keys, "Have fun."
"Oh, I will" said Alex wryly. Leona didn't like the sound of that, but she was so desperate for the itching to stop that she'd have put her feet through a mincer if she thought it'd help. Leona put on the surgeon's gloves which Bastian had used to apply the powder, and put the key in the lock.
"Okay baby", she said in a patronising tone, "I'm gonna unlock these little tootsies now. When I do, you're gonna be a good girl and keep your legs dead still, otherwise I'm gonna make you wish you had, understand?" Leona nodded. "Good", chirped Alex, "Then let's get started shall we?" Alex turned the key in the lock, which clicked open. She then gently lifted the lid of the stocks off Leona's ankles, and, as good as her word, Leona kept still. Alex then picked up Leona's right leg and placed it gently alongside her left, before locking them both together at the ankles with the handcuffs. She then put her hand into her pocket and produced another set of handcuffs; however, these handcuffs were a lot smaller and a great deal thinner. Alex opened them up with a latch, and then fitted them around both of Leona's big toes before locking them again. She then sat back in her chair.
"Y'know, you have some cute little feet", said Alex with a smile, "Even cuter when they're all tied up and helpless."
"Yeah, can we get on with this, please?", grated Leona. Alex sucked her teeth.
"Tsk tsk", she said, "Those don't sound like the words of someone who wants me to help her. You must like having itchy feet."
"Shit, I'm sorry", Leona said sharply, "Please, please wash my feet for me." Alex smiled.
"That's more like it, sweetheart". She smiled and picked up the bucket, placing it on a table next to the Chair. She then picked up Leona's legs and dangled her feet over the water, but before she put them in the bucket, she dipped the tips of her fingers into the water; as her skin touched the water's surface, she yowled.
"Jesus! That's fucking sadistic....." She looked Leona right in the eyes and smiled again. "Bombs away!"
Alex let go of Leona's feet and allowed them to drop into the water. As soon as they made contact, Leona jumped and gasped; the water was ice cold, and worse, was full of huge pieces of ice from the freezer. The coldness of it made Leona's heart skip and took all the breath from her body as though she'd been punched in the chest, which amused the others in the bar, who pointed and laughed as they watched Leona shiver and struggle for breath. She could feel all of her muscles tensing up, all the wy from her calves to her lower back, and it took approximately two seconds before the chill of the water became unbearable for Leona's feet. She tried to raise her legs to remove her feet from the bucket; but as she did, Alex leapt forward and grabbed her legs, dunking her poor feet back into the icy water and holding them there. Leona struggled, splashing water all over everywhere and shivvering like mad, but Alex was strong.
"No no, baby", she said teasingly, "We gotta wash these puppies! Gotta keep 'em under the water for a while, to let all the nasty itchy powder melt away! You feel it? it should be working already!" However, Leona couldn't feel anything, except for pain engulfing her feet as they sat helpless under the freezing water. She tried to point the toes on her left foot upwards to get them clear of the water, but it was no good; the toe-cuffs prevented her from doing even this. All she could do was sit there and shiver and clench her toes and wait until Alex decided to let her go. It took about a minute of freezing pain before Alex allowed her to lift her feet out of the bucket, and when they emerged the soft white skin had turned a shade of purple where the cold water had given her freezerburn. She was still shivering and struggling to breathe as Alex placed her ankles back into the middle hole of the stocks and latched the top back on.
"Aww, my poor little....uh, what's her name, by the way?"
"Leona", Bastian said.
"Leona; pretty name. Scottish, isn't it?" Leona didn't care; her feet were still freezing, and the draft from the ceiling fan made it all the worse. She still couldn't feel her toes, except when she tried to move them, which sent pain coursing through her body; and worse, the parts of her feet which she could feel were still itching. Alex pouted.
"Poor little Leona; don't worry, Alex is gonna make it all better now". As Leona shivered and chattered her teeth, Alex grabbed the scourer from the table where Bastian had placed it, and began gently rubbing the soles of Leona's feet with it. Alex smiled contentedly, rubbing with her right hand and gently holding Leona's foot with her left, caressing the arch tenderly with her thumb. After a while, she began rubbing the tops of Leona's feet, and she leaned in a little closer. As she did, Leona felt her breath on her toes; the fact her feet were cold made them extremely sensitive to even the slightest things, and even Alex's soft breathing across her feet was beginning to affect her. This didn't escape Alex's notice, and she giggled; she then began deliberately blowing on Leona's feet, running up and down her soles and across the bottom of her toes, which caused Leona some slight discomfort. The entire male population of the bar were sitting in slack-jawed silence, until Dietmar piped up.
"This is so hot....", he breathed. Alex heard him.
"Why, thank you", she said teasingly, before returning to Leona's feet. She kept blowing for a while as she scrubbed the last of the powder from Leona's feet, and then dropped the sponge into the bucket. She then took hold of Leona's feet with her hands.
"Okay sweetheart, we need to get you warmed up again." she said as she began gently rubbing Leona's feet all over with her hands, in an attempt to get the blood flowing properly through them again. Leona was still recovering from the shock of the freezing water, however she noticed with some relief that the soles and tops of her feet were no longer itchy. Her toes were still numb, but as the feeling crept back into them, she felt itching in between them.
"You feeling better yet?" enquired Alex. Leona looked up at her.
"Thank you", she sputtered between gasps, "My toes still itch though...." Alex pouted again.
"Aww, you poor little baby. Don't worry, I'll fix that for you too." She ran her fingers down Leona's left arch one last time, and then picked up the toothbrushes from the table. She then rubbed her chin and pondered something for a second.
"This would be a lot easier if we spread your toes out a little....." Alex said thoughtfully. She then placed the toothbrush on top of the stocks and unlocked the toe-cuffs, gently removing them from Leona's toes and placing them back in her pocket. She then took hold of a length of string dangling from the middle eyelet on the stocks and looped it around Leona's big toes a few times.
"What the hell are you doing?", Leona barked. Alex looked up sharply.
"Watch it!", she snapped back, "There's a hell of a lot of itching powder in that jar. You speak like that again and I'll tie you up, strip you naked, cover you in it and put you in my broom closet for a week!" Leona didn't appreciate being treated like a baby; but at the same time she didn't know what Alex was capable of, and she certainly didn't want to find out if she had the guts to make good on her threat. She decided instead to keep quiet and scowl at Alex, who was busily re-looping the fibre around Leona's big toes. After a few loops, Alex took the end back to the eyelet and tied it off, creating a little trap which held Leona's feet together. A few minutes later, her eight other toes were similarly tied, each one individually spread and held in place by a length of fibre which was slack enough to allow the blood to flow, but tight enough to stop her wiggling them. After tying the last toe, Alex picked up the brushes again.
"Okay, I'm gonna stop the itching once and for all. This may tickle a little, but you're a tough girl; you should be able to take it."
"Do I have to sit still and stay silent?", Leona inquired.
"My goodness no!", replied Alex, "You're not being tested any more, you can let it all out. You feel free to giggle and wriggle all you like; the more, the better...." She tailed off slightly at the end as she lowered the toothbrushes between the pinky toes of both of Leona's feet at once. With a look of intense concentration on her face, she began gently scrubbing the brushes across the half-hidden flesh on the woutside of each of Leona's big toes. It tickled immediately, and no sooner had Alex begun to scratch and scrub than Leona found herself giggling and twitching her feet. She tried to close her toes together, but to no avail; the fibre held them firmly in place, rendering her helpless as Alex continued to scrub, slowly working the brush up the side of her big toe, onto the top, and then down into the space between. She continued to scrub all the way along Leona's toes, with every toe she passed sending Leona further and further into a giggling fit, until she finally reached the outside of her little pinky toes. At this point, Alex stopped for a moment and reached around to the back of Leona's feet, before staring the scrubbing again across the tops of her toes. This tickled slightly less, and gave Leona a breather of a few seconds; she would need it, as it turned out, because all the while she had been scrubbing, Alex was planning a coup de grace which would throw Leona off the deep end and begin what was going to be a day of complete hell for this poor girl and her poor little ticklish feet.
As Alex sat back in the chair, Leona heaved a sigh of relief. Her feet were beginning to return to normal now; the itching had stopped, and the blood seemed to be pumping around them once more. She drew in a deep breath and sat upright.
"So, what now?", she enquired, "Can I go yet?" Bastian and Alex looked at each other. "Well, can I?"
"You gotta be kidding!", said Alex.
"What?? Come on, I've been here for nearly four hours now!! I've learned my lesson!!"
"Maybe you have", said Alex, "But I only just got here. And besides, you owe me. I just spent a quarter of an hour cleaning your feet for you, and I want paid for it."
"Jeez...", sighed Leona, "How much do you want?" Alex smiled and raised her eyebrow.
"What do you take me for?", she chuckled, "I'm not looking for money; my brother's a Borussia Dortmund striker, my father owns a shipyard and my mother is a heart surgeon."
"Well, what do you want, then?", asked Leona frustratedly. Alex didn't reply. She simply leaned on the stocks and rested her head on her arms, tilting it sideways and looking sweetly at Leona.
"What do I want? More than anything?", she said, sitting up and shuffling her chair forward, "Well....."
"Spit it out for christ's sakes!!" Alex gently caressed Leona's leg with her long fingernails and the soft tips of her fingers, from just above her knee to her ankle. It tickled and made Leona jerk slightly. Bastian stood up.
"You're going nowhere", he said, "You failed the test; now, you belong to us."
"What???", Leona shreiked, "You can't do that!!"
"And you're gonna stop us how?", he replied triumphantly. Leona was stumped; he was right, what the hell could she do? She was completely helpless; she shook her head in disbelief.
"Please....you have to let me go. Please. I.... I'm sorry. I didn't mean to start that fight; it just happened. One of those things, right? Please, have a heart....."
"Meh...." Bastian sighed, "You say you're sorry, but you still trashed my bar and beat up my guys. Plus, Bayern got beat, well trounced actually, and I lost a lot of money over that. I need someone to take it out on; and since you're here, and you're all tied up, then why not take it out on you?"
"Wh-what do you mean?....." Leona quivered. Bastian walked towards her and moved Alex out of his seat before sitting down.
"You know exactly what I mean", he said. "What we did to you earlier, that was a warm-up; all we were testing was just how ticklish you were. Now, we get down to some serious business." He picked up a toothbrush in each hand and held them up in front of Leona, twirling them between his fingers for effect. "Say hello to my little friends!" With that, he began scrubbing the brushes across the helpless, quivering stems of Leona's exposed toes.
Asd soon as the stiff bristles began prickling and scurrying along the stems of her pretty toes, Leona screamed, swore and seethed. It did no good, and only served to make Bastian quicken his brushing to elicit more of a reaction from his prisoner. She tried to pull her toes down, to ball them up to cover the soft skin on their undersides and protect it from the toothbrushes, but it was no use; they were stuck fast with wire.
"Stop....", Leona giggled helplessly, "Stop it now....". She was trying to sound intimidating, but she was giggling far too much. After a short while her threats truned to pleading as Bastian left her toes alone and dragged the brushes along the small shelf beneath them. This deft action made Leona burst into a fit opf uncontrollable laughter. She threw her head back and let it out in waves, gurgling and wheezing and screaming and howling as the brushes flicked and flecked along the sensitive skin. She tried to curl her toes down, forcing them with all her might against the bonds which held them, but it was no use, and the more she struggled, the tighter they got, and the tighter they stretched her little tiny feet and the sensitive skin which covered them. Bastian was thoroughly enjoying the abject despair this seemed to be inflicting on Leona, and he made a mental note to himself to work on this little area more later on. After a few more seconds of tickling, he stopped and put the brushes down. Leona continued gigglingfor a while as Bastian spoke to her.
"Pretty intense, huh?", he said, "But at the end of the day you can't beat good old German elbow-grease." He rolled up his sleeves and wiggled his fingers just in front of her feet. Leona shreiked and tried to bury her face in her shoulder.
"No!! STOP IT!!!", she pleaded.
"Yes!!", he said, before bringing his fingers down on the soft tender flesh of her soles. He flicked his long fingernails all across her soles, scurrying up and down the luscious arches and tender blades, working in circles around her heels and in wavy lines across the balls of her feet, all the while drinking in the hysterical fit of laughter which Leona had sunken into. She was running out of air, her head thrown back and her back arched so much she was worried it might snap as Bastian's fingers plucked and played all across the sweet little soles of her poor little feet. There were no thoughts in her head any more as she thrashed it from side to side and pleaded as best she could for Bastian to stop tickling, please; but it was no use. Bastian was having a ball inflicting his special brand of torture on her, and he wasn't in the mood to stop any time soon.
"You like this, huh?", he teased, "You must like it; look how much you're laughing!!" Tears welled in her eyes and a lump rose in her throat as Leona howled and begged and danced to the tune his fingers were rattling across her feet. She didn't like it; she hated it, more than anything she could imagine, more than anything anyone had ever done to her in her life before, but she was completely and utterly helpless to do anything but sit there and allow this torment to wash over her like a tidal wave. She couldn't do anything; she tried to scrunch her feet, curl her toes, pull them away, do anything to get them away from Bastian's fingers, but nothing worked, and the more she tried and failed, the more desperate and frantic she became. Her mind raced and pulsed and whirled as Bastian tortured the soft soles of her feet, casting her into her own personal hell using only the tips of his fingers, and all she could do was sit there and laugh. Bastian was now tickling away like a pro, loving every second of Leona's reaction as it turned from giggling to laughing to pleading. He enjoyed her laugh, he enjoyed how this tough, ballsy chick had been reduced to a howling wreck by the slightest touch of his fingers, how she was completely at his mercy, how he knew she hated him tickling her soft feet but was powerless to stop him, the way her soft, supple soles felt against his fingers, how they twitched and jerked as he ran his hands flat along them and tapped his fingers on them. Thus, he continued for a good twenty minutes, mercilessly tickling and probing and prodding at her cute, stretched out, helpless little feet, as Leona descended further and further into madness with each feathered touch of his fingers. he more he played, the deeper he fell in love with her adorable little feet; they were so soft, so silky, so pretty; he could have played with them all night long, had her dancing and wailing like a soul in hell for weeks if he thought he could get away with it. However, he knew if he continued for much longer she'd probably pass out, and it'd be a bitch to bring her round again, and so, as suddenly as he'd begun, he stopped. Leona lurched forward and gulped down massive breaths of air as sweat dripped from her forehead, and ran down her face into her eyes. Her mascara and eyeshadow had now become a mess of black and blue streaks which ran all the way down fron her eyelids to her chin, as tears flowed freely from her blodshot eyes, and she sobbed and giggled and tried to catch her breath again as she hung, totally debilitated, from her chains.
"Jeez", Bastian said, "That was friggin' fun!! You should come her emore often; either that, or not leave." Leona didn't register what he'd said, she was far too exhausted to listen or even to care what Bastianm was saying any more. However, the biker boss was far from finished with her.
"So, we've established now that your soles are hellishly ticklish", he said, as though presenting a documentary on her feet and their sweet spots, "But what about those toes and tops? Let's have a little look see, shall we?"
This, Leona heard, and she raised her head just in time to see Bastian lean forward and begin stroking the tips of his fingers lightly up and down the tops of her feet, slowly and gently, making only the slightest of contact with her soft skin. Leona growled and struggled as his fingers bruished ever so lightly against the soft flesh, up and down, over and over, teasing and tantalising her precious little feet with every stroke.
"No....." she whimpered. Bastian heard her pathetic pleading, and stopped.
"You don't like it there?" Leona shook her head. "Okay then", he continued, "What about your toes? Let's see how those little piggies like it." Leona shreiked even before Bastian had taken hold of her toes and bent them further backwards, the only way the ties would allow them to move. He placed his hand on the top of her left foot and held her toes down with his thumb, gently caressing the top of her foot with his fingers as his right hand softly teased the undersides of her toes. She began to giggle again, less frantically than before but no less desperately, pleading and sobbing in between. Her face was still buried in her outstretched arm as Bastian lightly tickled her little toes and caressed the top of her foot. After a few minutes he stopped and moved onto her left foot, performing the exact same type of torture on these little piggies and sending Leona into ticklish hysterics. She wanted to kill him, she wanted to end his life, to saw off his head with a breadknife, to cut off his feet and feed them to him. She wanted so badly to kill him, to torture him, to take him to the same lows as he'd taken her to, but she couldn't; and the horrible realisation that she was totally at his mercy slowly took over her mind as Bastian changed his style again. He let her toes go and started tickling each one individually, working his fingers all around it and flicking them across the gaps, the tops, the stems, wiggling and tickling and loving her giggling as he did so. He started from her left pinky and slowly, tantalisingly, worked his way across each one, paying special attention to her big toes which seemed most ticklish of all. Eventually, after plucking away at her soft little toes for what seemed like an eternity, he reached the right pinky and stopped. Leona lurched forward again and hung sobbing by her wrists. Bastian stood up, and everyone else in the room clapped as he took a bow.
"Well played, maestro", quipped Alex as she looked over at Leona. This poor girl, hanging exhausted by her wrists from the thick chains, had just been to the depths of hell at the hands of this evil sadist; a truly terrible feat of feet tickling. She couldn't remember him ever being this cruel to a girl in the Chair; even with Alex herself, his self-confessed "favourite", he hadn't been nearly this harsh. Still, she could hardly blame him; she was probably as close to perfection as Bastian could have hoped to find. He had a thing for this type of woman; cute, sweet and innocent looking, but with a big set of balls, a bad attitude, and, more importantly, cute, tiny little feet and acutely ticklish skin. This poor girl was in for one hell of a tough time before she was released.
----------------------------------------------
A cheer went up from the assembled scumbags as the glasses were placed before the contestants. Each one got three; one for drinking, one for filling up, and one reserve in case they were drinking faster than the barstaff could fill the glasses. After the barmaid had put down Leona's third glass, Bastian snatched it away.
"You won't need this", he said with a sneer, "Spares is only for the REAL drinkers." A roar of laughter went up as Bastian threw the glass against the wall. However, not to be outdone, Leona decided to score a few points for herself. She grabbed both of Bastian's spare glasses, cocked her head to one side and raised an eyebrow.
"In that case, you DEFINITELY won't be needing these", she said sarcastically, dropping the glasses to the floor and smashing both with the sole of her boot. The crowd were stunned into silence for a second, but then a cheer of approval went up around the room. The girl had some pluck, you had to give her that; Bastian, however, was furious. He gritted his teeth and slammed his hand on the bar, which silenced the bikers immediately.
"Bring us more glasses", he growled. The bar staff immediately obliged. This time, as Leona's glasses were set on the bar, Bastain grabbed all of them. He held the first one up as though making a toast.
"This one, is for your health". He grocked a horrendous wad of phleghm into his throat, rolled it around in his mouth for a second or two, and then spat it into the glass. The thick, disgusting phleghm filled the glass half way, and Bastain swilled it around a bit before dumping it out and then placing the glass back on the bar.
"This one is for your wealth", he said as he drove his little finger into his ear, swirled it around and removed it. It was covered in a thick layer of wax, which, when Leona saw it, made her baulk. Bastian smiled politely, and then rubbed the earwax all around the inside of the glass. Leona almost vomited as he slammed it back onto the bar and slid it to her, managing to get it to stop right in front of her disgusted eyes. Finally, he held up the third glass.
"And this....this one, is for your happiness!" A huge childish grin broke across his bearded face as he stood up, glass in hand, and opened up his fly. He reached in with his free hand and pulled out his thick, flaccid, purple penis. He rolled the glass between his fingers and nodded at Leona, who half turned away in revulsion as he placed the glass over the end of his dick and twirled it around, as though chalking a pool cue. Leona leaned on her hand and shook her head, and, after Bastian was fully satisfied with his handywork, he put his dick away and slid the final glass towards Leona. The mess he'd made of this glass was indescribable; Leona took one look and couldn't set eyes near it again.
"No fair!", she said, "That's disgusting!! I can't drink out of these now!!! I want new glasses!!"
"Nein!!" yelled the bartender, "Das glass is de last vuns ve haf!! Now, fillenzie uppen!!" The busty barmaid did as she was instructed, tipping a fair slug of jagermeister into each of Bastian's glasses. She then walked to Leona and, with an apologetic look on her face, poured her drinks. Leona pushed them away.
"I am NOT drinking this!!" she yelled, "Not out of these glasses!! I want new ones; CLEAN ones!!"
"I hef said nein!!! Das minuten starts.......NOW!!!"
The clock began ticking, and Bastian slammed al three glasses so fast that the barmaid was struggling to keep up, even with three glasses. Leona was still screaming at the barman to bring her new glasses as Bastian slammed number four, five, then six, and as the clock hit thirty seconds, the score was fifteen nil to Bastain.
"Give me a new glass otherwise the bet's off!!", Leona screamed, to yet more refusals by the barstaff. The barman simply yelled NEIN!! every time she asked, and the barmaid, who looked sympathetic, was nonetheless unable to help her out for fear of retribution. Bastain, seeing that Leona was unwilling to drink out of the glasses and was too preoccupied arguing with the barstaff to notice the timer, decided to slow the pace. He took glass number one in his hand and rolled it under his nose like a wine taster, pretending to savour the horrid smell of the dirty German spirit before tipping the glass to his lips and sipping it off, pinky raised, as though he were at a dinner party. The second glass he drank in one gulp, swirling it around his mouth for a little while before swallowing it. As he did, he placed the glass back on the bar and turned to the room.
"Fantastic bouquet, scintilating aroma, and a fuckin' disgusting flavour; just the way I like it!", he yelled, to roars of laughter. Leona was still trying to cajole a new glass out of the barstaff, and as she made her tenth attempt, there was a shrill bleeping sound as the minute ran out.
"That's it, time is finish!", yelled the barman. "Bastian vins, seventeen to none!!" Bastain slammed the last drink in his third glass, then turned to his followers and punched the air in triumph. The bikers were ecstatic, and as they celebrated, Leona decided that now would be a good time to do a bit of running. She leapt from her stool, grabbed it, and crashed it into the skull of the portly biker who was assigned to stop her escaping with a vicious blow to the head. The unfortunate Angel went down like a sack of potatoes, and before anyone could react, Leona had leapt from a standing start and cleared the bar and was accelerating towards the door to the back room. However, she had gotten about three feet when she felt a heavy, vice-like grip around her left arm; she tried to run against it, but the grip was too strong. She grabbed a bottle of liquor from the gantry and swung it wildly at the head of the man who'd grabbed her, but the man, drunk as he was, somehow managed to duck the blow. Before she could catch him with the backswing, the bartender nad grabbed her arm and wrestled the bottle from her grasp. It then degenerated into a free-for all, with bikers and bitches leaping over the bar to try and restrain the mad woman and she bit, kicked and swore at anyone and anything within her range. After a few seconds, Leona found herself pinned to the floor, held fast by the muscular arms of at least seven Hell's Angels. She struggled in vain to free herself, but found herself completely unable to move. She was, however, able to swear, spit and bite, and, as Bastian knelt next to her and stared triumphantly into her face, this is exactly what she did.
"You fucking pig, let go of me!! Get your stinking Nazi kraut hands off-a me!! Let me go, before I cut your dick off and serve it up for breakfast!!" Bastian smiled in approval.
"Feisty, fearsome, and totally helpless; just the way I like 'em." he said with a wry smile, before standing up and turning to the bikers.
"Enough business; time for some fun!! Bring out The Chair!!!"
As Bastian spoke and the bikers cheered, a thousand horrible thoughts ran through Leona's mind, however before she could dwell on them, Bastian's voice rang out again.
"On the bar!! Schnell!!"
The bikers hoisted Leona from the floor and plonked her onto the bar, holding her arms and legs to keep her still. She craned and cricked her neck to try and get a look at the Chair, however, Bastain approached her as she did.
"Don't worry", he whispered, "You'll find out what it is soon enough." With that, he took a dirty bandana from his pocket and tied it around her eyes. Leona tired frantically to stop him from blindfolding her, and at one point she managed to sink her teeth into his hand; however, Bastian simply laughed and tapped his head.
"No sense, no feeling, meine liebling." he said with a chuckle. "Okay, take her to the wall!"
Leona felt herself hoisted onto the bikers' shoulders as they picked her up and carried her over to the wall. There, dangling behind a pinball machine, were a pair of shackles suspended from the ceiling by thick chains. As they approached, Bastian dragged the pinball machine away with one hand, and the bikers dropped Leona onto her feet, shackling her quickly to prevent her from trying to escape again. Bastian laughed as he watched her struggle and curse.
"Whatever you sick fucks are going to do to me, you should know I know people!!", she yelled, still convinced she could scare the bikers into submission. "I know a helluva lot of people!!"
"Really??", quipped Bastian, "Me too!! Put the bar on." One of the bikers grabbed a long, thin iron bar from the corner of the room, which he then fitted to the shackles. When he was finished, Leona's arms were suspended over her head, and the bar kept them apart. She struggled some more and started kicking wildly.
"None of you better be near me, otherwise you're gonna catch it bad in th balls!!" She swung her legs wildly, and as she did the bikers laughed. She looked like a little marionette, except a lot sexier and dressed in leather, as she dangled from the chains and flailed her free limbs about in a vain and somewhat comical attemtp to hit someone, anyone. Bastian shook his head.
"Careful, gorgeous; you'll take out someone's eye with those heels! Put her in the Chair before she hurts someone." Two of the bikers ran to the back room and emerged a few seconds later pushing an odd contraption in front of them. It was a long table, fitted at one end with a pair of medieval stocks with holes of each ankle set about a foot apart. Between them was another larger hole, meant to accomodate both ankles at once, and on the top above this hole were a set of eleven eylets, each one with a length of string attached to it. As the Chair was wheeled towards Leona, two bikers lifted her off the floor and straightened her legs out. As the did, she screamed and volleyed one square on the nose; he yelped like a puppy and fell to the floor, cursing in German and crying like a baby as blood poured from his nose. The remaining bikers fell about laughing as Leona was seated on the table and her legs were pulled forward. bastain himself came forward and produced a gold key from his pocket, before kneeling next to the stocks and unlocking them, As he did, the bikers cheered, and Bastian helped his comrade to put Leona's ankles into the outer holes of the stocks.. As she felt the top close, realisation hit Leona.
"Is this...."
"Yes!" exclaimed Bastian, "It is! the world famous, one and only, Munich Mangler's Initiation Chair!!" A lump rose in Leona's throat, but Bastian wasn't finished yet.
"Now, fetch me the Table!" A biker ran to the back and came out wheeling a small doctor's table in front of her, a gleeful grin on his face. Bastian took the table off him, wheeled it over to Leona, and stood next to his prisoner.
"Every woman who wants to join the Munich Manglers has at one time seated in this Chair", he said, sounding oddly like a museum guide showing off an exhibit. "It is an age old tradition steeped in history. It dates from the last time Bayern won the European Cup, when Karl here was attractive; so it wasn't yesterday we started doing this." The bikers laughed. "The proposition of The Chair is simple; sit still and stay silent for as long as you can, and you're in. Or, in your case, out." He pulled the blindfold off Leona's eyes for a second, and directed her attention to the table.
"However, simple as it sounds, it isn't quite that easy......" The barmaid and all the other women in the room watched and winced with pity as Bastian threw off the cover. Leona was somewhat bemused as she looked at the items on the table; a long, soft ostrich feather, a stiff gull's feather, a ballpoint pen, an eletrical device for lighting gas cookers, a small plastic device with the word "Vibro" printed on it, a bottle of tanning oil, a wooden spoon, and a large clay pot with a shaving brush in it. Bastian saw the puzzled look on Leona's face, before yanking her blindfold back down.
"Standing in the way of you and your goal are the objects on this table. Them, and a room full of sadistic, depraved bikers who have been aching to see a pretty girl like yourself in the Chair for a long time now." He walked to the stocks and ran his hand over Leona's biker boots. "I assume you have some idea what's going to happen now?"
"Yeah", said Leona, "You're gonna walk around like an idiot and talk crap until I die of boredom." Bastian chuckled and pulled a knife from his pocket. Leona heard it click, and started to sweat just a little.
"No;", said Bastian, deftly cutting the laces on her boots, "We're gonna tickle your feet!!" As the words left his mouth and the bikers cheered, Leona almost laughed at the absolute, incomprehensible absurdity of what Bastian had just said. Here she was, held captive by men who would most probably shoot their own mothers if they looked at them the wrong way, in the roughest bar in the roughest part of supposedly the toughest city in Germany, and yet the worst thing that these sadists could think to do to her was to tickle her a bit. She didn't like it, she'd rather not have had these perverts touching her at all, but in light of her predicament, there were probably far worse things that could happen to her. Yeah it was unpleasant, but there were far worse things they could be doing to her than tickling her feet. She wasn't even that ticklish.
"Okay....", she said, still struggling to comprehend what was going on. As she shook her head and smirked in disbelief, Bastian yanked her shoes off, exposing her pretty little feet to the room. Her feet were extremely cute; tiny little size threes, with soft, fleshy soles and plump little toes, which Leona wiggled as the cold air from the ceiling fan hit them. The soles of her feet were extremely pretty, uncalloused, soft and silky, and bone-china white, which contrasted with the dark midnight blue nail polish which had been neatly applied to her toenails. She rolled her feet around a bit in the holes in the stocks, seemingly impatient to get her "trial" started. The sight of this unbearably cute girl with these unbearably cute little feet all tied up and ready for him was almost too much for Bastian, and after watching her wiggle her feet for a few seconds, he pulled up a chair and sat down in front of them, rubbing his hands with glee.
"Ladies and gentlemen, the doctor is in. Let's begin, shall we?"
Hie picked up the ostrich feather from the table, and as he did so the bikers and babes started clamouring for position as Bastian brought the feather down on Leona's left foot. He started at the base of her big toe and dragged it slowly along the soft, tender skin of her arch, down to the heel and then back up again. Leona giggled a little bit as the feather stroked her foot, however the contact was too soft to cause any real tickling sensations. It was, in fact, quite pleasant, however after a few passes she found herself instinctively flicking her ankle to get her pretty little foot away from the feather. Bastian sat upright and stopped tickling her.
"Oooh, strike one", he said gruffly.
"What?"
"I said before, you have to sit still and keep quiet." Bastian replied, "And you just moved and giggled. You have one more chance; move again, and you're gonna wish you hadn't."
"No way!!", Leona shouted, "That's not fair! You can't possibly expect me to stay stock still and not laugh while you're tickling me!!"
"That's the test, though", he said, "If you're tough enough to do that, you're....well, it don't prove you're tough, but it sure as hell gives us a good laugh watching you!!"
"No, that test sucks!! I.... I can't do that!!!"
"Well, you never know until you try, eh?", said Bastian unsympathetically, before starting up with the feather again. This time, he beckoned two of the biker babes over to help him.
"Greta, hold her still; Ellie, open her up." A smile crept across Ellie's face. Greta's taloned hands closed around Leona's cute little foot, holding it still whilst Ellie gently took hold of her big toe and her little toe, and pulled them apart. Leona felt all of her toes spreading slightly as the German girl pulled them apart, but before she could try to bring them together Bastian repeated his warning.
"Remember, still and silent, otherwise you fail." The bikers murmured and smirked, and Bastian picked the gull feather up from the table. He pondered for a second where to start, and then placed the feather in between her third and fourth toe and began drawing it backwards and forwards over the vulnerable super-sensitive skin, causing Leona to let out a muffled grunt, which had started as a laugh she managed to supress without moving. As the feather sawed between her toes, Leona found her brain beseiged by ticklish sensations, shooting up her leg to her brain. However, even as the stiff feather glid up and down slowly, almost tenderly, between her poor little toes, Leona somehow managed to keep her composure and stay completely still. She pressed her eyes shut, gritted her teeth and tried to blank her mind out. Sweat was pouring from her entire body as Bastian changed it up, drawing the feather slowly between each toe once, moving from her big toe to her little toe and back again at least twenty times as the girls kept their hands and Leona's foot steady. They needn't have bothered, as Leona was doing an admirable job of hiding her almost overwhelming desire to giggle and jerk her foot away. As the electric shocks the feather delivered to her soft, sesitive feet pulsed through her body, she crushed her jaws even harder together and almost bruised her eyelids she was pressing so hard, all the time telling her racing mind that moving would do her no good because she was firmly locked up, that it wouldn't help, it would only make things worse, that she had to keep still, had to. If she could manage it for just another little while, they'd get bored and let her go. Just a few minutes longer.......
Bastian was beginning to get frustrated with Leona. Her feet were soft, cute and obviously well looked after, and usually women with feet like this crack after a few passes. Yet here he was, ten minutes after her first giggle, and she hadn't even so much as twitched a finger. The bikers were beginning to get bored and some had even abandoned all hope of hearing Leona laugh desperately, preferring to play a game of pool or slam some Jagermeister than watch Bastian try and fail to break her. However, Bastian was determined, and, worse still for Leona, he had experience. He knew the telltale signs that Leona was about to crash and burn, and they were all here; she was sweating, her head was shaking ever so slightly, she'd clamped her mouth shut and was breathing heavily. The last ten minutes of keeping still had taken a lot out of her; now all he had to do was throw in a little something different, and she'd be his. He shook his head and waved Greta and Ellie away, then let Leona breathe for a second. As Leona felt the girls release their grip on her foot, she heaved a sigh of relief. For the first time in what seemed like an eternity, she was able to close her toes and, hopefully, protect the horribly ticklish flesh between them from the feather. She heaved in another deep breath, but as she was halfway through drawing it, Bastian launched a devastating attack which took Leona completely by surprise. He turned the feather upside down and, whilst holding the quill, began tracing patterns up and down the sole of her foot with the sharp end, as though writing with a quill. The sheer shock of the point digging into the tender sole of her foot made Leona jump, and she immediately clamped her teeth and eyes shut again. This latest attack was so much worse than the sawing between her toes; Bastain was moving the feather quickly, sending short, sharp shocks to Leona's brain with each flick of his wrist. The sawing between her toes had been bad, but the sensations were fairly light and slow, almost sensuous; what Bastian was doing now was just plain sadistic. Leona felt her leg muscles getting heavier with the strenuous effort of not moving her feet, however the harder she tried, the faster Bastian flicked the feather across the milky white sole, across the ball, then the arch, then her heel, and then all along the length of her foor from the base of her heel to the little ledge beneath her toes. He had started by doing random movements, but as he went on he found he could move the feather faster by repeatedly tracing his signature across the stricken girl's foot. The fact that he was essentially signing her foot as she struggled so hard to keep the torturous sensations he knew she was gfeeling in check gave Bastian a lot of pleasure.
"Hey, you know I've signed your little tootsie about fifty times now?", he taunted, "Does that mean I own it now?" The words didn't register with Leona; who was still desperately trying to keep her composure against the gushing tide of horrendous tickling shocks that the feather was sending through her foot. Bastian watched with glee as she struggled and fought and battled against him, fatigue and her own bodily instincts to keep from moving. She was tough, he had to admire that; and he also had to admit that the longer she kept still, the more he began to enjoy torturing her sweet little sole with this feather. Watching the feather flick across her soft skin while her foot remained motionless was something new to Bastian; normally, they all crack during this particular brand of tickle torture, but Leona had taken it all with a smile. Eventually, his thick, tree-trunk arm got tired, and Bastian decided to give Leona her due.
"Mein gott...", he sighed as he slowly finished his last signature and finished it with a flourish across the ball of her foot, "You are the toughest girl we've ever had in this chair. Cute, courageous and ticklish; If you hadn't smashed up my bar, I'd be in love." He placed the feather down on the table again, and Leona allowed herself another deep breath. "How about a big hand for our little survivor!!" The bikers cheered and hollered, and Leona's brain throbbed. Her jaw was beginning to hurt from clenching her teeth so much, and she found that the blindfold was so damp with the tears and sweat of her superhuman effort to stay still that every time she opened her eyes, she found herself having to close them again to keep the stinging water out. She had no idea how she managed to last through the last round of tickling; it was pure, unadulterated torture from the moment the feather first hit her to the moment Bastian signed off on her. Her poor, tormented little foot still felt as though it was being tickled, and every inch of the skin was throbbing. Indeed, Bastian notice some small red lines appear on the soft white flesh where he had pressed a bit too hard, and he let himself smile a little bit as he saw them gradually appear across the balls and perfect little arches of her soles. Leona herself had an inkling she'd been injured, but she was simply so relieved to be rid of that horrible feather that it was all she could do not to scream out in relief. She had never, ever been tickled like this before; or rather, she may have done, but had repressed the memory, and she began to understand why. The fact that she was ticklish and that this man obviously knew what to do to harrass a ticklish girl's feet was bad enough; but the sheer effort it took to suppress her urges, to stop herself calling out, begging him to stop, was the worst part. If she'd known this was going to happen, she wouldn't have bothered giving herself a pedicure before she came out tonight.
Meanwhile, Bastian was plotting something wicked. After about a minute of silence, he decided Leona had had enough of a rest, and that she'd thwarted his attempts to get her to cry out for long enough. It was time to go to Plan B; something he usually saved for the final punishment after a girl had broken down, but, in this case, something he was probably going to have to do to get any reaction at all out of this brave little spitfire. The bikers and babes had long since abandoned him, and had started going about their nightly business of drinking too much and groping each other. However, one of the bikers spotted Bastian reaching for the little clay pot on the table, and immediately issued a rallying call. No sooner had he done so than the crowd was gathered around Leona and her poor little feet once more. Bastian removed her blindfold and leaned on the top of the stocks to speak to her.
"Okay Leona", said Bastian resignedly, pulling on a pair of surgeon's gloves, "We've worked out you're tough. Christ, every woman who's ever sat in this table got broken in minutes; you've lasted a whole half hour and haven't flinched yet. That's respectable. Plus, you kicked out a couple of my guys and are still alive to tell about it, which is just amazing. So, I've decided to let you go, scot free, with our respect; if, you pass one last little test." After what she'd just suffered through, Leona was ready for just about anything; so when she felt the soft bristles of a shaving brush hurriedly scurrying across her feet, she wasn't particularly concerned. It didn't even tickle that bad; more of a scratching sensation which she easily coped with. She wasn't even particularly bothered when Bastian pulled her toes apart and angrily forced the brush between them, making sure to hit every inch of skin on the bottoms and the tops of her toes as he did so. It hurt a bit, but not much, and as he swiped it all over her foot, along the blades, around the arches and balls and over ther heels, before taking it around and lightly dusting the tops of her feet, Leona was busy making plans for the rest of her evening. However, Bastian and the bikers knew something she didn't; the pot in which the brush had been contained itching powder, an extremely virulent brand which was guaranteed to keep itching unless scrubbed off with ice cold, soapy water. Bastian put the finishing touches to her feet with the brush, making sure he'd covered a good portion of the skin from her ankles to the soles of her feet with powder, and then decided to give her sweet, perfect arches a few more strokes purely for the pleasure as the bikers murmured and leered knowingly.
"That it?", said Leona, "Are you done now?"
"Yep", said Bastian, grinning wryly, "I'd say we're just about finished here."
"So you gonna let me go then?"
"Not yet", said Bastian, "Soon though. All you have to do is sit still and not speak for thirty seconds, and you're out." Leona sighed through boredom. Bastian was now dusting her toes sideways with the brush, enjoying the anticipation of what was to come and even more so having the pretty feet of this pretty girl entirely at his mercy, but Leona decided to just let it ride. However, after a few seconds, the soft scratching of the brush began to get a lot harder. Rather, it didn't get harder, but it seemed to feel harder. The brush seemed to be making her toes itchy; very itchy, in fact. Not just her toes, either; her left foot, all the way down her sole from the tip of her toes to her heel, suddenly felt like it had been pinched all over. Then her right foot began to itch, between her toes at first, and then slowly the unpleasant feeling began to spread to her toes, and down the top of her foot all the way to the ankle. Within seconds, both of her feet began to feel like they were on fire. As he saw Leona's mouth screw up into a grimace, Bastian put the brush down and sat back, folded his arms and admired his handywork. He watched Leona grinding her teeth and puffing and panting, and he beamed.
"So it begins.", he said. Leona was only half listening, but the feeling in her feet was starting to reach very unpleasant heights. Her breathing became heavy and she started to sweat like crazy as the itching powder saoked into her supple skin, and she fought both the horrific itching all over her feet and the enormous desire to scratch them. The torture she was experiencing now was so much worse than the tickling, a million times worse in fact. She tried clenching her teeth and squeezing her eyes shut, but it was no good; her soft, sweet little feet were completely overcome. She wanted so much to wriggle her toes to try and alleviate some of the itching, but knew if she did, the bikers would probably do something much worse to her. She was now getting desperate; her mind was racing as her little toes were prickled by the powder, and all she could do was sit there and let it eat away at her, let it surge and tear through her. After little more than twenty seconds, the itching became totally unbearable.
"Oh my god!!", she shreiked, "What the hell have you done to my feet, you bastard??? Grraaah!!!" She grunted and groaned loudly, thrashing and yanking at her bonds, desperately trying to free her feet and hands so she could end the itching. As she did, a huge cheer went up from the crowd, and Bastian stood up and bowed.
"The magic of the Chair, ladies and gents!", he said motioning towards Leona, who was now frantically screaming and growling, trying with all her might to free herself from the stocks and chains, all so she could scratch her feet. She was pulling and pushing and struggling so much that Bastian was afraid she might injure her feet; something he didn't want until he'd had his fun with them, and so he placed a specially shaped pillow between her feet and the stocks to keep her from banging them. She screamed and growled and gasped and roared in inhuman torment as the itching got worse and worse; and this was how Bastian left her, thrashing and screaming like a banshee caged, to go and watch Bayern play Dortmund.
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Two hours later Bastian returned to the bar-room. Everyone had left, and only a few of the younger prospects and their women remained. The barmaid looked at him disdainfully as he entered the room.
"What's your problem?", he spat. The barmaid tutted.
"Look at her!", she said angrily, "Look what you've done to her!" Bastian looked over at Leona; she was still struggling against her bonds, clenching her toes, flexing her soles, and trying like mad to bring her feet together to rub them on each other in the hope that might stop the fucking itching. The fire still seemed to be burning in her belly, but she looked extremely tired now. Her hair was matted with sweat, and her screams and groans were getting more and more laboured. Bastian tutted and shook his head.
"She's fine", he said, "Doing a lot better than you did anyway. Remember how you cried and begged me to let you out of the Chair?" The barmaid flipped him the finger and carried on about her business. Bastian walked over to Leona and sat down in front of her feet again.
"So, how are you doing now?"
"Get this shit off me!!!" she roared at him, all the frustration, torment and sheer, unadulterated itching of the last two hours crystalising in her voice. She struggled and gasped and groaned and roared even as Bastian sat and watched.
"Okay, you've had enough I think", he said sympathetically, "Dietmar, go and fetch some water from the hose. It needs to be cold, so put some ice in it; and a shit-load of washing up liquid, and get a sponge and the nail brush out of my bathroom. And a toothbrush. Get one of those. Actually, make it two. We'd best get the powder washed off her before she goes completely nuts." Dietmar, a scrawny Prospect who just happened to be the only one without a woman, nodded enthusiastically and ran off. Bastian turned back to Leona, who was now trying to stare a hole through his chiselled German face. He smiled, and as he did so, she screamed again.
"AAARGH!!! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU SMILING AT YOU SICK BASTARD???!!" Bastian started to laugh as she screamed, and the Prospects and their molls joined in. This mockery, coupled with the fact her feet still felt as though the skin was about to fall off them, only served to make Leona even more angry.
"Let me go right now!! Let me go, let me go!!! You fucking asshole bastards, prick motherfuckers!!! Get these frigging chains off me RIGHT NOWW AAAAAARRRGGGHHH!!!!" A sarcastic cheer went up from the assembled rabble as Leona thrashed about against her chains once more. She was now almost completely exhausted, and as the thrashing gently sapped away what was left of her resolve she fell forward and hung, limp and debilitated, from her chains. Her feet were still itching, but she didn't have the energy to kick them any more. Instead she just hung there and panted for breath. After a few seconds, Dietmar arrived with a large metal bucket full of water, which he plonked down next to Bastian, and a handful of the implements Bastian had asked for, which he gave to the biker boss. Bastian rubbed his hands together in glee and licked his lips.
"You must be getting pretty cheesed off with all this itching, huh?", he teased. Leona nodded exhaustedly. "Heh, you're lucky. I normally make the girls sit here all night with this stuff on their feet. Like, eight, maybe ten hours. You only had two and you're already in this state; maybe you're not as tough as we thought." He reached around his back and plucked a pair of handcuffs from his belt, which he then secured around Leona's left ankle. He then turned to the bar and rubvbed his chin thoughtfully.
"So, who wants to wash her feet?" he asked. Most of the bar simply sat and looked at Bastian. "Come on, the poor little thing's in agony here! Someone wash her feet!" Again, there was silence. Bastian shook his head, and went and sat down at the bar.
"I ain't fucking doin' it." he said. Leona's eyes widened in horror.
"No!", she gasped, "No, you have to wash this off me!! Please, I'm gonna friggin' die here!!!" Bastian poured himself a drink.
"DO I look like a butler?" he said curtly, "Do it yourse....oh, wait..... haha. Looks like you're gonna have to put up with it for a little while longer."
"I'll do it."
The entire room turned to the door as the voice rang out, none more intently than Leona. Standing in the doorway was the archetypal biker chick; dyed black hair with purple and silver streaks, skin-tight leather camisole, gothic make-up and thigh high boots with fishnets. Bastian's face lit up.
"Alex!", he proclaimed happily, "I was wondering when you were gonna show up." Alex smirked as she walked towards Leona.
"I heard you had the Chair out again...." She looked Leona over once or twice and nodded in approval. "Hey, she's a purdy one; where'd you find her?"
"Didn't", replied Bastian, "She found us. She KO'ed Lisa and Rose with a barstiool, then smashed the bar up trying to get away, so we decided to punish her.
"Beats calling the schwein", said Alex with a smile.
"So, you gonna clean her up?", said Bastian. Alex looked Leona's feet over; they were cute, very cute, about as cute as Alex had seen, and they looked really soft and supple. She ummed a little, and as she did Leona piped up.
"Please god wash my feet!!", she howled, scrunshing her toes and rubbing them together as she did so. Seeing her pretty little toes wiggling and wriggling sealed the deal; Alex leered and nodded, and sat down in Bastian's torture chair.
"Here you go", he siad, flinging Alex the keys, "Have fun."
"Oh, I will" said Alex wryly. Leona didn't like the sound of that, but she was so desperate for the itching to stop that she'd have put her feet through a mincer if she thought it'd help. Leona put on the surgeon's gloves which Bastian had used to apply the powder, and put the key in the lock.
"Okay baby", she said in a patronising tone, "I'm gonna unlock these little tootsies now. When I do, you're gonna be a good girl and keep your legs dead still, otherwise I'm gonna make you wish you had, understand?" Leona nodded. "Good", chirped Alex, "Then let's get started shall we?" Alex turned the key in the lock, which clicked open. She then gently lifted the lid of the stocks off Leona's ankles, and, as good as her word, Leona kept still. Alex then picked up Leona's right leg and placed it gently alongside her left, before locking them both together at the ankles with the handcuffs. She then put her hand into her pocket and produced another set of handcuffs; however, these handcuffs were a lot smaller and a great deal thinner. Alex opened them up with a latch, and then fitted them around both of Leona's big toes before locking them again. She then sat back in her chair.
"Y'know, you have some cute little feet", said Alex with a smile, "Even cuter when they're all tied up and helpless."
"Yeah, can we get on with this, please?", grated Leona. Alex sucked her teeth.
"Tsk tsk", she said, "Those don't sound like the words of someone who wants me to help her. You must like having itchy feet."
"Shit, I'm sorry", Leona said sharply, "Please, please wash my feet for me." Alex smiled.
"That's more like it, sweetheart". She smiled and picked up the bucket, placing it on a table next to the Chair. She then picked up Leona's legs and dangled her feet over the water, but before she put them in the bucket, she dipped the tips of her fingers into the water; as her skin touched the water's surface, she yowled.
"Jesus! That's fucking sadistic....." She looked Leona right in the eyes and smiled again. "Bombs away!"
Alex let go of Leona's feet and allowed them to drop into the water. As soon as they made contact, Leona jumped and gasped; the water was ice cold, and worse, was full of huge pieces of ice from the freezer. The coldness of it made Leona's heart skip and took all the breath from her body as though she'd been punched in the chest, which amused the others in the bar, who pointed and laughed as they watched Leona shiver and struggle for breath. She could feel all of her muscles tensing up, all the wy from her calves to her lower back, and it took approximately two seconds before the chill of the water became unbearable for Leona's feet. She tried to raise her legs to remove her feet from the bucket; but as she did, Alex leapt forward and grabbed her legs, dunking her poor feet back into the icy water and holding them there. Leona struggled, splashing water all over everywhere and shivvering like mad, but Alex was strong.
"No no, baby", she said teasingly, "We gotta wash these puppies! Gotta keep 'em under the water for a while, to let all the nasty itchy powder melt away! You feel it? it should be working already!" However, Leona couldn't feel anything, except for pain engulfing her feet as they sat helpless under the freezing water. She tried to point the toes on her left foot upwards to get them clear of the water, but it was no good; the toe-cuffs prevented her from doing even this. All she could do was sit there and shiver and clench her toes and wait until Alex decided to let her go. It took about a minute of freezing pain before Alex allowed her to lift her feet out of the bucket, and when they emerged the soft white skin had turned a shade of purple where the cold water had given her freezerburn. She was still shivering and struggling to breathe as Alex placed her ankles back into the middle hole of the stocks and latched the top back on.
"Aww, my poor little....uh, what's her name, by the way?"
"Leona", Bastian said.
"Leona; pretty name. Scottish, isn't it?" Leona didn't care; her feet were still freezing, and the draft from the ceiling fan made it all the worse. She still couldn't feel her toes, except when she tried to move them, which sent pain coursing through her body; and worse, the parts of her feet which she could feel were still itching. Alex pouted.
"Poor little Leona; don't worry, Alex is gonna make it all better now". As Leona shivered and chattered her teeth, Alex grabbed the scourer from the table where Bastian had placed it, and began gently rubbing the soles of Leona's feet with it. Alex smiled contentedly, rubbing with her right hand and gently holding Leona's foot with her left, caressing the arch tenderly with her thumb. After a while, she began rubbing the tops of Leona's feet, and she leaned in a little closer. As she did, Leona felt her breath on her toes; the fact her feet were cold made them extremely sensitive to even the slightest things, and even Alex's soft breathing across her feet was beginning to affect her. This didn't escape Alex's notice, and she giggled; she then began deliberately blowing on Leona's feet, running up and down her soles and across the bottom of her toes, which caused Leona some slight discomfort. The entire male population of the bar were sitting in slack-jawed silence, until Dietmar piped up.
"This is so hot....", he breathed. Alex heard him.
"Why, thank you", she said teasingly, before returning to Leona's feet. She kept blowing for a while as she scrubbed the last of the powder from Leona's feet, and then dropped the sponge into the bucket. She then took hold of Leona's feet with her hands.
"Okay sweetheart, we need to get you warmed up again." she said as she began gently rubbing Leona's feet all over with her hands, in an attempt to get the blood flowing properly through them again. Leona was still recovering from the shock of the freezing water, however she noticed with some relief that the soles and tops of her feet were no longer itchy. Her toes were still numb, but as the feeling crept back into them, she felt itching in between them.
"You feeling better yet?" enquired Alex. Leona looked up at her.
"Thank you", she sputtered between gasps, "My toes still itch though...." Alex pouted again.
"Aww, you poor little baby. Don't worry, I'll fix that for you too." She ran her fingers down Leona's left arch one last time, and then picked up the toothbrushes from the table. She then rubbed her chin and pondered something for a second.
"This would be a lot easier if we spread your toes out a little....." Alex said thoughtfully. She then placed the toothbrush on top of the stocks and unlocked the toe-cuffs, gently removing them from Leona's toes and placing them back in her pocket. She then took hold of a length of string dangling from the middle eyelet on the stocks and looped it around Leona's big toes a few times.
"What the hell are you doing?", Leona barked. Alex looked up sharply.
"Watch it!", she snapped back, "There's a hell of a lot of itching powder in that jar. You speak like that again and I'll tie you up, strip you naked, cover you in it and put you in my broom closet for a week!" Leona didn't appreciate being treated like a baby; but at the same time she didn't know what Alex was capable of, and she certainly didn't want to find out if she had the guts to make good on her threat. She decided instead to keep quiet and scowl at Alex, who was busily re-looping the fibre around Leona's big toes. After a few loops, Alex took the end back to the eyelet and tied it off, creating a little trap which held Leona's feet together. A few minutes later, her eight other toes were similarly tied, each one individually spread and held in place by a length of fibre which was slack enough to allow the blood to flow, but tight enough to stop her wiggling them. After tying the last toe, Alex picked up the brushes again.
"Okay, I'm gonna stop the itching once and for all. This may tickle a little, but you're a tough girl; you should be able to take it."
"Do I have to sit still and stay silent?", Leona inquired.
"My goodness no!", replied Alex, "You're not being tested any more, you can let it all out. You feel free to giggle and wriggle all you like; the more, the better...." She tailed off slightly at the end as she lowered the toothbrushes between the pinky toes of both of Leona's feet at once. With a look of intense concentration on her face, she began gently scrubbing the brushes across the half-hidden flesh on the woutside of each of Leona's big toes. It tickled immediately, and no sooner had Alex begun to scratch and scrub than Leona found herself giggling and twitching her feet. She tried to close her toes together, but to no avail; the fibre held them firmly in place, rendering her helpless as Alex continued to scrub, slowly working the brush up the side of her big toe, onto the top, and then down into the space between. She continued to scrub all the way along Leona's toes, with every toe she passed sending Leona further and further into a giggling fit, until she finally reached the outside of her little pinky toes. At this point, Alex stopped for a moment and reached around to the back of Leona's feet, before staring the scrubbing again across the tops of her toes. This tickled slightly less, and gave Leona a breather of a few seconds; she would need it, as it turned out, because all the while she had been scrubbing, Alex was planning a coup de grace which would throw Leona off the deep end and begin what was going to be a day of complete hell for this poor girl and her poor little ticklish feet.
As Alex sat back in the chair, Leona heaved a sigh of relief. Her feet were beginning to return to normal now; the itching had stopped, and the blood seemed to be pumping around them once more. She drew in a deep breath and sat upright.
"So, what now?", she enquired, "Can I go yet?" Bastian and Alex looked at each other. "Well, can I?"
"You gotta be kidding!", said Alex.
"What?? Come on, I've been here for nearly four hours now!! I've learned my lesson!!"
"Maybe you have", said Alex, "But I only just got here. And besides, you owe me. I just spent a quarter of an hour cleaning your feet for you, and I want paid for it."
"Jeez...", sighed Leona, "How much do you want?" Alex smiled and raised her eyebrow.
"What do you take me for?", she chuckled, "I'm not looking for money; my brother's a Borussia Dortmund striker, my father owns a shipyard and my mother is a heart surgeon."
"Well, what do you want, then?", asked Leona frustratedly. Alex didn't reply. She simply leaned on the stocks and rested her head on her arms, tilting it sideways and looking sweetly at Leona.
"What do I want? More than anything?", she said, sitting up and shuffling her chair forward, "Well....."
"Spit it out for christ's sakes!!" Alex gently caressed Leona's leg with her long fingernails and the soft tips of her fingers, from just above her knee to her ankle. It tickled and made Leona jerk slightly. Bastian stood up.
"You're going nowhere", he said, "You failed the test; now, you belong to us."
"What???", Leona shreiked, "You can't do that!!"
"And you're gonna stop us how?", he replied triumphantly. Leona was stumped; he was right, what the hell could she do? She was completely helpless; she shook her head in disbelief.
"Please....you have to let me go. Please. I.... I'm sorry. I didn't mean to start that fight; it just happened. One of those things, right? Please, have a heart....."
"Meh...." Bastian sighed, "You say you're sorry, but you still trashed my bar and beat up my guys. Plus, Bayern got beat, well trounced actually, and I lost a lot of money over that. I need someone to take it out on; and since you're here, and you're all tied up, then why not take it out on you?"
"Wh-what do you mean?....." Leona quivered. Bastian walked towards her and moved Alex out of his seat before sitting down.
"You know exactly what I mean", he said. "What we did to you earlier, that was a warm-up; all we were testing was just how ticklish you were. Now, we get down to some serious business." He picked up a toothbrush in each hand and held them up in front of Leona, twirling them between his fingers for effect. "Say hello to my little friends!" With that, he began scrubbing the brushes across the helpless, quivering stems of Leona's exposed toes.
Asd soon as the stiff bristles began prickling and scurrying along the stems of her pretty toes, Leona screamed, swore and seethed. It did no good, and only served to make Bastian quicken his brushing to elicit more of a reaction from his prisoner. She tried to pull her toes down, to ball them up to cover the soft skin on their undersides and protect it from the toothbrushes, but it was no use; they were stuck fast with wire.
"Stop....", Leona giggled helplessly, "Stop it now....". She was trying to sound intimidating, but she was giggling far too much. After a short while her threats truned to pleading as Bastian left her toes alone and dragged the brushes along the small shelf beneath them. This deft action made Leona burst into a fit opf uncontrollable laughter. She threw her head back and let it out in waves, gurgling and wheezing and screaming and howling as the brushes flicked and flecked along the sensitive skin. She tried to curl her toes down, forcing them with all her might against the bonds which held them, but it was no use, and the more she struggled, the tighter they got, and the tighter they stretched her little tiny feet and the sensitive skin which covered them. Bastian was thoroughly enjoying the abject despair this seemed to be inflicting on Leona, and he made a mental note to himself to work on this little area more later on. After a few more seconds of tickling, he stopped and put the brushes down. Leona continued gigglingfor a while as Bastian spoke to her.
"Pretty intense, huh?", he said, "But at the end of the day you can't beat good old German elbow-grease." He rolled up his sleeves and wiggled his fingers just in front of her feet. Leona shreiked and tried to bury her face in her shoulder.
"No!! STOP IT!!!", she pleaded.
"Yes!!", he said, before bringing his fingers down on the soft tender flesh of her soles. He flicked his long fingernails all across her soles, scurrying up and down the luscious arches and tender blades, working in circles around her heels and in wavy lines across the balls of her feet, all the while drinking in the hysterical fit of laughter which Leona had sunken into. She was running out of air, her head thrown back and her back arched so much she was worried it might snap as Bastian's fingers plucked and played all across the sweet little soles of her poor little feet. There were no thoughts in her head any more as she thrashed it from side to side and pleaded as best she could for Bastian to stop tickling, please; but it was no use. Bastian was having a ball inflicting his special brand of torture on her, and he wasn't in the mood to stop any time soon.
"You like this, huh?", he teased, "You must like it; look how much you're laughing!!" Tears welled in her eyes and a lump rose in her throat as Leona howled and begged and danced to the tune his fingers were rattling across her feet. She didn't like it; she hated it, more than anything she could imagine, more than anything anyone had ever done to her in her life before, but she was completely and utterly helpless to do anything but sit there and allow this torment to wash over her like a tidal wave. She couldn't do anything; she tried to scrunch her feet, curl her toes, pull them away, do anything to get them away from Bastian's fingers, but nothing worked, and the more she tried and failed, the more desperate and frantic she became. Her mind raced and pulsed and whirled as Bastian tortured the soft soles of her feet, casting her into her own personal hell using only the tips of his fingers, and all she could do was sit there and laugh. Bastian was now tickling away like a pro, loving every second of Leona's reaction as it turned from giggling to laughing to pleading. He enjoyed her laugh, he enjoyed how this tough, ballsy chick had been reduced to a howling wreck by the slightest touch of his fingers, how she was completely at his mercy, how he knew she hated him tickling her soft feet but was powerless to stop him, the way her soft, supple soles felt against his fingers, how they twitched and jerked as he ran his hands flat along them and tapped his fingers on them. Thus, he continued for a good twenty minutes, mercilessly tickling and probing and prodding at her cute, stretched out, helpless little feet, as Leona descended further and further into madness with each feathered touch of his fingers. he more he played, the deeper he fell in love with her adorable little feet; they were so soft, so silky, so pretty; he could have played with them all night long, had her dancing and wailing like a soul in hell for weeks if he thought he could get away with it. However, he knew if he continued for much longer she'd probably pass out, and it'd be a bitch to bring her round again, and so, as suddenly as he'd begun, he stopped. Leona lurched forward and gulped down massive breaths of air as sweat dripped from her forehead, and ran down her face into her eyes. Her mascara and eyeshadow had now become a mess of black and blue streaks which ran all the way down fron her eyelids to her chin, as tears flowed freely from her blodshot eyes, and she sobbed and giggled and tried to catch her breath again as she hung, totally debilitated, from her chains.
"Jeez", Bastian said, "That was friggin' fun!! You should come her emore often; either that, or not leave." Leona didn't register what he'd said, she was far too exhausted to listen or even to care what Bastianm was saying any more. However, the biker boss was far from finished with her.
"So, we've established now that your soles are hellishly ticklish", he said, as though presenting a documentary on her feet and their sweet spots, "But what about those toes and tops? Let's have a little look see, shall we?"
This, Leona heard, and she raised her head just in time to see Bastian lean forward and begin stroking the tips of his fingers lightly up and down the tops of her feet, slowly and gently, making only the slightest of contact with her soft skin. Leona growled and struggled as his fingers bruished ever so lightly against the soft flesh, up and down, over and over, teasing and tantalising her precious little feet with every stroke.
"No....." she whimpered. Bastian heard her pathetic pleading, and stopped.
"You don't like it there?" Leona shook her head. "Okay then", he continued, "What about your toes? Let's see how those little piggies like it." Leona shreiked even before Bastian had taken hold of her toes and bent them further backwards, the only way the ties would allow them to move. He placed his hand on the top of her left foot and held her toes down with his thumb, gently caressing the top of her foot with his fingers as his right hand softly teased the undersides of her toes. She began to giggle again, less frantically than before but no less desperately, pleading and sobbing in between. Her face was still buried in her outstretched arm as Bastian lightly tickled her little toes and caressed the top of her foot. After a few minutes he stopped and moved onto her left foot, performing the exact same type of torture on these little piggies and sending Leona into ticklish hysterics. She wanted to kill him, she wanted to end his life, to saw off his head with a breadknife, to cut off his feet and feed them to him. She wanted so badly to kill him, to torture him, to take him to the same lows as he'd taken her to, but she couldn't; and the horrible realisation that she was totally at his mercy slowly took over her mind as Bastian changed his style again. He let her toes go and started tickling each one individually, working his fingers all around it and flicking them across the gaps, the tops, the stems, wiggling and tickling and loving her giggling as he did so. He started from her left pinky and slowly, tantalisingly, worked his way across each one, paying special attention to her big toes which seemed most ticklish of all. Eventually, after plucking away at her soft little toes for what seemed like an eternity, he reached the right pinky and stopped. Leona lurched forward again and hung sobbing by her wrists. Bastian stood up, and everyone else in the room clapped as he took a bow.
"Well played, maestro", quipped Alex as she looked over at Leona. This poor girl, hanging exhausted by her wrists from the thick chains, had just been to the depths of hell at the hands of this evil sadist; a truly terrible feat of feet tickling. She couldn't remember him ever being this cruel to a girl in the Chair; even with Alex herself, his self-confessed "favourite", he hadn't been nearly this harsh. Still, she could hardly blame him; she was probably as close to perfection as Bastian could have hoped to find. He had a thing for this type of woman; cute, sweet and innocent looking, but with a big set of balls, a bad attitude, and, more importantly, cute, tiny little feet and acutely ticklish skin. This poor girl was in for one hell of a tough time before she was released.
I would encourage you to write more. 
