Dale lie on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Boy would his football teammates laugh if they could see him now! Trapped in a small room, afraid even to get off the bed. It was humiliating! It reminded Dale of being grounded by his mother when he was a child. Except this time, he wasn’t afraid of getting a spanking, but of the carpeting.
Twice, Dale had gotten off the bed and twice the same thing had happened. The floor had started buzzing and the long, scratchy carpet fibers had begun vibrating against his bare feet. The tickling had been excruciating, and had made Dale want to jump back on the bed as soon as possible. The second time, the psychotic women who was holding his captive had started tickling Dale’s belly and sides, making the tickling much worse! No, Dale would rather walk on hot coals than that rug again.
If only he had a pair of shoes! The carpet couldn’t torment his bare tootsies! And shoes weren’t the only thing Dale was wearing. No socks, shirt or pants either. The only thing he was wearing was a pair of red bikini briefs that barely kept his manhood concealed. Dale felt naked and exposed. He wasn’t sure he even wanted to leave the room dressed like this, looking like some kind of degenerate.
He had spent sometime trying to get the golden bands off of his ankles, but had failed. No matter how he pushed or pulled, the shiny metal would not give. Dale had found a thin line that must have been a seam, but without tools, he could not pry it apart. All he could do was wait for the crazy woman to come back and set him free.
When would that be? The last thing she had said to him was that he would be here for a long time. Didn’t she know this was kidnapping! Dale still had a slim hope that this was some kind of weird joke, but that hope was diminishing quickly. He now believed he had fallen into the clutches of some psychopath, just like that movie staring Kathy Bates. Well, at least his kidnapper was prettier than Mrs. Bates.
Who was she? That was the biggest question of all. He was sure that he had seen her, but where? She was about his age, so maybe he was in one of his classes at Plains State University. If he could figure out her name, maybe he could talk his way out of this one.
“Lost in thought?” a feminine voice roused Dale from his contemplation. She stood in the doorway, auburn hair dangling down almost to the small of her back. Her face held no expression, but her deep brown eyes were gleaming like a lion’s who had cornered its prey.
Dale propped himself up on his elbows to see her better. “Just trying to figure out a way out of here,” he said simply, trying not to look worried. This could be his big chance. He just had to wear a poker face, and hope she came a little bit closer.
She did, taking a few steps into the room. “No chance, honey. I told you, you’re here to pay the price for you and your teammates being a bunch of sexist pigs. And that may take awhile.” Now she did smile an evil grin.
“Look, I’m just the kicker. Wouldn’t you rather make the quarterback or one of the running backs pay? They‘re the stars on the team.” Keep her talking, thought Dale, then I can take her by surprise.
“There is no I in T-E-A-M,” she said slowly, tasking another step into the room, “If one of you lose the game, you all lose. Isn’t that what Coach Gross is always telling you? Getting my revenge one of you Neanderthals will be like getting it on all of you.”
Coach Gross? Gross was the special teams coach! Only the most rabid fan of the football team or somebody that worked with the team would know him. Suddenly, Dale had an idea about who his captor might be.
“Besides,” she said softly. “I think I’ll enjoy punishing you more.” She took one more fatal step.
Now! Dale intended on rolling out of the bed and charging her. Even if the tickling carpet started vibrating, he was sure he could have her on the floor, sitting on top of her. Then she would be the one facing the torment of the bristly strands while her body shielded him from them!
But it didn’t work that way. The golden anklets Dale was wearing heated up just before he moved. Dale found to his surprise that those golden bands were now stuck to the mattress! Dale tried with all his might to lift his foot off the mattress or even slide it backwards, but found the anklets wouldn’t budge an inch! Dale grabbed his left calf with both hands and pulled, thigh muscles and shoulders quivering with the effort. Nothing!
“There’s a powerful magnet in the mattress,” the girl explained while Dale rested for a minute from his endeavor, “And one in each anklet. When they are both on, it should take more than 500 pounds of force to separate them.”
Dale looked up. She was standing right by his vulnerable bare feet. With his legs outstretched, there was nothing he could do to protect them. He could barely bend at the knees with his ankles trapped the way they were. Dale’s feet might as well have been locked in medieval stocks! Why hadn’t he been sitting cross-legged?!
“You don’t know how long I’ve waited to do this Dale,” she said in a gloating voice. Then he felt her nails grazing across his naked soles, five on each foot, scratching up and down.
“HEH EHEHE EHEHHEHEH DONNN HEHE EHEE EHEHEHEH DONNNNN’’TTTT HE EHEHE EH EH!!!! PLEAAHEHEHESSEEEE EHE EHEHEHE EHE E EEE E ESTAWWWWWPPP EHEHEHE!!” Dale begged. The sensations shooting up his legs were unbearable!
“Oh, I don’t think I can,” she said gleefully, “I knew your feet were soft, but not this soft! I never thought a man could have such velvety smooth skin.” her nails kept up there devilish work, digging in just a bit, apply a little more pressure, tickling Dale more and more.
Dale’s body writhed on the bed. He sat up, reaching for the girl’s hands, trying to stop those awful, awful fingers, but they remained just out of reach. He twisted and turned his torso, desperate to get his body into a position where he could end the torment.
“I bet you wish you had done some yoga practice instead of all those sit-ups and push-ups,” the girl said in a smug voice, “If you were more flexible, you might be able to stop me from doing this!” Her fingertips were on the balls of Dale’s feet now, nails sliding from side to side, scraping the tender flesh and making Dale howl.
“AHHE E E A AHHH EHEHE EHEHEHEHEHE NAWWWWWWOOOOO E AAAAH EHEHEH EE E A AHAH AAAHHHH AAHHHHHHHAAAAAA AAHAH AHAH AAHAHAH STAAAWWPPPP AHA A NAAAWWOWOOWOOOOOO!!!!” Dale’s face was red as a tomato now, and tears were beginning to stream down his cheeks. It tickled, it tickled it tickled so much!
“Aww, the tough football player isn’t crying already, is he? Your not a crybaby, are you? You know what the other players would call you for being so weak Dale? They’d say you were a big girl. That’s the worst thing you can call a tough guy like you, isn’t it? Well, it’s a girl that’s doing this to you Dale, a weak little Girl, making you whimper and cry!” Her fingernails were in his arches now, finding even softer skin there if at all possible. She lightly ran them from heel to the base of his big toe, still tickling, but letting Dale catch his breath again.
“heh eheheh eheh pleeaassee eheheheheh no moreehehehe eheh eheheheh meerrcycyheh eheheheh eheh ehe!!!!!!! Hehe ehehe nawwwwttt heh ehehehh e e eheh niccceehehhehehehe!!!!” Dale pleades, using the little air now pouring back into his lungs. She had to stop! She had to! He grabbed his knees, holding on tightly, waiting for mercy.
“Why should I be nice?” she asked, lightly tickling fingers still scampering up both Dale’s arches, “When were your muscle-headed buddies ever nice to me?.”
“ehe eheheh nawwwttt me eheheh…don’t ehehehehe GAWWDDD HE EHEHEHEHEH know know know you heh eheh eHEHEHEHEHEH AAHH EHEHEHEH!!!!” Dale’s laughter spiked when she began to flick a nail along the base of his big toe. His scrunched up his toes as tightly as he could. His hips bounced up and down on the mattress, thrusting from instinct.
“So you just forget about me then? And after all I’ve done to help you! Unless your sleeping with her, a women isn’t important enough to remember?”
“he eheh ehe no ehe nohohohohoho he ehehe ei I I I didhehe eheheh…didhe ehehe didn’t eh eheheh meaHEH EHEHEHEHHE EHEHEHEHH STAWWWPPPPPP EH EHEHEHEEEEEEEEE!!!!” Any attempts to explain Dale could make were suddenly erased when she went back to his toes, tickling their fleshy, round tips.
“All you football players are the same! You want your women barefoot and pregnant. Well Dale, I might not be able to get you pregnant, but how do you like being barefoot?” Dale’s only answer was another loud explosion of laughter as the mysterious women kept on tickling the ends of his toes. He couldn’t ever remember thinking that, but he no longer had enough air in his lungs to say so.
His laughter was music to her ears, but she wanted more. If the tips of his toes were so ticklish, she wondered, what must it be like underneath and between them? Dale instinctively had his toes curled up in a tight ball, but that wasn’t going to stop her. She hadn’t taken those classes about reflexology not to use them now.
The mystery women mover one hand to the bottom of Dale’s left foot. She began digging a nail into the spot where the roundness of the heel ends and the slope of the arch starts. There was a special pressure point there that should do the trick. Sure enough, Dale’s laughter kind of hiccupped, and the toes on that foot spread wide!
Bingo! She started slipping the fingers of her other hand between and underneath those now wide opened toes. One fingernail for each toe, lightly caressing the sensitive skin there.
Dale went wild. His head and shoulders crashed back down to the mattress, and his fists began slamming into the fluffy mattress. He was in a ticklish agony and his laughter showed it, sounding now like the cries of a wounded buffalo.
“You all think your so great, kings of the school, parading your bodies for the ladies. You expect us all to grovel at your feet, to beg for your attention. We should spend our money to watch you defend the glory of our school. Well Dale, now I‘m the one defending the honor of women, all women, and you’re the one begging and groveling.”
“I AAMMMMMA AHAHA AHAHAHAH AH AHAHA AHAH I I I I AMAMAHAHAHAH AHAHAH A AHAH AHAH A AHAH AAHAHA AA AAHAHAHAHAHA GRRRRR HA AHA AH HAHA ST ST AHA SORR AHAHAHAHH ST ST AHAHAHAHHH A SAWWPPPP AHH AHAH AHHH SAWWPP AHAH HAHAHAHH! SORRRRHRHHHHEEEYYYYY”
Words stopped forming in Dale’s brain. The apology slipped out just as a crazy, frenzied laugher overcame him. One sharp tip of a fingernail was drawing circle on the fleshy pad of his middle toe. Another stroking between his two smaller one. Those tiny movements of her fingers became the world. Dale forgot about the bed he was lying on, anklets holding his feet hostage and in fact forgot about the girl herself. Only her fingernails, grazing over his toes were real.
She tried to look at Dale’s suffering in a clinical detached way. She should have been finding his worst spots, noticing that tickling the sides of Dale’s big toe was agony off the charts, that twisting her pinkie underneath his baby toe was a close second, but she wasn’t. She was caught up in her revenge, in the glow of finally being the one in charge, in the sheer ecstasy of dominating another human being.
And she never wanted to stop.
But she had to. All her medical training told her that soon, Dale would pass out. And then her tickle toy would be unavailable for a while. He needed oxygen, and his body needed relief from the laughter that was wracking its muscles.
Somehow, she stopped.
She watched Dale lying there, clutching the mattress like it was a bucking bronco trying to throw him off. She watched the sweat glistening on his bare skin, listened to his raspy breath as air once again flowed into her lungs. She watched as his eyes opened, filled with the relief of not being tickled but also the dread of what happens next.
Twice, Dale had gotten off the bed and twice the same thing had happened. The floor had started buzzing and the long, scratchy carpet fibers had begun vibrating against his bare feet. The tickling had been excruciating, and had made Dale want to jump back on the bed as soon as possible. The second time, the psychotic women who was holding his captive had started tickling Dale’s belly and sides, making the tickling much worse! No, Dale would rather walk on hot coals than that rug again.
If only he had a pair of shoes! The carpet couldn’t torment his bare tootsies! And shoes weren’t the only thing Dale was wearing. No socks, shirt or pants either. The only thing he was wearing was a pair of red bikini briefs that barely kept his manhood concealed. Dale felt naked and exposed. He wasn’t sure he even wanted to leave the room dressed like this, looking like some kind of degenerate.
He had spent sometime trying to get the golden bands off of his ankles, but had failed. No matter how he pushed or pulled, the shiny metal would not give. Dale had found a thin line that must have been a seam, but without tools, he could not pry it apart. All he could do was wait for the crazy woman to come back and set him free.
When would that be? The last thing she had said to him was that he would be here for a long time. Didn’t she know this was kidnapping! Dale still had a slim hope that this was some kind of weird joke, but that hope was diminishing quickly. He now believed he had fallen into the clutches of some psychopath, just like that movie staring Kathy Bates. Well, at least his kidnapper was prettier than Mrs. Bates.
Who was she? That was the biggest question of all. He was sure that he had seen her, but where? She was about his age, so maybe he was in one of his classes at Plains State University. If he could figure out her name, maybe he could talk his way out of this one.
“Lost in thought?” a feminine voice roused Dale from his contemplation. She stood in the doorway, auburn hair dangling down almost to the small of her back. Her face held no expression, but her deep brown eyes were gleaming like a lion’s who had cornered its prey.
Dale propped himself up on his elbows to see her better. “Just trying to figure out a way out of here,” he said simply, trying not to look worried. This could be his big chance. He just had to wear a poker face, and hope she came a little bit closer.
She did, taking a few steps into the room. “No chance, honey. I told you, you’re here to pay the price for you and your teammates being a bunch of sexist pigs. And that may take awhile.” Now she did smile an evil grin.
“Look, I’m just the kicker. Wouldn’t you rather make the quarterback or one of the running backs pay? They‘re the stars on the team.” Keep her talking, thought Dale, then I can take her by surprise.
“There is no I in T-E-A-M,” she said slowly, tasking another step into the room, “If one of you lose the game, you all lose. Isn’t that what Coach Gross is always telling you? Getting my revenge one of you Neanderthals will be like getting it on all of you.”
Coach Gross? Gross was the special teams coach! Only the most rabid fan of the football team or somebody that worked with the team would know him. Suddenly, Dale had an idea about who his captor might be.
“Besides,” she said softly. “I think I’ll enjoy punishing you more.” She took one more fatal step.
Now! Dale intended on rolling out of the bed and charging her. Even if the tickling carpet started vibrating, he was sure he could have her on the floor, sitting on top of her. Then she would be the one facing the torment of the bristly strands while her body shielded him from them!
But it didn’t work that way. The golden anklets Dale was wearing heated up just before he moved. Dale found to his surprise that those golden bands were now stuck to the mattress! Dale tried with all his might to lift his foot off the mattress or even slide it backwards, but found the anklets wouldn’t budge an inch! Dale grabbed his left calf with both hands and pulled, thigh muscles and shoulders quivering with the effort. Nothing!
“There’s a powerful magnet in the mattress,” the girl explained while Dale rested for a minute from his endeavor, “And one in each anklet. When they are both on, it should take more than 500 pounds of force to separate them.”
Dale looked up. She was standing right by his vulnerable bare feet. With his legs outstretched, there was nothing he could do to protect them. He could barely bend at the knees with his ankles trapped the way they were. Dale’s feet might as well have been locked in medieval stocks! Why hadn’t he been sitting cross-legged?!
“You don’t know how long I’ve waited to do this Dale,” she said in a gloating voice. Then he felt her nails grazing across his naked soles, five on each foot, scratching up and down.
“HEH EHEHE EHEHHEHEH DONNN HEHE EHEE EHEHEHEH DONNNNN’’TTTT HE EHEHE EH EH!!!! PLEAAHEHEHESSEEEE EHE EHEHEHE EHE E EEE E ESTAWWWWWPPP EHEHEHE!!” Dale begged. The sensations shooting up his legs were unbearable!
“Oh, I don’t think I can,” she said gleefully, “I knew your feet were soft, but not this soft! I never thought a man could have such velvety smooth skin.” her nails kept up there devilish work, digging in just a bit, apply a little more pressure, tickling Dale more and more.
Dale’s body writhed on the bed. He sat up, reaching for the girl’s hands, trying to stop those awful, awful fingers, but they remained just out of reach. He twisted and turned his torso, desperate to get his body into a position where he could end the torment.
“I bet you wish you had done some yoga practice instead of all those sit-ups and push-ups,” the girl said in a smug voice, “If you were more flexible, you might be able to stop me from doing this!” Her fingertips were on the balls of Dale’s feet now, nails sliding from side to side, scraping the tender flesh and making Dale howl.
“AHHE E E A AHHH EHEHE EHEHEHEHEHE NAWWWWWWOOOOO E AAAAH EHEHEH EE E A AHAH AAAHHHH AAHHHHHHHAAAAAA AAHAH AHAH AAHAHAH STAAAWWPPPP AHA A NAAAWWOWOOWOOOOOO!!!!” Dale’s face was red as a tomato now, and tears were beginning to stream down his cheeks. It tickled, it tickled it tickled so much!
“Aww, the tough football player isn’t crying already, is he? Your not a crybaby, are you? You know what the other players would call you for being so weak Dale? They’d say you were a big girl. That’s the worst thing you can call a tough guy like you, isn’t it? Well, it’s a girl that’s doing this to you Dale, a weak little Girl, making you whimper and cry!” Her fingernails were in his arches now, finding even softer skin there if at all possible. She lightly ran them from heel to the base of his big toe, still tickling, but letting Dale catch his breath again.
“heh eheheh eheh pleeaassee eheheheheh no moreehehehe eheh eheheheh meerrcycyheh eheheheh eheh ehe!!!!!!! Hehe ehehe nawwwwttt heh ehehehh e e eheh niccceehehhehehehe!!!!” Dale pleades, using the little air now pouring back into his lungs. She had to stop! She had to! He grabbed his knees, holding on tightly, waiting for mercy.
“Why should I be nice?” she asked, lightly tickling fingers still scampering up both Dale’s arches, “When were your muscle-headed buddies ever nice to me?.”
“ehe eheheh nawwwttt me eheheh…don’t ehehehehe GAWWDDD HE EHEHEHEHEH know know know you heh eheh eHEHEHEHEHEH AAHH EHEHEHEH!!!!” Dale’s laughter spiked when she began to flick a nail along the base of his big toe. His scrunched up his toes as tightly as he could. His hips bounced up and down on the mattress, thrusting from instinct.
“So you just forget about me then? And after all I’ve done to help you! Unless your sleeping with her, a women isn’t important enough to remember?”
“he eheh ehe no ehe nohohohohoho he ehehe ei I I I didhehe eheheh…didhe ehehe didn’t eh eheheh meaHEH EHEHEHEHHE EHEHEHEHH STAWWWPPPPPP EH EHEHEHEEEEEEEEE!!!!” Any attempts to explain Dale could make were suddenly erased when she went back to his toes, tickling their fleshy, round tips.
“All you football players are the same! You want your women barefoot and pregnant. Well Dale, I might not be able to get you pregnant, but how do you like being barefoot?” Dale’s only answer was another loud explosion of laughter as the mysterious women kept on tickling the ends of his toes. He couldn’t ever remember thinking that, but he no longer had enough air in his lungs to say so.
His laughter was music to her ears, but she wanted more. If the tips of his toes were so ticklish, she wondered, what must it be like underneath and between them? Dale instinctively had his toes curled up in a tight ball, but that wasn’t going to stop her. She hadn’t taken those classes about reflexology not to use them now.
The mystery women mover one hand to the bottom of Dale’s left foot. She began digging a nail into the spot where the roundness of the heel ends and the slope of the arch starts. There was a special pressure point there that should do the trick. Sure enough, Dale’s laughter kind of hiccupped, and the toes on that foot spread wide!
Bingo! She started slipping the fingers of her other hand between and underneath those now wide opened toes. One fingernail for each toe, lightly caressing the sensitive skin there.
Dale went wild. His head and shoulders crashed back down to the mattress, and his fists began slamming into the fluffy mattress. He was in a ticklish agony and his laughter showed it, sounding now like the cries of a wounded buffalo.
“You all think your so great, kings of the school, parading your bodies for the ladies. You expect us all to grovel at your feet, to beg for your attention. We should spend our money to watch you defend the glory of our school. Well Dale, now I‘m the one defending the honor of women, all women, and you’re the one begging and groveling.”
“I AAMMMMMA AHAHA AHAHAHAH AH AHAHA AHAH I I I I AMAMAHAHAHAH AHAHAH A AHAH AHAH A AHAH AAHAHA AA AAHAHAHAHAHA GRRRRR HA AHA AH HAHA ST ST AHA SORR AHAHAHAHH ST ST AHAHAHAHHH A SAWWPPPP AHH AHAH AHHH SAWWPP AHAH HAHAHAHH! SORRRRHRHHHHEEEYYYYY”
Words stopped forming in Dale’s brain. The apology slipped out just as a crazy, frenzied laugher overcame him. One sharp tip of a fingernail was drawing circle on the fleshy pad of his middle toe. Another stroking between his two smaller one. Those tiny movements of her fingers became the world. Dale forgot about the bed he was lying on, anklets holding his feet hostage and in fact forgot about the girl herself. Only her fingernails, grazing over his toes were real.
She tried to look at Dale’s suffering in a clinical detached way. She should have been finding his worst spots, noticing that tickling the sides of Dale’s big toe was agony off the charts, that twisting her pinkie underneath his baby toe was a close second, but she wasn’t. She was caught up in her revenge, in the glow of finally being the one in charge, in the sheer ecstasy of dominating another human being.
And she never wanted to stop.
But she had to. All her medical training told her that soon, Dale would pass out. And then her tickle toy would be unavailable for a while. He needed oxygen, and his body needed relief from the laughter that was wracking its muscles.
Somehow, she stopped.
She watched Dale lying there, clutching the mattress like it was a bucking bronco trying to throw him off. She watched the sweat glistening on his bare skin, listened to his raspy breath as air once again flowed into her lungs. She watched as his eyes opened, filled with the relief of not being tickled but also the dread of what happens next.
