Lilmissticklishfeet
TMF Expert
- Joined
- Sep 26, 2005
- Messages
- 533
- Points
- 18
A Ticklish Confession
The sounds of arguing filled the hallway as two guards led a tall blonde woman towards the interrogation room. The woman was a spy from the CIA and had been sent on a mission to retrieve a secret weapon that the enemy had developed. The woman’s name was Sara Hardaway. She struggled to free her arms from the guards’ grip, but they overpowered her. Finally, they stopped in front of the interrogation room door. One of the guards punched in a code on the computer keyboard and waited for the door to open. Sara’s eyes widened as the guards roughly pushed her into the room and closed the door.
Sara looked around the room at the array of devices and torture instruments. She couldn’t help but notice a strange looking chair in the middle of the room. It almost reminded her of a dentist’s chair had it not been for the leather restraints on the armrests. Sara could only watch helplessly as the guards ripped her clothes off, with only her bra and panties to cover her body. The guards grabbed her arms and forced her into the chair. She struggled to free herself as the guards quickly strapped her wrists into the leather restraints. Another guard came into the room carrying a set of stocks. He opened it up, placed Sara’s ankles in the stocks and padlocked it closed.
Suddenly there were footsteps in the hallway. Sara could hear the distinct sound of high heels clacking on the floor. The door opened and a brunette woman in a long black dress came into the room. “Well, well, well! What have we here? A fly caught in the spider’s web? How interesting!” she exclaimed. Sara glared at the woman. “Miss Webster, I wish I could say how nice it is to be here.” Marian Webster chuckled and began to walk towards the chair. “Miss Hardaway, my men tell me that they found you lurking in a top-secret room. What were you doing in there?” asked Marian. “I couldn’t—uh—find the bathroom!” Sara lied.
“Nice try, dear, but I find that a little hard to believe. I will ask you again, Miss Hardaway, and I don’t want to hear anymore lame excuses!” demanded Miss Webster. “I was photographing the contents of the room!” confessed Sara. One of the guards grabbed Sara’s backpack and pulled out the camera. He handed it to Marian, who opened the camera and yanked out the film, tossing the camera to the floor. “So much for your precious photographs, Miss Hardaway. I’m curious to know something, however. Why were you photographing the contents of that room?” asked Marian. “It’s none of your business!” retorted Sara.
Marian nodded to the guard, who began untying Sara’s shoes. “Wha-what are you doing? Leave my shoes alone!” she screamed at the guard. The guard, paying no attention to her screams, removed her shoes. Marian walked towards Sara’s feet, her hands reaching toward her toes. Sara began to panic as she watched Marian’s hands grab…her socks and started pulled them off, revealing Sara’s bare feet. “Give me back my socks!” Sara begged. “What’s the matter, Sara? Are you afraid?” teased Marian as she meandered over to a table covered by assorted objects. She took her time as she selected a long purple feather and stepped back over to Sara’s helpless feet.
“Please don’t! I’m begging you, please don’t!” she pleaded. “What’s wrong, Sara? You’re not ticklish, are you?” asked Marian as she began to lower the feather toward Sara’s feet. Sara let out a small giggle as the feather made contact with her sensitive soles. “Nohoho! Please stahahahahahap! I cahahahahahan’t take it!” she squealed. She began scrunching her toes, hoping to prevent the feather from tickling their bases, but Marian had caught on. She simply held Sara’s toes back as she began sliding the feather underneath them. “Tickle tickle tickle! Kootchie-kootchie-koo!” taunted Marian. Meanwhile, the other two guards had pulled a lever on the control panel, causing Sara’s arms to lift over her head.
The guards positioned themselves at her underarms and began sliding their fingers around her armpits. “Miss Hardaway, I will ask you yet again. Why were you photographing the contents of that particular room?” demanded Marian as she continued torturing Sara’s ticklish feet. “I-ahahahahahaha-was s-sent to-hahahaha-retrieve a-pleahahahahahase stahahahahahap!” she screamed. “I’m sorry, honey. Could you repeat that? You were sent to retrieve what?” asked Marian. “I was-hahahahahaha-sent to retrieve a-not thehehehehere-secret weapon!” she confessed. Her chest rose and fell steadily as she tried to catch her breath.
Marian stopped the torture on Sara’s feet and gave her a look of utter disappointment. “A secret weapon, eh?” She smirked as she walked back over to the table. She nodded at the guards, who joined her at the table. Sara watched as Marian and her three guards began strapping something on their hands. Her eyes widened as the guards turned back towards her. “I believe you are looking for this, aren’t you.” She and her guards displayed their secret weapon-gloves with tiny feathers on the tips, useful for tickle torture. “Would you like a demonstration, Sara?” she cackled as they came towards her. “Nooooooooo!”
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------I would like to hear some feedback on this story!
The sounds of arguing filled the hallway as two guards led a tall blonde woman towards the interrogation room. The woman was a spy from the CIA and had been sent on a mission to retrieve a secret weapon that the enemy had developed. The woman’s name was Sara Hardaway. She struggled to free her arms from the guards’ grip, but they overpowered her. Finally, they stopped in front of the interrogation room door. One of the guards punched in a code on the computer keyboard and waited for the door to open. Sara’s eyes widened as the guards roughly pushed her into the room and closed the door.
Sara looked around the room at the array of devices and torture instruments. She couldn’t help but notice a strange looking chair in the middle of the room. It almost reminded her of a dentist’s chair had it not been for the leather restraints on the armrests. Sara could only watch helplessly as the guards ripped her clothes off, with only her bra and panties to cover her body. The guards grabbed her arms and forced her into the chair. She struggled to free herself as the guards quickly strapped her wrists into the leather restraints. Another guard came into the room carrying a set of stocks. He opened it up, placed Sara’s ankles in the stocks and padlocked it closed.
Suddenly there were footsteps in the hallway. Sara could hear the distinct sound of high heels clacking on the floor. The door opened and a brunette woman in a long black dress came into the room. “Well, well, well! What have we here? A fly caught in the spider’s web? How interesting!” she exclaimed. Sara glared at the woman. “Miss Webster, I wish I could say how nice it is to be here.” Marian Webster chuckled and began to walk towards the chair. “Miss Hardaway, my men tell me that they found you lurking in a top-secret room. What were you doing in there?” asked Marian. “I couldn’t—uh—find the bathroom!” Sara lied.
“Nice try, dear, but I find that a little hard to believe. I will ask you again, Miss Hardaway, and I don’t want to hear anymore lame excuses!” demanded Miss Webster. “I was photographing the contents of the room!” confessed Sara. One of the guards grabbed Sara’s backpack and pulled out the camera. He handed it to Marian, who opened the camera and yanked out the film, tossing the camera to the floor. “So much for your precious photographs, Miss Hardaway. I’m curious to know something, however. Why were you photographing the contents of that room?” asked Marian. “It’s none of your business!” retorted Sara.
Marian nodded to the guard, who began untying Sara’s shoes. “Wha-what are you doing? Leave my shoes alone!” she screamed at the guard. The guard, paying no attention to her screams, removed her shoes. Marian walked towards Sara’s feet, her hands reaching toward her toes. Sara began to panic as she watched Marian’s hands grab…her socks and started pulled them off, revealing Sara’s bare feet. “Give me back my socks!” Sara begged. “What’s the matter, Sara? Are you afraid?” teased Marian as she meandered over to a table covered by assorted objects. She took her time as she selected a long purple feather and stepped back over to Sara’s helpless feet.
“Please don’t! I’m begging you, please don’t!” she pleaded. “What’s wrong, Sara? You’re not ticklish, are you?” asked Marian as she began to lower the feather toward Sara’s feet. Sara let out a small giggle as the feather made contact with her sensitive soles. “Nohoho! Please stahahahahahap! I cahahahahahan’t take it!” she squealed. She began scrunching her toes, hoping to prevent the feather from tickling their bases, but Marian had caught on. She simply held Sara’s toes back as she began sliding the feather underneath them. “Tickle tickle tickle! Kootchie-kootchie-koo!” taunted Marian. Meanwhile, the other two guards had pulled a lever on the control panel, causing Sara’s arms to lift over her head.
The guards positioned themselves at her underarms and began sliding their fingers around her armpits. “Miss Hardaway, I will ask you yet again. Why were you photographing the contents of that particular room?” demanded Marian as she continued torturing Sara’s ticklish feet. “I-ahahahahahaha-was s-sent to-hahahaha-retrieve a-pleahahahahahase stahahahahahap!” she screamed. “I’m sorry, honey. Could you repeat that? You were sent to retrieve what?” asked Marian. “I was-hahahahahaha-sent to retrieve a-not thehehehehere-secret weapon!” she confessed. Her chest rose and fell steadily as she tried to catch her breath.
Marian stopped the torture on Sara’s feet and gave her a look of utter disappointment. “A secret weapon, eh?” She smirked as she walked back over to the table. She nodded at the guards, who joined her at the table. Sara watched as Marian and her three guards began strapping something on their hands. Her eyes widened as the guards turned back towards her. “I believe you are looking for this, aren’t you.” She and her guards displayed their secret weapon-gloves with tiny feathers on the tips, useful for tickle torture. “Would you like a demonstration, Sara?” she cackled as they came towards her. “Nooooooooo!”
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------I would like to hear some feedback on this story!
