"Look!" exclaimed the mousy little brunette, grabbing astrangers shoulder in her excitement, "Look! She's ticklish! That bleached blonde bitch is ticklish!"
Ivy turned and winked approvingly at the cheering woman, all the while continuing the torturous teasing of Bambi's hopelessly ticklish soles. The blonde's feet twitched in a futile effort to avoid the maddening feather, which seemed to instinctively seek out amd linger at those areas of Bambi's luscious soles which were particularly rich in receptor nerves - causing the blonde bimbo to cackle with riotous laughter.
" ... BWOOOOO HOO HOO HA HA HA HA ... AHA HA HA HA ... S-S-STOP ...
P-P-PLEASE ... HEE HEE HEE HEE HEE ... I C-C-CAN'T S-S-STAND IT ... HA HA HA HA HA ... I C-CAN'T STAND IT ... AHA HA HA HA HA ... NOT THE FEET ... HEE HEE HEE HEE HEE ... N-N-NOT THE FEET ... HOO HOO HEE HEE ... NOT MY B-B-BARE FEEEEEEEEEEEEET ..."
After about five minutes (what appeared like five years to Bambi Baxter), Ivy paused momentarily. Bambi's pilloried head slumped in exhuastion. Her breath came in ragged gasps. Her carefully coiffed hair was matted with sweat and her near nude body glistened in her revealing thong bikini. Comical mascara tears stained her cheeks. Ivy gestured first toward Bambi's untouched right foot; the heel, ball and toe pads were a delicate peach color, the arch and toes stems a creamy white. Then Ivy pointed to the tormented left foot, on which the arch and toe stems had assumed a somewhat reddish hue.
"Observe ..." Ivy declared, "... she's literally tickled pink! Now then, Ms. Baxter,", and Ivy masters took firm hold of Bambi's plump right toe and tugged it gently, "Repeat after me ... thiiiiis little piggy went to market ..."
"Oh, dear, this is ... it's humiliating!", sobbed Bambi, "At least, don't make me say it. It's not fair!".
"Ms. Baxter ..." Ivy's voice was stern, "Do I need to remind you what you consented to ... and why! Now say it!".
Visions of five to ten years of lesbian servitude in the penitentiary flooded Bambi's tiny brain. Torturous and degrading as this was, she had no real choice.
"This (sob) ... little piggy (whimper) ... w-went to market ...", she managed as Ivy tugged her toe.
"No no no ... smile when you say it!" teased Ivy.
"I-I can't!" pouted Bambi, "I can't (sob) smile. N-N-Not when you're gonna (whimper) torture me ..."
"Oh, sure you can!" Ivy encouraged, "Give us one of those great big phony smiles ... like the one you managed for Playboy .. or else!." - Ivy's voice dropped and became menacing with this last phrase.
Terrified, Bambi managed an absurdly phony smile, drawing fresh guffaws from the crowd as she recited, "This little piggy went to market ... this little piggy stayed home ... " as Ivy tugged her pamered pedicured toes.
Ivy turned and winked approvingly at the cheering woman, all the while continuing the torturous teasing of Bambi's hopelessly ticklish soles. The blonde's feet twitched in a futile effort to avoid the maddening feather, which seemed to instinctively seek out amd linger at those areas of Bambi's luscious soles which were particularly rich in receptor nerves - causing the blonde bimbo to cackle with riotous laughter.
" ... BWOOOOO HOO HOO HA HA HA HA ... AHA HA HA HA ... S-S-STOP ...
P-P-PLEASE ... HEE HEE HEE HEE HEE ... I C-C-CAN'T S-S-STAND IT ... HA HA HA HA HA ... I C-CAN'T STAND IT ... AHA HA HA HA HA ... NOT THE FEET ... HEE HEE HEE HEE HEE ... N-N-NOT THE FEET ... HOO HOO HEE HEE ... NOT MY B-B-BARE FEEEEEEEEEEEEET ..."
After about five minutes (what appeared like five years to Bambi Baxter), Ivy paused momentarily. Bambi's pilloried head slumped in exhuastion. Her breath came in ragged gasps. Her carefully coiffed hair was matted with sweat and her near nude body glistened in her revealing thong bikini. Comical mascara tears stained her cheeks. Ivy gestured first toward Bambi's untouched right foot; the heel, ball and toe pads were a delicate peach color, the arch and toes stems a creamy white. Then Ivy pointed to the tormented left foot, on which the arch and toe stems had assumed a somewhat reddish hue.
"Observe ..." Ivy declared, "... she's literally tickled pink! Now then, Ms. Baxter,", and Ivy masters took firm hold of Bambi's plump right toe and tugged it gently, "Repeat after me ... thiiiiis little piggy went to market ..."
"Oh, dear, this is ... it's humiliating!", sobbed Bambi, "At least, don't make me say it. It's not fair!".
"Ms. Baxter ..." Ivy's voice was stern, "Do I need to remind you what you consented to ... and why! Now say it!".
Visions of five to ten years of lesbian servitude in the penitentiary flooded Bambi's tiny brain. Torturous and degrading as this was, she had no real choice.
"This (sob) ... little piggy (whimper) ... w-went to market ...", she managed as Ivy tugged her toe.
"No no no ... smile when you say it!" teased Ivy.
"I-I can't!" pouted Bambi, "I can't (sob) smile. N-N-Not when you're gonna (whimper) torture me ..."
"Oh, sure you can!" Ivy encouraged, "Give us one of those great big phony smiles ... like the one you managed for Playboy .. or else!." - Ivy's voice dropped and became menacing with this last phrase.
Terrified, Bambi managed an absurdly phony smile, drawing fresh guffaws from the crowd as she recited, "This little piggy went to market ... this little piggy stayed home ... " as Ivy tugged her pamered pedicured toes.
