...I can't believe nobody's ever done this.
After relentlessly teasing us with shots of her beautiful, flawless barefeet on episode after episode of Sex and the City, the gorgeous Sarah Jessica Parker finally gets her just desserts.
SARAH JESSICA PARKER FINALLY GETS IT
Sarah Jessica Parker opened her eyes. To her horror, she realized she was tied firmly to a chair. She looked around in a futile attempt to take in her surroundings, letting out a frustrated gasp when she realized that she was in a warehouse with absolutely no distinguishing features.
"Where am I?" she moaned.
"An excellent question, my dear."
The voice came from somewhere deep within the shadows, and startled Sarah Jessica Parker.
"Who... who are you?" she managed to choak out, though she was shaking immensely. "What do you want from me? Please, let me go!"
"A request I'm afraid it is beyond my capabilities to facilitate."
The source revealed himself. He was medium height (about five foot ten) with short, greasy brown hair, glasses and a mustache. He wore a black coat with black dress pants and black shoes. In his left hand he clutched a black leather satchel. The lust in his grin was so evident, Sarah Jessica Parker felt compelled to vomit. Somehow, though, she managed to assuage her stomach.
"Well, perhaps not capabilities, but, shall we say... interests?"
The man chuckled.
"What am I doing here?!" Sarah Jessica Parker screamed. "Please, just let me go!"
"Ah, my dear..." the man said, and he walked over to her. Setting his satchel down a few feet in front of her, he then stood up, walked right next to her, and began running his fingers through her hair.
"Shhhh. You have nothing to fear. That is, IF you cooperate..."
"C-c-cooperate?" Sarah Jessica Parker whimpered.
"Yes. Cooperate. It's simple, really. I need some information. Give it to me, and you're free to go. Refuse, and, well... let's just say you'll have to remain here until I'm able to convince you to surrender it."
The man walked away from her. He bent down and opened his satchel. Looking back up at her, he smiled again.
"I hope you've noticed that you're barefoot."
Sarah Jessica Parker had in fact not noticed that; she had been far too confused and afraid to take such a seemingly miniscule fact into consideration. And yet, now she realized it was true, and it puzzled her. She knew this had something to do with what the man wanted, though she still couldn't figure out exactly what that was.
"Why?" she asked. "Why am I barefoot?"
Instead of answering, the man responded with a question of his own: "Where are the photos?"
"What photos?"
The man shook his head.
"Playing games with me will not yield pleasant results. Now, I'm only going to ask you one more time: where are the photos?"
"What photos?!" Sarah Jessica Parker screamed. Her fear was gone, replaced now with anger. She had been kidnapped, and was now being interrogated about a subject she knew absolutely nothing about. How dare this man do this to her?
The man shook his head again.
He looked down into his satchel and began rummaging. Finally, he ceased. He had found what he was looking for.
Slowly, he brought it out. A large red feather.
Sarah Jessica Parker's eyes nearly boggled out of her head.
"What the fuck?!" she screamed. "What the fuck are you doing with that?"
The man didn't answer. He began wafting the feather in the air, back and forth, bringing it closer and closer to Sarah Jessica Parker's BOUND, HELPLESS, VULNERABLE BARE FEET.
"Any last words?" the man asked.
At first, Sarah Jessica Parker didn't understand what was going on. Was this guy crazy? What the fuck was he doing with a feather? And then- "Wait. Oh, no... oh, n-ahahAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!"
Sarah Jessica Parker threw her head back and roared with laughter as the feather traced every inch of her CREAMY, SMOOTH, DELECTABLE BARE SOLES.
"PLEAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHSE!!! NO MORE!!! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!!! I'LL DO ANYTHIHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAhAHAHA!!! ANYTHING!! ANYTHING!!! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA!!!"
"Then tell me about the photos," the man smirked, obviously enjoying this.
"WHAHAHAHAHAHAHAT PHOTOS?!! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! I DON'T KNOW!!!! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! PLEASE!!! PLEAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHEEASE! HAVE MERCY!!! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!!!"
"Feigning ignorance, eh?"
"AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! PLEASE!"
"Then I'm afraid I have three words for you."
"NO MORE!! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"
"Coochie coochie coo!"
"AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"
Sarah Jessica Parker was in hell. She was powerless to stop the terrible, seemingly electric tickling sensations the feather produced on the soles of her barefeet. She laughed so hard tears rolled down her face. She tried wiggling her feet away from the feather, but her legs and ankles were tied too securely. She tried covering one foot with the other, but she could only partially do it, and the man would just tickle that sole, anyway.
The man started tickling Sarah Jessica Parker's toes. He tickled under them, wiggling the feather up and down. He tickled between them, using a sawing motion. All of this drove Sarah Jessica Parker even more INSANE, if such a thing was possible. She tried SCRUNCHING her CUTE LITTLES TOES up, but to no avail. The man simply tied her big toes back and continued his torture session.
"PLEEEEEEAAAAAASE!!! NO MORE!!! NO MORE!!!! I'LL TALK!!! I'LL TALK!"
"Oh, really?" the man said, still tickling her feet with the feather.
"YEHAHAHAHAHAHAHES!!! ANYTHING! ANYTHIIIIIIING!!!"
"How about the photos, then?"
"WHAHAHAHAHAT PHOTOS!!! AHAHAHAHAHAHA!"
"Still playing dumb,eh? You know, Sarah, I'm beginning to think you like this."
"NOOOOOO! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!"
"Yes... it all makes sense now. You just want me to keep TICKLING THE SHIT OUT OF YOUR GORGEOUS FEET ALL NIGHT LONG!"
"NOOOOOOOOOOOO! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"
"Well, Honey, I'm afraid I'm terribly busy-"
"AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! PLEAAAAAAHEHEHEHEEEEEESE!"
"-but, I like to help a friend in need, so, sure, why not?"
"AAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! PLEASE! I'LL TALK!! I'LL TALK!"
"You say you'll talk, but then you just change your mind. Honey, I don't know WHAT to think."
Suddenly, the man stopped. Sarah Jessica Parker gasped and panted for breath, too tired to speak or beg anymore. Tears and sweat covered her, making her beautiful blond hair stick to her face.
"You're being quite stubborn," the man said, "but it's not your fault. You just need a little more... incentive, is all."
The man reached back into his satchel and pulled out an electric toothbrush.
"No..." Sarah Jessica Parker mouthed, too weak to scream.
"Yes."
The man pressed the button, and the bristles wizzed into action.
"No... no, please, no more, no more, I-AIIIII!"
The man placed the bristles on the ball of Sarah Jessica Parker's right foot and held it there. It TICKLED poor little Sarah Jessica Parker so much, she couldn't even laugh out loud. Instead, with her mouth and eyes wide open, she proceeded to engage in silent, convulsive laughter which shook her body so much, the chair she was tied to actually inched forward.
"Awwww, poor little baby, does that tickle?"
Sarah Jessica Parker closed her eyes, trying, in vain, to stop the maddening sensations. The brush tickled too much for her to bear. She couldn't take anymore.
"It's strange. You'll put yourself through all this torment, when all you have to do to make it stop is answer one simple little question: where are the photos?"
The tickling was so terrible, Sarah Jessica Parker couldn't even think straight. Her body was operating on the most basic of instinct. The only thought her brain could register: MAKE IT STOP.
"If you could talk, I'm sure you'd say something along the lines of 'What photos? I don't know what you're talking about!'" the man said, moving the brush to Sarah Jessica Parker's other foot, and then to her immobilized right toe, making her yelp once again.
"Because I have time, I'll humor you."
He traced the edges of her feet, and tickled between her toes, making her sob.
"You had a party last night. One of the guests was none other than Hugh Miller, a private investigator. I understand you are quite chummy with him. He recently took some photos of me in a, shall we say, compromising position with another woman. He intends to show them to my wife. I know for a fact he showed you these photos. So tell me: where are they?"
The man switched off the brush. Sarah Jessica Parker panted, trying, as quickly as she could, to regain her speech before the man grew impatient and tickled her again.
"I don't know," she gasped. "Please, I don't even know a Hugh Miller. I had a party last night but, he wasn't there, no one by that name was there, I swear, I-AIIIIIIAAAAAAAH!"
"Such a disappointment," the man sighed. "Let's see, where do you like it best... on the arches, perhaps?"
"AAAAAAAAHAHAHA!"
"Or maybe the toes?"
"EEEEEEEEEIIIIIIIIIIIIIUUUUGH!"
"Or between them?"
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII!!!!"
"I've got all night, Honey. I can do this for as long as you want."
True to his word, the man tickled. And tickled. And tickled. He TICKLED poor Sarah Jessica Parker's adorable FEET until she passed out. Just before she lost consciousness, Sarah Jessica Parker could have sworn she heard the man chuckle, "You know, there really is no Hugh Miller. I just love your feet. You flaunted them so much on that damn show of yours, I figured it was about time I did something about it."
***
Sarah Jessica Parker lay sleeping, still exhausted from last night's ordeal. Now she was tied spread eagle to a bed, wearing only her bra and panties. The man lay seated next to her feet, gazing hungrily. He reached a finger and brushed it from the toes of her right foot to the heel. The sleeping Sarah Jessica Parker fanned her toes in response. He grew bolder, scratching at her arch. She began to twist and jerk her foot, moaning in her sleep.
A sadistic smile crossed the man's face. He began scratching at the arches of both poor Sarah Jessica Parker's feet, causing them to move and dance. Sarah Jessica Parker kept moaning.
The man's scratches grew harder and harder, until finally Sarah Jessica Parker awoke. She had only half a second to comprehend what was happening, before she burst into another round of helpless laughter.
"AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! NOT AGAAAAIN!!! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! NO, PLEEAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHEEEEEEEESE!"
"Rise and shine, Princess," the man sneered.
"PLEAHAHAHAHAHEEEESE STOP!!! WHAHAHAHAHAHAT DO YOU WAAAANT?!!! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"
"You know what I really want, Toots?" the man said, tickling under Sarah Jessica Parkers toes.
"I just want to tickle the shit out of your beautiful, gorgeous feet FOREVER."
"AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"
"Is that all right with you?"
"AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH! NOOOHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAIIIII!"
"Well, you're laughing, so you must be overjoyed. Glad to hear it."
"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! NO MOOOOOOOOOOORE!"
The man stopped, suddenly, leaving Sarah Jessica Parker to gather her wits.
"What are you doing," she gasped. She saw the man reaching into his satchel.
"No... no more, please!" she screamed. "I can't take anymore! Please!"
The man chuckled. "Your voice is so cute," he sneered.
He pulled out pink nail polish.
"I just want to paint your toes," he explained. "I love it when a woman paints her toes."
The man applied the polish to each of Sarah Jessica Parker's cute toes. He then started to blow them dry when he was finished, causing her to giggle and fidget.
"Okay hehehehehhehehe.... are you hehehehehehehehe hdone now?? they're hehehehehehehehehe painted-ahahhehehehhehehe!"
"No, not quite yet," the man said. "But we'll wait for them to dry."
He resumed his position at the end of the bed. He scratched at the sole of her right foot, causing her to yelp and jump.
"Now, you musn't fidget," he teased. "You need to stay PERFECTLY STILL for them to dry."
He continued lightly scratching at Sarah Jessica Parker's feet, causing her to yelp and wiggle. Then, he pulled out a pen.
He drew happy faces all over the soles of poor Sarah Jessica Parker's feet, and by the time he was done, she was nearly in tears.
"You're not a very good listener," he said. "I tell you not to move, and you jump all over the place. I'm afraid you'll have to be punished."
"No, please!" Sarah Jessica Parker screamed. "I've been punished enough!"
"Let's see here..." the man pulled out a brush and a jar of honey. He dipped the brush into the honey and began to stroke the brush uuuuuuuuuup ("AHHhehahahahahahhahahaha! noohahahahahaooooo!") and dooooooooooooown (hahahehehehehhehehehahahahahahahaaa!") Sarah Jessica Parker's feet, and in betweeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeen ("AAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHHAHA!") her now freshly painted toes.
He left Sarah Jessica Parker panting for a minute.
"Now, where's that damn cat?" he murmured.
When Sarah Jessica Parker heard this, she shrieked.
"No! You wouldn't!"
"Here, Kitty Kitty Kitty!" the man called.
"Please! No! I'm begging you! Don't do this! Plleaaaase!"
"Ah, here you are. Come here, Fabio. You want a treat? Look at aaall the hoooney. Go get it, boy! Go get it!"
The cat slowly inched over to Sarah Jessica Parker's bound feet, tentatively sniffing them, causing her to jerk and draw her breath sharply. Satisfied, he began to lick.
As soon as Fabio's raspy tongue made contact with the CREAMY flesh of Sarah Jessica Parker's bound foot, she let out a SHRIEK that was so loud, the man quickly ran and grabbed a sock, which he stuffed into her mouth.
This barely made a difference. Sarah Jessica Parker still threw her head back and screamed, tears and sweat flowing. She tried to kick the cat away, but this just made Fabio lick her feet and toes with even more gusto.
"Well, I'm going to go watch some TV now," the man said. "You two have fun. He should be done in about a half hour."
As Sarah Jessica Parker screamed, thrashed, and cried, she prayed to God her torment would end soon. Unfortunately for her, the man had just begun.
END
After relentlessly teasing us with shots of her beautiful, flawless barefeet on episode after episode of Sex and the City, the gorgeous Sarah Jessica Parker finally gets her just desserts.
SARAH JESSICA PARKER FINALLY GETS IT
Sarah Jessica Parker opened her eyes. To her horror, she realized she was tied firmly to a chair. She looked around in a futile attempt to take in her surroundings, letting out a frustrated gasp when she realized that she was in a warehouse with absolutely no distinguishing features.
"Where am I?" she moaned.
"An excellent question, my dear."
The voice came from somewhere deep within the shadows, and startled Sarah Jessica Parker.
"Who... who are you?" she managed to choak out, though she was shaking immensely. "What do you want from me? Please, let me go!"
"A request I'm afraid it is beyond my capabilities to facilitate."
The source revealed himself. He was medium height (about five foot ten) with short, greasy brown hair, glasses and a mustache. He wore a black coat with black dress pants and black shoes. In his left hand he clutched a black leather satchel. The lust in his grin was so evident, Sarah Jessica Parker felt compelled to vomit. Somehow, though, she managed to assuage her stomach.
"Well, perhaps not capabilities, but, shall we say... interests?"
The man chuckled.
"What am I doing here?!" Sarah Jessica Parker screamed. "Please, just let me go!"
"Ah, my dear..." the man said, and he walked over to her. Setting his satchel down a few feet in front of her, he then stood up, walked right next to her, and began running his fingers through her hair.
"Shhhh. You have nothing to fear. That is, IF you cooperate..."
"C-c-cooperate?" Sarah Jessica Parker whimpered.
"Yes. Cooperate. It's simple, really. I need some information. Give it to me, and you're free to go. Refuse, and, well... let's just say you'll have to remain here until I'm able to convince you to surrender it."
The man walked away from her. He bent down and opened his satchel. Looking back up at her, he smiled again.
"I hope you've noticed that you're barefoot."
Sarah Jessica Parker had in fact not noticed that; she had been far too confused and afraid to take such a seemingly miniscule fact into consideration. And yet, now she realized it was true, and it puzzled her. She knew this had something to do with what the man wanted, though she still couldn't figure out exactly what that was.
"Why?" she asked. "Why am I barefoot?"
Instead of answering, the man responded with a question of his own: "Where are the photos?"
"What photos?"
The man shook his head.
"Playing games with me will not yield pleasant results. Now, I'm only going to ask you one more time: where are the photos?"
"What photos?!" Sarah Jessica Parker screamed. Her fear was gone, replaced now with anger. She had been kidnapped, and was now being interrogated about a subject she knew absolutely nothing about. How dare this man do this to her?
The man shook his head again.
He looked down into his satchel and began rummaging. Finally, he ceased. He had found what he was looking for.
Slowly, he brought it out. A large red feather.
Sarah Jessica Parker's eyes nearly boggled out of her head.
"What the fuck?!" she screamed. "What the fuck are you doing with that?"
The man didn't answer. He began wafting the feather in the air, back and forth, bringing it closer and closer to Sarah Jessica Parker's BOUND, HELPLESS, VULNERABLE BARE FEET.
"Any last words?" the man asked.
At first, Sarah Jessica Parker didn't understand what was going on. Was this guy crazy? What the fuck was he doing with a feather? And then- "Wait. Oh, no... oh, n-ahahAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!"
Sarah Jessica Parker threw her head back and roared with laughter as the feather traced every inch of her CREAMY, SMOOTH, DELECTABLE BARE SOLES.
"PLEAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHSE!!! NO MORE!!! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!!! I'LL DO ANYTHIHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAhAHAHA!!! ANYTHING!! ANYTHING!!! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA!!!"
"Then tell me about the photos," the man smirked, obviously enjoying this.
"WHAHAHAHAHAHAHAT PHOTOS?!! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! I DON'T KNOW!!!! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! PLEASE!!! PLEAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHEEASE! HAVE MERCY!!! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!!!"
"Feigning ignorance, eh?"
"AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! PLEASE!"
"Then I'm afraid I have three words for you."
"NO MORE!! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"
"Coochie coochie coo!"
"AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"
Sarah Jessica Parker was in hell. She was powerless to stop the terrible, seemingly electric tickling sensations the feather produced on the soles of her barefeet. She laughed so hard tears rolled down her face. She tried wiggling her feet away from the feather, but her legs and ankles were tied too securely. She tried covering one foot with the other, but she could only partially do it, and the man would just tickle that sole, anyway.
The man started tickling Sarah Jessica Parker's toes. He tickled under them, wiggling the feather up and down. He tickled between them, using a sawing motion. All of this drove Sarah Jessica Parker even more INSANE, if such a thing was possible. She tried SCRUNCHING her CUTE LITTLES TOES up, but to no avail. The man simply tied her big toes back and continued his torture session.
"PLEEEEEEAAAAAASE!!! NO MORE!!! NO MORE!!!! I'LL TALK!!! I'LL TALK!"
"Oh, really?" the man said, still tickling her feet with the feather.
"YEHAHAHAHAHAHAHES!!! ANYTHING! ANYTHIIIIIIING!!!"
"How about the photos, then?"
"WHAHAHAHAHAT PHOTOS!!! AHAHAHAHAHAHA!"
"Still playing dumb,eh? You know, Sarah, I'm beginning to think you like this."
"NOOOOOO! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!"
"Yes... it all makes sense now. You just want me to keep TICKLING THE SHIT OUT OF YOUR GORGEOUS FEET ALL NIGHT LONG!"
"NOOOOOOOOOOOO! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"
"Well, Honey, I'm afraid I'm terribly busy-"
"AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! PLEAAAAAAHEHEHEHEEEEEESE!"
"-but, I like to help a friend in need, so, sure, why not?"
"AAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! PLEASE! I'LL TALK!! I'LL TALK!"
"You say you'll talk, but then you just change your mind. Honey, I don't know WHAT to think."
Suddenly, the man stopped. Sarah Jessica Parker gasped and panted for breath, too tired to speak or beg anymore. Tears and sweat covered her, making her beautiful blond hair stick to her face.
"You're being quite stubborn," the man said, "but it's not your fault. You just need a little more... incentive, is all."
The man reached back into his satchel and pulled out an electric toothbrush.
"No..." Sarah Jessica Parker mouthed, too weak to scream.
"Yes."
The man pressed the button, and the bristles wizzed into action.
"No... no, please, no more, no more, I-AIIIII!"
The man placed the bristles on the ball of Sarah Jessica Parker's right foot and held it there. It TICKLED poor little Sarah Jessica Parker so much, she couldn't even laugh out loud. Instead, with her mouth and eyes wide open, she proceeded to engage in silent, convulsive laughter which shook her body so much, the chair she was tied to actually inched forward.
"Awwww, poor little baby, does that tickle?"
Sarah Jessica Parker closed her eyes, trying, in vain, to stop the maddening sensations. The brush tickled too much for her to bear. She couldn't take anymore.
"It's strange. You'll put yourself through all this torment, when all you have to do to make it stop is answer one simple little question: where are the photos?"
The tickling was so terrible, Sarah Jessica Parker couldn't even think straight. Her body was operating on the most basic of instinct. The only thought her brain could register: MAKE IT STOP.
"If you could talk, I'm sure you'd say something along the lines of 'What photos? I don't know what you're talking about!'" the man said, moving the brush to Sarah Jessica Parker's other foot, and then to her immobilized right toe, making her yelp once again.
"Because I have time, I'll humor you."
He traced the edges of her feet, and tickled between her toes, making her sob.
"You had a party last night. One of the guests was none other than Hugh Miller, a private investigator. I understand you are quite chummy with him. He recently took some photos of me in a, shall we say, compromising position with another woman. He intends to show them to my wife. I know for a fact he showed you these photos. So tell me: where are they?"
The man switched off the brush. Sarah Jessica Parker panted, trying, as quickly as she could, to regain her speech before the man grew impatient and tickled her again.
"I don't know," she gasped. "Please, I don't even know a Hugh Miller. I had a party last night but, he wasn't there, no one by that name was there, I swear, I-AIIIIIIAAAAAAAH!"
"Such a disappointment," the man sighed. "Let's see, where do you like it best... on the arches, perhaps?"
"AAAAAAAAHAHAHA!"
"Or maybe the toes?"
"EEEEEEEEEIIIIIIIIIIIIIUUUUGH!"
"Or between them?"
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII!!!!"
"I've got all night, Honey. I can do this for as long as you want."
True to his word, the man tickled. And tickled. And tickled. He TICKLED poor Sarah Jessica Parker's adorable FEET until she passed out. Just before she lost consciousness, Sarah Jessica Parker could have sworn she heard the man chuckle, "You know, there really is no Hugh Miller. I just love your feet. You flaunted them so much on that damn show of yours, I figured it was about time I did something about it."
***
Sarah Jessica Parker lay sleeping, still exhausted from last night's ordeal. Now she was tied spread eagle to a bed, wearing only her bra and panties. The man lay seated next to her feet, gazing hungrily. He reached a finger and brushed it from the toes of her right foot to the heel. The sleeping Sarah Jessica Parker fanned her toes in response. He grew bolder, scratching at her arch. She began to twist and jerk her foot, moaning in her sleep.
A sadistic smile crossed the man's face. He began scratching at the arches of both poor Sarah Jessica Parker's feet, causing them to move and dance. Sarah Jessica Parker kept moaning.
The man's scratches grew harder and harder, until finally Sarah Jessica Parker awoke. She had only half a second to comprehend what was happening, before she burst into another round of helpless laughter.
"AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! NOT AGAAAAIN!!! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! NO, PLEEAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHEEEEEEEESE!"
"Rise and shine, Princess," the man sneered.
"PLEAHAHAHAHAHEEEESE STOP!!! WHAHAHAHAHAHAT DO YOU WAAAANT?!!! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"
"You know what I really want, Toots?" the man said, tickling under Sarah Jessica Parkers toes.
"I just want to tickle the shit out of your beautiful, gorgeous feet FOREVER."
"AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"
"Is that all right with you?"
"AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH! NOOOHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAIIIII!"
"Well, you're laughing, so you must be overjoyed. Glad to hear it."
"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! NO MOOOOOOOOOOORE!"
The man stopped, suddenly, leaving Sarah Jessica Parker to gather her wits.
"What are you doing," she gasped. She saw the man reaching into his satchel.
"No... no more, please!" she screamed. "I can't take anymore! Please!"
The man chuckled. "Your voice is so cute," he sneered.
He pulled out pink nail polish.
"I just want to paint your toes," he explained. "I love it when a woman paints her toes."
The man applied the polish to each of Sarah Jessica Parker's cute toes. He then started to blow them dry when he was finished, causing her to giggle and fidget.
"Okay hehehehehhehehe.... are you hehehehehehehehe hdone now?? they're hehehehehehehehehe painted-ahahhehehehhehehe!"
"No, not quite yet," the man said. "But we'll wait for them to dry."
He resumed his position at the end of the bed. He scratched at the sole of her right foot, causing her to yelp and jump.
"Now, you musn't fidget," he teased. "You need to stay PERFECTLY STILL for them to dry."
He continued lightly scratching at Sarah Jessica Parker's feet, causing her to yelp and wiggle. Then, he pulled out a pen.
He drew happy faces all over the soles of poor Sarah Jessica Parker's feet, and by the time he was done, she was nearly in tears.
"You're not a very good listener," he said. "I tell you not to move, and you jump all over the place. I'm afraid you'll have to be punished."
"No, please!" Sarah Jessica Parker screamed. "I've been punished enough!"
"Let's see here..." the man pulled out a brush and a jar of honey. He dipped the brush into the honey and began to stroke the brush uuuuuuuuuup ("AHHhehahahahahahhahahaha! noohahahahahaooooo!") and dooooooooooooown (hahahehehehehhehehehahahahahahahaaa!") Sarah Jessica Parker's feet, and in betweeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeen ("AAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHHAHA!") her now freshly painted toes.
He left Sarah Jessica Parker panting for a minute.
"Now, where's that damn cat?" he murmured.
When Sarah Jessica Parker heard this, she shrieked.
"No! You wouldn't!"
"Here, Kitty Kitty Kitty!" the man called.
"Please! No! I'm begging you! Don't do this! Plleaaaase!"
"Ah, here you are. Come here, Fabio. You want a treat? Look at aaall the hoooney. Go get it, boy! Go get it!"
The cat slowly inched over to Sarah Jessica Parker's bound feet, tentatively sniffing them, causing her to jerk and draw her breath sharply. Satisfied, he began to lick.
As soon as Fabio's raspy tongue made contact with the CREAMY flesh of Sarah Jessica Parker's bound foot, she let out a SHRIEK that was so loud, the man quickly ran and grabbed a sock, which he stuffed into her mouth.
This barely made a difference. Sarah Jessica Parker still threw her head back and screamed, tears and sweat flowing. She tried to kick the cat away, but this just made Fabio lick her feet and toes with even more gusto.
"Well, I'm going to go watch some TV now," the man said. "You two have fun. He should be done in about a half hour."
As Sarah Jessica Parker screamed, thrashed, and cried, she prayed to God her torment would end soon. Unfortunately for her, the man had just begun.
END
