...am I the only one who wants to see Ms. Catherine Keener tortured into hysterics? No matter. The following is fiction, despite all of my strongest, most freverent wishes...
COOCHIE COOCHIE & COO
It was a typical day. Catherine Keener had just kicked her shoes off and settled down to watch some TV when she heard the doorbell ring.
"I wonder who that could be," she said to herself, slightly irritated. Reluctantly, she went to answer the door.
An older man, maybe forty or fifty, stood before her. He wore a heavy overcoat and had a thick mustache. In his left hand he held a leash which was in fact two separate leashes tied together, each for a different, yapping lab puppy. In his right he held a strange device made out of wood, though Catherine couldn't tell what it was.
"Excuse me, Miss," the man said, "would you mind watching my pups for just a moment? I dropped a contact lens somewhere around here, and I'm afraid I'm blind as a bat without it."
"Well…" Catherine began, a little hesitant, but the man chuckled as soon as he realized what was troubling her.
"Oh, don't be afraid," he said. "They love people. See, they're warming up to you already."
It was true. The puppies were already jumping and yapping around Catherine Keener's legs and rubbing up against them.
"Okay," she said finally. "Take as long as you need."
"Thank you kindly."
He handed Catherine the leash and set the strange device down.
While the man was looking, Catherine began petting the pups and gently playing with them. Still, despite their undeniable cuteness, Catherine couldn't help but hope the man would leave soon. She was tired, and she was beginning to get the feeling that the man was staring at her feet more than he was looking for a missing lens.
Weird.
Finally, the man seemed to have found what he was looking for.
"Got it," he said. "Would you mind if I just stepped into your bathroom for a second, just to wash it off? All the dirt is going to hurt my eye something terrible if I don't."
"All right," Catherine said.
"Thank you kindly."
He picked up the device and stepped into the house, closing the door behind him.
"What are you doing?" Catherine asked. She was beginning to get a little nervous.
"How do you like the dogs?"
"They're… fine."
"Just fine?" the man said. He was disappointed, or at least pretended to be.
"Um, well, I mean, I love dogs, so I guess they're great…"
"You guess?"
All this time, Catherine had to keep walking backwards, as the man was slowly advancing on her.
"Do you know what their names are?"
Catherine didn't even bother answering anymore. She was scared shitless.
"Their names are 'Coochie coochie' and 'Coo.' Let me show you why."
Catherine tied to turn and run, but the man grabbed her. He held her arms in place from behind using one arm. He whistled and signaled Coochie coochie and Coo over with the other.
He removed their leashes, then used one of them to bind Catherine Keener's hands behind her back and threw her onto the couch.
Catherine tried to move, but the man was too quick. In a flash he ran and grabbed the strange device and brought it over.
Stocks.
He placed the stocks onto the table and snapped Catherine Keener's feet into place.
"Now," the man said, "I will show you why I feel my canine companions are so aptly named."
"Listen, you sick fuck, whatever you're going to do, don't even think about it, I'll scream and people'll be over here in no time"-
"Scream all you want, Honey. I want you to. That's why I'm here."
The man stepped aside.
He whistled. The dogs ran over.
"I call them 'Coochie coochie' and 'Coo' because, of all of the toys I give them, their favorite activity…"
He paused; the dogs began sniffing Catherine Keener's soles, making her gasp and curl her toes in the cutest little way.
"…is to lick women's feet."
"What?!" Catherine began thrashing. "Let me out of this thing! You can't keep me tied her and let these dogs lick my feet! It's inhumane! It's, it's"-
"Torture?" the man finished. Catherine Keener said nothing.
"I quite agree. It IS torture. You have no idea for how long I've wanted to torture you, Catherine. To make you squeal, scream, shriek and, of course, LAUGH in ticklish agony. I bought these puppies and trained them especially for you, just as I did my cat Fabio for another celebrity you might have heard of… Ms. Sarah Jessica Parker? Yes, Ms. Parker is indisposed herself, no doubt screaming her head off as Fabio licks and licks her unbelievably ticklish soles. Day and night, the tickling is all she knows. She begs me to make it stop, promises me anything, money, fame, sex, if only, if ONLY I'll just STOP THE TICKLING, just for an INSTANT. But I don't. Do you know why?"
Catherine Keener was crying at this point. She feared for her life, and this man was clearly deranged.
"Because it's the TICKLING that I want. I WANT to torture her, to hear her scream and BEG for me to make it stop. Anyhow, like I said, these puppies are for you. I hope you enjoy them. Just ask my 'wife,'" the man chuckled.
"W-w-wife?" Catherine sobbed, unable to believe what she was hearing.
"Well, not really. Just some floozy I pay to let me test my instruments of torture upon. She's been fairly busy herself, in addition to having had to bear the eager tongues of Coochie coochie and Coo upon her own hyperticklish soles. But I digress."
"Please, just let me go," Catherine wailed. "I didn't do anything to you. I've never harmed you!"
"And that," the man said, "Is what makes this so exCITING."
"You sick bastard! When I get out of here"-
But Catherine was cut short. The dogs were eager to begin their 'game', and with the first few licks Catherine could feel all of her resolve melt into the helpless waves of laughter which erupted from her tortured form.
"OH MY GAHAHAHAD!!! OH GOD!! OH GOD!!! MAHAYKE IT STAHAHAPP!!! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!"
Catherine thrashed, scrunched her toes and tried to cover one foot with the other as best she could. But none of this worked. The dogs were expert at getting their tongues between each and every toe, no matter how much she scrunched, struggled and wiggled, and they would only lick the other foot that she used as a shield with even more gusto.
"What was that you were saying, Catherine?" the man said. He loved watching this helpless beauty struggle and scream in helpless agony. "Did you say WHEN you get out of here? Because I hate to break it to you, but you're NEVER going to get out of here!"
"AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! NO MOHOHORRREEE!! AIIIIIIIIIIIII!! AHHHHHHHH!!! OH PLEASE! OH PLEEHEEHEEEEEEZE!"
Catherine struggled so much the man worried she would break the stocks. She clearly couldn't take the tickling. It WAS torture to her. The dogs' warm, eager tongues were driving her insane.
"Awww, is the poor baby ticklish?" the man said. "Cheer up! At least now you know why I named them… Coochie Coochie Coo!"
"AAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! PLEEEEEEEEAAAAZZZZE!!! NO MOHOHORRREE!! I'LL BE GOOHOOHOOD! I'LL DO ANYTHING! ANYTHIHIHIHIIIIING!"
"Glad to hear it. Okay, how about you… sit there and get tickled?"
"ANYTHING BUT THAHAHAAAAT!! PLEAAAAAAEEZE!"
"Being awful picky, aren't you Catherine. I don't think someone in your position ought to be making demands. You need to be taught a lesson."
"NOOOOO!! AAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"
"Oh yes. I WAS going to be nice and make these guys stop now, but you clearly don't deserve such a privilege. I'd say you need… at least another hour of this to whip you into shape."
"NoOOOOOOOOO!!! AHAHAHAHAHAHA!"
True to his word, the man let his dogs lick poor Catherine Keener's feet for an hour. She screamed, shrieked, wailed, and finally cried. She had never known anything so torturous as the dogs' tongues upon the helpless, vulnerable soles of her bare feet.
Eventually, she passed out. When she woke up, both dogs were sleeping.
The man was doing something to her feet, but she was too woozy to discern what it was.
"Wha… what are you doing?" she croaked, barely able to speak.
"Just painting your toes," the man said. "I see you in a dark blue shade."
He painted Catherine Keener's toes, then went into her kitchen to get something to eat while they dried.
"Please, no more," she groaned when he came back. "I can't take it. It's torture."
"Catherine, Honey, we've been over this," the man said. "Of COURSE it's torture. Why do you think I'm doing this?"
"But I didn't even DO anything to you!" Catherine exploded, surprised at her own anger.
The man clicked his tongue. "Touchy touchy," he sighed. "Such insolence. After I gave you that nice break."
"You mean after you tortured me until I passed out!" Catherine spit back. "I'm tired of this! You have no right to keep me here!"
"Oh Contraire," the man said, "I have every right. You are my SLAVE, got that? You HAVE no rights. You are MINE, to torture and torment as I see fit."
Catherine spit in the man's face.
He wiped it off slowly, his anger rising.
"You are going to be so sorry you did that," he growled.
He disappeared into the kitchen, then reemerged with a jar of peanut butter. He dipped one of his hands in, then began spreading it all over Catherine Keener's fit. Fuck him, Catherine had been thinking. No matter how much it tickles, I'm not going to laugh. I won't give him the satisfaction of watching me squirm.
But within seconds, she felt the corners of her mouth twitching, and her breaths becoming more stilted. In fact, the man was tickling her feet as much as he could while applying the peanut butter.
"Come on, Honey," he said. "Laugh for me."
He scratched and stroked her soles while applying the lathery substance.
Catherine choked back a snicker.
He wiggled his gooey fingers in between her toes.
She yelped.
He tickled and squeezed just underneath her toes.
She screamed.
"That's it!"
The man eagerly removed some string from his pocket and tied Catherine's toes back. Then, he whistled for his dogs, who eagerly resumed torturing poor Catherine Keener.
"OH GOOHOHOHOD!! NO MOOOOHOHOHORREE!! AIIIIIIIII!"
"Catherine, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship," the man beamed. "You, me, my dogs, and your poor little feet."
Catherine could only scream. Not that it mattered. It was the only sound she was going to need to make for a long while.
COOCHIE COOCHIE & COO
It was a typical day. Catherine Keener had just kicked her shoes off and settled down to watch some TV when she heard the doorbell ring.
"I wonder who that could be," she said to herself, slightly irritated. Reluctantly, she went to answer the door.
An older man, maybe forty or fifty, stood before her. He wore a heavy overcoat and had a thick mustache. In his left hand he held a leash which was in fact two separate leashes tied together, each for a different, yapping lab puppy. In his right he held a strange device made out of wood, though Catherine couldn't tell what it was.
"Excuse me, Miss," the man said, "would you mind watching my pups for just a moment? I dropped a contact lens somewhere around here, and I'm afraid I'm blind as a bat without it."
"Well…" Catherine began, a little hesitant, but the man chuckled as soon as he realized what was troubling her.
"Oh, don't be afraid," he said. "They love people. See, they're warming up to you already."
It was true. The puppies were already jumping and yapping around Catherine Keener's legs and rubbing up against them.
"Okay," she said finally. "Take as long as you need."
"Thank you kindly."
He handed Catherine the leash and set the strange device down.
While the man was looking, Catherine began petting the pups and gently playing with them. Still, despite their undeniable cuteness, Catherine couldn't help but hope the man would leave soon. She was tired, and she was beginning to get the feeling that the man was staring at her feet more than he was looking for a missing lens.
Weird.
Finally, the man seemed to have found what he was looking for.
"Got it," he said. "Would you mind if I just stepped into your bathroom for a second, just to wash it off? All the dirt is going to hurt my eye something terrible if I don't."
"All right," Catherine said.
"Thank you kindly."
He picked up the device and stepped into the house, closing the door behind him.
"What are you doing?" Catherine asked. She was beginning to get a little nervous.
"How do you like the dogs?"
"They're… fine."
"Just fine?" the man said. He was disappointed, or at least pretended to be.
"Um, well, I mean, I love dogs, so I guess they're great…"
"You guess?"
All this time, Catherine had to keep walking backwards, as the man was slowly advancing on her.
"Do you know what their names are?"
Catherine didn't even bother answering anymore. She was scared shitless.
"Their names are 'Coochie coochie' and 'Coo.' Let me show you why."
Catherine tied to turn and run, but the man grabbed her. He held her arms in place from behind using one arm. He whistled and signaled Coochie coochie and Coo over with the other.
He removed their leashes, then used one of them to bind Catherine Keener's hands behind her back and threw her onto the couch.
Catherine tried to move, but the man was too quick. In a flash he ran and grabbed the strange device and brought it over.
Stocks.
He placed the stocks onto the table and snapped Catherine Keener's feet into place.
"Now," the man said, "I will show you why I feel my canine companions are so aptly named."
"Listen, you sick fuck, whatever you're going to do, don't even think about it, I'll scream and people'll be over here in no time"-
"Scream all you want, Honey. I want you to. That's why I'm here."
The man stepped aside.
He whistled. The dogs ran over.
"I call them 'Coochie coochie' and 'Coo' because, of all of the toys I give them, their favorite activity…"
He paused; the dogs began sniffing Catherine Keener's soles, making her gasp and curl her toes in the cutest little way.
"…is to lick women's feet."
"What?!" Catherine began thrashing. "Let me out of this thing! You can't keep me tied her and let these dogs lick my feet! It's inhumane! It's, it's"-
"Torture?" the man finished. Catherine Keener said nothing.
"I quite agree. It IS torture. You have no idea for how long I've wanted to torture you, Catherine. To make you squeal, scream, shriek and, of course, LAUGH in ticklish agony. I bought these puppies and trained them especially for you, just as I did my cat Fabio for another celebrity you might have heard of… Ms. Sarah Jessica Parker? Yes, Ms. Parker is indisposed herself, no doubt screaming her head off as Fabio licks and licks her unbelievably ticklish soles. Day and night, the tickling is all she knows. She begs me to make it stop, promises me anything, money, fame, sex, if only, if ONLY I'll just STOP THE TICKLING, just for an INSTANT. But I don't. Do you know why?"
Catherine Keener was crying at this point. She feared for her life, and this man was clearly deranged.
"Because it's the TICKLING that I want. I WANT to torture her, to hear her scream and BEG for me to make it stop. Anyhow, like I said, these puppies are for you. I hope you enjoy them. Just ask my 'wife,'" the man chuckled.
"W-w-wife?" Catherine sobbed, unable to believe what she was hearing.
"Well, not really. Just some floozy I pay to let me test my instruments of torture upon. She's been fairly busy herself, in addition to having had to bear the eager tongues of Coochie coochie and Coo upon her own hyperticklish soles. But I digress."
"Please, just let me go," Catherine wailed. "I didn't do anything to you. I've never harmed you!"
"And that," the man said, "Is what makes this so exCITING."
"You sick bastard! When I get out of here"-
But Catherine was cut short. The dogs were eager to begin their 'game', and with the first few licks Catherine could feel all of her resolve melt into the helpless waves of laughter which erupted from her tortured form.
"OH MY GAHAHAHAD!!! OH GOD!! OH GOD!!! MAHAYKE IT STAHAHAPP!!! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!"
Catherine thrashed, scrunched her toes and tried to cover one foot with the other as best she could. But none of this worked. The dogs were expert at getting their tongues between each and every toe, no matter how much she scrunched, struggled and wiggled, and they would only lick the other foot that she used as a shield with even more gusto.
"What was that you were saying, Catherine?" the man said. He loved watching this helpless beauty struggle and scream in helpless agony. "Did you say WHEN you get out of here? Because I hate to break it to you, but you're NEVER going to get out of here!"
"AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! NO MOHOHORRREEE!! AIIIIIIIIIIIII!! AHHHHHHHH!!! OH PLEASE! OH PLEEHEEHEEEEEEZE!"
Catherine struggled so much the man worried she would break the stocks. She clearly couldn't take the tickling. It WAS torture to her. The dogs' warm, eager tongues were driving her insane.
"Awww, is the poor baby ticklish?" the man said. "Cheer up! At least now you know why I named them… Coochie Coochie Coo!"
"AAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! PLEEEEEEEEAAAAZZZZE!!! NO MOHOHORRREE!! I'LL BE GOOHOOHOOD! I'LL DO ANYTHING! ANYTHIHIHIHIIIIING!"
"Glad to hear it. Okay, how about you… sit there and get tickled?"
"ANYTHING BUT THAHAHAAAAT!! PLEAAAAAAEEZE!"
"Being awful picky, aren't you Catherine. I don't think someone in your position ought to be making demands. You need to be taught a lesson."
"NOOOOO!! AAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"
"Oh yes. I WAS going to be nice and make these guys stop now, but you clearly don't deserve such a privilege. I'd say you need… at least another hour of this to whip you into shape."
"NoOOOOOOOOO!!! AHAHAHAHAHAHA!"
True to his word, the man let his dogs lick poor Catherine Keener's feet for an hour. She screamed, shrieked, wailed, and finally cried. She had never known anything so torturous as the dogs' tongues upon the helpless, vulnerable soles of her bare feet.
Eventually, she passed out. When she woke up, both dogs were sleeping.
The man was doing something to her feet, but she was too woozy to discern what it was.
"Wha… what are you doing?" she croaked, barely able to speak.
"Just painting your toes," the man said. "I see you in a dark blue shade."
He painted Catherine Keener's toes, then went into her kitchen to get something to eat while they dried.
"Please, no more," she groaned when he came back. "I can't take it. It's torture."
"Catherine, Honey, we've been over this," the man said. "Of COURSE it's torture. Why do you think I'm doing this?"
"But I didn't even DO anything to you!" Catherine exploded, surprised at her own anger.
The man clicked his tongue. "Touchy touchy," he sighed. "Such insolence. After I gave you that nice break."
"You mean after you tortured me until I passed out!" Catherine spit back. "I'm tired of this! You have no right to keep me here!"
"Oh Contraire," the man said, "I have every right. You are my SLAVE, got that? You HAVE no rights. You are MINE, to torture and torment as I see fit."
Catherine spit in the man's face.
He wiped it off slowly, his anger rising.
"You are going to be so sorry you did that," he growled.
He disappeared into the kitchen, then reemerged with a jar of peanut butter. He dipped one of his hands in, then began spreading it all over Catherine Keener's fit. Fuck him, Catherine had been thinking. No matter how much it tickles, I'm not going to laugh. I won't give him the satisfaction of watching me squirm.
But within seconds, she felt the corners of her mouth twitching, and her breaths becoming more stilted. In fact, the man was tickling her feet as much as he could while applying the peanut butter.
"Come on, Honey," he said. "Laugh for me."
He scratched and stroked her soles while applying the lathery substance.
Catherine choked back a snicker.
He wiggled his gooey fingers in between her toes.
She yelped.
He tickled and squeezed just underneath her toes.
She screamed.
"That's it!"
The man eagerly removed some string from his pocket and tied Catherine's toes back. Then, he whistled for his dogs, who eagerly resumed torturing poor Catherine Keener.
"OH GOOHOHOHOD!! NO MOOOOHOHOHORREE!! AIIIIIIIII!"
"Catherine, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship," the man beamed. "You, me, my dogs, and your poor little feet."
Catherine could only scream. Not that it mattered. It was the only sound she was going to need to make for a long while.
Last edited:
