milagros317
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THE SORORITY (part one)
This is an F/m story. If you don't like that, don't read it.
All characters in this story are 18 years old or older.
Friday, 11pm
-------------
Jay was nervous as he showered. This was his chance to get back together with Karen. A senior at Woodrow College, Jay had had no other long term relationship in his life. He had been so very happy with Karen as his girlfriend for a year, but then he had blown it by being stupid at the party one month ago. It had been a party at her sorority, Tau Kappa Lambda, to celebrate the installation of the new officers. Karen, a tall, athletic blonde, captain of the women's soccer team, was the new vice president of the sorority. She was quite busy at the party, getting her picture taken, conferring with the other officers, and greeting new members.
So Jay, left to himself, drank too much and flirted with some of the sorority members. It was all a bit fuzzy in his memory, but he seemed to recall fondling the large breasts of a cute sophomore, Wendy, before he fell down, too drunk to stand.
Karen had been furious. Had not spoken to him since. Had made no response to the flowers, chocolate, and pleading letters and e-mails that he sent. He just had to get her back. She was smart, beautiful, shapely, and fun to be with. Her only fault, Jay thought, was was a predilliction to tickle him too much. She was really strong, both from soccer and aerobics, and it was all Jay could do to pull her hands away from his rib cage or armpits.
Well, Jay thought, as he dried off, nobody is perfect, but Karen is as close as humanly possible, and this is my last chance. She had finally answered him, a short note asking him to come to the sorority house at midnight. A strange time for a make-up date, but he would take whatever chance she gave him.
Friday, 11:58pm
----------------
"Hello, Jay. So glad you're here on time."
"Of course," he said, offering the roses he had brought. "I am so glad that you've agreed to see me. I am so sorry that I--"
"You don't have to say it again, Jay. I read all your letter and e-mails. Let's just drink a toast to our future, and not worry about by-gones." She handed him a large champagne flute, and took one for herself.
Jay drank up, thinking that she must really forgive him, if she was giving him alcohol, the agent of his errant behavior. Then he thought he was dizzy, or that the sorority house was spinning. Then he wasn't thinking anything at all.
Saturday, 9:30am
----------------
Jay woke with a headache. He tried to rub his head, but he couldn't move his arms. He looked around in horror, and discovered that his head was all he could move, besides wiggling his fingers. He was secured to an exercise bench, with his wrists in padded cuffs attached firmly to one end of the bench. A belt around his waist had ropes going off in all directions; beyond his sight, under the bench, they were secure tied. The belt was all that he wore; he had been stripped. He could wriggle, from side to side, perhaps a quarter of an inch.
His ankles were clamped in a solid wooden set of stocks at the far end of the bench. The two holes had been padded with foam, but Jay could feel the hard wood through the foam, and could not pull out, not even a fraction of an inch. The top of the wooden stock had twenty metal eye-holes screwed into it. Each one of his toes was tied with strong twine, not once but twice, to eye-holes. The soles of his feet were flexed and immobile. Jay realized what this meant, and he began to sweat, a cold sweat.
He did recognize the room. It was the basement of the Tau Kappa Lambda house, the same room in which the party had been held. A ghastly thought struck him--they held their parties in this large, finished basement because it was well sound-proofed.
Saturday, 10am
---------------
Karen came in, wearing her tiniest bikini. "Hi, there, sleepy head! Did-"
"Karen, please, let me go! Don't hurt me," began Jay.
"Don't interrupt me again, or I might just do that. But I'm not planning to hurt you, not at all. So why are you sweating like a pig and shaking? You know that I always keep my promises, and I _do_ promise not to hurt you. What scares you?"
"Uhh, I don't know," mumbled Jay.
"Say it, or it will be even worse for you. Say, it, Jay, if you don't want to get me angry. Say it. _Exactly_ what are you afraid of?"
There was a stern look on her face,and her sky-blue eyes stared right into him. Jay sighed, and gave up. "I'm afraid that you're going to tickle me."
Karen laughed. "_Tickle_ you? Why, I never would have thought of that myself. Never. But now that you've mentioned it, it does seem to be a fine idea. I do believe that I will follow up on _your_ suggestion. And it might take your mind off other things," she added, poking his erection. Despite his fears, the sight of her fabulous legs, bare from toes to thighs, and of her firm breasts, had produced the obvious reaction.
Jay began to beg. "Please don't do this, Karen, please don't, you don't want to--aahhh, HAHHAHHAHHH!!"
His pleas were cut off by Karen's fingers, poking at his short ribs. She began to count his ribs, very slowly, up from the lowest pair. Her fingers never stopped moving and kneading as she counted.
"One. Oh my, but you're wriggling. Tickle, tickle, tickle. How does that feel? Two. Do be careful not to bang your head too hard. Maybe I'll get you a pillow later. Tickle, tickle, tickle. Three. Aren't you the ticklish one? Aren't you a ticklish little boy? Tickle, tickle, tickle. Four."
Amidst the agony of his laughter, Jay did not like being demoted from 21-year-old college senior to boy. Karen was only up to the ninth pair of ribs when she saw that he was not breathing well.
"I'll give you a minute to catch your breathe. Be sure to thank me for it. One minute." She looked at the large wall clock, with its sweep second hand.
"Thank you? You bitch! You-aha HAHAHAHAHHAahahHHAAHAHHA!!"
Karen had resumed, not bothering to count, just digging in cruelly, relentlessly, endlessly, never letting him stop laughing. "For that nasty word, you'll get twenty full minutes, with no pauses. When I next allow you to speak, I'll expect a humble apology for your remarks, a _very_ humble apology, and I'll expect thanks for the pause. If I am not satified that you're really sorry, then you'll get forty minutes."
She had never stopped tickling during this threat, and she continued with grim determination. To Jay it seemed like hours. It seemed endless. The universe contracted. There was no world outside. There was only this basement, his ribs, his agonized laughter, getting weaker all the time, his wrists and ankles, hurting from futile pulling, his aching lungs, and Karen's fingers. Karen's strong fingers, alwasys moving, always poking, always seeking sensitive spots, always remembering the best spots to poke, never resting, never stopping, tickling him without respite. Karen's deft fingers, seeking to drive him mad, seeking to drive him out of his mind with tickle-torture, and succeeding.
Although it seem like forever to Jay, Karen was a woman of her word, and she did stop after twenty minutes. Jay kept laughing and trembling for a while after she stopped. Then he lay still, gasping to recover his wind. When Karen tapped her foot with impatience, he spoke.
"I am most humbly sorry for having used that word. I am ever so sorry. I do apologize, ever so much. Please forgive me! But, please, _please_, PLEASE don't tickle me any more! I just can't take it any more."
Karen sneered at him. "What a baby! Of course you can take it, you have no choice. I will accept your apology. But stop? I have hardly even _begun_ to tickle you, you ticklish little baby! Hardly begun! And you haven't thanked me for this pause." She scowled at him, with menace in her eyes, again tapping her foot with impatience. Her big blue eyes reminded him of a Siamese cat, contemplating its dinner.
Noting with dismay that he had been demoted again, from boy to baby, Jay forced himself to thank her. "I _do_ thank you, ever so much, for allowing me this time to recover. It is so kind of you, and I am grateful. But, umm, Karen, I really need to go to the bathroom now, so you just have to untie me."
Jay's erection was gone, and he honestly did have to urinate, urgently. "I suppose you actually need to pee, but you're not going anywhere. Not for a long time. I have an empty milk carton here for you."
Karen reached under the bench, and came up with the promised container. "And another thing. You're not my boyfriend any more, and 'Karen' is too familiar."
On the word 'familiar,' she she put his penis into the milk carton, and smiled. "From now on, call me 'Ms. Fletcher.' That shows more respect. I'll keep you aimed here, and the carton tilted down. You may go ahead."
It was very humiliating, but Jay managed to urinate into the carton with Karen holding his member. He then heard her washing her hands in the basement's bathroom. She returned to regard his helpless form.
"Now I'm going to start on your armpits. I know that they're even more ticklish than your ribs, and twenty minutes at a time would likely make you faint. I don't want that--I want you conscious, and experiencing every second of the tickle-torture. See how kind I can be? So you'll get five minutes of tickling in the armpits, followed by one minute to rest. We'll call that one round. Just one thing, baby. Those rounds, of five minutes of armpit-tickling, followed by a minute to rest? You're about to get fifteen of them! 15 rounds. That's the same length as a soccer game, so I'm sure that _I_ have the stamina to get through it." She glanced at the clock.
"Oh, God, no, please, I'll die, I--HaHAHAHAHHAHHA!!"
His armpits really were his most senisitive spots for tickling, and she know exactly where and how to poke him for the best reactions. In the past, he had always been able to fight her off, and never had endured more than a few seconds. He had always been able to pull away, grab her wrists, or even kick, if he had to. Now he was utterly helpless, and she was enjoying having him at her mercy. She was taking full advantage.
Once again, it seemed like forever. He tried to keep track of the rounds, but lost count. He only knew that his ankles and wrists hurt from pulling, his throat hurt from laughing, his diaphram ached, his eyes were streaming with tears, and his armpits were sore. Karen's firm fingers were at work, never resting, never pausing, never giving him a moment's peace. It was a good thing that his bladder was empty, or he would have lost control. During the one minute pauses, she taunted him.
"Who's a little, ticklish baby? You are! Who's a helpless, very, _very_ ticklish baby boy? You! And you'll stay this way, all day long. Just think of the fun I'm having! And I haven't even touched your feet yet. Just think of how much more you've got to suffer, baby!"
At long last, the fifteen rounds were done. Jay didn't even realize it for a while, just lying there waiting for the next round to start. But Karen didn't resume digging into his armpits. Instead, she kissed him on the forehead, the way an older sister would kiss her baby brother.
"You look quite winded. It's time for lunch now, for me at least. I'm going upstairs for a sandwhich and a soda. If you grovel for me now, very, very humbly, I might bring down some food for you."
"Oh, please," said Jay in a weak voice, through his now sore throat, "please, dear, kind Ms. Fletcher, most beautiful of all women on earth! Please, please let me go now. Haven't you punished me enough? I will be eternally grateful, if only you let me go."
Jay had an idea. Karen had always liked his motorcycle.
"Please let me go. I'll give you my motorcycle! Just please don't tickle me anymore."
Karen laughed at him. "Not a chance, baby! You've got a very
_long_ way to go. And don't think that your feet are the only place I haven't explored yet. I've got lots of places in mind to try."
She took a small artist's brush from under the bench, suitable for acrylic or water color, put it in his left nostril, and twirled it.
Jay shrieked, and jerked in his bonds.
"Very sensitive in the nose, are you? I'll be sure to explore it, and your ears, and behind your knees, and other places, after I'm done with your feet and toes. Consider yourself lucky that I am taking a break for lunch. Since you didn't ask for any food, you're not getting any. I will bring you some water. You've been sweating, and I don't want you to get dehydrated." Jay groaned, and watched her gorgeous legs as she climbed the stairs.
Saturday, 1pm
--------------
Karen came down from lunch, and let Jay drink water through a straw. "Let me know when you need to pee. I don't want you to stain the bench, it would make me most upset." She pulled a stool over to a perfect position to get at his feet, and and brought over a large briefcase. She showed him a few of the items in it: More artist's brushes of different sizes, some toothbrushes, some basting brushes, a feather duster, two straw brooms, and a plastic object that Jay recognized as the tongue-scraper that Karen had gotten from her oral hygenist.
She set to work with gusto. Jay was clearly going nuts, but he was not laughing as hard as he had when she attacked his armpits or ribs. So Karen saw no reason to give him any pauses, none at all.
She experimented eagerly, and discovered that different implements worked best on different parts of his feet. The toothbrushes were best for his arches and heels. The tongue-scraper was great for long strokes, the whole length of his soles. Between his toes, the basting brushes were best, driving him mad, making him squeal like a piglet. One the bottoms of his toes, the straw brooms were most effective. She took one in each hand, and stroked across the bottoms of all his helpless and immobilized toes, over and over again. She crooned at him, as she stroked across his toe pads.
"Has my little baby got very ticklish toes? Oh, yes, he sure does. Very, very ticklish. Tickle, tickle, tickle. Do you want me to stop? Do you? I'm not going to. I'm never going to stop. Tickle, tickle, tickle. Poor baby, poor baby. Can't move your toes at all, can you? Tickle, tickle, tickle. Poor little ticklish baby! I may never stop!"
Jay finally did get her to stop, by screaming that he had to urinate. But she started right up again. She discovered that her fingernails were better than any of the implements for the balls of his feet. She could make him strain against his bonds and howl by digging her nails into the ball of either foot, and scratching. So she did, over, and over, and over again. Jay was red in the face, gasping and laughing at the same time, utterly exhausted, and totally out of his mind when she finally did stop.
"I bet you thought that was endless, but it was just one hour on your feet. Just an hour! And I have so much time left. Poor baby." She moved another stool to the end of the bench where his head rested. She sat, holding an artist's brush in each hand.
"Now to do your ears, nose, and neck. Then I'll try the backs of your knees, the crooks of your elbows, your belly, and your navel. This shouldn't be as strenuous as your armpits, so you will get no pauses, none. About the same as your feet, one hour. I hope you enjoy it, because when the hour is done--" She paused and looked him in the eyes again.
"When the hour is done, I'll go back to your armpits."
Jay appeared to be gathering the strength to speak. Karen cut him off as ge cleared his throat.
"Not one word! Not a single word from you. I'll order you to speak when I want to hear from you. Until then, laughter is the only thing allowed to come out of your mouth. Understand?"
Jay nodded, not uttering a word. Karen did just as she said, using the small brushes in all of the places she had mentioned,
as he wriggled, laughed, squirmed, and squealed. As promised, she
stopped after an hour.
Saturday, 3pm
--------------
Jay wriggled and giggled for a while after Karen had stopped. When she got up and positioned herself at his armpits again, he forgot himself and spoke.
"PLEASE not the armpits again! Oh, please, Ms. Fletcher, if you ever cared for me at all, let me go now. I--" Jay suddenly shut up, remembering that he had been ordered not to talk.
Karen smiled at him, but it was again the smile of a cat contemplating dinner. "I am going to keep my promise not to hurt you, baby, but you _do_ get punished for speaking."
(to be continued)
----------------------------------------------------------------
Milagros
-----------------------------------------------------------------
This is an F/m story. If you don't like that, don't read it.
All characters in this story are 18 years old or older.
Friday, 11pm
-------------
Jay was nervous as he showered. This was his chance to get back together with Karen. A senior at Woodrow College, Jay had had no other long term relationship in his life. He had been so very happy with Karen as his girlfriend for a year, but then he had blown it by being stupid at the party one month ago. It had been a party at her sorority, Tau Kappa Lambda, to celebrate the installation of the new officers. Karen, a tall, athletic blonde, captain of the women's soccer team, was the new vice president of the sorority. She was quite busy at the party, getting her picture taken, conferring with the other officers, and greeting new members.
So Jay, left to himself, drank too much and flirted with some of the sorority members. It was all a bit fuzzy in his memory, but he seemed to recall fondling the large breasts of a cute sophomore, Wendy, before he fell down, too drunk to stand.
Karen had been furious. Had not spoken to him since. Had made no response to the flowers, chocolate, and pleading letters and e-mails that he sent. He just had to get her back. She was smart, beautiful, shapely, and fun to be with. Her only fault, Jay thought, was was a predilliction to tickle him too much. She was really strong, both from soccer and aerobics, and it was all Jay could do to pull her hands away from his rib cage or armpits.
Well, Jay thought, as he dried off, nobody is perfect, but Karen is as close as humanly possible, and this is my last chance. She had finally answered him, a short note asking him to come to the sorority house at midnight. A strange time for a make-up date, but he would take whatever chance she gave him.
Friday, 11:58pm
----------------
"Hello, Jay. So glad you're here on time."
"Of course," he said, offering the roses he had brought. "I am so glad that you've agreed to see me. I am so sorry that I--"
"You don't have to say it again, Jay. I read all your letter and e-mails. Let's just drink a toast to our future, and not worry about by-gones." She handed him a large champagne flute, and took one for herself.
Jay drank up, thinking that she must really forgive him, if she was giving him alcohol, the agent of his errant behavior. Then he thought he was dizzy, or that the sorority house was spinning. Then he wasn't thinking anything at all.
Saturday, 9:30am
----------------
Jay woke with a headache. He tried to rub his head, but he couldn't move his arms. He looked around in horror, and discovered that his head was all he could move, besides wiggling his fingers. He was secured to an exercise bench, with his wrists in padded cuffs attached firmly to one end of the bench. A belt around his waist had ropes going off in all directions; beyond his sight, under the bench, they were secure tied. The belt was all that he wore; he had been stripped. He could wriggle, from side to side, perhaps a quarter of an inch.
His ankles were clamped in a solid wooden set of stocks at the far end of the bench. The two holes had been padded with foam, but Jay could feel the hard wood through the foam, and could not pull out, not even a fraction of an inch. The top of the wooden stock had twenty metal eye-holes screwed into it. Each one of his toes was tied with strong twine, not once but twice, to eye-holes. The soles of his feet were flexed and immobile. Jay realized what this meant, and he began to sweat, a cold sweat.
He did recognize the room. It was the basement of the Tau Kappa Lambda house, the same room in which the party had been held. A ghastly thought struck him--they held their parties in this large, finished basement because it was well sound-proofed.
Saturday, 10am
---------------
Karen came in, wearing her tiniest bikini. "Hi, there, sleepy head! Did-"
"Karen, please, let me go! Don't hurt me," began Jay.
"Don't interrupt me again, or I might just do that. But I'm not planning to hurt you, not at all. So why are you sweating like a pig and shaking? You know that I always keep my promises, and I _do_ promise not to hurt you. What scares you?"
"Uhh, I don't know," mumbled Jay.
"Say it, or it will be even worse for you. Say, it, Jay, if you don't want to get me angry. Say it. _Exactly_ what are you afraid of?"
There was a stern look on her face,and her sky-blue eyes stared right into him. Jay sighed, and gave up. "I'm afraid that you're going to tickle me."
Karen laughed. "_Tickle_ you? Why, I never would have thought of that myself. Never. But now that you've mentioned it, it does seem to be a fine idea. I do believe that I will follow up on _your_ suggestion. And it might take your mind off other things," she added, poking his erection. Despite his fears, the sight of her fabulous legs, bare from toes to thighs, and of her firm breasts, had produced the obvious reaction.
Jay began to beg. "Please don't do this, Karen, please don't, you don't want to--aahhh, HAHHAHHAHHH!!"
His pleas were cut off by Karen's fingers, poking at his short ribs. She began to count his ribs, very slowly, up from the lowest pair. Her fingers never stopped moving and kneading as she counted.
"One. Oh my, but you're wriggling. Tickle, tickle, tickle. How does that feel? Two. Do be careful not to bang your head too hard. Maybe I'll get you a pillow later. Tickle, tickle, tickle. Three. Aren't you the ticklish one? Aren't you a ticklish little boy? Tickle, tickle, tickle. Four."
Amidst the agony of his laughter, Jay did not like being demoted from 21-year-old college senior to boy. Karen was only up to the ninth pair of ribs when she saw that he was not breathing well.
"I'll give you a minute to catch your breathe. Be sure to thank me for it. One minute." She looked at the large wall clock, with its sweep second hand.
"Thank you? You bitch! You-aha HAHAHAHAHHAahahHHAAHAHHA!!"
Karen had resumed, not bothering to count, just digging in cruelly, relentlessly, endlessly, never letting him stop laughing. "For that nasty word, you'll get twenty full minutes, with no pauses. When I next allow you to speak, I'll expect a humble apology for your remarks, a _very_ humble apology, and I'll expect thanks for the pause. If I am not satified that you're really sorry, then you'll get forty minutes."
She had never stopped tickling during this threat, and she continued with grim determination. To Jay it seemed like hours. It seemed endless. The universe contracted. There was no world outside. There was only this basement, his ribs, his agonized laughter, getting weaker all the time, his wrists and ankles, hurting from futile pulling, his aching lungs, and Karen's fingers. Karen's strong fingers, alwasys moving, always poking, always seeking sensitive spots, always remembering the best spots to poke, never resting, never stopping, tickling him without respite. Karen's deft fingers, seeking to drive him mad, seeking to drive him out of his mind with tickle-torture, and succeeding.
Although it seem like forever to Jay, Karen was a woman of her word, and she did stop after twenty minutes. Jay kept laughing and trembling for a while after she stopped. Then he lay still, gasping to recover his wind. When Karen tapped her foot with impatience, he spoke.
"I am most humbly sorry for having used that word. I am ever so sorry. I do apologize, ever so much. Please forgive me! But, please, _please_, PLEASE don't tickle me any more! I just can't take it any more."
Karen sneered at him. "What a baby! Of course you can take it, you have no choice. I will accept your apology. But stop? I have hardly even _begun_ to tickle you, you ticklish little baby! Hardly begun! And you haven't thanked me for this pause." She scowled at him, with menace in her eyes, again tapping her foot with impatience. Her big blue eyes reminded him of a Siamese cat, contemplating its dinner.
Noting with dismay that he had been demoted again, from boy to baby, Jay forced himself to thank her. "I _do_ thank you, ever so much, for allowing me this time to recover. It is so kind of you, and I am grateful. But, umm, Karen, I really need to go to the bathroom now, so you just have to untie me."
Jay's erection was gone, and he honestly did have to urinate, urgently. "I suppose you actually need to pee, but you're not going anywhere. Not for a long time. I have an empty milk carton here for you."
Karen reached under the bench, and came up with the promised container. "And another thing. You're not my boyfriend any more, and 'Karen' is too familiar."
On the word 'familiar,' she she put his penis into the milk carton, and smiled. "From now on, call me 'Ms. Fletcher.' That shows more respect. I'll keep you aimed here, and the carton tilted down. You may go ahead."
It was very humiliating, but Jay managed to urinate into the carton with Karen holding his member. He then heard her washing her hands in the basement's bathroom. She returned to regard his helpless form.
"Now I'm going to start on your armpits. I know that they're even more ticklish than your ribs, and twenty minutes at a time would likely make you faint. I don't want that--I want you conscious, and experiencing every second of the tickle-torture. See how kind I can be? So you'll get five minutes of tickling in the armpits, followed by one minute to rest. We'll call that one round. Just one thing, baby. Those rounds, of five minutes of armpit-tickling, followed by a minute to rest? You're about to get fifteen of them! 15 rounds. That's the same length as a soccer game, so I'm sure that _I_ have the stamina to get through it." She glanced at the clock.
"Oh, God, no, please, I'll die, I--HaHAHAHAHHAHHA!!"
His armpits really were his most senisitive spots for tickling, and she know exactly where and how to poke him for the best reactions. In the past, he had always been able to fight her off, and never had endured more than a few seconds. He had always been able to pull away, grab her wrists, or even kick, if he had to. Now he was utterly helpless, and she was enjoying having him at her mercy. She was taking full advantage.
Once again, it seemed like forever. He tried to keep track of the rounds, but lost count. He only knew that his ankles and wrists hurt from pulling, his throat hurt from laughing, his diaphram ached, his eyes were streaming with tears, and his armpits were sore. Karen's firm fingers were at work, never resting, never pausing, never giving him a moment's peace. It was a good thing that his bladder was empty, or he would have lost control. During the one minute pauses, she taunted him.
"Who's a little, ticklish baby? You are! Who's a helpless, very, _very_ ticklish baby boy? You! And you'll stay this way, all day long. Just think of the fun I'm having! And I haven't even touched your feet yet. Just think of how much more you've got to suffer, baby!"
At long last, the fifteen rounds were done. Jay didn't even realize it for a while, just lying there waiting for the next round to start. But Karen didn't resume digging into his armpits. Instead, she kissed him on the forehead, the way an older sister would kiss her baby brother.
"You look quite winded. It's time for lunch now, for me at least. I'm going upstairs for a sandwhich and a soda. If you grovel for me now, very, very humbly, I might bring down some food for you."
"Oh, please," said Jay in a weak voice, through his now sore throat, "please, dear, kind Ms. Fletcher, most beautiful of all women on earth! Please, please let me go now. Haven't you punished me enough? I will be eternally grateful, if only you let me go."
Jay had an idea. Karen had always liked his motorcycle.
"Please let me go. I'll give you my motorcycle! Just please don't tickle me anymore."
Karen laughed at him. "Not a chance, baby! You've got a very
_long_ way to go. And don't think that your feet are the only place I haven't explored yet. I've got lots of places in mind to try."
She took a small artist's brush from under the bench, suitable for acrylic or water color, put it in his left nostril, and twirled it.
Jay shrieked, and jerked in his bonds.
"Very sensitive in the nose, are you? I'll be sure to explore it, and your ears, and behind your knees, and other places, after I'm done with your feet and toes. Consider yourself lucky that I am taking a break for lunch. Since you didn't ask for any food, you're not getting any. I will bring you some water. You've been sweating, and I don't want you to get dehydrated." Jay groaned, and watched her gorgeous legs as she climbed the stairs.
Saturday, 1pm
--------------
Karen came down from lunch, and let Jay drink water through a straw. "Let me know when you need to pee. I don't want you to stain the bench, it would make me most upset." She pulled a stool over to a perfect position to get at his feet, and and brought over a large briefcase. She showed him a few of the items in it: More artist's brushes of different sizes, some toothbrushes, some basting brushes, a feather duster, two straw brooms, and a plastic object that Jay recognized as the tongue-scraper that Karen had gotten from her oral hygenist.
She set to work with gusto. Jay was clearly going nuts, but he was not laughing as hard as he had when she attacked his armpits or ribs. So Karen saw no reason to give him any pauses, none at all.
She experimented eagerly, and discovered that different implements worked best on different parts of his feet. The toothbrushes were best for his arches and heels. The tongue-scraper was great for long strokes, the whole length of his soles. Between his toes, the basting brushes were best, driving him mad, making him squeal like a piglet. One the bottoms of his toes, the straw brooms were most effective. She took one in each hand, and stroked across the bottoms of all his helpless and immobilized toes, over and over again. She crooned at him, as she stroked across his toe pads.
"Has my little baby got very ticklish toes? Oh, yes, he sure does. Very, very ticklish. Tickle, tickle, tickle. Do you want me to stop? Do you? I'm not going to. I'm never going to stop. Tickle, tickle, tickle. Poor baby, poor baby. Can't move your toes at all, can you? Tickle, tickle, tickle. Poor little ticklish baby! I may never stop!"
Jay finally did get her to stop, by screaming that he had to urinate. But she started right up again. She discovered that her fingernails were better than any of the implements for the balls of his feet. She could make him strain against his bonds and howl by digging her nails into the ball of either foot, and scratching. So she did, over, and over, and over again. Jay was red in the face, gasping and laughing at the same time, utterly exhausted, and totally out of his mind when she finally did stop.
"I bet you thought that was endless, but it was just one hour on your feet. Just an hour! And I have so much time left. Poor baby." She moved another stool to the end of the bench where his head rested. She sat, holding an artist's brush in each hand.
"Now to do your ears, nose, and neck. Then I'll try the backs of your knees, the crooks of your elbows, your belly, and your navel. This shouldn't be as strenuous as your armpits, so you will get no pauses, none. About the same as your feet, one hour. I hope you enjoy it, because when the hour is done--" She paused and looked him in the eyes again.
"When the hour is done, I'll go back to your armpits."
Jay appeared to be gathering the strength to speak. Karen cut him off as ge cleared his throat.
"Not one word! Not a single word from you. I'll order you to speak when I want to hear from you. Until then, laughter is the only thing allowed to come out of your mouth. Understand?"
Jay nodded, not uttering a word. Karen did just as she said, using the small brushes in all of the places she had mentioned,
as he wriggled, laughed, squirmed, and squealed. As promised, she
stopped after an hour.
Saturday, 3pm
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Jay wriggled and giggled for a while after Karen had stopped. When she got up and positioned herself at his armpits again, he forgot himself and spoke.
"PLEASE not the armpits again! Oh, please, Ms. Fletcher, if you ever cared for me at all, let me go now. I--" Jay suddenly shut up, remembering that he had been ordered not to talk.
Karen smiled at him, but it was again the smile of a cat contemplating dinner. "I am going to keep my promise not to hurt you, baby, but you _do_ get punished for speaking."
(to be continued)
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Milagros
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