tenderfeet
TMF Regular
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- Jul 8, 2001
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The Show (MM*+/m; partial nudity, sexual content)
THE SHOW
"Would I like to see what??" asked Jack Henderson in astonishment of the attractive slim redhead standing beside his barstool. He couldn't believe his ears.
"A t-tickling demonstration," the nervous young man said hesitantly. "You know, where the v-victim is tied up and c-can't escape, so that the t-t-tickler can do whatever he wants." He appeared to be dying of embarassment.
The first time they'd met here, Charlie had sworn he was 19, even showed his driver's license, but he looked 16. He was 5'9", only 128 lbs., and attractive to the point of being pretty. A frequent patron to the Go-Go Club, everyone on the staff had all but begged him to start doing drag shows even though he had never come crossdressed, but he had flatly refused.
He mostly hung out with the younger guys, his fellow university students for the most part, but would occasionally be receptive to overtures from someone much older, as had been the case that one time. And Christ, was he ever a good cock-sucker.
"I dunno," Jack replied, "that sounds kind of illegal. Isn't that kidnapping and assault? What if the victim goes to the police?"
"Oh n-no," the redhead stammered, "it's nothing like that. The ‘v-victim’ has already agreed to take part. And he's v-very ticklish."
"How do you know that?" asked Jack. "Are you going to be the victim?"
"Y-yes, sir," the young man replied. "I, um, volunteered."
"So, what, are you selling tickets or something?" Jack inquired. "Trying to get money?"
"No, sir, it's completely free, and you can bring a friend if you like," replied the redhead. "There'll even be food and drinks provided."
"Then what's in it for you?" Jack was curious.
"Well, uh, it's just for fun, really," the redhead answered, his face bright red. "You see, well, we're doing a roleplay, pretending that I broke the rules of the house off campus where I rent a room and that this is my 'penalty'."
Jack looked Charlie up and down. "In that case, I'm happy to attend," he smiled. "I'd love to see you get 'punished'."
Charlie handed him a card with an address and directions to a house in an affluent older neighborhood downtown, next to the university. "Be there tomorrow night before 8:00 pm. After that, the doors will be locked. You’re also welcome to come early any time after 7:30 to have a drink and mingle."
As the skinny redhead walked off, Jack shook his head. Of all the things he'd seen and heard in bars, this was one of the strangest. Well, except for that time in the leather bar on a trip to Atlanta. Tomorrow definitely looked to be more than the average run-of-the-mill evening.
He watched Charlie walk up to another patron. "E-excuse me, sir, would you like to see...". He approached several patrons around the bar that night, giving most the same speech he'd given to Jack. Many were regulars that Jack knew, both older guys such as himself and younger ones from Charlie's own crowd. Some called him a pervert and told him to get the hell away from them. Others seemed to take a lecherous interest in the invitation, and nearly all of those accepted cards.
After a couple of embarassing hours, the redhead left. Jack wondered how many would actually show, and if this house would be big enough.
* * * * *
When Jack drove onto the street in the address at 7:45 the next evening, there were cars lining both sides of the street. He found an empty space and parked his car. The house would've been easy to find even without the card; there were a number of men standing about on the wide front porch with drinks in their hands. There was a fraternity house on one side with an empty lot in between the two.
An attractive man standing about 6'3" in his forties or early fifties, graying hair tied back in a small ponytail with a gray beard and mustache, greeted him at the door.
"Thank you for coming," he said as he shook Jack's hand. "I'm one of your hosts, George. Go ahead back to the den, where we have full bar, get a drink, and mingle. It's be several minutes yet before the show gets started."
The sunken den was huge. Tastefully decorated, with the bar and barstools in one corner, a conversation pit in another, a large plasma TV in another, and lastly, a professional-level pool table with two small round tables and several chairs. A large entertainment center with a large number of CD's, DVD's, and VHS tapes lined one wall, but it was what was sitting on the footstool in the center of the room full of men that caught his attention.
A young woman with curled auburn hair, wearing a man’s button-down silk shirt with rolled up sleeves several sizes too large for her, was sitting on a small footstool. Large earrings dangled from her lobes. The knees of her smooth, slender legs were bent, and shiny black four-inch pumps were on her feet. A garter graced her left thigh, just below a tattoo of a red rose with some writing around it. There was also a gaudy gold anklet on her right ankle.
A large ball gag in her mouth would have prevented speech had she been trying. The cuffs on her wrist were joined with a short clasp, and those on her ankles by chain two feet long. A leash extended from the thin studded black dog collar around her neck. The sign hung around her neck read: “I am a thieving cock-tease SLUT”.
I thought Charlie was going to do this, wondered Jack as he walked over to get a better look.
The girl was pretty but wearing almost too much make-up. Heavy black liner surrounded her eyes, her lashes were thick with mascara, and two shades of green colored her nearly closed eyelids. Her cheeks were rouged, and her fingernails and lips wore a color Jack's conservative mother had always called "whorehouse red".
She seemed quite out of place at a party full of gay men.
Jack was about to decide that coming here may not have been such a good idea, but as he moved closer to read the writing circling the rose (“BEWARE:” above it and “VERY TICKLISH!” below it), a shock of recognition shot through him when the "girl" looked up and opened "her" eyes. Oh my God....wow!
"Well, this is quite a new look for you, Charlie," he exclaimed in surprise. "I never knew you had it in you!". Quite the little actor you are too, dear, doing a perfect job of pretending to be humiliated and miserable.
"That's part of his 'punishment'," the bartender, who stood about 6'2" and looked about the same age as George, informed him. "I'm Harry, George's partner, by the way. You'll learn all about that," nodding his head toward Charlie, "from George just before he starts the demonstration."
"I'm looking forward to that," Jack grinned. He walked over and ordered a margarita. No way in hell would I miss this now!
He got his drink and began to mingle; the ones who knew Charlie, both his friends and acquaintances, were discussing their surprise at the turn of events. Some expressed slight distaste for Charlie dressing in drag for the show, not disappointment in their host as much as in Charlie; most of these were his peers. But most seemed quite intrigued, while the strangers Charlie had recruited for the show appeared nonchalant. More men kept trickling in
* * * * *
At 8:00 pm on the dot, George came in to to tell everyone he was ready.
"Everyone come downstairs," he said, standing just inside the door of the den. Walking to and opening another door opposite the one from the foyer, he proceeded down.
Jack followed along with everyone else to the basement, which was as large as the den upstairs and entirely underground. Carpet lay on the floor, and flourescent lights lit the room. Two semicircles of of cushioned folding chairs were spaced so that each occupant could have an unobstructed view of the action taking place in the stocks.
The restraining boards of the stocks made of two-by-sixes ran between two sets of upright boards coming from the base, with the bottom bolted between the two boards on each side and the open top connected by a hinge. The restraining hole for the wrists were outside the uprights with the holes for the ankles about three inches apart in the center and a foot distant from the wrist holes on either side. There was a large vertical eyebolt on top in the center. The device sat three feet from the back wall.
"Make yourselves comfortable," George told them. “But everyone stand up and cheer when Harry brings Charlie down.”
He yelled up the stairway that the men were in place, and Harry led Charlie downstairs on the leash. As soon as Charlie entered, they all rose to their feet, and Harry paraded him up one row and down the other of cheering and catcalling men, teetering on his four-inch heels because of the chain between them.
Charlie’s face was glowing bright red from all the lecherous remarks about his “sexy” legs as Harry led him to the stocks and turned him to face the crowd.
Once Harry had removed both sets of cuffs, the leash, and the sign, which he hung on the wall over Charlie’s head, he unbottoned the shirt and let it fall to the floor, leaving Charlie wearing a sheer black babydoll split down the front with red roses embroidered on the breasts. More hooting, whistling, and catcalls came from the audience.
George then opened the device, looking at his prey.
Obeying the implied command, Charlie sat on two-foot high cushioned bench at the back of the device, then placed his ankles in the center semi-circles and his wrists in the outer, and George swiflty closed it with a “bang”. Harry quickly put the padlock from his pocket thru the latch and shut it with a “click”.
Charlie seemed quite nervous. His face openly displayed a great sense of unease, and he was squirming in his seat. He appeared to be demonstrating the reality of his bondage, and show that he couldn't escape.
Great little actor, thought several of the men, or is it 'actress'?
As everyone sat down, George walked to the room’s walk-in closet and returned with two lengths of rope and a belt.
George walked to the stocks, saying, "Let me just add a few things to the bondage, and then we can start."
He used one length of rope to bind Charlie's ankles together on the side of the stocks facing outward, then he used the other to tie his slender legs together below the knees. Going around behind the "captive", he pulled to make sure Charlie wasn't sitting on his lingerie, then moved around and reached to his waist. Grabbing the string-bikini panties underneath the babydoll, he pulled them up Charlie's legs and over his knees. Next, he fastened the belt around Charlie's upper legs at mid-thigh. Then another leather belt, this one longer, went under his knees and outside his arms above his elbows so that he could no longer bend them.
Then he turned and addressed the audience. "First, let me apologize for the pretense under which all of you were invited here. I know you came here to watch what was portrayed as a demonstration of tickling done in the name of fun for which little Charlie here volunteered that was to be a ‘roleplay’ of him being ‘disciplined’,” George started, “but that’s not what’s happening this evening. It was a lie."
Some of the men looked as if they were about to protest. Charlie suddenly began to look even more uncomfortable than he had been.
"Oh, don't worry;” George continued, “you are going to see Charlie not just tickled but tickle-tortured! It will be a great show, because he’s insanely ticklish almost everywhere, with his feet by far the worst. Only this will not be not a ‘roleplay demonstration’, nor is it truly ‘voluntary’; neither is the truth.”
Charlie’s eyes widened and he began shaking his head with muffled protests coming from behind his gag. The men quietened down.
“No, gentlemen, what you are about to witness is not mere pretend, but a very real punishment, one to which he very reluctantly agreed to submit for having committed certain indiscretions and misdeeds I'm about to relate. And although it’s not entirely nonconsensual, it is still pretty much against his will because Charlie absolutes hates being tickled,” George grinned.
“Of course, that information was supposed to be kept private, but if we did keep it a secret, this wouldn’t really be punishment, would it?".
Charlie looked stricken at the betrayal, his face bright red with embarassment as several men in the audience snickered.
"Harry, my partner," he nodded to Harry, who smiled and waved before heading upstairs, "and I took Charlie in when his parents kicked him out after he revealed he's bisexual. He's a university student going to school through his dad's GI Bill because his dad is a disabled vet, and while that supplies are ample money for tuition and books, there's not enough left over for room and board. Harry's an anesthesiologist and I'm a financial executive, so the bite out of our pockets was minimal."
"Harry and I had gotten to know Charlie at the house warming party we threw after moving here when we invited his fraternity, and became friends. Since fraternities traditionally don't care for openly gay members, his being no exception, he came to us when he found himself homeless in order to keep his secret from them."
Heads turned as the sounds of several sets of feet sounded on the stairs down to the den.
"Speaking of his fraternity brothers," George spoke to their curiosity, "not all of them are homophobic," he continued as several college-age young men filed into the room behind Harry, "and those we ourselves invited to attend."
They all turned to see Charlie's reaction. He looked mortified as his frat brothers took their places standing in back of the chairs.
George resumed his speech. "Now, college boys can be kind of wild and undisciplined, and when we offered to let Charlie live here for free, we had several rules he had to follow, both for our convenience and for his own good, basically the same kind of rules he had at home, such as calling if he's going to be late, cleaning his room, etc. He also had to agree to pay a penalty for infractions.
"Since we had learned he was ticklish--well, not just ticklish, but extremely ticklish--that's the punishment we decided on, with the degree of intensity and length of time varying according to the nature of the offence in question. Over the past several months we have had to take action under this part of our agreement several times, usually restraining him hogtied or spread-eagled on the bed, with the longest time lasting thirty minutes, usually no longer than fifteen.
"A couple of months into his stay here, we also made him crossdress a few times in lingerie and heels as punishment, once in a maid's oufit to serve us Sunday brunch, but he liked that and began doing it occasionally of his own accord. In fact, when he's here at the house and not going anywhere, he's frequently 'Ginger', his alter feminine ego.
"The important point is that until now, all these punishments have been in private, a small price to pay for free room and board with nothing other than common courtesy asked in return. The change in this case is because he stole, he used the word 'borrowed' but he didn't ask, a large amount of money from us that he used to go on vacation on spring break. Charlie agreed to this demonstration because we couldn't let him live here any longer unless we had some insurance there wouldn't be a repeat, and so that we wouldn't call the police. That's why all of you are now here, at his invitation, to witness his punishment, which is multi-layered.
"First, for Charlie, tickling is true torture. He can’t stand it the least little bit. It’s utterly unbearable for him.
“Second, we're not only making his extreme ticklishness common knowledge but demonstrating it to a roomful.
“Third, we're revealing that he allows himself to be subjected to this discipline on a more or less regular basis.
“Fourth, he's timid about his crossdressing and has never done so in front of anyone else until now, thus his attire.
“Fifth, he's very sensitive about the way his feet look because of how small and narrow and pretty they are, and shy about being barefoot in public.
“Now, for the rest of the evening, we'll be referring to her as 'Ginger' and using feminine pronouns," George ended.
“Now that you know the real story behind this evening's events, we can begin," he declared, "after I get my tools. But first..."
Standing to the side, he and Harry bent down to the stocks and each grabbed the backs of one of the pumps covering up and protecting Charlie's feet. Charlie began to panic, curling his feet downward and scrunching up his toes trying to prevent their removal. But his attempt was in vain, and the two easily removed them, placing them on the floor with their heels over the support piece across the bottom at the front of the device facing the onlooking audience, in order to emphasize both the nakedness and defencelessness of Charlie's now bare feet.
Seeing all the men in the room stare at his exposed tootsies with expressions of combined lust and predatory hunger, Charlie felt as humiliated as if he'd just been publicly stripped stark naked and cringed at the thought of what the two men were going to do in front of all these men.
Whorehouse red on her toenails too, Jack thought with a smile, feeling himself grow stiff. Cute little toe-ring on her left also.
"As you can see, Ginger takes great care of her feet," George noted, straightening up. "In fact, she's quite a fanatic about it.
“For months, she's had a weekly pedicure with touch-up exfoliations in between, lotioned two or three times a day, and frequent paraffin footbaths," he said, stroking both soles lightly with his fingertips, not hard enough to tickle but still making his captive wince and bite his lower lip, "which has made her feet buttery soft, silky smooth, and, fortunately for us and unfortunately for her, incredibly vulnerable to tickling, in addition to enhancing the looks of her already attractive feet.”
He paused and smiled. "Here's something else for you to think about. We know for a fact that in spite of being shy about going barefoot in public, ‘Little Miss Pretty Feet’ here likes to use these pretty little bare feet of hers to tease men by showing them off surreptitiously, propping them up for guys to see, flexing her soles, clenching her toes, twirling her ankles, swinging her feet back and forth, the whole gamut, the whole time coyily pretending that she's unaware of what she's doing, just like a prick-teasing girl. She especially likes it if guys appear embarassed when she just ‘happens’ to look up and ‘accidentally’ catches staring at her bare feet. We know all this because she's bragged about it. Keep that in mind."
With that little tidbit, George finished his introduction. As he went to the closet, Harry placed a footstool on either side of the foot of the stocks.
While he had been speaking, the men were snickering and gawking, mezmerized by the unfolding events. Now they began to voice their thoughts.
"Oh my God, can you believe this? I've never seen anything like it!"
"How'd you like to be in his, uh, her, position?
"Trapped and helpless in front of all these people? No way!"
"And with bare feet too; oh God, I couldn't take it!"
"If the bottoms of her feet are as soft as they appear, she's really in trouble!"
"Boy, I'd really hate to be her right now!"
"They can do anything they like to her now. Anything!"
"Yeah, and there's absolutely nothing she can do about it!"
As Charlie listened helplessly to their comments, which made his apprehension even worse, his flawless soles were flexing/unflexing and his perfect toes clenching/unclenching reflexively from his nervous tension due to the attention centered on his naked feet.
"'Whorehouse red' tonails are appropriate for the feet of that little slut."
"Nothing worse than a cock-tease like her. She really deserves this."
"Look: she's doing it now! Man, I can't wait to see her get it!"
"I'll bet she's really, really, really ticklish!"
"If she's that ticklish, this ought to be really good!"
Charlie was miserable with shame, humiliation, and betrayal. Having to solicit a laughing, mocking, cheering audience for his own torture was bad enough; appearing before them as "Ginger" was devastating. To have a group of his fraternity brothers here too, well, that was just too much. And having his feet bared to the hungry eyes of the twenty-some odd men...Charlie thought he would die of embarassment. He'd give anything to escape right now. Looking into the eager, and now vengeful, faces of those in his audience, he knew he could expect no help from that quarter. All he could do was sit there helplessly waiting for the hell that was about to start.
When George returned, he set a low TV tray filled with objects at the foot of the stocks between the two footstools.
The men in the audience peered over and saw numerous feathers, electric toothbrushes, a couple of rounded-end plastic bristle hairbrushes, cooking oil, a blow dryer with a long cord, hand lotion, wooden spoons, several chopsticks sharpened on the small end, two of what looked like some kind of stainless steel medical devices with spiked wheels, ballpoint pens, shoestrings, a vibrator, a roll of electrical tape, and twenty rubber paper-grippers with artificial fingernails superglued onto the ends.
Harry brought over the remote control for the entertainment center.
Charlie's eyes grew wide when he saw all the implements of torture that were on the tray. He began to squirm wildly, shaking his head and pulling at the stocks in a last futile attempt to free himself and get away. The effort only reaffirmed the inescapability of his bondage.
“That’s right, little Ginger,” George smirked looked at Charlie, “there’s no way out of this. You’ve been a very, very naughty little girl, and you're going to be punished very, very severely, just like and in the manner you so well deserve."
Turning to his audience, he said. "Gentlemen, you are about to witness the most cruel and sadistic tickle torture Ginger here has ever experienced. She is going to endure unspeakable ticklish agony be beyond even her wildest nightmares, and might even go insane by the time we're through with her. But we will show her no mercy. She has no choice but to suffer, with no relief in sight."
After George's little speech, Charlie began to struggle even more wildly, pleading desperately through his gag and getting teary-eyed, but there was no escape. All he could was sit there and take it. The audience, meanwhile, gave George a standing ovation.
Grinning evilly, George sat down at his left side, Harry on his right. They began putting on the fingernail-tipped rubber paper grippers as George said to the audience, “It’s time to tease the tease!”
"Are you ready for it, Ginger?" taunted Harry, as they finished. "Well, too bad, because here it comes."
"Prepare for titilation," George smiled. "Resistance is futile."
Then he switched to explanatory mode. "Different parts of the soles require their own style of touch for the tickling to be the most effective; for example, you should tickle gently on the arches and insteps, while on the balls and arches you can go full on," he began.
"When tickling her bare feet," he continued, "you want to start off with light, circular touches all over the surface of her soles." He and Harry matched deeds to words using one hand each. Charlie began shaking and giggling uncontrollably.
"Tease her this way, alternating between fast, menacing attacks," once again the two executed what was being said, causing Charlie to shriek out loud then burst into guffawing, pulling madly at the stocks, "every once in a while, but staying mostly with the slow ones...," and Charlie settled down to squirming and giggling, "until you've found the most ticklish spots on her feet."
Both men paused, and George smiled. "Then, once you've mapped out all those splendidly vulnerable places, not that there's too much the two of us don't know about the bottoms of Charlie's feet by now," he looked at his partner smiling, "pause like we just did, then launch a furious assault of fast and firm scrabbling."
As they proceeded to demonstrate, Charlie screamed and howled in ticklish misery, twisting, writhing, bouncing up and down on his seat, much to the pleasure of the watching men who were hooting and cheering.
Oh my God, thought Jack, how can anyone take that much tickling??
And Charlie's torture had just begun.
As the two tickled rapidly away, George raised his voice above Charlie's muffled wailing pleas for mercy. "Remember to vary your technique, altering the speed and intensity of your tickling and working her less ticklish areas against her hot spots, constantly changing between
"soft strokes,
"gentle scratching,
"firm deep pressure,
"raking your fingernails up and down her soles,
"quick firm attacks inside her insteps and underneath her toes,
"jiggling your fingers randomly over her soles,
"and alternating between slapping and tickling,
"as well as changing direction from up and down,
"side-to-side,
"zig-zagging,
"making figure-eight's,
"and drawing small or large circles,
"whenever she quietens even slightly."
George and Harry demonstrated each method as it was mentioned. Then they launched full-force into an exhibition of all the foot-tickling they'd just demonstrated, varying their techniques randomly, strategically attacking his hot spots then those less so.
Charlie screamed with laughter, cried, shook, writhed, twisted, squealed, thrashed, and begged, praying for a stop to the torturous tickling of his bare feet, which were writhing, twisting, and jerking in desperation and pure reflex action trying without luck to escape or at least evade for a brief instant the twenty tickling fingers merrily stroking, scratching, kneading, raking, jiggling, slapping, zig-zagging, circling, and going side-to-side all across the helpless, vulnerable bare soles of his feet
Strangely, though, a part of him buried deep inside was hoping it would never end.
The laughing crowd mocked and jeered his ticklish agony, as well taking sadistic enjoyment from seeing his feet wriggle around in desperation.
After fifteen long minutes, however, it finally did, and Charlie slumped down, too weary to even rage in protest.
"Oh my God," one of the watching men shouted, "look at her cock! Or should I say 'clit'?".
Charlie's face, already bright red, flushed even deeper in shame, for it was true; his cock, sticking out underneath his bound thighs, stood more erect than it had ever been before.
"It seems to me," Jack smiled, "that little Ginger here is enjoying her torture."
Charlie vigorously shook his head back and forth.
"What do you say, guys?" George asked the men. "Should we continue?"
"YES! MORE! MORE!" came the shouted reply.
Harry smiled, picking up the entertainment center remote. "This is a little thing we like to call 'tickling to the music'."
He hit the Play button for the CD player. At the first chord of Dueling Banjos, Harry jiggled the fingers of one hand once across Charlie's right sole in time to the music, and Charlie jumped and shrieked. At the second chord, George also jiggled the fingers one hand across Charlie's left sole, and again Charlie jumped and shrieked.
It continued this way until 45 seconds, when the chords became a bit longer and more complex, though still slow. Then the two men then began using both hands, and Charlie's shrieking and jumping became more vigorous, and more constant, especially after the two minute mark, when the pace of the music picked up, as did the tickling fingers.
Fifteen seconds later, the song broke into rapid chords played simultaneously between the two warring banjos. Harry and George likewise tickled simultaneously and rapidly, for the last minute of the song sending Charlie into spasms of hysteria, with continual screaming but no laughter and wild twisting convulsions.
The whole scene had the onlookers going into fits of laughter nearly as devastating as those of the victim.
As the last chord played out, Charlie began gasping for air. I can't take this one more second! They're gonna kill me!
His torturers began removing the grippers, and Charlie breathed a sigh of relief. At first, he vainly thought that may it was over. Then he saw them each pick up one of the stiff turkey feathers from the tray, and move behind him.
"In addition to varying speed, intensity, direction, and spots on her feet, it's important to alternate targets to the rest of her body as well, even for a primarily foot-tickling session," George informed. "You'll find that doing so even for a brief time will enhance the sensitivity of her feet."
"Her underarms," Harry announced, "respond to a light touch, such as, say, a feather."
Two feathers closed in and began tickling Charlie's hairfree armpits. He tried, but couldn't lower his arms to protect them due to the way his elbows were bound to his knees. He squenched his eyes and bit his lower lip, but the feathers were insistent. He tried to squirm away, but since he could barely move at all, the feathers had no trouble staying on target. His soft giggling finally burst out into maniacal chuckling, suffering his torture sitting nearly still because wiggling didn't help.
"Of course," George added a couple of minutes later, "harder tickling works as well for underarms". With this, Harry moved aside and George stepped directly behind Charlie, digging his fingers into deep. Charlie's eyes bulged out as he lunged forward shrieking before bursting out into guffawing laughter. This kept up for only a minute before ceasing.
Harry, who had shifted down to Charlie's middle, said, "Her bellybutton requires a light touch, for which the feather comes in handy once again." Reaching down between Charlie's arms, Harry inserted the tip of the feather into his navel and began juggling it around rapidly. Immediately, Charlie started giggling. The giggling burst out into laughter a few times before Harry quit, again after a minute, and looked at George.
"Her ribs," said George, "need harder tickling, such as kneading and poking...," as he did so, causing uncontrollable laughter from Charlie as he shook from side to side.
"While her tummy and and sides," Harry finished, "are most effective targets when poked and squeezed." Random poking made Harry's captive shriek and twist to get out of the way, which was useless of course, while the squeezing made him lurch forward with bugging eyes, then dissolve into screaming laughter.
The two men began tickling simultaneously on both areas of Charlie's body, and the poor university student was too overcome with laughter even to protest or beg. He was incapable of coherent words. After about two minutes, this tickling too ceased.
"Squeezing is also good for her knees," said Harry, moving into position and demonstrating. Soft, but forced, chuckling came forth from Charlie, punctuated by an occasional shriek.
"Fingernails are excellent to use on the back," George smiled, already in position from the rib-tickling. Starting at the top, he began tickling random back and forth all the way down. At first came giggling and squirming, but when he reached Charlie's lower back, Charlie began screaming, and squirmed so wildly that he very nearly managed to fall off the bench in spite of how he was bound. Since this had proven so productive, George continued for an extra minute instead of stopping at two, much to the delight of the other men.
When he had finished, George and Harry returned to the foot of the stocks as Charlie attempted to regain his breath. Harry picked up a vibrator and turned it on.
"A vibrator can be an effective tickling tools if used correctly," he began, proving this by using it on Charlie's insteps and arches and being rewarded with immediate laughter, "but that's not how we're going to use it here."
Walking to the side of the stocks, he bent down and inserted it between the bench cushion and Charlie's scrotum, pushing it back until its tip rested just barely against Charlie's asshole, then turned it on. Immediately, Charlie began quivering all over, and his feet began to twist and flex and shake involuntarily.
"Sexual teasing," Harry said, "is an important part of any true torture session of tickling. The annoying teasing compounds her overall sense of frustration, and besides, it's just fun." He grinned at the audience and they cheered, Jack the loudest of all. Then he took place on the footstool on the right.
"Feet are the obvious, and usually the most favorite, target for tickling," George declared, "and usually the most productive due to the concentration of nerve endings in the soles and toes close to the surface. In Ginger's case, her soles and toes are horribly ticklish as a result of her foot-pampering regimine, and they are absolutely her weakest spot of all."
George bent down and picked up a shoestring off the tray, and Charlie panicked, pulling back and forth and shaking his head. George smiled. "I see you know what's coming next."
Turning to the audience, he explained. "With feet-tickling, tying the toes is essential, but you should wait until you've been tickling her feet for a while. The reason is that after having her feet tortured for a while, tying her toes so that she can't move her feet at all anymore will drive her crazy and emphasize her helplessness even more."
"But first," he added as he reached down to pick up a roll of electrical tape, "we need this. The tape underneath the shoestring will prevent it from cutting into the skin and cutting off circulation, and sensitivity."
When he turned toward Charlie, he began madly wriggling his feet, trying to prevent his toes from tied. Harry reached over and grabbed his two big toes, holding them together while George wound two layers of electrical tape around the base of them.
"Naughty, naughty, mustn't do," Harry chanted, "Santa Clause will shit on you!"
"You know you were supposed to submit without resistance," George said, "and behave, like a good little girl."
"Excuse us gentleman," he told the audience, "we're going to have to pause with the tickling while we give little Ginger here a little something extra for that little act of disobedience you just witnessed."
Tittering laughter made its way around the room.
George picked up the shoestring and tied a slipknot in one end, which he put around the taped toes and pulled tight. After making two more loops around the toes, he pulled it between them, looping around twice and ran the other end through the eyebolt, pulled back on the string, then tied it off. His toes were bent back, somewhat, and his soles were stretched taut. "There may be a little bit of movement still, but you don't want to pull far enough back that the string cuts into her toes."
As he was speaking, Charlie smelled alcohol, then felt something chilly on the bottoms of his feet as Harry used a cotton swab to spread it on his soles and toepads. Then he felt the thin sticks of wooden matches being placed in each of the spaces between his toes and began to panic when George lit the grill lighter and touched off all eight matches.
Charlie’s hysterical panicked reaction provided his captors and the audience with much amusement, as did his writhing as the matches burned down. His screams as the flames reached his toes and touched off the alcohol, which flared brightly but very briefly, had them holding their sides and rocking in their seats from laughter.
Harry picked up the cooking oil and began spreading it out over Charlie's now totally immobilized feet as George explained what they were doing now. "Cooking oil is a great tool to use when tickling her feet because it enhances her sensitivity and enables you fingers to fly more easily over the surface over her soles. We didn't use it earlier because her bare feet were still all soft and warm and sensitive fresh from her heels."
He grinned. "Cooking oil's also a handy tool to use for sole-roasting because not only does it spread out the heat, it also keeps her feet from drying out. You can use baby oil, too, by the way, but since it's toxic and we have other plans for later, we're using this."
Momentarily, Charlie found himself more worried about "other plans" than he was about the more immediate threat of sole-roasting, but that vanished a few seconds later.
George went over to the wall and plugged in the blow dryer, then came back to his seat and turned it on high. Holding it about an inch from Charlie's soles and toes, he moved it very slowly up and down, stopping frequently, while Charlie screamed in pain and writhed about on the bench, with tears dribbling down his cheeks.
The audience was glued to the scene, laughing, though some were so riveted they didn't make a sound. Harry, in the meantime, walked over to the bar and returned with two quart-sized storage bags filled with ice and a roll of duct tape.
After ten minutes, the sole-roasting ceased. Charlie's soles were a deep, bright red. Almost immediately, Harry placed both bags of ice against the bottoms of Charlie's feet and held them there while George secured them in place with duct tape. As soon as the ice touched Charlie's roasted soles, his eyed bugged opened and his screams became quicker and higher pitched.
Five minutes later, the bags were removed for another round of sole-roasting, this time only five minutes. When this ended, George and Harry looked at each other, and as if some unspoken communication had passed between them, they both grinned widely.
Walking to the closet, they returned with a bag filled with some kind of powder, two soft brushes, and two sets of rubber kitchen gloves. Without any explanation to the curious onlookers, the two men put on the rubber gloves, then used the brushes to spread the powder all over Charlie's motionless soles, making sure the largest amounts were on and in between his toes.
The two then removed their gloves, and stood well to either side, giving the audience a completely uncluttered view.
What the hell did they just put on my feet? Charlie asked himself. By now he was mortified. Not only was his crossdressing secret out, but it was humiliating to have his tender little tootsies bared to public view against his will, and to also have his extreme ticklishness displayed openly like this...well, Charlie was mortified. Having all these faces of onlooking men staring at him, witnessing and being entertained by his humiliation and torture made it all even worse. Then, just as this thought crossed Charlie's mind, the effects of the powder made themselves felt.
Arrrggh! What IS that stuff? Charlie wondered. Oh my GOD it itches!! It felt as if there were hundreds of fire ants crawling over the bottoms of his feet, concentrating on, around, between, and underneath his toes along with his tender insteps and arches, biting and biting and biting.
Oh, God, somebody do something! Oh, God, get it off! Get it off!! Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God!!!
Over the sound of Charlie's incoherent groans and squeals, George smiled as Charlie squirmed and squealed away in discomfort, his toes wiggling furiously. "Behold, gentlemen! Ye olde itching powder at work!"
Sudden understanding brightened on the faces of the men and most began snickering. "It takes a minute or two to take effect, but when it does, it's unbearable, as I'm sure you can now see."
"The only way to relieve the itching," added Harry, "is to remove the powder with water."
Fifteen minutes later, with Charlie literally sobbing in anguished frustration, Harry relieved him of his miserable itching--with a waterpik filled with ice water. The ice water, of course, made it necessary to rewarm Charlie's feet again, so another five-minute round of sole-rasting followed. When that was finished, Charlie's torturers picked up the wooden spoons and started smacking away at the reddened soles. Charlie screamed even louder than before. Some of the men looked as if they were almost beginning to feel uncomfortable, but then the bastinado ended.
George and Harry dropped the spoons and each picked up a stiff turkey feather.
"Feathers are classic for foot-tickling," George told the audience as all the men leaned forward once more with their interest peaking once again, "but you have to use the stiff kind. The soft ones don't work. These turkey feathers here were already stiff, but we've enhanced that with a light coat of acrylic spray."
"Another reason for tying the toes back," Harry added, "is that with her soles taut they're more sensitive, plus it's easier to get in between her toes."
Charlie looked out at the men who'd been watching him all evening, and they all wore the faces of predators witnessing the taking of prey. Suddenly he felt feather tips begin slowly gliding up and down both soles. He bit his lip, shook his head, scrunched up his face, and began struggling violently against the stocks, desparately trying to bite back his laughter, but the tittilation of feathers was quickly becoming too unbearable.
It was apparent Charlie wasn't going to hold out much longer, and the audience leaned forward even more. Abruptly, a burst of laughter erupted from Charlie's mouth, and the tickling ceased immediately. Snickering and chuckling drifted around the room as George and Harry turned to their audience.
“Feathers are insidious,” said George, “because initially the barely perceptible sensations can lull her into a false sense of security, which persistence will shatter.”
“Then, take a minute or two to tease her with what is coming,” grinned Harry, “and her helplessness against it, before renewing your attack.”
With that, the two men returned their attention to Charlie’s totally defenceless feet and renewed their delicate work. Charlie began giggling instantly. Then he began shaking his head back and forth, yanking at the device imprisoning his bare feet for their torture. Soon, his giggling had escalated into loud, agonized laughter, interspersed with squeals and desparate muffled pleas.
Though his sides hurt from laughter and screaming, he was helpless to stop it. The ceaseless tingling, itching sensations were driving him crazy. Occasionally he managed to scream in frustration as he clenched and unclenched his fists, but the persistent, unceasing, hellish feathers, now moving nonstop side-to-side and zig-zagging as well as up and down, even stroking his toepads and making short quick strokes underneath his toes, forced him back into loud, agonized laughter again and again.
The feathers halted after what seemed like hours to Charlie, though it had only been ten or fifteen minutes, and he was just beginning to catch his breath when George announced, "Feathers are great for this!"
With that, he and Harry each grabbed their pinky toe and spread outward, splaying his toes. Then they began sawing back and forth in the spaces and fluttering in between. Charlie immediately lurched forward with his most violent screams for mercy yet.
After thirty seconds, his two torturers resumed their tickling of his soles, only now punctuated with brief tortures of the spaces between his toes. After fifteen minutes more minutes of this, the feathers halted once again.
George turned to the room full of men. "The quill end of the feather is an often over-looked tickling tool that works great on her feet." He and Harry then began dotting the soles of Charlie's feet with the quills.
At this, Charlie laughter reduced to mere nonstop giggling, and his wild thrashing to mere squirming. Then the two began dragging the quills across his soles, and it was like electric shocks were flowing through his body. He opened his mouth wide in a soundless scream as he lifted off the bench and crashed back down before sound came forth in a nearly continual laughing scream punctuated only by desperate gulps of air to launch on another round of screaming laughter.
Five minutes later, the feathers disappeared. "Every good feather foot-tickling," George taunted, as Harry laughed evilly, "should end with a bout of tickling with fingers." George and Harry took up tickling with fingers again, only this time unaided by tools. With his poor bare feet as highly sensitized as they were, that didn't matter much, and Chuck suffered another five minutes of unbearable torture with fingers.
The final four demonstrations of torture implements his two captors made were, fortunately, brief by comparison to what Charlie had endured to this point, each lasting barely five minutes. Well, not "barely" to Charlie.
First, were the hairbrushes. George and Harry first spread hand lotion all across his soles, then picked up the brushes and began dragging them rapidly up and down, back and forth Charlie's soles. To Charlie it felt as if a hundred fingernails were scraping over his skin. His thrashing about and screaming laughter returned to the levels of when it first began, with his bare feet still fresh from the high heels.
After that came the electric toothbrushes. George and Harry demonstrated their use, and most effective targets, the best of which proved to be the toepads.
Next on the list of tortures were the chopsticks. These George and Harry used with the same method as the feather quill, but with much more devastating effect, because while the poking was done with the sharpened end, the dragging was done with the rounded end allowing firmer, deeper pressure to be applied as they were being dragged up and down, whereas the sharp quills, if applied with that pressure, would have cause intense pain.
Last came the spiked metal pinwheels. "These are called Wartenberg wheels," Harry informed the spectators. "Nerve specialists used to use them to test reflexes and they were quite effective, but since the bug came to town, they've fallen out of use. However, the BDSM community kept them alive."
"People in the tickling community say they work on even the so-called toughest cases," George added, then smiled. "Which is most definitely not the case here, of course. Anyway, one recipient of a Wartenberg wheel treatment called it 'cross between a pizza cutter and coming face-to-face with God'. Let's see what little Ginger has to say, shall we?" Five minutes later, Charlie could've sworn he'd just come face-to-face with the other guy. It'd been like nothing he ever felt. Pure unadulterated torture. And that was with a light touch.
Afterwards, they wiped the excess lotion still left from the hairbrush treatment off his soles.
Finally, all the tools on the tray had been demonstrated. Charlie was more exhausted than he had ever been in his life. He had come to end, had been beaten badly, but had gone the limit. It was over.
No such luck.
George stood as Harry left the room and addressed the crowd. "We're gonna take a short recess while Harry gets something we need from the backyard," he said to the giddy, overwhelmed audience, "so get yourself a beer and kick back for the final round."
What can he be getting from the back yard? wondered Charlie frantically. And 'final round'??
The men milled around talking excitedly about the evening's events. Charlie merely slumped in his bondage, trying to recover. He saw leering stares, smug glances, and heard salacious commentary, but at the moment he couldn't have cared less. What made his condition even worse was the fact that his cock was still rockhard, even though the vibrator had been turned off at sometime, he had no idea when, that event having barely registered through his awful torture.
George had gone upstairs, and came back to the den after fifteen minutes had gone by since the tickling ceased. He carried a bucket in which sat a large jar of honey and a basting brush..
What the hell? thought Charlie.
"Gentlemen, take your seats," George instructed. "The grand finale is about to begin."
'Grand finale'? Charlie worried. What the hell else can they do to me, cut off my feet?
George pulled a his footstool directly in front of the stocks. Charlie could feel something sticky being spread over his soles and in between his toes with the basting brush.
Oh my God, what is this? Why honey? The brush tickled, and since he was too weak to even attempt resistance, he began giggling insanely almost immediately.
When the George had a thick coat he was satisfied with, he moved the footstool out of the way.
Just at the moment, strange sounds came from upstairs. First, there was the clack of what sounded like hooves. Then the sound of "Meheheh. Meheheh"
"What the hell?" inquired Jack as the clacking hooves started down the stairs. "That sounds like a goat!"
George was grinning widely, facing his audience but watching Charlie out of the corner of his eye. "That's because that's exactly what it is!"
"My God," Jack exclaimed. "That thing is huge. That's biggest damn goat I've ever seen!" Murmurs throughout the crowd agreed.
"Gentlemen, meet Mikey," he said, grinning even wider upon seeing Charlie panic. "Mikey is a Boer mountain goat, the largest breed in the world. Weighs at least 300 pounds, possibly more."
At the puzzled looks, mixed with a few knowing smirks, George explained further. "Mikey has a really LARGE tongue, and it's rough and dry, soft and wet, all at the same time." He smiled. "And lately, gentleman, he has developed quite a taste for honey. Get the picture?"
His wide smile spread throughout the room everyone, including to Harry, who was grinning like a sheepdog--except for Charlie, of course, whose utterly horrified expression as Harry led Mikey to the foot of the stocks clearly showed his opinion of the matter.
“We plan to keep going until the jar is empty,” George smiled, then laughed. “Of course, I doubt anyone as ticklish as Ginger will be able to bear that horrible tongue slipping and sliding all over the soft and tender bottoms of her dainty feet, so our little vixen may not last that long once Mikey starts in on these pretty little bare soles.”
As if it would make the nightmare go away, Charlie's eyes squeezed shut when Harry released his charge. They immediately bugged open, however, the instant Mikey's tongue touched his soles. The damn thing was big enough to swipe the entire surface of his two, admittedly small, bare soles. The sensations from that tongue were the most intensely torturous tickling he'd ever felt on the bottoms of his feet.
His hysterical laughter didn't effect the goat the least little bit as he proceeded to lap up every last drop of honey. Harry informed George it was time for a fresh coat, and pulled Mikey back out of the way. The second coat of many was plastered onto Charlie's soles.
Charlie barely noticed as George reached between and turned the vibrator back on he was so overcome with ticklish misery. It took a while for the new sensations from his groin to register with his overtaxed brain.
On and on and on it went. Coat after coat after coat of honey disappeared. The goat was like a ticklng machine on overdrive, licking blissfully away nonstop until a fesh coat was needed.
Finally, too exhausted to struggle, laugh, or protest anymore, Charlie was reduced to sobbing and moaning in limp, quivering, whimpering, humiliating anguish punctuated with occasional squeals of frustration, truly and thoroughly broken at last.
Seeing this, when Harry pulled Mikey away for a fresh coat of honey, instead of basting Charlie's soles, George carefully and thoroughly plastered each of his toes, each space in between, and the line underneath. When Harry released Mikey once again, Charlie somehow found the vigor for more violent struggling and more screeching at the top of his lungs. He thought he was going to die.
Just as Mikey started on Charlie's toes, George from somewhere brought out a small crate about two feet high with an upright vibrator on top. Taped to the tip of the vibrator was a stiff turkey feather. George reached inside the box underneath and switched the vibrator on, placing underneath Charlie so that the tip of the wildly vibrating feather tickled the fleshy part of Charlie's cock, just under the head.
So overloaded with different sensory stimulation was Charlie that he failed to recognize what was happening to him until a couple of seconds before the most humongous orgasm he'd ever had exploded through him. He came so hard that his juices launched nearly all the way to the first row of chairs.
The reality of what had just happened to him registered for about a nanosecond before the aftereffects of cumming that hard after a roughly two-hour or more hard-on took hold and sent his nerve endings screaming with sensitivity, and Charlie discovered new levels of suffering of which he couldn't conceive.
And didn't. Two minutes later, he passed out cold.
* * * * *
Charlie awoke, dazed and confused, at first not remembering where he was. Attempting to move reminded him quickly, but he found his back was resting against a wall or something, with a pillow between it and his back. There was a whiff of strong ammonia floating near him. Smelling salts?
He wearily analyzed his situation. He was still restrained as he had been. His tortured body was utterly exhausted and his emotions were traumatized. He ached all over from his torture and his laughter, with his feet still tingling from their abuse. His hair was plastered to his head with sweat and his soaked lingerie clung to his body.
He could hear several voices. His eyes cracked open, then grew wider. About a third of the men in the room last time he was conscious seemed to be missing.
How the hell long was I out? Charlie wondered. And why the hell am I still in the stocks?
"Oh good, Ginger," George said, "you're awake finally. Some of us went on a beer and burger run, but they'll be back."
Charlie was thoroughly confused. Why would I care about that?
"That's right," George mocked. "You slept through it, didn't you? The best way for me to get the point across is to tell the guys here exactly what I told them fifteen minutes ago just after you'd departed for the land of Nod."
Those still present reoccupied seats. "Thank you all for coming to this demonstration," George began. "Please show your appreciation to our volunteer."
At this, everyone seated stood up and gave Charlie an ovation.
"But as I said before, the point of this exercise is not to be a roleplay demonstration," he continued, "but to provide him with suitable punishment for certain misdeeds which I detailed at the top of the evening. The demonstration, though, was not the punishment itself, but a lesson to teach all of you on how to take your part in carrying out the punishment. The following is to be her punishment:
"Each of you will get ten minutes of nonstop tickling of Ginger's tender little tootsies, if you want her feet all to yourself, or you may, if you wish, team up with one, two, three, or more other persons and combine your times, in which case you may switch feet-tickling positions between yourselves as often as you like. She will get ten minute rest breaks every hour, unless that time falls during a team-tickling with combined times, in which case her rest period will come after the combined time has expired. Tickling of other body parts will not be considered part of your ten minutes."
The guys from the beer and burgers runs started arriving and filling up seats.
"Furthermore, as I am aware some of you may not wish to be recognized by Ginger while you're taking part in her just punishment, we're going to blindfold her, and beyond that, to ensure your complete anonymity, we're going to both insert ear-plugs in both her ears and put head-squeezer ear protector on her also. In addition to making Ginger blind and deaf to your identity, you will find that such an amount of sensory deprivation will greatly increase her sense of touch and enhance her reactions to that touch as well.
"Perhaps in this way, Charlie will learn never again to steal from us, or any other friends, as well as to accept the fact that it's okay to crossdress other than in the privacy of his own place of living."
“One final thing: once your turn at tickling Ginger’s pretty litte feet has ended, please sign your name on her soles or toes, either your full name or just your given name will be fine.”
Charlie sat frozen in mute shock, too horrified to move a millimeter. At this moment, seeing a hungry goat wouldn't even budge him. Seeing a feather wouldn't even make him twitch.
Not until Harry put the plugs in his ears and then the protectors over them did it begin to dawn on Charlie the depth of the horror still to come, and it wasn't until the blindfold came down over his eyes that he grasped its full extent.
Oh my God...I can't believe this is happening!
Suddenly a stunning thought ripped through Charlie's brain, leaving him aghast in its wake as he came face-to-face with that secret part of himself arguing with the more rational part that had been praying for the tickle torture of his bare feet to end.
Jack Henderson smiled at the three men who'd teamed up with him, one putting on fingernail-tipped paper grippers as was he himself while the others picking up a feather and an electric toothbrush each. Yes, he thought to himself, this is turning out to be quite a diverting evening!
He and the other wearing fingernails took their places at Charlie's helpless horribly ticklish feet with their co-torturers on the other side above Charlie's tender toes, while two more men moved into position on either side of the helpless young man and another stood behind him.
I did this! I provoked this! Charlie was stunned by his realization. I deliberately put myself in this position knowing what they could do if I did something as serious as steal that much money! Oh my God, maybe I really wanted something like this to happen! And, God help me, I enjoyed it! Oh God, I...
Charlie's reverie was cut off suddenly as two unseen feathers began making their way up his bound, helpless, over-stimulated soles, guided by the unseen hands of unseen and unheard men, until they'd reached his toes.
OH GOD! OH GOD! OH MY GOD, NOOOOOOOOO!!!
* * * * *
As the horde of eager men descended on the hapless young captive, George and Harry stood aside, smilling with self-satisfaction. Harry used the remote to turn off the hidden camera connected to the recorder. Charlie didn’t have a clue.
The money from the sale of this DVD to a company specializing in “amateur” gay BDSM vids would only be a small start towards recouping the $5,000 their young friend had “borrowed”. The company told them they planned to market it as an instructional video.
Now, they both wondered, what else can Charlie do to pay us back?
THE SHOW
"Would I like to see what??" asked Jack Henderson in astonishment of the attractive slim redhead standing beside his barstool. He couldn't believe his ears.
"A t-tickling demonstration," the nervous young man said hesitantly. "You know, where the v-victim is tied up and c-can't escape, so that the t-t-tickler can do whatever he wants." He appeared to be dying of embarassment.
The first time they'd met here, Charlie had sworn he was 19, even showed his driver's license, but he looked 16. He was 5'9", only 128 lbs., and attractive to the point of being pretty. A frequent patron to the Go-Go Club, everyone on the staff had all but begged him to start doing drag shows even though he had never come crossdressed, but he had flatly refused.
He mostly hung out with the younger guys, his fellow university students for the most part, but would occasionally be receptive to overtures from someone much older, as had been the case that one time. And Christ, was he ever a good cock-sucker.
"I dunno," Jack replied, "that sounds kind of illegal. Isn't that kidnapping and assault? What if the victim goes to the police?"
"Oh n-no," the redhead stammered, "it's nothing like that. The ‘v-victim’ has already agreed to take part. And he's v-very ticklish."
"How do you know that?" asked Jack. "Are you going to be the victim?"
"Y-yes, sir," the young man replied. "I, um, volunteered."
"So, what, are you selling tickets or something?" Jack inquired. "Trying to get money?"
"No, sir, it's completely free, and you can bring a friend if you like," replied the redhead. "There'll even be food and drinks provided."
"Then what's in it for you?" Jack was curious.
"Well, uh, it's just for fun, really," the redhead answered, his face bright red. "You see, well, we're doing a roleplay, pretending that I broke the rules of the house off campus where I rent a room and that this is my 'penalty'."
Jack looked Charlie up and down. "In that case, I'm happy to attend," he smiled. "I'd love to see you get 'punished'."
Charlie handed him a card with an address and directions to a house in an affluent older neighborhood downtown, next to the university. "Be there tomorrow night before 8:00 pm. After that, the doors will be locked. You’re also welcome to come early any time after 7:30 to have a drink and mingle."
As the skinny redhead walked off, Jack shook his head. Of all the things he'd seen and heard in bars, this was one of the strangest. Well, except for that time in the leather bar on a trip to Atlanta. Tomorrow definitely looked to be more than the average run-of-the-mill evening.
He watched Charlie walk up to another patron. "E-excuse me, sir, would you like to see...". He approached several patrons around the bar that night, giving most the same speech he'd given to Jack. Many were regulars that Jack knew, both older guys such as himself and younger ones from Charlie's own crowd. Some called him a pervert and told him to get the hell away from them. Others seemed to take a lecherous interest in the invitation, and nearly all of those accepted cards.
After a couple of embarassing hours, the redhead left. Jack wondered how many would actually show, and if this house would be big enough.
* * * * *
When Jack drove onto the street in the address at 7:45 the next evening, there were cars lining both sides of the street. He found an empty space and parked his car. The house would've been easy to find even without the card; there were a number of men standing about on the wide front porch with drinks in their hands. There was a fraternity house on one side with an empty lot in between the two.
An attractive man standing about 6'3" in his forties or early fifties, graying hair tied back in a small ponytail with a gray beard and mustache, greeted him at the door.
"Thank you for coming," he said as he shook Jack's hand. "I'm one of your hosts, George. Go ahead back to the den, where we have full bar, get a drink, and mingle. It's be several minutes yet before the show gets started."
The sunken den was huge. Tastefully decorated, with the bar and barstools in one corner, a conversation pit in another, a large plasma TV in another, and lastly, a professional-level pool table with two small round tables and several chairs. A large entertainment center with a large number of CD's, DVD's, and VHS tapes lined one wall, but it was what was sitting on the footstool in the center of the room full of men that caught his attention.
A young woman with curled auburn hair, wearing a man’s button-down silk shirt with rolled up sleeves several sizes too large for her, was sitting on a small footstool. Large earrings dangled from her lobes. The knees of her smooth, slender legs were bent, and shiny black four-inch pumps were on her feet. A garter graced her left thigh, just below a tattoo of a red rose with some writing around it. There was also a gaudy gold anklet on her right ankle.
A large ball gag in her mouth would have prevented speech had she been trying. The cuffs on her wrist were joined with a short clasp, and those on her ankles by chain two feet long. A leash extended from the thin studded black dog collar around her neck. The sign hung around her neck read: “I am a thieving cock-tease SLUT”.
I thought Charlie was going to do this, wondered Jack as he walked over to get a better look.
The girl was pretty but wearing almost too much make-up. Heavy black liner surrounded her eyes, her lashes were thick with mascara, and two shades of green colored her nearly closed eyelids. Her cheeks were rouged, and her fingernails and lips wore a color Jack's conservative mother had always called "whorehouse red".
She seemed quite out of place at a party full of gay men.
Jack was about to decide that coming here may not have been such a good idea, but as he moved closer to read the writing circling the rose (“BEWARE:” above it and “VERY TICKLISH!” below it), a shock of recognition shot through him when the "girl" looked up and opened "her" eyes. Oh my God....wow!
"Well, this is quite a new look for you, Charlie," he exclaimed in surprise. "I never knew you had it in you!". Quite the little actor you are too, dear, doing a perfect job of pretending to be humiliated and miserable.
"That's part of his 'punishment'," the bartender, who stood about 6'2" and looked about the same age as George, informed him. "I'm Harry, George's partner, by the way. You'll learn all about that," nodding his head toward Charlie, "from George just before he starts the demonstration."
"I'm looking forward to that," Jack grinned. He walked over and ordered a margarita. No way in hell would I miss this now!
He got his drink and began to mingle; the ones who knew Charlie, both his friends and acquaintances, were discussing their surprise at the turn of events. Some expressed slight distaste for Charlie dressing in drag for the show, not disappointment in their host as much as in Charlie; most of these were his peers. But most seemed quite intrigued, while the strangers Charlie had recruited for the show appeared nonchalant. More men kept trickling in
* * * * *
At 8:00 pm on the dot, George came in to to tell everyone he was ready.
"Everyone come downstairs," he said, standing just inside the door of the den. Walking to and opening another door opposite the one from the foyer, he proceeded down.
Jack followed along with everyone else to the basement, which was as large as the den upstairs and entirely underground. Carpet lay on the floor, and flourescent lights lit the room. Two semicircles of of cushioned folding chairs were spaced so that each occupant could have an unobstructed view of the action taking place in the stocks.
The restraining boards of the stocks made of two-by-sixes ran between two sets of upright boards coming from the base, with the bottom bolted between the two boards on each side and the open top connected by a hinge. The restraining hole for the wrists were outside the uprights with the holes for the ankles about three inches apart in the center and a foot distant from the wrist holes on either side. There was a large vertical eyebolt on top in the center. The device sat three feet from the back wall.
"Make yourselves comfortable," George told them. “But everyone stand up and cheer when Harry brings Charlie down.”
He yelled up the stairway that the men were in place, and Harry led Charlie downstairs on the leash. As soon as Charlie entered, they all rose to their feet, and Harry paraded him up one row and down the other of cheering and catcalling men, teetering on his four-inch heels because of the chain between them.
Charlie’s face was glowing bright red from all the lecherous remarks about his “sexy” legs as Harry led him to the stocks and turned him to face the crowd.
Once Harry had removed both sets of cuffs, the leash, and the sign, which he hung on the wall over Charlie’s head, he unbottoned the shirt and let it fall to the floor, leaving Charlie wearing a sheer black babydoll split down the front with red roses embroidered on the breasts. More hooting, whistling, and catcalls came from the audience.
George then opened the device, looking at his prey.
Obeying the implied command, Charlie sat on two-foot high cushioned bench at the back of the device, then placed his ankles in the center semi-circles and his wrists in the outer, and George swiflty closed it with a “bang”. Harry quickly put the padlock from his pocket thru the latch and shut it with a “click”.
Charlie seemed quite nervous. His face openly displayed a great sense of unease, and he was squirming in his seat. He appeared to be demonstrating the reality of his bondage, and show that he couldn't escape.
Great little actor, thought several of the men, or is it 'actress'?
As everyone sat down, George walked to the room’s walk-in closet and returned with two lengths of rope and a belt.
George walked to the stocks, saying, "Let me just add a few things to the bondage, and then we can start."
He used one length of rope to bind Charlie's ankles together on the side of the stocks facing outward, then he used the other to tie his slender legs together below the knees. Going around behind the "captive", he pulled to make sure Charlie wasn't sitting on his lingerie, then moved around and reached to his waist. Grabbing the string-bikini panties underneath the babydoll, he pulled them up Charlie's legs and over his knees. Next, he fastened the belt around Charlie's upper legs at mid-thigh. Then another leather belt, this one longer, went under his knees and outside his arms above his elbows so that he could no longer bend them.
Then he turned and addressed the audience. "First, let me apologize for the pretense under which all of you were invited here. I know you came here to watch what was portrayed as a demonstration of tickling done in the name of fun for which little Charlie here volunteered that was to be a ‘roleplay’ of him being ‘disciplined’,” George started, “but that’s not what’s happening this evening. It was a lie."
Some of the men looked as if they were about to protest. Charlie suddenly began to look even more uncomfortable than he had been.
"Oh, don't worry;” George continued, “you are going to see Charlie not just tickled but tickle-tortured! It will be a great show, because he’s insanely ticklish almost everywhere, with his feet by far the worst. Only this will not be not a ‘roleplay demonstration’, nor is it truly ‘voluntary’; neither is the truth.”
Charlie’s eyes widened and he began shaking his head with muffled protests coming from behind his gag. The men quietened down.
“No, gentlemen, what you are about to witness is not mere pretend, but a very real punishment, one to which he very reluctantly agreed to submit for having committed certain indiscretions and misdeeds I'm about to relate. And although it’s not entirely nonconsensual, it is still pretty much against his will because Charlie absolutes hates being tickled,” George grinned.
“Of course, that information was supposed to be kept private, but if we did keep it a secret, this wouldn’t really be punishment, would it?".
Charlie looked stricken at the betrayal, his face bright red with embarassment as several men in the audience snickered.
"Harry, my partner," he nodded to Harry, who smiled and waved before heading upstairs, "and I took Charlie in when his parents kicked him out after he revealed he's bisexual. He's a university student going to school through his dad's GI Bill because his dad is a disabled vet, and while that supplies are ample money for tuition and books, there's not enough left over for room and board. Harry's an anesthesiologist and I'm a financial executive, so the bite out of our pockets was minimal."
"Harry and I had gotten to know Charlie at the house warming party we threw after moving here when we invited his fraternity, and became friends. Since fraternities traditionally don't care for openly gay members, his being no exception, he came to us when he found himself homeless in order to keep his secret from them."
Heads turned as the sounds of several sets of feet sounded on the stairs down to the den.
"Speaking of his fraternity brothers," George spoke to their curiosity, "not all of them are homophobic," he continued as several college-age young men filed into the room behind Harry, "and those we ourselves invited to attend."
They all turned to see Charlie's reaction. He looked mortified as his frat brothers took their places standing in back of the chairs.
George resumed his speech. "Now, college boys can be kind of wild and undisciplined, and when we offered to let Charlie live here for free, we had several rules he had to follow, both for our convenience and for his own good, basically the same kind of rules he had at home, such as calling if he's going to be late, cleaning his room, etc. He also had to agree to pay a penalty for infractions.
"Since we had learned he was ticklish--well, not just ticklish, but extremely ticklish--that's the punishment we decided on, with the degree of intensity and length of time varying according to the nature of the offence in question. Over the past several months we have had to take action under this part of our agreement several times, usually restraining him hogtied or spread-eagled on the bed, with the longest time lasting thirty minutes, usually no longer than fifteen.
"A couple of months into his stay here, we also made him crossdress a few times in lingerie and heels as punishment, once in a maid's oufit to serve us Sunday brunch, but he liked that and began doing it occasionally of his own accord. In fact, when he's here at the house and not going anywhere, he's frequently 'Ginger', his alter feminine ego.
"The important point is that until now, all these punishments have been in private, a small price to pay for free room and board with nothing other than common courtesy asked in return. The change in this case is because he stole, he used the word 'borrowed' but he didn't ask, a large amount of money from us that he used to go on vacation on spring break. Charlie agreed to this demonstration because we couldn't let him live here any longer unless we had some insurance there wouldn't be a repeat, and so that we wouldn't call the police. That's why all of you are now here, at his invitation, to witness his punishment, which is multi-layered.
"First, for Charlie, tickling is true torture. He can’t stand it the least little bit. It’s utterly unbearable for him.
“Second, we're not only making his extreme ticklishness common knowledge but demonstrating it to a roomful.
“Third, we're revealing that he allows himself to be subjected to this discipline on a more or less regular basis.
“Fourth, he's timid about his crossdressing and has never done so in front of anyone else until now, thus his attire.
“Fifth, he's very sensitive about the way his feet look because of how small and narrow and pretty they are, and shy about being barefoot in public.
“Now, for the rest of the evening, we'll be referring to her as 'Ginger' and using feminine pronouns," George ended.
“Now that you know the real story behind this evening's events, we can begin," he declared, "after I get my tools. But first..."
Standing to the side, he and Harry bent down to the stocks and each grabbed the backs of one of the pumps covering up and protecting Charlie's feet. Charlie began to panic, curling his feet downward and scrunching up his toes trying to prevent their removal. But his attempt was in vain, and the two easily removed them, placing them on the floor with their heels over the support piece across the bottom at the front of the device facing the onlooking audience, in order to emphasize both the nakedness and defencelessness of Charlie's now bare feet.
Seeing all the men in the room stare at his exposed tootsies with expressions of combined lust and predatory hunger, Charlie felt as humiliated as if he'd just been publicly stripped stark naked and cringed at the thought of what the two men were going to do in front of all these men.
Whorehouse red on her toenails too, Jack thought with a smile, feeling himself grow stiff. Cute little toe-ring on her left also.
"As you can see, Ginger takes great care of her feet," George noted, straightening up. "In fact, she's quite a fanatic about it.
“For months, she's had a weekly pedicure with touch-up exfoliations in between, lotioned two or three times a day, and frequent paraffin footbaths," he said, stroking both soles lightly with his fingertips, not hard enough to tickle but still making his captive wince and bite his lower lip, "which has made her feet buttery soft, silky smooth, and, fortunately for us and unfortunately for her, incredibly vulnerable to tickling, in addition to enhancing the looks of her already attractive feet.”
He paused and smiled. "Here's something else for you to think about. We know for a fact that in spite of being shy about going barefoot in public, ‘Little Miss Pretty Feet’ here likes to use these pretty little bare feet of hers to tease men by showing them off surreptitiously, propping them up for guys to see, flexing her soles, clenching her toes, twirling her ankles, swinging her feet back and forth, the whole gamut, the whole time coyily pretending that she's unaware of what she's doing, just like a prick-teasing girl. She especially likes it if guys appear embarassed when she just ‘happens’ to look up and ‘accidentally’ catches staring at her bare feet. We know all this because she's bragged about it. Keep that in mind."
With that little tidbit, George finished his introduction. As he went to the closet, Harry placed a footstool on either side of the foot of the stocks.
While he had been speaking, the men were snickering and gawking, mezmerized by the unfolding events. Now they began to voice their thoughts.
"Oh my God, can you believe this? I've never seen anything like it!"
"How'd you like to be in his, uh, her, position?
"Trapped and helpless in front of all these people? No way!"
"And with bare feet too; oh God, I couldn't take it!"
"If the bottoms of her feet are as soft as they appear, she's really in trouble!"
"Boy, I'd really hate to be her right now!"
"They can do anything they like to her now. Anything!"
"Yeah, and there's absolutely nothing she can do about it!"
As Charlie listened helplessly to their comments, which made his apprehension even worse, his flawless soles were flexing/unflexing and his perfect toes clenching/unclenching reflexively from his nervous tension due to the attention centered on his naked feet.
"'Whorehouse red' tonails are appropriate for the feet of that little slut."
"Nothing worse than a cock-tease like her. She really deserves this."
"Look: she's doing it now! Man, I can't wait to see her get it!"
"I'll bet she's really, really, really ticklish!"
"If she's that ticklish, this ought to be really good!"
Charlie was miserable with shame, humiliation, and betrayal. Having to solicit a laughing, mocking, cheering audience for his own torture was bad enough; appearing before them as "Ginger" was devastating. To have a group of his fraternity brothers here too, well, that was just too much. And having his feet bared to the hungry eyes of the twenty-some odd men...Charlie thought he would die of embarassment. He'd give anything to escape right now. Looking into the eager, and now vengeful, faces of those in his audience, he knew he could expect no help from that quarter. All he could do was sit there helplessly waiting for the hell that was about to start.
When George returned, he set a low TV tray filled with objects at the foot of the stocks between the two footstools.
The men in the audience peered over and saw numerous feathers, electric toothbrushes, a couple of rounded-end plastic bristle hairbrushes, cooking oil, a blow dryer with a long cord, hand lotion, wooden spoons, several chopsticks sharpened on the small end, two of what looked like some kind of stainless steel medical devices with spiked wheels, ballpoint pens, shoestrings, a vibrator, a roll of electrical tape, and twenty rubber paper-grippers with artificial fingernails superglued onto the ends.
Harry brought over the remote control for the entertainment center.
Charlie's eyes grew wide when he saw all the implements of torture that were on the tray. He began to squirm wildly, shaking his head and pulling at the stocks in a last futile attempt to free himself and get away. The effort only reaffirmed the inescapability of his bondage.
“That’s right, little Ginger,” George smirked looked at Charlie, “there’s no way out of this. You’ve been a very, very naughty little girl, and you're going to be punished very, very severely, just like and in the manner you so well deserve."
Turning to his audience, he said. "Gentlemen, you are about to witness the most cruel and sadistic tickle torture Ginger here has ever experienced. She is going to endure unspeakable ticklish agony be beyond even her wildest nightmares, and might even go insane by the time we're through with her. But we will show her no mercy. She has no choice but to suffer, with no relief in sight."
After George's little speech, Charlie began to struggle even more wildly, pleading desperately through his gag and getting teary-eyed, but there was no escape. All he could was sit there and take it. The audience, meanwhile, gave George a standing ovation.
Grinning evilly, George sat down at his left side, Harry on his right. They began putting on the fingernail-tipped rubber paper grippers as George said to the audience, “It’s time to tease the tease!”
"Are you ready for it, Ginger?" taunted Harry, as they finished. "Well, too bad, because here it comes."
"Prepare for titilation," George smiled. "Resistance is futile."
Then he switched to explanatory mode. "Different parts of the soles require their own style of touch for the tickling to be the most effective; for example, you should tickle gently on the arches and insteps, while on the balls and arches you can go full on," he began.
"When tickling her bare feet," he continued, "you want to start off with light, circular touches all over the surface of her soles." He and Harry matched deeds to words using one hand each. Charlie began shaking and giggling uncontrollably.
"Tease her this way, alternating between fast, menacing attacks," once again the two executed what was being said, causing Charlie to shriek out loud then burst into guffawing, pulling madly at the stocks, "every once in a while, but staying mostly with the slow ones...," and Charlie settled down to squirming and giggling, "until you've found the most ticklish spots on her feet."
Both men paused, and George smiled. "Then, once you've mapped out all those splendidly vulnerable places, not that there's too much the two of us don't know about the bottoms of Charlie's feet by now," he looked at his partner smiling, "pause like we just did, then launch a furious assault of fast and firm scrabbling."
As they proceeded to demonstrate, Charlie screamed and howled in ticklish misery, twisting, writhing, bouncing up and down on his seat, much to the pleasure of the watching men who were hooting and cheering.
Oh my God, thought Jack, how can anyone take that much tickling??
And Charlie's torture had just begun.
As the two tickled rapidly away, George raised his voice above Charlie's muffled wailing pleas for mercy. "Remember to vary your technique, altering the speed and intensity of your tickling and working her less ticklish areas against her hot spots, constantly changing between
"soft strokes,
"gentle scratching,
"firm deep pressure,
"raking your fingernails up and down her soles,
"quick firm attacks inside her insteps and underneath her toes,
"jiggling your fingers randomly over her soles,
"and alternating between slapping and tickling,
"as well as changing direction from up and down,
"side-to-side,
"zig-zagging,
"making figure-eight's,
"and drawing small or large circles,
"whenever she quietens even slightly."
George and Harry demonstrated each method as it was mentioned. Then they launched full-force into an exhibition of all the foot-tickling they'd just demonstrated, varying their techniques randomly, strategically attacking his hot spots then those less so.
Charlie screamed with laughter, cried, shook, writhed, twisted, squealed, thrashed, and begged, praying for a stop to the torturous tickling of his bare feet, which were writhing, twisting, and jerking in desperation and pure reflex action trying without luck to escape or at least evade for a brief instant the twenty tickling fingers merrily stroking, scratching, kneading, raking, jiggling, slapping, zig-zagging, circling, and going side-to-side all across the helpless, vulnerable bare soles of his feet
Strangely, though, a part of him buried deep inside was hoping it would never end.
The laughing crowd mocked and jeered his ticklish agony, as well taking sadistic enjoyment from seeing his feet wriggle around in desperation.
After fifteen long minutes, however, it finally did, and Charlie slumped down, too weary to even rage in protest.
"Oh my God," one of the watching men shouted, "look at her cock! Or should I say 'clit'?".
Charlie's face, already bright red, flushed even deeper in shame, for it was true; his cock, sticking out underneath his bound thighs, stood more erect than it had ever been before.
"It seems to me," Jack smiled, "that little Ginger here is enjoying her torture."
Charlie vigorously shook his head back and forth.
"What do you say, guys?" George asked the men. "Should we continue?"
"YES! MORE! MORE!" came the shouted reply.
Harry smiled, picking up the entertainment center remote. "This is a little thing we like to call 'tickling to the music'."
He hit the Play button for the CD player. At the first chord of Dueling Banjos, Harry jiggled the fingers of one hand once across Charlie's right sole in time to the music, and Charlie jumped and shrieked. At the second chord, George also jiggled the fingers one hand across Charlie's left sole, and again Charlie jumped and shrieked.
It continued this way until 45 seconds, when the chords became a bit longer and more complex, though still slow. Then the two men then began using both hands, and Charlie's shrieking and jumping became more vigorous, and more constant, especially after the two minute mark, when the pace of the music picked up, as did the tickling fingers.
Fifteen seconds later, the song broke into rapid chords played simultaneously between the two warring banjos. Harry and George likewise tickled simultaneously and rapidly, for the last minute of the song sending Charlie into spasms of hysteria, with continual screaming but no laughter and wild twisting convulsions.
The whole scene had the onlookers going into fits of laughter nearly as devastating as those of the victim.
As the last chord played out, Charlie began gasping for air. I can't take this one more second! They're gonna kill me!
His torturers began removing the grippers, and Charlie breathed a sigh of relief. At first, he vainly thought that may it was over. Then he saw them each pick up one of the stiff turkey feathers from the tray, and move behind him.
"In addition to varying speed, intensity, direction, and spots on her feet, it's important to alternate targets to the rest of her body as well, even for a primarily foot-tickling session," George informed. "You'll find that doing so even for a brief time will enhance the sensitivity of her feet."
"Her underarms," Harry announced, "respond to a light touch, such as, say, a feather."
Two feathers closed in and began tickling Charlie's hairfree armpits. He tried, but couldn't lower his arms to protect them due to the way his elbows were bound to his knees. He squenched his eyes and bit his lower lip, but the feathers were insistent. He tried to squirm away, but since he could barely move at all, the feathers had no trouble staying on target. His soft giggling finally burst out into maniacal chuckling, suffering his torture sitting nearly still because wiggling didn't help.
"Of course," George added a couple of minutes later, "harder tickling works as well for underarms". With this, Harry moved aside and George stepped directly behind Charlie, digging his fingers into deep. Charlie's eyes bulged out as he lunged forward shrieking before bursting out into guffawing laughter. This kept up for only a minute before ceasing.
Harry, who had shifted down to Charlie's middle, said, "Her bellybutton requires a light touch, for which the feather comes in handy once again." Reaching down between Charlie's arms, Harry inserted the tip of the feather into his navel and began juggling it around rapidly. Immediately, Charlie started giggling. The giggling burst out into laughter a few times before Harry quit, again after a minute, and looked at George.
"Her ribs," said George, "need harder tickling, such as kneading and poking...," as he did so, causing uncontrollable laughter from Charlie as he shook from side to side.
"While her tummy and and sides," Harry finished, "are most effective targets when poked and squeezed." Random poking made Harry's captive shriek and twist to get out of the way, which was useless of course, while the squeezing made him lurch forward with bugging eyes, then dissolve into screaming laughter.
The two men began tickling simultaneously on both areas of Charlie's body, and the poor university student was too overcome with laughter even to protest or beg. He was incapable of coherent words. After about two minutes, this tickling too ceased.
"Squeezing is also good for her knees," said Harry, moving into position and demonstrating. Soft, but forced, chuckling came forth from Charlie, punctuated by an occasional shriek.
"Fingernails are excellent to use on the back," George smiled, already in position from the rib-tickling. Starting at the top, he began tickling random back and forth all the way down. At first came giggling and squirming, but when he reached Charlie's lower back, Charlie began screaming, and squirmed so wildly that he very nearly managed to fall off the bench in spite of how he was bound. Since this had proven so productive, George continued for an extra minute instead of stopping at two, much to the delight of the other men.
When he had finished, George and Harry returned to the foot of the stocks as Charlie attempted to regain his breath. Harry picked up a vibrator and turned it on.
"A vibrator can be an effective tickling tools if used correctly," he began, proving this by using it on Charlie's insteps and arches and being rewarded with immediate laughter, "but that's not how we're going to use it here."
Walking to the side of the stocks, he bent down and inserted it between the bench cushion and Charlie's scrotum, pushing it back until its tip rested just barely against Charlie's asshole, then turned it on. Immediately, Charlie began quivering all over, and his feet began to twist and flex and shake involuntarily.
"Sexual teasing," Harry said, "is an important part of any true torture session of tickling. The annoying teasing compounds her overall sense of frustration, and besides, it's just fun." He grinned at the audience and they cheered, Jack the loudest of all. Then he took place on the footstool on the right.
"Feet are the obvious, and usually the most favorite, target for tickling," George declared, "and usually the most productive due to the concentration of nerve endings in the soles and toes close to the surface. In Ginger's case, her soles and toes are horribly ticklish as a result of her foot-pampering regimine, and they are absolutely her weakest spot of all."
George bent down and picked up a shoestring off the tray, and Charlie panicked, pulling back and forth and shaking his head. George smiled. "I see you know what's coming next."
Turning to the audience, he explained. "With feet-tickling, tying the toes is essential, but you should wait until you've been tickling her feet for a while. The reason is that after having her feet tortured for a while, tying her toes so that she can't move her feet at all anymore will drive her crazy and emphasize her helplessness even more."
"But first," he added as he reached down to pick up a roll of electrical tape, "we need this. The tape underneath the shoestring will prevent it from cutting into the skin and cutting off circulation, and sensitivity."
When he turned toward Charlie, he began madly wriggling his feet, trying to prevent his toes from tied. Harry reached over and grabbed his two big toes, holding them together while George wound two layers of electrical tape around the base of them.
"Naughty, naughty, mustn't do," Harry chanted, "Santa Clause will shit on you!"
"You know you were supposed to submit without resistance," George said, "and behave, like a good little girl."
"Excuse us gentleman," he told the audience, "we're going to have to pause with the tickling while we give little Ginger here a little something extra for that little act of disobedience you just witnessed."
Tittering laughter made its way around the room.
George picked up the shoestring and tied a slipknot in one end, which he put around the taped toes and pulled tight. After making two more loops around the toes, he pulled it between them, looping around twice and ran the other end through the eyebolt, pulled back on the string, then tied it off. His toes were bent back, somewhat, and his soles were stretched taut. "There may be a little bit of movement still, but you don't want to pull far enough back that the string cuts into her toes."
As he was speaking, Charlie smelled alcohol, then felt something chilly on the bottoms of his feet as Harry used a cotton swab to spread it on his soles and toepads. Then he felt the thin sticks of wooden matches being placed in each of the spaces between his toes and began to panic when George lit the grill lighter and touched off all eight matches.
Charlie’s hysterical panicked reaction provided his captors and the audience with much amusement, as did his writhing as the matches burned down. His screams as the flames reached his toes and touched off the alcohol, which flared brightly but very briefly, had them holding their sides and rocking in their seats from laughter.
Harry picked up the cooking oil and began spreading it out over Charlie's now totally immobilized feet as George explained what they were doing now. "Cooking oil is a great tool to use when tickling her feet because it enhances her sensitivity and enables you fingers to fly more easily over the surface over her soles. We didn't use it earlier because her bare feet were still all soft and warm and sensitive fresh from her heels."
He grinned. "Cooking oil's also a handy tool to use for sole-roasting because not only does it spread out the heat, it also keeps her feet from drying out. You can use baby oil, too, by the way, but since it's toxic and we have other plans for later, we're using this."
Momentarily, Charlie found himself more worried about "other plans" than he was about the more immediate threat of sole-roasting, but that vanished a few seconds later.
George went over to the wall and plugged in the blow dryer, then came back to his seat and turned it on high. Holding it about an inch from Charlie's soles and toes, he moved it very slowly up and down, stopping frequently, while Charlie screamed in pain and writhed about on the bench, with tears dribbling down his cheeks.
The audience was glued to the scene, laughing, though some were so riveted they didn't make a sound. Harry, in the meantime, walked over to the bar and returned with two quart-sized storage bags filled with ice and a roll of duct tape.
After ten minutes, the sole-roasting ceased. Charlie's soles were a deep, bright red. Almost immediately, Harry placed both bags of ice against the bottoms of Charlie's feet and held them there while George secured them in place with duct tape. As soon as the ice touched Charlie's roasted soles, his eyed bugged opened and his screams became quicker and higher pitched.
Five minutes later, the bags were removed for another round of sole-roasting, this time only five minutes. When this ended, George and Harry looked at each other, and as if some unspoken communication had passed between them, they both grinned widely.
Walking to the closet, they returned with a bag filled with some kind of powder, two soft brushes, and two sets of rubber kitchen gloves. Without any explanation to the curious onlookers, the two men put on the rubber gloves, then used the brushes to spread the powder all over Charlie's motionless soles, making sure the largest amounts were on and in between his toes.
The two then removed their gloves, and stood well to either side, giving the audience a completely uncluttered view.
What the hell did they just put on my feet? Charlie asked himself. By now he was mortified. Not only was his crossdressing secret out, but it was humiliating to have his tender little tootsies bared to public view against his will, and to also have his extreme ticklishness displayed openly like this...well, Charlie was mortified. Having all these faces of onlooking men staring at him, witnessing and being entertained by his humiliation and torture made it all even worse. Then, just as this thought crossed Charlie's mind, the effects of the powder made themselves felt.
Arrrggh! What IS that stuff? Charlie wondered. Oh my GOD it itches!! It felt as if there were hundreds of fire ants crawling over the bottoms of his feet, concentrating on, around, between, and underneath his toes along with his tender insteps and arches, biting and biting and biting.
Oh, God, somebody do something! Oh, God, get it off! Get it off!! Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God!!!
Over the sound of Charlie's incoherent groans and squeals, George smiled as Charlie squirmed and squealed away in discomfort, his toes wiggling furiously. "Behold, gentlemen! Ye olde itching powder at work!"
Sudden understanding brightened on the faces of the men and most began snickering. "It takes a minute or two to take effect, but when it does, it's unbearable, as I'm sure you can now see."
"The only way to relieve the itching," added Harry, "is to remove the powder with water."
Fifteen minutes later, with Charlie literally sobbing in anguished frustration, Harry relieved him of his miserable itching--with a waterpik filled with ice water. The ice water, of course, made it necessary to rewarm Charlie's feet again, so another five-minute round of sole-rasting followed. When that was finished, Charlie's torturers picked up the wooden spoons and started smacking away at the reddened soles. Charlie screamed even louder than before. Some of the men looked as if they were almost beginning to feel uncomfortable, but then the bastinado ended.
George and Harry dropped the spoons and each picked up a stiff turkey feather.
"Feathers are classic for foot-tickling," George told the audience as all the men leaned forward once more with their interest peaking once again, "but you have to use the stiff kind. The soft ones don't work. These turkey feathers here were already stiff, but we've enhanced that with a light coat of acrylic spray."
"Another reason for tying the toes back," Harry added, "is that with her soles taut they're more sensitive, plus it's easier to get in between her toes."
Charlie looked out at the men who'd been watching him all evening, and they all wore the faces of predators witnessing the taking of prey. Suddenly he felt feather tips begin slowly gliding up and down both soles. He bit his lip, shook his head, scrunched up his face, and began struggling violently against the stocks, desparately trying to bite back his laughter, but the tittilation of feathers was quickly becoming too unbearable.
It was apparent Charlie wasn't going to hold out much longer, and the audience leaned forward even more. Abruptly, a burst of laughter erupted from Charlie's mouth, and the tickling ceased immediately. Snickering and chuckling drifted around the room as George and Harry turned to their audience.
“Feathers are insidious,” said George, “because initially the barely perceptible sensations can lull her into a false sense of security, which persistence will shatter.”
“Then, take a minute or two to tease her with what is coming,” grinned Harry, “and her helplessness against it, before renewing your attack.”
With that, the two men returned their attention to Charlie’s totally defenceless feet and renewed their delicate work. Charlie began giggling instantly. Then he began shaking his head back and forth, yanking at the device imprisoning his bare feet for their torture. Soon, his giggling had escalated into loud, agonized laughter, interspersed with squeals and desparate muffled pleas.
Though his sides hurt from laughter and screaming, he was helpless to stop it. The ceaseless tingling, itching sensations were driving him crazy. Occasionally he managed to scream in frustration as he clenched and unclenched his fists, but the persistent, unceasing, hellish feathers, now moving nonstop side-to-side and zig-zagging as well as up and down, even stroking his toepads and making short quick strokes underneath his toes, forced him back into loud, agonized laughter again and again.
The feathers halted after what seemed like hours to Charlie, though it had only been ten or fifteen minutes, and he was just beginning to catch his breath when George announced, "Feathers are great for this!"
With that, he and Harry each grabbed their pinky toe and spread outward, splaying his toes. Then they began sawing back and forth in the spaces and fluttering in between. Charlie immediately lurched forward with his most violent screams for mercy yet.
After thirty seconds, his two torturers resumed their tickling of his soles, only now punctuated with brief tortures of the spaces between his toes. After fifteen minutes more minutes of this, the feathers halted once again.
George turned to the room full of men. "The quill end of the feather is an often over-looked tickling tool that works great on her feet." He and Harry then began dotting the soles of Charlie's feet with the quills.
At this, Charlie laughter reduced to mere nonstop giggling, and his wild thrashing to mere squirming. Then the two began dragging the quills across his soles, and it was like electric shocks were flowing through his body. He opened his mouth wide in a soundless scream as he lifted off the bench and crashed back down before sound came forth in a nearly continual laughing scream punctuated only by desperate gulps of air to launch on another round of screaming laughter.
Five minutes later, the feathers disappeared. "Every good feather foot-tickling," George taunted, as Harry laughed evilly, "should end with a bout of tickling with fingers." George and Harry took up tickling with fingers again, only this time unaided by tools. With his poor bare feet as highly sensitized as they were, that didn't matter much, and Chuck suffered another five minutes of unbearable torture with fingers.
The final four demonstrations of torture implements his two captors made were, fortunately, brief by comparison to what Charlie had endured to this point, each lasting barely five minutes. Well, not "barely" to Charlie.
First, were the hairbrushes. George and Harry first spread hand lotion all across his soles, then picked up the brushes and began dragging them rapidly up and down, back and forth Charlie's soles. To Charlie it felt as if a hundred fingernails were scraping over his skin. His thrashing about and screaming laughter returned to the levels of when it first began, with his bare feet still fresh from the high heels.
After that came the electric toothbrushes. George and Harry demonstrated their use, and most effective targets, the best of which proved to be the toepads.
Next on the list of tortures were the chopsticks. These George and Harry used with the same method as the feather quill, but with much more devastating effect, because while the poking was done with the sharpened end, the dragging was done with the rounded end allowing firmer, deeper pressure to be applied as they were being dragged up and down, whereas the sharp quills, if applied with that pressure, would have cause intense pain.
Last came the spiked metal pinwheels. "These are called Wartenberg wheels," Harry informed the spectators. "Nerve specialists used to use them to test reflexes and they were quite effective, but since the bug came to town, they've fallen out of use. However, the BDSM community kept them alive."
"People in the tickling community say they work on even the so-called toughest cases," George added, then smiled. "Which is most definitely not the case here, of course. Anyway, one recipient of a Wartenberg wheel treatment called it 'cross between a pizza cutter and coming face-to-face with God'. Let's see what little Ginger has to say, shall we?" Five minutes later, Charlie could've sworn he'd just come face-to-face with the other guy. It'd been like nothing he ever felt. Pure unadulterated torture. And that was with a light touch.
Afterwards, they wiped the excess lotion still left from the hairbrush treatment off his soles.
Finally, all the tools on the tray had been demonstrated. Charlie was more exhausted than he had ever been in his life. He had come to end, had been beaten badly, but had gone the limit. It was over.
No such luck.
George stood as Harry left the room and addressed the crowd. "We're gonna take a short recess while Harry gets something we need from the backyard," he said to the giddy, overwhelmed audience, "so get yourself a beer and kick back for the final round."
What can he be getting from the back yard? wondered Charlie frantically. And 'final round'??
The men milled around talking excitedly about the evening's events. Charlie merely slumped in his bondage, trying to recover. He saw leering stares, smug glances, and heard salacious commentary, but at the moment he couldn't have cared less. What made his condition even worse was the fact that his cock was still rockhard, even though the vibrator had been turned off at sometime, he had no idea when, that event having barely registered through his awful torture.
George had gone upstairs, and came back to the den after fifteen minutes had gone by since the tickling ceased. He carried a bucket in which sat a large jar of honey and a basting brush..
What the hell? thought Charlie.
"Gentlemen, take your seats," George instructed. "The grand finale is about to begin."
'Grand finale'? Charlie worried. What the hell else can they do to me, cut off my feet?
George pulled a his footstool directly in front of the stocks. Charlie could feel something sticky being spread over his soles and in between his toes with the basting brush.
Oh my God, what is this? Why honey? The brush tickled, and since he was too weak to even attempt resistance, he began giggling insanely almost immediately.
When the George had a thick coat he was satisfied with, he moved the footstool out of the way.
Just at the moment, strange sounds came from upstairs. First, there was the clack of what sounded like hooves. Then the sound of "Meheheh. Meheheh"
"What the hell?" inquired Jack as the clacking hooves started down the stairs. "That sounds like a goat!"
George was grinning widely, facing his audience but watching Charlie out of the corner of his eye. "That's because that's exactly what it is!"
"My God," Jack exclaimed. "That thing is huge. That's biggest damn goat I've ever seen!" Murmurs throughout the crowd agreed.
"Gentlemen, meet Mikey," he said, grinning even wider upon seeing Charlie panic. "Mikey is a Boer mountain goat, the largest breed in the world. Weighs at least 300 pounds, possibly more."
At the puzzled looks, mixed with a few knowing smirks, George explained further. "Mikey has a really LARGE tongue, and it's rough and dry, soft and wet, all at the same time." He smiled. "And lately, gentleman, he has developed quite a taste for honey. Get the picture?"
His wide smile spread throughout the room everyone, including to Harry, who was grinning like a sheepdog--except for Charlie, of course, whose utterly horrified expression as Harry led Mikey to the foot of the stocks clearly showed his opinion of the matter.
“We plan to keep going until the jar is empty,” George smiled, then laughed. “Of course, I doubt anyone as ticklish as Ginger will be able to bear that horrible tongue slipping and sliding all over the soft and tender bottoms of her dainty feet, so our little vixen may not last that long once Mikey starts in on these pretty little bare soles.”
As if it would make the nightmare go away, Charlie's eyes squeezed shut when Harry released his charge. They immediately bugged open, however, the instant Mikey's tongue touched his soles. The damn thing was big enough to swipe the entire surface of his two, admittedly small, bare soles. The sensations from that tongue were the most intensely torturous tickling he'd ever felt on the bottoms of his feet.
His hysterical laughter didn't effect the goat the least little bit as he proceeded to lap up every last drop of honey. Harry informed George it was time for a fresh coat, and pulled Mikey back out of the way. The second coat of many was plastered onto Charlie's soles.
Charlie barely noticed as George reached between and turned the vibrator back on he was so overcome with ticklish misery. It took a while for the new sensations from his groin to register with his overtaxed brain.
On and on and on it went. Coat after coat after coat of honey disappeared. The goat was like a ticklng machine on overdrive, licking blissfully away nonstop until a fesh coat was needed.
Finally, too exhausted to struggle, laugh, or protest anymore, Charlie was reduced to sobbing and moaning in limp, quivering, whimpering, humiliating anguish punctuated with occasional squeals of frustration, truly and thoroughly broken at last.
Seeing this, when Harry pulled Mikey away for a fresh coat of honey, instead of basting Charlie's soles, George carefully and thoroughly plastered each of his toes, each space in between, and the line underneath. When Harry released Mikey once again, Charlie somehow found the vigor for more violent struggling and more screeching at the top of his lungs. He thought he was going to die.
Just as Mikey started on Charlie's toes, George from somewhere brought out a small crate about two feet high with an upright vibrator on top. Taped to the tip of the vibrator was a stiff turkey feather. George reached inside the box underneath and switched the vibrator on, placing underneath Charlie so that the tip of the wildly vibrating feather tickled the fleshy part of Charlie's cock, just under the head.
So overloaded with different sensory stimulation was Charlie that he failed to recognize what was happening to him until a couple of seconds before the most humongous orgasm he'd ever had exploded through him. He came so hard that his juices launched nearly all the way to the first row of chairs.
The reality of what had just happened to him registered for about a nanosecond before the aftereffects of cumming that hard after a roughly two-hour or more hard-on took hold and sent his nerve endings screaming with sensitivity, and Charlie discovered new levels of suffering of which he couldn't conceive.
And didn't. Two minutes later, he passed out cold.
* * * * *
Charlie awoke, dazed and confused, at first not remembering where he was. Attempting to move reminded him quickly, but he found his back was resting against a wall or something, with a pillow between it and his back. There was a whiff of strong ammonia floating near him. Smelling salts?
He wearily analyzed his situation. He was still restrained as he had been. His tortured body was utterly exhausted and his emotions were traumatized. He ached all over from his torture and his laughter, with his feet still tingling from their abuse. His hair was plastered to his head with sweat and his soaked lingerie clung to his body.
He could hear several voices. His eyes cracked open, then grew wider. About a third of the men in the room last time he was conscious seemed to be missing.
How the hell long was I out? Charlie wondered. And why the hell am I still in the stocks?
"Oh good, Ginger," George said, "you're awake finally. Some of us went on a beer and burger run, but they'll be back."
Charlie was thoroughly confused. Why would I care about that?
"That's right," George mocked. "You slept through it, didn't you? The best way for me to get the point across is to tell the guys here exactly what I told them fifteen minutes ago just after you'd departed for the land of Nod."
Those still present reoccupied seats. "Thank you all for coming to this demonstration," George began. "Please show your appreciation to our volunteer."
At this, everyone seated stood up and gave Charlie an ovation.
"But as I said before, the point of this exercise is not to be a roleplay demonstration," he continued, "but to provide him with suitable punishment for certain misdeeds which I detailed at the top of the evening. The demonstration, though, was not the punishment itself, but a lesson to teach all of you on how to take your part in carrying out the punishment. The following is to be her punishment:
"Each of you will get ten minutes of nonstop tickling of Ginger's tender little tootsies, if you want her feet all to yourself, or you may, if you wish, team up with one, two, three, or more other persons and combine your times, in which case you may switch feet-tickling positions between yourselves as often as you like. She will get ten minute rest breaks every hour, unless that time falls during a team-tickling with combined times, in which case her rest period will come after the combined time has expired. Tickling of other body parts will not be considered part of your ten minutes."
The guys from the beer and burgers runs started arriving and filling up seats.
"Furthermore, as I am aware some of you may not wish to be recognized by Ginger while you're taking part in her just punishment, we're going to blindfold her, and beyond that, to ensure your complete anonymity, we're going to both insert ear-plugs in both her ears and put head-squeezer ear protector on her also. In addition to making Ginger blind and deaf to your identity, you will find that such an amount of sensory deprivation will greatly increase her sense of touch and enhance her reactions to that touch as well.
"Perhaps in this way, Charlie will learn never again to steal from us, or any other friends, as well as to accept the fact that it's okay to crossdress other than in the privacy of his own place of living."
“One final thing: once your turn at tickling Ginger’s pretty litte feet has ended, please sign your name on her soles or toes, either your full name or just your given name will be fine.”
Charlie sat frozen in mute shock, too horrified to move a millimeter. At this moment, seeing a hungry goat wouldn't even budge him. Seeing a feather wouldn't even make him twitch.
Not until Harry put the plugs in his ears and then the protectors over them did it begin to dawn on Charlie the depth of the horror still to come, and it wasn't until the blindfold came down over his eyes that he grasped its full extent.
Oh my God...I can't believe this is happening!
Suddenly a stunning thought ripped through Charlie's brain, leaving him aghast in its wake as he came face-to-face with that secret part of himself arguing with the more rational part that had been praying for the tickle torture of his bare feet to end.
Jack Henderson smiled at the three men who'd teamed up with him, one putting on fingernail-tipped paper grippers as was he himself while the others picking up a feather and an electric toothbrush each. Yes, he thought to himself, this is turning out to be quite a diverting evening!
He and the other wearing fingernails took their places at Charlie's helpless horribly ticklish feet with their co-torturers on the other side above Charlie's tender toes, while two more men moved into position on either side of the helpless young man and another stood behind him.
I did this! I provoked this! Charlie was stunned by his realization. I deliberately put myself in this position knowing what they could do if I did something as serious as steal that much money! Oh my God, maybe I really wanted something like this to happen! And, God help me, I enjoyed it! Oh God, I...
Charlie's reverie was cut off suddenly as two unseen feathers began making their way up his bound, helpless, over-stimulated soles, guided by the unseen hands of unseen and unheard men, until they'd reached his toes.
OH GOD! OH GOD! OH MY GOD, NOOOOOOOOO!!!
* * * * *
As the horde of eager men descended on the hapless young captive, George and Harry stood aside, smilling with self-satisfaction. Harry used the remote to turn off the hidden camera connected to the recorder. Charlie didn’t have a clue.
The money from the sale of this DVD to a company specializing in “amateur” gay BDSM vids would only be a small start towards recouping the $5,000 their young friend had “borrowed”. The company told them they planned to market it as an instructional video.
Now, they both wondered, what else can Charlie do to pay us back?
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