Marquis De Sade
1st Level Blue Feather
- Joined
- Nov 21, 2007
- Messages
- 5,175
- Points
- 0
“See what the problem is,” says her assistant, “is you just don’t know when to stop.”
She says, “You don’t know how to relax. When to treat yourself, take a break from working so hard. Go on vacation and just...have a good time. Do nothing.”
She says, “So, Miss Type-A Personality, what I’m doing right now as your personal assistant and friend is actually a favor. I’m going to show you how to relax.”
She says, cinching the tight double knots around Reese Witherspoon’s wrists even tighter and making sure the knots are well out of her reach, “Even if it means tying you down to your own bed.”
Reese looks furious.
“MMMMMMMMMMMMPPPHHHHHHHH UUMMMMMMMPPPPPHHHHHHHHHHHH!!”
And she doesn’t sound too happy either.
Her assistant says, “Trust me Reese, this is all for your own good.”
Reese glares at her captor.
There are things she needs to get done this morning.
The list runs through her head like a computer:
The meetings she needs to take.
The phone calls to make.
Business contacts to contact.
She growls deeply into the brightly colored silk scarf tied tight between her two sets of perfectly white snarling teeth and begins struggling as hard as she can against her cotton restraints.
“UUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHMMMMPPPPPPPPHH HH!”
Her assistant just watches – curious and amused as her boss bounces wildly up and down about her own mattress.
“UUUUUUUNNNNGHHHHHH – MMMPPPHHH!!”
Reese shuts her eyes, makes fists out of her hands and holds her breath – she wrenches hard at her bonds – giving the soft multi-colored cotton belts one final strenuous and exhaustive wrench before finally giving up.
Her assistant smiles. “I tie a mean knot.”
Poor Reese, she woke up like this.
Still dressed in her silk pink pajamas and still lying on her back the same way she’d fallen asleep.
Reese was stretched across the length of her bed. Both her wrists tied together and fastened to her waist in front of her to hold her arms.
Her ankles were bound, so were her legs. More bathrobe belts secured her down to the bed so she couldn’t move. The gag around her mouth muffled her cries as she woke up.
Reese lifts her head, watching with dread in her eyes as her assistant pulls a chair up by where her feet hang off the edge of the bed below her.
Reese arches her body up, moaning as she tries to pull her socked size 6.5’s through the cotton belts lashed tight around her ankles.
Her assistant slowly removes one cotton sock.
Then the second one.
Her assistant says, “These beautiful feet of yours are going to help you relax.”
Reese’s eyes widen. Her body shoots upwards as high as it can go with all the belts tying it down.
Her scream is cut short by a squeal as she blinks her eyes. All this happens in just a split second.
Then the scream – a long, drawn out blood-curdling cry of, “UUUUUUUUUUUUUUUMMMMMMMMMMMMMMPPPPPPPPPPHHHH!” As poor bound and gagged Reese feels her assistant’s fingers gently stroke the bottom of her right foot.
From the bottom of her soft heel, up her arch, towards the ball of her foot. Then across the pads of her toes.
Reese scrunches her eyes up, wildly shaking her head and bouncing up and down like crazy.
“UUUUUUUMMMPHHHHHHH!! AAAAAAGGGGHHHHHHHH MPPPPPHHHH!!”
Reese comes crashing down again as her assistant stops and switches feet.
Then Reese starts up again – shrieking as she feels a single finger trail up the sole of her left foot.
“NNNNNNUUUUUUUUUUUUMMMMMMMMMPPPPPPP!! UUUUMMMMPPPHHH!”
Her assistant grins devilishly. “Wow. I knew that you were a little ticklish but I had no idea Miss Witherspoon!”
Reese, she’s already out of breath.
Her eyes saying, “No please! Please not this! Don’t do this to me! Please don’t tickle my feet!”
Her assistant though, she can’t read eyes as well as a narrator, and so her torture starts all over again:
Reese thrashing violently up and down.
Reese shrieking her lungs out.
Reese shaking her head about – wildly kicking her bare feet around trying to avoid them being played with.
Her assistant says, “I’ll be right back.”
And Reese, her chest rising and falling rapidly, she’s forced to think about how this all happened.
Maybe she really did need a break.
The Oscar, her divorce, the several-bad-movie-choices that bombed at the box office.
Maybe her assistant was right.
But still, having her feet tickled...
This was torture.
Her assistant comes back and, ignoring Reese’s squeals and cries, she quickly and tightly lashes her big toes with twine so she can’t move her feet anymore.
Her assistant says, “There, that should hold them.”
And the tickling continues.
Poor Reese – the actress is a total wreck. Reese bucks and reels across the mattress, squealing, crying, grunting and laughing now – full force laughter spilling out through her gag and filling the room.
Reese closes her eyes and she lets it all out.
Her assistant smiles, examining her boss’ pretty feet during a short break.
The well manicured toe nails.
The deep arches.
The round, soft balls of each foot.
How her second toe is just a liiiitle longer than her big one.
Perfect for sucking.
Reese catching her breath again – gasping and wheezing and letting her lungs fill back up with precious air, her entire body shudders as she feels...
Reese lifts her head, her eyes widening again as she watches her right foot disappearing into the mouth of her assistant.
It starts with just a few toes, then all her toes, and then her assistant shoves her right foot as far as she can between her lips into her mouth.
Her assistant closes her eyes, sucking on Reese’s foot hard and moaning.
Reese quivers. Her whole body reacting to having her foot made love to.
Her assistant says, “I hope I’m helping you relax Miss Witherspoon.” She says, “I’m doing my best.”
Reese closes her eyes, moaning, moaning...
