Defeated (M/F feet)
Eh, this one is a bit different for me. Usually I focus on more fantastical elements, or at least set my tickling stories in a world that has elements unlike our own. This is just kind of a straight up regular dealy-o. I tried stuff like it a bunch of times but either lost interest in the work or thought that it was too boring so I never finished them. Just, eh, if I can do anything with writing (I feel) I might as well go for something really cool. Regardless, I started editing things and saw this file called thingamajig in my stuff-written-in-2012 and was like, what the hell is this? Completely forgot about it but I thought it was pretty well done. Sucks because right before I found it again I wrote something extremely similar, mostly because I never do things like this. Oh well. Uh... something. Enjoy.
Defeated (M/F feet)
Falling into the couch she let her dripping umbrella drop, clonking loudly against the hardwood. Cracking an eye her gaze wandered, looking for the clock. 5:43. Damn. Almost 11 hours. Closing her eye again she sighed. If the office paid overtime, or hell, let her go past 30 hours a week... but, nope. She'd have to cut hours tomorrow. Again.
Rolling onto her side caused something tough to prod into her ribs. Groaning, her free arm twitched, refusing to move. It fell to her side, it's palm up, then drug itself towards her breasts. Grazing her fingers in front of her she felt something course, circular. Rope.
Shit. Tonight? Of all nights, tonight? She bolted up, eyes wide open, darting about in an attempt to find the clock. 5:44. One minute. Like a cork she popped up, sliding the rope from beneath her before she crashed back down. Rolling over to the floor she began wrapping her ankles tightly, knotting the rope like a shoe string. Hopping on her knees she groped about on the top of their table, knocking papers to the floor as her fingers desperately sought their prize. Touching cloth, she grasped, ripping it forward, knocking more papers to the floor. Tearing the large length in two she first wrapped her eyes, hiding the dusty room from herself. The second bit entered her mouth as it was tied behind her. Probably twenty seconds she thought to herself as she fell to her stomach, grabbing the other end of the rope as she threw her arms behind her. Twirling the rope about she heard the door open then close, a cold feeling dripping down her stomach.
Just this once she had wished he would be a minute or two late.
Something crashed by the door. Drawing in her breath she felt her shoulders attempt to hide themselves behind her neck. "What is this?" his voice boomed. Orbs of sweat began crowding her forehead. In her mind the words 'Master, I'm sorry,' began to form but she quickly swatted them away, knowing apologizes were taboo even if she could speak clearly through her self-made gag. A fingernail drifted behind her neck, lightly touching the choker she had taken up. She shivered, a smile cracking against her will.
"Do you think this some sort of game, smiling at me so? That you're wearing a mere piece of jewelry?" Her chin collapsed into her breasts, her forehead digging deeply into the wood. "And this." She felt a light tap against her clogs. Her shoes. Oh no. "These... forbidden things. You displease me." Tears began to bore into her blindfold as if several days of rain had flooded a well, the water gushing into the mud. "You'll be punished severely tonight." He said simply as her shoes were immediately whisked away, the edges of her blue jeans scarcely attempting to guard her heels from the oncoming wrath that faced her now naked feet.
For a few moments she heard him walking around the apartment, flinching each time he opened and closed a cupboard door as she tried to remember which he opened in case her shoes were again hidden from her. The steps approached then stopped. She held her breath as the sounds of him sitting down beside her feet crackled. A second sound followed: the plink of plastic against the ground. Instantly she yelped no into her gag, immediately regretting the action as he knotted the rope that hung loosely about her wrists. Lotion. She couldn't even remember the last -- and only -- time he had used it on her. It was too much. No response came except the touch of something soft running between her big toes, causing her to giggle lightly. Seconds later she could no longer wiggle her feet independently of one another.
The space below her rib cage felt hotter than a black smith's smoking furnace. She desperately wanted to apologize for her outcry of no, knowing full well that her feet were his to do with whatever he pleased. An apology would only make things worse, she knew, straightening her head and placing it on it's side as he lifted her feet and placed them into his lap, her foot tops melting into the polyester of his pants.
A disgusting squirt resounded and she took in a deep breath, bracing herself. I've been bad, she told herself, I deserve this. I should have been ready. I deserve to be punished. The second deep breath was broken by the cold tingle of the gelatinous mess dropping harshly into the center of her feet. As he rubbed it against her soles her shoulders collapsed upon her neck once again and a squeal escaped from deep within her throat. When the gel merged with her toes her head shook against the floor. There's no way, she thought, crying out safeword. She was always allowed the use of one a single time in a session though she rarely asked for it: she wanted to please her master, after all. But this was too much; he'd break her.
"Guess." Was all he said. 'No' ran across her mind, the two letters shattered and discarded as his fingers began wiggling against her arches. They're his, they're his, they're his was chanted across her mind as her arms tightened into her sides, compressing her ribs. Biting deeply into the rag to compress her smile she laughed harshly, his fingers pillaging the laughter he treasured so dearly.
Briefly, as her toes curled into her soles, she thought of fighting against the urge to protect herself. The urge quickly took hold, however, leaving her unable to restrain the toes that now flaunted their nails at him, bragging of what they hid away. It felt as if fiery explosions were cascading upon her soles, rending torrents of her prized laughter from her. Unable to handle the tightness any longer she attempted to cry out indigo.
He didn't stop.
Panicking, she began to flail her hips about right and left, trying to roll away from him. A gentle pressure came down upon her heels. 'His palm!' her mind screamed at her as she began fighting harder, rolling onto her side and tugging with what might she could muster as his tyrannical fingers ravaged her flesh. Unable to free her soles or even turn them away she began to howl with laughter as she attempted to crawl away.
'Plume,' she attempted between her cries. His fingers slid beneath her toes with ease, invading the tender space that they tried to protect. As they slid across the area just beneath her toes her back arched up, her hair nearly slapping her ass as she bayed like a dog. 'Knightly,' she tried to scream as she tossed about the floor, only succeeding in wiggling her feet a tiny amount.
His speed only quickened, racing lines back and forth across her arches, causing her to hop up and down against the floor in an attempt to break his grip. Suddenly his fingers began twirling about, spinning, like ten ballroom dancers quickly leaping about, desperate to win some bizarre sort of race. Tears breached her locked eyelids, dampening the cloth. His or not, she didn't care anymore, shouting mercy, uncle, surrender with the distant hope that he might acquiesce, honoring the white flag she tried so hard to fly.
Instead he fired cannons upon the flag pole, somehow using the hand that held her feet in place to tug at the loose string binding her toes, forcing them to abandon their ramparts and subject themselves to the torture that the rest of her feet endured. Viciously assaulting the poor members of her defense by merely sliding his fingers across them repeatedly caused her to open her mouth and scream out laughter fiercer than she thought possible. Her mind, nearly black, thought on of peace, focusing on an end. Once in the past he had made her beg for more as the safe word. Don't stop she choked out through the gag, feeling her muscles turn into jelly as she did.
"Alright." His frenzied assault on her feet somehow grew more savage, his fingers flying so quickly across her soles that she thought of them as everywhere at once, or that a second man abused her soles. With a thud she fell, defeated, surrendering the city to those bandit-rebels that plundered what they could, calling their theft a war taxation. Soon they turned their encampment into a small village, her feet paying higher and higher taxes as the conqueror took what he pleased from them. As she lay there, twitching, she felt the pressure on her heels lighten, the lookouts abandoning their outpost in order to claim spoils as well. Though free from the war her feet were unable to flee, laying simply in his lap, willingly growing crops for the invaders that settled there.
The only thought that crossed her mind for an eon was that she was to laugh as commanded by her feet. Attempting to fill the infinitely growing black void in front of her with her forced smile and well tended laughter she soon emptied herself, so that there was little left but a gaping gate that spewed nothing into the hungry abyss. Still it reached for her, taking every breath it could as she struggled to offer up everything she had. As she spasmed on the floor she found herself unable to exhale or inhale, delivering unto him only lips split wide open.
Something thudded and she was lifted up, limply falling backwards into something as the blindfold was removed, followed by the gag. He said something before his head collided with hers, his lips forcing her smile shut. Through the fog curling about her mind she gleaned what he had spoken, that she was too loud for the neighbors. The world shifted slightly around her as she looked past his head. A chair had fallen to the floor at some point and the table moved nearly a foot away, closer to the clock that read 5:50.
A gentle wave crossed her feet and she tensed up, pulling them towards her body. His nails continued to rake across her soles as he kissed harder, muffling the laughter that she desperately needed to deliver.
I am jerry606, CrystalLight, AnnieHall, Black Widow, C.A.B., Dave2112, Jersy Tickler, ElFewja's, and the Marquis De Sade's biggest fan.