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Girlfriend public foot tickled in town square

matt356

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Certain parts of this story are true, certain parts exaggerated, certain embellished for pleasure which is why after some deliberation I have gone for this forum rather than ‘true tickling’ stories.



The mayor of our local town recently took the decision to reinstate some local stocks. They had historically been used to punish criminals but he had the idea that it would generate some fun at local town events if various prominent people on the community were placed in them for some extended punishment.

You can find and article about this, and the controversy caused, on Wikipedia.
My partner is a local school teacher, 5’4’ 26, and smoking hot. The sort of hot that other people feel the need to comment on a bit too often for my liking. She had recently become friendly a local youth worker at the school as he came in do do various talks for the students etc. His time was a premium, but he always did this for free, saying she needed to pay him back one day.
Innocuously one day, he threw in details of an event taking place in the town. Being a youth worker, he was well connected in the community and knew the mayor well.

At this particular event, the stocks were due to be relaunched and the organisers had each vowed to provide a victim. Of course, my partner who owed him s favoyr was the obvious choice.

He explained that she would need to sit there for half an hour whilst various spurious judgements were levelled at her, then mock punishments would be issued, sponge throwing etc. Without hesitation, she agreed, a debt was a debt, but was hesitant as she didn’t really like to be the centre of attention. The day came, hotter than usual, and at 10am the show began in the town square. It was reasonably attended but lots people continued their daily shopping etc.

My partner doesn’t particularly like to be tied up so had checked in advance that the stocks would only be ‘light’. She was reassured to see just a pair of foot holes for shoed feet.

1030 and she was called upon by the major, and already things tookma more formal turn. She was greeted in the crown by two costumed henchmen who handcuffed her wrists behind her back and lead her towards the stocks. It was clear more interest had been generated from the crown by this simple act.

Events then also didn’t follow the script she’s been expecting. She was made to kneel beside the stockss while judgement was read, all in a far more serious tone than expected. She was charged with boring clssses to death and failing to serve her community. She played along with humour but I could see doubt appearing across her face. She was actually somewhat reassured when they finally placed her in the stocks. Her feet were clad in brown ugg boots, and as they were now placed in the holes in front of the crowd, she kicked them about playfully.

Let me know if you want more....
 
The only thing causing her slight discomfort was her hands, which, instead of being released, were still tightly fastened behind her back, and had now, in fact, been secured to a small ring on the flor behind the stocks. I could see her embarrassment rising as the crowd had become more of a solid mass, and she became somewhat distracted from the mayors words as she looked into the sea of anticipating faces.

If things were to go to plan, she thought she would now be left alone in the stocks whilst people went back to their daily business, perhaps she might even get to chat with some of the locals who she knew. This was what she’d understood from the situation when it was first explained to her by the youth worker.
‘And for these despicable crimes....’
The mayor ranted on but her focus was no longer with him.
‘We will let you, the crowd, choose her punishment’
‘Fine, she thought, it’ll be a bit of wet sponge throwing- I’ve dressed accordingly but done really want wet hair’
‘Sponges or feathers’ continued the mayor.
‘Feathers?’ She thought ‘a weird thing to throw at her, unless they put something sticky on first’
at this point, away from her view, the major revealed a table full of wet sponges and long feathers.
‘Feathers!!’ Roared the crowd.
 
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The mayors somewhat lacklustre rambling suddenly gained a notch of enthusiasm.
‘Excellent choice’ and he now began what seemed like a lengthy prepared speech with a more historical tone
‘Whilst the main purpose of the stocks was to humiliate publicly, they were also often used to help achieve a more severe redemption. As you can see, the feet of our prisoner are secure, but at the moment they are useless to us, as they are covered by these unseasonable boots’
Here I first noticed a real twitch of discomfort pass across my girlfriends face. I think it was the first time the possibility of having her shoes removed had even entered her head. For her entire life, she had noticed that people payed particular attention to her feet. They were beautiful, and others knew it. It was very hard to pinpoint what was so attractive about them, but they just had that undefinable ‘sexy’ quality. A good shape, smoothness, a nice transition to the ankle, good sized toes, not too narrow, not too wide.
Despite all this, she was very shy about them. She had a fear of her feet being seen by people she knew, yet conversely, I always felt she secretly enjoyed them having any attention.
 
‘And now the time has come for us to begin our punishments guards, remove her shoes.’
Her heart visibly sank. She did not like where this was going at all, but remained calm as her feet were currently still socked. She continued the playful foot flexing but with noticeably finished enthusiasm. She didn’t mind her socked feet being on show but fear had crept in about the next step. Why were they removing her shoes just to throw feathers at her? She still hasn’t grasped any connection.
‘Now let’s continue the humiliation of our prisioner as our ancestors did. Her embarrassment can only be enhanced by the removal of her socks, as was the remit of the guard at the time.’
The guards moved toward her but now she was visibly changed. She looked pleadingly to the mayor for some reversals but found none. I recognised all the frantic signs of struggle and movement in the ankles and toes as she tried to almost make her feet disappear. It was to no avail. A guard was positioned at either foot and one by one theybremoved her socks. The foot movement was desperate now, trying everything to cover up her bare, exposed feet. She eventually settle on a position with one foot partially covering the other, but was limited by the holes in the stocks restricting her movement.
 
I felt at this point she’d somewhst accepted her new reality. So her feet were bare, but what did that matter. People could see them, but the soles and toes weren’t really exposed, as she had partially managed to cover them. It would be embarrassing for so many people to see her feet for an extended amount of time, but she could just about deal with it. She just hoped the mayor didn’t continue to humiliate her. As long as her feet didn’t get any direct attention, she could handle it.
‘Can I now draw your attention, ladies and gentleman, to the soles of our poor victims feet. As you can see, she is currently able to give them an element of protection, and this won’t do. Her toes are practically hidden. Guards, the ties please’
Two ribbons were now handed to the mayor.
 
And now her worst fears were truly coming to life. Strange men were fiddling with her toes, and the sensation was new, uncomfortable and actually began to tickle. She could feel the ribbon touch the insides of her toes, sending spasms through her body. She stifled a laugh. She hoped this process would be over quickly, but it seemed to drag on forever. The guards fiddled, tying the ribbon to a small hoop which she hadn’t yet noticed on the top surface of the stocks. She flexed hard, trying to point her feet downwards, and the guards pushed them back. They seemed settled on final position, but just before tying the final knot, gave her feet one last pull backwards, exposing the soles and stretching the toes as much as possible.
A new, far worse reality kicked in for her. She was tied up in public with her bare feet exposed for all to see. I could see the look on her face become desperate, but with that slight hint of arousal I mentioned befure. She tried a small toe wriggle but there was little movement. It was only now she began to give serious consideration to why her feet were tied so thoroughly, and exposed so fully.
 
This is a wonderful story :D, but I am perplexed as to why you want to chop it up into small fragments.
 
Apologies for the segments, it us as fast as I’ve been able to do it over the last couple of days. I also wanted to see if there was an appetite for more befure continuing.
 
This hasn’t been easy, but if people are keen for me to continue I will try to find the time.
If anyone would like to gift me full renfaire video link/ Dropbox in return, I could ceratainly try to add more. I have an excellent one about an ex girlfriend at a student fetish night.
 
Now for more of this one.

The toes curled and twitched in an embarrassed manner as best she could, but there really was little room for movement. The crowd were now fully warmed up to the spectacle and the sense of intrigue was building nicely.
I like to think at this point all parties had put the pieces together and worked out the next step. Thinking back, there can have been no way my girlfriend, helpless and toe tied, hadn’t made the connection between the feathers and her secured, exposed feet.
‘I’m afraid it’s time events took a serious turn’ said the mayor, and a gong was hit in the background.
‘Our victim stands accused of terrible crimes, and you, the public, as in days gone, have decided the only punishment you see fit’
There were now several gasps from the audience. Although the scene was clearly playful, the acting and ambience had shifting and it really felt like we’d been transported back to s time when such public punishments were common place.
‘As you can see our victim is suffering the shame of having her bare soles exposed, and with this he pointed, closely and carefully at her now still soles. Her embarrassment was clear.
‘Not my feet’ she seemed to mouth.
Once more I got the strange sense that although she was mortified, she found the scene slightly arousing. She seemed to now arch her feet, almost allowing them to be the exposed victim of the scene. The crowd felt similarly, I observed every eye now trained on her defenceless soles.
‘But this was not enough for our most treacherous sinners’ he continued, and the table with the feathers was now brought forward, into her view. Surely now she knew. Her eyes, opening wide, seemed to tell the story. She sunk back, almost resigned to her fate, but now a change came over her...
 
...
...
It was a change I recognised because I had seen it many times before
She was known for being determined and not taking any crap. I could now see her apply these principles to her new situation.
‘And without further ado, it is finally time to make our victim truly suffer’. The mayor now took a feather himself and approached the stocks, as more gasps spread through the audience. Something about the way he held the feather made his intentions crystal clear. Her resolute expression remained almost as though she had set herself for her fate.
He knelt beside her right foot, which gave the slightest sole wrinkle in anticipation.
‘As I was saying, For the more severe crimes, true suffering must be obtained. Do you repent?’ He asked her.
‘Absolutely not!’ She replied.
Wordlessly, he began, taking the soft end of the feather and twirling it lightly between her toes. Her face was one of determination and concentration, absolutely unwilling to crack. A slight look of dejection came hover the mayor. This would only work as a spectacle if the victim showed some signs of struggle but it was not the case. He flipped the feather in his hands, and began more of a scratching motion from the Lower part of her toes to mid point of the sole. The stony face remained, and knowing her as I did, I could see this was taking every ounce of concentration, she seemed to have taken herself to a different place. At this point, I myself felt a wave of anxiety. Having predicted the outcome a while ago it seemed it was going to end in a horrible anticlimax. You could sense the disappointment on the crowd and I half expected the mayor to give up.
Thankfully he showed more resilience and continued with a light circular motion, before tracing a light arch around the sole. Suddenly it was as if a floodgate had opened. She erupted with laughter which showed no shame or restraint. It appeared she had gone from zero to agony within milliseconds, her resolve had failed and she looked exhausted.
I have talked befire in the early stages about how I felt that several times she almost had to come to terms with her new reality. The exposing of the feet was horrible for her, but to an extent she accepted it. However at this moment, it was clear that the new reality of her situation dawned on her and this time it was not one she could not accept.
‘Not my feet, please not my feet’ she gasped between laughs.
‘Ah, we finally have suffering’ said the mayor.
‘I’m serious, I really want my shoes back back now please.’ She looked desperately for the youth worker, as if he could somehow bring the situation to a close. ‘My feet are really, really ticklish, you’ve made you’re point, now can I please please get out of these things’
Again I felt a slight heart sink. The mayor had only really just achieved his goal, and surely her pleading was enough to make him stop. But his next act suprised us all.
The formalities of the previous section seemed to subside, and he spoke in a more honest voice.
‘Ok, I’ll make a deal with you. If you agree to remain in the stocks for the next half an hour, I will donate 10,000 to this charity (whom the event was for)’
For the first time, I felt the tiniest bit of sympathy. There was no way, in front of that crowd, she could decline that request.
 
‘You’re joking?’ She said, in a hushed tone, hoping the mayor would hear, but the crowd wouldn’t,
‘Not at all’ said the mayor.
‘Ok but what do I have to do? You can’t stand there and tickle me with a feather for a whole half hour, that’s weird.’
‘I wouldn’t be’ he replied.
‘Right, well can I have my shoes and socks back on please, I’ve had enough of everyone looking at my feet.’
‘Not a chance’ said the Mayor.
I could see that her dilemma had now become a moral one, the last thing in the world she wanted was to be sat there barefoot and tied up for another half hour, but she was really in a position of little choice.
‘Fine, I’ll do it, but what’s going to happen to me, do I just have to sit here?’ She said, again trying to maintain the hushed time,
He showed no respect for her lowered volume, and once more addressed the crowd.
‘I have with me 15 feathers. The first 15 amoungst you willing to donate £20 can each have a two minute turn extracting justice from our damsel!’
Shuffling began in the crowd. A line began to form. Once again I watched her eyes and feet carefully. She knew there would be no saving her now, no protecting her feet. She has barely coped with the 3o seconds of torture administered by the mayor, it was clear 30 minutes was a stretch too far.
‘This is too much’ she said to the mayor ‘I was willing to help out a bit bit you’re making me really suffer’
‘Oh come on, look how much good it’s doing’
It was hard to argue with him, as the line was now full, there would be no trouble allocating the 15 feathers.
‘The feathers, by the way, are just a token symbol’ he once more addressed the crowd. ‘Guards’
And with that a table was brought forward containing a variety of instruments. There were hairbrushes, combs, and electric toothbrushes.
‘Are they really going to be tickling me for that long?’ She asked. ‘Can we please just this time not do my feet. I won’t be able to take it, I can’t even have them touched. Look, look, my armpits are really ticklish, tickle them, or maybe my tummy. I’ll pull my top up’
‘Fine, fine, let’s ask the crowd’ said the mayor. ‘Ladies and gentleman, our victim has requested small mercy. Can we spare her feet from this next phase?’
Sympathy was with her, and the crown roundly agreed.

I was frankly gutted, her torture had been minimal so far. However, I felt for her, and her relief was clear. The guards untied her toes, which she now wriggled gleefully, but thus far they left her barefoot.
‘I don’t care about my shoes, but please get my socks back on’ she asked, and it was done. I don’t know how many others felt my disappointment, but a little disinterest now seemed to spread. The show had gone on a while, and now the line of takers proceeded, the first being handed his feather with a timer set for two minutes. Sure she wriggled a bit and yelped, but it just wasn’t the same. People went back to their shopping, and it became something of a small private event, with a minor audience gathered, and a few passers by showing mild interest. With her feet now covered the stocks just didn’t have the sense of grandeur that had occurred before, and it became a small scale, low key affair
 
‘I’ll dontate another £200 if she agrees to do it on her feet’ cane a voice from the crowd.
‘Absolutely!’ Said the mayor, not even giving her a choice. She had done so well to take everything in her stride so far, and I expected an extreme reaction now. It never came.
‘Just get em off’ she said, basically offering her socks with the movement of her toes. This time, she flexed the feet back herself, almost await the ribbon to tie them back. Her compliance was exemplary.
‘You can tell them that underneath my toes is the real spot’ she says to the mayor. ‘That’s the one that’ll really get me. Just make sure they’re nice to my feet. And gentle.’
 
The ribbons were once more tied to her toes, almost at her own request by the motion of the feet. She tested her bonds with a toe wriggle.
‘I’ll be honest with you’ she said, ‘these ties need to be a little tighter. Those tools are going to really get me, and I don’t want to be wriggling too much: I’d rather just be completely immobile. Just pull the toes back a bit more,’, she continued, wriggling again to make the point.
Back her toes went, once more in that awfully exposed position which somehow makes the feet the centre of everyone’s attention.
I would like to be able to tell you that the event took prominence once more, but the truth is it remained fairly low keys the activity on this central town square platform almost became another one of the market stalls which lined the town. Perhaps much busier than most of the stalls, but never surrounded by more than 20 at a time, those further back in the feather queue were told they could walk Round for a bit then come back nearer the time.
For the next 2o or so minutes, things proceeded as one would expect. Each feather owner took their two minutes, but my girlfriend by this point had almost made it a game, goading each one that she’d be able to resist their tickling, then failing miserably. It seemed people were conducting their own experiments on her soles, trying out each of the tools with varying success. A slightly embarrassing moment came when the parent of one of her pupils was next in line, but she honestly looked like she was beyond caring by this point.
‘So you’ve come to have a go have you?’ She said to the father and his son. ‘Can you believe what they’ve done to me- I can’t even have anyone look at my feet, yet I’ve been sat here with them out for ages now.’
‘Lucky they’re quite pretty’ said the father.
‘Yeah’ she said, almost inspecting the part of her own feet that she could see ‘I just wish they weren’t so ticklish, they really have found my weakness. So I suppose you’ll be tickling me now?’
‘Well we’re going to have a good go’ he replied ‘any tips?’
‘My heels, my heels’ She said, trying to misdirect him.
‘Right, let’s get started’. He went straight for the brush, using a raking motion from top to bottom. Her easy banter has disappeared and she stiffled a swear word.
‘Break, break! I need a break’ she said, ‘I won’t be able to take that for a whole two minutes, that’s mental, how are you doing that?’
‘Ready to go again?’ He asked, ignoring her request.
‘Yeah but not like that, can’t you just use the feather on my toes’ she replied.
‘Oh no, I’ve got my method thank you very much.’ he said, without a flicker.
And she was right, she lost it. I swear this particular two minutes aged her about 5 years. Her hair began to crinkle from the sweat, and she became increasingly red.
She asked for a break every 5 seconds, to the point that it was taking forever. After the first minute, the mayor told the father to ignore her requests and just carry on through it. Her howls drew widespread attention. I noticed female passers by looking upon her in scorn, as thigh she had somehow asked for this attention, or had been some sort of flirt for getting her feet out in public in this way.
When the fathers’ two minutes were over, she requested a longer break before the next one. She pleased for the ribbons to be untied for just a few moments, so she could briefly relax her toes. This request was allowed, and she was also brought a drink, almost as reward for her latest ordeal.
A few more two minute blocks came and went, with one woman feather owner using the time slot to pretty much massage her feet rather than try to tickle.
 
By now, she has been sat in the stocks on the ‘stage’ although it was really more of a platform, for about an hour. The 30 minutes promised by the mayor had become much longer due to the handover between feather owners. It was now 1130, and the stage/ central platform was needed for the next event, presenting the mayor with a major problem, as there were still 4 feather owners who hadn’t had their minute.
‘Ok, we need to leave the platform now, let’s think about how we can wrap this up’ he said.
‘Then how will people tickle my feet?’ She asked.
‘Well don’t worry about that he relied, perhaps we can just keep your hands tied behind your back and they can tickle your tummy while you’re stood up or something?’ He replied
‘I doubt that’s going to cut it, isn’t there anywhere you can tie my feet to? I think it’s important to them that they get a proper go’
And we were now left in the strangest imaginable situation. My girlfriend, so opposed to anyone seeing her feet, so opposed to being tied up, and so opposed to being tickled, was now asking how she could be restrained so that people could most effectively tickle her feet.
They untied her toes, for the third time, tossed her her uggs, unlocked the stocks, and told her to get out. Her hands, though were still cuffed behind her back.
 
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