laughter_n_love
TMF Regular
- Joined
- Nov 2, 2001
- Messages
- 293
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Trisha plopped into the recliner munching on a bowl of Fruit Loops. She lounged back and raised the footrest with remarkable agility, neither spilling a drop of milk from her bowl nor dislodging the towels wrapped around her torso and her hair. "Hot date tonight?" she asked between heaping spoonfuls.
Heather did not look up from the task of painting her toenails. "Yes, how did you know?"
"You always paint your nails before a hot date."
Heather smirked. "I suppose I do. I like for my feet to be noticed."
"You should. You've got great feet."
Heather chuckled. "Thanks Trish. Not as nice as yours though." She looked up with envy at the flawless soles of her roommate.
Trisha raised her leg and pointed her toes, modeling her size 7 for both of them. "Awww, thanks. I do try to take care of them."
"I know you do. Your toes always have that hot red polish on them."
"Do you want to borrow some for your date?"
"No, I'll stick with the silver for now. Thanks though."
"Suit yourself. But red is the way to go if you want to be noticed!" Both women giggled. "Of course, if you go out in that outfit, I'm sure you'll have no trouble getting noticed." Heather blushed slightly, suddenly aware of how nearly naked she must look in only her cutoff T-shirt and panties. "Who's the lucky bachelor tonight?"
"Jeff. He's the guy I met at the party last week. Do you remember me telling you about him?"
"Sort of. Didn't you say something about him seeming to be a little too smooth?"
Heather paused and scratched at something itchy along her exposed side. "Yeah, but that was probably just me being paranoid. I have a good feeling about this one."
Trisha snorted, nearly spilling her cereal. "Face it Heather, all men are scum. All they know how to do is lie and manipulate. The sooner you realize that, the happier you will be."
Heather rolled her eyes. "Puh-lease Trisha, don't get on your lesbian soapbox again."
"I'm serious Heather. You don't know what you are missing." Finished with her breakfast, Trisha rose from the recliner and stood beside Heather.
"So what are you suggesting Trish? That I should give up on men and play for the other team like you?"
"Damn straight! Think about how much fun we could have!" As if to illustrate her point, Trisha reached down and quickly tickled Heather's vulnerable ribcage.
Heather squealed and lurched out of reach. "Watch it Trish! I'm going to mess up my toes!" The feeling of Trisha's long nails still lingered along her side.
Trisha grinned. "Sorry. Couldn't help myself."
"That's because you are sadistic." Both women giggled. "Is that what you do with your girlfriends when they come over, tickle them? I always here a lot of laughing coming out of your room."
Trisha shrugged and grinned a little wider. "There's only one way for you to find out what goes on up there." She fondly brushed a lock of disheveled hair out of Heather's eyes.
Heather smiled and blushed slightly again. "You know I love you Trish, and if I ever did decide to switch teams, you'd be the first chicky on my list."
Trish gave an exaggerated "Awwwwwww", and hugged Heather's shoulders. Heather was vividly aware of the feel of skin on skin, and of how close both of them were to being totally naked. It also seemed that Trisha held her close just a bit longer than would be expected.
Trisha whispered in her ear as she disengaged herself, "I'd make sure to notice your feet", and followed it up by placing an affectionate kiss on her cheek. Heather blushed more deeply and returned to painting her toenails.
************
Heather was drunk as she exited the elevator. Drunk and pissed off. The legs that carried her down the hall wobbled unsteadily, but thankfully the wall to her right wasn't moving around too much. She used it to keep her upright and headed in the right direction. As she approached her door, the sight of a beautiful stranger emerging from her apartment caught her by surprise.
"Hey! Who are you?" She tried to sound sober, but wasn't sure how convincing she sounded.
The strange woman seemed out of it, off in a daze. Her eyes eventually made it around to focus on Heather, and she smiled dreamily. "I'm Angie. You must be Heather."
"Yeah, that's right. You one of Trisha's friends?" Heather found it difficult to look composed.
"Mmmmmmm, yes." The woman slipped back into her dream world for just a second, as if she were remembering a pleasurable experience. Heather watched her curiously. She noticed the woman leaned against the door jam as if she didn't trust her own legs either just yet.
"Have a good night?" Heather said with a bit more sarcasm in her voice than she intended to let out.
"Oh yessssssss," the woman sighed, seemingly oblivious to the sarcasm. Her eyes refocused on Heather. "You are so lucky."
"Huh?"
The woman laughed quietly. "You don't even know, do you?"
"Know what?" Heather felt her anger rising.
"Don't worry, dear. You'll figure it out." The woman slid past Heather and headed for the elevator. Heather watched her walk off, noting through slitted eyes how seductively she moved, and how she seemed to ooze sensuality. It also occurred to her clouded mind that she couldn't remember ever being as content or satisfied as this woman seemed. As the elevator door opened, the woman looked back at her and gave her an almost mocking little wave good-bye. Heather did not return the gesture.
Heather entered the apartment to find Trisha lounging in the recliner wearing only a short terricloth robe and sipping on a glass of red wine. With her blond hair tumbling over her shoulders and her long legs stretched out luxuriously before her, she looked the very picture of radiance. She smiled at Heather the same contented smile that Angie had worn, although there seemed to be nothing wrong with Trisha's wits. "How was your date with Jeff?"
"Terrible!" Heather growled, and shut the door behind her with a little too much force. "What an asshole he turned out to be!"
Trisha bolted upright in her seat. "What happened!?"
Heather took a seat on the sofa, happy to be off her wobbly legs. With a total disregard for the safety of her dress or the care of the wood, she unceremoniously threw her legs up onto the coffee table and slumped back into the pillows. "First he was late. Then he spent the whole night looking at other women. When I told him to knock it off, he told me to go screw myself. Then he left me to pick up someone else! It was humiliating!"
"Oh Heather!" Trisha rushed lightly on bare feet to come sit by Heather's side. Heather allowed herself to be held for a moment before breaking down sobbing into Trisha's shoulder. "There there...it's okay. It's all right," Trisha tried to comfort.
Heather sniffled and wiped away the tears leaking from her eyes. "Maybe you are right, Trish. Maybe all men are scum." Trish offered her a sip of wine which she gladly accepted. "Or maybe I just don't deserve to be happy."
"Now don't talk like that. Of course you deserve to be happy. You are a great catch, and any man should consider himself lucky to be with you."
"You'd never know that by the way Jeff was scoping out the club tonight. I felt like the Ugly Duckling standing there."
"That's ridiculous! You are gorgeous Heather! You can't let one jerk get you down like this."
"Gorgeous, ha, right! That girlfriend of yours that just left...whats her name, Angie? She's gorgeous."
Trish began to lightly toy with Heather's hair. "You don't know how crazy you sound. Angie can't hold a candle to you, kiddo."
Heather offered up a weak smile. "Thanks Trish. But you should have seen the way she left here though. She was glowing. I'd give anything to be one-tenth that happy."
A twinkle appeared in Trisha's eyes, though Heather did not see it. She changed the subject, though it was not without purpose. "Did the asshole at least compliment you on your feet?"
Heather found a small giggle amid her sobs. She eyed her toes. "No, he never even looked at them."
Trisha also eyed Heather's toes and feigned shock. "How could he not? Look at how cute your toes look! Look at how sexy your feet are in those strappy sandals!"
Another giggle escaped Heather's mouth. "Yeah, all that work for nothing."
"No, not for nothing, Heather." Trisha bit her lip for a second, and then decided to push the envelope. Handing Heather her wine glass, she reached down and pulled Heather's legs onto her lap. Heather allowed herself to be manipulated. Though she was sobering up slightly, it still felt like she were watching this happen to someone else rather than to herself.
Trisha seemed enamored with Heather's toes. "Your feet look almost as gorgeous as the rest of you." Heather blushed a bit and sipped the wine. "May I take these off you?" Trisha asked, fingering the sandal straps.
"Please do," she said. "They may look nice, but they kill my feet."
Heather watched intently as Trisha quickly loosened the straps from around her ankles. A moment later, her sore feet were released from their torturous prisons. She sighed audibly in relief even as Trisha was reverently placing her sandals off to the side.
"Does that feel better?" Trisha asked.
"Oh yes," Heather replied. Her toes wiggled in their newfound freedom.
"Do you trust me?"
The question puzzled Heather. "Of course I trust you."
Without asking for permission, Trisha began to lightly massage Heather's feet. Heather purred with pleasure and sank a bit lower in the cushions. "Oh that feels wonderful!" she sighed. She would have closed her eyes and lay there and enjoyed, but she was captivated by the sight of Trisha's manicured fingers rubbing her tired feet.
Trisha smiled and shifted a bit to get a better angle at the subjects of her massage. Heather could not help but notice this small shift in position caused Trisha's short robe to ride up a little higher on her long, toned legs, as well as to fall open a bit wider in the front. As was the case this morning, Heather was aware of how nearly naked Trisha was before her, and how soft Trisha's skin felt next to hers. Heather wondered if Trish was even aware of how hot she looked right now.
"You put so much work into making these feet pretty for tonight, it would have been a waste to not have some attention paid to them," Trisha said. Heather was in no position or mood to argue. After the worst date of her life, she was finally starting to feel good again. She mumbled something in agreement and sipped more wine. Her eyes flickered from the sight of Trisha's naked legs and sexy feet to the pampering her own sensitive feet were getting on Trisha's lap. She found the images quite stimulating.
Trisha's aggressive rubbing grew softer as she felt the tension leave Heather's feet. "This feels good, doesn't it?"
"Mmmmmmhmmmmm," Heather replied, suddenly fighting to keep her eyes open. All the anger from the night was gone. Now there were only the soft hands of her beautiful roommate rubbing her feet. She began to wonder why she tried so hard to get attention from men when there was someone right here at home who always paid her attention, and who always made her feel good about herself.
The massage grew lighter and lighter, until only the pads of Trisha's fingers were gliding over the skin of Heather's feet. Heather found the sensation as wonderful as it was fraught with danger; she was highly ticklish, and what Trisha was doing was borderline tickling. A smile grew on her face. "Careful," she said, but she was so relaxed it came out more like a whisper.
Heather could not see Trisha's smile widen. "Careful of what?" she asked as innocent as could be.
The tingling sensation that comes with light tickles spread over Heather's feet wherever Trisha's feathery touch explored. Her feet twitched slightly. Her toes shifted reflexively. She felt she must soon giggle if this continued, but it felt so good there was no way she wanted Trisha to stop. The fear that suddenly one or more of Trisha's wicked nails would scrape along her foot bottoms grew as the tingling sensation increased. "This almost tickles already," Heather thought. "But if she uses her nails, I'll definitely scream!" Heather pictured in her mind's eye Trisha clamping down on her ankles and tickling her feet wildly with those dangerous fingernails of hers. Her body shuddered involuntarily at the thought, yet she found herself relishing the image.
Trisha watched Heather closely. "Careful of what?" she repeated, as innocently as the first time. She lightened her touch further still.
Heather suddenly realized that she had never answered the question out loud, though she'd done so quite clearly in her own mind. She found herself in a Catch-22. She feared to answer truthfully, lest she give Trisha any ideas. Trisha had a habit of tickling her anyway, and it wasn't often that Heather's bare feet were so vulnerable and within her reach. Even mentioning the word "tickle" at this point might be fatal. Yet if she held her tongue, and did not warn her roommate how close she was to crossing that line from pleasure into torment, Trisha might tickle anyway. Wasn't Trisha tickling her already with this ultra-light massage? What would happen if she said nothing, and the massage got lighter still? Surely she must say something before it was too late. To say nothing was to invite tickling.
And then there was the image in her mind, the one that would not go away. Her ankles, trapped. Trisha's hand becoming claw-like. A furious tickling assault on the sensitive flesh of her soles. The resulting thrashing and screaming, the panic of not being able to escape. The scene in her mind was one of pure torture, yet she could not deny craving it. But craving or no craving, if Trisha played it out, it would be torture nonetheless. Oh the irony!
Heather giggled and bit her lip. What to say? How to answer? What was the desired result, and how best to get there?
Trisha watched the entire inner turmoil play out on Heather's face, and it delighted her to see it.
"Don't.....tickle...." There, she said it. Let's the chips fall where they may.
Trisha was enjoying this game too much to let it end just yet. "Are you sure you don't want me to tickle, just a little?" To illustrate what she meant, she ever so lightly dragged her nails along the tops of Heather's feet.
The result was something of a minor shock to Heather's nervous system. Her feet jerked spasmodically, but she did not scream. Her eyes closed a little tighter and a nervous giggle escaped her lips. She found herself in a paradox. One the one hand, the foot massage had relaxed her. On the other hand, this talk of tickling her feet had her on edge. She found herself unsure of whether or not she had enjoyed the sensation, but she suspected it was a little of both.
The Catch-22 confronted her yet again. Say "no", and maybe Trisha stops. But knowing Trisha, "no" to her means "keep going". Say "yes", and who knows where Trisha runs with it. The image of the hand clutching her ankles and fingernails attacking her feet returned stronger than ever.
Her voice came out like a squeak. "Okay! But gently!" She clutched the cushions tightly. What had she just agreed to? She giggled in nervous anticipation.
Trisha smiled the smile of the spider who has caught a juicy fly. The worst of the gamble was over. Now all she had to do was devour her prey.
The feet on her lap were delicate and attractive. While the silver toenail polish did not make the same statement that the red she suggested would have, it did make Heather's toes more appealing to the eye. Heather had apparently lotioned her feet liberally at some point today, as her skin was like silk to the touch. Trisha had tickled the feet of many beautiful women in her life, and Heather's feet were as delectable as any she could remember. She ran the pads of her fingers lightly across the tops of Heather's slightly curled toes. When she saw that Heather was still braced for the next tickle, she followed this up with the faintest dragging of her nails across the underside of those same toes. They curled in protest, nearly trapping her nails in place. Trisha giggled with joy. Heather's breath caught.
"Such pretty feet," Trisha said somewhat teasingly. "Such pretty, ticklish feet." A hint of her nails scraped Heather's heels.
Heather found herself balancing on the edge of a knife. Trisha was teasing her deliciously. She knew the tickles were coming, but not when or where. There was just enough massage mixed in with the brushing fingernails to keep her from bursting out laughing, but not enough time between 'strikes' to allow her to regain her composure. It was torture. Not torture of the flesh, but torture of the mind. She found herself breathing erratically, giggling nervously, and trembling continuously. The only two things she knew for sure was this was great fun, and that she did not want it to end.
Trisha spoke again, never once stopping her massage/tickle. "Still feel good?"
A solitary nail glanced across Heather's toe pads as she answered. "Yes!" Her leg twitched and her head jerked to the side.
Heather waited for the next random strike of nails, but felt only fingertips for a moment. "Still trust me?" Trisha asked her.
There was no Catch-22 this time. Heather was primed for wherever Trisha wanted to take the game next. "Yes, you know I do."
"You asked me what I do in my room with my friends. I basically do to this...except I do it all over."
Heather felt Trisha's hands traveling over her ankles and along the sides of her calves. Immediately she understood just how wonderful it would feel to have those hands touching her like that all over, and understood why the stranger, Angie, looked to be at such peace with the world.
"Do you want to see for yourself?" Trisha asked softly. Her nails whispered again across the tops of Heather's feet.
"Yes...." Heather uttered almost imperceptibly.
A moment later, Trisha led her by the hand up the stairs and into her room. Heather found herself being led willingly. She knew not what lay in store for her, only that the dynamics of the relationship between she and Trisha were changing, and anything was possible at this point.
Once in her bedroom, Trisha shut the door behind them. She moved quickly around the room, lighting candles. Heather, who had been in this room many times to borrow one outfit or another, found herself drinking it all in as if she were there for the very first time. The stuffed animals lining the shelves. The predominance of pink throughout the decorations. The sense of closeness and intimacy that the flickering candles provided. The inviting bed with the brass headboard. Heather shifted nervously on her bare feet, wondering what would happen next.
The candles all being lit, the spider turned to the fly. "Why don't you get undressed?" she asked.
Heather blushed hard and lowered her eyes. She felt incapable of movement.
Trisha slid beside her and gently turned her around by the shoulders. Heather felt the zipper on her dress being lowered, felt Trisha's loving hands ease it off her shoulders, felt the fabric falling to the floor to puddle around her ankles. She felt the clasp on her bra release, felt the straps as they were softly pulled away, heard the bra join her dress on the floor. She felt Trisha fingering the edge of her thong. "Do you want to keep this on?" she heard whispered in her ear. Heather paused a moment before nodding slowly. "Okay," Trisha whispered again.
Trisha gently guided Heather to the foot of the bed, and encouraged her to lay down face first. With a racing heart, Heather obliged. She'd been topless in front of Trisha before, naked even, but never in a situation such as this. She lay on her stomach in the center of the bed, inching upwards until she heard Trisha tell her that was far enough. The bedding was cool against her skin, but it was not enough to keep her breaking out in a nervous sweat.
"Shhhhhh," Trisha soothed. "Relax...."
"I'm scared," Heather confessed quietly.
"Don't be. I'm not going to hurt you. I'm going to make you feel good." Heather heard the unmistakable sound of Trisha's robe falling to the floor.
A moment later, Heather felt Trisha join her on the bed. The weight of her roommate's toned body pressed down on her hips as Trisha straddled her. Her hair was moved to the side. Then Trisha began to massage her.
Heather felt all the nervous tension stored up in her muscles quickly ebb away. Trisha kneaded a bit forcefully at first, but lightened her touch as soon as she felt Heather turning to jelly. Heather sighed long and deep, and her next breath game out like a groan of pleasure. The fear she felt at what might happen in this room was already a distant memory.
"See? What did I tell you? Nothing to worry about." Trisha's voice was every bit as soothing as her touch. Heather melted a bit more on the bed.
Having calmed her friend, Trisha returned to the light, teasing caresses she had been using earlier on Heather's feet. Her finger pads just barely stroked the skin of Heather's neck, shoulders and back. Heather groaned pleasurably again.
"This feels so good," she mumbled.
Trisha smiled, knowing the best was still to come. "Reach up," she whispered in Heather's ear. Heather did as she was told.
Trisha began a long, slow, sustained touch that ran from the backs of Heather's hands, down her arms, along her shoulders, down her shoulder blades, out to her sides, down to her waist, and ended in the middle of her lower back. She repeated this pattern again and again, softening her touch ever so slightly with each pass. Heather sighed again, wondering how anything could ever feel so good or relaxing.
The massage reached that point where Heather felt the tingling sensation breaking out again. She nearly pulled her arms down protectively when Trisha's fingertips passed over her triceps. She felt her breath catch when the touch reached her sides. She shuddered slightly as the fingers traversed the sides of her torso down to her waist. She actually sighed in relief as she felt the pass end along her lower back without further tickling.
Trisha smiled. She knew Heather was ready for the real game.
"Still trust me?" she whispered in Heather's exposed ear.
Heather normally might have been annoyed the way Trisha kept asking her this, but she had come to recognize that this question signified that their encounter was about to move to another level. She suspected she knew what it was, and though it might be unbearable, she was determined to see this through to the end. "Yes," she answered almost huskily. The sound of her voice betrayed the growing lust she felt.
Trisha slid forward on Heather's body to grasp something that had been hidden from plain sight: a long, pink sash of silk that was tied low to the center of the brass headboard. She pulled the free end down to where Heather's raised arms ended, and without pausing, began tying Heather's wrists together with it. Heather fought the impulse to resist; an impulse so great that she nearly drew blood from force of biting her own lip in protest. The effort to hold her arms steady in place was overwhelming. But she succeeded, and in doing so felt her free will slipping away. She was willingly giving up control to Trisha, and she would have to accept whatever the consequences were of her actions. Trisha quickly and efficiently knotted the silk tightly about her wrists, and just like that, Heather found herself unable to lower her arms. She was helpless, powerless to protect herself, vulnerable to whatever Trisha had in store for her, and she found herself reveling in the feeling. Her submission to Trisha was complete.
Heather lay perfectly still and concentrated on breathing regularly. It was harder than she could have imagined, and the loud thumping of the excited heart in her chest wasn't helping any. She felt Trisha moving about down around her legs. Her toes curled in nervous anticipation, but Trisha wasn't quite done 'prepping' her just yet. Heather felt her ankles being pressed together between Trisha's knees, felt another piece silk being wrapped tightly around and around them, and the smallest sting of pain as knots were tied off. She could tell that Trisha was not quite done, and resisted the urge to test her bonds just yet. A moment later, her patience was rewarded as she felt Trisha pulling her legs further down on the mattress, closer to the foot of the bed. Heather's body grew taut as the silk binding her ankles was tied off to something else, most likely a low footboard of some kind. She lay stretched and straight, with her biceps pressed close to her face, and her feet dangling just over the edge of the bed. When she was sure that Trisha was done, she tested the strength of her bonds, and found that no escape was possible, nor was there any possibility of her lowering her arms or drawing up her legs. Her nipples hardened at the realization of her utter helplessness.
Trisha lay beside her and put her face close to Heather's. She toyed with Heather's hair. "Don't worry. I won't do anything you won't enjoy. But if you want me to stop, say 'pink'."
"Pink?"
"Mmmmmhmmmm. That will be our 'safe word'. Okay?"
"Okay," Heather nervously whispered. What was Trisha going to do to her that she would need a safety word?
Trisha didn't move, but instead made sure that Heather could see her smile. The hand playing with her hair began to lightly tickled her back. Heather smiled and squirmed a bit, for the first time truly realizing how powerless she was. Trisha's fingernails skated a little pattern along her quivering backside, and she was unable to shrug them away. The first of what she suspected would be many giggled escaped her lips.
"My my my, you are sensitive, aren't you?" Trisha asked softly, her face still just inches from Heather's. Heather nodded, though no answer was required of her. "Mmmmm, this is going to be so much fun!" Trisha exclaimed and stole a kiss from Heather's forehead. She disappeared from Heather's sight to reposition herself.
Heather braced for the worst, not knowing when or where or how Trisha would tease her first. She realized that she was vulnerable anywhere Trisha might choose to touch her. Her arms, her underarms, her sides, her back, her legs, behind her knees, her feet; they were all so terribly ticklish, and they were all exposed and on display for Trisha to select from. Trisha wasn't even touching her yet, and already she was breaking out in goosepimples. The anticipation alone was enough to drive her wild.
She was thankful to feel Trisha return to the wrist-to-back body massage that she had started earlier. As before, Trisha stroked her slowly and lightly, using only the tips of her fingers. This time, however, Heather was prepared for the worst, and knew that the touch would eventually turn so light that it would drive her crazy. She lay in a semi-panicked state, waiting for that moment.
From above her, Trisha giggled. "She's reading me like a book," Heather thought to herself. The third pass over her body had awoken the dreaded tingles. The fourth pass would be hell.
Heather resolved not to fight it. She'd allowed herself to be put in this situation by her friend, and she'd suspected all along that it would come to something like this. She'd known going in what was in store for her, and there was no sense in trying to deny it now. "I came up here to be tickled," she thought to herself. "May as well enjoy it."
Trisha's fingertips felt like feathers as they touched her wrists. Despite her best efforts to welcome the sensations, Heather felt herself twitch, felt the silken sash hold her fast. The feathery touch made it's way at a snail's pace up the length of her arms, getting worse as it neared her sensitive triceps. Heather turned her face straight down to the bedding and laughed freely. Her arms jerked reflexively to avoid the maddening touch, but there was no escape to be found. Trisha giggled from above her and made a point to dance her fingertips along the outer edge of her stretched underarms. They circled there, again and again, always threatening to swoop into the sensitive hollow centers, but never actually doing so. Heather's laughter increased. She wondered how she could possibly handle actual tickling if a teasing touch such as this already had her unglued. She sighed through her giggling as Trisha opted not to attack these vulnerable targets, but her relief was short lived, for already Trisha was moving past her shoulders and to the top of her ribcage. Again the fingertips paused, and again Heather suffered the anticipation of whether or not the feathery sensation would attack or spare these hotbeds of ticklish nerve endings. When she could wait no longer, when she felt she must certainly scream to ease the tension, Trisha put an end to her mental suffering and added to her physical discomfort. The feathery fingertips did glide their maddening way down Heather's taut sides, and Heather shrieked with laughter. She squirmed in earnest to avoid the fingers, but Trisha maintained contact at all times, and successfully managed to keep up the monotonous, aggravating pace the length
of Heather's slender torso. Heather quickly regained her composure, although she was powerless to hold back the steady stream of giggles now pouring out of her unabated. Trisha's hands were once again meeting at her lower back. She had survived the fourth pass.
But Trisha was not done with the fourth pass. The pads of her fingertips continued, and slid gently over Heather's trembling bottom. This elicited a ticklish shudder from Heather, and she groaned in the realization that she could add yet another tickle target to the list of body parts exposed for Trisha's enjoyment.
Her hamstrings were next, and there was no pause as the mindless feather-touch found the backs of her knees. Heather squeaked through her giggles, and struggled to bend her legs. Trisha uttered a satisfied "Mmmmm!" at discovering a particularly sensitive spot, and broke precedent by lingering her touch over the backs of Heather's knees in exploration. Heather's head shot up and the pitch of her laughter rose, but Trisha was already moving further down her legs.
Heather felt the first pangs of desperation as she felt the fingertips reached her ankles. "No, please. Not my feet." Her toes clenched tightly in defense.
"Okay," Trisha answered to her amazement. Heather collapsed in relief.
Trisha's face appeared next to hers again. "Still feel good?" She was beaming, obviously delighted that Heather was finally hers to play with.
Heather couldn't keep the smile off her face. "No. Let me go." That being let go was the last thing she actually wanted was obvious to both of them.
"Nuh-uh! I'm not done playing with you yet."
Heather stuck her tongue out. "You're sadistic."
"Yup! And you love it!" Trisha disappeared again with a giggle.
Heather looked up to watch when Trisha's fingertips would start the fifth pass at her wrists, but Trisha surprised her by starting in her underarms. Caught completely off guard, Heather shrieked loudly and bounced off the bed. There was more than just fingertips in her underarms; there were fingernails as well. Long, manicured, cruel fingernails, and they were skating in slow, even passes through the hollows of underarms again and again. Heather laughed freely, and the struggle to lower her arms resumed in earnest. She must stop those nails from swiping through her underarms. She must lower her arms. But she could do neither. The sash binding her to the headboard held fast.
"Tickle tickle tickle...I'm tickling you Heather," Trisha whispered the obvious quietly just above Heather's ear. The taunting seemed to make the fingernails in her underarms feel even more torturous.
"Staaahaaahaaahaaappp!!!" Heather wailed, but Trisha only giggled in reply.
Trisha moved her hands down to Heather's taut rib cage. Her fingernails flickered maddeningly over the hint of each rib showing through Heather's stretched skin. "Tickle tickle tickle...Heather is so ticklish!"
"Trisha stop! Please!" Heather's voice revealed the depth of her desperation. The incessant tickling of her underarms and ribs was robbing her lungs of air, testing the limits of her constitution. She flopped around as much as the sashes binding her limbs allowed, but there was no relief to be found from Trisha's tickling expertise. She howled in helpless laughter.
Trisha continued her assault, holding back nothing. She added a light tweaking and pinching of Heather's sides to her attack. Heather's laughter echoed this new torment. There was no spot from her underarms to her hip bones that was now not under fire, and no spot that didn't prove to be a ticklish gold mine for Trisha exploit. Heather felt the signs of tears welling up in her eyes.
The pillow which she occasionally buried her face and screeched her laughter without into abandon became wet with the first of Heather's tears, yet she felt no sadness or pain. On the contrary, she had never felt more alive and in tune with her body, like an instrument that yields it's finest music in the hands of a true master. As she lay, a prisoner to her roommate, a victim of tickling like she had never experienced before, Heather found herself free from the cares of the world, unburdened by her usual worries or concerns. Her nightmarish date was forgotten. Her struggle to find happiness in a rewarding relationship was put aside. Right now, at this moment, nothing mattered except that she was nearly naked, on Trisha's bed, helpless to defend herself, and ticklish beyond belief. Right now, all that mattered was that Trisha was tickling and tickling and tickling her, and if she was lucky, Trisha would tickle her some more. It was wonderful.
Trisha sensed the euphoria that comes with being tickled past one's 'limits' in Heather. She'd had too many girls in this situation before, and knew the signs all too well. Soon, Heather's pleas for Trisha to "stop" would turn to cries of "don't stop". Trisha smiled. She'd waited so long for Heather to come to her for this, so long to experience with her what she shared with others so often. But this was different, for none of the others had mattered to her. They were just objects to her, women that satisfied a need within her. Heather was more than just an object to her. She was special. She was someone that Trisha was already in love with, someone to whom Trisha could give everything she had if just given the chance. And this was her chance to show Heather what she had to give. There would be no mercy for Heather, no quarter; Heather would be experience pleasures that no woman before had dreamed of, and she would love Trisha for them.
Heather felt the fingernails exploring more and more of her torso. The nerve endings of her body were all on high alert. She felt unbearably ticklish wherever the nails touched, from her shoulder blades to her lower back to the exposed sides of her breasts. The struggle for freedom had become one of instinct rather than a conscious act; her body jumped and vibrated and pitched randomly at every ticklish strike of Trisha's nails, with no pattern of predictability in place. She'd given up begging for mercy, instead saving what precious air she could draw into her lungs for the inevitably stream of laughter that poured unabated from her. Her tears flowed freely as well, though she was not aware of them.
"Tickle tickle tickle...let's see if Heather's tushy is ticklish!" Trisha's taunting whispering was as maddening as her flickering fingernails.
"Oh God!" Heather cried, her first intelligible words in over five minutes. Peals of laughter drowned out her words as quickly as they came.
The delicate material of Heather's silk panties was no protection against the attack that struck her behind. She felt Trisha's tools of torture dancing along her buttocks and threatening to dig between her legs. This fresh new Hell set Heather's hips to pounding uselessly on the bed. She could never have imagined that her rear could be so sensitive, so horribly ticklish. Either Trisha had turned up the volume to 10 on every ticklish cell in her body, including her bottom, or she had completely underestimated just how ticklish she actually was. No one had ever explored the vulnerability of her flesh so thoroughly or so torturously before; she had never trusted anyone else enough to allow it. Now she was discovering first hand how ticklish she was all over.
"Here come your feetsies! I'm gonna get your feetsies!" Trisha sing-songed from down by Heather's legs. Heather had no response, either verbal or through body language. She knew this was coming, just as she knew that there was nothing she could do to prevent it. It was inevitable, and no words or action on her part could change that. This game had begun with foot tickling, and it was foot tickling that had led her to this bedroom, to this bed. Foot tickling is what she had come here for. She could hardly wait.
Heather felt the weight of the bed shift as Trisha got up, heard the sound of Trisha's breathing as it moved further away, to the foot of the bed. This was it. She knew what her feet must look like, tied at the ankles with a pretty pink sash, dangling out in space over the end of the bed. Bare...helpless...inviting...ticklish. She could hardly blame Trisha for wanting to tickle them...if there situations were reversed, she knew she'd be unable to resist tickling Trisha's. How often did one get a pair of ridiculously ticklish bare feet in such a ridiculously ticklish predicament? It would be a sin for Trisha to not tickle her feet like this, and Trisha was no sinner of that kind.
"Mmmmm, such pretty little feetsies. So pretty. So yummy."
Trisha's voice came from the foot of the bed, as Heather had expected. She could feel Trisha's warm breath on her soles, sense the closeness of her lips to her toes. Her body tensed in anticipation, but the tickling sensations did not come.
"Such yummy feetsies. Makes me wanna eat them up. Mmmmmm, yummy nummy little feetsies."
Heather did not know how much more teasing she could take. She could actually feel Trisha's lips brush her soles, feel her tongue reaching out and barely tasting her toes. It was maddening, worse than any of the tickling she'd suffered through yet. Torture before the torture. Her laughter hadn't slowed a bit, though she hadn't physically been tickled for some time now. She'd explode soon if Trisha made her wait much longer.
"Perfect little feetsies. Heather has perfect little feetsies. Gonna eat them up!"
"Hurry!" Heather screamed, shredding the serenity of the room. She gasped for air between her struggles to stop laughing.
Trisha jumped despite herself. She giggled. The fly was begging the spider to eat it. "Hurry with what?" she asked innocently. She dragged the tip of her tongue along the tops of Heather's toes, barely touching them.
"Just do it!" Heather cried, finding herself more frantic than ever.
"Do what?" More hot breath on Heather's soles.
"Just tickle me already!"
"With pleasure," the spider purred. She slipped three of Heather's toes into her sensuous mouth as her fingernails flickered over the quivering flesh of her soles. Heather exploded with frenzied laughter.
Heather lost track of time. It seemed that Trisha feasted on and tickled her feet for hours, although she knew that couldn't possibly be the case. The teasing tickles Trisha had given her feet on the sofa earlier as an appetizer did not do the main course justice. Her feet were subjected to an attack of such precision, such expertise, that the battle was over before it had begun, though that did not stop her attacker from executing her plan to completion. Teeth nibbled and playfully gnashed on her toes. A snakelike tongue slithered between her toes and tasted the hidden flesh found within. Fingernails danced endless, unpredictable patterns on her soles and insteps. A mouth worshiped her feet, and torturing fingers accompanied the mouth. The barrage was continuous, merciless, and devastating. Trisha's assault on her feet was like a starving animal tearing into a meal, like a bloodthirsty vampire devouring it's prey. It was as barbaric and inhumane as it was cold and calculating. Heather knew not where her screams ended and her tormented laughter began.
Trisha knew what she was doing. Her footlust was at a fevered pitch, and her need to tickle and taste and torture Heather's feet was real, but she knew she had to push that euphoria that Heather was experiencing to the next level as well. She was close now. She was putting everything she had into maximizing Heather's torment and pleasure, using all of the skills and the knowledge she'd learned of how tickling effects the body of a woman to good use. And Heather was just too ticklish and gorgeous not to enjoy completely and thoroughly.
"Oh God!...No!...Stop!...Stop...Oh God!...Oh God!...Yes!...Oh God!...Yes!"
Trisha smiled, even as her lips suckled on Heather's pinky toe and her fingertips dragged swift squiggle lines down her soles like raindrops trickling down a window. She'd done it. She'd broken her.
Victory was hers, but her lust had not yet been quenched. She'd observed these feet of Heather's for months now, parading around their apartment barefoot, tempting her on a daily basis. She was not ready to give them up so soon, though the need she felt between her legs was as great if not greater than the need she suspected had grown between the legs of her roommate. Her plan had succeeded brilliantly, but like any other ill-fated, power hungry general, the control she felt upon reaching her prize was almost too intoxicating, too overpowering. Now was the time to claim what she had won, to enjoy the flesh and skin and touch of Heather in a whole new way, but she could not tear herself away from these feet. They twitched at her every touch. They tempted her with their perfection. They begged for more tickling, more worshipping, more everything. She simply had to enjoy them.
Heather was in a different world, a world of only tickling and her feet. It was a world that she had never known, one that was both pleasurable and maddening at once. Her body refused to accept the treatment that her feet were undergoing as anything other than pure, unbearable torture. The war she waged with her bonds and the frantic flailing of her feet were testimony to that. But her mind was loving the sensation, enjoying every scrape of fingernail, every nibble of teeth, every wet slobbering of tongue. She felt free, lighter than air, happier than ever before, like a door had been unlocked in her mind and let the sunshine in. If she wasn't lusting for sex like an animal in heat, she would have happily submitted to this torture for ever and ever.
Trisha finally came to her senses. With the same speed and agility she had shown tying the knots, she freed Heather's ankles from the binding sash. Heather lay limp, still laughing open and freely, her pillow soaked with tears. Trisha coaxed her into turning over, and knelt between legs that she spread without encouragement. Heather's wrists were still tied over her head. Trisha slipped off Heather's panties without a word. Lust filled the eyes of both women.
The first kisses and nibbles between Heather's legs had her eyes rolling back in her head. "Oh God, Trisha...I think I love you!"
Trisha felt the tears in her own eyes. "I love you too, Heather." Her face disappeared between Heather's legs, and soon she had her roommate bucking and moaning in the throes of yet another type of pleasure she'd never before experienced. It would be the first of many that night.
The next few hours were spent in consummation of their newfound love, and from that point on they were a couple. Each night that followed was better than the last. Heather no longer needed to waste her time on men, and Trisha no longer needed to invite other women over to play. In each other, the roommates found everything they wanted, and everything they needed. On their one year anniversary, Heather presented to Trisha new "pink" silk sashes (as the others were all worn out), and Trisha gave Heather a home pedicure kit.
And they lived happily ever after.
THE END
Heather did not look up from the task of painting her toenails. "Yes, how did you know?"
"You always paint your nails before a hot date."
Heather smirked. "I suppose I do. I like for my feet to be noticed."
"You should. You've got great feet."
Heather chuckled. "Thanks Trish. Not as nice as yours though." She looked up with envy at the flawless soles of her roommate.
Trisha raised her leg and pointed her toes, modeling her size 7 for both of them. "Awww, thanks. I do try to take care of them."
"I know you do. Your toes always have that hot red polish on them."
"Do you want to borrow some for your date?"
"No, I'll stick with the silver for now. Thanks though."
"Suit yourself. But red is the way to go if you want to be noticed!" Both women giggled. "Of course, if you go out in that outfit, I'm sure you'll have no trouble getting noticed." Heather blushed slightly, suddenly aware of how nearly naked she must look in only her cutoff T-shirt and panties. "Who's the lucky bachelor tonight?"
"Jeff. He's the guy I met at the party last week. Do you remember me telling you about him?"
"Sort of. Didn't you say something about him seeming to be a little too smooth?"
Heather paused and scratched at something itchy along her exposed side. "Yeah, but that was probably just me being paranoid. I have a good feeling about this one."
Trisha snorted, nearly spilling her cereal. "Face it Heather, all men are scum. All they know how to do is lie and manipulate. The sooner you realize that, the happier you will be."
Heather rolled her eyes. "Puh-lease Trisha, don't get on your lesbian soapbox again."
"I'm serious Heather. You don't know what you are missing." Finished with her breakfast, Trisha rose from the recliner and stood beside Heather.
"So what are you suggesting Trish? That I should give up on men and play for the other team like you?"
"Damn straight! Think about how much fun we could have!" As if to illustrate her point, Trisha reached down and quickly tickled Heather's vulnerable ribcage.
Heather squealed and lurched out of reach. "Watch it Trish! I'm going to mess up my toes!" The feeling of Trisha's long nails still lingered along her side.
Trisha grinned. "Sorry. Couldn't help myself."
"That's because you are sadistic." Both women giggled. "Is that what you do with your girlfriends when they come over, tickle them? I always here a lot of laughing coming out of your room."
Trisha shrugged and grinned a little wider. "There's only one way for you to find out what goes on up there." She fondly brushed a lock of disheveled hair out of Heather's eyes.
Heather smiled and blushed slightly again. "You know I love you Trish, and if I ever did decide to switch teams, you'd be the first chicky on my list."
Trish gave an exaggerated "Awwwwwww", and hugged Heather's shoulders. Heather was vividly aware of the feel of skin on skin, and of how close both of them were to being totally naked. It also seemed that Trisha held her close just a bit longer than would be expected.
Trisha whispered in her ear as she disengaged herself, "I'd make sure to notice your feet", and followed it up by placing an affectionate kiss on her cheek. Heather blushed more deeply and returned to painting her toenails.
************
Heather was drunk as she exited the elevator. Drunk and pissed off. The legs that carried her down the hall wobbled unsteadily, but thankfully the wall to her right wasn't moving around too much. She used it to keep her upright and headed in the right direction. As she approached her door, the sight of a beautiful stranger emerging from her apartment caught her by surprise.
"Hey! Who are you?" She tried to sound sober, but wasn't sure how convincing she sounded.
The strange woman seemed out of it, off in a daze. Her eyes eventually made it around to focus on Heather, and she smiled dreamily. "I'm Angie. You must be Heather."
"Yeah, that's right. You one of Trisha's friends?" Heather found it difficult to look composed.
"Mmmmmmm, yes." The woman slipped back into her dream world for just a second, as if she were remembering a pleasurable experience. Heather watched her curiously. She noticed the woman leaned against the door jam as if she didn't trust her own legs either just yet.
"Have a good night?" Heather said with a bit more sarcasm in her voice than she intended to let out.
"Oh yessssssss," the woman sighed, seemingly oblivious to the sarcasm. Her eyes refocused on Heather. "You are so lucky."
"Huh?"
The woman laughed quietly. "You don't even know, do you?"
"Know what?" Heather felt her anger rising.
"Don't worry, dear. You'll figure it out." The woman slid past Heather and headed for the elevator. Heather watched her walk off, noting through slitted eyes how seductively she moved, and how she seemed to ooze sensuality. It also occurred to her clouded mind that she couldn't remember ever being as content or satisfied as this woman seemed. As the elevator door opened, the woman looked back at her and gave her an almost mocking little wave good-bye. Heather did not return the gesture.
Heather entered the apartment to find Trisha lounging in the recliner wearing only a short terricloth robe and sipping on a glass of red wine. With her blond hair tumbling over her shoulders and her long legs stretched out luxuriously before her, she looked the very picture of radiance. She smiled at Heather the same contented smile that Angie had worn, although there seemed to be nothing wrong with Trisha's wits. "How was your date with Jeff?"
"Terrible!" Heather growled, and shut the door behind her with a little too much force. "What an asshole he turned out to be!"
Trisha bolted upright in her seat. "What happened!?"
Heather took a seat on the sofa, happy to be off her wobbly legs. With a total disregard for the safety of her dress or the care of the wood, she unceremoniously threw her legs up onto the coffee table and slumped back into the pillows. "First he was late. Then he spent the whole night looking at other women. When I told him to knock it off, he told me to go screw myself. Then he left me to pick up someone else! It was humiliating!"
"Oh Heather!" Trisha rushed lightly on bare feet to come sit by Heather's side. Heather allowed herself to be held for a moment before breaking down sobbing into Trisha's shoulder. "There there...it's okay. It's all right," Trisha tried to comfort.
Heather sniffled and wiped away the tears leaking from her eyes. "Maybe you are right, Trish. Maybe all men are scum." Trish offered her a sip of wine which she gladly accepted. "Or maybe I just don't deserve to be happy."
"Now don't talk like that. Of course you deserve to be happy. You are a great catch, and any man should consider himself lucky to be with you."
"You'd never know that by the way Jeff was scoping out the club tonight. I felt like the Ugly Duckling standing there."
"That's ridiculous! You are gorgeous Heather! You can't let one jerk get you down like this."
"Gorgeous, ha, right! That girlfriend of yours that just left...whats her name, Angie? She's gorgeous."
Trish began to lightly toy with Heather's hair. "You don't know how crazy you sound. Angie can't hold a candle to you, kiddo."
Heather offered up a weak smile. "Thanks Trish. But you should have seen the way she left here though. She was glowing. I'd give anything to be one-tenth that happy."
A twinkle appeared in Trisha's eyes, though Heather did not see it. She changed the subject, though it was not without purpose. "Did the asshole at least compliment you on your feet?"
Heather found a small giggle amid her sobs. She eyed her toes. "No, he never even looked at them."
Trisha also eyed Heather's toes and feigned shock. "How could he not? Look at how cute your toes look! Look at how sexy your feet are in those strappy sandals!"
Another giggle escaped Heather's mouth. "Yeah, all that work for nothing."
"No, not for nothing, Heather." Trisha bit her lip for a second, and then decided to push the envelope. Handing Heather her wine glass, she reached down and pulled Heather's legs onto her lap. Heather allowed herself to be manipulated. Though she was sobering up slightly, it still felt like she were watching this happen to someone else rather than to herself.
Trisha seemed enamored with Heather's toes. "Your feet look almost as gorgeous as the rest of you." Heather blushed a bit and sipped the wine. "May I take these off you?" Trisha asked, fingering the sandal straps.
"Please do," she said. "They may look nice, but they kill my feet."
Heather watched intently as Trisha quickly loosened the straps from around her ankles. A moment later, her sore feet were released from their torturous prisons. She sighed audibly in relief even as Trisha was reverently placing her sandals off to the side.
"Does that feel better?" Trisha asked.
"Oh yes," Heather replied. Her toes wiggled in their newfound freedom.
"Do you trust me?"
The question puzzled Heather. "Of course I trust you."
Without asking for permission, Trisha began to lightly massage Heather's feet. Heather purred with pleasure and sank a bit lower in the cushions. "Oh that feels wonderful!" she sighed. She would have closed her eyes and lay there and enjoyed, but she was captivated by the sight of Trisha's manicured fingers rubbing her tired feet.
Trisha smiled and shifted a bit to get a better angle at the subjects of her massage. Heather could not help but notice this small shift in position caused Trisha's short robe to ride up a little higher on her long, toned legs, as well as to fall open a bit wider in the front. As was the case this morning, Heather was aware of how nearly naked Trisha was before her, and how soft Trisha's skin felt next to hers. Heather wondered if Trish was even aware of how hot she looked right now.
"You put so much work into making these feet pretty for tonight, it would have been a waste to not have some attention paid to them," Trisha said. Heather was in no position or mood to argue. After the worst date of her life, she was finally starting to feel good again. She mumbled something in agreement and sipped more wine. Her eyes flickered from the sight of Trisha's naked legs and sexy feet to the pampering her own sensitive feet were getting on Trisha's lap. She found the images quite stimulating.
Trisha's aggressive rubbing grew softer as she felt the tension leave Heather's feet. "This feels good, doesn't it?"
"Mmmmmmhmmmmm," Heather replied, suddenly fighting to keep her eyes open. All the anger from the night was gone. Now there were only the soft hands of her beautiful roommate rubbing her feet. She began to wonder why she tried so hard to get attention from men when there was someone right here at home who always paid her attention, and who always made her feel good about herself.
The massage grew lighter and lighter, until only the pads of Trisha's fingers were gliding over the skin of Heather's feet. Heather found the sensation as wonderful as it was fraught with danger; she was highly ticklish, and what Trisha was doing was borderline tickling. A smile grew on her face. "Careful," she said, but she was so relaxed it came out more like a whisper.
Heather could not see Trisha's smile widen. "Careful of what?" she asked as innocent as could be.
The tingling sensation that comes with light tickles spread over Heather's feet wherever Trisha's feathery touch explored. Her feet twitched slightly. Her toes shifted reflexively. She felt she must soon giggle if this continued, but it felt so good there was no way she wanted Trisha to stop. The fear that suddenly one or more of Trisha's wicked nails would scrape along her foot bottoms grew as the tingling sensation increased. "This almost tickles already," Heather thought. "But if she uses her nails, I'll definitely scream!" Heather pictured in her mind's eye Trisha clamping down on her ankles and tickling her feet wildly with those dangerous fingernails of hers. Her body shuddered involuntarily at the thought, yet she found herself relishing the image.
Trisha watched Heather closely. "Careful of what?" she repeated, as innocently as the first time. She lightened her touch further still.
Heather suddenly realized that she had never answered the question out loud, though she'd done so quite clearly in her own mind. She found herself in a Catch-22. She feared to answer truthfully, lest she give Trisha any ideas. Trisha had a habit of tickling her anyway, and it wasn't often that Heather's bare feet were so vulnerable and within her reach. Even mentioning the word "tickle" at this point might be fatal. Yet if she held her tongue, and did not warn her roommate how close she was to crossing that line from pleasure into torment, Trisha might tickle anyway. Wasn't Trisha tickling her already with this ultra-light massage? What would happen if she said nothing, and the massage got lighter still? Surely she must say something before it was too late. To say nothing was to invite tickling.
And then there was the image in her mind, the one that would not go away. Her ankles, trapped. Trisha's hand becoming claw-like. A furious tickling assault on the sensitive flesh of her soles. The resulting thrashing and screaming, the panic of not being able to escape. The scene in her mind was one of pure torture, yet she could not deny craving it. But craving or no craving, if Trisha played it out, it would be torture nonetheless. Oh the irony!
Heather giggled and bit her lip. What to say? How to answer? What was the desired result, and how best to get there?
Trisha watched the entire inner turmoil play out on Heather's face, and it delighted her to see it.
"Don't.....tickle...." There, she said it. Let's the chips fall where they may.
Trisha was enjoying this game too much to let it end just yet. "Are you sure you don't want me to tickle, just a little?" To illustrate what she meant, she ever so lightly dragged her nails along the tops of Heather's feet.
The result was something of a minor shock to Heather's nervous system. Her feet jerked spasmodically, but she did not scream. Her eyes closed a little tighter and a nervous giggle escaped her lips. She found herself in a paradox. One the one hand, the foot massage had relaxed her. On the other hand, this talk of tickling her feet had her on edge. She found herself unsure of whether or not she had enjoyed the sensation, but she suspected it was a little of both.
The Catch-22 confronted her yet again. Say "no", and maybe Trisha stops. But knowing Trisha, "no" to her means "keep going". Say "yes", and who knows where Trisha runs with it. The image of the hand clutching her ankles and fingernails attacking her feet returned stronger than ever.
Her voice came out like a squeak. "Okay! But gently!" She clutched the cushions tightly. What had she just agreed to? She giggled in nervous anticipation.
Trisha smiled the smile of the spider who has caught a juicy fly. The worst of the gamble was over. Now all she had to do was devour her prey.
The feet on her lap were delicate and attractive. While the silver toenail polish did not make the same statement that the red she suggested would have, it did make Heather's toes more appealing to the eye. Heather had apparently lotioned her feet liberally at some point today, as her skin was like silk to the touch. Trisha had tickled the feet of many beautiful women in her life, and Heather's feet were as delectable as any she could remember. She ran the pads of her fingers lightly across the tops of Heather's slightly curled toes. When she saw that Heather was still braced for the next tickle, she followed this up with the faintest dragging of her nails across the underside of those same toes. They curled in protest, nearly trapping her nails in place. Trisha giggled with joy. Heather's breath caught.
"Such pretty feet," Trisha said somewhat teasingly. "Such pretty, ticklish feet." A hint of her nails scraped Heather's heels.
Heather found herself balancing on the edge of a knife. Trisha was teasing her deliciously. She knew the tickles were coming, but not when or where. There was just enough massage mixed in with the brushing fingernails to keep her from bursting out laughing, but not enough time between 'strikes' to allow her to regain her composure. It was torture. Not torture of the flesh, but torture of the mind. She found herself breathing erratically, giggling nervously, and trembling continuously. The only two things she knew for sure was this was great fun, and that she did not want it to end.
Trisha spoke again, never once stopping her massage/tickle. "Still feel good?"
A solitary nail glanced across Heather's toe pads as she answered. "Yes!" Her leg twitched and her head jerked to the side.
Heather waited for the next random strike of nails, but felt only fingertips for a moment. "Still trust me?" Trisha asked her.
There was no Catch-22 this time. Heather was primed for wherever Trisha wanted to take the game next. "Yes, you know I do."
"You asked me what I do in my room with my friends. I basically do to this...except I do it all over."
Heather felt Trisha's hands traveling over her ankles and along the sides of her calves. Immediately she understood just how wonderful it would feel to have those hands touching her like that all over, and understood why the stranger, Angie, looked to be at such peace with the world.
"Do you want to see for yourself?" Trisha asked softly. Her nails whispered again across the tops of Heather's feet.
"Yes...." Heather uttered almost imperceptibly.
A moment later, Trisha led her by the hand up the stairs and into her room. Heather found herself being led willingly. She knew not what lay in store for her, only that the dynamics of the relationship between she and Trisha were changing, and anything was possible at this point.
Once in her bedroom, Trisha shut the door behind them. She moved quickly around the room, lighting candles. Heather, who had been in this room many times to borrow one outfit or another, found herself drinking it all in as if she were there for the very first time. The stuffed animals lining the shelves. The predominance of pink throughout the decorations. The sense of closeness and intimacy that the flickering candles provided. The inviting bed with the brass headboard. Heather shifted nervously on her bare feet, wondering what would happen next.
The candles all being lit, the spider turned to the fly. "Why don't you get undressed?" she asked.
Heather blushed hard and lowered her eyes. She felt incapable of movement.
Trisha slid beside her and gently turned her around by the shoulders. Heather felt the zipper on her dress being lowered, felt Trisha's loving hands ease it off her shoulders, felt the fabric falling to the floor to puddle around her ankles. She felt the clasp on her bra release, felt the straps as they were softly pulled away, heard the bra join her dress on the floor. She felt Trisha fingering the edge of her thong. "Do you want to keep this on?" she heard whispered in her ear. Heather paused a moment before nodding slowly. "Okay," Trisha whispered again.
Trisha gently guided Heather to the foot of the bed, and encouraged her to lay down face first. With a racing heart, Heather obliged. She'd been topless in front of Trisha before, naked even, but never in a situation such as this. She lay on her stomach in the center of the bed, inching upwards until she heard Trisha tell her that was far enough. The bedding was cool against her skin, but it was not enough to keep her breaking out in a nervous sweat.
"Shhhhhh," Trisha soothed. "Relax...."
"I'm scared," Heather confessed quietly.
"Don't be. I'm not going to hurt you. I'm going to make you feel good." Heather heard the unmistakable sound of Trisha's robe falling to the floor.
A moment later, Heather felt Trisha join her on the bed. The weight of her roommate's toned body pressed down on her hips as Trisha straddled her. Her hair was moved to the side. Then Trisha began to massage her.
Heather felt all the nervous tension stored up in her muscles quickly ebb away. Trisha kneaded a bit forcefully at first, but lightened her touch as soon as she felt Heather turning to jelly. Heather sighed long and deep, and her next breath game out like a groan of pleasure. The fear she felt at what might happen in this room was already a distant memory.
"See? What did I tell you? Nothing to worry about." Trisha's voice was every bit as soothing as her touch. Heather melted a bit more on the bed.
Having calmed her friend, Trisha returned to the light, teasing caresses she had been using earlier on Heather's feet. Her finger pads just barely stroked the skin of Heather's neck, shoulders and back. Heather groaned pleasurably again.
"This feels so good," she mumbled.
Trisha smiled, knowing the best was still to come. "Reach up," she whispered in Heather's ear. Heather did as she was told.
Trisha began a long, slow, sustained touch that ran from the backs of Heather's hands, down her arms, along her shoulders, down her shoulder blades, out to her sides, down to her waist, and ended in the middle of her lower back. She repeated this pattern again and again, softening her touch ever so slightly with each pass. Heather sighed again, wondering how anything could ever feel so good or relaxing.
The massage reached that point where Heather felt the tingling sensation breaking out again. She nearly pulled her arms down protectively when Trisha's fingertips passed over her triceps. She felt her breath catch when the touch reached her sides. She shuddered slightly as the fingers traversed the sides of her torso down to her waist. She actually sighed in relief as she felt the pass end along her lower back without further tickling.
Trisha smiled. She knew Heather was ready for the real game.
"Still trust me?" she whispered in Heather's exposed ear.
Heather normally might have been annoyed the way Trisha kept asking her this, but she had come to recognize that this question signified that their encounter was about to move to another level. She suspected she knew what it was, and though it might be unbearable, she was determined to see this through to the end. "Yes," she answered almost huskily. The sound of her voice betrayed the growing lust she felt.
Trisha slid forward on Heather's body to grasp something that had been hidden from plain sight: a long, pink sash of silk that was tied low to the center of the brass headboard. She pulled the free end down to where Heather's raised arms ended, and without pausing, began tying Heather's wrists together with it. Heather fought the impulse to resist; an impulse so great that she nearly drew blood from force of biting her own lip in protest. The effort to hold her arms steady in place was overwhelming. But she succeeded, and in doing so felt her free will slipping away. She was willingly giving up control to Trisha, and she would have to accept whatever the consequences were of her actions. Trisha quickly and efficiently knotted the silk tightly about her wrists, and just like that, Heather found herself unable to lower her arms. She was helpless, powerless to protect herself, vulnerable to whatever Trisha had in store for her, and she found herself reveling in the feeling. Her submission to Trisha was complete.
Heather lay perfectly still and concentrated on breathing regularly. It was harder than she could have imagined, and the loud thumping of the excited heart in her chest wasn't helping any. She felt Trisha moving about down around her legs. Her toes curled in nervous anticipation, but Trisha wasn't quite done 'prepping' her just yet. Heather felt her ankles being pressed together between Trisha's knees, felt another piece silk being wrapped tightly around and around them, and the smallest sting of pain as knots were tied off. She could tell that Trisha was not quite done, and resisted the urge to test her bonds just yet. A moment later, her patience was rewarded as she felt Trisha pulling her legs further down on the mattress, closer to the foot of the bed. Heather's body grew taut as the silk binding her ankles was tied off to something else, most likely a low footboard of some kind. She lay stretched and straight, with her biceps pressed close to her face, and her feet dangling just over the edge of the bed. When she was sure that Trisha was done, she tested the strength of her bonds, and found that no escape was possible, nor was there any possibility of her lowering her arms or drawing up her legs. Her nipples hardened at the realization of her utter helplessness.
Trisha lay beside her and put her face close to Heather's. She toyed with Heather's hair. "Don't worry. I won't do anything you won't enjoy. But if you want me to stop, say 'pink'."
"Pink?"
"Mmmmmhmmmm. That will be our 'safe word'. Okay?"
"Okay," Heather nervously whispered. What was Trisha going to do to her that she would need a safety word?
Trisha didn't move, but instead made sure that Heather could see her smile. The hand playing with her hair began to lightly tickled her back. Heather smiled and squirmed a bit, for the first time truly realizing how powerless she was. Trisha's fingernails skated a little pattern along her quivering backside, and she was unable to shrug them away. The first of what she suspected would be many giggled escaped her lips.
"My my my, you are sensitive, aren't you?" Trisha asked softly, her face still just inches from Heather's. Heather nodded, though no answer was required of her. "Mmmmm, this is going to be so much fun!" Trisha exclaimed and stole a kiss from Heather's forehead. She disappeared from Heather's sight to reposition herself.
Heather braced for the worst, not knowing when or where or how Trisha would tease her first. She realized that she was vulnerable anywhere Trisha might choose to touch her. Her arms, her underarms, her sides, her back, her legs, behind her knees, her feet; they were all so terribly ticklish, and they were all exposed and on display for Trisha to select from. Trisha wasn't even touching her yet, and already she was breaking out in goosepimples. The anticipation alone was enough to drive her wild.
She was thankful to feel Trisha return to the wrist-to-back body massage that she had started earlier. As before, Trisha stroked her slowly and lightly, using only the tips of her fingers. This time, however, Heather was prepared for the worst, and knew that the touch would eventually turn so light that it would drive her crazy. She lay in a semi-panicked state, waiting for that moment.
From above her, Trisha giggled. "She's reading me like a book," Heather thought to herself. The third pass over her body had awoken the dreaded tingles. The fourth pass would be hell.
Heather resolved not to fight it. She'd allowed herself to be put in this situation by her friend, and she'd suspected all along that it would come to something like this. She'd known going in what was in store for her, and there was no sense in trying to deny it now. "I came up here to be tickled," she thought to herself. "May as well enjoy it."
Trisha's fingertips felt like feathers as they touched her wrists. Despite her best efforts to welcome the sensations, Heather felt herself twitch, felt the silken sash hold her fast. The feathery touch made it's way at a snail's pace up the length of her arms, getting worse as it neared her sensitive triceps. Heather turned her face straight down to the bedding and laughed freely. Her arms jerked reflexively to avoid the maddening touch, but there was no escape to be found. Trisha giggled from above her and made a point to dance her fingertips along the outer edge of her stretched underarms. They circled there, again and again, always threatening to swoop into the sensitive hollow centers, but never actually doing so. Heather's laughter increased. She wondered how she could possibly handle actual tickling if a teasing touch such as this already had her unglued. She sighed through her giggling as Trisha opted not to attack these vulnerable targets, but her relief was short lived, for already Trisha was moving past her shoulders and to the top of her ribcage. Again the fingertips paused, and again Heather suffered the anticipation of whether or not the feathery sensation would attack or spare these hotbeds of ticklish nerve endings. When she could wait no longer, when she felt she must certainly scream to ease the tension, Trisha put an end to her mental suffering and added to her physical discomfort. The feathery fingertips did glide their maddening way down Heather's taut sides, and Heather shrieked with laughter. She squirmed in earnest to avoid the fingers, but Trisha maintained contact at all times, and successfully managed to keep up the monotonous, aggravating pace the length
of Heather's slender torso. Heather quickly regained her composure, although she was powerless to hold back the steady stream of giggles now pouring out of her unabated. Trisha's hands were once again meeting at her lower back. She had survived the fourth pass.
But Trisha was not done with the fourth pass. The pads of her fingertips continued, and slid gently over Heather's trembling bottom. This elicited a ticklish shudder from Heather, and she groaned in the realization that she could add yet another tickle target to the list of body parts exposed for Trisha's enjoyment.
Her hamstrings were next, and there was no pause as the mindless feather-touch found the backs of her knees. Heather squeaked through her giggles, and struggled to bend her legs. Trisha uttered a satisfied "Mmmmm!" at discovering a particularly sensitive spot, and broke precedent by lingering her touch over the backs of Heather's knees in exploration. Heather's head shot up and the pitch of her laughter rose, but Trisha was already moving further down her legs.
Heather felt the first pangs of desperation as she felt the fingertips reached her ankles. "No, please. Not my feet." Her toes clenched tightly in defense.
"Okay," Trisha answered to her amazement. Heather collapsed in relief.
Trisha's face appeared next to hers again. "Still feel good?" She was beaming, obviously delighted that Heather was finally hers to play with.
Heather couldn't keep the smile off her face. "No. Let me go." That being let go was the last thing she actually wanted was obvious to both of them.
"Nuh-uh! I'm not done playing with you yet."
Heather stuck her tongue out. "You're sadistic."
"Yup! And you love it!" Trisha disappeared again with a giggle.
Heather looked up to watch when Trisha's fingertips would start the fifth pass at her wrists, but Trisha surprised her by starting in her underarms. Caught completely off guard, Heather shrieked loudly and bounced off the bed. There was more than just fingertips in her underarms; there were fingernails as well. Long, manicured, cruel fingernails, and they were skating in slow, even passes through the hollows of underarms again and again. Heather laughed freely, and the struggle to lower her arms resumed in earnest. She must stop those nails from swiping through her underarms. She must lower her arms. But she could do neither. The sash binding her to the headboard held fast.
"Tickle tickle tickle...I'm tickling you Heather," Trisha whispered the obvious quietly just above Heather's ear. The taunting seemed to make the fingernails in her underarms feel even more torturous.
"Staaahaaahaaahaaappp!!!" Heather wailed, but Trisha only giggled in reply.
Trisha moved her hands down to Heather's taut rib cage. Her fingernails flickered maddeningly over the hint of each rib showing through Heather's stretched skin. "Tickle tickle tickle...Heather is so ticklish!"
"Trisha stop! Please!" Heather's voice revealed the depth of her desperation. The incessant tickling of her underarms and ribs was robbing her lungs of air, testing the limits of her constitution. She flopped around as much as the sashes binding her limbs allowed, but there was no relief to be found from Trisha's tickling expertise. She howled in helpless laughter.
Trisha continued her assault, holding back nothing. She added a light tweaking and pinching of Heather's sides to her attack. Heather's laughter echoed this new torment. There was no spot from her underarms to her hip bones that was now not under fire, and no spot that didn't prove to be a ticklish gold mine for Trisha exploit. Heather felt the signs of tears welling up in her eyes.
The pillow which she occasionally buried her face and screeched her laughter without into abandon became wet with the first of Heather's tears, yet she felt no sadness or pain. On the contrary, she had never felt more alive and in tune with her body, like an instrument that yields it's finest music in the hands of a true master. As she lay, a prisoner to her roommate, a victim of tickling like she had never experienced before, Heather found herself free from the cares of the world, unburdened by her usual worries or concerns. Her nightmarish date was forgotten. Her struggle to find happiness in a rewarding relationship was put aside. Right now, at this moment, nothing mattered except that she was nearly naked, on Trisha's bed, helpless to defend herself, and ticklish beyond belief. Right now, all that mattered was that Trisha was tickling and tickling and tickling her, and if she was lucky, Trisha would tickle her some more. It was wonderful.
Trisha sensed the euphoria that comes with being tickled past one's 'limits' in Heather. She'd had too many girls in this situation before, and knew the signs all too well. Soon, Heather's pleas for Trisha to "stop" would turn to cries of "don't stop". Trisha smiled. She'd waited so long for Heather to come to her for this, so long to experience with her what she shared with others so often. But this was different, for none of the others had mattered to her. They were just objects to her, women that satisfied a need within her. Heather was more than just an object to her. She was special. She was someone that Trisha was already in love with, someone to whom Trisha could give everything she had if just given the chance. And this was her chance to show Heather what she had to give. There would be no mercy for Heather, no quarter; Heather would be experience pleasures that no woman before had dreamed of, and she would love Trisha for them.
Heather felt the fingernails exploring more and more of her torso. The nerve endings of her body were all on high alert. She felt unbearably ticklish wherever the nails touched, from her shoulder blades to her lower back to the exposed sides of her breasts. The struggle for freedom had become one of instinct rather than a conscious act; her body jumped and vibrated and pitched randomly at every ticklish strike of Trisha's nails, with no pattern of predictability in place. She'd given up begging for mercy, instead saving what precious air she could draw into her lungs for the inevitably stream of laughter that poured unabated from her. Her tears flowed freely as well, though she was not aware of them.
"Tickle tickle tickle...let's see if Heather's tushy is ticklish!" Trisha's taunting whispering was as maddening as her flickering fingernails.
"Oh God!" Heather cried, her first intelligible words in over five minutes. Peals of laughter drowned out her words as quickly as they came.
The delicate material of Heather's silk panties was no protection against the attack that struck her behind. She felt Trisha's tools of torture dancing along her buttocks and threatening to dig between her legs. This fresh new Hell set Heather's hips to pounding uselessly on the bed. She could never have imagined that her rear could be so sensitive, so horribly ticklish. Either Trisha had turned up the volume to 10 on every ticklish cell in her body, including her bottom, or she had completely underestimated just how ticklish she actually was. No one had ever explored the vulnerability of her flesh so thoroughly or so torturously before; she had never trusted anyone else enough to allow it. Now she was discovering first hand how ticklish she was all over.
"Here come your feetsies! I'm gonna get your feetsies!" Trisha sing-songed from down by Heather's legs. Heather had no response, either verbal or through body language. She knew this was coming, just as she knew that there was nothing she could do to prevent it. It was inevitable, and no words or action on her part could change that. This game had begun with foot tickling, and it was foot tickling that had led her to this bedroom, to this bed. Foot tickling is what she had come here for. She could hardly wait.
Heather felt the weight of the bed shift as Trisha got up, heard the sound of Trisha's breathing as it moved further away, to the foot of the bed. This was it. She knew what her feet must look like, tied at the ankles with a pretty pink sash, dangling out in space over the end of the bed. Bare...helpless...inviting...ticklish. She could hardly blame Trisha for wanting to tickle them...if there situations were reversed, she knew she'd be unable to resist tickling Trisha's. How often did one get a pair of ridiculously ticklish bare feet in such a ridiculously ticklish predicament? It would be a sin for Trisha to not tickle her feet like this, and Trisha was no sinner of that kind.
"Mmmmm, such pretty little feetsies. So pretty. So yummy."
Trisha's voice came from the foot of the bed, as Heather had expected. She could feel Trisha's warm breath on her soles, sense the closeness of her lips to her toes. Her body tensed in anticipation, but the tickling sensations did not come.
"Such yummy feetsies. Makes me wanna eat them up. Mmmmmm, yummy nummy little feetsies."
Heather did not know how much more teasing she could take. She could actually feel Trisha's lips brush her soles, feel her tongue reaching out and barely tasting her toes. It was maddening, worse than any of the tickling she'd suffered through yet. Torture before the torture. Her laughter hadn't slowed a bit, though she hadn't physically been tickled for some time now. She'd explode soon if Trisha made her wait much longer.
"Perfect little feetsies. Heather has perfect little feetsies. Gonna eat them up!"
"Hurry!" Heather screamed, shredding the serenity of the room. She gasped for air between her struggles to stop laughing.
Trisha jumped despite herself. She giggled. The fly was begging the spider to eat it. "Hurry with what?" she asked innocently. She dragged the tip of her tongue along the tops of Heather's toes, barely touching them.
"Just do it!" Heather cried, finding herself more frantic than ever.
"Do what?" More hot breath on Heather's soles.
"Just tickle me already!"
"With pleasure," the spider purred. She slipped three of Heather's toes into her sensuous mouth as her fingernails flickered over the quivering flesh of her soles. Heather exploded with frenzied laughter.
Heather lost track of time. It seemed that Trisha feasted on and tickled her feet for hours, although she knew that couldn't possibly be the case. The teasing tickles Trisha had given her feet on the sofa earlier as an appetizer did not do the main course justice. Her feet were subjected to an attack of such precision, such expertise, that the battle was over before it had begun, though that did not stop her attacker from executing her plan to completion. Teeth nibbled and playfully gnashed on her toes. A snakelike tongue slithered between her toes and tasted the hidden flesh found within. Fingernails danced endless, unpredictable patterns on her soles and insteps. A mouth worshiped her feet, and torturing fingers accompanied the mouth. The barrage was continuous, merciless, and devastating. Trisha's assault on her feet was like a starving animal tearing into a meal, like a bloodthirsty vampire devouring it's prey. It was as barbaric and inhumane as it was cold and calculating. Heather knew not where her screams ended and her tormented laughter began.
Trisha knew what she was doing. Her footlust was at a fevered pitch, and her need to tickle and taste and torture Heather's feet was real, but she knew she had to push that euphoria that Heather was experiencing to the next level as well. She was close now. She was putting everything she had into maximizing Heather's torment and pleasure, using all of the skills and the knowledge she'd learned of how tickling effects the body of a woman to good use. And Heather was just too ticklish and gorgeous not to enjoy completely and thoroughly.
"Oh God!...No!...Stop!...Stop...Oh God!...Oh God!...Yes!...Oh God!...Yes!"
Trisha smiled, even as her lips suckled on Heather's pinky toe and her fingertips dragged swift squiggle lines down her soles like raindrops trickling down a window. She'd done it. She'd broken her.
Victory was hers, but her lust had not yet been quenched. She'd observed these feet of Heather's for months now, parading around their apartment barefoot, tempting her on a daily basis. She was not ready to give them up so soon, though the need she felt between her legs was as great if not greater than the need she suspected had grown between the legs of her roommate. Her plan had succeeded brilliantly, but like any other ill-fated, power hungry general, the control she felt upon reaching her prize was almost too intoxicating, too overpowering. Now was the time to claim what she had won, to enjoy the flesh and skin and touch of Heather in a whole new way, but she could not tear herself away from these feet. They twitched at her every touch. They tempted her with their perfection. They begged for more tickling, more worshipping, more everything. She simply had to enjoy them.
Heather was in a different world, a world of only tickling and her feet. It was a world that she had never known, one that was both pleasurable and maddening at once. Her body refused to accept the treatment that her feet were undergoing as anything other than pure, unbearable torture. The war she waged with her bonds and the frantic flailing of her feet were testimony to that. But her mind was loving the sensation, enjoying every scrape of fingernail, every nibble of teeth, every wet slobbering of tongue. She felt free, lighter than air, happier than ever before, like a door had been unlocked in her mind and let the sunshine in. If she wasn't lusting for sex like an animal in heat, she would have happily submitted to this torture for ever and ever.
Trisha finally came to her senses. With the same speed and agility she had shown tying the knots, she freed Heather's ankles from the binding sash. Heather lay limp, still laughing open and freely, her pillow soaked with tears. Trisha coaxed her into turning over, and knelt between legs that she spread without encouragement. Heather's wrists were still tied over her head. Trisha slipped off Heather's panties without a word. Lust filled the eyes of both women.
The first kisses and nibbles between Heather's legs had her eyes rolling back in her head. "Oh God, Trisha...I think I love you!"
Trisha felt the tears in her own eyes. "I love you too, Heather." Her face disappeared between Heather's legs, and soon she had her roommate bucking and moaning in the throes of yet another type of pleasure she'd never before experienced. It would be the first of many that night.
The next few hours were spent in consummation of their newfound love, and from that point on they were a couple. Each night that followed was better than the last. Heather no longer needed to waste her time on men, and Trisha no longer needed to invite other women over to play. In each other, the roommates found everything they wanted, and everything they needed. On their one year anniversary, Heather presented to Trisha new "pink" silk sashes (as the others were all worn out), and Trisha gave Heather a home pedicure kit.
And they lived happily ever after.
THE END
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