Laughing Like Mad - A Lee’s Story. F/M
“We find the defendant Volsung… GUILTY, of tickling women’s feet without their consent.”
I mumbled to myself under my breath. “I can’t say that I am completely shocked by that.”
The jury forewoman continued.
“We therefore suggest that he should be taken to the stocks in the public square, and serve his time there of one week.
BANG went the judges gavel.
“So it shall be ordered and carried out. He is to serve his time immediately. Next case please…”
I was whisked away with my straitjacket still intact, it was standard prison issue; a dirty white thing with long sleeves and orange pants. The public stocks were just a block away from the courthouse so we walked. It was slightly cold and I was actually glad I was wearing the straitjacket. I know, I’m funny that way…The stockade was a large looking structure, placed in the middle of the town square. A sign that read “PUBLIC STOCKS” was above it. There were some arm holes, but as I was wearing my own restriction, those weren’t necessary. I noticed a fishing tackle box sitting in front of the stocks, and thought nothing of it. There was a sign, apparently knocked down. I thought nothing of that either. The guard positioned me behind the bench and forced me onto it, while guiding my feet through the foot holes. Around my ankles, he placed some chained cuffs so that I could not remove my feet from the holes. I watched all this in amusement, though I was not able to actually see my own feet, as the footboard was too high. It didn’t matter, I didn’t need to see my feet to know that they were there.
“Looks like I’m here for the duration then…”
There was no reply. He did pick up the sign, and twisted it back into the ground in front of me. Nice of him I thought, at least somebody is going to see that everything is in order around here. I didn’t get a look at the writing on the sign. Probably “Keep back!” or something like that. I whistled a tune to myself as he cleaned things up around the area. Finally, he finished and looked at me…
“Good luck…” He said.
And he walked away. This wasn’t going to be so bad I thought to myself… Sometime passed… and then a bit more time passed as well.
Finally a young girl walked by. She was friendly looking, about 20 years old, there about. Hmmm... maybe a touch older. She looked at the sign and then back at me… She then took a step closer.
“Oh. What did you do?”
I explained to her, that it was none of her business, and that she should just move on.
“The sign says that your feet are ticklish… and that I should… tickle them.”
“WHAT??!”
My eyes bugged out as I sat up on the bench as straight as the jacket would allow. The chains around my ankles tinkled. She looked at the fishing tackle box and then back at me.
“NO that’s not true! It’s a mistake! I didn’t put that sign there. It was them!”
I motioned with my head towards the courthouse. My mind raced a thousand miles a minute. I had to remain calm and try to talk her out of this…
“You’ve got it all wrong kid!”
She had opened the tackle box by this time and was poking around inside.
“Ohhh… nice…! This stuff yours mister?”
I jerked my head from side to side, in the negative.
“Absolutely Not! Why would I have that? Er… by the way, what’s in there?”
I was almost afraid to ask…
“Oh some feathers… a pair of chop sticks… a spiked wheel of some kind…. a ball of twine, Q-tips… a hairbrush… just… you know… stuff…”
My mouth grew dry all of a sudden. I was beginning to panic… she had just described the contents of a tickler’s toolbox… down to a tee. She looked up at me and smiled. It was no ordinary smile though… that evil look ran me through to the core. If I had been holding something just now, I would have dropped it… and run away as fast as I could go.
“What’s your name honey?”
I was trying to make the unforeseen relationship, personal… maybe then she would leave me alone.
“Helen…”
She walked over to my right foot and was inspecting my slip-on shoe.
“Yeah, I’m probably just wasting my time... but I just have to see for myself.”
“Helen! Now look, you don’t have to… bother with that.”
I balled up my toes inside my shoe, in a vain attempt to keep the shoe on. What a ridiculous notion, thinking that was going to actually work. I was suddenly thrust into full panic mode, as I felt the shoe effortlessly slip off and heard it fall to the ground with a thud.
“I’m not in the slightest bit... ticklish.”
Then I felt the other shoe slip off, and heard another thud on the ground.
Helen, that bratty kid, scrunched up the sock fabric around my toes. I moved my foot left and right, trying to get away from her dancing fingertips. I involuntarily giggled... out of frustration more than anything else. I quickly rolled my lips in and bit down. I'm sure it looked like I was trying not to sneeze or something.
“Oh, so you ARE ticklish!” She giggled as she continued rubbing the nylon material over my ticklish soles.
I chuckled as nonchalantly as I could. I was a bit surprised actually, it tickled really bad! I could feel the laughter, slowly building up inside. It WAS like holding back a sneeze, and I fought heroically to suppress the feeling... I clenched my fists within the jacket and shook my head violently. Helen looked up at me and grinned, but did not stop the tickling. I cried out loud with a primeval sound that transformed itself into a fit of uncontrollable, unchecked laughter. It was only then, that she finally stopped tickling my socked feet.
“Oh, so you like to be tickled huh...”
It took at least a minute before I could even comment, as only then, did I slowly regain my composure.
“No! I don’t like it at all! You little brat!”
I quickly remembered my current situation and decided to tone it back just a bit.
“What makes you think I like being tortured that way? In fact, it makes me very angry.”
I caught her looking at my feet again.
“Angry? How could you be angry? You were laughing like you enjoyed it!”
“Yes but that’s not the same, you were MAKING me laugh!”
“I don’t think you know what you’re talking about mister. I can’t MAKE you do anything.”
I could feel my socks slowly sliding off. It was a strange sensation, (since I have always been the LER up to now) having them removed by somebody else like that. I could feel the cool air on my heels, soles, the balls of my feet and finally my toes. A lump caught in my throat, as I knew what was coming would be far worse than what had just happened. And there was not one blessed thing I could do about it.
“Wow mister! Those are some nicely pampered feet! There’s not a single rough spot on these at all!" I swallowed hard. "Even mine aren’t THIS nice!”
I could feel her fingertip, slowly crawling up the middle of my exposed sole. I giggled almost immediately. This kid was really starting to get on my nerves. I coughed as a distraction, but more giggles and chuckles immediately sputtered out. I could feel her fingers lightly feeling around the smooth ball of my foot. Her touch was so light and slow. It was quite maddening. I began against my will, to laugh freely.
“HAHA HAHA... CUT IT OUT! HAHAHAHA!!”
Helen began to spider tickle under my fanned out toes.
I flexed my foot, trying to escape her excellent tickle technique.
“HAHAHA!!! Nooooo!!! HAHAHAHA!!! NOOOOO!!! WHA HAHAHA!!!”
“I don’t know. It seems like you’re having a good time to me. In fact, why don’t we see what else is in the toolbox.”
“Hehe… What are you doing now? Can’t you see I’ve had enough ‘amusement’ for one day?”
I heard a sound, the snipping of scissors. I frowned, trying to think of what that could possibly mean. Helen hummed to herself as she worked. It was hard to see what she was doing. Eventually, she measured out some pieces of twine, several strips, all oh them about the length of her arm. She crouched down out of view again, but I could feel the twine brushing against my toes.
“Hehe… hehe… what’s going on hehe… down there?”
“Oh, you squirm way too much… I know you can’t help it… la, la, la, la… So I’m just going to help you… Hummm…. so that you can’t… mmmm… squirm at all!”
I felt a thin piece of twine, wrap around my middle toe. Then I felt my toe being pulled taught. The twine noose nuzzled just under my toe pad. Then I saw her tie off the other end to a nail that was sticking out of the top of the footboard. I hadn’t noticed that before. Now I really began to panic. I noticed that there were two sets of 5 nails, displayed next to each other.
“Helen… I want you to stop this… RIGHT NOW!”
One by one, toes were being noosed and pulled taught. I don’t know what I said at that point… I was rambling like a fool, I’m quite sure of it. Finally Helen finished tying all my toes off. She dusted off the excess bits of residue twine from her hands and stood in front of the footboard, arms akimbo. It was a weird feeling, being immobile this way… it felt like I was hanging by my toes. I tried to wiggle my toes… Nothing happened. I tried flexing my soles… Nothing happened. I tried moving my feet from side to side… Nothing happened. I couldn’t move my feet, not even a little bit! And it wasn’t enough that I couldn’t move my feet, I could tell that my toes, all of them, were ‘spread’. I cried softly to myself… and then to Helen.
“Please, no honey… No… I’ll do whatever you want me to do… just untie me… Don’t tickle my feet! Please!!”
I saw her bend down over where I guessed the toolbox was. She straightened back up. In her hand was a single turkey feather. She was brushing the tip of it against the palm of her hand. I can't even describe to you the evil grin that was on her face.
“Oh… no! Not that! HELEN… DON’T PLEASE!!! THAT WILL KILL ME!!! I’LL DIE!!!”
“Don’t you remember… HONEY?! The timbre in her voice suddenly shifted to one who was several years older… gruff, mean, determined.
I can’t make you do ANYTHING… but maybe I can show what you did to… my MOTHER!”
“NO! NO!!! IT WAS ALL A MISTAKE! I DIDN’T KNOW THAT WAS YOUR MOTHER HONEST!!”
She dropped back down out of my view. My lips trembled involuntarily. I closed my eyes… and felt the lightest touch that I had ever felt on the bottoms of my feet… it was so gentle and soft. It was like I could feel every minuscule barb that came out of that hollow shaft. It crept up the center of my right sole… slowly… I laughed hysterically and yet, she had barely done anything! Several times, she moved the feather up and down against the bottoms of my naked feet. A seemly endless row of interlocking barbules, unrelentingly teasing my worst, ticklish place! With everything I had, I fought to move my foot. I could feel the toe nooses tightening, confining my already limited movement more and more. The tickle was so slow and methodical! With each pass, the feather driving me closer and closer to utter madness. As if that weren’t enough, she was giving me commentary. I could only hear this at this time because now I was slipping into silent laughter. I was completely absorbed, totally overtaken... Ruined. Forced to take whatever whim she might have. I almost wanted to pass out. It was all too much!
“Aw… there we are… is the mean old man ticklish? Coochie, coochie, coo…. Up and down, and up and down… and around the ticklish toes! Feather tickle, tickle tickle… his toe pads! And we mustn’t forget in between his little helpless toesies… Aw… is the middle one ticklish on the bottom? HAHA!!! Oh yes it IS…. swish, swish, SWISH….!”
I was crying like a child… laughing non-stop, barely able to breathe. I could feel my cock becoming aroused within my pants… signaling my uncontrollable tickle fetish.
“Oh, are the other piggies getting jealous? Well, we can’t have that now, can we… here comes the tickle feather piggies! That’s right, back and forth, and back and forth across the row of ticklish toes! *Giggles* Now tell me that doesn’t tickle huh? What was that? MORE!?? You want me to tickle your feet MORE? Oh well, if you say so mister…”
Helen now began to move the feather at twice the speed from before. Previously, the ticklish area was confined, localized. Now with the increased speed, it spread to the entire bottom surface of my unprotected soles simultaneously. I laughed with a panic that I have never feft before. I fought frantically to breathe. My stomach was twisted in knots. All I could do was to violently rock back and forth within the confines of the straight-jacket. Only from the ankles down could I do nothing. I could feel myself involuntarily releaving my bladder as the last bit of bodily control slipped away.
"HAHAHAHA!!! NOOO!! HAHAHAHA!!! HELPPPP!!"
My vision was beginning to narrow. The sides were closing in… Small points of light, twinkling…
“And to think, I didn’t even have to use the hairbrush…. tickle, tickle, tickle… What?? You WANT me to use the hairbrush? Well, ok… you’re the boss…”
My consciousness closed in around me like a folding umbrella.
“We find the defendant Volsung… GUILTY, of tickling women’s feet without their consent.”
I mumbled to myself under my breath. “I can’t say that I am completely shocked by that.”
The jury forewoman continued.
“We therefore suggest that he should be taken to the stocks in the public square, and serve his time there of one week.
BANG went the judges gavel.
“So it shall be ordered and carried out. He is to serve his time immediately. Next case please…”
I was whisked away with my straitjacket still intact, it was standard prison issue; a dirty white thing with long sleeves and orange pants. The public stocks were just a block away from the courthouse so we walked. It was slightly cold and I was actually glad I was wearing the straitjacket. I know, I’m funny that way…The stockade was a large looking structure, placed in the middle of the town square. A sign that read “PUBLIC STOCKS” was above it. There were some arm holes, but as I was wearing my own restriction, those weren’t necessary. I noticed a fishing tackle box sitting in front of the stocks, and thought nothing of it. There was a sign, apparently knocked down. I thought nothing of that either. The guard positioned me behind the bench and forced me onto it, while guiding my feet through the foot holes. Around my ankles, he placed some chained cuffs so that I could not remove my feet from the holes. I watched all this in amusement, though I was not able to actually see my own feet, as the footboard was too high. It didn’t matter, I didn’t need to see my feet to know that they were there.
“Looks like I’m here for the duration then…”
There was no reply. He did pick up the sign, and twisted it back into the ground in front of me. Nice of him I thought, at least somebody is going to see that everything is in order around here. I didn’t get a look at the writing on the sign. Probably “Keep back!” or something like that. I whistled a tune to myself as he cleaned things up around the area. Finally, he finished and looked at me…
“Good luck…” He said.
And he walked away. This wasn’t going to be so bad I thought to myself… Sometime passed… and then a bit more time passed as well.
Finally a young girl walked by. She was friendly looking, about 20 years old, there about. Hmmm... maybe a touch older. She looked at the sign and then back at me… She then took a step closer.
“Oh. What did you do?”
I explained to her, that it was none of her business, and that she should just move on.
“The sign says that your feet are ticklish… and that I should… tickle them.”
“WHAT??!”
My eyes bugged out as I sat up on the bench as straight as the jacket would allow. The chains around my ankles tinkled. She looked at the fishing tackle box and then back at me.
“NO that’s not true! It’s a mistake! I didn’t put that sign there. It was them!”
I motioned with my head towards the courthouse. My mind raced a thousand miles a minute. I had to remain calm and try to talk her out of this…
“You’ve got it all wrong kid!”
She had opened the tackle box by this time and was poking around inside.
“Ohhh… nice…! This stuff yours mister?”
I jerked my head from side to side, in the negative.
“Absolutely Not! Why would I have that? Er… by the way, what’s in there?”
I was almost afraid to ask…
“Oh some feathers… a pair of chop sticks… a spiked wheel of some kind…. a ball of twine, Q-tips… a hairbrush… just… you know… stuff…”
My mouth grew dry all of a sudden. I was beginning to panic… she had just described the contents of a tickler’s toolbox… down to a tee. She looked up at me and smiled. It was no ordinary smile though… that evil look ran me through to the core. If I had been holding something just now, I would have dropped it… and run away as fast as I could go.
“What’s your name honey?”
I was trying to make the unforeseen relationship, personal… maybe then she would leave me alone.
“Helen…”
She walked over to my right foot and was inspecting my slip-on shoe.
“Yeah, I’m probably just wasting my time... but I just have to see for myself.”
“Helen! Now look, you don’t have to… bother with that.”
I balled up my toes inside my shoe, in a vain attempt to keep the shoe on. What a ridiculous notion, thinking that was going to actually work. I was suddenly thrust into full panic mode, as I felt the shoe effortlessly slip off and heard it fall to the ground with a thud.
“I’m not in the slightest bit... ticklish.”
Then I felt the other shoe slip off, and heard another thud on the ground.
Helen, that bratty kid, scrunched up the sock fabric around my toes. I moved my foot left and right, trying to get away from her dancing fingertips. I involuntarily giggled... out of frustration more than anything else. I quickly rolled my lips in and bit down. I'm sure it looked like I was trying not to sneeze or something.
“Oh, so you ARE ticklish!” She giggled as she continued rubbing the nylon material over my ticklish soles.
I chuckled as nonchalantly as I could. I was a bit surprised actually, it tickled really bad! I could feel the laughter, slowly building up inside. It WAS like holding back a sneeze, and I fought heroically to suppress the feeling... I clenched my fists within the jacket and shook my head violently. Helen looked up at me and grinned, but did not stop the tickling. I cried out loud with a primeval sound that transformed itself into a fit of uncontrollable, unchecked laughter. It was only then, that she finally stopped tickling my socked feet.
“Oh, so you like to be tickled huh...”
It took at least a minute before I could even comment, as only then, did I slowly regain my composure.
“No! I don’t like it at all! You little brat!”
I quickly remembered my current situation and decided to tone it back just a bit.
“What makes you think I like being tortured that way? In fact, it makes me very angry.”
I caught her looking at my feet again.
“Angry? How could you be angry? You were laughing like you enjoyed it!”
“Yes but that’s not the same, you were MAKING me laugh!”
“I don’t think you know what you’re talking about mister. I can’t MAKE you do anything.”
I could feel my socks slowly sliding off. It was a strange sensation, (since I have always been the LER up to now) having them removed by somebody else like that. I could feel the cool air on my heels, soles, the balls of my feet and finally my toes. A lump caught in my throat, as I knew what was coming would be far worse than what had just happened. And there was not one blessed thing I could do about it.
“Wow mister! Those are some nicely pampered feet! There’s not a single rough spot on these at all!" I swallowed hard. "Even mine aren’t THIS nice!”
I could feel her fingertip, slowly crawling up the middle of my exposed sole. I giggled almost immediately. This kid was really starting to get on my nerves. I coughed as a distraction, but more giggles and chuckles immediately sputtered out. I could feel her fingers lightly feeling around the smooth ball of my foot. Her touch was so light and slow. It was quite maddening. I began against my will, to laugh freely.
“HAHA HAHA... CUT IT OUT! HAHAHAHA!!”
Helen began to spider tickle under my fanned out toes.
I flexed my foot, trying to escape her excellent tickle technique.
“HAHAHA!!! Nooooo!!! HAHAHAHA!!! NOOOOO!!! WHA HAHAHA!!!”
“I don’t know. It seems like you’re having a good time to me. In fact, why don’t we see what else is in the toolbox.”
“Hehe… What are you doing now? Can’t you see I’ve had enough ‘amusement’ for one day?”
I heard a sound, the snipping of scissors. I frowned, trying to think of what that could possibly mean. Helen hummed to herself as she worked. It was hard to see what she was doing. Eventually, she measured out some pieces of twine, several strips, all oh them about the length of her arm. She crouched down out of view again, but I could feel the twine brushing against my toes.
“Hehe… hehe… what’s going on hehe… down there?”
“Oh, you squirm way too much… I know you can’t help it… la, la, la, la… So I’m just going to help you… Hummm…. so that you can’t… mmmm… squirm at all!”
I felt a thin piece of twine, wrap around my middle toe. Then I felt my toe being pulled taught. The twine noose nuzzled just under my toe pad. Then I saw her tie off the other end to a nail that was sticking out of the top of the footboard. I hadn’t noticed that before. Now I really began to panic. I noticed that there were two sets of 5 nails, displayed next to each other.
“Helen… I want you to stop this… RIGHT NOW!”
One by one, toes were being noosed and pulled taught. I don’t know what I said at that point… I was rambling like a fool, I’m quite sure of it. Finally Helen finished tying all my toes off. She dusted off the excess bits of residue twine from her hands and stood in front of the footboard, arms akimbo. It was a weird feeling, being immobile this way… it felt like I was hanging by my toes. I tried to wiggle my toes… Nothing happened. I tried flexing my soles… Nothing happened. I tried moving my feet from side to side… Nothing happened. I couldn’t move my feet, not even a little bit! And it wasn’t enough that I couldn’t move my feet, I could tell that my toes, all of them, were ‘spread’. I cried softly to myself… and then to Helen.
“Please, no honey… No… I’ll do whatever you want me to do… just untie me… Don’t tickle my feet! Please!!”
I saw her bend down over where I guessed the toolbox was. She straightened back up. In her hand was a single turkey feather. She was brushing the tip of it against the palm of her hand. I can't even describe to you the evil grin that was on her face.
“Oh… no! Not that! HELEN… DON’T PLEASE!!! THAT WILL KILL ME!!! I’LL DIE!!!”
“Don’t you remember… HONEY?! The timbre in her voice suddenly shifted to one who was several years older… gruff, mean, determined.
I can’t make you do ANYTHING… but maybe I can show what you did to… my MOTHER!”
“NO! NO!!! IT WAS ALL A MISTAKE! I DIDN’T KNOW THAT WAS YOUR MOTHER HONEST!!”
She dropped back down out of my view. My lips trembled involuntarily. I closed my eyes… and felt the lightest touch that I had ever felt on the bottoms of my feet… it was so gentle and soft. It was like I could feel every minuscule barb that came out of that hollow shaft. It crept up the center of my right sole… slowly… I laughed hysterically and yet, she had barely done anything! Several times, she moved the feather up and down against the bottoms of my naked feet. A seemly endless row of interlocking barbules, unrelentingly teasing my worst, ticklish place! With everything I had, I fought to move my foot. I could feel the toe nooses tightening, confining my already limited movement more and more. The tickle was so slow and methodical! With each pass, the feather driving me closer and closer to utter madness. As if that weren’t enough, she was giving me commentary. I could only hear this at this time because now I was slipping into silent laughter. I was completely absorbed, totally overtaken... Ruined. Forced to take whatever whim she might have. I almost wanted to pass out. It was all too much!
“Aw… there we are… is the mean old man ticklish? Coochie, coochie, coo…. Up and down, and up and down… and around the ticklish toes! Feather tickle, tickle tickle… his toe pads! And we mustn’t forget in between his little helpless toesies… Aw… is the middle one ticklish on the bottom? HAHA!!! Oh yes it IS…. swish, swish, SWISH….!”
I was crying like a child… laughing non-stop, barely able to breathe. I could feel my cock becoming aroused within my pants… signaling my uncontrollable tickle fetish.
“Oh, are the other piggies getting jealous? Well, we can’t have that now, can we… here comes the tickle feather piggies! That’s right, back and forth, and back and forth across the row of ticklish toes! *Giggles* Now tell me that doesn’t tickle huh? What was that? MORE!?? You want me to tickle your feet MORE? Oh well, if you say so mister…”
Helen now began to move the feather at twice the speed from before. Previously, the ticklish area was confined, localized. Now with the increased speed, it spread to the entire bottom surface of my unprotected soles simultaneously. I laughed with a panic that I have never feft before. I fought frantically to breathe. My stomach was twisted in knots. All I could do was to violently rock back and forth within the confines of the straight-jacket. Only from the ankles down could I do nothing. I could feel myself involuntarily releaving my bladder as the last bit of bodily control slipped away.
"HAHAHAHA!!! NOOO!! HAHAHAHA!!! HELPPPP!!"
My vision was beginning to narrow. The sides were closing in… Small points of light, twinkling…
“And to think, I didn’t even have to use the hairbrush…. tickle, tickle, tickle… What?? You WANT me to use the hairbrush? Well, ok… you’re the boss…”
My consciousness closed in around me like a folding umbrella.
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