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So here is a story I have been meaning to write for a while. It is a beach burial story inspired by many similar such stories here, on deviantart and other sites which have inspired it. With thanks those other writers of course. Also although it is non-sexual part 2 won't be and there is a flashback scene that got out of hand and I abridged. I might post the original in a sperate thread with a link here and by the words 'attitude adjustment***.
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It had been a month since the plane went down. It had been a month since Tim had helped the stunning blonde goddess parachute to safety whilst also clinging to the inflatable raft that saved them from an uncaring ocean. Sometimes it seemed like only yesterday that he had been sitting awkwardly across from the Brazilian super model; him a socially awkward survival enthusiast returning from his latest jungle adventure, her an absent-minded supermodel who missed the last luxury jet and needed to take any plane to get to her next shoot on time.
The frantic day or two they spent on the raft seemed a life time away. It had been a nightmare for both Tim and Tiffany, a true terror for the supermodel and a humiliation for the survivalist whose best efforts had nearly failed the pair of them. Tim’s rucksack contained a few basic survival tools, including equipment to desalinate and purify water to drink as well as survival gadgets. Neither Tim nor Tiffany could get a phone signal despite Tim’s emergency charging equipment Tim and satellite finder and range extender. Other than these, the few supplies the pair had extended to; sun cream, insect repellent and only a tiny amount of food. Despite being properly rationed, the few power bars and dextrose tablets would have not have kept them alive long had the currents not stranded them on a small tropical island.
It was almost a paradise; and had it not been for a few irritations, was basically Tim’s Robinson-Crusoe fantasy brought to life. For Tiffany the island was far from ideal, she liked the sun and the opportunity to sunbathe all day but she continuously complained about everything else. For Tim her complaints were the only downside to the situation. He hated his job and only lived for his trips away and the tickle-torture videos he secretly enjoyed between work and his hiking/ camping adventures all over the globe. He understood that this was a change for glamourous goddess but would it take so much for her to say ‘thank you’ even just once?!....
In the month they had been stranded he had built a rudimentary shelter and then built a better shelter because the first one wasn’t good enough. He had made fires to cook and keep them warm, woven fibres into hats, sandals and other useful items. His knowledge of flora and fauna had provided them with a bounty of food both in the form of berries, roots, coconuts and fish.
And yet all his companion could do was complain about what she missed from civilisation. She insisted he kill and gut fish and other animals away from her but happily and thanklessly ate all he provided her with, unaware of how much effort this took. Due to a combination of mankind’s negligence and the same ocean currents which had brought them to the island they were provided with a surfeit of plastic waste including discarded sun cream bottles. Tim cleverly found a way to use oil extracted from coconuts and other plants to rinse these out salvaging the precious protective lotion for him and his island companion.
Tim’s phone was extremely useful despite the lack of signal. He had long kept pdf files with useful survival information for anywhere in the world and with the use of the solar charger and powerbank these let him know which plants were toxic, irritants, edible or useful in other ways. All Tiffany could do was complain that the salves he made weren’t as good as the beauty products she pined for. Tim would watch as she would apply the lotion to her tanned supple skin and wish he could run his fingers over her flawless radiant skin. Tiffany was a beauty, there was no doubt and her bikini accentuated her ample breasts and perfect buttocks whilst exposing her long legs, toned tummy and elegant neck.
For Tim Tiffany’s feet were her best feature; she had high arches and perfect heels that were kept soft and flawless by the sand. The tops of her feet were tanned like the rest of her whilst her soles were rosy red on the heels and ball with soft pink arches that matches the undersides of her long slender toes. She mostly went barefoot, complaining about the sand but never rarely the any woven sandals Tim had made for her. Eventually he had made a pair that were the right size for her size nine feet despite being expressly forbidden from touching her feet to take measurements, having to rely only on her footprints and boots she refused to ruin. Still Tiffany complained that the natural fibres tickled her, the moment she used the T-word Tim’s ears pricking up. ‘So she was ticklish’ he thought, from that moment he had dreamed of having this ungrateful goddess at his mercy.
Tiffany maintained her immaculate appearance with the help of beauty aids brought to her by Tim. The content of her travelling make up bag had been supplemented by cracked shells that she used as razors, pumice stones for her perfect feet and various homemade salves and clever concoctions that she complained about along with the suncream. She constantly complained about the lack of phone signal too, not that she understood it impeded their rescue but because she was unable to share any of the hundreds of thousands of selfies she took with her expensive phone that was kept charged using Tim’s equipment. He had tried to explain that she could at least try to send SOS messages in order to assist his electronic attempts and the stones he had arranged for the attention of any planes passing overhead but every attempt at communication was met with her patented combination of ignorance and annoyance that he existed. Tim was far from un-attractive; he was tall but not gangly. Strong and wiry with dark brown hair that matched his eyes. He had kept fit for his action adventures and after a month of doing what he loved was even more well-toned and spry.
Tim was used to being overlooked, disregarded and insulted. His job in IT led to people summoning him, complaining about whatever problem they had caused and then dismissing him the moment it was fixed in a manner that seemed to imply it was his fault to begin with. He had grown a thick skin to this but given that he was now the only possible company for this woman his patience had started to grow thin. Tiffany would complain that there was no-one for her to talk to and that there were no cute men, directly to the only possible company she had.
Tim had tried to engage her in conversation and make up games with pebbles and sticks to pass the time but the glamourous beauty never showed any interest or suggested anything she might enjoy. Instead she whined away about how bored she was and how she missed her glamourous pampered life of cocktails, photoshoots and massages. It was during one such self-centred self-pitying rant that Tim suddenly got an idea.
“Well at least we have the massage sand here” Tim interjected.
“Sooo… boring!!!!... Wait? What? Massage sand?” Tiffany replied mid-whine.
“Yeah the combination of tiny little broken shells and abrasive sand are a natural exfoliant and also help your skin in other ways, you must have noticed how it has affected your feet?” He asked hoping she would take the bait.
“Oh I just thought those rocks you found did that.” Tiffany remarked dismissively without a jot of thankfulness in her voice.
Tim ignored her rebuff as his companion wiggled her toes and regarded her feet. Tim relished the opportunity to regard her feet, he had stolen glances for a month and now it was socially acceptable to watch this goddess curl her long toes the nails of which had naturally grown into French tips since the last of her nail polish had run out. Tim loved to watch her maintain her feet but she seemed to hate him even looking at them. “What?!” She would ask whenever she caught him stealing a glance, it was an extension of her general disdainful loathing of her only island companion and one that had come to really grate with Tim.
“Oh no it is the sort of sand that salons and spas use in their treatments, something about the pH balance between the calcium and silica” Tim added whilst shifting his gaze to Tiffany’s outstretched underarms away from her feet, too much leering could give the game away.
Tiffany instinctively pulled her arms down to remove the smooth soft skin of her underarms from view. It was a subconscious defence against Tim’s predatory gaze, she wasn’t even aware she did it or why Tim unsettled her so much, but somehow despite all his kindness and care some part of her felt slightly unsafe around him. Before being stranded Tiffany had had terrible choice in men; dating genuinely dangerous men who would be both over-protective and cheat on her, and then cast her aside when it suited them. Something about the way Tim looked at her was different to the usual gawps and lustful leers she enjoyed receiving. Consciously she had never put two and two together between the way he looked at her feet and the way a group of models she had snubbed had looked at her before the terrible tickle-torture session they had inflicted on her as revenge for her prima-donna attitude.
Tiffany had tried to block out the memory of being tied to that bed in Paris as punishment for insulting so many models they hatched a plan to punish her with an ‘attitude adjustment’***. The cruel vixens had been utterly relentless finding every ticklish spot and torturing her way… way past her limits as she screamed into a ball-gag provided by the Gothic BDSM model who had been the ringleader. No ticklish spot had been spared; not her long sexy feet, not her tender under arms nor her tummy sides or ribs. Each was explored and returned to with the techniques and tools that seemed to work the best. To Tiffany’s horror videos had even appeared online but the Goth chick had managed to persuade her not to report this or the tickle abuse she had been forced to endure both by threatening to reveal her identity in the videos and also with further torture sessions that she assured her could be sprung at any time.
“WHAT?!?!” Tiffany barked as Tim’s gaze roamed around her gorgeous body during the inevitable lull in conversation.
“I was telling you about the sand and its properties…” Tim stumbled.
“… and?!” Tiffany asked rudely, her utter distain like venom on her full sexy lips.
“And… I was waiting for you to say something and you shouted ‘What!’ at me” Tim grumbled sensing he was losing his chance to get her sexy feet to himself.
“Oh, so… Do I like rub it against my skin or something?” Tiffany asked, forgetting her outburst.
“I wouldn’t recommend using it that way, apart from on your feet…. and they probably get enough just from you walking in the sand. From what I read it is like a wrap. You know like when you bury people at the beach as a kid”. Tim replied, trying not to appear threatening.
“Oh right?” Tiffany chimed; she vaguely remembered being buried up to her neck in sand as a kid and she didn’t see anything dangerous as only her head would be exposed and she could easily get out if she wanted too.
As usual Tim did all the work. He dug a long oval hole in the warm sand using a shovel he had made out of a piece of driftwood and some bamboo. It never once occurred to Tiffany to be astounded at the man’s ingenuity. They had been stranded on this island with little more than a pen-knife plus basic sewing and fire-lighting kits and Tim had built a three roomed single-storey structure complete with two beds that suspended woven natural fibres off the ground like a sprung mattress. In addition to this Tim had also made all the tools necessary to build and maintain this structure as well as the hunting and harvesting equipment he used to feed her as she bronzed herself in the sun.
The hole was completed and Tim called to his prey trying to hide the excitement in his voice.
“What?!” Tiffany snapped in response.
“I’m ready when you are for the skin treatment we talked about” Tim replied, ignoring her rudeness.
“Oh that!” Tiffany flippantly replied.
Carefully Tim guided her into the hole that was deeper than she expected with a mat he had woven from natural fibres to keep the sand out of her hair. Under his instruction she put her arms behind her back with her fingers pushed down into the sand. To begin with her knees were slightly bent so her soles rested on the lower edge of the hole face down. This was a problem for Tim as he would not be able to see or reach her feet.
“You need to extend your legs to get the full effect” He calmly explained.
“Errrr…. But my feet will be outside the hole and not touching the sand, I thought that the entire point was for my skin to be in contact with the sand!” Tiffany replied as if he was the stupid one.
“Oh yes! But your feet have already been exposed to the chemicals in the sand enough plus you need both your head and feet to be outside in order for enough water to transpire such that the acid base-reaction occurs between the chemicals in the sand and your skin…” Tim lied, attempting to blind his prey with science.
“What?!.... Wait?.... Acid! Is this shit gonna burn me!” Tiffany exclaimed.
“No, your skin is the acid the calcium from the little shells is like a weak alkali or something…” Tim replied soothingly, hoping he had not startled his prey.
“Okay but I don’t want my feet to get sunburnt!” Tiffany quibbled, noticing how the sun would soon by shining down directly on the feet as result of the way this idiot had dug the hole.
“It’s okay I will use those sandals I made you, or get some sort of sunshade so that doesn’t happen”. Tim cooed, hoping to soothe Tiffany into submission. He was lying, he wouldn’t let her soles get sunburnt of course but after the first few tickles he hoped to test a theory he had come across online that feet could be roasted to further sensitivity.
Tiffany relented and extended her legs exposing her long sexy feet that had sand sticking to the soles in just the right way as delight her captor but irritate her ticklish reflexes. As Tim buried her she wiggled her toes and used one foot to brush sand off the other, wincing as even this tickled her. Her body was bent at almost 45° angle, only with the base of the hole under her back curved to be comfortable whilst the lower part was flat like a ramp under her legs.
Daydreaming of spas and fashion shoots the glamourous blonde shut her eyes behind her designer sunglasses that had been scratched during the crash. She didn’t stop to think about why the little nerd who waited on her hand and foot was packing the sand down every so many inches until she was not only completely buried but the hole covered in a large mound of soil. She suddenly panicked, an instinct not unlike the one that unsettled her about the way Tim looked at her suddenly made her sit up with a start, only she didn’t sit up. She didn’t move an inch. The pressure of the sand on her chest and legs was too much and she was totally trapped.
“O-o-okay..,. That is enough now Tim let me out!” Tiffany demanded as she squirmed futilely, when she had been buried as a kid it was only a shallow hole and a thin layer of sand, now she was actually trapped.
“What but I have only just finished burying you?” Tim asked feigning incredulity.
“I don’t care! Dig me out!” Tiffany snapped, panicking because she couldn’t move and this little creep was giving her wiggling feet that hungry look.
“Dig me out……” Tim echoed in reply leaving a long pause for the word ‘please’.
“Wha?…. Just dig me out and quit staring at me you worthless creep!” Tiffany shrieked.
“…You know the word please goes a long way, and calling me a worthless creep really isn’t very nice considering I have hunted, cooked, fed and clothed you for….”
“Clothed me! As If I would wear anything you would make! Tiffany snapped forgetting the sandals, sarape wraps, hats and other items that Tim had skilfully produced suing natural fibres, feathers and other materials from his island paradise.
“I have put a roof over your head you ungrateful little B…!” Tim snapped losing his cool for a second but regained control after the plosive start of the word ‘Bitch’.
His sudden outburst made Tiffany stop. She had looked down on this man, looked through him and never until now looked at him as if he was a threat, just a tiny bit creepy. In truth Tim wasn’t bad looking, he was slim had good muscles and a full head of hair. He just didn’t hold himself with any confidence or have the bad boy swagger Tiffany liked in men. So it had been easy for her to consider him as ‘a little nerd’ despite his size and strength. In the silence she curled her toes and nervously tried to brush away some of the annoying sand away.
“And now I am going to help you get the sand off your feet because I am such a nice guy!” Tim said with a smirk, knowing instantly from the look of terror on Tiffany’s face that she was trapped and ticklish.
“No!.... DON’T TOUCH MY FEET!” Tiffany screamed at the top of her lungs, every nightmare coming to life as Tim reached out towards her frantically flailing feet.
True to his word he just brushed the sand away starting with the ball of her right foot moving down to the arch. It didn’t matter that he had yet to start tickling Tiffany screamed with rage as the soft sand was wiped and brushed away from her flawless feet. It was a hundred times worse than when she removed it herself after each sunbathing session, she felt every facet of each grain of sand as she desperately struggled for control.
“STOP TOUCHING MY FEET YOU PERVERT!!!!” Tiffany screamed as Tim explored her toes the sand tickling her to the point that she had to fight back laughter that mixed with her fury.
“But it seems as if you like this, you are smiling. Have you never had a foot massage before?” Tim asked as if he was genuinely curious.
“Yes, but not!... SHUT UP!!!!.. Don’t you dare tickle me! STOP TOUCHING MY FEET!” Tiffany bawled, she regretted using the word ‘tickle’ the moment it was out of her mouth. In truth she had enjoyed many a pedicure and foot massage but only from women and even then they made her heart race as she was so sensitive and ticklish she had to have a few cocktails in her, bite down on some gum and dig her long fingernails into whatever chair she was sat in.
Tim decided to give Tiffany short foot massage before tickling her loving the chance to touch her perfect feet as she switching between pleading to be let out of her sandy prison and threatening and screaming at her captor. It didn’t take long before Tim couldn’t resist the allure of her blatantly ticklish soles. Moving from his massaging technique he traced a finger up the instep of Tiffany’s exquisite right foot and round to swipe across the arch. The instant his finger came into contact with the arch Tiffany’s body betrayed her with a laugh.
“Ahaha ha! No!!!!... I’m serious! Stop touching my feet I hate it!” She pleaded her rage subsided as the adrenaline of her outburst subsided leaving her with the worst sinking feeling.
“Why? Is somebody… Ticklish!” Tim teased scribbling his fingers over both arches with wild abandon. The response was immediate and exactly what he wanted.
“Ah-hahhahahhaha! No!... Hahahaha Hahahaha Stop it! Hahahaha Hahahahaha Hahahaha!” Tiffany wailed her delightful laugh and pitiful pleading music to Tim’s ears after a month of rudeness and complaining.
Tim kept tickling using his fingertips, a single broken feather from his pocket and some shells that he placed on his fingertips like page turners. Tiffany screamed and vowed revenge, not even sure what caused the prickly sensations from the shells but hating even the slightest touch. To add to her humiliation Tim took pictures and videos with her own phone adding to her selfie collection.
“DON’T YOU DARE POST THEM ONLINE!!!!” Tiffany screamed.
“I can’t! If we could get online we would have been rescued week ago!” Tim replied, punishing Tiffany’s stupidity with a slow dance of his fingertips.
Tim could have tickled all day long but he had bigger plans. Stopping to let his shocked squirming victim breath under the weight of the sand he procured some rope he had kept out of sight whilst digging the hole. He had spent many hours making rope from coarse natural fibre as well as softer fibres that weren’t suitable for weaving bedding or clothing but would be slightly less uncomfortable should he ever get the chance to tie Tiffany down. He chose to give her the small mercy of softer rope and tied her ankles together, packing the sand back down from where she had kicked and squirmed.
“WHAT ARE YOU TYING ME UP NOW!” Tiffany screamed as she felt the rope under and around her ankles.
“Oh yes another hour or so of being tickled and you could have gotten free, I can’t have that now can I?” Tim replied impishly as he secured the rope to a couple of bamboo stakes from his hunting kit.
It took a moment for the meaning of his words to sink in.
“Wha? What? You’re gonna keep me buried like this for hours?!?!” Tiffany bellowed as she felt the rope tighten and pull down.
“Maybe, let me ask you something?... With your arms under your back and your fingers pushed into the sand like that. Can you get out?” Tim asked.
“Seriously I am going to Fucking kill you the second I get out of this fucking hole!” Tiffany seethed.
“I will take that as a no! And may I remind you about biting the hand that feeds you, or in this case the hand that tickles you!” Tim quipped finishing his knots and returning to tickling Tiffany’s soft supple size nine soles with glee.
“Nooo! Hahaha! Hee hee haha I’m sorry! Hahahaha! Pleeeease!!!! hahahaha haa haa” Tiffany wailed.
“Ah so you do know how to say please!” Tim exclaimed jubilant at how easy it had been to break this goddess’ initial wrath.
“Ooh Tim! Please don’t do this, I can’t stand being tickled…” Tiffany begged hoping that a more submissive approach would end the torture and get her out of this cursed sand trap. Her pleas were cut short as Tim softly traced tiny circles in each of her deep wrinkly arches.
“Hahaha! Hahaha! Hahaha Hahaha!!!!! No please stop!” Hahaha! Hahaha! Hahaha Hahaha!!!!” Tiffany wailed curling and flexing her toes causing the delicate wrinkles to disappear and reappear as she frantically struggled to escape.
“Wow I am barely touching you!” Tim marvelled.
“Hahaha! It tickles! Hahaha! I’m ticklish! Hahaha! Please stop!” Hahaha!” Tiffany pleaded.
“Okay I will stop tickling you if you can splay your toes and keep your feet still and stretched out” Tim offered, pushing his victim’s long sexy toes back to demonstrate her point.
Tiffany was hyperventilating on the verge of panic attack, the way Tim was holding back her toes and pushing on the balls of her feet reminded her too much of her ‘attitude adjustment’ the other models had administered and she was having flashbacks to those toe-tie things they used.
Tim changed to softly tracing one finger up and down the sole of both of her flawless feet starting at the soft pink ball of each foot and tracing down the arch towards her perfect heels. Whenever Tiffany’s feet flinched he would begin softly tracing back up adding a finger. It was impossible for the tender footed Tiffany to resist and she would soon flinch again earning a third finger on each arch, this always led to a total loss of control for which Tiffany was punished with severe fingertip tickles in which Tim used both his rough calloused fingertips and short but effective nails. Tim played this game for a long time and not once did his fingers reach Tiffany’s heels nor did any session take long to reach the inevitable conclusion of Tiffany pleading through silent laughter as his fingertips danced their dreadful dance all over her terribly ticklish arches. Finally he got bored and decided to explore her heels just to test their sensitivity, the variation seemed to add to his victim’s torment but all in all the arches seemed to be her worst spot.
“Well I think that you lost that game, lots more tickles for poor Tiffany. Tell me are your soles feather ticklish?” Tim asked rhetorically as he held the rope around her ankles.
Tiffany could not answer, she just shook her head and silent mouthed the words ‘No more’ but no sound came and she was too exasperated to understand the question.
Tim decided to give her a short break and gave her some water to drink from a plastic bottle that had washed up the day before and been sterilised using his survivalist expertise. Normally Tiffany would whinge about the taste without ever stopping to think she would have died of thirst or disease were it not for this man. As he let his buried victim recuperate Tim collected his feather collection, or at least the most accessible part as he had amassed a large number of colourful plumes from months’ worth of bird hunting that he had checked were edible and not endangered using the files on his phone. Tiffany had complained about killing any that were ‘cute’ but also complained when this led to nothing but fish to eat for a few days.
As Tiffany came to from the first round of tickle torment her captor placed the plumes one by one in the large mound of sand that weighed down on her chest. One by one the feathers appeared like war banners over the brow of a hill, each one spelling her doom.
“So since I liked that game we shall try it again only with feathers, if you cannot keep your toes still I think I shall have to restrain them…” Tim began.
“No! Not toe-ties!” Tiffany wailed pathetically and with a desperate tone that betrayed experience
This stopped Tim in his tracks. The specific way she screamed the word ‘toe-ties’ as if she knew what they were startled him. If she had just screamed for him not to tickle her, or to let her go, or even not to: ‘tie her toes’ he wouldn’t have been surprised. But both the words ‘toe-ties’ and the exact tone of horror made him think she had been tickled like this before. Tim had only ever been able to steal glances of Tiffany’s feet but now squirming in the sand they seemed oddly familiar, he couldn’t be sure but all of a sudden he couldn’t help but wonder if he had seen them getting tickled on one of the hundreds of tickling videos that made his work-a-day life bearable between adventures.
“Just keep your feet still for me or I will have to find a way to keep them still, now which of these feathers shall we try first?.... Hmmm… These two look good!”
Tiffany obediently fanned her toes hoping she could find a way to charm her way out this desperate situation. She watched as two feathers were selected from the many that decorated her sandy prison, both long white plumes from a seagull or herring-gull like bird. Tiffany could barely keep her feet still just from the anticipation alone. Tim had laid down on his belly behind the mound of sand so that she could barely see him, still she knew the feathers were coming and knew she wouldn’t be able to stand them.
Unlike the first round of tickle torture, this time her toes were the target. And try as she might Tiffany could not keep them still under the touch of the cruel plumes. She instinctively curled them to grab at the feathers. Tim could sort of still saw them feathers between his victim toes but more often he just abandoned them to take a new pair from the portion of his collection that adorned the sandy mound. Soon Tiffany had dozens of feathers nestling between each of her long toes. The horrible fronds tickled her as she curled and flinched in response to Tim’s administrations. He would occasionally traced her arch with a stiffer feather or trace just underneath her toes with a softer fluffier downy feather. This softer torture was a respite compared with her first session until Tim explained that the pointy end of the feathers could be also be used to tickle. The second that two of the cruel points made contact with her sensitive arches Tiffany lost control. She couldn’t keep her feet still for a second and Tim had to grab the balls of her feet to maintain the slow meandering prickly path of the cruel quill. Her attempts to negotiate and beg submissively gave way to a second wind of rage as she desperate struggled to get out of the sand trap.
“NOOOOO!!!!... STOP IT!!!... STOP TICKLING ME!!!!... SOMEBODY GET ME OUT OF HERE!!!!” She screamed at the top of her lungs desperately struggling to get away from the horrible sharp points.
Tim rewarded her with a barrage of fingertip tickles grinning evilly as he tickled her into submission responding to her cries and wails cruelly.
“Scream all you want, nobody can hear you. You can struggle all you want too, there is no way you are getting out of my tickle trap!”
Eventually Tiffany was tickled to exhaustion. Tim had to repack the sand down as it had started to crack around her neck and lower legs. His pathetically ticklish victim still squirmed as he slowly removed the feathers between her toes one by one.
“Oh my God! Please just let me go!” Tiffany pleaded as the last of the feathers was laboriously removed.
“I’m afraid I won’t be letting you go any time soon, I still have to tie back these sexy toes and see how much tickle-torture they can take when they can’t move” Tim replied for once relishing Tiffany’s revulsion.
“No seriously! This is like…. Torture for me!” Tiffany begged as her captor began positioning a piece of driftwood over her ankles.
“Uh-huh! Tickle-torture; a fitting punishment for a month of your ungratefulness and rudeness” Tim replied.
“No!... like, seriously!… Woah! What are you doing?” Tiffany stuttered, quivering as she felt something being forced down into the sand between and to wither side of her ankles.
“I found this piece of driftwood a week ago, it has two holes that I have smoothed and polished. I couldn’t figure out what to make out of it. It kind of reminds me of stocks”.
“Stocks?” Tiffany asked confused and concerned.
“Yes stocks! As in stockades? Pillories? You know the wooden things that the town tart got tickled in back in medieval times?” Tim chirped loving every second of Tiffany’s desperation.
The piece of wooden was forced down until it held both of Tiffany’s ankles down so that there was no chance of her kicking up and out of the sand. Tim tied the remains of the rope around her ankles to the board using several convenient holes in the wood. The rope was useful in attaching the board to several bamboo stakes that he used to keep the board in place. Feeling her situation becoming ever more helpless Tiffany tried again to negotiate.
“Seriously Tim, what is it you want here?” Tiffany asked.
“Honestly I am just having fun tickle-torturing you!” Tim replied as he prepared the first of the toe-ties.
“Okay so please don’t do this! I can’t stand being tickled when my toes are tied back!” Tiffany wailed remembered her horrendous ‘attitude adjustment’.
“How do you know?” Tim asked, his curiosity peaked as he secured Tiffany’ big toes to the board and bamboo stakes.
“I…. I….. I can’t stand being tickled!” Tiffany whimpered curling her toes and trying not let them get tied back.
“I think that much is clear, but how do you know about toe-ties? Have you been tickled like this before?” Tim asked.
Tiffany didn’t want Tim to know about her humiliating experience in Paris, and she certainly didn’t want to give him any ideas. She struggled to think of a way to talk her way out of her torment but no ideas came.
“Please don’t tie my toes!” Tiffany begged helplessly as her toes were tied back one by one. She couldn’t see how Tim was doing it but she felt each evil little loop slowly taking away any hope of escape.
“No please what do you want? Seriously I will do anything!” Tiffany begged as the last of her toes was splayed out.
Tim relished the sight of her long toes curling against their bonds. He thought seriously about her offer.
“I want three things…” He slowly explained blowing softly on Tiffany’s quivering toes.
“Yes anything! Please I will do anything just don’t tickle me again!” Tiffany whispered submissively her heart beating faster as terror set it.
“Oh I can’t promise that I am afraid, you see the first thing I want is to tickle you wherever I want, however I want and wherever I want!” Tim cruelly began as he ran a finger up and down Tiffany’s trapped arches.
“Hahaha! Hahaha! Hahaha! No!!! Hahaha! Hahaha! No tickling!!!! Hahaha! Hahaha!!!!” Tiffany begged through delightful peals of laughter.
“You are not in a position to negotiate I am afraid” Tim quipped before continuing;
“The second thing I want is basic respect, thanks for all I do. Maybe the word please every now and then!” Tim continued.
Tiffany continued to laugh as Tim began to explore her trapped toes with the feathers, she could now only laugh and wonder how these first two demands added up. Did Tim think things would go back to how they were after this? Or was he just going to keep her trapped forever? There was no way she would submit to be tied and tickled whenever he wanted it if she ever got out of this fucking sand that was for sure.
“And finally I want to know how you know about toe-ties and how much worse they make tickle-torture, I mean it is true with all the nerves pulled to the surface you will be more ticklish and unable to pull away. Trust me you won’t be able to take a hairbrush….”
“No not the hairbrush!” Tiffany interjected, again revealing she had been tickled like this before.
“You see there it is again, it is like you know how bad a hairbrush is going to be!” Tim exclaimed.
“Tim if you ruin my hairbrush I will fucking kill you!” Tiffany threatened hoping to take the attention away from her previous tickling session.
Tiffany’s long curly hair blond hair was important to her so there was genuine venom behind her words but in truth she knew how bad hairbrushes could be and dreaded this creep using them the was the models had during her ‘attitude adjustment’.
“Oh I won’t ruin it, they work especially well on oiled soles but I can clean that out with some of my homemade soap!” Tim replied using a small spiky shell not unlike a hairbrush to tease his victim’s immaculate heels.
“No please! I can’t take anymore! I am so ticklish this is like torture for me. You don’t understand!” Tiffany pleaded not sure what the spiky thing tormenting her heels and arches was but hating every little touch.
“Well if you won’t tell me how you seem to know about toe-ties and other tickle-torture techniques I will just have to tickle it out of you!” Tim exclaimed starting at Tiffany’s heels and working up in a slow finger crawl that threatened her arches.
“Hahaha! Hahaha! No!!! Please just let me go and stop tickling me! Please!!!! Hahaha!!!! I’m not kidding! Hahaha! Hahaha! This is torture! Hahaha! Please stop! Hahaha! This is torture! Hahaha! Please stop this is torture!”
Tiffany’s melodic laughter and begging where like music to Tim’s ears. He guessed it would take longer to break her to the extent she would spill how exactly she had been tickled before, and he wasn’t even sure if she had: ‘perhaps she is a female ‘ler who gets off watching videos of women suffering the torture she knows she can’t stand herself’ he mused as he used one feather and five fingers to drive the poor blonde insane. He liked that idea, it made him feel better about how cruel he was being. Normally Tim was the nicest guy in the world but right now, he could just tickle this woman forever.
Tiffany couldn’t believe she had been so stupid. After her ‘attitude adjustment’ how could she let some creep trick her into putting herself into such a vulnerable position? The toe-ties Tim had cobbled together were worse than any the other models had used on her. They had mostly just strapped back her big toes occasionally securing her pinky toes too with little bits of string. Tim’s evil little loops held each toe splayed out in place exposing the terribly ticklish spots between and worst of all the natural fibres he had woven them from seemed to tickle too.
Even though Tiffany only had one tickler her current ordeal seemed worse. Tim had the determination of the Goth ringleader from her hellish ordeal combined with the insatiable tickle-hunger of pervert denied satisfying his fetish for many weeks, he just never seemed to stop tickling her, and always found new techniques and new tickle spots to explore. Tiffany’s breaking point came when Tim started using the pointy ends of two feather to trace devilish swirling patterns across the pads of both of her big toes.
“No! I won’t tell you! You can’t make me tell you! I don’t want anyone to know!” Tiffany exclaimed her laughter turned to tears and rage as she was pushed past her limit by the new technique.
“Woah! Paydirt! So you do have a story to tell…” To rejoiced.
“No please! It’s too much! It’s too much!” Tiffany wailed dejected and broken.
“Well I will just have to tickle it out of you!” Tim exclaimed holding up two items up for her to see. One was her hairbrush the other way a toothbrush he had made for her out of piece of driftwood and some natural bristle type fibres. She instantly guessed what he was planning and wailed as she desperately sucked down air.
“Nooooooo! Please not those!”
Tim just laughed and took up his position at her soles. It was the toothbrush that he really relished using. He had spent hours making it for her only to have her criticise it for being ‘made of crap’ and continue using her electric toothbrush she could not charge after it had run out of power after a week or so. Tim cruelly positioned the stiff bristled brush under Tiffany’s trapped toes and set to work driving her insane the evil bristles feeling a thousand times worse than the feathers.
“Noooo! PLEASE NOT THERE!!! Hahaha! Hahaha! NOT MY TOES!!!!!” Tiffany screamed the desperation in her voice like nectar to her captor.
Tim continued to scrub away going up and down each toe stem and making small circles on the tips of her long trapped toes. With his other hand he softly tickled each of her arches forcing her to silent laughter.
“Thank me for making you this lovely toothbrush!” Tim commanded.
Tiffany tried to speak but no sound came out. Tim slowed his assault letting her take in some much needed air.
“Th-haha-ank you for making me that toothbrush” Tiffany pleaded the second she had enough focus to speak, she was still laughing slightly even though the tickling had stopped, phantom sensations tormenting her with memories of her recent ordeal. It was clear she was insincere but it was a step in the right direction.
“You have been tickled with one of these before?” Tim asked holding the hairbrush you for Tiffany to see.
“Silently Tiffany just curled her toes hopelessly against their restraints hoping for long strong feet could break free but to no avail, she dreaded feeling the hairbrush in her deep arches and she knew that her tormentor somehow knew that is where they would work best.
“I will take that as a yes! But as you are not willing to share or play I will have to reacquaint you with this marvellous tickle tool!” Tim declared as he attacked her left arch exactly as he had seen ticklers do in the many videos he watched online.
“Nooooo hoo-hooo!” Tiffany wailed descending directly to tickle hell.
As she laughed, wailed and struggled Tiffany had flashbacks to her ordeal at the hands of the other models. Tim had started using his fingertips on one arch softly whilst using the hairbrush on the other. As his poor victim was delivered to a feverish tickle delirium she cried out;
“Let me go you bitches!” Her mind was frazzled and she couldn’t tell where she was, tied to that bed or buried in the sand. She felt the hands of models on her sides. Legs and necks instead of the sand that constricted and restrained her.
Tim smiled guessing that she had a wonderful FFFF/F story to tell him but she would need her mind in-tact so he abandoned the brush and slowed his fingertip tickles until Tiffany’s laughter subsided to a gentle sleepy giggle.
“Please don’t ever do that again!” Tiffany begged.
“Okay no more hairbrush provided you tell me about these bitches that tickled you, I am going to make that my third demand, I want to know everything!” Tim demanded.
“Some models tied me down and tickled me once, please can I have some water?” Tiffany asked sweetly.
Tim obliged knowing he had probably pushed her too far to tell a satisfying story.
“When was this?” He asked.
“A while ago, I don’t like thinking about it! Please I am so tired, can we play a game instead?” Tiffany asked hoping to change the subject
“Oh so now you WANT to play a game?...” Tim purred remember every eye roll and every sarcastic ‘No!...’ she used to belittle his attempts at finding ways to pass the time.
“Yes, anything is better than more tickling!” Tiffany pleaded, unaware that almost every game her companion wanted to play involved tickling, more tickling and tickle-torture forfeit. However gauging the positon of the sun her cruel captor knew it was roasting time.
“Okay so how about we swap to demand number 2 until you are ready to spill. I am going to give you a break for being such a fun tickle toy and when I come back I want you to thank me for all the things I do for you.”
As he spoke Tim began massaging some sun oil into Tiffany’s long hot pink soles reddened from the intense tickle torture delivered by the cruel hairbrush. She sighed and moaned as he massaged the lotion in regretting her previous protests about having her feet touched and massaged. She curled her toes against their bonds hoping they would be removed but she was wrong. Tim did give her some more water and after glugging it down something went click inside her mind;
“Thank you!” she gratefully whispered feeling an odd tingle as she did so.
“No problem, now be a good tickle slave and tell me when you want the tickling to resume. I will leave you with the sun to roast your feet a pretty shade of pink.”
“No please don’t let the sun burn my feet!” Tiffany wailed pathetically.
“Don’t worry this sun cream will protect them.” Tim replied.
Tiffany whimpered pathetically she wished she could cover one foot with the other but the toe-ties held firm. The sun was now on a direct alignment with both of her soles and without Tim casting a shadow she could really feel them heating up. Desperately she tried to think of a way to evade the imminent torture without returning to the tickle hell she loathed more than the relentless onslaught of the sun’s cruel rays. There was no pain but every nerve was screaming at her that any second the heat would become too intense.
Tim had left and was out of sight, she could hear him rustling around and guessed he was making things for hunting and fishing the way he always did. Then Tiffany thought again, he was probably preparing more things to tickle her with. She had already suffered the toothbrush, feathers, a hairbrush and whatever those other spiky things were. She knew Tim was clever and good at making things, up until now everything he made had made her comfortable even if she didn’t appreciate it; now she dreading whatever tickle-tools he was crafting. As she worried and squirmed Tiffany could feel that her soles were really started to heat up in the sun, it was like she could feel herself getting more ticklish. Tim had explained that the heat would make her more ticklish and suddenly Tiffany knew she had no choice but to call him back, the longer she stayed with her soles facing the relentless hot sun the more ticklish she would become and the more tools he would have prepared..
“Okay I give! Tickle me! C’mon!” She barked.
“Tickle me what?” Tim replied as he made his way back towards the trapped blonde beauty.
“Tickle me please!” Tiffany corrected herself, she wanted to add ‘Oh Master’ but didn’t think she could manage it without sounding sarcastic and did not want to antagonise her captor.
“That’s better now I want you to thank me sincerely for hunting, cooking, providing you with shelter, providing you with food and everything you need”.
“Okay” Tiffany replied unsure of what was happening.
“Go on then…” Tim chivvied.
“Tha-hank you for cooking, hunting preparing me for….” Tiffany began before losing her place.
Within second the tickle greeted her soft hot feet. She instantly screamed and squirmed scarcely able to believe how much ticklish the heat had made her. Tiffany had been hypersensitive to begin with now she was too ticklish to walk, even the slightest touch was enough to make her scream so loud had she not been stranded so far away from anyone but Tim the police would be called or a rescue mission mounted.
“Providing me with shelter!” It isn’t so difficult to remember given that I am sheltering you from the sun right now!” Tim complained, totally unaware of how much more torturous even the softest touch was for his victim who had been driven from screaming at the top of her lungs to silent laughter within seconds as he relentlessly tickled her arches loving the tactile feel of her hot quivering soles.
It took a drink of water and several more attempts with copious pleading before Tiffany got her prayer of thanks right. It became like a mantra;
“Thank you for hunting for me, thank you for cooking for me, thank you for providing me with shelter from the sun and the rain, thank you providing me with food and everything I need…”
“Thank you for hunting for me, thank you for cooking for me, thank you for providing me with shelter from the sun and the rain, thank you providing me with food and everything I need…”
Tiffany repeated her mantra over and over again nervously looking up at her captor above the mound of sand and hoping he was placated and would not start tickling her feet or over so that the sun would resume scorching her soles. It took her a lot of effort to get the words right and not say ‘amen’ at the end of each recitation.
Tim smiled down at his obedient captive. It did not matter to him that she had added the part about the rain or that she sometimes got the order mixed up it was her submission that mattered. He guessed she had included the reference to the sun to persuade him not to move as his shadow was protecting her soles from further roasting. He could hear her voice getting croaky as she was parched so he decided to offer some more water. Tiffany winced as the sun beamed down on her soles but the water was a welcome relief.
“Thank you master” Tiffany chimed after drinking down to refreshing water. She hadn’t planned to add the word master but she managed it without a hint of sarcasm. Her captor didn’t seem to mind but
“Now that you have added the phrase: ‘thank you’ to your vocabulary we shall play another game. Let’s see if you can keep reciting whilst I softly tickle you…”
“No please don’t tickle me O’ master!” Tiffany wailed delirious and accidentally sounding sarcastic.
“I will have to tickle you harder for that!” Tim exclaimed using his fingertips and nails on her still hypersensitive soles.
Tiffany exploded into a fit of hysterical rage. She tried to recite her mantra whilst trying to plea for mercy at the same time and ended up shouting incomprehensible gibberish. Her punishment was the worst torture so far. Tim used the toothbrush on her toes and the hairbrush on her arches. The hairbrush had been bad before but with her feet roasted to the peak of their sensitivity it was totally unbearable. Tiffany couldn’t even worry about the sun cream ruining her precious brush she could only laugh and suffer. Her sandy prison had become a hot-box that pressed down on her growing tighter as she sweated and writhed.
The torture was so bad that Tiffany didn’t even notice when she finally squirmed enough to free her arms, she could only thrash around in the sand and not make a concerted effort to dig herself out. Tiffany could feel that her bikini was soaking wet from exertion and heat, she wasn’t sure if she had wet herself but worried she either had or would as the evil bristles and bobbles of her hairbrush tortured her helpless soles. Eventually Tim slowed and offered her the chance to catch her breath.
“Now we shall try again, recite your mantra whilst I softly tickle you, every time you fail I shall make the tickling worse for a while”. Tim chided.
This game was impossibly cruel. Tim would make small circles on Tiffany’s arches with his fingertips leading to her giggling as she tried to recite her mantra of thanks still unware of her opportunity for escape. Eventually she would break down into peals of laughter and desperate shrieks and be forced to start over never getting more than a few verses in. Between the torture and her utter desperation the purpose of the game took its effect. Tiffany really thought about all the work Tim had done to make her happy and comfortable and how badly she had treated him. She still secretly wanted to kill him but honestly wasn’t sure she could actually survive the island without him. Eventually she couldn’t take any more and broke down into a delirious tearful hysteria.
“I really am sorry! You do so much and I am just useless! I deserve to be tortured like this!” Tiffany cried and her captor stopped tickling her.
Soothingly he shushed her and stroked her curly blond hair. He gave her some more water to drink which she accepted gratefully and remembering to thank her master.
“Shhh! you are not useless, up until now you have just been rude, ungrateful and lazy but I am going to change that. I am going to teach you to be useful even if it is just by making me happy as the best tickle-slave a man could ask for”.
As Tim spoke Tiffany knew she should object but she was no longer thinking straight. She was spared further tickle torture as her captor coated her soles in something that felt gooey. In her delirious state she was terrified some animals were going to lick her soles but instead she just felt her soles growing warmer again, it was different to the oil roasting though and a part of her was very nervous.
“Now whilst you rest I am going to test this little concoction, it is like rubber that will harden on your feet, I made it from a natural resin and it should protect your feet better than the oil allowing them to roast in the sun for longer. Of course it will remove a layer of dead skin cells when I take it off leaving you even more sensitive but since you want to be more useful focusing on the first of my demands can only be a good thing.”
Tiffany considered struggling but she was too exhausted. She curled her toes as they were temporarily freed from their toe ties only to be retied once a coating of the mysterious black goo was applied. Exhausted she slept as the sun heated her soles the dark substance absorbing more heat from the sun and broiling her soles underneath.
Tiffany awoke to a dull ache and the sensation of the sun still hot on her soles, she had no idea how long she had been asleep and at first was terrified that she couldn’t move until the reality of her situation slowly started to come back to her. The muscles in her legs ached from being kept in the same position and she tried to squirm to little effect. It took her a while to realise that she had been moved slightly, her arms had been freed from the hole somehow but were tied tightly to several stakes behind her such that her forearms were flat with the ground and her elbows bent at a 100° angle.
“What the?!” She exclaimed looking around and realising the memories of tickle torture were not just a bad dream.
“Ah sleeping beauty awakes, time to see how her pretty feet are faring in their tar slippers”.
“Tar slippers?” Tiffany asked forgetting the final stages of her ticklish ordeal and wondering if that was some strange Cinderella reference gone wrong. She tried to curl her toes and panicked when they hardly moved.
“Yes you agreed to be a test subject, don’t you remember?” Tim asked.
“No! Now get me out of this fucking pit you little Perve!” Tiffany screamed.
“Uh oh! Looks like someone slept off all the manners I taught her, I will have to tickle them back in once I have removed these special exfoliating slippers!”
“No please! I’m sorry I didn’t mean to!.... Please don’t torture me again like you did before!” Tiffany wailed.
“Oh don’t worry I won’t, this afternoon’s session is going to be far worse than this mornings!” Tim exclaimed as he began fiddling with the contraption that held his victim’s feet in place.
Tiffany was frantic and scared. ‘Why did she panic and start shouting threats?’ she thought to herself as Tim did something around the sides of each of her feet. The tar slippers or whatever they were had been cleverly applied in two portions on each foot. One covering the sole in a layer of the strange goo, the other running around the ankle, instep and over the toes. Tim carefully made a few cuts to facilitate the removal of the now solid substance covering his victim’s left sole. With one swift movement he pulled the sole shaped strip of black rubber away.
Tiffany panted in fear she was terrified but glad that there was no pain. The same process was repeated for her right sole and then a slower version used to remove the thin layer that had run around each foot keeping the ‘slipper’ in place. It wasn’t until Tim got to her toes that she started to panic. Removing each toe tie revealed that the substance ran between her toes and around them. It was not unlike the toe-separators she used to use when painting her nails of course she had been unable to use them after the ordeal of her ‘attitude adjustment’. Now she was verging on a panic attack just from having the hot black rubber-like material removed. Suddenly she remembered the black peeling face masks and guessed that this was something similar. Only instead of cleaning her pores it was going to make her more ticklish somehow.
Tim marvelled at his work. Tiffany’s soles had not sported a single callous thanks to the sand and pumice stones, despite being tanned on top had always been delightfully pink and rosy underneath. Now her feet positively seemed to glow. Curious he traced a feather across one arch first. The response was instant and confirm the success of this cruel process.
Tiffany didn’t just twitch in response to the feathers as she had done before but bucked as much as the sand would allow. It was like the soft fronds of the feather had been raised to inflict the level of torture Tim’s fingers had previously delivered. Unable to resist Tim dug in with both hands instantly engrossed in his work. Tiffany screamed and thrashed curling her toes and desperately trying to get away. Tim sighed and produced some new lengths of string to tie back his victim’s toes.
“No Please don’t tie my toes again!” Tiffany wailed.
“Well then perhaps you wouldn’t mind telling me story, I think you know what I want to hear” Tim replied as he quickly secured both of her big toes and began his masterful bondage of her wiggling digits.
“Okay! Okay Okay! But please seriously you have to stop, this is too much. It is so much worse when you tickle me!” Tiffany pleaded, unaware how her pleas for clemency translated to flattery.
“Go on! I shall reduce to using a soft fluffy feather unless I think you are holding back” Tim teased selecting one of the downier feathers that he had so far neglected as being insufficiently torturous.
“Ok-ha-kay” Tiffany began scarcely being able to resist even this softest touch.
“A while ago a bunch of other models were pissed at me for some reason so they decided to teach me a lesson. They grabbed me and tied me to a bed and tickled me all night long”. Tiffany explained, hoping this brief summary would satiate her tormentor.
“And they tied your toes?” Tim asked using his fingertips instead of the feather.
“Hahaha! Ye-he-hee-es! Hahaha!” Tiffany laughed, wishing she had been able to spin the tale a bit longer to alleviate her current torment.
“And my toe-ties are worse than the ones they used?” Tim asked, fishing for complements as he kept the tickling just gentle enough to prevent Tiffany from descending into incomprehensible hysterics.
“Hahahahahaha! Much Worse!!!! Hahaha! Hahaha! Untie them please! Hahaha! Hahaha! I can’t move at all! Hahaha! Hahaha!” Tiffany begged
“So how were you tied? Face up or face down to the bed?” Tim asked his curiosity peaked just enough not to brutalise his victim.
“Hahaha! Both! Hahaha! Face up fi-haha-hirst! Then fa-haha-ace down! Af-haha-hter I pa-haha-assed out!” Tiffany explained through soft giggles.
“How many of them were there?” Tim asked keeping up the soft tickling and loving the way his victim could just barely resist.
“Lo-hoho-ots! I don’t kno-hoho-ow! They blindfolded me hhee heehee!” Tiffany wailed hating even the memory of multiple hands exploring every ticklish spot for her neck to her long sensitive toes.
“Roughly how many? Two three, four?” Tim asked wishing he could have been there to watch and not realising he had seen parts of her ordeal online.
“Mo-ho-ho-ore! Maybe twelve! I don’t know!”
“And I have tickled you worse?” Tim asked selected a stiff long feather and wondering if he should punish Tiffany for lying, there was no way he could torture this goddess worse than twelve angry models..
“You are worse! My feet are so sensitive and you seem to know just how to torture them! With the models I had hands grabbing and squeezing everywhere but buried in the sand like this is like a thousand times worse for my feet! It is like only my feet exist and you keep tickling them! And I can’t move them! And even when you stop all I can feel is the sand pushing down on me and I know you are going to start tickling again any second!...” Tiffany bawled; her long, rambling, detailed complaint about her current ordeal satisfying her captor’s ego.
“Well I try my best! But tell me more did they use tools other than hairbrushes?” Tim asked. His victim paused not wanting to give him any ideas.
“I don’t know! It just all tickled so much!” Tiffany wailed, not wanting Tim to discover how badly her mascara brush could tickle her toes.
Slowly but surely Tim was able to tease detail after detail out of his victim about her torturous ordeal. As traumatic as it was for Tiffany to recall she preferred it to suffering more of the same from her current tormentor. Still he was able to keep her giggling and squirming until she had spilt almost all of the details about from the mascara brush, a few other tickle tools and a few techniques she did not want him to try should he get her tied down again. Eventually the blonde Brazilian babe had endured more than she could take and lapsed back into blissful unconsciousness and the refreshing embrace of a dreamless sleep.
To be continued
- - - - -
It had been a month since the plane went down. It had been a month since Tim had helped the stunning blonde goddess parachute to safety whilst also clinging to the inflatable raft that saved them from an uncaring ocean. Sometimes it seemed like only yesterday that he had been sitting awkwardly across from the Brazilian super model; him a socially awkward survival enthusiast returning from his latest jungle adventure, her an absent-minded supermodel who missed the last luxury jet and needed to take any plane to get to her next shoot on time.
The frantic day or two they spent on the raft seemed a life time away. It had been a nightmare for both Tim and Tiffany, a true terror for the supermodel and a humiliation for the survivalist whose best efforts had nearly failed the pair of them. Tim’s rucksack contained a few basic survival tools, including equipment to desalinate and purify water to drink as well as survival gadgets. Neither Tim nor Tiffany could get a phone signal despite Tim’s emergency charging equipment Tim and satellite finder and range extender. Other than these, the few supplies the pair had extended to; sun cream, insect repellent and only a tiny amount of food. Despite being properly rationed, the few power bars and dextrose tablets would have not have kept them alive long had the currents not stranded them on a small tropical island.
It was almost a paradise; and had it not been for a few irritations, was basically Tim’s Robinson-Crusoe fantasy brought to life. For Tiffany the island was far from ideal, she liked the sun and the opportunity to sunbathe all day but she continuously complained about everything else. For Tim her complaints were the only downside to the situation. He hated his job and only lived for his trips away and the tickle-torture videos he secretly enjoyed between work and his hiking/ camping adventures all over the globe. He understood that this was a change for glamourous goddess but would it take so much for her to say ‘thank you’ even just once?!....
In the month they had been stranded he had built a rudimentary shelter and then built a better shelter because the first one wasn’t good enough. He had made fires to cook and keep them warm, woven fibres into hats, sandals and other useful items. His knowledge of flora and fauna had provided them with a bounty of food both in the form of berries, roots, coconuts and fish.
And yet all his companion could do was complain about what she missed from civilisation. She insisted he kill and gut fish and other animals away from her but happily and thanklessly ate all he provided her with, unaware of how much effort this took. Due to a combination of mankind’s negligence and the same ocean currents which had brought them to the island they were provided with a surfeit of plastic waste including discarded sun cream bottles. Tim cleverly found a way to use oil extracted from coconuts and other plants to rinse these out salvaging the precious protective lotion for him and his island companion.
Tim’s phone was extremely useful despite the lack of signal. He had long kept pdf files with useful survival information for anywhere in the world and with the use of the solar charger and powerbank these let him know which plants were toxic, irritants, edible or useful in other ways. All Tiffany could do was complain that the salves he made weren’t as good as the beauty products she pined for. Tim would watch as she would apply the lotion to her tanned supple skin and wish he could run his fingers over her flawless radiant skin. Tiffany was a beauty, there was no doubt and her bikini accentuated her ample breasts and perfect buttocks whilst exposing her long legs, toned tummy and elegant neck.
For Tim Tiffany’s feet were her best feature; she had high arches and perfect heels that were kept soft and flawless by the sand. The tops of her feet were tanned like the rest of her whilst her soles were rosy red on the heels and ball with soft pink arches that matches the undersides of her long slender toes. She mostly went barefoot, complaining about the sand but never rarely the any woven sandals Tim had made for her. Eventually he had made a pair that were the right size for her size nine feet despite being expressly forbidden from touching her feet to take measurements, having to rely only on her footprints and boots she refused to ruin. Still Tiffany complained that the natural fibres tickled her, the moment she used the T-word Tim’s ears pricking up. ‘So she was ticklish’ he thought, from that moment he had dreamed of having this ungrateful goddess at his mercy.
Tiffany maintained her immaculate appearance with the help of beauty aids brought to her by Tim. The content of her travelling make up bag had been supplemented by cracked shells that she used as razors, pumice stones for her perfect feet and various homemade salves and clever concoctions that she complained about along with the suncream. She constantly complained about the lack of phone signal too, not that she understood it impeded their rescue but because she was unable to share any of the hundreds of thousands of selfies she took with her expensive phone that was kept charged using Tim’s equipment. He had tried to explain that she could at least try to send SOS messages in order to assist his electronic attempts and the stones he had arranged for the attention of any planes passing overhead but every attempt at communication was met with her patented combination of ignorance and annoyance that he existed. Tim was far from un-attractive; he was tall but not gangly. Strong and wiry with dark brown hair that matched his eyes. He had kept fit for his action adventures and after a month of doing what he loved was even more well-toned and spry.
Tim was used to being overlooked, disregarded and insulted. His job in IT led to people summoning him, complaining about whatever problem they had caused and then dismissing him the moment it was fixed in a manner that seemed to imply it was his fault to begin with. He had grown a thick skin to this but given that he was now the only possible company for this woman his patience had started to grow thin. Tiffany would complain that there was no-one for her to talk to and that there were no cute men, directly to the only possible company she had.
Tim had tried to engage her in conversation and make up games with pebbles and sticks to pass the time but the glamourous beauty never showed any interest or suggested anything she might enjoy. Instead she whined away about how bored she was and how she missed her glamourous pampered life of cocktails, photoshoots and massages. It was during one such self-centred self-pitying rant that Tim suddenly got an idea.
“Well at least we have the massage sand here” Tim interjected.
“Sooo… boring!!!!... Wait? What? Massage sand?” Tiffany replied mid-whine.
“Yeah the combination of tiny little broken shells and abrasive sand are a natural exfoliant and also help your skin in other ways, you must have noticed how it has affected your feet?” He asked hoping she would take the bait.
“Oh I just thought those rocks you found did that.” Tiffany remarked dismissively without a jot of thankfulness in her voice.
Tim ignored her rebuff as his companion wiggled her toes and regarded her feet. Tim relished the opportunity to regard her feet, he had stolen glances for a month and now it was socially acceptable to watch this goddess curl her long toes the nails of which had naturally grown into French tips since the last of her nail polish had run out. Tim loved to watch her maintain her feet but she seemed to hate him even looking at them. “What?!” She would ask whenever she caught him stealing a glance, it was an extension of her general disdainful loathing of her only island companion and one that had come to really grate with Tim.
“Oh no it is the sort of sand that salons and spas use in their treatments, something about the pH balance between the calcium and silica” Tim added whilst shifting his gaze to Tiffany’s outstretched underarms away from her feet, too much leering could give the game away.
Tiffany instinctively pulled her arms down to remove the smooth soft skin of her underarms from view. It was a subconscious defence against Tim’s predatory gaze, she wasn’t even aware she did it or why Tim unsettled her so much, but somehow despite all his kindness and care some part of her felt slightly unsafe around him. Before being stranded Tiffany had had terrible choice in men; dating genuinely dangerous men who would be both over-protective and cheat on her, and then cast her aside when it suited them. Something about the way Tim looked at her was different to the usual gawps and lustful leers she enjoyed receiving. Consciously she had never put two and two together between the way he looked at her feet and the way a group of models she had snubbed had looked at her before the terrible tickle-torture session they had inflicted on her as revenge for her prima-donna attitude.
Tiffany had tried to block out the memory of being tied to that bed in Paris as punishment for insulting so many models they hatched a plan to punish her with an ‘attitude adjustment’***. The cruel vixens had been utterly relentless finding every ticklish spot and torturing her way… way past her limits as she screamed into a ball-gag provided by the Gothic BDSM model who had been the ringleader. No ticklish spot had been spared; not her long sexy feet, not her tender under arms nor her tummy sides or ribs. Each was explored and returned to with the techniques and tools that seemed to work the best. To Tiffany’s horror videos had even appeared online but the Goth chick had managed to persuade her not to report this or the tickle abuse she had been forced to endure both by threatening to reveal her identity in the videos and also with further torture sessions that she assured her could be sprung at any time.
“WHAT?!?!” Tiffany barked as Tim’s gaze roamed around her gorgeous body during the inevitable lull in conversation.
“I was telling you about the sand and its properties…” Tim stumbled.
“… and?!” Tiffany asked rudely, her utter distain like venom on her full sexy lips.
“And… I was waiting for you to say something and you shouted ‘What!’ at me” Tim grumbled sensing he was losing his chance to get her sexy feet to himself.
“Oh, so… Do I like rub it against my skin or something?” Tiffany asked, forgetting her outburst.
“I wouldn’t recommend using it that way, apart from on your feet…. and they probably get enough just from you walking in the sand. From what I read it is like a wrap. You know like when you bury people at the beach as a kid”. Tim replied, trying not to appear threatening.
“Oh right?” Tiffany chimed; she vaguely remembered being buried up to her neck in sand as a kid and she didn’t see anything dangerous as only her head would be exposed and she could easily get out if she wanted too.
As usual Tim did all the work. He dug a long oval hole in the warm sand using a shovel he had made out of a piece of driftwood and some bamboo. It never once occurred to Tiffany to be astounded at the man’s ingenuity. They had been stranded on this island with little more than a pen-knife plus basic sewing and fire-lighting kits and Tim had built a three roomed single-storey structure complete with two beds that suspended woven natural fibres off the ground like a sprung mattress. In addition to this Tim had also made all the tools necessary to build and maintain this structure as well as the hunting and harvesting equipment he used to feed her as she bronzed herself in the sun.
The hole was completed and Tim called to his prey trying to hide the excitement in his voice.
“What?!” Tiffany snapped in response.
“I’m ready when you are for the skin treatment we talked about” Tim replied, ignoring her rudeness.
“Oh that!” Tiffany flippantly replied.
Carefully Tim guided her into the hole that was deeper than she expected with a mat he had woven from natural fibres to keep the sand out of her hair. Under his instruction she put her arms behind her back with her fingers pushed down into the sand. To begin with her knees were slightly bent so her soles rested on the lower edge of the hole face down. This was a problem for Tim as he would not be able to see or reach her feet.
“You need to extend your legs to get the full effect” He calmly explained.
“Errrr…. But my feet will be outside the hole and not touching the sand, I thought that the entire point was for my skin to be in contact with the sand!” Tiffany replied as if he was the stupid one.
“Oh yes! But your feet have already been exposed to the chemicals in the sand enough plus you need both your head and feet to be outside in order for enough water to transpire such that the acid base-reaction occurs between the chemicals in the sand and your skin…” Tim lied, attempting to blind his prey with science.
“What?!.... Wait?.... Acid! Is this shit gonna burn me!” Tiffany exclaimed.
“No, your skin is the acid the calcium from the little shells is like a weak alkali or something…” Tim replied soothingly, hoping he had not startled his prey.
“Okay but I don’t want my feet to get sunburnt!” Tiffany quibbled, noticing how the sun would soon by shining down directly on the feet as result of the way this idiot had dug the hole.
“It’s okay I will use those sandals I made you, or get some sort of sunshade so that doesn’t happen”. Tim cooed, hoping to soothe Tiffany into submission. He was lying, he wouldn’t let her soles get sunburnt of course but after the first few tickles he hoped to test a theory he had come across online that feet could be roasted to further sensitivity.
Tiffany relented and extended her legs exposing her long sexy feet that had sand sticking to the soles in just the right way as delight her captor but irritate her ticklish reflexes. As Tim buried her she wiggled her toes and used one foot to brush sand off the other, wincing as even this tickled her. Her body was bent at almost 45° angle, only with the base of the hole under her back curved to be comfortable whilst the lower part was flat like a ramp under her legs.
Daydreaming of spas and fashion shoots the glamourous blonde shut her eyes behind her designer sunglasses that had been scratched during the crash. She didn’t stop to think about why the little nerd who waited on her hand and foot was packing the sand down every so many inches until she was not only completely buried but the hole covered in a large mound of soil. She suddenly panicked, an instinct not unlike the one that unsettled her about the way Tim looked at her suddenly made her sit up with a start, only she didn’t sit up. She didn’t move an inch. The pressure of the sand on her chest and legs was too much and she was totally trapped.
“O-o-okay..,. That is enough now Tim let me out!” Tiffany demanded as she squirmed futilely, when she had been buried as a kid it was only a shallow hole and a thin layer of sand, now she was actually trapped.
“What but I have only just finished burying you?” Tim asked feigning incredulity.
“I don’t care! Dig me out!” Tiffany snapped, panicking because she couldn’t move and this little creep was giving her wiggling feet that hungry look.
“Dig me out……” Tim echoed in reply leaving a long pause for the word ‘please’.
“Wha?…. Just dig me out and quit staring at me you worthless creep!” Tiffany shrieked.
“…You know the word please goes a long way, and calling me a worthless creep really isn’t very nice considering I have hunted, cooked, fed and clothed you for….”
“Clothed me! As If I would wear anything you would make! Tiffany snapped forgetting the sandals, sarape wraps, hats and other items that Tim had skilfully produced suing natural fibres, feathers and other materials from his island paradise.
“I have put a roof over your head you ungrateful little B…!” Tim snapped losing his cool for a second but regained control after the plosive start of the word ‘Bitch’.
His sudden outburst made Tiffany stop. She had looked down on this man, looked through him and never until now looked at him as if he was a threat, just a tiny bit creepy. In truth Tim wasn’t bad looking, he was slim had good muscles and a full head of hair. He just didn’t hold himself with any confidence or have the bad boy swagger Tiffany liked in men. So it had been easy for her to consider him as ‘a little nerd’ despite his size and strength. In the silence she curled her toes and nervously tried to brush away some of the annoying sand away.
“And now I am going to help you get the sand off your feet because I am such a nice guy!” Tim said with a smirk, knowing instantly from the look of terror on Tiffany’s face that she was trapped and ticklish.
“No!.... DON’T TOUCH MY FEET!” Tiffany screamed at the top of her lungs, every nightmare coming to life as Tim reached out towards her frantically flailing feet.
True to his word he just brushed the sand away starting with the ball of her right foot moving down to the arch. It didn’t matter that he had yet to start tickling Tiffany screamed with rage as the soft sand was wiped and brushed away from her flawless feet. It was a hundred times worse than when she removed it herself after each sunbathing session, she felt every facet of each grain of sand as she desperately struggled for control.
“STOP TOUCHING MY FEET YOU PERVERT!!!!” Tiffany screamed as Tim explored her toes the sand tickling her to the point that she had to fight back laughter that mixed with her fury.
“But it seems as if you like this, you are smiling. Have you never had a foot massage before?” Tim asked as if he was genuinely curious.
“Yes, but not!... SHUT UP!!!!.. Don’t you dare tickle me! STOP TOUCHING MY FEET!” Tiffany bawled, she regretted using the word ‘tickle’ the moment it was out of her mouth. In truth she had enjoyed many a pedicure and foot massage but only from women and even then they made her heart race as she was so sensitive and ticklish she had to have a few cocktails in her, bite down on some gum and dig her long fingernails into whatever chair she was sat in.
Tim decided to give Tiffany short foot massage before tickling her loving the chance to touch her perfect feet as she switching between pleading to be let out of her sandy prison and threatening and screaming at her captor. It didn’t take long before Tim couldn’t resist the allure of her blatantly ticklish soles. Moving from his massaging technique he traced a finger up the instep of Tiffany’s exquisite right foot and round to swipe across the arch. The instant his finger came into contact with the arch Tiffany’s body betrayed her with a laugh.
“Ahaha ha! No!!!!... I’m serious! Stop touching my feet I hate it!” She pleaded her rage subsided as the adrenaline of her outburst subsided leaving her with the worst sinking feeling.
“Why? Is somebody… Ticklish!” Tim teased scribbling his fingers over both arches with wild abandon. The response was immediate and exactly what he wanted.
“Ah-hahhahahhaha! No!... Hahahaha Hahahaha Stop it! Hahahaha Hahahahaha Hahahaha!” Tiffany wailed her delightful laugh and pitiful pleading music to Tim’s ears after a month of rudeness and complaining.
Tim kept tickling using his fingertips, a single broken feather from his pocket and some shells that he placed on his fingertips like page turners. Tiffany screamed and vowed revenge, not even sure what caused the prickly sensations from the shells but hating even the slightest touch. To add to her humiliation Tim took pictures and videos with her own phone adding to her selfie collection.
“DON’T YOU DARE POST THEM ONLINE!!!!” Tiffany screamed.
“I can’t! If we could get online we would have been rescued week ago!” Tim replied, punishing Tiffany’s stupidity with a slow dance of his fingertips.
Tim could have tickled all day long but he had bigger plans. Stopping to let his shocked squirming victim breath under the weight of the sand he procured some rope he had kept out of sight whilst digging the hole. He had spent many hours making rope from coarse natural fibre as well as softer fibres that weren’t suitable for weaving bedding or clothing but would be slightly less uncomfortable should he ever get the chance to tie Tiffany down. He chose to give her the small mercy of softer rope and tied her ankles together, packing the sand back down from where she had kicked and squirmed.
“WHAT ARE YOU TYING ME UP NOW!” Tiffany screamed as she felt the rope under and around her ankles.
“Oh yes another hour or so of being tickled and you could have gotten free, I can’t have that now can I?” Tim replied impishly as he secured the rope to a couple of bamboo stakes from his hunting kit.
It took a moment for the meaning of his words to sink in.
“Wha? What? You’re gonna keep me buried like this for hours?!?!” Tiffany bellowed as she felt the rope tighten and pull down.
“Maybe, let me ask you something?... With your arms under your back and your fingers pushed into the sand like that. Can you get out?” Tim asked.
“Seriously I am going to Fucking kill you the second I get out of this fucking hole!” Tiffany seethed.
“I will take that as a no! And may I remind you about biting the hand that feeds you, or in this case the hand that tickles you!” Tim quipped finishing his knots and returning to tickling Tiffany’s soft supple size nine soles with glee.
“Nooo! Hahaha! Hee hee haha I’m sorry! Hahahaha! Pleeeease!!!! hahahaha haa haa” Tiffany wailed.
“Ah so you do know how to say please!” Tim exclaimed jubilant at how easy it had been to break this goddess’ initial wrath.
“Ooh Tim! Please don’t do this, I can’t stand being tickled…” Tiffany begged hoping that a more submissive approach would end the torture and get her out of this cursed sand trap. Her pleas were cut short as Tim softly traced tiny circles in each of her deep wrinkly arches.
“Hahaha! Hahaha! Hahaha Hahaha!!!!! No please stop!” Hahaha! Hahaha! Hahaha Hahaha!!!!” Tiffany wailed curling and flexing her toes causing the delicate wrinkles to disappear and reappear as she frantically struggled to escape.
“Wow I am barely touching you!” Tim marvelled.
“Hahaha! It tickles! Hahaha! I’m ticklish! Hahaha! Please stop!” Hahaha!” Tiffany pleaded.
“Okay I will stop tickling you if you can splay your toes and keep your feet still and stretched out” Tim offered, pushing his victim’s long sexy toes back to demonstrate her point.
Tiffany was hyperventilating on the verge of panic attack, the way Tim was holding back her toes and pushing on the balls of her feet reminded her too much of her ‘attitude adjustment’ the other models had administered and she was having flashbacks to those toe-tie things they used.
Tim changed to softly tracing one finger up and down the sole of both of her flawless feet starting at the soft pink ball of each foot and tracing down the arch towards her perfect heels. Whenever Tiffany’s feet flinched he would begin softly tracing back up adding a finger. It was impossible for the tender footed Tiffany to resist and she would soon flinch again earning a third finger on each arch, this always led to a total loss of control for which Tiffany was punished with severe fingertip tickles in which Tim used both his rough calloused fingertips and short but effective nails. Tim played this game for a long time and not once did his fingers reach Tiffany’s heels nor did any session take long to reach the inevitable conclusion of Tiffany pleading through silent laughter as his fingertips danced their dreadful dance all over her terribly ticklish arches. Finally he got bored and decided to explore her heels just to test their sensitivity, the variation seemed to add to his victim’s torment but all in all the arches seemed to be her worst spot.
“Well I think that you lost that game, lots more tickles for poor Tiffany. Tell me are your soles feather ticklish?” Tim asked rhetorically as he held the rope around her ankles.
Tiffany could not answer, she just shook her head and silent mouthed the words ‘No more’ but no sound came and she was too exasperated to understand the question.
Tim decided to give her a short break and gave her some water to drink from a plastic bottle that had washed up the day before and been sterilised using his survivalist expertise. Normally Tiffany would whinge about the taste without ever stopping to think she would have died of thirst or disease were it not for this man. As he let his buried victim recuperate Tim collected his feather collection, or at least the most accessible part as he had amassed a large number of colourful plumes from months’ worth of bird hunting that he had checked were edible and not endangered using the files on his phone. Tiffany had complained about killing any that were ‘cute’ but also complained when this led to nothing but fish to eat for a few days.
As Tiffany came to from the first round of tickle torment her captor placed the plumes one by one in the large mound of sand that weighed down on her chest. One by one the feathers appeared like war banners over the brow of a hill, each one spelling her doom.
“So since I liked that game we shall try it again only with feathers, if you cannot keep your toes still I think I shall have to restrain them…” Tim began.
“No! Not toe-ties!” Tiffany wailed pathetically and with a desperate tone that betrayed experience
This stopped Tim in his tracks. The specific way she screamed the word ‘toe-ties’ as if she knew what they were startled him. If she had just screamed for him not to tickle her, or to let her go, or even not to: ‘tie her toes’ he wouldn’t have been surprised. But both the words ‘toe-ties’ and the exact tone of horror made him think she had been tickled like this before. Tim had only ever been able to steal glances of Tiffany’s feet but now squirming in the sand they seemed oddly familiar, he couldn’t be sure but all of a sudden he couldn’t help but wonder if he had seen them getting tickled on one of the hundreds of tickling videos that made his work-a-day life bearable between adventures.
“Just keep your feet still for me or I will have to find a way to keep them still, now which of these feathers shall we try first?.... Hmmm… These two look good!”
Tiffany obediently fanned her toes hoping she could find a way to charm her way out this desperate situation. She watched as two feathers were selected from the many that decorated her sandy prison, both long white plumes from a seagull or herring-gull like bird. Tiffany could barely keep her feet still just from the anticipation alone. Tim had laid down on his belly behind the mound of sand so that she could barely see him, still she knew the feathers were coming and knew she wouldn’t be able to stand them.
Unlike the first round of tickle torture, this time her toes were the target. And try as she might Tiffany could not keep them still under the touch of the cruel plumes. She instinctively curled them to grab at the feathers. Tim could sort of still saw them feathers between his victim toes but more often he just abandoned them to take a new pair from the portion of his collection that adorned the sandy mound. Soon Tiffany had dozens of feathers nestling between each of her long toes. The horrible fronds tickled her as she curled and flinched in response to Tim’s administrations. He would occasionally traced her arch with a stiffer feather or trace just underneath her toes with a softer fluffier downy feather. This softer torture was a respite compared with her first session until Tim explained that the pointy end of the feathers could be also be used to tickle. The second that two of the cruel points made contact with her sensitive arches Tiffany lost control. She couldn’t keep her feet still for a second and Tim had to grab the balls of her feet to maintain the slow meandering prickly path of the cruel quill. Her attempts to negotiate and beg submissively gave way to a second wind of rage as she desperate struggled to get out of the sand trap.
“NOOOOO!!!!... STOP IT!!!... STOP TICKLING ME!!!!... SOMEBODY GET ME OUT OF HERE!!!!” She screamed at the top of her lungs desperately struggling to get away from the horrible sharp points.
Tim rewarded her with a barrage of fingertip tickles grinning evilly as he tickled her into submission responding to her cries and wails cruelly.
“Scream all you want, nobody can hear you. You can struggle all you want too, there is no way you are getting out of my tickle trap!”
Eventually Tiffany was tickled to exhaustion. Tim had to repack the sand down as it had started to crack around her neck and lower legs. His pathetically ticklish victim still squirmed as he slowly removed the feathers between her toes one by one.
“Oh my God! Please just let me go!” Tiffany pleaded as the last of the feathers was laboriously removed.
“I’m afraid I won’t be letting you go any time soon, I still have to tie back these sexy toes and see how much tickle-torture they can take when they can’t move” Tim replied for once relishing Tiffany’s revulsion.
“No seriously! This is like…. Torture for me!” Tiffany begged as her captor began positioning a piece of driftwood over her ankles.
“Uh-huh! Tickle-torture; a fitting punishment for a month of your ungratefulness and rudeness” Tim replied.
“No!... like, seriously!… Woah! What are you doing?” Tiffany stuttered, quivering as she felt something being forced down into the sand between and to wither side of her ankles.
“I found this piece of driftwood a week ago, it has two holes that I have smoothed and polished. I couldn’t figure out what to make out of it. It kind of reminds me of stocks”.
“Stocks?” Tiffany asked confused and concerned.
“Yes stocks! As in stockades? Pillories? You know the wooden things that the town tart got tickled in back in medieval times?” Tim chirped loving every second of Tiffany’s desperation.
The piece of wooden was forced down until it held both of Tiffany’s ankles down so that there was no chance of her kicking up and out of the sand. Tim tied the remains of the rope around her ankles to the board using several convenient holes in the wood. The rope was useful in attaching the board to several bamboo stakes that he used to keep the board in place. Feeling her situation becoming ever more helpless Tiffany tried again to negotiate.
“Seriously Tim, what is it you want here?” Tiffany asked.
“Honestly I am just having fun tickle-torturing you!” Tim replied as he prepared the first of the toe-ties.
“Okay so please don’t do this! I can’t stand being tickled when my toes are tied back!” Tiffany wailed remembered her horrendous ‘attitude adjustment’.
“How do you know?” Tim asked, his curiosity peaked as he secured Tiffany’ big toes to the board and bamboo stakes.
“I…. I….. I can’t stand being tickled!” Tiffany whimpered curling her toes and trying not let them get tied back.
“I think that much is clear, but how do you know about toe-ties? Have you been tickled like this before?” Tim asked.
Tiffany didn’t want Tim to know about her humiliating experience in Paris, and she certainly didn’t want to give him any ideas. She struggled to think of a way to talk her way out of her torment but no ideas came.
“Please don’t tie my toes!” Tiffany begged helplessly as her toes were tied back one by one. She couldn’t see how Tim was doing it but she felt each evil little loop slowly taking away any hope of escape.
“No please what do you want? Seriously I will do anything!” Tiffany begged as the last of her toes was splayed out.
Tim relished the sight of her long toes curling against their bonds. He thought seriously about her offer.
“I want three things…” He slowly explained blowing softly on Tiffany’s quivering toes.
“Yes anything! Please I will do anything just don’t tickle me again!” Tiffany whispered submissively her heart beating faster as terror set it.
“Oh I can’t promise that I am afraid, you see the first thing I want is to tickle you wherever I want, however I want and wherever I want!” Tim cruelly began as he ran a finger up and down Tiffany’s trapped arches.
“Hahaha! Hahaha! Hahaha! No!!! Hahaha! Hahaha! No tickling!!!! Hahaha! Hahaha!!!!” Tiffany begged through delightful peals of laughter.
“You are not in a position to negotiate I am afraid” Tim quipped before continuing;
“The second thing I want is basic respect, thanks for all I do. Maybe the word please every now and then!” Tim continued.
Tiffany continued to laugh as Tim began to explore her trapped toes with the feathers, she could now only laugh and wonder how these first two demands added up. Did Tim think things would go back to how they were after this? Or was he just going to keep her trapped forever? There was no way she would submit to be tied and tickled whenever he wanted it if she ever got out of this fucking sand that was for sure.
“And finally I want to know how you know about toe-ties and how much worse they make tickle-torture, I mean it is true with all the nerves pulled to the surface you will be more ticklish and unable to pull away. Trust me you won’t be able to take a hairbrush….”
“No not the hairbrush!” Tiffany interjected, again revealing she had been tickled like this before.
“You see there it is again, it is like you know how bad a hairbrush is going to be!” Tim exclaimed.
“Tim if you ruin my hairbrush I will fucking kill you!” Tiffany threatened hoping to take the attention away from her previous tickling session.
Tiffany’s long curly hair blond hair was important to her so there was genuine venom behind her words but in truth she knew how bad hairbrushes could be and dreaded this creep using them the was the models had during her ‘attitude adjustment’.
“Oh I won’t ruin it, they work especially well on oiled soles but I can clean that out with some of my homemade soap!” Tim replied using a small spiky shell not unlike a hairbrush to tease his victim’s immaculate heels.
“No please! I can’t take anymore! I am so ticklish this is like torture for me. You don’t understand!” Tiffany pleaded not sure what the spiky thing tormenting her heels and arches was but hating every little touch.
“Well if you won’t tell me how you seem to know about toe-ties and other tickle-torture techniques I will just have to tickle it out of you!” Tim exclaimed starting at Tiffany’s heels and working up in a slow finger crawl that threatened her arches.
“Hahaha! Hahaha! No!!! Please just let me go and stop tickling me! Please!!!! Hahaha!!!! I’m not kidding! Hahaha! Hahaha! This is torture! Hahaha! Please stop! Hahaha! This is torture! Hahaha! Please stop this is torture!”
Tiffany’s melodic laughter and begging where like music to Tim’s ears. He guessed it would take longer to break her to the extent she would spill how exactly she had been tickled before, and he wasn’t even sure if she had: ‘perhaps she is a female ‘ler who gets off watching videos of women suffering the torture she knows she can’t stand herself’ he mused as he used one feather and five fingers to drive the poor blonde insane. He liked that idea, it made him feel better about how cruel he was being. Normally Tim was the nicest guy in the world but right now, he could just tickle this woman forever.
Tiffany couldn’t believe she had been so stupid. After her ‘attitude adjustment’ how could she let some creep trick her into putting herself into such a vulnerable position? The toe-ties Tim had cobbled together were worse than any the other models had used on her. They had mostly just strapped back her big toes occasionally securing her pinky toes too with little bits of string. Tim’s evil little loops held each toe splayed out in place exposing the terribly ticklish spots between and worst of all the natural fibres he had woven them from seemed to tickle too.
Even though Tiffany only had one tickler her current ordeal seemed worse. Tim had the determination of the Goth ringleader from her hellish ordeal combined with the insatiable tickle-hunger of pervert denied satisfying his fetish for many weeks, he just never seemed to stop tickling her, and always found new techniques and new tickle spots to explore. Tiffany’s breaking point came when Tim started using the pointy ends of two feather to trace devilish swirling patterns across the pads of both of her big toes.
“No! I won’t tell you! You can’t make me tell you! I don’t want anyone to know!” Tiffany exclaimed her laughter turned to tears and rage as she was pushed past her limit by the new technique.
“Woah! Paydirt! So you do have a story to tell…” To rejoiced.
“No please! It’s too much! It’s too much!” Tiffany wailed dejected and broken.
“Well I will just have to tickle it out of you!” Tim exclaimed holding up two items up for her to see. One was her hairbrush the other way a toothbrush he had made for her out of piece of driftwood and some natural bristle type fibres. She instantly guessed what he was planning and wailed as she desperately sucked down air.
“Nooooooo! Please not those!”
Tim just laughed and took up his position at her soles. It was the toothbrush that he really relished using. He had spent hours making it for her only to have her criticise it for being ‘made of crap’ and continue using her electric toothbrush she could not charge after it had run out of power after a week or so. Tim cruelly positioned the stiff bristled brush under Tiffany’s trapped toes and set to work driving her insane the evil bristles feeling a thousand times worse than the feathers.
“Noooo! PLEASE NOT THERE!!! Hahaha! Hahaha! NOT MY TOES!!!!!” Tiffany screamed the desperation in her voice like nectar to her captor.
Tim continued to scrub away going up and down each toe stem and making small circles on the tips of her long trapped toes. With his other hand he softly tickled each of her arches forcing her to silent laughter.
“Thank me for making you this lovely toothbrush!” Tim commanded.
Tiffany tried to speak but no sound came out. Tim slowed his assault letting her take in some much needed air.
“Th-haha-ank you for making me that toothbrush” Tiffany pleaded the second she had enough focus to speak, she was still laughing slightly even though the tickling had stopped, phantom sensations tormenting her with memories of her recent ordeal. It was clear she was insincere but it was a step in the right direction.
“You have been tickled with one of these before?” Tim asked holding the hairbrush you for Tiffany to see.
“Silently Tiffany just curled her toes hopelessly against their restraints hoping for long strong feet could break free but to no avail, she dreaded feeling the hairbrush in her deep arches and she knew that her tormentor somehow knew that is where they would work best.
“I will take that as a yes! But as you are not willing to share or play I will have to reacquaint you with this marvellous tickle tool!” Tim declared as he attacked her left arch exactly as he had seen ticklers do in the many videos he watched online.
“Nooooo hoo-hooo!” Tiffany wailed descending directly to tickle hell.
As she laughed, wailed and struggled Tiffany had flashbacks to her ordeal at the hands of the other models. Tim had started using his fingertips on one arch softly whilst using the hairbrush on the other. As his poor victim was delivered to a feverish tickle delirium she cried out;
“Let me go you bitches!” Her mind was frazzled and she couldn’t tell where she was, tied to that bed or buried in the sand. She felt the hands of models on her sides. Legs and necks instead of the sand that constricted and restrained her.
Tim smiled guessing that she had a wonderful FFFF/F story to tell him but she would need her mind in-tact so he abandoned the brush and slowed his fingertip tickles until Tiffany’s laughter subsided to a gentle sleepy giggle.
“Please don’t ever do that again!” Tiffany begged.
“Okay no more hairbrush provided you tell me about these bitches that tickled you, I am going to make that my third demand, I want to know everything!” Tim demanded.
“Some models tied me down and tickled me once, please can I have some water?” Tiffany asked sweetly.
Tim obliged knowing he had probably pushed her too far to tell a satisfying story.
“When was this?” He asked.
“A while ago, I don’t like thinking about it! Please I am so tired, can we play a game instead?” Tiffany asked hoping to change the subject
“Oh so now you WANT to play a game?...” Tim purred remember every eye roll and every sarcastic ‘No!...’ she used to belittle his attempts at finding ways to pass the time.
“Yes, anything is better than more tickling!” Tiffany pleaded, unaware that almost every game her companion wanted to play involved tickling, more tickling and tickle-torture forfeit. However gauging the positon of the sun her cruel captor knew it was roasting time.
“Okay so how about we swap to demand number 2 until you are ready to spill. I am going to give you a break for being such a fun tickle toy and when I come back I want you to thank me for all the things I do for you.”
As he spoke Tim began massaging some sun oil into Tiffany’s long hot pink soles reddened from the intense tickle torture delivered by the cruel hairbrush. She sighed and moaned as he massaged the lotion in regretting her previous protests about having her feet touched and massaged. She curled her toes against their bonds hoping they would be removed but she was wrong. Tim did give her some more water and after glugging it down something went click inside her mind;
“Thank you!” she gratefully whispered feeling an odd tingle as she did so.
“No problem, now be a good tickle slave and tell me when you want the tickling to resume. I will leave you with the sun to roast your feet a pretty shade of pink.”
“No please don’t let the sun burn my feet!” Tiffany wailed pathetically.
“Don’t worry this sun cream will protect them.” Tim replied.
Tiffany whimpered pathetically she wished she could cover one foot with the other but the toe-ties held firm. The sun was now on a direct alignment with both of her soles and without Tim casting a shadow she could really feel them heating up. Desperately she tried to think of a way to evade the imminent torture without returning to the tickle hell she loathed more than the relentless onslaught of the sun’s cruel rays. There was no pain but every nerve was screaming at her that any second the heat would become too intense.
Tim had left and was out of sight, she could hear him rustling around and guessed he was making things for hunting and fishing the way he always did. Then Tiffany thought again, he was probably preparing more things to tickle her with. She had already suffered the toothbrush, feathers, a hairbrush and whatever those other spiky things were. She knew Tim was clever and good at making things, up until now everything he made had made her comfortable even if she didn’t appreciate it; now she dreading whatever tickle-tools he was crafting. As she worried and squirmed Tiffany could feel that her soles were really started to heat up in the sun, it was like she could feel herself getting more ticklish. Tim had explained that the heat would make her more ticklish and suddenly Tiffany knew she had no choice but to call him back, the longer she stayed with her soles facing the relentless hot sun the more ticklish she would become and the more tools he would have prepared..
“Okay I give! Tickle me! C’mon!” She barked.
“Tickle me what?” Tim replied as he made his way back towards the trapped blonde beauty.
“Tickle me please!” Tiffany corrected herself, she wanted to add ‘Oh Master’ but didn’t think she could manage it without sounding sarcastic and did not want to antagonise her captor.
“That’s better now I want you to thank me sincerely for hunting, cooking, providing you with shelter, providing you with food and everything you need”.
“Okay” Tiffany replied unsure of what was happening.
“Go on then…” Tim chivvied.
“Tha-hank you for cooking, hunting preparing me for….” Tiffany began before losing her place.
Within second the tickle greeted her soft hot feet. She instantly screamed and squirmed scarcely able to believe how much ticklish the heat had made her. Tiffany had been hypersensitive to begin with now she was too ticklish to walk, even the slightest touch was enough to make her scream so loud had she not been stranded so far away from anyone but Tim the police would be called or a rescue mission mounted.
“Providing me with shelter!” It isn’t so difficult to remember given that I am sheltering you from the sun right now!” Tim complained, totally unaware of how much more torturous even the softest touch was for his victim who had been driven from screaming at the top of her lungs to silent laughter within seconds as he relentlessly tickled her arches loving the tactile feel of her hot quivering soles.
It took a drink of water and several more attempts with copious pleading before Tiffany got her prayer of thanks right. It became like a mantra;
“Thank you for hunting for me, thank you for cooking for me, thank you for providing me with shelter from the sun and the rain, thank you providing me with food and everything I need…”
“Thank you for hunting for me, thank you for cooking for me, thank you for providing me with shelter from the sun and the rain, thank you providing me with food and everything I need…”
Tiffany repeated her mantra over and over again nervously looking up at her captor above the mound of sand and hoping he was placated and would not start tickling her feet or over so that the sun would resume scorching her soles. It took her a lot of effort to get the words right and not say ‘amen’ at the end of each recitation.
Tim smiled down at his obedient captive. It did not matter to him that she had added the part about the rain or that she sometimes got the order mixed up it was her submission that mattered. He guessed she had included the reference to the sun to persuade him not to move as his shadow was protecting her soles from further roasting. He could hear her voice getting croaky as she was parched so he decided to offer some more water. Tiffany winced as the sun beamed down on her soles but the water was a welcome relief.
“Thank you master” Tiffany chimed after drinking down to refreshing water. She hadn’t planned to add the word master but she managed it without a hint of sarcasm. Her captor didn’t seem to mind but
“Now that you have added the phrase: ‘thank you’ to your vocabulary we shall play another game. Let’s see if you can keep reciting whilst I softly tickle you…”
“No please don’t tickle me O’ master!” Tiffany wailed delirious and accidentally sounding sarcastic.
“I will have to tickle you harder for that!” Tim exclaimed using his fingertips and nails on her still hypersensitive soles.
Tiffany exploded into a fit of hysterical rage. She tried to recite her mantra whilst trying to plea for mercy at the same time and ended up shouting incomprehensible gibberish. Her punishment was the worst torture so far. Tim used the toothbrush on her toes and the hairbrush on her arches. The hairbrush had been bad before but with her feet roasted to the peak of their sensitivity it was totally unbearable. Tiffany couldn’t even worry about the sun cream ruining her precious brush she could only laugh and suffer. Her sandy prison had become a hot-box that pressed down on her growing tighter as she sweated and writhed.
The torture was so bad that Tiffany didn’t even notice when she finally squirmed enough to free her arms, she could only thrash around in the sand and not make a concerted effort to dig herself out. Tiffany could feel that her bikini was soaking wet from exertion and heat, she wasn’t sure if she had wet herself but worried she either had or would as the evil bristles and bobbles of her hairbrush tortured her helpless soles. Eventually Tim slowed and offered her the chance to catch her breath.
“Now we shall try again, recite your mantra whilst I softly tickle you, every time you fail I shall make the tickling worse for a while”. Tim chided.
This game was impossibly cruel. Tim would make small circles on Tiffany’s arches with his fingertips leading to her giggling as she tried to recite her mantra of thanks still unware of her opportunity for escape. Eventually she would break down into peals of laughter and desperate shrieks and be forced to start over never getting more than a few verses in. Between the torture and her utter desperation the purpose of the game took its effect. Tiffany really thought about all the work Tim had done to make her happy and comfortable and how badly she had treated him. She still secretly wanted to kill him but honestly wasn’t sure she could actually survive the island without him. Eventually she couldn’t take any more and broke down into a delirious tearful hysteria.
“I really am sorry! You do so much and I am just useless! I deserve to be tortured like this!” Tiffany cried and her captor stopped tickling her.
Soothingly he shushed her and stroked her curly blond hair. He gave her some more water to drink which she accepted gratefully and remembering to thank her master.
“Shhh! you are not useless, up until now you have just been rude, ungrateful and lazy but I am going to change that. I am going to teach you to be useful even if it is just by making me happy as the best tickle-slave a man could ask for”.
As Tim spoke Tiffany knew she should object but she was no longer thinking straight. She was spared further tickle torture as her captor coated her soles in something that felt gooey. In her delirious state she was terrified some animals were going to lick her soles but instead she just felt her soles growing warmer again, it was different to the oil roasting though and a part of her was very nervous.
“Now whilst you rest I am going to test this little concoction, it is like rubber that will harden on your feet, I made it from a natural resin and it should protect your feet better than the oil allowing them to roast in the sun for longer. Of course it will remove a layer of dead skin cells when I take it off leaving you even more sensitive but since you want to be more useful focusing on the first of my demands can only be a good thing.”
Tiffany considered struggling but she was too exhausted. She curled her toes as they were temporarily freed from their toe ties only to be retied once a coating of the mysterious black goo was applied. Exhausted she slept as the sun heated her soles the dark substance absorbing more heat from the sun and broiling her soles underneath.
Tiffany awoke to a dull ache and the sensation of the sun still hot on her soles, she had no idea how long she had been asleep and at first was terrified that she couldn’t move until the reality of her situation slowly started to come back to her. The muscles in her legs ached from being kept in the same position and she tried to squirm to little effect. It took her a while to realise that she had been moved slightly, her arms had been freed from the hole somehow but were tied tightly to several stakes behind her such that her forearms were flat with the ground and her elbows bent at a 100° angle.
“What the?!” She exclaimed looking around and realising the memories of tickle torture were not just a bad dream.
“Ah sleeping beauty awakes, time to see how her pretty feet are faring in their tar slippers”.
“Tar slippers?” Tiffany asked forgetting the final stages of her ticklish ordeal and wondering if that was some strange Cinderella reference gone wrong. She tried to curl her toes and panicked when they hardly moved.
“Yes you agreed to be a test subject, don’t you remember?” Tim asked.
“No! Now get me out of this fucking pit you little Perve!” Tiffany screamed.
“Uh oh! Looks like someone slept off all the manners I taught her, I will have to tickle them back in once I have removed these special exfoliating slippers!”
“No please! I’m sorry I didn’t mean to!.... Please don’t torture me again like you did before!” Tiffany wailed.
“Oh don’t worry I won’t, this afternoon’s session is going to be far worse than this mornings!” Tim exclaimed as he began fiddling with the contraption that held his victim’s feet in place.
Tiffany was frantic and scared. ‘Why did she panic and start shouting threats?’ she thought to herself as Tim did something around the sides of each of her feet. The tar slippers or whatever they were had been cleverly applied in two portions on each foot. One covering the sole in a layer of the strange goo, the other running around the ankle, instep and over the toes. Tim carefully made a few cuts to facilitate the removal of the now solid substance covering his victim’s left sole. With one swift movement he pulled the sole shaped strip of black rubber away.
Tiffany panted in fear she was terrified but glad that there was no pain. The same process was repeated for her right sole and then a slower version used to remove the thin layer that had run around each foot keeping the ‘slipper’ in place. It wasn’t until Tim got to her toes that she started to panic. Removing each toe tie revealed that the substance ran between her toes and around them. It was not unlike the toe-separators she used to use when painting her nails of course she had been unable to use them after the ordeal of her ‘attitude adjustment’. Now she was verging on a panic attack just from having the hot black rubber-like material removed. Suddenly she remembered the black peeling face masks and guessed that this was something similar. Only instead of cleaning her pores it was going to make her more ticklish somehow.
Tim marvelled at his work. Tiffany’s soles had not sported a single callous thanks to the sand and pumice stones, despite being tanned on top had always been delightfully pink and rosy underneath. Now her feet positively seemed to glow. Curious he traced a feather across one arch first. The response was instant and confirm the success of this cruel process.
Tiffany didn’t just twitch in response to the feathers as she had done before but bucked as much as the sand would allow. It was like the soft fronds of the feather had been raised to inflict the level of torture Tim’s fingers had previously delivered. Unable to resist Tim dug in with both hands instantly engrossed in his work. Tiffany screamed and thrashed curling her toes and desperately trying to get away. Tim sighed and produced some new lengths of string to tie back his victim’s toes.
“No Please don’t tie my toes again!” Tiffany wailed.
“Well then perhaps you wouldn’t mind telling me story, I think you know what I want to hear” Tim replied as he quickly secured both of her big toes and began his masterful bondage of her wiggling digits.
“Okay! Okay Okay! But please seriously you have to stop, this is too much. It is so much worse when you tickle me!” Tiffany pleaded, unaware how her pleas for clemency translated to flattery.
“Go on! I shall reduce to using a soft fluffy feather unless I think you are holding back” Tim teased selecting one of the downier feathers that he had so far neglected as being insufficiently torturous.
“Ok-ha-kay” Tiffany began scarcely being able to resist even this softest touch.
“A while ago a bunch of other models were pissed at me for some reason so they decided to teach me a lesson. They grabbed me and tied me to a bed and tickled me all night long”. Tiffany explained, hoping this brief summary would satiate her tormentor.
“And they tied your toes?” Tim asked using his fingertips instead of the feather.
“Hahaha! Ye-he-hee-es! Hahaha!” Tiffany laughed, wishing she had been able to spin the tale a bit longer to alleviate her current torment.
“And my toe-ties are worse than the ones they used?” Tim asked, fishing for complements as he kept the tickling just gentle enough to prevent Tiffany from descending into incomprehensible hysterics.
“Hahahahahaha! Much Worse!!!! Hahaha! Hahaha! Untie them please! Hahaha! Hahaha! I can’t move at all! Hahaha! Hahaha!” Tiffany begged
“So how were you tied? Face up or face down to the bed?” Tim asked his curiosity peaked just enough not to brutalise his victim.
“Hahaha! Both! Hahaha! Face up fi-haha-hirst! Then fa-haha-ace down! Af-haha-hter I pa-haha-assed out!” Tiffany explained through soft giggles.
“How many of them were there?” Tim asked keeping up the soft tickling and loving the way his victim could just barely resist.
“Lo-hoho-ots! I don’t kno-hoho-ow! They blindfolded me hhee heehee!” Tiffany wailed hating even the memory of multiple hands exploring every ticklish spot for her neck to her long sensitive toes.
“Roughly how many? Two three, four?” Tim asked wishing he could have been there to watch and not realising he had seen parts of her ordeal online.
“Mo-ho-ho-ore! Maybe twelve! I don’t know!”
“And I have tickled you worse?” Tim asked selected a stiff long feather and wondering if he should punish Tiffany for lying, there was no way he could torture this goddess worse than twelve angry models..
“You are worse! My feet are so sensitive and you seem to know just how to torture them! With the models I had hands grabbing and squeezing everywhere but buried in the sand like this is like a thousand times worse for my feet! It is like only my feet exist and you keep tickling them! And I can’t move them! And even when you stop all I can feel is the sand pushing down on me and I know you are going to start tickling again any second!...” Tiffany bawled; her long, rambling, detailed complaint about her current ordeal satisfying her captor’s ego.
“Well I try my best! But tell me more did they use tools other than hairbrushes?” Tim asked. His victim paused not wanting to give him any ideas.
“I don’t know! It just all tickled so much!” Tiffany wailed, not wanting Tim to discover how badly her mascara brush could tickle her toes.
Slowly but surely Tim was able to tease detail after detail out of his victim about her torturous ordeal. As traumatic as it was for Tiffany to recall she preferred it to suffering more of the same from her current tormentor. Still he was able to keep her giggling and squirming until she had spilt almost all of the details about from the mascara brush, a few other tickle tools and a few techniques she did not want him to try should he get her tied down again. Eventually the blonde Brazilian babe had endured more than she could take and lapsed back into blissful unconsciousness and the refreshing embrace of a dreamless sleep.
To be continued
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