Part 6.
Please do let me know what you think in the comments.
I dig comments.
Amy was sitting at her kitchen table flicking through an issue of ‘Home & Garden’ magazine for inspiration for the spare room. She was wearing black combat boots with padlocks, a weighted exercise vest lined with small lengths of plywood and five pairs of shorts under her jogging pants. The former two were recent amazon purchases. The outfit was far from comfortable and she tended to sweat in it, however if one wanted to accomplish any work around the house then some sort of deterrent was absolutely necessary, certainly the boots. She could never attempt anything without the boots. She even kept a gardening glove in each pocket in case her surprise lodger decided to revisit holding her finger back tickling the palms of her hands as it had once.
She had brownies in the oven for a colleague’s birthday at work the next day. She flicked a page over without much interest and started to read a long article about why elaborate coving was unfairly maligned and should enjoy a comeback. Then she smelled a whiff of something a little mustier through the chocolate scent filling her kitchen. She stood up and pointed at the double doors to the parlour and into the darkness beyond and said, firmly, ‘NO!’.
There was silence and the smell abated. It was important to be firm and establish boundaries, as much as it felt a bit mean. The monster had a way of being quite cute in a way and it obviously lived for nothing other than tickling her. It was a bit like training a puppy. One had to be firm.
Eventually she took the brownies out of the oven, perfectly crisp on top and gooey in the middle, and placed them on the side with a kitchen towel covering them. She broke one in half and tasted it. It was perfect. She held the other half up towards the double doors. There was a slurping lip-smacking sound. She threw it and it disappeared into the darkness. It did not hit the ground. She licked her fingers and looked over at the mixing bowl. She pondered the possibility of smearing the remaining brownie mix on the soles of her feet here in the kitchen but she decided against it since she knew the monster would be on her the instant it heard the padlocks on her boots click open and she probably wouldn’t get a chance. Also the chaos would likely make a warzone of her kitchen and she might well end up at work tomorrow with no brownies. She picked up the mixing bowl and held it up to the double doors.
‘I’m taking this upstairs to bed. Just FYI.’
There was no response from the darkness.
She licked the flat spatula and placed it in the dishwasher and selected instead the oddly stiff rubber pastry brush to replace it in the bowl. It had come with the house, left by the previous owners. It was useless for its intended purpose but it had found a new purpose in recent weeks. She ducked under her couch, still wedged four feet up across the hallway, and retired to bed.
She deposited the mixing bowl and brush on the dresser. She brushed her teeth still wearing her vest, boots and shorts as wisps of that tell-tale wet dog/oatmeal smell wafted under the door of her bathroom. She tied her unruly hair into a French plait which she knew wouldn’t last long. Then she turned and grasped the door handle. She stopped there, realising her heart was pounding with a mixture of excitement and trepidation. She breathed and calmed herself down.
‘Amy, stop being ridiculous! Why does it still have this effect on you? You know what’s going to happen, it happens every night! Stop it. Silly girl.’ She berated herself, grasped the door handle and stopped again.
‘Besides, it might not happen tonight! He might be tired, or away in the nether-realm under the bed doing whatever he does down there… Breathe… In… Aaaaaand out…’
She opened the door and breezed out into the bedroom as if nothing was wrong. A thrill of excitement shot through her as she realised the mixing bowl was missing from the dresser. Despite herself she let out a girlish giggle and jumped onto the bed rather than let her feet get anywhere near that dark musty space. Then she awkwardly undressed down to just her panties and glasses leaving the boots on until last, which necessitated pulling five pairs of shorts off over them. Finally she took the key from the string around her neck, unlocked the padlocks and removed her boots exposing her overly warm and slightly sweaty feet to the night air. She rolled over and lay on her belly in ‘the pose’ with her large pretty feet up vulnerably behind her.
She breathed slowly in and out to calm herself down again and then in a meek little voice, both trying to be heard and trying not to be, she said ‘OK!’
Fuzzy tentacles erupted seemingly from everywhere. Amy shrieked as they wrapped themselves around her. Her arms were pulled back and her wrists held in the small of her back. Tentacles wrapped her knees holding them together, around her delicate waist pinning her arms to it still more tightly, around her shoulders and her butt and finally around her calves and her ankles.
‘Pretty feets takes too long. Does boring things. Makes monster wait for tickly feetsies.’
Amy was already hyperventilating when the fuzzy rubbery fingertips touched down on the soles of her wiggling feet. She had hoped it would start with its mouth and tongue but it was obviously feeling petulant today. She had kept it waiting too long.
‘EEEEEEEEEEEEP!!! EEHEHEEHEHEHEE NOOOO!!! MONSTER!!! PLEEEEEASE!!!’
‘Yes, yes… hee-hee-hee… pwease pwease... All part of fun.’
‘STOP STOP STOP…’ Amy huffed the words inwards as she descended into total tickle panic.
‘Yes, yes… stopity stopity stop... Monster heard before. All part of fun.’
Its fingers began a varied and unpredictable tickling attack on Amy’s poor wiggling feet. It knew precisely which spots to tickle to get her yelping so high only dolphins could hear her. It left her feet free to wiggle from the ankle down. This increased the stress even more since it promised that if she kept wiggling, hiding one foot behind the other, there might be a way to achieve some level of relief from the sporadic darting tickle attacks, however there never was. The monster loved to watch Amy’s beautifully soft feet wiggling and flapping around, curling over and scrunching her toes, uncurling and spreading them. It enjoyed watching her feet struggling almost as much as it loved to watch them held motionless and trembling as the tickles were lavished onto them.
She knew if she scrunched up her soles as hard as she could it took maybe twenty percent of the ticklishness out of the fuzzy strokes but then the monster simply tickled the tops of her feet in feather light strokes and she uncurled with a jolt and shriek and was back where she started.
It played with dangling its relaxed hands limply just touching her long soft arches and entertained itself as she wiggled her feet and tickled herself on its fingers. She knew what it was doing but it always took several torturous seconds for her to summon the resolve to stop moving her feet. Then of course it switched back to active tickles.
It formed an ‘O’ with each forefinger and thumb and contracted them over her heels. It leaned in and snuffled at her toes, tickling them with its whiskers. It lingered in her arches experimenting with different pressures of its fingertips from light grazes to fingernail scratchings – experiments it had performed many times but one could never have too much data on a subject like this.
Amy was in tickle heaven and hell all at once, betrayed by the sensitivity and softness of her feet. She heard her own dorky giggles and they embarrassed her but she couldn’t help it. At several points she snorted in a rather unladylike manner. She cried tears of laughter and squirmed and wriggled trapped in the firm embrace of its wrapped tentacles. She felt wetness and warmth building between her legs and this gave another stressful element to try to concentrate on: Could she clench her thighs and ass enough to orgasm without the help of her hands? She knew she could, but it would be a little while before the pressure built. And a little while felt like an eternity with a tickle monster having its way with her feet.
Amy endured almost twenty minutes of mind scrambling foot tickle torture at the monster’s fingers before she finally managed to squeak and clench her way to her first juddering orgasm. The monster knew precisely what it was doing and on days when it dived straight in with finger tickles it usually insisted on tickling her all the way to at least one orgasm before even a break. It dragged its fingertips slowly and gently up both of her trembling soles from heel to tippy-toes as she gasped through her orgasm. Then it allowed her a breather. Her hair was no longer plaited. Her glasses were… somewhere.
‘Good pretty feets. Monster like moany wiggles. Pretty feets do moany wiggles again, monster want to taste. Is tasty good. Yup yup.’
‘No… *gasp* Please… *gasp* I need a breaAAAAAAHAHAAAA!!!’
Amy was just going through the motions of begging for a break, a process which had about a five percent success rate, when she felt the first contact of the stiff rubber pastry brush on her right arch. The monster drew a circle of brownie mix and then slurped it off.
‘Mmm. Pretty feets makes tasty treats. Feets is tastier but treats not bad. Not bad.’ The monster nodded to itself sagely.
It then proceeded to scrape the whole bowl out and transfer all of the leftover brownie mix messily onto Amy’s struggling feet with the brush. The stiff rubber nubs were one of the most ticklish sensations she had ever experienced. For pure torture it was on a par with the probing tips of its tentacles on her feet and only a shade less tickly than its talented fingers. Amy was reduced to shrill giggles again, and again she heard her own dorky giggle pattern of an ‘EEEEEEP!’ followed by a descending trill of quickfire giggles repeated over and over, powerless to stop doing it.
Eventually the monster judged that her feet were nicely coated with warm gooey brownie mix and it inhaled a long luxurious breath of the smell of brownie mingled with the inviting scent of Amy’s feet. Then it glomped its whole mouth over both her feet and sucked and licked at them, its slimy nubby tongue probing and caressing and tickling her soles. Since both feet were in its mouth it was unable to form a proper seal around hr ankles with its lips and brownie mix tinted drool began to dribble down the insides of her calves. Its appreciative noises were fully vocalised through the small gap too.
Amy moaned out loud in surprise and ecstatic pleasure as her feet were enveloped by the warm drooly mouth. She arched her back and thrust her butt upwards as she was u-turned from taking her breather straight back towards orgasm again. The monster took its sweet time sucking her feet clean of brownie mix and she squealed red faced and embarrassed through another orgasm before it popped them back out of its mouth and began licking at them, searching for the last little remnants of flavour tucked in between the toes and down the calves. This caused a fresh wave of happy little giggles from Amy.
After a while it applied a series of wet kisses to her feet. The first one took her by surprise and took in all ten toes until she realised what was happening and pointed them at the ceiling to receive the remaining kisses on the tops of her feet.
‘Pretty feets had fun?’ Amy merely nodded. ‘Good. One item left on checklist before Amy get to choose her own tickles. Not long now.’
‘What? What item? You actually have a checklist?!’ Amy genuinely didn’t know what was left to do since she had laughed herself hoarse again and was a sweaty chocolatey mess. She frantically looked back, craning her head back to try to see what it was up to, and then she felt it. The little tickly tips of the tentacles wrapping her each chose a tickle spot and pressed inwards. She had one in each armpit, one in each thigh crease, two on her belly and one in the back of each knee. They wiggled and wormed inwards like little tickly fingers and Amy almost leaped out of her skin. She screamed in surprise and panic and struggled with all her might against the prodding torturous tentacles. She was unable to even laugh out loud and instead hissed out silent laughter punctuated by howls.
Amy had come to regard tickles as a proportion of pleasure and a proportion of torture. Light tickly strokes on her heels were about eighty percent pleasure to twenty percent torture whereas hard fingernail tickles on her arches were only about twenty percent pleasure eighty percent torture. The sweet spot tended to be about seventy-thirty and the sucking and licking of her feet tended to hit it right on the button. This was at least ninety percent torture; gargalesis as opposed to knismesis. The monster knew it too and used it sparingly. The torture only lasted a maximum of a minute.
‘Item went on checklist because pretty feets was naughty. Kept monster waiting. Even though treats were tasty.’ Amy panted and gasped to a stop.
‘Pretty feets need sleep now or want more tickles?’ Amy paused to think about it.
SLEEP!! For god’s sake Amy you’re going to be exhausted tomorrow. You’ll fall asleep at your desk again!
Every instinct seemed to plead with Amy to get free and end the torturous tickling, but the small tingle of a third orgasm had just started to suggest itself between her legs as the tentacle torture abated. Oh my God Amy Marshall, don’t even think about it!
‘Please carry on tickling my feet! Aaaaand and and… sucking my toes!’ she blurted, surprised to hear the words come out of her own mouth.
‘YUP YUP! Monster is here for pretty feets!’ It saluted. Amy and the monster both grinned from ear to ear. It clapped and rubbed its hands together and began finger tickling her feet gain, this time with a single tentacle holding her big toes in place. She was in for a long night. Again.
Parts 1 - 5:
http://www.ticklingforum.com/showth...d-(Part-5)-MONSTER-F-FEET-(-amp-pts-1-4-links)
Please do let me know what you think in the comments.
I dig comments.
Amy was sitting at her kitchen table flicking through an issue of ‘Home & Garden’ magazine for inspiration for the spare room. She was wearing black combat boots with padlocks, a weighted exercise vest lined with small lengths of plywood and five pairs of shorts under her jogging pants. The former two were recent amazon purchases. The outfit was far from comfortable and she tended to sweat in it, however if one wanted to accomplish any work around the house then some sort of deterrent was absolutely necessary, certainly the boots. She could never attempt anything without the boots. She even kept a gardening glove in each pocket in case her surprise lodger decided to revisit holding her finger back tickling the palms of her hands as it had once.
She had brownies in the oven for a colleague’s birthday at work the next day. She flicked a page over without much interest and started to read a long article about why elaborate coving was unfairly maligned and should enjoy a comeback. Then she smelled a whiff of something a little mustier through the chocolate scent filling her kitchen. She stood up and pointed at the double doors to the parlour and into the darkness beyond and said, firmly, ‘NO!’.
There was silence and the smell abated. It was important to be firm and establish boundaries, as much as it felt a bit mean. The monster had a way of being quite cute in a way and it obviously lived for nothing other than tickling her. It was a bit like training a puppy. One had to be firm.
Eventually she took the brownies out of the oven, perfectly crisp on top and gooey in the middle, and placed them on the side with a kitchen towel covering them. She broke one in half and tasted it. It was perfect. She held the other half up towards the double doors. There was a slurping lip-smacking sound. She threw it and it disappeared into the darkness. It did not hit the ground. She licked her fingers and looked over at the mixing bowl. She pondered the possibility of smearing the remaining brownie mix on the soles of her feet here in the kitchen but she decided against it since she knew the monster would be on her the instant it heard the padlocks on her boots click open and she probably wouldn’t get a chance. Also the chaos would likely make a warzone of her kitchen and she might well end up at work tomorrow with no brownies. She picked up the mixing bowl and held it up to the double doors.
‘I’m taking this upstairs to bed. Just FYI.’
There was no response from the darkness.
She licked the flat spatula and placed it in the dishwasher and selected instead the oddly stiff rubber pastry brush to replace it in the bowl. It had come with the house, left by the previous owners. It was useless for its intended purpose but it had found a new purpose in recent weeks. She ducked under her couch, still wedged four feet up across the hallway, and retired to bed.
She deposited the mixing bowl and brush on the dresser. She brushed her teeth still wearing her vest, boots and shorts as wisps of that tell-tale wet dog/oatmeal smell wafted under the door of her bathroom. She tied her unruly hair into a French plait which she knew wouldn’t last long. Then she turned and grasped the door handle. She stopped there, realising her heart was pounding with a mixture of excitement and trepidation. She breathed and calmed herself down.
‘Amy, stop being ridiculous! Why does it still have this effect on you? You know what’s going to happen, it happens every night! Stop it. Silly girl.’ She berated herself, grasped the door handle and stopped again.
‘Besides, it might not happen tonight! He might be tired, or away in the nether-realm under the bed doing whatever he does down there… Breathe… In… Aaaaaand out…’
She opened the door and breezed out into the bedroom as if nothing was wrong. A thrill of excitement shot through her as she realised the mixing bowl was missing from the dresser. Despite herself she let out a girlish giggle and jumped onto the bed rather than let her feet get anywhere near that dark musty space. Then she awkwardly undressed down to just her panties and glasses leaving the boots on until last, which necessitated pulling five pairs of shorts off over them. Finally she took the key from the string around her neck, unlocked the padlocks and removed her boots exposing her overly warm and slightly sweaty feet to the night air. She rolled over and lay on her belly in ‘the pose’ with her large pretty feet up vulnerably behind her.
She breathed slowly in and out to calm herself down again and then in a meek little voice, both trying to be heard and trying not to be, she said ‘OK!’
Fuzzy tentacles erupted seemingly from everywhere. Amy shrieked as they wrapped themselves around her. Her arms were pulled back and her wrists held in the small of her back. Tentacles wrapped her knees holding them together, around her delicate waist pinning her arms to it still more tightly, around her shoulders and her butt and finally around her calves and her ankles.
‘Pretty feets takes too long. Does boring things. Makes monster wait for tickly feetsies.’
Amy was already hyperventilating when the fuzzy rubbery fingertips touched down on the soles of her wiggling feet. She had hoped it would start with its mouth and tongue but it was obviously feeling petulant today. She had kept it waiting too long.
‘EEEEEEEEEEEEP!!! EEHEHEEHEHEHEE NOOOO!!! MONSTER!!! PLEEEEEASE!!!’
‘Yes, yes… hee-hee-hee… pwease pwease... All part of fun.’
‘STOP STOP STOP…’ Amy huffed the words inwards as she descended into total tickle panic.
‘Yes, yes… stopity stopity stop... Monster heard before. All part of fun.’
Its fingers began a varied and unpredictable tickling attack on Amy’s poor wiggling feet. It knew precisely which spots to tickle to get her yelping so high only dolphins could hear her. It left her feet free to wiggle from the ankle down. This increased the stress even more since it promised that if she kept wiggling, hiding one foot behind the other, there might be a way to achieve some level of relief from the sporadic darting tickle attacks, however there never was. The monster loved to watch Amy’s beautifully soft feet wiggling and flapping around, curling over and scrunching her toes, uncurling and spreading them. It enjoyed watching her feet struggling almost as much as it loved to watch them held motionless and trembling as the tickles were lavished onto them.
She knew if she scrunched up her soles as hard as she could it took maybe twenty percent of the ticklishness out of the fuzzy strokes but then the monster simply tickled the tops of her feet in feather light strokes and she uncurled with a jolt and shriek and was back where she started.
It played with dangling its relaxed hands limply just touching her long soft arches and entertained itself as she wiggled her feet and tickled herself on its fingers. She knew what it was doing but it always took several torturous seconds for her to summon the resolve to stop moving her feet. Then of course it switched back to active tickles.
It formed an ‘O’ with each forefinger and thumb and contracted them over her heels. It leaned in and snuffled at her toes, tickling them with its whiskers. It lingered in her arches experimenting with different pressures of its fingertips from light grazes to fingernail scratchings – experiments it had performed many times but one could never have too much data on a subject like this.
Amy was in tickle heaven and hell all at once, betrayed by the sensitivity and softness of her feet. She heard her own dorky giggles and they embarrassed her but she couldn’t help it. At several points she snorted in a rather unladylike manner. She cried tears of laughter and squirmed and wriggled trapped in the firm embrace of its wrapped tentacles. She felt wetness and warmth building between her legs and this gave another stressful element to try to concentrate on: Could she clench her thighs and ass enough to orgasm without the help of her hands? She knew she could, but it would be a little while before the pressure built. And a little while felt like an eternity with a tickle monster having its way with her feet.
Amy endured almost twenty minutes of mind scrambling foot tickle torture at the monster’s fingers before she finally managed to squeak and clench her way to her first juddering orgasm. The monster knew precisely what it was doing and on days when it dived straight in with finger tickles it usually insisted on tickling her all the way to at least one orgasm before even a break. It dragged its fingertips slowly and gently up both of her trembling soles from heel to tippy-toes as she gasped through her orgasm. Then it allowed her a breather. Her hair was no longer plaited. Her glasses were… somewhere.
‘Good pretty feets. Monster like moany wiggles. Pretty feets do moany wiggles again, monster want to taste. Is tasty good. Yup yup.’
‘No… *gasp* Please… *gasp* I need a breaAAAAAAHAHAAAA!!!’
Amy was just going through the motions of begging for a break, a process which had about a five percent success rate, when she felt the first contact of the stiff rubber pastry brush on her right arch. The monster drew a circle of brownie mix and then slurped it off.
‘Mmm. Pretty feets makes tasty treats. Feets is tastier but treats not bad. Not bad.’ The monster nodded to itself sagely.
It then proceeded to scrape the whole bowl out and transfer all of the leftover brownie mix messily onto Amy’s struggling feet with the brush. The stiff rubber nubs were one of the most ticklish sensations she had ever experienced. For pure torture it was on a par with the probing tips of its tentacles on her feet and only a shade less tickly than its talented fingers. Amy was reduced to shrill giggles again, and again she heard her own dorky giggle pattern of an ‘EEEEEEP!’ followed by a descending trill of quickfire giggles repeated over and over, powerless to stop doing it.
Eventually the monster judged that her feet were nicely coated with warm gooey brownie mix and it inhaled a long luxurious breath of the smell of brownie mingled with the inviting scent of Amy’s feet. Then it glomped its whole mouth over both her feet and sucked and licked at them, its slimy nubby tongue probing and caressing and tickling her soles. Since both feet were in its mouth it was unable to form a proper seal around hr ankles with its lips and brownie mix tinted drool began to dribble down the insides of her calves. Its appreciative noises were fully vocalised through the small gap too.
Amy moaned out loud in surprise and ecstatic pleasure as her feet were enveloped by the warm drooly mouth. She arched her back and thrust her butt upwards as she was u-turned from taking her breather straight back towards orgasm again. The monster took its sweet time sucking her feet clean of brownie mix and she squealed red faced and embarrassed through another orgasm before it popped them back out of its mouth and began licking at them, searching for the last little remnants of flavour tucked in between the toes and down the calves. This caused a fresh wave of happy little giggles from Amy.
After a while it applied a series of wet kisses to her feet. The first one took her by surprise and took in all ten toes until she realised what was happening and pointed them at the ceiling to receive the remaining kisses on the tops of her feet.
‘Pretty feets had fun?’ Amy merely nodded. ‘Good. One item left on checklist before Amy get to choose her own tickles. Not long now.’
‘What? What item? You actually have a checklist?!’ Amy genuinely didn’t know what was left to do since she had laughed herself hoarse again and was a sweaty chocolatey mess. She frantically looked back, craning her head back to try to see what it was up to, and then she felt it. The little tickly tips of the tentacles wrapping her each chose a tickle spot and pressed inwards. She had one in each armpit, one in each thigh crease, two on her belly and one in the back of each knee. They wiggled and wormed inwards like little tickly fingers and Amy almost leaped out of her skin. She screamed in surprise and panic and struggled with all her might against the prodding torturous tentacles. She was unable to even laugh out loud and instead hissed out silent laughter punctuated by howls.
Amy had come to regard tickles as a proportion of pleasure and a proportion of torture. Light tickly strokes on her heels were about eighty percent pleasure to twenty percent torture whereas hard fingernail tickles on her arches were only about twenty percent pleasure eighty percent torture. The sweet spot tended to be about seventy-thirty and the sucking and licking of her feet tended to hit it right on the button. This was at least ninety percent torture; gargalesis as opposed to knismesis. The monster knew it too and used it sparingly. The torture only lasted a maximum of a minute.
‘Item went on checklist because pretty feets was naughty. Kept monster waiting. Even though treats were tasty.’ Amy panted and gasped to a stop.
‘Pretty feets need sleep now or want more tickles?’ Amy paused to think about it.
SLEEP!! For god’s sake Amy you’re going to be exhausted tomorrow. You’ll fall asleep at your desk again!
Every instinct seemed to plead with Amy to get free and end the torturous tickling, but the small tingle of a third orgasm had just started to suggest itself between her legs as the tentacle torture abated. Oh my God Amy Marshall, don’t even think about it!
‘Please carry on tickling my feet! Aaaaand and and… sucking my toes!’ she blurted, surprised to hear the words come out of her own mouth.
‘YUP YUP! Monster is here for pretty feets!’ It saluted. Amy and the monster both grinned from ear to ear. It clapped and rubbed its hands together and began finger tickling her feet gain, this time with a single tentacle holding her big toes in place. She was in for a long night. Again.
Parts 1 - 5:
http://www.ticklingforum.com/showth...d-(Part-5)-MONSTER-F-FEET-(-amp-pts-1-4-links)
