Rasputin
TMF Expert
- Joined
- Jan 22, 2002
- Messages
- 574
- Points
- 18
As I have said in previous parts, the stars and the moon aligned perfectly on this day. My wife, who was having an exceptionally ticklish day, was about to get scrubbed and exfoliated by a guy who really seemed to know his way around tickle torture. And I had a front row seat for the show that I wasn’t sure that I wanted to see.
A few pokes and light scrapes from the tip of a squeeze-bottle filled with callus remover. Some erratic extended fingertip grazes and strokes on my wife’s slippery toes, heels, and soles. These “intentionally unintentional tickles” utterly destroyed my wife’s resolve to resist reacting to the tickling.
My beloved wife honestly does try to maintain her dignity during pedicures, even though she is absolutely ridiculously ticklish. I think this harkens back to her days of trying to be recognized as a serious and unflappable professional. If you’d seen as many of her pedicure experiences as I have, you would recognize the progression of her breaking. And on this fateful day, she just stopped resisting the tickles about 6 minutes in to having her feet handled.
Now that the proverbial ticklish cat had been let out of the bag, Tom seemed to move forward with more purpose. Up to this point no real implements had been used. But that all changed.
Tom revealed a metal foot file as if he had just pulled it out of a scabbard attached to his side. And when he pulled it out of the toolbox, he wielded it up in the air almost like a swordsman proud of his fencing skills. At the mere site of the foot file, my wife lost it. It hadn’t even made contact but she knew what was coming. Tom started in on her left big toe. His method was quite artistic. He started off slowly and methodically going up and down the big toe In one direction, then alternating to an even slower sideways motion. As soon as this happened, she burst out in laughter and tilted her head over to her side, placing her face in her hand and laughing. “I’m so sorry!!!”, she giggled out loud. At this point, he grabbed her toes and bent them back accentuating the arch and began to work the shiny metal file on the balls of her feet. They began to converse in muffled conversation, and my wife had slightly pulled it together, even though I know what was happening was tickling her. As the filing continued, the occasional guffaw escaped my wife’s mouth, and then she leaned her head back into the chair looking to the ceiling and taking a big deep breath. As the conversation continued, I again would hear the occasional giggled out words. My wife was still able to talk, but not without a heavy sprinkling of laughter’s and breaths interspersed between words. Tom would periodically stop filing and then stroke the areas with his fingertips to illustrate how smooth he was making them. He then returned with a vengeance back to her big toe. He grabbed it almost in a chokehold and began slowly and multi directionally using the file on her big toe. As her reactions increased, so did his tenacity. After what seemed like an eternity of her giggling and writhing, she asked him to pause for a moment to give her a break to breathe. I will never know exactly what was said after that. The primary thing I saw was my wife making hand gestures and laughing. If she had not confessed that she was ticklish before this point, it certainly appeared that she was doing it at that moment. Being the good tickle sadist that our nail tech appeared to be, Tom gave her an entire seven second break and went over to her next foot.
When the first touches made contact on her right foot, she was in shambles. There was no form of restraint left anymore. She was at the mercy of this brutal tickling. Even the younger woman who was working there in the background was watching. She looked uncomfortable as if she was vicariously experiencing the sensory overload. Every time my wife reacted to the filing on a certain spot, he really committed to that spot. All told, he spent about 10 minutes with just the foot file on my wife’s feet. And based on my wife’s reactions, I assure you that was 10 minutes of agony for her. And given the fact that she regularly received pedicures, he wasn’t exfoliating. There wasn’t enough to exfoliate for that long. He was tickling with purpose.
And that’s when Tom switched over to the ultimate pedicure tool, renowned worldwide for its tickling prowess. Mr. Pumice. If you’re not familiar with Mr Pumice, imagine a two color rigid sponge. One side is fine, and one side is coarse, but both sides are scrapey, scratchy, and tickly. If you see a ticklish pedicure reaction video on the Internet, Mr. Pumice is usually the culprit.
And Mr. Pumice did not disappoint this time, as I was about to witness.
A few pokes and light scrapes from the tip of a squeeze-bottle filled with callus remover. Some erratic extended fingertip grazes and strokes on my wife’s slippery toes, heels, and soles. These “intentionally unintentional tickles” utterly destroyed my wife’s resolve to resist reacting to the tickling.
My beloved wife honestly does try to maintain her dignity during pedicures, even though she is absolutely ridiculously ticklish. I think this harkens back to her days of trying to be recognized as a serious and unflappable professional. If you’d seen as many of her pedicure experiences as I have, you would recognize the progression of her breaking. And on this fateful day, she just stopped resisting the tickles about 6 minutes in to having her feet handled.
Now that the proverbial ticklish cat had been let out of the bag, Tom seemed to move forward with more purpose. Up to this point no real implements had been used. But that all changed.
Tom revealed a metal foot file as if he had just pulled it out of a scabbard attached to his side. And when he pulled it out of the toolbox, he wielded it up in the air almost like a swordsman proud of his fencing skills. At the mere site of the foot file, my wife lost it. It hadn’t even made contact but she knew what was coming. Tom started in on her left big toe. His method was quite artistic. He started off slowly and methodically going up and down the big toe In one direction, then alternating to an even slower sideways motion. As soon as this happened, she burst out in laughter and tilted her head over to her side, placing her face in her hand and laughing. “I’m so sorry!!!”, she giggled out loud. At this point, he grabbed her toes and bent them back accentuating the arch and began to work the shiny metal file on the balls of her feet. They began to converse in muffled conversation, and my wife had slightly pulled it together, even though I know what was happening was tickling her. As the filing continued, the occasional guffaw escaped my wife’s mouth, and then she leaned her head back into the chair looking to the ceiling and taking a big deep breath. As the conversation continued, I again would hear the occasional giggled out words. My wife was still able to talk, but not without a heavy sprinkling of laughter’s and breaths interspersed between words. Tom would periodically stop filing and then stroke the areas with his fingertips to illustrate how smooth he was making them. He then returned with a vengeance back to her big toe. He grabbed it almost in a chokehold and began slowly and multi directionally using the file on her big toe. As her reactions increased, so did his tenacity. After what seemed like an eternity of her giggling and writhing, she asked him to pause for a moment to give her a break to breathe. I will never know exactly what was said after that. The primary thing I saw was my wife making hand gestures and laughing. If she had not confessed that she was ticklish before this point, it certainly appeared that she was doing it at that moment. Being the good tickle sadist that our nail tech appeared to be, Tom gave her an entire seven second break and went over to her next foot.
When the first touches made contact on her right foot, she was in shambles. There was no form of restraint left anymore. She was at the mercy of this brutal tickling. Even the younger woman who was working there in the background was watching. She looked uncomfortable as if she was vicariously experiencing the sensory overload. Every time my wife reacted to the filing on a certain spot, he really committed to that spot. All told, he spent about 10 minutes with just the foot file on my wife’s feet. And based on my wife’s reactions, I assure you that was 10 minutes of agony for her. And given the fact that she regularly received pedicures, he wasn’t exfoliating. There wasn’t enough to exfoliate for that long. He was tickling with purpose.
And that’s when Tom switched over to the ultimate pedicure tool, renowned worldwide for its tickling prowess. Mr. Pumice. If you’re not familiar with Mr Pumice, imagine a two color rigid sponge. One side is fine, and one side is coarse, but both sides are scrapey, scratchy, and tickly. If you see a ticklish pedicure reaction video on the Internet, Mr. Pumice is usually the culprit.
And Mr. Pumice did not disappoint this time, as I was about to witness.
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