There is an interactive story I've been having fun with recently, while I was stuck at home. I've added several chapters and it turned out to be able to stand by itself as a complete narative. I'm posting it here, hoping you'll enjoy and if it encourages some people to contribute, all the better. Link to the story: https://www.writing.com/main/interactive-story/item_id/1976401-Your-Soles-are-His
P.S.
I'm including a chapter I started building upon, I hope original author won't mind.
P.P.S.
I appreciate all comments and suggestions, but when criticising, please bear in mind this was created as a series of separate chapters written in the simple browser so spelling and style are not perfect. I hope you'll be able to enjoy it in spite of errors and style inconsistencies.
P.P.P.S.
Story was originally intended to have the reader as the hero, so I kept is gender neutral, so everybody could enjoy.
Story so far: You are somebody who was always curious about your feet and and being tickled, so you always took good care of them. Through complicated set of circumstances you found yourself abducted on a deserted beach and tickled on your feet. After being released you realize your abductors left you a mysterious phone number. You call it and it turns out to belong to this mysterious club. You decide to visit it, but you end up not having enough money to pay for any "menu items on offer". Receptionist offers you the "special deal" but avoids explaining the details. And that's where we pick up.
You accept her dodgy offer. She hands you some kind of contract that you sign on the fly, you hand her back the piece of paper and most of the money you had left before leading you further in a corridor. You see rooms left and right with scriptures on the walls naming the type of services handled in every room. She leaves you in front of a red door at the end of the corridor and tells you to knock when you are ready. You hesitate, you didn't even know what was on the other side. It could very well be something you have no interests in.
After enough questioning, you knock and immediately regret it, probably the adrenaline. The door opens up inviting you in, so you oblige. Inside you see a big lazyboy and stocks. You go livid thinking about being restrained again but as you turn back, the door closes and you're locked in. A big sheet of cloth hides a corner of the room,
so with nothing better to do, you decide to investigate. You go near it, grab the cloth and pull, revealing four clowns on each others. The minute you uncover them, the clown tower falls on you, pinning you down. You are quickly under control and dragged to the lazyboy, one of the clown is holding the stocks open as the others are forcing your ankles into its grip. With four against one, you are once again rendered helpless. This time, your arms are free to move, but being strapped to the chair doesn't leave you much choice. Your feet on the contrary, might be in an even worse position than yesterday, if possible. Now firmly locked inside a set of padded stocks, your ankles were now part with the ground, your feet only moving from left to right.
Four clowns with stupid smiles in front of your own deliriously ticklish feet. For a second time in two days, you had your shoes and socks seductively removed in order to tickle you silly. Can you call this bad luck or, in your case, jackpot? You don't think so.
With your delicate feet at the mercy of these prankster, you didn't know how to react. They were clowns so if you laughed, would they go slow? Maybe if you played tough they would eventually get bored.
What do you say? Play tough or play the game?
I'll give them what they want...
It's obvious you're not getting out of this any time soon, so you might as well have some fun. I'll give them a good show, you think to yourself.
"Please no, not my feet. I'll do anything you want, just please don't tickle my poor, soft, sensitive, defenseless soles" you beg, while wiggling your toes and showing them all the delectable wrinkles.
Clowns stand for a few moments, enjoying the sight in front of them, as if hypnotized by the dance of your wrinkly soles. Then one of them starts wiggling his fingers in the air as he approaches you while rest of them start moving around, surrounding you, trying to get the best possible vantage point to enjoy the coming show. The lead clown kneels in front of your restrained feet, eyes never leaving them for a second. Other clowns stand around wiggling their fingers in the air in anticipation of fun that is about to start. lead clown licks his lips and slowly, very slowly moves his hands towards the inviting targets in front of him. In his eyes you can see the desire and you realize he is not stopping, not until he's explored your soles thoroughly and had loads of fun with them.
As the wiggling fingers start moving in for the kill, you realize full extent of your helplessness and begin to second guess the choices that lead you here. Sure thinking about your feet getting the special attention always appealed to you, but thinking about it in the (as it turns out relative) safety of your own home was one thing. Sitting helplessly barefoot in front of a passionate tickler something entirely different. Then to your surprise blindfold is placed over your eyes and secured behind your head. You were so concentrated on the leader that you haven't even noticed another clown moving behind you. You sit there not knowing where those monstrous fingers are, but expecting them to strike at any moment. You breathing becomes shallow, you strain your ears trying to catch any slightest noise that would give you some warning.
Then you hearing soft melodic whisper, "Coochie coochie cooo". Your mind is ready to burst and you brace your self, but nothing happens. Again you hear it, "Coochie coochie cooo". Still nothing. Sadistic bastard, teasing you like this. You begin wishing the torture would start already, but then immediately you change your mind. Undoubtedly there will be enough tickling in a matter of seconds, every unbothered breath you take is precious.
You hear some noise at the far end of the room. Your mind is filled with doubt. What's going on, did the all clowns move away from you, or was that just one of them. More noises, you try to figure out what's going on, but can't noises are too faint and too far away. As you strain your ears to figure out what's going on, you feel it. Contact. Tips of ten fingers have landed on your arches start wiggling furiously. Even though you knew what was coming they managed to catch you completely by surprise. Wild laughter streams from you, as those merciless fingers firmly caress centers of your soles: HAHAHAHAHAHAHA Triumphant "Coochie coochie cooo" rings in your ears
"Wow", the clown exclaims, clearly satisfied with the intensity of your reaction to the tickling. "We're going to have a lot of fun here, but I'll have to slow down a little, we have hours in front of us, don't want to exhaust you too soon".
His fingers leave your feet and you are able to think clearly again. "Did he say hours?" You think to yourself. "What have I gotten myself into".
"Boys, hold these babies for me" you hear him command the others. You feel two hands grab each foot, one behind the heel, the other top of the foot, pretty much restraining them totally, while leaving soles completely exposed. You are about to try to speak, to negotiate, to get yourself out of this mess somehow, but a laugh breaks out of you again as you feel single finger slowly going up and down you left sole. He went straight for your weak spot, the arch. Slowly, teasingly, lovingly, no pause, no mercy, up and down, up and down, again and again and again. You're still managing to keep yourself under control under constant stream of giggles and occasional laughs getting through, but you know you're not gonna last much longer. "At least the right foot is left alone" you think to yourself. Then you hear the leader talk again: "They are so unbelievably soft and tender, I just can't help myself". "What now?" you think to yourself and then you feel it. Something soft and wet touches your right heel and starts moving up the sole, even more slowly than the finger on the left one. Your giggles turn to full throated laughs as you realize he is licking your sole, and not just with the tip of his tongue, but with it's entire surface. It's not that tongue tickles too much, but the mere idea of somebody enjoying and tasting your feet so much adds to your feeling of vulnerability and sensitivity. Your feet are quite big, but he is trying to cover as much of the sole as possible at the same time. It takes him almost a full minute to reach your toes. "Mmmmm, delicious" you hear him say as his tongue finally leaves your toes. Still it provides very little relief as the finger in the left arch continues its steady torturous dance. "I don't remember ever having treats like these to play with" he says and then you feel the tongue on your heel again. This time it moves slightly faster until it reaches the arch and takes a bit longer to enjoy his favorite spot, before moving to the ball of the foot and speeding up a little until he reaches the toes and snakes the tongue between them.
And so it continues, finger on the one sole, tongue on the other again, and again and again
Minutes of sensual tickling go by. His fingers never leave your left arch, while your right sole is licked, kissed and nibbled adoringly. He is making sure to not over-stimulate you, even though your laughter constant, but not too intense. All hope of escape is gone from your brain, only merciless inevitable teasing of your feet fills your mind.
Then suddenly you catch a break. "When is it my turn?" one of the helpers barks. "Whenever I say so", the leader responds harshly, irritated that he had to respond to the challenger and stop licking his favourite treat, your poor sensitive arch to which he was paying special attention again, after having nibbled outer edge of your sole for a while. However troublemaker was apparently not satisfied with that answer. He and both of other two helpers jump up and in a matter of seconds the fight breaks out.
Free of unbearable foot stimulation, your mind clears and you realize that whoever wins the fight, it won't do you any good so you quickly try to help yourself. Fortunately your hands are not tied and the stocks are not locked, so you managed to release the safety and open them to release your legs. You find your sneakers next to the stocks and your socks neatly folded inside them and you quickly pull them on. Quick glance in the direction of clowns reveals that one of them has already been knocked out and another one is falling down, having received well placed punch. Not knowing what else to do, you make a run for the door that lead you to this room. Out of the corner of your eye you notice that the clown leader has noticed your escape attempt, but rather than chasing after you, he just smiled. You are unnerved by this reaction, clearly he knows something you don't, but you have no time to change your plan, making it to the door is your only chance. Soon you get to the door and just in time as the sounds of clown fight die down, somebody has obviously won and is probably coming for you. However are shocked to realize that there is no door knob anywhere to be found. You look frantically up and down and all along the edge of the door, for some kind of switch or a button but there is nothing. You jump as you feel a hand on your shoulder and turn around to see clown leader standing before you. Face to face with him for the first time, you are surprised to realize that he is a foot taller and much stronger looking then you. He still has his clown suite and makeup on, but his red clown nose fell off during the scuffle.
"You haven't read the contract they gave you when you entered here, did you?", he asks with a smile, while his eyes trail down to your feet and he licks his lips. It's very clear what his intentions are. "No", you reply weakly. "You can't get out that way, that doors opens only one way. Only way to get out of the room is on the other end." he explains. That's why he didn't chase after you straight away, he knew you're not getting out. You realize it's pointless to resist him as he picks you up, slings you over his shoulder and starts carrying you back to the center of the room. "You see customers who don't have enough money to pay for our services can earn credits for providing entertainment for our paying customers. This clown scenario is one of our most popular attractions." His tone of voice is very nice, as if you were just friends hanging out. "I don't want to provide entertainment, I want to leave" you cry out. "Ok, you have the right to stop the show whenever you want" he responds and suddenly you're shocked to notice that he is changing direction and instead of going back to the stocks he is heading for where he told you the exit was. Momentarily you feel relief, but then you feel him fiddling with your shoe laces, and why is he still carrying you if you are being let go? "Are... Are you taking my shoes off again?" you ask fearfully. "Of course" he replies merrily, "I'm not done with those gorgeous soles. I did promise you hours of fun, didn't I?" he asks with teasing tone. "But you said I could stop whenever I want" you whimper. "Oh you can stop the show for the customers, but we the staff get to have our fun, you can't stop that. It's all in the contract you signed. I'm taking you to staff area where we can continue our fun.
"So I'm getting it on my soles either way, but if you take me out I get nothing in return and if we stay here, I at least get some credits out of it?" you ask.
"That is correct", he answers, "I'll make sure you get quite a bit of credits" he laughs.
"Ok then, might as well stay here", you conclude with no enthusiasm whatsoever.
"As you wish" he says while reaching the door. He opens it and for a moment you look longingly at the corridor and freedom on the other side, while he speaks to someone outside, "Please give me a bag and a couple of mikes". He closes the door and continues pulling at your laces to keep himself entertained while waiting for his order. Soon you feel your sneaker pulled off and dropped to the ground then the other one. Then the door is opened and he is handed his supplies. He moves a bit towards the center of the room, "To give better angle of the action to the cameras", he explains. He lays you on the ground face down and quickly lays on top of your legs and grabs them between his own, while he unrolling the bag he was given. You try to pull your legs free but his grip is as strong as steel. "Oh you're not going anywhere anytime soon" he smiles at you. Then you feel him roll the sleeping bag around you starting at your ankles and going all the way up to your neck, he locks the zippers so that only your head and your socked feet are left out of it. Next he fastens several straps on the outside of the bag, locking your arms at your sides and your legs and feet together. Finally he attaches small mike to the bag near your head and one to his clown costume. "Our customers love to listen as well as to watch" he says as he winks at you. He gets up and you lose sight of him. You know where he is heading though. Your socked feet are there for the taking, completely exposed, defenceless, vulnerable. You get chills running up your spine when you feel him settle on your calves and start to slowly teasingly remove your socks. "Sleeping bag is my favourite scenario", he says, "there is nothing better then having a pair of delicious ticklish upturned soles facing you. You are completely helpless, restrained like a burrito, and your most ticklish spots are focus of expert tickler's attention. Few days ago you might have found this situation stimulating, but after everything that happened over the last 48 hours, you'd rather be anywhere else. Anticipation is getting to you, you scrunch your toes reflexively showing all your sensitive wrinkles and that finally provokes him to action. You feel a single finger in your right arch and a tongue on your left heel and immediately you start to laugh. The finger never leaves your poor ticklish arch, trailing every single wrinkle, slowly, sometimes softly, sometimes firmly, always thoroughly and lovingly, while the tongue explores the delicious left sole and under the toes and between the toes and then back to the heel to start its teasing pass again before getting to the favourite arch and staying there extra long to get at those delectable wrinkles
Minutes go by, he keeps you laughing steadily, but doesn't go back to ten finger torture like at the beginning, while you were in the stocks. Obviously he knows what he is doing, you think to yourself, and what he wants is a nice long session of merciless teasing. Well, it's far from ideal, but you are somewhat getting used to the stimulation. Maybe even starting to enjoy it a little bit. It's still a torture, but light low intensity torture, kind of what you were fantasising about just a few days ago.
As if realizing your new comfort with the titillation, he adds a second finger to the right arch and speeds up a little and then you feel a finger replace the tongue on your right sole continuing to stimulate all the way from heel to the toes and back. Gone is the semi-enjoyable teasing, the tickling becomes more intensive and with it your laughter as well. However there is nothing you can do in this position, your feet are pressed to the ground, so you scrunch your toes reflexively from time to time, but you know this will not help, it will only make it more fun for him, as he loves seeing your soles wrinkled.
"Got to learn to control myself in front of delicious wrinkles, otherwise my tongue would go numb and I wouldn't be able to enjoy them anymore, while we still have long session ahead of us" he says, smiling. While completely unaware of time elapsed since you were placed in a sleeping bag, you know that it hasn't been close to "hours" he promised you, so you're not terribly surprised when he mentions "long session ahead of you", but still your heart sinks a little deeper at the mere thought of it. "Your soles are really amazing, big, broad, so much ticklish area to play with, so many tasty, beautiful wrinkles to explore. Skin is flawless, soft and responsive to even slightest touch. And toes, they are perfectly proportioned, neither too long nor too short and all sensitive. I'm so glad I got the clown shift today and got to work on you". You have no trouble believing him, as you can practically feel his affection for your poor foot bottoms through every stroke of every finger, never pressing too hard, never being careless, always choosing the most stimulating paths to travel. Again minutes pass, you have no idea how many, but you slowly adjust this new stronger stimulation and again, miraculously, it doesn't feel terrible after a time. Again you think to yourself, "if this goes on, I could learn to enjoy this. And if I wanted to be rendered helpless and get tickled, at least it's by a skilled tickler, who knows what he is doing".
And again, as if feeling your increasing comfort level, he speaks up, "I could do this forever, these gorgeous tootsies are made for this. But how about we spice things up a little? How would you feel about a little real torture for these defenceless soles?" Your mind, in the process of being turned into mush by constant somewhat pleasant yet unbearable stimulation, does not register those words at first. "Silence is the sign of approval" he says quickly when you don't respond. "Awesome, I knew you'd be a good sport" he utters with a glee on his face. You feel something is about to change, but before you have time to process his words fully, you feel 5 fingers go into your left arch firmly and mercilessly while 5 more fingers attack the entire length of right sole and spider their way from heel to toes. The laughter explodes out of you with no warning, but even through your laughter, you hear his tender teasing voice: "Coochie coochie cooo. Tickle, tickle, tickle. Kitchy kitchy koo". You try to wiggle your feet, but there is almost no place for them to go and he follows them easily with his fingers. You try scrunching your toes, but he concentrates on the exposed wrinkles until you relax your feet again. You try to beg through your howling laughter, but you are completely unable to form words. You try trashing your entire body within the sleeping bag, but you are already exhausted by all the tickling, you barley move at all. In the mean time he seems to be fixated on the foot bottoms in front of him and oblivious to everything else in the world. It's impossible to say how long has "the torture" been going on, it feels like hours, but you know it's probably just a few minutes. "Coochie coochie cooo. Tickle, tickle, tickle. Kitchy kitchy koo". Merciless fingers go up and down the right foot, concentrating on the ball of your foot, then on the toes, their tender undersides and then ultra-soft spaces between them, back to the outer part of the sole, then quickly to heel just so it doesn't feel excluded from the their affectionate game, then back up to richer and more stimulating pastures. Worse yet is the stimulation of your left foot, concentrated entirely on the most ticklish spot of your entire body, your irresistible arch, a mere inch in one direction, then an inch back, over and over and over, on the spot where there are most receptors to feel all the devious teasing and momentarily report it all to your overloaded brain. "Coochie coochie cooo. Kitchy kitchy koo. Tickle, tickle, tickle. Coochie coochie cooo. Tickle, tickle, tickle. Kitchy kitchy koo.". Just as you think you're hopefully about to start losing consciousness, the tickling stops.
"That. Was. Amazing.", he says happily, "Damn him" you think to yourself, he won't let you begin to enjoy lighter stimulation, he won't let you pass out from harder stimulation. He is not your friend. "We'll have to do that again soon", You swallow hard, hearing this "promise". "Thank you for the wonderful half an hour. Yes, it's been that long, you deserve a reward, I know you'll love this next part". And within seconds you feel him leaning forward and then you feel long wet kisses and licks on your right sole. Then just to make it not too rewarding, he adds a couple of fingers scribbling all over the the poor left sole, before it even had real chance to recover from "the torture".
"HAHA, youhuhu think AhaIaha'm enjohohohohing HAHAHA this"? you manage to somehow spit out amidst constant laughter.
"Of course", he responds, between two long loving licks. "Or do you prefer I go back to the previous technique"?
"Nohohohoho, I lohohohove this, hahaha", you scream, not sure if he was being serious, but not wanting to find out.
"Knew it. Your soles obviously love the attention, otherwise you wouldn't keep them this immaculate", he lays a long kiss right on your arch. Then he adds third finger to the left foot. "I can't have you having too much fun though, our paying customers wouldn't like that"
More intense laughter is the only response you could muster, "HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA"
After a couple of minutes, he stops and gets up. "Don't go anywhere" he laughs, as he walks away. You use few precious seconds to catch your breath and then you try to squirm inside the bag, to try reach the zipper or something with your hands. It's very hard to move even a little with those straps holding you firm, but you have to try to do something, you can't just lay there and wait for the tickling-obsessed maniac get back to his fun with your defenceless foot bottoms. You manage to feel something between your fingers, but it's on the outer side of the bag. You try to rotate and figure out what it is, it feels relatively sharp, maybe you could manipulate it to pierce the bag. Then you feel it be taken away from your fingers. "What is this"? you hear him say. "I'm away for a second and I find you trying to escape, so I couldn't tickle these gorgeous soles anymore. I'm going to have to punish you for this. Coochie coochie cooo."
He is not really angry, he knew you had no hope of escaping and you recognised his tone was mock-serious from the start, but the moment you hear those teasing words you remember "the torture" and panic overwhelms you. You desperately try to negotiate, while you can still speak, "Wait, please, you've tickled me enough already, I've got enough credits, please, let me go."
"No such thing as tickled enough" he laughs, "not with footsies like these".
"Please, I'm too ticklish for this".
Again he laughs, "No such thing as too ticklish either".
You hear him settle down at your feet, though he is not sitting on your legs this time. "Wait, what if I promise to come again, so you could tickle me again?"
"Keep talking", he sounds intrigued.
"Yes. I'm too tired and weak now, but if you let me go, I'll promise to come again, soon", you blurt out, fearing tickling will start again and interrupt you at any moment.
"When"?
"Next week" you're unable to think clearly and come up with a more coherent plan. "I'll come up next week and we can continue".
"Continue with what" he asks playfully.
"Tickling?" you ask. Is he really considering this you wonder.
"Just tickling? What exactly do you propose I do to these beauties, when you come back?" he asks in a drawn out teasing voice, his finger starts touching your left pinky toe.
"You, you can take my shoes off" you start, unsure if this is what he wants to hear, but knowing the moment you lose his interest in talking, will mean game over for your soles again.
"Continue?" he encourages you.
"And my socks", your brain is scrambling to keep laying out coherent sequence, but you are too scared to really think properly, knowing those fingers are already inches away from your most sensitive spots and that merciless and prolonged stimulation is one wrong word away. "Slowly" you add.
"Slowly?" he sounds very intrigued.
"Yes", you finally get a bit of control back, but your voice is still trembling. "Slowly, revealing my soft heels, then my sensitive arches, my weak spots as you full well know by now, then up the balls of my feet and finally my toes, revealing my bare feet in all of their glory, my defenceless soles, in all of their ticklishness", you hear him take a deeper breath and you gain confidence. He seems to be really considering this deal, if you can convince him that he can do this to you again, maybe tickling is done for this day.
"Then what?" he asks, he is definitely not smiling anymore, he sounds very interested to hear rest of your pitch.
"When you have my feet completely bare, exposed and vulnerable, you could wrap me up in this sleeping bag again, to make me completely defenceless. Then you could sit on my calves, to make sure my foot bottoms stay right there where yu want them, in front of you, to look at and enjoy and play with." You catch yourself thinking about this quite seriously too, not just lying to get away, but wanting to go through the entire capture process again. "Then you could use those expert fingers of yours to titillate and tickle my bare exposed soles, first slowly and teasingly, with just one finger, then faster and harder until I laugh as much as you want. You could lick my arches, I know you love that, you can lick them both as hard as you want for as long as you want, while you tickle me elsewhere."
"Well, that was wonderful, thank you for that beautiful description. I'm not going to punish your escape attempt. I told you our customers love to listen as well as to watch and this was a good listen. However I don't think I'll accept that generous offer, since I already have you here where I want you and can do all those wonderful things to you know, without risking you not keeping your word and not coming back for more" he laughs and your heart sinks. You feel him sit on your calves again, then you feel new feelings on both soles and immediately go crazy, "HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA"
"These are my favourite toys, couldn't let this session pass without playing with them".
On your left sole he is using a broad brush for painting walls and furniture. It covers entire width of your rather broad sole and he uses is to travel the length of the sole, from heel to the tips of your toes and then back up again. Bristles are surprisingly stiff and tickly which gets you to full throated laughter in a matter of seconds.
Situation on the right sole is possibly even worse. He is using narrower brush, also for furniture paining, it's round at its base, the bristles are shorter, but stiffer and pricklier. He is using it to concentrate on your magnificent arch and immediately it drives you wild.
"HAHAHAHAHAHA, pleahehehehehese" you beg one last time.
"I'd love to make that deal. Having you here again, would be awesome, but I can't bring myself to let go of these beautiful feet just yet. It's obvious you take such good care of them, I just can't take my eyes off of them and I'm barely keeping my tongue away from them. They are not going anywhere".
Those damn bristles aren't as firm and don't exert as much pressure as the fingertips, but they make up for it by covering much larger areas of your soles than fingers ever could. Bristles of the broad brush get into all those hard to reach crevices on the undersides of your toes, that have never been touched before and are therefore soft and sensitive more then you thought possible. Fortunately they don't stay there for long as he is using the brush to traverse your entire left sole. However he must have noticed increase in your laughter as he changes tactics soon. He switches round brush to caressing under and between your toes using stiffer bristles to stimulate those ticklish hotbeds around toes on your right foot even more effectively. At the same time he rotates broad brush and concentrates on the center of your left sole with the full breadth of the brush, covering it not-stop with tickles while getting spots where your arch meets your heel and the ball of the foot at the same time.
"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA"
Brushes dance and caress and titillate, your soft soles squirm and scrunch under them, wrinkles are displayed then tickled and smoothed again. You laugh and laugh and laugh. If it was a bit less intense, maybe you could have enjoyed it a little bit. At least he seems to be having time of his life. You thought you were passionate about feet and tickling, but this guy is far more into them than you are. Finally all thoughts leave your mind, leaving only feeling of your delectable foot bottoms, exploited, played with, enjoyed, by a real foot lover.
"HAHAHAHAHAHA"
As time goes by, bristles keep discovering all the miniature spots that the fingers missed and tongue couldn't reach, and stimulating them. making your feet squirm and dance and wrinkle endlessly and nudging your tickler to continue to stimulate all over the irresistible soles and leave no spot un-caressed and un-explored. He even gets to the tips of the toes and around toenails, before going back to vulnerable undersides, adorable arches and gorgeous centers of your soles. Soon no pattern of foot stimulation can be detected, just ceaseless, loving exploration of new weak spots and responsive areas and your reactions to them.
"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA"
Finally at some point, brushes leave your soles and you feel a long passionate lick on your left sole followed by immediate finger slowly lovingly caressing your right arch. You are exhausted. Your thoughts are coming back to you slowly now that the stimulation is less intense. You have lost all track of time. Whether you've spent hours or days here, you have no idea. After couple of minutes, again, for the who knows what time, you begin to not hate your current situation. You are still laughing and giggling, your soles are still tickled, sensually and slowly, but dammit, aren't soles ticklish and sensitive, precisely so they would be tickled and stimulated. Having vulnerable and irresistible foot bottoms without exposing them to those who would caress them and exploit their weakness is a waste. Your tormentor is doing what he is supposed to be doing and you can't fault him for that. You decide to reward him for his good work, by showing him your delicious wrinkles, that you know he loves so much. And he immediately responds by licking and kissing harder, while tickling other foot in a firmer more efficient way, but still with just one finger.
Suddenly you feel him releasing sleeping bag strap holding your lower legs together. Could it possibly be over? Of course not, he crosses your ankles and re-fastens the strap. "Now this is my favourite pose", he says and goes back to tickling both feet with a finger each. "Lets me really appreciate the lovely shape of the feet. Inviting curves of the irresistible arches and all the gorgeous wrinkles that appear in the centers of the soles with even the slightest movements of the feet. Roundness of heels. Width of the balls of feet gradually sloping to adorable toes twitching nervously and invitingly all the time. But most of all, with ankles crossed, arches are fully exposed in all of their delicious sensitive inviting glory. There is nothing a ticklee could to do protect them in any way. I could just titillate them as much as I want." As if to prove it, he sneaks couple of fingers into both arches quickly, to make you squeal a bit louder, before going back to slow deliberate one fingered stimulation spread all over both soles. You settle back to giggling. "Truly there is no more beautiful a sight than the sole of the human foot." he says dreamily, and you are more than happy that his mind is wondering a bit, rather than thinking about new and exciting ways to get more laughter out of you.
The stimulation is somewhat enjoyable again, but you are scared to allow yourself to relax and embrace it. He has a knack of recognising when you start enjoying it and always steps up the torture. Still, you are really tired from all the stimulation and you have no strength left, to fight it any more. Your feet relax. You breath deep and that pit in your stomach that clenched hard when you first entered the room and saw the stocks, unclenches a bit. You appreciate his description of the beauty of the foot. The thought of tickling maybe stopping soon somehow does not appeal to you at all. Yes you've been through some intensive stimulation recently, but not all of it was terrible. There were some intense moments you wouldn't mind going through again. You try to think of the highlights. Like the moment when you felt him pull at your shoe laces after picking you up. That was the moment you realized the after noon was far from over, and as scared as you've been, you were also excited. Or the moment when he rolled you up in the sleeping bag and you felt the complete helplessness for the first time. Or the moment you felt his tongue touch your sole for the first time, you knew then that you're in the hands of the passionate foot lover. Or when he went after both arches for the first time, you knew he was going to explore the limits of your endurance. All those and many other moments came to you all at once. You almost don't want him to stop. Until something happens that reminds you of all the risks involved with being at mercy of a ruthless tickler.
"Time for the grande finale", he snaps form his revery suddenly. That doesn't sound good. He was going easy on you for quite a while, oh, no, this could mean only one thing. Then you hear the words you've been dreading for a while now: "I did promise you more torture. And as you know, I'm a man of my word".
"No, please", you whimper, "not again, please anything but that".
"Coochie coochie cooo. Tickle, tickle, tickle."
HAHAHAHAHAHAHA
You scream with laughter again, as you feel five fingers go hard for each sole. By now he knows your foot bottoms like the back of his hand, he knows every nook and cranny and how to best stimulate and exploit all the weak spots. His fingers are relentless and merciless and once again, all you can do is laugh. One hand concentrates on your super-sensitive arch to maximize your laughter, while other explores all the sweet spots that he discovered during your session, going under the toes and between the toes and to the outer edges of your soles that he is especially fond of. Then quickly to the heel for just a bit before getting back to lovely undersides of your poor delectable toes which are just slightly less ticklish then the arches. Soon he gets back to attacking his favourite arches with all ten fingers, relentlessly and lovingly and you are completely exhausted, having no more strength to wriggle inside a bag, or move your feet en inch or even scrunch up your toes. You fall to silent tortured laughter. He however is not paying attention, he is lost in your big wide meaty soles, their sensitivity, their defenselessness, their beauty. All the while, repeating almost mechanically, but playfully and teasingly: "Coochie coochie cooo. Tickle, tickle, tickle."
Again minutes of this passionate stimulation go by, before he finally snaps out of it and stops. He gets up.
"Wow, that was intense. I just get lost in those big feet of yours. I would love to lick them a bit more, but I don't think that would be fair, you survived over three hours of my best staff, you deserve to go free.
Before you realize what's happening, you hear your own voice speaking: "Oh please, go ahead, lick them some more if you'd like, I don't mind, just please don't tickle my bare soles anymore, I can't take anymore of that". Your mind is screaming at you, but lips don't stop moving until the offer is made. You have just invited a merciless efficient tickler, who was offering to set you free, back to control your sensitive vulnerable feet. Were you insane.
"You're the best" you hear him say delightedly, as he sits on your lover legs, grabs your ankles and brings your soles to his face and immediately starts licking both soles, eagerly and passionately, as if he hasn't been licking them for hours now. Still you relax, licks tickle very lightly and you don't mind it at all. He sneaks in an occasional poke with the finger here and there, but is playing nice other then that. Then few more minutes later he lets go of you and gets up.
Your session is mercifully over.
If you want to know/contribute to what happens after the session, head to the interactive story please.
P.S.
I'm including a chapter I started building upon, I hope original author won't mind.
P.P.S.
I appreciate all comments and suggestions, but when criticising, please bear in mind this was created as a series of separate chapters written in the simple browser so spelling and style are not perfect. I hope you'll be able to enjoy it in spite of errors and style inconsistencies.
P.P.P.S.
Story was originally intended to have the reader as the hero, so I kept is gender neutral, so everybody could enjoy.
Story so far: You are somebody who was always curious about your feet and and being tickled, so you always took good care of them. Through complicated set of circumstances you found yourself abducted on a deserted beach and tickled on your feet. After being released you realize your abductors left you a mysterious phone number. You call it and it turns out to belong to this mysterious club. You decide to visit it, but you end up not having enough money to pay for any "menu items on offer". Receptionist offers you the "special deal" but avoids explaining the details. And that's where we pick up.
You accept her dodgy offer. She hands you some kind of contract that you sign on the fly, you hand her back the piece of paper and most of the money you had left before leading you further in a corridor. You see rooms left and right with scriptures on the walls naming the type of services handled in every room. She leaves you in front of a red door at the end of the corridor and tells you to knock when you are ready. You hesitate, you didn't even know what was on the other side. It could very well be something you have no interests in.
After enough questioning, you knock and immediately regret it, probably the adrenaline. The door opens up inviting you in, so you oblige. Inside you see a big lazyboy and stocks. You go livid thinking about being restrained again but as you turn back, the door closes and you're locked in. A big sheet of cloth hides a corner of the room,
so with nothing better to do, you decide to investigate. You go near it, grab the cloth and pull, revealing four clowns on each others. The minute you uncover them, the clown tower falls on you, pinning you down. You are quickly under control and dragged to the lazyboy, one of the clown is holding the stocks open as the others are forcing your ankles into its grip. With four against one, you are once again rendered helpless. This time, your arms are free to move, but being strapped to the chair doesn't leave you much choice. Your feet on the contrary, might be in an even worse position than yesterday, if possible. Now firmly locked inside a set of padded stocks, your ankles were now part with the ground, your feet only moving from left to right.
Four clowns with stupid smiles in front of your own deliriously ticklish feet. For a second time in two days, you had your shoes and socks seductively removed in order to tickle you silly. Can you call this bad luck or, in your case, jackpot? You don't think so.
With your delicate feet at the mercy of these prankster, you didn't know how to react. They were clowns so if you laughed, would they go slow? Maybe if you played tough they would eventually get bored.
What do you say? Play tough or play the game?
I'll give them what they want...
It's obvious you're not getting out of this any time soon, so you might as well have some fun. I'll give them a good show, you think to yourself.
"Please no, not my feet. I'll do anything you want, just please don't tickle my poor, soft, sensitive, defenseless soles" you beg, while wiggling your toes and showing them all the delectable wrinkles.
Clowns stand for a few moments, enjoying the sight in front of them, as if hypnotized by the dance of your wrinkly soles. Then one of them starts wiggling his fingers in the air as he approaches you while rest of them start moving around, surrounding you, trying to get the best possible vantage point to enjoy the coming show. The lead clown kneels in front of your restrained feet, eyes never leaving them for a second. Other clowns stand around wiggling their fingers in the air in anticipation of fun that is about to start. lead clown licks his lips and slowly, very slowly moves his hands towards the inviting targets in front of him. In his eyes you can see the desire and you realize he is not stopping, not until he's explored your soles thoroughly and had loads of fun with them.
As the wiggling fingers start moving in for the kill, you realize full extent of your helplessness and begin to second guess the choices that lead you here. Sure thinking about your feet getting the special attention always appealed to you, but thinking about it in the (as it turns out relative) safety of your own home was one thing. Sitting helplessly barefoot in front of a passionate tickler something entirely different. Then to your surprise blindfold is placed over your eyes and secured behind your head. You were so concentrated on the leader that you haven't even noticed another clown moving behind you. You sit there not knowing where those monstrous fingers are, but expecting them to strike at any moment. You breathing becomes shallow, you strain your ears trying to catch any slightest noise that would give you some warning.
Then you hearing soft melodic whisper, "Coochie coochie cooo". Your mind is ready to burst and you brace your self, but nothing happens. Again you hear it, "Coochie coochie cooo". Still nothing. Sadistic bastard, teasing you like this. You begin wishing the torture would start already, but then immediately you change your mind. Undoubtedly there will be enough tickling in a matter of seconds, every unbothered breath you take is precious.
You hear some noise at the far end of the room. Your mind is filled with doubt. What's going on, did the all clowns move away from you, or was that just one of them. More noises, you try to figure out what's going on, but can't noises are too faint and too far away. As you strain your ears to figure out what's going on, you feel it. Contact. Tips of ten fingers have landed on your arches start wiggling furiously. Even though you knew what was coming they managed to catch you completely by surprise. Wild laughter streams from you, as those merciless fingers firmly caress centers of your soles: HAHAHAHAHAHAHA Triumphant "Coochie coochie cooo" rings in your ears
"Wow", the clown exclaims, clearly satisfied with the intensity of your reaction to the tickling. "We're going to have a lot of fun here, but I'll have to slow down a little, we have hours in front of us, don't want to exhaust you too soon".
His fingers leave your feet and you are able to think clearly again. "Did he say hours?" You think to yourself. "What have I gotten myself into".
"Boys, hold these babies for me" you hear him command the others. You feel two hands grab each foot, one behind the heel, the other top of the foot, pretty much restraining them totally, while leaving soles completely exposed. You are about to try to speak, to negotiate, to get yourself out of this mess somehow, but a laugh breaks out of you again as you feel single finger slowly going up and down you left sole. He went straight for your weak spot, the arch. Slowly, teasingly, lovingly, no pause, no mercy, up and down, up and down, again and again and again. You're still managing to keep yourself under control under constant stream of giggles and occasional laughs getting through, but you know you're not gonna last much longer. "At least the right foot is left alone" you think to yourself. Then you hear the leader talk again: "They are so unbelievably soft and tender, I just can't help myself". "What now?" you think to yourself and then you feel it. Something soft and wet touches your right heel and starts moving up the sole, even more slowly than the finger on the left one. Your giggles turn to full throated laughs as you realize he is licking your sole, and not just with the tip of his tongue, but with it's entire surface. It's not that tongue tickles too much, but the mere idea of somebody enjoying and tasting your feet so much adds to your feeling of vulnerability and sensitivity. Your feet are quite big, but he is trying to cover as much of the sole as possible at the same time. It takes him almost a full minute to reach your toes. "Mmmmm, delicious" you hear him say as his tongue finally leaves your toes. Still it provides very little relief as the finger in the left arch continues its steady torturous dance. "I don't remember ever having treats like these to play with" he says and then you feel the tongue on your heel again. This time it moves slightly faster until it reaches the arch and takes a bit longer to enjoy his favorite spot, before moving to the ball of the foot and speeding up a little until he reaches the toes and snakes the tongue between them.
And so it continues, finger on the one sole, tongue on the other again, and again and again
Minutes of sensual tickling go by. His fingers never leave your left arch, while your right sole is licked, kissed and nibbled adoringly. He is making sure to not over-stimulate you, even though your laughter constant, but not too intense. All hope of escape is gone from your brain, only merciless inevitable teasing of your feet fills your mind.
Then suddenly you catch a break. "When is it my turn?" one of the helpers barks. "Whenever I say so", the leader responds harshly, irritated that he had to respond to the challenger and stop licking his favourite treat, your poor sensitive arch to which he was paying special attention again, after having nibbled outer edge of your sole for a while. However troublemaker was apparently not satisfied with that answer. He and both of other two helpers jump up and in a matter of seconds the fight breaks out.
Free of unbearable foot stimulation, your mind clears and you realize that whoever wins the fight, it won't do you any good so you quickly try to help yourself. Fortunately your hands are not tied and the stocks are not locked, so you managed to release the safety and open them to release your legs. You find your sneakers next to the stocks and your socks neatly folded inside them and you quickly pull them on. Quick glance in the direction of clowns reveals that one of them has already been knocked out and another one is falling down, having received well placed punch. Not knowing what else to do, you make a run for the door that lead you to this room. Out of the corner of your eye you notice that the clown leader has noticed your escape attempt, but rather than chasing after you, he just smiled. You are unnerved by this reaction, clearly he knows something you don't, but you have no time to change your plan, making it to the door is your only chance. Soon you get to the door and just in time as the sounds of clown fight die down, somebody has obviously won and is probably coming for you. However are shocked to realize that there is no door knob anywhere to be found. You look frantically up and down and all along the edge of the door, for some kind of switch or a button but there is nothing. You jump as you feel a hand on your shoulder and turn around to see clown leader standing before you. Face to face with him for the first time, you are surprised to realize that he is a foot taller and much stronger looking then you. He still has his clown suite and makeup on, but his red clown nose fell off during the scuffle.
"You haven't read the contract they gave you when you entered here, did you?", he asks with a smile, while his eyes trail down to your feet and he licks his lips. It's very clear what his intentions are. "No", you reply weakly. "You can't get out that way, that doors opens only one way. Only way to get out of the room is on the other end." he explains. That's why he didn't chase after you straight away, he knew you're not getting out. You realize it's pointless to resist him as he picks you up, slings you over his shoulder and starts carrying you back to the center of the room. "You see customers who don't have enough money to pay for our services can earn credits for providing entertainment for our paying customers. This clown scenario is one of our most popular attractions." His tone of voice is very nice, as if you were just friends hanging out. "I don't want to provide entertainment, I want to leave" you cry out. "Ok, you have the right to stop the show whenever you want" he responds and suddenly you're shocked to notice that he is changing direction and instead of going back to the stocks he is heading for where he told you the exit was. Momentarily you feel relief, but then you feel him fiddling with your shoe laces, and why is he still carrying you if you are being let go? "Are... Are you taking my shoes off again?" you ask fearfully. "Of course" he replies merrily, "I'm not done with those gorgeous soles. I did promise you hours of fun, didn't I?" he asks with teasing tone. "But you said I could stop whenever I want" you whimper. "Oh you can stop the show for the customers, but we the staff get to have our fun, you can't stop that. It's all in the contract you signed. I'm taking you to staff area where we can continue our fun.
"So I'm getting it on my soles either way, but if you take me out I get nothing in return and if we stay here, I at least get some credits out of it?" you ask.
"That is correct", he answers, "I'll make sure you get quite a bit of credits" he laughs.
"Ok then, might as well stay here", you conclude with no enthusiasm whatsoever.
"As you wish" he says while reaching the door. He opens it and for a moment you look longingly at the corridor and freedom on the other side, while he speaks to someone outside, "Please give me a bag and a couple of mikes". He closes the door and continues pulling at your laces to keep himself entertained while waiting for his order. Soon you feel your sneaker pulled off and dropped to the ground then the other one. Then the door is opened and he is handed his supplies. He moves a bit towards the center of the room, "To give better angle of the action to the cameras", he explains. He lays you on the ground face down and quickly lays on top of your legs and grabs them between his own, while he unrolling the bag he was given. You try to pull your legs free but his grip is as strong as steel. "Oh you're not going anywhere anytime soon" he smiles at you. Then you feel him roll the sleeping bag around you starting at your ankles and going all the way up to your neck, he locks the zippers so that only your head and your socked feet are left out of it. Next he fastens several straps on the outside of the bag, locking your arms at your sides and your legs and feet together. Finally he attaches small mike to the bag near your head and one to his clown costume. "Our customers love to listen as well as to watch" he says as he winks at you. He gets up and you lose sight of him. You know where he is heading though. Your socked feet are there for the taking, completely exposed, defenceless, vulnerable. You get chills running up your spine when you feel him settle on your calves and start to slowly teasingly remove your socks. "Sleeping bag is my favourite scenario", he says, "there is nothing better then having a pair of delicious ticklish upturned soles facing you. You are completely helpless, restrained like a burrito, and your most ticklish spots are focus of expert tickler's attention. Few days ago you might have found this situation stimulating, but after everything that happened over the last 48 hours, you'd rather be anywhere else. Anticipation is getting to you, you scrunch your toes reflexively showing all your sensitive wrinkles and that finally provokes him to action. You feel a single finger in your right arch and a tongue on your left heel and immediately you start to laugh. The finger never leaves your poor ticklish arch, trailing every single wrinkle, slowly, sometimes softly, sometimes firmly, always thoroughly and lovingly, while the tongue explores the delicious left sole and under the toes and between the toes and then back to the heel to start its teasing pass again before getting to the favourite arch and staying there extra long to get at those delectable wrinkles
Minutes go by, he keeps you laughing steadily, but doesn't go back to ten finger torture like at the beginning, while you were in the stocks. Obviously he knows what he is doing, you think to yourself, and what he wants is a nice long session of merciless teasing. Well, it's far from ideal, but you are somewhat getting used to the stimulation. Maybe even starting to enjoy it a little bit. It's still a torture, but light low intensity torture, kind of what you were fantasising about just a few days ago.
As if realizing your new comfort with the titillation, he adds a second finger to the right arch and speeds up a little and then you feel a finger replace the tongue on your right sole continuing to stimulate all the way from heel to the toes and back. Gone is the semi-enjoyable teasing, the tickling becomes more intensive and with it your laughter as well. However there is nothing you can do in this position, your feet are pressed to the ground, so you scrunch your toes reflexively from time to time, but you know this will not help, it will only make it more fun for him, as he loves seeing your soles wrinkled.
"Got to learn to control myself in front of delicious wrinkles, otherwise my tongue would go numb and I wouldn't be able to enjoy them anymore, while we still have long session ahead of us" he says, smiling. While completely unaware of time elapsed since you were placed in a sleeping bag, you know that it hasn't been close to "hours" he promised you, so you're not terribly surprised when he mentions "long session ahead of you", but still your heart sinks a little deeper at the mere thought of it. "Your soles are really amazing, big, broad, so much ticklish area to play with, so many tasty, beautiful wrinkles to explore. Skin is flawless, soft and responsive to even slightest touch. And toes, they are perfectly proportioned, neither too long nor too short and all sensitive. I'm so glad I got the clown shift today and got to work on you". You have no trouble believing him, as you can practically feel his affection for your poor foot bottoms through every stroke of every finger, never pressing too hard, never being careless, always choosing the most stimulating paths to travel. Again minutes pass, you have no idea how many, but you slowly adjust this new stronger stimulation and again, miraculously, it doesn't feel terrible after a time. Again you think to yourself, "if this goes on, I could learn to enjoy this. And if I wanted to be rendered helpless and get tickled, at least it's by a skilled tickler, who knows what he is doing".
And again, as if feeling your increasing comfort level, he speaks up, "I could do this forever, these gorgeous tootsies are made for this. But how about we spice things up a little? How would you feel about a little real torture for these defenceless soles?" Your mind, in the process of being turned into mush by constant somewhat pleasant yet unbearable stimulation, does not register those words at first. "Silence is the sign of approval" he says quickly when you don't respond. "Awesome, I knew you'd be a good sport" he utters with a glee on his face. You feel something is about to change, but before you have time to process his words fully, you feel 5 fingers go into your left arch firmly and mercilessly while 5 more fingers attack the entire length of right sole and spider their way from heel to toes. The laughter explodes out of you with no warning, but even through your laughter, you hear his tender teasing voice: "Coochie coochie cooo. Tickle, tickle, tickle. Kitchy kitchy koo". You try to wiggle your feet, but there is almost no place for them to go and he follows them easily with his fingers. You try scrunching your toes, but he concentrates on the exposed wrinkles until you relax your feet again. You try to beg through your howling laughter, but you are completely unable to form words. You try trashing your entire body within the sleeping bag, but you are already exhausted by all the tickling, you barley move at all. In the mean time he seems to be fixated on the foot bottoms in front of him and oblivious to everything else in the world. It's impossible to say how long has "the torture" been going on, it feels like hours, but you know it's probably just a few minutes. "Coochie coochie cooo. Tickle, tickle, tickle. Kitchy kitchy koo". Merciless fingers go up and down the right foot, concentrating on the ball of your foot, then on the toes, their tender undersides and then ultra-soft spaces between them, back to the outer part of the sole, then quickly to heel just so it doesn't feel excluded from the their affectionate game, then back up to richer and more stimulating pastures. Worse yet is the stimulation of your left foot, concentrated entirely on the most ticklish spot of your entire body, your irresistible arch, a mere inch in one direction, then an inch back, over and over and over, on the spot where there are most receptors to feel all the devious teasing and momentarily report it all to your overloaded brain. "Coochie coochie cooo. Kitchy kitchy koo. Tickle, tickle, tickle. Coochie coochie cooo. Tickle, tickle, tickle. Kitchy kitchy koo.". Just as you think you're hopefully about to start losing consciousness, the tickling stops.
"That. Was. Amazing.", he says happily, "Damn him" you think to yourself, he won't let you begin to enjoy lighter stimulation, he won't let you pass out from harder stimulation. He is not your friend. "We'll have to do that again soon", You swallow hard, hearing this "promise". "Thank you for the wonderful half an hour. Yes, it's been that long, you deserve a reward, I know you'll love this next part". And within seconds you feel him leaning forward and then you feel long wet kisses and licks on your right sole. Then just to make it not too rewarding, he adds a couple of fingers scribbling all over the the poor left sole, before it even had real chance to recover from "the torture".
"HAHA, youhuhu think AhaIaha'm enjohohohohing HAHAHA this"? you manage to somehow spit out amidst constant laughter.
"Of course", he responds, between two long loving licks. "Or do you prefer I go back to the previous technique"?
"Nohohohoho, I lohohohove this, hahaha", you scream, not sure if he was being serious, but not wanting to find out.
"Knew it. Your soles obviously love the attention, otherwise you wouldn't keep them this immaculate", he lays a long kiss right on your arch. Then he adds third finger to the left foot. "I can't have you having too much fun though, our paying customers wouldn't like that"
More intense laughter is the only response you could muster, "HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA"
After a couple of minutes, he stops and gets up. "Don't go anywhere" he laughs, as he walks away. You use few precious seconds to catch your breath and then you try to squirm inside the bag, to try reach the zipper or something with your hands. It's very hard to move even a little with those straps holding you firm, but you have to try to do something, you can't just lay there and wait for the tickling-obsessed maniac get back to his fun with your defenceless foot bottoms. You manage to feel something between your fingers, but it's on the outer side of the bag. You try to rotate and figure out what it is, it feels relatively sharp, maybe you could manipulate it to pierce the bag. Then you feel it be taken away from your fingers. "What is this"? you hear him say. "I'm away for a second and I find you trying to escape, so I couldn't tickle these gorgeous soles anymore. I'm going to have to punish you for this. Coochie coochie cooo."
He is not really angry, he knew you had no hope of escaping and you recognised his tone was mock-serious from the start, but the moment you hear those teasing words you remember "the torture" and panic overwhelms you. You desperately try to negotiate, while you can still speak, "Wait, please, you've tickled me enough already, I've got enough credits, please, let me go."
"No such thing as tickled enough" he laughs, "not with footsies like these".
"Please, I'm too ticklish for this".
Again he laughs, "No such thing as too ticklish either".
You hear him settle down at your feet, though he is not sitting on your legs this time. "Wait, what if I promise to come again, so you could tickle me again?"
"Keep talking", he sounds intrigued.
"Yes. I'm too tired and weak now, but if you let me go, I'll promise to come again, soon", you blurt out, fearing tickling will start again and interrupt you at any moment.
"When"?
"Next week" you're unable to think clearly and come up with a more coherent plan. "I'll come up next week and we can continue".
"Continue with what" he asks playfully.
"Tickling?" you ask. Is he really considering this you wonder.
"Just tickling? What exactly do you propose I do to these beauties, when you come back?" he asks in a drawn out teasing voice, his finger starts touching your left pinky toe.
"You, you can take my shoes off" you start, unsure if this is what he wants to hear, but knowing the moment you lose his interest in talking, will mean game over for your soles again.
"Continue?" he encourages you.
"And my socks", your brain is scrambling to keep laying out coherent sequence, but you are too scared to really think properly, knowing those fingers are already inches away from your most sensitive spots and that merciless and prolonged stimulation is one wrong word away. "Slowly" you add.
"Slowly?" he sounds very intrigued.
"Yes", you finally get a bit of control back, but your voice is still trembling. "Slowly, revealing my soft heels, then my sensitive arches, my weak spots as you full well know by now, then up the balls of my feet and finally my toes, revealing my bare feet in all of their glory, my defenceless soles, in all of their ticklishness", you hear him take a deeper breath and you gain confidence. He seems to be really considering this deal, if you can convince him that he can do this to you again, maybe tickling is done for this day.
"Then what?" he asks, he is definitely not smiling anymore, he sounds very interested to hear rest of your pitch.
"When you have my feet completely bare, exposed and vulnerable, you could wrap me up in this sleeping bag again, to make me completely defenceless. Then you could sit on my calves, to make sure my foot bottoms stay right there where yu want them, in front of you, to look at and enjoy and play with." You catch yourself thinking about this quite seriously too, not just lying to get away, but wanting to go through the entire capture process again. "Then you could use those expert fingers of yours to titillate and tickle my bare exposed soles, first slowly and teasingly, with just one finger, then faster and harder until I laugh as much as you want. You could lick my arches, I know you love that, you can lick them both as hard as you want for as long as you want, while you tickle me elsewhere."
"Well, that was wonderful, thank you for that beautiful description. I'm not going to punish your escape attempt. I told you our customers love to listen as well as to watch and this was a good listen. However I don't think I'll accept that generous offer, since I already have you here where I want you and can do all those wonderful things to you know, without risking you not keeping your word and not coming back for more" he laughs and your heart sinks. You feel him sit on your calves again, then you feel new feelings on both soles and immediately go crazy, "HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA"
"These are my favourite toys, couldn't let this session pass without playing with them".
On your left sole he is using a broad brush for painting walls and furniture. It covers entire width of your rather broad sole and he uses is to travel the length of the sole, from heel to the tips of your toes and then back up again. Bristles are surprisingly stiff and tickly which gets you to full throated laughter in a matter of seconds.
Situation on the right sole is possibly even worse. He is using narrower brush, also for furniture paining, it's round at its base, the bristles are shorter, but stiffer and pricklier. He is using it to concentrate on your magnificent arch and immediately it drives you wild.
"HAHAHAHAHAHA, pleahehehehehese" you beg one last time.
"I'd love to make that deal. Having you here again, would be awesome, but I can't bring myself to let go of these beautiful feet just yet. It's obvious you take such good care of them, I just can't take my eyes off of them and I'm barely keeping my tongue away from them. They are not going anywhere".
Those damn bristles aren't as firm and don't exert as much pressure as the fingertips, but they make up for it by covering much larger areas of your soles than fingers ever could. Bristles of the broad brush get into all those hard to reach crevices on the undersides of your toes, that have never been touched before and are therefore soft and sensitive more then you thought possible. Fortunately they don't stay there for long as he is using the brush to traverse your entire left sole. However he must have noticed increase in your laughter as he changes tactics soon. He switches round brush to caressing under and between your toes using stiffer bristles to stimulate those ticklish hotbeds around toes on your right foot even more effectively. At the same time he rotates broad brush and concentrates on the center of your left sole with the full breadth of the brush, covering it not-stop with tickles while getting spots where your arch meets your heel and the ball of the foot at the same time.
"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA"
Brushes dance and caress and titillate, your soft soles squirm and scrunch under them, wrinkles are displayed then tickled and smoothed again. You laugh and laugh and laugh. If it was a bit less intense, maybe you could have enjoyed it a little bit. At least he seems to be having time of his life. You thought you were passionate about feet and tickling, but this guy is far more into them than you are. Finally all thoughts leave your mind, leaving only feeling of your delectable foot bottoms, exploited, played with, enjoyed, by a real foot lover.
"HAHAHAHAHAHA"
As time goes by, bristles keep discovering all the miniature spots that the fingers missed and tongue couldn't reach, and stimulating them. making your feet squirm and dance and wrinkle endlessly and nudging your tickler to continue to stimulate all over the irresistible soles and leave no spot un-caressed and un-explored. He even gets to the tips of the toes and around toenails, before going back to vulnerable undersides, adorable arches and gorgeous centers of your soles. Soon no pattern of foot stimulation can be detected, just ceaseless, loving exploration of new weak spots and responsive areas and your reactions to them.
"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA"
Finally at some point, brushes leave your soles and you feel a long passionate lick on your left sole followed by immediate finger slowly lovingly caressing your right arch. You are exhausted. Your thoughts are coming back to you slowly now that the stimulation is less intense. You have lost all track of time. Whether you've spent hours or days here, you have no idea. After couple of minutes, again, for the who knows what time, you begin to not hate your current situation. You are still laughing and giggling, your soles are still tickled, sensually and slowly, but dammit, aren't soles ticklish and sensitive, precisely so they would be tickled and stimulated. Having vulnerable and irresistible foot bottoms without exposing them to those who would caress them and exploit their weakness is a waste. Your tormentor is doing what he is supposed to be doing and you can't fault him for that. You decide to reward him for his good work, by showing him your delicious wrinkles, that you know he loves so much. And he immediately responds by licking and kissing harder, while tickling other foot in a firmer more efficient way, but still with just one finger.
Suddenly you feel him releasing sleeping bag strap holding your lower legs together. Could it possibly be over? Of course not, he crosses your ankles and re-fastens the strap. "Now this is my favourite pose", he says and goes back to tickling both feet with a finger each. "Lets me really appreciate the lovely shape of the feet. Inviting curves of the irresistible arches and all the gorgeous wrinkles that appear in the centers of the soles with even the slightest movements of the feet. Roundness of heels. Width of the balls of feet gradually sloping to adorable toes twitching nervously and invitingly all the time. But most of all, with ankles crossed, arches are fully exposed in all of their delicious sensitive inviting glory. There is nothing a ticklee could to do protect them in any way. I could just titillate them as much as I want." As if to prove it, he sneaks couple of fingers into both arches quickly, to make you squeal a bit louder, before going back to slow deliberate one fingered stimulation spread all over both soles. You settle back to giggling. "Truly there is no more beautiful a sight than the sole of the human foot." he says dreamily, and you are more than happy that his mind is wondering a bit, rather than thinking about new and exciting ways to get more laughter out of you.
The stimulation is somewhat enjoyable again, but you are scared to allow yourself to relax and embrace it. He has a knack of recognising when you start enjoying it and always steps up the torture. Still, you are really tired from all the stimulation and you have no strength left, to fight it any more. Your feet relax. You breath deep and that pit in your stomach that clenched hard when you first entered the room and saw the stocks, unclenches a bit. You appreciate his description of the beauty of the foot. The thought of tickling maybe stopping soon somehow does not appeal to you at all. Yes you've been through some intensive stimulation recently, but not all of it was terrible. There were some intense moments you wouldn't mind going through again. You try to think of the highlights. Like the moment when you felt him pull at your shoe laces after picking you up. That was the moment you realized the after noon was far from over, and as scared as you've been, you were also excited. Or the moment when he rolled you up in the sleeping bag and you felt the complete helplessness for the first time. Or the moment you felt his tongue touch your sole for the first time, you knew then that you're in the hands of the passionate foot lover. Or when he went after both arches for the first time, you knew he was going to explore the limits of your endurance. All those and many other moments came to you all at once. You almost don't want him to stop. Until something happens that reminds you of all the risks involved with being at mercy of a ruthless tickler.
"Time for the grande finale", he snaps form his revery suddenly. That doesn't sound good. He was going easy on you for quite a while, oh, no, this could mean only one thing. Then you hear the words you've been dreading for a while now: "I did promise you more torture. And as you know, I'm a man of my word".
"No, please", you whimper, "not again, please anything but that".
"Coochie coochie cooo. Tickle, tickle, tickle."
HAHAHAHAHAHAHA
You scream with laughter again, as you feel five fingers go hard for each sole. By now he knows your foot bottoms like the back of his hand, he knows every nook and cranny and how to best stimulate and exploit all the weak spots. His fingers are relentless and merciless and once again, all you can do is laugh. One hand concentrates on your super-sensitive arch to maximize your laughter, while other explores all the sweet spots that he discovered during your session, going under the toes and between the toes and to the outer edges of your soles that he is especially fond of. Then quickly to the heel for just a bit before getting back to lovely undersides of your poor delectable toes which are just slightly less ticklish then the arches. Soon he gets back to attacking his favourite arches with all ten fingers, relentlessly and lovingly and you are completely exhausted, having no more strength to wriggle inside a bag, or move your feet en inch or even scrunch up your toes. You fall to silent tortured laughter. He however is not paying attention, he is lost in your big wide meaty soles, their sensitivity, their defenselessness, their beauty. All the while, repeating almost mechanically, but playfully and teasingly: "Coochie coochie cooo. Tickle, tickle, tickle."
Again minutes of this passionate stimulation go by, before he finally snaps out of it and stops. He gets up.
"Wow, that was intense. I just get lost in those big feet of yours. I would love to lick them a bit more, but I don't think that would be fair, you survived over three hours of my best staff, you deserve to go free.
Before you realize what's happening, you hear your own voice speaking: "Oh please, go ahead, lick them some more if you'd like, I don't mind, just please don't tickle my bare soles anymore, I can't take anymore of that". Your mind is screaming at you, but lips don't stop moving until the offer is made. You have just invited a merciless efficient tickler, who was offering to set you free, back to control your sensitive vulnerable feet. Were you insane.
"You're the best" you hear him say delightedly, as he sits on your lover legs, grabs your ankles and brings your soles to his face and immediately starts licking both soles, eagerly and passionately, as if he hasn't been licking them for hours now. Still you relax, licks tickle very lightly and you don't mind it at all. He sneaks in an occasional poke with the finger here and there, but is playing nice other then that. Then few more minutes later he lets go of you and gets up.
Your session is mercifully over.
If you want to know/contribute to what happens after the session, head to the interactive story please.
