LosingControl
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This is the third story in The Effitless Saga - a world where a fitness craze, involving tickling, has swept the nation. Each story explores the Effitless craze from different perspectives.
If you haven't read the first two stories in the saga, you should be able to check them out here and here.
Jennifer had been working at Apex Talent for 30 years.
Based in Tampa Florida, the agency served up-and-coming models in the area, helping them get print and television work - and now, with a new generation of influencers, social media sponsorships.
Jennifer had started there when she was just 22, coming in as an inspiring model, but soon found that it wasn’t for her. However, she had caught the eye of the owner, a man named Trevor Bradford, who recognized her intelligence and capability - along with her beauty - and soon brought her up to assist him directly in running the business. As his executive assistant, she helped play a major role in developing the agency over the years. She loved working there, and loved working for Trevor. He was a kind man, always treating her with respect and as partner in their work together.
Tragically, in the fall of 2023, Trevor suddenly and expectedly suffered a stroke, and died soon after. Jennifer was distraught - he was her mentor and close friend by that point - but she resolved to continue to run and develop Apex in his legacy.
Unfortunately, a wrench was soon thrown in those plans, in the form of Trevor’s 25 year old Henry. He was a very different man than Trevor was: extravagant, egotistical, and self-absorbed. Jennifer had known him since he was a baby, watching as his personality developed over the years. She never much liked him, and he never seemed to like her either - always regarding her as some sort of threat.
Much to Jennifer’s dismay, it was Henry who took over the agency after Trevor died. As the sole beneficiary to Trevor’s estate, he quickly assumed total control of Apex, along with all of its operations.
It quickly became apparent that Henry was looking to make some changes. He felt that Apex needed to modernize, to change its image, moving more squarely towards courting the hottest influencers and focusing less on the traditional, local models that had defined the agency for many years.
While Jennifer was able to keep her job, she now directly reported to Henry, as his EA, and from the start they butted heads on just about everything. Used to having a lot of control, Jennifer resisted the changes that Henry was making, but was overruled at very turn.
Soon enough she gave up, becoming resigned to keeping her head down, putting in the work, and trying her hardest to avoid getting on Henry’s bad side. It was no longer the Apex that she had known, loved, and built, but at least she had a stable job.
Indeed, Jennifer had always been married to her job, putting all of her energy over the years into her work. As such, she had never married or had children - not that it bothered her very much. As a woman in her mid 50, Jennifer was still very attractive, and never felt the need to settle down l. She was of Italian dissent, standing at 5’7 with dark brown hair and olive skin. She still took a lot of pride in her appearance, taking good care of her skin and dressing fashionably. She had no problem finding men to date - often men a decade or more her junior; she was very much a cougar, embracing her attractiveness and virility.
At the same time, as the years had matched on, she had gained some weight. She wasn’t obese, by any means, but her doctor often told her that it would be a good idea to lose 10-20 lbs. Jennifer never much minded the extra weight: she still felt attractive, and had come to accept it as part of her, eschewing diets and intense workout routines, outside of playing tennis on the weekends.
On the other hand, her weight had clearly become an issue for Henry. She was the only overweight employee in their office, filled with perky 20 something women with tight, fit bodies. He felt that Jennifer’s weight reflected poorly on the company’s image, and served as an impediment to Apex becoming one of the hottest talent management agencies in the country.
He knew, though, that he couldn’t fire her for being overweight, as much as he might have liked to. However, Henry was a cunning young man, known to scheme, and soon enough he had hatched a devious plan to be able to force Jennifer out.
His plan rested on two key things: something that he’d overheard Jennifer telling his father about over a decade ago, along with an article he’d read about a fitness company called Effitless.
When he was around 15, one day he overheard Jennifer talking to his dad about something quite personal to her. It turned out that she had recently been diagnosed with a condition called Hyperesthesia, which related to one developing abnormal sensitivity to touch, smell, or taste.
In Jennifer’s case, it related to her feet. She was always something of a sun bunny, sporting a deep, yearlong tan, and spending lots of time at the beach each weekend. One day, in her early 40s, she noticed that her feet were becoming excruciatingly sensitive to the sand on the beach, to the point where she couldn’t even walk around without her flip flops on. She finally went to the doctor about this, who soon diagnosed her with this rare condition. There was no known cure, but it could be managed by avoiding excessive stimulation.
Over the years, Jennifer learned to live with her condition, making the necessary adjustments in her life. She didn’t go barefoot on the sand anymore, and avoided letting anything touch her feet, especially her soles and toes, which had become indescribably tender and ticklish. All of her boyfriends were quickly and sternly warned that her feet were completely off limits, which was a shame for Jennifer since prior to this development she quite enjoyed having her feet rubbed and played with.
Indeed, outside of her condition, Jennifer really liked her feet. By any standard, they had always been extremely attractive: in fact, in her early 20s, before her career at Apex took off, she had even done some foot modeling. They were a size 7, medium-width, very high arched, with perfectly proportioned long toes. They were always deeply tanned on the tops, from all of her time in the sun, and a nice, consistent shade of light brown on the bottoms, matching her general olive complexion.
As one might imagine, it had become almost impossible for Jennifer to get regular pedicures. She could barely wash her feet in the shower without the sensations becoming overwhelming, and simply walking on carpets could be torture for her. Despite that, Jennifer was persistent, and found a pedicurist who specialized in her condition, using special techniques and a desensitizing cream that made the process bearable for her. As a result, her feet were always baby soft, with beautifully wrinkled soles as they had matured with her age.
Unfortunately for her, Henry knew about her condition; a weakness of hers that he could potentially exploit, given the right opportunity.
And that opportunity came to him in the form of an article he chanced across in the newspaper one morning. With so much of the country suffering from obesity, resulting in higher healthcare premiums for employers, congress had recently passed a controversial new law granting companies the power to have their overweight employees enroll in a highly-effective weight loss program, administered by a company called Effitless.
And with that, Henry had formed his plan. He had read about Effitless, and how they used foot tickling to help people burn calories and lose weight without needing to work out. And he knew that Jennifer, with her clinically sensitive feet, would be unable to handle it. By forcing her to undergo this mandatory weight loss program, she’d either quit before starting or soon after.
The next day, Henry called Jennifer into his office:
“Hey Jennifer”, he said, “I have something that I need to discuss with you”.
When he said this, Jennifer’s guard immediately went up. What could be possibly want? It was rarely anything good when it came from him.
“Now, this is objectively a sensitive topic, but I wanted to discuss your weight. Now, don’t get me wrong, you’re an attractive woman, if you don’t mind me saying that, but here at Apex we’re looking to maintain a certain imagine, and having overweight employees just doesn’t work with our image, I’m sure you understand.”
Jennifer was listening intently. He couldn’t possibly fire her for being overweight, she thought, that would be illegal. She’d sue him for everything he had.
“So, that’s why I’m excited to let you know that we’re enrolling you in Effitless, a new weight loss program that is supposed to be incredibly effective! You might not have heard, but a new law gives companies the authority to enroll overweight employees, like yourself, in this specific program. The best part is that it’s completely on us, you won’t have to pay a dime!”
Jennifer was floored. How could she be required to attend a weight loss program? This seemed absurd.
She quickly marched out of his office, went to her computer, and did her own research. Sure enough, much to her dismay, Henry was right. There were certain requirements, with BMI having to be at a certain level, but unfortunately she met all of them. She had no choice but to either quit or go along with the program and lose the weight.
By the time she got home that evening she was fuming. How dare that little shit put her in this position! She rushed to her computer, and looked up Effitless, since she had never heard of them before. What she found horrified her. She quickly learned that Effitless uses tickling - specifically foot tickling - to get people to burn calories and lose weight.
As she went down an internet rabbit hole on Effitless, she read story after story about people’s experiences. She came across one story of an unsuspecting mom from Rockville Texas, who was tricked by her husband into participating in the program. She ended up having the soles of her restrained bare feet tickled with brushes until she peed herself multiple times. However, other people had very positive experiences with the company - and while they were tickled, often to the point of hysteria, it had actually helped them lose weight when all other methods had failed.
Still, Jennifer knew there was no way she could stand being tickled on her feet. This was quite literally the worst form of torture she could imagine: she wouldn’t be able to deal with even a few seconds of foot tickling without completely losing her sanity.
At the same time, she loved her job, despite her tyrannical new boss, and she didn’t want to lose everything she worked so hard for over those many years. Perhaps even more importantly, she didn’t want to let that little fucker win.
So she started hatching a plan of her own. She remembered how effective the desensitizing cream her pedicurist used was. It dramatically numbed the hypersensitive nerve endings on her feet, making touch actually bearable, even enjoyable sometimes. Perhaps if they allowed her to use this cream as part of her session the whole thing would be tolerable enough for her to get through it.
The next day she marched defiantly into Henry’s office, looking him dead in the eyes:
“Ok, I’ll do it”, she said calmly. “I’ll call to make the appointment now”.
While on the phone, Jennifer asked the receptionist if she could use a special cream as part of her session, explaining her condition. The receptionist assured her this would be fine, and that her wellbeing would be their top priority.
As Jennifer arrived at the Effitless studio, situated in downtown Tampa, she felt an odd sense of confidence. She had decided to wear a Lululemon workout top, shorts, and her designer tennis sneakers. If she was going to be tickled, she was going to look good during the session.
Part of her confidence also had to do with the bottle of desensitizing cream she had tucked away in her purse. She was able to get a bottle beforehand from her pedicurist, and in her experience this cream deceased her sensitivity at least 10 fold. Even being 10 times less ticklish, she still knew it would be tough to handle, but hopefully bearable enough if she grit her teeth and white knuckled through it.
As she walked into the studio, she was greeted warmly the receptionist - she sounded like the some women that she’d spoken with on the phone. She was given a waiver to sign, and sat down on one of the plush couches with a glass of cucumber water in hand to read through the details.
Parts of the waiver admittedly made her shudder. It was clear that this was considered a medical procedure, and as such she was relishing all control to stop the session once she restarted, outside of an actual medical emergency. Still, she had come this far - and most importantly she had her secret weapon in her purse - so she signed and handed the iPad back to the receptionist.
A few minutes later, a man named Barry walked over to introduce himself as her session coordinator, ushering her to follow him down a corridor. As they got to the end, he opened a door to one of the many rooms, and led her inside.
The room was minimally furnished but immaculate. There was a large bed on one side of the room, with a coach on the other side, directly facing the foot of the bed. Jennifer noticed that there was some type of contraption attached to the foot of the bed - it kind of looked like a medieval stockade, but with modern finishings.
Barry instructed here to sit on the bed and make herself comfortable; Jennifer complied, sitting on the center of the bed, still wearing her tennis sneakers. She wasn’t sure what to make of all of this, feeling a growing sense of unease that she was trying hard to suppress.
“Please place your ankles in the those holes”, Barry said, somewhat coldly, gesturing to the contraption at the foot of the bed.
It now dawned on Jennifer that this was likely to hold her feet in position as they were being tickled. Amidst everything that was going on, she had almost forgotten to tell Barry about the desensitizing cream! There was no way she was going to be tickled without that!
“Before I do, I need to make sure that you’ll be able to put this on my feet first, rubbing it in very, very gently. I already cleared it with the receptionist beforehand.”, she said, taking the cream out of her purse and handing it to Barry.
“You see, I have this condition”, she continued. “It’s called Hyperesthesia, and it means my feet are extremely sensitive. Way more sensitive than most people.”
Barry, seemingly half listening, as he focused his eyes on a screen next to the bed, took the cream from Jennifer, reassuring her that this wouldn’t be a problem, and that it was their priority to ensure that she was as comfortable as possible during the session.
Feeling relieved, Jennifer placed her ankles in the half circles of the contraption, laying back against the pillow positioned directly behind her. As she did this, Barry moved to the foot of the bed, taking the top part of the contraption and bringing it down over her ankles, locking them in place with an audible click.
Jennifer wiggled her ankles, but she found she could hardly move them at all. This immediately made her start to feel slightly panicked; since she developed her condition, she found that she’d grown to feel very uncomfortable if her feet were trapped or confined in any way. She didn’t even like having the blanket touching them.
As she was wiggling her ankles, she heard the door open, and two young men walked into the room. They were both handsome, fit, and looked to be in their mid 20s.
“Hi Jennifer, my name is Jason and this is Ben. We’re your Effitless instructors for today’s session.”
“We’ve heard that you’re quite ticklish! Don’t worry, though, we’ll be sure to take it slow and ease you into everything gently”.
This immediately made Jennifer feel more at ease. These guys seemed nice and professional - and it didn’t hurt that they were both very hot! Perhaps having these guys tickle her feet gently and respectfully, especially with the aid of her cream to lesson the intensity of the sensations, wouldn’t be so bad. After all, she really did miss having her feet touched and played with.
As she was contemplating all of this, she felt her sneakers carefully being removed, followed by her ankle socks. As the cool air of the room hit her now bare feet, she recoiled at the sudden change in sensation. Why did her feet have to be so goddamn sensitive, it really felt like such ridiculous problem to have sometimes!
Ben placed her shoes and socks off to the side, and then went to the back of the room with Jason. As they did this, Barry walked over and pressed a button on the side of the contraption; as he did this, a thin piece of clear glass emerged directly from the top, rising up several feet.
“This is a special type of soft glass that we use in these sessions. It’s intended to protect both you and your instructors”, Barry said, somewhat curtly.
He then attached a heart rate monitor to Jennifer’s left arm, and began explaining how the Effitless metrics worked, gesturing over at a screen positioned to the side of the bed.
Jennifer only half-listened to his explanation. She was more focused on how exposed and vulnerable her bare feet felt, along with the attractive men who would presumably soon be tickling them. She was quite nervous, but also somewhat excited. Maybe this would end up being kind of fun, she thought hopefully.
Then she heard a knock on the door.
“Who is it?”, asked Barry.
No one answered, so he went over and opened the door. Jennifer looked over, and saw her boss, Henry, standing there.
In that moment, she felt like a deer in headlights, watching Henry talk to Barry. The whole thing suddenly felt surreal and unsettling. Why was he here?
“Ok, this is kind of unusual, but Henry is going to sit in for our session today. He’s Jennifer’s boss”.
Both Jason and Ben gave a nod of understanding, but Jennifer felt anger building up inside of her. He couldn’t be here for this? She couldn’t stand him!
“I don’t feel comfortable with him here”, she said with a quiver.
“I’m sorry to hear that”, said Barry, “but it’s within his rights as part of the Effitless employee program agreement. It was mentioned in the waiver you signed before: a company representative is allowed to attend sponsored sessions, at their discretion.”
Jennifer’s heart sank. She suddenly felt limp, as if the wind had been knocked out of her.
Henry winked at her as he entered the room, in his characteristically creepy way. He then beckoned Barry over, and the two of them started talking quietly, with an oddly furtive tone.
After they talked for what felt like 5 minutes, Jennifer saw Henry pull out what looked like a clip of money, handing it to Barry. Barry grabbed it, putting it quickly into his pocket, glancing around the room as he did this.
As Jennifer looked on, she saw Barry walk over to her two instructors, whispering something to them; soon after he did this, they both walked briskly out of the room, without even looking in her direction.
“What’s going on!”, Jennifer demanded, but neither Barry or Henry said a word. Instead, Henry walked over and sat on the coach, staring intently at her trapped bare feet, with a big grin on his face. She glared back at him, unable to mask her disgust at his presence.
Barry finally broke the silence: “there have been a change of plans”, he said, with an expressionless tone. As he said this, he moved over to the foot of the bed, directly in front of Jennifer’s bare, restrained feet, gripping her right heel firmly with one of his hands, while he started fastening her toes, one by one, to the laces directly above the ankle hole.
“What the fuck are you doing”, Jennifer screamed, the sensations of the laces around her long, delicate toes hitting her with a sudden burst of intensity.
“Use the cream first! Use the cream first! I told you I have a condition. Please, I have a condition! Don’t touch my feet! Please! Stop!”
She was struggling at this point, wrestling her feet around, flailing her body and arms in a desperate effort to escape. But Barry had a firm grip on her right foot, managing to secure each of her toes tightly back, stretching her sole taut, completely limiting any further movement.
Jennifer continued to thrash as Barry started the same process on her left foot, screaming threats and obscenities.
“We’ve got a code R-1”, she heard Barry say into his earpiece.
Seconds later, another man entered the room, walked over to the side of the bed, and quickly attached a cuff to Jennifer’s left wrist. She tried to fight him off, but he was too strong, and soon he had fastened the cuff to a ring on the left side of the bed, pulling her arm tight. He then moved briskly to the other side of the bed, forcibly grabbing her right arm, cuffing her wrist, and restraining it to the other side of the bed.
“This is for your safety, Jennifer”, said Barry, as the other man left the room and closed the door. “Normally we like to allow our clients to keep their arms free, since you actually burn more calories this way, but given your reaction you’ve unfortunately forced us to take this precaution.”
And with that, Barry turned and walked towards the door. Before he left the room, he turned to Jennifer and said “I’ll be back at the end of your session”. He then walked out, shutting the door behind him.
Jennifer had all but stopped struggling at this point. She could hardly move her arms at all, and with each of her 10 individually-tied toes pulled back by the laces, anchored to the top of the contraption, her feet were almost completely immobile.
Henry was still sitting on the coach, looking directly at Jennifer’s outstretched, exposed bare soles.
They looked directly at each other for several minutes, before Henry got up, picking up one of the stools in the room, along with a small, black bag. He walked over towards Jennifer placing the stool directly in front of her feet, and sat down facing her.
“I’m sure you’re wondering what’s going on”, he said. “Before we begin, I want to tell you something…”
Jennifer didn’t let him finish. She started screaming at the top of her lungs:
“Get the fuck away from me! Help! Help! Somebody help!”
As she did his, Henry reached into his pocket, pulling out a red ball gag, holding it up so that Jennifer could see it.
“Shut the fuck up, Jennifer. If you don’t, I’m going to gag you, and it’ll be that much worse.”, he said sharply.
She immediately stopped screaming, her body now shaking with fear as she looked on at Henry.
“Now, as I was saying, I actually didn’t think you’d go through with this Jennifer, but I must say, I’m happy that you did! This is something I’ve fantasized about for many years.”
“You see, back when I was a little boy, you might not remember this, but we went to the beach one day - I was with my dad, of course, and you brought your boyfriend along. I remember vividly watching your boyfriend briefly tickle your feet while we sat on the beach, making you squeal. This is actually the single moment that I can trace back to when my foot and tickling fetish started”.
Jennifer looked on at him in horror, unable to even speak.
“Since then, I’ve had a big thing for feet, and also for tickling. In fact, the first time I jerked off I was fantasizing about tickling the bottoms of your feet, if you can believe it!”
As he said this, he paused, looking admiringly at Jennifer’s soft bare soles, held firmly in place only inches in front of him.
“I mean, just look at them! They are perfect! Soft, smooth, high arches, long toes, even skin tone, and beautifully wrinkled soles. Absolutely perfect!”
As he said this, he pulled a stiff feather out of the bag, and started stroking it along the bottom of Jennifer’s soles, focusing right around her high arches.
Jennifer tried to cup her hands to her mouth instinctively, but her restraints held her arms out tightly by her sides. Laugher immediately bubbled up uncontrollably, pouring out of her in response to the gentle strokes of the feather.
“Haha stop that, haha stop stop, hahaha stop please stop hahaha”
“Hahaha please PLEASE hahahaha”
“HAAHAHAHAHAHAHA”
Henry then stopped, after around 10 seconds of gently feathering her soles.
Jennifer immediately started panicking, for the first time truly realizing the nature of her predicament: it was absolutely intolerable to have her feet tickled like this, but there was nothing she could do to stop it.
“Please please stop! You can’t, you can’t tickle me, I really can’t handle it, please don’t tickle my feet!”, she begged, her voice cracking with each word.
“You don’t understand, I have a condition, it’s called Hyperesthesia! My feet are incredibly sensitive! It’s a medical condition! No one can touch them, no one is allowed to touch my feet! Please, Henry, please don’t tickle them!”, she implored, babbling through each word, her upper body trembling with fear.
Henry chuckled, waving the feather menacingly in the air.
“Oh, I know all about your condition Jennifer - I remember overhearing you telling my Dad, back when I was a teenager. In fact, when I found out about your condition, it excited me even more! I’d dream about tickling your hypersensitive feet, torturing them until you screamed with laughter, begging me to stop. And now, finally, as fate would have it, I have my chance!”
As he said this, he brought the feather back towards her feet, this time slowly stroking it deliberately along the underside of her toes; as it made contact, Jennifer let out a loud yelp, her toes straining hard against their captivity, but the laces held firm and tight.
“Haha not my toes haha please no hahaha get off my toes hahahaha”
“Hahaha please hahaha please don’t hahahaha stop stop please hahahaha”
“HAHAHAHAHAHAHA”
He stopped again. He was enjoying toying with her, like a cat with a mouse, watching her composure slowly break.
For the next 10 minutes, Henry repeated this stop/start pattern, putting Jennifer’s soles and toes through short bouts of torturous feather stroking - forcing involuntary laughter out of her as soon as the feather made contact her with excruciatingly sensitive bare feet - before stopping to listen to her plead and beg, savoring every second of her growing, palpable desperation.
“You have to stop tickling me right now! I can’t handle this! This is actually torture, I’m too sensitive, you don’t understand!”
“Please Henry, please stop tickling my feet! I can’t take it anymore. I really can’t take it anymore!”
“Fucking stop, please just stop, it’s too much! It’s too fucking much! I can’t fucking stand it!”
After the around 10th round, Henry saw that Jennifer had started to sob as she pleaded and stammered. He loved how he had reduced this otherwise professional older woman to a sobbing, blubbering mess so quickly.
“I can’t take it anymore, please just stop!!!”, she wailed despondently, tears streaming down her red face.
“The bottoms of my feet are too sensitive, they really can’t be touched, please stop tickling them. Please, Henry, please stop tickling me! I’ll do anything you want, just stop tickling my feet!”
Henry looked down at her soft soles, quivering and twitching as much as their captivity would allow.
“Wow, Jennifer, I must say you are really, really, really ticklish! I didn’t know what to make of this condition of yours, but you’re by far the most ticklish person I’ve ever met, hands down no contest!”, he exclaimed gleefully.
“I’ve tickled many women, and in most cases feather tickling doesn’t do all the much - but with you, gently stroking your soles already brought you over the edge. It’s incredible!”
Jennifer started bawling loudly, terrified by the callousness of Henry’s response, the joy he seemed to be taking from her suffering.
“What do I want? Well that’s quite simple actually. I want you to resign from Apex, effective immediately. It’s no secret that we don’t like each other very much, and I wasn’t joking that your weight has become a problem. It’s not a good look for the agency.”
Jennifer’s heart dropped when she heard this. She loved working at Apex, and after putting years of her life into the company, she couldn’t imagine just letting it go. At the same time, the tickling was unbearable for her, putting her into a frenzied state of fight or flight panic whenever Henry would start cruelly running his feather along the bottoms of her feet.
After a pregnant pause, Jennifer felt a wave of defiance surge back through her. She stopped sobbing and looked directly at Henry, her eyes filled with burning intensity;
“Fuck you, I’m not quitting. Go to hell you fucking asshole. When I get out of this I’m going straight to the cops!”
Henry chuckled, amused at her sudden petulance.
“Haha, ok, Jennifer, have it your way”.
And with that, Henry put down the feather, and starting raking Jennifer soft, bare, defenseless soles with his fingernails. He was a skilled tickler, with many years of practice, applying just the right amount of pressure as he began mercilessly working over every inch of the bottoms of her quivering feet - focusing especially on her deep arches, the balls of her feet, and the tender skin directly under her toes.
As soon as Henry’s fingers made contact with the soles of her feet, Jennifer let out a loud, guttural shriek, which quickly changed into heaving, desparate laugher that poured out of her gapping, agonized mouth.
“HAHAHAH AHAHAHAAH HAHAHAHAH”
“PLLEE AHAHAHA HAHAHAHA STTOO AHAHAHAHA”
“I CA HAHAAHA PLEA HAHA HAHAHAHA”
Jennifer thrust and writhed against her bonds. She was in an animalistic state now, operating on pure instinct, her body trying to do everything it could to escape the overpowering sensations that were consuming her entire being. But she could hardly move at all: her arms were tied down tightly, and her feet were almost entirely immobile, with her hypersensitive soles fully exposed and vulnerable to the methodical stroking of Henry’s fingers.
After 3 minutes of relentless finger tickling, Henry finally stopped. “Had enough yet? This can get much worse for you. I’ve really enjoying this personally, so I could go all day!”, he said mockingly.
By this point, Jennifer was gasping and spluttering for air, her sweat-drenched hair matted messily against her face. She had nothing left, no more fight in her. In that horrible moment, realizing that she truly couldn’t take any more, even if it meant giving up her job, she began crying despairingly.
“You win, I’ll quit. Just don’t tickle my feet anymore!”, she desperately pleaded through the breaks in her sobs.
“That’s my girl. And what about calling the cops?”, Henry asked.
Without waiting for an answer, he started tickling the bottoms of her feet again with his fingers, raking up and down her soft, taut soles, forcing Jennifer immediately into another round of howling, bellowing laugher.
After a few more minutes, he stopped again.
“So, are you gonna call the cops?”
“No, please, no no, I won’t, please please, I won’t, I’ll do anything you want, please just let me out, just stop tickling my feet, please stop tickling my feet, I’ll do anything, I can’t take it anymore”, she cried out, stammering and tripping over her words.
She was looking straight down as she desperately begged and pleaded, visibly humiliated, completely and utterly broken, her tender soles still throbbing and burning from the horribly ticklish raking they’d just received from Henry’s skilled fingernails.
With that, Henry got up, took out an iPad from his briefcase, and walked over to the right of he bed. He positioning it next to Jennifer’s hand, handing her the stylus. Without hesitation, she scribbled her name on the signature field, before she began crying again. She had just given up everything.
“Perfect, thanks for that!”, said Henry. “I knew you were reasonable”.
“I did what you asked”, implored Jennifer, “please just let me out Henry. I want to go home. I just wanna go home”.
As she said this, her overstimulated bare feet continued to twitch and spasm in their captivity. For most people, the sensations quickly subside after being tickled; for Jennifer, however, given the nature of her condition, every nerve ending on the soles of her feet continued to fire long after, leaving her in a state of residual agony.
Henry laughed menacingly, looking first at Jennifer’s tear-drenched face and then down at her quivering bare feet, each of her 10 toes still tied back tightly, her soft, wrinkly soles still stretched out invitingly. For an older woman, with such a commanding presence, she really was very naive.
“Well, the bad news Jennifer is that I extended your original session to 2 hours. We’ve only been here for around 20 minutes, so I don’t want to waste the company’s money, you know”.
And then, without warning, Henry took the ball gag out of his pocket, jamming it into Jennifer’s mouth before she could react, and tightened the strap behind her head.
“MURFF AURGH SGPPDD”, Jennifer spluttered through the gag unintelligibly, trembling with a newfound level of panic.
Tears started streaming down her face again, as she continued making desperate, garbled sounds. It sounded like she might be begging, but it was hard to tell.
“As I mentioned before Jennifer, I’ve fantasized about tickling you like this for many years - and honestly, tickling your beautiful, unimaginably-sensitive feet is completely intoxicating. I don’t think I can stop just yet”, he said, as he walked over to the bag next to the stool.
“So, here is what’s going to happen. For the remainder of your session, roughly 1 hour and 40 minutes, I’m going to tickle the living shit out of the bottoms of your bare, defenseless feet, using a variety of different tools”, he said, pointing towards the bag. “Each of these is going to be WAY worse than the feather or my fingers - each of them completely unbearable for you in different ways - but I’m going to force you to take every second of it. Consider it a parting gift from Apex”.
And with that, Henry reached into the bag, pulling out 2 bear claw backscratchers. As Jennifer saw these fiendish implements, she started screaming loudly through her gag.
“It’s no use Jennifer, I already checked, these rooms are completely soundproof. Barry confirmed that we’d be left alone for the entire session. $10,000 in cash tends to buy you some privacy”.
“Now, these are back scratchers, but they are actually incredibly effective tickling tools as well! I’ve made several women cry with these, and it’ll be far, far, far worse for you! They tend to work best when you focus them directly around the balls of the feet, tormenting the cluster of nerve endings there. I’ll be oiling your feet up first too, making them even more sensitive, if that’s possible, while also ensuring there isn’t any friction”.
“With your condition, I’m really just wondering if you’ll end up peeing yourself or passing out first”, he said with a smirk.
Jennifer was still screaming through her gag in futility as Henry covered every inch of her bare, soft, wrinkly soles in baby oil - and then, without warning, began raking the back scratchers along the balls of both of her feet. Her reaction to this was chaotic: raspy, garbled laugher filled the room, mixed with periodic choking sounds, at least as much as her gag would allow.
After around 3 minutes of watching Jennifer suffering this horribly ticklish abuse, enjoying her guttural, pained sounds filling the room, Henry noticed a wet patch forming around the crotch of her gym shorts. She had lost control of her bladder and wet herself.
But he didn’t stop. He wanted more, to push her even further beyond her breaking point, so he continued rubbing and sliding the back scratches across the delicate balls of her feet, as her toes clenched limply against the laces that held them firmly back.
Within another 5 minutes, he heard her splutter and gasp through her gag, before her body went completely limp. Having the clinically-sensitive nerve endings around the balls of her feet mercilessly worked over for almost 10 straight minutes had made poor Jennifer pass out.
After a few minutes, she woke up with a start. As she got her bearings, she saw Henry standing there, grinning directly at her, making her remember where she was and what was happening, which jerked her right back into a cortisol-driven panic.
“SUEFPT MURHH PEEHHHF!”, she screamed through her gag at Henry, wrenching her body around in its captivity.
“Well, I guess that answered my question!, Henry exclaimed. “You both pissed yourself and passed out! Look at your shorts, what a disgusting mess you made Jennifer. Pretty embarrassing to wet yourself like that, as a grown women”, he said demeaningly.
While Jennifer looked down at her crotch, her face reddening in humiliation, Henry pulled two more tools out of his bag.
“Next up, I’m going to be using these”, he said, holding up two electric flossers. “They tend to be most effective around the toes. I haven’t given your exquisite, long toes much attention yet Jennifer, but they’re one of the most ticklish areas for many people”. As he said this, he buzzed the flossers in the air for dramatic effect, causing Jennifer to let out a loud, fearful wail of protest into her gag.
“These provide a very focused kind of tickling. I’m going to be using them to torment the undersides of your toes - especially the undersides of your big toes, which most people find unexpectedly awful - along with the untouched skin directly between each of your delicate toes as well. I promise with your insane level of sensitivity it’ll be so maddeningly ticklish, so utterly unbearable, that you’d probably prefer to cut off your toes than endure even a few seconds of it”.
Before Jennifer could fully take this all in, she felt an intense, sharp whirring sensation on the undersides of both of her restrained big toes, as Henry ran the pointed, spinning tips of the flossers along this virgin skin with an almost robotic precision. It was like nothing she’d ever felt before - like most people, she’d never been touched directly on the soft pads of her big toes like this - and it tickled to a degree beyond anything that she could have even fathomed.
“GET IT OFF! GET IT OFF! GET IT OFF!”, she managed to shout in abject desperation, although it sounded like gibberish after passing though the gate of her gag.
“GGRT RTT UFFF! GGRT RTT UFFF! GGRT RTT UFFF!”
In a state of absolute panic, Jennifer frantically flexed her big toes hard against the laces, in a futile attempt to escape the torturous buzzing, but they didn’t move at all, every inch of the soft undersides completely vulnerable to the intolerable tracing of the flossers. Her upper body spasmed wildly, her nervous system completely overloaded, as she was forced into screaming, helpless, uncontrollable laughter.
Jennifer’s ordeal continued on like this for the next hour. One by one, Henry introduced her tender, wrinkly bare soles to each of his cruel tools - a hairbrush, a shower scrubber, a headless beard trimmer, and a pet grooming glove, just to name a few.
Each of the tools were varied enough in the sensations they produced that Jennifer was unable to grow even slightly accustomed to the torment. All of them, each in their own way, were truly and utterly unbearable, forcing her to laugh, howl, and splutter manically without reprieve, peeing herself and passing out more times than she could count.
Throughout all of this, Henry took every opportunity to mock and humiliate her:
“When you marched into my office the other day, defiantly telling me that you’d do the Effitless program, I remember looking down at your tanned feet in those stappy sandals you like to wear. While you were talking, I was just thinking about how very soon I’d be tormenting your painfully-sensitive soles against your will - forcing you to laugh and beg and cry - just like I’m doing now”.
“This must feel like an actual nightmare for you Jennifer. Being fully restrained and having the exposed bottoms of your feet tickle tortured like this, without even being able to wiggle your toes for any relief. I bet in a million years you never thought you’d be in a position where I’d be having my way with your soft bare soles”.
“I had to hold back from laughing when you screamed for Barry to stop touching your feet without using the cream first, when he started tying up your toes. The look of sheer panic on your face was priceless. I bet you thought you were pretty clever with that cream you brought in, huh?”
“Awww did she pee herself again? Jennifer, for a 52 year old woman you should really have more better control over your bladder.”
Finally, after an endless hour, it all stopped.
“Looks like our time is up!”, said Henry. While technically conscious, Jennifer was barely sentient at this point, hardly even registering that it was over.
Her top was soaked with sweat, her gag was covered in drool that had pooled on her chin, her chest heaved as she struggled to breathe. She was fully and completely broken, her will shattered by the relentless foot tickling - unrecognizable from the determined woman that had walked into the room just 2 hours before.
Her once light brown soles were now a shade of crimson red, a result of the particularly sadistic 15 minute oil/hairbrush raking that Henry had finished them off with. This cruel treatment had completely overloaded Jennifer’s fragile nervous system with a unique mix of pain and extreme tickling, in callous disregard for the unimaginable suffering this caused with her Hyperesthesia, making her howl and wail despairingly, screeching and choking with muffled laughter through her gag, her arms tugging meekly against the restraints, as tears of anguish streamed down her face.
Even now that the ruthless brushing had stopped, Jennifer’s brutalized, reddened soles burned and throbbed and screamed at her in unbearable agony, each of her long, delicate toes still pulled back and secured tightly in place by the laces, limiting even the slightest movement that might have provided a modicum of relief from the lingering torment that consumed every inch of her restrained bare feet.
“Before I head out, you may not have noticed, but I recorded most of our session - starting from when I gagged you”. As Henry said this, he pointed to a tripod he’d set up, directly facing towards her from the back of the room.
“Since I’m a man of honor, I’m going to keep this private - a memento of our time together. However, if you tell anyone about what happened today, I’m going to publish the full video online. Sure, you’ll be seen as some sort of victim, but no one will ever take you seriously again after seeing you wet yourself repeatedly while having your feet tickled.”
Jennifer was quietly sobbing as Henry removed her gag. Even though she was now free to speak, she couldn’t even muster a single word.
As he walked towards the door, Henry briefly paused, pointing at the screen:
“Wow, well look at that! You burned almost 2000 calories today Jennifer. That’s quite a workout! Hopefully a good first step in your weight loss journey”.
If you haven't read the first two stories in the saga, you should be able to check them out here and here.
Chapter 1
Jennifer had been working at Apex Talent for 30 years.
Based in Tampa Florida, the agency served up-and-coming models in the area, helping them get print and television work - and now, with a new generation of influencers, social media sponsorships.
Jennifer had started there when she was just 22, coming in as an inspiring model, but soon found that it wasn’t for her. However, she had caught the eye of the owner, a man named Trevor Bradford, who recognized her intelligence and capability - along with her beauty - and soon brought her up to assist him directly in running the business. As his executive assistant, she helped play a major role in developing the agency over the years. She loved working there, and loved working for Trevor. He was a kind man, always treating her with respect and as partner in their work together.
Tragically, in the fall of 2023, Trevor suddenly and expectedly suffered a stroke, and died soon after. Jennifer was distraught - he was her mentor and close friend by that point - but she resolved to continue to run and develop Apex in his legacy.
Unfortunately, a wrench was soon thrown in those plans, in the form of Trevor’s 25 year old Henry. He was a very different man than Trevor was: extravagant, egotistical, and self-absorbed. Jennifer had known him since he was a baby, watching as his personality developed over the years. She never much liked him, and he never seemed to like her either - always regarding her as some sort of threat.
Much to Jennifer’s dismay, it was Henry who took over the agency after Trevor died. As the sole beneficiary to Trevor’s estate, he quickly assumed total control of Apex, along with all of its operations.
It quickly became apparent that Henry was looking to make some changes. He felt that Apex needed to modernize, to change its image, moving more squarely towards courting the hottest influencers and focusing less on the traditional, local models that had defined the agency for many years.
While Jennifer was able to keep her job, she now directly reported to Henry, as his EA, and from the start they butted heads on just about everything. Used to having a lot of control, Jennifer resisted the changes that Henry was making, but was overruled at very turn.
Soon enough she gave up, becoming resigned to keeping her head down, putting in the work, and trying her hardest to avoid getting on Henry’s bad side. It was no longer the Apex that she had known, loved, and built, but at least she had a stable job.
Indeed, Jennifer had always been married to her job, putting all of her energy over the years into her work. As such, she had never married or had children - not that it bothered her very much. As a woman in her mid 50, Jennifer was still very attractive, and never felt the need to settle down l. She was of Italian dissent, standing at 5’7 with dark brown hair and olive skin. She still took a lot of pride in her appearance, taking good care of her skin and dressing fashionably. She had no problem finding men to date - often men a decade or more her junior; she was very much a cougar, embracing her attractiveness and virility.
At the same time, as the years had matched on, she had gained some weight. She wasn’t obese, by any means, but her doctor often told her that it would be a good idea to lose 10-20 lbs. Jennifer never much minded the extra weight: she still felt attractive, and had come to accept it as part of her, eschewing diets and intense workout routines, outside of playing tennis on the weekends.
On the other hand, her weight had clearly become an issue for Henry. She was the only overweight employee in their office, filled with perky 20 something women with tight, fit bodies. He felt that Jennifer’s weight reflected poorly on the company’s image, and served as an impediment to Apex becoming one of the hottest talent management agencies in the country.
He knew, though, that he couldn’t fire her for being overweight, as much as he might have liked to. However, Henry was a cunning young man, known to scheme, and soon enough he had hatched a devious plan to be able to force Jennifer out.
Chapter 2
His plan rested on two key things: something that he’d overheard Jennifer telling his father about over a decade ago, along with an article he’d read about a fitness company called Effitless.
When he was around 15, one day he overheard Jennifer talking to his dad about something quite personal to her. It turned out that she had recently been diagnosed with a condition called Hyperesthesia, which related to one developing abnormal sensitivity to touch, smell, or taste.
In Jennifer’s case, it related to her feet. She was always something of a sun bunny, sporting a deep, yearlong tan, and spending lots of time at the beach each weekend. One day, in her early 40s, she noticed that her feet were becoming excruciatingly sensitive to the sand on the beach, to the point where she couldn’t even walk around without her flip flops on. She finally went to the doctor about this, who soon diagnosed her with this rare condition. There was no known cure, but it could be managed by avoiding excessive stimulation.
Over the years, Jennifer learned to live with her condition, making the necessary adjustments in her life. She didn’t go barefoot on the sand anymore, and avoided letting anything touch her feet, especially her soles and toes, which had become indescribably tender and ticklish. All of her boyfriends were quickly and sternly warned that her feet were completely off limits, which was a shame for Jennifer since prior to this development she quite enjoyed having her feet rubbed and played with.
Indeed, outside of her condition, Jennifer really liked her feet. By any standard, they had always been extremely attractive: in fact, in her early 20s, before her career at Apex took off, she had even done some foot modeling. They were a size 7, medium-width, very high arched, with perfectly proportioned long toes. They were always deeply tanned on the tops, from all of her time in the sun, and a nice, consistent shade of light brown on the bottoms, matching her general olive complexion.
As one might imagine, it had become almost impossible for Jennifer to get regular pedicures. She could barely wash her feet in the shower without the sensations becoming overwhelming, and simply walking on carpets could be torture for her. Despite that, Jennifer was persistent, and found a pedicurist who specialized in her condition, using special techniques and a desensitizing cream that made the process bearable for her. As a result, her feet were always baby soft, with beautifully wrinkled soles as they had matured with her age.
Unfortunately for her, Henry knew about her condition; a weakness of hers that he could potentially exploit, given the right opportunity.
And that opportunity came to him in the form of an article he chanced across in the newspaper one morning. With so much of the country suffering from obesity, resulting in higher healthcare premiums for employers, congress had recently passed a controversial new law granting companies the power to have their overweight employees enroll in a highly-effective weight loss program, administered by a company called Effitless.
And with that, Henry had formed his plan. He had read about Effitless, and how they used foot tickling to help people burn calories and lose weight without needing to work out. And he knew that Jennifer, with her clinically sensitive feet, would be unable to handle it. By forcing her to undergo this mandatory weight loss program, she’d either quit before starting or soon after.
Chapter 3
The next day, Henry called Jennifer into his office:
“Hey Jennifer”, he said, “I have something that I need to discuss with you”.
When he said this, Jennifer’s guard immediately went up. What could be possibly want? It was rarely anything good when it came from him.
“Now, this is objectively a sensitive topic, but I wanted to discuss your weight. Now, don’t get me wrong, you’re an attractive woman, if you don’t mind me saying that, but here at Apex we’re looking to maintain a certain imagine, and having overweight employees just doesn’t work with our image, I’m sure you understand.”
Jennifer was listening intently. He couldn’t possibly fire her for being overweight, she thought, that would be illegal. She’d sue him for everything he had.
“So, that’s why I’m excited to let you know that we’re enrolling you in Effitless, a new weight loss program that is supposed to be incredibly effective! You might not have heard, but a new law gives companies the authority to enroll overweight employees, like yourself, in this specific program. The best part is that it’s completely on us, you won’t have to pay a dime!”
Jennifer was floored. How could she be required to attend a weight loss program? This seemed absurd.
She quickly marched out of his office, went to her computer, and did her own research. Sure enough, much to her dismay, Henry was right. There were certain requirements, with BMI having to be at a certain level, but unfortunately she met all of them. She had no choice but to either quit or go along with the program and lose the weight.
By the time she got home that evening she was fuming. How dare that little shit put her in this position! She rushed to her computer, and looked up Effitless, since she had never heard of them before. What she found horrified her. She quickly learned that Effitless uses tickling - specifically foot tickling - to get people to burn calories and lose weight.
As she went down an internet rabbit hole on Effitless, she read story after story about people’s experiences. She came across one story of an unsuspecting mom from Rockville Texas, who was tricked by her husband into participating in the program. She ended up having the soles of her restrained bare feet tickled with brushes until she peed herself multiple times. However, other people had very positive experiences with the company - and while they were tickled, often to the point of hysteria, it had actually helped them lose weight when all other methods had failed.
Still, Jennifer knew there was no way she could stand being tickled on her feet. This was quite literally the worst form of torture she could imagine: she wouldn’t be able to deal with even a few seconds of foot tickling without completely losing her sanity.
At the same time, she loved her job, despite her tyrannical new boss, and she didn’t want to lose everything she worked so hard for over those many years. Perhaps even more importantly, she didn’t want to let that little fucker win.
So she started hatching a plan of her own. She remembered how effective the desensitizing cream her pedicurist used was. It dramatically numbed the hypersensitive nerve endings on her feet, making touch actually bearable, even enjoyable sometimes. Perhaps if they allowed her to use this cream as part of her session the whole thing would be tolerable enough for her to get through it.
The next day she marched defiantly into Henry’s office, looking him dead in the eyes:
“Ok, I’ll do it”, she said calmly. “I’ll call to make the appointment now”.
While on the phone, Jennifer asked the receptionist if she could use a special cream as part of her session, explaining her condition. The receptionist assured her this would be fine, and that her wellbeing would be their top priority.
Chapter 4
As Jennifer arrived at the Effitless studio, situated in downtown Tampa, she felt an odd sense of confidence. She had decided to wear a Lululemon workout top, shorts, and her designer tennis sneakers. If she was going to be tickled, she was going to look good during the session.
Part of her confidence also had to do with the bottle of desensitizing cream she had tucked away in her purse. She was able to get a bottle beforehand from her pedicurist, and in her experience this cream deceased her sensitivity at least 10 fold. Even being 10 times less ticklish, she still knew it would be tough to handle, but hopefully bearable enough if she grit her teeth and white knuckled through it.
As she walked into the studio, she was greeted warmly the receptionist - she sounded like the some women that she’d spoken with on the phone. She was given a waiver to sign, and sat down on one of the plush couches with a glass of cucumber water in hand to read through the details.
Parts of the waiver admittedly made her shudder. It was clear that this was considered a medical procedure, and as such she was relishing all control to stop the session once she restarted, outside of an actual medical emergency. Still, she had come this far - and most importantly she had her secret weapon in her purse - so she signed and handed the iPad back to the receptionist.
A few minutes later, a man named Barry walked over to introduce himself as her session coordinator, ushering her to follow him down a corridor. As they got to the end, he opened a door to one of the many rooms, and led her inside.
The room was minimally furnished but immaculate. There was a large bed on one side of the room, with a coach on the other side, directly facing the foot of the bed. Jennifer noticed that there was some type of contraption attached to the foot of the bed - it kind of looked like a medieval stockade, but with modern finishings.
Barry instructed here to sit on the bed and make herself comfortable; Jennifer complied, sitting on the center of the bed, still wearing her tennis sneakers. She wasn’t sure what to make of all of this, feeling a growing sense of unease that she was trying hard to suppress.
“Please place your ankles in the those holes”, Barry said, somewhat coldly, gesturing to the contraption at the foot of the bed.
It now dawned on Jennifer that this was likely to hold her feet in position as they were being tickled. Amidst everything that was going on, she had almost forgotten to tell Barry about the desensitizing cream! There was no way she was going to be tickled without that!
“Before I do, I need to make sure that you’ll be able to put this on my feet first, rubbing it in very, very gently. I already cleared it with the receptionist beforehand.”, she said, taking the cream out of her purse and handing it to Barry.
“You see, I have this condition”, she continued. “It’s called Hyperesthesia, and it means my feet are extremely sensitive. Way more sensitive than most people.”
Barry, seemingly half listening, as he focused his eyes on a screen next to the bed, took the cream from Jennifer, reassuring her that this wouldn’t be a problem, and that it was their priority to ensure that she was as comfortable as possible during the session.
Feeling relieved, Jennifer placed her ankles in the half circles of the contraption, laying back against the pillow positioned directly behind her. As she did this, Barry moved to the foot of the bed, taking the top part of the contraption and bringing it down over her ankles, locking them in place with an audible click.
Jennifer wiggled her ankles, but she found she could hardly move them at all. This immediately made her start to feel slightly panicked; since she developed her condition, she found that she’d grown to feel very uncomfortable if her feet were trapped or confined in any way. She didn’t even like having the blanket touching them.
Chapter 5
As she was wiggling her ankles, she heard the door open, and two young men walked into the room. They were both handsome, fit, and looked to be in their mid 20s.
“Hi Jennifer, my name is Jason and this is Ben. We’re your Effitless instructors for today’s session.”
“We’ve heard that you’re quite ticklish! Don’t worry, though, we’ll be sure to take it slow and ease you into everything gently”.
This immediately made Jennifer feel more at ease. These guys seemed nice and professional - and it didn’t hurt that they were both very hot! Perhaps having these guys tickle her feet gently and respectfully, especially with the aid of her cream to lesson the intensity of the sensations, wouldn’t be so bad. After all, she really did miss having her feet touched and played with.
As she was contemplating all of this, she felt her sneakers carefully being removed, followed by her ankle socks. As the cool air of the room hit her now bare feet, she recoiled at the sudden change in sensation. Why did her feet have to be so goddamn sensitive, it really felt like such ridiculous problem to have sometimes!
Ben placed her shoes and socks off to the side, and then went to the back of the room with Jason. As they did this, Barry walked over and pressed a button on the side of the contraption; as he did this, a thin piece of clear glass emerged directly from the top, rising up several feet.
“This is a special type of soft glass that we use in these sessions. It’s intended to protect both you and your instructors”, Barry said, somewhat curtly.
He then attached a heart rate monitor to Jennifer’s left arm, and began explaining how the Effitless metrics worked, gesturing over at a screen positioned to the side of the bed.
Jennifer only half-listened to his explanation. She was more focused on how exposed and vulnerable her bare feet felt, along with the attractive men who would presumably soon be tickling them. She was quite nervous, but also somewhat excited. Maybe this would end up being kind of fun, she thought hopefully.
Then she heard a knock on the door.
Chapter 6
“Who is it?”, asked Barry.
No one answered, so he went over and opened the door. Jennifer looked over, and saw her boss, Henry, standing there.
In that moment, she felt like a deer in headlights, watching Henry talk to Barry. The whole thing suddenly felt surreal and unsettling. Why was he here?
“Ok, this is kind of unusual, but Henry is going to sit in for our session today. He’s Jennifer’s boss”.
Both Jason and Ben gave a nod of understanding, but Jennifer felt anger building up inside of her. He couldn’t be here for this? She couldn’t stand him!
“I don’t feel comfortable with him here”, she said with a quiver.
“I’m sorry to hear that”, said Barry, “but it’s within his rights as part of the Effitless employee program agreement. It was mentioned in the waiver you signed before: a company representative is allowed to attend sponsored sessions, at their discretion.”
Jennifer’s heart sank. She suddenly felt limp, as if the wind had been knocked out of her.
Henry winked at her as he entered the room, in his characteristically creepy way. He then beckoned Barry over, and the two of them started talking quietly, with an oddly furtive tone.
After they talked for what felt like 5 minutes, Jennifer saw Henry pull out what looked like a clip of money, handing it to Barry. Barry grabbed it, putting it quickly into his pocket, glancing around the room as he did this.
As Jennifer looked on, she saw Barry walk over to her two instructors, whispering something to them; soon after he did this, they both walked briskly out of the room, without even looking in her direction.
“What’s going on!”, Jennifer demanded, but neither Barry or Henry said a word. Instead, Henry walked over and sat on the coach, staring intently at her trapped bare feet, with a big grin on his face. She glared back at him, unable to mask her disgust at his presence.
Barry finally broke the silence: “there have been a change of plans”, he said, with an expressionless tone. As he said this, he moved over to the foot of the bed, directly in front of Jennifer’s bare, restrained feet, gripping her right heel firmly with one of his hands, while he started fastening her toes, one by one, to the laces directly above the ankle hole.
“What the fuck are you doing”, Jennifer screamed, the sensations of the laces around her long, delicate toes hitting her with a sudden burst of intensity.
“Use the cream first! Use the cream first! I told you I have a condition. Please, I have a condition! Don’t touch my feet! Please! Stop!”
She was struggling at this point, wrestling her feet around, flailing her body and arms in a desperate effort to escape. But Barry had a firm grip on her right foot, managing to secure each of her toes tightly back, stretching her sole taut, completely limiting any further movement.
Jennifer continued to thrash as Barry started the same process on her left foot, screaming threats and obscenities.
“We’ve got a code R-1”, she heard Barry say into his earpiece.
Seconds later, another man entered the room, walked over to the side of the bed, and quickly attached a cuff to Jennifer’s left wrist. She tried to fight him off, but he was too strong, and soon he had fastened the cuff to a ring on the left side of the bed, pulling her arm tight. He then moved briskly to the other side of the bed, forcibly grabbing her right arm, cuffing her wrist, and restraining it to the other side of the bed.
“This is for your safety, Jennifer”, said Barry, as the other man left the room and closed the door. “Normally we like to allow our clients to keep their arms free, since you actually burn more calories this way, but given your reaction you’ve unfortunately forced us to take this precaution.”
And with that, Barry turned and walked towards the door. Before he left the room, he turned to Jennifer and said “I’ll be back at the end of your session”. He then walked out, shutting the door behind him.
Chapter 7
Jennifer had all but stopped struggling at this point. She could hardly move her arms at all, and with each of her 10 individually-tied toes pulled back by the laces, anchored to the top of the contraption, her feet were almost completely immobile.
Henry was still sitting on the coach, looking directly at Jennifer’s outstretched, exposed bare soles.
They looked directly at each other for several minutes, before Henry got up, picking up one of the stools in the room, along with a small, black bag. He walked over towards Jennifer placing the stool directly in front of her feet, and sat down facing her.
“I’m sure you’re wondering what’s going on”, he said. “Before we begin, I want to tell you something…”
Jennifer didn’t let him finish. She started screaming at the top of her lungs:
“Get the fuck away from me! Help! Help! Somebody help!”
As she did his, Henry reached into his pocket, pulling out a red ball gag, holding it up so that Jennifer could see it.
“Shut the fuck up, Jennifer. If you don’t, I’m going to gag you, and it’ll be that much worse.”, he said sharply.
She immediately stopped screaming, her body now shaking with fear as she looked on at Henry.
“Now, as I was saying, I actually didn’t think you’d go through with this Jennifer, but I must say, I’m happy that you did! This is something I’ve fantasized about for many years.”
“You see, back when I was a little boy, you might not remember this, but we went to the beach one day - I was with my dad, of course, and you brought your boyfriend along. I remember vividly watching your boyfriend briefly tickle your feet while we sat on the beach, making you squeal. This is actually the single moment that I can trace back to when my foot and tickling fetish started”.
Jennifer looked on at him in horror, unable to even speak.
“Since then, I’ve had a big thing for feet, and also for tickling. In fact, the first time I jerked off I was fantasizing about tickling the bottoms of your feet, if you can believe it!”
As he said this, he paused, looking admiringly at Jennifer’s soft bare soles, held firmly in place only inches in front of him.
“I mean, just look at them! They are perfect! Soft, smooth, high arches, long toes, even skin tone, and beautifully wrinkled soles. Absolutely perfect!”
As he said this, he pulled a stiff feather out of the bag, and started stroking it along the bottom of Jennifer’s soles, focusing right around her high arches.
Jennifer tried to cup her hands to her mouth instinctively, but her restraints held her arms out tightly by her sides. Laugher immediately bubbled up uncontrollably, pouring out of her in response to the gentle strokes of the feather.
“Haha stop that, haha stop stop, hahaha stop please stop hahaha”
“Hahaha please PLEASE hahahaha”
“HAAHAHAHAHAHAHA”
Henry then stopped, after around 10 seconds of gently feathering her soles.
Jennifer immediately started panicking, for the first time truly realizing the nature of her predicament: it was absolutely intolerable to have her feet tickled like this, but there was nothing she could do to stop it.
“Please please stop! You can’t, you can’t tickle me, I really can’t handle it, please don’t tickle my feet!”, she begged, her voice cracking with each word.
“You don’t understand, I have a condition, it’s called Hyperesthesia! My feet are incredibly sensitive! It’s a medical condition! No one can touch them, no one is allowed to touch my feet! Please, Henry, please don’t tickle them!”, she implored, babbling through each word, her upper body trembling with fear.
Henry chuckled, waving the feather menacingly in the air.
“Oh, I know all about your condition Jennifer - I remember overhearing you telling my Dad, back when I was a teenager. In fact, when I found out about your condition, it excited me even more! I’d dream about tickling your hypersensitive feet, torturing them until you screamed with laughter, begging me to stop. And now, finally, as fate would have it, I have my chance!”
As he said this, he brought the feather back towards her feet, this time slowly stroking it deliberately along the underside of her toes; as it made contact, Jennifer let out a loud yelp, her toes straining hard against their captivity, but the laces held firm and tight.
“Haha not my toes haha please no hahaha get off my toes hahahaha”
“Hahaha please hahaha please don’t hahahaha stop stop please hahahaha”
“HAHAHAHAHAHAHA”
He stopped again. He was enjoying toying with her, like a cat with a mouse, watching her composure slowly break.
Chapter 8
For the next 10 minutes, Henry repeated this stop/start pattern, putting Jennifer’s soles and toes through short bouts of torturous feather stroking - forcing involuntary laughter out of her as soon as the feather made contact her with excruciatingly sensitive bare feet - before stopping to listen to her plead and beg, savoring every second of her growing, palpable desperation.
“You have to stop tickling me right now! I can’t handle this! This is actually torture, I’m too sensitive, you don’t understand!”
“Please Henry, please stop tickling my feet! I can’t take it anymore. I really can’t take it anymore!”
“Fucking stop, please just stop, it’s too much! It’s too fucking much! I can’t fucking stand it!”
After the around 10th round, Henry saw that Jennifer had started to sob as she pleaded and stammered. He loved how he had reduced this otherwise professional older woman to a sobbing, blubbering mess so quickly.
“I can’t take it anymore, please just stop!!!”, she wailed despondently, tears streaming down her red face.
“The bottoms of my feet are too sensitive, they really can’t be touched, please stop tickling them. Please, Henry, please stop tickling me! I’ll do anything you want, just stop tickling my feet!”
Henry looked down at her soft soles, quivering and twitching as much as their captivity would allow.
“Wow, Jennifer, I must say you are really, really, really ticklish! I didn’t know what to make of this condition of yours, but you’re by far the most ticklish person I’ve ever met, hands down no contest!”, he exclaimed gleefully.
“I’ve tickled many women, and in most cases feather tickling doesn’t do all the much - but with you, gently stroking your soles already brought you over the edge. It’s incredible!”
Jennifer started bawling loudly, terrified by the callousness of Henry’s response, the joy he seemed to be taking from her suffering.
“What do I want? Well that’s quite simple actually. I want you to resign from Apex, effective immediately. It’s no secret that we don’t like each other very much, and I wasn’t joking that your weight has become a problem. It’s not a good look for the agency.”
Jennifer’s heart dropped when she heard this. She loved working at Apex, and after putting years of her life into the company, she couldn’t imagine just letting it go. At the same time, the tickling was unbearable for her, putting her into a frenzied state of fight or flight panic whenever Henry would start cruelly running his feather along the bottoms of her feet.
After a pregnant pause, Jennifer felt a wave of defiance surge back through her. She stopped sobbing and looked directly at Henry, her eyes filled with burning intensity;
“Fuck you, I’m not quitting. Go to hell you fucking asshole. When I get out of this I’m going straight to the cops!”
Henry chuckled, amused at her sudden petulance.
“Haha, ok, Jennifer, have it your way”.
And with that, Henry put down the feather, and starting raking Jennifer soft, bare, defenseless soles with his fingernails. He was a skilled tickler, with many years of practice, applying just the right amount of pressure as he began mercilessly working over every inch of the bottoms of her quivering feet - focusing especially on her deep arches, the balls of her feet, and the tender skin directly under her toes.
As soon as Henry’s fingers made contact with the soles of her feet, Jennifer let out a loud, guttural shriek, which quickly changed into heaving, desparate laugher that poured out of her gapping, agonized mouth.
“HAHAHAH AHAHAHAAH HAHAHAHAH”
“PLLEE AHAHAHA HAHAHAHA STTOO AHAHAHAHA”
“I CA HAHAAHA PLEA HAHA HAHAHAHA”
Jennifer thrust and writhed against her bonds. She was in an animalistic state now, operating on pure instinct, her body trying to do everything it could to escape the overpowering sensations that were consuming her entire being. But she could hardly move at all: her arms were tied down tightly, and her feet were almost entirely immobile, with her hypersensitive soles fully exposed and vulnerable to the methodical stroking of Henry’s fingers.
After 3 minutes of relentless finger tickling, Henry finally stopped. “Had enough yet? This can get much worse for you. I’ve really enjoying this personally, so I could go all day!”, he said mockingly.
By this point, Jennifer was gasping and spluttering for air, her sweat-drenched hair matted messily against her face. She had nothing left, no more fight in her. In that horrible moment, realizing that she truly couldn’t take any more, even if it meant giving up her job, she began crying despairingly.
“You win, I’ll quit. Just don’t tickle my feet anymore!”, she desperately pleaded through the breaks in her sobs.
“That’s my girl. And what about calling the cops?”, Henry asked.
Without waiting for an answer, he started tickling the bottoms of her feet again with his fingers, raking up and down her soft, taut soles, forcing Jennifer immediately into another round of howling, bellowing laugher.
After a few more minutes, he stopped again.
“So, are you gonna call the cops?”
“No, please, no no, I won’t, please please, I won’t, I’ll do anything you want, please just let me out, just stop tickling my feet, please stop tickling my feet, I’ll do anything, I can’t take it anymore”, she cried out, stammering and tripping over her words.
She was looking straight down as she desperately begged and pleaded, visibly humiliated, completely and utterly broken, her tender soles still throbbing and burning from the horribly ticklish raking they’d just received from Henry’s skilled fingernails.
Chapter 9
With that, Henry got up, took out an iPad from his briefcase, and walked over to the right of he bed. He positioning it next to Jennifer’s hand, handing her the stylus. Without hesitation, she scribbled her name on the signature field, before she began crying again. She had just given up everything.
“Perfect, thanks for that!”, said Henry. “I knew you were reasonable”.
“I did what you asked”, implored Jennifer, “please just let me out Henry. I want to go home. I just wanna go home”.
As she said this, her overstimulated bare feet continued to twitch and spasm in their captivity. For most people, the sensations quickly subside after being tickled; for Jennifer, however, given the nature of her condition, every nerve ending on the soles of her feet continued to fire long after, leaving her in a state of residual agony.
Henry laughed menacingly, looking first at Jennifer’s tear-drenched face and then down at her quivering bare feet, each of her 10 toes still tied back tightly, her soft, wrinkly soles still stretched out invitingly. For an older woman, with such a commanding presence, she really was very naive.
“Well, the bad news Jennifer is that I extended your original session to 2 hours. We’ve only been here for around 20 minutes, so I don’t want to waste the company’s money, you know”.
And then, without warning, Henry took the ball gag out of his pocket, jamming it into Jennifer’s mouth before she could react, and tightened the strap behind her head.
“MURFF AURGH SGPPDD”, Jennifer spluttered through the gag unintelligibly, trembling with a newfound level of panic.
Tears started streaming down her face again, as she continued making desperate, garbled sounds. It sounded like she might be begging, but it was hard to tell.
“As I mentioned before Jennifer, I’ve fantasized about tickling you like this for many years - and honestly, tickling your beautiful, unimaginably-sensitive feet is completely intoxicating. I don’t think I can stop just yet”, he said, as he walked over to the bag next to the stool.
“So, here is what’s going to happen. For the remainder of your session, roughly 1 hour and 40 minutes, I’m going to tickle the living shit out of the bottoms of your bare, defenseless feet, using a variety of different tools”, he said, pointing towards the bag. “Each of these is going to be WAY worse than the feather or my fingers - each of them completely unbearable for you in different ways - but I’m going to force you to take every second of it. Consider it a parting gift from Apex”.
And with that, Henry reached into the bag, pulling out 2 bear claw backscratchers. As Jennifer saw these fiendish implements, she started screaming loudly through her gag.
“It’s no use Jennifer, I already checked, these rooms are completely soundproof. Barry confirmed that we’d be left alone for the entire session. $10,000 in cash tends to buy you some privacy”.
“Now, these are back scratchers, but they are actually incredibly effective tickling tools as well! I’ve made several women cry with these, and it’ll be far, far, far worse for you! They tend to work best when you focus them directly around the balls of the feet, tormenting the cluster of nerve endings there. I’ll be oiling your feet up first too, making them even more sensitive, if that’s possible, while also ensuring there isn’t any friction”.
“With your condition, I’m really just wondering if you’ll end up peeing yourself or passing out first”, he said with a smirk.
Jennifer was still screaming through her gag in futility as Henry covered every inch of her bare, soft, wrinkly soles in baby oil - and then, without warning, began raking the back scratchers along the balls of both of her feet. Her reaction to this was chaotic: raspy, garbled laugher filled the room, mixed with periodic choking sounds, at least as much as her gag would allow.
After around 3 minutes of watching Jennifer suffering this horribly ticklish abuse, enjoying her guttural, pained sounds filling the room, Henry noticed a wet patch forming around the crotch of her gym shorts. She had lost control of her bladder and wet herself.
But he didn’t stop. He wanted more, to push her even further beyond her breaking point, so he continued rubbing and sliding the back scratches across the delicate balls of her feet, as her toes clenched limply against the laces that held them firmly back.
Within another 5 minutes, he heard her splutter and gasp through her gag, before her body went completely limp. Having the clinically-sensitive nerve endings around the balls of her feet mercilessly worked over for almost 10 straight minutes had made poor Jennifer pass out.
After a few minutes, she woke up with a start. As she got her bearings, she saw Henry standing there, grinning directly at her, making her remember where she was and what was happening, which jerked her right back into a cortisol-driven panic.
“SUEFPT MURHH PEEHHHF!”, she screamed through her gag at Henry, wrenching her body around in its captivity.
“Well, I guess that answered my question!, Henry exclaimed. “You both pissed yourself and passed out! Look at your shorts, what a disgusting mess you made Jennifer. Pretty embarrassing to wet yourself like that, as a grown women”, he said demeaningly.
While Jennifer looked down at her crotch, her face reddening in humiliation, Henry pulled two more tools out of his bag.
“Next up, I’m going to be using these”, he said, holding up two electric flossers. “They tend to be most effective around the toes. I haven’t given your exquisite, long toes much attention yet Jennifer, but they’re one of the most ticklish areas for many people”. As he said this, he buzzed the flossers in the air for dramatic effect, causing Jennifer to let out a loud, fearful wail of protest into her gag.
“These provide a very focused kind of tickling. I’m going to be using them to torment the undersides of your toes - especially the undersides of your big toes, which most people find unexpectedly awful - along with the untouched skin directly between each of your delicate toes as well. I promise with your insane level of sensitivity it’ll be so maddeningly ticklish, so utterly unbearable, that you’d probably prefer to cut off your toes than endure even a few seconds of it”.
Before Jennifer could fully take this all in, she felt an intense, sharp whirring sensation on the undersides of both of her restrained big toes, as Henry ran the pointed, spinning tips of the flossers along this virgin skin with an almost robotic precision. It was like nothing she’d ever felt before - like most people, she’d never been touched directly on the soft pads of her big toes like this - and it tickled to a degree beyond anything that she could have even fathomed.
“GET IT OFF! GET IT OFF! GET IT OFF!”, she managed to shout in abject desperation, although it sounded like gibberish after passing though the gate of her gag.
“GGRT RTT UFFF! GGRT RTT UFFF! GGRT RTT UFFF!”
In a state of absolute panic, Jennifer frantically flexed her big toes hard against the laces, in a futile attempt to escape the torturous buzzing, but they didn’t move at all, every inch of the soft undersides completely vulnerable to the intolerable tracing of the flossers. Her upper body spasmed wildly, her nervous system completely overloaded, as she was forced into screaming, helpless, uncontrollable laughter.
Chapter 10
Jennifer’s ordeal continued on like this for the next hour. One by one, Henry introduced her tender, wrinkly bare soles to each of his cruel tools - a hairbrush, a shower scrubber, a headless beard trimmer, and a pet grooming glove, just to name a few.
Each of the tools were varied enough in the sensations they produced that Jennifer was unable to grow even slightly accustomed to the torment. All of them, each in their own way, were truly and utterly unbearable, forcing her to laugh, howl, and splutter manically without reprieve, peeing herself and passing out more times than she could count.
Throughout all of this, Henry took every opportunity to mock and humiliate her:
“When you marched into my office the other day, defiantly telling me that you’d do the Effitless program, I remember looking down at your tanned feet in those stappy sandals you like to wear. While you were talking, I was just thinking about how very soon I’d be tormenting your painfully-sensitive soles against your will - forcing you to laugh and beg and cry - just like I’m doing now”.
“This must feel like an actual nightmare for you Jennifer. Being fully restrained and having the exposed bottoms of your feet tickle tortured like this, without even being able to wiggle your toes for any relief. I bet in a million years you never thought you’d be in a position where I’d be having my way with your soft bare soles”.
“I had to hold back from laughing when you screamed for Barry to stop touching your feet without using the cream first, when he started tying up your toes. The look of sheer panic on your face was priceless. I bet you thought you were pretty clever with that cream you brought in, huh?”
“Awww did she pee herself again? Jennifer, for a 52 year old woman you should really have more better control over your bladder.”
Finally, after an endless hour, it all stopped.
“Looks like our time is up!”, said Henry. While technically conscious, Jennifer was barely sentient at this point, hardly even registering that it was over.
Her top was soaked with sweat, her gag was covered in drool that had pooled on her chin, her chest heaved as she struggled to breathe. She was fully and completely broken, her will shattered by the relentless foot tickling - unrecognizable from the determined woman that had walked into the room just 2 hours before.
Her once light brown soles were now a shade of crimson red, a result of the particularly sadistic 15 minute oil/hairbrush raking that Henry had finished them off with. This cruel treatment had completely overloaded Jennifer’s fragile nervous system with a unique mix of pain and extreme tickling, in callous disregard for the unimaginable suffering this caused with her Hyperesthesia, making her howl and wail despairingly, screeching and choking with muffled laughter through her gag, her arms tugging meekly against the restraints, as tears of anguish streamed down her face.
Even now that the ruthless brushing had stopped, Jennifer’s brutalized, reddened soles burned and throbbed and screamed at her in unbearable agony, each of her long, delicate toes still pulled back and secured tightly in place by the laces, limiting even the slightest movement that might have provided a modicum of relief from the lingering torment that consumed every inch of her restrained bare feet.
“Before I head out, you may not have noticed, but I recorded most of our session - starting from when I gagged you”. As Henry said this, he pointed to a tripod he’d set up, directly facing towards her from the back of the room.
“Since I’m a man of honor, I’m going to keep this private - a memento of our time together. However, if you tell anyone about what happened today, I’m going to publish the full video online. Sure, you’ll be seen as some sort of victim, but no one will ever take you seriously again after seeing you wet yourself repeatedly while having your feet tickled.”
Jennifer was quietly sobbing as Henry removed her gag. Even though she was now free to speak, she couldn’t even muster a single word.
As he walked towards the door, Henry briefly paused, pointing at the screen:
“Wow, well look at that! You burned almost 2000 calories today Jennifer. That’s quite a workout! Hopefully a good first step in your weight loss journey”.
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