Mummified tickles escalate quickly as Emma gets more than she bargained for, and her boyfriend has the opportunity to live out a tickle fantasy.
M/F - Feet & Upperbody
The day was winding down, and her evening had proceeded like so many others before. The mild, overcast afternoon had changed to evening during her walk home, bringing with it a cool Autumn breeze and a bright, full moon that climbed steadily higher into the night's sky, periodically obscured by lingering grey clouds.
Heavy dew clung to short blades of yellowing grass as Emma made her way up the path toward her house, dried leaves crunching loudly underfoot as she walked beneath the large red maple outside her bedroom window. Dropping her bag at the door and making her way upstairs, it wasn't long before she found herself in the shower, eager to rinse away the day's stresses.
Steam began to fill the bathroom while she continued to fidget with the handle, attempting to find the perfect water temperature, her body absorbing the heat like a sponge. It was a meditation of sorts, simultaneously boosting her senses while alleviating residual muscle tension. She found it to be infinitely calming after a long day on her feet, especially as her body wash filled the humid room with a fresh fragrance, invigorating her skin. But like all other relaxing moments, it was fleeting.
The twenty-two year old girl exited the steam-filled bathroom, blonde hair wrapped up tightly in her blue bath towel, with another cloaking her body. The air in the hallway was much cooler in contrast, and a chill ran through her petite frame, causing her pace to quicken as she walked swiftly to the bedroom.
A table lamp sitting atop her nightstand provided just enough light for the small room. And although its temperature wasn't any different than the hallway, she'd already begun to feel warm in the cozy space.
After drying off, she donned a pair of light pink pajama pants and a white tee shirt. Although still slightly chilled, she was looking forward to slipping into bed and soaking up the blanket's warmth. Before sliding on her slippers, she made sure to squeeze a dab of moisturizing body butter into her palm, rubbing a light coating over her bare feet, ensuring it had been spread evenly across both top and bottom, massaging deeply.
This particular pair of slippers resembled moccasins, and were lined with Berber fleece, for maximum comfort. The fuzzy material felt perfectly soft as she wiggled her perpetually cold toes inside. It was as if the room's temperature had risen several degrees simply from slipping them on, as their wooly interior provided soothing warmth that was nothing short of euphoric.
Instinctively reaching across the dresser to grab a hairbrush, her hand instead caught the edge of her makeup kit, sending it sailing to the hardwood floor below, its contents scattering every direction.
"Oh, come on," she muttered to herself, unenthusiastically dropping to her knees to begin gathering the fallen items.
The long day had taken its toll, and although she didn't feel especially tired, her brain just wasn't firing on all cylinders at the moment. A quick glance at her alarm clock on her way across the room to obtain a powder brush - having rolled quite a remarkable distance - served as a reminder that her boyfriend, Dave, would be letting himself in the front door sooner than later. But there was no hurry, as tonight would give them time to unwind. Perhaps some snuggles and Netflix would be in order, but whatever they decided to do with their time together it would be the perfect end to the day, there was no doubt.
No sooner had she finished the thought did she hear a rapid knock on the door downstairs, followed immediately by a short squeak of its hinge, and a deep, familiar voice.
"Hey, babe! I'm here!" he shouted, in order to be heard from the second floor.
"Okay, I'm upstairs!" she replied, still inspecting the kit, counting the cosmetic items to determine if she'd overlooked anything.
Believing that she'd located every wayward brush littering the bedroom floor, she turned her attention back to the task at hand. Her hair wasn't going to brush itself, and she wanted to be under the covers as soon as humanly possible.
Releasing it from the towel and letting damp locks tumble over her shoulders, Emma began the next step in her bedtime routine. Moments later, she heard the distinct sound of footsteps travelling her direction, growing louder as her boyfriend made his way upstairs. Carefully picking up her brush from the dresser, she turned to greet him.
Upon entering the room, Dave gave her a sly grin, admiring her slim figure.
"Aww, it looks like I'm too late. Wish I had caught ya in the shower. Not that I'm unhappy to see this pj-clad beauty, of course,"
"You flatter me as always," came her reply, partway through brushing out a small tangle.* "Did you happen to bring any snacks? Cause that would be amazing right now."
With a slight delay he replied, " Oh, yeah! I bought you some chips, I set them on the counter downstairs. Just one second,"
And with that he turned on his heels and bounded down the dimly lit stairs.
According to her phone it was now 10:54pm, as the sleepy girl picked it up off the nightstand to check a message from her friend, Kelly. Noticing the message, Dave ran a hand through his short, brown hair and asked, "How's Kelly doin'?"
"Oh, she's all moved in. I guess it didn't take that long, since she had plenty of help," she replied, while reaching for another old-fashioned barbecue chip.
Now that the small, two-bedroom house was entirely hers, Dave would no doubt be moving in, although that hadn't been carved in stone quite yet. For now, she was content with having him sleep over a few nights per week, and this just so happened to be the first night they'd be completely alone.
Emma's gaze turned toward the television sitting atop a small desk in the corner of the room. It was early in October and that meant two things; pumpkin spice everything, and Halloween TV shows. Rather than watching a horror movie, she opted for a Halloween-themed baking show. Right now, Frankenstein's monster was putting the final touches on a series of chocolate cupcakes.
"Don't they look good?" Emma asked, folding over the bag of chips, setting them on the nightstand nearby.
"Yeah, for sure. I'm gettin' hungry,"
"You're always hungry. Maybe we can make some tomorrow?"
"Sure thing, babe," he replied, reaching across her side of the bed to give her a little poke, his finger finding a soft spot between two ribs.
"Eeeek!" she squealed, recoiling at his probing finger. "Get outta here!"
"Make me," he replied, his arm reaching toward her again, this time sneaking under her shirt to gently pinch her bare skin.
"Pffftheehee!" giggled Emma, her arm dropping down swiftly in order block his tickly attacks. "Man, quit it!"
"Oh, sensitive tonight?" he teased, giving her a quick wink.
"No, I'm not," she said in a groggy tone of voice while rubbing her eyes. "I'm just sleepy, is all."
Emma removed the blanket from atop her body and swung her legs out of bed. She slid her dainty size sevens back into her moccasins without letting them touch the chilly hardwood floor and began shuffling out of the room, pausing briefly as she turned back toward the bed.
"I'll be right back, I just wanna brush my teeth. Maybe we can wrap it up soon, and go to bed?"
Dave nodded in agreement, watching her slip out of the room, leaving him to finish the spooky cupcake segment of the show by himself.
The television had been switched off, and a sense a tranquility overtook the small bedroom, with the exception of wind rattling the nearly-naked limbs of the maple tree outside in the darkness. Emma was laying on her side, phone in hand, its gentle glow illuminating her face. Although she was growing sleepier with every passing minute, it was still too early to kill the lights and close her eyes for the night.
The small girl was completely covered by her large, grey comforter. It was down-filled and exceptionally warm, which was important in her place as the heat never seemed to rise the way it should in order to sufficiently warm the rooms on the second floor. On a cool Fall evening such as this, it was the only place to be.
She heard the ambient noise of running water coming from across the hallway, the squeak of a tap being twisted closed, then nothing. A light switch was then flicked off and Dave entered the room moments later.
"Sleepy yet?" he asked, looking at her motionless body while rubbing the stubble on his chin.
She stirred, taking a sideways glance in his direction, still preoccupied by her phone.
"Umm, yeah kinda. I'm just enjoying the quiet, I guess," she replied, her head sinking back into the pillow. "Waiting for my brain to shut down."
Dave uttered a grunt of acknowledgment while his eyes gazed down upon her blanket-cloaked body. Her small frame was completely dwarfed by it, as she wasn't nearly tall enough for her feet to reach the end of the queen-size bed, which took up a large portion of the tiny bedroom, adamantly refusing on several occasions to purchase one that would better fit the small space. Regardless of bed size, she always enjoyed having one foot outside the blankets simply to help regulate body heat, and tonight was no exception.
"Are you gonna join me, or what?" she asked, her attention elsewhere.
"Oh, yeah. I'm heading in that direction,"
From his perspective, standing in the doorway, the only visible parts of his girlfriend were the top of her head, and a single bare foot jutting out from one corner of the colossal blanket. He removed his black-framed glasses, and used the bottom of his tee shirt to clean the lenses. After placing them back on his face, he leered at the motionless appendage, mesmerized by its delicate appearance. Unsure of how long he'd been standing there gawking, her voice pulled him from the daydream.
"Stop watchin' me, creep. Get into bed,"
"Sounds like a plan to me,"
Stepping forward, his socked foot caught the edge of an unknown object, causing it to skitter across the hardwood floor, sliding to a halt near the foot of the bed. Looking down, it appeared to be a small wooden brush, no doubt from one of her makeup kits. There was one in the bathroom, and one larger kit she kept on her dresser, next to an assortment of creams, perfumes and other items of similar nature.
"What was that?" she asked, perking up.
"Oh, nuthin'. Just one of your makeup brushes, I think," he replied, bending over to pick it up.
"Oh, okay. I dropped a bunch of them earlier, thought that I'd found them all. I'm clumsy tonight. Could you set it on my dresser, please?"
"Yeah, for sure,"
After returning the item to the dresser, he turned around to find himself within arm's reach of her exposed, bare foot. Deciding it best not to become distracted again, he took a single step to the left, watching the light from her phone shimmer in her pale, blue eyes. Although her demeanour this evening was cheery, it was obvious that she was getting tired, and bedtime would be right around the corner.
"What ya watchin'?" he asked, still focused on her eyes.
"Kelly sent me some TikTok's, a couple were really funny, do you wanna watch them?"
She shifted her body within the confines of the blanket, her foot moving ever so slightly, but enough for Dave's eyes to dart in its direction. His attention was split, and he let out another grunt to acknowledge what she'd asked, his eyes continuing to linger on the lone foot for a time. It was as if displayed for him alone, utterly unobstructed and asking to be caressed. Her toes had been painted a vibrant shade of orange, as to fit in with the season, although black would've also been acceptable. As if willed by his wandering thoughts they curled ever so slightly, causing a multitude of little wrinkles to appear on her precious sole, then just as quickly uncurled, causing each one to instantly vanish.
He stepped to the right, back within reach of this pleasant distraction. His mind drifted, which wasn't uncommon. A lack of verbal response to a question or statement wasn't typically intentional on his part. In this case, his fondness for a cute pair of feet was the direct cause of his absentmindedness. For someone like Dave, this was a sight to behold.
They hadn't been dating long, having met over the Summer via a mutual friend, immediately hitting it off and spending quite a lot of time together. He felt all too comfortable around her, and if the need arose to discuss a specific topic - uncomfortable or otherwise - he never shied away, finding that she constantly put him at ease. But, there was one particular topic that he hadn't brought to her attention, at least not yet, and whether it was due to a lack of courage or a sense of vulnerability, he couldn't say.
"What're you doin' down there?" came her voice from the other end of the large bed.
Perhaps he'd lingered a bit too long. Responding to her questions with actual words rather than noises would've also been wise. Regardless, his silence in the relatively quiet environment was noticeable.
"Ah, nuthin' in particular," he said. "Just thinkin' about stuff."
"Oh? What sort of 'stuff'?"
"Nuthin' too important, really. Ya know what I'm like. Guess I zoned out, it's been a long day,"
He knelt down, now eye-level and inches away from her breathtakingly beautiful sole. This wasn't the first time he'd been up close and personal with her lower extremities, as he stole a glance whenever the opportunity presented itself, always taking the time to admire every nuanced detail of her gorgeous feet.
She had marshmallowy-soft heels that rose into high, silky-smooth arches. They were milky-white, whereas the rest of her foot had a slight rosy hue. His eyes then travelled over the ball of her foot to her deliciously suckable toes. All ten digits were slender, elegant, and perfectly proportioned. They were begging to be played with, as her entire foot was sublime; decadent in its softness.
This was due to a foot care routine second to none; she regularly applied lotion, typically followed by a pair of socks or slippers, which helped retain moisture, ensuring they remained immaculate. Her current body lotion of choice was a blend of vanilla bean and fresh orange blossom - which he knew only from examining the bottle on her dresser - giving her feet a sweet, yet fruity scent. Pedicures were a frequent occurrence as well, as she had a good friend who was a beautician. This meant a cost savings, which equaled pedi's more often, which naturally translated to lusciously tender feet nearly all the time, no matter how many hours she was on them.
"Where'd ya go?" she asked, swivelling her head to look for her absent boyfriend.
"Uh, just taking a look at somethin'. I got distracted,"
His eyes were transfixed. It was as if her foot had been disconnected from the leg, severed at the ankle and left to lay there all on its own. Though if he were to reach out and touch it he was betting he'd see just how attached it was. There was little rational thought factoring into his next decision. Continuing to stare, engrossed by its beauty and letting instinct guide him, his hand began moving of its own accord, reaching out and descending toward the unsuspecting target.
"You do get distracted easily, that's true. And it's definitely been a long day. Why don't you—aieheehee!"
Her words were cut short, replaced by a high-pitched squeal. He'd caught her completely by surprise. The electric shock flowing from the bottom of her foot to her brain was instantaneous, stimulating countless nerve endings, and causing her petite foot to retract back into the relative safety of the blankets, hidden from sight.
"Frig off, idiot! Don't be ticklin' me!" she spat, a half-grin lingering on her face.
"Why not? Your foot was essentially on display. What did ya expect me to do, ignore it?"
"You're such a tickle-fiend tonight! I gotta stay on guard around you,"
The sound she made when his curious finger had grazed the bottom of her foot was music to his ears. But it was all over as quickly as it had begun, and Dave was left with a feeling of longing, wishing she'd reveal it to him again.
Emma was ticklish; excruciatingly so. He'd found out several weeks earlier, near the end of Summer when they'd paid a visit to a local beach. They'd been in and out of the crystal-clear water all day, and she'd been sunbathing when he finally worked up the courage to give her feet a test. With the bikini-clad beauty laying on her beach towel, oblivious to his intentions, he ran an index finger up her sandy sole, producing an adorable little laugh. Unfortunately, there'd been too many people around to continue at the time, although he'd love nothing more than to bury her in the warm sand and tickle her helpless feet for hours, not unlike what happened to her friends, Kelly and Morgan, not too long ago.*
However, tonight was entirely different. Tonight he wanted to explore, as this was a prime opportunity to push her limits while enjoying the one thing that he desired more than anything else; pampered, ticklish feet. This was going to be a blast, hopefully proving to be an evening he wouldn't soon forget.
"Sorry, I couldn't help myself. Won't happen again," he lied, without the slightest effort to sound convincing.
"I hope not, you really caught me off guard. Are you coming into bed, or what?"
"Yeah, soon. I bet you're warm and cozy all wrapped up like that," said Dave, not yet standing up, his eyes still lingering on the empty space where her foot had once rested.
"Yup, I'm super cozy in fact. So, will you be joining me sometime tonight?"
"I'm on my way," he replied, slightly disappointed that her little foot hadn't yet reappeared.
With that he stood, the room's silence interrupted by groaning floorboards underfoot. Dave climbed up onto the bed, but instead of crawling under the covers as requested, he instead turned around and kneeled yet again, this time on the bed with his back toward her.
As if prompted by his thoughts, she shifted around behind him, stretching her leg back out once more. And to his delight, her exquisite bare foot made its second appearance of the evening.
Emma was now laying on her belly, propping herself up on her elbows while absentmindedly scrolling through TikTok, blissfully unaware of her boyfriend's steady gaze, and evil ambitions.
The foot, having now rematerialized, was currently upturned, jutting out from under the big blanket; cute as a button and as tantalizing as ever. He marvelled at its soft appearance, not a single imperfection to be found; as if carved from a block of pure marble. Perhaps those slippers she'd been wearing earlier were not only designed for comfort, but had a magically-imbued lining designed to keep her feet as satiny-smooth as possible.
A laugh interrupted his thoughts, snapping him back to reality.
"Oh, you gotta see this one!" she giggled, continuing to stare at her phone.
"Oh yeah? Funny one, was it?" he replied, still fixated on what he longed to touch.
She responded, but it went in one ear and out the other. He couldn't focus on anything else besides the lonely sole that was calling his name, practically begging for attention. It looked so phenomenally tender, a softness so profound it would make cashmere feel like sandpaper. This was clearly an open invitation, one he simply couldn't pass up. His hand travelled toward the inattentive girl's sole, his fingers mere inches from making contact, but it wasn't meant to be.
In an attempt to adjust herself within the sheets, she'd managed to withdraw her foot once again, pulling it just out of reach, effectively hidden from the outstretched hand. Having been cheated out of his prize yet again, and frustration mounting, it was time to get this fortuitous situation under wraps.
"I think I should go to sleep soon," she said, yawning while rubbing her eyes. "It's getting late."
Dave's response was immediate, leaping off the bed and landing directly beside her. Their eyes met, and for a moment neither spoke a word. The wind had again whipped up, shaking the house, a soft tinkling of rain spattering against the window pane.
"Umm, hey there. What're you doing?" she asked inquisitively, one eyebrow raised while looking up at him.
He'd been somewhat quiet tonight, and something felt different. She was unsure of his intentions, but was happy to see him at her side, as opposed to lurking at the foot of the bed like a boogeyman.
"So, are you tired, too?" she asked, the tone in her voice matching her puzzled facial expression.
He was smiling, but it wasn't a warm one. It was somewhat unsettling, appearing more devious in nature.
"Well, ya looked so cozy a minute ago, I thought I'd make sure ya were extra warm and snuggly. What do ya think?" he asked, leaning toward her.
Her eyes narrowed. "Oh, well that's kind of you. I appreciate the thought, but I—"
Her words had been cut short again, as in one swift motion he'd firmly clutched both the edge of the comforter and the sheet she'd been laying on, forcefully rolling both, with Emma along for the ride.
"Hey—woahh!"
The world was spinning, as if performing barrel rolls in a stunt plane, or locked inside a dryer. She felt her body tumble sideways, over and over, and within seconds she found herself on the opposite side of the bed. She was now a human burrito; figuratively speaking, and her tortilla-like wrapping seemed to be quite snug. Both arms were pinned tightly to her sides; legs and ankles held close together by the blankets she once laid upon.
"Well, that was quite the ride. Very thrilling, and not what I had in mind when you said 'cozy'. Although, to be fair this isn't too bad," she said, with a cute chuckle.
Dave was kneeling beside her in the centre of the bed. She'd been wrapped perfectly. From one end of the blanket protruded her head, face up, but this was not his main focus. His true interest laid elsewhere.
"I know, I figured you'd enjoy it," he replied. "Besides, ya told me earlier to 'wrap it up', so here we are."
"Thanks for listening, but we both know that's not what I meant,"
He moved downward, listening to his trapped girlfriend but focusing squarely on an adorable pair of size sevens that were sticking out from the other end of the tube-like comforter. After arriving at his destination, he took a split second to take in the view. They were lovely; a spectacle in and of themselves. To say that this was a dream come true was an understatement. He was going to thoroughly enjoy every second of this. She, however, likely wouldn't. But there was only one way to find out.
At the moment she was still laying on her back, and her cute toes with their vivid orange polish were wiggling methodically back and forth, almost in a rhythm of sorts. It was unintentionally seductive; ten tantalizing toes, curling and uncurling in a come-hither motion. How could he possibly deny their request?
A lone finger began running down the top of her right foot, its skin feeling just as supple as her soles had been moments earlier. She quivered in response to his touch, but he continued nonetheless. With subtle, fading tan lines caused by a Summer's worth of flip-flops guiding his way, he continued his journey toward her ever-wiggling toes. Upon reaching her big toe he used his thumb and forefinger to firmly pinch it, which brought her wiggles to an abrupt halt.
Emma was panic-stricken. What awful situation had she gotten herself into? She was currently rolled up tight inside her own blankets, with her boyfriend perched at the end of the bed gripping one of her toes. This certainly wasn't good, not in the slightest, and definitely wasn't how she pictured her evening coming to an end. His silence and newfound fascination with her feet undeniably appeared to be a bad omen, perhaps a sign of things to come, though she hoped - needed - to be wrong.
"Your toes are too cute, ya know that?" came his deep voice, pulling her from quiet rumination.
"Thanks! I like them too, the orange is really cute, huh. Very Halloween-y, or so I thought," she replied confidently, without letting nervousness betray her.
She'd had her suspicions that Dave was into feet, as it wasn't difficult to notice his eyes wander their direction anytime she was barefoot. A foot fetish isn't a big deal; commonplace really. She'd met boys in college who'd had more than a passing interest in hers, and seen the amount of foot content on the internet, not to mention those awful boys who'd mercilessly tickle-tortured her friends at the beach over the Summer.
She'd heard firsthand of their cruelty, as Kelly hadn't withheld a single detail. She'd been buried alongside Morgan, entombed in the sand while their poor feet were groped, teased, feathered and otherwise brutally tortured for hours on end by a pair of tickle-sadists. Could Dave be into tickling, too? Was it really that common?
Emma tried to move her arms, to no avail. She then attempted to move her legs, and found the results to be no different. She could rock side-to-side somewhat, but wasn't able to actually go anywhere. It appeared that she was well and truly trapped. Picturing a caterpillar inside its cocoon, she wriggled her little body as much as possible, wishing dearly to emerge and escape its confines.
"So, are you gonna let me out? Or, should I just sleep like this tonight? I mean, it's sorta like a sleeping bag,"
Dave released her big toe, and withdrew his hand. They resumed their wiggly little dance, finding himself hypnotized once again by their subtle movements. While this was absolutely delightful to watch, it was time for the main attraction. He could easily tickle her in this position, but knew of a far better way to go about it, and was eager to begin.
"Dave? Can you unroll me, please?" she asked anxiously.
Without any verbal response, he grabbed ahold of the blanket with both hands and rolled, which produced another groan from the person trapped within. She'd been flipped face-down, onto her belly, a plush pillow still cradling her head. He straddled her body, taking a seat on her blanket-encased calves, effectively pinning her legs to the bed. It wasn't as if she'd be moving around much anyway, not wrapped up as she was, but a little extra security wouldn't hurt, and this was a perfect vantage point for what was to follow.
Her flawless soles now faced the ceiling, on display and within reach, appearing to blush as he peered down at them. Her smooth, pink heels were the first thing he eyed, they seemed like a great place to begin. And begin he did. Not waiting for a follow up question, he struck. Two index fingers touched down on her tender heels, and began to draw a straight line upward across her milky-white arches.
"Aiieeheehee!" Emma giggled, entirely caught off guard yet again. "What the fuck?! You can stop that, right now!"
She didn't mince words this time, and it was clear she wasn't enjoying the opening act. But it hardly mattered, as she had little choice in what was to come. The tickle-crazed boy was just getting started, his hands eagerly looming mere inches above her trembling soles.
"Oh, yeah? Why should I?" he asked, feigning curiosity.
"You know why! Now lemme outta this thing!"
His fingers continued to hover dangerously close to her trapped bare feet, watching as she tried to rub one with the other, no doubt to remove any lingering tickly sensations.
"This 'thing'? It's your blanket, and just a minute ago you were enjoying it immensely. Why would ya want out now?"
Before she could form a proper response, his fingers were on the attack once again. This time drawing lazy little circles on her creamy arches, spiralling up toward those long, lovely toes.
"...mpheheehehee..."
She was clearly attempting to hold back her laughter, though failing miserably. Her body had become tense beneath him, as she began pressing the tops of her precious feet into the mattress in a futile attempt to escape his meandering fingers. Little did she know that the 'try not to laugh' game was a favourite of his. So, if that's how she wanted to play, he was all for it.
"What's the matter, Em? Ya okay?" he asked rhetorically.
"...mpheehee...y-yesss...eiiehehee..."
Her toes curled up, revealing that bright orange polish once again, while causing a multitude of fine wrinkles to appear on her upturned soles. But he was undaunted; she could keep them curled for all he cared, he'd simply trace each ultra-fine crease on her dainty feet.
"...hehehee...D-Dave, don't...eiieheehe..."
She was in quite the predicament. Her giggles were very clearly escaping, growing noticeably louder as he continued to fiendishly fondle her bare soles. She bit her lower lip, summoning the mental fortitude to endure it, hoping to outlast him. But no amount of lip-biting would stop them from pouring out sooner than later. Scrunching up her toes was not helping her cause either, but she couldn't help it, as it was simply a defence mechanism to try and diminish the tickly sensations pulsing through her body.
...aiieheehee...p-pleeheease, quit it..."
His deft fingers navigated her soles with ease, skating along using feather-light touches, tracing the horizontal wrinkles on her bewilderingly ticklish feet. He varied the speed, duration, and pressure of each finger stroke, observing the different responses he received. Her feet twisted and jostled beneath him, snapping left and right as she valiantly fought against the torment. Each suppressed giggle was a victory in his mind, and knowing that she was about to break at any moment spurred him onward.
"What's the matter, babe? Wait a minute, you're not... ticklish, are you?"*
Simply saying that word aloud produced more giggles, and Dave was grinning deviously while she wriggled like a snake beneath him, unable to free herself, forced to grin and bear it. The teasing amplified her ticklishness, or at least it appeared to, causing ever increasing amounts of squeals, chuckles, and titters to pour from the helpless blonde. It was like a symphony of laughter performed by the world's most beautiful orchestra, and he was the conductor.
"Aiieheehee!" she squealed, unable to hold it back any longer. "N-Noo—heheehee! I'm not t-ticklish! Now lemme go—eiieheehee!"
But the relentless assault on her unprotected foot-bottoms wasn't over yet. In fact, Dave was just beginning to hit his stride. Her toes uncurled and fanned outward, as if attempting an escape from the ever-present tickle torture. He could tell she was trying her best to hold it together, but was obviously overwhelmed. This would be a losing battle for the giggly girl, she just didn't know it yet. With her petite soles now silky-smooth once again, he decided it best to up the ante.
"Okay, so you're not ticklish. That's what we'll go with. If true, this shouldn't bother you in the slightest,"
"What?! No, just lemme up!"
His movement was deliberate, as both index and middle fingers began 'walking' lazily across her trembling soles, over the balls of her feet toward those slender toes. As one finger advanced toward its target, the second closely followed, almost as if it were a person sauntering along in no particular hurry. And why would he rush? He had his beautiful girlfriend exactly where he'd always dreamed; pinned down, wrapped up tight, and at his mercy.
The two strolling fingers stopped directly below her toes and began to lightly flutter against her velvety-soft skin. Dave knew that Emma was intensely ticklish, her hyper-sensitive feet were never far from his thoughts. But he truly didn't know that she would react to such a light stimulus. His fingertips had barely grazed her when she shrieked.
"Aiiieehehee! I cahaaha...I can't—ahaahaa!" she squawked, unable to withhold the flood of giggles long enough to form a simple sentence.
Her toes curled once more, then just as quickly fanned out again, leaving a taut, smooth surface for the ever-curious fingers to explore at their leisure. And explore they did. His movement was rapid, with each finger operating independently as he quickly fluttered them back and forth on each of her buttery-soft soles.
"N-Noohoo—eihhehee! Not my—eiihehee...not my feeheeet!"
Her toes didn't have the slightest idea of what to do, and the rhythmic dance they performed was enchanting to say the least. Dave was grinning like a fool now, not unlike a Cheshire cat, as he gleefully explored both of her skyward-facing soles with zero resistance. She'd truly done well to resist for this long. Though as admirable as it was, this test of endurance was all but finished, and he subjected her soft, pink soles to another flurry of tickles.
"Nohoo, you c-can't—aiiehehehee! You c-can't do this to meeheee!" she wailed, while wriggling around in her warm enclosure.
"Oh? I believe I most certainly can. Besides, you claimed that you weren't at all ticklish, was that a lie?"
Her legs were utterly immobile due to the weight placed directly upon her calves. It was maddening, being so helpless and unable repel her tickle-obsessed boyfriend's adept fingers. Emma was beyond irritated, as he didn't appear to be backing off at all. This incessant teasing was driving her crazy, adding to her aggravation while simultaneously heightening her sensitivity. It was time to end this foolishness.
"O-OKAY, STAHAAHAAP IT! THAT'S EIIEEHEE—ENOUGH!" she bellowed, loud enough to finally grab his attention.
Dave's twitching fingers paused briefly. Was she truly angry with him? Would this ruin the rest of the night? Did he care? These were all questions currently coursing through his mind.
"That. Is. Enough! Let me up, right now!" demanded the tender-footed girl.
His head twisted around, looking over his shoulder, seeing nothing but blonde hair protruding from the end of the comforter that encased his disheveled girlfriend. Although he was unable to see her face, he could visualize her cute, pouty expression easily enough. No doubt her cheeks were quite rosy by now from all her giggling.
"Like, right now? Okay, just admit that you're ticklish and I will," he said, matter-of-factly.
"Let me up, you sonofabitch! I'm gonna kill you!"
Ignoring her empty threats, he turned his attention back toward his captive playthings, the menacing grin never leaving his face.
"Hmm, that's a shame. Suppose we'll just have to keep going, since ya obviously haven't had enough yet,"
His hands lunged swiftly back toward her upturned soles, fingers finding their place directly below her frantic toes once more. This time, however, they weren't lightly fluttering. This time he intended on pushing her farther. He was going find out where her limits were, one step at a time.
"No, I said that you need to—aiiehehee!"
The cruel boy slid his fingers between each of her desperately wiggling toes. Their response was immediate, and exactly what he wanted, what he craved. They curled and uncurled, back and forth as he tickled, undoubtedly trying to catch his fingers as they burrowed between them. She'd been successful a few times, but it hardly mattered, as he easily escaped her clutches and repeated the attack.
"N-Noo—eiieheehee! Not my toeeeheeess!"
"Did ya know that in reflexology this area pertains to the eyes. I'd noticed you'd been rubbing yours earlier, maybe this will help," he said, not bothering to increase the volume of his voice to be heard over her high-pitched squeals.
"...eiieheheee! F-Fuckk you—heehaahaa!" she babbled as his fingers ran rampant.
"No, eh? Suit yourself, but you're clearly enjoying it, your laughter gives it away,"
Each time her cute toes curled up he caught a glimpse of that brilliant orange polish. It was one of his favourites, though he wasn't picky. She had a variety of shades from which to choose, from pastel blues to verdant greens; royal purples to cherry reds. But this particular orange was fantastically cute. She continued to writhe underneath him, attempting to buck him off, going nowhere fast. He'd been hesitant to try something like this in the past, to avoid upsetting her, or reveal hidden desires. But now that he'd obtained this position of power his vulnerability had all but vanished, and he felt nigh unstoppable while continuing to terrorize her toes.
"Pleeheease—eiieheehee! N-No moreee!" she pleaded, drawing sharp, deliberate breaths. "Heheehelp me, ohh my gahahad! I cahan't take it—nyahaahahaa!"
Although the game was far from over, Dave removed his hands from her splendid feet. There would be much more fun ahead, but it would be wise to give the poor thing a brief moment of respite. The tickling was intoxicating to be sure, and she'd quickly been reduced to a babbling madwoman, but a break was overdue.
Her breathing was laboured, almost wheezy, and her chest heaved while desperately sucking air into her lungs. Emma had mixed feelings about the situation. She felt angry and exhausted, naturally, but there was something else, too. Her rebellious libido was reviving up, and she wasn't quite sure why. Was it the loss of control? That had to be it. The utter humiliation she felt from being overpowered by such a simple act was toying with her emotions. Being held against her will was thrilling, yet terrifying. She was going to rip something off - either his head or his clothes - but wasn't entirely sure which.
"Ohh...my...god... I can't take this... you gotta stop," she panted, breathlessly.
"I did stop, babe. Seems like ya could use a little rest, just to catch your breath,"
"Did you just say I need to 'catch my breath'? No, I need you to get off me. Right now."
"I can do that, no worries," he replied.
Lifting his weight from her lower legs, he hopped off the bed, though he wouldn't be gone long. As it happened, there was a specific item he required, which was easily obtained from her dresser. After acquiring what he needed, he spun around and walked toward the bed once more, smiling as she struggled to break free.
Emma continued to squirm around on the bed, her once-cozy blanket now an inescapable prison. Although unhappy about being trapped, the silver lining was the relief she felt not being mercilessly tickle tortured for the time being.
"Okay, that's better. So, can you just unroll me? That way I can—wait, what're you doing now?!"
Her words trailed off as she felt him climb back onto the bed, his bodyweight cementing her legs into the plush mattress once more.
He'd positioned himself exactly where he'd been only moments ago, ensuring his legs were planted firmly so that her lower half remained motionless. Her size sevens poked out of the big blanket between his knees, as vulnerable as they'd ever been. He could see the slightest bit of pink fabric from her pj's near her ankles, but from his point of view Emma had all but disappeared, with two disembodied feet being all that remained; she'd been wrapped perfectly.
The flustered blonde grew more nervous as the seconds ticked on; heart thumping loudly in her chest, breaths short and shallow.
"Dave, really, y-you gotta stop this. Just let me up..."
"I did as instructed, I got off you. But now I'm back, did ya miss me?" he asked, cheerfully.
"Obviously I didn't miss you! You're driving me crazy! Now get the hell off me!" she demanded.
The bewildered girl's head was cocked to the side, in order to draw as much cool air into her lungs as possible. A thin layer of sweat had formed on her now-glistening skin, and she felt her bangs plastered against her forehead. The massive blanket certainly retained heat well; it was like being locked in a sauna. Emma would much prefer to be warm than cold any day of the week, but not like this, never like this.
She'd been tickled in the past, sure, but not to this extent. It was cruel and unusual punishment, and certainly undeserved. Emma's entire body was incredibly sensitive, a single stroke across her fair skin was more than enough to make her squirm, with her bare soles having long been a weak spot. Growing up she'd endured countless attacks, whether from friends at sleepovers, or boys at the local pool, she became an easy target, eliciting girlish squeals that attracted even more attention. Hell, even her younger sister had once pinned her down while arguing over which movie to watch a few years ago, and been granted several long minutes to torment her overly-sensitive foot bottoms.
But to be trapped like this, unable to move a muscle, to just lay here and suffer this horrible fate; it wasn't how she wanted to end her week. Tickling should be fun, perhaps even sensual with the right partner, but this was a lot to handle, and it was beginning to take its toll.
"I'm serious, you need to get off, and let me up,"
"But I thought ya were enjoying it. Or, are ya finally ready to admit just how ticklish ya really are?" he asked, knowingly.
"Fuck you! Yes, I'm ticklish! Happy? Now let me up, you idiot!"
"An idiot, am I? I'd been considering letting ya up, but after that crude remark, well, now I'm not so sure..."
His fingers were yet again floating directly above her exquisite soles. They were intoxicating, their shape, colour, everything about her feet screamed 'ticklish'. They were lusciously tender, and incredibly inviting. They were whispering his name even now. His fingers wiggled slowly, not that she would notice, but he relished the anticipation all the same.
"Let me up now and I promise that I won't—aiieheehee! No, n-not again, plehehease!"
Ten fingers scribbled with haste across her precious feet, from round heels to wiggly, distressed toes. Not an inch of her delectable soles would go untouched. And no matter how much she tried to escape, she'd never be able to elude his skilled fingertips. They could track them with ease, regardless of how much she switched them side-to-side, or covered one with the other; her chances of fleeing were minimal.
"Coochie, coo! Are little Emma's feet ticklish?" he teased.
"Yesss..." she hissed through clenched teeth. "Y-Yes—heehehaahaa! I'm fuckin' t-ticklish, now stahahap!"
She hadn't yet realized that her frustration was part of his pleasure; her pleading would do nothing but encourage him.
His arousal had grown steadily as time went on. The combination of deathly-ticklish bare feet, melodic tones of girlish laughter, and Emma's writhing body beneath him was overwhelming. His erection was throbbing against his boxers, threatening to make its presence known sooner than later. He wasn't sure just how far this would actually go, but was excited to find out.
"Yiiiehehahaa!" howled the desperate blonde. "Quit it! N-No more tickl—eiiehehee!"
"Hmm, this is super fun, but it's time to change up the game a little," said Dave, relenting for a brief moment and reaching for the object he'd obtained from her dresser.
Emma's cackling ceased, and with an exasperated sigh she squirmed within the tightly-rolled blanket once more. The mummy-wrapped girl was thankful for another break, but was praying the ruthless tickler sitting astride her calves had finally grown tired of this nonsense. But deep down in her soul she knew that no amount of prayer would save her. There'd be no divine intervention here, not today.
"The 'game'? This is all just a game to you?!"
"Well, sort of. If it is a game, I'd say that I'm winning. But, I wanted to try something out. Let me know how this feels, okay?"
"How what feel—eiieheehee..."
A small makeup brush touched down on the struggling girl's soles. This particular brush was the stray he'd accidentally located earlier, being designed specifically for the precise application of eyeshadow. It was tapered, with a dense array of supple synthetic bristles arranged in an oval shape, nearly one inch in length. It had a slender wooden handle with a blunt point at the end, much like a thin artist's brush.
'What a fantastic tickle tool', he thought, while stroking it gently up and down the pair of quivering feet. It was a pleasant coincidence that he'd happened upon it, as it appeared tailor-made for poking in between toes - which he'd get to soon enough - but equally as good at dusting along a pair of wrinkly soles.
Her toes scrunched up at its touch, while attempting to withhold her mounting laughter. 'What the hell is that thing?' she wondered, trying her level best to remain silent, refusing to give him the satisfaction of hearing her laugh. She bit her lower lip while feeling it twirl lazily down her right sole, certain she'd be capable of withstanding this prolonged teasing. But what was he using? It was an indiscernible texture, feeling soft and light, much like a downy feather. No, that wasn't it, she didn't make a habit of keeping feathers in her room.
"Know what it is yet?" he asked, while teasing the small brush across her feet.
"...n-no, I don't..." she replied, her voice somewhat strained.
Emma soon felt the mystery object softly circle the tender heel of her left foot. Round and round it went, agonizingly slow and deliberate, causing her eye to twitch as she persevered through the insufferable torment. It then began working its way across her arch where it lingered far too long. He was waving it back and forth, in a lethargic brushing motion, causing her little foot to tremble, a laugh on the cusp of breaking loose from her lips.
'Brushing motion' she thought, that must be it!
"Surely you've figured it out by now," he said.
"...y-yes... it's one of my... makeup b-brushes!"
"Yes! Ya got it! How'd ya figure it out so fast? Was this used on these little feet of yours before?"
He was savouring every second of her repressed laughter, using it the way he would a paintbrush, practically drooling while stroking it across his 'canvas', making short strokes here, while drawing longer fluid lines elsewhere. He traced the perimeter of both soles, then ran a straight line from her pillowy-soft heels up her arch and across the ball of the foot toward her ever-twitching toes.
"...s-stop it... that's mine..."
"It is yours, that's right. But I'm putting it to much better use, wouldn't ya agree?" he asked, with a self-satisfied smirk.
The brush's soft, wispy bristles circled the ball of her foot, trailing downward along her arch then looped around her heel to make its way upward again. No pressure need be applied, a gentle application was all that was necessary. She had other makeup brushes that would've worked equally as well - a larger powder brush coming to mind, in order to cover a wider surface area - but this smaller, more intricate eyeshadow brush was doing its job quite well, and all that was required on his part was a steady pace.
By alternating his movements while keeping up the rhythm, he ensured both of her magnificent soles were 'painted' thoroughly, methodically drawing random patterns across each one, following no set path. Although never before applying any sort of makeup, he imagined he'd take to it easily enough, picturing one sole as a palette from which to chose the appropriate shade, then applying it to the other.
"...p-please...stop this..."
"Stop? Why would I do that? You're tough, babe. It's just a little tickling after all,"
Time for some fun. Grabbing ahold of her toes, two at a time, he pried them apart while stroking the small brush on the tender flesh between each trembling digit. It was terrific how a small brushstroke could elicit such strong responses from his unwilling participant. One-by-one he feathered her own brush between all ten terrified toes, feeling growing resistance as they tried to curl, his strong hands easily able to hold them still while worming it and out.
Emma's face contorted, tears welling in her eyes as she endured painfully slow, unrelenting brushstrokes between each hyper-sensitive toe. It was horrible, but although her defences were beginning to crumble her spirit was not yet broken. Adamant that she'd outlast him, she stifled her giggles and pushed through, resolving not to emit a single, solitary sound resembling a laugh. He wouldn't get the better of her again.
"Does it feel nice? I bet it's wonderful on your sleepy feet, huh?"
"...n-no it isn't... I... I hate it..."
There wasn't a chance in hell she'd be able to resist much longer. The virgin skin between her toes was incredibly delicate, and he was fascinated by how much she squirmed beneath him with each swipe. She was nothing if not determined, as the poor thing hadn't burst into laughter as he'd anticipated. In fact, if he didn't know any better he'd say she was enjoying it. Between each strained word he was certain he'd heard a subtle moan slip out, and her hips felt as if they'd begun to gyrate. He too was swinging his hips forward and back, his aching cock leaking sticky precum onto his boxers while continuing to tease the barefoot girl.
"Aww, 'hate' is such a strong word, my dear. I know ya too well, and I think you're enjoying it. Maybe not as much as I am, but you're getting there,"
He ran the tip of the brush up each toe stem, ensuring each and every one received the attention it deserved. Afterward he held the brush between thumb and forefinger, spinning it on the tip of each little toe, feeling her quake beneath him. A second brush would be fantastic, as one on each bare foot would certainly break her. But he'd have to make due with what he had, and exploit every wildly-sensitive inch of her feet.
"Are ya gonna laugh for me? I know that ya want to..."
'Not a chance', she thought, he couldn't keep this up forever. She was winning thus far, and salvation was within reach. Surely he'd throw in the towel, as that damn brush had grazed every square inch of her soles multiple times, what was left? Gritting her teeth while feeling it lick at her arches once again, she made a mental note to hide her makeup kit going forward, not wishing to repeat this brutal humiliation in the future. But her determination had paid off, the end was in sight and she couldn't falter now.
"Tickle... tickle... tickle..."
Her pelvis was slowly grinding into the bed as he continued teasing. Why did she have this love/hate relationship with tickling? A fierce battle was raging inside, and despite the cruelty of his tickly touch it was proving to be an erotic experience, finding herself equally as irritated as she was aroused. Why was this turning her on? It was completely illogical; being at once pleasurable, and overwhelmingly torturous.
Dave admired her strength of will. The stubborn girl had proven she could, in fact, endure the soft, gentle brushstrokes brought on by the cosmetic tickle tool. But he craved her frantic laughter, that cackle he knew she was capable of. In order to draw it out he'd simply require a change of tactic, which was long overdue.
Flipping the brush end-for-end he grabbed both of her big toes with one hand, and used the blunted tip of the brush's wooden handle to draw a firm, straight line down her immobilized right foot, toes to heel.
"NYAAHAHAAHAA! F-FUCK YOU—EIIEEHAAHAA!"
It was the straw that broke the camel's back. Emma had surrendered to her boyfriend's skilled technique. Ten glossy orange toes curled over in response, but his firm grip was more than enough to pry them back, until her poor soles were taut; utterly smooth and defenceless.
"Wow! I really know how to use this thing, huh," he said, fiendishly stroking her painfully-sensitive soles. "Does this make me a beautician?"
"N-NOO—AIEEHAAHAA! IT F-FUCKIN' DOESN'T—GYAAHAAHAA!"
The insufferable handle dashing across her arches was a stark contrast to the feathery-soft brushstrokes mere moments ago. It was electric, stimulating nerve endings she didn't know existed. Wishing dearly to pull her feet away to safety, she could do nothing but cackle, releasing a banshee-like scream that echoed within the walls of the tiny room. But it was hopeless, she was stuck fast, and between the mind-bending tickles and her unruly libido kicking into overdrive, Emma was unsure of how much longer she could take it.
"JEEHEESUS! YOU GOTTA STAHAAHAP—NYAHAAHAHAA!"
The brush was wielded with lethal precision, not unlike a surgeon holding a scalpel. Her formerly porcelain-like soles were now a rosy shade of pink, becoming redder with each pass of the torturous tool. Although not its intended use, it proved to be just as effective at making her scream. Firmly gripping both big toes with one hand, he was provided insurance that his ticklish plaything's mobility was severely limited, effectively acting as a makeshift set of toe cuffs.
"I ain't gotta do anything except tickle these perfectly soft feet of yours, my dear,"
"BWAHAAHAHAA—I'LL DO ANY—EIIEEHAAHAA—ANYTHING!"
The muscles in her legs tensed. The tickling was diabolically savage, yet her lust hadn't faded. If anything it had grown, becoming unbearable while writhing within the blanket, begging for release. A dormant persona had awoken within her. It had been trapped, buried deep down, craving this type of torture.
"Poor thing, whatever will ya do? Nowhere to go, babe..."
Dave had begun to probe beneath her spasming toes. The tender flesh was ultra-responsive to each poke, causing her thrashing body to become wilder, more furious, akin to riding a raging bull. But the blanket held tight, and no matter how much she tried to escape, it would be fruitless.
"PULEEHEEASE—EIIEEHAAHAA! I'M B-BEGGIN'—AHHAAHAA!" she cried, sputtering out an impassioned plea for release.
Loosening his vice-like grip on her two big toes, the tickle-crazed boy focused his efforts on the spaces between. After slipping the narrow brush between each toe, he'd drag it down over the ball of her foot toward her high arches, then glide it up again to repeat the process. Her velvety-soft soles squirmed as he applied just enough pressure to make her squeal and plead for freedom. Each garbled cry for help was yet another notch on his belt, knowing that he was driving her to the brink of insanity but never intending to push her over the edge.
"Tickle, tickle, little girl..." he teased. "Laugh for me."
"NYAAHAHAA! N-NOOHOOO MORE, PULEEHEEASE! NYAAHAHAA..."
Her strained cries for help had become more akin to animalistic howls, yet he did not stop. The deranged girl slipped beyond booming laughter, propelled headlong into a fit of near-silent convulsions that he felt resonate throughout the bed beneath him.
Yet as intoxicating as this had become, he didn't wish to wear her out quite yet. With his hunger for tickling satiated for the moment, it was time to let her breathe.
The eyeshadow brush came to a halt, and was removed from the tortured girl's tender feet. Lingering tickly sensations haunted her poor soles, and she tried rubbing them together once more to alleviate the feeling. Vivid red lines criss-crossed her foot-bottoms, as if dozens of tally marks had been writ there, slowly fading to reveal their natural rosy complexion.
Her chest was heaving; breath laboured. The tear-stained pillow evidence of limits broken. She'd been barefoot and bound for what felt like hours, though in reality couldn't have been more than twenty minutes. Still, any amount of tickling whilst wrapped up and vulnerable was going to feel like an eternity.
Emma desperately wanted to continue protesting this inhuman torture, but what was left to say? Even if she'd found the correct combination of words to convince her heartless captor to set her free, she certainly couldn't muster the energy to speak them.
Dave was unable to see the expression on her face from his position at the foot of the bed, but he gathered from her silence that a meltdown was imminent. Had he pushed her too far? If so, he'd undoubtedly be sleeping on the couch tonight, and those cupcakes they'd planned on making were likely out of the question.
It would be wise to let her up, to free her from the torment, but before he could make another move, she spoke.
"I-I dunno what's gotten into you, but it's a lot to handle," mumbled the exhausted girl.
"Well, I might've taken it too far. It's just that I—"
"No, it's okay," she replied, cutting him off. "I'm just outta breath, I need a break. But, I know you must be enjoying this. And to be honest, so am I."
The nearby alarm clock pierced the quiet that had befallen the room, noisily ticking the seconds away, punctuating each moment that nothing further was spoken. Repeated slow, strained breaths emanated from the far end of the bed as the poor girl's heart rate gradually dropped.
He was aching for more; cock dripping like a leaky faucet. Why should he continue to temper his wilder impulses? This recent revelation confirmed her enjoyment, much to his surprise, so he had little choice but to continue.
Try as she might, the residual tickly sensation on the soles of her feet refused to disappear, and her mind reeled at the thought of prolonging this any further. Her admission that this brutal tickling was anything but horrendous may well have been a grave mistake. But what was pure, unadulterated torture only moments ago had now become all too appetizing.
Suddenly, the weight had been lifted from her legs, the mattress shifting in the process as her boyfriend's feet hit the floor. She'd give anything to see what he was up to, unfortunately her current position significantly hindered her viewpoint, much to her dismay.
"Are you letting me up?" she asked, his motives still unclear.
Dave found himself at the foot of the bed frame, kneeling before his captive girlfriend's upturned soles. Side-by-side they laid, utterly motionless. His eyes lingered on her pale-white arches, specifically the crease at which they met. He pictured them wrapped tightly around his hard cock, stroking its entire length. As her feet pumped up and down he'd dig his fingers in, listening to her squeal as each stroke brought him dangerously close to the edge. But could he manifest this dream into reality?
"Dave? Are you there?"
Sensing her nervousness, he cleared his throat and replied.
"Yeah, I'm right here. Just thinkin' about something,"
"Oh. About what?" she asked, hints of trepidation in her weary voice.
His palm began to lightly stroke his engorged member through the fabric of his boxers, straining the limits of the stitching. She was still mummy-wrapped and at his mercy, and he'd have to be careful not to get too excited, as the last thing he wanted was to get carried away and miss out on all the fun yet to be had.
"Listen," she continued. "I know that you're enjoying my feet, but maybe we could—"
A pair of lips pressed firmly against the heel of her left foot, cutting short her words. They lingered for several seconds, then vanished. That kiss, however brief, meant this was far from over. A second passionate kiss was then placed upon her right sole, causing her painted toes to curl ever so slightly. It felt serene, quite the welcome change from what she'd be forced to endure. The pieces were falling into place for something new, and she was primed and ready, keen to see how it would unfold.
"Mhmm..." she moaned with approval, in hopes it would continue.
Warm, apologetic kisses continued to be planted upon both trapped bare feet, slowly travelling toward her scrunched toes. Upon arrival, his tactic was decidedly different.
"Mhmmm—ohhnn!"
Her body jolted as she felt his lips wrap around the big toe of her right foot, sucking gently. Her disobedient libido was in control once again, finding herself grinding her hips into the plush mattress, biting her plump bottom lip as her boyfriend lovingly sucked upon each toe in sequence, working toward her pinky. Little beads of sweat had begun to appear on her forehead, and her cheeks flushed with arousal as her subtle moans grew steadily louder.
Emma's size seven's recoiled instinctively with every touch of his lips, but as before they were held firmly in place. Dave was eager to devour each and every wiggly digit on display. Her perfectly suckable toes had long been calling his name, and tasted better than he could've possibly imagined. They were sweet, with just a hint of body lotion coming through; it was a treat for the palate. But it wasn't enough, as he desperately needed to hear her girlish giggles echo within the small room. So, with a feather-light touch, he ran a single finger up her arch and over her plump heel. To his delight, Emma let out a little chuckle.
"Eieehehee..."
Her body tensed, squeezing her eyes tight while bracing for another ticklish onslaught. But to her surprise, all she felt was a delicate touch. It still tickled like crazy, but not intolerably so. She felt another teasing finger graze the tender flesh of her wrinkled arch, causing yet another squeal to emerge. A split-second later his warm mouth was again enveloping her slender toes, while curious fingers danced across her bare foot-bottoms. It proved to be a potent combination, as each time the talented tongue coiled around a toe she shuddered.
"Mhmm—aiieheehee..."
Her schoolgirl-like giggles began filling the otherwise silent room, as each of her mouthwatering toes were meticulously tended to. He gently nibbled upon her toe stems, one-by-one, while drinking in the ever-increasing sound of her laughter. Each time he plopped a toe into his waiting mouth he felt her foot vibrate with nervous energy; biting down gently, each one tasting like forbidden fruit.
Those wrinkly arches were side-by-side, with ten lovely toes curled up tight, resembling two little foot-fists. They'd created a concave shape, not unlike a bowl, and Dave's tongue hungrily lapped away. Both of her remarkably-soft feet squirmed considerably, but a quick yet gentle pinch of her pinky toes was more than enough to render them motionless.
"...eiiehehee...ohhhnnn..."
There were few places his inquisitive tongue hadn't slithered. From heel to toe, he'd thoroughly explored both tender bare feet. One moment he'd been sucking the big toe of her left foot - plus it's closest neighbour - the next he was using the wide blade of his tongue to lick her creamy, snow-white arches. They were softer than whipped cream and tasted quite similar, or so he imagined. All the while listening to a harmony of titters, squeaks, and gently-muted moans emanating from the far end of the large bed.
As incredible as this was, it wasn't enough to slake his thirst. His erection was now testing the limitations of his boxers' thin fabric, threatening to burst the seams any moment. With a finger under the waistband he slipped them downward, removing his underwear while swiftly standing up in one fluid motion. They hit the floor around his ankles, and his aching cock throbbed freely as he gazed down at his trapped playthings, her toes still slightly wet. The objects of his deepest desires were nearly level with his raging hard-on, separated by mere inches, though that would soon change.
Emma was confused, which appeared to be a frequent occurrence this evening. Only a moment ago he'd been passionately sucking her toes and spidering his fingertips across her soles. Yet now, nothing. The cool air from the room was quickly drying the spit that remained on her toes, and the bewildered blonde tried in vain to see where her boyfriend had disappeared to this time, but her field of vision was far too narrow. Then she felt it. Two strong hands wrapped firmly around her ankles, as her blanket-enrobed body was slid unceremoniously down the bed.
"Woahh!" gasped Emma, shocked to feel her body lurch so suddenly.
She found herself nearly twelve inches further south, head no longer supported by the pillow. Being dragged like a corpse toward a tickle-hungry deviant wasn't what she'd hoped for, but at this point the entire evening appeared to have gone awry, so what did it matter if she spent a little more time wrapped up in her temporary prison?
After all this tickling and worship - equal parts fascinating and pleasurable - what came next would be a fantasy fulfilled. Two tender bare feet now dangled off the edge of the queen-sized bed, toes pointed to the hardwood floor below. He began trailing a single finger down her left sole. In slow, deliberate strokes it travelled, up and down, while listening carefully to her muffled giggles and subtle whimpering.
"...eiieheehee...n-not again..."
It was an echo of the not-so-distant past, as she was undoubtedly thinking he'd decided to revisit a few of his well-established tickly methods, proven to be more than effective on these divine feet. However, this would be a unique experience for both of them. Without the slightest hesitation he plunged his fat knob between her velvety-soft soles, practically salivating while watching all ten toes scrunch up in response to this forced footjob.
Her thighs quivered, a tingly ache swelling between. Her tired blue eyes shot open as she felt him sliding between her trapped feet. Her once-tepid arousal had now grown into a fully realized, unbridled lust.
"Ohhnn...eiiheehee...ohh, fuckk..." she moaned, her words barely more than a breathy whisper.
His hips moved faster and faster while feverishly thrusting his manhood between the sinfully-soft soles of his mummified girlfriend, each stroke bringing him closer to release. She began squeezing him tighter, the pressure building, while repeatedly pumping his thick shaft between those heavenly, twenty-two year old feet. His thumbs began kneading into their delicate flesh, causing them to tense, producing sporadic giggles. Each time his cock pierced the centre of her ivory arches he was treated to yet another surge of intense pleasure.
No longer ashamed of these hidden desires, she continued to gyrate her hips atop the bed, knowing full well that her panties were soaked through. Feeling every inch of him slip between her arches was proving to be more than she could handle, and longing to feel his touch produced a dull, intimate ache within. A series a tingles surged through her petite body, spreading from the tips of her toes to her overstimulated mind. It was a carnal delight, the likes of which she'd never before experienced.
"Ohh Em, I—ughhh..." he groaned.
Unable to string together even a few simple words into a coherent sentence, Dave continued to forcefully thrust between her spectacular soles. The ambient glow of the full moon filtered through the bedroom window, hazily illuminating the gorgeous feet he'd been using to pleasure himself. The slick layer of saliva still present on her arches allowed him to glide in and out with ease, although a bottle of baby oil would be the preferred lubricant. He could picture it; the bottle held high, a squeeze, the oily substance drizzling down, coating everything. But patience is a virtue.
In his reckless exuberance he'd only just noticed she'd been matching his pace, flexing her feet in and out - as much as her position allowed, at least - coaxing him on.
"Ohhnn, Dave...please..."
As the wet patch between her thighs grew, Emma wondered if she'd ever get what she craved. Trying her best to help him, she stroked his rigid cock with both feet, although it wasn't easy, as her entire body had become fatigued. The prolonged tickle torture had taken a heavy toll; her shins and calves burned from muscle strain, but if nothing else it was a fantastic cardio workout. Yet the sexual tension in the room was reaching its boiling point, and she'd soon need to feel him inside.
His technique had begun to change. Instead of continuing to thrust madly he'd chosen to withdraw himself from between her feet, instead rubbing his tender, overstimulated cockhead along all ten of her pretty toes, finding it to be equally as pleasurable. Back and forth he went, feeling the row of digits wiggle while attempting to grab him, but he couldn't let her, as he was afraid of losing control entirely, and it was still too soon for this to end. His thumbs resumed the stroking of her arches, and he'd now begun to dig in, using his nails to gently scrape her skin.
"...hhnn...eiieehehee! No—ohh..."
Ten toes fanned out in response to the progressively maddening sensations his thumbs were inflicting. She felt his cock travel from one toe to the next, knowing they were likely becoming slick with precum. Whatever part of her brain was responsible for rational thought had given up the ghost long ago. It had been replaced by an intrinsic need to be used, subconsciously aware that she was in desperate need of being exploited. Perhaps she'd be his tickle-toy forever, coming to rely on it for her own gratification. The thought was paradoxical, as she desperately wanted to escape his tickly touch, yet longed to remain in captivity.
"Gyahahaa! ...ohhnnn...n-noohehee!"
Her laughter was interjected with hoarse cries of desire, yet the feverishly horny blonde needed more. The fact that her arms remained pinned to her side meant she was unable to tend to her aching pussy, now soaked with arousal. It was barbaric, unfair, and needed to change. But no sooner had the thought crossed her mind did the tickling stop.
Dave no longer stood at the end of the bed. In the blink of an eye he'd appeared beside her. A split second later she felt a pair of hands grip the blanket, giving it a forceful pull, and her entire world began to spin as she was unravelled.
The deep, dark blue of the night's sky had transformed into steely gray as the full moon hung overhead. Its light cascaded through the few remaining reddish-orange leaves of the maple tree, and as the wind howled they created fragments of light that danced along the walls of the small room. Rain was falling in sheets now, rushing to the ground as a great crack of thunder boomed in the distance.
Two bodies were intertwined atop the plush mattress, and Emma's large grey comforter - the one she'd been wrapped up in only moments ago - was now laying beneath her, sprawled across the surface of the bed. Her hair was an unmitigated disaster; a blonde mess of unruly tangles, as she laid on her back and gazed upwards into the eyes of her once-cruel tickler, who looked down at her with a lecherous, yet loving stare.
Few words had been spoken since she'd been unbound and set free from the makeshift cocoon. The former-captive was relieved, and with that relief came a newfound sense of freedom she'd never again take for granted. The ability to finally move her limbs freely was endlessly satisfying, like a drink of cold water in the middle of the night after waking up parched. Her body was stiff and achy, although that feeling was dissipating as she ran her hands over his body. They were now communicating solely via touch, their body language speaking volumes.
The anticipation was palpable, and the slick layer of hot sweat on their skin was never more evident as when he pressed his body onto hers. The nubile blonde could feel his erection rubbing the inside of her quaking thighs, so she parted them slightly to better accommodate him. She was trembling, but for the first time tonight it was due to excitement instead of fear. She longed to feel him, eager to hurry up and finish what he'd started. His breath felt warm against her neck between each kiss that was planted there, while the underside of his thick cock rubbed against her swollen clit, having been relieved of her sopping wet panties moments earlier.
"Mhmm...ohhhnn..." she moaned, lost in the moment.
She squirmed beneath him as he finally eased himself in, parting her labia with his fat cockhead, now coated with liquid lust. Her smooth, shaved mound felt a rush of warm pleasure; it was euphoria incarnate. A tingle rushed up her spine, and she arched her back while gently biting her lower lip.
"Ohhnn....fuckk..."
Every nerve ending was on high-alert when he finally plunged the length of his throbbing prick deep within her, becoming slack-jawed as she embraced every inch. Her body tensed while shamelessly thrusting her hips upward to meet him, and a long, low moan broke loose from her lips as she felt him pulsating inside.
He began grinding against her, slowly increasing in rhythm. Reaching underneath her he grabbed a handful of her shapely ass, giving it a firm squeeze while pulling it up toward himself.
Emma raised her arms above her head as Dave slipped her shirt up and over. Her ample breasts spilled out, and her upper body was now naked and bathed in pale moonlight. His eyes, once locked with hers, now darted south, taking in what had been laid bare.
She drew short, quick breaths as he pounded away, with arms still raised above her head, clinging onto the headboard for dear life. She watched as his left hand glided effortlessly upward, feeling it wrap firmly around both of her slender wrists, securing them in place with near vice-like grip. By now her sense of vulnerability was second only to her intense arousal, although that was likely to change, as both were vying for control.
With his right hand free to explore, he caressed her neck, travelling down over her collarbone, tracing its contours, making his way to her breasts. With skilled fingers he pinched one of her puffy nipples between thumb and forefinger, feeling it stiffen immediately.
"Ohhh...nnhhh, oh please..."
Her ecstasy was overwhelming, as pleasure coursed through her tiny body like rolling thunder outside in the darkness. Each time his rough hand squeezed her painfully-erect nipples she cried out in lustful, dizzying tones. Her hips rocked forward and back with ever-increasing speed, while feeling his hand travel from her tender breast to the hollow of her bare underarm, squirming and twisting in response as its gentle touch tickled like mad.
"N-Noo—eiieheehee!" she giggled, her shrill cries testament to his unwavering passion for tickling her senseless.
With feather-light strokes his index finger gently grazed her perfectly smooth, taut underarm, causing her to let out another squeal amidst the moans. Then he did it again, and again, each time adding more devilish fingers to the mix, fluttering them in the bare hollow, perpetuating a fit of cute giggles from the bubbly blonde.
"Eiieheehee!! Dave, don't—mphheeheee!"
Although she'd stated otherwise, the petite girl was thoroughly enjoying what his meandering hand was doing. The tickling turned her on like nothing before, it was tantalizing and electric, as each flick of his fingers sent pulsing ripples of pleasure coursing through her body. She used words like 'stop', and 'don't', but prayed that he'd continue. It was at that moment she felt his fingers dig in, furiously clawing at her exposed underarm, then spidering down her side, and back up again.
"GYYHAHAAHAA! N-NOT THAAHAAT!"
Instinctively the frantically-thrashing girl tried to pull her arms down to protect herself, but his grip and sheer strength were far too much to overcome. She could do nothing but lay there and take it. Through blurred vision she'd catch brief glimpses of her boyfriend overtop her, backlit from hazy moonlight gleaming through the window. She felt a myriad of rogue fingertips exploring her tender side, her body tensing as they journeyed down from the smooth hollow to just above her hip, stopping only momentarily to pinch her side directly below her breast.
"P-PULEEHEEASE, IT T-TICKLESS! HEEHAAHAA!" she protested, through spasms of escalating laughter.
Dave looked down at his girlfriend, pale and perfect, illuminated briefly by a flash of lightning. She writhed beneath him, squealing and cackling while gyrating her hips. Each thrust brought him closer to the edge, but he resolved not to finish too quickly, lest he miss out on the grand finale. For now, this was more about her pleasure than his own. His free hand continued to explore her body, and was currently kneading her rib cage, revelling in each and every giggly-moan.
"I know ya love it," he whispered into her ear. "When I tickle ya like this. You love being helpless, don't ya? Laugh for me..."
He could barely get the words out, but he needed her to know who was in full control. If he wanted her to squeal, she'd squeal. But deep down he knew she loved it just as much as he did. Prodding between the giggly girl's ribs was addictive, as each poke sent a shiver through her tiny body, one that he felt, too. Her laugh was something that he'd never tire of hearing. It was a schoolgirl-like titter, high-pitched and wonderful. He needed to hear every nuanced tone that she could produce, so he feverishly clawed at her convulsing side, scribbling his fingers around, listening to her cackle while ravaging her upper body.
"BWAHAHAAHAA! GOD, NOO—EIIEEHEEHAA!" she wailed, choking out a few words between fits of helpless laughter.
Emma wasn't entirely sure if she was going to cum harder than ever before, or throw him onto the floor to put an end to this maddening tickling. She hoped for the former, as mustering the strength to shove him off would be quite the feat at the moment. Everything that had happened this evening was brand-new, and wildly fun. As hellish as the torture had been, it was worth every second, as it was all building to this monumental release. The sensations that she'd felt earlier as he tormented her bare soles were now heightened to an incredible level, and her climax was imminent. Her hips moved in unison with his as each word she spoke became more incoherent, each syllable melding into the next until the words were garbled and nonsensical. Her crazed laughter was reaching its crescendo when he finally pushed her over the edge.
"NYYAHAHAA! FUCK—AIIEHEEHEE! DON'T STAHAAHAAP, PULEEHEEASE! OHHHNNNN..."
A rush of carnal pleasure surged through her nubile body, tingling up her spine and reducing her screeching laughter to a near-silent whisper, as if the air had been sucked from the babbling girl's lungs. Her pale, blue eyes rolled backward in her head, while white-hot lust flowed from between her quivering thighs, soaking the sheets below. The delirious girl's muscles spasmed and twitched, then suddenly relaxed.
The convulsions in her thighs hadn't completely stopped when she felt him finally relent, releasing his grip on her wrists and ceasing the torment of her ribs. The tickling appeared to be over, at least for the moment, and she laid still upon the blanket she was once wrapped inside.
Her skin felt as if it was buzzing; tingling with an electric undercurrent. Although recently racked by a powerful orgasm, she showed no signs of slowing her pace. Her chest was heaving, swelling up and down through laboured, wheezy breaths. Her nerve endings felt heightened, no doubt by post-orgasmic sensitivity.
Emma's giggles returned in full as Dave's fingertips drifted across her rib cage once again. The buxom blonde squirmed beneath him while he poked and prodded the soft spots between each rib, making his way downward, ensuring each touch remained light and playful. Moving from her exposed sides to her flat tummy, he spidered his agile fingers across her bare skin, listening to her squeal in response, paying special attention to her belly button. Although pushed to a volcanic orgasm only moments ago, each scribble upon her skin was a dreadful reminder of the tickle-induced frenzy she'd been put through earlier in the night.
"S-Staahaap it—eiiheeheee!" she giggled, attempting to swat his hand away from her sensitive tummy.
Round and round his index finger travelled, encircling her navel, yet barely skimming the surface of her midriff. Occasionally he'd dip into the cute belly button, feeling her shudder beneath him. He pondered the effectiveness of the small makeup brush he'd used not long ago to torment her soles, as it would undoubtedly prove to be the best tool for this job. With its multitude of silky-soft bristles swirling around, stimulating countless nerves, producing laughter and goosebumps as it swept over her pale skin. Alas, it was now missing in action, lost among the blankets.
The rhythm of his hips began increasing once more, and although it had been mere moments since he'd heard her screech, he longed for it again. Bracing himself with both arms he pushed himself up and away from her body while bringing his knees forward on the bed. He was now in a kneeling position overtop her; looking down and marvelling at her nude body, silhouetted against the damp sheets.
What he needed now was to hear her belt out another scream; a loud belly laugh brought on from pure, terrible tickles. So, with both hands free to roam anywhere they liked, he grabbed her hips, and squeezed.
"GYAAHAAHAHAA!" bellowed the comely girl, as she felt his hands ravenously clawing at her flesh. "DON'T T-TICKLE MEEHEEE!"
Emma bucked wildly as her hips were firmly grasped in each of his hands, feeling his fingertips dig in just above her hipbones. This absolutely torturous feeling, combined with his ever increasing thrusts, began overwhelming her fragile senses once again, and she dissolved into frantic laughter.
"BWAAHAHAHAA! NOOHOO MORE—EIIHEEHEHAA!"
A sadistic grin had grown on Dave's face, stretching ear-to-ear, as he soaked in her maniacal laughter. The pressure was building down below, and though his fingers wanted to explore every inch of her body, he knew he'd be unable to hold back much longer. With that in mind his hands dipped below her knees and ran toward her feet while raising her toned legs up into the air. Seconds later they were pointing straight up, with her soles facing the ceiling. Her petite body was now at a 90-degree angle, and his hands were wrapped squarely around her ankles as he continued to thrust into her.
The bed squeaked as it shook beneath them, rocking forward and back, the headboard gently slapping against the wall as he plunged his cock ever deeper.
Emma knew what was to come. The objects of her boyfriends desires were now floating inches from his head. The ticklish turmoil she found herself in wasn't over yet, as she felt his grip loosen on her ankles, his hands meandering to her unguarded size sevens. His large palms were pressed firmly against her soles, fingers curled and positioned directly below her toes, which at the moment were scrunched up tight.
"Ohhnnn... no, don't—"* she spoke all too late, as his nails sunk into her soles, nearly robbing her the ability of speech. "F-FUCK—NYAHAAHAHAA!"
The befuddled girl attempted to withdraw her legs, pulling them toward her, but his hands followed. Her tickle-addled brain was overwhelmed, with synapses firing wildly as he continued to bury his fingers into the base of her toes. She'd been plunged headlong into ticklish suffering by this lunatic for far too long.
"GYAHAHAAHA! N-NOT MY TOOEEHEEHEES!"
She extended her legs as far as they'd go, stretching them toward the heavens, his hands still gripping her bare feet tightly, fingers finding their place between each wriggly digit. She let out another squeal as he pried apart two toes on her right foot, and used his thumb to gently scrape the tender flesh between.
"NOOO—EIIEHEHAHAA! LET GO OF MY F-FEET!" she cried out in ardent anguish, shaking her foot in a futile attempt to escape his grasp.
But he simply couldn't. It was an addiction plain and simple, one he couldn't shake, not that he'd ever truly want to. All ten fingers burrowed into the supple soles of her feet as he continued the torment, and as she curled her toes over to try and trap his fingers the wrinkles that appeared mirrored those on the blanket below.
"N-NOOHOO, PULEEHEEASE—GYAAHAHAA!"
Pulling his fingers out from under her scrunched toes, he wrapped a hand around each foot, squeezing tight, and drilled his thumbs deeply into her marvellous, alabaster arches. Her toes flared outward in an animated and expressive display of frenzied terror, kicking wildly as she tried to escape his clutches.
"OHNNN—NYAHAAHAA, MAKE IT STAHAAHAAP!"
Her inhuman wailing was music to his ears; tickling, teasing, and greedily tormenting the poor girl until she appeared to have unhinged her jaw, gasping for air as no further sound was emitted. Although his vision was fuzzy, it was obvious the delirious blonde could take no more, so he kindly released his grip on her feet, providing a sorely needed moment to breathe.
Emma's calves remained perched atop his shoulders. He knew what he wanted to do, realizing that if he gave in this would all end in a hurry. His head twisted to the side, and found himself rubbing his nose gently against her left sole, feeling it drawing nearer.
Emma arched her back as she felt him plunge deeper, grabbing fistfuls of blanket; white-knuckled and craving more. She was well aware of what he was waiting for, and wondered why he hadn't done so already. Truth be told, she wanted it as well. If what he needed - or simply wanted - to cum was her soles pressed firmly against his face, then she was more than willing to provide them. She slid her legs toward one another, framing his head with her feet while wiggling her bright orange toes in his periphery.
His heart was racing; pulse quickening. One second he was gazing downward, watching his girlfriend's petite body react as he continued to thrust with youthful vigour, the next his vision had been utterly obscured, as a matching pair of soft soles were pressed squarely over his face. Their warm embrace was beyond welcome, it was needed.
His nose was now firmly embedded between the second and third toe on her right foot, inhaling sharply, gorging himself on her aroma; sweet yet tangy from the combination of warm vanilla and citrus lotion she'd applied earlier in the evening. Sweeping his head left and right, he ensured each toe received the proper amount of attention, until finally nestling comfortably between both of her big toes; dead-centre, a buttery-soft sole on each side of his face.
Emma's attention was split, as each thrust brought her closer to a second, screaming orgasm. Her boyfriends face was buried into her soles, his rough stubble like hundreds of tiny bristles; prickly but not harshly so. She flexed her toes, fanning them out while gently stretching her soles in the process, subconsciously prompting him to enjoy every inch of her naked feet.
He held each breath longer than the last, savouring each lungful of her fantastic scent. Her toes gripped his nose firmly, not that he ever wanted to escape its grasp, instead letting her little foot direct him whichever way she desired. The cleavage between her toes was like a painted target, his nose finding its way there with ease; like moth to flame. He longed to be buried in each little crevasse, it was almost cozy, as if slipping into a freshly-made bed after a piping hot shower.
His hands had made their way to her breasts. Squeezing and groping, his fingers recklessly pinching her swollen nipples, as her moaning drowned out the wild winds blowing up a gale outside the bedroom window.
Emma knew he needed release, and she, too, craved another toe-curling climax. Her jaw ached from unending laughter, but her mounting lust was once again nearing its peak. It was time to wrap it up, so with nostrils flared and voice cracking she managed to speak the words she knew he wanted to hear, escaping her lips as nothing more than a seductive whisper, laced with trepidation.
"Tickle me..."
No other two words in the English language would come close to having the same effect. The tickle-crazed boy's arms lunged forward, his hands finding a place atop her hipbones, squeezing deeply. An ear-piercing screech filled the small space as the blonde girl's body reacted violently to the stimulus. The combination of two luscious, silken soles pushing against his face and the feeling of an undeniably ticklish girl writhing beneath him was more than enough to push him over the edge.
The long-awaited eruption sent a warm surge coursing through his system, causing his balls to tighten, a white-hot load shooting from his throbbing cock. Like a mindless creature he pawed at her tender skin, taking in the lovely cadence of her laughter while torrents of cum burst from the thick, pulsating shaft, until he'd been drained dry. With a final, shuddering thrust and primal grunt he collapsed, both hands releasing their grasp on her hips, falling limply to his side, overwhelmed with satisfied exhaustion.
With toes clenched and mouth agape, Emma likewise experienced an explosive orgasm, her second of the evening. It proved to be just as agonizingly powerful as the first, as a torrent of pleasure ripped through her young body while twisting and convulsing beneath him.
The blanket on which the two heaving bodies laid was soaked, and a final crackling pulse ran up her spine causing a deep, guttural moan to emanate from her fatigued body as her eyes slowly closed, drifting away.
Outside, in the inky blackness of night, the storm raged on. The moon had been utterly obscured by grey rain clouds, its light no longer visible. The bed's sole occupant was now relying on repeated flashes of lightning to take in her surroundings.
Emma's cheeks were flushed still, her throat sore from prolonged screeching. After everything she'd endured this evening a few moments of solitude were enormously satisfying, and she was in dire need of the rest. But like all relaxing moments, it was fleeting.
A noise caught her attention. Had she the energy required to get up and investigate, she certainly would've. But at the moment every cell in her body was worn out. Upon re-entering the room, her bleary, bloodshot eyes attempted to focus, with poor results.
Footsteps found creaky floorboards on approach, as her boyfriend saddled up next to the bed, a flash of lightning illuminating his face. The corners of his mouth turned up mischievously as he peered down at her, forming a bright, toothy grin. A clap of thunder overhead momentarily drowned out the noise of her beating heart, weakly gripping the sweat-soaked blankets beneath her.
"What're you... doin'?" she asked numbly, her vision allowing only the outlines of basic shapes.
"I know you're tired," he said calmly. "But since we've had so much fun tonight, I figured we'd keep it going."
Something was placed on the nightstand next to her head. With a well-timed flash she was able to make out the mysterious objects; her hairbrush, the previously-used eyeshadow brush, and a small, clear bottle. And printed on its label, in bold font, read the words 'baby oil'.
The nude girl's bottom lip began to quiver, attempting to mouth the words - any words at all - that might prevent him from using those things on her body. She'd spent countless hours being brought to the precipice of lunacy, reduced to a pitiful existence, but it appeared she truly was nothing more than a tickle-toy for this sadistic fiend of a man.
"...I-I can't... take it," she said, her hoarse voice barely audible.
She'd hoped to say more, but the remaining words had caught in her throat. Unable to force them out, she surrendered to fate.
"Oh, come on babe. You're tough, and it's just a little tickling, I know ya can handle it. And once it's over we can wrap it up and go to bed. What do ya think?" he asked, with a wicked grin.
Twisting her head round to gaze out the rain-streaked window, the storm didn't appear to be letting up any time soon. Would she be made to suffer though another bout of crippling tickle torture? Or, forced through another tickle-induced orgasm? Feeling an intimate pang of pleasure throb within her at the thought, it was clear that his perversions had become a craving for her as well.
Weakened muscles twitched sporadically as the weary blonde laid motionless. Time had become meaningless as she'd once again fallen victim to this kind-hearted monster.
As if on cue another crack of thunder split the sky, the teary-eyed girl felt his hands grip the blanket beneath her, and the world began to spin.
M/F - Feet & Upperbody
PART I
The day was winding down, and her evening had proceeded like so many others before. The mild, overcast afternoon had changed to evening during her walk home, bringing with it a cool Autumn breeze and a bright, full moon that climbed steadily higher into the night's sky, periodically obscured by lingering grey clouds.
Heavy dew clung to short blades of yellowing grass as Emma made her way up the path toward her house, dried leaves crunching loudly underfoot as she walked beneath the large red maple outside her bedroom window. Dropping her bag at the door and making her way upstairs, it wasn't long before she found herself in the shower, eager to rinse away the day's stresses.
Steam began to fill the bathroom while she continued to fidget with the handle, attempting to find the perfect water temperature, her body absorbing the heat like a sponge. It was a meditation of sorts, simultaneously boosting her senses while alleviating residual muscle tension. She found it to be infinitely calming after a long day on her feet, especially as her body wash filled the humid room with a fresh fragrance, invigorating her skin. But like all other relaxing moments, it was fleeting.
The twenty-two year old girl exited the steam-filled bathroom, blonde hair wrapped up tightly in her blue bath towel, with another cloaking her body. The air in the hallway was much cooler in contrast, and a chill ran through her petite frame, causing her pace to quicken as she walked swiftly to the bedroom.
A table lamp sitting atop her nightstand provided just enough light for the small room. And although its temperature wasn't any different than the hallway, she'd already begun to feel warm in the cozy space.
After drying off, she donned a pair of light pink pajama pants and a white tee shirt. Although still slightly chilled, she was looking forward to slipping into bed and soaking up the blanket's warmth. Before sliding on her slippers, she made sure to squeeze a dab of moisturizing body butter into her palm, rubbing a light coating over her bare feet, ensuring it had been spread evenly across both top and bottom, massaging deeply.
This particular pair of slippers resembled moccasins, and were lined with Berber fleece, for maximum comfort. The fuzzy material felt perfectly soft as she wiggled her perpetually cold toes inside. It was as if the room's temperature had risen several degrees simply from slipping them on, as their wooly interior provided soothing warmth that was nothing short of euphoric.
Instinctively reaching across the dresser to grab a hairbrush, her hand instead caught the edge of her makeup kit, sending it sailing to the hardwood floor below, its contents scattering every direction.
"Oh, come on," she muttered to herself, unenthusiastically dropping to her knees to begin gathering the fallen items.
The long day had taken its toll, and although she didn't feel especially tired, her brain just wasn't firing on all cylinders at the moment. A quick glance at her alarm clock on her way across the room to obtain a powder brush - having rolled quite a remarkable distance - served as a reminder that her boyfriend, Dave, would be letting himself in the front door sooner than later. But there was no hurry, as tonight would give them time to unwind. Perhaps some snuggles and Netflix would be in order, but whatever they decided to do with their time together it would be the perfect end to the day, there was no doubt.
No sooner had she finished the thought did she hear a rapid knock on the door downstairs, followed immediately by a short squeak of its hinge, and a deep, familiar voice.
"Hey, babe! I'm here!" he shouted, in order to be heard from the second floor.
"Okay, I'm upstairs!" she replied, still inspecting the kit, counting the cosmetic items to determine if she'd overlooked anything.
Believing that she'd located every wayward brush littering the bedroom floor, she turned her attention back to the task at hand. Her hair wasn't going to brush itself, and she wanted to be under the covers as soon as humanly possible.
Releasing it from the towel and letting damp locks tumble over her shoulders, Emma began the next step in her bedtime routine. Moments later, she heard the distinct sound of footsteps travelling her direction, growing louder as her boyfriend made his way upstairs. Carefully picking up her brush from the dresser, she turned to greet him.
Upon entering the room, Dave gave her a sly grin, admiring her slim figure.
"Aww, it looks like I'm too late. Wish I had caught ya in the shower. Not that I'm unhappy to see this pj-clad beauty, of course,"
"You flatter me as always," came her reply, partway through brushing out a small tangle.* "Did you happen to bring any snacks? Cause that would be amazing right now."
With a slight delay he replied, " Oh, yeah! I bought you some chips, I set them on the counter downstairs. Just one second,"
And with that he turned on his heels and bounded down the dimly lit stairs.
*
According to her phone it was now 10:54pm, as the sleepy girl picked it up off the nightstand to check a message from her friend, Kelly. Noticing the message, Dave ran a hand through his short, brown hair and asked, "How's Kelly doin'?"
"Oh, she's all moved in. I guess it didn't take that long, since she had plenty of help," she replied, while reaching for another old-fashioned barbecue chip.
Now that the small, two-bedroom house was entirely hers, Dave would no doubt be moving in, although that hadn't been carved in stone quite yet. For now, she was content with having him sleep over a few nights per week, and this just so happened to be the first night they'd be completely alone.
Emma's gaze turned toward the television sitting atop a small desk in the corner of the room. It was early in October and that meant two things; pumpkin spice everything, and Halloween TV shows. Rather than watching a horror movie, she opted for a Halloween-themed baking show. Right now, Frankenstein's monster was putting the final touches on a series of chocolate cupcakes.
"Don't they look good?" Emma asked, folding over the bag of chips, setting them on the nightstand nearby.
"Yeah, for sure. I'm gettin' hungry,"
"You're always hungry. Maybe we can make some tomorrow?"
"Sure thing, babe," he replied, reaching across her side of the bed to give her a little poke, his finger finding a soft spot between two ribs.
"Eeeek!" she squealed, recoiling at his probing finger. "Get outta here!"
"Make me," he replied, his arm reaching toward her again, this time sneaking under her shirt to gently pinch her bare skin.
"Pffftheehee!" giggled Emma, her arm dropping down swiftly in order block his tickly attacks. "Man, quit it!"
"Oh, sensitive tonight?" he teased, giving her a quick wink.
"No, I'm not," she said in a groggy tone of voice while rubbing her eyes. "I'm just sleepy, is all."
Emma removed the blanket from atop her body and swung her legs out of bed. She slid her dainty size sevens back into her moccasins without letting them touch the chilly hardwood floor and began shuffling out of the room, pausing briefly as she turned back toward the bed.
"I'll be right back, I just wanna brush my teeth. Maybe we can wrap it up soon, and go to bed?"
Dave nodded in agreement, watching her slip out of the room, leaving him to finish the spooky cupcake segment of the show by himself.
*
The television had been switched off, and a sense a tranquility overtook the small bedroom, with the exception of wind rattling the nearly-naked limbs of the maple tree outside in the darkness. Emma was laying on her side, phone in hand, its gentle glow illuminating her face. Although she was growing sleepier with every passing minute, it was still too early to kill the lights and close her eyes for the night.
The small girl was completely covered by her large, grey comforter. It was down-filled and exceptionally warm, which was important in her place as the heat never seemed to rise the way it should in order to sufficiently warm the rooms on the second floor. On a cool Fall evening such as this, it was the only place to be.
She heard the ambient noise of running water coming from across the hallway, the squeak of a tap being twisted closed, then nothing. A light switch was then flicked off and Dave entered the room moments later.
"Sleepy yet?" he asked, looking at her motionless body while rubbing the stubble on his chin.
She stirred, taking a sideways glance in his direction, still preoccupied by her phone.
"Umm, yeah kinda. I'm just enjoying the quiet, I guess," she replied, her head sinking back into the pillow. "Waiting for my brain to shut down."
Dave uttered a grunt of acknowledgment while his eyes gazed down upon her blanket-cloaked body. Her small frame was completely dwarfed by it, as she wasn't nearly tall enough for her feet to reach the end of the queen-size bed, which took up a large portion of the tiny bedroom, adamantly refusing on several occasions to purchase one that would better fit the small space. Regardless of bed size, she always enjoyed having one foot outside the blankets simply to help regulate body heat, and tonight was no exception.
"Are you gonna join me, or what?" she asked, her attention elsewhere.
"Oh, yeah. I'm heading in that direction,"
From his perspective, standing in the doorway, the only visible parts of his girlfriend were the top of her head, and a single bare foot jutting out from one corner of the colossal blanket. He removed his black-framed glasses, and used the bottom of his tee shirt to clean the lenses. After placing them back on his face, he leered at the motionless appendage, mesmerized by its delicate appearance. Unsure of how long he'd been standing there gawking, her voice pulled him from the daydream.
"Stop watchin' me, creep. Get into bed,"
"Sounds like a plan to me,"
Stepping forward, his socked foot caught the edge of an unknown object, causing it to skitter across the hardwood floor, sliding to a halt near the foot of the bed. Looking down, it appeared to be a small wooden brush, no doubt from one of her makeup kits. There was one in the bathroom, and one larger kit she kept on her dresser, next to an assortment of creams, perfumes and other items of similar nature.
"What was that?" she asked, perking up.
"Oh, nuthin'. Just one of your makeup brushes, I think," he replied, bending over to pick it up.
"Oh, okay. I dropped a bunch of them earlier, thought that I'd found them all. I'm clumsy tonight. Could you set it on my dresser, please?"
"Yeah, for sure,"
After returning the item to the dresser, he turned around to find himself within arm's reach of her exposed, bare foot. Deciding it best not to become distracted again, he took a single step to the left, watching the light from her phone shimmer in her pale, blue eyes. Although her demeanour this evening was cheery, it was obvious that she was getting tired, and bedtime would be right around the corner.
"What ya watchin'?" he asked, still focused on her eyes.
"Kelly sent me some TikTok's, a couple were really funny, do you wanna watch them?"
She shifted her body within the confines of the blanket, her foot moving ever so slightly, but enough for Dave's eyes to dart in its direction. His attention was split, and he let out another grunt to acknowledge what she'd asked, his eyes continuing to linger on the lone foot for a time. It was as if displayed for him alone, utterly unobstructed and asking to be caressed. Her toes had been painted a vibrant shade of orange, as to fit in with the season, although black would've also been acceptable. As if willed by his wandering thoughts they curled ever so slightly, causing a multitude of little wrinkles to appear on her precious sole, then just as quickly uncurled, causing each one to instantly vanish.
He stepped to the right, back within reach of this pleasant distraction. His mind drifted, which wasn't uncommon. A lack of verbal response to a question or statement wasn't typically intentional on his part. In this case, his fondness for a cute pair of feet was the direct cause of his absentmindedness. For someone like Dave, this was a sight to behold.
They hadn't been dating long, having met over the Summer via a mutual friend, immediately hitting it off and spending quite a lot of time together. He felt all too comfortable around her, and if the need arose to discuss a specific topic - uncomfortable or otherwise - he never shied away, finding that she constantly put him at ease. But, there was one particular topic that he hadn't brought to her attention, at least not yet, and whether it was due to a lack of courage or a sense of vulnerability, he couldn't say.
"What're you doin' down there?" came her voice from the other end of the large bed.
Perhaps he'd lingered a bit too long. Responding to her questions with actual words rather than noises would've also been wise. Regardless, his silence in the relatively quiet environment was noticeable.
"Ah, nuthin' in particular," he said. "Just thinkin' about stuff."
"Oh? What sort of 'stuff'?"
"Nuthin' too important, really. Ya know what I'm like. Guess I zoned out, it's been a long day,"
He knelt down, now eye-level and inches away from her breathtakingly beautiful sole. This wasn't the first time he'd been up close and personal with her lower extremities, as he stole a glance whenever the opportunity presented itself, always taking the time to admire every nuanced detail of her gorgeous feet.
She had marshmallowy-soft heels that rose into high, silky-smooth arches. They were milky-white, whereas the rest of her foot had a slight rosy hue. His eyes then travelled over the ball of her foot to her deliciously suckable toes. All ten digits were slender, elegant, and perfectly proportioned. They were begging to be played with, as her entire foot was sublime; decadent in its softness.
This was due to a foot care routine second to none; she regularly applied lotion, typically followed by a pair of socks or slippers, which helped retain moisture, ensuring they remained immaculate. Her current body lotion of choice was a blend of vanilla bean and fresh orange blossom - which he knew only from examining the bottle on her dresser - giving her feet a sweet, yet fruity scent. Pedicures were a frequent occurrence as well, as she had a good friend who was a beautician. This meant a cost savings, which equaled pedi's more often, which naturally translated to lusciously tender feet nearly all the time, no matter how many hours she was on them.
"Where'd ya go?" she asked, swivelling her head to look for her absent boyfriend.
"Uh, just taking a look at somethin'. I got distracted,"
His eyes were transfixed. It was as if her foot had been disconnected from the leg, severed at the ankle and left to lay there all on its own. Though if he were to reach out and touch it he was betting he'd see just how attached it was. There was little rational thought factoring into his next decision. Continuing to stare, engrossed by its beauty and letting instinct guide him, his hand began moving of its own accord, reaching out and descending toward the unsuspecting target.
"You do get distracted easily, that's true. And it's definitely been a long day. Why don't you—aieheehee!"
Her words were cut short, replaced by a high-pitched squeal. He'd caught her completely by surprise. The electric shock flowing from the bottom of her foot to her brain was instantaneous, stimulating countless nerve endings, and causing her petite foot to retract back into the relative safety of the blankets, hidden from sight.
"Frig off, idiot! Don't be ticklin' me!" she spat, a half-grin lingering on her face.
"Why not? Your foot was essentially on display. What did ya expect me to do, ignore it?"
"You're such a tickle-fiend tonight! I gotta stay on guard around you,"
The sound she made when his curious finger had grazed the bottom of her foot was music to his ears. But it was all over as quickly as it had begun, and Dave was left with a feeling of longing, wishing she'd reveal it to him again.
Emma was ticklish; excruciatingly so. He'd found out several weeks earlier, near the end of Summer when they'd paid a visit to a local beach. They'd been in and out of the crystal-clear water all day, and she'd been sunbathing when he finally worked up the courage to give her feet a test. With the bikini-clad beauty laying on her beach towel, oblivious to his intentions, he ran an index finger up her sandy sole, producing an adorable little laugh. Unfortunately, there'd been too many people around to continue at the time, although he'd love nothing more than to bury her in the warm sand and tickle her helpless feet for hours, not unlike what happened to her friends, Kelly and Morgan, not too long ago.*
However, tonight was entirely different. Tonight he wanted to explore, as this was a prime opportunity to push her limits while enjoying the one thing that he desired more than anything else; pampered, ticklish feet. This was going to be a blast, hopefully proving to be an evening he wouldn't soon forget.
"Sorry, I couldn't help myself. Won't happen again," he lied, without the slightest effort to sound convincing.
"I hope not, you really caught me off guard. Are you coming into bed, or what?"
"Yeah, soon. I bet you're warm and cozy all wrapped up like that," said Dave, not yet standing up, his eyes still lingering on the empty space where her foot had once rested.
"Yup, I'm super cozy in fact. So, will you be joining me sometime tonight?"
"I'm on my way," he replied, slightly disappointed that her little foot hadn't yet reappeared.
With that he stood, the room's silence interrupted by groaning floorboards underfoot. Dave climbed up onto the bed, but instead of crawling under the covers as requested, he instead turned around and kneeled yet again, this time on the bed with his back toward her.
As if prompted by his thoughts, she shifted around behind him, stretching her leg back out once more. And to his delight, her exquisite bare foot made its second appearance of the evening.
Emma was now laying on her belly, propping herself up on her elbows while absentmindedly scrolling through TikTok, blissfully unaware of her boyfriend's steady gaze, and evil ambitions.
The foot, having now rematerialized, was currently upturned, jutting out from under the big blanket; cute as a button and as tantalizing as ever. He marvelled at its soft appearance, not a single imperfection to be found; as if carved from a block of pure marble. Perhaps those slippers she'd been wearing earlier were not only designed for comfort, but had a magically-imbued lining designed to keep her feet as satiny-smooth as possible.
A laugh interrupted his thoughts, snapping him back to reality.
"Oh, you gotta see this one!" she giggled, continuing to stare at her phone.
"Oh yeah? Funny one, was it?" he replied, still fixated on what he longed to touch.
She responded, but it went in one ear and out the other. He couldn't focus on anything else besides the lonely sole that was calling his name, practically begging for attention. It looked so phenomenally tender, a softness so profound it would make cashmere feel like sandpaper. This was clearly an open invitation, one he simply couldn't pass up. His hand travelled toward the inattentive girl's sole, his fingers mere inches from making contact, but it wasn't meant to be.
In an attempt to adjust herself within the sheets, she'd managed to withdraw her foot once again, pulling it just out of reach, effectively hidden from the outstretched hand. Having been cheated out of his prize yet again, and frustration mounting, it was time to get this fortuitous situation under wraps.
"I think I should go to sleep soon," she said, yawning while rubbing her eyes. "It's getting late."
Dave's response was immediate, leaping off the bed and landing directly beside her. Their eyes met, and for a moment neither spoke a word. The wind had again whipped up, shaking the house, a soft tinkling of rain spattering against the window pane.
"Umm, hey there. What're you doing?" she asked inquisitively, one eyebrow raised while looking up at him.
He'd been somewhat quiet tonight, and something felt different. She was unsure of his intentions, but was happy to see him at her side, as opposed to lurking at the foot of the bed like a boogeyman.
"So, are you tired, too?" she asked, the tone in her voice matching her puzzled facial expression.
He was smiling, but it wasn't a warm one. It was somewhat unsettling, appearing more devious in nature.
"Well, ya looked so cozy a minute ago, I thought I'd make sure ya were extra warm and snuggly. What do ya think?" he asked, leaning toward her.
Her eyes narrowed. "Oh, well that's kind of you. I appreciate the thought, but I—"
Her words had been cut short again, as in one swift motion he'd firmly clutched both the edge of the comforter and the sheet she'd been laying on, forcefully rolling both, with Emma along for the ride.
"Hey—woahh!"
The world was spinning, as if performing barrel rolls in a stunt plane, or locked inside a dryer. She felt her body tumble sideways, over and over, and within seconds she found herself on the opposite side of the bed. She was now a human burrito; figuratively speaking, and her tortilla-like wrapping seemed to be quite snug. Both arms were pinned tightly to her sides; legs and ankles held close together by the blankets she once laid upon.
"Well, that was quite the ride. Very thrilling, and not what I had in mind when you said 'cozy'. Although, to be fair this isn't too bad," she said, with a cute chuckle.
Dave was kneeling beside her in the centre of the bed. She'd been wrapped perfectly. From one end of the blanket protruded her head, face up, but this was not his main focus. His true interest laid elsewhere.
"I know, I figured you'd enjoy it," he replied. "Besides, ya told me earlier to 'wrap it up', so here we are."
"Thanks for listening, but we both know that's not what I meant,"
He moved downward, listening to his trapped girlfriend but focusing squarely on an adorable pair of size sevens that were sticking out from the other end of the tube-like comforter. After arriving at his destination, he took a split second to take in the view. They were lovely; a spectacle in and of themselves. To say that this was a dream come true was an understatement. He was going to thoroughly enjoy every second of this. She, however, likely wouldn't. But there was only one way to find out.
At the moment she was still laying on her back, and her cute toes with their vivid orange polish were wiggling methodically back and forth, almost in a rhythm of sorts. It was unintentionally seductive; ten tantalizing toes, curling and uncurling in a come-hither motion. How could he possibly deny their request?
A lone finger began running down the top of her right foot, its skin feeling just as supple as her soles had been moments earlier. She quivered in response to his touch, but he continued nonetheless. With subtle, fading tan lines caused by a Summer's worth of flip-flops guiding his way, he continued his journey toward her ever-wiggling toes. Upon reaching her big toe he used his thumb and forefinger to firmly pinch it, which brought her wiggles to an abrupt halt.
Emma was panic-stricken. What awful situation had she gotten herself into? She was currently rolled up tight inside her own blankets, with her boyfriend perched at the end of the bed gripping one of her toes. This certainly wasn't good, not in the slightest, and definitely wasn't how she pictured her evening coming to an end. His silence and newfound fascination with her feet undeniably appeared to be a bad omen, perhaps a sign of things to come, though she hoped - needed - to be wrong.
"Your toes are too cute, ya know that?" came his deep voice, pulling her from quiet rumination.
"Thanks! I like them too, the orange is really cute, huh. Very Halloween-y, or so I thought," she replied confidently, without letting nervousness betray her.
She'd had her suspicions that Dave was into feet, as it wasn't difficult to notice his eyes wander their direction anytime she was barefoot. A foot fetish isn't a big deal; commonplace really. She'd met boys in college who'd had more than a passing interest in hers, and seen the amount of foot content on the internet, not to mention those awful boys who'd mercilessly tickle-tortured her friends at the beach over the Summer.
She'd heard firsthand of their cruelty, as Kelly hadn't withheld a single detail. She'd been buried alongside Morgan, entombed in the sand while their poor feet were groped, teased, feathered and otherwise brutally tortured for hours on end by a pair of tickle-sadists. Could Dave be into tickling, too? Was it really that common?
Emma tried to move her arms, to no avail. She then attempted to move her legs, and found the results to be no different. She could rock side-to-side somewhat, but wasn't able to actually go anywhere. It appeared that she was well and truly trapped. Picturing a caterpillar inside its cocoon, she wriggled her little body as much as possible, wishing dearly to emerge and escape its confines.
"So, are you gonna let me out? Or, should I just sleep like this tonight? I mean, it's sorta like a sleeping bag,"
Dave released her big toe, and withdrew his hand. They resumed their wiggly little dance, finding himself hypnotized once again by their subtle movements. While this was absolutely delightful to watch, it was time for the main attraction. He could easily tickle her in this position, but knew of a far better way to go about it, and was eager to begin.
"Dave? Can you unroll me, please?" she asked anxiously.
Without any verbal response, he grabbed ahold of the blanket with both hands and rolled, which produced another groan from the person trapped within. She'd been flipped face-down, onto her belly, a plush pillow still cradling her head. He straddled her body, taking a seat on her blanket-encased calves, effectively pinning her legs to the bed. It wasn't as if she'd be moving around much anyway, not wrapped up as she was, but a little extra security wouldn't hurt, and this was a perfect vantage point for what was to follow.
Her flawless soles now faced the ceiling, on display and within reach, appearing to blush as he peered down at them. Her smooth, pink heels were the first thing he eyed, they seemed like a great place to begin. And begin he did. Not waiting for a follow up question, he struck. Two index fingers touched down on her tender heels, and began to draw a straight line upward across her milky-white arches.
"Aiieeheehee!" Emma giggled, entirely caught off guard yet again. "What the fuck?! You can stop that, right now!"
She didn't mince words this time, and it was clear she wasn't enjoying the opening act. But it hardly mattered, as she had little choice in what was to come. The tickle-crazed boy was just getting started, his hands eagerly looming mere inches above her trembling soles.
"Oh, yeah? Why should I?" he asked, feigning curiosity.
"You know why! Now lemme outta this thing!"
His fingers continued to hover dangerously close to her trapped bare feet, watching as she tried to rub one with the other, no doubt to remove any lingering tickly sensations.
"This 'thing'? It's your blanket, and just a minute ago you were enjoying it immensely. Why would ya want out now?"
Before she could form a proper response, his fingers were on the attack once again. This time drawing lazy little circles on her creamy arches, spiralling up toward those long, lovely toes.
"...mpheheehehee..."
She was clearly attempting to hold back her laughter, though failing miserably. Her body had become tense beneath him, as she began pressing the tops of her precious feet into the mattress in a futile attempt to escape his meandering fingers. Little did she know that the 'try not to laugh' game was a favourite of his. So, if that's how she wanted to play, he was all for it.
"What's the matter, Em? Ya okay?" he asked rhetorically.
"...mpheehee...y-yesss...eiiehehee..."
Her toes curled up, revealing that bright orange polish once again, while causing a multitude of fine wrinkles to appear on her upturned soles. But he was undaunted; she could keep them curled for all he cared, he'd simply trace each ultra-fine crease on her dainty feet.
"...hehehee...D-Dave, don't...eiieheehe..."
She was in quite the predicament. Her giggles were very clearly escaping, growing noticeably louder as he continued to fiendishly fondle her bare soles. She bit her lower lip, summoning the mental fortitude to endure it, hoping to outlast him. But no amount of lip-biting would stop them from pouring out sooner than later. Scrunching up her toes was not helping her cause either, but she couldn't help it, as it was simply a defence mechanism to try and diminish the tickly sensations pulsing through her body.
...aiieheehee...p-pleeheease, quit it..."
His deft fingers navigated her soles with ease, skating along using feather-light touches, tracing the horizontal wrinkles on her bewilderingly ticklish feet. He varied the speed, duration, and pressure of each finger stroke, observing the different responses he received. Her feet twisted and jostled beneath him, snapping left and right as she valiantly fought against the torment. Each suppressed giggle was a victory in his mind, and knowing that she was about to break at any moment spurred him onward.
"What's the matter, babe? Wait a minute, you're not... ticklish, are you?"*
Simply saying that word aloud produced more giggles, and Dave was grinning deviously while she wriggled like a snake beneath him, unable to free herself, forced to grin and bear it. The teasing amplified her ticklishness, or at least it appeared to, causing ever increasing amounts of squeals, chuckles, and titters to pour from the helpless blonde. It was like a symphony of laughter performed by the world's most beautiful orchestra, and he was the conductor.
"Aiieheehee!" she squealed, unable to hold it back any longer. "N-Noo—heheehee! I'm not t-ticklish! Now lemme go—eiieheehee!"
But the relentless assault on her unprotected foot-bottoms wasn't over yet. In fact, Dave was just beginning to hit his stride. Her toes uncurled and fanned outward, as if attempting an escape from the ever-present tickle torture. He could tell she was trying her best to hold it together, but was obviously overwhelmed. This would be a losing battle for the giggly girl, she just didn't know it yet. With her petite soles now silky-smooth once again, he decided it best to up the ante.
"Okay, so you're not ticklish. That's what we'll go with. If true, this shouldn't bother you in the slightest,"
"What?! No, just lemme up!"
His movement was deliberate, as both index and middle fingers began 'walking' lazily across her trembling soles, over the balls of her feet toward those slender toes. As one finger advanced toward its target, the second closely followed, almost as if it were a person sauntering along in no particular hurry. And why would he rush? He had his beautiful girlfriend exactly where he'd always dreamed; pinned down, wrapped up tight, and at his mercy.
The two strolling fingers stopped directly below her toes and began to lightly flutter against her velvety-soft skin. Dave knew that Emma was intensely ticklish, her hyper-sensitive feet were never far from his thoughts. But he truly didn't know that she would react to such a light stimulus. His fingertips had barely grazed her when she shrieked.
"Aiiieehehee! I cahaaha...I can't—ahaahaa!" she squawked, unable to withhold the flood of giggles long enough to form a simple sentence.
Her toes curled once more, then just as quickly fanned out again, leaving a taut, smooth surface for the ever-curious fingers to explore at their leisure. And explore they did. His movement was rapid, with each finger operating independently as he quickly fluttered them back and forth on each of her buttery-soft soles.
"N-Noohoo—eihhehee! Not my—eiihehee...not my feeheeet!"
Her toes didn't have the slightest idea of what to do, and the rhythmic dance they performed was enchanting to say the least. Dave was grinning like a fool now, not unlike a Cheshire cat, as he gleefully explored both of her skyward-facing soles with zero resistance. She'd truly done well to resist for this long. Though as admirable as it was, this test of endurance was all but finished, and he subjected her soft, pink soles to another flurry of tickles.
"Nohoo, you c-can't—aiiehehehee! You c-can't do this to meeheee!" she wailed, while wriggling around in her warm enclosure.
"Oh? I believe I most certainly can. Besides, you claimed that you weren't at all ticklish, was that a lie?"
Her legs were utterly immobile due to the weight placed directly upon her calves. It was maddening, being so helpless and unable repel her tickle-obsessed boyfriend's adept fingers. Emma was beyond irritated, as he didn't appear to be backing off at all. This incessant teasing was driving her crazy, adding to her aggravation while simultaneously heightening her sensitivity. It was time to end this foolishness.
"O-OKAY, STAHAAHAAP IT! THAT'S EIIEEHEE—ENOUGH!" she bellowed, loud enough to finally grab his attention.
Dave's twitching fingers paused briefly. Was she truly angry with him? Would this ruin the rest of the night? Did he care? These were all questions currently coursing through his mind.
"That. Is. Enough! Let me up, right now!" demanded the tender-footed girl.
His head twisted around, looking over his shoulder, seeing nothing but blonde hair protruding from the end of the comforter that encased his disheveled girlfriend. Although he was unable to see her face, he could visualize her cute, pouty expression easily enough. No doubt her cheeks were quite rosy by now from all her giggling.
"Like, right now? Okay, just admit that you're ticklish and I will," he said, matter-of-factly.
"Let me up, you sonofabitch! I'm gonna kill you!"
Ignoring her empty threats, he turned his attention back toward his captive playthings, the menacing grin never leaving his face.
"Hmm, that's a shame. Suppose we'll just have to keep going, since ya obviously haven't had enough yet,"
His hands lunged swiftly back toward her upturned soles, fingers finding their place directly below her frantic toes once more. This time, however, they weren't lightly fluttering. This time he intended on pushing her farther. He was going find out where her limits were, one step at a time.
"No, I said that you need to—aiiehehee!"
The cruel boy slid his fingers between each of her desperately wiggling toes. Their response was immediate, and exactly what he wanted, what he craved. They curled and uncurled, back and forth as he tickled, undoubtedly trying to catch his fingers as they burrowed between them. She'd been successful a few times, but it hardly mattered, as he easily escaped her clutches and repeated the attack.
"N-Noo—eiieheehee! Not my toeeeheeess!"
"Did ya know that in reflexology this area pertains to the eyes. I'd noticed you'd been rubbing yours earlier, maybe this will help," he said, not bothering to increase the volume of his voice to be heard over her high-pitched squeals.
"...eiieheheee! F-Fuckk you—heehaahaa!" she babbled as his fingers ran rampant.
"No, eh? Suit yourself, but you're clearly enjoying it, your laughter gives it away,"
Each time her cute toes curled up he caught a glimpse of that brilliant orange polish. It was one of his favourites, though he wasn't picky. She had a variety of shades from which to choose, from pastel blues to verdant greens; royal purples to cherry reds. But this particular orange was fantastically cute. She continued to writhe underneath him, attempting to buck him off, going nowhere fast. He'd been hesitant to try something like this in the past, to avoid upsetting her, or reveal hidden desires. But now that he'd obtained this position of power his vulnerability had all but vanished, and he felt nigh unstoppable while continuing to terrorize her toes.
"Pleeheease—eiieheehee! N-No moreee!" she pleaded, drawing sharp, deliberate breaths. "Heheehelp me, ohh my gahahad! I cahan't take it—nyahaahahaa!"
Although the game was far from over, Dave removed his hands from her splendid feet. There would be much more fun ahead, but it would be wise to give the poor thing a brief moment of respite. The tickling was intoxicating to be sure, and she'd quickly been reduced to a babbling madwoman, but a break was overdue.
*
Her breathing was laboured, almost wheezy, and her chest heaved while desperately sucking air into her lungs. Emma had mixed feelings about the situation. She felt angry and exhausted, naturally, but there was something else, too. Her rebellious libido was reviving up, and she wasn't quite sure why. Was it the loss of control? That had to be it. The utter humiliation she felt from being overpowered by such a simple act was toying with her emotions. Being held against her will was thrilling, yet terrifying. She was going to rip something off - either his head or his clothes - but wasn't entirely sure which.
"Ohh...my...god... I can't take this... you gotta stop," she panted, breathlessly.
"I did stop, babe. Seems like ya could use a little rest, just to catch your breath,"
"Did you just say I need to 'catch my breath'? No, I need you to get off me. Right now."
"I can do that, no worries," he replied.
Lifting his weight from her lower legs, he hopped off the bed, though he wouldn't be gone long. As it happened, there was a specific item he required, which was easily obtained from her dresser. After acquiring what he needed, he spun around and walked toward the bed once more, smiling as she struggled to break free.
Emma continued to squirm around on the bed, her once-cozy blanket now an inescapable prison. Although unhappy about being trapped, the silver lining was the relief she felt not being mercilessly tickle tortured for the time being.
"Okay, that's better. So, can you just unroll me? That way I can—wait, what're you doing now?!"
Her words trailed off as she felt him climb back onto the bed, his bodyweight cementing her legs into the plush mattress once more.
He'd positioned himself exactly where he'd been only moments ago, ensuring his legs were planted firmly so that her lower half remained motionless. Her size sevens poked out of the big blanket between his knees, as vulnerable as they'd ever been. He could see the slightest bit of pink fabric from her pj's near her ankles, but from his point of view Emma had all but disappeared, with two disembodied feet being all that remained; she'd been wrapped perfectly.
The flustered blonde grew more nervous as the seconds ticked on; heart thumping loudly in her chest, breaths short and shallow.
"Dave, really, y-you gotta stop this. Just let me up..."
"I did as instructed, I got off you. But now I'm back, did ya miss me?" he asked, cheerfully.
"Obviously I didn't miss you! You're driving me crazy! Now get the hell off me!" she demanded.
The bewildered girl's head was cocked to the side, in order to draw as much cool air into her lungs as possible. A thin layer of sweat had formed on her now-glistening skin, and she felt her bangs plastered against her forehead. The massive blanket certainly retained heat well; it was like being locked in a sauna. Emma would much prefer to be warm than cold any day of the week, but not like this, never like this.
She'd been tickled in the past, sure, but not to this extent. It was cruel and unusual punishment, and certainly undeserved. Emma's entire body was incredibly sensitive, a single stroke across her fair skin was more than enough to make her squirm, with her bare soles having long been a weak spot. Growing up she'd endured countless attacks, whether from friends at sleepovers, or boys at the local pool, she became an easy target, eliciting girlish squeals that attracted even more attention. Hell, even her younger sister had once pinned her down while arguing over which movie to watch a few years ago, and been granted several long minutes to torment her overly-sensitive foot bottoms.
But to be trapped like this, unable to move a muscle, to just lay here and suffer this horrible fate; it wasn't how she wanted to end her week. Tickling should be fun, perhaps even sensual with the right partner, but this was a lot to handle, and it was beginning to take its toll.
"I'm serious, you need to get off, and let me up,"
"But I thought ya were enjoying it. Or, are ya finally ready to admit just how ticklish ya really are?" he asked, knowingly.
"Fuck you! Yes, I'm ticklish! Happy? Now let me up, you idiot!"
"An idiot, am I? I'd been considering letting ya up, but after that crude remark, well, now I'm not so sure..."
His fingers were yet again floating directly above her exquisite soles. They were intoxicating, their shape, colour, everything about her feet screamed 'ticklish'. They were lusciously tender, and incredibly inviting. They were whispering his name even now. His fingers wiggled slowly, not that she would notice, but he relished the anticipation all the same.
"Let me up now and I promise that I won't—aiieheehee! No, n-not again, plehehease!"
Ten fingers scribbled with haste across her precious feet, from round heels to wiggly, distressed toes. Not an inch of her delectable soles would go untouched. And no matter how much she tried to escape, she'd never be able to elude his skilled fingertips. They could track them with ease, regardless of how much she switched them side-to-side, or covered one with the other; her chances of fleeing were minimal.
"Coochie, coo! Are little Emma's feet ticklish?" he teased.
"Yesss..." she hissed through clenched teeth. "Y-Yes—heehehaahaa! I'm fuckin' t-ticklish, now stahahap!"
She hadn't yet realized that her frustration was part of his pleasure; her pleading would do nothing but encourage him.
His arousal had grown steadily as time went on. The combination of deathly-ticklish bare feet, melodic tones of girlish laughter, and Emma's writhing body beneath him was overwhelming. His erection was throbbing against his boxers, threatening to make its presence known sooner than later. He wasn't sure just how far this would actually go, but was excited to find out.
"Yiiiehehahaa!" howled the desperate blonde. "Quit it! N-No more tickl—eiiehehee!"
"Hmm, this is super fun, but it's time to change up the game a little," said Dave, relenting for a brief moment and reaching for the object he'd obtained from her dresser.
Emma's cackling ceased, and with an exasperated sigh she squirmed within the tightly-rolled blanket once more. The mummy-wrapped girl was thankful for another break, but was praying the ruthless tickler sitting astride her calves had finally grown tired of this nonsense. But deep down in her soul she knew that no amount of prayer would save her. There'd be no divine intervention here, not today.
"The 'game'? This is all just a game to you?!"
"Well, sort of. If it is a game, I'd say that I'm winning. But, I wanted to try something out. Let me know how this feels, okay?"
"How what feel—eiieheehee..."
A small makeup brush touched down on the struggling girl's soles. This particular brush was the stray he'd accidentally located earlier, being designed specifically for the precise application of eyeshadow. It was tapered, with a dense array of supple synthetic bristles arranged in an oval shape, nearly one inch in length. It had a slender wooden handle with a blunt point at the end, much like a thin artist's brush.
'What a fantastic tickle tool', he thought, while stroking it gently up and down the pair of quivering feet. It was a pleasant coincidence that he'd happened upon it, as it appeared tailor-made for poking in between toes - which he'd get to soon enough - but equally as good at dusting along a pair of wrinkly soles.
Her toes scrunched up at its touch, while attempting to withhold her mounting laughter. 'What the hell is that thing?' she wondered, trying her level best to remain silent, refusing to give him the satisfaction of hearing her laugh. She bit her lower lip while feeling it twirl lazily down her right sole, certain she'd be capable of withstanding this prolonged teasing. But what was he using? It was an indiscernible texture, feeling soft and light, much like a downy feather. No, that wasn't it, she didn't make a habit of keeping feathers in her room.
"Know what it is yet?" he asked, while teasing the small brush across her feet.
"...n-no, I don't..." she replied, her voice somewhat strained.
Emma soon felt the mystery object softly circle the tender heel of her left foot. Round and round it went, agonizingly slow and deliberate, causing her eye to twitch as she persevered through the insufferable torment. It then began working its way across her arch where it lingered far too long. He was waving it back and forth, in a lethargic brushing motion, causing her little foot to tremble, a laugh on the cusp of breaking loose from her lips.
'Brushing motion' she thought, that must be it!
"Surely you've figured it out by now," he said.
"...y-yes... it's one of my... makeup b-brushes!"
"Yes! Ya got it! How'd ya figure it out so fast? Was this used on these little feet of yours before?"
He was savouring every second of her repressed laughter, using it the way he would a paintbrush, practically drooling while stroking it across his 'canvas', making short strokes here, while drawing longer fluid lines elsewhere. He traced the perimeter of both soles, then ran a straight line from her pillowy-soft heels up her arch and across the ball of the foot toward her ever-twitching toes.
"...s-stop it... that's mine..."
"It is yours, that's right. But I'm putting it to much better use, wouldn't ya agree?" he asked, with a self-satisfied smirk.
The brush's soft, wispy bristles circled the ball of her foot, trailing downward along her arch then looped around her heel to make its way upward again. No pressure need be applied, a gentle application was all that was necessary. She had other makeup brushes that would've worked equally as well - a larger powder brush coming to mind, in order to cover a wider surface area - but this smaller, more intricate eyeshadow brush was doing its job quite well, and all that was required on his part was a steady pace.
By alternating his movements while keeping up the rhythm, he ensured both of her magnificent soles were 'painted' thoroughly, methodically drawing random patterns across each one, following no set path. Although never before applying any sort of makeup, he imagined he'd take to it easily enough, picturing one sole as a palette from which to chose the appropriate shade, then applying it to the other.
"...p-please...stop this..."
"Stop? Why would I do that? You're tough, babe. It's just a little tickling after all,"
Time for some fun. Grabbing ahold of her toes, two at a time, he pried them apart while stroking the small brush on the tender flesh between each trembling digit. It was terrific how a small brushstroke could elicit such strong responses from his unwilling participant. One-by-one he feathered her own brush between all ten terrified toes, feeling growing resistance as they tried to curl, his strong hands easily able to hold them still while worming it and out.
Emma's face contorted, tears welling in her eyes as she endured painfully slow, unrelenting brushstrokes between each hyper-sensitive toe. It was horrible, but although her defences were beginning to crumble her spirit was not yet broken. Adamant that she'd outlast him, she stifled her giggles and pushed through, resolving not to emit a single, solitary sound resembling a laugh. He wouldn't get the better of her again.
"Does it feel nice? I bet it's wonderful on your sleepy feet, huh?"
"...n-no it isn't... I... I hate it..."
There wasn't a chance in hell she'd be able to resist much longer. The virgin skin between her toes was incredibly delicate, and he was fascinated by how much she squirmed beneath him with each swipe. She was nothing if not determined, as the poor thing hadn't burst into laughter as he'd anticipated. In fact, if he didn't know any better he'd say she was enjoying it. Between each strained word he was certain he'd heard a subtle moan slip out, and her hips felt as if they'd begun to gyrate. He too was swinging his hips forward and back, his aching cock leaking sticky precum onto his boxers while continuing to tease the barefoot girl.
"Aww, 'hate' is such a strong word, my dear. I know ya too well, and I think you're enjoying it. Maybe not as much as I am, but you're getting there,"
He ran the tip of the brush up each toe stem, ensuring each and every one received the attention it deserved. Afterward he held the brush between thumb and forefinger, spinning it on the tip of each little toe, feeling her quake beneath him. A second brush would be fantastic, as one on each bare foot would certainly break her. But he'd have to make due with what he had, and exploit every wildly-sensitive inch of her feet.
"Are ya gonna laugh for me? I know that ya want to..."
'Not a chance', she thought, he couldn't keep this up forever. She was winning thus far, and salvation was within reach. Surely he'd throw in the towel, as that damn brush had grazed every square inch of her soles multiple times, what was left? Gritting her teeth while feeling it lick at her arches once again, she made a mental note to hide her makeup kit going forward, not wishing to repeat this brutal humiliation in the future. But her determination had paid off, the end was in sight and she couldn't falter now.
"Tickle... tickle... tickle..."
Her pelvis was slowly grinding into the bed as he continued teasing. Why did she have this love/hate relationship with tickling? A fierce battle was raging inside, and despite the cruelty of his tickly touch it was proving to be an erotic experience, finding herself equally as irritated as she was aroused. Why was this turning her on? It was completely illogical; being at once pleasurable, and overwhelmingly torturous.
Dave admired her strength of will. The stubborn girl had proven she could, in fact, endure the soft, gentle brushstrokes brought on by the cosmetic tickle tool. But he craved her frantic laughter, that cackle he knew she was capable of. In order to draw it out he'd simply require a change of tactic, which was long overdue.
Flipping the brush end-for-end he grabbed both of her big toes with one hand, and used the blunted tip of the brush's wooden handle to draw a firm, straight line down her immobilized right foot, toes to heel.
"NYAAHAHAAHAA! F-FUCK YOU—EIIEEHAAHAA!"
It was the straw that broke the camel's back. Emma had surrendered to her boyfriend's skilled technique. Ten glossy orange toes curled over in response, but his firm grip was more than enough to pry them back, until her poor soles were taut; utterly smooth and defenceless.
"Wow! I really know how to use this thing, huh," he said, fiendishly stroking her painfully-sensitive soles. "Does this make me a beautician?"
"N-NOO—AIEEHAAHAA! IT F-FUCKIN' DOESN'T—GYAAHAAHAA!"
The insufferable handle dashing across her arches was a stark contrast to the feathery-soft brushstrokes mere moments ago. It was electric, stimulating nerve endings she didn't know existed. Wishing dearly to pull her feet away to safety, she could do nothing but cackle, releasing a banshee-like scream that echoed within the walls of the tiny room. But it was hopeless, she was stuck fast, and between the mind-bending tickles and her unruly libido kicking into overdrive, Emma was unsure of how much longer she could take it.
"JEEHEESUS! YOU GOTTA STAHAAHAP—NYAHAAHAHAA!"
The brush was wielded with lethal precision, not unlike a surgeon holding a scalpel. Her formerly porcelain-like soles were now a rosy shade of pink, becoming redder with each pass of the torturous tool. Although not its intended use, it proved to be just as effective at making her scream. Firmly gripping both big toes with one hand, he was provided insurance that his ticklish plaything's mobility was severely limited, effectively acting as a makeshift set of toe cuffs.
"I ain't gotta do anything except tickle these perfectly soft feet of yours, my dear,"
"BWAHAAHAHAA—I'LL DO ANY—EIIEEHAAHAA—ANYTHING!"
The muscles in her legs tensed. The tickling was diabolically savage, yet her lust hadn't faded. If anything it had grown, becoming unbearable while writhing within the blanket, begging for release. A dormant persona had awoken within her. It had been trapped, buried deep down, craving this type of torture.
"Poor thing, whatever will ya do? Nowhere to go, babe..."
Dave had begun to probe beneath her spasming toes. The tender flesh was ultra-responsive to each poke, causing her thrashing body to become wilder, more furious, akin to riding a raging bull. But the blanket held tight, and no matter how much she tried to escape, it would be fruitless.
"PULEEHEEASE—EIIEEHAAHAA! I'M B-BEGGIN'—AHHAAHAA!" she cried, sputtering out an impassioned plea for release.
Loosening his vice-like grip on her two big toes, the tickle-crazed boy focused his efforts on the spaces between. After slipping the narrow brush between each toe, he'd drag it down over the ball of her foot toward her high arches, then glide it up again to repeat the process. Her velvety-soft soles squirmed as he applied just enough pressure to make her squeal and plead for freedom. Each garbled cry for help was yet another notch on his belt, knowing that he was driving her to the brink of insanity but never intending to push her over the edge.
"Tickle, tickle, little girl..." he teased. "Laugh for me."
"NYAAHAHAA! N-NOOHOOO MORE, PULEEHEEASE! NYAAHAHAA..."
Her strained cries for help had become more akin to animalistic howls, yet he did not stop. The deranged girl slipped beyond booming laughter, propelled headlong into a fit of near-silent convulsions that he felt resonate throughout the bed beneath him.
Yet as intoxicating as this had become, he didn't wish to wear her out quite yet. With his hunger for tickling satiated for the moment, it was time to let her breathe.
PART II
The eyeshadow brush came to a halt, and was removed from the tortured girl's tender feet. Lingering tickly sensations haunted her poor soles, and she tried rubbing them together once more to alleviate the feeling. Vivid red lines criss-crossed her foot-bottoms, as if dozens of tally marks had been writ there, slowly fading to reveal their natural rosy complexion.
Her chest was heaving; breath laboured. The tear-stained pillow evidence of limits broken. She'd been barefoot and bound for what felt like hours, though in reality couldn't have been more than twenty minutes. Still, any amount of tickling whilst wrapped up and vulnerable was going to feel like an eternity.
Emma desperately wanted to continue protesting this inhuman torture, but what was left to say? Even if she'd found the correct combination of words to convince her heartless captor to set her free, she certainly couldn't muster the energy to speak them.
Dave was unable to see the expression on her face from his position at the foot of the bed, but he gathered from her silence that a meltdown was imminent. Had he pushed her too far? If so, he'd undoubtedly be sleeping on the couch tonight, and those cupcakes they'd planned on making were likely out of the question.
It would be wise to let her up, to free her from the torment, but before he could make another move, she spoke.
"I-I dunno what's gotten into you, but it's a lot to handle," mumbled the exhausted girl.
"Well, I might've taken it too far. It's just that I—"
"No, it's okay," she replied, cutting him off. "I'm just outta breath, I need a break. But, I know you must be enjoying this. And to be honest, so am I."
The nearby alarm clock pierced the quiet that had befallen the room, noisily ticking the seconds away, punctuating each moment that nothing further was spoken. Repeated slow, strained breaths emanated from the far end of the bed as the poor girl's heart rate gradually dropped.
He was aching for more; cock dripping like a leaky faucet. Why should he continue to temper his wilder impulses? This recent revelation confirmed her enjoyment, much to his surprise, so he had little choice but to continue.
Try as she might, the residual tickly sensation on the soles of her feet refused to disappear, and her mind reeled at the thought of prolonging this any further. Her admission that this brutal tickling was anything but horrendous may well have been a grave mistake. But what was pure, unadulterated torture only moments ago had now become all too appetizing.
Suddenly, the weight had been lifted from her legs, the mattress shifting in the process as her boyfriend's feet hit the floor. She'd give anything to see what he was up to, unfortunately her current position significantly hindered her viewpoint, much to her dismay.
"Are you letting me up?" she asked, his motives still unclear.
Dave found himself at the foot of the bed frame, kneeling before his captive girlfriend's upturned soles. Side-by-side they laid, utterly motionless. His eyes lingered on her pale-white arches, specifically the crease at which they met. He pictured them wrapped tightly around his hard cock, stroking its entire length. As her feet pumped up and down he'd dig his fingers in, listening to her squeal as each stroke brought him dangerously close to the edge. But could he manifest this dream into reality?
"Dave? Are you there?"
Sensing her nervousness, he cleared his throat and replied.
"Yeah, I'm right here. Just thinkin' about something,"
"Oh. About what?" she asked, hints of trepidation in her weary voice.
His palm began to lightly stroke his engorged member through the fabric of his boxers, straining the limits of the stitching. She was still mummy-wrapped and at his mercy, and he'd have to be careful not to get too excited, as the last thing he wanted was to get carried away and miss out on all the fun yet to be had.
"Listen," she continued. "I know that you're enjoying my feet, but maybe we could—"
A pair of lips pressed firmly against the heel of her left foot, cutting short her words. They lingered for several seconds, then vanished. That kiss, however brief, meant this was far from over. A second passionate kiss was then placed upon her right sole, causing her painted toes to curl ever so slightly. It felt serene, quite the welcome change from what she'd be forced to endure. The pieces were falling into place for something new, and she was primed and ready, keen to see how it would unfold.
"Mhmm..." she moaned with approval, in hopes it would continue.
Warm, apologetic kisses continued to be planted upon both trapped bare feet, slowly travelling toward her scrunched toes. Upon arrival, his tactic was decidedly different.
"Mhmmm—ohhnn!"
Her body jolted as she felt his lips wrap around the big toe of her right foot, sucking gently. Her disobedient libido was in control once again, finding herself grinding her hips into the plush mattress, biting her plump bottom lip as her boyfriend lovingly sucked upon each toe in sequence, working toward her pinky. Little beads of sweat had begun to appear on her forehead, and her cheeks flushed with arousal as her subtle moans grew steadily louder.
Emma's size seven's recoiled instinctively with every touch of his lips, but as before they were held firmly in place. Dave was eager to devour each and every wiggly digit on display. Her perfectly suckable toes had long been calling his name, and tasted better than he could've possibly imagined. They were sweet, with just a hint of body lotion coming through; it was a treat for the palate. But it wasn't enough, as he desperately needed to hear her girlish giggles echo within the small room. So, with a feather-light touch, he ran a single finger up her arch and over her plump heel. To his delight, Emma let out a little chuckle.
"Eieehehee..."
Her body tensed, squeezing her eyes tight while bracing for another ticklish onslaught. But to her surprise, all she felt was a delicate touch. It still tickled like crazy, but not intolerably so. She felt another teasing finger graze the tender flesh of her wrinkled arch, causing yet another squeal to emerge. A split-second later his warm mouth was again enveloping her slender toes, while curious fingers danced across her bare foot-bottoms. It proved to be a potent combination, as each time the talented tongue coiled around a toe she shuddered.
"Mhmm—aiieheehee..."
Her schoolgirl-like giggles began filling the otherwise silent room, as each of her mouthwatering toes were meticulously tended to. He gently nibbled upon her toe stems, one-by-one, while drinking in the ever-increasing sound of her laughter. Each time he plopped a toe into his waiting mouth he felt her foot vibrate with nervous energy; biting down gently, each one tasting like forbidden fruit.
Those wrinkly arches were side-by-side, with ten lovely toes curled up tight, resembling two little foot-fists. They'd created a concave shape, not unlike a bowl, and Dave's tongue hungrily lapped away. Both of her remarkably-soft feet squirmed considerably, but a quick yet gentle pinch of her pinky toes was more than enough to render them motionless.
"...eiiehehee...ohhhnnn..."
There were few places his inquisitive tongue hadn't slithered. From heel to toe, he'd thoroughly explored both tender bare feet. One moment he'd been sucking the big toe of her left foot - plus it's closest neighbour - the next he was using the wide blade of his tongue to lick her creamy, snow-white arches. They were softer than whipped cream and tasted quite similar, or so he imagined. All the while listening to a harmony of titters, squeaks, and gently-muted moans emanating from the far end of the large bed.
As incredible as this was, it wasn't enough to slake his thirst. His erection was now testing the limitations of his boxers' thin fabric, threatening to burst the seams any moment. With a finger under the waistband he slipped them downward, removing his underwear while swiftly standing up in one fluid motion. They hit the floor around his ankles, and his aching cock throbbed freely as he gazed down at his trapped playthings, her toes still slightly wet. The objects of his deepest desires were nearly level with his raging hard-on, separated by mere inches, though that would soon change.
Emma was confused, which appeared to be a frequent occurrence this evening. Only a moment ago he'd been passionately sucking her toes and spidering his fingertips across her soles. Yet now, nothing. The cool air from the room was quickly drying the spit that remained on her toes, and the bewildered blonde tried in vain to see where her boyfriend had disappeared to this time, but her field of vision was far too narrow. Then she felt it. Two strong hands wrapped firmly around her ankles, as her blanket-enrobed body was slid unceremoniously down the bed.
"Woahh!" gasped Emma, shocked to feel her body lurch so suddenly.
She found herself nearly twelve inches further south, head no longer supported by the pillow. Being dragged like a corpse toward a tickle-hungry deviant wasn't what she'd hoped for, but at this point the entire evening appeared to have gone awry, so what did it matter if she spent a little more time wrapped up in her temporary prison?
After all this tickling and worship - equal parts fascinating and pleasurable - what came next would be a fantasy fulfilled. Two tender bare feet now dangled off the edge of the queen-sized bed, toes pointed to the hardwood floor below. He began trailing a single finger down her left sole. In slow, deliberate strokes it travelled, up and down, while listening carefully to her muffled giggles and subtle whimpering.
"...eiieheehee...n-not again..."
It was an echo of the not-so-distant past, as she was undoubtedly thinking he'd decided to revisit a few of his well-established tickly methods, proven to be more than effective on these divine feet. However, this would be a unique experience for both of them. Without the slightest hesitation he plunged his fat knob between her velvety-soft soles, practically salivating while watching all ten toes scrunch up in response to this forced footjob.
Her thighs quivered, a tingly ache swelling between. Her tired blue eyes shot open as she felt him sliding between her trapped feet. Her once-tepid arousal had now grown into a fully realized, unbridled lust.
"Ohhnn...eiiheehee...ohh, fuckk..." she moaned, her words barely more than a breathy whisper.
His hips moved faster and faster while feverishly thrusting his manhood between the sinfully-soft soles of his mummified girlfriend, each stroke bringing him closer to release. She began squeezing him tighter, the pressure building, while repeatedly pumping his thick shaft between those heavenly, twenty-two year old feet. His thumbs began kneading into their delicate flesh, causing them to tense, producing sporadic giggles. Each time his cock pierced the centre of her ivory arches he was treated to yet another surge of intense pleasure.
No longer ashamed of these hidden desires, she continued to gyrate her hips atop the bed, knowing full well that her panties were soaked through. Feeling every inch of him slip between her arches was proving to be more than she could handle, and longing to feel his touch produced a dull, intimate ache within. A series a tingles surged through her petite body, spreading from the tips of her toes to her overstimulated mind. It was a carnal delight, the likes of which she'd never before experienced.
"Ohh Em, I—ughhh..." he groaned.
Unable to string together even a few simple words into a coherent sentence, Dave continued to forcefully thrust between her spectacular soles. The ambient glow of the full moon filtered through the bedroom window, hazily illuminating the gorgeous feet he'd been using to pleasure himself. The slick layer of saliva still present on her arches allowed him to glide in and out with ease, although a bottle of baby oil would be the preferred lubricant. He could picture it; the bottle held high, a squeeze, the oily substance drizzling down, coating everything. But patience is a virtue.
In his reckless exuberance he'd only just noticed she'd been matching his pace, flexing her feet in and out - as much as her position allowed, at least - coaxing him on.
"Ohhnn, Dave...please..."
As the wet patch between her thighs grew, Emma wondered if she'd ever get what she craved. Trying her best to help him, she stroked his rigid cock with both feet, although it wasn't easy, as her entire body had become fatigued. The prolonged tickle torture had taken a heavy toll; her shins and calves burned from muscle strain, but if nothing else it was a fantastic cardio workout. Yet the sexual tension in the room was reaching its boiling point, and she'd soon need to feel him inside.
His technique had begun to change. Instead of continuing to thrust madly he'd chosen to withdraw himself from between her feet, instead rubbing his tender, overstimulated cockhead along all ten of her pretty toes, finding it to be equally as pleasurable. Back and forth he went, feeling the row of digits wiggle while attempting to grab him, but he couldn't let her, as he was afraid of losing control entirely, and it was still too soon for this to end. His thumbs resumed the stroking of her arches, and he'd now begun to dig in, using his nails to gently scrape her skin.
"...hhnn...eiieehehee! No—ohh..."
Ten toes fanned out in response to the progressively maddening sensations his thumbs were inflicting. She felt his cock travel from one toe to the next, knowing they were likely becoming slick with precum. Whatever part of her brain was responsible for rational thought had given up the ghost long ago. It had been replaced by an intrinsic need to be used, subconsciously aware that she was in desperate need of being exploited. Perhaps she'd be his tickle-toy forever, coming to rely on it for her own gratification. The thought was paradoxical, as she desperately wanted to escape his tickly touch, yet longed to remain in captivity.
"Gyahahaa! ...ohhnnn...n-noohehee!"
Her laughter was interjected with hoarse cries of desire, yet the feverishly horny blonde needed more. The fact that her arms remained pinned to her side meant she was unable to tend to her aching pussy, now soaked with arousal. It was barbaric, unfair, and needed to change. But no sooner had the thought crossed her mind did the tickling stop.
Dave no longer stood at the end of the bed. In the blink of an eye he'd appeared beside her. A split second later she felt a pair of hands grip the blanket, giving it a forceful pull, and her entire world began to spin as she was unravelled.
*
The deep, dark blue of the night's sky had transformed into steely gray as the full moon hung overhead. Its light cascaded through the few remaining reddish-orange leaves of the maple tree, and as the wind howled they created fragments of light that danced along the walls of the small room. Rain was falling in sheets now, rushing to the ground as a great crack of thunder boomed in the distance.
Two bodies were intertwined atop the plush mattress, and Emma's large grey comforter - the one she'd been wrapped up in only moments ago - was now laying beneath her, sprawled across the surface of the bed. Her hair was an unmitigated disaster; a blonde mess of unruly tangles, as she laid on her back and gazed upwards into the eyes of her once-cruel tickler, who looked down at her with a lecherous, yet loving stare.
Few words had been spoken since she'd been unbound and set free from the makeshift cocoon. The former-captive was relieved, and with that relief came a newfound sense of freedom she'd never again take for granted. The ability to finally move her limbs freely was endlessly satisfying, like a drink of cold water in the middle of the night after waking up parched. Her body was stiff and achy, although that feeling was dissipating as she ran her hands over his body. They were now communicating solely via touch, their body language speaking volumes.
The anticipation was palpable, and the slick layer of hot sweat on their skin was never more evident as when he pressed his body onto hers. The nubile blonde could feel his erection rubbing the inside of her quaking thighs, so she parted them slightly to better accommodate him. She was trembling, but for the first time tonight it was due to excitement instead of fear. She longed to feel him, eager to hurry up and finish what he'd started. His breath felt warm against her neck between each kiss that was planted there, while the underside of his thick cock rubbed against her swollen clit, having been relieved of her sopping wet panties moments earlier.
"Mhmm...ohhhnn..." she moaned, lost in the moment.
She squirmed beneath him as he finally eased himself in, parting her labia with his fat cockhead, now coated with liquid lust. Her smooth, shaved mound felt a rush of warm pleasure; it was euphoria incarnate. A tingle rushed up her spine, and she arched her back while gently biting her lower lip.
"Ohhnn....fuckk..."
Every nerve ending was on high-alert when he finally plunged the length of his throbbing prick deep within her, becoming slack-jawed as she embraced every inch. Her body tensed while shamelessly thrusting her hips upward to meet him, and a long, low moan broke loose from her lips as she felt him pulsating inside.
He began grinding against her, slowly increasing in rhythm. Reaching underneath her he grabbed a handful of her shapely ass, giving it a firm squeeze while pulling it up toward himself.
Emma raised her arms above her head as Dave slipped her shirt up and over. Her ample breasts spilled out, and her upper body was now naked and bathed in pale moonlight. His eyes, once locked with hers, now darted south, taking in what had been laid bare.
She drew short, quick breaths as he pounded away, with arms still raised above her head, clinging onto the headboard for dear life. She watched as his left hand glided effortlessly upward, feeling it wrap firmly around both of her slender wrists, securing them in place with near vice-like grip. By now her sense of vulnerability was second only to her intense arousal, although that was likely to change, as both were vying for control.
With his right hand free to explore, he caressed her neck, travelling down over her collarbone, tracing its contours, making his way to her breasts. With skilled fingers he pinched one of her puffy nipples between thumb and forefinger, feeling it stiffen immediately.
"Ohhh...nnhhh, oh please..."
Her ecstasy was overwhelming, as pleasure coursed through her tiny body like rolling thunder outside in the darkness. Each time his rough hand squeezed her painfully-erect nipples she cried out in lustful, dizzying tones. Her hips rocked forward and back with ever-increasing speed, while feeling his hand travel from her tender breast to the hollow of her bare underarm, squirming and twisting in response as its gentle touch tickled like mad.
"N-Noo—eiieheehee!" she giggled, her shrill cries testament to his unwavering passion for tickling her senseless.
With feather-light strokes his index finger gently grazed her perfectly smooth, taut underarm, causing her to let out another squeal amidst the moans. Then he did it again, and again, each time adding more devilish fingers to the mix, fluttering them in the bare hollow, perpetuating a fit of cute giggles from the bubbly blonde.
"Eiieheehee!! Dave, don't—mphheeheee!"
Although she'd stated otherwise, the petite girl was thoroughly enjoying what his meandering hand was doing. The tickling turned her on like nothing before, it was tantalizing and electric, as each flick of his fingers sent pulsing ripples of pleasure coursing through her body. She used words like 'stop', and 'don't', but prayed that he'd continue. It was at that moment she felt his fingers dig in, furiously clawing at her exposed underarm, then spidering down her side, and back up again.
"GYYHAHAAHAA! N-NOT THAAHAAT!"
Instinctively the frantically-thrashing girl tried to pull her arms down to protect herself, but his grip and sheer strength were far too much to overcome. She could do nothing but lay there and take it. Through blurred vision she'd catch brief glimpses of her boyfriend overtop her, backlit from hazy moonlight gleaming through the window. She felt a myriad of rogue fingertips exploring her tender side, her body tensing as they journeyed down from the smooth hollow to just above her hip, stopping only momentarily to pinch her side directly below her breast.
"P-PULEEHEEASE, IT T-TICKLESS! HEEHAAHAA!" she protested, through spasms of escalating laughter.
Dave looked down at his girlfriend, pale and perfect, illuminated briefly by a flash of lightning. She writhed beneath him, squealing and cackling while gyrating her hips. Each thrust brought him closer to the edge, but he resolved not to finish too quickly, lest he miss out on the grand finale. For now, this was more about her pleasure than his own. His free hand continued to explore her body, and was currently kneading her rib cage, revelling in each and every giggly-moan.
"I know ya love it," he whispered into her ear. "When I tickle ya like this. You love being helpless, don't ya? Laugh for me..."
He could barely get the words out, but he needed her to know who was in full control. If he wanted her to squeal, she'd squeal. But deep down he knew she loved it just as much as he did. Prodding between the giggly girl's ribs was addictive, as each poke sent a shiver through her tiny body, one that he felt, too. Her laugh was something that he'd never tire of hearing. It was a schoolgirl-like titter, high-pitched and wonderful. He needed to hear every nuanced tone that she could produce, so he feverishly clawed at her convulsing side, scribbling his fingers around, listening to her cackle while ravaging her upper body.
"BWAHAHAAHAA! GOD, NOO—EIIEEHEEHAA!" she wailed, choking out a few words between fits of helpless laughter.
Emma wasn't entirely sure if she was going to cum harder than ever before, or throw him onto the floor to put an end to this maddening tickling. She hoped for the former, as mustering the strength to shove him off would be quite the feat at the moment. Everything that had happened this evening was brand-new, and wildly fun. As hellish as the torture had been, it was worth every second, as it was all building to this monumental release. The sensations that she'd felt earlier as he tormented her bare soles were now heightened to an incredible level, and her climax was imminent. Her hips moved in unison with his as each word she spoke became more incoherent, each syllable melding into the next until the words were garbled and nonsensical. Her crazed laughter was reaching its crescendo when he finally pushed her over the edge.
"NYYAHAHAA! FUCK—AIIEHEEHEE! DON'T STAHAAHAAP, PULEEHEEASE! OHHHNNNN..."
A rush of carnal pleasure surged through her nubile body, tingling up her spine and reducing her screeching laughter to a near-silent whisper, as if the air had been sucked from the babbling girl's lungs. Her pale, blue eyes rolled backward in her head, while white-hot lust flowed from between her quivering thighs, soaking the sheets below. The delirious girl's muscles spasmed and twitched, then suddenly relaxed.
The convulsions in her thighs hadn't completely stopped when she felt him finally relent, releasing his grip on her wrists and ceasing the torment of her ribs. The tickling appeared to be over, at least for the moment, and she laid still upon the blanket she was once wrapped inside.
*
Her skin felt as if it was buzzing; tingling with an electric undercurrent. Although recently racked by a powerful orgasm, she showed no signs of slowing her pace. Her chest was heaving, swelling up and down through laboured, wheezy breaths. Her nerve endings felt heightened, no doubt by post-orgasmic sensitivity.
Emma's giggles returned in full as Dave's fingertips drifted across her rib cage once again. The buxom blonde squirmed beneath him while he poked and prodded the soft spots between each rib, making his way downward, ensuring each touch remained light and playful. Moving from her exposed sides to her flat tummy, he spidered his agile fingers across her bare skin, listening to her squeal in response, paying special attention to her belly button. Although pushed to a volcanic orgasm only moments ago, each scribble upon her skin was a dreadful reminder of the tickle-induced frenzy she'd been put through earlier in the night.
"S-Staahaap it—eiiheeheee!" she giggled, attempting to swat his hand away from her sensitive tummy.
Round and round his index finger travelled, encircling her navel, yet barely skimming the surface of her midriff. Occasionally he'd dip into the cute belly button, feeling her shudder beneath him. He pondered the effectiveness of the small makeup brush he'd used not long ago to torment her soles, as it would undoubtedly prove to be the best tool for this job. With its multitude of silky-soft bristles swirling around, stimulating countless nerves, producing laughter and goosebumps as it swept over her pale skin. Alas, it was now missing in action, lost among the blankets.
The rhythm of his hips began increasing once more, and although it had been mere moments since he'd heard her screech, he longed for it again. Bracing himself with both arms he pushed himself up and away from her body while bringing his knees forward on the bed. He was now in a kneeling position overtop her; looking down and marvelling at her nude body, silhouetted against the damp sheets.
What he needed now was to hear her belt out another scream; a loud belly laugh brought on from pure, terrible tickles. So, with both hands free to roam anywhere they liked, he grabbed her hips, and squeezed.
"GYAAHAAHAHAA!" bellowed the comely girl, as she felt his hands ravenously clawing at her flesh. "DON'T T-TICKLE MEEHEEE!"
Emma bucked wildly as her hips were firmly grasped in each of his hands, feeling his fingertips dig in just above her hipbones. This absolutely torturous feeling, combined with his ever increasing thrusts, began overwhelming her fragile senses once again, and she dissolved into frantic laughter.
"BWAAHAHAHAA! NOOHOO MORE—EIIHEEHEHAA!"
A sadistic grin had grown on Dave's face, stretching ear-to-ear, as he soaked in her maniacal laughter. The pressure was building down below, and though his fingers wanted to explore every inch of her body, he knew he'd be unable to hold back much longer. With that in mind his hands dipped below her knees and ran toward her feet while raising her toned legs up into the air. Seconds later they were pointing straight up, with her soles facing the ceiling. Her petite body was now at a 90-degree angle, and his hands were wrapped squarely around her ankles as he continued to thrust into her.
The bed squeaked as it shook beneath them, rocking forward and back, the headboard gently slapping against the wall as he plunged his cock ever deeper.
Emma knew what was to come. The objects of her boyfriends desires were now floating inches from his head. The ticklish turmoil she found herself in wasn't over yet, as she felt his grip loosen on her ankles, his hands meandering to her unguarded size sevens. His large palms were pressed firmly against her soles, fingers curled and positioned directly below her toes, which at the moment were scrunched up tight.
"Ohhnnn... no, don't—"* she spoke all too late, as his nails sunk into her soles, nearly robbing her the ability of speech. "F-FUCK—NYAHAAHAHAA!"
The befuddled girl attempted to withdraw her legs, pulling them toward her, but his hands followed. Her tickle-addled brain was overwhelmed, with synapses firing wildly as he continued to bury his fingers into the base of her toes. She'd been plunged headlong into ticklish suffering by this lunatic for far too long.
"GYAHAHAAHA! N-NOT MY TOOEEHEEHEES!"
She extended her legs as far as they'd go, stretching them toward the heavens, his hands still gripping her bare feet tightly, fingers finding their place between each wriggly digit. She let out another squeal as he pried apart two toes on her right foot, and used his thumb to gently scrape the tender flesh between.
"NOOO—EIIEHEHAHAA! LET GO OF MY F-FEET!" she cried out in ardent anguish, shaking her foot in a futile attempt to escape his grasp.
But he simply couldn't. It was an addiction plain and simple, one he couldn't shake, not that he'd ever truly want to. All ten fingers burrowed into the supple soles of her feet as he continued the torment, and as she curled her toes over to try and trap his fingers the wrinkles that appeared mirrored those on the blanket below.
"N-NOOHOO, PULEEHEEASE—GYAAHAHAA!"
Pulling his fingers out from under her scrunched toes, he wrapped a hand around each foot, squeezing tight, and drilled his thumbs deeply into her marvellous, alabaster arches. Her toes flared outward in an animated and expressive display of frenzied terror, kicking wildly as she tried to escape his clutches.
"OHNNN—NYAHAAHAA, MAKE IT STAHAAHAAP!"
Her inhuman wailing was music to his ears; tickling, teasing, and greedily tormenting the poor girl until she appeared to have unhinged her jaw, gasping for air as no further sound was emitted. Although his vision was fuzzy, it was obvious the delirious blonde could take no more, so he kindly released his grip on her feet, providing a sorely needed moment to breathe.
*
Emma's calves remained perched atop his shoulders. He knew what he wanted to do, realizing that if he gave in this would all end in a hurry. His head twisted to the side, and found himself rubbing his nose gently against her left sole, feeling it drawing nearer.
Emma arched her back as she felt him plunge deeper, grabbing fistfuls of blanket; white-knuckled and craving more. She was well aware of what he was waiting for, and wondered why he hadn't done so already. Truth be told, she wanted it as well. If what he needed - or simply wanted - to cum was her soles pressed firmly against his face, then she was more than willing to provide them. She slid her legs toward one another, framing his head with her feet while wiggling her bright orange toes in his periphery.
His heart was racing; pulse quickening. One second he was gazing downward, watching his girlfriend's petite body react as he continued to thrust with youthful vigour, the next his vision had been utterly obscured, as a matching pair of soft soles were pressed squarely over his face. Their warm embrace was beyond welcome, it was needed.
His nose was now firmly embedded between the second and third toe on her right foot, inhaling sharply, gorging himself on her aroma; sweet yet tangy from the combination of warm vanilla and citrus lotion she'd applied earlier in the evening. Sweeping his head left and right, he ensured each toe received the proper amount of attention, until finally nestling comfortably between both of her big toes; dead-centre, a buttery-soft sole on each side of his face.
Emma's attention was split, as each thrust brought her closer to a second, screaming orgasm. Her boyfriends face was buried into her soles, his rough stubble like hundreds of tiny bristles; prickly but not harshly so. She flexed her toes, fanning them out while gently stretching her soles in the process, subconsciously prompting him to enjoy every inch of her naked feet.
He held each breath longer than the last, savouring each lungful of her fantastic scent. Her toes gripped his nose firmly, not that he ever wanted to escape its grasp, instead letting her little foot direct him whichever way she desired. The cleavage between her toes was like a painted target, his nose finding its way there with ease; like moth to flame. He longed to be buried in each little crevasse, it was almost cozy, as if slipping into a freshly-made bed after a piping hot shower.
His hands had made their way to her breasts. Squeezing and groping, his fingers recklessly pinching her swollen nipples, as her moaning drowned out the wild winds blowing up a gale outside the bedroom window.
Emma knew he needed release, and she, too, craved another toe-curling climax. Her jaw ached from unending laughter, but her mounting lust was once again nearing its peak. It was time to wrap it up, so with nostrils flared and voice cracking she managed to speak the words she knew he wanted to hear, escaping her lips as nothing more than a seductive whisper, laced with trepidation.
"Tickle me..."
No other two words in the English language would come close to having the same effect. The tickle-crazed boy's arms lunged forward, his hands finding a place atop her hipbones, squeezing deeply. An ear-piercing screech filled the small space as the blonde girl's body reacted violently to the stimulus. The combination of two luscious, silken soles pushing against his face and the feeling of an undeniably ticklish girl writhing beneath him was more than enough to push him over the edge.
The long-awaited eruption sent a warm surge coursing through his system, causing his balls to tighten, a white-hot load shooting from his throbbing cock. Like a mindless creature he pawed at her tender skin, taking in the lovely cadence of her laughter while torrents of cum burst from the thick, pulsating shaft, until he'd been drained dry. With a final, shuddering thrust and primal grunt he collapsed, both hands releasing their grasp on her hips, falling limply to his side, overwhelmed with satisfied exhaustion.
With toes clenched and mouth agape, Emma likewise experienced an explosive orgasm, her second of the evening. It proved to be just as agonizingly powerful as the first, as a torrent of pleasure ripped through her young body while twisting and convulsing beneath him.
The blanket on which the two heaving bodies laid was soaked, and a final crackling pulse ran up her spine causing a deep, guttural moan to emanate from her fatigued body as her eyes slowly closed, drifting away.
*
Outside, in the inky blackness of night, the storm raged on. The moon had been utterly obscured by grey rain clouds, its light no longer visible. The bed's sole occupant was now relying on repeated flashes of lightning to take in her surroundings.
Emma's cheeks were flushed still, her throat sore from prolonged screeching. After everything she'd endured this evening a few moments of solitude were enormously satisfying, and she was in dire need of the rest. But like all relaxing moments, it was fleeting.
A noise caught her attention. Had she the energy required to get up and investigate, she certainly would've. But at the moment every cell in her body was worn out. Upon re-entering the room, her bleary, bloodshot eyes attempted to focus, with poor results.
Footsteps found creaky floorboards on approach, as her boyfriend saddled up next to the bed, a flash of lightning illuminating his face. The corners of his mouth turned up mischievously as he peered down at her, forming a bright, toothy grin. A clap of thunder overhead momentarily drowned out the noise of her beating heart, weakly gripping the sweat-soaked blankets beneath her.
"What're you... doin'?" she asked numbly, her vision allowing only the outlines of basic shapes.
"I know you're tired," he said calmly. "But since we've had so much fun tonight, I figured we'd keep it going."
Something was placed on the nightstand next to her head. With a well-timed flash she was able to make out the mysterious objects; her hairbrush, the previously-used eyeshadow brush, and a small, clear bottle. And printed on its label, in bold font, read the words 'baby oil'.
The nude girl's bottom lip began to quiver, attempting to mouth the words - any words at all - that might prevent him from using those things on her body. She'd spent countless hours being brought to the precipice of lunacy, reduced to a pitiful existence, but it appeared she truly was nothing more than a tickle-toy for this sadistic fiend of a man.
"...I-I can't... take it," she said, her hoarse voice barely audible.
She'd hoped to say more, but the remaining words had caught in her throat. Unable to force them out, she surrendered to fate.
"Oh, come on babe. You're tough, and it's just a little tickling, I know ya can handle it. And once it's over we can wrap it up and go to bed. What do ya think?" he asked, with a wicked grin.
Twisting her head round to gaze out the rain-streaked window, the storm didn't appear to be letting up any time soon. Would she be made to suffer though another bout of crippling tickle torture? Or, forced through another tickle-induced orgasm? Feeling an intimate pang of pleasure throb within her at the thought, it was clear that his perversions had become a craving for her as well.
Weakened muscles twitched sporadically as the weary blonde laid motionless. Time had become meaningless as she'd once again fallen victim to this kind-hearted monster.
As if on cue another crack of thunder split the sky, the teary-eyed girl felt his hands grip the blanket beneath her, and the world began to spin.
WRAP IT UP
tklmysole
tklmysole
