Becca's Tokyo Trip (M/F ● Japanese Jail ● Tickling Interrogation ● Feet Only)
Hi! I'd like to share a story I wrote for a commission
I'm going to post it here in it's entirety, but if you like it, please go drop a fav or a comment on DeviantArt. I'd really appreciate it.
The story:
https://www.deviantart.com/featherheart22/art/Becca-s-Tokyo-Trip-A-Tickling-Story-878556779
Synopsis:
Becca's trip to Japan turns into a trip to Tickle-Hell. Due to a few innocent mistakes, Becca earns a lengthy stay at a pre-trial detention center. As if this isn't bad enough, her interrogator takes advantage of her situation to live his greatest fantasy -- to have a real tickle-slave.
Notes on Realism:
From my research on the topic, this story portrays a stay at a Japanese pre-trial detention center with 70% to 80% realism.
Japan has a whoping 99% conviction rate; for comparison, the US only has 80%. The reason for this insane rate is because once you're arrested, the police can hold you for 3 days, plus 20 more for each suspected criminal charge. During this time, they will do anything other than physical torture to make you sign a confession. Including:
● Solitary confinement;
● Sleep deprivation;
● Verbal and physical intimidation;
● Constant surveillance;
● Prolonged use of body restraints such as (but not limited to) handcuffs;
● If subjected to restraints, you will have to eat your meals from bowls on the floor; also, you'll have to go to the toilet restrained, watched and unable to clean yourself;
● Long interrogation sessions (longest I read about was 5 days and nights straight);
● Being told constantly to confess;
● Limited access to legal counsel, and no lawyer permited during questioning;
● Denied access to family, friends, witnesses, etc;
● No phone calls allowed unless you have the number memorized.
On a warm summer night, a tourist exits a restaurant, stepping out into the streets of Shibuya, one of Tokyo’s entertainment districts. The tourist is Becca, an American girl in her early twenties, with fair skin and brown eyes. Becca felt like dressing up rather stylishly for this particular evening, so she comes across as a bit of a goth-girl, but with shoulder-length hair, dyed in black and red.
She walks around the curving, narrow, incredibly crowded streets for about an hour, looking at the many restaurants and small shops. She loves how beautiful and busy this district is. The atmosphere is simply incredible.
Then a man approaches her, and tells her something in broken english she doesn’t understand. Even though she doesn’t understand what he wants, Becca gets a bad vibe from him, so she quickens her pace. The man follows her, though. Becca isn’t really trying to decipher his words, but she feels that he’s trying to sell her something.
The man is persistent, so she abruptly turns around and says, “Not interested! Leave me alone!” This response makes him angry, but also makes him stop following her. That’s when two policemen step out of the crowd and grab both of them.
“What?! Get off me!” Becca cries out and struggles. Due to her fixation with the bad vibe man, she doesn’t immediately realize that her “attacker” is a policeman; an unfortunate reaction which leads to her being arrested for assault.
“I’ve told you! I was just surprised! I didn’t mean to hit him!” Becca explains to the police interrogator for the 15th time.
She’s now at a police station, being questioned for the third consecutive hour. The interrogator doesn’t speak English all that well, so there’s an English-Japanese interpreter present. He’s supposed to provide impartial translations, but Becca’s getting the impression that his assistance is doing her more harm than good.
“Why aren’t you carrying ID?”
Becca rolls her eyes and drops her head in frustration. She then replies, “For the millionth time... I didn’t know I’m supposed to carry my ID at all times... No one told me... I left my passport in the hotel room safe...“
“Not knowing the law is no excuse in Japan. How much meth did you buy from that dealer?”
“Oh for fuck’s sake... I DIDN’T BUY ANYTHING FROM HIM! Just search me! I don’t have any drugs!” she shouts.
“He says you bought from him yesterday. How much did you buy yesterday?”
“NONE! I wasn’t even in Shibuya yesterday!”
“Can you prove this? Do you have any witnesses?”
“Of course not! I’m a tourist! I don’t know anyone here!”
“Did you use a credit card? Do you have any receipts?”
“NO! Because my card doesn’t work almost anywhere in this damn country! I can only withdraw at the hotel!”
“Let’s go over it again.”
“NO! ENOUGH! I’m tired of this! It must be almost 1am by now! I spent all day walking around the city! I’m exhausted! I’m dying to get in bed! Please let me go!”
The interpreter and the interrogator exchange words briefly, apparently debating something that she said. The interrogator then says, “You’re not going back to the hotel. Especially if you’re suicidal.”
“WHAAAAAT?! WHERE DID YOU GET THAT IDEA?! I’M NOT SUICIDAL!”
“You just said that you’re going to kill youself if we don’t let you go.”
“THAT’S NOT WHAT I SAID! YOU TWO ARE TWISTING EVERYTHING I SAY!”
From this point on, Becca is nearly hysterical due to frustration, tiredness and psychological pressure. After another 30 minutes, the interrogator tells her she can go rest, but only if she signs his report of the interrogation. She complies straight away, signing with a fingerprint.
A few minutes later, several other officers escort her into a van. She’s expecting to be taken to the hotel, but instead, they drive her to a detention center. Too tired and frustrated to complain, Becca cooperates with the humiliating strip search and processing. Soon, she’s wearing a sea green outfit, similar to a medical scrubs uniform, and a pair of open toe, plastic slippers.
Despite her willingness to cooperate, she can’t help but groan and try to squirm away when she sees her cell for the night. It’s a windowless, bare walled, concrete room, with a wheeled restraining chair in the middle, similar to a dentist's chair.
“Oh come ON! Just WHY?! I’m not a suicide risk!” she moans, but nevertheless, the prison officers strap her down firmly, with cuffs around her ankles and wrists, and with belts over her knees, waist, chest, and forehead.
Finally, they take off her slippers and cover her with a thin blanket, to make her a little bit more comfortable. Poor Becca doesn’t manage to get a single minute of sleep because of the bondage, which doesn’t let her adjust her position, and because she’s not used to sleeping with the lights on -- in Japanese jails, the lights are never switched off, only slightly dimmed at night.
Come morning, she’s feeling terrible. Two female prison officers pay her a visit, to spoon feed her her breakfast, and to let her use a toilet. To her dismay, they insist on restraining her again after the bathroom visit.
Becca spends the whole morning in this miserable state, with only occasional visits to give her water. Some time before lunch, a man enters her cell and announces himself as officer Yoshida, her new interrogator. He tells her in acceptable English that her case is with a prosecutor, who within the next 72h, will decide to either let her go, or ask a judge to extend her detention.
“This is crazy! I didn’t do anything! What are you even charging me with?!”
“No charges yet, but from your signed confession, you’ll probably be charged with assaulting a police officer, acquiring illegal narcotics, and not having a valid ID.”
“WHAT CONFESSION?!”
“You signed a confession last night with a fingerprint. Don’t you remember?”
“That was just the interrogation report!”
“It counts as a confession.”
“You GOT TO BE FUCKING JOKING! This is insane!”
“Anyway, the US embassy has been notified of your arrest. They’ll send someone to see you in a few days. I will now take you for questioning,” he says, walking to the back of the chair.
“Noooo! No more! Please! I didn’t sleep at all! I’m exhausted!” she whimpers, while the chair is pushed out of her cell, and into a soundproofed interrogation room.
Once there, Yoshida pushes the restraining chair under a table, until Becca’s waist is close to the edge. He then sits on an office chair at the opposite side of the table. This setup inadvertently leaves her bare feet sticking out from under the table right next to him.
“As you can see, my English is quite acceptable, so we won’t be needing an interpreter. Do you agree?”
“That’s fine. The last one didn’t do me any good, anyway.”
“So, how many grams of meth did you buy?”
“Oh God’s dammit... Not this again... I didn’t buy anything...” she whimpers. They go back and forth on this topic for about 15 minutes, at which point the interrogator glances down at Becca’s feet and smirks.
Becca has an immensely cute pair of size 10 (US) feet. They have short, adorable, Roman-shaped toes; high arches; and silky smooth, milky skin, with lovely pink highlights. Her soles are exquisitely soft because she takes good care of her feet, and because she rarely walks barefoot, even at home.
The interrogator casually reaches out to them, and brushes his fingers up her left sole. This act causes her to instantly hide her left foot behind the other one, and squeal with a mix of fear and surprise on her face.
“Yeeeeeearg! Don’t do that! I hate it!” she protests.
“What?” he asks, playing dumb, then spidering his fingers under her right sole.
“Nononohohohoho! Not tickling! I can’t stand it!” she protests again, scrambling her feet wildly.
"How much did you buy?" he insists, scrambling his fingernails into her squirming feet.
Becca bursts out laughing, "Bwaaaa! Ha-ha-ha-haaa! Stop! Ahhh-ha-ha-ha! I hate tickling!"
"Then you better talk, Becca-San. Tickle, tickle!" He taunts her, brushing his fingertips up and down her soft soles.
"YAAAAARG!" She squeals, struggling like mad, in complete revolt against the way she's being treated. "STOOOAP! HA-HA-HA-HA-HAAA! THIS IS TORTURE!"
"This? This is nothing. Leaves no markings. Gouchie, gouchie, goooo!"
"BWAAA-HAA-HAAAA! PLEASE STOP! I HATE IT! I HATE IT! HAAA-HA-HA-HA! I WANT A LAWYER!"
This demand makes him stop tickling. "Do you have a lawyer to call?"
Becca sighs with relief and replies, "Of course not! I want to be appointed a lawyer!"
“We don’t do that in Japan. If you don’t have a lawyer, you can get one through your embassy.”
“Then that’s what I want! I want to talk to the embassy!”
To Becca's great relief, officer Yoshida asks her to sign the interrogation report, then pushes her back to her cell. After lunch, she's freed and taken to a telephone, for a chat with the US embassy. The embassy people give her a lawyer’s phone number, which she memorizes and calls straight away. The lawyer explains to her the basics of the Japanese detention system, and gives her legal advice.
"Tell them nothing and sign nothing unless you absolutely have to! They will twist everything you say and turn it against you!"
"I already signed a few things..."
"Then sign nothing else! If you're innocent, then don't act compliant. That's interpreted by the judges as a sign that you feel guilty."
"That's insane... And they're keeping me strapped to a chair! I wasn't able to sleep!"
"They can restrain you however they like, but that thing you said about killing yourself gave them the perfect excuse. Now you'll have to deal with it."
"Oh my God... And they tickled me during the interrogation!"
"Did they? That's a new one. Was there an interpreter present?"
"No... I agreed that it wasn't necessary because the officer speaks good English..."
"Oh dear... You really screwed yourself... Tickling leaves no trace, so as long as there's no witness, they can tickle you all they want."
"Shit! I can't stand being tickled!"
"Do you have any phone numbers memorized?"
"No. Why?"
"Because on the rare occasions you'll be allowed a phone call, you need to have the number memorized."
"WHO THE HELL MEMORIZES PHONE NUMBERS?!"
"I know it's outdated, but that's the way it works."
"How long can they keep me? They haven't made any charges!"
"In your case... You should get ready for a long stay. They can detain you for interrogation for 3 days, plus 20 days per criminal charge, and they got you for assault, lack of ID, and buying illegal narcotics. So... Up to 63 days."
Becca drops her jaw in complete horror. The lawyer continues, "And they're serious about drug offences, so you can bet they'll keep you for as long as they can, to make you confess and incriminate yourself as much as possible."
After speaking to her lawyer, Becca is taken back to her cell and restrained again. The rest of her day is absolutely terrible. She's bored out of her skull, barely able to move, and released only to use the bathroom. At least she manages to sleep a few hours during the night, out of sheer exhaustion and boredom.
The next day, she's pushed back to the interrogation room. Her worst fear is confirmed when she sees the interrogator sitting directly in front of her feet.
He casually removes her slippers, exposing her lovely, silky smooth soles. Despite her squirming, he ties her big toes together with a soft string. Then, he pushes back her feet, and ties up her big toes to the belt strapped over her knees.
"You bastard! Don't torture me!" She protests, scrunching down her toes and trying to lean her feet forward.
"So, let's talk about the meth you bought," he says, pulling a couple raven feathers from a pocket inside his jacket.
Becca widens her eyes in fear and hardens her every muscle. She squeals fearfully, then begs and pleads until the feathery tips begin to stroke up and down her soles, at which point she starts giggling uncontrollably. "IIIRK! Nonono! Please don't tickle me! No! Please don't! Yaaaaarg! Teeehehehehe!"
With obvious sadistic pleasure, the interrogator starts exploring her big, sexy feet with the feathers. He first applies their strong, rounded tips to the middle of each shivering foot, then starts dragging them sideways under the deep wrinkles caused by her intense toe scrunching.
"Haaaaa-haaaa-haaaa! It tickles! It tickles! Stop! Yaaaaa-haaa-haaa! Please I can't stand it!" she begs, filling the small room with forcibly extracted giggles.
Over the first hour of questioning, the interrogator doesn't actually ask that many questions. Instead, he focuses on studying her feet with the feathers, trying to learn where she's the most ticklish. Her feet seem to have nothing but intensely ticklish skin from the bottom of her heels to the tips of her toes, but her toes and arches appear to be a little more ticklish than everywhere else.
He's now holding back her toes to drag a feather sideways over their bases. Poor Becca howls with laughter, twisting and convulsing her body. "Hahahaha! Noooohohohohohooo! Yaaahahahaha! Please stop! Please stop! STOOOAP! Gaaaahahahahahaaaa!"
"How much meth? How much meth? We can do this all morning, you know?"
"NONE! Haaahahahahaaa! Didn't buy! Eeeeek! Heeeehehehehehee!"
He then picks up the second feather and starts teasing up and down her arches.
"Yaaaaaaarg! Shiiiiiiit! Yiiiiiiiihihihihihiiii! ASSHOLE! Haaahahahahahaaa!" she squeals with laughter and squirms wildly.
"Tickle, tickle, tickle! Such big, ticklish feet, Becca-San! Perfect to tickle, tickle, tickle!" he taunts her.
"AAAARG! FUCK YOU! Haaahahahahahaaa!"
"Is this too easy for you? How do you like this, then?" he asks, dropping the feathers and softly spidering his fingernails against the balls of her feet.
"YAAAAA! HAA-HAA-HAAA! STOOOAP! NONONO! PLEASE! YEEEEAARG! HEE-HEE-HEEE!" she explodes with hearty cackles.
"This better? This better, Becca-San? Tickle, tickle, tickle, tickle! I tickle you all morning, just like this! You want that?"
"I CAN’T STAND IT! HA-HA-HA-HA-HA! PLEASE STOP! NOO-HOHOHOHOHOO!"
"I stop only if you confess! How much meth?"
"FUUCK! HA-HA-HA-HA-HA! ONE THOUSAND YEN! HEEEEE-HE-HE-HE-HE-HE!”
He pauses the tickling and asks, “One thousand yen? That wouldn’t even buy you a used meth plastic bag. What much did you really spend?”
Trying to stop her giggling, Becca says, “I meant... Hehehehe... Ten thousand... Hahaha...”
“That’s more like it. Still kinda low, but okay. What did you do with it?”
“I... I... I changed my mind... And flushed it down the toilet...” she keeps lying, desperate for a break from the tickling.
“Now THAT, I won’t believe,” he says, starting to drag his index nails in circles on her heels.
Becca opens her eyes wide and shrieks. She then erupts into sharp cackling, struggling intensely. “HIIIIIIIIIIRK! HIIIII-HIIIII-HIIIII-HIIIII-HIIIIIIIIII! Stopstopstop IT! HIIIIIIII-HIIIII-HIIIII-HIIIII!”
“Tickle, tickle! My wife can’t stand this for more than 10 seconds. How about you?”
“HIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIRK! I CAN’T EITHER! HIIIIIIIIII-HIIIIIII-HIIIIIIIIII-HIIIIIIIII!” Becca cries out. By the look on her face, she looks as though she’s literally going insane.
“Awwww... What a shame... Because unlike her, you have to take it... Gouchie, gouchie, gooo! Teeen... Niiiine... Eiiiight... Seeeven... Siiiix...”
“STOOOP IT! HIIIIIIIIII-HIIIII-HIIIIII-HIIIIIII!”
“Fiiiiive... Foooour... Threee... Twooo... Ooooone... That’s it! My wife would have pulled her feet away now. Not you, though... Your feet have to stay riiiight heeeere... Do you want it to stop?”
“YEEEEEEEEEEES! HIIIIIIIIII-HIIIIIIII-HIIIIIIIII-HIIIIIIII! I’M LOSING MY MIIIIIIND!”
“Then tell me what you did with the meth, and I’ll stop straight away...”
“I DIIIIIIIIIIIIIIID! HIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIRK! HIIIIIIIIII-HIIIIIIIII-HIIIIIIIII!”
After about 2 minutes of this grueling torment, Becca’s reactions stop being quite as desperate. So officer Yoshida suddenly spiders his nails up her soles. This takes the girl completely by surprise, causing her to explode with a more normal type of laughing. He digs into the middle of her soles for a few more seconds, then goes back to her heels.
“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! HIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIRK! HIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-HIIIIIIIIIII-HIIIIIIIIII!” Becca howls, going completely mental not just from the tickling, but from the realization that she’s in for more of the same.
Fifteen minutes later, Becca seems as though she’s about to pass out, so the interrogator gives her a break. “You took all of this without changing your story, so it must mean that it’s true,” he says, watching Becca huffing and puffing with a crazed look in her eyes. “We’ll revisit that later. For now, I’ll settle for your thumb at the bottom of the interrogation report. Would you mind?”
Remembering the lawyer’s words, Becca utters, “I’m not... Signing... Anything...”
Officer Yoshida raises an eyebrow, as well as his wiggling fingers. Becca shudders and struggles, but fails to change her situation in any way; her big, ticklish feet are still hopelessly bound and exposed.
“You’ll need some more convincing, then,” he says, placing his palms over her soles, and then rubbing in circles. “Very, very nice... You have such big, baby-soft feet, Becca-San... I could just tickle them for days, and days, and days... And I will...” With those last words, he starts lovingly nuzzling his fingernails into her soles, moving them in circles.
“YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARG! HAAAAAAAAA-HAAAAAAAAA-HAAAAAAAAA!” Becca howls with laughter, and launches herself into a crazed struggle against the chair, but it's a lost cause. Whatever she does, her sexy soles remain trapped under his agonizingly tickly, grazing fingernails.
The next morning, the interrogator comes into Becca’s cell to give her the news; the worst news; the news she was dreading to receive. As usual, she’s restrained to her anti-suicide chair, which ironicaly, is making her want to kill herself for the first time in her life -- it’s funny how anti-suicide measures can do that to someone.
“The judge approved a 30 day extension for your detention; ten days for each offence. Isn’t that grand? Think of all the fun we’re going to have!” he announces sadistically, kneeling in front of her.
Becca can’t even respond. She’s paralized with fear. Her brain is struggling to process the fact that she’s going to have to stay in this living hell for a full month, most likely two.
Yoshida then picks up the bottom of the thin blanket and flips it up. To his surprise, her feet are covered by fuzzy, cotton socks. “Where did you get socks?” he asks, taking hold of her feet and caressing the cotton surface, feeling Becca’s warm feet underneath.
“I... I... I was cold... I asked for them...” she utters, still in shock.
“What a good idea. This will help keep them soft,” he says with a grin. Becca shudders in horror.
Yoshida pulls the blanket off her, and starts pushing the chair out of the cell.
Soon, Becca’s back in the interrogation room, or as she’s started to think of it, her tickle-torture chamber.
“I have some more news for you,” the police officer says, “Firstly, we have new toys to play with.” With those words, he shows Becca the raven feathers, waving them in front of her face, then places them on the table. He then does the same with two Chinese calligraphy brushes and with a pair of chopsticks. The brushes don't scare her much, but the chopsticks send her into a fit of convulsions.
Yoshida laughs at her, then shows her a bottle of baby lotion, and a set of steel, single-piece toecuffs. The lotion joins the tools on the table, but he pockets the cuffs as he sits in front of her feet, and starts massaging them over the socks.
“Don’t... Don’t touch my feet... You have... No right...” she protests, feeling like her feet don’t really belong to her anymore.
Ignoring her, the officer grabs her socks by the toes and starts slowly pulling them off, enjoying the gradual reveal of their delightful contents, as well as the anxiety this is causing poor Becca. Once her feet are bare, she immediately presses them together with the toes scrunched down.
Yoshida makes a feeble effort to separate them, aiming to fit her big toes with the cuffs, but she resists him. “Mrrrrrrh!” she groans.
Instead of insisting, he smirks and picks up the brushes. They both have short shafts and long, thick, white bristles. The bristles are completely dry and a bit roughed up, making each brush look like a miniature broomstick. Without telling her anything, he starts dragging the bristles up and down the outer sides of her feet.
Becca widens her eyes and groans, with a smile quickly taking over her lips.
“How do you like them? These brushes are made with goat hair. Very soft, aren’t they? And yet... They’ve got a bit of an edge. It’s hard to describe.”
“Pleeeease stooooap...” she moans.
“You know, when I was a kid I used to drive my baby sister nuts by teasing her tender little feet with a writing brush. She would pull her tiny feet away instantly, giggling like crazy. Such shame you can’t pull away...”
Becca starts to convulse whilst rubbing her feet together. At the same time, giggles begin to leak through her tightly pressed lips. “Teehehehehehe...”
“Let it out, baby Becca. Tickle, tickle, tickle... You can’t escape it... Not you... My wife can escape, and so could my sister, but not you. You’re stuck. Gouchie, gouchie, goo...”
“Yaaaarg! Hahahahaha! Knock it off!” she revolts, separating her feet and squirming them wildly, in an effort to evade the brushes. The officer is quick to react, placing one hand between her feet with a tight grip on her right big toe.
“Nooooooo!” Becca howls, as the metallic cuff is locked around her big. She scrunches down her left toes, but with a few fingernail tickles, the interrogator forces them open. Soon, both big toes are secured within the cuffs, preventing each foot from protecting the other. By this point, Becca gives up trying to resist, and so doesn’t fight as her feet are pushed back and the cuffs are tied to the belt.
“Alright!” Yoshida exclaims, smiling hugely. “Time to give you the second piece of news. Did you know that sometimes the police will do marathon interrogations?”
Becca doesn’t reply, but she does swallow dryly.
“The longest one I’ve ever heard of was 5 days and 5 nights straight,” he says, causing her to gasp in fear. “Today, Becca-San, I booked this room for the whole day. We’re going to stay here, you and me, until midnight.”
“No... No! NOOOOO!” she cries out, struggling wildly, “HEEEEELP!”
He picks up the brushes and starts dragging their tickly bristles up and down her soles, whist saying, “I’m going to tickle, tickle, tickle your big, ticklish feet all, day, long.”
“Yaaaaaaarg! Haaaaa-Haaa-Haaa-Haaa! Please stop! Hahahaha! Please it’s so bad! Haaaa-Haaa-Haa-Haa-Haaa!” she howls with laughter. “What do you want to know?!”
“Not a thing! Not today. Today I’m just going to tickle you. Like I always wanted to tickle my sister and my wife. I’m going to spend all day tickling you insane, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”
“NOOOOOO! Haaa-Haaa-Haaa-Haaaa! I confess! I’ll sign anything!”
“Save it for tomorrow, Becca-San. Tickle, tickle, tickle...” he says, cruelly brushing up and down her soles.
The poor girl howls with laughter, going insane both from the maddening sensations, and from knowing her tickle-torture marathon in only just begining.
Several hours later, Yoshida lays down the brushes -- for now -- Poor Becca is a complete mess, and her day isn’t even half-way. Her face is brushed brightly and covered in tears of laughter. The officer gives her a minute to normalize her breathing, then lets her drink from a sports water bottle with a straw.
When she appears to be okay, Yoshida picks up a chopstick; a proper chopstick, unlike the disgardable ones Becca used before. Disgardable chopsticks tend to be square-shaped, to make them easier to use by people who don’t eat with chopsticks on a daily basis. The stick that’s being held in front of her feet has smooth corners, and the tip which makes contact with the food is perfectly round.
The officer places the smooth tip against her right arch, and begins to draw small circles with it. Becca was expecting it to scratch, because she always uses chopsticks with sharp edges; but not this one. It doesn’t scratch, it simply feels... Tickly. Intensely tickly.
“Oh shit,” she simply utters, as a smile quickly takes over her lips. This is followed by a series of groans and convulsions, and ends with a mighty cackle. “Mrrrrrrrg! Mrrrrrg! Mrrrrrrrrg! Bwaaaaa! Ha-Ha-Ha-HA-HA-HAAAAA!”
Yoshida smiles evilly, clearly pleased with her reactions, and carries on with the torture, probing her foot with the chopstick’s thin, hard, rounded tip.
"BWAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAAA!" Becca screams with laughter, as the little stick travels all over her sole, either drawing little circles or spinning in place over a suspected sweetspot.
"You like it here, Becca-San?" the man asks, pressing and spinning the stick against the very center of Becca's foot. If her hysterical reactions are any indication, she doesn't like it one bit.
Moments later, he picks up the second chopstick and starts dragging them both down her other arch, in an endless cascade of unbearably tickly sensations.
"YAAAAAAH! HAAAA-HAAAAAA-HAAAA! I'M DYING!" she howls. It's not clear if she meant those words as a warning or as wishful thinking, but either way, she remains very much alive, and her big, sexy feet remain stuck in place, suffering horrendously under the chopsticks' ticklish dance.
On this day, Becca learns the true meaning of the phrase "tickle-torture". Minute after minute, hour after hour, her poor, helpless feet are subjected to an endless parade of sensations; some soft, some hard, some fletting, some persistent, but all ticklish, and all forcing her to laugh.
As her torture enters its 10th hour, Becca is only able to laugh softly while a handful of fingernails teases her soles, and a brush travels sideways under her faintly twitching toes. She's spent, exhausted, and completely broken. She's willing to confess and sign anything at all, as long as it makes the tickling stop. Unfortunately, Yoshida makes no such offer. His sole interest for the day is to tickle her like he's never tickled anyone ever before.
Once the tickling marathon is finally finished, the officer frees her feet from the toe cuffs, rubs a big dose of baby lotion onto them, and covers them with the socks, like a boy putting away his favorite toys. He then takes her back to her cell.
Becca's a wreck, but still awake. "Let me... Lay down... Please..." She begs him.
The officer is moved by her utterly miserable appearance, and so fetches a tatami mat, a set of leather, wrist and ankle cuffs, and tucks her down to sleep, still restrained, but at least able to change her position and shield her eyes from the persistent luminosity.
The next morning, Becca is finally allowed to shower, feed, and take care of herself. Unfortunately, these activities prove themselves rather tricky to perform with her wrists and ankles cuffed, so she ends up needing assistance yet again.
She begs and begs to be set free, but no one trusts her because of that suicide misunderstanding, and because Yoshida wants her to be kept in restraints as a way of exerting pressure. That's the oficial motive, but secretly, he wants her to be in bondage around the clock because he's using her to live his fantasy of having a real tickle-slave.
While Becca is waiting to be taken to her morning interrogation, the persecutor in charge of her case is having a chat with officer Yoshida.
"I don't care about the American girl. She'll just be deported. The real prize is that scumbag who was trying to sell her meth."
"How can I help? He's not my detainee."
"Yoshida, the more drug buying you can make her confess to, the more I have to use against the dealer, and the longer I can keep him off the street."
The interrogator smirks and replies, "Understood. You can count on me."
Becca is once more on the restraint chair, inside the interrogation room. "Please don't tickle me anymore... Yesterday was the worst day of my entire life..." she whimpers, while Yoshida arrays the usual tools on the table.
The man sits down in front of her socked feet and takes hold of them, as if they're his own private property. Their warmth and squishiness feels wonderful to him, even through the socks.
"Let's talk about those drugs you bought."
"I already told you everything!"
"Are you sure?" he asks, starting to pull her socks off.
"Yes! Yes I swear! Please believe me!"
When her heels become uncovered, he rests his index nails on them.
"NOOOO! Not that again! Please! I'm telling the truth!" she whimpers.
"Tell me what else you bought," he demands, starting to scratch softly into her smooth heels.
"YIIIIIIIK! I've told you everything! What do you want me to say?!" she protests, suppressing the need to laugh.
Yoshida could simply tell Becca what to say, but that wouldn't be nearly as much fun. He has a whole month to play with her -- most likely 2 months -- and he intends to make those days the most fun time of his life, and the most miserable time of Becca's.
"I want to know the truth, that's all," he says softly,
“Hiii-Hiiiii-Hiiii! No you don’t! You’re a sadistic bastard! You know I didn’t buy any drugs!”
Instead of answering her verbally, he rakes his nails up her soles, pushing off her socks in the process, and of course, tickling the hell out of her.
“YAAAAAAAAA-HAAAAAAA-HAAAAAAA-HAAAAAAA!” she explodes with laughter, paddling and shaking her feet intensely.
“Hey, Becca-San, if you let me restrain your toes without making a fuss, I’ll only tickle you with feathers and brushes for the first hour. If you struggle, you’re getting fingers instead. What’s it gonna be?”
Becca reluctantly stops moving her feet, and lets him set up her big toes like yesterday. A few minutes later, she’s giggling uncontrollably while he tickles her feet, one at a time, with both a feather and a writing brush.
“Heeeee-he-HE-HE-HE! Haaaa-Hahahahaha! Please stop! Noooo-hohohoho! What do you want me to say?! Yaaarg! Haa-Haa-Haa-Haa-Haaaaa! I can’t stand it!” she giggles and pleads, while the brush travels up and down her soles, and the feather teases sideways under her toes.
Yoshida ignores her question and carries on, having a tremendous amount of fun. It’s possible that towards the end of his time with her, he might have to give her a few hints, but not yet. For now, she’s getting no hints whatsoever about the crime he wants her to confess.
“I WANNA TALK TO MY LAWYER! Haaa-Hahahaa!” she cries out, desperate to stop the torture.
The officer stops tickling and asks her, “Do you remember his number?”
“Yes! It was... Hahahaha... It was...” she starts, but then realizes that she doesn’t remember anymore; not all the digits, anyway.
“You forgot, didn’t you? It’s all over your face.”
“Zero, three... What was the rest?”
“Zero three is the Tokyo area code.”
“Zero, three... Seven, zero, five... FUCK I can’t remember the rest!”
“Hahaha! Then no more lawyer for you!” he laughs at her, then resumes the tickle-torture.
“NOOOOOO! THIS IS INSAAAAANE! Haaaaaa-Ha-HA-HA-HAAAAA!” she cries out, as the brush and the feather return to her helpless feet.
After her first week, Becca is finally visited by the embassy people, but all they can really do for her is pass along messages to her family and give her the lawyer's number. She tells them about the treatment she’s being subjected to, which has to be a gross violation of the Vienna convention, but due to her particular situation with the suicide threat, she has no credibility. Not to mention that the combined effect of the tickle-torture, isolation, sleep deprivation, restraints, and intense psychological pressure, all make her seem rather unstable. The lawyer can’t really help her either, other than by acting as a messenger, and by repeating his previous advice.
And so, Becca ends up spending 63 days in jail as a feet tickling slave. Officer Yoshida dutily interrogates her for at least 5 hours each day. And once a week, he puts her through a 24-hour-long session.
It takes Becca a long time to admit to the truth, but she eventually confesses to having bought small amounts of meth, marijuana, heroin, cocaine and LSD. Her goal was to try them all out of curiosity, but then she changed her mind and flushed them all down the toilet. Also, she admits that the stress of being arrested made her feel suicidal, a situation which persisted throughout her detention.
“I would like to thank the police for not letting me hurt myself, even though it was hard for me at the time,” she reads a statement to the judge. “If not for their safety measures, I would certainly not be here today. And I’d also like to thank them for taking such good care of me while I was unable to take care of myself. They truly went above and beyond.”
Because of Becca’s confessions, the prosecutor manages to nail the drug dealer with a considerably higher sentence. As for Becca, she accepts a deal from the prosecutor; instead of doing time in a Japanese prison, she’s deported and banned from Japan for 20 years. In exchange, she only has to read a few statements in court, and act like she means them. Becca agrees to this deal enthusiastically, because after this ordeal, she has no intention of ever setting foot in Japan again.
Hi! I'd like to share a story I wrote for a commission
I'm going to post it here in it's entirety, but if you like it, please go drop a fav or a comment on DeviantArt. I'd really appreciate it.
The story:
https://www.deviantart.com/featherheart22/art/Becca-s-Tokyo-Trip-A-Tickling-Story-878556779
Becca's Tokyo Trip
M/F ● Japanese Jail ● Tickling Interrogation ● Feet Only
Written by
FeatherHeart22
Commissioned for
femalefeettickler3
M/F ● Japanese Jail ● Tickling Interrogation ● Feet Only
Written by
FeatherHeart22
Commissioned for
femalefeettickler3
Synopsis:
Becca's trip to Japan turns into a trip to Tickle-Hell. Due to a few innocent mistakes, Becca earns a lengthy stay at a pre-trial detention center. As if this isn't bad enough, her interrogator takes advantage of her situation to live his greatest fantasy -- to have a real tickle-slave.
Notes on Realism:
From my research on the topic, this story portrays a stay at a Japanese pre-trial detention center with 70% to 80% realism.
Japan has a whoping 99% conviction rate; for comparison, the US only has 80%. The reason for this insane rate is because once you're arrested, the police can hold you for 3 days, plus 20 more for each suspected criminal charge. During this time, they will do anything other than physical torture to make you sign a confession. Including:
● Solitary confinement;
● Sleep deprivation;
● Verbal and physical intimidation;
● Constant surveillance;
● Prolonged use of body restraints such as (but not limited to) handcuffs;
● If subjected to restraints, you will have to eat your meals from bowls on the floor; also, you'll have to go to the toilet restrained, watched and unable to clean yourself;
● Long interrogation sessions (longest I read about was 5 days and nights straight);
● Being told constantly to confess;
● Limited access to legal counsel, and no lawyer permited during questioning;
● Denied access to family, friends, witnesses, etc;
● No phone calls allowed unless you have the number memorized.
◄ Becca's real-life foot ►
https://www.deviantart.com/featherheart22/art/Illustration-for-Becca-s-Tokyo-Trip-878555711
◄●►
https://www.deviantart.com/featherheart22/art/Illustration-for-Becca-s-Tokyo-Trip-878555711
◄●►
On a warm summer night, a tourist exits a restaurant, stepping out into the streets of Shibuya, one of Tokyo’s entertainment districts. The tourist is Becca, an American girl in her early twenties, with fair skin and brown eyes. Becca felt like dressing up rather stylishly for this particular evening, so she comes across as a bit of a goth-girl, but with shoulder-length hair, dyed in black and red.
She walks around the curving, narrow, incredibly crowded streets for about an hour, looking at the many restaurants and small shops. She loves how beautiful and busy this district is. The atmosphere is simply incredible.
Then a man approaches her, and tells her something in broken english she doesn’t understand. Even though she doesn’t understand what he wants, Becca gets a bad vibe from him, so she quickens her pace. The man follows her, though. Becca isn’t really trying to decipher his words, but she feels that he’s trying to sell her something.
The man is persistent, so she abruptly turns around and says, “Not interested! Leave me alone!” This response makes him angry, but also makes him stop following her. That’s when two policemen step out of the crowd and grab both of them.
“What?! Get off me!” Becca cries out and struggles. Due to her fixation with the bad vibe man, she doesn’t immediately realize that her “attacker” is a policeman; an unfortunate reaction which leads to her being arrested for assault.
◄●►
“I’ve told you! I was just surprised! I didn’t mean to hit him!” Becca explains to the police interrogator for the 15th time.
She’s now at a police station, being questioned for the third consecutive hour. The interrogator doesn’t speak English all that well, so there’s an English-Japanese interpreter present. He’s supposed to provide impartial translations, but Becca’s getting the impression that his assistance is doing her more harm than good.
“Why aren’t you carrying ID?”
Becca rolls her eyes and drops her head in frustration. She then replies, “For the millionth time... I didn’t know I’m supposed to carry my ID at all times... No one told me... I left my passport in the hotel room safe...“
“Not knowing the law is no excuse in Japan. How much meth did you buy from that dealer?”
“Oh for fuck’s sake... I DIDN’T BUY ANYTHING FROM HIM! Just search me! I don’t have any drugs!” she shouts.
“He says you bought from him yesterday. How much did you buy yesterday?”
“NONE! I wasn’t even in Shibuya yesterday!”
“Can you prove this? Do you have any witnesses?”
“Of course not! I’m a tourist! I don’t know anyone here!”
“Did you use a credit card? Do you have any receipts?”
“NO! Because my card doesn’t work almost anywhere in this damn country! I can only withdraw at the hotel!”
“Let’s go over it again.”
“NO! ENOUGH! I’m tired of this! It must be almost 1am by now! I spent all day walking around the city! I’m exhausted! I’m dying to get in bed! Please let me go!”
The interpreter and the interrogator exchange words briefly, apparently debating something that she said. The interrogator then says, “You’re not going back to the hotel. Especially if you’re suicidal.”
“WHAAAAAT?! WHERE DID YOU GET THAT IDEA?! I’M NOT SUICIDAL!”
“You just said that you’re going to kill youself if we don’t let you go.”
“THAT’S NOT WHAT I SAID! YOU TWO ARE TWISTING EVERYTHING I SAY!”
From this point on, Becca is nearly hysterical due to frustration, tiredness and psychological pressure. After another 30 minutes, the interrogator tells her she can go rest, but only if she signs his report of the interrogation. She complies straight away, signing with a fingerprint.
A few minutes later, several other officers escort her into a van. She’s expecting to be taken to the hotel, but instead, they drive her to a detention center. Too tired and frustrated to complain, Becca cooperates with the humiliating strip search and processing. Soon, she’s wearing a sea green outfit, similar to a medical scrubs uniform, and a pair of open toe, plastic slippers.
Despite her willingness to cooperate, she can’t help but groan and try to squirm away when she sees her cell for the night. It’s a windowless, bare walled, concrete room, with a wheeled restraining chair in the middle, similar to a dentist's chair.
“Oh come ON! Just WHY?! I’m not a suicide risk!” she moans, but nevertheless, the prison officers strap her down firmly, with cuffs around her ankles and wrists, and with belts over her knees, waist, chest, and forehead.
Finally, they take off her slippers and cover her with a thin blanket, to make her a little bit more comfortable. Poor Becca doesn’t manage to get a single minute of sleep because of the bondage, which doesn’t let her adjust her position, and because she’s not used to sleeping with the lights on -- in Japanese jails, the lights are never switched off, only slightly dimmed at night.
◄●►
Come morning, she’s feeling terrible. Two female prison officers pay her a visit, to spoon feed her her breakfast, and to let her use a toilet. To her dismay, they insist on restraining her again after the bathroom visit.
Becca spends the whole morning in this miserable state, with only occasional visits to give her water. Some time before lunch, a man enters her cell and announces himself as officer Yoshida, her new interrogator. He tells her in acceptable English that her case is with a prosecutor, who within the next 72h, will decide to either let her go, or ask a judge to extend her detention.
“This is crazy! I didn’t do anything! What are you even charging me with?!”
“No charges yet, but from your signed confession, you’ll probably be charged with assaulting a police officer, acquiring illegal narcotics, and not having a valid ID.”
“WHAT CONFESSION?!”
“You signed a confession last night with a fingerprint. Don’t you remember?”
“That was just the interrogation report!”
“It counts as a confession.”
“You GOT TO BE FUCKING JOKING! This is insane!”
“Anyway, the US embassy has been notified of your arrest. They’ll send someone to see you in a few days. I will now take you for questioning,” he says, walking to the back of the chair.
“Noooo! No more! Please! I didn’t sleep at all! I’m exhausted!” she whimpers, while the chair is pushed out of her cell, and into a soundproofed interrogation room.
Once there, Yoshida pushes the restraining chair under a table, until Becca’s waist is close to the edge. He then sits on an office chair at the opposite side of the table. This setup inadvertently leaves her bare feet sticking out from under the table right next to him.
“As you can see, my English is quite acceptable, so we won’t be needing an interpreter. Do you agree?”
“That’s fine. The last one didn’t do me any good, anyway.”
“So, how many grams of meth did you buy?”
“Oh God’s dammit... Not this again... I didn’t buy anything...” she whimpers. They go back and forth on this topic for about 15 minutes, at which point the interrogator glances down at Becca’s feet and smirks.
Becca has an immensely cute pair of size 10 (US) feet. They have short, adorable, Roman-shaped toes; high arches; and silky smooth, milky skin, with lovely pink highlights. Her soles are exquisitely soft because she takes good care of her feet, and because she rarely walks barefoot, even at home.
The interrogator casually reaches out to them, and brushes his fingers up her left sole. This act causes her to instantly hide her left foot behind the other one, and squeal with a mix of fear and surprise on her face.
“Yeeeeeearg! Don’t do that! I hate it!” she protests.
“What?” he asks, playing dumb, then spidering his fingers under her right sole.
“Nononohohohoho! Not tickling! I can’t stand it!” she protests again, scrambling her feet wildly.
"How much did you buy?" he insists, scrambling his fingernails into her squirming feet.
Becca bursts out laughing, "Bwaaaa! Ha-ha-ha-haaa! Stop! Ahhh-ha-ha-ha! I hate tickling!"
"Then you better talk, Becca-San. Tickle, tickle!" He taunts her, brushing his fingertips up and down her soft soles.
"YAAAAARG!" She squeals, struggling like mad, in complete revolt against the way she's being treated. "STOOOAP! HA-HA-HA-HA-HAAA! THIS IS TORTURE!"
"This? This is nothing. Leaves no markings. Gouchie, gouchie, goooo!"
"BWAAA-HAA-HAAAA! PLEASE STOP! I HATE IT! I HATE IT! HAAA-HA-HA-HA! I WANT A LAWYER!"
This demand makes him stop tickling. "Do you have a lawyer to call?"
Becca sighs with relief and replies, "Of course not! I want to be appointed a lawyer!"
“We don’t do that in Japan. If you don’t have a lawyer, you can get one through your embassy.”
“Then that’s what I want! I want to talk to the embassy!”
To Becca's great relief, officer Yoshida asks her to sign the interrogation report, then pushes her back to her cell. After lunch, she's freed and taken to a telephone, for a chat with the US embassy. The embassy people give her a lawyer’s phone number, which she memorizes and calls straight away. The lawyer explains to her the basics of the Japanese detention system, and gives her legal advice.
"Tell them nothing and sign nothing unless you absolutely have to! They will twist everything you say and turn it against you!"
"I already signed a few things..."
"Then sign nothing else! If you're innocent, then don't act compliant. That's interpreted by the judges as a sign that you feel guilty."
"That's insane... And they're keeping me strapped to a chair! I wasn't able to sleep!"
"They can restrain you however they like, but that thing you said about killing yourself gave them the perfect excuse. Now you'll have to deal with it."
"Oh my God... And they tickled me during the interrogation!"
"Did they? That's a new one. Was there an interpreter present?"
"No... I agreed that it wasn't necessary because the officer speaks good English..."
"Oh dear... You really screwed yourself... Tickling leaves no trace, so as long as there's no witness, they can tickle you all they want."
"Shit! I can't stand being tickled!"
"Do you have any phone numbers memorized?"
"No. Why?"
"Because on the rare occasions you'll be allowed a phone call, you need to have the number memorized."
"WHO THE HELL MEMORIZES PHONE NUMBERS?!"
"I know it's outdated, but that's the way it works."
"How long can they keep me? They haven't made any charges!"
"In your case... You should get ready for a long stay. They can detain you for interrogation for 3 days, plus 20 days per criminal charge, and they got you for assault, lack of ID, and buying illegal narcotics. So... Up to 63 days."
Becca drops her jaw in complete horror. The lawyer continues, "And they're serious about drug offences, so you can bet they'll keep you for as long as they can, to make you confess and incriminate yourself as much as possible."
◄●►
After speaking to her lawyer, Becca is taken back to her cell and restrained again. The rest of her day is absolutely terrible. She's bored out of her skull, barely able to move, and released only to use the bathroom. At least she manages to sleep a few hours during the night, out of sheer exhaustion and boredom.
The next day, she's pushed back to the interrogation room. Her worst fear is confirmed when she sees the interrogator sitting directly in front of her feet.
He casually removes her slippers, exposing her lovely, silky smooth soles. Despite her squirming, he ties her big toes together with a soft string. Then, he pushes back her feet, and ties up her big toes to the belt strapped over her knees.
"You bastard! Don't torture me!" She protests, scrunching down her toes and trying to lean her feet forward.
"So, let's talk about the meth you bought," he says, pulling a couple raven feathers from a pocket inside his jacket.
Becca widens her eyes in fear and hardens her every muscle. She squeals fearfully, then begs and pleads until the feathery tips begin to stroke up and down her soles, at which point she starts giggling uncontrollably. "IIIRK! Nonono! Please don't tickle me! No! Please don't! Yaaaaarg! Teeehehehehe!"
With obvious sadistic pleasure, the interrogator starts exploring her big, sexy feet with the feathers. He first applies their strong, rounded tips to the middle of each shivering foot, then starts dragging them sideways under the deep wrinkles caused by her intense toe scrunching.
"Haaaaa-haaaa-haaaa! It tickles! It tickles! Stop! Yaaaaa-haaa-haaa! Please I can't stand it!" she begs, filling the small room with forcibly extracted giggles.
◄●►
Over the first hour of questioning, the interrogator doesn't actually ask that many questions. Instead, he focuses on studying her feet with the feathers, trying to learn where she's the most ticklish. Her feet seem to have nothing but intensely ticklish skin from the bottom of her heels to the tips of her toes, but her toes and arches appear to be a little more ticklish than everywhere else.
He's now holding back her toes to drag a feather sideways over their bases. Poor Becca howls with laughter, twisting and convulsing her body. "Hahahaha! Noooohohohohohooo! Yaaahahahaha! Please stop! Please stop! STOOOAP! Gaaaahahahahahaaaa!"
"How much meth? How much meth? We can do this all morning, you know?"
"NONE! Haaahahahahaaa! Didn't buy! Eeeeek! Heeeehehehehehee!"
He then picks up the second feather and starts teasing up and down her arches.
"Yaaaaaaarg! Shiiiiiiit! Yiiiiiiiihihihihihiiii! ASSHOLE! Haaahahahahahaaa!" she squeals with laughter and squirms wildly.
"Tickle, tickle, tickle! Such big, ticklish feet, Becca-San! Perfect to tickle, tickle, tickle!" he taunts her.
"AAAARG! FUCK YOU! Haaahahahahahaaa!"
"Is this too easy for you? How do you like this, then?" he asks, dropping the feathers and softly spidering his fingernails against the balls of her feet.
"YAAAAA! HAA-HAA-HAAA! STOOOAP! NONONO! PLEASE! YEEEEAARG! HEE-HEE-HEEE!" she explodes with hearty cackles.
"This better? This better, Becca-San? Tickle, tickle, tickle, tickle! I tickle you all morning, just like this! You want that?"
"I CAN’T STAND IT! HA-HA-HA-HA-HA! PLEASE STOP! NOO-HOHOHOHOHOO!"
"I stop only if you confess! How much meth?"
"FUUCK! HA-HA-HA-HA-HA! ONE THOUSAND YEN! HEEEEE-HE-HE-HE-HE-HE!”
He pauses the tickling and asks, “One thousand yen? That wouldn’t even buy you a used meth plastic bag. What much did you really spend?”
Trying to stop her giggling, Becca says, “I meant... Hehehehe... Ten thousand... Hahaha...”
“That’s more like it. Still kinda low, but okay. What did you do with it?”
“I... I... I changed my mind... And flushed it down the toilet...” she keeps lying, desperate for a break from the tickling.
“Now THAT, I won’t believe,” he says, starting to drag his index nails in circles on her heels.
Becca opens her eyes wide and shrieks. She then erupts into sharp cackling, struggling intensely. “HIIIIIIIIIIRK! HIIIII-HIIIII-HIIIII-HIIIII-HIIIIIIIIII! Stopstopstop IT! HIIIIIIII-HIIIII-HIIIII-HIIIII!”
“Tickle, tickle! My wife can’t stand this for more than 10 seconds. How about you?”
“HIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIRK! I CAN’T EITHER! HIIIIIIIIII-HIIIIIII-HIIIIIIIIII-HIIIIIIIII!” Becca cries out. By the look on her face, she looks as though she’s literally going insane.
“Awwww... What a shame... Because unlike her, you have to take it... Gouchie, gouchie, gooo! Teeen... Niiiine... Eiiiight... Seeeven... Siiiix...”
“STOOOP IT! HIIIIIIIIII-HIIIII-HIIIIII-HIIIIIII!”
“Fiiiiive... Foooour... Threee... Twooo... Ooooone... That’s it! My wife would have pulled her feet away now. Not you, though... Your feet have to stay riiiight heeeere... Do you want it to stop?”
“YEEEEEEEEEEES! HIIIIIIIIII-HIIIIIIII-HIIIIIIIII-HIIIIIIII! I’M LOSING MY MIIIIIIND!”
“Then tell me what you did with the meth, and I’ll stop straight away...”
“I DIIIIIIIIIIIIIIID! HIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIRK! HIIIIIIIIII-HIIIIIIIII-HIIIIIIIII!”
After about 2 minutes of this grueling torment, Becca’s reactions stop being quite as desperate. So officer Yoshida suddenly spiders his nails up her soles. This takes the girl completely by surprise, causing her to explode with a more normal type of laughing. He digs into the middle of her soles for a few more seconds, then goes back to her heels.
“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! HIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIRK! HIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-HIIIIIIIIIII-HIIIIIIIIII!” Becca howls, going completely mental not just from the tickling, but from the realization that she’s in for more of the same.
◄●►
Fifteen minutes later, Becca seems as though she’s about to pass out, so the interrogator gives her a break. “You took all of this without changing your story, so it must mean that it’s true,” he says, watching Becca huffing and puffing with a crazed look in her eyes. “We’ll revisit that later. For now, I’ll settle for your thumb at the bottom of the interrogation report. Would you mind?”
Remembering the lawyer’s words, Becca utters, “I’m not... Signing... Anything...”
Officer Yoshida raises an eyebrow, as well as his wiggling fingers. Becca shudders and struggles, but fails to change her situation in any way; her big, ticklish feet are still hopelessly bound and exposed.
“You’ll need some more convincing, then,” he says, placing his palms over her soles, and then rubbing in circles. “Very, very nice... You have such big, baby-soft feet, Becca-San... I could just tickle them for days, and days, and days... And I will...” With those last words, he starts lovingly nuzzling his fingernails into her soles, moving them in circles.
“YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARG! HAAAAAAAAA-HAAAAAAAAA-HAAAAAAAAA!” Becca howls with laughter, and launches herself into a crazed struggle against the chair, but it's a lost cause. Whatever she does, her sexy soles remain trapped under his agonizingly tickly, grazing fingernails.
◄●►
The next morning, the interrogator comes into Becca’s cell to give her the news; the worst news; the news she was dreading to receive. As usual, she’s restrained to her anti-suicide chair, which ironicaly, is making her want to kill herself for the first time in her life -- it’s funny how anti-suicide measures can do that to someone.
“The judge approved a 30 day extension for your detention; ten days for each offence. Isn’t that grand? Think of all the fun we’re going to have!” he announces sadistically, kneeling in front of her.
Becca can’t even respond. She’s paralized with fear. Her brain is struggling to process the fact that she’s going to have to stay in this living hell for a full month, most likely two.
Yoshida then picks up the bottom of the thin blanket and flips it up. To his surprise, her feet are covered by fuzzy, cotton socks. “Where did you get socks?” he asks, taking hold of her feet and caressing the cotton surface, feeling Becca’s warm feet underneath.
“I... I... I was cold... I asked for them...” she utters, still in shock.
“What a good idea. This will help keep them soft,” he says with a grin. Becca shudders in horror.
Yoshida pulls the blanket off her, and starts pushing the chair out of the cell.
◄●►
Soon, Becca’s back in the interrogation room, or as she’s started to think of it, her tickle-torture chamber.
“I have some more news for you,” the police officer says, “Firstly, we have new toys to play with.” With those words, he shows Becca the raven feathers, waving them in front of her face, then places them on the table. He then does the same with two Chinese calligraphy brushes and with a pair of chopsticks. The brushes don't scare her much, but the chopsticks send her into a fit of convulsions.
Yoshida laughs at her, then shows her a bottle of baby lotion, and a set of steel, single-piece toecuffs. The lotion joins the tools on the table, but he pockets the cuffs as he sits in front of her feet, and starts massaging them over the socks.
“Don’t... Don’t touch my feet... You have... No right...” she protests, feeling like her feet don’t really belong to her anymore.
Ignoring her, the officer grabs her socks by the toes and starts slowly pulling them off, enjoying the gradual reveal of their delightful contents, as well as the anxiety this is causing poor Becca. Once her feet are bare, she immediately presses them together with the toes scrunched down.
Yoshida makes a feeble effort to separate them, aiming to fit her big toes with the cuffs, but she resists him. “Mrrrrrrh!” she groans.
Instead of insisting, he smirks and picks up the brushes. They both have short shafts and long, thick, white bristles. The bristles are completely dry and a bit roughed up, making each brush look like a miniature broomstick. Without telling her anything, he starts dragging the bristles up and down the outer sides of her feet.
Becca widens her eyes and groans, with a smile quickly taking over her lips.
“How do you like them? These brushes are made with goat hair. Very soft, aren’t they? And yet... They’ve got a bit of an edge. It’s hard to describe.”
“Pleeeease stooooap...” she moans.
“You know, when I was a kid I used to drive my baby sister nuts by teasing her tender little feet with a writing brush. She would pull her tiny feet away instantly, giggling like crazy. Such shame you can’t pull away...”
Becca starts to convulse whilst rubbing her feet together. At the same time, giggles begin to leak through her tightly pressed lips. “Teehehehehehe...”
“Let it out, baby Becca. Tickle, tickle, tickle... You can’t escape it... Not you... My wife can escape, and so could my sister, but not you. You’re stuck. Gouchie, gouchie, goo...”
“Yaaaarg! Hahahahaha! Knock it off!” she revolts, separating her feet and squirming them wildly, in an effort to evade the brushes. The officer is quick to react, placing one hand between her feet with a tight grip on her right big toe.
“Nooooooo!” Becca howls, as the metallic cuff is locked around her big. She scrunches down her left toes, but with a few fingernail tickles, the interrogator forces them open. Soon, both big toes are secured within the cuffs, preventing each foot from protecting the other. By this point, Becca gives up trying to resist, and so doesn’t fight as her feet are pushed back and the cuffs are tied to the belt.
“Alright!” Yoshida exclaims, smiling hugely. “Time to give you the second piece of news. Did you know that sometimes the police will do marathon interrogations?”
Becca doesn’t reply, but she does swallow dryly.
“The longest one I’ve ever heard of was 5 days and 5 nights straight,” he says, causing her to gasp in fear. “Today, Becca-San, I booked this room for the whole day. We’re going to stay here, you and me, until midnight.”
“No... No! NOOOOO!” she cries out, struggling wildly, “HEEEEELP!”
He picks up the brushes and starts dragging their tickly bristles up and down her soles, whist saying, “I’m going to tickle, tickle, tickle your big, ticklish feet all, day, long.”
“Yaaaaaaarg! Haaaaa-Haaa-Haaa-Haaa! Please stop! Hahahaha! Please it’s so bad! Haaaa-Haaa-Haa-Haa-Haaa!” she howls with laughter. “What do you want to know?!”
“Not a thing! Not today. Today I’m just going to tickle you. Like I always wanted to tickle my sister and my wife. I’m going to spend all day tickling you insane, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”
“NOOOOOO! Haaa-Haaa-Haaa-Haaaa! I confess! I’ll sign anything!”
“Save it for tomorrow, Becca-San. Tickle, tickle, tickle...” he says, cruelly brushing up and down her soles.
The poor girl howls with laughter, going insane both from the maddening sensations, and from knowing her tickle-torture marathon in only just begining.
◄●►
Several hours later, Yoshida lays down the brushes -- for now -- Poor Becca is a complete mess, and her day isn’t even half-way. Her face is brushed brightly and covered in tears of laughter. The officer gives her a minute to normalize her breathing, then lets her drink from a sports water bottle with a straw.
When she appears to be okay, Yoshida picks up a chopstick; a proper chopstick, unlike the disgardable ones Becca used before. Disgardable chopsticks tend to be square-shaped, to make them easier to use by people who don’t eat with chopsticks on a daily basis. The stick that’s being held in front of her feet has smooth corners, and the tip which makes contact with the food is perfectly round.
The officer places the smooth tip against her right arch, and begins to draw small circles with it. Becca was expecting it to scratch, because she always uses chopsticks with sharp edges; but not this one. It doesn’t scratch, it simply feels... Tickly. Intensely tickly.
“Oh shit,” she simply utters, as a smile quickly takes over her lips. This is followed by a series of groans and convulsions, and ends with a mighty cackle. “Mrrrrrrrg! Mrrrrrg! Mrrrrrrrrg! Bwaaaaa! Ha-Ha-Ha-HA-HA-HAAAAA!”
Yoshida smiles evilly, clearly pleased with her reactions, and carries on with the torture, probing her foot with the chopstick’s thin, hard, rounded tip.
"BWAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAAA!" Becca screams with laughter, as the little stick travels all over her sole, either drawing little circles or spinning in place over a suspected sweetspot.
"You like it here, Becca-San?" the man asks, pressing and spinning the stick against the very center of Becca's foot. If her hysterical reactions are any indication, she doesn't like it one bit.
Moments later, he picks up the second chopstick and starts dragging them both down her other arch, in an endless cascade of unbearably tickly sensations.
"YAAAAAAH! HAAAA-HAAAAAA-HAAAA! I'M DYING!" she howls. It's not clear if she meant those words as a warning or as wishful thinking, but either way, she remains very much alive, and her big, sexy feet remain stuck in place, suffering horrendously under the chopsticks' ticklish dance.
◄●►
On this day, Becca learns the true meaning of the phrase "tickle-torture". Minute after minute, hour after hour, her poor, helpless feet are subjected to an endless parade of sensations; some soft, some hard, some fletting, some persistent, but all ticklish, and all forcing her to laugh.
As her torture enters its 10th hour, Becca is only able to laugh softly while a handful of fingernails teases her soles, and a brush travels sideways under her faintly twitching toes. She's spent, exhausted, and completely broken. She's willing to confess and sign anything at all, as long as it makes the tickling stop. Unfortunately, Yoshida makes no such offer. His sole interest for the day is to tickle her like he's never tickled anyone ever before.
Once the tickling marathon is finally finished, the officer frees her feet from the toe cuffs, rubs a big dose of baby lotion onto them, and covers them with the socks, like a boy putting away his favorite toys. He then takes her back to her cell.
Becca's a wreck, but still awake. "Let me... Lay down... Please..." She begs him.
The officer is moved by her utterly miserable appearance, and so fetches a tatami mat, a set of leather, wrist and ankle cuffs, and tucks her down to sleep, still restrained, but at least able to change her position and shield her eyes from the persistent luminosity.
◄●►
The next morning, Becca is finally allowed to shower, feed, and take care of herself. Unfortunately, these activities prove themselves rather tricky to perform with her wrists and ankles cuffed, so she ends up needing assistance yet again.
She begs and begs to be set free, but no one trusts her because of that suicide misunderstanding, and because Yoshida wants her to be kept in restraints as a way of exerting pressure. That's the oficial motive, but secretly, he wants her to be in bondage around the clock because he's using her to live his fantasy of having a real tickle-slave.
◄●►
While Becca is waiting to be taken to her morning interrogation, the persecutor in charge of her case is having a chat with officer Yoshida.
"I don't care about the American girl. She'll just be deported. The real prize is that scumbag who was trying to sell her meth."
"How can I help? He's not my detainee."
"Yoshida, the more drug buying you can make her confess to, the more I have to use against the dealer, and the longer I can keep him off the street."
The interrogator smirks and replies, "Understood. You can count on me."
◄●►
Becca is once more on the restraint chair, inside the interrogation room. "Please don't tickle me anymore... Yesterday was the worst day of my entire life..." she whimpers, while Yoshida arrays the usual tools on the table.
The man sits down in front of her socked feet and takes hold of them, as if they're his own private property. Their warmth and squishiness feels wonderful to him, even through the socks.
"Let's talk about those drugs you bought."
"I already told you everything!"
"Are you sure?" he asks, starting to pull her socks off.
"Yes! Yes I swear! Please believe me!"
When her heels become uncovered, he rests his index nails on them.
"NOOOO! Not that again! Please! I'm telling the truth!" she whimpers.
"Tell me what else you bought," he demands, starting to scratch softly into her smooth heels.
"YIIIIIIIK! I've told you everything! What do you want me to say?!" she protests, suppressing the need to laugh.
Yoshida could simply tell Becca what to say, but that wouldn't be nearly as much fun. He has a whole month to play with her -- most likely 2 months -- and he intends to make those days the most fun time of his life, and the most miserable time of Becca's.
"I want to know the truth, that's all," he says softly,
“Hiii-Hiiiii-Hiiii! No you don’t! You’re a sadistic bastard! You know I didn’t buy any drugs!”
Instead of answering her verbally, he rakes his nails up her soles, pushing off her socks in the process, and of course, tickling the hell out of her.
“YAAAAAAAAA-HAAAAAAA-HAAAAAAA-HAAAAAAA!” she explodes with laughter, paddling and shaking her feet intensely.
“Hey, Becca-San, if you let me restrain your toes without making a fuss, I’ll only tickle you with feathers and brushes for the first hour. If you struggle, you’re getting fingers instead. What’s it gonna be?”
Becca reluctantly stops moving her feet, and lets him set up her big toes like yesterday. A few minutes later, she’s giggling uncontrollably while he tickles her feet, one at a time, with both a feather and a writing brush.
“Heeeee-he-HE-HE-HE! Haaaa-Hahahahaha! Please stop! Noooo-hohohoho! What do you want me to say?! Yaaarg! Haa-Haa-Haa-Haa-Haaaaa! I can’t stand it!” she giggles and pleads, while the brush travels up and down her soles, and the feather teases sideways under her toes.
Yoshida ignores her question and carries on, having a tremendous amount of fun. It’s possible that towards the end of his time with her, he might have to give her a few hints, but not yet. For now, she’s getting no hints whatsoever about the crime he wants her to confess.
“I WANNA TALK TO MY LAWYER! Haaa-Hahahaa!” she cries out, desperate to stop the torture.
The officer stops tickling and asks her, “Do you remember his number?”
“Yes! It was... Hahahaha... It was...” she starts, but then realizes that she doesn’t remember anymore; not all the digits, anyway.
“You forgot, didn’t you? It’s all over your face.”
“Zero, three... What was the rest?”
“Zero three is the Tokyo area code.”
“Zero, three... Seven, zero, five... FUCK I can’t remember the rest!”
“Hahaha! Then no more lawyer for you!” he laughs at her, then resumes the tickle-torture.
“NOOOOOO! THIS IS INSAAAAANE! Haaaaaa-Ha-HA-HA-HAAAAA!” she cries out, as the brush and the feather return to her helpless feet.
◄●►
After her first week, Becca is finally visited by the embassy people, but all they can really do for her is pass along messages to her family and give her the lawyer's number. She tells them about the treatment she’s being subjected to, which has to be a gross violation of the Vienna convention, but due to her particular situation with the suicide threat, she has no credibility. Not to mention that the combined effect of the tickle-torture, isolation, sleep deprivation, restraints, and intense psychological pressure, all make her seem rather unstable. The lawyer can’t really help her either, other than by acting as a messenger, and by repeating his previous advice.
And so, Becca ends up spending 63 days in jail as a feet tickling slave. Officer Yoshida dutily interrogates her for at least 5 hours each day. And once a week, he puts her through a 24-hour-long session.
It takes Becca a long time to admit to the truth, but she eventually confesses to having bought small amounts of meth, marijuana, heroin, cocaine and LSD. Her goal was to try them all out of curiosity, but then she changed her mind and flushed them all down the toilet. Also, she admits that the stress of being arrested made her feel suicidal, a situation which persisted throughout her detention.
“I would like to thank the police for not letting me hurt myself, even though it was hard for me at the time,” she reads a statement to the judge. “If not for their safety measures, I would certainly not be here today. And I’d also like to thank them for taking such good care of me while I was unable to take care of myself. They truly went above and beyond.”
Because of Becca’s confessions, the prosecutor manages to nail the drug dealer with a considerably higher sentence. As for Becca, she accepts a deal from the prosecutor; instead of doing time in a Japanese prison, she’s deported and banned from Japan for 20 years. In exchange, she only has to read a few statements in court, and act like she means them. Becca agrees to this deal enthusiastically, because after this ordeal, she has no intention of ever setting foot in Japan again.
FIN
Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed the story!
If you like my writing style and creativity, know that I'm open to commissions.
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MORE DETAILS
Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed the story!
If you like my writing style and creativity, know that I'm open to commissions.
Contact me if interested.
MORE DETAILS
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