wearyfoxes
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- Joined
- Jun 24, 2005
- Messages
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"Did you know that they covered their prisoner's feet in salt and have goats lick it all of with their tongues for a punishment?" my girlfriend teased, coyishly petting the bottom of my right foot with her hand. "Too bad there are no goats around this place."
My eyes pleaded with her to stop and release me from the stocks before the students one block down from us realized what was going on and my public humiliation would be complete. Of course, releasing me was the last thing on her mind at this point. All I could do was to be thankful that she had strategically positioned herself between me and the tour group, blocking their view of my emprisoned bare feet now in her hands.
"No..." I whispered when I felt my girlfriend's tongue flick over the length of my naked sole.
I let out an involuntary shriek, my hands instantly covering my mouth. More heads were turning over where the group of students was standing, and I knew that I was running out of time. Soon everyone would discover that my girlfriend had me at her mercy.
I had no more time than to think that one thought as I suddenly felt another flick of her moist tongue across the bottom of my right foot. My ankles jerked in their restraints, hitting the wood of the foot board hard. That would leave a small bruise.
For the next 2 or so minutes, which seemed like an hour, I watched in horror how she methodically licked every inch of my soles until they were all wet, until I could feel saliva running down across my insteps creating a cool sensation on my skin whenever a gust of wind touched my feet.
I squirmed, trying to stay calm, clutching my mouth with my hands, trying to twist and turn, without a possibility for escape.
"Please," I begged feebly.
'You know," she muttered between each lick, "why would they... let the goats...do this job. This is...so much more...fun."
When she was finally done, I hung limb and eshausted in the stocks. My buttocks had almost slipped of the metal bar and my behind was hurting quite a bit.
"Okay, honey," I said with a heavy breath. "You had your fun. Now open that thing and let me up."
My girlfriend got up and looked at me, shaking her head.
"You know what" she mused "I think that you squirmed far too much and complained too many times for me to let you out quite yet. Plus, I know how embarrassed you are about people looking at your bare feet. That's why you never want to take your shoes off at the beach. Today will be the day that I help you with that."
"What?!" I exclaimed in disbelief. "What are you going to do?" Panic took hold of my entire body, blood rushing into my head.
"I will help you to get rid of your problem AND to do something good for the community." She pointed at the tour group of students who had, to my great distress, started to move again, and right in our direction.
"No, please," I whispered.
"I guess I just signed you up to volunteer for today's "stocks and pillory" history lesson or those folks over there," my girlfriend grinned peevishly, giving my foot a playful slap with her hand.
"But we have to make sure that they really get it."
With that she reached into her purse and pulled out a small object, which, to my horror, I recognized as the black permanent marker she always used for her sketch drawings and doodlings when we were on vacation.
"Don't."
"Sure I will."
"Please?!"
"Awww. How sweet. But, sorry. One or two lessons need to be learned, here." She uncupped the marker and took a hold of my foot. "Just sit back and relax. It will tickle just a little."
When the felt tip of the marker touched the skin of the bottom of my bare foot, I felt like jumping three feet into the air, immediately being retained and paying the price of another bruise on my ankles.
My restraints prevented me from knowing WHAT she had written in slow, agonizing pen strokes on the bottom first of my right and then my left foot.
But I could imagine the gist of it.
"And now excuse me for a sec," my girlfriend said cloing the marker with the cup.
"Hey, HEY, WHERE ARE YOU GOING?" I yelled, realizing that my cover was blown anyways, since the group of highschoolers had almost reached the stocks.
She only shrugged her shoulders, smiling at me.
"I am getting some props for the show."
I couldn't believe what she was saying. How did I end up here like this? What the...was going on?
"And you might as well hang tight and get ready for the show. I think you got yourself an audience"
She pointed at the teenagers--a group of 18-year old seniors, a couple of guys but mainly girls, maybe 11 in number, chatting and laughing and kicking leaves around--now approached the pillory without mercy for my embarrassing situation.
I knew it would get really bad, when the first person in the group, a brunette girl in a team shirt and a wollen cap, looked straight at me and immediately smiled at my predicament.
"Look at that guy, people." I could see the steam rise from her breath as she spoke.
"Why doesn't he have any shoes on?"
"Aren't your feet cold, Dude?"
"Look at what it says on his feet!"
"'Tickling exhibit' on his left foot."
"And 'try me' on his right foot!"
"That's weird."
"I think it's funny."
"I bet he's super ticklish."
"Then maybe you should give it a try."
"No, you!"
"You first."
My head had turned as red as beet with that many people standing around me and staring at my bare feet.
The situation was getting out of control.
My feet were beginning to freeze.
But I tried not to wiggle my feet to much. Better not give them more incentive.
How did I end up like this?
And where the heck was my girlfriend?
TO BE CONTINUED...
My eyes pleaded with her to stop and release me from the stocks before the students one block down from us realized what was going on and my public humiliation would be complete. Of course, releasing me was the last thing on her mind at this point. All I could do was to be thankful that she had strategically positioned herself between me and the tour group, blocking their view of my emprisoned bare feet now in her hands.
"No..." I whispered when I felt my girlfriend's tongue flick over the length of my naked sole.
I let out an involuntary shriek, my hands instantly covering my mouth. More heads were turning over where the group of students was standing, and I knew that I was running out of time. Soon everyone would discover that my girlfriend had me at her mercy.
I had no more time than to think that one thought as I suddenly felt another flick of her moist tongue across the bottom of my right foot. My ankles jerked in their restraints, hitting the wood of the foot board hard. That would leave a small bruise.
For the next 2 or so minutes, which seemed like an hour, I watched in horror how she methodically licked every inch of my soles until they were all wet, until I could feel saliva running down across my insteps creating a cool sensation on my skin whenever a gust of wind touched my feet.
I squirmed, trying to stay calm, clutching my mouth with my hands, trying to twist and turn, without a possibility for escape.
"Please," I begged feebly.
'You know," she muttered between each lick, "why would they... let the goats...do this job. This is...so much more...fun."
When she was finally done, I hung limb and eshausted in the stocks. My buttocks had almost slipped of the metal bar and my behind was hurting quite a bit.
"Okay, honey," I said with a heavy breath. "You had your fun. Now open that thing and let me up."
My girlfriend got up and looked at me, shaking her head.
"You know what" she mused "I think that you squirmed far too much and complained too many times for me to let you out quite yet. Plus, I know how embarrassed you are about people looking at your bare feet. That's why you never want to take your shoes off at the beach. Today will be the day that I help you with that."
"What?!" I exclaimed in disbelief. "What are you going to do?" Panic took hold of my entire body, blood rushing into my head.
"I will help you to get rid of your problem AND to do something good for the community." She pointed at the tour group of students who had, to my great distress, started to move again, and right in our direction.
"No, please," I whispered.
"I guess I just signed you up to volunteer for today's "stocks and pillory" history lesson or those folks over there," my girlfriend grinned peevishly, giving my foot a playful slap with her hand.
"But we have to make sure that they really get it."
With that she reached into her purse and pulled out a small object, which, to my horror, I recognized as the black permanent marker she always used for her sketch drawings and doodlings when we were on vacation.
"Don't."
"Sure I will."
"Please?!"
"Awww. How sweet. But, sorry. One or two lessons need to be learned, here." She uncupped the marker and took a hold of my foot. "Just sit back and relax. It will tickle just a little."
When the felt tip of the marker touched the skin of the bottom of my bare foot, I felt like jumping three feet into the air, immediately being retained and paying the price of another bruise on my ankles.
My restraints prevented me from knowing WHAT she had written in slow, agonizing pen strokes on the bottom first of my right and then my left foot.
But I could imagine the gist of it.
"And now excuse me for a sec," my girlfriend said cloing the marker with the cup.
"Hey, HEY, WHERE ARE YOU GOING?" I yelled, realizing that my cover was blown anyways, since the group of highschoolers had almost reached the stocks.
She only shrugged her shoulders, smiling at me.
"I am getting some props for the show."
I couldn't believe what she was saying. How did I end up here like this? What the...was going on?
"And you might as well hang tight and get ready for the show. I think you got yourself an audience"
She pointed at the teenagers--a group of 18-year old seniors, a couple of guys but mainly girls, maybe 11 in number, chatting and laughing and kicking leaves around--now approached the pillory without mercy for my embarrassing situation.
I knew it would get really bad, when the first person in the group, a brunette girl in a team shirt and a wollen cap, looked straight at me and immediately smiled at my predicament.
"Look at that guy, people." I could see the steam rise from her breath as she spoke.
"Why doesn't he have any shoes on?"
"Aren't your feet cold, Dude?"
"Look at what it says on his feet!"
"'Tickling exhibit' on his left foot."
"And 'try me' on his right foot!"
"That's weird."
"I think it's funny."
"I bet he's super ticklish."
"Then maybe you should give it a try."
"No, you!"
"You first."
My head had turned as red as beet with that many people standing around me and staring at my bare feet.
The situation was getting out of control.
My feet were beginning to freeze.
But I tried not to wiggle my feet to much. Better not give them more incentive.
How did I end up like this?
And where the heck was my girlfriend?
TO BE CONTINUED...
