The dim light flickered once, as though the room itself was growing tired of the endless symphony of Catherine’s desperate, broken laughter. Her bare feet—now glistening with a sheen of sweat that made every stroke of Emily’s nails feel twice as slick, twice as unbearable—twitched and flexed helplessly in the stocks. Catherine’s dark hair clung to her neck and forehead in damp strands. Her chest rose and fell in great, shuddering heaves between peals of hysteria that had long since turned hoarse.
The tall masked man leaned against the wall, arms crossed, watching with clinical detachment.
“We’ve decided to adjust the script,” he announced, voice calm and almost conversational. “The sweet cooing was adorable, but we want something… sharper. More honest. From now on, Emily, while those pretty fingers keep dancing across Mommy’s helpless little feet, you’re going to talk to her. But this time, you tease. You taunt. You remind her—cruelly, relentlessly—how pathetic she looks, how ridiculous she sounds, how completely at your mercy she is. Make it brutal. Make it loving in the most vicious way possible. If the tone isn’t convincingly cruel, if you soften too much, if you go quiet for more than five seconds… well. You know what happens.”
Emily’s shoulders shook with a fresh wave of silent sobs. Her fingers—already cramped, already aching—never stopped their slow, merciless crawl up the wrinkled centers of both soles.
“Please…I can’t” said teary eyed Emily
Catherine’s wide, tear-streaked eyes locked onto her daughter’s face. She tried to speak, voice cracked and fragile.
“Baby… you have to… please torture and tease me—”
The collar’s red light pulsed once in warning. Emily flinched, a tiny spark of pain dancing across her throat. She swallowed hard, forced her trembling lips to move, and when she spoke again, her voice was low, deliberate, dripping with a forced, mocking sweetness that made Catherine’s stomach twist.
“Awww, look at you, Mommy,” Emily began, dragging her nails in long, slow, punishing strokes from heel to toes. “All tied up and giggling like a little fool. You really can’t help yourself, can you? Such a pathetic, ticklish mess.”
Catherine’s whole body jerked as though she’d been slapped. A fresh burst of laughter exploded out of her—high, frantic, humiliated.
“HAHAHA—EMILY—NO—DON’T—DON’T SAY THAT—EEEEHEHEHE!”
Emily didn’t flinch. She kept going, voice growing steadier, crueler, as her fingers spidered under the pads of Catherine’s long toes, forcing them to splay wide.
“Poor Mommy. You’re sweating so much your feet are practically begging for more. Look at these ridiculous toes—curling and wiggling like they think that’s going to save you. News flash, Mommy… it’s only making it worse. You look so stupid right now.”
Catherine threw her head back, a long, keening wail of laughter tearing from her throat.
“NOHOHOHO—EMILY—STOP—STOP TEASING ME—HAHAHAHA—I CAN’T—I CAN’T STAND IT—KEEP GOING—KEEP TICKLING—PLEASE—DON’T LET THEM HURT YOU!”
Emily’s nails raked down both arches in one devastating sweep. Catherine’s heels drummed uselessly against the wood, toes snapping open and shut in frantic rhythm.
“You’re begging me to keep torturing you,” Emily taunted, voice silky and vicious. “That’s how desperate you are. My big, strong Mommy reduced to a squealing, foot-tickled puddle. You love this, don’t you? You love being my helpless little tickle-toy. Say it. Tell me how much you love being at my mercy.”
Catherine’s face burned crimson. Tears streamed endlessly. Between hysterical giggles she managed to choke out the words they both knew she had to say.
“I—I love it—HAHAHA—I love being your helpless tickle-toy—EMILY—PLEASE—KEEP GOING—TEASE ME MORE—MAKE IT WORSE—DON’T STOP!”
Emily’s fingers fluttered now—light, evil butterfly touches between Catherine’s toes, spreading them wide so she could scrape the tender, hidden skin in between.
“Listen to yourself,” she sneered softly. “Begging your own daughter to tickle you harder. What kind of mother are you? So weak. So pathetic. These big, soft mommy feet of yours are completely useless now, aren’t they? Just twitching little targets for me to destroy.”
Catherine’s laughter fractured into something rawer, almost sobbing.
“YES—YES THEY’RE USELESS—HAHAHAHA—THEY’RE YOURS—MY FEET ARE YOURS—EMILY—DESTROY THEM—TEASE ME—PLEASE—KEEP TEASING YOUR PATHETIC MOMMY!”
Emily leaned in closer, her breath warm against her mother’s trembling shin. Her nails skittered in tight, evil circles right in the center of each arch—the spot that always made Catherine scream the loudest.
“Look how your soles wrinkle up every time I touch them. It’s disgusting how sensitive you are. You’re practically begging for it with every little flex. You’re such a tickle slut, Mommy. My own mother—a complete, giggling tickle slut.”
The word landed like a physical blow. Catherine’s entire body arched against the restraints, laughter exploding in a fresh, shattering crescendo.
“EEEEEEE—EMILY—NO—NOT THAT WORD—HAHAHAHA—YES—YES I AM—I’M YOUR TICKLE SLUT—KEEP GOING—SCRATCH MY FEET—TAUNT ME—HUMILIATE ME—MOMMY NEEDS IT—PLEASE!”
Emily’s fingers never slowed. She dragged her nails slowly under the bases of Catherine’s toes, back and forth, back and forth, while her voice stayed low, merciless.
“You know what’s the best part? You’re doing this for me. You’re letting your own daughter turn you into this ridiculous, drooling mess just so I don’t get shocked. That’s how much you love me. That’s how weak you are. You’d let me tickle these pathetic feet for days if it kept me safe, wouldn’t you?”
Catherine’s head thrashed from side to side, hair whipping across her tear-soaked face.
“YES—YES I WOULD—HAHAHAHA—DAYS—WEEKS—FOREVER—KEEP TICKLING ME—KEEP TAUNTING ME—EMILY—I LOVE YOU—I LOVE YOU SO MUCH—MAKE ME SUFFER—PLEASE!”
Time dissolved. Catherine’s voice grew steadily hoarser, her laughter more broken, her feet more frantic—heels pounding, toes fanning wide then curling so tightly the knuckles turned white. Sweat dripped from her soles in tiny rivulets, making Emily’s fingers glide faster, slicker, crueler.
Emily switched tactics, scribbling wildly over the balls of both feet, then darting down to rake long, slow lines through the wrinkled heels.
“You’re shaking so hard, Mommy. Your whole body’s trembling like a leaf. All because of these evil little fingers. You can’t even form a sentence without giggling now, can you? Try it. Try to tell me you’re not a pathetic tickle-addicted mommy.”
Catherine tried. She really tried.
“I’m n-not—HAHAHA—I’m not—EEEEHEHEHE—pathetic—HAHAHAHA—I’M PATHETIC—I’M SO PATHETIC—KEEP GOING—DON’T STOP—TAUNT ME MORE—BREAK ME!”
Emily smiled—a small, trembling, heartbroken thing hidden behind the cruelty she was forced to perform.
“That’s right, Mommy. You’re broken. You’ve been broken since the first time my fingers touched these ticklish little feet. And you’re going to stay broken until we say otherwise. Now beg me again. Beg your cruel daughter to keep torturing you.”
Catherine’s voice was barely more than a wrecked whisper between peals of laughter.
“Please… Emily… my sweet, mean, perfect daughter… please keep tickling Mommy’s useless, pathetic feet… please keep taunting me… please make me laugh until I can’t breathe… I need it… I need you… HAHAHAHA—MORE—MORE—MORE!”
The tall man finally spoke, voice thick with satisfaction.
“Excellent. You’re both learning so quickly.”
Emily’s fingers swept down both soles in one long, vicious rake.
Catherine’s scream of laughter echoed off the concrete walls.
And still the brutal, loving taunts poured from Emily’s lips.
And still Catherine begged—through hysterics, through shame, through utter devastation—for more.
To be continued…
The tall masked man leaned against the wall, arms crossed, watching with clinical detachment.
“We’ve decided to adjust the script,” he announced, voice calm and almost conversational. “The sweet cooing was adorable, but we want something… sharper. More honest. From now on, Emily, while those pretty fingers keep dancing across Mommy’s helpless little feet, you’re going to talk to her. But this time, you tease. You taunt. You remind her—cruelly, relentlessly—how pathetic she looks, how ridiculous she sounds, how completely at your mercy she is. Make it brutal. Make it loving in the most vicious way possible. If the tone isn’t convincingly cruel, if you soften too much, if you go quiet for more than five seconds… well. You know what happens.”
Emily’s shoulders shook with a fresh wave of silent sobs. Her fingers—already cramped, already aching—never stopped their slow, merciless crawl up the wrinkled centers of both soles.
“Please…I can’t” said teary eyed Emily
Catherine’s wide, tear-streaked eyes locked onto her daughter’s face. She tried to speak, voice cracked and fragile.
“Baby… you have to… please torture and tease me—”
The collar’s red light pulsed once in warning. Emily flinched, a tiny spark of pain dancing across her throat. She swallowed hard, forced her trembling lips to move, and when she spoke again, her voice was low, deliberate, dripping with a forced, mocking sweetness that made Catherine’s stomach twist.
“Awww, look at you, Mommy,” Emily began, dragging her nails in long, slow, punishing strokes from heel to toes. “All tied up and giggling like a little fool. You really can’t help yourself, can you? Such a pathetic, ticklish mess.”
Catherine’s whole body jerked as though she’d been slapped. A fresh burst of laughter exploded out of her—high, frantic, humiliated.
“HAHAHA—EMILY—NO—DON’T—DON’T SAY THAT—EEEEHEHEHE!”
Emily didn’t flinch. She kept going, voice growing steadier, crueler, as her fingers spidered under the pads of Catherine’s long toes, forcing them to splay wide.
“Poor Mommy. You’re sweating so much your feet are practically begging for more. Look at these ridiculous toes—curling and wiggling like they think that’s going to save you. News flash, Mommy… it’s only making it worse. You look so stupid right now.”
Catherine threw her head back, a long, keening wail of laughter tearing from her throat.
“NOHOHOHO—EMILY—STOP—STOP TEASING ME—HAHAHAHA—I CAN’T—I CAN’T STAND IT—KEEP GOING—KEEP TICKLING—PLEASE—DON’T LET THEM HURT YOU!”
Emily’s nails raked down both arches in one devastating sweep. Catherine’s heels drummed uselessly against the wood, toes snapping open and shut in frantic rhythm.
“You’re begging me to keep torturing you,” Emily taunted, voice silky and vicious. “That’s how desperate you are. My big, strong Mommy reduced to a squealing, foot-tickled puddle. You love this, don’t you? You love being my helpless little tickle-toy. Say it. Tell me how much you love being at my mercy.”
Catherine’s face burned crimson. Tears streamed endlessly. Between hysterical giggles she managed to choke out the words they both knew she had to say.
“I—I love it—HAHAHA—I love being your helpless tickle-toy—EMILY—PLEASE—KEEP GOING—TEASE ME MORE—MAKE IT WORSE—DON’T STOP!”
Emily’s fingers fluttered now—light, evil butterfly touches between Catherine’s toes, spreading them wide so she could scrape the tender, hidden skin in between.
“Listen to yourself,” she sneered softly. “Begging your own daughter to tickle you harder. What kind of mother are you? So weak. So pathetic. These big, soft mommy feet of yours are completely useless now, aren’t they? Just twitching little targets for me to destroy.”
Catherine’s laughter fractured into something rawer, almost sobbing.
“YES—YES THEY’RE USELESS—HAHAHAHA—THEY’RE YOURS—MY FEET ARE YOURS—EMILY—DESTROY THEM—TEASE ME—PLEASE—KEEP TEASING YOUR PATHETIC MOMMY!”
Emily leaned in closer, her breath warm against her mother’s trembling shin. Her nails skittered in tight, evil circles right in the center of each arch—the spot that always made Catherine scream the loudest.
“Look how your soles wrinkle up every time I touch them. It’s disgusting how sensitive you are. You’re practically begging for it with every little flex. You’re such a tickle slut, Mommy. My own mother—a complete, giggling tickle slut.”
The word landed like a physical blow. Catherine’s entire body arched against the restraints, laughter exploding in a fresh, shattering crescendo.
“EEEEEEE—EMILY—NO—NOT THAT WORD—HAHAHAHA—YES—YES I AM—I’M YOUR TICKLE SLUT—KEEP GOING—SCRATCH MY FEET—TAUNT ME—HUMILIATE ME—MOMMY NEEDS IT—PLEASE!”
Emily’s fingers never slowed. She dragged her nails slowly under the bases of Catherine’s toes, back and forth, back and forth, while her voice stayed low, merciless.
“You know what’s the best part? You’re doing this for me. You’re letting your own daughter turn you into this ridiculous, drooling mess just so I don’t get shocked. That’s how much you love me. That’s how weak you are. You’d let me tickle these pathetic feet for days if it kept me safe, wouldn’t you?”
Catherine’s head thrashed from side to side, hair whipping across her tear-soaked face.
“YES—YES I WOULD—HAHAHAHA—DAYS—WEEKS—FOREVER—KEEP TICKLING ME—KEEP TAUNTING ME—EMILY—I LOVE YOU—I LOVE YOU SO MUCH—MAKE ME SUFFER—PLEASE!”
Time dissolved. Catherine’s voice grew steadily hoarser, her laughter more broken, her feet more frantic—heels pounding, toes fanning wide then curling so tightly the knuckles turned white. Sweat dripped from her soles in tiny rivulets, making Emily’s fingers glide faster, slicker, crueler.
Emily switched tactics, scribbling wildly over the balls of both feet, then darting down to rake long, slow lines through the wrinkled heels.
“You’re shaking so hard, Mommy. Your whole body’s trembling like a leaf. All because of these evil little fingers. You can’t even form a sentence without giggling now, can you? Try it. Try to tell me you’re not a pathetic tickle-addicted mommy.”
Catherine tried. She really tried.
“I’m n-not—HAHAHA—I’m not—EEEEHEHEHE—pathetic—HAHAHAHA—I’M PATHETIC—I’M SO PATHETIC—KEEP GOING—DON’T STOP—TAUNT ME MORE—BREAK ME!”
Emily smiled—a small, trembling, heartbroken thing hidden behind the cruelty she was forced to perform.
“That’s right, Mommy. You’re broken. You’ve been broken since the first time my fingers touched these ticklish little feet. And you’re going to stay broken until we say otherwise. Now beg me again. Beg your cruel daughter to keep torturing you.”
Catherine’s voice was barely more than a wrecked whisper between peals of laughter.
“Please… Emily… my sweet, mean, perfect daughter… please keep tickling Mommy’s useless, pathetic feet… please keep taunting me… please make me laugh until I can’t breathe… I need it… I need you… HAHAHAHA—MORE—MORE—MORE!”
The tall man finally spoke, voice thick with satisfaction.
“Excellent. You’re both learning so quickly.”
Emily’s fingers swept down both soles in one long, vicious rake.
Catherine’s scream of laughter echoed off the concrete walls.
And still the brutal, loving taunts poured from Emily’s lips.
And still Catherine begged—through hysterics, through shame, through utter devastation—for more.
To be continued…
