Town Square
Rebecca still couldn't believe what had happened to her. She had lived all her
life in this quaint little town in New England, circa 1790, and at twenty years
of age, she was one of the most attractive young maidens in all the village. She
had always been popular and well liked and had all the young gentlemen at her
beck and call, so when she committed such a petty offense as stealing a neighbor
woman's locket, she never expected the judge to give her such a strict
punishment. A whole night spent locked in the wooden stocks in the town square!
She felt utterly humiliated. Yet she had seen many others subjected to more
painful aspects of colonial justice, such as being caned or whipped or dunked
repeatedly in the town pond. so perhaps she was getting off easy, she thought.
Even now as she sat on the wooden bench with her wrists and ankles locked into
the holes of the stocks in front of her, there was a feeling of total
helplessness that she found unsettling, along with the cramped sensations in her
arms, legs, and back, but she felt quite sure she could put up with mere
discomfort for one night. She was a strong-willed lass, and at least there was
no real pain involved, she thought with relief.
The hours passed and the dark of evening descended on the town. Rebecca found
herself slowly drifting off to sleep, in spite of her uncomfortable sitting-up
position. Excellent, she thought. A little shuteye and by the time she awoke in
the morning, the whole embarrassing experience would be over.
Suddenly the sound of approaching footsteps awakened her, and she peered through
the twilight to find the source. There was never anyone in or near the town
square this time of night, and she was puzzled as to who it could be. Perhaps
one of her good friends came to keep her company, she thought happily.
Two figures stepped out of the shadows, and with sudden uneasiness, Rebecca saw
two men she recognized immediately: The judge and the inquisitor from her trial.
Seeing the friendly smile on the judge's face, she figured perhaps he had had a
change of heart about the harsh sentence he had passed on her.
"Have you come to release me sir?" Rebecca asked politely, her face covered with
a look of relief.
"No, my girl, I'm afraid you'll have to serve out your punishment as decreed by
the court." the judge answered. There was a kindness in his voice and on his
face, but somehow as Rebecca studied the judge's eyes she saw something there
that troubled her.
"Then why are you here?" she asked with apprehension.
The judge turned and winked at the inquisitor, who was also grinning like a
sheep dog. "Well, my fine young lass, we've come to cheer you up."
Cheer me up? she thought. I'm sitting in the middle of the town square, unable
to move for a whole night, and this man wants me to be cheerful about it? What
in the world...?
"The only thing that could cheer me up would be a bit more comfort." she said, a
little angrily. Again she saw sympathy in the judge's face, and her uneasiness
and confusion began to fade.
"Well, I can't let you go," he said, "but perhaps I can make you a little more
comfortable. If those shoes are as tight as they look, I could take them off for
you."
Rebecca looked down at the snug leather boots she was wearing. She had worn no
stockings underneath them, and the shoes were hurting her. And perhaps the
feeling of the cool breeze on her bare feet would make her bondage more
bearable.
"Yes, please take them off." she said.
Smiling, the judge removed her boots. As Rebecca watched him, she noticed him
gazing at her naked feet with a peculiar expression on his face - one of hunger,
almost. Her uneasiness returned as he stared downward at her exposed feet. But
indeed, she did have very beautiful feet. They were long and narrow with slender
toes, and not a callous or corn to mar them. her toenails were finely pedicure,
and her lovely pink-white soles looked as soft as silk. Her feet freed from the
constrictive shoes, she wiggled her toes in the cool wind, failing to spot the
growing erection in the judge's pants when she did so.
The judge spoke, his voice quavering with barely concealed lust. "As I said, my
dear, we've come to cheer you up." He winked again at the other man. "To make
you smile, to make you laugh."
The young girl looked at them with confusion. She looked at her imprisoned hands
and feet. "I'm sorry sirs, but under the circumstances, I don't feel much like
laughing."
"Oh, you will." the judge chuckled. Now there was an evil tone to his voice that
sent shivers through Rebecca. Suddenly he pulled something from his coat pocket:
a long, stiff white feather! "Tell me my dear," he said. "Are you ticklish?"
Rebecca stiffened and a chill ran up her spine. She could not have known before
that the judge had an intense fetish for tickling helpless women, and now that
she realized it, a deep dread began to creep through her. She thought
frantically back to a time in her childhood when her older brothers had held her
down and tickled her bare feet for what seemed like forever. They tickled her so
hared the laughed herself into tears. But she was a grown woman now, she
reasoned. Surely she was not still ticklish. she would show this old coot that
his childish idea of torture would not affect her.
"I'm not ticklish in the least bit." she stated defiantly, confident that she
wasn't.
"Oh, you're not, eh?" the judge said with amusement.
He had heard the same denial of ticklishness from may of the hapless prisoners
he had tormented in the stocks, but by being persistent he had proven them wrong
every time. With a sadistic grin on his face, the judge squatted by her
imprisoned feet, feather in hand, while his companion stood and watched with
fascination. Rebecca suddenly felt the edge of the soft feather gliding slowly
up the bare sole of her right foot. At first it didn't bother her, but then the
tingling, itching sensation caused by the feather began to grow more intense
with each stroke. She was desperately trying not to show any reaction, but she
found Her foot twitching involuntarily as the tickling feeling got more
unbearable. As the judge slid the plume up and down the bottom of her helpless
foot, Rebecca bit her lip to stifle a giggle, straining to ignore the tickling.
The giggling came anyway, despite her best efforts, and her toes started
wriggling spasmodically under the feather strokes.
The tickling continued and before long. Rebecca knew she was losing control of
herself. Her soft chuckling had become loud, agonized laughter now, and she was
struggling madly to yank her feet and hands from the stocks.
It was no use, for the stocks were made from thick oak and the holes were just
small enough to retrain the limbs completely.
Her tormentor started using the feather to stroked her wiggling toes, and then
to flutter lightly between them. She found this feeling excruciating, and she
laughed herself into a frenzy as her shapely body thrashed about on the bench.
Then, she saw the other man stand by her left foot, and panic seized her as he
pulled out another feather and started to tickle.
With bother bare feet being subjected to fiendish tickling, the poor girl went
berserk. She was screeching and cackling at the top of her lungs, her eyes
bulging from her head and her body jerking crazily. her feet twisted and turned
to escape the feathers and her long toes wiggled this way and that.
"My God, my God, you're tickling me to death and I can't even move! Sto ha ha ha
ha ha op!! Please Please Pleeeaaasseee!!
When the torture ceased, Rebecca gasped in exhaustion, fighting to catch her
breath long enough to plead with the two men.
"D-D-D-Don't tickle me anymore...Please!!!" she begged. "It's too much. I can't
move!"
But they weren't finished with her yet. The judge was going to use his cruelest
trick on the gasping girls. He tied a bootlick around each of her big toes,
after which he pulled back the toes and tied the ends of the laces around her
imprisoned ankles. This bent her soles back and made them taut and easier for
the judge to tickle. To test it, he took his forefinger and lightly stroked the
sensitive part of her tight sole. The effect was like an electric shock, and
Rebecca's whole body spasmed as she exploded into hysterical, howling laughter,
her feet and toes unable to twitch, wiggle, or move an inch to avoid the
tickling, due to the way the judge had bound them. To make it worse, both men
had retrieved their feathers and were busily tickling her immobilized feet.
After an hour of this torture, Rebecca was on the verge of insanity. The
constant tickling was like a maddening itch that she wanted to scratch and
scratch but couldn't get to. The town square echoed with the din of her
shrieking, crazed laughter and thick tears poured from her eyes. Her pretty face
was now a contorted mask of laughing, crying anguish. Her head shook wildly and
her long fingers clutched at the air in frustration. Her sides were aching and
the need to urinate was excruciating.
Meanwhile, the judge's crotch was about to burst from the throbbing erection in
his pants. Still tickling her foot with his one hand, he used the other to
unbutton his trousers and stroke his rock-hard organ. his friend had moved
around behind the captive girl, and while the judge tickled her feet with his
plume his companion used his wiggling fingers to tickle her ribs unmercifully.
The poor girl threw a fit. She bounced and tugged and cried and begged, her
laughing screams ringing out in the night. And then, as the judge masturbated
himself into a spurting climax, shooting hot semen all over her bare soles and
toes, an unexpected thing happened to Rebecca. In the midst of all her agony,
hysteria, and convulsions, she felt an explosive orgasm rip through her with
such intensity that her juices soaked the wooden bench on which she sat. She
gasped with pleasure like she had never known.
The two men subjected her to tickling torture all through the rest of the night,
and by dawn she had experienced more pleasure than she ever thought she could
stand. Rebecca knew she would never forget her night in the town square.
The End
