“Game of Thrones: The Five Queens” Part 7
*Note to my readers: This story is loosely based off of the show series. This is fan fiction so I’ve altered the timeline and taken it in a direction which accommodates a story such as this. There are some parts that contain spoilers for anyone who hasn’t watched the show or isn’t up to date on episodes so fair warning. Enjoy!
“Alright, I think you’ve had enough,” Littlefinger said cooly as he ceased wafting his feather up and down Sansa’s slender size 9 feet on display before him. Sansa and her sister Arya had been caught trying to flee King’s Landing. Now they were tied next to each other in chairs with their feet propped up on stools in front of them. Sansa’s loud, desperate laughter faded as she realized her turn was over for now. She brushed stray hairs from in front of her face as she caught her breath.
“Calm as still water,” Arya chanted over and over in her mind as she mentally prepared for her turn. Littlefinger shifted over in front of her now. She couldn’t let Littlefinger make her laugh the same way he had broken down the queens he had captured. The sight of Sansa laughing so pathetically was unsettling but she had always been much more fragile than Arya. “Littlefinger can’t get me to laugh. He MUST NOT get me to laugh like that. I’m Arya Stark, a trained assassin and former student of the greatest swordsman who ever lived. I’ve cheated death most of my life; I’ll certainly cheat this snake. No way he makes me laugh with tickling. I won’t give him the satisfaction,” Arya thought to herself as she watched Littlefinger getting into position in front of her feet.
Arya’s small size 6 soles were tied propped up in front of Littlefinger. Small, bubbly toes, shapely features, deep arches...Littlefinger noted as he looked them over once more. “Alright Arya Stark...tickle tickle tickle...” he said with malice as he brought his feather forward and started flicking it across the bottoms of her feet. The sensation was shocking at first. Arya did not expect to be THAT sensitive to the feeling but she still maintained a blank expression and remained like a stone as Littlefinger played with her feet.
The pointed tip of the feather licked the wide bottoms of her tiny feet. Up and down, over and over. Arya tried to block it out but the feather’s tickling sensations never ceased. If anything, the feeling got worse because there was no reprieve. Arya had to concentrate hard to keep her feet from moving at all or her lips to curl up. “Calm as still water,” she chanted over and over in her head but it was getting more difficult to keep the simple words straight. And for as calm and collected as Arya was posing to be, Littlefinger seemed equally calm and unfazed by the lack of an immediate reaction.
“What if he doesn’t give up? How long can I keep a straight face?” Arya thought as Littlefinger continued wafting the feather up and down her bare soles. Arya really wanted to let out some giggles now and the corners of her mouth were starting to twitch. The pressure inside of her to blurt out laughter was building. “This is pathetic! Why am I wanting to laugh so bad from a stupid feather?! This could be really terrible if he doesn’t give up on me soon...” Arya thought to herself as she fidgeted in her seat ever so slightly. She needed to do something to relieve the tension and get a slight break. Arya started to smile but immediately feigned like she was yawning. The coverup was obvious to a man like Littlefinger. Arya tried to act nonchalant as she curled her toes down and crossed one foot in front of the other as slow as she could. She repeated this with the other foot and tried to act like she was just rubbing them together.
“God that feels so much better,” Arya thought as she cherished every second of breaking the tickling pattern. Keeping her feet completely still side by side was agony. At least crossing her feet over gave one foot at a time a small break. Littlefinger wasn’t going to let her off that easy though. He set his feather down and pulled out a small snippet of white string. “Now now, Lady Stark...you wouldn’t be shifting your feet because this tickles now would you? I doubt it. You are so renowned for your resolve. Surely a strong, tough girl like you can take a little foot tickling? BUT...let’s just tie your little piggies together for good measure, just to be sure.”
Littlefinger lassoed Arya’s big toes together snug and tied a neat little knot at the base to hold them in place. Arya tried shifting her feet again but this time they were firmly trapped side by side. Arya was not so sure of herself now. Littlefinger was unlike any opponent she had ever encountered. “What if he makes me laugh and beg like the others?? What if I’m not as tough as I claim to be?” Arya thought as she looked down at her tied feet.
Before the tickling began again, Arya looked over at her sister. Arya’s eyebrows were slightly raised and she had a panicked look in her eyes. Sansa could instantly tell what was on Arya’s mind. She was starting to get very nervous about holding out. Littlefinger was getting too her but Arya had so much pride. She would never willingly give in. “It’ll be okay, Arya. At least we’re together. And it’s okay if you need to laugh. You can let it out. I promise by all the Gods that I won’t think less of you if you do. All girls have ticklish feet. It’s okay if it tickles. You don’t have to be so strong.”
Littlefinger smirked and held his feather up again. He flicked it around teasingly so they could see it and asked Arya, “Ready for more?” Sansa spoke up and said, “Littlefinger, please don’t! You can...you can tickle me some more if you want to but Arya won’t get you what you want. I’m the one you should be dealing with. Leave her out of all this.”
“Then surrender to me if you want me to stop. Otherwise, I’ll just have to keep tickling your poor little sister’s feet until she’s begging you to swear loyalty to me,” Littlefinger answered with a smile as he wiggled the feather some more in front of the girls. Arya couldn’t stand the thought of Sansa giving in to Littlefinger on account of her just because she was being tickled. She blurted out, “No! Don’t do it, Sansa! He’ll NEVER make me beg!”
Littlefinger chuckled at that and taunted her by saying, “Tickle, tickle, tickle...” The feather started sliding up and down Arya’s arches again. This time her foot jolted at first before she forced herself to remain motionless again. Littlefinger guided the feather down around her lower arches where they met the heels and then wafted it back up the deep, creamy insteps. The feather caressed just under the prominent balls of Arya’s feet before sweeping up and over them. Littlefinger trailed the tip of the feather back and forth across the pads below Arya’s stubby toes and then began sawing the feather in the crevice between her right pinky toe and the toe next to it. Arya squeaked a little and curled her toes down momentarily. She then forced herself to uncurl them and allow Littlefinger to move his feather to the next toe crack.
Each time Arya felt the feather being pulled between her crowded toes, she couldn’t help but clench them and make a soft “Eeek” or grunt sound. “Oh no! I can’t stop myself from reacting to this silly tickling,” Arya thought as she failed time and again to stay still and quiet. Littlefinger was a master tickler and elicited a reaction every time. “Could it be that tough little Arya Stark has really ticklish feet?” Littlefinger asked rhetorically as he studied her reactions. He started flicking the tip of the feather on the undersides of Arya’s toes, which made her clench them all tightly. Once Littlefinger got to one pinky toe, he would reverse the feather and slide it back across to the other pinky toe, making sure to jitter the feather along the tip of each toe as it passed.
This time try as she might, Arya was unable to relax her toes. Not with the feather sliding across them, waiting to get at their vulnerable undersides. Arya wanted to flex her toes back but her feet were instinctively locked in a scrunch as they were tickled. Littlefinger moves back down to her impressive arches and started feathering them. Arya shrieked suddenly with ticklish surprise as she was expecting the feather to stay on course across her toes. Arya pinched her lips together tightly and tried her best to keep her feet from trembling as the feather was flicked across them. The thought that she was losing control was giving Arya a cold, icky feeling in the pit of her stomach.
Arya was shifting restlessly in her seat more and more. Littlefinger danced the tip of his feather all around in Arya’s pale arches, down to her sturdy heels, and then back up again to the pronounced balls of her feet. Her face was starting to contort more and more as she fought a losing battle to stay calm. As Littlefinger began wafting the feather up and down her arches again, Arya finally let out a small hiss of giggles.
“There it comes,” Littlefinger said pleased as he continued his tactics. The feather slid gracefully to the pads below her toes and then jumped up to randomly tickle the tips of different toes or slide in the gaps between them. Arya closed her eyes tightly and couldn’t help but beam a big smile. Her body shook a little as she silently held in her chuckles. Littlefinger pulled the feather out from between Arya’s toes and resumed flicking it up and down her soles, taking a slightly different path and pattern each time it went up or down. Arya’s resolve collapsed and she let out genuine giggles and laughter.
Littlefinger had finally done it; Arya was steadily laughing as he feathered her feet. “Aw, the little wolf is ticklish after all. Tickle tickle tickle, Lady Stark...” Littlefinger taunted her as he waved his feather across the trapped soles. “Hahahaha! I’m Hahahaha! No Hahahaha! Lady,” Arya argued between laughs. Littlefinger pulled his feather away, shook a finger at Arya, and made disapproving clicks with his mouth. “Now, now...we’ll have none of that nonsense that your parents tolerated. I’ll not have one of Catelyn’s daughters roaming around with a sword and men’s clothing.”
Sansa watched with a heavy heart as Arya squirmed around in her seat and was forced to laugh. Sansa knew the feeling all too well at this point. Littlefinger was tormenting and humiliating her sister just by running a feather over her feet. Sansa couldn’t sit by and watch her sister be tickled like that anymore. She shouted, “That’s enough! You don’t need to keep tickling her like that! You’ve made your point, you got her to laugh. Now leave her alone!”
Littlefinger looked at her and cocked an eyebrow. “Something you wanted to say, Sansa?” he asked as he transitioned over and began flicking the feather up and down Sansa’s long, pale soles. “No, no, I didn’t want to say anything hahahahaha!! No! Hahahahaha!!!” Sansa shouted as she fell back into laughter. “Someone with such big, ticklish feet shouldn’t be so quick to interrupt,” Littlefinger commented as he wagged the feather across Sansa’s ticklish size 9’s. The redheaded beauty of The North was cackling laughter once again as she scrunched her long toes down and kicked in her seat.
“Tell me, Lady Sansa...something I’ve been wondering...how did you and your sister make Cersei and Daenerys pass out so hard? I don’t imagine they’ll come to until the morning. You and your sister must have really done a number on them. How is that?” Littlefinger asked without skipping a beat with his feather. Sansa was going crazy once again as the feather caressed her soles up and down, up and down. Arya tried to pull at her bonds but quickly realized it was useless. She saw that Sansa would probably say anything at this point so she shouted, “Don’t tell him! Don’t say anything, Sansa!”
Littlefinger looked back over at Arya wickedly. She got a very worried expression on her face and looked like a puppy that had been caught doing something naughty. “Tisk, tisk...girls with ticklish feet shouldn’t keep secrets,” Littlefinger said as he brought the wafting feather over toward Arya’s small, bare size 6’s. Arya pouted a little and said, “Oh come on, not again.” Arya couldn’t hold out for more than a few seconds before she melted back into laughter. She wiggled in her seat and let out sweet, raspy laughter as she tried to reach her tied hands forward to block the feather and cover her soles. The ropes binding her torso to the chair did not allow her to reach very far.
“How did my remaining queens become so sleepy that they’ve managed to slumber through all this laughing?” Littlefinger asked. Arya knew that telling him how they smothered the women with their feet until they passed out was not a smart choice. But Littlefinger wasn’t making it easy. His damned feather was licking all over the bottoms of her sensitive feet and driving her mad. “Tickle tickle tickle, Arya...” Littlefinger said as he wiggled the feather’s tip along the undersides of her squat little toes. Arya quickly scrunched them down tight but continued to laugh heartily as he softly stroked the round tips of her toes with the feather.
Sansa watched Arya laughing next to her and felt horrible. She never meant to get her sister into this trouble. But now they were both prisoners here in King’s Landing getting their bare feet tickled. If her subjects in The North knew about this, Sansa would die of embarrassment. She frowned as she watched Arya’s tiny, supple soles get tickled relentlessly by the feather. It was clear that her sister’s resistance to the tickling was waning. Arya’s laughter was getting more and more desperate and panicked.
Littlefinger switched back to Sansa and asked, “Ready to explain yourself? How did you put my queens to sleep so soundly?” Sansa was less focused on his question and more focused on the feather heading down to her vulnerable feet. “No wait! Not me again! Please! Stop this! Not again hahahahaha!!!” Sansa yelled as she threw her head back in ticklish agony. After initially stroking her long arches with the feather, Littlefinger decided to move it to her long, thin toe stems. The pale, ultra-soft undersides of Sansa’s toes were unbelievably ticklish, especially near the base. Soon, Sansa was begging for him to stop.
“Don’t tell him anything, Sansa!” Arya yelled in defiance as she looked over at her sister almost in tears from laughing so much. Littlefinger stopped and set his feather down. He snapped his fingers and a guard brought over a hairbrush and a vile of baby oil. He poured a generous amount in his hand and began swiping it on Sansa and Arya’s foot bottoms, coating their soles until they were slick and shiny. Arya bit her lower lip as she watched Littlefinger spread oil across their feet. Sansa exclaimed in an agitated and fearful tone, “Ughh...oil again? Please not the brush!”
He picked up the hairbrush and asked Arya, “I guess you wanted more attention then? This brush should help with that.” Littlefinger knelt on the floor and hooked one arm around Arya’s ankles to keep her pinned. “Feel like telling me what you did to my queens?” he asked. Arya was running off of false bravado now as she shouted, “Never! You’ll never get it out of me!”
Littlefinger began scrubbing the brush wildly across Arya’s trapped soles, sending her immediately into raspy, unbridled laughter. The brush’s bristles easily slid over Arya’s slicked up feet. She shrieked and howled laughter like crazy as the brush was scribbled across her peds. Littlefinger firmly scrubbed the bristles across both of Arya’s shiny, round heels. The odd, unexpected sensations from being tickled so effectively on her heels sent spastic shivers up her legs and made her feet tremble. But it was nothing like when Littlefinger brought the brush higher and dragged it back and forth across the pads below her toes. Arya really hated that and it was evident in her laughter.
Sansa hated seeing her sister suffer like that. She blurted out, “I’ll tell you what we did if you stop tickling her!” Littlefinger paused and went over to Sansa. “You’ll tell me...because your feet are all oiled up and I’m holding a hairbrush,” Littlefinger said matter of factly right before he encircled Sansa’s ankles and held the brush to them. Sansa quickly realized the error of her thinking and frantically said, “I didn’t mean it like that! I’m sorry! Of course you’re right! I just HAHAHAHAHA!!!” Sansa nearly jumped out of her seat when she felt the bristles come to life on her slender, shallow arches.
Littlefinger moved the brush in a loose figure eight pattern along the bottoms of Sansa’s pretty soles as he listened to her beg and scream and laugh and try to gulp air down when she could catch her breath. “Northerners never seem to do well when they come to King’s Landing, it seems. They always get themselves into ticklish situations, I’m afraid,” he teased but Sansa was barely aware he was even talking she was laughing so hard. It didn’t take long before she told him exactly what she and Arya had done.
Sansa: “OKAY! OKAY! I’LL TALK HAHAHAHAHA!! WE SMOTHERED THEM! HAHAHAHAHA!! WE PUT OUR FEET ON THEIR FACES! HAHAHAHAHA!! THEY PASSED OUT! HAHAHAHAHA!! WE MADE THEM SMELL OUR FEET!”
Littlefinger gave her a small break for her admission. He went back to Arya and started back scrubbing her deep arches with the tingly bristles. Arya erupted with laughter shook her head back and forth. It was like her shapely arches were made just for scrubbing with an oily brush. Back and forth the brush went across her soles. Arya couldn’t help but scream at this point. She had no more delusions of remaining calm as still water.
“Is this true, Arya? Did you really make my queens pass out with your feet?” Littlefinger asked with somewhat feigned ignorance. Arya was dying from laughter. She was willing to do anything now to get the tickling to stop for a little bit. Arya couldn’t take the horrible tickling assault on her oiled up feet anymore and shouted back, “YES! HAHAHAHAHA!! WE DID! HAHAHAHA!! WE MADE THEM PASS OUT SO WE COULD GET AWAY! HAHAHAHAHA!!”
Littlefinger: “You could have left my brothel without bothering the other queens but you didn’t. I suspect that part of you got some satisfaction doing that. You liked the power it gave you over them in the moment, didn’t you?”
Arya: “BWAAHAHAHAHA!! YES!! HAHAHAHA!! I LIKED IT!!”
Littlefinger: “That wasn’t very becoming of a proper lady.”
Arya: “HAHAHAHA!! I’M NO LADY!! HAHAHAHAHA!! I TOLD YOU THAT!! HAHAHAHA!!”
Littlefinger: “Oh yes you are. Now say it. Say you’re a proper lady.”
Arya: “HAHAHAHAHA!! OKAY! OKAY! FINE! I’M A PROPER LADY! HAHAHAHAHAHA!!”
Littlefinger: “Now beg for me. Say you need me to stop.”
Arya: “HAHAHAHAHA!! OKAY! I NEED YOU TO STOP! HAHAHAHAHA!!”
Littlefinger: “And just how did you make them pass out, again?”
Arya: “HAHAHAHAHA!! SANSA ALREADY TOLD YOU!! HAHAHAHAHAHA!! I DON’T WANT TO SAY IT!! HAHAHAHAHA!!”
Littlefinger: “Excuse me, you aren’t in charge here. If you don’t want me to tickle you until the sun comes up, you’ll tell me how you made my queens pass out.”
Arya: “HAHAHAHAHA!! WE...WE DID IT WITH OUR STINKY FEET!! HAHAHAHAHA!! WE COVERED THEIR FACES SO HAHAHAHAHA!! SO THEY HAD TO BREATH IT IN!!”
Littlefinger: “See, that wasn’t so hard. Your stinky feet, you say? How would you like it if someone did that to you girls? What if another woman covered your faces with her smelly feet and made you breath her in until you ran out of breath?”
Arya: “HAHAHAHAHA!! NO! HAHAHAHA!! THAT’S SO GROSS!!”
Sansa: “Absolutely not! That is disgusting! Just thinking about another woman’s feet in my face...ew, that’s just gross.”
Littlefinger stopped and put down his brush. Arya was breathing heavily as she tried to catch her breath. Sansa had a concerned look on her face as she asked, “Lord Baelish...why...why did you want to know what Arya and I thought about having another woman’s feet covering our face?”
The girls didn’t even notice Melisandre coming up behind them. She walked up near the backs of the chairs and leaned forward to cup an arm around each girl’s shoulders. Sansa and Arya both visibly had a defeated look wash over their faces as they rolled their heads and scoffed in disgust and disbelief about what was about to happen.
Melisandre: “Good evening, ladies. I think you’ve had enough for tonight. Littlefinger can continue his tickling session with you tomorrow when he’s rested. Why don’t I help put you girls to sleep......”
LATER ON IN LITTLEFINGER’S BROTHEL...
Sansa and Arya were lying down on one of the large beds in the brothel. Their arms were outstretched above them to the headboard and their ankles were secured with rope that was tied off at the foot of the bed. This left them completely stretched out with about two feet in between them. They tugged and pulled at their bonds but the ropes wouldn’t wiggle loose. They laid there in their clothes still with their bare feet out near the foot of the bed.
Melisandre had gone away to change her clothes. When she returned, she was only wearing a sheer red coverup that was fastened in a small knot above her bellybutton. The deep V in the middle of the outfit left little to the imagination. Her pale chest and a significant portion of her breasts were visible. Melisandre’s nipples and the remaining portion of her breasts that weren’t exposed were visible through the sheer material. Below, her legs and pussy were bare. She walked toward them wearing red flats.
She approached the girl’s seductively with the gaze of a lioness stalking a field deer. Sansa and Arya squirmed even harder now, trying one last time to get away before they were forced to smell the Red Priestess’ soles. Melisandre reached the bed and slipped off her red flats. She climbed up and lay between the girls with her head near their feet.
Melisandre playfully asked the girls, “Who would like to go first?” Awkward, tense silence followed. Arya and Sansa looked at each other nervously. This couldn’t be happening. They had seen how much Cersei and Daenerys had complained and struggled for fresh air. The idea of having the same thing done to them sounded awful. Melisandre waited patiently while the girls looked back at her and then back to each other and then back to her. They remained silent with anxious expressions on their faces.
“Alright, I guess I’ll start with you then,” Melisandre said as she raised her legs straight out and hovered her bare feet above Sansa’s head. Sansa freaked out and shouted, “No! Not that! That’s bloody disgusting! No way you’re putting your feet on my face! Bleh, get them away from me! Don’t you dare cover my face with your mmmhhhmmm!!!” Sansa was cut short as Melisandre’s pale, creamy size 7’s were lowered directly on her face, covering her nose and mouth.
Melisandre curled her toes down to scrunch her feet and form a tighter seal over Sansa’s mouth and nose. “Now the only air you’ll be breathing is my foot stink. Goodnight, my Lady of Winterfell.” Sansa’s eyes bulged out when she realized her fresh air had been completely cut off. Now her only breath was coming right off of Melisandre’s wrinkly arches. Sansa bucked and wriggled around to try and get her face free but the bondage holding her kept her firmly in place. Sansa tried turning and shaking her head but Melisandre stayed with her until finally she started to weaken.
Melisandre used her long fingernails to lightly skitter across the bottoms of Sansa’s feet. The redhead couldn’t help but laugh and breath in the foot smell faster and deeper. Sansa giggled and inhaled loudly against her will until her eyes started to fade. The foot stink sunk down into her lungs as she lost consciousness. Sansa slipped into a forced slumber with Melisandre’s cupped feet sealed tightly over her face.
“Now it’s your turn to go to sleep, Lady Stark,” Melisandre said with glee as she shifted her feet over and held them above Arya’s face. Arya looked over and saw Sansa passed out with her eyes closed and her mouth hanging open slightly. Then she looked back at the pair of feet being lowered down slowly but surely toward her face. Arya was breathing rapidly as she tried to think of a last second way out of this situation. But nothing came to mind and Melisandre’s scrunched soles came down and smothered the tough little Stark girl’s face. Arya made a muffled, pouty complaint that was not discernible as she tried rolling her head around different ways and bucked desperately.
“You must be tired. Don’t you want to fall asleep? Would it help if I tickled your feet too to help you breath in the smell of my feet faster?” Melisandre asked teasingly. Arya blurted out a muffled, “MMMHHHHMMM!!!” She shook her head but it didn’t stop Melisandre from wiggling her long, pointed nails across Arya’s arches. Arya snorted a little as she began laughing and inhaled deeply and more frequently.
Arya lasted longer than Sansa but eventually she too began to slow down and fade. She could only breath in so much of Melisandre’s foot stink and stay awake. Finally, Arya couldn’t resist as well as she had at the beginning. She slipped more and more into unconsciousness. Arya stopped twitching her feet as they were tickled. Melisandre sat up to check the girls. Arya was lying in the bed peacefully next to her sister. Both girls were out cold with no idea of what was awaiting them the next morning.
TO BE CONTINUED...
*Note to my readers: This story is loosely based off of the show series. This is fan fiction so I’ve altered the timeline and taken it in a direction which accommodates a story such as this. There are some parts that contain spoilers for anyone who hasn’t watched the show or isn’t up to date on episodes so fair warning. Enjoy!
“Alright, I think you’ve had enough,” Littlefinger said cooly as he ceased wafting his feather up and down Sansa’s slender size 9 feet on display before him. Sansa and her sister Arya had been caught trying to flee King’s Landing. Now they were tied next to each other in chairs with their feet propped up on stools in front of them. Sansa’s loud, desperate laughter faded as she realized her turn was over for now. She brushed stray hairs from in front of her face as she caught her breath.
“Calm as still water,” Arya chanted over and over in her mind as she mentally prepared for her turn. Littlefinger shifted over in front of her now. She couldn’t let Littlefinger make her laugh the same way he had broken down the queens he had captured. The sight of Sansa laughing so pathetically was unsettling but she had always been much more fragile than Arya. “Littlefinger can’t get me to laugh. He MUST NOT get me to laugh like that. I’m Arya Stark, a trained assassin and former student of the greatest swordsman who ever lived. I’ve cheated death most of my life; I’ll certainly cheat this snake. No way he makes me laugh with tickling. I won’t give him the satisfaction,” Arya thought to herself as she watched Littlefinger getting into position in front of her feet.
Arya’s small size 6 soles were tied propped up in front of Littlefinger. Small, bubbly toes, shapely features, deep arches...Littlefinger noted as he looked them over once more. “Alright Arya Stark...tickle tickle tickle...” he said with malice as he brought his feather forward and started flicking it across the bottoms of her feet. The sensation was shocking at first. Arya did not expect to be THAT sensitive to the feeling but she still maintained a blank expression and remained like a stone as Littlefinger played with her feet.
The pointed tip of the feather licked the wide bottoms of her tiny feet. Up and down, over and over. Arya tried to block it out but the feather’s tickling sensations never ceased. If anything, the feeling got worse because there was no reprieve. Arya had to concentrate hard to keep her feet from moving at all or her lips to curl up. “Calm as still water,” she chanted over and over in her head but it was getting more difficult to keep the simple words straight. And for as calm and collected as Arya was posing to be, Littlefinger seemed equally calm and unfazed by the lack of an immediate reaction.
“What if he doesn’t give up? How long can I keep a straight face?” Arya thought as Littlefinger continued wafting the feather up and down her bare soles. Arya really wanted to let out some giggles now and the corners of her mouth were starting to twitch. The pressure inside of her to blurt out laughter was building. “This is pathetic! Why am I wanting to laugh so bad from a stupid feather?! This could be really terrible if he doesn’t give up on me soon...” Arya thought to herself as she fidgeted in her seat ever so slightly. She needed to do something to relieve the tension and get a slight break. Arya started to smile but immediately feigned like she was yawning. The coverup was obvious to a man like Littlefinger. Arya tried to act nonchalant as she curled her toes down and crossed one foot in front of the other as slow as she could. She repeated this with the other foot and tried to act like she was just rubbing them together.
“God that feels so much better,” Arya thought as she cherished every second of breaking the tickling pattern. Keeping her feet completely still side by side was agony. At least crossing her feet over gave one foot at a time a small break. Littlefinger wasn’t going to let her off that easy though. He set his feather down and pulled out a small snippet of white string. “Now now, Lady Stark...you wouldn’t be shifting your feet because this tickles now would you? I doubt it. You are so renowned for your resolve. Surely a strong, tough girl like you can take a little foot tickling? BUT...let’s just tie your little piggies together for good measure, just to be sure.”
Littlefinger lassoed Arya’s big toes together snug and tied a neat little knot at the base to hold them in place. Arya tried shifting her feet again but this time they were firmly trapped side by side. Arya was not so sure of herself now. Littlefinger was unlike any opponent she had ever encountered. “What if he makes me laugh and beg like the others?? What if I’m not as tough as I claim to be?” Arya thought as she looked down at her tied feet.
Before the tickling began again, Arya looked over at her sister. Arya’s eyebrows were slightly raised and she had a panicked look in her eyes. Sansa could instantly tell what was on Arya’s mind. She was starting to get very nervous about holding out. Littlefinger was getting too her but Arya had so much pride. She would never willingly give in. “It’ll be okay, Arya. At least we’re together. And it’s okay if you need to laugh. You can let it out. I promise by all the Gods that I won’t think less of you if you do. All girls have ticklish feet. It’s okay if it tickles. You don’t have to be so strong.”
Littlefinger smirked and held his feather up again. He flicked it around teasingly so they could see it and asked Arya, “Ready for more?” Sansa spoke up and said, “Littlefinger, please don’t! You can...you can tickle me some more if you want to but Arya won’t get you what you want. I’m the one you should be dealing with. Leave her out of all this.”
“Then surrender to me if you want me to stop. Otherwise, I’ll just have to keep tickling your poor little sister’s feet until she’s begging you to swear loyalty to me,” Littlefinger answered with a smile as he wiggled the feather some more in front of the girls. Arya couldn’t stand the thought of Sansa giving in to Littlefinger on account of her just because she was being tickled. She blurted out, “No! Don’t do it, Sansa! He’ll NEVER make me beg!”
Littlefinger chuckled at that and taunted her by saying, “Tickle, tickle, tickle...” The feather started sliding up and down Arya’s arches again. This time her foot jolted at first before she forced herself to remain motionless again. Littlefinger guided the feather down around her lower arches where they met the heels and then wafted it back up the deep, creamy insteps. The feather caressed just under the prominent balls of Arya’s feet before sweeping up and over them. Littlefinger trailed the tip of the feather back and forth across the pads below Arya’s stubby toes and then began sawing the feather in the crevice between her right pinky toe and the toe next to it. Arya squeaked a little and curled her toes down momentarily. She then forced herself to uncurl them and allow Littlefinger to move his feather to the next toe crack.
Each time Arya felt the feather being pulled between her crowded toes, she couldn’t help but clench them and make a soft “Eeek” or grunt sound. “Oh no! I can’t stop myself from reacting to this silly tickling,” Arya thought as she failed time and again to stay still and quiet. Littlefinger was a master tickler and elicited a reaction every time. “Could it be that tough little Arya Stark has really ticklish feet?” Littlefinger asked rhetorically as he studied her reactions. He started flicking the tip of the feather on the undersides of Arya’s toes, which made her clench them all tightly. Once Littlefinger got to one pinky toe, he would reverse the feather and slide it back across to the other pinky toe, making sure to jitter the feather along the tip of each toe as it passed.
This time try as she might, Arya was unable to relax her toes. Not with the feather sliding across them, waiting to get at their vulnerable undersides. Arya wanted to flex her toes back but her feet were instinctively locked in a scrunch as they were tickled. Littlefinger moves back down to her impressive arches and started feathering them. Arya shrieked suddenly with ticklish surprise as she was expecting the feather to stay on course across her toes. Arya pinched her lips together tightly and tried her best to keep her feet from trembling as the feather was flicked across them. The thought that she was losing control was giving Arya a cold, icky feeling in the pit of her stomach.
Arya was shifting restlessly in her seat more and more. Littlefinger danced the tip of his feather all around in Arya’s pale arches, down to her sturdy heels, and then back up again to the pronounced balls of her feet. Her face was starting to contort more and more as she fought a losing battle to stay calm. As Littlefinger began wafting the feather up and down her arches again, Arya finally let out a small hiss of giggles.
“There it comes,” Littlefinger said pleased as he continued his tactics. The feather slid gracefully to the pads below her toes and then jumped up to randomly tickle the tips of different toes or slide in the gaps between them. Arya closed her eyes tightly and couldn’t help but beam a big smile. Her body shook a little as she silently held in her chuckles. Littlefinger pulled the feather out from between Arya’s toes and resumed flicking it up and down her soles, taking a slightly different path and pattern each time it went up or down. Arya’s resolve collapsed and she let out genuine giggles and laughter.
Littlefinger had finally done it; Arya was steadily laughing as he feathered her feet. “Aw, the little wolf is ticklish after all. Tickle tickle tickle, Lady Stark...” Littlefinger taunted her as he waved his feather across the trapped soles. “Hahahaha! I’m Hahahaha! No Hahahaha! Lady,” Arya argued between laughs. Littlefinger pulled his feather away, shook a finger at Arya, and made disapproving clicks with his mouth. “Now, now...we’ll have none of that nonsense that your parents tolerated. I’ll not have one of Catelyn’s daughters roaming around with a sword and men’s clothing.”
Sansa watched with a heavy heart as Arya squirmed around in her seat and was forced to laugh. Sansa knew the feeling all too well at this point. Littlefinger was tormenting and humiliating her sister just by running a feather over her feet. Sansa couldn’t sit by and watch her sister be tickled like that anymore. She shouted, “That’s enough! You don’t need to keep tickling her like that! You’ve made your point, you got her to laugh. Now leave her alone!”
Littlefinger looked at her and cocked an eyebrow. “Something you wanted to say, Sansa?” he asked as he transitioned over and began flicking the feather up and down Sansa’s long, pale soles. “No, no, I didn’t want to say anything hahahahaha!! No! Hahahahaha!!!” Sansa shouted as she fell back into laughter. “Someone with such big, ticklish feet shouldn’t be so quick to interrupt,” Littlefinger commented as he wagged the feather across Sansa’s ticklish size 9’s. The redheaded beauty of The North was cackling laughter once again as she scrunched her long toes down and kicked in her seat.
“Tell me, Lady Sansa...something I’ve been wondering...how did you and your sister make Cersei and Daenerys pass out so hard? I don’t imagine they’ll come to until the morning. You and your sister must have really done a number on them. How is that?” Littlefinger asked without skipping a beat with his feather. Sansa was going crazy once again as the feather caressed her soles up and down, up and down. Arya tried to pull at her bonds but quickly realized it was useless. She saw that Sansa would probably say anything at this point so she shouted, “Don’t tell him! Don’t say anything, Sansa!”
Littlefinger looked back over at Arya wickedly. She got a very worried expression on her face and looked like a puppy that had been caught doing something naughty. “Tisk, tisk...girls with ticklish feet shouldn’t keep secrets,” Littlefinger said as he brought the wafting feather over toward Arya’s small, bare size 6’s. Arya pouted a little and said, “Oh come on, not again.” Arya couldn’t hold out for more than a few seconds before she melted back into laughter. She wiggled in her seat and let out sweet, raspy laughter as she tried to reach her tied hands forward to block the feather and cover her soles. The ropes binding her torso to the chair did not allow her to reach very far.
“How did my remaining queens become so sleepy that they’ve managed to slumber through all this laughing?” Littlefinger asked. Arya knew that telling him how they smothered the women with their feet until they passed out was not a smart choice. But Littlefinger wasn’t making it easy. His damned feather was licking all over the bottoms of her sensitive feet and driving her mad. “Tickle tickle tickle, Arya...” Littlefinger said as he wiggled the feather’s tip along the undersides of her squat little toes. Arya quickly scrunched them down tight but continued to laugh heartily as he softly stroked the round tips of her toes with the feather.
Sansa watched Arya laughing next to her and felt horrible. She never meant to get her sister into this trouble. But now they were both prisoners here in King’s Landing getting their bare feet tickled. If her subjects in The North knew about this, Sansa would die of embarrassment. She frowned as she watched Arya’s tiny, supple soles get tickled relentlessly by the feather. It was clear that her sister’s resistance to the tickling was waning. Arya’s laughter was getting more and more desperate and panicked.
Littlefinger switched back to Sansa and asked, “Ready to explain yourself? How did you put my queens to sleep so soundly?” Sansa was less focused on his question and more focused on the feather heading down to her vulnerable feet. “No wait! Not me again! Please! Stop this! Not again hahahahaha!!!” Sansa yelled as she threw her head back in ticklish agony. After initially stroking her long arches with the feather, Littlefinger decided to move it to her long, thin toe stems. The pale, ultra-soft undersides of Sansa’s toes were unbelievably ticklish, especially near the base. Soon, Sansa was begging for him to stop.
“Don’t tell him anything, Sansa!” Arya yelled in defiance as she looked over at her sister almost in tears from laughing so much. Littlefinger stopped and set his feather down. He snapped his fingers and a guard brought over a hairbrush and a vile of baby oil. He poured a generous amount in his hand and began swiping it on Sansa and Arya’s foot bottoms, coating their soles until they were slick and shiny. Arya bit her lower lip as she watched Littlefinger spread oil across their feet. Sansa exclaimed in an agitated and fearful tone, “Ughh...oil again? Please not the brush!”
He picked up the hairbrush and asked Arya, “I guess you wanted more attention then? This brush should help with that.” Littlefinger knelt on the floor and hooked one arm around Arya’s ankles to keep her pinned. “Feel like telling me what you did to my queens?” he asked. Arya was running off of false bravado now as she shouted, “Never! You’ll never get it out of me!”
Littlefinger began scrubbing the brush wildly across Arya’s trapped soles, sending her immediately into raspy, unbridled laughter. The brush’s bristles easily slid over Arya’s slicked up feet. She shrieked and howled laughter like crazy as the brush was scribbled across her peds. Littlefinger firmly scrubbed the bristles across both of Arya’s shiny, round heels. The odd, unexpected sensations from being tickled so effectively on her heels sent spastic shivers up her legs and made her feet tremble. But it was nothing like when Littlefinger brought the brush higher and dragged it back and forth across the pads below her toes. Arya really hated that and it was evident in her laughter.
Sansa hated seeing her sister suffer like that. She blurted out, “I’ll tell you what we did if you stop tickling her!” Littlefinger paused and went over to Sansa. “You’ll tell me...because your feet are all oiled up and I’m holding a hairbrush,” Littlefinger said matter of factly right before he encircled Sansa’s ankles and held the brush to them. Sansa quickly realized the error of her thinking and frantically said, “I didn’t mean it like that! I’m sorry! Of course you’re right! I just HAHAHAHAHA!!!” Sansa nearly jumped out of her seat when she felt the bristles come to life on her slender, shallow arches.
Littlefinger moved the brush in a loose figure eight pattern along the bottoms of Sansa’s pretty soles as he listened to her beg and scream and laugh and try to gulp air down when she could catch her breath. “Northerners never seem to do well when they come to King’s Landing, it seems. They always get themselves into ticklish situations, I’m afraid,” he teased but Sansa was barely aware he was even talking she was laughing so hard. It didn’t take long before she told him exactly what she and Arya had done.
Sansa: “OKAY! OKAY! I’LL TALK HAHAHAHAHA!! WE SMOTHERED THEM! HAHAHAHAHA!! WE PUT OUR FEET ON THEIR FACES! HAHAHAHAHA!! THEY PASSED OUT! HAHAHAHAHA!! WE MADE THEM SMELL OUR FEET!”
Littlefinger gave her a small break for her admission. He went back to Arya and started back scrubbing her deep arches with the tingly bristles. Arya erupted with laughter shook her head back and forth. It was like her shapely arches were made just for scrubbing with an oily brush. Back and forth the brush went across her soles. Arya couldn’t help but scream at this point. She had no more delusions of remaining calm as still water.
“Is this true, Arya? Did you really make my queens pass out with your feet?” Littlefinger asked with somewhat feigned ignorance. Arya was dying from laughter. She was willing to do anything now to get the tickling to stop for a little bit. Arya couldn’t take the horrible tickling assault on her oiled up feet anymore and shouted back, “YES! HAHAHAHAHA!! WE DID! HAHAHAHA!! WE MADE THEM PASS OUT SO WE COULD GET AWAY! HAHAHAHAHA!!”
Littlefinger: “You could have left my brothel without bothering the other queens but you didn’t. I suspect that part of you got some satisfaction doing that. You liked the power it gave you over them in the moment, didn’t you?”
Arya: “BWAAHAHAHAHA!! YES!! HAHAHAHA!! I LIKED IT!!”
Littlefinger: “That wasn’t very becoming of a proper lady.”
Arya: “HAHAHAHA!! I’M NO LADY!! HAHAHAHAHA!! I TOLD YOU THAT!! HAHAHAHA!!”
Littlefinger: “Oh yes you are. Now say it. Say you’re a proper lady.”
Arya: “HAHAHAHAHA!! OKAY! OKAY! FINE! I’M A PROPER LADY! HAHAHAHAHAHA!!”
Littlefinger: “Now beg for me. Say you need me to stop.”
Arya: “HAHAHAHAHA!! OKAY! I NEED YOU TO STOP! HAHAHAHAHA!!”
Littlefinger: “And just how did you make them pass out, again?”
Arya: “HAHAHAHAHA!! SANSA ALREADY TOLD YOU!! HAHAHAHAHAHA!! I DON’T WANT TO SAY IT!! HAHAHAHAHA!!”
Littlefinger: “Excuse me, you aren’t in charge here. If you don’t want me to tickle you until the sun comes up, you’ll tell me how you made my queens pass out.”
Arya: “HAHAHAHAHA!! WE...WE DID IT WITH OUR STINKY FEET!! HAHAHAHAHA!! WE COVERED THEIR FACES SO HAHAHAHAHA!! SO THEY HAD TO BREATH IT IN!!”
Littlefinger: “See, that wasn’t so hard. Your stinky feet, you say? How would you like it if someone did that to you girls? What if another woman covered your faces with her smelly feet and made you breath her in until you ran out of breath?”
Arya: “HAHAHAHAHA!! NO! HAHAHAHA!! THAT’S SO GROSS!!”
Sansa: “Absolutely not! That is disgusting! Just thinking about another woman’s feet in my face...ew, that’s just gross.”
Littlefinger stopped and put down his brush. Arya was breathing heavily as she tried to catch her breath. Sansa had a concerned look on her face as she asked, “Lord Baelish...why...why did you want to know what Arya and I thought about having another woman’s feet covering our face?”
The girls didn’t even notice Melisandre coming up behind them. She walked up near the backs of the chairs and leaned forward to cup an arm around each girl’s shoulders. Sansa and Arya both visibly had a defeated look wash over their faces as they rolled their heads and scoffed in disgust and disbelief about what was about to happen.
Melisandre: “Good evening, ladies. I think you’ve had enough for tonight. Littlefinger can continue his tickling session with you tomorrow when he’s rested. Why don’t I help put you girls to sleep......”
LATER ON IN LITTLEFINGER’S BROTHEL...
Sansa and Arya were lying down on one of the large beds in the brothel. Their arms were outstretched above them to the headboard and their ankles were secured with rope that was tied off at the foot of the bed. This left them completely stretched out with about two feet in between them. They tugged and pulled at their bonds but the ropes wouldn’t wiggle loose. They laid there in their clothes still with their bare feet out near the foot of the bed.
Melisandre had gone away to change her clothes. When she returned, she was only wearing a sheer red coverup that was fastened in a small knot above her bellybutton. The deep V in the middle of the outfit left little to the imagination. Her pale chest and a significant portion of her breasts were visible. Melisandre’s nipples and the remaining portion of her breasts that weren’t exposed were visible through the sheer material. Below, her legs and pussy were bare. She walked toward them wearing red flats.
She approached the girl’s seductively with the gaze of a lioness stalking a field deer. Sansa and Arya squirmed even harder now, trying one last time to get away before they were forced to smell the Red Priestess’ soles. Melisandre reached the bed and slipped off her red flats. She climbed up and lay between the girls with her head near their feet.
Melisandre playfully asked the girls, “Who would like to go first?” Awkward, tense silence followed. Arya and Sansa looked at each other nervously. This couldn’t be happening. They had seen how much Cersei and Daenerys had complained and struggled for fresh air. The idea of having the same thing done to them sounded awful. Melisandre waited patiently while the girls looked back at her and then back to each other and then back to her. They remained silent with anxious expressions on their faces.
“Alright, I guess I’ll start with you then,” Melisandre said as she raised her legs straight out and hovered her bare feet above Sansa’s head. Sansa freaked out and shouted, “No! Not that! That’s bloody disgusting! No way you’re putting your feet on my face! Bleh, get them away from me! Don’t you dare cover my face with your mmmhhhmmm!!!” Sansa was cut short as Melisandre’s pale, creamy size 7’s were lowered directly on her face, covering her nose and mouth.
Melisandre curled her toes down to scrunch her feet and form a tighter seal over Sansa’s mouth and nose. “Now the only air you’ll be breathing is my foot stink. Goodnight, my Lady of Winterfell.” Sansa’s eyes bulged out when she realized her fresh air had been completely cut off. Now her only breath was coming right off of Melisandre’s wrinkly arches. Sansa bucked and wriggled around to try and get her face free but the bondage holding her kept her firmly in place. Sansa tried turning and shaking her head but Melisandre stayed with her until finally she started to weaken.
Melisandre used her long fingernails to lightly skitter across the bottoms of Sansa’s feet. The redhead couldn’t help but laugh and breath in the foot smell faster and deeper. Sansa giggled and inhaled loudly against her will until her eyes started to fade. The foot stink sunk down into her lungs as she lost consciousness. Sansa slipped into a forced slumber with Melisandre’s cupped feet sealed tightly over her face.
“Now it’s your turn to go to sleep, Lady Stark,” Melisandre said with glee as she shifted her feet over and held them above Arya’s face. Arya looked over and saw Sansa passed out with her eyes closed and her mouth hanging open slightly. Then she looked back at the pair of feet being lowered down slowly but surely toward her face. Arya was breathing rapidly as she tried to think of a last second way out of this situation. But nothing came to mind and Melisandre’s scrunched soles came down and smothered the tough little Stark girl’s face. Arya made a muffled, pouty complaint that was not discernible as she tried rolling her head around different ways and bucked desperately.
“You must be tired. Don’t you want to fall asleep? Would it help if I tickled your feet too to help you breath in the smell of my feet faster?” Melisandre asked teasingly. Arya blurted out a muffled, “MMMHHHHMMM!!!” She shook her head but it didn’t stop Melisandre from wiggling her long, pointed nails across Arya’s arches. Arya snorted a little as she began laughing and inhaled deeply and more frequently.
Arya lasted longer than Sansa but eventually she too began to slow down and fade. She could only breath in so much of Melisandre’s foot stink and stay awake. Finally, Arya couldn’t resist as well as she had at the beginning. She slipped more and more into unconsciousness. Arya stopped twitching her feet as they were tickled. Melisandre sat up to check the girls. Arya was lying in the bed peacefully next to her sister. Both girls were out cold with no idea of what was awaiting them the next morning.
TO BE CONTINUED...
