Happy Wife, Happy Life (F/M, Femdom, Reluctant Consent, Foot Worship, Light CBT, Spinoff of Mom’s Favorite Toy)

[the777joker777]

Happy Wife, Happy Life (F/M, Femdom, Reluctant Consent, Foot Worship, Light CBT, Spinoff of Mom’s Favorite Toy)

A few years ago, I wrote a story called “Mom’s Favorite Toy” (link: https://www.ticklingforum.com/threa...n-con-humil-spanking-femdom-forced-hj.331484/) and said after posting it that I was working on a sequel. I was, but after writing most of it I’ve found myself kind of stuck with it and not terribly happy with it. I will finish it and post it at some point, but I’ve hit a bit of a wall with it, unfortunately.

But my struggles there did get me thinking a little bit. In the feedback I received on the initial story, I got multiple requests for the sequel to have the wife torturing the husband. My initial reaction was that I didn’t want to write that and I didn’t think it would work, but having had a few years to think about it, I’ve kind of come around on it as long as it’s in the right context. So, I’m going to try my hand at that here, in this sequel, although I think spinoff is a more appropriate term. I acknowledge that it may not be exactly what some people were hoping for when they requested this concept, but if so, I hope it’s at least close enough. Story takes place a few months after the end of Part One, call it 2035.

First, I’d recommend reading that first story before you read this one, as it will help make sense of the situation and characters in a way that this story doesn’t fully re-iterate. However, it’s not necessary if you only care about the fetish stuff. The disclaimers from that first story still apply, in that this story contains tickling but is more of an overall torture femdom story than anything else, and that there’s a lot of setup and world-building since that’s something I like. If you want to skip the world-building and the introduction, I’ll use tags so you can fast forward to the actual fetish content. Bear in mind that looking at the part list below will spoil where certain fetish elements come into play.

This story is F/M Femdom, featuring Reluctant/Negotiated Consent, Foot Worship, Light CBT, and Roleplay. There is one scene of M/F but it’s not a focus and is over fairly quickly.

Finally, not too long after I wrote the first story, I commissioned an artist to do a drawing of one of the scenes from it, and am going to attach that picture down below for your viewing pleasure. This artist did not read the story, and drew the picture based on my description of it and utilized some anime/video game characters that approximated the way I envisioned the character in the story, but I think it turned out great.

Part One: Riches To Rest - Introducing characters, giving some backstory, and setup [01RTR]
Part Two: What We Do For Family - Start of Roleplay, Femdom [02WWDFF]
Part Three: Flip the Script - Start of Body Tickling, Mild CBT [03FTS]
Part Four: The Agony Of The Feet - Start of Foot Worship, Foot Tickling [04TAOTF]
Part Five: In For A Penny - CBT [05IFAP]
Epilogue: From Hell’s Heart - M/F Scene [EFHH]

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Part One: Riches To Rest [01RTR]

“So, how nice is it being able to eat sugar again?”

Michelle sat cross-legged on the foot of the bed, elbows resting on her knees, head propped up on her hands, looking down at her husband, laid out on the floor. Even though they had been together for well over two decades, looking at him and thinking about him never ceased to amaze her. Thinking about her life as a teenager, the things she did, the people around her, and her aspirations for her life, and comparing it to where she actually was in her late thirties was staggering.

For starters, there was her husband. Yes, she was a pretty girl in high school, on the cheerleading squad with no problem getting dates. But even at a relatively small Iowa high school, she wasn’t the prettiest or most desirable. She very clearly remembered being surprised when she caught the attention of Jacob Scott, handsome star of the basketball team, easily the most popular (and tallest) boy around. And she was even more surprised when they stayed together when he started to get national attention as one of the best high school basketball players in the entire country, when he was recruited by the Dukes, North Carolinas, Kentuckys and Kansases (his choice) of the world, when his growth spurt only stopped after he reached up over seven feet tall, when he became a collegiate superstar who helped lead Kansas to the final four, when he got drafted third overall by the Orlando Magic and signed a contract worth tens of millions of dollars, when he, when he, when he, when he, the improbable accomplishments and achievements never ended. Even after they had gotten married shortly after he got drafted, some part of her was still waiting for the other shoe to fall, thinking that she’d eventually have to go back to an unremarkable life.

It never happened. Twenty years of marriage, and they had never waivered or faltered in any truly meaningful way. Six beautiful kids, billions of dollars, wise and timely investments, luxury condos, mansions, luxury cars, brand name clothing, designer shoes and purses, yachts, antiquities, you name it, they had it. Jacob had been immensely successful in the National Basketball Association, playing out a career of nearly two decades before retiring just a few months ago. A big man with a rare set of offensive skills, Jacob possessed tremendous touch and devastating moves around the basket, range to stretch the defense out beyond the three point line, rebounding instincts and savviness, and remarkable court vision and passing skills that made him so very hard to deal with. After spending the first half of his career with the Magic, he then took his talents to New York and was able to bring the Knicks (of all teams!) their first league MVP and championships in over fifty years. He had certainly earned his retirement in the lap of luxury, and planned to make the most of it.

Despite being an immortal legend in the city of New York, having been the man who ended the generations of suffering from Knicks fans, Jacob hadn’t wavered from his desire to retire to his palatial mansion in Florida, having grown a fondness for living on the beach in the first part of his adulthood. He received no protest from Michelle or any of his children on that, as they all much preferred the tropical climate and relative peace of Florida over the unforgiving coldness and population density of New York as well. And so, the stage was set for Jacob and Michelle Scott to grow old together, watch their amazing children embark into lives of their own, and find something to do with their unfathomable wealth. Which might have sounded easy to do, but they had both been born and raised in the lower-middle class of middle America, and even after all these years being wealthy still didn’t come naturally to them.

“I did miss cakes,” Jacob admitted. “Real cakes, I mean.”

“Yeah, I noticed,” she said dryly, nevertheless giving a soft little smile down at him. He was laying down on the floor, face down, head resting on his folded arms, wearing nothing but a black pair of boxer shorts. For what felt like the millionth time, Michelle marveled at how much of a physical specimen he was. At just over seven feet tall, there were less than five thousand people in the world taller than him. Two hundred and sixty pounds, not quite as perfectly chiseled and sculpted as he was ten years ago but nevertheless muscular and well-built. Still handsome, even as he approached his forties. The winner of the genetic lottery, no doubt about it.

“Hey, it was a really good cake, what do you want from me?” Jacob asked. Michelle unfolded her legs and slid down to the carpeted floor, walking over to him. “Twenty years I haven’t touched that stuff, I think I’ve earned the right. Twenty years with no pizza either, tell me I haven’t earned it. That wasn’t easy to hold off on.”

Once it became clear that Jacob had a genuine chance to have a successful career as a professional athlete, he figured that he owed it to himself to maximize it as much as humanly possible, and had been on an extremely strict diet since college. Sugars, bad carbs, processed foods, anything that might affect him negatively was sacrificed. Now, having hung up his sneakers, he had eagerly been indulging himself in desserts, consuming nearly half of an entire cake by himself in one sitting the other night.

Michelle went down on her knees next to Jacob, reaching over to pump some white lotion into her right hand from a massive jar to her right. Slowly, she started rubbing it onto Jacob’s long, muscular back, moving up and down the expanse of taut skin, a process that she had become very familiar with over the years. “I know, I know. You deserve it.” She rose back to her feet after feeling satisfied with the application of lotion. She slowly placed her right foot up onto Jacob’s lower back, reaching up and grabbing onto a thick rope dangling from the ceiling as she did. “Just be careful. You know what they say about tall people and heart failure, no need to accelerate it.”

Jacob gave a little groan as Michelle brought her left foot up onto the middle of his back, now placing all of her body weight onto him. His body sank a bit into the cushion he was laying atop.

“Are my feet warm enough?” Michelle asked.

“Mmm,” Jacob moaned. “It’s perfect.” Michelle went up on her toes, digging into his back with additional pressure focused into a smaller area.

Jacob and Michelle loved giving each other massages. With rare exception it was a required part of foreplay, and even though they could obviously afford a lifetime’s worth of professional massages, they still preferred to do it themselves. And while Jacob’s big, strong hands had no issue reducing Michelle to a barely coherent lump of taffy, Michelle’s attempts to reciprocate felt more like a mosquito trying to penetrate steel. Ashiatsu, however, allowed her to use her entire body weight. Over the years, she had gotten very good at it, working through knots in his muscles like a professional.

“So, you think any more about my idea?” Michelle asked, dragging her heels along his trap muscles, pressing in deeply.

“What, the horse breeding thing?” Jacob asked, his cadence slightly off as he grunted underneath the pressure of her feet. Slowly, she started pacing up his back, moving up towards his shoulders.

“No, the…the other thing. The…the tickling thing,” she said, trying to sound casual.

“Oh.” He stirred a little bit. “I mean, I don’t know. I don’t think it’s my kind of thing.”

“How can you know without trying?” Michelle asked. “What’s the worst that could happen anyway? It’s not like I could actually hurt you.”

Jacob grunted. “I’ve seen some of the things you come up with on your toys, I don’t know if I agree with you there.”

“Oh, I’d never go that far with you,” she assured him. “And you could take it anyway, you're a tough guy.”

“You know, you saying that doesn't make me feel very confident that you wouldn't go that far on me,” Jacob pointed out, giving a pleasurable moan as Michelle used her toes on his shoulder blades. “I spent a fortune on that setup in the basement so I wouldn't have to do stuff like that. Something wrong with your toy?”

“Oh no, not at all, just…I thought it'd be fun to experiment. You're retired now, you need a hobby, don't you?”

Jacob snickered. “I assure you, honey, whatever hobby I end up taking on, it will not be getting tied up and sexually tortured. I know enough about myself to know that.”

Michelle had tried on multiple occasions over the years to convince her husband to try out a session as a submissive with her. While she got more than enough of a release of her sadistic urges with the setup they had with her toys, she wanted to try it with him. Getting to dominate a man more than twice her weight and nearly two feet taller than her, who could squash her like a bug without breaking a sweat, sounded like a thrilling experience. And he was very ticklish, that she knew from experience. But he had liked his masculinity a little too much to agree, not to mention his embarrassment over how ticklish he was, and she had always backed off pretty quickly when he resisted. But now that he was retired, she wasn't going to be turned down so easily.

“You like worshiping my feet,” she pointed out. “It's not that different.” Using the rope to keep her balance, she started digging her heels into the middle part of his back.

“If by not that different, you mean completely different, I agree,” Jacob countered. “Most of the stuff you have won't even fit me.”

“Yes, which is why I have to order custom equipment, which I can't do until you've agreed.”

Jacob grunted, unable to completely hide his annoyance at Michelle refusing to let this go. He knew exactly where this was going, and he didn't like it. Over their decades together, Michelle took every opportunity to tickle him, little sneaky pokes and prods wherever she could get them. Of course, those opportunities generally lasted a couple seconds at most, and would be immediately followed by Jacob getting retribution on her for a much longer period of time. He knew full well that she longed for a chance to tickle him without him being able to get her back or easily overpower her. If given that chance, she'd certainly go hog wild with it. And he hated being tickled, finding his weakness to it embarrassing and emasculating.

But deep down, he knew that he'd eventually give in to her if she kept pushing for it. He couldn't say no to her for long.

“If I agreed, understand that it'd be a one time thing. We won't be making a habit out of it,” Jacob begrudgingly said, already feeling the pull to surrender to her request.

“Unless you like it,” she countered.

“I'm not going to like it!” he insisted. “Let’s understand that now, I’m not going to like it.”

She rolled her eyes, nevertheless dutifully pressing her toes down into his flesh. “So, is that you agreeing?”

“No,” Jacob said flatly. “That was hypothetical.”

“Okay, be honest with me, please. Do you think I'd actually hurt you? Is that what you're afraid of?” Michelle asked. “I'd argue you being afraid of me hurting you is more embarrassing than trying one session as a sub.”

“It's…I don't like feeling helpless,” Jacob said. “I don't like being seen like that.”

“I'm the only one who's going to see you,” she pointed out. “I'm the only one who's going to even know that it happened.”

“Not true,” Jacob protested. “You'll have to order special custom equipment from Cheng, and he'll know it's meant for me because of how big it'll be. So he'll know.”

“That's your sticking point?” Michelle slowly eased herself down into a sitting position on his rear, using her heels to dig into his trap muscles. “You haven't even interacted with Cheng in eight years, I'm the one who works with him, and he's a professional anyway. Who cares if he knows?”

He grumbled to himself. “I liked it more when you gave up on this after a minute of asking.”

“Well, you used to be a world class athlete making tens of millions of dollars every year running yourself ragged for the entertainment of the masses. Now, you're just a middle aged pretty boy who sleeps all day and only leaves the house to play poker.”

“You know, you're lucky I'm enjoying this massage too much to get up and put you over my knee,” Jacob joked. “But really, you're not letting this go?”

“It would make me really happy,” Michelle said.

Jacob sighed. “I suppose there's no arguing with that.” He grunted. “Order the stuff.”

Michelle grinned, happy to see that she was still able after all these years to sway her husband if she was persistent enough. “Once I do, there's no going back. If I order it and never get to use it, I'll be very unhappy.”

“I'll do it, I'll do it,” he assured her. “But you don't tell anyone about this. Ever. Under any circumstances. It happens, and then we all pretend it didn't for the rest of our lives.”

“Yeah, I got you,” she agreed. “But, trust me when I say that it'll be a night neither of us will forget.”

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Part Two: What We Do For Family [02WWDFF]

Michelle ran her fingers through the stream of cold water pouring from the silver faucet in the porcelain sink, getting them damp before rubbing them across her forehead. She was already getting hot, and she hadn’t even started yet. Just thinking about the evening she was going to have had her flushed with arousal. She could only imagine how excited she was going to be once it began.

Weeks had passed since Jacob had given his reluctant agreement to participate in Michelle’s little fantasy. She had ordered the specialty equipment first thing the next morning and then did what she could to keep him in a good mood while waiting for it to arrive. Which ended up being quite easy, as a few days later he played the $2,000/$4,000 game on Live at the Big Easy and won nearly three million dollars. Not to say that the money meant very much to him, but he had been working very hard over the years to try to actually get good at poker and prove he wasn’t just a whale who got invited to nosebleed games to feed the pros, so being the big winner at the biggest stakes on a stream watched by tens of thousands of people was a big deal to him.

The custom made rack arrived, Michelle getting it put together in record time, and Jacob stayed true to his word. Not wanting to risk him changing his mind, she elected to schedule their session for that very night. After dinner, the two made their way to the ‘playroom’. Jacob had instructed her to go into the bathroom, change, and wait inside for ten minutes while he got ready, in an attempt to make the experience authentic. After all, the Sultana wasn’t supposed to secure her plaything to the bondage rack herself. The Sultana had her servants secure the plaything for her before she even walked into the room.

And for tonight, The Sultana is what she was. She was adorned in a dark red and gold robe with a red camisole, the colors and designs very much evoking a middle eastern feel. Probably not entirely accurate to what an actual Sultana would wear, but also more comfortable. It would certainly serve her purpose for tonight.

Her ten minutes were up. Taking a deep, settling breath, she went over to the door and wrenched the knob open, pulling it back towards her.

She loved the way the playroom was set up right now. Continuing the theme of her outfit, the room was designed to give the feel of a palace in the Ottoman Empire. A massive four-poster bed protected by sheer curtains, color patterns of red, blue, and gold, a gaudy chandelier of gold and diamond strings, all of it lit up so brilliantly that you’d never guess it was night time. Again, perhaps not a perfect recreation of the period, but close enough. Cutting edge hologram technology on the walls made the room look far bigger than it actually was, expanding the scope of the fantasy much further than the props ever could.

And right in the middle of it all was a very appealing sight. Jacob Scott, her husband, splayed out on an X-frame rack, completely naked outside of the leather cuffs on his wrists and his blindfold. His ankles were locked into a pair of cushioned single stocks on either leg of the X. He hadn't reacted to her entering the room, laying there in silence and waiting for her to take the lead.

She felt herself get even hotter, now getting a concrete visual of what she was going to be playing with. She could only hope that, once things got going, she would be able to keep herself under control and maximize her experience. She was relatively confident this would be the one and only time Jacob would agree to this, so she was going to get everything she could out of it.

She licked her lips, eyes immediately drawn to his massive cock. It was hard to look anywhere else, in his current state there may as well have been a spotlight on it. Jacob’s penis was extraordinarily large, a freakishly big package well suited for a seven footer. Michelle was very familiar with it, of course. Hell, she had gotten six kids out of it. Which did nothing to diminish how remarkable it was.

She delicately strolled over towards him, moving silently, giving no clue to her presence, the wool carpet and her bare feet not making a sound when they contacted each other. She had been mulling over her game plan for this session for weeks, and her subconscious had been contemplating this for years, and she wanted to get everything just right.

“I was told to expect something special today,” Michelle said, easing herself down onto the stool right by Jacob’s right side. She could see his muscular body tense up the moment she said something, finally revealing her presence so very close to him. “What a unique specimen for my collection.” She glanced up, now realizing that his left hand was not secured into the cuff, Jacob having been unable to secure it by himself, his wrist simply resting within it. She reached up and locked it around his wrist, rendering him officially helpless.

While Michelle was very well-versed in performing as a dominant with her toys down in the secret dungeon, role-playing as one was new to her. She knew all about playing the submissive, having done so countless times in this very room. She had played the Native American Squaw being interrogated by Jacob’s Cowboy, the Harem Slave Girl performing for Jacob’s Emperor, the Merchant’s Daughter being held for ransom by Jacob’s Pirate, the Plaything being given to Jacob’s Champion Gladiator as a reward, and so much more. But now, she drove the action.

“My goodness,” Michelle whispered, even putting a slight accent on her words to suit the scenario she had constructed. “I have broken so many men in this room. Turned masculine tough guys into weeping little boys. But you…you're going to be different, aren't you?”

Jacob moaned quietly, mouth held tightly shut in a grimace of determination. She could tell that he wasn't entirely comfortable in this position and wasn't looking forward to this, and it wasn't just an act. Part of her felt bad for him, but it was a relatively small part of her compared to the part that was over the moon excited about this upcoming session.

She grabbed the base of his cock with her right hand, firmly wrapping her fingers around it. He groaned and shifted around in his bonds, a simple set of thick leather cuffs bolted down to the frame with steel that even someone of his great strength wouldn’t be able to break on his wrists, and the sturdy wooden foot stocks on his ankles. “First thing you need to learn. This is now mine, now and forever. And you’d do well to figure that out quickly, or I might feel it necessary to take it away from you.”

His face wrinkled up a bit, the remnants of the cold water on her fingers adding to the discomfort he felt on his privates. Even though he certainly knew she would never in a million years actually follow through on that threat, even talking about it was enough to further his distaste for being put in this spot. He relaxed ever so slightly as her hand came off his manhood.

“Once you figure that out, the rest will come naturally. I assure you, you’ll be no different than any other plaything I’ve ever had, no matter how impressive a specimen you might be.” She wriggled her fingers around rapidly in the air for a moment, then aggressively dug them into his abdomen.

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Part Three: Flip The Script [03FTS]

“Ahh!” Jacob was waiting for her touch, although where she would start was anyone's guess. He wrenched hard against his wrist restraints, futilely trying to bring his arms down to protect himself.

Michelle had to apply a little more pressure to achieve the desired effect compared to her playthings, but it was every bit as rewarding. Her rapidly probing fingers worked through his firm muscles, stimulating his nerves in ways he was so unfamiliar with. Within seconds, he gave in to the urge to produce uncontrollable laughter.

“NaaahahaAHAHA! AHAAHAHAHAHAAAA!” he howled, the chaotic laughter contrasting with his deep, commanding voice. He thrashed around wildly, immediately testing the integrity of the chains and rack. She braced herself, wondering if his power and strength might prove too much for the bonds, but Cheng’s handiwork proved itself worthy of his exorbitant prices. Jacob was every bit as helpless as her normal playthings right now, and she intended to take full advantage.

“Oh, does the big baby like this?” Michelle teased. “Does the big baby like it?”

If not for the laughter busting out of his mouth, Jacob would have given a dangerous scowl. This was bad enough without being referred to as a ‘big baby’.

“STAAAAahahaaPPP! STAAHAHAHAAP!” Jacob screamed, genuinely trying to break out of his restraints. It wouldn’t have been fair to call it a survival instinct, but that was the closest thing to what Jacob felt right now, and he genuinely wanted to break free of this rack to turn the tables on his wife. This was already more than he had been tickled in thirty years, and he was essentially panicking in reaction to it.

Michelle watched his package wave around in the air comically as he wriggled back and forth, flopping up and down. She relished being able to get such strong physical reactions out of him. He gathered himself just enough to screw his face up and attempt to hold in his cackling. His face was already bright red, and his body wasn’t far behind, both from how hard he was laughing and the embarrassment he felt.

“Look at it go!” she said, far too amused by the sight of his giant cock whirling around. She reached her right hand down and scrabbled her fingers underneath the balls. That surprised him enough to crack his mouth open, and he emitted an undignified shriek that sounded like a train whistle. With his fortifications broken open, booming laughter filled the room.
“STAHAAAAAHAHAAHAP!” Jacob shook his head back and forth violently. His composure had melted like butter. Even though Michelle knew he was ticklish, she had expected him to put up a tough facade for at least a few minutes first.

“Not special at all,” she reiterated, fingers eagerly seeking out the best spots, going up and down his abdomen like she was playing the piano. “I'll have you broken at my feet in an hour at this rate.”

Even though it was obviously pointless, Jacob continued to yank on his restraints with all his might. The amount of force generated from his attempts was remarkable, the noise from the rattling chains and slight vibrations from the rack a testament to how badly he was being tickled.

“PAAAHAHAHAHAA!” Michelle had spontaneously decided to blow a loud, wet raspberry on his stomach, thrilled to see how effective it was when he practically squealed in response. An embarrassing, pathetic sound that you’d never expect a seven foot tall world class athlete worth over two billion dollars to produce. Michelle wanted to get him to produce it a few more times before the night was over.

“You really ARE a big baby,” she continued, going to town with the teasing, wanting to take full advantage of this opportunity. If she called him a big baby tomorrow he'd probably pin her down and tickle her until she took it back, and then keep tickling her anyway until she was beet red. “Look at you, I've seen preteen girls handle tickling better than this.”

She didn't relent for quite some time, knowing that her husband was capable of handling far more than her tickle toys. Even in retirement, he was in such good shape he could probably take merciless tickling for hours without passing out. By the time she gave him a rest, he felt as if it had been hours. Whole body tinged pink, sweating, loudly panting, still giggling from the memory of the tickles on his stomach. She took a moment to observe her handiwork.

“Oh…oh…lemme…let me…let me go—” Jacob wheezed out.

Immediately, on an almost instinctual reflex, Michelle reached up and gave his testicles a slap with her right hand. He shouted in pain and surprise, body recoiling the tiny bit it could. He couldn't see with his blindfold on still, but he looked at where he guessed she was, trying to convey his displeasure.

“You don't give orders,” Michelle said. “And I had better never hear that tone from you again when addressing your Mistress.”

Michelle was glad that Jacob couldn’t see right now, because if not for the blindfold he’d be able to clearly see how rattled she was. He might have been able to hear it in her voice. She certainly could. There was a world of difference between the cool, playful, confident manner in which she’d tease her toys down in the secret basement after committing some awful form of sadistic abuse on them, and the shaky, emotional way her words came out now.

She had done what she had done out of habit more than anything, very used to having men in bondage in front of her, and responding to an inappropriate behavior with a stern, firm, immediate punishment. It was only after doing it that she realized that this wasn’t one of her playthings. She had just given the testicles of her husband, a man who she loved very much, a smack for an offense that could generously be described as minor. And even in his current state, it was very clear that he didn’t like it. Instinctively, she felt scared, like she might have just crossed a line and gone too far. She managed to autopilot into an in-character response, the kind of thing she would have said to one of her playthings, but even while saying it was terrified of what Jacob might do.

And then, she realized, Jacob wasn’t doing anything, because he couldn’t do anything. He was chained to a remarkably sturdy rack. The context of him not being one of her toys didn’t matter. He could do nothing but take it. And seeing that fact get hammered home so firmly opened up the floodgates.

She stood up, lifting her right leg up and straddled over his chest, sitting down atop him and looking down at his face. “The sooner you figure that out, the better it’ll be for you.”

Immediately, she reached out, hands reaching into his armpits and quickly clawing through the thick bush of hair down to the sensitive skin underneath. Jacob went right back into seizures of laughter, Michelle practically drooling with excitement at how easily she could drive him crazy. In a perfect world, she would have shaved his armpits before tonight, but she knew better than to even bother asking for something like that. And this was more than satisfying enough.

Jacob fought even harder now to pull down his arms, yanking on his restraints with tremendous force, desperate to protect his tormented pits. She especially loved how his jaw was being pulled open so wide by his screaming laughter, stretching his dimples. It was a side of him she felt like she never got to see. He was almost always composed and put together, maybe even stoic. And even when he wasn’t any of those things, like during an especially crucial sequence in a basketball game or when he was having sex with Michelle, there was no doubt he was still in control. In fact, now that she thought about it, this might very well have been the first time ever that Michelle felt like she was the one in control during an interaction with Jacob.

“KEAAHAHAHAHAAAAA! KAAAHAHAAHAHAHA!” Jacob roared, disgusted at how pathetic he was right now. He felt the loss of control just as much as she felt the influx of it.

“Awwww, poor baby,” Michelle continued. “The big baby is ticklish everywhere.” She continued to claw away at his pits, enamored by the tremendous force Jacob was exerting on his wrist chains. He twisted around, body churning against his restraints. Now, he was starting to actually get worn out, face turning red from exertion.

Michelle bent over and gave him a couple kisses on his large, bare chest, never stopping on her torture of his armpits. She especially loved it when Jacob yanked down on his chains, with just enough force to get the rack to shudder, a strong vibration that she felt from her position on top of him.

But his ability to do this was quickly waning, his strength leaving him with each minute that this unbearable tickling continued. She loved picking up on this as well, the knowledge that she was wearing him out. Jacob Scott, one of the finest athletes in the world, who spent nearly two decades of his life running nearly three miles a night, seventy to a hundred nights a year, banging bodies with other elite physical specimens all the while, was getting worn out by her fingers.

“What’s with that look?” she teased, his face screwed up in an expression of agony amid his rapidly reddening skin tone. “I’m barely even touching you, you know.”

“STOOOOOOOOHOOHOHOHOOHOP! STAAAAAHAHAH!” he continued to holler. His laughter was starting to degrade down into a non-stop rapid fire of belly laughter, completely out of control, only marginally different from that which a small child might produce. He dearly hoped that Michelle would be the only person who ever heard him make such noises.

She spent a good half-hour attacking his armpits mercilessly before giving him a rest. He was cherry red and covered in sweat, panting up a storm. She remained seated atop his midsection, waiting for him to recover.

Even after he was back to a stable state, he didn’t try to say anything. A stoic silence. Maybe because she had already disciplined him last time he tried to say something, maybe to not give her the satisfaction of his begging. Maybe both. She bent down over him, reaching next to his head to grab a giant green sports bottle, putting the straw to his mouth. He sucked on it for several seconds.

She kissed his forehead before going back upright, then slid backwards down his body until she was sitting on his groin. His massive cock was pushed down, pointing towards his feet now, and he gave a grunt and shifted in surprise on feeling his sensitive tool get forced down. Michelle leaned forward, pressing her lips to his stomach, blowing a loud, sharp raspberry on his sweating flesh.

“AHHHH!” he screamed, convulsing yet again.

Michelle laughed, lovingly licking at his firm abdomen with her tongue. She was already wet from the thrill of domination, and she felt like she had barely started. With a single smooth motion, her flexibility and athletic prowess from her dancing hobby still persisting even in her middle age, she swung her legs up in front of her, propping them up on his chest, scooting forward until her feet were up on his chin.

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Part Four: The Agony Of The Feet [04TAOTF]

“Show your Sultana the respect she deserves,” she ordered, putting her soft soles up on his lips.

Jacob hesitated. He loved his wife’s feet, having spent plenty of time over the last two decades massaging, kissing, licking, and playing with them, with a special affinity for tickling them until their owner was a sweaty, delirious mess. But this was different. This was very clearly an act of submission, meant to be a humiliation for him and empowering for her. It was a twist on their typical bedroom activities that externally seemed minor, but was certainly major as far as he was concerned. This put him on the same level as Michelle’s playthings down in the dungeon.

“Don’t make me go back to your testicles,” she threatened.

Jacob grunted, but quickly swallowed his pride and stuck his tongue out, starting to lap against her right sole. She had already done it once, and he wasn’t interested in finding out if it was just a one-time fluke or foreshadowing her inability to restrain herself. His large tongue stimulated her sensitive soles aggressively, well-versed in how Michelle liked her feet to be worshipped and applying pressure in all the right places.

“Oh yes,” she said, moving her foot around on his face, forcing him to get everywhere along her sole. “You take right to it. You’re going to make a wonderful plaything. Even you realize it’s what you’re meant to be.”

Jacob bristled, a small part of him tempted to bite her toes to express his displeasure at how far she was pushing this. But he knew better, and continued to slurp her feet. His cock started to prick upwards, slowly but surely going erect, undeniable evidence that there was some part of him that was getting a thrill out of this.

“Don’t think I don’t feel that behind me,” Michelle teased. “Looks like the big baby loves every second of this.”

Jacob focused on his demeaning task, forcing himself to remember that tonight was all about her, that the whole point of this experiment was to allow her to have control. Trying to convince himself that her relentless teasing didn’t mean anything, that he didn’t need to take it personally.

She gently curled her toes down into his mouth, Jacob sensing the gesture even without the benefit of sight. He closed his lips around her toes, placing suction on them, tongue teasingly lapping at the pad of her big toe.

Michelle, for her part, was loving every single second, feeling like she might just orgasm any second now from how aroused she was. This was pleasure beyond anything she had ever known down in her dungeon. If she had her way, she’d do this every night for the rest of her life. She smooshed her right sole against his nose, pressing it down, as if threatening to cut off his ability to freely breathe.

“Harder,” she demanded, feeling the immediate increase in pressure from his tongue.

Michelle spent longer than she intended on foot worship, getting lost in the pleasure of his tongue on her soles. She loved it more than she thought she would, and there was no clock in here, so getting lost in pleasure was all too easy. She was no stranger to having her feet licked, kissed, or worshipped, Jacob had done that over a thousand times over the last two decades, but those times you never doubted he was the one in control. He’d grab her ankles off the couch and lift her up, dangling her upside-down helplessly while running his tongue all over her soles, intentionally making sure that it tickled like crazy, making her laugh like a maniac and thrash around. Even when he did it in the context of lovemaking, to warm her up and rev her engine, it was still happening because he wanted to do it. But this time, it was happening because if he refused, Michelle would take it out on his cock.

The worship went on, Jacob forced to lick from her heel all the way up to her toes, over and over again. His tongue and jaw eventually started to ache, but he knew better than to complain. Finally, she withdrew her feet back, sitting cross-legged on his chest, gently coasting down from the erotic high.

“Wonderful,” she murmured, unable to keep the sultry tone borne of her pulsing arousal from her voice. Slowly, she flipped around and pulled herself down Jacob’s long muscular legs, making her way towards his feet. Jacob, still blindfolded, felt this movement and gave an unmistakable groan. He knew what was coming.

Jacob’s feet, size nineteen, were the epicenter of his embarrassing vulnerability and a maddening contradiction. Growing up poor in Iowa, Jacob had gotten used to not bothering with socks outside of the basketball court, not needing another thing to buy and wash, particularly given how often he’d have to swap them out with how fast his feet grew in his youth. Even now, with enough money to buy millions of socks, he preferred to be barefoot whenever he could get away with it. Plus, he had spent most of his life running up and down hardwood courts, both as a hobby and then as a job. Those two things should have rendered his feet about as sensitive as diamonds, and yet, he knew for a fact the opposite was true.

In the interest of full disclosure, Jacob had always taken very good care of his feet, just like he took very good care of his entire body, knowing that it was his meal ticket to fame and fortune. Michelle had helped, taking it upon herself to give him pedicures to spare him the embarrassment of having it done in public (which, right now, felt rather like her making a long term investment that was just about to pay off). But still, it simply wasn’t right for his feet to be ticklish. Much less as ticklish as they were.

Michelle slid down until she was straddling Jacob’s right shin, looking down at his helpless, giant foot, hands clenching with eager anticipation. Jacob reflexively flexed his right foot forward, trying to conceal and protect it.

“Oh no no no,” Michelle teased, fingernails seeking out his giant sole. “That’s not going to help you.” She started stroking her fingernails across his wrinkled sole with playful little strokes, making him flinch and jerk with each one.

“Mmph!” Jacob whined, again testing his restraints and finding no give in them.

“My goodness, look at the size of these feet,” Michelle continued, starting to prod around in the spaces between Jacob’s toes, making him try to flick his feet around to get away from her. “So much room for my fingers to work.”

“Staahahaap!” Jacob protested, trying to use the tiny bit of freedom he had to buck her off his shin.

She just slid down a little bit so she was sitting near his ankle, and then started using all ten of her fingers, haphazardly and energetically scrabbling them all over his naked sole.

“StahahAHAHAHAHAAPPPPP!” he bellowed.

“Squealing like a little schoolgirl,” Michelle continued to mock, flushing even hotter with the thrill of domination. “How embarrassing.”

Michelle showed no mercy, tickling his flailing sole for several minutes, testing his lungs like a long set of suicide sprints. He screamed, laughed, and fought like his life depended on it. But none of it was effective in getting this to stop. On any other day of his life, when Michelle tickled his feet, it was a simple matter of him jumping up, chasing her down, pinning her, and tickling her until she surrendered. An ultimately harmless, playful dance of affection. Technically, this was as well, but it didn’t feel nearly as harmless right now.

Moments like this went against everything the last twenty-five years of his life had been all about. From the moment it became clear that he was going to be unnaturally tall and athletic, his entire existence was all about holding all the cards in anything he did. Winning state championships and getting elite basketball programs to fall all over themselves trying to recruit him in high school, starring in the Big 12 Tournament and motivating scouts to write gushing reports about his prodigious abilities in college, becoming a pantheistic legend and signing contracts worth hundreds of millions of dollars in the pros. He was the reason why Michelle lived in the lap of luxury with her every desire indulged instead of working as a waitress or cashier back in the Rust Belt. He was the reason why his children wanted for nothing and had their tremendous natural talent honed and cultivated with no expense spared instead of juggling public school with minimum wage jobs. He was the reason why his parents got to retire early to a house on a lake instead of working themselves into early graves at the factory. It was all because of him and his winning of the genetic lottery.

And right now, he may as well have been a toddler for how powerless he was.

“PAAAAHAHAAAHAH! GAAAHAHAHAHAHA!”

Jacob was laughing so hard, he didn’t hear his wife moaning impudently, arousal peaking. She looked absolutely obscene, tongue sticking out of her mouth as she worked with fiendish determination, sweating, lightly tanned skin hitting different shades of red. Part of her wished Jacob hadn’t purposefully made sure his bladder was empty before this session started, imagining how delicious it would be to get her big strong husband to piss himself.

Finally, she winded down, her fingers slowing their assault on Jacob’s soles before letting her hands fall to her sides. But Jacob’s hopes of an end to the session were quickly dashed, as she quickly jumped off his ankle and pivoted over to his left foot. She kneeled down in front of the sole, quickly giving it several playful strokes with her fingers, then tucked her face forward and started hungrily licking it.

“AHHHHH!” Jacob screamed, taken off guard by the immediate pivot to his other foot, and then taken off guard again by the use of her tongue. It was an entirely new feeling, wet and intimate, making his foot twitch uncontrollably.

“Mmmmm,” Michelle moaned, ducking her head down to continue to lap at his arch as he tried to curl his foot to protect it, lapping away like his foot was coated in ambrosia. She thought about attacking his toes, but was worried she’d get hurt by his spastic movements, so she stuck with the heel and arch. After a few minutes, she switched things up again, placing a big sloppy kiss right on the middle of his foot and blowing a loud raspberry. He shrieked.

Michelle plunged her right hand into the folds of her robe, seeking out her warm, moist pussy with her fingers. His desperate frenzy was too much. She needed to release this deluge of pleasure now, and it would only take a little stimulation to make it happen. She ground her fingers around, while continuing to lick away at Jacob’s smooth sole. Seconds later, she came, an earth-shattering orgasm that got her to topple backwards and groan. Laying back on the floor in a heap, panting heavily, she closed her eyes, basking in it.

Part Five: In For A Penny [05IFAP]

Jacob used the respite to suck down oxygen and try to recover, although he heard the breathy groan. Soon after, he also detected an unmistakable smell that he knew extremely well, allowing him to put the puzzle together.

The two were silent for several seconds, Jacob still recovering and Michelle savoring the moment.

“Okay. You had your fun,” Jacob said. “Had your fun and then some, I can smell it. I’m tired, get me out of this thing.”

Michelle slowly got to her feet, shakily finding her balance after the mighty pleasure wave had taken over her body. She sized Jacob up, knowing that this was a pivotal moment. His assumption was reasonable, and part of her knew it’d make sense to wrap things up now. There was no topping that orgasm. But, there was something about his tone, his casual phrasing, obviously breaking character and trying to assert an end instead of requesting it. She wanted to punish it.

Without a word, she walked back to the bathroom she had emerged from an hour ago. Or maybe it was two hours? Three? She wasn’t sure. Sticking her head inside the tiled chamber, she reached over to grab a small jar.

“Honey?” Jacob called out. “Come on. It’s been hours.”

She went up next to his side, sitting down at the stool, eyes on his giant cock. She silently unscrewed the top of the jar, revealing a black soft-bristled application brush on the bottom of the cap, covered with a white cream. The jar was filled with more of the white cream. Without a word, Michelle started spreading the cream on Jacob’s shaft.

“Mmpfh!” Jacob grunted, clearly surprised. He flinched, but the lotion was already applied. She quickly stroked the brush on his cock from all sides, dipping it back into the jar and adding more to his ball sack as well. By the time she was done, Jacob’s entire body had tensed up, the cream settling into his skin and starting to make him itch like crazy.

“Ahhh!” Jacob’s body writhed, package whipping around as the itchy sensation became more and more severe. His tremendous strength and athletic ability was beyond useless against this torment, and the agonizing tingling on his most sensitive body part was quickly unraveling him.

Michelle sealed the jar, carefully making sure that it was completely closed before setting it down, then just passively watched as Jacob began to twitch. His flailing was clearly attempting to whip the substance off of his cock, purposefully flinging his crotch area back and forth with violence, but the cream could not be dislodged.

“AHHHHHHHH! GETITOFFGETITOFF!” Jacob hollered, eyes starting to water underneath his blindfold, popping wide as saucers. His fingers curled so hard his nails were digging into his palms. “FUCKFUCKGETITAWAY!”

This was a level beyond the tickling. He was completely out of control now, more beast than man. He wasn’t sure what this awful concoction was, but in this moment he would have been willing to claw out of his own skin to get away from it. Pure agony barely even covered it. It was unlike anything he had ever felt before.

Michelle let him stew in the agony for a little while. Maybe two minutes. She was dimly aware that she was probably crossing the line, but she didn’t want to die wondering. It’d be a miracle if Jacob ever allowed another session like this, so she needed to have her fun now.

“The Sultana decides when things stop,” Michelle said firmly.

“OKAYOKAYOKAY…RRRNNNNNGGGHHHHGETITOFF!” Jacob screeched, wrenching his body around like a chained silverback gorilla.

“Say it,” Michelle insisted flatly, crossing her arms over her chest.

“THE SULTANA DECIDES WHEN THINGS STOP! THE SULTANA DECIDES WHEN THINGS STOP!” Jacob immediately gave in to her game, unable to even conceive of resisting with that awful cream on his cock.

“I am the Sultana’s toy, who serves her every whim,” she continued.

“JESUS CHRIST, I’M THE SULTANA’S TOY WHO SERVES HER EVERY WHIM!” Jacob hollered.

“Apologize for trying to order me around, or I’ll spread it on your armpits, ears, and feet,” she threatened, standing up and walking back towards the bathroom.

“I’M SORRY! I’M SORRY! SORRYSORRYSORRY!” His pride had shattered in record time, and this would certainly be a moment he’d look back on with embarrassment for the rest of his life, but right now the only thing he cared about was getting this accursed gel off of his body.

Michelle took a stack of hand towels, getting them soaking wet in the sink, listening to the animalistic screams her husband was making. She remembered him breaking his leg back in 2020, landing awkwardly after going up for a rebound. He had screamed in pain, of course, and his rehab over the next half a year had difficult moments, but nothing even approaching this. And no matter how much she loved him, no matter how much she loved making him happy, there was a sick thrill in being the one who got him to this point.

“RRNNNNNNGGGGGGHHHHHHH! GGGGGRRRRGGHHHHH!” Jacob whipped his cock around comically, desperate for even the slightest relief from this horrid itching. Michelle approached with the towels, one of them left dry.

“Settle down,” she ordered. Jacob, with a hiss, forced himself to hold still. Michelle wrapped the first towel around his testicles, rubbing it in firmly, then wiping it upwards to remove most of the cream.

“Mmmmm,” Jacob moaned, both relishing the heavenly feeling of being largely free of the cream’s unholy itching sensation, while still feeling the uncomfortable remnants of it. He bit his lower lip and stretched his body out. Michelle brought a second towel to his testicles now, again rubbing it against his sensitive skin before bringing it up.

The third towel was for more precise work, as Michelle cleaned up whatever little streaks and dabs of the lotion remained behind, methodically making sure it was all gone. Jacob shook his body around, trying to get rid of the phantom itches he could still vaguely feel on his skin. Michelle picked up the sports bottle from earlier, unscrewing the top and dumping the water onto his cock. He gasped at the cold sensation, package shrinking, but the soothing effect was undeniable. She took one towel, the dry one, and wrapped it around his cock, soaking up the water and drying it off.

Jacob finally felt like he could breathe normally, taking in many lungfuls of air. Surely, that was the end of the session? He didn’t dare say anything, and instead just laid back in stoic silence, accepting that for the moment, Michelle was the one in control.

She let the moment linger for a bit, perhaps get him to fear another round, but after about a minute, she went down to the foot of the frame and, after a couple of playful ticklish strokes on his feet that made him twitch and moan, unlatched the stocks and slid them open.

She went up to his restrained hands next, heart pounding almost as hard as it had during her orgasm. Jacob was about to be free, all seven feet and 260 pounds of him, and any resentment he held over what she had done to him over the evening was going to be freely vented. For all she knew, she was signing her own death warrant. But it wasn’t like she could keep him here forever (although the thought did give her a sadistic thrill), and she quickly freed his hands as well.

Immediately, Jacob rolled himself off the rack, landing on the ground in a heap with a heavy thud. He groaned, reaching up to remove his blindfold and tossing it across the room. “Holy…holy shit…” he muttered, wiping the sweat off of his face with his hands. Michelle watched, fingers absentmindedly fiddling around in front of her.

She decided to take a chance, probe for any genuine animosity.

“So, same time, same place next week?” she asked, tone light and airy.

“You’re fucking crazy,” Jacob said, a hint of a chuckle in his words, nude body stretching out.

“You love it,” Michelle teased, proudly looking down at her husband, laying in a messy pile at her feet, broken after just a few hours of her domination.

“I’m burning this thing tomorrow morning,” Jacob said, reaching up and tapping one of the legs of the frame he had just been removed from. “Vaporizing it.”

“Oh, don’t be like that.” Michelle crouched down, body folding up into a neat little ball, her flexibility from her dancing hobby still affording her benefits as she approached her forties. “You—AH!”

Jacob’s right hand reached out, grabbing Michelle’s right ankle and whipping it forward. She lost her balance, tumbling to the ground, landing on her rear and falling back. Before she could react, Jacob scooped her up in his arms, embracing her. She tried to thrash away, but as always, she was powerless against her husband’s strength. Soon, he had her on top of him, tightly wrapping his arms around her shoulders, pressing their bodies together. He looked down at her face, Michelle relieved to see playfulness in his eyes.

“You’re gonna pay for this, you know?” Jacob said with a grin. “Like, you have no idea what’s coming after what you pulled tonight.”

Michelle just stuck her tongue out at him, squeezing her eyes shut as she did so.

“I just hope you realize that,” Jacob said, patting her back. “Next week, we’re back in here, and your ass is mine.”

“My ass is yours every week,” Michelle protested. “Every day, honestly.”

“Mmm,” Jacob grunted. “Maybe you need to pay for it right now.” He sat up, maneuvering her so she was sprawled across his lap, ass sticking up in the air on his thighs.

“Jacob, no! Let me go, you big oaf!” Michelle said, flailing around, unable to stop herself from laughing as her husband raised his right hand up above her ass, using his left to hold her in place.

“Say it.” He brought his hand down on her butt, a gentle love tap as far as he was concerned, but landing with more than enough force to jostle Michelle’s more delicate body.

“AH! Hey!” Michelle protested, trying to crawl off of his lap.

“Say it!” he repeated, swatting her again.

“Knock it off, this is supposed to be my night!” Michelle’s legs kicked around behind her, her Sultana robe riding up her body.

“Should have thought about that before you untied me,” Jacob said with a grin. “Say it say it say it!” His hand swatted her butt for a third time.

“Okay okay!” Michelle yelped. “You’re the King, you’re the King!”

Satisfied, he rolled her over and brought his face down towards hers, giving her a kiss. “Alright, let’s get showered. And I meant what I said, you’re in for it next week.”

Michelle rolled her eyes. “Let me guess. Emperor? Sheikh?”

“I was thinking of something new,” Jacob countered.

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Epilogue: From Hell’s Heart [EFHH]

For someone who was a genuine sadist, Michelle was remarkably good at playing the submissive role.

She genuinely looked terrified, shaking like a leaf, as she stared up at Jacob’s imposing figure. If someone were to walk into the room right now, they’d have every reason to assume that she was honestly and truly terrified that she was about to be ripped to shreds.

The room had been transformed into what looked like a large jungle hut, the holograms on the wall now projecting wooden planks, with gaps between them as well as windows peering out to leafy foliage. The earthy, moist scent, as well as the dark green carpet that roughly simulated moss underfoot, gave it a feel of authenticity. Thick vines draped from the ceiling, bamboo poles towering up towards it. Fake torches, using LED effects to simulate actual flames, lit the chamber.

Michelle was tightly bound to a bondage frame that forced her down into a kneeling position, arms up above her head at 45 degree angles, straps at her wrists, upper arms, chest, waist, thighs, and ankles securing her into place. She wore nothing but undergarments, bra and panties just barely concealing her most private areas. A shirt, jacket, pair of pants and hat lay discarded in the corner of the room.

Jacob was a sight to behold, sitting on a tribal throne in front of her, chin resting on his hand as he examined her. Naked except for a loincloth of faux leopard skin, covered in fake tattoos on his chest and arms, with a fancy headdress acting as a crown, bone necklace rattling against his collarbone, and giant staff with a carved jaguar head atop it held in his right hand. It could easily have been silly, and on some level it still was, but Jacob was such a physically imposing figure that his turn as a chief of a jungle tribe was highly effective. And Michelle had to admit that the sight of her handsome husband in such a getup was having a profound erotic effect on her.

“P-Please, Sir, there’s been a terrible mistake,” Michelle peeped. “I’m a journalist, I…I was trying to do a story on your tribe, that’s all, I swear.”

“Journalist?” Jacob repeated, an amused grin on his face as he leaned forward towards her. “I see my enemies have made up some very interesting words while plotting to spy on me.”

“Nonono,” Michelle protested, watching as Jacob slowly extended a massive hand towards her, caressing her cheek. “No made up words, I…I write stories.” He teased his index finger under her chin. “A-and I give you my word that, if you let me go, I won’t write a word about any of this, I won’t say anything about you or your very lovely tribe, please, just let me go.”

Jacob chuckled. “Let you go?” He reached over to the armrest of his throne, grabbing a stack of paper. “The scholars have already told me what you were writing about. Our housing, our food stores, our routines.”

“Yes, because I was going to do a story on your tribe!” Michelle said, sounding panicked. “Please, Sir, you can burn everything I wrote, you can burn everything I have, just please let me go and there won’t be any trouble!”

“And what about all that stuff in that pretty little head of yours?” He reached up, playfully tapping the top of her head. “You think I’d let you run back to my enemies to tell them everything you learned?”

She shook her head vigorously. “No! No Sir, absolutely not! I’ll not tell anything to anyone if you’d just let me go!”

Jacob stood up, giant bare feet digging down into the carpet. He slowly started to circle Michelle, forcing her to twist her head as much as she could to follow him with her eyes. “If you ever want to know freedom again, the first thing you need to do is tell me who you are helping.” He crouched down beside her, staring right at her face. “There are many rival tribes around here. Which one sent you? Who do you answer to?”

“The Herald!” Michelle answered. “I work for The Daily Herald! I’m telling the truth!”

Jacob grunted, large hand reaching up to graze the nape of her neck. He leaned in, breath warm against her ear. “Wrong answer, little one.”

Michelle whimpered. “I’m not working for any tribe!”

Jacob slowly moved behind her. “You are far from the first spy to enter our midst,” he taunted, kneeling down. His fingers playfully trailed down her spine, making Michelle shiver. “And I’ve gotten all of them to confess in a matter of days. Do you believe you’ll be any different?”

Michelle’s feet wriggled around, very aware of where Jacob was poised to attack. Despite the imminent torture that was about to befall her, her back arched subtly, giving away her enjoyment and anticipation. “Please, Sir, no! I’ve told you everything!”

Jacob’s big, strong fingers dug into her soles, finding her most sensitive spots with practiced efficiency, scrabbling around her arches. Michelle’s body instantly seized up, wrenching against her restraints, entirely helpless to resist his tickling.

“NeahahahAHAHAHAHAHAAH! AHAHAHAHAAAAAA! AAAAAAAHHHAAHAHHA!” she squealed, laughter musical and unrestrained. “PLEHEHEHAHAHAAHAHAAA!”

Jacob beamed, a wide grin that only a few things in life could get him to display. “Let’s see how long you last, my little ‘journalist’.” His right hand jumped up to her right side, gently squeezing the flesh there, increasing her desperation and flailing.

As Michelle melted down into cackling giggles, resigning herself to her husband’s mercy for the remainder of the night, she already knew the likely playbook. He’d tickle her everywhere for hours, with short breaks to keep her awake and lucid, demanding answers that she didn’t have. Eventually, he’d stop and tell her that he now believed she was telling the truth, but was having too much fun, and intended to keep her as his tickle toy forever. She’d pitifully grovel for mercy, feeding into his power fantasy, unabashedly praising his might and promising anything if he’d spare her more tickling. He’d remove his loincloth, revealing his doubtlessly hard manhood and demand her to pleasure him to earn her freedom. She’d give him a blowjob, and he’d take her to bed, a special one they set up for this roleplay, covered in faux animal skins. Jacob would have his way with her until the two fell asleep in each other’s arms.

And then, in the morning, it’d be back to reality. Michelle would relentlessly tease Jacob for his cartoony performance as a village chief, even as she’d privately acknowledge its erotic qualities. Jacob would tease right back, saying that she was now his sex slave, and she had better serve him well if she didn’t want to suffer eternal tickle torture. By the end of the week, he’d be handing her another sparkly piece of gratitude, diamond earrings or a sapphire bracelet perhaps. Maybe even a vintage vinyl record for her collection, if she was lucky.

And so their post-retirement life went, day after day, week after week, just two kids from suburban Iowa with more money than they knew what to do with and more love for each other than they knew how to express.

THE END

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