----
Link for part 1 https://www.ticklingforum.com/threads/the-date-part-1-f-m-lee-pov.469737/
Hi everyone!
I was so happy to see the positive feedback on the first part of my story. Since it's my first ever posted story, I'm glad you enjoy it and I hope you'll enjoy this part as well.
This part is foot focused and the next part will be the last one. But I have a few more ideas for the adventures of Lexie and our nameless character.
Don't forget I'm not a native english speaker, so there might be some spelling or grammar mistakes.
Hope you enjoy!
----
What the hell have I gotten myself into? It had been one hour since Lexie started tickling the hell out of my upper body for her sole amusement. The acrid taste of her socks was filling my mouth, one of the many reminders of the total control she had over every one of my senses. The blindfold she skillfully set on my eyes – one the many details that attested to the extensive experience she had – completely blocked my vision. I could only rely on my hearing to get a grasp of what was happening in this room. But it had been a minute since she removed my socks, and Lexie had remained eerily silent during that minute.
“They look so smooth!” she suddenly exclaimed, making me flinch in my bonds. “Do you take care of them? And here I thought men couldn’t have that kind of selfcare routine.” The way she grabbed my left foot – so firmly that I could barely move it – made me feel even more trapped than my cuffed ankles and wrists ever could have.
“All the ones I had in my hands before yours were calloused, rough almost.” She was talking so softly that I couldn’t tell whether she was talking to me or to herself. “But at least, they were somewhat…protected. But those ones?” I felt one fingernail gently dig into the top of the sole. I froze, hoping that staying still would stop her from moving her nail. “They seem sooo vulnerable.” She finally cooed before dragging her fingernail down at an unbearably slow pace. My stillness immediately gave way to hysterical and muffled laughter while I tried in vain to shake her hand off my foot.
When her finger reached the bottom of my heel, it went back up again, at the same pace. A new burst of laughter tried to escape my mouth, but was stifled by the socks that were slipped inside it. I could feel all my muscles tense like springs under the effect of this intense sensation, so much that the leather cuffs were digging into my flesh. But focusing on that pain brought me a welcome relief from the agonizing touch that sent electric shocks up my spine, straight to my brain.
And she was only using one finger.
I heard her giggling and I could almost picture that satisfied smirk curving her lips, forming those tiny creases at the corners of her eyes. She was revelling in my torment, knowing I was at her mercy.
“You know darling,” she began after pausing her slow, insistent assault on my soles, “what’s happening to you right now… it’s entirely your own fault.”
She giggled again and I felt her nails dig gently into my calf, reminding me just how sharp her claws were.
“I mean, who in their right mind would let a stranger tie them to a bed?” After a brief pause, she added, “Or maybe you wanted to end up like this?” I shook my head vehemently. “Oh no need to deny it,” she cooed, “you’re a little pervert who wanted to spend the night at the mercy of a hot girl. Well darling, I’ll give you exactly what you want…”
All of a sudden, I felt her fingers running across each of my soles. And I immediately wished she had kept using only finger. I couldn’t process all the sensations the nerves of my soles were sending to my brain. Even the bitter-tasting socks shoved in my mouth could completely stifle the primal cry that erupted from my lungs and turned into hysterical laughter.
Nothing else existed aside from those ten fingers wreaking havoc on my sensitive feet. I couldn’t even get used to the sensation, because she changed pace, pattern and the area tickled every few seconds. I trashed against the bed as much as I could, but to no avail. Despite my distressed state, I could picture her long, black nails gliding across my soles, how they were currently scribbling on my heels that could barely move to evade them. They went back up and Lexie dug them at the base of the toes. Then, she decided to focus on the arches, which turned out to be a deadly spot.
Tears soaked the blindfold covering my eyes and the socks stuffed in my mouth were so drenched with saliva that it was running down my throat, forcing me to swallow the foot-infused spit lest I’d choke on it.
She paused once more and I heard her footsteps going to the bedside table and back to my feet. The break was short, as I felt the barbs of the feathers stroking my soles. The sudden contrast between the brutality of her fingers and the softness of the feathers caught me so off guard that I could focus on nothing but those sensations. I felt the barbs of the feathers stimulating each nerve of my soles one by one, as if they were deliberately pricking them, as if they knew it was slowly pushing me to the brink of madness. It was like those fucking feathers were an extension of Lixie’s sadism.
The restrained movements my feet could make proved to be useless in stopping the feathers from exploring my soles from heels to toes. Just as she had done with her fingers, Lexie kept changing patterns so I wouldn’t get used to them. She clearly knew what she was doing and knew how to tickle me with devastating efficiency.
“Oh there’s something I absolutely need to try on you!” Lexie exclaimed way too happily. “You’re gonna love this, I’m sure.”
With one hand, she spread apart the big and second toe of my left foot. Then, she slid the feather into the space between them. I didn’t know this area could be that sensitive. My back arched on the bed in reaction to the intense sensation, and my lungs almost emptied all at once in an useless attempt to scream. Even though my heart was pounding in my ears, I could hear her laugh out loud. I wasn’t sure whether she was making fun of my reaction or of the fact that she could laugh while I couldn't.
She kept going and going, back and forth, as if she were a mad and sadistic violinist and I were her instrument. She kept changing the tempo, but it served no purpose: no one could get used to this sensation, no matter what.
“What’s the matter, big guy?” she teased me, all the while continuing to subject me to her torturous caresses, “Can’t handle a little child’s play? Coochie coochie coo~”
She spent God knows how long sliding that damn feather between each of my toes. I was sweating, struggling to breathe, and desperately in need of a break. Then, as if she’d heard my silent pleas, it all stopped.
“I think that’s enough for the warm-up, don’t you think, darling?”
I was still trying to catch my breath when I felt her pour a cold liquid onto the soles of my feet. It was slippery, and it made her fingers slide much more easily. She rubbed what felt like oil on my soles thoroughly, then I heard her unwrapping something. I flinched when she pressed something onto both my soles and slipped socks on me. Then, she came over and sat on the edge of the bed. My feet started to slightly warm up where those strange pads were pressed.
“Let’s take a small break while the foot warmers work their magic, okay, darling?” she said with a hint of mischief in her voice. “But I’ll keep you entertained, don’t worry.” She started to trace idle patterns on my chest and stomach with her fingers, with enough pressure to leave tingling trails in their wake and to make me squirm with discomfort.
“Did you know that heat makes your soles more ticklish?” she began, focusing her fingers on my belly button. “And the oil also serves the same purpose. The two combined on your already ticklish feet… I suppose you’ll find out soon enough.”
She giggled again, and I’m sure I’ll hear this sound in my nightmares for the rest of my life.
“I was planning on tickling you until morning, but it’s been so long since I’ve had this much fun.” She drew her maddening patterns on my ribs as she spoke. “So maybe I should keep you around longer? The whole week-end maybe? Would you like that, darling?”
I shook my head frantically and she laughed.
“No?” she asked. “Maybe you need a little more convincing that your place is right here, at my mercy.” She leaned toward me and whispered in my ear. “Soon, you’ll be craving my fingers all over your ticklish body.” She stood up and came back to my feet. She took the socks off my feet and removed the heating pads.
“I wished you could see this work of art. So shiny, warm and slippery.” I could hear the hunger in her voice. “Oh, I’m really going to enjoy this.”
As I was waiting with dread for the next assault from her fingers, I was instead overcome with the sensation of tens of plastic bristles rapidly going across my soles. The hairbrush was a different kind of brutal, and at that moment, as this instrument of torture was effortlessly tickling my feet, I could only wish she would go back to her fingers or the feathers. Anything but that damn brush.
I was thrashing against the bed while she continued to subject me to this torture. The oil made the brush’s movements smooth and painless, while the heat seemed to have brought all my soles’ nerves to their most sensitive state. She kept switching between one foot and the other, using one hand to hold the foot still while the other was brushing it.
I couldn’t tell how much time had passed while she was pushing me to the limits of what I could endure. But it felt like it had been going on for hours, maybe even days. And I realized I wasn’t struggling as much anymore. I wasn’t trying as hard to move my feet. I was starting to accept it. To accept that I was her toy, that she could break me and rebuild me as she pleased.
When she finally stopped, the only sensations I could feel were the tingling on my soles, the taste of her socks in my mouth… And the tightness in my underwear.
“Oh my,” she cooed, “what is that? I knew you’d enjoy this eventually.”
I heard her footsteps getting closer to me and she sat next to me on the bed.
“I wouldn’t want to leave you all worked up, would I?” She was playing with the hem of my boxers with her fingertip. “And I wonder if our little friend here is ticklish.”
[LAST PART SOON]
Link for part 1 https://www.ticklingforum.com/threads/the-date-part-1-f-m-lee-pov.469737/
Hi everyone!
I was so happy to see the positive feedback on the first part of my story. Since it's my first ever posted story, I'm glad you enjoy it and I hope you'll enjoy this part as well.
This part is foot focused and the next part will be the last one. But I have a few more ideas for the adventures of Lexie and our nameless character.
Don't forget I'm not a native english speaker, so there might be some spelling or grammar mistakes.
Hope you enjoy!
----
What the hell have I gotten myself into? It had been one hour since Lexie started tickling the hell out of my upper body for her sole amusement. The acrid taste of her socks was filling my mouth, one of the many reminders of the total control she had over every one of my senses. The blindfold she skillfully set on my eyes – one the many details that attested to the extensive experience she had – completely blocked my vision. I could only rely on my hearing to get a grasp of what was happening in this room. But it had been a minute since she removed my socks, and Lexie had remained eerily silent during that minute.
“They look so smooth!” she suddenly exclaimed, making me flinch in my bonds. “Do you take care of them? And here I thought men couldn’t have that kind of selfcare routine.” The way she grabbed my left foot – so firmly that I could barely move it – made me feel even more trapped than my cuffed ankles and wrists ever could have.
“All the ones I had in my hands before yours were calloused, rough almost.” She was talking so softly that I couldn’t tell whether she was talking to me or to herself. “But at least, they were somewhat…protected. But those ones?” I felt one fingernail gently dig into the top of the sole. I froze, hoping that staying still would stop her from moving her nail. “They seem sooo vulnerable.” She finally cooed before dragging her fingernail down at an unbearably slow pace. My stillness immediately gave way to hysterical and muffled laughter while I tried in vain to shake her hand off my foot.
When her finger reached the bottom of my heel, it went back up again, at the same pace. A new burst of laughter tried to escape my mouth, but was stifled by the socks that were slipped inside it. I could feel all my muscles tense like springs under the effect of this intense sensation, so much that the leather cuffs were digging into my flesh. But focusing on that pain brought me a welcome relief from the agonizing touch that sent electric shocks up my spine, straight to my brain.
And she was only using one finger.
I heard her giggling and I could almost picture that satisfied smirk curving her lips, forming those tiny creases at the corners of her eyes. She was revelling in my torment, knowing I was at her mercy.
“You know darling,” she began after pausing her slow, insistent assault on my soles, “what’s happening to you right now… it’s entirely your own fault.”
She giggled again and I felt her nails dig gently into my calf, reminding me just how sharp her claws were.
“I mean, who in their right mind would let a stranger tie them to a bed?” After a brief pause, she added, “Or maybe you wanted to end up like this?” I shook my head vehemently. “Oh no need to deny it,” she cooed, “you’re a little pervert who wanted to spend the night at the mercy of a hot girl. Well darling, I’ll give you exactly what you want…”
All of a sudden, I felt her fingers running across each of my soles. And I immediately wished she had kept using only finger. I couldn’t process all the sensations the nerves of my soles were sending to my brain. Even the bitter-tasting socks shoved in my mouth could completely stifle the primal cry that erupted from my lungs and turned into hysterical laughter.
Nothing else existed aside from those ten fingers wreaking havoc on my sensitive feet. I couldn’t even get used to the sensation, because she changed pace, pattern and the area tickled every few seconds. I trashed against the bed as much as I could, but to no avail. Despite my distressed state, I could picture her long, black nails gliding across my soles, how they were currently scribbling on my heels that could barely move to evade them. They went back up and Lexie dug them at the base of the toes. Then, she decided to focus on the arches, which turned out to be a deadly spot.
Tears soaked the blindfold covering my eyes and the socks stuffed in my mouth were so drenched with saliva that it was running down my throat, forcing me to swallow the foot-infused spit lest I’d choke on it.
She paused once more and I heard her footsteps going to the bedside table and back to my feet. The break was short, as I felt the barbs of the feathers stroking my soles. The sudden contrast between the brutality of her fingers and the softness of the feathers caught me so off guard that I could focus on nothing but those sensations. I felt the barbs of the feathers stimulating each nerve of my soles one by one, as if they were deliberately pricking them, as if they knew it was slowly pushing me to the brink of madness. It was like those fucking feathers were an extension of Lixie’s sadism.
The restrained movements my feet could make proved to be useless in stopping the feathers from exploring my soles from heels to toes. Just as she had done with her fingers, Lexie kept changing patterns so I wouldn’t get used to them. She clearly knew what she was doing and knew how to tickle me with devastating efficiency.
“Oh there’s something I absolutely need to try on you!” Lexie exclaimed way too happily. “You’re gonna love this, I’m sure.”
With one hand, she spread apart the big and second toe of my left foot. Then, she slid the feather into the space between them. I didn’t know this area could be that sensitive. My back arched on the bed in reaction to the intense sensation, and my lungs almost emptied all at once in an useless attempt to scream. Even though my heart was pounding in my ears, I could hear her laugh out loud. I wasn’t sure whether she was making fun of my reaction or of the fact that she could laugh while I couldn't.
She kept going and going, back and forth, as if she were a mad and sadistic violinist and I were her instrument. She kept changing the tempo, but it served no purpose: no one could get used to this sensation, no matter what.
“What’s the matter, big guy?” she teased me, all the while continuing to subject me to her torturous caresses, “Can’t handle a little child’s play? Coochie coochie coo~”
She spent God knows how long sliding that damn feather between each of my toes. I was sweating, struggling to breathe, and desperately in need of a break. Then, as if she’d heard my silent pleas, it all stopped.
“I think that’s enough for the warm-up, don’t you think, darling?”
I was still trying to catch my breath when I felt her pour a cold liquid onto the soles of my feet. It was slippery, and it made her fingers slide much more easily. She rubbed what felt like oil on my soles thoroughly, then I heard her unwrapping something. I flinched when she pressed something onto both my soles and slipped socks on me. Then, she came over and sat on the edge of the bed. My feet started to slightly warm up where those strange pads were pressed.
“Let’s take a small break while the foot warmers work their magic, okay, darling?” she said with a hint of mischief in her voice. “But I’ll keep you entertained, don’t worry.” She started to trace idle patterns on my chest and stomach with her fingers, with enough pressure to leave tingling trails in their wake and to make me squirm with discomfort.
“Did you know that heat makes your soles more ticklish?” she began, focusing her fingers on my belly button. “And the oil also serves the same purpose. The two combined on your already ticklish feet… I suppose you’ll find out soon enough.”
She giggled again, and I’m sure I’ll hear this sound in my nightmares for the rest of my life.
“I was planning on tickling you until morning, but it’s been so long since I’ve had this much fun.” She drew her maddening patterns on my ribs as she spoke. “So maybe I should keep you around longer? The whole week-end maybe? Would you like that, darling?”
I shook my head frantically and she laughed.
“No?” she asked. “Maybe you need a little more convincing that your place is right here, at my mercy.” She leaned toward me and whispered in my ear. “Soon, you’ll be craving my fingers all over your ticklish body.” She stood up and came back to my feet. She took the socks off my feet and removed the heating pads.
“I wished you could see this work of art. So shiny, warm and slippery.” I could hear the hunger in her voice. “Oh, I’m really going to enjoy this.”
As I was waiting with dread for the next assault from her fingers, I was instead overcome with the sensation of tens of plastic bristles rapidly going across my soles. The hairbrush was a different kind of brutal, and at that moment, as this instrument of torture was effortlessly tickling my feet, I could only wish she would go back to her fingers or the feathers. Anything but that damn brush.
I was thrashing against the bed while she continued to subject me to this torture. The oil made the brush’s movements smooth and painless, while the heat seemed to have brought all my soles’ nerves to their most sensitive state. She kept switching between one foot and the other, using one hand to hold the foot still while the other was brushing it.
I couldn’t tell how much time had passed while she was pushing me to the limits of what I could endure. But it felt like it had been going on for hours, maybe even days. And I realized I wasn’t struggling as much anymore. I wasn’t trying as hard to move my feet. I was starting to accept it. To accept that I was her toy, that she could break me and rebuild me as she pleased.
When she finally stopped, the only sensations I could feel were the tingling on my soles, the taste of her socks in my mouth… And the tightness in my underwear.
“Oh my,” she cooed, “what is that? I knew you’d enjoy this eventually.”
I heard her footsteps getting closer to me and she sat next to me on the bed.
“I wouldn’t want to leave you all worked up, would I?” She was playing with the hem of my boxers with her fingertip. “And I wonder if our little friend here is ticklish.”
[LAST PART SOON]
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