The Intern.

[Frowg]

Here is another story I wrote. It is */F per request. Very nsfw, and kind of long. I worked on it off and on for a few weeks, so I hope you like it! 😉




Renee was nervous. She had never had a job before. She never needed one. Her parents were well-off. While certainly not rich, they were far from poor, and Renee, being an only child, had always been provided for sufficiently. Abundantly, even. She was not a spoiled brat, not by a longshot, but she always had everything she needed, and most of what she wanted. A intellectual from an early age, Renee never really wanted much. Nice clothes, books to read, puzzles to occupy her time. She was never much for tv, or video games, or any of the pursuits that most her age consumed ravenously. Most other kids always saw her as a bit odd, so, even though she was friendly, adorable, and sweet as candy, she didn't have many friends. She could count their number on one hand. Those friends she did have, though, were endlessly loyal, and of priceless value. She had a hard time when college started. Her besties, Caroline, and Laura, had both been accepted at colleges several states away. Caroline had gone to Washington State, to study marine biology, while Laura had chosen Tennessee. The later, a strong competitor in college gymnastics, had offered Laura a full ride based on her performance in high school. Though her parents could have afforded to send her to any college, she chose to stay in Albuquerque, and not lay that burden on them. She actually enjoyed her parents' company, and UNM was as good of a business school as anywhere. Renee did not really have a 'passion', and so, wisely, chose to pursue a business degree. To further ease the burden of tuition and living costs, Renee chose to live at home, and register for a work-study program through the business department. By the time she registered, and paid for classes, most of the best options for internship had been taken. Only a few small, local businesses remained. Perusing the list, she saw one business that piqued her interest. "Masterworks Furniture and Accoutrements". She thought interior design might be an interesting field, and at least she would be close-up in the business affairs of the small but successfull furniture boutique, so she submitted her application through the college registrar.
Response took longer than expected, but after three weeks of waiting, Renee found herself in the tiny lobby of the custom boutique, fidgetting nervously as her Mary-Janes tapped and shuffled absently on the hardwood floor. September is hot in Albuquerque, so this Monday, she was wearing a muted sundress, with no nylons. Pretty, frilly white socks instead, so her legs would stay cool. She tapped her dark red fingernails on the arm of the cold, yet comfortable walnut bench. Her canine tugged anxiously at her bottom lip, painted in a dark ruby that matched her nails. Her bouncy locks sat merrily atop her head, cascading curls, wine red, down her fair face. Her Hazel eyes, hesitantly brightened behind tortoise-shell hornrims. Only the ticking of an ominous, and beautiful grandfather clock- romantic period design, interrupted the silence of the waiting room. Finally, a woman, about 50, but very lovely, in simple black dress, barely greying straight black hair, long, slender frame, appeared from the door behing the receptionists desk. She smiled warmly.
"Renee?" Renee hopped to her feet, extending her tiny, clammy hand for a handshake.
"Yes. Renee, that's me. I'm Renee. Renee Sinclair." The tall, lithe woman extended a warm hand, shaking Renee's gently, almost laughing at poor Renee's nervous response, but sympathetically restraining it to just her bright, smiling eyes.
"I'm Lynette. Mr. Southerland will see you now. Through that door please." Renee knodded and stepped carefully around the desk, almost sneaking, as she turned the knob, and entered. The room was dim, with no windows, and only one low lamp on the large, oppulent desk. Book cases lined the walls behind, and to the side. Conditioned, cool air flowed in through a clean vent atop a doorway that, no doubt, led to the workshop. Mr. Southerland stood behind the desk, smiling. A handsome man of about 50. Blonde hair, sharp, angular features, fit. Strong, clean hands peaked out of a clean, white smock. An instrument of precise measurement protruded from his breast pocket. He wore a tshirt, jeans underneath. His clean cowboy boots clumped softly.
"Renee. I'm Mr. Southerland. You can call me Ryan." His masculine hand extended, Renee placed her tiny hand nervously. Ryan shook it, snickering low, almost imperceptibly. "Please... have a seat." He himself pulled out his chair and sat, stroking his chin whiskers thoughtfully. "I apologise, Renee. You see, there is actually not much for an intern to do here. Lynette basically runs the business side of things, while I concentrate on the production side. I had actually forgotten that I put our name on the list years ago. No one ever applied before, until I saw your application in my e-mail, but.... rather than turn you away, I'm happy to accomadate you. Like I said, there is not much for you to do, but perhaps Lynette can show you how to balance the books every week and place the material order. I'm not comfortable teaching you how to use the power tools and such, and I'm sure building furniture was not what you had in mind, but there is an opportunity, I suppose, to learn little things like quality control, customer service, supply chain. So, if that sounds ok to you..." Renee, choked, swallowing finally for the first time since Ryan began speaking.
"O...Oh! Yes! Absolutely! Your company qualifies for the program. I'm happy to learn whatever I can and help out however I can." Ryan smiled, and nodded positively.
"Fantastic, then, why don't you tell me a little bit about yourself?" Renee froze, gasping silently.
"Um, there is not much to tell, really. I'm 18. I just started UNM in August. I'm a business major. I like to listen to dark dream-pop. I like to read." Ryan interrupted, with curiosity.
"What do you like to read?" Renee stumbled.
"Um... fantasy, horror, like Tolkein, and Anne Rice. I'm getting very into Christopher Moore..." Ryan's eyes lit up.
"Christopher Moore! I love him. He's my favorite author. So, how about we take a quick tour through the showroom, and you can kind of see exactly what it is we do here." Renee nodded eagerly. Ryan stood and motioned for her to follow him through the door. A long, bright hallway, soon gave way to a large workshop room, clean, and filled with powertools, as well as the scents of fresh cut hardwood, ozone from a welder, and leather. Through the workshop, Ryan led her to a lovely store front, with stone floors, stained glass windows, dark hardwood walls. The room was filled with fantastically ctafted chairs, bed frames, benches, tables and some pieces that Renee could not quite puzzle as far as their use. The style was consistent. Romantically decorative walnut and cherry, with hand hammered iron plates, lugs, and rivets. Black leather seating, diamond tucked and buttoned. Perfectly crafted and exquisitely finished. She ran her hands over the pieces, feeling their glossy finishes, their meticulously detailed iron work, the soft, supple leather. A 4 post bedframe featured iron lugs, and clap rings at each post. The footboard detailed with four padded holes. A table, similar in theme, with diamond tuck leather, and iron bullrings. A piece that looked like a sawhorse. But was far too refined to be used as such, again featured the leather padding, and iron rings.
Renee squinted curiously when she saw a large chair, detailed in the same theme, with a board in front, with two holes, padded, just like the bedframe. The board split, horizontally, and hinged at one end, with a clasp and lock at the other.
"This one looks like... something out of a medieval torture encyclopedia..." Ryan chuckled lightly.
"Very perceptive. That is a stocks chair. Very literally taken from a medieval torture encyclopedia. Every piece in here, actually, is purpose built for restraint. Renee... 'Masterworks' is a custom furniture boutique. We specialize in bespoke bondage furniture and accessories. Were you not aware of the nature of our business? I apologise. I didn't mean to shock you, or offend you." Renee, clearly very shocked, scrambled for the right words.
"Oh! No! No, no! I'm... I'm not, offended. I just. I had no idea. Wow. Bondage furniture. There is actually a market for that then, huh? I mean. You make bondage furniture, exclusively?" Ryan nodded, maintaining his composure sympathetically.
"Furniture, and accessories. Custom locks, shackles, chains, whips, floggers, spankers, spreader bars, gags, ticklers..." Renee cut him off with a stunned gasp.
"TICKLERS!? Did... did you say, t... ticklers?" To which Ryan softened his body language, opening himself to demonstrate neutrality, or even, vulnerability. A gesture which Renee noticed, if only subconsciously. Ryan spoke.
"Um, yes. Ticklers. Our customer base enjoys our furniture and our accessories for many, varied activities. One of the most popular among them is... tickling." Renee's skin crawled as a chill went up her back.
"You mean... you're telling me, that, people let themselves get chained up, or locked down, in furniture like... this... and... tickled? Like, on purpose?" Ryan chuckled.
"It is actually a very common interest. We make different accessories... wire ticklers, feather ticklers, leather, silicone..." Renee gawked in surprised but intrigued horror as Ryan spoke.
"Really? Tickled!? Like in their armpits? Their ribs?" Ryan just chuckled and nodded. Renee continued her astonished interrogation. "Feet!? No way! No way does anyone put their feet in here willingly and just let someone tickle their bare feet!" Ryan chuckles again, nodding insistently.
"Feet are among the most popular places for tickling. Hey, Renee, I know this can be a lot to take in, and you seem to be a little bit shocked by it. It's fine. I understand. Why don't you go home, rest, and sleep on it. Give me a call. If you decide you aren't keen on working here, I will understand, but if you do want to stick around, Lynette and I can surely teach you a thing or two about running a business." Ryan pulled a bottle of water from the mini fridge behind the customer service desk, and handed it to Renee. She opened it quickly, and gulped it. Ryan led her back to his office, and handed her a business card. "Just take a day or two to think about it, and give me a call. Lynette and I would be happy to have you. Ok. Thanks for coming in, Renee." Renee nodded, smiling, but mostly, was functioning in a zombie-like state of astonishment. She walked outside to her Hyundai, and got in. Strapping her seatbelt, she started her engine, and drove home.
Her journey home was one of almost autonomous routine. Her body knew the way home, but her mind was elsewhere, racing with questions and images. She parked her car on the street outside her home, and went inside. Her thoughs lingered, hyperfixated on her myriad questions. After a shower, and a change to more comfortable clothes, she settled into her bedroom at her computer. Her curiosity became overpowering. She opened her internet browser, and typed in 'tickling'. She was immediately served a wealth of information. Gergalesis, knismolagnia, erotic tickling. Discussions, photographs, forums, and videos clogged her search results. She followed the more erotic side, right down the rabbit hole. She gazed, horrified, but mezmerized, at photographs depicting scenes of tickling from very playful and innocent, to very sadistic, even cruel. She finally got up the nerve to click on some video links. She kept her monitor volume very low, in case one of her parents got home early. She bore witness to several run-of-the-mill scenarios. Almost always an attractive young girl, tickled by another, or, at times, an attractive young man, with the occasional ticklee demonstrating ambiguous gender. She grew bolder and bolder in her research, clicking on more and more ribald links. As she continued, the bondage increased, the clothing decreased, and the sadism blossomed, until she found herself watching a fit blonde, tied hard to a steel table, mouth gagged with a big rubber ball on a black leather strap. Another fit blonde dragged her nails up and down, teasing the poor girl, and cackling gleefully, teasing her verbally, in a condescending way, like an adult might tease a child. The ticklee gasped, squealed and struggled, wiggling and writhing. Her desperate pleas bubbling out with laughter, muffled to incomprehensible by the ball gag. Renee could not deny that her curiosity only grew, as did her arousal. However, her fear and anxiety grew as well. The naughtiness, the taboo aspect of it all pushed her toward the fear response. The panic. That primal part of her that screamed 'RUN!'. In fear and disgust, she shut her computer down, and resolved to go to the registrar's office first thing in the morning, and find a new work study.
As the campus slowly began to bustle to morning life, Renee found her sleepy way to the registrar's office. It opened at 6 am, and she was there waiting. She walked in and leaned heavily on the counter. The clerk, Mrs. Sandoval, leaned forward, her high, plump cheekbones shining with a genuine morning smile.
"Good morning, Hun. What can I help you with?" Renee swallowed a sip of her latte, and gasped eagerly.
"I... I need to change my work-study." Mrs. Sandoval frowned, concerned.
"Oh, Honey, I'm sorry. I'm afraid all of the available work study jobs are taken. I can drop you from your current one, but if you're student aid is dependant on having a work-study internship, you will lose your funding for the semester. Is it really so bad? Maybe you could stick it out til January, and see about changing at that time?" Renee's face went white. She was terrified as well as mortified by the prospect of working in the bondage furniture shop. She smiled, nodded, and walked away as she spoke.
"Um, ok. Nevermind then. Thank you." ... but inside she was screaming, crying. She was humiliated, after having done her research. The images, the sounds, all those girls, humiliated, dominated, panicked and desperate. If she had left well enough alone, she might have been ok, but now she knew what she was dealing with. How could she look Mr. Southerland in the face? Or, even Lynette for that matter? She knew she had no choice, so she resolved to make the best of it, and keep the nature of her new employer's real business a secret from her parents. She went about her day of classes to the best of her ability, though she found herself becoming distracted. A girl with a half-shirt, that showed off her flat tummy... a boy with a tank top, his armpits on display... a girl with her hair up, her long, slender neck a beacon to ticklish teasing... a girl walking barefoot across the grass in the quad. Normally, she would never even notice these things, but now, every one was a trigger for her new-found intrigue/horror. After classes, she returned home, showered, changed into shorts and a t-shirt, and worked her homework dilligently. After dinner, she set out clothes for her first day at 'Masterworks'. A demure white blouse, black tights, a frumpy brown dress with pockets, and shoulder straps. Clunky combat boot style shoes. She slept uneasy for a few hours, before finally relaxing and falling into a deep, restful sleep.
In the morning, her alarm went off. She sat up in bed, and whimpered a little. She hesitantly rolled out, and began her morning routine. After dressing, she tied her shoes on tight, and let her hair hang down. Every vulnerable part of her was protected, or at least covered. She drove her Hyundai to the office, and entered the front door. She was greeted by a smiling, friendly Lynette.
"Renee! Good morning! Ryan wasn't sure you would be back! He said you seemed a bit non-plussed. You seem ok to me. I told him he was just being too self-conscious. I told him you would be back, and here you are!" Renee cringed internally at Lynette's overly enthusiastic greeting, but softened a bit at her genuine congeniality and warmth. Lynette continued "Mr. Southerland will be out for the rest of the week, so it's just you and me today and Friday. I got us breakfast burritos from 'Frontier'. Green or red?" Renee shook the fear from her head a bit. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad afterall. It was, just a job, afterall, right? She nodded, smiling.
"Um... does the green one have bacon? Yeah, I'll take the green. Thank you, Lynette! That was so nice of you!"
"Oh, I had a first day here once too. I know... hahaha... bondage furniture and... whips and chains and stuff... Don't worry, Renee. Ryan has a very good reputation, and a huge, world-wide customer base. It's all on the up and up, and Ryan is a complete professional. Here. Sit with me. We'll watch youtube videos and eat our breakfast, then I'll show you how to do the purchase orders, and balance the books." Renee warmed to Lynette's eager companionship. She actually learned some valuable lessons that day, not the least, the lesson that fear can often blow things out of proportion in your mind.
The rest of the day went by well. Friday as well. Lynette was a tall, confident woman who exuded power and poise, but whenever the subject of bondage was broached, she blushed and giggled like a giddy school girl. Whenever tickling came up in conversation, Lynette would blush especially deep and go silent, only speaking after a moment to change the subject. Renee did not feel so bad after seeing that these things affect Lynette similarly.
Days went by and school was going well. Mr. Southerland returned to work. Renee rarely saw him beyond a cordial greeting. Her time was largely spent shadowing Lynette. One October evening, Renee left work, anxious to attend a meeting for a school sponsored Halloween event. She had made friends on the student event staff, and was very much looking forward to helping to organise the college's Halloween festival, with live music, a haunted house, games and prizes, and a trunk-or treat. She was so excited, that she got halfway to the meeting before she realized that she had left her phone at work. She made a u-turn at the next intersection, and drove with haste, back to work. She pulled up and noticed the lights were still on in the office. Lynette was not at the desk, but her car was still outside. Renee tried the door, and it opened, so she stepped quietly inside to retrieve her phone from the desk. As she placed the phone in her pocket, she heard muffled voices coming from behind the door to Ryan's office. One had an undertone of urgency... almost... desperation. The door was cracked, so she went to listen closer. Peering inside, she saw the room was empty. The voices must be coming from the workshop. The urgency of the voice, which she thought she recognized as Lynette, scared her a little bit, so she called out low.
"Hello?" But there was no answer. She pushed the door ajar, and saw that the hallway, the workshop, were dark. She could hear the voices more clearly now, but still could not make out what they said. She walked slowly, but deliberately across the shop floor toward the showroom door, which she now saw was slightly cracked. Just a tiny beam of low light shown through. She heard the voices unmistakeable now. One was indeed Lynette. The other was clearly Mr. Southerland.
"Oh... please, Ryan, please? Not again? Not this? I...I'd do anything but this for you, gladly! I know... I understand the importance of testing... and quality control... but... I honestly just don't think I can take it anymore!" Her pleas were throaty and sincere. As Renee peered through the cracked door, she saw Lynette, her dress a crumpled pile on the floor, sitting in the stocks in her bra and panties, her black pumps still gracing her feet which quivered in nervous angst. Her wrists were secured high overhead with custom iron shackles, padded with alpaca fur. Mr. Southerland answered her.
"I know this is difficult for you, Lynette, but it is really the best way to test the integrity of the wood, and the quality of my welding job. I'll do my best to make it as quick as possible, and then you can take next week off, paid, per our usual arrangement." Lynette sniffed, and gasped, already giggling though Ryan had not yet touched her. She took a few deep breaths, her eyes shut tight. "Ok. Ok. I'm ready, just... please... be gentle... make it quick." Mr. Southerland walked behind the stocks, obscuring Renee's view for just a moment. Then, as Lynette reappeared, he began to stroke up and down her arms languidly. The sensation assaulted Lynette's nerves immediately. Renee could see the pure terror and overwhelming sensation on Lynette's face as she winced, smiling involuntarily, and fighting back hard against laughter. It was a battle she would lose the moment Ryan's strong but gentle hands traced circles over Lynette's tender underarms. Her entire body tensed as she bucked, pulling against the restraints. Renee covered her gaping mouth to guard against any sounds that might escape, but she could not look away as Lynette struggled, gasping, choking on laughter that refused to stay inside. Her breasts heaved and jiggled as she faught against the laughter, straining against the instinct to beg profusely. Ryan continued across her collarbone, and the front of her neck as Lynette pointed her toes. Her powerful, long legs flexed magnificently as she tucked her chin, squirming and wiggling to get away from Mr. Southerland's exploration. The chains rattled as Ryan chuckled quietly. Lynette growled like a caged wildcat. "Rrrrrrrrr! Ngh! Nghahahaaa!" As Ryan's hands wandered low, over Lynette's exposed cleavage, and to her shuddering ribs, Renee found herself unable to look away, her mouth still agape in horror and fascination. Ryan cooed and chided, condescendingly. Renee could not quite make out the words, but the message was plain. He was teasing her, humiliating her, belittling her. She burst into guffaws of wreckless laughter as Mr. Southerland's nimble fingers danced up and down her sides and across her bare stomach. She laughed, protesting loudly "No! Noooooooohohohohohahahahaaaaargh!" As his fingers probed and stroked. Her muscles contracted and twisted under her tender skin. She pulled hard against the chains, against the stocks around her ankles, as he continued his torture. The sturdy wood construction did not budge. The Iron only rattled, but did not give a millimeter. Mr. Southerland continued teasing Lynette, in soft, degrading comments, as he fiddled with her abdomen, and hips. He gently dug his thumbs into the hollows of her hips as she bucked, her legs quivering severely. Tears poured from her eyes as she cackled like a madwoman, screaming "NO! NOHOHOHOHOHO! WAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAGH! PLEASE! PLEASE STOP RYAN! OH GOD! OH GOD PLEASE STOP! STOP TICKLIHIHIHIHIHIHIIIIIIIIIIII...." her words dissolved into breathless, incoherent laughter as tears dripped off of her face. Her tight bun now a loose tatter of dishevelled locks. Without mercy. He dug into her thighs and wiggled his fingers. Renee could see for only a moment, his red face, smiling gleefully. He was really enjoying this. Lynette was obviously not having any fun at all. Renee could not peel her eyes from the spectacle. She felt somehow, dirty, or naughty, for watching. She felt a deep, sharp pang of guilt for letting it persist, for letting Lynette suffer like this, but she was frozen in fear, and fascination. Ryan slowly made his way to Lynette's knees, scribbling and squeezing that spot, just above her kneecaps, and the tender spots underneath as well. New guffaws bubbled up from the struggling Lynette. Her voice was breaking from too much laughter, and she was becoming progressively more breathless. Mr. Southerland stroked down her shins and calves as her head bounced, her entire body twitching and jerking. He gave her legs one final, reverent caress, and ceased. He walked slowly to the customer service counter, and retrieved a bottle of water from the mini fridge. He walked over to Lynette and opened it, placing it to her lips as she gained her breath, she drank slowly. Her eyes met his in silent communication. A well-practiced cooperation that struck Renee as unusual. After several gulps, Lynette had calmed sufficiently, and could speak.
"Oh my god, Ryan that... that was far worse than I remembered. Please, please don't ever make me do that again? I simply can't handle it." Renee began quietly retreating when she heard those dreadful words from Mr. Southerland.
"We are almost done Lynette. Just one more." Renee froze, then turned back to the crack in the door. What did he mean? 'Almost done?' Lynette's breath began to race again. She closed her eyes and tried to take deep breaths to calm herself. It was almost working. Renee saw Mr. Southerland's capable hands come back into view, as they rested on the tops of Lynette's high-heels. He chuckled, almost wickedly as Lynette panicked, and begged.
"NO! NO PLEASE! NOT MY FEET! RYAN! I'M BEGGING! I'M BEGGING YOU! PLEASE NOT MY FEET! PLEASE DON'T TICKLE MY FEET! NOT MY FEET! NOT MY FEET! Not my feet... not my feet..." her protest became lower, more breathless as the realization set in. She began giggling nervously before Mr. Southerland even pulled her shoes off. When he did, she curled her toes and flexed her feet, trying in-vain to get away from the inevitable. Renee had her fist in her mouth at this point. Her own feet were so incredibly ticklish... she could not even imagine the torture of having them immobilized, helpless, completely exposed, while this sadistic villain had his evil way with them. Lynette twisted her feet, and curled her toes, scrunching her soles into adorable wrinkles. Renee almost smiled at the sight. Lynette whispered her continued pleas between nervous, terrified giggles. "No... no please... anything... anything but my feet... anything but my feet..." Renee could hear Mr. Southerland's response loud and clear this time.
"Awwwww! But your feet are the best part, Lynette! Look at how precious your little toes are. So pretty. So vulnerable." He drew one finger up each of her wrinkled arches. She immediately squealed as her face contorted in horror and laughter. A new flush of red washed over her already blushing body. Renee could almost taste the humiliation and fear. Lynette begged profusely, pulling out all the stops.
"RYAN ,PLEASE! MR. SOUTHERLAND! PLEASE! PLEASE! I'LL DO ANYTHING! ANYTHING!... Please god, just don't tickle my feet! I'll fuck you! I'll give you head!" Mr. Southerland said nothing. He just began raking his nails up and down her arches. Her breath caught in her wide open mouth. Her eyes bugged and her body stiffened like she had been stabbed. How could such a gentle touch elicit such intense reactions? Lynette finally caught enough breath to laugh, and it exploded out of her in hyperactive waves. "AAAHAAAHAAAHAAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAA! HAHAHAAAAAAAAAHOHOHOHOHOHOHO!" Ryan explored her soles wickedly, tracing just hard enough to send lightning bolts of sensation up poor Lynette's legs. He left no spot untickled. He thoroughly tormented and methodically teased the tops of her feet, the tops of her toes. He poked and stroked the tips and pads of her curling toes as she gargled incomprehensibly behind walls of hysterical laughter. He teased and scratched at her heels, and the balls of her feet. He struck gold, when he returned to her wrinkly arches, and scratched lightly, just under the balls of her feet. Her body shook in panic, like an animatronic horror puppet, programmed to shake as extremely as humanly possible. He laughed at her predicament, grinding one hand briefly in his crotch. She squealed and laughed so loud, Renee feared someone might hear and call the police. She tried to focus on moving... turn, walk away quietly, like I was never here. Just as she almost mustered the courage, Lynette belted out one word as loud as she could. At the top of her lungs. "REEEEEEED! RED RED RED RED RED RED RED!" Renee puzzled at the outburst. Even more puzzling, was the fact that Mr. Southerland stopped tickling her Immediately, and began massaging her poor feet. Momentarily, he stepped to Lynette and gave her more water. Lynette finally spoke, having caught her breath. "Oh god. Ryan. I think... you broke me... I am broken." Ryan chuckled.
"You have withstood worse." Renee choked, thinking to herself 'Worse'!? What could possibly be worse!? I thought she was going to have an anyeurism.
As Ryan began unlocking Lynette. Renee realized it was time to get lost. She slowly, quietly backed away and down the hall. She turned and stepped softly but quickly out of Mr. Southerland's office, and then out of the building. She started her car and set off for the event planning meeting, a sense of bewilderment and cluelessness crept in as she recalled the events to which she had born witness. Was it wrong for her to peep on them like that? Was Lynette actually... enjoying herself? These questions really bothered her. What bothered her the most, though, was that she knew the answers, but did not want to face the reality. Her boss was some kind of perverted tickle-fiend. Her coworker had been coerced into serving as his tickle-slave. Maybe she consented, maybe not. It was hard to tell. And now, she had made herself accomplice in Ryan's torture game by watching, and doing nothing. The weight of realization was heavy, and dark. She realized, acutely, that she was becoming aroused. She felt ashamed and a bit disgusted. She rolled down a window and hit her vape several times, and turned on the radio. Toto's 'Africa' lulled her back to comfort, as she turned onto the campus to meet the event planning group. She was just ten minutes late. Her detour had taken much longer than originally anticipated.
Renee walked into the meeting room in the library. There were 30 or 40 students, but they had not started yet. Just as she sat down, a clean, Latino boy, Stefan, began to speak.
"Ok, guys. I know we are not all here yet, but we mostly are, so let's go ahead and get started. I'm gonna pass out these markers, and note cards. I'll tell you why in just a minute. I will preface our opening activity by saying this. The haunted house is our most popular attraction every year, but it also requires the most planning and the most volunteers. Last year we had 13 rooms. This year, I think we should try for 15. We have the entire basketball floor at The Pit, so we should really take advantage of that. All of the other events will be elsewhere in the stadium, so let's try to go really big this year. Now, what I want everyone to do is to write down on each card I gave you, an idea for a room theme in the haunted house. Try to think of things that are conceptually horrifying, but do not require physical interactions with patrons. Last year we had the bloody bathtub girl, the zombies, the vampire grave climbers, the ticking clocks, the butcher, the inbred rednecks, La Llarona, the demon summoning priests, the slasher, the spider nest, the chasm, the ghost windchamber, and... the chainsaw murderer. Of course we display all the animatronics strategically between rooms. If you guys really like any of the stuff we did last year, and think we can do better this year, go ahead and put it down. Ok. Let's take about 5 or ten minutes, then I'll collect your cards, and we'll read them and do some brainstorming. The goal tonight is to have 15 rooms decided, so we can get to work on building them next week." Stefan finished, and everyone started writing, and staring at the ceiling quietly, pensively. Renee though hard, trying to determine what kinds of things scare her. She of course, was still thinking about the tickle torture she had witnessed earlier tonight. She scribbled down on the top of one card 'torture chamber' and she made notes underneath it. 'Tickling', 'restraints'... and could not keep going. She tucked that card in the back, and wrote out two more. 'Insanity' and 'emergency room'. She tucked them and waited, dropping them in Stefan's hand as he walked by. He smiled at her. Stefan was a Senior, good looking, charasmatic, and almost certainly gay. As he collected the last card, he cheered. "Woohoo! Alright guys! Record time. Let's see here... " he read through many cards and counted votes for and against. Eventually, he got to Renee's cards. "Ok. This one says 'torture chamber. Ooooh! Great idea! We could have like, torture devices, and shackles and stuff. We could have like, 2 or 3 prisoners, and an executioner. The card says tickling... which I find personally horrifying, so that's good. What other tortures could we depict?" The room stayed silent for a moment, then people started spouting ideas. 'Whipping...", "Bastinado...", "Skinning...", "hot pokers..." the ideas rolled in. Some were more horrible than others. Some were actually something that could be executed in a believable way. Stefan wrote all of the brainstorming ideas on a white board as they were said. Finally, after filling the board with various tortures, he spoke.
"Ok. We'll call this one 'the tickle room'. Who wants to be in charge of this one?" Renee, realizing she had not volunteered for anything yet, was almost forced to raise her hand when Stefan looked at her. She reluctantly did.
"Um... I guess I could be in charge of that one." Stefan smiled.
"Great. Then, along with the shock treatment room, we have our 15. Let's take the week to flesh out what each room will be, what props are needed, and who among you will act in the rooms. Remember... you are going to need 3 actors for every character. We want all of you to be able to enjoy the festival, not just spend your whole night in the haunted house. Before you all leave tonight, get with the person in charge of the room where you would like to act. Exchange information, et cetera... let me know if you need more actors, because I'm still recruiting volunteers for... not just the haunted house, but the entire Festival. Last year we had 120 volunteers. My goal is 140 this year. Ok? So work on your haunted room, and we'll meet back here next Thursday."
Renee sat for a few moments, hoping to have plenty of volunteers, hoping to have enough volunteers that she would not need to get tickled, or tortured. Momentarily, a mousy, petite Asian girl approached her.
"Hi, Renee. I'm Allie. I'd like to help with the room, if that's ok." Renee smiled in relief. Before she could speak, 4 more approached.
Raymond, a tall, thin guy, with a lovely afro, spoke up.
"Yeah! Count me in! That shit sounds terrifying!" And a chubby guy in a jean jacket, with long blonde hair...
"Hell ya, put me down too. My name is Lars." As well as two girls. One Latina, gregarious and smiley...
"I'm Melissa. You can call me Mel. This is Sam." Mel pointed to a tiny girl, red hair, freckles... very shy. Renee's eyes lit up as she flipped to a fresh page in her notebook.
"Great! Allie, Raymond, Lars, Mel, and... Sam... Samantha I presume?" Sam only knodded, blushing a bit, fidgetting with her fingers. "Great! If you guys could just put your contact info on this sheet under your name, I'll text you all. Maybe we can meet over group text or dischord this week to iron out exactly what the room will be." The others put their info down. After a bit of nervously enthusiastic conversation, Renee left and drove home. The next morning before class, she texted her contact info to the team.
The following Tuesday, Renee showed up at 'Masters' for her dreaded return. She was not sure if she would be able to look Lynette or Mr. Southerland in the eye after having witnessed their torture session. She hoped adamantly that she could get through without tipping them off that she had seen the entire thing. She pulled up to the office, and took several hits of her vape. After a few deep breaths, she steeled herself, and entered. Lynette, usually seated at the desk, was nowhere to be found. She placed her bag under the desk, and sat down, just as Mr. Southerland's voice called.
"Renee? Is that you? Come on in." Renee turned to see the cracked door to Ryan's office. She tried to breath deep and slow to calm herself, but her heartbeat raced. Butterflies welled in her stomach. Not the good kind. She stood, steadied herself, and entered. Mr. Southerland was seated at his computer, answering e-mails.
"Hey! Renee. On time as always. Hey, Lynette is on vacation this week, so I'll need you to put in the material order, and run the invoices. Don't worry about balancing. Lynette can do that when she gets back. Also, if you would't mind printing off the online inquirys from the last week, and sending them each a digital brochure, I'd really appreciate it. Oh! I almost forgot! James Yamamoto of 'Japan Tickles' is considering making a large, large purchase of furniture and accessories for his new run of tickling videos. He does, however, want to see demonstration videos of every piece and accessory." Renee's heart stuck in her throat. She went white with fear. Obviously, her terror was visible on her face. Ryan looked at her, concerned. "Are... are you ok? You don't look so good, Renee." Renee swallowed and took a breath.
"I'm... I'm ok... I uh... but... demonstration? Like, with... me?" Mr. Southerland looked shocked, and surprized, freezing momentarily before easing and chuckling.
"Heavens! No! Renee... you... you are my intern. Your job here is strictly business. I would never ask you to do that... unless I was in very, very dire straits. No, no, no. We use a professional modelling and acting agency here in town. They are called 'Acolyte'. We use a professional videographer for the production. The company is called 'Jandacek Videography.' If you could please call them both, and get everything arranged for a Friday Morning shoot, that would be great." Renee acknowledged, relieved, and began flipping through the old fasioned rolodex on Lynette's desktop. After neither place responded, she left messages for them to please return her call. She barely heard from Mr. Southerland the rest of the day, aside from the sound of power tools from the shop. She spent her shift in clerical diligence.
That evening, she met with her haunted house group. She had invited them all to her house, as her parents had the basement finished into a nice party room with a coffee table, and comfy couches and chairs. She ordered a couple pizzas and set out some sodas. The group arrived one by one. After Allie, Raymond, Lars, Mel, and Sam had arrived, they dug into the pizza and started the initial conversation about the torture room scene. Allie was first to offer her feelings.
"Can I just say, that being tied down and tickled is like, my number one worst nightmare! I think if we create a dark, medieval scene, with lots of like, brick walls, candles, iron fixtures, like shackles and stuff... we could really terrify people." Lars spoke up next.
"I dunno. As terrifying as it is to think of being tied up and tickled, I don't think the people walking through the room will experience any kind of horror or fear. I think that is lost if you are not the one being tickled. Most people watch other people being tickled, and just laugh at that person's misfortune." Several concerned knods demonstrate agreement among the group. Raymond, however, disagreed.
"Nah, man. Watching someone get tickled like that, gives me chills. The helplessness and vulnerability..." Mel offered her idea next.
"Ok, so, I have an idea. If we are the actors, maybe we should all test eachother's ticklishness. Certainly the right reactions might inspire a kind of fear in those watching." The others nodded, except Sam, who just shrank further into the couch with her pizza and Soda. Allie lit up with excitement.
"That's a great idea, Mel! We should all take turns tickling eachother to see who has the most terrified reaction!" Raymond shook his head.
"No way, girl. Uh-uh. Not me. I'm way too ticklish. I'll ride the executioner slot." But Lars knew exactly how to diffuse the situation.
"Aw, come on man. Don't be such a pussy. If I can take it, so can you. I'll go first. Should I like, lay on the floor then, or something?" Allie was almost too enthusiastic when she answered.
"Ya... good idea. Lay on the floor, and we'll all tickle you to gauge your reactions!" Lars slowly, nervously laid down on the floor. Allie and Mel immediately jumped down and started testing him out. Allie knelt at his head, teasing and poking his neck and armpits playfully, elicitting a string of porcine giggles. Mel, however, was a touch more sadistic. She knelt beside the chubby young man, and lifted his shirt. Distracted by Allie's assault on his armpits, he seemed not to notice until Mel dragged her wicked nails from his sides to his bellybutton. He squealed, wide-eyed, laughing hysterically.
"NOHOHOHOHOOOO! NOT THERE! NOHOT THEHEHEHEHEHAHAHAAAARGH!" Lars struggled, squirming, and begging. Renee noted poignantly...
"His tummy gets a better reaction. I think if you tickled him really bad there..." To which Mel responded with an all-out merciless attack. Lars exploded with choking, breathless laughter, and desperate pleas.
"NO! NO! PLEASE! PLEASE! AAAAAAAGH!"
Renee smiled, having seen enough. "That... is a reaction of terror." Raymond quipped...
"I don't think I can watch." But he did not move, or turn away. Sam, having finished her pizza and soda, eased forward to the edge of the couch, and uncharacteristically, added some wisdom of her own.
"No. You guys are doing it wrong." To which Mel retorted.
"Oh? You think you could do better?" Her face an incredulous smirk. Sam slipped her jacket off, and slid her sneakers off. She stood.
"Hold his wrists and ankles." She knelt at his feet as Mel and Allie secured him. True fear bubbled up in Lars. The shift in his manner was plain. When Sam started untying his shoes, his fear and humiliation surfaced fully.
"Hey! No! No! What are you doing!? Don't do that! Hey! Leave my shoes on! Hey!" But Sam only grinned sadistically and squinted at him with narrow blue eyes that burned in her freckled face.
"Why not, tough guy? What's in these shoes that you don't want me to see? Huh?" She slowly sliped off his shoe, then the other. He maintained his protest.
"No no no! No! Don't! Don't do that!" The other girls grinned. Raymond shuddered. Renee watched, fascinated, as Sam kept taunting Lars, dominating him, humiliating him. His fear rose with every word.
"What's that? Nothing special. Just your feet. You don't want me to see your feet, Lars? Come on. Let me see those feet." She slowly peeled off his socks, chuckling like an insane supervillain when his barefeet were revealed. "Aw. Look at those bare feet! Very soft, for a guy. I bet they are super ticklish. Are your feet ticklish, Lars?" Lars panicked, stuttering and begging.
"D-don't! D-d-don't... tickle my feet!" Sam grinned even wider, brandishing her tiny, sharp nails. She slowly dragged one nail up Lars' bare foot, elicitting a pure terror response.
"NOOOOHOHO! NOT MY FEET!" but Sam only laughed low and sultry.
"Oh... silly boy. Don't you know... feet are the best place to tickle...." she dug into his arches and toes, cackling like a maniac as he screamed, squealed and thrashed around, laughing helplessly, breathlessly. He was obviously being tortured beyond his limits. Renee watched for about 30 seconds then intervened.
"Ok! Ok. Obviously, Lars is ticklish to the point of it being really, really torturous. Your reactions are exactly what we need but... how long can you stand it, buddy?" Lars gathered his wits, and his breath. He answered pessimistically as he pulled his socks and shoes back on.
"Maybe, a minute or two, tops." Raymond was nodding.
"Yeah, man. That was horrible. What about everyone else though? We can't just tickle Lars all night. He'll need to be relieved. We'll probably need to swap out often." Renee had a spark of an idea.
"Yes! Oh, yes! I got it! If we are all dressed in medieval rags, and there is one black executioner's robe that we could all slip on over our rags, then we could all rotate through, say like, just being chained against the wall, like miserable wretches, being tickled on like, a rack, or some medieval torture device, and being the executioner. Then, we could rotate through as breaks are needed." The others nodded. Raymond still shook his head and spoke.
"Man, I don't think I can take being tickled. Even for a minute." Mel slinked into pisition on the floor as Lars got up. She began slipping her shoes and socks off. Her blushing grin, curled almost involuntarily already. She chided Raymond.
"Aw, come on, Ray. If I can do it, you can do it. No way are you more ticklish than me. Here. You and Renee come down here, and gimme your best shot. If you think you would do worse than me, then we'll figure something out. Ok?" Raymond gasped and sighed. Mel was so gorgeous and flirty, that it was hard for any guy to refuse her requests.
"Ok." Raymond relented. "But only because I can't get shown up by a woman." The others laughed as he sat behind Mel, already teasing her ribs, and her flat tummy. Her breasts bounced delightfully as she chortled through clenched teeth. Renee hovered down to Mel's feet. As she picked one up, gingerly, Mel's eyeswidened, and her tension grew. When Renee dragged her nails up Mel's perfect, soft, shapely bare foot, Mel Exploded in blood-curdling laughter. She fought, kicking, squirming, too overwhelmed to speak. Renee felt a curious warmth rising in her, along with a new compulsion she could not resist. An evil, sadistic smile exposed her delicate dimples. She dug into poor Mel's bare feet with both hands, poking, prodding, stroking and teasing her arches, toes, all over. All Mel could do was laugh and thrash, squealing. Tears ran down her lovely face and drops of spittle flew from her open mouth as she laughed out loud, amid a string of one-word pleas.
"AHHHHHHAHAHAAAAA! NO! HOHOHOHOHO! ST-STOP! AHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAA! GOD! STOHOHOHOHOHOP!" but Raymond kept going, jovially probing her armpits, ribs, tummy, hips, and back up. He randomly poked and teased all of her spots with deadly effectivity, in random order, which drove Mel completely mad. Renee, entranced, and tickling gleefully, continued exploring Mel's pretty feet. She had been so involved in her torture, that she was stunned back to reality when Allie spoke.
"Ok, guys! She's clearly deathly ticklish. Let's give her a break." Mel gasped, regaining her breath. She took her shoes and socks to the couch, as she addressed Raymond.
"See! That was a fucking nightmare, but If I can do it, so can you." Raymond smiled, a blush barely perceptive in his smooth, dark complection.
"Ok, girl. Ok. I'll take a turn, but not until halloween night. I gotta save up my willpower." Mel laughed and conceded the point as she pulled on her socks and shoes, much to Renee's new-found dismay. Allie, however, was already positioning herself on the floor. Lars assumed a position at her feet, and began removing her shoes as Sam pinned her down, straddling her tiny hips. Allie squealed...
"WAIT! WAIT! I'M NOT READY!" but it was too late. Lars started in on poor Allie's bare feet as Sam dragged her nails up and down Allie's soft, quivering torso. Mel, having regained her breath, joined in, only to restrain Allie's arms to give Sam better access. Sam delighted, scribbling her tiny, sharp nails all over Allie's body, with very little respect for her more intimate areas. Mel chuckled, urging Sam on. Sam groped, poked, stroke, and pinched all over Allie's ribs, pits, sides, tummy, and hips, occasionally even sneaking in a stroke on side-boob, or even Allie's hard little nipples, which were now showing plainly through her bra and t-shirt. Lars Chuckled heartily at the way Allie curled her toes, and scrunched her tiny soles. He dragged his nails back and forth across her arches, following the wrinkly contours. Sam teased and humiliated Allie mercilessly.
"Does it tickle, Hun-eeee? Does it tickle? How many ribs do you have? Hmmm? I could count them. 1... 2... 3... Oh! You are laughing so hard I lost count! I'll have to start over! 1... 2..." Allie laughed with the power of a much larger woman, a string of impressive guffaws pouring from her wide open mouth. Her almond eyes shut tight, did not prevent the tears from streaming as her tousled, black hair jumped from side to side as she jerked and twitched. Lars continued to torment her tiny feet as she curled her toes and tried to escape his tickling. Finally, Raymond intervened.
"Ok, guys. Ok. She's done." Allie regained her composure as the three let her up. Sam assumed the position on the floor.
"Ok, Raymond. You get my feet, I guess. Renee can have my upper body." Renee was on the diminutive redhead in a flash, groping and squeazing her ribs, poking her belly button. She realized, while watching Sam, that the verbal teasing and humiliation made the experience 10 times worse. As Raymond got Sam's shoes and socks off, he tickled her tiny feet, perhaps too playfully.
"Goochie goochie goo!" he cooed at her, his nails scribbling in her little arches. Renee was more sadistic. As she dug into Sam's armpits, she geve her a condescending verbal tease.
"Awwww... is that little baby ticklish? Where does it tickle, baby? Tell me... tell me! Is it the armpits? Feet? Ribs?" Renee leaned back and grabbed Sam's knees. "Is it these little knees? Hmmm?" Sam was a hot mess of giggles, laughs, squealing, screaming, wiggling, wriggling, and begging.
"STOP! AHAHASTOP! STOHOHOPIT! OH GOHOHOHOD! NO MORE! NO MORE! MERCY! MERCY! AHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAARGH!" but Raymond and Renee kept going. Raymond scribbling madly over sam's tiny pink feet and toes, Renee attacking literally everywhere else. Sam squealed especially chillingly when Renee got her inner thighs through her jeans. Finally, at Mel's behest, they stopped and let poor Samantha catch her breath. She rested for a couple of minutes amid candid comments and jokes before restoring her socks and shoes to her feet. Renee made notes on her pad about each player's ticklishness, reaction, and resistance, of which there was none.
"Ok. So... we need to see what kind of props, furniture, costumes, scenery, et cetera are available. We only have $2000 to bugdet with. Any ideas? Does anyone sew? Or paint? Woodworking?" The whole group just stared at her, naughty smiles and raised eyebrows. Mel grinned at her.
"Not so fast, Renee." she pointed to the empty spot on the floor. Renee's stomach jumped into her throat, as her heart sank. She was hoping to get away without getting tickled. It seems her peers were not having it, though Raymond was ameanable.
"You, guys. If she doesn't want to be tickled right now, that's ok." but Mel retorted.
"No, no, no. We made an exception for you, because you are kind of a wuss, but this whole thing was her idea." She looked back at Renee. "Time to face the music, sugar. Here. Gimme your glasses. I don't wanna break them." Samantha chimed in as well.
"Yeah. I kinda wanna tickle you too, Renee. I've been thinking about those nylons. I bet your feet are super ticklish in them." Renee froze in horror. She kind of knew this moment was coming, but she was not prepared. She struggled with her words.
"Feet? Nylons? I... I'm not ticklish, actually. Anywhere. Especially not my feet." Lars and Raymond chuckled. Allie laughed out loud.
"Ohohohoho! Nice! Her feet will be her worst spot! Come on Renee. Don't make us hold you down." Renee tensed, and paused before lowering herself to the floor. She handed Mel her glasses, blushing and smiling involuntarily.
"Oh god... please go easy on me? I'm so nervous. My heartbeat is going like a thousand miles an hour. Oh god, you guys. Oh god... oh god..." the other 5 all crowded around her. Allie and Mel held her hands, stroking them lightly, making comforting 'shhhhhh' noises. Sam sat at her head, stroking her face and hair.
"Don't worry, Renee. We won't hurt you." She moved toward Renee's feet, dragging a single finger down her leg as Raymond took a position at her head, and Lars at her legs. Raymond gently, but firmly, secured her wrists high above her head, as Lars straddled her knees. Samantha cooed gently. "There we go" and slipped Renee's high-heels off of her stockinged feet. Renee wiggled her toes nervously in the black stockings. Sam immediately started in with slow strokes up her feet, which brought sharp yelps from Renee. She curled her toes and struggled, begging.
"Please... not my feet? Please?" but Samantha ignored her, teasing and stroking faster. As Renee lost her fight against the bubbling giggles, Mel and Allie started languidly stroking her sides, neck, and ribs. Neither one was afraid to give her ample breasts a stroke and a pinch. Mel wildly scribbled her nails over Renee's nipples. The ticklish sensation was more than she expected. She cackled, brokenly. Finally, as Lars joined in with Sam on her feet, Renee broke into a healthy, rolling laugh. Raymond was content to just hold her arms secure. The wicked sensations burned like electricity across her bare feet and toes, shooting up her legs. The muscles in her core twitched, expanding and contracting as the girls assaulted her ribs and tummy. Allie poked and prodded Renee's bellybutton. Mel stroked and poked her ribs, as Renee squirmed and squealed, too busy laughing and gasping to beg. Tears ran down her face and flew through the air as she thrashed, trying to get away. Her face flushed bright red as she suddenly realized, she was becoming very, very aroused. Every touch was torture, but exquisite, still. She could not stand a single stroke, but wanted them to continue. She wriggled, twitched, kicked, and
Curled her toes, her quivering feet trying desperately to escape Lars and Samantha's double-team tactic. She descended deeper and deeper into the humiliation and overwhelming sensation... her involuntary response. She began to disassociate. Then, just as her arousal peaked, and she thought that she might actually achieve orgasm... Samantha relented, instructing everyone else to let up as well. Renee lay there, breathless, red, sweaty, tear-soaked. Finally, after a minute or two, she sat up and recovered her shoes, placing them back on her still-tingling feet. She cleared her throat and donned her glasses, trying to regain a shred of dignity. She tookup her pen and notebook.
"Ok. Now that that's out of the way. Props, scenery, costumes, and possible practice times...." The group enthusiastically brainstormed costumes, scenery, and props. They all agreed on Saturdays for practice. After they all left, Renee went upstairs to get ready for bed. She was exhausted from the tickling ordeal. She showered, and went straight to bed.
Classes went by slowly the next day. Renee had trouble focusing as she was still fatigued from her impromptu tickling session the night before, but also, she could't get it out of her mind. Everyone she saw, she wondered if they were ticklish... where? How bad? She wondered if they were secretly wanting to tickle her. As her day went on, she found herself becoming more and more aroused. By the end of classes, she was downright horny. She drove straight home and retired to her bedroom. She kicked off her shoes and flopped on the couch. She pulled her phone out, and googled "Tickling". She clicked on one video that sparkedher interest. 4 videos later, she found herself smiling, playing with her nipples. Her hand kept wandering down, until finally, she submitted to her own fresh desire. Her hand crept under the waistband of her jeans, and under her panties. As she watched in breathy awe, two women playfully tickling one-another in pretty lingerie, her fingers spread her pussy, and found her engorged clit. Her fingers rubbed, and glided, spreading warmth, wet, and ecstacy. The next video peaked with an overtone of non-consent. The ticklee was begging profusely through hysterical laughter and panicked protests. The hot, tingly wave consumed her, creeping in from her loins, toes, neck... until her whole body exploded with a pyroclastic pleasure that engulfed and overwhelmed her. She gasped and whimpered softly, twitching and trembling. She laid her phone aside and pondered her new-found joy. Where did this compulsion come from? Would she ever be able to enjoy being tickled, or was she destined to be a quiet tickler, lurking in the social shadows? Likely, the latter. She was far too ticklish to ever submit to being tied up and tickled for anything more intense than a haunted house play.
The next morning, Renee arrived at the office early, only to find bad news. The camera crew was a go for Friday, but the acting and modelling agency had said they would not be able to send anyone, as they were too busy with other projects. Mr. Southerland would be upset. He was so very nervous and excited to prepare a demonstration for his new client. Renee tried to think of where she might find someone willing to submit to such torture. The online forums? Craigslist? She quickly went to work soliciting actors, models, but none answered her e-mails. When Ryan poked his head in at lunch, she would only have bad news for him. It was not long before her prediction became a reality. Mr. Southerland walked in from his office, his smock covered in droplets of spray-lacquer.
"Renee! How are you? Hope you're doing ok without Lynette around. She'll be back Monday. Did you get the talent and video crew scheduled for Friday?" Renee's heart sank yet again. She looked up in distress and apology.
"The agency can't spare anyone. I've been looking for freelancers all morning, but I haven't gotten a single response." Ryan's face went pale.
"Oh, no! If I don't get James this demo video, he might go to another shop! Renee... that video has to get made on Friday. I know I said I wouldn't ask you to do this but... Renee... I might need you to stand in as the talent in the demo." Renee panicked. Her face went white. She stuttered, protesting, trying to come up with excuses.
"M...Mr. S...Southerland, I... I... I c...can't do that! I have this thing for school... I have to.... they are counting on me to... I... I'm way, way too ticklish! Please! Mr. Southerland! You can't! Please?" She was shaking, her eyes welling up. Her fear was plain, which only intrigued Ryan. He sat down, calm, collected.
"Renee. This contract could be very lucrative for 'Master's'. If it fails because I don't get this demo out, it will be... a very bad thing. I need to demo each and every piece of furniture in the line. Every accessory must be shown in use. If James puts our stuff in his videos, and credits us, we will be selling to a world market, not just here in Albuquerque. It is a must-succeed opportunity." Renee blushed, completely panicked. She struggled to not hyperventilate. "Oh, no! No, no, no... It's... oh, jeez... It's ok, Renee, here..." Ryan drew her a cup of water from the cooler. "Here, drink this. Breath... in... out... in... out... calm... calm..." Renee caught her breath. She looked up at Mr. Southerland with pleading, puppy-dog eyes. He spoke again. "Renee. I don't have a lot of options. Lynette is out of town, and the agency is letting me down. I need you to do this for me. If... if I lose this contract... ... ... I'll have to terminate your internship." Renee froze, wide-eyed. If she lost her internship, she would lose her workstudy related financial aid. She would have to drop out of school. She squealed
"You wouldn't! You can't!" Her voice cracking, on the verge of crying.
"You would leave me no choice, Renee. I know, it's a lot to think about. Take the rest of the day off. Consider your choices. If you decide to stay, I need you here tomorrow morning by 8. You'll need a fresh mani/pedi. Your makeup and hair need to look nice. You'll need a bathing suit, or a matched set of lingerie. Bra and panties. If you decide not to do this, then don't bother coming back at all." He went into his office and quietly closed the door. Renee broke down in tears. She gathered her things, and left. On the way home, she cried and pondered. She knew she had no choice, but she felt powerless, exploited. She steeled herself.
"Buck up, bitch" she whispered to herself. "It's just some bondage. A little spanking. Maybe a ball gag... some nipple clamps or something. He probably won't even tickle me that much. Maybe he'll skip my feet." She continued her self-pep-talk as she turned into the mall. A one-stop place for everything she needed. She stopped in at Victoria's Secret, and found a lovely pair of hunter-green silk panties with black lace accents, and a matching bra. Then she stopped in at the salon for a quick trim and style. Right next door was the nail salon. She had been in several times to get her fingernails done, but had always been too chicken to get a pedicure. "This is a test." she told herself. She walked in and asked for the full manicure/pedicure. A lovely latina named 'Selina' ushered her to a chair. As Renee slipped her shoes off and plunged her feet into the soothing bath, Selina began working on her hands. Renee chose a deep, blood red for her fingernails. The color was stark against her fair skin, and looked very seductive. Too seductive. As she waited, her nails under a UV lamp, Selina sat at her feet. She pulled Renee's right foot out of the bath, dried it, and proceeded to scrub her bare sole with the abrasive stone. Renee fought back the giggles for about a half of a second, erupting in throaty, adorable chortles as Selina worked, smiling warmly, knowingly.
"Ticklish feet?" asked Selina, grinning. She kept going until Renee's foot was soft and smooth as silk. Then she repeated on Renee's left foot. Renee was practically dying.
"OH GOD! HEHEHEHEHEEEE! OH MY FEET!" Selina chuckled as she worked, tickling playfully for a moment before continuing. Renee curled her toes involuntarily, trying to hold still. Many breathless pleas and giggles later, Selina applied lotion to Renee's feet and massaged them. She trimmed cuticles, buffed nails, filed nails, washed toes, and finally applied the same deep red lacquer. Selina cooed...
"Wow, Renee. This color looks great on you. Your boyfriend, or girlfriend, will not be able to keep their hands off of you." Renee shuddered at the thought of Mr. Southerland, not being able to keep his hands off of her.
"I... don't have a... boyfriend... or a girlfriend." Selina sighed.
"Oh. I... (ahem) sorry. I didn't mean to... assume." Renee reassured her.
"Oh, no. It's fine. I'm ok being single. Really." Selina smiled.
"Of course. So... I dunno if you saw the sign, but we are running a special today. Free wax with a full mani/pedi." Renee perked up.
"Free? I've never done that before. What does that entail?" Selina leaned in and softened her voice.
"Um. I would apply the wax with a stick. It's like a popsicle stick. Then the paper. Then you yank it off quick. It's so much nicer than shaving." Renee cringed, still curious.
"Where would you do this?" Selina continued, almost whispering.
"Um.... your legs. The tops of your feet. Your bikini areas... front and... back. Anywhere else you want. Maybe your armpits. That would probably be good. You are not a very hairy girl. I'll be very gentle. I promise." Renee pondered for a moment before consenting.
"Ok. Yeah. Let's do it." Selina didn't hesitate to proceed as Renee's toes sat under UV lights.
"Do you want like... a triangle, or a little landing strip, or... nothing?" Renee spoke without thinking.
"Nothing. Take it all." Selina smiled warm and pleasant.
"Ok then. Follow me back." Renee followed her to a private room in the back.
"Go ahead and disrobe, and I'll get some things ready. There are towels for your modesty." Renee nervously stripped and laid down on the cushy table. She covered her nipples and her nethers with towels. Momentarily, Selina turned around in a rolling chair and began to slather Renee's legs in hot wax. Every few strokes, she applied a paper, and rubbed it on gently. After the wax solidified, she yanked it off, quickly. Renee yelped a bit each time. Giggling at her own pain. Selina finished Renee's legs and feet, front and back, not forgetting the tops of her toes.
"Ok. Shall we do armpits next?" Renee lifted her arms. Selina brushed the wax in gently. Renee descended into ticklish giggles. Selina blushed a bit, eyes dilated. Her smile betrayed her amusement, but she kept working, patting the paper on softly, which only tickled Renee even worse.
"OH! SELINA! YOU'RE TICKLING ME!" Selina cooed as she worked.
"Tickle tickle!" She teased. When Renee was overcome with ticklish giggles, Selina ripped the wax off.
"Holy shit! Gaaaah! You gotta warn me, Selina! Youch!" Selina made an apologetic face.
"I know it sucks. I'm sorry Hun. We are done with your armpits though. It's time to do your bikini areas. I can do one side at a time, then you can flip." Renee flinched and yelped and twitched her way through the rest of the ordeal. When it was over, she ran a hand over her smooth mound. She really liked the way it felt, though it was still red and irritated. She dressed, and tipped Selina, who smiled at her almost flirtatiously. After paying, Renee drove home and silently ate dinner with her parents. After dinner, she retired to her room. She found it hard to sleep, as she was so nervous and scared about what lie ahead tomorrow. She did eventually sleep, though it was tumultuous and severed. When her alarm finally went off, she slowly sat up and silenced it. Yawning, she ambled, zombie-like, to the bathroom. A quick shower perked her up, and she remembered what her day held for her. She felt a combination of things. Nauseated, nervous, anxious, aroused. She put on her pretty bra and panties. She added a black lace garter belt and cuban stockings that went well with the black lace. She covered it all with a frumpy grey jogging suit. She slipped on sneakers, and put her black pumps in her bag. She then proceeded to prepare her contacts and put them in. She did not want to worry about glasses slipping and such, so she opted for the contacts. She did her makeup a bit heavier, a little severe. She looked in the mirror and pondered, talking to herself.
"Do I look... too much? Is it... *****-ish? Nah. It's not that bad. It'll be ok." She took several deep breaths and psyched herself up. After a moment of self-pep-talk, she gathered her bag, and walked to the car.
Upon entering the showroom, Renee was overwhelmed. She saw several beautiful pieces of furniture. They were masterfully built and beautifully decorated with hand carved details. They still smelled of lacquer and fresh leather. There was a spanking bench, a rack, a St. Andrew's Cross, a flogging post, and the dreaded stocks. All were gorgeous and intimidating. They looked comfortable, but foreboding. Three women were already at work, setting up lights, reflectors, diffusers. One woman tested light color and saturation while adjusting lights, while another marked camera positions on the ground. The third approached her eagerly.
"Oh! Good! The talent is here! I'm Michelle. I'll be directing today. You must be the talent. What is your name, Hun?" Renee blanched, stunned.
"Um... I'm Renee." Michelle shook Renee's hand. The other two women, Amanda and Kristen, introduced themselves briefly. Mr. Southerland entered, pushing a lovely cart that matched the rest of the furniture. It held various impliments. There was a paddle, a flogger, a feather tickler wand, a blindfold, a ball gag, a cactus-style tickler with silicone points, and a discrete, but impressive looking vibrator. Renee gulped, gawking at the Vibrator. Ryan visably relaxed and let out a huge breath he must have been holding all morning.
"Oh! Renee! Renee! You came! Awesome! Thank you so much. Listen. Listen. I was very... curt with you last night. I'm so sorry, Renee. That's not who I am. I'm just, so under the gun here. You have no idea how much of a lifesaver you are going to be today. I'll go easy on you, ok? I promise. I'll go get changed and then you can go get changed, and we'll get started as soon as Michelle is ready, ok." Renee, still overwhelmed, only nodded. "Great! Great! Don't worry, Renee. You are gonna be great!" With that last nervous exclaimation, Ryan disappeared back to his office. Michelle and her girls kept working, blacking out windows with paper, setting up a static camera on every piece of furniture. Each of them had a shoulder camera for closeup shots. Renee was starting to lose her numb feeling. She slid from overwhelmed to anxious and nervous again. She sat, legs crossed, tossing one foot back and forth mindlessly. In a moment, Mr. Southerland appeared. He had changed for sure. Renee scanned his intimidating but prezent visage. Italian leather shoes. Grey linen suit, pressed tight at the points. Grey linen waistcoat. Gold pocketwatch, cufflinks. His hitherto mountain man beard had been waxed and shaped into a perfect Van Dyke that accentuated his stoney cheekbones. His hands were clean and supple. He smelled lightly of bay rum and musk. Renee blanched at the sight, taken aback. He was... gorgeous, like something from a smutty romance novel. She gasped.
"Mr. Southerland. You look... very nice." Ryan blushed mildly and grinned, his perfectly shaped mustache lifting under his bright eyes.
"Thank you, Renee. I'm very nervous. Go ahead and change, and we'll get started as soon as Michelle is ready." Renee stepped to the other room and closed the door. She stripped off her frumpy jogging suit and stepped into her high heels. She straightened her stockings and garters and fluffed her hair in the mirror. Still somewhat terrified, she pulled a small shooter of Irish Whiskey from her bag. She downed it quickly, whincing a bit. After a quick breath strip, she closed her eyes and took several slow, deep breaths. Finally, she forced herself to walk toward the door. She put her hand on the cold bronze knob, and turned as the lock snapped open loudly. When she opened the door, Mr. Southerland's eyes opened wide. Michelle and her camera crew gawked. Amanda even whistled a cheeky classic catcall. Kristen, camera on shoulder, smiled and spoke.
"Wow! Stunning!" Renee balked, blushing. Ryan took her hand and led her into the showroom.
"You look... sensational, Renee. I can see you went to a good deal of effort. Thank you." Mr. Southerland was starting to feel a strange mix of emotion. He felt guilty, small for coercing Renee into doing this, but he also felt justified in his need, and now in his desire. His temperature climbed as his eyes dilated. His manner became more... focused on Renee. She could tell that she was having an effect on him. Michelle yelled "action" and the cameras rolled in the softly lit space. Padded microphones hung from strategic locations out of frame to capture the sound. Mr. Southerland made none, but instead, gracefully removed his jacket and laid it aside. He rolled up his shirt sleeves, and guided Renee to the spanking bench, his eyes fixed on hers almost obsessively. Neither of them made a sound, though Renee was sure her heartbeat was audible. Ryan helped her onto the bench, on which she bent over. He gingerly secured her wrists and ankles in the padded leather cuffs, then reached for the custom ball-gag. He brought it to her face, and reverently lifted her hair over it as he applied it, tightening it firmly, but comfortably. Amanda followed his hand with the camera as he picked up a leather spanking paddle. He caressed Renee's round bottom with his strong, supple hand before 'Snap!' The paddle fell hard on her left butt cheek. A surprized squeal came out of her, muffled by the ball gag. Ryan soothed her stinging bottom with a gentle caress before 'Smack!' the paddle fell again, this time on her right butt cheek. Renee squawked again, and gasped for breath around the gag. Mr. Southerland continued for several swats, alternating butt cheeks, alternating between sharp strikes and worshipfull caresses. After a moment, he put the paddle down and gently teased Renee's side. He counted up her ribs with invasive, walking fingers. She tensed, fighting back giggles, and groaned into the gag. When he added a second hand to the other side, Renee broke into muffled chortles and what might have been an "OH NO!" Ryan tickled playfully up and down her sides, stroking her pale, perfect skin as she tensed and squirmed, giggling uncontrollably, and pleading uselessly into the gag. She shook and trembled extremely as Ryan's fingers invaded her bare skin. He took full advantage of her predicament, probing and groping the hollows of her hips, her slender sides, and her vulnerable ribcage. He tickled her for 3 or 4 minutes, but to her, it was an eternity in hell. Still, her arousal was piqued, just a little. Mr. Southerland's hands on her body made her blood run. The added embarrassment of the camera crew watching her every involuntary reaction only served to inflame her mortification. Finally, Ryan ceased tickling her. Michelle lightly claimed "Cut!" and Mr. Southerland ungagged her. As he released her wrists and ankles, he praised her soothingly in his smooth baritone.
"That was incredible, Renee. Do you need a moment before we continue? Water? Restroom?" Renee shook her head and cleared her throat. She wanted it to end, or at least she wanted to get it over with as fast as possible, but also, she was just getting aroused, and was kind of eager to keep going.
"No. I'm good. Let's keep going." Ryan merely nodded and helped her to her feet. As Michelle called for action, he walked her to the flogging post, and strapped her wrists high to it. He refrained from gagging her this time. Instead, he applied a fine silk blindfold, quilted with a lovely diamond pattern. He picked up the gorgeous flogger from the table. Renee waited in horror and anticipation as he dragged the fine, soft pommel from her neck, down her back, along her ass, down her thighs, caressing her sweetly all the way down. He stood back and gently swatted the small of her back, just sharp enough to bring a yelp from her quivering lips, but not hard enough to leave any marks beyond the temporary red stingers. He swatted her several times. High on her back, then on her butt, then across her thighs, and calves. After a few swats, he placed the flogger aside, and caressed from her wrists, slowly down, to her armpits. She smiled slowly, progressively, as he continued, her eyes shut tight beneath the blindfold. She gritted her teeth, smiling as he got to her tender, bare underarms. He teased lightly at first, which brought bubbles of exagerated laughter from Renee's throat. When he began tickling in earnest, her giggles exploded into full-on belly laughs, and desperate pleas.
"OHOHO NOHOHOHO! NOHOHO NOT THERE! NOHOHOT THERE! PLEAHEAHEAHEAHEASE! AHHHHHH! AHAHAHAHAHAAAAAA!" Renee pleaded and laughed hard, tensing and flexing her arms. She swayed and twisted, trying to turn away from the tickling. She could not escape. Mr. Southerland had his way with her
Helpless, vulnerable armpits. Again, it seemed like hours to Renee as she twisted and jerked, squealing and laughing. "NO NO! NOHOHOHOHO! STOHOHOHOP! PLEASE!" Finally, Mr. Southerland relented and released her as Michelle cut the scene. Renee admitted "Ok. I... oh... I could use a break, and some water."
"Of course. Take five minutes. Catch your breath. Rest your voice. We'll wait." Ryan replied sympathetically. Renee went to the restroom and freshened up. She washed her hands and returned to the set to grab a bottle of water. She sat, guzzling, and gasping, staring with mixed apprehension at the St. Andrew's Cross in the corner. Mr. Southerland tried not to stare. A courtesy which Michelle, Amanda, and Kristen did not afford her. Obviously, she was the woman of the hour. She sighed and gulped her water one last time before standing.
"Ok. I'm ready." Michelle called "action!" As Mr. Southerland led her gently to the Saint Andrew's cross. He turned her lightly with one hand, as though tangoing, and caressed her back and shoulders. Renee eased at his touch, light and reverent, until she felt the hooks of her bra release. She said nothing, but froze, her hands on her breasts. A genuine look of shock in her doe-eyes. Mr. Southerland shooshed and cooed reassuringly, but Renee was not reassured. He spun her around, facing him, and persistently availed her of her bra. Her hands stayed on her breasts, until one at a time, Mr. Southerland cuffed them to the cross, high over her head. She was leaned back in a very compromising way, against the cross, her pert breasts on display for all. Round and perfect, they plumped at the chill as her nipples shrank up delightfully. Kristen was finding it difficult to concentrate on her camera duties. The sight of Renee, topless and vulnerable, got her very hot. She smiled behind the camera, and did her best to remain professional. Mr. Southerland slowly and sensually caressed Renee's body. Her face, her neck and collarbone. As his hands descended, Renee looked up and away. Embarrassed and violated at first, but her feelings slowly warmed as Ryan pinched and tweaked her nipples, licking and blowing on them. Renee bit her bottom lip and whimpered just a bit, drawing her knees together. Mr. Southerland knelt, and cuffed her ankles to the cross. Her weight still supported by her black high-heels, was also safely supported by the comfortable straps. Ryan grabbed the feather tickler from the table. It's intricate handle fit his hand perfectly. He traced it lightly from Renee's barely exposed arches, up her nylon covered legs, and across her flat tummy. He paused at her belly button to probe it teasingly with the longest feather. Renee's deepening breath turned to gasps, then choked giggles. She instinctively tried to cover her stomach, but her wrists did not budge from the cuffs.
"Wait... WAIT! HMMHMM stop! STOP! OH GOHOHOD!" Renee broke down in desperate, panicked giggles, begging for the tickling to stop already. Her fantastic breasts bounced jovially with each gasp and chortle. Mr. Southerland chuckled too. As he drew the tickler across her flat tummy, and up and down her sides, Renee lost the ability to speak coherently. She just pulled against her bonds, and squirmed, laughing hysterically. High pitched squeals peeled from her as her chest heaved, thrusting her bare breasts up and out. "NONOHOHOHOHAHAHAHAAAA!"
She begged, her eyes forming real tears. Her arousal was climbing, in spite of her panicked ticklishness. As the feathers danced over her ribs, underarms, and bouncy breasts, she felt a warm tingle in her nethers, and up her whole body. Each brush over her sensitive nipples was a new stab of ticklish fear. She yelped, wide-eyed, mouth agape. She stared at Mr. Southerland incredulously, unable to speak beyond desperate laughter. He only smiled back mischieviously. He set the tickler aside and dug in to Renee's ribs gently with his nimble, strong fingers. She bucked and thrashed, laughing loud and screaming. He continued up and down her body, from her knees to her ears. He probed her thighs, and behind her knees as she drooled, laughing uncontrollably. His feather-light touch on her silk stockings was far more that she could endure, yet he continued. As he ascended, he played gleefully with her hips, her butt, her sides, ribs, and tummy. Renee thought she might die from a heart attack, or an anyeurism. When Mr. Southerland reached her breasts again, and her sensitive underarms, her constitution collapsed completely. She forced all of her breath and willpower into pleading. "MERCY! MERCY! PLEAHEAHEASE!" to which Ryan responded by ceasing immediately. He carefully supported her as he uncuffed her ankles, then her wrists. She slumped on his shoulder, clinging to him for support as he helped her to a chair off set. She gasped and struggled for a moment, before regaining her breath. He handed her the water bottle, which she immediately uncapped. As she sipped, he handed her a towel. She dried off her face and dabbed at her brow, taking care to not spoil her makeup, though her mascara was now running with her mirthful tears. Mr. Southerland crouched, a look of genuine concern.
"Are you ok, Renee? Shall we adjourn, and finish the last two scenes tomorrow?" but before Renee could answer, Michelle chimed in.
"Tomorrow is a no-go. We are booked at the ad agency all day. It's now or never." Renee's expression grew dismal. She closed her eyes and drew in several deep breaths. Ryan spoke. "Ok. That answers that I guess. Why don't you run to the restroom and take 10 or 15 minutes, Renee..." Renee was up from the chair before he could finish. She went straight to the bathroom to pad her body down with a cold washcloth. As she looked in the mirror, she noticed a wet spot growing in her panties. She sat on the toilet, peeing, and tried to diminish the spot with the wet cloth. After a bit of success, she mustered what courage she had left, and returned to the set. Mr. Southerland offered to help her put her bra back on. She accepted enthusiastically. His hands were gentle and kind, almost apologetic. She steeled herself and brushed her hair back with her hands.
"Ok. Let's keep going I guess." Michelle called action, and Ryan took her hand. She reluctantly followed his lead toward the stocks. They were beautiful, but menacing. Renee balked hard at the stocks. She froze, resisting. "I...I... don't think I can. I can't. I can't take it. Please don't. Please don't tickle my feet..." but Mr. Southerland only tilted his head, conveying an unspoken 'come on, Renee... did you really think I wouldn't?' She could see there was no talking her way out of this one. She accepted her fate with a shaky lip and quivering extremeties. Michelle called action as Ryan eased her into the comfy seat. She went limp. He had to put her ankles in the board. As he locked the top board down tight, she whimpered, shakily. Her eyes told a tale of desperation. They darted back and forth, looking for escape, but there was none. Mr. Southerland cuffed her wrists high to the crossbeam, and walked slowly to the foot board, where her sexy black high-heels faced Michelle's camera. Mr. Southerland sat in a chair beside her feet. He reached slowly for her left shoe. He slipped it off menacingly, and gave the bottom of her foot a quick, light stroke, from heel to toe. Renee yelped and giggled. "Haaaa! Nohohoho! Please! Please! Not my feet!" Her voice grew quiet, mousy. "Not my feet... not my feet..." Ryan slowly removed her other shoe, and set them both aside. At first, he stroked her stocking-clad soles playfully as she yelped and giggled. She scrunched her toes adorably, lifting cute wrinkles up and down her soles. Kristen stiffled a moan. Amanda grinned. Mr. Southerland chuckled low, and began to spider tickle Renee's helpless, vulnerable arches. She squealed, shaking and jerking. She managed to hold it in for a half of a second, before guffaws of laughter and desperate pleas gushed from her like a raging river. "AAAAAAAGH! NOOOOO! NOOOHOHOHOHO! PLEASE! PLEASE! NOT MY FEET! NOT MY FEET! NOHOHOHOHOHAHAHAHAAAAARGH!" But this reaction only spurned Mr. Southerland on even more. He shifted in his chair to re-adjust his growing erection. Renee twisted and rolled, trying to move her feet away from the relentless, hellish tickling, but she could not escape. Ryan continued, teasing and tickling her toes, arches, heels, and the balls of her feet. He saw the growing wet spot welling up in her crotch, and gave Renee a knowing smirk while he kept up his assault on her poor feet. He tickled her mercilessly, not missing a single spot, until her desperate screams of laughter descended into coughing and choking. He relented, and massaged Renee's feet while she caught her breath. Then, without a word, he rose. Reaching for Renee's thighs, he unhooked her stockings with a wicked grin. Renee spoke breathless, but relieved. "Oh... my... god... yes... please. Take them off. It's worse with them on." And Mr. Southerland continued to do exactly that. He slid her stockings down, and off through the stocks. Renee's pefect, soft bare feet relaxed at the feeling of the cool air. She wiggled her toes, scrunching and stretching her pink little soles. Kristen grabbed at her crotch, rubbing her swollen clit through her jeans, biting her lip. Renee relaxed, catching her breath, until she saw Mr. Southerland uncap a bottle of coconut oil. She panicked again. "NNNNO! NO NO NO NO NO! NO OIL! NO OIL!" but Ryan was already drizzling the warm oil between her toes, and slathering her helpless soles with it. "NO! NOT FAIR! NOT FAIR! NO!" but he ignored her. He looped the black parachord from the stocks board around each of her toes, stretching them back, immobilizing them further. She giggled as he ran the chord between her ticklish toes. "WHWHWHAT ARE YOU DOING!? NO! DON'T DO THAT!" he tied the chords securely, and took the tickling brush from the table. It's long black silicone spikes were designed for one very specific use. A sinister and cruel one. "NONONO! NO! NOT THE BRUSH! NOT THE BRUSH! I'M GONNA SCREAM! I'M GONNA..." but her breath was stolen immediately when Mr. Southerland put the brush to her slippery, stretched out foot-bottoms. He scrubbed liberally, scraping the soft spikes all over every exposed inch of Renee's slick, sensitive bare feet. It felt like a million little slimy tongues licking her bare feet all at once. The sensation was more than overwhelming, it was beyond anything she could have imagined. Laughter erupted from her open mouth like from a volcano. It was not long before she went silent, miming laughter involuntarily. Her stomach ached with laughter. Her pussy dripped with arousal as the relentless foot-tickling threatened to send her mind over the edge of sanity. She slumped, twitching and jerking, struggling to put breath to laughter, but failing. Finally, Mr. Southerland ceased. He gently rubbed her feet with a dry towel to remove the oil. This was also torture for Renee. She continued laughing desperately, silently, until he finished. She was obviously in no condition to continue, or to protest that continuation. Mr. Southerland released her from the stocks, but she made no move to vacate them. Before Michelle could cut the scene, Kristen laid her camera down and helped Ryan to lift Renee from the stocks. They carried her to the rack and laid her on it. She huffed and puffed, but raised her arms overhead to be bound. Kristen returned to her camera and continued shooting.
"Ok, then. Keep rolling." said Michelle. Mr. Southerland again unclasped Renee's bra. She did not offer any resistance. He tucked his fingers into the lacey top of her panties. She only tensed and quivered, shuddering, as his fingers brushed her tummy. He eased her panties down and off of her, gently lilting over her toned, bare legs and the tops of her feet. After he did the same with her garter belt, she lay completely naked on the rack, her nipples erect, her sweet pussy lips dripping with arousal. She found herself now in a state of complete surrender. She was mortified that she had been put through such an ordeal, helpless, restrained. The embarrassment was ten times worse, with Michelle, Kristen, and Amanda watching. It made her feel dirty. It made her feel naughty. She liked it. She admitted to herself that she liked it. She wanted more, even though she was certain that she could not take anymore. Mr. Southerland cuffed her wrists to the chains of the rack. He then walked to her feet, and cuffed her ankles. Returning to the head of the rack, he gave the tumbler a few small cranks. Each crank stretched Renee out a bit tighter. Each crank elicitted a progressively louder and more panicked moan until she cried out. "Ok! Ok! No more! Please!" Kristen stared at Renee's naked, taught body. Her loins quivered. Her hand went down her pants. She could no longer resist. Michelle and Amanda noticed, but didn't seem to care. Mr. Southerland poured warm oil all over Renee's body. As he massaged it in, she moaned. "Mmmmmmf! Yeah! Ya...." she knew what the oil fortold of her fate, but she didn't care. As much as she hated it, and feared it, she wanted it. Ryan continued intil Renee's entire body glistened with oil. She moaned in anticipation. Mr. Southerland drew his finger through her tender underarms, and down her taught ribcage. She shrieked like a prisoner being skinned alive. "AAAAAAAAHG! UUUUUUUGH!" She tried to arch her back, but she was completely immobile. Mr. Southerland continued, teasing and torturing her entire body with the silicone spike brush. He scrubbed it lightly over her armpits, Breasts, and sides as she squealed. Laughter erupted from her between shrieks with a maniacal intensity. Kristen was masturbating furiously. Mr. Southerland's erection shown plainly through his linen slacks. He continued down her sides to her hips, and her groin. He played with her pussy as he lightly pinched her thighs. She laughed deeply and madly as he teased and tortured her, pleading. "NOHOHO! NOOOOO! NOHOHO MOHOHORE! GOD! PLEASE! STOP! STOP!" but he did not stop. He kept scrubbing lightly with the tickler brush. Behind her knees, up and down her legs. Then, he ceased. Renee panted, eyes shut tight. Ryan lifted the small, but powerful massager from the table, and clicked it on. Kristen actually moaned at the surprise.
"Oooh!" but no one cared. Ryan drew the massager, it's wildly vibrating head, up Renee's bare foot, across her toes, up her leg, and teased her dripping quim. He parted her quivering lips, and placed the vibrator against her swollen clitoris. Renee gasped and chuckled brokenly. She came immediately. It was the most intense orgasm she had ever experienced. She wailed as the ecstacy burned through her fast and hard. Mr. Southerland did not cease. Instead, he curled one finger. Silently inviting Kristen to hold the vibrator. She extracted her hand from her pants, and moved beside the rack. She took control of the vibrator, and kept shooting. She massaged up and down Renee's wet loins as Renee squealed, moaned, and whimpered. The ecstacy still rolled through her, bringing fresh waves of burning, tingling sensation from her toes to her eyes. Just as she felt she might come again, she felt the dreaded silicone brush on the bottoms of her oily feet.
"OH GOHOD! OH GOHOHOD! NOT AGAIHAIN! NOT THERE PLEASE! ANYTHING BUT MY FEET! ANYTHIHING BUT MY FEEHEEHEET! PLEASE!" But Ryan and Kristen did not relent. The crew kept shooting, as Mr. Southerland kept tickling, and she kept coming. Her poor feet got more sensitive with each second, until finally she screamed. The scream choked out before she could finish. "MERC..." and she finished with a meek whisper. "mercy...." Kristen pulled the vibrator from Renee's overstimulated loins, and immediately thrust it down her own pants, setting the camera aside. She came instantly, moaning and gasping. Mr. Southerland unlatched the tumbler on the rack. It relaxed, releasing the stretch on Renee's tortured body. She moaned in relief. She lay there a moment catching her breath as Ryan uncuffed her. He helped her to sit up, and handed her a fresh, dry towel. She immediately went to work, towelling off the coconut oil, as Mr. Southerland massaged her poor feet, his pants still displaying his erection. Michelle called out... "Cut! Wrap! That was... insane. I've never seen anything like that. Renee... are you... are you ok, Hun?" Renee smiled vaguely through deep breaths as Kristen recovered her composure. Amanda smirked, clearly entertained.
"Yeah... ... ... I'm ok.... ... ... that was... very... intense. Are we done?" Ryan grinned, apologetically, resigned.
"We are done. You were incredible. You are a real champ." Renee slid off of the rack and retreated to the restroom. She washed the oil off in the sink, and pulled her jogging suit on. She tied her hair back with a scrunchy, and went to work removing her makeup. Mr. Southerland also retired to the restroom, a different one, to masturbate furiously. After, he cleaned up, and put his street clothes back on. Jeans, t-shirt. He returned to the set room, barefoot. Renee was sipping bottled water and smiling, laughing with the camera crew as the girls cleaned up their gear. Her fresh face and bright smile relieved Ryan. He addressed her with words of praise. "Holy smoke, Renee. That was insane. You did so, so good! I owe you, big time! That promo is sure to land us that contract!" Renee smiled sarcastically, having found a new level of confidence in overcoming her ordeal.
"You do owe me... big time. You promised to go easy on me. There is no way in hell that was 'easy'!" Michelle, having packed up the last of the gear, turned to Ryan, chuckling.
"We have some really great footage. I'll get it edited down tonight. I was gonna have Kristen do it, but I don't think she could finish in time." Kristen blushed, taking the admonishment. "I'll have it for you by Midnight, Ryan. Thanks again for your business." With that. The girls turned and left. Mr. Southerland stood in silence, Renee sipping water, barefoot on the chair, her red toenails still gleeming with oiled brilliance. She eyed him accusingly for a moment before speaking.
"You DO owe me bigtime. That was pure torture. Had I known you were going to.... rake my feet with that... weapon... and force me to several orgasms... I might have opted to drop out of school instead." Mr. Southerland blushed, a bit ashamed at having taken the whole thing a bit far. He pulled out his wallet and produced a cheque, already written, to Renee. $1,000.00.
"I know. It was a lot. Here. This is what the modelling agency usually asks for. It's the least I can do." Renee snatched the cheque and stuffed it in her pocketbook.
"It is easily the LEAST you can do. But... I'm thinking it's not enough." Her face assumed a righteous grin. Mr. Southerland blanched.
"What more could I do?" he asked.
"You can hire me. Start paying me a real wage, and report my excellence to the work study program." Mr. Southerland nodded, smiling.
"Done. You are a very good worker. Smart, capable. I'd be glad to have you as a permanent hire." Renee did not skip a beat.
"And... revenge." Ryan balked.
"Revenge?" Renee confirmed.
"Revenge. You are going to submit to a one hour tickling session. I'm going to do to you, everything you did to me. And also, Lynette. I know you've been torturing her as well. You are going to let us both bind you and tickle you for an hour. Or, both of us at the same time for two hours." Ryan stood still, completely stunned. Renee did not wait for a response, she just gathered her things and turned to leave with one last comment. "See you Monday, Bossman."

 

[Miss_Gigglish]

Hahaha wow! This was so incredibly written!!!

 

[modestryan]

Excellent story

 

[Frowg]

Hahaha wow! This was so incredibly written!!!

Thanks!

 

[Frowg]

Excellent story

Haha! Thanks!

 

[phil605_ca]

Outstanding!
Loved it!

 

[milagros317]

Excellent story!
Please write a sequel with this happening:

And also, Lynette. I know you've been torturing her as well. You are going to let us both bind you and tickle you for an hour. Or, both of us at the same time for two hours.