tenderfeet
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THE OPENING UP OF CHERRY ANN
Part 1: http://www.ticklingforum.com/showth...Cherry-Ann-(MMMm-Mx36m-MMMt-Mx36t-FFt)-Part-1
The following story involves nonconsensual and consensual tickling and tickle torture, bisexuality, bigenderness, some bit of straight sex. I say story, but at 96 pages in MS Word 2007 Verdana 12, it's 96 pages long, more of a novella. So long that I've had to chop it up into two parts; this is Part 2.
Chapter 7: The Inquisition
Chapter 8: The Peril Of Making Unfortunate Demands
Chapter 9: Meeting Your Worst Fear
Chapter 10: The Deflowering Of Cherry Ann
Chapter 11: Hell Week Continues
Chapter 12: Epilogue
Chapter 10 contains very, very graphic accounts of hardcore sex that can be interpreted as bi, gay, or straight depending on your POV and how you read the scenes.
Chapter 7: The Inquisition
The following Thursday was Charlie’s last mid-term exam, which was in the morning, and since his afternoon classes had been cancelled, he dropped by John’s for the first time since the party because of mid-terms.
Entering the living room, he found John and Ken sitting on either end of the Chesterfield couch against the back wall and George sitting in the middle of the Bridgewater sofa against the front window.
After initial greetings, Charlie proceeded with his whole performance for removing his slip-on boat sneakers. But this time, instead of looking down at his feet like usual, he watched the men stare as he crossed one leg over the other, slowly removed that shoe, then recrossed his legs and did the same with the other shoe, wondering what had come over himself.
Taking both shoes in hands, he stood up, turned around, and stopped with his feet together, then lowered himself to his knees with his soles flexed, sat on his heels with his soles and toes curled, bent over with his soles flexed again and his ass deliberately thrust out as he placed the shoes under the stool, turning to look over his shoulder when they were in place.
Before Charlie took his leave to transform into Cherry Ann, John asked, “Will your parents worry if you don’t come home tonight?”
“No,” Charlie replied. “Not that it matters much because they’re in the Bahamas, but right now they think I’m on my way to Florida with some of my frat brothers for spring break.”
At John’s puzzled expression, he added, “They don’t know about what happened on Halloween.”
“Interesting,” John remarked, with his eyebrow cocked. He and the other two looked at each other with shit-eating grins, which they didn’t even bother to hide. Charlie’s heart skipped a beat as he realized what he’d just admitted and just how much power that knowledge gave them over Cherry Ann; she’d be completely at their mercy.
Charlie hurried up the stairs without looking back. In the guest bedroom, he found on the bed an emerald green string bikini bra & panty set and a lime green man’s shirt, buttoned all the way except for the top two.
To Cherry Ann, putting on this outfit felt even more brazen than usual after her performance downstairs. She put on her make up in her bra and panties, then put on the shirt, and, after rolling up the sleeves, unbuttoned it entirely before heading down to the living room.
Sometime later, Cherry Ann went back to the kitchen to pour himself a much needed glass of wine. As she reached up to the cabinet on the balls of her bare feet, George came up behind her and goosed her sides, making her jump, then ran his hand up Cherry Ann’s right thigh before playfully biting her shoulder, which made her knees buckle part of the way.
“What are you doing?” she demanded.
George just smirked. “After that little display when you arrived, turnabout is fair play.”
In response, Cherry Ann shrugged, her face gesturing as if to nonverbally say, “Ok, I get that.”
Returning to the living room where Ken still sat on the Chesterfield, Cherry Ann sat on the loveseat, which faced the window. Ken came over and sat down beside her, leaning in close with her arms around Cherry Lynn’s shoulders. She tried to pull away, but Ken seemed insistent.
Hoping to deflect the older man’s attention, Cherry Lynn recounted what had just happened with George.
Ken snorted. “Can you blame him?” he asked increduously. “Have you seen yourself in the mirror?” Punctuating this thought, Ken leaned in as if to kiss him on the lips. Cherry Ann, wide-eyed, turned her head at the same time Ken shifted his aim to Cherry Ann’s neck, which he licked until reaching her ear which he swirled his tongue inside then nibble on her ear lobe.
As Cherry Ann shrieked and jumped up, Ken just laughed.
Seeking sanctuary, Cherry Ann sought out John, whom he found at his desk in his home office working on some legal papers.
“Hey, John,” she said hesitantly, “have you got a minute?”
“Sure, no problem,” John replied looking up. “I’d love move over to the couch if you’ll sit with me and put your feet in my lap.”
At Cherry Ann’s bemused expression, knowing she was recalling the first time he’d tickled her, he added, “Perhaps I should’ve been more specific and said put your feet in my crotch.”
“Are all three of you here very stoned?” she asked.
John shook his head and laughed. “No, I think it’s probably just hunger,” he replied. “Why don’t you go make us all sandwiches for lunch?”
As she made the sandwiches, Cherry Ann admitted to herself that the overtures were not so much unwelcome as abrupt, with little or no lead-up to give her a heads-up.
They ate in the living room with no outward sign that any of the three rejected sexual advances had even happened. After lunch, Cherry Ann cleaned up. John returned to his study while George and Ken stayed in the living room to watch sports.
Cherry Ann came back from the kitchen and sat in her chaise lounger, wishing she had to guts to demand Charlie’s clothes back so she could change and go home without sounding pathetic. But finally, tired of her two companions crude sexual comments and lewd glares in the context of what’d happened earlier that afternoon, she finally flounced off into John’s study about four o’clock.
“I want Charlie’s clothes back now!” Cherry Ann demanded, attempting to stomp her foot and look defiant crossing his arms, which was comical in her current state of dress.
John turned away from his computer, leaned over with both elbows and lower arms flat on the desk and instead of answering the question asked one of his own.
“My giving you back his street clothes is literally impossible,” John informed her. “After I locked them in the safe, I set the timelock to open Monday morning after spring break, then I deliberately removed the fail-safe to bypass that.”
“Well, I…,” Cherry Ann began. “Can I at least have something a little bit less revealing to wear?”
“I have just the thing,” John smiled. Reaching into one of the drawers on the desk’s right side, he handed Cherry Ann a package. “You can put this on over your bra & panties.”
When she opened it in the guest room upstairs, inside was a girl’s white button-down short-sleeved blouse with a rounded collar, an azure plaid miniskirt, white cotton string-bikini panties, a sky blue V-necked sweater vest with a logo from the university, and a red girl’s bow tie, like schoolgirls wore.
In about twenty minutes, John called Cherry Ann to come down to the living room. When he got there, he saw that the loveseat and his chaise lounger had switched places, with the first reversed to face the wall about a foot and a half away and with its back cushions and the back’s covering removed, and that a camera set to record but on pause stood beside the lounger.
“Sit down, Charlie, with your back to the wall.”
After submissively obeying his instruction, Cherry Ann noticed five eyebolts screwed into the rattan across the top of the back, three evenly-space in the center and two at the corners, and from the plastic rims around the holes where they protruded from the rattan, she could tell they were removable.
Directly in front of her about a foot above the seat, halfway up, was a padded horizontal flat-sided oval six to eight inches wide and three to four inches high. It appeared to be permanently affixed in the rattan lacework in the loveseat’s back, which was about two feet high. About one foot to either side were smaller versions this oval, roughly three-and-a-half inches wide and two inches high.
“Put your feet through the hole in the center, then your hands through the ones to the sides,” John instructed her.
“Oh, hell, no!” Cherry Ann protested.
John held up his hand. “No tickling, I promise. None whatsoever, not even if I have to handcuff these two,” the latter being directed at George and Ken, who were grinning like sheepdogs. “We just need to make sure you stay in place for the discussion we’re about to have.”
“Um…okay, I guess,” Cherry Ann relented, consciously and intentionally ignoring how they’d broken faith with her first night as a barefoot tavern wench and what resulted from that for fear that otherwise she might chicken out of what she strongly suspected—and hoped, if she were honest—was about to happen to her.
After sitting down, she tried to stick both feet through at the same time, but they wouldn’t go together, so she stuck one through and then squeezed the other through beside it. It was a tight squeeze. The other holes for his hands were a little less tight, but not by much.
John pulled out from a tote bag four thick padded leather bondage cuffs. Taking two each, Ken and George placed them securely around his ankles and wrists. With those in place, Cherry Ann was truly trapped.
Her captors weren’t yet finished, however. Ken strapped Charlie’s own utility belt around her mid-thighs while George took a length of thick cotton clothesline from the tote bag and cinched her slender legs together just below the knees with three or four loops.
Last of all they brought out a strip of leather about a foot-wide with a metal hook on each end, hooking one end into the far eyebolt on her right and the other into the one on her left, adjusting it so that it ran just below her shoulder blades.
“Are you too uncomfortable?” asked John. “Physically, I mean?”
“Nope,” Cherry Ann responded.
“Very good!” John smiled. “Now we can proceed. Gentlemen?”
Ken and George stepped to either side of her, each holding up a beard trimmer, removed the heads, then switched them on.
“These tools can be quite painful if used incorrectly,” John noted, “and applied too firmly. Done with a lighter touch, however, these are among the most devastating tools in a master tickler’s arsenal.”
“Wait a minute! You promised!” Cherry Ann protested.
“I know I said ‘no tickling’, but you need a demonstration of what will happen to you if we think you’re lying or withholding information during the series of question we’re about to ask.” He turned to both sides then said, “Five seconds, guys, no more”.
The instant the headless trimmers touched Cherry Ann’s bare soles, she began to scream. In perfect unison, the two men ran their torture devices across the balls of his feet, down the outsides, then back up across the softer part of his captive soles. Meanwhile, John had moved behind her grabbing her around the chest with the other hand covering her mouth.
“Now, Cherry Ann, just imagine,” John told him sitting on the ottoman, “five minutes of that instead of five seconds. Because that’s exactly what you’ll get if you lie or withhold.”
Cherry Ann was looking and back and forth between the three expecting more and clearly not happy about it.
John rolled his eyes. “Oh for fuck’s sake!” He went back to his office and returned with Charlie’s boat sneakers. Stepped to Cherry Ann’s retraint, he placed them on their captive’s bare feet. “Happy now?”
The three men sat down on the Chesterfield facing Cherry Ann, John in the middle, Ken on the left, and George on the right. John pushed something on his smart phone and the camera began recording.
“Cherry Ann,” John began, “do you promise to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help your captive bare soles?”
“Yes,” Cherry Ann answered, adding “I do.”
“Ok, now we can begin. George.”
“Tell us,, Cherry Ann,” George smirked, “how do you feel about being barefoot all the time in front of so many older men, all of whom have an acute fetish for girls with pretty little soft bare feet like yours?”
“I don’t like it,” Cherry Ann said, visibly startled. “I’m shy about…other people... especially men…seeing my bare feet,” he stammered out, with unintentional stress on those last two words.
“Then why do you go barefoot every time you’re here?”
“Because y’all told me to,” Cherry Ann answered plaintively.
“Only the first time,” John pointed out smugly. “After that, it was all you.”
“Well, okay, yeah,” Cherry Ann conceded vexedly. “But being the only one barefoot every time I come here is a little humiliating, especially when I’m so much younger, with me in street clothes and all you dressed in business attire or casual dress suits, which is more than a little intimidating and makes me feel small. And the way all of you gawk at my bare feet, that just makes it so much worse, particularly with that nickname y’all gave me.”
“And what nickname is that, Cherry Ann?” Ken interjected with a knowing smile.
“Little Miss Pretty Feet!” Cherry Ann exclaimed indignantly, drawing laughter from the five older men. “I can’t believe you made me say that!”
“Now, Cherry Ann, tell us all about your clearly extensive foot-care regimine by which you keep them so soft and pretty,” George directed.
“Weekly pedicures, lotion three times a day, night cream at bedtime, touch ups with Pretty Feet and Hands during the week if needed.”
Ken came after that. “Next question: Where are you the most ticklish, and just how ticklish there?”
“My bare feet...,” Cherry Ann said sheepishly, pausing, “...are by far the absolute worst, as y’all probably guessed.”
When he paused long enough that it seemed he was through, Ken cajoled him, “And just how ticklish are your pretty little girl’s feet? Are they ‘very’ ticklish? ‘Highly’ ticklish? ‘Extremely’ ticklish? Finish the answer.”
The three had noticed Cherry Ann’s face flush brightly at the phrase ‘pretty little girl’s feet’. “No, it’s...way, way worse than that. They’re more like...excrutiatingly ticklish. Hyperticklish. So ticklish that I can even...God, this is sooo embarrassing...tickle them myself.”
“Now repeat that information in a full sentence,” John instructed, “using the exact same phrase Ken used to refer to them.”
“My pretty little girl’s feet are hyperticklish,” Cherry Ann monotoned.
“Repeat it, but with some enthusiasm this time.” John kept making her repeat the phrase until the absurdity of it had his subject laughing his way through it.
George’s turn came again “Do you enjoy being tickled?”
“No, I hate it! Tickling is torture!” Cherry Ann paused for a minute, chagrin on his face. “But since I have to tell the whole truth, yes, as embarrassing as it is to admit, I do…like it too.”
“You like being tortured?” inquired Ken.
“God, no, I can’t stand being tickled. I really do absolutely hate it, but…I like it when other people tickle me. I know that doesn’t make any sense, but I can’t help it!”
“Has anyone ever tickled you besides here,” continued George, “and, if so, what other tickling experiences have you had?”
“Y’all,” she started, looking at John then Ken, “remember me on Halloween, right?”
Continuing, Cherry Ann recounted her entire horrible, agonizing, humiliating experience that Halloween night in elaborate detail. Her narration included graphic descriptions of her suffering, of her shame, embarrassment, and humiliation, how she thoroughly sank into total immersion in all aspects of the role, that of a slutty female witch richly deserving her punishment, of how she secretly enjoyed it.
The three men were riveted to every single word of the story
Then she told them about the experiences with relatives when she was a little kid, then all about the neighborhood bully, giving vivid accounts of several of those encounters.
“But Halloween night?” she finished. “That was easily the worst time ever.”
John now took the lead. “We’re about to get into an area that’s never come up between us, is that okay, Cherry Ann?”
“Sure,” Cherry Ann deadpanned. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“Okay then: straight, gay, or bi?”
“Definitely bi. Bisexual and probably bigender too.”
“Have you ever used a dildo or other device anally, and if so, how often?”
“Yes,” Cherry Ann answered softly, looking at her knees. “Starting in high school after my sister left for uni. But not for several months.”
“Describe in great detail what it was it like.”
Cherry Ann’d not only used a dildo, she’d learned to give himself anal orgasms using a prostate massager. Powerful multiple hands-free anal orgasms that were much more intense and lasted two or three times longer than ones he got from normal masturbation. She used to do the latter regularly and save anal orgasm sessions for those rare occasions when she had time to recover, lately, she’d been doing it more and more as her asshole had begun to literally tingle with the need for it.
“Okay, let’s go back to the first round of questioning,” John declared. “You told us that you’re shy about older men seeing your bare feet, that being the youngest one here and the only one barefoot is intimidating, and that the way we stare at your bare feet makes it worse, especially because of your nickname, ‘Little Miss Pretty Feet’, isn’t that right?”
“Huh?” replied Cherry Ann, then thought for a minute, then nodded. “Yeah, I believe that’s pretty much what I said.”
“Indeed. You said all of that,” John affirmed. “But if you’re honest with yourself, the truth is, you enjoy it. A lot. All of it. The attention at our gatherings; being the youngest one here among all of us older men in suits, especially now that you’ve been doing so as female; being the only one barefoot, especially now that you’re wearing toenail polish; us staring at your ‘pretty little soft bare girl’s feet’ as you prance around showing them off or sit displaying them for all to see, teasing us like a flirty little teenage schoolgirl; being called by your nickname, ‘Little Miss Pretty Feet’; even when we tickle you, especially on your ‘hyperticklish’ bare soles and toes.”
Cherry Ann’s face turned bright red as she tried to hide it.
“Don’t you, ‘Little Miss Pretty Feet’? Enjoy it. All of it. Everything I just mentioned. You enjoy it. You crave it. You need it,” John demanded. “Answer the fucking question!”
With her head hung, Cherry Ann replied meekly, “Yes”.
“Yes what?”
“Yes, I do ...,” Cherry Ann said softly. “...love it. All of it.”
“And by ‘all of it’, you mean? Be specific. Include everything I mentioned. You don’t have to do it in my exact words, but please be sure to include a certain key phrase.”
Cherry Ann knew which one John meant.
“And rate how you feel about each part. Do you like it, do you enjoy it, or do you love it? Use stress on the word you choose. Come on, ‘Little Miss Pretty Feet’, we’re waiting.” Suddenly he held up his hand, reached into his pocket, then brought up his smart phone set to record. “Proceed.”
“I love all the attention at gatherings; I love being the youngest one here, the only teenager among all of you older men in suits, especially now that I’m appearing as female; I love being the only one barefoot, especially now that I can wear toenail polish; I love having you stare at my ‘pretty little soft bare girl’s feet’ when I tease y’all with them like a flirty teenage schoolgirl; I love my nickname ‘Little Miss Pretty Feet’; and I love it when you tickle me, especially when you focus on my hyperticklish bare soles and toes.”
“Tell us the whole truth, Little Miss Pretty Feet. Why do love all of that?”
After several moments, Cherry Ann finally spoke. It wasn’t like she had to think about it; she’d already done so quite a lot. She was just hesitant to admit it out loud. “Because it makes me feel really small, helpless, vulnerable, and submissive,” she said softly, “and that...excites me. It turns me on.”
At that, John ended smart phone recording; the larger digital video camera was still going.
Cherry Ann had never been so humiliated in her life. Not even on Halloween night had she felt so shamed or felt so open and naked. But, then, neither have I been so turned on, she thought.
“In others words, you’ve been misbehaving like a flirty teenage schoolgirl, vain and self-absorbed, with no thought about the implications of your actions nor of their ramifications.”
“But I...,” Cherry Ann started, then was dumbstruck. She had no justifiable retort, understanding that he was guilty of everything inferred in John’s statement and that the three men knew it too.
“See now?” John smiled exultantly. “Since you’ve misbehaved just like a naughty little schoolgirl, you’ve been dressed as one.”
Cherry Ann’s face blushed bright red.
“At last we’ve arrived at our destination, now that all your secrets have been exposed both to yourself and to us,” John announced as he opened his laptop in the ottoman and made a couple of clicks.
He and the other two moved to the Brookshire sofa against the window.
“You’re gonna love this video, Cherry Ann!” John assured hherim, grinning broadly as were his two companions. “And the three of us can’t wait to watch you view it!”
Cherry Ann’s initial curiosity turned to mortification mixed with stark terror as the scene came into focus on the huge flatscreen TV, even more so as he not only recognized the event but this very vidclip.
“Oh…my…God…,” was all Cherry Ann could say as she watched a male guest at the Halloween party tickling her helpless bare feet. She dreaded what was to come as the focus changed from a long shot of her writhing body to her flailing feet and wriggling toes, traveled upward to rest on her face as she giggled helplessly in what appeared to be cheerful delight, as if she were enjoying the torment of her tender bare soles.
Here and now, after everything that had happened to her these past weeks and months, after all that she had done and submitted to in this place, the absolute deep truth of these words was completely undeniable and stripped her completely naked of any defense to the contrary.
Even more horrifying than the video was the three men in the room with him reciting from memory what scrolled across the screen, directly to him now rather than through a digital medium, making it much more personal.
As the clip ended with the photo of the three evil clowns, each holding a feather, Cherry Ann, whose attention had been until then tunnel-visioned to the TV screen, finally became aware of the room again.
Now that the video had ended, John had returned to the Chesterfield, Ken had moved to the chaise lounger, and George remained on the Bridgewater, all three older men were smiling at him triumphantly with smug expressions.
Each of the men held up a stiff turkey feather, the very same turkey feathers from the end of the clip.
“How about it, Cherry Ann?” John taunted. “Are you ready to find out if these pretty little soft bare girl’s feet of yours are feather-ticklish?”
Cherry Ann didn’t panic; Cherry Ann freaked the fuck out. War veterans John and Ken were quite impressed with her mastery of profanity.
George put down his feather and motioned the others to do the same. Cherry Ann quieted immediately and quickly settled down.
“I think what we’ve just witnessed and Cherry Ann experienced,” George the psychology professor (and licensed psychiatrist) stated to the room, “is a full-blown panic attack resulting from a severe case of pternophobia, the fear of being tickled with feathers.”
Ken again. “Hasn’t anyone ever tickled your bare feet with a feather? Or have they and that’s why you’re so afraid.”
“No,” Cherry Ann responded, “but only because no one’s even tried,” she added almost plaintively.
“Not even Halloween night?” John inquired.
“No, that was all fingers and fingernails.”
“Have you fantasized about having your bare feet tickled with a feather?”
“Yes, actually,” Cherry Ann admitted shyly, “wondering if it’d really work, if a feather really could tickle my bare feet. I’ve heard it’s just a myth, or at least exaggeration. But if it’s a real thing...yes, absolutely, it’ll definitely work on me.”
“Are you curious enough to let someone wanted to try it tie you up and do that, would you let them?”
“Oh my God, no fucking way!” she exclaimed. “My bare feet are way too fucking ticklish to risk that. ‘Hyperticklish’, remember?”
“And, tell us, ‘Little Miss Pretty Feet’,” John bore in quickly, “just why is that?”
Cherry Ann, glanced quickly around the room at the intently watching men before hesitantly saying, “Because I’m terrified it’ll work. The idea of my bare feet being susceptible to feather-tickling scares me to death!”
Chapter 8: The Peril Of Making Unfortunate Demands
When the three men came over and moved to release Cherry Ann from her bonds after that exchange, she reacted with indignation.
“Are ya’ll fucking kidding me?” she demanded. “Y’all are seriously going to waste an opportunity like this? That’s absolutely mental!”
“I thought for sure when y’all convinced me to let myself be locked in stocks by promising not to tickle me it was just a ruse to get me here so you could tickle-punish me severely for rejecting your sexual advances earlier this afternoon. But, nooo, y’all have to be all godsdamned honorable.”
At first, John, Ken, and George’d been so startled and shocked by Cherry Ann’s outburst that they froze in place. Still too stunned to move, the three men’s faces soon began to morph from startlement and shock to pleasant surprise. By the time he’s finished, though, they were grinning down at him like Bagheera watching food.
“Here I am, dressed like this, restrained like this, with my feet bare, captive, and exposed to danger, and y’all are not going to take advantage of it? You’re actually going to release me rather than exploit my helplessness and tickle the hell out of my ‘pretty little soft bare girl’s feet’? What the fuck is wrong with you?”
Cherry Ann had just made that fatal mistake of viewing the situation from their point-of-view at the worst possible moment. She really hadn’t meant it—well, okay, maybe a little—but the tension from her inquisition had left her bereft of, well, good sense, a condition also known as fucking crazy.
“My, my, my, you’re quite the bright-eyed and bushy-tailed eager beaver little tickle-slut, aren’t you, Little Miss Pretty Feet?” John declared. I am so glad the camera is still recording, he said to himself. This rant will make a great vidclip for use at some future occasion.
Oh, fuck me…did I just say all that out loud? Cherry Ann’s face was a wide-eyed mask of fear as she realized what she’d just done. She herself was even more startled than the targets of her rant.
“Why yes, my Little Miss Pretty Feet,” John replied to Cherry Ann’s unspoken inquiry, “and I assure you we heard every single word, including those you didn’t say. The aphorism ‘Be careful what you wish for because you might just get it’ comes to mind.”
“Thanks for the ‘invitation’,” added Ken. “This reminds me of that Christmas 2004 cartoon by Hahathna of ‘Santa’s 18 year old daughter Krissy Kringle’ repeatedly boosting the sleigh because the punishment was being bound in a bale of hay for reindeer to lick her bare feet (https://www.deviantart.com/hahathna/art/Christmas-2004-30041415).”
“Yeah, being honorable is nice and all,” said George, “but it’s so much more fun to be a conniving bastard, and the reward are more entertaining. Kudos for bringing us back to our senses.”
“No! Don’t! Please, I didn’t know what I was saying, I really didn’t mean it, please don’t do this to me! You promised!” After his rant, Cherry Ann’s protests seemed weak and pathetic even to herself.
John turned to Ken. “We need a ball gag, the piece of clothesline for toe-ties, six sets of banjo pics, and a blindfold.” He turned to George. “Go to the kitchen and get vegetable oil, a baster brush, and some newspaper.”
George held up his hand. “Wait; I have a much better idea.” The three withdrew to the dining room after pausing the digicam.
“Cherry Ann, after consulting among ourselves,” John informed her after they’d returned a few minutes later, “what I was planning to do in response to your outburst before George intervened was blindfold, gag, and toe-tie you with your pretty little bare soles smothered in vegetable oil, then the three us were going to take turns tickling you with banjo picks on the fingers of both hands, fifteen minutes a time, and all three in the last fifteen minutes, making it a full hour.”
George spoke. “I, however, had another suggestion; we attempt to tickle your bare feet with feathers for ten minutes. If we don’t get a good reaction in that time, you win the challenge and we let you go Monday morning after Spring Break when the safe opens.”
Of course, moaned Cherry Ann to herself, I’ll still be y’all’s helpless barefoot prisoner until then.
“If, however,” Ken continued, “your pretty little soft bare feet do prove feather-ticklish, you serve us on our terms.”
“Give me the first one,” Cherry Ann responded. “I’ll take John’s.”
George looked at John with a smirk. “Told you.”
“Yeah, I hate to tell you this, Cherry Ann,” John told her, “but you have no choice in the matter. We’re going to test whether those pretty little soft bare feet of yours are feather-ticklish whether you like it or not.”
At this, Cherry Ann’s stomach did flip-flops, and she could feel the bottoms of her feet start to tingle, her soles quivering, and panic beginning to rise.
George undid the belt around her thighs then reached down, grabbed the emerald green string bikini panties on either side and pulled them up to the rope just below her knees, then redid the belt.
Ken came up from the kitchen with a small bottle of thick, peach-colored viscuous fluid, another of lotion, and a pair of velcro-fastened foot wraps like the ones they’d used at the salon.
He lotioned the bottoms of Cherry Ann’s feet thoroughly though not excessively, then began spraying the peach-colored substance all over the bottoms of her feet. It felt very warm, but not too hot. She tried to peer over the back of the loveseat to see what he was doing.
“What is that?” Cherry Ann inquired.
“Wait a second.” After a couple more minutes, he said, “There.”
Now finished applying a thick coat, Ken looked up at Cherry Ann and told her, “This is spray paraffin wax. Many salons have begun to use it because it’s quicker to heat since you can do it in the microwave, and it’s easier to apply. You may notice it’s less hot too.”
Ken’s last touch was to put the thermal wraps in place.
“Before we adjourn to the back, Cherry Ann,” John said, “there’s something you should know, Lynn. Ken and I instigated that whole ‘punish the witches’ exercise on Halloween with a sizable donation to the chapter just to find out if you’re as ticklish as we’d hoped.”
Before they left, they ball-gagged her, blindfolded her, and put in earplugs with hearing protective earmuffs over those. Cherry Ann was completely cut off from the world.
Cherry Ann couldn’t believe the situation she now found herself in and what they were going to do to her, and the worst part was she had only herself to blame…or commend.
More time passed as she pondered the Tickle Hell to come. She actually could feel her paraffin-encased bare feet slowly and inevitably growing softer, more sensitive, more excruciatingly ticklish, ever more potentially susceptible to the feathers.
At least I’ll finally live out my feather foot-tickling fantasy for real—if my bare feet are indeed feather-ticklish, that is.
Cherry Ann really was deathly afraid of her bare feet being tickled by feathers, so she was terrified that it’d work. At the same time part of her very much hoped that it would. Because in direct proportion to her absolute dread of that likely outcome was her intense arousal at the prospect of being that helpless.
As the impending threat of feathers dancing on the bottoms of helpless her bare feet bore down, Cherry Ann could think of nothing else and began to experience shortness of breath, rapid breathing, irregular heartbeat, sweating, slight nausea, dry mouth, shaking, and an inability to focus, all signs that she knew from Psych 101 signaled a phobia.
She ‘d never experienced this level of fear of tickling before, not even during the years she frequently suffered vicious tickle attacks by the neighborhood bully. Of course, no one had ever had her this helpless before.
On one hand, this challenge would finally satisfy her curiosity. On the other hand, if her three captors proved her so utterly defenceless against such a silly, preposterous menace, that vulnerability would be exposed and she would then be unquestionably at their mercy, as well as that of anyone with whom they shared the information. Because, if that happened, they’d able to use that seemingly absurd but very real threat against her at their whim to make her suffer and beg for mercy until she submitted to their wishes at any time.
Cherry Ann would then be a very real slave to all these older men, each and every one of them, a helplessness and vulnerability which suddenly she craved with all her heart, much more than anything else she had ever desired in her entire life. Though because of the predicament she had gotten herself into, it wasn’t like she had a choice in the matter.
Her soles began to tingle in anticipation that was an intoxicating clash of fearful and cheerful.
By the time the three men returned an hour later, Cherry Ann was about to explode from breathless expectation arising from a dizzying mixture of fear, desire, anxiety, and eagerness.
First they removed the earmuffs and earplugs, then they removed the gag, last of all her blindfold.
Ken went to the half-bath to get some things, swiftly returning with a wastebasket, a towel, a bottle of baby oil. Kneeling down before Cherry Ann’s captive feet, he removed the thermal wraps and peeled off the paraffin.
The instant the paraffin came off, a chill ran down Cherry Ann’s spine when the cooler air hit now her bare feet and she wiggled her toes. After being in paraffin for an hour, she could feel all 200,000 nerve endings in her each of her helpless bare soles. Ken pursed his lips and blew across Cherry Ann’s bare soles, causing her to giggle.
With the towel, Ken wiped the sweat and excess lotion from her soles and toes, pressing down firmly enough so that it didn’t tickle.
After this, Ken and George placed a footstool to either side of the stocks, and between the two, directly under Cherry Ann’s trapped bare feet, a low table upon which had been piled feather dusters, a pheasant tail fan, a raven’s wing, two golden eagle tail feathers, and turkey feathers.
Last of all, they put Cherry Ann’s boat sneakers on her bare feet. To her questioning look, John replied, “Just a visual effect, for the audience to see your shoes being removed against your will.”
Satisfied that the stage was fully set, John made a final statement to the captive before beginning the test and the webcast of it. “Should the feathers fail to tickle your pretty little soft bare feet within ten minutes, you shall be released from your bonds, but that will be the end for you with our society. If, however, they do prove susceptible, you shall remain our captive for an extended Hell Week of reeducation, beginning with a nonstop one-hour session of feather feet-tickling.”
He grinned at Cheryl Lynn’s facial expression. Ken switched the digicam back on and flicked an additional switch. “Just thought you should know, Cherry Ann, that this is now a webcam sending a live feed to an encypted channel to which all the men whom you’ve met here have a password.”
Great, just fucking great, Cherry Ann said to herself. All of those perverts will be entertained by my torture in real time.
“Good afternoon, fellow Bad News Bears,” John said to the camera. “Behind me in the stocks is our guest of honor, naughty little schoolgirl Cherry Ann, whom all of you have met here as Charlie. The impudent little minx has been thus secured in place so that we may conduct a test to see whether or not her pretty little soft bare girl’s feet are feather ticklish.”
“You see, no one’s ever tickled her bare feet, which she describes as ‘hyperticklish’, with a feather, but even she knows this is only because no one has ever tried. She claims she doesn’t really believe it’ll work, yet admits that she is terrified that it will. That the danger it will scares her to death and is her worst fear.”
He nodded to Ken and George, who squatted down and removed Cherry Ann’s boat sneakers. George pulled a short piece of cotton clothesline from one of his pockets, saying, “Feather-tickling is so much easier without having to contend with flailing feet and wriggling toes.”
George made two loops around Cherry Ann’s big toes, two twitches around the loops, tied off that end, then looped the other through the center eyebolt and tied it off. Then he pulled her two pinky toes to the sides and tied them back the two outer eyebolts in the center with twine so that her toes were splayed out.
Cherry Ann’s size 7B bare feet were now totally immobile and utterly defenceless.
“Should this naughty little schoolgirl’s pretty little soft bare feet prove feather-ticklish, as none of us have any doubt they will, she will be our own personal tickle slave for at least the entirety of Spring Break, and yes, we do intend to share.”
Lastly, Ken squirted out excessive amounts of baby oil and spread it evenly across her soles.
“That’s not fair,” whined Cherry Ann when he’d finished.
Standing ominously over Cherry Ann, John proclaimed, “Ken and George shall now attempt to feather-tickle your bare feet. They have ten minutes in which to get a real response, tickling continuously for ten whole minutes, nonstop. Soft giggling and slight twitching are allowed, but nothing more. Anything beyond that—squirming, laughing, begging, writhing, screaming, pleading for mercy—means you lose.”
George sat on the stool at Cherry Ann’s right, Ken on the one on her left, while John played videographer. Reaching over to the low table between them, they each picked up one of the golden eagle tail feathers, and held it up for Cherry Ann’s benefit. Each of them was wide enough to span one of her dainty narrow soles.
Immediately, Cherry Ann’s pteronophoia kicked in and she totally panicked, pulling maniacally at her trapped wrists and ankles. “Nonononononono! I don’t want to do this! Let me out! Let me out! Let me out!”
“Try not to think of these as two feathers, Cherry Ann,” Ken told her. “Think of them as tens of thousands of barbs with hundreds of thousands of barbules. Each.”
“FUCK YOU, FUCK YOU, FUCK YOU!” Cherry Ann responded, struggling frantically.
John turned to George. “Ready to start the clock,” he said, then turned back to Cherry Ann. Slapping her soles, he told her, “Keep that up after I start the clock, you’ll lose before we even start; should that happen we’ll organize a round-the-clock foot tickle train that will last all Spring Break long. And we’ll invite not only all the men you’ve met here to take part but your former frat buddies as well.”
This greater potential threat paralyzed Cherry Ann into absolute stillness.
“Or maybe instead we’ll bring out the itching powder. Not the kind you get in store, the real thing made from African devil’s beans; real nasty stuff. And leave it on all weekend long.” John slapped her soles once again, “Think you can behave now?”
Cherry Ann nodded her head slightly.
John smiled evilly at his helpless victim. Cherry Ann bit her lip. “Tell us again the name of your toenail polish,” he taunted.
Cherry Ann mumbled something under her breath.
“What’s that? Speak up for the camera.”
“Tickle Me Pink,” Cherry Ann answered, almost in a whisper.
“We still can’t hear you,” everyone said.
“TICKLE ME PINK!”
“Well, okay, if you insist,” John smiled wickedly.
John immediately started the clock as George and Ken began stroking the golden eagle tail feathers softly and slowly up and down Cherry Ann’s vulnerable bare soles.
Cherry Ann felt the two feathers begin gliding slowly up and back down the bottoms of her feet, and immediately she bit her lip and began pulling at her restraints. Up and down the feathers went, from the bottoms of her heels to the tips of her toes then back again.
“Stubbornness is irrelevant. You will be vellicated. Resistance is futile.”
In fifteen seconds, Cherry Ann began giggling helplessly despite her best efforts to hold out.
“I don’t—teehee teehee—want to do this—teehee teehee—anymo-o-o-ore,” she wailed.
It wasn’t technically a plea for mercy, so George and Ken continued slowly, softly stroking the two feathers up and down Cherry Ann’s defenceless tootsies. Being expert ticklers, and foot-tickling specialists, they knew, of course, how to get an instant reaction with feather-tickling from a girl as ticklish as she, but they and the other three wanted to drag it out, tease her with just how helpless she really was.
Having her toes bound and feet unable to move at all made Cherry Ann’s sense of utter helplessness so much worse, and with her soles taut the effects of the feathers increased exponentially. She clenched her fists tightly, screwed her eyes shut, and shook her head trying to block out the relentless sensations, but it was useless.
Oh shit, I can’t take this much longer! It’s driving me crazy!
It wasn’t long before Cherry Ann’s giggling became hysterical. John knew it wouldn’t be long, and started taunting her with words she’d seen before.
“You let this happen. You wanted this to happen. You’ve always wanted this to happen. Why else make yourself into such a sexy little slut? Why else allow yourself be made so helpless? Why else pamper your precious tootsies with such intent? Why else show off such pretty little soft bare feet so wantonly and provocatively?”
As he was speaking, Cherry Ann had started to squirm and writhe wildy. That meant she‘d lost the challenge already, but she was still just giggling, even though hysterically, her torturers wanted to make her laugh.
“Resistance is futile, Little Miss Pretty Feet. You will be vellicated. And discombobulated. Then subjugated. And re-educated. Then dominated. And thereby emancipated.”
When Cherry Ann finally did burst into helpless laughter, there was no doubt about her loss. But John signaled Ken and George that he wanted more. He wanted to hear her beg.
At a pre-arranged cue, both men switched tactics from gentle stroking to dragging the feather swiftly and firmly up, down, across, zig-zag, and in circles faster and faster all across Cherry Ann’s vulnerable soles.
The change in Cherry Ann’s reaction was immediate, erupting into howling laughter and wild writhing around as much as her bondage would allow.
“AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! NOMORE-NOMORE-NOMORE!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!
George and Ken continued tickle-torturing Cherry Ann’s bare soles for another thirty seconds, then switched to the tops (from their perspective) of the bottoms of her bare soles, applying short strokes to the soft flesh just below her toes and underneath her toes.
Now, Cherry Ann became absolutely frantic. She shrieked, then began laughing very hard, which quickly turned to screams and pleading for mercy.
“PLEASESTOP-PLEASESTOP-PLEASE-PLEASE-PLEASE-STOPIT-STOPIT-STOPIT! ICAN’T-TAKEITANYMOREPLEEEEAAAASE!!!”
When they stopped after thirty seconds, Cherry Ann was undone. There was no way she wanted any of that done to her again. And being tickled like this in front of an audience, even one watching remotely, was just way too humiliating to bear.
“Oh, God, that really tickles!” Cherry Ann exclaimed as she struggled to get her breath.
I can’t believe they broke me that easily! she thought as John placed a slave collar with an O-ring around her neck and fastened it in place.
“Was it everything you imagined?” John asked.
“God, no...it was much worse!”
“Gentlemen,” John said after he’d turned to the camera, “Cherry Ann has lost her challenge, and lost it very badly, so...”
“Wait!” Ken intervened. “Didn’t you say we’d go for ten whole minutes?”
“Why, yes, you’re quite right. I did!” John said merrily. “Actually, I said ‘continuously for ten whole minutes nonstop’.”
“Then I guess we’ll just have to restart the clock again,” twinkled Ken.
“And since technically she already failed,” George added, “we can forego our limits and tickle her feet all at the same time.”
“If we’re gonna do that,” Ken proposed, “let’s also penalize her for losing the round so quickly and give her an extra ten minutes.”
“I like that idea!” declared John cheerfully as he reset the timer.
“Oh, God, no! Please, don’t do this to to me! No more feathers! No more feathers!” Cherry Ann pleaded intensely, heedless of the display she was making of her frantic desperation.
John held up his hand, turning toward the camera. “Before we do that, there’s something I’m dying to try on her,” he told them, and the audience, as he reached down and picked up the ostrich feather duster.
Turning back around to the captive, John began running the implement up and down the helpless bare soles and toes of Cherry Ann’s totally immobile feet.
Cherry Ann’s eyes flew open wide like saucers, and she gave a high-pitched squeal, then cried out, “Oh God, that really tickles!” as she struggled against her restraint, “Stop it! Stop it! Please! Please! Please! OhGodOhGod! Please stop it!”
Naturally, John ignored her and kept going.
While the stiffer golden eagle tail feathers may have been more intense in tickling sensations delivered, the softer plumes of the ostrich feather duster were more insidious, leaving her fully aware she was being tortured as well as feeling it and fully conscious that there was no way to escape her predicament. It was absolutely maddening.
“Gentlemen,” John addressed the recording, “tune into our society’s encrypted internet channel in half an hour for a live feed of the first hour of Cheryl Lynn’s four hours punishment.” He stopped the recording, saved it, then mass-emailed it to all of the members.
“Now we can begin,” John announced, when he finally ceased. “I’ll start the clock.”
Immediately, six turkey feathers, one in each hand of her three torturers, began their assault their assault on Cherry Ann’s uber-ticklish bare soles and tender toes.
“AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Stop it, stop it, stop it! AHAHAHAHAHA! OhGodOhGod! AHAHAHAHA! I can’t take this anymore! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”
And so it went for twenty minutes, except for when they tickled between Cherry Ann’s toes, which produced screaming laughter almost as loud as when, no longer bound by the terms of the “challenge”, they used the quills.
“Oh my God! Look at her nipples!
“They’re huge!”
“Nipples? Look at her clit!”
“Horny little slut likes it, doesn’t she?”
As the tickling continued, Cherry Ann’s suffering multiplied, the effects the the feathers on her soles being cumulative, increasing exponentially, making all those nerve endings ever more sensitive.
At a word from John, all three tickle torturers slowed the speed of their strokes, reducing Cherry Ann’s suffering to just barely unendurable.
“Tell us, Cherry Ann, you love this, don’t you? You love it when men tickle your bare feet,” John taunted her. “Admit it, or we’ll go back to the other way and keep doing it all night long!”
“Noooo...teeheehee,” Cherry Ann blurted out, before her desperation made her change, grabbing futilely for a chance at escape, “I mean...teeheehee... yes...teeheehee...I enjoy it...teehee!”
“And what do you enjoy, Cherry Ann? And is it just ‘enjoy’?” John pressed. “Tell us the truth.”
“No...teeheehee...I love it...teeheehee...when men tickle...teeheehee...my bare feet!”
“You heard the girl, boys,” smiled John triumphantly, “so let’s give her what she wants!” With that all six feathers began their rapid assault once again, sending Cherry Ann back into hysterical giggling that quickly escalated into guffawing laughter.
Unbinding her toes, the three took turns using the turkey feather duster, correctly perceiving that there was no way for Cherry Ann’s flailing feet and wriggling toes to evade it. But they were highly amused watching her make the attempt only to find no escape, almost as much as they enjoyed the extent of her cursing vocabulary, in several languages.
They taunted her with cries like, “Kootchie, kootchie, koo!” and “Tickle, tickle, tickle!”, until they started chanting, “Little Miss Pretty Feet, enjoying your special treat!”
Cherry Ann laughed, screamed, howled, and begged and pleaded for mercy as she shook, squirmed, writhed, and pulled frantically against her bonds.
Then they replaced the toe-ties (having to do so with one holding her toes as another did the tying because for some reason she was resisting) and resumed, only this time, while one used the feather duster on her soles, the other four sawed individual turkey feathers back and forth between her toes.
The whole time, Cherry Ann’s torturers taunted her with all the things they planned to do to her over the next ten days, telling her how much she deserved this and how they were savoring every single moment of her suffering.
When the timer’s alarm went off, the men kept going thirty more seconds, just to make her wonder if they’d ever stop.
After they finally ceased their torture, Cherry Ann’s hair was a mess and all 400,000 nerve endings in her soles were on fire, which didn’t even count the ones in her toes, nor in the rest of her body.
“Thanks for watching, gentlemen. This webcast is now ended. We and Cherry Ann will be seeing you very soon.”
Chapter 9: Meeting Your Worst Fear
After few minutes, when she had been given water and recovered, John told her, “Remember, Cherry Ann, that you have one more hour of foot-tickling ahead of you. Nonstop. With feathers. And there’s nothing at all you can do about it.”
They all enjoyed the horrified look on Cherry Ann’s face. They’d told her this before, of course, but that had been some time ago, well before she’d learned just how effective feathers were on the bottoms of her hyperticklish bare feet.
“Escape is impossible. Bargaining for mercy is irrelevant. Playing the victim card for sympathy is useless. Resistance is futile. These pretty little soft bare feet of yours that you’re so vainglorious about are going to be tickle-tortured with feathers for a whole hour straight.”
“But...,” Cherry Ann protested, “...shouldn’t that be forty minutes? You already did that to me for twenty minutes.”
“Those twenty minutes were part of the challenge,” grinned Ken. “They don’t count toward the hour total.”
“Then please untie my toes! Let me move my feet around, please! I’ll go crazy, literally, if I can’t move at all!”
“By the time we’re through with you,” smirked Ken, “you may just do that!”
“She’s really ticklish,” noted George. “If we don’t watch it, we may tickle her to death!”
As Cherry Ann pondered that harrowing thought and the nightmarish ordeal she was about to face live on camera before an audience, John placed his smart phone of on her knees.
“Now, Cherry Ann, you’re going to memorize this, practicing until you get it every word right without stumbling, and when you have it right, you are going to recite it into my smart phone for me to send out.”
This...This is too degrading to say out loud, Cherry Ann told herself.
“Please don’t make me say that,” Cherry Ann implored. She searched the faces of the older men looking for a shred of of compassion or sympathy. “I just...I just can’t! And I won’t.”
John pulled out his phone and held its screen toward her. He pushed something on its screen, and the recording he’d made earlier began to play.
“Do it, Cherry Ann, or this recording goes out to every single member of your former fraternity in an unencrypted form in which they can share it with whomever they please.”
Seeing no other option, Cherry Ann reluctantly surrendered. And indeed she was reluctant…at first.
Cherry Ann read through the statement silently a couple of times, then began to read it out loud over and over and over, and as she did so, a change came over her and her demeanor changed.
With her capitulation, her last thoughts and desires of her time in sensdep before they returned to begin the ‘test’ stirred deep in her thoughts then stormed to the surface, filling her mind as she grasped just how true—now that she’d failed that test so spectacularly, with all many older men whom she’d teased these past few months with her ‘pretty little soft bare feet’ witnessing that demise—that both those fears and desires had come.
The three men were surprised but quite pleased with Cherry Ann’s sudden urgent enthusiasm as she practiced, asking for feedback, pouting if she stumbled, grateful for praise when she got it right, looking for guidance upon which words to give stress. She even suggested alterations as well as numerous additions to make it even more humiliating and demeaning for her, which the three of them found quite amazing.
While Cheryl Lynn rehearsed her speech, which had grown to about four times its original length, the men set up the professional camera and aduio equipment for the live-feed webcast.
By the time the practice finished after several minutes, she seemed thoroughly eager to deliver her confession and appeal for her punishment, and even more to actually receive it.
“And please, please, please, sirs, please untie my toes!” Cheryl Lynn begged last of all. “Please! Let me tease for the audience while delivering this speech. I promise to be a good little girl and let you tie them back up again for more tickle-torture after I’m done!”
Satisfied she was ready, John sent a message to the remote watchers that the show was about to restart. It only took about ten seconds for all of them to respond. “Speak loudly and clearly,” he told her, then added, quite needlessly, “and do please remember to smile.”
From the silly smile spread across Cherry Ann’s face, John wondered if she’d ever stop smiling. Then he switched the camera of his smart phone on, at first turning it toward himself.
“Gentlemen, I give you Cherry Ann.” He then turned the phone toward the subject of his introduction.
“Hi, gentlemen, I’m Cherry Ann, and though y’all are probably already aware of what I’m about to say, in light of the fact that I’ve been teasing y’all so much these past weeks and months, each and every one of you individually and all of you together collectively deserve to have me confess these things in explicit detail so that there will be no doubt or confusion about your right to take advantage of the power the information gives you over me at will and with impunity as a weapon with which to bring about and then perpetuate my thorough subjugation.
“My pretty little soft bare girl’s feet are so hyperticklish that it’s absolute torture. I’m deathly afraid of tickling because I can’t stand it the least little bit. At the same time, no matter how much I absolutely hate being tickled, I nevertheless love it when you older men tickle me, especially on my bare feet, and particularly if it’s against my will or an act of submission on my part, because then I feel small, helpless, vulnerable, and submissive, and that turns me on.
“Since I also have a morbid fear of my feet being tickled with feathers, to which they’ve just now been proven uniquely susceptible, as penance to atone for my naughty behavior, every evening from Sunday through next Friday, my hosts will lock me in stocks in the basement here and make me available to teams of six at a time for one hour, so that every single one of you may take part in my just punishment using that very thing. Please show me no mercy whatsoever.”
(To give you an idea of Cherry Ann’s sudden enthusiasm, the original before her alterations, written by the men, read: ‘Hi, I’m Cherry Ann, and I know I’ve been a very naughty little schoolgirl teasing all you older men with my pretty little soft bare feet, so I beg you from the bottom of my heart to chastise me severely with an exceptionally fitting punishment: a lengthy nonstop unbearable feather-tickling on the tender bottoms of my thoroughly immobilized and completely helpless hyperticklish bare soles and toes. I hope you enjoy the show!’)
Cherry Ann’s delivery was perfect. And the whole time she’d been merrily showing off her soon-to-be mercilessly tickle-tortured bare feet for the camera like an invitation. Then, true to her word, she meekly submitted to the toe-ties by Ken and George once she’d finished, while John sent that short clip to the thrity-six men in the network.
John glanced back at Cherry Ann, who managed to seem both completely terrified and overly thrilled at the same time, yanking madly at her bonds in desperation yet bouncing up and down in incongruous excitement.
“Boys, I think we better ball-gag her for the next part.”
“Wait, sirs, please!” Cherry Ann cried. John’s first impluse was to ignore her, but then he realized she hadn’t said “No” or “Don’t” or “Stop” and grew curious. “Just for a second.”
He held up his hand to halt Ken.
“Ok, go on.”
“Sirs, can you please, please, please...,” Cherry Ann requested, “...blindfold me too? I’ve been a very naughty girl after all and deserve to be punished in the worst way possible.” Also, she hoped that not actually seeing the feathers might lessen her panic.
John’s eyes flew wide in surprise, and he chuckled, shaking his head. “All right, if that’s what really you want, no problem!”
He grinned. Then he lowered his head, shook it, lifted his eyes to the ceiling, then looked at her and rolled his eyes. “I suppose you’d like the ear plugs and ear muffs too.”
Cherry Ann just beamed wide-eyed like a gratefully eager puppy dog, fervently nodding her head. John snorted.
He nodded to Ken, who ball-gagged her, then to George, who blindfolded her, while he added the ear plugs and ear muffs. Cherry Ann was now not only trapped and totally powerless, with her ‘pretty little hyperticklish bare feet’ entirely at the mercy of these five men, and totally cut off from her environment. Last of all, Ken inserted a G-spot vibrator between her legs, adjusting its postion so that the tip of its curved end nestled just inside her anus and its shaft pressed against her scrotum.
Mere seconds later, Cherry Ann felt six stiff-but-supple turkey feathers stroking her bare feet, panic-stricken at their first touch as they reawakened her tortured nerves, knowing that for the next four hours this would be her only sensory link to the outside world.
As the insidiously tickling touch of the feathers relentlessly caressing her helpless soles and toes in wave after wave of maddening, unendurable tittilating sensations transmitted ticklish torment throughout her entire body, causing her to thrash wildy, laugh maniacally, struggle furiously, and weap tears of frustration that smeared mascara down her cheeks, she found herself consumed by an inescapable, unambiguous truth:
I really did let this happen. I really did want this to happen. I really have always wanted this to happen. To be totally helpless, completely at the mercy of men hell-bent on tickle-torturing me without limit or reprieve into wholehearted submission as their “female” sex slave. Why else show off my well-pampered ‘pretty little soft bare feet’ so provocatively all the time to a bunch of older men who are all obvious feet-fetishists when I know they’re so hyperticklish?
Just then all six feathers ripped away any conscious thought for the next few minutes as they began a united assault against her tender toes and all the spaces between. Fortunately, most of the feathers resumed their attack on her soles, but just as Cherry Ann’s mind started to recover, one of the men reached between her legs and turned on the vibrator.
Forced cries of passion from the newly added and pointedly sexual stimulation now joined Cherry Ann’s wails of ticklish misery as she prayed to any god who would listen for the tickling of her bare feet to stop. Her body convulsed spasmodically from the clash of stimuli, and as the simultaneous feather-tickling of her bare feet and the titillation of her bunghole persisted unstoppably, the two divergent sources fused into a single alloy of cause-and-effect.
Time lost meaning. For Cherry Ann, now, there was no time. Only tickling. And vibrations.
Just as Cherry Ann’s mind was about to truly snap apart, the feather-tickling of her bare soles and toes suddenly ceased, and at almost the same instant the G-spot vibrator sending shock waves directly into her anus was turned off. As she sat heaving for breath with tingling ticklish feelings still crawling across her soles and toes, not to mention those in her anus, the ear plugs and ear muffs were removed.
She was given water, still blindfolded, and mental consciousness began to return . Cherry Ann had never before suffered this much from tickling, not even Halloween night. But she’d survived. Just as Cherry Ann felt a wave of relief at this, John’s voice disabused her of that futilely hopeful delusion.
“Congratulations, you naughty little schoolgirl,” he told her. “You’ve survived the first hour of your punishment. Maybe even with a little bit of your sanity still intact. Only ten more long torturous days ahead.”
Overwhelmed by a crushing sense of dread, Cherry Ann began to sob. She sobbed even harder as they undid her bondage, in both relief and despair, a release of not only the tension of this afternoon and evening but of the past several months.
One of them, probably John, hugged her as the others replaced the slave cuffs around her ankles and wrists, with Cherry Ann still blindfolded. When the others had finished, the man holding her (it was John) placed his hands on either cheek, tilted her head back, kissed once softly on the lips, then again more fully, his tongue exploring her mouth and wrestling with her own which was responding in kind as his hands slid under her short skirt to cup both cheeks of her bare ass.
Cherry Ann was overwhelmed in a rush of emotion and sensations, moaning loudly as the man she couldn’t see kissed down her neck. Another man grabbed her right wrist, turned her toward him, reached under her sweater vest and shirt to tweak her swollen nipples, then he too kissed her passionately. The third stimulated her left nipple with his right hand and his left cupped her ass, sliding a finger in her asshole, as he kissed her.
Chapter 10: The Deflowering Of Cherry Ann
Two of the men led Cherry Ann, still blindfolded, a little way across the floor and stopped. Then they bit down gently on either of her shoulder neck points, catching her as her knees buckled then guiding her the rest of the way into the Sit Down position.
Cherry Ann could tell she was not on the hardwood floor because whatever she was on was padded and her Tickle Me Pink toes hung down over the end of it, she quickly surmised she must be on the foot of the chaise lounger.
When her blindfold was removed, Cherry Ann saw she was indeed at the foot of the lounger, facing George leaning against the backrest, legs spread, seve-inch cock pulled out of his pants.
As she bent over to start her way up the chaise lounger, assuming he wanted her to suck his cock, George stopped Cherry Ann and told, “No, not that; I want you to use those pretty little soft bare feet of yours.”
Cherry Ann grinned broadly, then brought her legs around and placed her feet on George’s cock, curling and uncurling her toes, then put them to either side and began rubbing it gently up and down.
George called for baby oil, which was provided, then had Cherry Ann turn around so that he could apply it to her soles, telling her to remain in position as she began to masturbate him with her feet as he switched focus back-and-forth between them and Cherry Ann’s gyrating plaid-covered ass.
Reaching down, George linked Cherry Ann’s ankles cuffs together, then began to tickle her bare soles with his finger nails, and he soon blew his load all over the bottoms of her bare feet.
After Cherry Ann had displayed her second ‘reward’ by presenting her cum-covered bare soles and toes, Mustafa ordered her to face him and lick it all off while he watched. Then he and Chen took their leave as they had work in the morning, unlike Cherry Ann’s other three captors, John, who worked a flex schedule since he was the boss, Ken, who had no surgery scheduled, and George, who had no Friday classes.
Ken and John noted aloud how cute Cherry Ann looked in her schoolgirl uniform on the chaise lounge with that goofy smile on her face, scooping up into her mouth cum from her chin, seeming entranced and enthralled.
Ken took George’s place on the lounger, leaning against the backrest with his legs spread, his bulging erection about to burst the zipper of his suit pants. He unzipped his trousers and pulled out his rock hard cock, about six inches long and very thick.
“Lie down on your stomach with your feet in the air,” he directed Cherry Ann. When she complied, he ordered her, “Now, worship my cock and worship it well, Cherry Ann, like a good little girl.”
Cherry Ann kissed the tip of Ken’s cock, then swirled her tongue on its underside just beneath the head. Then she put it in her mouth and began to slowly suck, swirling her tongue around it has she did. Ken grabbed both sides of her head and shoved down, and Cherry Ann gagged.
When she did, Chen pulled her mouth completely off his cock, telling her, “We’ll have to work on that during your training, wench.”
He then pulled her head back down and let her continue, keeping his eyes focused on her constantly moving—paddling, sole-flexing, toe-curling, gyrating—bare feet above her azure plaid covered ass.
Before long Cherry Ann was sucking enthusiastically away and so eager to do it well that she managed to conquer her own gag reflex in just a couple of minutes. Soon, Ken was gripping the arms of the chaise lounge tightly with his head back moaning in pure pleasure.
“Oh my God, you were born for this!” he cried out. Inspired, Cherry Ann started sucking and licking as if she were in a contest to be the first to get to the center of a Tootsie Pop.
“Let him cum in your mouth, wench,” she heard John tell her once it became clear from Ken’s reactions that he was about to reach climax, “but don’t swallow yet.”
Ken grabbed Cherry Ann’s head again and began moving it rapidly up and down, then cried out as Cherry Ann felt his warm semen filling her mouth. Ken’s hands dropped from her hand, but Cherry Ann kept moving until his orgasm was completely finished.
“Now, wench, Sit Down,” John instructed, “and show us all your reward.”
Cherry Ann sat back on her heels and obediently opened her mouth then stuck out her jizz-covered tongue for inspection, first to Ken, then the two men on her left, then the two on her right.
“Okay, Cherry Ann, now you may swallow.” She did so, then licked jizz off her lips and the remainder from the head of Ken’s dick before sitting back again with a goofy smile spreading across her face. She seemed quite pleased with herself.
They brought her a glass of cool water, which she drank slowly, swirling it around in her mouth before swallowing.
When she’d finished, John told Ken and George, “Take the wench to the bathroom upstairs, put her in the tub, and give her a thorough enema; Use the big bag. Make sure that she cleans her ass and feet with soap and water afterwards, and that she pisses too, sitting on the toilet as a good little girl should. Then have her wash her face and reapply her make-up.”
When Ken and George brought her back to the great room in the front of the first floor twenty minutes later, Cherry Ann saw that the camera and speakers had been removed. The enema in front of the two men had been humiliating, though she saw the necessity given John’s expressed worries, and she really had needed to piss badly. Assuming the men were going to resume their feather-tickling of her bare feet, she started over to the loveseat-turned-stocks.
“No, not there,” John commanded. “Well, not yet, anyway.” Then he ordered her to prostrate herself on the ottoman again, this time facing the window.
Cherry Ann heard the rustling of clothes and Ken and George begin chuckling.
“Elbows and knees, wench,” John finally ordered.
Oh God, oh God, oh God! Cherry Ann thought, expecting his large cock in her ass.
She felt John kneel behind her, life up her skirt, then she cried out in shock as he licked the outside of her anus.
“OH MY GOOOOO...!” was all Cherry Ann got out before his large darting tongue penetrated the rim and began dancing around inside, causing her elbows to collapse and guttural moans to spew from her mouth as her upper body writhed and her thighs quivered violently.
John continued for several minutes, enjoying his power over the naughty little slut. When he ceased, Cherry Ann still had tremors running through her body.
“Oh my God,” she said, “that was...oh my God.”
“Back up on your elbows and knees, wench,” John ordered. Cherry Ann immediately complied.
Cherry Ann heard some indistinguishable sounds behind her as she stared out the window into the night, watching cars pass and people walking by. Suddenly, the window in front of her became opaque, turning into a mirror.
John stood directly behind her, putting his smartphone, which must’ve been interfaced with the privacy system, on one of the nearby tables. He was completely naked, and at around 275 lbs., quite stocky, but while he’d lost a lot of definition, it was clear that at one time he’d been quite well-toned, so the weight didn’t seem too flabby.
But what drew Cherry Ann’s attention was John’s large fully erect cock. The soles of her bare feet tingled with sense memory.
Thank God I stretched myself out earlier today, she thought, a little intimidated seeing it in its full naked glory. It was a good thing she’d done the stretching with a large butt plug.
John turned around to do something on the table behind him (John) and Cherry Ann noted that his ass still looked pretty firm. When he turned around, she saw he was wearing surgical gloves,no doubt borrowed from Ken. The right one glistened from anal lube.
She watched him walk over and squat down behind her again. Cherry Ann gasped as his large right index finger slid into her ass.
“Hmmm,” John remarked, “that was easy enough.”
He added his middle finger, and when he began to rotate the two back and forth, Cherry Ann started to moan. “It seems you’ve come prepared,” he noted, “tight but very pliable. Good girl!”
John then added his ringer finger, pinky and thumb, forming the five fingers into a cone and started plunging it in and out up to his knuckles as he rotated.
Cherry Ann fell forward somewhat, with her chin nearly touching the ottoman. Her feet lifting off the surface with her toes curled tightly then began shaking, with her moans becoming louder and more guttural.
“OOOOOOOOWWWWW!!! OH MY GOD!!” Cherry Ann cried out, then groaned and grunted as John picked up the pace, which transformed into moaning as she hung somewhere between pleasure and pain.
John ceased fucking her ass with his hand, stood up, and walked around to her front. When he lifted her back to her elbows, his cock was right in Cherry Ann’s face. Her eyes lit up and a smile spread across her face. It looked about eight inches long and two inches in diameter, much larger than any dildo Cherry Ann had ever used to get off anally. She gulped.
“Ok, wench, let’s see if you can deepthroat this like you did Ken’s,” he said as he grabbed the back of Cherry Ann’s head with his left hand and brought it forward at the same time he thrust forward gently into her eager mouth. “Get me ready for your ass.”
As Cherry Ann began hungrily sucking and licking away, John moaned in pleasure. “Christ, Chen was right about you, that’s for sure.” She tried to take it all the way, but only managed to get in seven of the eight inches.
What Ken and George had been doing this whole time Cherry Ann had no idea, but as John pulled his cock from her greedy mouth, Ken took a seat on the Chesterfield couch while George sat on the chaise lounger across from him, so that they were on both sides of her.
John walked back to the table, picked up the lube tube, squirted some into his right hand, then began stroking the entire length of his large cock to get a thick layer on it. As he did this, he looked Cherry Ann in the eyes via the mirror, grinning.
“You know all of this is going in your ass, right, wench? Your mouth and throat may not be able to take it yet, but your ass is gonna take it all tonight.”
He snickered when Cherry Ann’s eyes grew wide as saucers.
Finished, he rolled off the surgical gloves and approached Cherry Ann, on elbows and knees in her schoolgirl uniform atop the cocktail ottoman, from the rear.
Cherry Ann bit her lip then sucked in her breath and held it as John reached the ottoman and flipped up the back of her skirt again. When he placed his hands around her waist, she closed her eyes tightly, gripping the edge of the ottoman firmly and gritting her teeth.
“Oh God, oh God, oh...ooooOOOOOWWWW!” she cried out as John thrust his massive prick slowly into her ass, going a third of the way in, then swiftly pulled all the way out. After she stopped twitching, he thrust again, this time going two-thirds of the way in, then pulled out again. Once again, he thrust two-thirds of the way in, then slowly worked the remainder of his cock until his groin stopped against Cherry Ann’s ass.
“AAAUUUUUUGGGGHHHH! SHIT THAT’S BIG! OH MY GOD OH MY GOD! YOU’RE RIPPING ME APART!”
Even with her stretching of her sphincter muscles earlier in the day, Cherry Ann could just barely accomodate John’s massive rod, especially since it’d been almost six months since her last anal play session.
“FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU!”
“No, my naughty little schoolgirl,” John stated domineeringly, “that’s what’s about to happen to you!” With that, he began a slow motion pistoning action of pulling almost all the way out and slowly pushing all the way back in, knowing that soon Cherry Ann would become accustomed to his massive size.
“Owowowowowowowow...oh Jesus, oh Jesus, oh Jesus fucking Christ, fuck you, fuck you, fuck you!” Cherry Ann could hardly control or comprehend the words spewing from her mouth.
“C’mon, ya little slut,” John encouraged, “I can tell you’ve had foreign objects in this ass before, so loosen up, damn it”, punctuating this by smacking her left then right ass cheek.
At this, Cherry Ann felt a change come over her. Muscle memory took over, and her sphincter began a dilating and contracting rhythm matching John’s entry and withdrawal.
“Oh God, oh my God, oh my God, yes!” Cherry Ann now cried as she began slamming back to meet his thrusts. “Just like that! Give me your all your cock!”
At this, John pulled all the way out. “If you want it back in, Cherry Ann, beg me to power fuck you like the dirty little cock-hungry wench that you are.” To tease her, he moved his cock slightly forward so that its tip just barely touched her anus.
“OH GOD, PLEASE, MASTER, POWER FUCK ME LIKE THE DIRTY LITTLE COCK-HUNGRY WENCH THAT I AM!”
At which, John thrust his cock into Cherry Ann’s ass all the way to the hilt then began moving steadily back and forth, in and out.
“Thank you, Master! Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Cherry Ann cried in gratitude before pure intense pleasure consumed her, changing her cries to loud moans of ecstasy.
John picked up speed quickly, slamming forward into Cherry Ann as she slammed back into him. “Yes! Yes! Yes! Fuck me hard and fast and deep! Fuck me! Fuck me! Fuck me!”
Soon John and Cherry Ann were both going full speed, and soon Cherry Ann’s cries metamorphosed into deep guttural moans and ferocious growls of raw animal passion as she shook her head wildly, her fingers gripped the edge of the ottoman, and her feet, toes clenched tightly, beat on the ottoman top, and her face scrunched up with craving.
At around two minutes, Cherry Ann’s breathing became extremely rapid, sharp high-pitched squeals replaced the moans and growls, and her whole body went rigid. Seconds later she screamed at the top of her lungs, beating the ottoman with her hands and slamming her head against it as a torrential leg-quivering, body-shaking, mind-shattering anal orgasm ripped through her with the force of a giant tidal wave, enfusing her whole body with an intensely exquisite pleasure the likes of which she had never felt.
John maintained his pace, driving Cherry Ann all the way through the last waves of intense pleasure convulsing her body, which left her quivering and twitching in their aftermath. From start to finish, Cherry Ann’s climax lasted a full minute.
John, Ken, and George were amazed, but not as much as Cherry Ann herself. John had slowed his movement after that spectacular orgasm completed, and slowly the spots cleared from Cherry Ann’s vision, and being beyond thought resumed her counterthrusts in time with John’s.
At this, John pulled all the way out, ignoring Cherry Ann’s cry of protest. Turning to her left then her right, Cherry Ann saw George moving away from the chaise lounger as John sat down on it with his legs spread after dropping the backrest to a forty-five degree angle.
“C’m’ere, wench,” he commanded. Understanding what this meant, Cherry Ann climbed down from the ottoman and assumed The Pose position on the chaise lounger.
“No, not that way,” John instructed her. “All fours, head down ass up, and flip up the back of your skirt so that Ken and George can see where this,” motioning with his cock, “has just been and what it’s done.”
As Cherry Ann began sucking greedily away, the thought of the sight her backside must be presenting to the two spectators briefly passed through her mind. She began sucking even more, but it didn’t last long.
John took her head in his hands, kissed her lips, and told her, “Now I want you to mount me and ride my cock.”
He tucked the bottom of the back of her skirt into its top as Cherry Ann squatted over his lap, then started rotating her hips as she worked her way down. When she had, he kissed her again, then nibbled her ear on one side and her neck on the other. Cherry Ann automatically started rising and falling as she rose back from John’s torso.
John seized her head on both sides and turned her face toward him. “Look me in the eyes, wench, no matter what happens. Give yourself to me completely.”
Behind her, Ken and George removed their belts and slapped her ass with them as she bounced up and down while John, who’d released her head, dropped his hands to her soft pink soles and tickled lightly. It wasn’t long before this triple combination of widely diverse sensations drove Cherry Ann to her second analgasm, with John grabbing her head again as soon as her sharp cries signaled its approach. But when it did tear through her, he couldn’t hold it as it snapped back, and all he could do was hold onto her waist to keep her on his cock.
This second analgasm lasted only half as long, and when it was over, John put both arms around her waist, stood up with his cock still inside her then turned around and laid her back on the futon, helpfully converted into such by Ken and George.
Scooping up her legs with his elbows under her knees, John leaned over and pinned Cherry Ann’s wrists against the futon, kissed Cherry Ann on the lips then lifted up and began pounding away with her feet curled against the top of his arms.
Cherry Ann surrendered completely to John’s power over her as he fucked her this way through two more analgasms that came about a minute apart. Then he dropped down, supporting himself on his elbows and releasing her wrists as he took her head in his hands and kissed her passionately while slowing pumping in and out, before sliding his hands down to grip her shoulders from beneath as he prepared to return to full speed.
Cherry Ann’s legs clenched him tightly at his waist, her narrow little feet resting at the top of his ass and arms and hands clinging to his back as he picked up speed until he was pummeling away, driving her through several more orgasms spaced, like the second and third, about a minute apart, urgently needing his own release. Finally, John began roaring, reaching a crescendo as his cock spewed its load deep into Cherry Ann’s ass, his whole body shaking with pleasure.
After his orgasm finished, John in one motion withdrew completely and standing up brought Cherry Ann to her knees to lick off the semen which still clung to the head of his massive cock.
Afterwards, he sent Cherry Ann upstairs to clean out the inside of her ass with her enema bulb and the outside with soap and water while he washed off his cock in the downstairs half-bath. Ken helped her up the stairs.
By the time Ken brought Cherry Ann down, John was completely dressed.
Cherry Ann was too stupified from her multiple analgasms to feel the least bit of embarrassment or shame, still charged with adrenalin. With her entire body tingling with hypersensitivity, she couldn’t even begin to imagine how much more ticklish her bare feet were now.
“Time to get back in your bondage, wench,” John told her.
“So you can resume punishing me for being so naughty?” Cherry Ann asked exuberantly, bouncing up and down on her bare heels. “Yes, sir!”
Cherry Ann took off her cuffs and handed them to Ken and George as John stood by watching, sat down on the towel now protecting the seat cushion and repositioned herself with her appendages through the appropriate holes. Ken and George then resecured the cuffs around her wrists and ankles. They quickly finished with the rest of the bondage, including tying her big toes together, but they didn’t secure the other the other end to the eyebolt.
Instead, after applying lavish amounts of baby oil to her soles and toes, they clamped a device in the center which at the far end from Cherry Ann was a half oval that forced her feet forward at a forty-five degree angle and curved her soles slightly inward. Once this was in place, they bound the loose end of the cord binding her big toes to the center eyebolt. They bound her two pinky toes to the outer ends of the foot restraint.
Just as they had done this, John returned from the kitchen and stood in front of her. Either Ken or George ball-gagged her from behind.
In one hand, John held a jumbo-size glass of water; the other was behind his back. He set the water glass on the small table directly under Cherry Ann’s heels.
Pausing a moment to admire the light coat of grey dust on the heels, balls, and sides of the bottoms of her captive bare feet, John felt his cock start to harden.
“Do you know how this works?” he asked, holding up a giant drinking bird, the body of which was twelve inches long.
Immediately, Cherry Ann panicked as she had before, pulling frantically at her bondage and shaking her head vigorously. For securely attached to the back of the over-sized children’s toy was the pheasant tail feather fan.
“Oh, good!” exclaimed John brightly. “I see you get the picture. The rest of us need a break, so our little friend here is going to keep you company for a little while.”
Ken and George replaced the blindfold, ear plugs, and ear muffs. John adjusted the position of the tickle-torture device so that the ends of the feathers barely touched the surface of the bottoms of Cherry Ann’s bare feet. Then he set it in motion, and after Cherry Ann immediately started giggling, George reached between her legs and turned on the G-spot vibrator.
Up and down went Cherry Ann’s mindless foot tickler. Up and down, up and down, up and down, without ceasing, like a metronome keeping with the music of her continuous hysterical giggling, screams of frustration, and wails of misery.
With the curvature of the bottoms of her feet due to the restraint device and the shape of the business end of the pheasant tail feather fan, no part of Cherry Ann hypersensitized bare soles and toes was spared. The only relief she got were the brief fraction of a second the thirsty bird dipped its beak into the water and the equally brief fraction of a second the ends of the fan’s feathers passed the tips of her toes before starting back down.
John’s cruel precision placement of the drinking bird ensured that the feathers stroked lightly enough to remain madly titillating despite travelling the same path continually.
After how long Cherry Ann did not know, since time had lost meaning for her, the thirsty bird’s mindless, cruel caressing ceased.
In fact, it had been about twenty minutes, just enough time for the three men to brew and drink a cup of coffee.
Chapter 11: Hell Week Continues
Half an hour later, the four rested in the study gathered around the coffee table, Cherry Ann and John in armchairs, Ken and George on the couch.
Cherry Ann sat with her knees to the back of the chair and her bare feet hanging over the edge, her body twisted toward the men, sipping a glass of wine with a dreamy, satisfied look on her face.
John was recounting to Cherry Ann, John, Ken, and George had already organized on a provisional basis the Fusse Kitzeln Gentlemen’s Club, its membership led by the Troika included all the other men who’d come by John’s place while Charlie was being groomed into Cherry Ann, thirty-six gentlemen in all. John had nicknamed the group the Bad News Bears.
Their very presence at John’s had been part of Cherry Ann’s grooming, helping to create the environment which made her possible, and they were providing funds for the Gefieder Foundation, so it was only fair they should share in the outcome. The visits around the city six evenings next week would be just the beginning.
“What’s the Gefieder Foundation?” Cherry Ann asked.
“Though connected to the Fusse Kitzeln Gentlemen’s Club, it’s a separate entity and it’s sole reason for existence is to administrate an endowment to pay tuition, books, lease on a used economy car, and spending money so that some lucky university can be available on call to satisfy certain exotic pleasure tastes,” John replied.
“Exotic tastes, you say?” Cherry Ann said playfully. “You mean like, say, pretty feet and tickling combined with pedal, oral, and anal sex?”
“Why, yes, exactly,” John answered. “She has to be insanely ticklish and have pretty little soft bare girl’s feet,” he added, winking.
“I think I just may know the right girl for them.”
“The compensation package includes salon and cosmetics, with hair styling and mani-pedi, plus full-body laser removal.”
“Very nice,” Cherry Ann said. “What about room?”
“That would be the servant’s quarters in my back yard,” John told her, “very close to uni.” Not to mention easily accessible by both Ken and I.
For her Hell Week, the Troika kept Cherry Ann completely naked with wrist & ankle cuffs, bondage collar, a butt plug in her ass, and a chastity device, except for the evening visits around town.
As part of her training, Cherry Ann spent much of the time in the basement dungeon being trained by Darly and June, whom the Troika had hired for the task. Neither actually worked as escorts, not did the other three; that was merely a ruse for their conversation with Charlie after the party. Once the Troika had explained their Halloween ordeal was due to Charlie, they proved quite zealous about helping out.
Three times a day, Cherry Ann was bound to one of the rattan loveseats in the basement, ankles to the corners and wrists behind her head, and ball- gagged. For fifteen minutes while Cherry Ann was thus trussed, Darly and June tickled her bare feet with feathers. At the two-minute mark, they would turn on either the HItachi magic wand, the head of which rested against her anus, or the electro-stim butt plug, depending on which they used that session.
In addition to the above, these sessions included sensory deprivation by virtual reality. As she was being tickled and stimulated, Cherry Ann’s eyes and ears were being assaulted by clips or oral and anal sex and subliminal visual and auditory messages designed to make or keep her submissive along with, hopefully (from the POV of The Troika), to condition her respond to tickling of her feet by becoming extremely horny even against her will.
At the end of the fifteen minutes, the VR equipment and Cherry Ann’s gag would be removed. Then while one of The Troika fucked her soundly, the two girls would tickle her bare feet. After the one fucking her came, the girls would re-gag Cherry Ann and tickle her all over for the remainder of the hour, stopping when the timer dinged.
Because the actual maid had been given the week off paid, Cherry Ann did much of the housework in between these torture/reeducation session. In addition, she serviced occasional members of the gentlemen’s club who came by, though not in bondage.
Beginning on Sunday evening, the Troika locked Cherry Ann in stocks for an hour of tickling by a group of six every evening through Friday. For these times, once the tickle torturers for that evening had arrived, they were gathered in the basement. Cherry Ann, dressed in the string bikini bra & panty set she wore Thursday at the start of her Spring Break Hell Week and covered by the button-down that came with it, would be led downstairs through the men to the stocks.
In the basement were at least three sets of stocks made from rattan loveseats, identical to the one in the living room, and one of these stood in the middle of the room. Once Cherry Ann was completely secured as she was Thursday night and ball-gagged, the screen on the huge screen TV on the wall would turn on to a scene of Cherry Ann in her slave princess costume, poised to begin a dance.
As she did so, with “After Dark” in the background, Cherry Ann rapped the following in voiceover:
Immediately upon the end of which, the tickling of Cherry Ann’s poor soles would indeed begin. Every night after that was over, Cherry Ann gave blowjobs to each of the torturers to thank them for her chastisement.
Chapter 12: Epilogue
Monday morning, the timelock opened, Cherry Ann retrieved Charlie’s clothes and went to classes as Charlie. The Troika gave him a week to get together those things he would need with him in the servant’s quarters, so he went home.
The first thing he did was call Darly and June to invite them over.
After recounting briefly what had happened since Halloween, the two girls became quite envious and asked him if he knew a way they could end up in his position. He just smiled and replied, winking, “I may know a few people who can help out with that.”
Charlie’s parents were still in the Bahamas, so the three had the place to themselves. The rest of the afternoon and evening, they took turns tickling each other silly and having every conceivable kind of sex a MFF non-het trio can have.
Charlie/Cherry Ann had at last apotheosized into the person they were always meant to be without the suppression of one gender under the other, both being kinky as fuck.
Cherry Ann brought the proposal of Charlie’s friends to the Troika, and it was accepted. From the provisional scheme of six groups plus the Troika, the thirty-nine reorganized into three groups of thirteen, one for each willing and eager tickle slave girl.
[The End?]
Part 1: http://www.ticklingforum.com/showth...Cherry-Ann-(MMMm-Mx36m-MMMt-Mx36t-FFt)-Part-1
The following story involves nonconsensual and consensual tickling and tickle torture, bisexuality, bigenderness, some bit of straight sex. I say story, but at 96 pages in MS Word 2007 Verdana 12, it's 96 pages long, more of a novella. So long that I've had to chop it up into two parts; this is Part 2.
Chapter 7: The Inquisition
Chapter 8: The Peril Of Making Unfortunate Demands
Chapter 9: Meeting Your Worst Fear
Chapter 10: The Deflowering Of Cherry Ann
Chapter 11: Hell Week Continues
Chapter 12: Epilogue
Chapter 10 contains very, very graphic accounts of hardcore sex that can be interpreted as bi, gay, or straight depending on your POV and how you read the scenes.
Chapter 7: The Inquisition
The following Thursday was Charlie’s last mid-term exam, which was in the morning, and since his afternoon classes had been cancelled, he dropped by John’s for the first time since the party because of mid-terms.
Entering the living room, he found John and Ken sitting on either end of the Chesterfield couch against the back wall and George sitting in the middle of the Bridgewater sofa against the front window.
After initial greetings, Charlie proceeded with his whole performance for removing his slip-on boat sneakers. But this time, instead of looking down at his feet like usual, he watched the men stare as he crossed one leg over the other, slowly removed that shoe, then recrossed his legs and did the same with the other shoe, wondering what had come over himself.
Taking both shoes in hands, he stood up, turned around, and stopped with his feet together, then lowered himself to his knees with his soles flexed, sat on his heels with his soles and toes curled, bent over with his soles flexed again and his ass deliberately thrust out as he placed the shoes under the stool, turning to look over his shoulder when they were in place.
Before Charlie took his leave to transform into Cherry Ann, John asked, “Will your parents worry if you don’t come home tonight?”
“No,” Charlie replied. “Not that it matters much because they’re in the Bahamas, but right now they think I’m on my way to Florida with some of my frat brothers for spring break.”
At John’s puzzled expression, he added, “They don’t know about what happened on Halloween.”
“Interesting,” John remarked, with his eyebrow cocked. He and the other two looked at each other with shit-eating grins, which they didn’t even bother to hide. Charlie’s heart skipped a beat as he realized what he’d just admitted and just how much power that knowledge gave them over Cherry Ann; she’d be completely at their mercy.
Charlie hurried up the stairs without looking back. In the guest bedroom, he found on the bed an emerald green string bikini bra & panty set and a lime green man’s shirt, buttoned all the way except for the top two.
To Cherry Ann, putting on this outfit felt even more brazen than usual after her performance downstairs. She put on her make up in her bra and panties, then put on the shirt, and, after rolling up the sleeves, unbuttoned it entirely before heading down to the living room.
* * * * *
Sometime later, Cherry Ann went back to the kitchen to pour himself a much needed glass of wine. As she reached up to the cabinet on the balls of her bare feet, George came up behind her and goosed her sides, making her jump, then ran his hand up Cherry Ann’s right thigh before playfully biting her shoulder, which made her knees buckle part of the way.
“What are you doing?” she demanded.
George just smirked. “After that little display when you arrived, turnabout is fair play.”
In response, Cherry Ann shrugged, her face gesturing as if to nonverbally say, “Ok, I get that.”
Returning to the living room where Ken still sat on the Chesterfield, Cherry Ann sat on the loveseat, which faced the window. Ken came over and sat down beside her, leaning in close with her arms around Cherry Lynn’s shoulders. She tried to pull away, but Ken seemed insistent.
Hoping to deflect the older man’s attention, Cherry Lynn recounted what had just happened with George.
Ken snorted. “Can you blame him?” he asked increduously. “Have you seen yourself in the mirror?” Punctuating this thought, Ken leaned in as if to kiss him on the lips. Cherry Ann, wide-eyed, turned her head at the same time Ken shifted his aim to Cherry Ann’s neck, which he licked until reaching her ear which he swirled his tongue inside then nibble on her ear lobe.
As Cherry Ann shrieked and jumped up, Ken just laughed.
Seeking sanctuary, Cherry Ann sought out John, whom he found at his desk in his home office working on some legal papers.
“Hey, John,” she said hesitantly, “have you got a minute?”
“Sure, no problem,” John replied looking up. “I’d love move over to the couch if you’ll sit with me and put your feet in my lap.”
At Cherry Ann’s bemused expression, knowing she was recalling the first time he’d tickled her, he added, “Perhaps I should’ve been more specific and said put your feet in my crotch.”
“Are all three of you here very stoned?” she asked.
John shook his head and laughed. “No, I think it’s probably just hunger,” he replied. “Why don’t you go make us all sandwiches for lunch?”
* * * * *
As she made the sandwiches, Cherry Ann admitted to herself that the overtures were not so much unwelcome as abrupt, with little or no lead-up to give her a heads-up.
They ate in the living room with no outward sign that any of the three rejected sexual advances had even happened. After lunch, Cherry Ann cleaned up. John returned to his study while George and Ken stayed in the living room to watch sports.
Cherry Ann came back from the kitchen and sat in her chaise lounger, wishing she had to guts to demand Charlie’s clothes back so she could change and go home without sounding pathetic. But finally, tired of her two companions crude sexual comments and lewd glares in the context of what’d happened earlier that afternoon, she finally flounced off into John’s study about four o’clock.
“I want Charlie’s clothes back now!” Cherry Ann demanded, attempting to stomp her foot and look defiant crossing his arms, which was comical in her current state of dress.
John turned away from his computer, leaned over with both elbows and lower arms flat on the desk and instead of answering the question asked one of his own.
“My giving you back his street clothes is literally impossible,” John informed her. “After I locked them in the safe, I set the timelock to open Monday morning after spring break, then I deliberately removed the fail-safe to bypass that.”
“Well, I…,” Cherry Ann began. “Can I at least have something a little bit less revealing to wear?”
“I have just the thing,” John smiled. Reaching into one of the drawers on the desk’s right side, he handed Cherry Ann a package. “You can put this on over your bra & panties.”
When she opened it in the guest room upstairs, inside was a girl’s white button-down short-sleeved blouse with a rounded collar, an azure plaid miniskirt, white cotton string-bikini panties, a sky blue V-necked sweater vest with a logo from the university, and a red girl’s bow tie, like schoolgirls wore.
In about twenty minutes, John called Cherry Ann to come down to the living room. When he got there, he saw that the loveseat and his chaise lounger had switched places, with the first reversed to face the wall about a foot and a half away and with its back cushions and the back’s covering removed, and that a camera set to record but on pause stood beside the lounger.
“Sit down, Charlie, with your back to the wall.”
After submissively obeying his instruction, Cherry Ann noticed five eyebolts screwed into the rattan across the top of the back, three evenly-space in the center and two at the corners, and from the plastic rims around the holes where they protruded from the rattan, she could tell they were removable.
Directly in front of her about a foot above the seat, halfway up, was a padded horizontal flat-sided oval six to eight inches wide and three to four inches high. It appeared to be permanently affixed in the rattan lacework in the loveseat’s back, which was about two feet high. About one foot to either side were smaller versions this oval, roughly three-and-a-half inches wide and two inches high.
“Put your feet through the hole in the center, then your hands through the ones to the sides,” John instructed her.
“Oh, hell, no!” Cherry Ann protested.
John held up his hand. “No tickling, I promise. None whatsoever, not even if I have to handcuff these two,” the latter being directed at George and Ken, who were grinning like sheepdogs. “We just need to make sure you stay in place for the discussion we’re about to have.”
“Um…okay, I guess,” Cherry Ann relented, consciously and intentionally ignoring how they’d broken faith with her first night as a barefoot tavern wench and what resulted from that for fear that otherwise she might chicken out of what she strongly suspected—and hoped, if she were honest—was about to happen to her.
After sitting down, she tried to stick both feet through at the same time, but they wouldn’t go together, so she stuck one through and then squeezed the other through beside it. It was a tight squeeze. The other holes for his hands were a little less tight, but not by much.
John pulled out from a tote bag four thick padded leather bondage cuffs. Taking two each, Ken and George placed them securely around his ankles and wrists. With those in place, Cherry Ann was truly trapped.
Her captors weren’t yet finished, however. Ken strapped Charlie’s own utility belt around her mid-thighs while George took a length of thick cotton clothesline from the tote bag and cinched her slender legs together just below the knees with three or four loops.
Last of all they brought out a strip of leather about a foot-wide with a metal hook on each end, hooking one end into the far eyebolt on her right and the other into the one on her left, adjusting it so that it ran just below her shoulder blades.
“Are you too uncomfortable?” asked John. “Physically, I mean?”
“Nope,” Cherry Ann responded.
“Very good!” John smiled. “Now we can proceed. Gentlemen?”
Ken and George stepped to either side of her, each holding up a beard trimmer, removed the heads, then switched them on.
“These tools can be quite painful if used incorrectly,” John noted, “and applied too firmly. Done with a lighter touch, however, these are among the most devastating tools in a master tickler’s arsenal.”
“Wait a minute! You promised!” Cherry Ann protested.
“I know I said ‘no tickling’, but you need a demonstration of what will happen to you if we think you’re lying or withholding information during the series of question we’re about to ask.” He turned to both sides then said, “Five seconds, guys, no more”.
The instant the headless trimmers touched Cherry Ann’s bare soles, she began to scream. In perfect unison, the two men ran their torture devices across the balls of his feet, down the outsides, then back up across the softer part of his captive soles. Meanwhile, John had moved behind her grabbing her around the chest with the other hand covering her mouth.
“Now, Cherry Ann, just imagine,” John told him sitting on the ottoman, “five minutes of that instead of five seconds. Because that’s exactly what you’ll get if you lie or withhold.”
Cherry Ann was looking and back and forth between the three expecting more and clearly not happy about it.
John rolled his eyes. “Oh for fuck’s sake!” He went back to his office and returned with Charlie’s boat sneakers. Stepped to Cherry Ann’s retraint, he placed them on their captive’s bare feet. “Happy now?”
The three men sat down on the Chesterfield facing Cherry Ann, John in the middle, Ken on the left, and George on the right. John pushed something on his smart phone and the camera began recording.
“Cherry Ann,” John began, “do you promise to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help your captive bare soles?”
“Yes,” Cherry Ann answered, adding “I do.”
“Ok, now we can begin. George.”
“Tell us,, Cherry Ann,” George smirked, “how do you feel about being barefoot all the time in front of so many older men, all of whom have an acute fetish for girls with pretty little soft bare feet like yours?”
“I don’t like it,” Cherry Ann said, visibly startled. “I’m shy about…other people... especially men…seeing my bare feet,” he stammered out, with unintentional stress on those last two words.
“Then why do you go barefoot every time you’re here?”
“Because y’all told me to,” Cherry Ann answered plaintively.
“Only the first time,” John pointed out smugly. “After that, it was all you.”
“Well, okay, yeah,” Cherry Ann conceded vexedly. “But being the only one barefoot every time I come here is a little humiliating, especially when I’m so much younger, with me in street clothes and all you dressed in business attire or casual dress suits, which is more than a little intimidating and makes me feel small. And the way all of you gawk at my bare feet, that just makes it so much worse, particularly with that nickname y’all gave me.”
“And what nickname is that, Cherry Ann?” Ken interjected with a knowing smile.
“Little Miss Pretty Feet!” Cherry Ann exclaimed indignantly, drawing laughter from the five older men. “I can’t believe you made me say that!”
“Now, Cherry Ann, tell us all about your clearly extensive foot-care regimine by which you keep them so soft and pretty,” George directed.
“Weekly pedicures, lotion three times a day, night cream at bedtime, touch ups with Pretty Feet and Hands during the week if needed.”
Ken came after that. “Next question: Where are you the most ticklish, and just how ticklish there?”
“My bare feet...,” Cherry Ann said sheepishly, pausing, “...are by far the absolute worst, as y’all probably guessed.”
When he paused long enough that it seemed he was through, Ken cajoled him, “And just how ticklish are your pretty little girl’s feet? Are they ‘very’ ticklish? ‘Highly’ ticklish? ‘Extremely’ ticklish? Finish the answer.”
The three had noticed Cherry Ann’s face flush brightly at the phrase ‘pretty little girl’s feet’. “No, it’s...way, way worse than that. They’re more like...excrutiatingly ticklish. Hyperticklish. So ticklish that I can even...God, this is sooo embarrassing...tickle them myself.”
“Now repeat that information in a full sentence,” John instructed, “using the exact same phrase Ken used to refer to them.”
“My pretty little girl’s feet are hyperticklish,” Cherry Ann monotoned.
“Repeat it, but with some enthusiasm this time.” John kept making her repeat the phrase until the absurdity of it had his subject laughing his way through it.
George’s turn came again “Do you enjoy being tickled?”
“No, I hate it! Tickling is torture!” Cherry Ann paused for a minute, chagrin on his face. “But since I have to tell the whole truth, yes, as embarrassing as it is to admit, I do…like it too.”
“You like being tortured?” inquired Ken.
“God, no, I can’t stand being tickled. I really do absolutely hate it, but…I like it when other people tickle me. I know that doesn’t make any sense, but I can’t help it!”
“Has anyone ever tickled you besides here,” continued George, “and, if so, what other tickling experiences have you had?”
“Y’all,” she started, looking at John then Ken, “remember me on Halloween, right?”
Continuing, Cherry Ann recounted her entire horrible, agonizing, humiliating experience that Halloween night in elaborate detail. Her narration included graphic descriptions of her suffering, of her shame, embarrassment, and humiliation, how she thoroughly sank into total immersion in all aspects of the role, that of a slutty female witch richly deserving her punishment, of how she secretly enjoyed it.
The three men were riveted to every single word of the story
Then she told them about the experiences with relatives when she was a little kid, then all about the neighborhood bully, giving vivid accounts of several of those encounters.
“But Halloween night?” she finished. “That was easily the worst time ever.”
John now took the lead. “We’re about to get into an area that’s never come up between us, is that okay, Cherry Ann?”
“Sure,” Cherry Ann deadpanned. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“Okay then: straight, gay, or bi?”
“Definitely bi. Bisexual and probably bigender too.”
“Have you ever used a dildo or other device anally, and if so, how often?”
“Yes,” Cherry Ann answered softly, looking at her knees. “Starting in high school after my sister left for uni. But not for several months.”
“Describe in great detail what it was it like.”
Cherry Ann’d not only used a dildo, she’d learned to give himself anal orgasms using a prostate massager. Powerful multiple hands-free anal orgasms that were much more intense and lasted two or three times longer than ones he got from normal masturbation. She used to do the latter regularly and save anal orgasm sessions for those rare occasions when she had time to recover, lately, she’d been doing it more and more as her asshole had begun to literally tingle with the need for it.
“Okay, let’s go back to the first round of questioning,” John declared. “You told us that you’re shy about older men seeing your bare feet, that being the youngest one here and the only one barefoot is intimidating, and that the way we stare at your bare feet makes it worse, especially because of your nickname, ‘Little Miss Pretty Feet’, isn’t that right?”
“Huh?” replied Cherry Ann, then thought for a minute, then nodded. “Yeah, I believe that’s pretty much what I said.”
“Indeed. You said all of that,” John affirmed. “But if you’re honest with yourself, the truth is, you enjoy it. A lot. All of it. The attention at our gatherings; being the youngest one here among all of us older men in suits, especially now that you’ve been doing so as female; being the only one barefoot, especially now that you’re wearing toenail polish; us staring at your ‘pretty little soft bare girl’s feet’ as you prance around showing them off or sit displaying them for all to see, teasing us like a flirty little teenage schoolgirl; being called by your nickname, ‘Little Miss Pretty Feet’; even when we tickle you, especially on your ‘hyperticklish’ bare soles and toes.”
Cherry Ann’s face turned bright red as she tried to hide it.
“Don’t you, ‘Little Miss Pretty Feet’? Enjoy it. All of it. Everything I just mentioned. You enjoy it. You crave it. You need it,” John demanded. “Answer the fucking question!”
With her head hung, Cherry Ann replied meekly, “Yes”.
“Yes what?”
“Yes, I do ...,” Cherry Ann said softly. “...love it. All of it.”
“And by ‘all of it’, you mean? Be specific. Include everything I mentioned. You don’t have to do it in my exact words, but please be sure to include a certain key phrase.”
Cherry Ann knew which one John meant.
“And rate how you feel about each part. Do you like it, do you enjoy it, or do you love it? Use stress on the word you choose. Come on, ‘Little Miss Pretty Feet’, we’re waiting.” Suddenly he held up his hand, reached into his pocket, then brought up his smart phone set to record. “Proceed.”
“I love all the attention at gatherings; I love being the youngest one here, the only teenager among all of you older men in suits, especially now that I’m appearing as female; I love being the only one barefoot, especially now that I can wear toenail polish; I love having you stare at my ‘pretty little soft bare girl’s feet’ when I tease y’all with them like a flirty teenage schoolgirl; I love my nickname ‘Little Miss Pretty Feet’; and I love it when you tickle me, especially when you focus on my hyperticklish bare soles and toes.”
“Tell us the whole truth, Little Miss Pretty Feet. Why do love all of that?”
After several moments, Cherry Ann finally spoke. It wasn’t like she had to think about it; she’d already done so quite a lot. She was just hesitant to admit it out loud. “Because it makes me feel really small, helpless, vulnerable, and submissive,” she said softly, “and that...excites me. It turns me on.”
At that, John ended smart phone recording; the larger digital video camera was still going.
Cherry Ann had never been so humiliated in her life. Not even on Halloween night had she felt so shamed or felt so open and naked. But, then, neither have I been so turned on, she thought.
“In others words, you’ve been misbehaving like a flirty teenage schoolgirl, vain and self-absorbed, with no thought about the implications of your actions nor of their ramifications.”
“But I...,” Cherry Ann started, then was dumbstruck. She had no justifiable retort, understanding that he was guilty of everything inferred in John’s statement and that the three men knew it too.
“See now?” John smiled exultantly. “Since you’ve misbehaved just like a naughty little schoolgirl, you’ve been dressed as one.”
Cherry Ann’s face blushed bright red.
“At last we’ve arrived at our destination, now that all your secrets have been exposed both to yourself and to us,” John announced as he opened his laptop in the ottoman and made a couple of clicks.
He and the other two moved to the Brookshire sofa against the window.
“You’re gonna love this video, Cherry Ann!” John assured hherim, grinning broadly as were his two companions. “And the three of us can’t wait to watch you view it!”
Cherry Ann’s initial curiosity turned to mortification mixed with stark terror as the scene came into focus on the huge flatscreen TV, even more so as he not only recognized the event but this very vidclip.
“Oh…my…God…,” was all Cherry Ann could say as she watched a male guest at the Halloween party tickling her helpless bare feet. She dreaded what was to come as the focus changed from a long shot of her writhing body to her flailing feet and wriggling toes, traveled upward to rest on her face as she giggled helplessly in what appeared to be cheerful delight, as if she were enjoying the torment of her tender bare soles.
Here and now, after everything that had happened to her these past weeks and months, after all that she had done and submitted to in this place, the absolute deep truth of these words was completely undeniable and stripped her completely naked of any defense to the contrary.
Even more horrifying than the video was the three men in the room with him reciting from memory what scrolled across the screen, directly to him now rather than through a digital medium, making it much more personal.
You let this happen
You wanted this to happen
You’ve always wanted this to happen
Why else make yourself into such a sexy little slut?
Why else allow yourself be made so helpless?
Why else pamper your precious tootsies with such intent?
Why else show off such pretty little soft bare feet so...wantonly?
And you thoroughly enjoyed it, didn’t you?
The rapturous look on your face here
Betrays your secret, the unambiguous truth
You loved every single torturous minute of it
And you yearn for it to happen again...and again
To be kidnapped, held captive, helpless
Completely at the mercy of your male captors
And tickle-tortured without limit or reprieve
Into wholehearted sexual submission
Tickle! Tickle! Tickle!
You wanted this to happen
You’ve always wanted this to happen
Why else make yourself into such a sexy little slut?
Why else allow yourself be made so helpless?
Why else pamper your precious tootsies with such intent?
Why else show off such pretty little soft bare feet so...wantonly?
And you thoroughly enjoyed it, didn’t you?
The rapturous look on your face here
Betrays your secret, the unambiguous truth
You loved every single torturous minute of it
And you yearn for it to happen again...and again
To be kidnapped, held captive, helpless
Completely at the mercy of your male captors
And tickle-tortured without limit or reprieve
Into wholehearted sexual submission
Tickle! Tickle! Tickle!
As the clip ended with the photo of the three evil clowns, each holding a feather, Cherry Ann, whose attention had been until then tunnel-visioned to the TV screen, finally became aware of the room again.
Now that the video had ended, John had returned to the Chesterfield, Ken had moved to the chaise lounger, and George remained on the Bridgewater, all three older men were smiling at him triumphantly with smug expressions.
Each of the men held up a stiff turkey feather, the very same turkey feathers from the end of the clip.
“How about it, Cherry Ann?” John taunted. “Are you ready to find out if these pretty little soft bare girl’s feet of yours are feather-ticklish?”
Cherry Ann didn’t panic; Cherry Ann freaked the fuck out. War veterans John and Ken were quite impressed with her mastery of profanity.
George put down his feather and motioned the others to do the same. Cherry Ann quieted immediately and quickly settled down.
“I think what we’ve just witnessed and Cherry Ann experienced,” George the psychology professor (and licensed psychiatrist) stated to the room, “is a full-blown panic attack resulting from a severe case of pternophobia, the fear of being tickled with feathers.”
Ken again. “Hasn’t anyone ever tickled your bare feet with a feather? Or have they and that’s why you’re so afraid.”
“No,” Cherry Ann responded, “but only because no one’s even tried,” she added almost plaintively.
“Not even Halloween night?” John inquired.
“No, that was all fingers and fingernails.”
“Have you fantasized about having your bare feet tickled with a feather?”
“Yes, actually,” Cherry Ann admitted shyly, “wondering if it’d really work, if a feather really could tickle my bare feet. I’ve heard it’s just a myth, or at least exaggeration. But if it’s a real thing...yes, absolutely, it’ll definitely work on me.”
“Are you curious enough to let someone wanted to try it tie you up and do that, would you let them?”
“Oh my God, no fucking way!” she exclaimed. “My bare feet are way too fucking ticklish to risk that. ‘Hyperticklish’, remember?”
“And, tell us, ‘Little Miss Pretty Feet’,” John bore in quickly, “just why is that?”
Cherry Ann, glanced quickly around the room at the intently watching men before hesitantly saying, “Because I’m terrified it’ll work. The idea of my bare feet being susceptible to feather-tickling scares me to death!”
Chapter 8: The Peril Of Making Unfortunate Demands
When the three men came over and moved to release Cherry Ann from her bonds after that exchange, she reacted with indignation.
“Are ya’ll fucking kidding me?” she demanded. “Y’all are seriously going to waste an opportunity like this? That’s absolutely mental!”
“I thought for sure when y’all convinced me to let myself be locked in stocks by promising not to tickle me it was just a ruse to get me here so you could tickle-punish me severely for rejecting your sexual advances earlier this afternoon. But, nooo, y’all have to be all godsdamned honorable.”
At first, John, Ken, and George’d been so startled and shocked by Cherry Ann’s outburst that they froze in place. Still too stunned to move, the three men’s faces soon began to morph from startlement and shock to pleasant surprise. By the time he’s finished, though, they were grinning down at him like Bagheera watching food.
“Here I am, dressed like this, restrained like this, with my feet bare, captive, and exposed to danger, and y’all are not going to take advantage of it? You’re actually going to release me rather than exploit my helplessness and tickle the hell out of my ‘pretty little soft bare girl’s feet’? What the fuck is wrong with you?”
Cherry Ann had just made that fatal mistake of viewing the situation from their point-of-view at the worst possible moment. She really hadn’t meant it—well, okay, maybe a little—but the tension from her inquisition had left her bereft of, well, good sense, a condition also known as fucking crazy.
“My, my, my, you’re quite the bright-eyed and bushy-tailed eager beaver little tickle-slut, aren’t you, Little Miss Pretty Feet?” John declared. I am so glad the camera is still recording, he said to himself. This rant will make a great vidclip for use at some future occasion.
Oh, fuck me…did I just say all that out loud? Cherry Ann’s face was a wide-eyed mask of fear as she realized what she’d just done. She herself was even more startled than the targets of her rant.
“Why yes, my Little Miss Pretty Feet,” John replied to Cherry Ann’s unspoken inquiry, “and I assure you we heard every single word, including those you didn’t say. The aphorism ‘Be careful what you wish for because you might just get it’ comes to mind.”
“Thanks for the ‘invitation’,” added Ken. “This reminds me of that Christmas 2004 cartoon by Hahathna of ‘Santa’s 18 year old daughter Krissy Kringle’ repeatedly boosting the sleigh because the punishment was being bound in a bale of hay for reindeer to lick her bare feet (https://www.deviantart.com/hahathna/art/Christmas-2004-30041415).”
“Yeah, being honorable is nice and all,” said George, “but it’s so much more fun to be a conniving bastard, and the reward are more entertaining. Kudos for bringing us back to our senses.”
“No! Don’t! Please, I didn’t know what I was saying, I really didn’t mean it, please don’t do this to me! You promised!” After his rant, Cherry Ann’s protests seemed weak and pathetic even to herself.
John turned to Ken. “We need a ball gag, the piece of clothesline for toe-ties, six sets of banjo pics, and a blindfold.” He turned to George. “Go to the kitchen and get vegetable oil, a baster brush, and some newspaper.”
George held up his hand. “Wait; I have a much better idea.” The three withdrew to the dining room after pausing the digicam.
* * * * *
“Cherry Ann, after consulting among ourselves,” John informed her after they’d returned a few minutes later, “what I was planning to do in response to your outburst before George intervened was blindfold, gag, and toe-tie you with your pretty little bare soles smothered in vegetable oil, then the three us were going to take turns tickling you with banjo picks on the fingers of both hands, fifteen minutes a time, and all three in the last fifteen minutes, making it a full hour.”
George spoke. “I, however, had another suggestion; we attempt to tickle your bare feet with feathers for ten minutes. If we don’t get a good reaction in that time, you win the challenge and we let you go Monday morning after Spring Break when the safe opens.”
Of course, moaned Cherry Ann to herself, I’ll still be y’all’s helpless barefoot prisoner until then.
“If, however,” Ken continued, “your pretty little soft bare feet do prove feather-ticklish, you serve us on our terms.”
“Give me the first one,” Cherry Ann responded. “I’ll take John’s.”
George looked at John with a smirk. “Told you.”
“Yeah, I hate to tell you this, Cherry Ann,” John told her, “but you have no choice in the matter. We’re going to test whether those pretty little soft bare feet of yours are feather-ticklish whether you like it or not.”
At this, Cherry Ann’s stomach did flip-flops, and she could feel the bottoms of her feet start to tingle, her soles quivering, and panic beginning to rise.
George undid the belt around her thighs then reached down, grabbed the emerald green string bikini panties on either side and pulled them up to the rope just below her knees, then redid the belt.
Ken came up from the kitchen with a small bottle of thick, peach-colored viscuous fluid, another of lotion, and a pair of velcro-fastened foot wraps like the ones they’d used at the salon.
He lotioned the bottoms of Cherry Ann’s feet thoroughly though not excessively, then began spraying the peach-colored substance all over the bottoms of her feet. It felt very warm, but not too hot. She tried to peer over the back of the loveseat to see what he was doing.
“What is that?” Cherry Ann inquired.
“Wait a second.” After a couple more minutes, he said, “There.”
Now finished applying a thick coat, Ken looked up at Cherry Ann and told her, “This is spray paraffin wax. Many salons have begun to use it because it’s quicker to heat since you can do it in the microwave, and it’s easier to apply. You may notice it’s less hot too.”
Ken’s last touch was to put the thermal wraps in place.
“Before we adjourn to the back, Cherry Ann,” John said, “there’s something you should know, Lynn. Ken and I instigated that whole ‘punish the witches’ exercise on Halloween with a sizable donation to the chapter just to find out if you’re as ticklish as we’d hoped.”
Before they left, they ball-gagged her, blindfolded her, and put in earplugs with hearing protective earmuffs over those. Cherry Ann was completely cut off from the world.
* * * * *
Cherry Ann couldn’t believe the situation she now found herself in and what they were going to do to her, and the worst part was she had only herself to blame…or commend.
More time passed as she pondered the Tickle Hell to come. She actually could feel her paraffin-encased bare feet slowly and inevitably growing softer, more sensitive, more excruciatingly ticklish, ever more potentially susceptible to the feathers.
At least I’ll finally live out my feather foot-tickling fantasy for real—if my bare feet are indeed feather-ticklish, that is.
Cherry Ann really was deathly afraid of her bare feet being tickled by feathers, so she was terrified that it’d work. At the same time part of her very much hoped that it would. Because in direct proportion to her absolute dread of that likely outcome was her intense arousal at the prospect of being that helpless.
As the impending threat of feathers dancing on the bottoms of helpless her bare feet bore down, Cherry Ann could think of nothing else and began to experience shortness of breath, rapid breathing, irregular heartbeat, sweating, slight nausea, dry mouth, shaking, and an inability to focus, all signs that she knew from Psych 101 signaled a phobia.
She ‘d never experienced this level of fear of tickling before, not even during the years she frequently suffered vicious tickle attacks by the neighborhood bully. Of course, no one had ever had her this helpless before.
On one hand, this challenge would finally satisfy her curiosity. On the other hand, if her three captors proved her so utterly defenceless against such a silly, preposterous menace, that vulnerability would be exposed and she would then be unquestionably at their mercy, as well as that of anyone with whom they shared the information. Because, if that happened, they’d able to use that seemingly absurd but very real threat against her at their whim to make her suffer and beg for mercy until she submitted to their wishes at any time.
Cherry Ann would then be a very real slave to all these older men, each and every one of them, a helplessness and vulnerability which suddenly she craved with all her heart, much more than anything else she had ever desired in her entire life. Though because of the predicament she had gotten herself into, it wasn’t like she had a choice in the matter.
Her soles began to tingle in anticipation that was an intoxicating clash of fearful and cheerful.
* * * * *
By the time the three men returned an hour later, Cherry Ann was about to explode from breathless expectation arising from a dizzying mixture of fear, desire, anxiety, and eagerness.
First they removed the earmuffs and earplugs, then they removed the gag, last of all her blindfold.
Ken went to the half-bath to get some things, swiftly returning with a wastebasket, a towel, a bottle of baby oil. Kneeling down before Cherry Ann’s captive feet, he removed the thermal wraps and peeled off the paraffin.
The instant the paraffin came off, a chill ran down Cherry Ann’s spine when the cooler air hit now her bare feet and she wiggled her toes. After being in paraffin for an hour, she could feel all 200,000 nerve endings in her each of her helpless bare soles. Ken pursed his lips and blew across Cherry Ann’s bare soles, causing her to giggle.
With the towel, Ken wiped the sweat and excess lotion from her soles and toes, pressing down firmly enough so that it didn’t tickle.
After this, Ken and George placed a footstool to either side of the stocks, and between the two, directly under Cherry Ann’s trapped bare feet, a low table upon which had been piled feather dusters, a pheasant tail fan, a raven’s wing, two golden eagle tail feathers, and turkey feathers.
Last of all, they put Cherry Ann’s boat sneakers on her bare feet. To her questioning look, John replied, “Just a visual effect, for the audience to see your shoes being removed against your will.”
Satisfied that the stage was fully set, John made a final statement to the captive before beginning the test and the webcast of it. “Should the feathers fail to tickle your pretty little soft bare feet within ten minutes, you shall be released from your bonds, but that will be the end for you with our society. If, however, they do prove susceptible, you shall remain our captive for an extended Hell Week of reeducation, beginning with a nonstop one-hour session of feather feet-tickling.”
He grinned at Cheryl Lynn’s facial expression. Ken switched the digicam back on and flicked an additional switch. “Just thought you should know, Cherry Ann, that this is now a webcam sending a live feed to an encypted channel to which all the men whom you’ve met here have a password.”
Great, just fucking great, Cherry Ann said to herself. All of those perverts will be entertained by my torture in real time.
“Good afternoon, fellow Bad News Bears,” John said to the camera. “Behind me in the stocks is our guest of honor, naughty little schoolgirl Cherry Ann, whom all of you have met here as Charlie. The impudent little minx has been thus secured in place so that we may conduct a test to see whether or not her pretty little soft bare girl’s feet are feather ticklish.”
“You see, no one’s ever tickled her bare feet, which she describes as ‘hyperticklish’, with a feather, but even she knows this is only because no one has ever tried. She claims she doesn’t really believe it’ll work, yet admits that she is terrified that it will. That the danger it will scares her to death and is her worst fear.”
He nodded to Ken and George, who squatted down and removed Cherry Ann’s boat sneakers. George pulled a short piece of cotton clothesline from one of his pockets, saying, “Feather-tickling is so much easier without having to contend with flailing feet and wriggling toes.”
George made two loops around Cherry Ann’s big toes, two twitches around the loops, tied off that end, then looped the other through the center eyebolt and tied it off. Then he pulled her two pinky toes to the sides and tied them back the two outer eyebolts in the center with twine so that her toes were splayed out.
Cherry Ann’s size 7B bare feet were now totally immobile and utterly defenceless.
“Should this naughty little schoolgirl’s pretty little soft bare feet prove feather-ticklish, as none of us have any doubt they will, she will be our own personal tickle slave for at least the entirety of Spring Break, and yes, we do intend to share.”
Lastly, Ken squirted out excessive amounts of baby oil and spread it evenly across her soles.
“That’s not fair,” whined Cherry Ann when he’d finished.
Standing ominously over Cherry Ann, John proclaimed, “Ken and George shall now attempt to feather-tickle your bare feet. They have ten minutes in which to get a real response, tickling continuously for ten whole minutes, nonstop. Soft giggling and slight twitching are allowed, but nothing more. Anything beyond that—squirming, laughing, begging, writhing, screaming, pleading for mercy—means you lose.”
George sat on the stool at Cherry Ann’s right, Ken on the one on her left, while John played videographer. Reaching over to the low table between them, they each picked up one of the golden eagle tail feathers, and held it up for Cherry Ann’s benefit. Each of them was wide enough to span one of her dainty narrow soles.
Immediately, Cherry Ann’s pteronophoia kicked in and she totally panicked, pulling maniacally at her trapped wrists and ankles. “Nonononononono! I don’t want to do this! Let me out! Let me out! Let me out!”
“Try not to think of these as two feathers, Cherry Ann,” Ken told her. “Think of them as tens of thousands of barbs with hundreds of thousands of barbules. Each.”
“FUCK YOU, FUCK YOU, FUCK YOU!” Cherry Ann responded, struggling frantically.
John turned to George. “Ready to start the clock,” he said, then turned back to Cherry Ann. Slapping her soles, he told her, “Keep that up after I start the clock, you’ll lose before we even start; should that happen we’ll organize a round-the-clock foot tickle train that will last all Spring Break long. And we’ll invite not only all the men you’ve met here to take part but your former frat buddies as well.”
This greater potential threat paralyzed Cherry Ann into absolute stillness.
“Or maybe instead we’ll bring out the itching powder. Not the kind you get in store, the real thing made from African devil’s beans; real nasty stuff. And leave it on all weekend long.” John slapped her soles once again, “Think you can behave now?”
Cherry Ann nodded her head slightly.
John smiled evilly at his helpless victim. Cherry Ann bit her lip. “Tell us again the name of your toenail polish,” he taunted.
Cherry Ann mumbled something under her breath.
“What’s that? Speak up for the camera.”
“Tickle Me Pink,” Cherry Ann answered, almost in a whisper.
“We still can’t hear you,” everyone said.
“TICKLE ME PINK!”
“Well, okay, if you insist,” John smiled wickedly.
John immediately started the clock as George and Ken began stroking the golden eagle tail feathers softly and slowly up and down Cherry Ann’s vulnerable bare soles.
Cherry Ann felt the two feathers begin gliding slowly up and back down the bottoms of her feet, and immediately she bit her lip and began pulling at her restraints. Up and down the feathers went, from the bottoms of her heels to the tips of her toes then back again.
“Stubbornness is irrelevant. You will be vellicated. Resistance is futile.”
In fifteen seconds, Cherry Ann began giggling helplessly despite her best efforts to hold out.
“I don’t—teehee teehee—want to do this—teehee teehee—anymo-o-o-ore,” she wailed.
It wasn’t technically a plea for mercy, so George and Ken continued slowly, softly stroking the two feathers up and down Cherry Ann’s defenceless tootsies. Being expert ticklers, and foot-tickling specialists, they knew, of course, how to get an instant reaction with feather-tickling from a girl as ticklish as she, but they and the other three wanted to drag it out, tease her with just how helpless she really was.
Having her toes bound and feet unable to move at all made Cherry Ann’s sense of utter helplessness so much worse, and with her soles taut the effects of the feathers increased exponentially. She clenched her fists tightly, screwed her eyes shut, and shook her head trying to block out the relentless sensations, but it was useless.
Oh shit, I can’t take this much longer! It’s driving me crazy!
It wasn’t long before Cherry Ann’s giggling became hysterical. John knew it wouldn’t be long, and started taunting her with words she’d seen before.
“You let this happen. You wanted this to happen. You’ve always wanted this to happen. Why else make yourself into such a sexy little slut? Why else allow yourself be made so helpless? Why else pamper your precious tootsies with such intent? Why else show off such pretty little soft bare feet so wantonly and provocatively?”
As he was speaking, Cherry Ann had started to squirm and writhe wildy. That meant she‘d lost the challenge already, but she was still just giggling, even though hysterically, her torturers wanted to make her laugh.
“Resistance is futile, Little Miss Pretty Feet. You will be vellicated. And discombobulated. Then subjugated. And re-educated. Then dominated. And thereby emancipated.”
When Cherry Ann finally did burst into helpless laughter, there was no doubt about her loss. But John signaled Ken and George that he wanted more. He wanted to hear her beg.
At a pre-arranged cue, both men switched tactics from gentle stroking to dragging the feather swiftly and firmly up, down, across, zig-zag, and in circles faster and faster all across Cherry Ann’s vulnerable soles.
The change in Cherry Ann’s reaction was immediate, erupting into howling laughter and wild writhing around as much as her bondage would allow.
“AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! NOMORE-NOMORE-NOMORE!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!
George and Ken continued tickle-torturing Cherry Ann’s bare soles for another thirty seconds, then switched to the tops (from their perspective) of the bottoms of her bare soles, applying short strokes to the soft flesh just below her toes and underneath her toes.
Now, Cherry Ann became absolutely frantic. She shrieked, then began laughing very hard, which quickly turned to screams and pleading for mercy.
“PLEASESTOP-PLEASESTOP-PLEASE-PLEASE-PLEASE-STOPIT-STOPIT-STOPIT! ICAN’T-TAKEITANYMOREPLEEEEAAAASE!!!”
When they stopped after thirty seconds, Cherry Ann was undone. There was no way she wanted any of that done to her again. And being tickled like this in front of an audience, even one watching remotely, was just way too humiliating to bear.
“Oh, God, that really tickles!” Cherry Ann exclaimed as she struggled to get her breath.
I can’t believe they broke me that easily! she thought as John placed a slave collar with an O-ring around her neck and fastened it in place.
“Was it everything you imagined?” John asked.
“God, no...it was much worse!”
“Gentlemen,” John said after he’d turned to the camera, “Cherry Ann has lost her challenge, and lost it very badly, so...”
“Wait!” Ken intervened. “Didn’t you say we’d go for ten whole minutes?”
“Why, yes, you’re quite right. I did!” John said merrily. “Actually, I said ‘continuously for ten whole minutes nonstop’.”
“Then I guess we’ll just have to restart the clock again,” twinkled Ken.
“And since technically she already failed,” George added, “we can forego our limits and tickle her feet all at the same time.”
“If we’re gonna do that,” Ken proposed, “let’s also penalize her for losing the round so quickly and give her an extra ten minutes.”
“I like that idea!” declared John cheerfully as he reset the timer.
“Oh, God, no! Please, don’t do this to to me! No more feathers! No more feathers!” Cherry Ann pleaded intensely, heedless of the display she was making of her frantic desperation.
John held up his hand, turning toward the camera. “Before we do that, there’s something I’m dying to try on her,” he told them, and the audience, as he reached down and picked up the ostrich feather duster.
Turning back around to the captive, John began running the implement up and down the helpless bare soles and toes of Cherry Ann’s totally immobile feet.
Cherry Ann’s eyes flew open wide like saucers, and she gave a high-pitched squeal, then cried out, “Oh God, that really tickles!” as she struggled against her restraint, “Stop it! Stop it! Please! Please! Please! OhGodOhGod! Please stop it!”
Naturally, John ignored her and kept going.
While the stiffer golden eagle tail feathers may have been more intense in tickling sensations delivered, the softer plumes of the ostrich feather duster were more insidious, leaving her fully aware she was being tortured as well as feeling it and fully conscious that there was no way to escape her predicament. It was absolutely maddening.
“Gentlemen,” John addressed the recording, “tune into our society’s encrypted internet channel in half an hour for a live feed of the first hour of Cheryl Lynn’s four hours punishment.” He stopped the recording, saved it, then mass-emailed it to all of the members.
“Now we can begin,” John announced, when he finally ceased. “I’ll start the clock.”
Immediately, six turkey feathers, one in each hand of her three torturers, began their assault their assault on Cherry Ann’s uber-ticklish bare soles and tender toes.
“AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Stop it, stop it, stop it! AHAHAHAHAHA! OhGodOhGod! AHAHAHAHA! I can’t take this anymore! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”
And so it went for twenty minutes, except for when they tickled between Cherry Ann’s toes, which produced screaming laughter almost as loud as when, no longer bound by the terms of the “challenge”, they used the quills.
“Oh my God! Look at her nipples!
“They’re huge!”
“Nipples? Look at her clit!”
“Horny little slut likes it, doesn’t she?”
As the tickling continued, Cherry Ann’s suffering multiplied, the effects the the feathers on her soles being cumulative, increasing exponentially, making all those nerve endings ever more sensitive.
At a word from John, all three tickle torturers slowed the speed of their strokes, reducing Cherry Ann’s suffering to just barely unendurable.
“Tell us, Cherry Ann, you love this, don’t you? You love it when men tickle your bare feet,” John taunted her. “Admit it, or we’ll go back to the other way and keep doing it all night long!”
“Noooo...teeheehee,” Cherry Ann blurted out, before her desperation made her change, grabbing futilely for a chance at escape, “I mean...teeheehee... yes...teeheehee...I enjoy it...teehee!”
“And what do you enjoy, Cherry Ann? And is it just ‘enjoy’?” John pressed. “Tell us the truth.”
“No...teeheehee...I love it...teeheehee...when men tickle...teeheehee...my bare feet!”
“You heard the girl, boys,” smiled John triumphantly, “so let’s give her what she wants!” With that all six feathers began their rapid assault once again, sending Cherry Ann back into hysterical giggling that quickly escalated into guffawing laughter.
Unbinding her toes, the three took turns using the turkey feather duster, correctly perceiving that there was no way for Cherry Ann’s flailing feet and wriggling toes to evade it. But they were highly amused watching her make the attempt only to find no escape, almost as much as they enjoyed the extent of her cursing vocabulary, in several languages.
They taunted her with cries like, “Kootchie, kootchie, koo!” and “Tickle, tickle, tickle!”, until they started chanting, “Little Miss Pretty Feet, enjoying your special treat!”
Cherry Ann laughed, screamed, howled, and begged and pleaded for mercy as she shook, squirmed, writhed, and pulled frantically against her bonds.
Then they replaced the toe-ties (having to do so with one holding her toes as another did the tying because for some reason she was resisting) and resumed, only this time, while one used the feather duster on her soles, the other four sawed individual turkey feathers back and forth between her toes.
The whole time, Cherry Ann’s torturers taunted her with all the things they planned to do to her over the next ten days, telling her how much she deserved this and how they were savoring every single moment of her suffering.
When the timer’s alarm went off, the men kept going thirty more seconds, just to make her wonder if they’d ever stop.
After they finally ceased their torture, Cherry Ann’s hair was a mess and all 400,000 nerve endings in her soles were on fire, which didn’t even count the ones in her toes, nor in the rest of her body.
“Thanks for watching, gentlemen. This webcast is now ended. We and Cherry Ann will be seeing you very soon.”
Chapter 9: Meeting Your Worst Fear
After few minutes, when she had been given water and recovered, John told her, “Remember, Cherry Ann, that you have one more hour of foot-tickling ahead of you. Nonstop. With feathers. And there’s nothing at all you can do about it.”
They all enjoyed the horrified look on Cherry Ann’s face. They’d told her this before, of course, but that had been some time ago, well before she’d learned just how effective feathers were on the bottoms of her hyperticklish bare feet.
“Escape is impossible. Bargaining for mercy is irrelevant. Playing the victim card for sympathy is useless. Resistance is futile. These pretty little soft bare feet of yours that you’re so vainglorious about are going to be tickle-tortured with feathers for a whole hour straight.”
“But...,” Cherry Ann protested, “...shouldn’t that be forty minutes? You already did that to me for twenty minutes.”
“Those twenty minutes were part of the challenge,” grinned Ken. “They don’t count toward the hour total.”
“Then please untie my toes! Let me move my feet around, please! I’ll go crazy, literally, if I can’t move at all!”
“By the time we’re through with you,” smirked Ken, “you may just do that!”
“She’s really ticklish,” noted George. “If we don’t watch it, we may tickle her to death!”
As Cherry Ann pondered that harrowing thought and the nightmarish ordeal she was about to face live on camera before an audience, John placed his smart phone of on her knees.
“Now, Cherry Ann, you’re going to memorize this, practicing until you get it every word right without stumbling, and when you have it right, you are going to recite it into my smart phone for me to send out.”
This...This is too degrading to say out loud, Cherry Ann told herself.
“Please don’t make me say that,” Cherry Ann implored. She searched the faces of the older men looking for a shred of of compassion or sympathy. “I just...I just can’t! And I won’t.”
John pulled out his phone and held its screen toward her. He pushed something on its screen, and the recording he’d made earlier began to play.
“Do it, Cherry Ann, or this recording goes out to every single member of your former fraternity in an unencrypted form in which they can share it with whomever they please.”
Seeing no other option, Cherry Ann reluctantly surrendered. And indeed she was reluctant…at first.
Cherry Ann read through the statement silently a couple of times, then began to read it out loud over and over and over, and as she did so, a change came over her and her demeanor changed.
With her capitulation, her last thoughts and desires of her time in sensdep before they returned to begin the ‘test’ stirred deep in her thoughts then stormed to the surface, filling her mind as she grasped just how true—now that she’d failed that test so spectacularly, with all many older men whom she’d teased these past few months with her ‘pretty little soft bare feet’ witnessing that demise—that both those fears and desires had come.
The three men were surprised but quite pleased with Cherry Ann’s sudden urgent enthusiasm as she practiced, asking for feedback, pouting if she stumbled, grateful for praise when she got it right, looking for guidance upon which words to give stress. She even suggested alterations as well as numerous additions to make it even more humiliating and demeaning for her, which the three of them found quite amazing.
While Cheryl Lynn rehearsed her speech, which had grown to about four times its original length, the men set up the professional camera and aduio equipment for the live-feed webcast.
By the time the practice finished after several minutes, she seemed thoroughly eager to deliver her confession and appeal for her punishment, and even more to actually receive it.
“And please, please, please, sirs, please untie my toes!” Cheryl Lynn begged last of all. “Please! Let me tease for the audience while delivering this speech. I promise to be a good little girl and let you tie them back up again for more tickle-torture after I’m done!”
Satisfied she was ready, John sent a message to the remote watchers that the show was about to restart. It only took about ten seconds for all of them to respond. “Speak loudly and clearly,” he told her, then added, quite needlessly, “and do please remember to smile.”
From the silly smile spread across Cherry Ann’s face, John wondered if she’d ever stop smiling. Then he switched the camera of his smart phone on, at first turning it toward himself.
“Gentlemen, I give you Cherry Ann.” He then turned the phone toward the subject of his introduction.
“Hi, gentlemen, I’m Cherry Ann, and though y’all are probably already aware of what I’m about to say, in light of the fact that I’ve been teasing y’all so much these past weeks and months, each and every one of you individually and all of you together collectively deserve to have me confess these things in explicit detail so that there will be no doubt or confusion about your right to take advantage of the power the information gives you over me at will and with impunity as a weapon with which to bring about and then perpetuate my thorough subjugation.
“My pretty little soft bare girl’s feet are so hyperticklish that it’s absolute torture. I’m deathly afraid of tickling because I can’t stand it the least little bit. At the same time, no matter how much I absolutely hate being tickled, I nevertheless love it when you older men tickle me, especially on my bare feet, and particularly if it’s against my will or an act of submission on my part, because then I feel small, helpless, vulnerable, and submissive, and that turns me on.
“Since I also have a morbid fear of my feet being tickled with feathers, to which they’ve just now been proven uniquely susceptible, as penance to atone for my naughty behavior, every evening from Sunday through next Friday, my hosts will lock me in stocks in the basement here and make me available to teams of six at a time for one hour, so that every single one of you may take part in my just punishment using that very thing. Please show me no mercy whatsoever.”
(To give you an idea of Cherry Ann’s sudden enthusiasm, the original before her alterations, written by the men, read: ‘Hi, I’m Cherry Ann, and I know I’ve been a very naughty little schoolgirl teasing all you older men with my pretty little soft bare feet, so I beg you from the bottom of my heart to chastise me severely with an exceptionally fitting punishment: a lengthy nonstop unbearable feather-tickling on the tender bottoms of my thoroughly immobilized and completely helpless hyperticklish bare soles and toes. I hope you enjoy the show!’)
Cherry Ann’s delivery was perfect. And the whole time she’d been merrily showing off her soon-to-be mercilessly tickle-tortured bare feet for the camera like an invitation. Then, true to her word, she meekly submitted to the toe-ties by Ken and George once she’d finished, while John sent that short clip to the thrity-six men in the network.
John glanced back at Cherry Ann, who managed to seem both completely terrified and overly thrilled at the same time, yanking madly at her bonds in desperation yet bouncing up and down in incongruous excitement.
“Boys, I think we better ball-gag her for the next part.”
“Wait, sirs, please!” Cherry Ann cried. John’s first impluse was to ignore her, but then he realized she hadn’t said “No” or “Don’t” or “Stop” and grew curious. “Just for a second.”
He held up his hand to halt Ken.
“Ok, go on.”
“Sirs, can you please, please, please...,” Cherry Ann requested, “...blindfold me too? I’ve been a very naughty girl after all and deserve to be punished in the worst way possible.” Also, she hoped that not actually seeing the feathers might lessen her panic.
John’s eyes flew wide in surprise, and he chuckled, shaking his head. “All right, if that’s what really you want, no problem!”
He grinned. Then he lowered his head, shook it, lifted his eyes to the ceiling, then looked at her and rolled his eyes. “I suppose you’d like the ear plugs and ear muffs too.”
Cherry Ann just beamed wide-eyed like a gratefully eager puppy dog, fervently nodding her head. John snorted.
He nodded to Ken, who ball-gagged her, then to George, who blindfolded her, while he added the ear plugs and ear muffs. Cherry Ann was now not only trapped and totally powerless, with her ‘pretty little hyperticklish bare feet’ entirely at the mercy of these five men, and totally cut off from her environment. Last of all, Ken inserted a G-spot vibrator between her legs, adjusting its postion so that the tip of its curved end nestled just inside her anus and its shaft pressed against her scrotum.
Mere seconds later, Cherry Ann felt six stiff-but-supple turkey feathers stroking her bare feet, panic-stricken at their first touch as they reawakened her tortured nerves, knowing that for the next four hours this would be her only sensory link to the outside world.
As the insidiously tickling touch of the feathers relentlessly caressing her helpless soles and toes in wave after wave of maddening, unendurable tittilating sensations transmitted ticklish torment throughout her entire body, causing her to thrash wildy, laugh maniacally, struggle furiously, and weap tears of frustration that smeared mascara down her cheeks, she found herself consumed by an inescapable, unambiguous truth:
I really did let this happen. I really did want this to happen. I really have always wanted this to happen. To be totally helpless, completely at the mercy of men hell-bent on tickle-torturing me without limit or reprieve into wholehearted submission as their “female” sex slave. Why else show off my well-pampered ‘pretty little soft bare feet’ so provocatively all the time to a bunch of older men who are all obvious feet-fetishists when I know they’re so hyperticklish?
Just then all six feathers ripped away any conscious thought for the next few minutes as they began a united assault against her tender toes and all the spaces between. Fortunately, most of the feathers resumed their attack on her soles, but just as Cherry Ann’s mind started to recover, one of the men reached between her legs and turned on the vibrator.
Forced cries of passion from the newly added and pointedly sexual stimulation now joined Cherry Ann’s wails of ticklish misery as she prayed to any god who would listen for the tickling of her bare feet to stop. Her body convulsed spasmodically from the clash of stimuli, and as the simultaneous feather-tickling of her bare feet and the titillation of her bunghole persisted unstoppably, the two divergent sources fused into a single alloy of cause-and-effect.
Time lost meaning. For Cherry Ann, now, there was no time. Only tickling. And vibrations.
Just as Cherry Ann’s mind was about to truly snap apart, the feather-tickling of her bare soles and toes suddenly ceased, and at almost the same instant the G-spot vibrator sending shock waves directly into her anus was turned off. As she sat heaving for breath with tingling ticklish feelings still crawling across her soles and toes, not to mention those in her anus, the ear plugs and ear muffs were removed.
She was given water, still blindfolded, and mental consciousness began to return . Cherry Ann had never before suffered this much from tickling, not even Halloween night. But she’d survived. Just as Cherry Ann felt a wave of relief at this, John’s voice disabused her of that futilely hopeful delusion.
“Congratulations, you naughty little schoolgirl,” he told her. “You’ve survived the first hour of your punishment. Maybe even with a little bit of your sanity still intact. Only ten more long torturous days ahead.”
Overwhelmed by a crushing sense of dread, Cherry Ann began to sob. She sobbed even harder as they undid her bondage, in both relief and despair, a release of not only the tension of this afternoon and evening but of the past several months.
One of them, probably John, hugged her as the others replaced the slave cuffs around her ankles and wrists, with Cherry Ann still blindfolded. When the others had finished, the man holding her (it was John) placed his hands on either cheek, tilted her head back, kissed once softly on the lips, then again more fully, his tongue exploring her mouth and wrestling with her own which was responding in kind as his hands slid under her short skirt to cup both cheeks of her bare ass.
Cherry Ann was overwhelmed in a rush of emotion and sensations, moaning loudly as the man she couldn’t see kissed down her neck. Another man grabbed her right wrist, turned her toward him, reached under her sweater vest and shirt to tweak her swollen nipples, then he too kissed her passionately. The third stimulated her left nipple with his right hand and his left cupped her ass, sliding a finger in her asshole, as he kissed her.
Chapter 10: The Deflowering Of Cherry Ann
Two of the men led Cherry Ann, still blindfolded, a little way across the floor and stopped. Then they bit down gently on either of her shoulder neck points, catching her as her knees buckled then guiding her the rest of the way into the Sit Down position.
Cherry Ann could tell she was not on the hardwood floor because whatever she was on was padded and her Tickle Me Pink toes hung down over the end of it, she quickly surmised she must be on the foot of the chaise lounger.
When her blindfold was removed, Cherry Ann saw she was indeed at the foot of the lounger, facing George leaning against the backrest, legs spread, seve-inch cock pulled out of his pants.
As she bent over to start her way up the chaise lounger, assuming he wanted her to suck his cock, George stopped Cherry Ann and told, “No, not that; I want you to use those pretty little soft bare feet of yours.”
Cherry Ann grinned broadly, then brought her legs around and placed her feet on George’s cock, curling and uncurling her toes, then put them to either side and began rubbing it gently up and down.
George called for baby oil, which was provided, then had Cherry Ann turn around so that he could apply it to her soles, telling her to remain in position as she began to masturbate him with her feet as he switched focus back-and-forth between them and Cherry Ann’s gyrating plaid-covered ass.
Reaching down, George linked Cherry Ann’s ankles cuffs together, then began to tickle her bare soles with his finger nails, and he soon blew his load all over the bottoms of her bare feet.
After Cherry Ann had displayed her second ‘reward’ by presenting her cum-covered bare soles and toes, Mustafa ordered her to face him and lick it all off while he watched. Then he and Chen took their leave as they had work in the morning, unlike Cherry Ann’s other three captors, John, who worked a flex schedule since he was the boss, Ken, who had no surgery scheduled, and George, who had no Friday classes.
Ken and John noted aloud how cute Cherry Ann looked in her schoolgirl uniform on the chaise lounge with that goofy smile on her face, scooping up into her mouth cum from her chin, seeming entranced and enthralled.
* * * * *
Ken took George’s place on the lounger, leaning against the backrest with his legs spread, his bulging erection about to burst the zipper of his suit pants. He unzipped his trousers and pulled out his rock hard cock, about six inches long and very thick.
“Lie down on your stomach with your feet in the air,” he directed Cherry Ann. When she complied, he ordered her, “Now, worship my cock and worship it well, Cherry Ann, like a good little girl.”
Cherry Ann kissed the tip of Ken’s cock, then swirled her tongue on its underside just beneath the head. Then she put it in her mouth and began to slowly suck, swirling her tongue around it has she did. Ken grabbed both sides of her head and shoved down, and Cherry Ann gagged.
When she did, Chen pulled her mouth completely off his cock, telling her, “We’ll have to work on that during your training, wench.”
He then pulled her head back down and let her continue, keeping his eyes focused on her constantly moving—paddling, sole-flexing, toe-curling, gyrating—bare feet above her azure plaid covered ass.
Before long Cherry Ann was sucking enthusiastically away and so eager to do it well that she managed to conquer her own gag reflex in just a couple of minutes. Soon, Ken was gripping the arms of the chaise lounge tightly with his head back moaning in pure pleasure.
“Oh my God, you were born for this!” he cried out. Inspired, Cherry Ann started sucking and licking as if she were in a contest to be the first to get to the center of a Tootsie Pop.
“Let him cum in your mouth, wench,” she heard John tell her once it became clear from Ken’s reactions that he was about to reach climax, “but don’t swallow yet.”
Ken grabbed Cherry Ann’s head again and began moving it rapidly up and down, then cried out as Cherry Ann felt his warm semen filling her mouth. Ken’s hands dropped from her hand, but Cherry Ann kept moving until his orgasm was completely finished.
“Now, wench, Sit Down,” John instructed, “and show us all your reward.”
Cherry Ann sat back on her heels and obediently opened her mouth then stuck out her jizz-covered tongue for inspection, first to Ken, then the two men on her left, then the two on her right.
“Okay, Cherry Ann, now you may swallow.” She did so, then licked jizz off her lips and the remainder from the head of Ken’s dick before sitting back again with a goofy smile spreading across her face. She seemed quite pleased with herself.
They brought her a glass of cool water, which she drank slowly, swirling it around in her mouth before swallowing.
* * * * *
When she’d finished, John told Ken and George, “Take the wench to the bathroom upstairs, put her in the tub, and give her a thorough enema; Use the big bag. Make sure that she cleans her ass and feet with soap and water afterwards, and that she pisses too, sitting on the toilet as a good little girl should. Then have her wash her face and reapply her make-up.”
When Ken and George brought her back to the great room in the front of the first floor twenty minutes later, Cherry Ann saw that the camera and speakers had been removed. The enema in front of the two men had been humiliating, though she saw the necessity given John’s expressed worries, and she really had needed to piss badly. Assuming the men were going to resume their feather-tickling of her bare feet, she started over to the loveseat-turned-stocks.
“No, not there,” John commanded. “Well, not yet, anyway.” Then he ordered her to prostrate herself on the ottoman again, this time facing the window.
Cherry Ann heard the rustling of clothes and Ken and George begin chuckling.
“Elbows and knees, wench,” John finally ordered.
Oh God, oh God, oh God! Cherry Ann thought, expecting his large cock in her ass.
She felt John kneel behind her, life up her skirt, then she cried out in shock as he licked the outside of her anus.
“OH MY GOOOOO...!” was all Cherry Ann got out before his large darting tongue penetrated the rim and began dancing around inside, causing her elbows to collapse and guttural moans to spew from her mouth as her upper body writhed and her thighs quivered violently.
John continued for several minutes, enjoying his power over the naughty little slut. When he ceased, Cherry Ann still had tremors running through her body.
“Oh my God,” she said, “that was...oh my God.”
“Back up on your elbows and knees, wench,” John ordered. Cherry Ann immediately complied.
Cherry Ann heard some indistinguishable sounds behind her as she stared out the window into the night, watching cars pass and people walking by. Suddenly, the window in front of her became opaque, turning into a mirror.
John stood directly behind her, putting his smartphone, which must’ve been interfaced with the privacy system, on one of the nearby tables. He was completely naked, and at around 275 lbs., quite stocky, but while he’d lost a lot of definition, it was clear that at one time he’d been quite well-toned, so the weight didn’t seem too flabby.
But what drew Cherry Ann’s attention was John’s large fully erect cock. The soles of her bare feet tingled with sense memory.
Thank God I stretched myself out earlier today, she thought, a little intimidated seeing it in its full naked glory. It was a good thing she’d done the stretching with a large butt plug.
John turned around to do something on the table behind him (John) and Cherry Ann noted that his ass still looked pretty firm. When he turned around, she saw he was wearing surgical gloves,no doubt borrowed from Ken. The right one glistened from anal lube.
She watched him walk over and squat down behind her again. Cherry Ann gasped as his large right index finger slid into her ass.
“Hmmm,” John remarked, “that was easy enough.”
He added his middle finger, and when he began to rotate the two back and forth, Cherry Ann started to moan. “It seems you’ve come prepared,” he noted, “tight but very pliable. Good girl!”
John then added his ringer finger, pinky and thumb, forming the five fingers into a cone and started plunging it in and out up to his knuckles as he rotated.
Cherry Ann fell forward somewhat, with her chin nearly touching the ottoman. Her feet lifting off the surface with her toes curled tightly then began shaking, with her moans becoming louder and more guttural.
“OOOOOOOOWWWWW!!! OH MY GOD!!” Cherry Ann cried out, then groaned and grunted as John picked up the pace, which transformed into moaning as she hung somewhere between pleasure and pain.
John ceased fucking her ass with his hand, stood up, and walked around to her front. When he lifted her back to her elbows, his cock was right in Cherry Ann’s face. Her eyes lit up and a smile spread across her face. It looked about eight inches long and two inches in diameter, much larger than any dildo Cherry Ann had ever used to get off anally. She gulped.
“Ok, wench, let’s see if you can deepthroat this like you did Ken’s,” he said as he grabbed the back of Cherry Ann’s head with his left hand and brought it forward at the same time he thrust forward gently into her eager mouth. “Get me ready for your ass.”
As Cherry Ann began hungrily sucking and licking away, John moaned in pleasure. “Christ, Chen was right about you, that’s for sure.” She tried to take it all the way, but only managed to get in seven of the eight inches.
What Ken and George had been doing this whole time Cherry Ann had no idea, but as John pulled his cock from her greedy mouth, Ken took a seat on the Chesterfield couch while George sat on the chaise lounger across from him, so that they were on both sides of her.
John walked back to the table, picked up the lube tube, squirted some into his right hand, then began stroking the entire length of his large cock to get a thick layer on it. As he did this, he looked Cherry Ann in the eyes via the mirror, grinning.
“You know all of this is going in your ass, right, wench? Your mouth and throat may not be able to take it yet, but your ass is gonna take it all tonight.”
He snickered when Cherry Ann’s eyes grew wide as saucers.
Finished, he rolled off the surgical gloves and approached Cherry Ann, on elbows and knees in her schoolgirl uniform atop the cocktail ottoman, from the rear.
Cherry Ann bit her lip then sucked in her breath and held it as John reached the ottoman and flipped up the back of her skirt again. When he placed his hands around her waist, she closed her eyes tightly, gripping the edge of the ottoman firmly and gritting her teeth.
“Oh God, oh God, oh...ooooOOOOOWWWW!” she cried out as John thrust his massive prick slowly into her ass, going a third of the way in, then swiftly pulled all the way out. After she stopped twitching, he thrust again, this time going two-thirds of the way in, then pulled out again. Once again, he thrust two-thirds of the way in, then slowly worked the remainder of his cock until his groin stopped against Cherry Ann’s ass.
“AAAUUUUUUGGGGHHHH! SHIT THAT’S BIG! OH MY GOD OH MY GOD! YOU’RE RIPPING ME APART!”
Even with her stretching of her sphincter muscles earlier in the day, Cherry Ann could just barely accomodate John’s massive rod, especially since it’d been almost six months since her last anal play session.
“FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU!”
“No, my naughty little schoolgirl,” John stated domineeringly, “that’s what’s about to happen to you!” With that, he began a slow motion pistoning action of pulling almost all the way out and slowly pushing all the way back in, knowing that soon Cherry Ann would become accustomed to his massive size.
“Owowowowowowowow...oh Jesus, oh Jesus, oh Jesus fucking Christ, fuck you, fuck you, fuck you!” Cherry Ann could hardly control or comprehend the words spewing from her mouth.
“C’mon, ya little slut,” John encouraged, “I can tell you’ve had foreign objects in this ass before, so loosen up, damn it”, punctuating this by smacking her left then right ass cheek.
At this, Cherry Ann felt a change come over her. Muscle memory took over, and her sphincter began a dilating and contracting rhythm matching John’s entry and withdrawal.
“Oh God, oh my God, oh my God, yes!” Cherry Ann now cried as she began slamming back to meet his thrusts. “Just like that! Give me your all your cock!”
At this, John pulled all the way out. “If you want it back in, Cherry Ann, beg me to power fuck you like the dirty little cock-hungry wench that you are.” To tease her, he moved his cock slightly forward so that its tip just barely touched her anus.
“OH GOD, PLEASE, MASTER, POWER FUCK ME LIKE THE DIRTY LITTLE COCK-HUNGRY WENCH THAT I AM!”
At which, John thrust his cock into Cherry Ann’s ass all the way to the hilt then began moving steadily back and forth, in and out.
“Thank you, Master! Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Cherry Ann cried in gratitude before pure intense pleasure consumed her, changing her cries to loud moans of ecstasy.
John picked up speed quickly, slamming forward into Cherry Ann as she slammed back into him. “Yes! Yes! Yes! Fuck me hard and fast and deep! Fuck me! Fuck me! Fuck me!”
Soon John and Cherry Ann were both going full speed, and soon Cherry Ann’s cries metamorphosed into deep guttural moans and ferocious growls of raw animal passion as she shook her head wildly, her fingers gripped the edge of the ottoman, and her feet, toes clenched tightly, beat on the ottoman top, and her face scrunched up with craving.
At around two minutes, Cherry Ann’s breathing became extremely rapid, sharp high-pitched squeals replaced the moans and growls, and her whole body went rigid. Seconds later she screamed at the top of her lungs, beating the ottoman with her hands and slamming her head against it as a torrential leg-quivering, body-shaking, mind-shattering anal orgasm ripped through her with the force of a giant tidal wave, enfusing her whole body with an intensely exquisite pleasure the likes of which she had never felt.
John maintained his pace, driving Cherry Ann all the way through the last waves of intense pleasure convulsing her body, which left her quivering and twitching in their aftermath. From start to finish, Cherry Ann’s climax lasted a full minute.
John, Ken, and George were amazed, but not as much as Cherry Ann herself. John had slowed his movement after that spectacular orgasm completed, and slowly the spots cleared from Cherry Ann’s vision, and being beyond thought resumed her counterthrusts in time with John’s.
At this, John pulled all the way out, ignoring Cherry Ann’s cry of protest. Turning to her left then her right, Cherry Ann saw George moving away from the chaise lounger as John sat down on it with his legs spread after dropping the backrest to a forty-five degree angle.
“C’m’ere, wench,” he commanded. Understanding what this meant, Cherry Ann climbed down from the ottoman and assumed The Pose position on the chaise lounger.
“No, not that way,” John instructed her. “All fours, head down ass up, and flip up the back of your skirt so that Ken and George can see where this,” motioning with his cock, “has just been and what it’s done.”
As Cherry Ann began sucking greedily away, the thought of the sight her backside must be presenting to the two spectators briefly passed through her mind. She began sucking even more, but it didn’t last long.
John took her head in his hands, kissed her lips, and told her, “Now I want you to mount me and ride my cock.”
He tucked the bottom of the back of her skirt into its top as Cherry Ann squatted over his lap, then started rotating her hips as she worked her way down. When she had, he kissed her again, then nibbled her ear on one side and her neck on the other. Cherry Ann automatically started rising and falling as she rose back from John’s torso.
John seized her head on both sides and turned her face toward him. “Look me in the eyes, wench, no matter what happens. Give yourself to me completely.”
Behind her, Ken and George removed their belts and slapped her ass with them as she bounced up and down while John, who’d released her head, dropped his hands to her soft pink soles and tickled lightly. It wasn’t long before this triple combination of widely diverse sensations drove Cherry Ann to her second analgasm, with John grabbing her head again as soon as her sharp cries signaled its approach. But when it did tear through her, he couldn’t hold it as it snapped back, and all he could do was hold onto her waist to keep her on his cock.
This second analgasm lasted only half as long, and when it was over, John put both arms around her waist, stood up with his cock still inside her then turned around and laid her back on the futon, helpfully converted into such by Ken and George.
Scooping up her legs with his elbows under her knees, John leaned over and pinned Cherry Ann’s wrists against the futon, kissed Cherry Ann on the lips then lifted up and began pounding away with her feet curled against the top of his arms.
Cherry Ann surrendered completely to John’s power over her as he fucked her this way through two more analgasms that came about a minute apart. Then he dropped down, supporting himself on his elbows and releasing her wrists as he took her head in his hands and kissed her passionately while slowing pumping in and out, before sliding his hands down to grip her shoulders from beneath as he prepared to return to full speed.
Cherry Ann’s legs clenched him tightly at his waist, her narrow little feet resting at the top of his ass and arms and hands clinging to his back as he picked up speed until he was pummeling away, driving her through several more orgasms spaced, like the second and third, about a minute apart, urgently needing his own release. Finally, John began roaring, reaching a crescendo as his cock spewed its load deep into Cherry Ann’s ass, his whole body shaking with pleasure.
After his orgasm finished, John in one motion withdrew completely and standing up brought Cherry Ann to her knees to lick off the semen which still clung to the head of his massive cock.
Afterwards, he sent Cherry Ann upstairs to clean out the inside of her ass with her enema bulb and the outside with soap and water while he washed off his cock in the downstairs half-bath. Ken helped her up the stairs.
* * * * *
By the time Ken brought Cherry Ann down, John was completely dressed.
Cherry Ann was too stupified from her multiple analgasms to feel the least bit of embarrassment or shame, still charged with adrenalin. With her entire body tingling with hypersensitivity, she couldn’t even begin to imagine how much more ticklish her bare feet were now.
“Time to get back in your bondage, wench,” John told her.
“So you can resume punishing me for being so naughty?” Cherry Ann asked exuberantly, bouncing up and down on her bare heels. “Yes, sir!”
Cherry Ann took off her cuffs and handed them to Ken and George as John stood by watching, sat down on the towel now protecting the seat cushion and repositioned herself with her appendages through the appropriate holes. Ken and George then resecured the cuffs around her wrists and ankles. They quickly finished with the rest of the bondage, including tying her big toes together, but they didn’t secure the other the other end to the eyebolt.
Instead, after applying lavish amounts of baby oil to her soles and toes, they clamped a device in the center which at the far end from Cherry Ann was a half oval that forced her feet forward at a forty-five degree angle and curved her soles slightly inward. Once this was in place, they bound the loose end of the cord binding her big toes to the center eyebolt. They bound her two pinky toes to the outer ends of the foot restraint.
Just as they had done this, John returned from the kitchen and stood in front of her. Either Ken or George ball-gagged her from behind.
In one hand, John held a jumbo-size glass of water; the other was behind his back. He set the water glass on the small table directly under Cherry Ann’s heels.
Pausing a moment to admire the light coat of grey dust on the heels, balls, and sides of the bottoms of her captive bare feet, John felt his cock start to harden.
“Do you know how this works?” he asked, holding up a giant drinking bird, the body of which was twelve inches long.
Immediately, Cherry Ann panicked as she had before, pulling frantically at her bondage and shaking her head vigorously. For securely attached to the back of the over-sized children’s toy was the pheasant tail feather fan.
“Oh, good!” exclaimed John brightly. “I see you get the picture. The rest of us need a break, so our little friend here is going to keep you company for a little while.”
Ken and George replaced the blindfold, ear plugs, and ear muffs. John adjusted the position of the tickle-torture device so that the ends of the feathers barely touched the surface of the bottoms of Cherry Ann’s bare feet. Then he set it in motion, and after Cherry Ann immediately started giggling, George reached between her legs and turned on the G-spot vibrator.
Up and down went Cherry Ann’s mindless foot tickler. Up and down, up and down, up and down, without ceasing, like a metronome keeping with the music of her continuous hysterical giggling, screams of frustration, and wails of misery.
With the curvature of the bottoms of her feet due to the restraint device and the shape of the business end of the pheasant tail feather fan, no part of Cherry Ann hypersensitized bare soles and toes was spared. The only relief she got were the brief fraction of a second the thirsty bird dipped its beak into the water and the equally brief fraction of a second the ends of the fan’s feathers passed the tips of her toes before starting back down.
John’s cruel precision placement of the drinking bird ensured that the feathers stroked lightly enough to remain madly titillating despite travelling the same path continually.
After how long Cherry Ann did not know, since time had lost meaning for her, the thirsty bird’s mindless, cruel caressing ceased.
In fact, it had been about twenty minutes, just enough time for the three men to brew and drink a cup of coffee.
Chapter 11: Hell Week Continues
Half an hour later, the four rested in the study gathered around the coffee table, Cherry Ann and John in armchairs, Ken and George on the couch.
Cherry Ann sat with her knees to the back of the chair and her bare feet hanging over the edge, her body twisted toward the men, sipping a glass of wine with a dreamy, satisfied look on her face.
John was recounting to Cherry Ann, John, Ken, and George had already organized on a provisional basis the Fusse Kitzeln Gentlemen’s Club, its membership led by the Troika included all the other men who’d come by John’s place while Charlie was being groomed into Cherry Ann, thirty-six gentlemen in all. John had nicknamed the group the Bad News Bears.
Their very presence at John’s had been part of Cherry Ann’s grooming, helping to create the environment which made her possible, and they were providing funds for the Gefieder Foundation, so it was only fair they should share in the outcome. The visits around the city six evenings next week would be just the beginning.
“What’s the Gefieder Foundation?” Cherry Ann asked.
“Though connected to the Fusse Kitzeln Gentlemen’s Club, it’s a separate entity and it’s sole reason for existence is to administrate an endowment to pay tuition, books, lease on a used economy car, and spending money so that some lucky university can be available on call to satisfy certain exotic pleasure tastes,” John replied.
“Exotic tastes, you say?” Cherry Ann said playfully. “You mean like, say, pretty feet and tickling combined with pedal, oral, and anal sex?”
“Why, yes, exactly,” John answered. “She has to be insanely ticklish and have pretty little soft bare girl’s feet,” he added, winking.
“I think I just may know the right girl for them.”
“The compensation package includes salon and cosmetics, with hair styling and mani-pedi, plus full-body laser removal.”
“Very nice,” Cherry Ann said. “What about room?”
“That would be the servant’s quarters in my back yard,” John told her, “very close to uni.” Not to mention easily accessible by both Ken and I.
* * * * *
For her Hell Week, the Troika kept Cherry Ann completely naked with wrist & ankle cuffs, bondage collar, a butt plug in her ass, and a chastity device, except for the evening visits around town.
As part of her training, Cherry Ann spent much of the time in the basement dungeon being trained by Darly and June, whom the Troika had hired for the task. Neither actually worked as escorts, not did the other three; that was merely a ruse for their conversation with Charlie after the party. Once the Troika had explained their Halloween ordeal was due to Charlie, they proved quite zealous about helping out.
Three times a day, Cherry Ann was bound to one of the rattan loveseats in the basement, ankles to the corners and wrists behind her head, and ball- gagged. For fifteen minutes while Cherry Ann was thus trussed, Darly and June tickled her bare feet with feathers. At the two-minute mark, they would turn on either the HItachi magic wand, the head of which rested against her anus, or the electro-stim butt plug, depending on which they used that session.
In addition to the above, these sessions included sensory deprivation by virtual reality. As she was being tickled and stimulated, Cherry Ann’s eyes and ears were being assaulted by clips or oral and anal sex and subliminal visual and auditory messages designed to make or keep her submissive along with, hopefully (from the POV of The Troika), to condition her respond to tickling of her feet by becoming extremely horny even against her will.
At the end of the fifteen minutes, the VR equipment and Cherry Ann’s gag would be removed. Then while one of The Troika fucked her soundly, the two girls would tickle her bare feet. After the one fucking her came, the girls would re-gag Cherry Ann and tickle her all over for the remainder of the hour, stopping when the timer dinged.
Because the actual maid had been given the week off paid, Cherry Ann did much of the housework in between these torture/reeducation session. In addition, she serviced occasional members of the gentlemen’s club who came by, though not in bondage.
Beginning on Sunday evening, the Troika locked Cherry Ann in stocks for an hour of tickling by a group of six every evening through Friday. For these times, once the tickle torturers for that evening had arrived, they were gathered in the basement. Cherry Ann, dressed in the string bikini bra & panty set she wore Thursday at the start of her Spring Break Hell Week and covered by the button-down that came with it, would be led downstairs through the men to the stocks.
In the basement were at least three sets of stocks made from rattan loveseats, identical to the one in the living room, and one of these stood in the middle of the room. Once Cherry Ann was completely secured as she was Thursday night and ball-gagged, the screen on the huge screen TV on the wall would turn on to a scene of Cherry Ann in her slave princess costume, poised to begin a dance.
As she did so, with “After Dark” in the background, Cherry Ann rapped the following in voiceover:
I pretend to be very chaste and demure but
Secretly at heart I am a dirty little slut
A coy little prick tease leading you on a chase
The time has come for you to put me in my place
I love to titillate you with my pretty little feet
By making sure they are bare whenever we meet
I strive to keep them comely, alluring to your eyes
Shamelessly displaying them as if to advertise
From the very tips of my twinkling slender toes
Up and down the surface of my buttery soft soles
You gaze upon my bare feet full of burning lust
Using them to turn you on makes me feel robust
An attention ***** I like to flirt and play coquette
With no thought to satisfy the desire I abet
Feigning innocence you my victims to deceive
A poetic brand of justice is what I should receive
Knowing y’all have felt passion that I’ve spurned
You’re here to savor the retribution that I’ve earned
Not here just to witness but to take an active part
Chastising me by means I fear with all my heart
It’s your chance to repay me for the mischief I beget
And to teach me a lesson I will never forget
Since you already call me Little Miss Pretty Feet
This form of revenge should be especially sweet
For tonight you get to punish me for being indiscreet
With what for me is real torture but for you a real treat
Since the way to atone for thus causing your unease
Is surrender you my bare feet to tickle and tease
My poor little tootsies so tender I can’t bear
The least bit of tickling on their soles so bare
It’s a torture I can’t stand, a weakness that I hate
And I’m here completely helpless with no escape
My super ticklish bare feet are captive for you
To torture as you will so I get my just due
You may tease and tickle them as much as you like
I will laugh, scream, and beg the moment you strike
Now that I’ve confessed, I face my just reward
To see myself hoisted by my own petard
Use any tool you fancy, we have them all here
For me it will be hell, for you it will be cheer
To truly make me suffer and have a ball
A stiff turkey feather may be worst of all
The only thing beyond that is feathers in cluster
So to really make me scream, use a feather duster
Take turns tormenting them as much as you please
But no matter how I beg, grant me no reprieve
Continue nonstop no matter how I plead
Give me the punishment I very badly need
After you’re satisfied my resistance is undone
My well-deserved sentence will’ve just begun
To complete my penance for refusing to behave
I offer up myself as your pleasure sex slave
Use and abuse me like the slut I am inside
Take all the pleasure that till now I have denied
All your lecherous desires I’ll be here to serve
To be a slave without choice is what I deserve
And if you keep me in servitude as I so desire
I promise that I’ll do everything that you require
And now time has come for me to pay for my sins
So let this rhyme be over...and the tickling begin!
Secretly at heart I am a dirty little slut
A coy little prick tease leading you on a chase
The time has come for you to put me in my place
I love to titillate you with my pretty little feet
By making sure they are bare whenever we meet
I strive to keep them comely, alluring to your eyes
Shamelessly displaying them as if to advertise
From the very tips of my twinkling slender toes
Up and down the surface of my buttery soft soles
You gaze upon my bare feet full of burning lust
Using them to turn you on makes me feel robust
An attention ***** I like to flirt and play coquette
With no thought to satisfy the desire I abet
Feigning innocence you my victims to deceive
A poetic brand of justice is what I should receive
Knowing y’all have felt passion that I’ve spurned
You’re here to savor the retribution that I’ve earned
Not here just to witness but to take an active part
Chastising me by means I fear with all my heart
It’s your chance to repay me for the mischief I beget
And to teach me a lesson I will never forget
Since you already call me Little Miss Pretty Feet
This form of revenge should be especially sweet
For tonight you get to punish me for being indiscreet
With what for me is real torture but for you a real treat
Since the way to atone for thus causing your unease
Is surrender you my bare feet to tickle and tease
My poor little tootsies so tender I can’t bear
The least bit of tickling on their soles so bare
It’s a torture I can’t stand, a weakness that I hate
And I’m here completely helpless with no escape
My super ticklish bare feet are captive for you
To torture as you will so I get my just due
You may tease and tickle them as much as you like
I will laugh, scream, and beg the moment you strike
Now that I’ve confessed, I face my just reward
To see myself hoisted by my own petard
Use any tool you fancy, we have them all here
For me it will be hell, for you it will be cheer
To truly make me suffer and have a ball
A stiff turkey feather may be worst of all
The only thing beyond that is feathers in cluster
So to really make me scream, use a feather duster
Take turns tormenting them as much as you please
But no matter how I beg, grant me no reprieve
Continue nonstop no matter how I plead
Give me the punishment I very badly need
After you’re satisfied my resistance is undone
My well-deserved sentence will’ve just begun
To complete my penance for refusing to behave
I offer up myself as your pleasure sex slave
Use and abuse me like the slut I am inside
Take all the pleasure that till now I have denied
All your lecherous desires I’ll be here to serve
To be a slave without choice is what I deserve
And if you keep me in servitude as I so desire
I promise that I’ll do everything that you require
And now time has come for me to pay for my sins
So let this rhyme be over...and the tickling begin!
Immediately upon the end of which, the tickling of Cherry Ann’s poor soles would indeed begin. Every night after that was over, Cherry Ann gave blowjobs to each of the torturers to thank them for her chastisement.
Chapter 12: Epilogue
Monday morning, the timelock opened, Cherry Ann retrieved Charlie’s clothes and went to classes as Charlie. The Troika gave him a week to get together those things he would need with him in the servant’s quarters, so he went home.
The first thing he did was call Darly and June to invite them over.
After recounting briefly what had happened since Halloween, the two girls became quite envious and asked him if he knew a way they could end up in his position. He just smiled and replied, winking, “I may know a few people who can help out with that.”
Charlie’s parents were still in the Bahamas, so the three had the place to themselves. The rest of the afternoon and evening, they took turns tickling each other silly and having every conceivable kind of sex a MFF non-het trio can have.
Charlie/Cherry Ann had at last apotheosized into the person they were always meant to be without the suppression of one gender under the other, both being kinky as fuck.
Cherry Ann brought the proposal of Charlie’s friends to the Troika, and it was accepted. From the provisional scheme of six groups plus the Troika, the thirty-nine reorganized into three groups of thirteen, one for each willing and eager tickle slave girl.
[The End?]
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