Okay, well, I managed to find the last one, though my description isn't too close to the actual story (the first three are closer, I promise!). I'm still looking for any of the first three. Thanks.
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Here's a repost of #4. It wasn't written by me, I'm not taking credit for it, but it's a damn good story nonetheless.
STORY: THE OLDE WAYS (M/F)
The heat at dawn signalled that today would be another scorcher, and Nathaniel Davidson perspired lightly while walking the well manicured grounds of The Williamsburg Preservation Settlement. A remarkable man of just 41 years old, and considered the foremost authority in American Colonialism in the country. His attention to historic detail manifested itself in everyone of the 27 restored buildings that tourists flocked to by the thousands.
Alexis Bowan kept pace, somewhat amazed at the much older man’s long strides. A summer job at Williamsburg between semesters would be a godsend, coinciding perfectly with her degree in history, just a year hence. She desperately wanted the job and listened attentively as Davidson spoke.
The pair stopped after rounding the corner of the 17th century jail. Alexis ran her fingers along the old yoke of the wooden stocks.
“They look authentic, don’t they?” Davidson asked, “but actually just a working replica. And such devices were used, long ago.”
“I know,” Alexis replied, “but I could never really see them as any real punishment.”
After some rebuttal on Davidson’s part as to the worth of the ancient puritanical stocks, Alexis became intrigued and sat down on the thick wooden plank, while Davidson raised then lowered the upper yoke, trapping her ankles, then securing her wrists in the looped rope at the top.
Still not convinced, she spoke again of their uselessness.
Davidson began untying her white running shoes.
“What are you doing?” Alexis asked, genuinely perplexed.
“You must remember, Miss Bowan, that two hundred years ago, women were considerably more modest than they are today,” he replied as he removed one shoe then the other.
“You see,” he went on as he slipped off the white socks, “for a woman to have her feet and ankles exposed in the public square, was looked upon as quite shameless.”
Alexis became nervous. With her feet now bare, and projecting out from the wooden stocks, a feeling of helplessness shivered through her. She felt almost naked, in her thin summer shorts and halter top, the image conflicting dramatically of a colonial woman, with her long sleeved high necked dress covering almost every square inch of the body.
“Sometimes, out of the earshot of the magistrate of course, one of the more sadistic jailers might pour a solution of salt brine on the hapless feet of the prisoner, while a tethered goat licked at the tender soles with its raspy tongue, often driving the poor woman quite insane,” Davidson spoke calmly, a twinge of satisfaction in his voice as he observed the worried look on Alexis’ face.
When he ran his finger nails over her own exposed feet she shrieked with alarm.
“Please, Mr. Davidson, don’t do that. My feet are terribly ticklish.” Alexis begged.
“You see the value then of this punishment device?” he queried.
“Yes....yes, of course,” Alexis replied not too convincingly.
“I don’t think you do, Miss Bowan,” he replied, and commenced to run his finger nails up and down the soft arches of Alexis’ feet.
More shrieks of alarm, strung together in a long constant wail, as Davidson continued to tickle her feet, despite her pleas. Over and over he teased, sometimes grabbing the toes of one foot and holding it steady, while his other hand mercilessly stroked the instep. Alexis contracted with reflex abandon as the convulsions of laughter gripped her insides.
“It was not uncommon for the jailer to tickle the under arms and ribs, especially of the females, which were quite rare in those days, and, I assure you, taken advantage of,” Davidson spoke while stopping the dreadful tickle torture, only to walk behind Alexis and place his hands on each side of her waist.
Alexis, breathing heavily with her recent exhaustive efforts, jumped anew as she felt the hands at her bare midriff.
“Of course, the ladies were not so exposed as you are now,” Davidson whispered and dug his fingers into Alexis’ ribs. She shrieked as if possessed. Davidson, applying pressure to just one side, caused Alexis to squirm and twist in the opposite direction, only to be met by curved fingers lying in wait.
Up and down the rib cage, Davidson explored like twin spiders, causing Alexis extreme agitation and animation. The fingers did not stay in one place too long but continued to move, always coming back to a certain place that produced a particularly loud incantation of mercy. Alexis laughed with no sound at all when the fingers glided up her torso to her under arms. Her jaw flexed openly and her eyes pleaded in horrified panic as he clearly had found the most sensitive and ticklish part of her body.
The fingers stayed there......there, in the tender hollows until Alexis had reached the brink of madness.
Davidson stopped, as Alexis now sobbed, her face an ashen blue from the hysteria produced.
“It is said, that regardless of their deep seated modesty, the women would actually welcome the lewd fondlings of the jailer, just so the tickling would stop,” Davidson whispered in her ear, his chest against her back, and his hands now up under her halter top and squeezing the full flesh of her breasts.
The nipples were three, maybe four times their normal size, hard and throbbing with a most intense desire.
“Do you think they welcomed such caresses of relief, Miss Bowan?” he still whispered, now rolling the stiff nipples to the bursting point.
Alexis could only moan, weakly nodding her agreement. Davidson milked, kneaded, stroked and pulled on the excited mounds until Alexis was at the farthest end of sexual arousal.
Davidson slid his hand down between her parted thighs and with curved fingers squeezed the spongy feminine flesh over the thin material of the summer shorts and the even thinner cotton panties.
Alexis could feel the fibers of the material become soaked, slick, and itchy with the juices of her arousal, as Davidons’s fingers and thumb squeezed and released the hold on her slit. She panted and mewed, all the while trying to thrust her pelvis upward to meet the grip and the thumb that pressed against the erect gristle of her clitoris.
Alexis snapped her head back. Eyes closed and mouth dry and agape as the spiraling waves of orgasm swept through her. Davidson gripped harder and shook the womanly flesh from side to side. Alexis writhed and squeaked, as the most intense climax of her 21 years tore at every nerve ending.
As she slumped limp over the smooth yoke of the stocks, Davidson undid the wrist loops, shifted her almost dead weight, and released her ankles from the stocks. Her top and shorts were soaking wet and stuck to her like a second skin.
“So, Miss Bowan, would you like the job? The season opens next week, Saturday.” Nathaniel Davidson asked, smiling.
With half closed eyes, Alexis looked up at the tall man. “Yesssss,” she whispered, nearly inaudibly.
“Good then!” Davidson replied. “The students from last year will be here tomorrow. They of course do the usual initiation stuff. I do hope you’re up to it. The hazing takes place right here.....at the stocks.”
