tdh19882012
TMF Poster
- Joined
- Mar 17, 2017
- Messages
- 105
- Points
- 18
A quick attempt at a flash story.
**
Will she*never*learn?
Cranking the final belt tight and locking it in place, I watched as the rollers bristling with firm and wispy tendrils find their pre-programmed positions, wedging themselves in tight against her arches and whizzing into life. Rising and falling painfully slowly as though her feet were in a car wash. I'd forgotten to remove her toe ring, but no matter. Thirty minutes and the dark and muddy marks blemishing that sparkling titanium will be a distant memory.
I let it run against her feet dry for a few minutes, sitting by the immobilised works of art and watching those deep and pale arches gradually turn pink. I stared at her toes and watched them shiver, ever so minutely, inside the clamps. Her feet drowning with bubbles now that the jets have activated and I drizzled tea tree shower gel over the rollers. There's a gurgle as muddy water pools on the floor and is channelled along a slope and into the drain.
I place my hand on her thigh, looking down at her face. Such beauty. No movement. No sound, beside the mechanical whirring by her feet. Well, her eyebrows raise and arc and wrinkle frantically. Oh, to peel away the blindfold and witness those berserk eyes just for a second! No, no I mustn't. With my ear close to her mouth I can just make out faint, far-away screaming. This setup does its job – she will learn that running will*not*be tolerated.
It's funny, running is what brought her to me in the first place. Running through the forest, same route every morning and night. And now running has got herself strapped firmly to a bench in our washroom. She's had ample opportunities to improve her behaviour here, even witnessed other ladies having their own acts cleaned up. Yet,*still*she ran away... For a masters student she certainly appears to be a slow learner.
A simple button click and the pressure from the jets at her toes increases. Precise cocktail stick-thin streams devastate the nerves around her nail beds and toe tips. The room is heavy with the aroma of tea tree, if this isn't encouragement enough to clean herself up I truly fear for her future. She wouldn't be the first to...*Succumb, to a wash. I doubt she'd be the last. Despite the ferocity of her stimulation, I still can't hear her without leaning down to her mouth. Fantastic gag, I must leave this one a review.
I'm weary of allowing this one to go the full thirty minutes. The immobility, the appallingly ticklish sensations and the havoc it must wreak on the mind, it is*punishing. She can do fantastic things with her feet. And what feet! She's a natural! It would be a terrible, terrible loss. A little work is required on her attitude but that's perfectly normal for one so young, we mustn't be so relentlessly harsh no matter my wife's opinion.
If only she would*learn!
**
**
Will she*never*learn?
Cranking the final belt tight and locking it in place, I watched as the rollers bristling with firm and wispy tendrils find their pre-programmed positions, wedging themselves in tight against her arches and whizzing into life. Rising and falling painfully slowly as though her feet were in a car wash. I'd forgotten to remove her toe ring, but no matter. Thirty minutes and the dark and muddy marks blemishing that sparkling titanium will be a distant memory.
I let it run against her feet dry for a few minutes, sitting by the immobilised works of art and watching those deep and pale arches gradually turn pink. I stared at her toes and watched them shiver, ever so minutely, inside the clamps. Her feet drowning with bubbles now that the jets have activated and I drizzled tea tree shower gel over the rollers. There's a gurgle as muddy water pools on the floor and is channelled along a slope and into the drain.
I place my hand on her thigh, looking down at her face. Such beauty. No movement. No sound, beside the mechanical whirring by her feet. Well, her eyebrows raise and arc and wrinkle frantically. Oh, to peel away the blindfold and witness those berserk eyes just for a second! No, no I mustn't. With my ear close to her mouth I can just make out faint, far-away screaming. This setup does its job – she will learn that running will*not*be tolerated.
It's funny, running is what brought her to me in the first place. Running through the forest, same route every morning and night. And now running has got herself strapped firmly to a bench in our washroom. She's had ample opportunities to improve her behaviour here, even witnessed other ladies having their own acts cleaned up. Yet,*still*she ran away... For a masters student she certainly appears to be a slow learner.
A simple button click and the pressure from the jets at her toes increases. Precise cocktail stick-thin streams devastate the nerves around her nail beds and toe tips. The room is heavy with the aroma of tea tree, if this isn't encouragement enough to clean herself up I truly fear for her future. She wouldn't be the first to...*Succumb, to a wash. I doubt she'd be the last. Despite the ferocity of her stimulation, I still can't hear her without leaning down to her mouth. Fantastic gag, I must leave this one a review.
I'm weary of allowing this one to go the full thirty minutes. The immobility, the appallingly ticklish sensations and the havoc it must wreak on the mind, it is*punishing. She can do fantastic things with her feet. And what feet! She's a natural! It would be a terrible, terrible loss. A little work is required on her attitude but that's perfectly normal for one so young, we mustn't be so relentlessly harsh no matter my wife's opinion.
If only she would*learn!
**
Last edited:
