This is a story I wrote for a friend who loves ladies in peril, especially herself. Since she also loves tickling, I figured I'd share it here as well. This is a modern variant of the "goat licks stocked feet" torture from the Middle Ages, which also includes pseudo predicament-bondage to spice it up further. Hope you enjoy!
Anna was caught walking barefoot in the rain again, and a smile formed on her pretty face as she looked up at the cloudy sky. She loved the clean cool feeling of rain, of grass on her bare soles, of mud in between her toes. The fields near her house were her favourite shortcut home. She had played in them as a child, and knew them as well as she knew the palms of her hands and the soles of her feet. She was carrying her shoes in her hand, and her slender feet were bare beneath the rolled-up ends of her jeans. After a whole working day, the slightest excuse to remove her tight shoes and sweaty socks would always be taken.
Any other walkers or farmhands who might have been enjoying the fields had probably been driven indoors by the drizzle. There was not a soul to be seen, and her only company was the small group of goats picking at the lush grass around a nearby large bush. As she walked past, she noticed how one climbed onto the back of a companion, then into the crown of the bush, and began plucking at the fresh greenery out of reach of its friends. Anna grinned. Goats were cute. Clever, in a mischievous way, they always got up to no good, just like unruly children.
The rain was coming down quite heavily now, so Anna was forced to move off the field to the embankment just beneath the forest’s edge. Long ago the fields had been raised with mighty ramparts of earth to make them flat, and the old forest was now down a steep slope by her side. There was more mud than grass here, under the eaves of tall and ancient trees, and the heavy rain was making yet more, but Anna didn’t mind. She could smell the scent of wet leaves, flowers in bloom and the good dark earth beneath her feet. Nature, in all its beauty. She loved being in touch with it, and was happy to bury her toes in the dirt with each careful step.
Then a whole section of the earthy ridge gave way into thick soupy mud beneath her.
Anna dropped her shoes, flailing her arms with a yell of shock. She tumbled helplessly down the wet and muddy side of the embankment. Her handbag went flying as she crashed through long wet grass and small bushes, vines and dead brushwood. The foliage tugged at her damp t-shirt, pulling it up. The impacts on her bare belly knocked the breath out of her, and the vines wrapped around her waist, binding her arms to her sides. She rolled over and over down into the depths of the forest below, her vision alternating between treetops and mud, but she snatched a glimpse of what she was tumbling towards.
At the bottom of the hill was a narrow, dark hole, barely over a foot in width. Perhaps a fox’s den, or even a badger’s sett, it was clearly abandoned, its entryway festooned with new growth of gossamer-thin roots and vines. Breathless, Anna managed a weak grunt of fright, but her strong legs kicked out wildly. More vines snagged around her long, flailing legs, entangling her ankles. Yet her impetus ripped those free as well, and merely turned her chaotic tumble into a headlong slide towards that deep, dark tunnel. She thrust her toes into the mud, desperately trying to slow herself.
Anna’s head and shoulders ploughed through the thin webbing of roots and vines, and she plunged sliding on her chest into the sloped muddy tunnel. It absorbed her choked yell of terror along with her body, her hips, her thighs, and still she slid deeper. Her naked feet thrashed wildly. Then they hit something. There, no there! Anna’s long toes spread wide, then clenched. Her right foot slid free, but her left was still gripping the thin root her foot had brushed against. The toes curled so tightly they went white, as her right foot quickly found the root again with its questing toes, and likewise latched onto it.
Anna wasn’t sliding forwards anymore, but her world had become pitch darkness. Mud was everywhere, plastered to her face, her hair, her tummy. It had been driven into her jeans and even her bra. She could feel it oozing around her nipples and felt terror at the prospect of drowning in mud. She forced herself to focus and stay calm. She just needed to unpick the vines from around her wrists and arms, then she could dig her fingers into the sides of the tunnel, and pull herself back out.
The sensation of raindrops striking her upturned, muddy soles, told her that her feet were still in the open, but her arms were now wedged behind her back, as well as wrapped in those damned vines. Her slim fingers worked desperately at them, but they were so strong. Thin, yet supple, wound around her tummy from her breasts to her bellybutton, rendering her slender arms trapped and useless. Her eyes widened in the darkness. Through the gloom, it seemed the tunnel plunged much deeper just ahead. She fought the rising tide of claustrophobia.
All she had to do was hold on to that root with her toes.
One of the goats wandered down the embankment into the forest, following Anna’s trail of destruction. Leaves, broken stems, flowers - the goat contentedly ate them all. Goats are excellent climbers and they love salt, to the point they will go to any lengths, even eating mud, to get at it. Farmers usually tied salt licks to the fences for the goats, both to keep them happy and inside the fields, but the rain had washed them away. Muffled sounds drew its attention to the burrow close by. The trail of uprooted snacks led that way, and the hungry beast happily munched its way along Anna’s wake.
The goat reached the hole, where to its surprise it found Anna’s protruding lower legs and upturned bare feet. The goat was not afraid of humans. They were always friendly. Why this one was down a foxhole it had no idea, but she had helpfully pulled up a great deal of fresh undergrowth. Her long toes were tightly gripping one of the few unbroken root strands remaining across the hole. The goat nuzzled the root beside the neat unvarnished toenails, but it was brown and unappetizing. Yet the pale ankles a dozen inches away were lashed tightly together by leafy vines. The goat nibbled the leaves, and began to graze.
Within the confines of the tunnel, Anna felt something tug at the root her toes were clinging to. Her fingers lost their grip on the knotted vines she was picking at. Someone was there! She choked out a frantic call above the rising muddy water tricking around her. The rain was torrential now. The vines wrapping her belly made it so hard to recover her breath and raise her voice, but she tried again and again.
The goat ignored the sounds from inside the hole. The woman wasn’t kicking at it, so it felt no need to move on. Besides, the vines wrapped around her ankles were delicious, with their fresh juicy leaves, coated in mud. It was almost like a buffet!
Anna heard a muffled bleat, and felt tugging at the vines around her ankles. It was just a goat. Her heart sank in despair, but then she realised it was trying to eat the vines that bound her feet together. It was helping! Go on, she thought. I’ll feed you so many sugar cubes if you help me out of this! Yet as the minutes ticked past, her ankles remained tightly bound. It was eating the leaves, not the thin vine stems themselves. She gritted her teeth, spat out some mud, and focused on unpicking the vines she could reach with her fingers. Her toes were beginning to cramp. She had to free her arms quickly.
The goat plucked the last of the leaves, chewed it contentedly, and swallowed it. It nosed at the vine stem wrapped around the slender ankles, but that was as unappetising as the root had been. There was still mud to be had though, and the goat attentively licked it off the vines, using its long supple tongue to get all that salty goodness. Before long the vines were clean, but the goat kept licking. The mud was on the woman’s bare ankles as well, and on her heels. By traipsing light-heartedly barefoot through the mud, Anna had inadvertently flavoured her own feet.
With salty dirt.
Anna’s eyes widened in the darkness as she felt the tongue move onto her ankles. The shock of the sensation nearly made her toes flex, but she clenched them just in time, gripping the thin root desperately. The licking reached her heels, still bound side by side by the vines wrapping her ankles. Anna clenched her jaw so tightly her teeth ached, but she couldn’t suppress the shivers which began coursing through her body, for she had one crippling secret weakness.
Her soles were unbearably ticklish, and her toes were off the scale.
“Mmmph.”
The goat licked the shapely heels with dedication. The skin was firm and salty with dirt. It could feel a strange sensation, almost as if the woman was vibrating, but paid it no mind. It wasn’t being kicked, after all. Why stop? The heels were soon clean, a lovely shade of pale pink, but the goat did not care for their beauty. It was the salty flavour which drew its tongue higher now, running over the nearby soles as it sought out that delectable taste. The woman’s soles were much softer and warmer than her heels, and mud was deeply embedded within the creases and wrinkles. It would take a lot of licking to remove.
“Mhhnhn-hn-hn-hnmph!”
Giggles exploded through Anna’s body, and once more her fingers lost their place on the vines! The fingers writhed desperately behind her back, seeking those elusive knotted tendrils. She panted for breath, her toes aching as she tried with all her might to focus, but it was so hard. The tongue was warm and wet, but rough like a cat’s. That flexible abrasive surface pressed itself to her skin, molding itself to every contour of her long ticklish soles, gliding over the deep soft wrinkles with an endlessly maddening caress.
“N-stah-ha-hmmpfgh!”
Anna coughed as mud got into her mouth, her desperate protestation stifled, as if the goat would have cared if it had heard her, if it could have understood her pleas to stop. The licking continued, the warm rough tongue stroking Anna’s scrunched defenceless arches, slowly washing them clean of that delicious salty mud. Unfortunately for Anna, there was a downside to her beautiful feet, and those were her soles. And the downside to her soles was that although elegant and feminine, they were not petite size fives, nor sixes, nor even sevens. They were nines, and that simply meant one thing.
There was so much more to lick.
Anna whimpered in her dark muddy prison, her fingers slipping over the knotted vines which bound her arms. Her boyfriend sometimes licked her soles before they made love, and even here the distraction was just as intense. Every time that rasping tongue dragged over her helpless bare feet, it forced a shuddering giggle through her body. She caught a knot between her fingers and wrenched it loose. Yet before she could unwrap the vine, a slow lick scraped teasingly along her soft soles, and her fingers clenched as tightly as her toes. Her heartbeat was thundering in her ears now. Had to focus!
The goat kept licking, although the soles were creamy pale now, even the deepest creases washed clean. Anna’s tender insteps glistened with saliva, yet still the long toes managed to desperately grip the thin root. But the licking was moving higher, inch by ticklish inch up the length of her arches, until the tongue began caressing the tender pads of skin just beneath her toes. It seemed those beautiful wrinkled soles were trembling slightly. The goat didn’t notice, and wouldn’t have cared anyway. It had discovered another source of tasty salt – Anna’s clenched, sweaty toes.
“Mmm-mrrphl! NNNNGHHH!”
Anna choked out a cry into the flowing mud, her back arching involuntarily as the tongue slid along the tender undersides of her curled toes. Her head struck the roof of the tunnel, mud soaking into her long hair. Her eyes had grown used to the dark now, and she could see the pit in front of her, a black muddy abyss filling with flowing mud that washed past her hips, under her tummy and between her breasts. Her fingers writhed uselessly, clawing at the vines that bound her. Every lick threatened to break her concentration on her fingers, and the weakening grip of her toes.
The rough warm tongue washed her ticklish toes mercilessly. Her hips bucked, her body convulsed again, her bottom only able to rise an inch before pressing into the earth. The burrow was collapsing! Wave after wave of tingles surged relentlessly down Anna’s shivering legs, between her hips, along her heaving tummy, crashing into her firm nipples, into her foggy mind. Had to focus! But then her left foot slipped free. The sole arched, the glistening wrinkles finally smoothing as the toes spread in a terrified fruitless search for the root.
“HNNNGH! MRPHL!”
That maddening tongue licked between her toes as she squirmed her foot wildly. But there was the root! Her long toes clenched around it again, yet the licking never stopped. Her toes were almost dripping now, slippery, aching. The tingles inside her were now a hot glow. Anna screwed her eyes tightly shut, her belly heaving, hips undulating fruitlessly within the tight muddy tunnel. Her slender fingers were balled into fists, the vines forgotten.
The little toes failed first.
Unable to grip as tightly as their longer siblings, they slipped free and clenched uselessly. The root popped free of Anna’s toes, one by one, as they became increasingly slippery, exhausted, and distracted. At last only the big toes remained, curled as tightly as could be around that thinnest of lifelines, the meagre pathetic rootling. The tongue slid over them, once, twice, again and again, over and under, rasping the tender skin until it finally snuggled between her toes, caressing them almost sensually.
Anna’s hips gave a distinctive double-shudder.
Her feet lost their grip.
“NRRRF!” She coughed out bitter mud. More collapsed onto her head. “Help! HELP MEEE!”
The muffled pleas were faint. The goat backed away, startled, as the legs kicked free of the vines, flailing about desperately, seeking for some purchase. Anna slid further into the darkness, writhing as the mud enveloped her. Her toes squirmed wildly as her breath failed her, wriggling, clenching, and scrabbling in vain at the treacherous mud, until at last their squirming slowed and they went still. Her bare soles remained tightly scrunched, the slender beautiful toes pointing yearningly at the daylight as they vanished into the dark tunnel.
The goat bleated into the dark hole, but there was only silence. Rainwater flowed into the muddy depths. After a few minutes, when the burrow collapsed with a wet thump, the goat lost interest and climbed back up to the field.
After all, there was always more mud.
Anna was caught walking barefoot in the rain again, and a smile formed on her pretty face as she looked up at the cloudy sky. She loved the clean cool feeling of rain, of grass on her bare soles, of mud in between her toes. The fields near her house were her favourite shortcut home. She had played in them as a child, and knew them as well as she knew the palms of her hands and the soles of her feet. She was carrying her shoes in her hand, and her slender feet were bare beneath the rolled-up ends of her jeans. After a whole working day, the slightest excuse to remove her tight shoes and sweaty socks would always be taken.
Any other walkers or farmhands who might have been enjoying the fields had probably been driven indoors by the drizzle. There was not a soul to be seen, and her only company was the small group of goats picking at the lush grass around a nearby large bush. As she walked past, she noticed how one climbed onto the back of a companion, then into the crown of the bush, and began plucking at the fresh greenery out of reach of its friends. Anna grinned. Goats were cute. Clever, in a mischievous way, they always got up to no good, just like unruly children.
The rain was coming down quite heavily now, so Anna was forced to move off the field to the embankment just beneath the forest’s edge. Long ago the fields had been raised with mighty ramparts of earth to make them flat, and the old forest was now down a steep slope by her side. There was more mud than grass here, under the eaves of tall and ancient trees, and the heavy rain was making yet more, but Anna didn’t mind. She could smell the scent of wet leaves, flowers in bloom and the good dark earth beneath her feet. Nature, in all its beauty. She loved being in touch with it, and was happy to bury her toes in the dirt with each careful step.
Then a whole section of the earthy ridge gave way into thick soupy mud beneath her.
Anna dropped her shoes, flailing her arms with a yell of shock. She tumbled helplessly down the wet and muddy side of the embankment. Her handbag went flying as she crashed through long wet grass and small bushes, vines and dead brushwood. The foliage tugged at her damp t-shirt, pulling it up. The impacts on her bare belly knocked the breath out of her, and the vines wrapped around her waist, binding her arms to her sides. She rolled over and over down into the depths of the forest below, her vision alternating between treetops and mud, but she snatched a glimpse of what she was tumbling towards.
At the bottom of the hill was a narrow, dark hole, barely over a foot in width. Perhaps a fox’s den, or even a badger’s sett, it was clearly abandoned, its entryway festooned with new growth of gossamer-thin roots and vines. Breathless, Anna managed a weak grunt of fright, but her strong legs kicked out wildly. More vines snagged around her long, flailing legs, entangling her ankles. Yet her impetus ripped those free as well, and merely turned her chaotic tumble into a headlong slide towards that deep, dark tunnel. She thrust her toes into the mud, desperately trying to slow herself.
Anna’s head and shoulders ploughed through the thin webbing of roots and vines, and she plunged sliding on her chest into the sloped muddy tunnel. It absorbed her choked yell of terror along with her body, her hips, her thighs, and still she slid deeper. Her naked feet thrashed wildly. Then they hit something. There, no there! Anna’s long toes spread wide, then clenched. Her right foot slid free, but her left was still gripping the thin root her foot had brushed against. The toes curled so tightly they went white, as her right foot quickly found the root again with its questing toes, and likewise latched onto it.
Anna wasn’t sliding forwards anymore, but her world had become pitch darkness. Mud was everywhere, plastered to her face, her hair, her tummy. It had been driven into her jeans and even her bra. She could feel it oozing around her nipples and felt terror at the prospect of drowning in mud. She forced herself to focus and stay calm. She just needed to unpick the vines from around her wrists and arms, then she could dig her fingers into the sides of the tunnel, and pull herself back out.
The sensation of raindrops striking her upturned, muddy soles, told her that her feet were still in the open, but her arms were now wedged behind her back, as well as wrapped in those damned vines. Her slim fingers worked desperately at them, but they were so strong. Thin, yet supple, wound around her tummy from her breasts to her bellybutton, rendering her slender arms trapped and useless. Her eyes widened in the darkness. Through the gloom, it seemed the tunnel plunged much deeper just ahead. She fought the rising tide of claustrophobia.
All she had to do was hold on to that root with her toes.
One of the goats wandered down the embankment into the forest, following Anna’s trail of destruction. Leaves, broken stems, flowers - the goat contentedly ate them all. Goats are excellent climbers and they love salt, to the point they will go to any lengths, even eating mud, to get at it. Farmers usually tied salt licks to the fences for the goats, both to keep them happy and inside the fields, but the rain had washed them away. Muffled sounds drew its attention to the burrow close by. The trail of uprooted snacks led that way, and the hungry beast happily munched its way along Anna’s wake.
The goat reached the hole, where to its surprise it found Anna’s protruding lower legs and upturned bare feet. The goat was not afraid of humans. They were always friendly. Why this one was down a foxhole it had no idea, but she had helpfully pulled up a great deal of fresh undergrowth. Her long toes were tightly gripping one of the few unbroken root strands remaining across the hole. The goat nuzzled the root beside the neat unvarnished toenails, but it was brown and unappetizing. Yet the pale ankles a dozen inches away were lashed tightly together by leafy vines. The goat nibbled the leaves, and began to graze.
Within the confines of the tunnel, Anna felt something tug at the root her toes were clinging to. Her fingers lost their grip on the knotted vines she was picking at. Someone was there! She choked out a frantic call above the rising muddy water tricking around her. The rain was torrential now. The vines wrapping her belly made it so hard to recover her breath and raise her voice, but she tried again and again.
The goat ignored the sounds from inside the hole. The woman wasn’t kicking at it, so it felt no need to move on. Besides, the vines wrapped around her ankles were delicious, with their fresh juicy leaves, coated in mud. It was almost like a buffet!
Anna heard a muffled bleat, and felt tugging at the vines around her ankles. It was just a goat. Her heart sank in despair, but then she realised it was trying to eat the vines that bound her feet together. It was helping! Go on, she thought. I’ll feed you so many sugar cubes if you help me out of this! Yet as the minutes ticked past, her ankles remained tightly bound. It was eating the leaves, not the thin vine stems themselves. She gritted her teeth, spat out some mud, and focused on unpicking the vines she could reach with her fingers. Her toes were beginning to cramp. She had to free her arms quickly.
The goat plucked the last of the leaves, chewed it contentedly, and swallowed it. It nosed at the vine stem wrapped around the slender ankles, but that was as unappetising as the root had been. There was still mud to be had though, and the goat attentively licked it off the vines, using its long supple tongue to get all that salty goodness. Before long the vines were clean, but the goat kept licking. The mud was on the woman’s bare ankles as well, and on her heels. By traipsing light-heartedly barefoot through the mud, Anna had inadvertently flavoured her own feet.
With salty dirt.
Anna’s eyes widened in the darkness as she felt the tongue move onto her ankles. The shock of the sensation nearly made her toes flex, but she clenched them just in time, gripping the thin root desperately. The licking reached her heels, still bound side by side by the vines wrapping her ankles. Anna clenched her jaw so tightly her teeth ached, but she couldn’t suppress the shivers which began coursing through her body, for she had one crippling secret weakness.
Her soles were unbearably ticklish, and her toes were off the scale.
“Mmmph.”
The goat licked the shapely heels with dedication. The skin was firm and salty with dirt. It could feel a strange sensation, almost as if the woman was vibrating, but paid it no mind. It wasn’t being kicked, after all. Why stop? The heels were soon clean, a lovely shade of pale pink, but the goat did not care for their beauty. It was the salty flavour which drew its tongue higher now, running over the nearby soles as it sought out that delectable taste. The woman’s soles were much softer and warmer than her heels, and mud was deeply embedded within the creases and wrinkles. It would take a lot of licking to remove.
“Mhhnhn-hn-hn-hnmph!”
Giggles exploded through Anna’s body, and once more her fingers lost their place on the vines! The fingers writhed desperately behind her back, seeking those elusive knotted tendrils. She panted for breath, her toes aching as she tried with all her might to focus, but it was so hard. The tongue was warm and wet, but rough like a cat’s. That flexible abrasive surface pressed itself to her skin, molding itself to every contour of her long ticklish soles, gliding over the deep soft wrinkles with an endlessly maddening caress.
“N-stah-ha-hmmpfgh!”
Anna coughed as mud got into her mouth, her desperate protestation stifled, as if the goat would have cared if it had heard her, if it could have understood her pleas to stop. The licking continued, the warm rough tongue stroking Anna’s scrunched defenceless arches, slowly washing them clean of that delicious salty mud. Unfortunately for Anna, there was a downside to her beautiful feet, and those were her soles. And the downside to her soles was that although elegant and feminine, they were not petite size fives, nor sixes, nor even sevens. They were nines, and that simply meant one thing.
There was so much more to lick.
Anna whimpered in her dark muddy prison, her fingers slipping over the knotted vines which bound her arms. Her boyfriend sometimes licked her soles before they made love, and even here the distraction was just as intense. Every time that rasping tongue dragged over her helpless bare feet, it forced a shuddering giggle through her body. She caught a knot between her fingers and wrenched it loose. Yet before she could unwrap the vine, a slow lick scraped teasingly along her soft soles, and her fingers clenched as tightly as her toes. Her heartbeat was thundering in her ears now. Had to focus!
The goat kept licking, although the soles were creamy pale now, even the deepest creases washed clean. Anna’s tender insteps glistened with saliva, yet still the long toes managed to desperately grip the thin root. But the licking was moving higher, inch by ticklish inch up the length of her arches, until the tongue began caressing the tender pads of skin just beneath her toes. It seemed those beautiful wrinkled soles were trembling slightly. The goat didn’t notice, and wouldn’t have cared anyway. It had discovered another source of tasty salt – Anna’s clenched, sweaty toes.
“Mmm-mrrphl! NNNNGHHH!”
Anna choked out a cry into the flowing mud, her back arching involuntarily as the tongue slid along the tender undersides of her curled toes. Her head struck the roof of the tunnel, mud soaking into her long hair. Her eyes had grown used to the dark now, and she could see the pit in front of her, a black muddy abyss filling with flowing mud that washed past her hips, under her tummy and between her breasts. Her fingers writhed uselessly, clawing at the vines that bound her. Every lick threatened to break her concentration on her fingers, and the weakening grip of her toes.
The rough warm tongue washed her ticklish toes mercilessly. Her hips bucked, her body convulsed again, her bottom only able to rise an inch before pressing into the earth. The burrow was collapsing! Wave after wave of tingles surged relentlessly down Anna’s shivering legs, between her hips, along her heaving tummy, crashing into her firm nipples, into her foggy mind. Had to focus! But then her left foot slipped free. The sole arched, the glistening wrinkles finally smoothing as the toes spread in a terrified fruitless search for the root.
“HNNNGH! MRPHL!”
That maddening tongue licked between her toes as she squirmed her foot wildly. But there was the root! Her long toes clenched around it again, yet the licking never stopped. Her toes were almost dripping now, slippery, aching. The tingles inside her were now a hot glow. Anna screwed her eyes tightly shut, her belly heaving, hips undulating fruitlessly within the tight muddy tunnel. Her slender fingers were balled into fists, the vines forgotten.
The little toes failed first.
Unable to grip as tightly as their longer siblings, they slipped free and clenched uselessly. The root popped free of Anna’s toes, one by one, as they became increasingly slippery, exhausted, and distracted. At last only the big toes remained, curled as tightly as could be around that thinnest of lifelines, the meagre pathetic rootling. The tongue slid over them, once, twice, again and again, over and under, rasping the tender skin until it finally snuggled between her toes, caressing them almost sensually.
Anna’s hips gave a distinctive double-shudder.
Her feet lost their grip.
“NRRRF!” She coughed out bitter mud. More collapsed onto her head. “Help! HELP MEEE!”
The muffled pleas were faint. The goat backed away, startled, as the legs kicked free of the vines, flailing about desperately, seeking for some purchase. Anna slid further into the darkness, writhing as the mud enveloped her. Her toes squirmed wildly as her breath failed her, wriggling, clenching, and scrabbling in vain at the treacherous mud, until at last their squirming slowed and they went still. Her bare soles remained tightly scrunched, the slender beautiful toes pointing yearningly at the daylight as they vanished into the dark tunnel.
The goat bleated into the dark hole, but there was only silence. Rainwater flowed into the muddy depths. After a few minutes, when the burrow collapsed with a wet thump, the goat lost interest and climbed back up to the field.
After all, there was always more mud.
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