Volsung1
1st Level Red Feather
- Joined
- Jul 18, 2008
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It was time again for my bi-monthly haircut. I seldom experiment as far as this ritual goes, so I found myself once again, parked in front of the ‘themed’ establishment I frequent. I was a bit early this time as it was not quite open yet, so I took the opportunity of reading a story that was on my cell phone to pass the time. The young lady who was the owner, caught my eye as she fiddled with the front door lock.
“Come on in! Well, it looks like you get to be first today…”
I closed the windows of the car and followed her inside. Helen flicked on the light switches and walked around the back of the cash register to log in for the day.
“Please sign in for me…“
I looked around the empty room and chuckled.
“It’s just a formality of course. Be with you in a moment.”
She darted to the back and was frantically setting up her equipment. No later than I had just finished, she popped back to the register and was peeking at the screen. She looked up and looked around the area.
“Number 69… now servicing number 69…”
I waved an imaginary ticket in the air.
“That’s me!”
We both giggled and she escorted me to the last chair on the right side of the room. I sat down and she covered me with the tarp.
“So, what are we having done today? You're usual?”
I looked up at her as she beamed down at me.
“Yes, of course… give me the works!”
Helen went straight away and clicked a number 6 attachment onto the electric razor and proceeded to run it over my head. It buzzed smoothly across my scalp, it felt nice. The excess hair drifted to the ground and eventually she was finished with my haircut.
“Come on back…”
She beckoned me to a dimly lit room where there was a row of chair recliners. I sat down on one and Helen made the proper height adjustments. I reclined into the plush, leather chair and slipped my head back against the curved headrest.
“Hot towel?”
“…please.”
A hot towel instantly covered my face, leaving only my nose exposed. I could feel all my muscles relaxing… ahhhhh…
“Too hot?”
“No, it feels wonderful.”
She hummed to herself and pressed a button on the chair panel. Then the chair began to hum as well, as the vibrating motor gradually kicked in… the whole chair was literally vibrating. I was suddenly aware of my ‘privates’. Was I becoming over stimulated? I wore my blue jeans today. They were more ‘form-fitting’ than just about anything else I owned, and thus made me more keenly aware. I tried to relax and not think about it.
While the vibrating chair worked its magic, Helen was surveying my captivated form. She had been in the chair before, and therefore knew what it was doing to me, both physically and mentally. She rolled her lips in as she took note of my bulging ‘area’. Helen swallowed and clicked the roof of her mouth with her tongue as her gaze then drifted down to my sandals. She stepped back from behind the chair for a closer look.
Meanwhile, I was in a whole other world of my own, cradled in warmth… a vibrating warmth as I closed my eyes. There was nothing to see anyway, behind that moist, hot, towel. I could feel that if I wanted, I could have drifted off to sleep. Completely contented.
Helen bent down, scrutinizing my sandaled feet. It certainly looks like he takes care of them she thought to herself. They look so soft… and small. This situation didn’t happen enough for Helen, so when it did… she definitely took advantage of it. She could feel her foot/tickle fetish, slowly engulf her as her breathing quickened. What is it about blue jeans and bare feet anyway? She wanted to tickle them so badly right now… to reach out… uninvited… to feel his smooth, ticklish soles under her nimble fingertips…and force him to laugh…continually… under her control for as long as she wanted… and I was at the time… blissfully unaware.
Helen blinked and came out of her foot/tickle fetish suddenly. Did she hear a moan? Or was that her. She sprang over to the control panel and jabbed at the off button.
“All better?” She tried to sound… natural, as she cleared her throat.
“Yes, that was wonderful!”
Helen laughed. “I almost forgot about the shampoo!”
I wiggled my toes as the warm water rinsed over my head. I could feel her fingertips massaging my temples… gently… soothingly, but firmly. Helen smiled and watched as I involuntarily wiggled my toes. It was almost like she was pressing my toe wiggling button. She lingered there and I was totally transported to another plateau of relaxation and inner peace. I caught the sweet smell of the shampoo… lemon. Warm water again, dribbling into the water basin. A towel tapping my head dry.
“You still with me?”
I laughed. “Yeah, I almost left you didn’t I.”
“You were pretty quiet. But I did get a sense that you enjoyed that a bit.”
I opened my eyes back into the room that was still dimly lit. I couldn’t help but feel that we were both blushing now, though I could think of no reason she might.
“So, did you enjoy your shampoo? How was your haircut? I like your sandals. Have you had them long?”
She was forcing the issue, but trying to cover her true intention within a bombardment of questions. I looked into her face in the darkroom. She was biting her lip again. I leaned in close and whispered into her left ear.
“The bottoms of my feet itch.”
“How strange… do you think you are going to come into some money then?”
Helen took me by the hand and pulled me into the regularly lighted manager’s office.
I replied. “No silly, that’s what they say if your palms itch! Not feet.”
There was a similar leather chair in the middle of the room. She pushed me into it and laughed.
“Haha… too bad, some extra money would have been nice.”
I kept the conversation on the light side, or at least made the appearance like I was trying to. I was beginning to enjoy playing with the hypnotized ‘moth’, somebody else who shared my foot/tickle fetish.
“I noticed that there are some improvements to this chair…”
She was repositioning the metal cuffs around my wrists.
“Yes, I have this one on a loaner… Not quite sure if it’s sturdy enough. Maybe you can help me decide…” She clamped down the cuffs around my ankles.
“Itchy soles did you say?”
“Now Helen, my medical… um… my condition has nothing to do with you. Please let me up.”
“We’ll just slip these off and have a look-see down there. Shall we?”
I balled up my toes as though that was actually going to DO something. The sandals however both came off easy enough. The panic shot up like a thermometer under a flame as I tried to move. It was very confining. I couldn’t move my heels at all. I could however, flex my foot a bit, but that wasn’t going to help at all… not in the way that would mean anything anyway. I swallowed hard.
“My… my, my… what absolutely CUTE soles you have!”
Helen ran an index finger straight up the middle, from heel to toe. Her french manicured nail skittering directly behind. I clamped my mouth shut as tightly as I could muster. A quick giggle slipped out anyway and I coughed afterwards in a vain attempt to ‘take it back.’
“Helen! Don’t! Mmmm… hehe… *cough* You’re gonna make me mad!”
“Make you mad? My dear boy, I have no intention of making you mad… in fact…”
I watched in horror as I saw her fingers disappear behind my trapped feet.Then suddenly, I felt her wiggling fingertips, whisking along my ticklish arch. Slowly… It itched like crazy and I began to buck in my constraints. Then she started in with the tickle talk.
“Tickle, tickle, tickle… is my widdle man having a giggle fit?”
I started giggling like a child… and I couldn’t stop. It was beginning to tickle worse and worse… I begged her to stop. But she wouldn’t… tickling both soles in that slow, madding tempo of hers… I was mad anyway… angry that I couldn’t stop laughing like an idiot… loving the helpless feeling that she was forcing on me… I wanted her to stop, and wanted her NOT to stop. Unable to communicate… sending mixed signals. Laughing continuously… hysterically… completely losing control… and all she was doing was tickling the bottoms of my feet with her fingers. This went on for about 30 minutes or so… I think. The passage of time is so distorted when you’re tickled like this.
I did get a break as she stepped away, but it was sometime after that that I fully recovered…
“My you’re ticklish… I feel like I could tickle you all day like this. But I’m not, of course… Sometimes I’m going to tickle the bottoms of your feet like THIS!”
She (oddly enough) had a hairbrush in her hand and was now applying it to the soles of my helpless feet. It felt like an electric jolt, like rows and rows of small ‘ticklers’ exciting, enflaming the nerve endings, sending the ticklish sensation off the charts. There was no, build up like before. This was like smashing the accelerator pedal to the floor. I laughed and screamed uncontrollably for another 30 minutes. (I think) Then my foot/tickle fetish took over and I could feel my crotch getting tighter and tighter.
Helen was getting excited as well. She tickled my toes, and in between. She tickled under my toe pads, up and down each toe length. She tickled the balls of my feet. She tickled the wrinkles and creases. She tickled my instep and heels. She tickled me with her fingertips and fingernails. She tickled my arch. She tickled me with a feather and with a feather duster.
Then she began to nibble and lick all of the afore mentioned places, throwing me into a sexual frenzy. Just as I was about to orgasm, she would switch back to ‘real’ tickling and this would nip my approaching orgasm neatly in the bud.
In the end we both came… I was first. Isn’t that just like a guy?
“Come on in! Well, it looks like you get to be first today…”
I closed the windows of the car and followed her inside. Helen flicked on the light switches and walked around the back of the cash register to log in for the day.
“Please sign in for me…“
I looked around the empty room and chuckled.
“It’s just a formality of course. Be with you in a moment.”
She darted to the back and was frantically setting up her equipment. No later than I had just finished, she popped back to the register and was peeking at the screen. She looked up and looked around the area.
“Number 69… now servicing number 69…”
I waved an imaginary ticket in the air.
“That’s me!”
We both giggled and she escorted me to the last chair on the right side of the room. I sat down and she covered me with the tarp.
“So, what are we having done today? You're usual?”
I looked up at her as she beamed down at me.
“Yes, of course… give me the works!”
Helen went straight away and clicked a number 6 attachment onto the electric razor and proceeded to run it over my head. It buzzed smoothly across my scalp, it felt nice. The excess hair drifted to the ground and eventually she was finished with my haircut.
“Come on back…”
She beckoned me to a dimly lit room where there was a row of chair recliners. I sat down on one and Helen made the proper height adjustments. I reclined into the plush, leather chair and slipped my head back against the curved headrest.
“Hot towel?”
“…please.”
A hot towel instantly covered my face, leaving only my nose exposed. I could feel all my muscles relaxing… ahhhhh…
“Too hot?”
“No, it feels wonderful.”
She hummed to herself and pressed a button on the chair panel. Then the chair began to hum as well, as the vibrating motor gradually kicked in… the whole chair was literally vibrating. I was suddenly aware of my ‘privates’. Was I becoming over stimulated? I wore my blue jeans today. They were more ‘form-fitting’ than just about anything else I owned, and thus made me more keenly aware. I tried to relax and not think about it.
While the vibrating chair worked its magic, Helen was surveying my captivated form. She had been in the chair before, and therefore knew what it was doing to me, both physically and mentally. She rolled her lips in as she took note of my bulging ‘area’. Helen swallowed and clicked the roof of her mouth with her tongue as her gaze then drifted down to my sandals. She stepped back from behind the chair for a closer look.
Meanwhile, I was in a whole other world of my own, cradled in warmth… a vibrating warmth as I closed my eyes. There was nothing to see anyway, behind that moist, hot, towel. I could feel that if I wanted, I could have drifted off to sleep. Completely contented.
Helen bent down, scrutinizing my sandaled feet. It certainly looks like he takes care of them she thought to herself. They look so soft… and small. This situation didn’t happen enough for Helen, so when it did… she definitely took advantage of it. She could feel her foot/tickle fetish, slowly engulf her as her breathing quickened. What is it about blue jeans and bare feet anyway? She wanted to tickle them so badly right now… to reach out… uninvited… to feel his smooth, ticklish soles under her nimble fingertips…and force him to laugh…continually… under her control for as long as she wanted… and I was at the time… blissfully unaware.
Helen blinked and came out of her foot/tickle fetish suddenly. Did she hear a moan? Or was that her. She sprang over to the control panel and jabbed at the off button.
“All better?” She tried to sound… natural, as she cleared her throat.
“Yes, that was wonderful!”
Helen laughed. “I almost forgot about the shampoo!”
I wiggled my toes as the warm water rinsed over my head. I could feel her fingertips massaging my temples… gently… soothingly, but firmly. Helen smiled and watched as I involuntarily wiggled my toes. It was almost like she was pressing my toe wiggling button. She lingered there and I was totally transported to another plateau of relaxation and inner peace. I caught the sweet smell of the shampoo… lemon. Warm water again, dribbling into the water basin. A towel tapping my head dry.
“You still with me?”
I laughed. “Yeah, I almost left you didn’t I.”
“You were pretty quiet. But I did get a sense that you enjoyed that a bit.”
I opened my eyes back into the room that was still dimly lit. I couldn’t help but feel that we were both blushing now, though I could think of no reason she might.
“So, did you enjoy your shampoo? How was your haircut? I like your sandals. Have you had them long?”
She was forcing the issue, but trying to cover her true intention within a bombardment of questions. I looked into her face in the darkroom. She was biting her lip again. I leaned in close and whispered into her left ear.
“The bottoms of my feet itch.”
“How strange… do you think you are going to come into some money then?”
Helen took me by the hand and pulled me into the regularly lighted manager’s office.
I replied. “No silly, that’s what they say if your palms itch! Not feet.”
There was a similar leather chair in the middle of the room. She pushed me into it and laughed.
“Haha… too bad, some extra money would have been nice.”
I kept the conversation on the light side, or at least made the appearance like I was trying to. I was beginning to enjoy playing with the hypnotized ‘moth’, somebody else who shared my foot/tickle fetish.
“I noticed that there are some improvements to this chair…”
She was repositioning the metal cuffs around my wrists.
“Yes, I have this one on a loaner… Not quite sure if it’s sturdy enough. Maybe you can help me decide…” She clamped down the cuffs around my ankles.
“Itchy soles did you say?”
“Now Helen, my medical… um… my condition has nothing to do with you. Please let me up.”
“We’ll just slip these off and have a look-see down there. Shall we?”
I balled up my toes as though that was actually going to DO something. The sandals however both came off easy enough. The panic shot up like a thermometer under a flame as I tried to move. It was very confining. I couldn’t move my heels at all. I could however, flex my foot a bit, but that wasn’t going to help at all… not in the way that would mean anything anyway. I swallowed hard.
“My… my, my… what absolutely CUTE soles you have!”
Helen ran an index finger straight up the middle, from heel to toe. Her french manicured nail skittering directly behind. I clamped my mouth shut as tightly as I could muster. A quick giggle slipped out anyway and I coughed afterwards in a vain attempt to ‘take it back.’
“Helen! Don’t! Mmmm… hehe… *cough* You’re gonna make me mad!”
“Make you mad? My dear boy, I have no intention of making you mad… in fact…”
I watched in horror as I saw her fingers disappear behind my trapped feet.Then suddenly, I felt her wiggling fingertips, whisking along my ticklish arch. Slowly… It itched like crazy and I began to buck in my constraints. Then she started in with the tickle talk.
“Tickle, tickle, tickle… is my widdle man having a giggle fit?”
I started giggling like a child… and I couldn’t stop. It was beginning to tickle worse and worse… I begged her to stop. But she wouldn’t… tickling both soles in that slow, madding tempo of hers… I was mad anyway… angry that I couldn’t stop laughing like an idiot… loving the helpless feeling that she was forcing on me… I wanted her to stop, and wanted her NOT to stop. Unable to communicate… sending mixed signals. Laughing continuously… hysterically… completely losing control… and all she was doing was tickling the bottoms of my feet with her fingers. This went on for about 30 minutes or so… I think. The passage of time is so distorted when you’re tickled like this.
I did get a break as she stepped away, but it was sometime after that that I fully recovered…
“My you’re ticklish… I feel like I could tickle you all day like this. But I’m not, of course… Sometimes I’m going to tickle the bottoms of your feet like THIS!”
She (oddly enough) had a hairbrush in her hand and was now applying it to the soles of my helpless feet. It felt like an electric jolt, like rows and rows of small ‘ticklers’ exciting, enflaming the nerve endings, sending the ticklish sensation off the charts. There was no, build up like before. This was like smashing the accelerator pedal to the floor. I laughed and screamed uncontrollably for another 30 minutes. (I think) Then my foot/tickle fetish took over and I could feel my crotch getting tighter and tighter.
Helen was getting excited as well. She tickled my toes, and in between. She tickled under my toe pads, up and down each toe length. She tickled the balls of my feet. She tickled the wrinkles and creases. She tickled my instep and heels. She tickled me with her fingertips and fingernails. She tickled my arch. She tickled me with a feather and with a feather duster.
Then she began to nibble and lick all of the afore mentioned places, throwing me into a sexual frenzy. Just as I was about to orgasm, she would switch back to ‘real’ tickling and this would nip my approaching orgasm neatly in the bud.
In the end we both came… I was first. Isn’t that just like a guy?
