Time for today’s inspection!
Sufa was positively burning with excitement, finding his legs weren’t able to walk him fast enough down the twisting maze of corridors beneath this block of office buildings in a very well to do, unassuming part of town. The pit of his belly was warm, almost fizzing, a feeling he never tired of and yet found almost unbearable at the same time.
The day was a Monday, meaning the weekend’s acquisitions had been processed and brought down for inspection before being rented out in private rooms or sold to become the property of one of many clients this agency had on its books. Approximately 4 new girls a week entered this building’s underground labyrinth of perversion, leaving there old lives behind and entering a whole new world of slavery and torment which, considering the prices the agency could demand for some of these girls, meant business was in a word, good.
Sufa had been tasked with inspections for the past 4 months and was revelling in the job and all it entailed. He had been recruited via an online chat room who’s main topic of conversation was bondage and rape scenarios after developing something of a friendly relationship with a man known only as Tklr2002, who during one of many conversations on the subject of binding and tormenting women mentioned an underground sex club in the very city Sufa lived in.
Even stranger, the block Tklr2002 claimed this club was underneath was just 4 streets away from Sufa’s apartment.
The anonymous man gave Sufa every detail he requested about this club, barring it’s actual members and associate organisations, and everything just seemed to... fit. It all sounded so believable and exciting beyond belief! Unless you happened to be a fair skinned woman between the ages of 18 and 40, then it would be rather terrifying.
A month later, time allowed for the agency to conduct its own background checks on Sufa, which Sufa himself found rather ironic... a kidnapping gang needing to make sure he had no unspent criminal convictions... ‘’whatever though’’ he had thought at the time, ‘’this is an absolute fucking dream come true!’’
And indeed it turned out to be so, when Tklr2002 confirmed Sufa’s employment within the agency. Initially as a cleaner, cleaning up after a client’s session with one of the girls was his absolute favourite thing of all to do... more often than not the girl would still be in the room; 9 times out of 10 she would be unconscious, the other times she would be blindfolded... shaking, snivelling, sheathed in sweat the smell of which clung to the air of the room stubbornly for hours afterwards as there were neither windows nor air vents in these rooms, or cells indeed.
They would be bound in all manner of exciting positions; some in a sex swing, some inverted on the same swing, some hung upside down with their ankles tied fast together and their wrists tied hanging towards the ground, some were tied bent over tables with their stocking and thong – if they had not been stripped beforehand – torn apart. Each cell was totally soundproofed and locked for the duration of the client’s visit, which was an endless torment for Sufa, he longed to sneak a peek into any of the cells and see what exactly was happening to the girls.
Several weeks into his employment at the agency and he was given the responsibility of inspections. He’d nearly fainted when he found out his new role meant that he would basically be seeing whether or not the new girls were up to scratch, looks wise. If not, they were shipped straight back to the stylists who would redo the girls hair, makeup and fit her with an entire wardrobe... very little of which she would be able to wear in public. Not that that was an issue of course, none of these girls would ever be going out in public ever again anyway.
Turning the final corner before reaching his destination, Cell #079, he could barely control his breathing. His hands were clammy and his legs feeling weaker and weaker with each step he took towards the cell door.
Reaching into his pocket with a trembling hand, Sufa withdrew his keycard and swiped it once along the slot of the door’s advanced locking mechanism, before pressing his fingertips firmly onto the raised dome in front of it and then lining his eyes up at the same time for the dual fingertip / retinal scan. Before proclaiming his name and position in the agency to the voice recognition monitor.
The door slid open with a hiss of air. Sufa took a nervous step forward. And there was today’s new girl.
Hanging from the ceiling.
Straps of thick silk, striped pink and black and illuminated slightly by the faint candlelight in the corner of the room, held her around 3 feet above the wooden floorboards, swinging gently from side to side as she slept, restlessly.
Her legs tensed as she attempted to roll over in her sleep, only to relax once more and return to her suspended position. Ankles held apart approximately 4 feet from one another, her wrists trapped in a similar fashion, further silken straps had been woven twice around each knee, each elbow, and a further two – thicker than the others - had been slung beneath her to support her ass and her shoulders providing her with a comfortable enough seat, before being wound back up to the ceiling and securely attached to the same system of pulleys and levers as those that left her hands and feet so bound.
Oh fuck yes, I certainly do think so.
There she hung, totally helpless, trapped and absolutely unaware of all that lay in store for her.
The Blackvan Men tasked with her acquisition had excelled themselves, she was stunning beyond belief.
A brunette, hair shone as though she had arrived here straight after a shampoo ad and streaked with gold and various light shades of brown, had been trimmed by about 6 inches and tied at the back in a small bob, her fringe framing her heart shaped face, the strands of hair on the right slightly longer than those on the left. Much nicer than it had been before, if her 4 year old passport was anything to go by. Alas, she had been unconscious for this particular restyling so it was yet to be seen if she appreciated the new look.
Hmm, ‘’D.O.B’’ says this specimen of gorgeousness has very recently turned 33. Christ, I do love the more mature girls, they’re just so much more fun to play with than these fuckin’ teenagers we had so many of a few months back. Not so eager to please as the younger ones but at least when they do start begging to do that you know they can actually do it.
Gently prising open her eyelids revealed gorgeous, sparkling violet eyes tinged with barely noticeable amounts of blue the hue of sky on a clear summer’s day. Her nose was small and pert, set above an equally lovely mouth, lips almost pouting and incredibly... inviting.
Her skin was perfect. Not a blemish to be found anywhere... whether this had been achieved by the Stylist or by her own endeavours each morning and night, at the salon or wherever, was not known and was also totally unnecessary information to have... for she was truly a delight to behold.
The candlelight gave her light skin a most sun kissed glow and also served to give real definition to various areas of her body, most notably her legs, slender arms and breasts.
34DD. Sweet.
Her body lolled to one side again as she once more attempted a sleepy rollover, only to sag back into position once more. The ample, fleshy mounds on her chest jigging from side to side as the momentum from her roll slowly settled.
Ok fuck this; I’m on my own for like the next hour at least. I work hard at my job, time for a bonus I reckon.
God she smells gorgeous... all over too. What the hell is that? Did... ha! They perfumed her feet? Amazing the perverts we get through here these days. What the fuck do feet have to do with sex? Ha! Seriously!
He strode between her legs, unzipped his jeans and grabbed her hips before entering her. Staring down at her body as he pounded away unceremoniously, being careful not to touch too much... the penalties for marking a new girl during inspection were harsh. He made do with clutching her hips firmly in his hands pulling her back and forth back and forth back and forth.
Moments later his throaty sighing indicated he had finished.
Man what was that like, 30 seconds? Whatever. She is damn fucking gorgeous and it’s been a while too. Anyway... time for the cleanup.
The penalty for marking a new girl even slightly was harsh; the penalty for raping one was, so far, unknown.
And forever will be too if I’ve got owt to do with it. 64 girls we’ve had through here, that’s at least 64 more notches on my bedpost.
Retrieving his briefcase from the side of the room her legs were pointed towards, he walked slowly back towards the bound girl and set the case down, before opening it up and taking from it a 4 inch long tube with pepper pot style holes in its head and around the sides. He connected the flexi pipe protruding from the base of the tube to a container of water and carried it back towards the girl. He found himself once more between her legs.
Focus man...
He slid the tube inside her and rhythmically squeezed the rubber handle until water began to shoot along the flexi pipe and spray the insides of her vagina. The process was continued until she was once more clean and all evidence of the earlier activities had been erased.
So easy, this is the best job ever!
* * *
‘’Certainly madam, room number 079 is available for you, you’ll find it on floor U4.’’ The receptionist said with a sweet smile and slight cock of the head.
‘’Thank you miss.’’ Came the courteous reply of the woman known as Miss Astbury, a 29 year old secretary for one of the city’s foremost law firms, who turned on her heels and headed for the elevator. It opened with a ping and she was greeted by a young man wearing an odd blue suit standing by the buttons. Informing him of the floor she required in an impatient tone, the doors slid shut and they began their descent to floor U4.
The young man watched this woman leave the elevator intently, focusing on her firm, round ass, hugged tight by her short black skirt. The way it jutted out to the sides below her trim waste left him in awe, and those translucent black stockings she wore along with the jet black, shiny heels with straps woven around her toned calves, the ensemble completed by her white office style blouse... well, it was all he could do to not chase down the corridor after her.
She’d seemed flustered and in rather a hurry, as did many of the clients of this agency he’d noticed. And honestly, who could blame them? When but a few rooms away was a restrained woman, prepared to their own spec and with whom they could do whatever they damn well pleased for one, two, even three or more hours depending on what they could afford that week or how much credit was left in their retainer.
The clicking, clapping noise of her heels had almost faded completely as the grey doors slid shut in front of him, as if coldly reminding him he had absolutely no business in those corridors. With a despondent sigh, he returned the elevator to ground level.
* * *
Miss Astbury took her purse from her handbag and from within she took her Client’s Issue Keycard and swiped it, gaining instant access to Cell #079 and all it held. It was all hers for the next 2 hours.
A circular table with a small matching chair had been prepared for her before her arrival, with a cigarette tray and jug of water with a single glass towards it’s centre. She sat down softly, after removing the Bio on today’s girl from the seat and retrieved a nail file from her purse and began to smooth down the sharpened corners of her fingernails, whilst slowly looking up to drink in the sight of what was her toy for the next few hours.
Suspended in a silken sex swing, as per her request. Blindfolded, yet made no noise or gave any indication that she was awake as she hadn’t moved an inch since Miss Astbury had arrived.
My goodness, this one is just a darling! Oh those stockings... They are so coming home with me after this! God, I really need a fag before this, where the hell are they.
She found them, flicked the packet open, put one between her lips and lit it, eyes on her toy the entire time... or more specifically, the lower half of her toy.
Her eyes wandered excitedly from this girl’s hips, along her thighs, around her knees, down her calves and then over her sumptuous feet and back again. She tore her eyes from the girl and glanced at her Bio.
Name’s Katie... 33 years old, single upon time of acquisition, no children, secondary school teacher.
She appreciated the fact that the agency kept things short and succinct, the story of each girl never bothered her... she was only interested in age and occupation truth be told.
A teacher... mmm! I wonder how many of her students silently wish they could be here to watch this...
Suddenly aware that every moment spent inside the room upon the first swipe of her keycard counted as time she was paying for, Miss Astbury stubbed the cigarette out in the tray having smoked just over half of it, then removed her heels and slowly walked in silence towards the suspended girl.
She reached Katie’s feet, slid past it to get between her legs and slowly took in her scent... it was as though Katie had been bathed in Miss Astbury’s favourite scent; rose petals, however a quick lick of Katie’s upper thigh revealed the fact that she tasted like nothing of the sort. Just clean, untouched, female skin.
Glancing down at Katie’s chest, rising and falling slowly and steadily, she realised that she was in a very deep sleep indeed and, since time was valuable right now, she needed to be brought out of it forcibly.
She returned to her original position at Katie’s feet, standing perfectly in between her bound ankles and raised her hands slowly towards the heels of the bound girl. Miss Astbury’s breath was becoming caught in her throat and the tips of her fingers tingled as they approached the feet of this helplessly restrained beauty.
Closer and closer they inched until they were but centimetres away... and then they struck. The tips of those nails poked the skin in the dead centre of Katie’s soles, encased in the sheer white stockings, and firmly scraped their way down to her heels, then back up along the arch, over the balls of her feet before sinking in amongst her toes. She angled her fingers so the knuckles along her fingers pushed Katie’s toes back and scrabbled her nails into that soft, helpless skin just above the balls of Katie’s feet going faster and faster and faster until the first signs of life came from this hapless young woman.
She began to squirm, her hips moving from side to side, giggles escaped her lips as though she dreamt of something rather amusing indeed, her feet twitched and her toes flexed. All witnessed by an extremely flustered Miss Astbury, absent-mindedly licking her lips whilst tickling Katie’s feet as firmly and quickly as her fingers could manage.
Katie’s laughing grew in intensity, no longer mewling giggles, deep laughs from the base of her throat were now spilling from a broadly smiling mouth. Miss Astbury knew she was but seconds away now from her toy regaining full consciousness and that absolutely delicious feeling of knowing her toy had no idea where she was, why she was there or who was doing this to her. And best of all, not knowing why the hell someone was tickling her feet!
Come on, break you stupid bitch! Why fight this? Someone is tickling your extremely ticklish feet and you can’t stop it! No you can’t baby oh no you can’t, haha!
A violent jerk of Katie’s body and a deafening, terrified scream erupted across the room signalling to Miss Astbury that said moment had indeed arrived. She felt a tingling between her legs that she knew was not going to go away any time soon and would eventually incapacitate her but she did not care one little bit, for her gorgeous little toy was now fully awake and extremely appreciative of the fact that somebody with long, sharp nails was tickling the nylon clad soles of her feet.
YES! That’s it you stupid slut, laugh for me, laugh and scream and thrash around! Laugh and scream and gurgle and cry you big, gorgeous ticklish baby!
She watched with unrestrained glee as Katie fought with all her might to escape the bondage, twisting to the left and to the right, sometimes pulling one foot back as far as she could by bending that leg and giving away the fact that her torturer had struck a particularly sensitive spot, which in Katie’s mind needed to be left the hell alone... and in the lovely Miss Astbury’s mind needed further and further investigation.
Mmm this is a rather sensitive spot huh? How about I hold your feet still whilst I tickle the shit out of it? Would you like that baby? I am gonna make you pee all over this floor! And I am gonna tickle you whilst you are peeing! I am gonna tickle you until you pass out and if that’s before my 2 hours are up I am gonna revive you and tickle you even worse!
Soon she knew she would be tickling Katie with just one hand, because the tingling between her legs would require attention very soon indeed. But until that time, she went all out on Katie’s feet, dragging the nails from heel to toe and back again, digging into the arches as best she could and forcing Katie to arch her back in desperation, pull her feet back as far as she could and scream till her pretty voice broke. All of which spurred Miss Astbury on more and more.
Aww, did your voice go? Poor lil baby, I’d better be careful you don’t end up choking on your own saliva soon, huh? Ha! Whatever baby, I don’t care what you do until my time here is up, nobody gives a shit about you, your job is to look damn gorgeous and laugh till you lose your mind!
The tone of Katie’s voice changed suddenly, it was filled with a deep sadness and despair, which Miss Astbury knew of course was due to the fact Katie was finally accepting her fate. There was no escape. The tickling was horribly unbearable. She would probably lose her mind. Nothing could stop it. All facts now registering in Katie’s racked mind... which coupled with the insane tickling of her soles, made the tears flow freely down her cheeks, soaking the blindfold in the process.
That’s right you slut, CRY! Just below the ball of your foot right, that’s where you like the single nail treatment? Ohhhh god yes, right there huh? Look at your thrash around! This must be agony; I’d hate to be where you are right now!
Exploiting that spot was more than Miss Astbury’s loins could handle. She thrust a hand down into her skirt and beneath her lacy black thong to relieve herself, which took but 10 seconds. So short an amount of time it hadn’t registered in Katie’s brain that only one hand had been tickling her.
Back to business now bitch.
Realising she had just one hour of time left with her new plaything, Miss Astbury decided it was time to finally get serious with her tickling. She ran to her handbag, retrieved a small bottle and her hairbrush, and jogged the short distance back to a very sweaty, confused and terrified Katie.
Taking the toe of each stocking in her fingers, she tore them apart revealing Katie’s hot, pink feet. She planted a kiss in the centre of each sole, eliciting a surprised yelp from her captive.
Uncapping the bottle with barely contained excitement, she squirted its contents hurriedly all over Katie’s soles, then massaged it in thoroughly along the tops of her feet, her ankles, all around the toes making Katie scream in tickling agony the whole time before finishing up rubbing it firmly into those soles. She wiped her hands down on her skirt, and then picked up her hairbrush... a brand new one she got from the store a few doors down from her office. Pink, with a large round head covered with stiff metallic bristles, each capped with a tiny pink ball. An absolute dream for any foot tickling enthusiast and the perfect nightmare for any victim of said act.
Unless they like being tickled, but where’s the fun in that? I want genuine tears, screaming and suffering! God it’s so damned hot!
Standing before Katie’s left foot, she took the ankle firmly in her left hand and with the right raised the brush until the bristles each faced Katie’s bare, oily sole.
You might wanna hang on tight for this, bitch.
The bristles made contact with the slick, sensitive skin. And at once the fact that such a brush and the bare, oily soles of a very ticklish woman were never meant to meet one another became instantly apparent.
Katie damn near leapt out of her skin. The screaming was wild, panicked, desperate and the struggling which ensued legendary. Arms and legs twisted around in their restraint, her ass bounced up and down so much she nearly fell out of the seat so considerately placed for her a few hours before.
That’s it! You baby are going on my list, mmm my god you are not getting away from me! No way, I don’t care what the other customers here do to you, don’t care what a hard time you have here... whether they fuck you, whip you, force feed you gallons of water and force you to pee, or make you blow them 20 times a day till the jaw ache makes you pass out, I will always be here to tickle the shit out of you!
The oily flesh on Katie’s feet was receiving the absolute worst torment of its life. The bristles dug into her skin, turning the skin a deathly pale white colour before passing further along the sole and allowing the blood to rush to that area once more, giving back the pink hue that made the feet so deliciously inviting in the first place.
Miss Astbury snapped out of her tickle crazed trance when she heard a dribbling sound come from somewhere in the room. She peered at the floor beneath Katie’s hips and smiled, satisfied. Katie had wet herself whilst her feet were scrubbed. The stream would keep stopping and starting, she was clearly having trouble voiding herself... which Miss Astbury watched with enormous happiness, another clear sign of the girl’s suffering. Along with the extremely sweaty body, wildly flexing limbs and feet, desperate screams, crying and laughter.
I wonder what this actually feels like...
She halted her tickling of Katie, allowing her to urinate in relative peace, and peeled off one of her stockings before massaging her own foot with some of that oil. She had always had soft, smooth feet herself, very similar to Katie’s but not pedicured to absolute perfection at present.
Holding the brush tentatively in her right hand again, she pressed the bristles into her sole just below the ball of her foot and gingerly ran it downwards along the sole.
To find herself wide eyed, jaws clenched and absolutely unable to move the brush any further than the one centimetre it had already travelled.
Holy shit! This tickles like hell, how is this girl still conscious?! And oh my god!! That’s what I’ve forced her to feel for the past 2 hours almost. Wow! She is strong as hell... no way could I ever stand this, if this was what my life was gonna be, each day filled with hours of oily feet tickle hell, I’d have to kill myself! God I so hope this is how she feels right now...
She slipped her stocking back on and watched Katie for a moment. The poor girl was in tears, shaking all over her body, her feet twitching in such a manner that Miss Astbury was sure that they actually felt nervous or terrified themselves. This is what she had wanted, a thoroughly broken down, tickled-to-hell woman tied before her. Stockings torn, feet oiled and covered in pink scratch marks, cheeks tear streaked and body covered in sweat. All the sure signs that this person had just had her feet tickled in the absolute worst way ever.
Except this isn’t the worst way, is it. I mean come on, she can move for Christ’s sake! And this is only her first day here, they never allow us to do anything to extreme with the newbies. I truly hope this one lasts a few more weeks... then we can go to floor U6 and actually start gettin’ serious.
These feet need a thorough exam if you ask me...
She had just 10 minutes left with Katie.
She walked around to Katie’s head and crouched down on her haunches to whisper into Katie’s ear.
‘’hey, Katie, did that tickle a bit?’’
Saliva slid down the side of Katie’s face as her head moved in such a way as to be close enough to nodding for Miss Astbury to understand her answer.
‘’Good. It was damn well supposed to, you stupid bitch. You don’t even have the decency to answer me right now?’’
She slapped Katie and the sound echoed across the room, Katie giggled and gurgled.
‘’Lost your mind huh? You’d better make sure it’s back by next week, I am gonna come back to you... again and again and a fucking ‘gain... and tickle you for longer and longer each week, and let all my friends know about the gorgeous slave Katie and her feet.’’
She noticed Katie’s chest rising and falling with increasing swiftness as short, shallow breaths were taken faster and faster as Katie listened to Miss Astbury’s words.
‘’you are never going to see your friends or family again, honey. Never. The clients here are your friends now. And they are going to fuck you, humiliate you and drive you absolutely insane. Every day of the week. And then there’s me, but... I will give you a break from all that honey.’’
Katie’s head lolled to one side and she smiled gently at this news.
‘’And during that break, I am gonna tickle the shit out of you till you piss yourself screaming like a little girl!’’
With that she walked swiftly back to Katie’s feet and dug her nails into that still slick flesh. The screams of before had turned to wails, almost inhuman in tone, the struggling incredibly laboured and as quickly as it began, it stopped. Completely.
Miss Astbury fell backwards, breathing heavily and thrust her hand back down between her thighs, rubbing herself fiercely, and eyes on Katie the entire time until she felt sufficiently relieved.
Picking herself back up, she walked back to her table and had another cigarette, whilst slipping herself back into her heels and gathering her belongings, ready to depart when the cleaner arrived.
* * *
Lifting her head upon hearing the clacking heeled footsteps, the receptionist smiled at Miss Astbury and bade her farewell.
Before leaving the building, Miss Astbury spun about and made for the reception desk before asking the receptionist to ensure she could purchase a weekly session of 2 hours for the following 3 weeks, building up to 4 hour sessions for the 4 weeks after those. The receptionist confirmed this and Miss Astbury’s face lit up in a not even slightly subtle fashion. She offered her thanks and made her way to the exit, the cool air feeling supremely crisp and fresh against her skin, in stark contrast to the air in that cell. Smiling, and with a contented sigh, she set off on the journey home.
* * *
Entering the last of the dates Miss Astbury had purchased into the diary for Cell #079, the receptionist sat back in her chair and yawned, arms stretching above her head and back slightly arched. In her peripheral vision she spotted the elevator boy eyeing her up, looking away and down at the floor sharply as she turned her head towards him.
Pervert
Sufa was positively burning with excitement, finding his legs weren’t able to walk him fast enough down the twisting maze of corridors beneath this block of office buildings in a very well to do, unassuming part of town. The pit of his belly was warm, almost fizzing, a feeling he never tired of and yet found almost unbearable at the same time.
The day was a Monday, meaning the weekend’s acquisitions had been processed and brought down for inspection before being rented out in private rooms or sold to become the property of one of many clients this agency had on its books. Approximately 4 new girls a week entered this building’s underground labyrinth of perversion, leaving there old lives behind and entering a whole new world of slavery and torment which, considering the prices the agency could demand for some of these girls, meant business was in a word, good.
Sufa had been tasked with inspections for the past 4 months and was revelling in the job and all it entailed. He had been recruited via an online chat room who’s main topic of conversation was bondage and rape scenarios after developing something of a friendly relationship with a man known only as Tklr2002, who during one of many conversations on the subject of binding and tormenting women mentioned an underground sex club in the very city Sufa lived in.
Even stranger, the block Tklr2002 claimed this club was underneath was just 4 streets away from Sufa’s apartment.
The anonymous man gave Sufa every detail he requested about this club, barring it’s actual members and associate organisations, and everything just seemed to... fit. It all sounded so believable and exciting beyond belief! Unless you happened to be a fair skinned woman between the ages of 18 and 40, then it would be rather terrifying.
A month later, time allowed for the agency to conduct its own background checks on Sufa, which Sufa himself found rather ironic... a kidnapping gang needing to make sure he had no unspent criminal convictions... ‘’whatever though’’ he had thought at the time, ‘’this is an absolute fucking dream come true!’’
And indeed it turned out to be so, when Tklr2002 confirmed Sufa’s employment within the agency. Initially as a cleaner, cleaning up after a client’s session with one of the girls was his absolute favourite thing of all to do... more often than not the girl would still be in the room; 9 times out of 10 she would be unconscious, the other times she would be blindfolded... shaking, snivelling, sheathed in sweat the smell of which clung to the air of the room stubbornly for hours afterwards as there were neither windows nor air vents in these rooms, or cells indeed.
They would be bound in all manner of exciting positions; some in a sex swing, some inverted on the same swing, some hung upside down with their ankles tied fast together and their wrists tied hanging towards the ground, some were tied bent over tables with their stocking and thong – if they had not been stripped beforehand – torn apart. Each cell was totally soundproofed and locked for the duration of the client’s visit, which was an endless torment for Sufa, he longed to sneak a peek into any of the cells and see what exactly was happening to the girls.
Several weeks into his employment at the agency and he was given the responsibility of inspections. He’d nearly fainted when he found out his new role meant that he would basically be seeing whether or not the new girls were up to scratch, looks wise. If not, they were shipped straight back to the stylists who would redo the girls hair, makeup and fit her with an entire wardrobe... very little of which she would be able to wear in public. Not that that was an issue of course, none of these girls would ever be going out in public ever again anyway.
Turning the final corner before reaching his destination, Cell #079, he could barely control his breathing. His hands were clammy and his legs feeling weaker and weaker with each step he took towards the cell door.
Reaching into his pocket with a trembling hand, Sufa withdrew his keycard and swiped it once along the slot of the door’s advanced locking mechanism, before pressing his fingertips firmly onto the raised dome in front of it and then lining his eyes up at the same time for the dual fingertip / retinal scan. Before proclaiming his name and position in the agency to the voice recognition monitor.
The door slid open with a hiss of air. Sufa took a nervous step forward. And there was today’s new girl.
Hanging from the ceiling.
Straps of thick silk, striped pink and black and illuminated slightly by the faint candlelight in the corner of the room, held her around 3 feet above the wooden floorboards, swinging gently from side to side as she slept, restlessly.
Her legs tensed as she attempted to roll over in her sleep, only to relax once more and return to her suspended position. Ankles held apart approximately 4 feet from one another, her wrists trapped in a similar fashion, further silken straps had been woven twice around each knee, each elbow, and a further two – thicker than the others - had been slung beneath her to support her ass and her shoulders providing her with a comfortable enough seat, before being wound back up to the ceiling and securely attached to the same system of pulleys and levers as those that left her hands and feet so bound.
Oh fuck yes, I certainly do think so.
There she hung, totally helpless, trapped and absolutely unaware of all that lay in store for her.
The Blackvan Men tasked with her acquisition had excelled themselves, she was stunning beyond belief.
A brunette, hair shone as though she had arrived here straight after a shampoo ad and streaked with gold and various light shades of brown, had been trimmed by about 6 inches and tied at the back in a small bob, her fringe framing her heart shaped face, the strands of hair on the right slightly longer than those on the left. Much nicer than it had been before, if her 4 year old passport was anything to go by. Alas, she had been unconscious for this particular restyling so it was yet to be seen if she appreciated the new look.
Hmm, ‘’D.O.B’’ says this specimen of gorgeousness has very recently turned 33. Christ, I do love the more mature girls, they’re just so much more fun to play with than these fuckin’ teenagers we had so many of a few months back. Not so eager to please as the younger ones but at least when they do start begging to do that you know they can actually do it.
Gently prising open her eyelids revealed gorgeous, sparkling violet eyes tinged with barely noticeable amounts of blue the hue of sky on a clear summer’s day. Her nose was small and pert, set above an equally lovely mouth, lips almost pouting and incredibly... inviting.
Her skin was perfect. Not a blemish to be found anywhere... whether this had been achieved by the Stylist or by her own endeavours each morning and night, at the salon or wherever, was not known and was also totally unnecessary information to have... for she was truly a delight to behold.
The candlelight gave her light skin a most sun kissed glow and also served to give real definition to various areas of her body, most notably her legs, slender arms and breasts.
34DD. Sweet.
Her body lolled to one side again as she once more attempted a sleepy rollover, only to sag back into position once more. The ample, fleshy mounds on her chest jigging from side to side as the momentum from her roll slowly settled.
Ok fuck this; I’m on my own for like the next hour at least. I work hard at my job, time for a bonus I reckon.
God she smells gorgeous... all over too. What the hell is that? Did... ha! They perfumed her feet? Amazing the perverts we get through here these days. What the fuck do feet have to do with sex? Ha! Seriously!
He strode between her legs, unzipped his jeans and grabbed her hips before entering her. Staring down at her body as he pounded away unceremoniously, being careful not to touch too much... the penalties for marking a new girl during inspection were harsh. He made do with clutching her hips firmly in his hands pulling her back and forth back and forth back and forth.
Moments later his throaty sighing indicated he had finished.
Man what was that like, 30 seconds? Whatever. She is damn fucking gorgeous and it’s been a while too. Anyway... time for the cleanup.
The penalty for marking a new girl even slightly was harsh; the penalty for raping one was, so far, unknown.
And forever will be too if I’ve got owt to do with it. 64 girls we’ve had through here, that’s at least 64 more notches on my bedpost.
Retrieving his briefcase from the side of the room her legs were pointed towards, he walked slowly back towards the bound girl and set the case down, before opening it up and taking from it a 4 inch long tube with pepper pot style holes in its head and around the sides. He connected the flexi pipe protruding from the base of the tube to a container of water and carried it back towards the girl. He found himself once more between her legs.
Focus man...
He slid the tube inside her and rhythmically squeezed the rubber handle until water began to shoot along the flexi pipe and spray the insides of her vagina. The process was continued until she was once more clean and all evidence of the earlier activities had been erased.
So easy, this is the best job ever!
* * *
‘’Certainly madam, room number 079 is available for you, you’ll find it on floor U4.’’ The receptionist said with a sweet smile and slight cock of the head.
‘’Thank you miss.’’ Came the courteous reply of the woman known as Miss Astbury, a 29 year old secretary for one of the city’s foremost law firms, who turned on her heels and headed for the elevator. It opened with a ping and she was greeted by a young man wearing an odd blue suit standing by the buttons. Informing him of the floor she required in an impatient tone, the doors slid shut and they began their descent to floor U4.
The young man watched this woman leave the elevator intently, focusing on her firm, round ass, hugged tight by her short black skirt. The way it jutted out to the sides below her trim waste left him in awe, and those translucent black stockings she wore along with the jet black, shiny heels with straps woven around her toned calves, the ensemble completed by her white office style blouse... well, it was all he could do to not chase down the corridor after her.
She’d seemed flustered and in rather a hurry, as did many of the clients of this agency he’d noticed. And honestly, who could blame them? When but a few rooms away was a restrained woman, prepared to their own spec and with whom they could do whatever they damn well pleased for one, two, even three or more hours depending on what they could afford that week or how much credit was left in their retainer.
The clicking, clapping noise of her heels had almost faded completely as the grey doors slid shut in front of him, as if coldly reminding him he had absolutely no business in those corridors. With a despondent sigh, he returned the elevator to ground level.
* * *
Miss Astbury took her purse from her handbag and from within she took her Client’s Issue Keycard and swiped it, gaining instant access to Cell #079 and all it held. It was all hers for the next 2 hours.
A circular table with a small matching chair had been prepared for her before her arrival, with a cigarette tray and jug of water with a single glass towards it’s centre. She sat down softly, after removing the Bio on today’s girl from the seat and retrieved a nail file from her purse and began to smooth down the sharpened corners of her fingernails, whilst slowly looking up to drink in the sight of what was her toy for the next few hours.
Suspended in a silken sex swing, as per her request. Blindfolded, yet made no noise or gave any indication that she was awake as she hadn’t moved an inch since Miss Astbury had arrived.
My goodness, this one is just a darling! Oh those stockings... They are so coming home with me after this! God, I really need a fag before this, where the hell are they.
She found them, flicked the packet open, put one between her lips and lit it, eyes on her toy the entire time... or more specifically, the lower half of her toy.
Her eyes wandered excitedly from this girl’s hips, along her thighs, around her knees, down her calves and then over her sumptuous feet and back again. She tore her eyes from the girl and glanced at her Bio.
Name’s Katie... 33 years old, single upon time of acquisition, no children, secondary school teacher.
She appreciated the fact that the agency kept things short and succinct, the story of each girl never bothered her... she was only interested in age and occupation truth be told.
A teacher... mmm! I wonder how many of her students silently wish they could be here to watch this...
Suddenly aware that every moment spent inside the room upon the first swipe of her keycard counted as time she was paying for, Miss Astbury stubbed the cigarette out in the tray having smoked just over half of it, then removed her heels and slowly walked in silence towards the suspended girl.
She reached Katie’s feet, slid past it to get between her legs and slowly took in her scent... it was as though Katie had been bathed in Miss Astbury’s favourite scent; rose petals, however a quick lick of Katie’s upper thigh revealed the fact that she tasted like nothing of the sort. Just clean, untouched, female skin.
Glancing down at Katie’s chest, rising and falling slowly and steadily, she realised that she was in a very deep sleep indeed and, since time was valuable right now, she needed to be brought out of it forcibly.
She returned to her original position at Katie’s feet, standing perfectly in between her bound ankles and raised her hands slowly towards the heels of the bound girl. Miss Astbury’s breath was becoming caught in her throat and the tips of her fingers tingled as they approached the feet of this helplessly restrained beauty.
Closer and closer they inched until they were but centimetres away... and then they struck. The tips of those nails poked the skin in the dead centre of Katie’s soles, encased in the sheer white stockings, and firmly scraped their way down to her heels, then back up along the arch, over the balls of her feet before sinking in amongst her toes. She angled her fingers so the knuckles along her fingers pushed Katie’s toes back and scrabbled her nails into that soft, helpless skin just above the balls of Katie’s feet going faster and faster and faster until the first signs of life came from this hapless young woman.
She began to squirm, her hips moving from side to side, giggles escaped her lips as though she dreamt of something rather amusing indeed, her feet twitched and her toes flexed. All witnessed by an extremely flustered Miss Astbury, absent-mindedly licking her lips whilst tickling Katie’s feet as firmly and quickly as her fingers could manage.
Katie’s laughing grew in intensity, no longer mewling giggles, deep laughs from the base of her throat were now spilling from a broadly smiling mouth. Miss Astbury knew she was but seconds away now from her toy regaining full consciousness and that absolutely delicious feeling of knowing her toy had no idea where she was, why she was there or who was doing this to her. And best of all, not knowing why the hell someone was tickling her feet!
Come on, break you stupid bitch! Why fight this? Someone is tickling your extremely ticklish feet and you can’t stop it! No you can’t baby oh no you can’t, haha!
A violent jerk of Katie’s body and a deafening, terrified scream erupted across the room signalling to Miss Astbury that said moment had indeed arrived. She felt a tingling between her legs that she knew was not going to go away any time soon and would eventually incapacitate her but she did not care one little bit, for her gorgeous little toy was now fully awake and extremely appreciative of the fact that somebody with long, sharp nails was tickling the nylon clad soles of her feet.
YES! That’s it you stupid slut, laugh for me, laugh and scream and thrash around! Laugh and scream and gurgle and cry you big, gorgeous ticklish baby!
She watched with unrestrained glee as Katie fought with all her might to escape the bondage, twisting to the left and to the right, sometimes pulling one foot back as far as she could by bending that leg and giving away the fact that her torturer had struck a particularly sensitive spot, which in Katie’s mind needed to be left the hell alone... and in the lovely Miss Astbury’s mind needed further and further investigation.
Mmm this is a rather sensitive spot huh? How about I hold your feet still whilst I tickle the shit out of it? Would you like that baby? I am gonna make you pee all over this floor! And I am gonna tickle you whilst you are peeing! I am gonna tickle you until you pass out and if that’s before my 2 hours are up I am gonna revive you and tickle you even worse!
Soon she knew she would be tickling Katie with just one hand, because the tingling between her legs would require attention very soon indeed. But until that time, she went all out on Katie’s feet, dragging the nails from heel to toe and back again, digging into the arches as best she could and forcing Katie to arch her back in desperation, pull her feet back as far as she could and scream till her pretty voice broke. All of which spurred Miss Astbury on more and more.
Aww, did your voice go? Poor lil baby, I’d better be careful you don’t end up choking on your own saliva soon, huh? Ha! Whatever baby, I don’t care what you do until my time here is up, nobody gives a shit about you, your job is to look damn gorgeous and laugh till you lose your mind!
The tone of Katie’s voice changed suddenly, it was filled with a deep sadness and despair, which Miss Astbury knew of course was due to the fact Katie was finally accepting her fate. There was no escape. The tickling was horribly unbearable. She would probably lose her mind. Nothing could stop it. All facts now registering in Katie’s racked mind... which coupled with the insane tickling of her soles, made the tears flow freely down her cheeks, soaking the blindfold in the process.
That’s right you slut, CRY! Just below the ball of your foot right, that’s where you like the single nail treatment? Ohhhh god yes, right there huh? Look at your thrash around! This must be agony; I’d hate to be where you are right now!
Exploiting that spot was more than Miss Astbury’s loins could handle. She thrust a hand down into her skirt and beneath her lacy black thong to relieve herself, which took but 10 seconds. So short an amount of time it hadn’t registered in Katie’s brain that only one hand had been tickling her.
Back to business now bitch.
Realising she had just one hour of time left with her new plaything, Miss Astbury decided it was time to finally get serious with her tickling. She ran to her handbag, retrieved a small bottle and her hairbrush, and jogged the short distance back to a very sweaty, confused and terrified Katie.
Taking the toe of each stocking in her fingers, she tore them apart revealing Katie’s hot, pink feet. She planted a kiss in the centre of each sole, eliciting a surprised yelp from her captive.
Uncapping the bottle with barely contained excitement, she squirted its contents hurriedly all over Katie’s soles, then massaged it in thoroughly along the tops of her feet, her ankles, all around the toes making Katie scream in tickling agony the whole time before finishing up rubbing it firmly into those soles. She wiped her hands down on her skirt, and then picked up her hairbrush... a brand new one she got from the store a few doors down from her office. Pink, with a large round head covered with stiff metallic bristles, each capped with a tiny pink ball. An absolute dream for any foot tickling enthusiast and the perfect nightmare for any victim of said act.
Unless they like being tickled, but where’s the fun in that? I want genuine tears, screaming and suffering! God it’s so damned hot!
Standing before Katie’s left foot, she took the ankle firmly in her left hand and with the right raised the brush until the bristles each faced Katie’s bare, oily sole.
You might wanna hang on tight for this, bitch.
The bristles made contact with the slick, sensitive skin. And at once the fact that such a brush and the bare, oily soles of a very ticklish woman were never meant to meet one another became instantly apparent.
Katie damn near leapt out of her skin. The screaming was wild, panicked, desperate and the struggling which ensued legendary. Arms and legs twisted around in their restraint, her ass bounced up and down so much she nearly fell out of the seat so considerately placed for her a few hours before.
That’s it! You baby are going on my list, mmm my god you are not getting away from me! No way, I don’t care what the other customers here do to you, don’t care what a hard time you have here... whether they fuck you, whip you, force feed you gallons of water and force you to pee, or make you blow them 20 times a day till the jaw ache makes you pass out, I will always be here to tickle the shit out of you!
The oily flesh on Katie’s feet was receiving the absolute worst torment of its life. The bristles dug into her skin, turning the skin a deathly pale white colour before passing further along the sole and allowing the blood to rush to that area once more, giving back the pink hue that made the feet so deliciously inviting in the first place.
Miss Astbury snapped out of her tickle crazed trance when she heard a dribbling sound come from somewhere in the room. She peered at the floor beneath Katie’s hips and smiled, satisfied. Katie had wet herself whilst her feet were scrubbed. The stream would keep stopping and starting, she was clearly having trouble voiding herself... which Miss Astbury watched with enormous happiness, another clear sign of the girl’s suffering. Along with the extremely sweaty body, wildly flexing limbs and feet, desperate screams, crying and laughter.
I wonder what this actually feels like...
She halted her tickling of Katie, allowing her to urinate in relative peace, and peeled off one of her stockings before massaging her own foot with some of that oil. She had always had soft, smooth feet herself, very similar to Katie’s but not pedicured to absolute perfection at present.
Holding the brush tentatively in her right hand again, she pressed the bristles into her sole just below the ball of her foot and gingerly ran it downwards along the sole.
To find herself wide eyed, jaws clenched and absolutely unable to move the brush any further than the one centimetre it had already travelled.
Holy shit! This tickles like hell, how is this girl still conscious?! And oh my god!! That’s what I’ve forced her to feel for the past 2 hours almost. Wow! She is strong as hell... no way could I ever stand this, if this was what my life was gonna be, each day filled with hours of oily feet tickle hell, I’d have to kill myself! God I so hope this is how she feels right now...
She slipped her stocking back on and watched Katie for a moment. The poor girl was in tears, shaking all over her body, her feet twitching in such a manner that Miss Astbury was sure that they actually felt nervous or terrified themselves. This is what she had wanted, a thoroughly broken down, tickled-to-hell woman tied before her. Stockings torn, feet oiled and covered in pink scratch marks, cheeks tear streaked and body covered in sweat. All the sure signs that this person had just had her feet tickled in the absolute worst way ever.
Except this isn’t the worst way, is it. I mean come on, she can move for Christ’s sake! And this is only her first day here, they never allow us to do anything to extreme with the newbies. I truly hope this one lasts a few more weeks... then we can go to floor U6 and actually start gettin’ serious.
These feet need a thorough exam if you ask me...
She had just 10 minutes left with Katie.
She walked around to Katie’s head and crouched down on her haunches to whisper into Katie’s ear.
‘’hey, Katie, did that tickle a bit?’’
Saliva slid down the side of Katie’s face as her head moved in such a way as to be close enough to nodding for Miss Astbury to understand her answer.
‘’Good. It was damn well supposed to, you stupid bitch. You don’t even have the decency to answer me right now?’’
She slapped Katie and the sound echoed across the room, Katie giggled and gurgled.
‘’Lost your mind huh? You’d better make sure it’s back by next week, I am gonna come back to you... again and again and a fucking ‘gain... and tickle you for longer and longer each week, and let all my friends know about the gorgeous slave Katie and her feet.’’
She noticed Katie’s chest rising and falling with increasing swiftness as short, shallow breaths were taken faster and faster as Katie listened to Miss Astbury’s words.
‘’you are never going to see your friends or family again, honey. Never. The clients here are your friends now. And they are going to fuck you, humiliate you and drive you absolutely insane. Every day of the week. And then there’s me, but... I will give you a break from all that honey.’’
Katie’s head lolled to one side and she smiled gently at this news.
‘’And during that break, I am gonna tickle the shit out of you till you piss yourself screaming like a little girl!’’
With that she walked swiftly back to Katie’s feet and dug her nails into that still slick flesh. The screams of before had turned to wails, almost inhuman in tone, the struggling incredibly laboured and as quickly as it began, it stopped. Completely.
Miss Astbury fell backwards, breathing heavily and thrust her hand back down between her thighs, rubbing herself fiercely, and eyes on Katie the entire time until she felt sufficiently relieved.
Picking herself back up, she walked back to her table and had another cigarette, whilst slipping herself back into her heels and gathering her belongings, ready to depart when the cleaner arrived.
* * *
Lifting her head upon hearing the clacking heeled footsteps, the receptionist smiled at Miss Astbury and bade her farewell.
Before leaving the building, Miss Astbury spun about and made for the reception desk before asking the receptionist to ensure she could purchase a weekly session of 2 hours for the following 3 weeks, building up to 4 hour sessions for the 4 weeks after those. The receptionist confirmed this and Miss Astbury’s face lit up in a not even slightly subtle fashion. She offered her thanks and made her way to the exit, the cool air feeling supremely crisp and fresh against her skin, in stark contrast to the air in that cell. Smiling, and with a contented sigh, she set off on the journey home.
* * *
Entering the last of the dates Miss Astbury had purchased into the diary for Cell #079, the receptionist sat back in her chair and yawned, arms stretching above her head and back slightly arched. In her peripheral vision she spotted the elevator boy eyeing her up, looking away and down at the floor sharply as she turned her head towards him.
Pervert
