sole seeker1
4th Level Red Feather
- Joined
- Oct 10, 2002
- Messages
- 1,924
- Points
- 0
Anne’s Hospital Stay
Part 1 – A Rude Awakening
Anne was laughing hysterically as the young man slid his fingernail along the base of the toes on her right foot. When he wiggled his forefinger in the space between her big toe and the one next to it she squealed and her whole body shook. Minutes ago, when it became obvious the visitor was not about to stop tickling her feet voluntarily, she had tried to reach the call button to summon a nurse. That’s when she first realized how much trouble she was in...
This mess started around four o’clock yesterday afternoon, when Anne first came back to consciousness. At that time she awoke to find she had both arms and both legs encased in casts. The casts on her arms started just below her armpits and went all the way down past her wrists. leaving most of both palms and all her fingers exposed. The casts on her legs began just below her crotch and ran all the way down to her heels, leaving most of her soles and the tops of her feet exposed. All of her limbs were elevated and immobile in a traction device that attached at the ankles and wrists of all four casts.
Later that evening she was checked into a room and given a sleeping pill. She slept late into the next morning, and woke up feeling restless. Anne was in her early thirties, a petite blue-eyed girl with light brown hair, a beautiful smile, nice boobs, great legs, a terrific ass, and perfectly formed size-7 feet with deep arches and straight toes. In the hours following her return to consciousness she found that the only thing she was happy about was the fact that she was the sole occupant of the double hospital room. But that was before she fully realized how boring immobility was. Except for the nurse’s hourly check, she was alone with just the television for amusement. Some restful vacation! With the traction holding her arms apart there was no way to even read. Since her bed was nearest the door she asked the nurse to leave it open so she could watch passersby in the hall. Her husband, Jack, would be by to visit later that afternoon but in the meantime, life was boredom, and boredom was hell.
Mark had seemed so nice when he dropped in to visit about an hour ago. He was a young man, about nineteen or twenty years old. He had dark brown medium-length hair parted on the side and combed forward into brown eyes. Except for his obvious injury he appeared to be in good physical condition. He’d hobbled by her open door on crutches and glanced into her room as he passed by. They made eye contact, so he stepped in and introduced himself. He told her he’d broken his ankle skiing, and that he was in a room down the hall. She had told Mark how she had been driving along the mountain road when an oncoming car forced her off the roadway. Her rental car had struck the guardrail and began spinning. The next thing she knew, here she was, completely immobilized.
Anne had asked Mark to get her a drink of water from the glass on her bedside table. She hadn’t noticed that while she was sipping from the straw he had picked up and moved the emergency call button out of her reach. She’d only realized she no longer had access to it when she groped for it about five minutes ago. That was when the trouble had started...
She had complained to Mark that the worst part of her morning so far was when the nurse had come in to give her a Babinski... Rabinski... oh, some damned test. The nurse had run her thumbnail along the sole of Anne’s foot eliciting a sound that resembled a startled “Eeep!” When Anne asked her what the heck was going on the nurse had seemed very cool and professional. She moved to the other foot and repeated the procedure. Anne gasped and giggled as the nurse’s thumb slid up the bottom of her other foot. She told Anne that the doctor had ordered a routine check of her nervous system. “After all, as bad an accident as you were in might have caused an injury to your spine that we haven’t located yet. Better safe than sorry.” When asked how often this routine was to go on, the nurse told her the test was scheduled every two hours over the next three days.
Mark clucked sympathetically. He said, “Jeez, I’m sorry for you. I’ll bet it’s tough just laying there, unable to move away or even wiggle in your condition.” Anne had agreed, but she was surprised to notice as she watched his expression that Mark seemed to smirk when he said it. That’s when Mark started to wander almost casually back down the length of her bed toward her feet. He was examining the traction rigging. The device was a conglomeration of wires and pulleys connected to each of the four casts at the ankles and wrists. It lifted and pulled all of her limbs away from her body. A sheet covered her body from her chest to her toes, except the two places where it was bunched around the cables attached to the casts at her ankles.
As Mark reached the foot of her bed he asked “Are your feet cold?”
Anne asked, “Why, what do you mean?”
Mark replied, “Well it looks as though this sheet isn’t long enough. It only covers the top of your feet, I can see the bottoms plain as day.” As if to demonstrate he leaned into his crutches and brought his right hand up to the bottom of her left foot. He slowly stroked the sole from the bottom of her toes to the middle of the heel.
Anne gasped and giggled involuntarily. She looked into Mark’s eyes and said, “Ok, you can stop that RIGHT NOW!”
Mark didn’t stop though. He kept tickling the bottom of her left foot. He began using his fingernails to scrabble all over the bottom. He started to concentrate on the areas beneath the ball of her foot and in the middle of the arch when it became obvious that these were the most productive sites.
For her part, Anne was unable to speak for the first few minutes of the ordeal. She needed all of her breath just to laugh. When he stopped long enough to move to the center of the bottom of the bed she continued laughing, even though it took him almost a minute to reposition himself. Just as she thought she might get her breath back, he used his left hand to draw figure-8's on the bottom of her right foot. Anne went ballistic again! She was laughing so hard she almost didn’t hear him when he began to taunt her saying, “kootchie, kootchie, coo.” He kept repeating this, almost like a chant, as steadied himself against the bottom rail of her hospital bed so he could free both of his hands. He reached up with his right hand and resumed his assault on her left foot at the same time he continued his attack on her right.
He tried different approaches on each foot. He continued to draw fingure-8’s on the right foot, but he used the four fingertips of his right hand to softly stroke the length of the sole on her left foot. After a few minutes he changed to scrabbling his fingers over her right foot, while he wiggled his forefinger in between the toes of her left foot.
Anne lost track of reality at this point. All she knew, all she could think of was the tickling she felt on the soles of both feet. She was laughing so hard it was impossible to breathe. Her head thrashed from side to side and tears streamed down her cheeks. After a few minutes she became afraid she might loose consciousness. She fumbled for the call switch to summon help, and that’s when it dawned on her that Mark had moved the switch out of reach. In the back of her mind the thought formed that the S.O.B. had been planning this ever since he passed the door to her room and noticed that she was immobilized.
Other thoughts popped unbidden into her mind about that time. Mark had closed the door to the hallway while they were talking, because he said the noise from the corridor made conversation difficult. “My ass!” she thought to herself. The S.O.B. had been worried all along about the noise she was making right now in the room, not the routine hospital noises in the corridor earlier!
Another thought entered her mind. What if someone walking down the corridor heard her and looked in. With her luck, the potential rescuer would join Mark and she’d have twice the problem. Oh God! what if her husband, Jack showed up and caught this guy tickling the shit out of her? Jack was just possessive enough to be really pissed about this, even if it wasn’t her fault. Jack’s main sexual hobby was tickling her feet. She didn’t let him do it often because she was so sensitive, but what if he came in and found another man taking from her what she so often denied giving to him?
This last thought was so strong that she pulled herself together enough to voice it. Mark really couldn’t understand what she was saying between her hysterical squeals and laughs. He could see that something important enough to bring her back to reality had entered her mind so he lightened up his attack just a little. Still lightly stroking the arches of both feet with his fingertips, Mark asked, “What was that you said Anne?”
“My hehehe-huhuhu-HUSB-ahahah-ND will be here soon! OH GOD! PLEASE-PLEASE-STOOOOPPPP!! He-hehehe-he’LL KILL YOU, or maybe even BOTH of USss!!
As her words sunk in Mark decided that he believed her. At least he believed she expected her husband to visit. He wasn’t too convinced there was a death penalty involved for illicit tickling of a married woman’s feet. In any case, discretion being the better part of valor and all that crap... he decided Anne had just about reached her limit. He stopped tickling her feet and gathered himself under his crutches. As he started to turn toward the door he noticed that Anne’s face was a mess. Tears streamed down her cheeks and her hair was plastered to her forehead. He made his way back up to the head of the bed and used a towel to gently wipe off her face. He allowed her to sip water from a straw and replaced the glass on the nightstand. Just before he turned away he made eye contact with her. He gave her a wink and whispered the word “Later”. Anne was too done in to reply.
As she watched him leave Anne couldn’t decide if that last word was meant as a good bye, or as a threat.
*
Since this is my first fiction story I’d like some feedback (I think).
If this is well received I have plans to write a sequel ...
Part 2 – Medicare Doesn’t Cover This
Admittedly, all the action in this story is about the victim's feet. There is a reason for that, I prefer tickling feet. I plan to give Anne's other body parts a workout in the next segment.
Part 1 – A Rude Awakening
Anne was laughing hysterically as the young man slid his fingernail along the base of the toes on her right foot. When he wiggled his forefinger in the space between her big toe and the one next to it she squealed and her whole body shook. Minutes ago, when it became obvious the visitor was not about to stop tickling her feet voluntarily, she had tried to reach the call button to summon a nurse. That’s when she first realized how much trouble she was in...
This mess started around four o’clock yesterday afternoon, when Anne first came back to consciousness. At that time she awoke to find she had both arms and both legs encased in casts. The casts on her arms started just below her armpits and went all the way down past her wrists. leaving most of both palms and all her fingers exposed. The casts on her legs began just below her crotch and ran all the way down to her heels, leaving most of her soles and the tops of her feet exposed. All of her limbs were elevated and immobile in a traction device that attached at the ankles and wrists of all four casts.
Later that evening she was checked into a room and given a sleeping pill. She slept late into the next morning, and woke up feeling restless. Anne was in her early thirties, a petite blue-eyed girl with light brown hair, a beautiful smile, nice boobs, great legs, a terrific ass, and perfectly formed size-7 feet with deep arches and straight toes. In the hours following her return to consciousness she found that the only thing she was happy about was the fact that she was the sole occupant of the double hospital room. But that was before she fully realized how boring immobility was. Except for the nurse’s hourly check, she was alone with just the television for amusement. Some restful vacation! With the traction holding her arms apart there was no way to even read. Since her bed was nearest the door she asked the nurse to leave it open so she could watch passersby in the hall. Her husband, Jack, would be by to visit later that afternoon but in the meantime, life was boredom, and boredom was hell.
Mark had seemed so nice when he dropped in to visit about an hour ago. He was a young man, about nineteen or twenty years old. He had dark brown medium-length hair parted on the side and combed forward into brown eyes. Except for his obvious injury he appeared to be in good physical condition. He’d hobbled by her open door on crutches and glanced into her room as he passed by. They made eye contact, so he stepped in and introduced himself. He told her he’d broken his ankle skiing, and that he was in a room down the hall. She had told Mark how she had been driving along the mountain road when an oncoming car forced her off the roadway. Her rental car had struck the guardrail and began spinning. The next thing she knew, here she was, completely immobilized.
Anne had asked Mark to get her a drink of water from the glass on her bedside table. She hadn’t noticed that while she was sipping from the straw he had picked up and moved the emergency call button out of her reach. She’d only realized she no longer had access to it when she groped for it about five minutes ago. That was when the trouble had started...
She had complained to Mark that the worst part of her morning so far was when the nurse had come in to give her a Babinski... Rabinski... oh, some damned test. The nurse had run her thumbnail along the sole of Anne’s foot eliciting a sound that resembled a startled “Eeep!” When Anne asked her what the heck was going on the nurse had seemed very cool and professional. She moved to the other foot and repeated the procedure. Anne gasped and giggled as the nurse’s thumb slid up the bottom of her other foot. She told Anne that the doctor had ordered a routine check of her nervous system. “After all, as bad an accident as you were in might have caused an injury to your spine that we haven’t located yet. Better safe than sorry.” When asked how often this routine was to go on, the nurse told her the test was scheduled every two hours over the next three days.
Mark clucked sympathetically. He said, “Jeez, I’m sorry for you. I’ll bet it’s tough just laying there, unable to move away or even wiggle in your condition.” Anne had agreed, but she was surprised to notice as she watched his expression that Mark seemed to smirk when he said it. That’s when Mark started to wander almost casually back down the length of her bed toward her feet. He was examining the traction rigging. The device was a conglomeration of wires and pulleys connected to each of the four casts at the ankles and wrists. It lifted and pulled all of her limbs away from her body. A sheet covered her body from her chest to her toes, except the two places where it was bunched around the cables attached to the casts at her ankles.
As Mark reached the foot of her bed he asked “Are your feet cold?”
Anne asked, “Why, what do you mean?”
Mark replied, “Well it looks as though this sheet isn’t long enough. It only covers the top of your feet, I can see the bottoms plain as day.” As if to demonstrate he leaned into his crutches and brought his right hand up to the bottom of her left foot. He slowly stroked the sole from the bottom of her toes to the middle of the heel.
Anne gasped and giggled involuntarily. She looked into Mark’s eyes and said, “Ok, you can stop that RIGHT NOW!”
Mark didn’t stop though. He kept tickling the bottom of her left foot. He began using his fingernails to scrabble all over the bottom. He started to concentrate on the areas beneath the ball of her foot and in the middle of the arch when it became obvious that these were the most productive sites.
For her part, Anne was unable to speak for the first few minutes of the ordeal. She needed all of her breath just to laugh. When he stopped long enough to move to the center of the bottom of the bed she continued laughing, even though it took him almost a minute to reposition himself. Just as she thought she might get her breath back, he used his left hand to draw figure-8's on the bottom of her right foot. Anne went ballistic again! She was laughing so hard she almost didn’t hear him when he began to taunt her saying, “kootchie, kootchie, coo.” He kept repeating this, almost like a chant, as steadied himself against the bottom rail of her hospital bed so he could free both of his hands. He reached up with his right hand and resumed his assault on her left foot at the same time he continued his attack on her right.
He tried different approaches on each foot. He continued to draw fingure-8’s on the right foot, but he used the four fingertips of his right hand to softly stroke the length of the sole on her left foot. After a few minutes he changed to scrabbling his fingers over her right foot, while he wiggled his forefinger in between the toes of her left foot.
Anne lost track of reality at this point. All she knew, all she could think of was the tickling she felt on the soles of both feet. She was laughing so hard it was impossible to breathe. Her head thrashed from side to side and tears streamed down her cheeks. After a few minutes she became afraid she might loose consciousness. She fumbled for the call switch to summon help, and that’s when it dawned on her that Mark had moved the switch out of reach. In the back of her mind the thought formed that the S.O.B. had been planning this ever since he passed the door to her room and noticed that she was immobilized.
Other thoughts popped unbidden into her mind about that time. Mark had closed the door to the hallway while they were talking, because he said the noise from the corridor made conversation difficult. “My ass!” she thought to herself. The S.O.B. had been worried all along about the noise she was making right now in the room, not the routine hospital noises in the corridor earlier!
Another thought entered her mind. What if someone walking down the corridor heard her and looked in. With her luck, the potential rescuer would join Mark and she’d have twice the problem. Oh God! what if her husband, Jack showed up and caught this guy tickling the shit out of her? Jack was just possessive enough to be really pissed about this, even if it wasn’t her fault. Jack’s main sexual hobby was tickling her feet. She didn’t let him do it often because she was so sensitive, but what if he came in and found another man taking from her what she so often denied giving to him?
This last thought was so strong that she pulled herself together enough to voice it. Mark really couldn’t understand what she was saying between her hysterical squeals and laughs. He could see that something important enough to bring her back to reality had entered her mind so he lightened up his attack just a little. Still lightly stroking the arches of both feet with his fingertips, Mark asked, “What was that you said Anne?”
“My hehehe-huhuhu-HUSB-ahahah-ND will be here soon! OH GOD! PLEASE-PLEASE-STOOOOPPPP!! He-hehehe-he’LL KILL YOU, or maybe even BOTH of USss!!
As her words sunk in Mark decided that he believed her. At least he believed she expected her husband to visit. He wasn’t too convinced there was a death penalty involved for illicit tickling of a married woman’s feet. In any case, discretion being the better part of valor and all that crap... he decided Anne had just about reached her limit. He stopped tickling her feet and gathered himself under his crutches. As he started to turn toward the door he noticed that Anne’s face was a mess. Tears streamed down her cheeks and her hair was plastered to her forehead. He made his way back up to the head of the bed and used a towel to gently wipe off her face. He allowed her to sip water from a straw and replaced the glass on the nightstand. Just before he turned away he made eye contact with her. He gave her a wink and whispered the word “Later”. Anne was too done in to reply.
As she watched him leave Anne couldn’t decide if that last word was meant as a good bye, or as a threat.
*
Since this is my first fiction story I’d like some feedback (I think).
If this is well received I have plans to write a sequel ...
Part 2 – Medicare Doesn’t Cover This
Admittedly, all the action in this story is about the victim's feet. There is a reason for that, I prefer tickling feet. I plan to give Anne's other body parts a workout in the next segment.
Last edited:
