Chief Punishment Officer - Day 1 (mostly F/F, some M/F, a little F/M)

[Chief Punishment Officer]

Chief Punishment Officer – Day 1

Saturday May 24, 2025

*Note: this is not intended as a political piece, just setting the stage for a fictitious story. There is about 1 page of F/M tickling about 2/3 through the story (right after Tara), but most of it is F/F revenge during public tickle torture punishment at a Saturday Market over a holiday weekend. If you like extreme, sadistic tickling punishment, this one is for you. This is my first post, and I'm interested in hearing what you think. It's pretty long at 19 pages single spaced, 12k words. There will be a day 2 and day 3 forthcoming. I hope you enjoy!


In a flurry of executive orders upon his second inauguration, President Trump issued an executive order authorizing and requiring public humiliation punishment for any and all dissidents charged with crimes related to dissension. That category received a broad definition, open to interpretation by local enforcement teams. Almost any unflattering criticism, open protesting and riot, or seditious posts on social media questioning his growing power were within the purview of the new order. A new law enforcement division was formed, The Public Correction Department, with each county under the eye of a CPO, or Chief Punishment Officer. They were charged with sentencing at their discretion, without benefit of a trial, and administering the public punishment for their respective counties. Initial hearings did not need to be completed first, and appeals could be made, but as always it took months, and the public punishment was not required to be deferred during the attempt.

The stated goal was to create unity and a cohesive national identity, but everyone knew it was to crush any opposition to his complete authority. The Democrats tried to resist and undermine the executive order, but having lost control of the senate also, and with the other Republicans afraid to stand up to a leader losing his grip on reality, there was little that could be done to stop it. Hostility between liberals and conservatives reached new peaks, and a divide formed in society; those with power, and those that were afraid and secretly organizing rebellion.

Lawsuits filled the legal system, but they were months if not years away from reaching a resolution. In the meantime, public punishment became a new normal. Some were beaten or caned, some shackled and left naked out in the elements, others placed on chain gangs, and yet others, mostly women, were assigned something much worse. Assimilate and keep your mouth shut was the message. Or else.



Ingrid sipped her coffee, scrolling on her iPhone through the local news. It was 7:00 AM, and she had to leave for work soon. It was the Friday before Memorial Day weekend, and she was ready for a 3 day break. She took another sip, reading about the new executive order and a violent protest that had been quelled earlier in the week. She felt her face flush with excitement as she read the article, realized the implications, and clicked on the link to Twitter. She refused to think of it as X. Elon Musk was an idiot, and no one called it that. It was a central website showing the name and crime of each of the accused, and the location of where their sentence was to be carried out. And which public punishment had been assigned to who. Scanning through the short list of local results, she almost spit her coffee out.

There, at the bottom of the list, was a name she couldn’t be happier to see. Jocelyn Cobalt. Her former co-worker, department head, and nemesis. Her groin experienced a pleasant tingle as she read the details and her mind began to race furiously. Involved in violent anti-government protest. First offense. Locked in the stocks for tickle torture in Ellsworth Park from Saturday though Memorial Day. Public participation in correction requested and encouraged. Her skin instantly went clammy with a sheen of anticipatory sweat, and her breath came in quick, excited little gasps. That snooty bitch was going to pay. Ingrid was going to do her civic duty. An evil smile crossed her face, and she started whistling, bustling out of her apartment with enthusiasm.

Day 1

Ingrid arrived at the park early, quivering with poorly concealed excitement. She couldn’t stop smiling. This was a literal dream come true, and she was going to make the most of the opportunity. She silently thanked her good fortune that she hadn’t trimmed her fingernails earlier in the week as she’d originally intended. Having given them a good filing that morning, they were long and sharp. She scratched at her palm to test them out, and smiled again, her teeth showing in a wolfish grin. This is going to be soooo bad.

A white corrections department van had pulled up at the north end of the park, and begun unloading inmates in orange jumpsuits. A trailer was hitched behind the van, and once the gate at its rear was lowered, she could see that it contained 4 sets of wooden stocks and several wooden boxes. Corrections officer wheeled them out and placed them at even intervals, forming a small circle facing outward around a small pavilion in the center of the park. The Saturday Market was springing up all around them, with the vendors bustling about their activities to get ready for a sweltering day, with temperatures expected to reach into the low 90s. It was only 7:50 and it was already hot. Ingrid felt a small trickle of sweat seep down her back.

In addition to Jocelyn, there were two other women and one man. The inmates were escorted to the stocks that were set up around the edges of the pavilion, where their jumpsuits were removed, leaving nothing on but their underwear and shoes. Each one of them was red-faced with embarrassment, but it wasn’t a suggestion. They were then forced to sit on a bench while their handcuffs were removed and their hands placed in the two smaller holes in the center of the stocks. Their legs were lifted, and their ankles were then secured into the two larger holes on the outer edge of the stocks. The top of the stocks closed over Jocelyn’s limbs with a heavy thud, and the lock was secured with a resounding click.

Ingrid approached slowly, trying to contain her massive arousal and appear casual. Wearing vibrating panties that she could control with a small fob, she knew she needed to draw this out, to make it last. This was something she was going to savor. She drew within twenty yards of Jocelyn, who looked up in shame and made eye contact. Immediately Jocelyn’s hazel eyes widened in fear and panic when she recognized Ingrid approaching with a predatory bounce in her step. Ingrid smiled wide like the Joker, and then smoothed her expression, giggling and biting her lip in nervous anticipation.

The park was small compared to most, stretching less than 100 yards in either direction, forming a square in the middle of the downtown sector. Other than the small pavilion, a fountain in the southeast corner and a few large evergreen trees, the park was relatively open, granting clear line of sight all the way across. The Saturday Market was set up on the south, west and north sides, with the east side left free for traffic to traverse the downtown route by City Hall. Dozens of people were already present, not counting the vendors setting up their stalls, with more arriving in throngs. A line of shops were opening on the north and east sides of the park, adding to the general stirring of activity. A group of protestors walked up and down the sidewalk on the east side of the park holding signs, but they were quiet, kept their distance and made no attempt to interfere. The consequences of interference was right before them, and it turned out they didn’t want to protest too enthusiastically.

Ingrid came to a stop in front of Jocelyn’s stocks, eyeing the petite blonde woman who fidgeted under her inspection. She was in her early forties, and had a haughty, defiant look that conveyed her outrage at her sentence. She would’ve been looking down her nose at Ingrid if she weren’t forced to look up. The stocks that restrained her were sturdy and made of wood, solid enough that they wouldn’t rock back and forth. The wrist and ankle holes were lined with leather that was nailed into the wood with brass tacks, cushioning the victims limbs from chafing. Five eye rings were screwed into the top of the upper restraint, just above each foot. Thin ropes dangled from each. In between the eye rings, a strip of padded foam was affixed to the top of the board. Jocelyn’s shoed feet stuck out of the exterior holes, and her hands fidgeted nervously.

“Well, well, well,” Ingrid said, leaning down to look directly into Jocelyn’s eyes. “Look at the big shot department lead,” she purred. “More like a vulnerable little lamb, I think.” She tapped her on the tip of her dainty, pointy nose, giggling. “Don’t worry Joss. It’s only a 10 hour shift. I’m sure it’ll fly by.”

“Oh fuck you!” Jocelyn snarled. “What are you even doing here? Get the hell away from me, you weirdo lesbian.”

“We’ve discussed this,” Ingrid sighed, lips pursing. “At your instigation. I’m bisexual, and you made sure the entire office knew it.” Jocelyn had caught Ingrid looking at her feet when she had worn sandals, and subsequently called her out in front of everyone, making a huge scene. It had been downright mortifying, and she had taken pleasure in humiliating Ingrid in front of everyone. “Payback’s a bitch, and so are you.” She laughed, enjoying the look of pure venom that twisted Jocelyn’s otherwise beautiful face. A former cheerleader and sorority socialite as she liked to remind everyone, she knew she was pretty, and she wielded it like a weapon. “As you were quick to point out in front of everyone, I like your feet. And they seem to be really vulnerable, hanging out in front of you like this. I wonder,” she said, “if they’re ticklish?”

A look of animal fear crossed Jocelyn’s face, the color draining from it. “Please,” she said, immediately changing tactics. “Don’t. It’s bad enough that I have to sit here all day. That’s not necessary. I’m really sorry! You don’t have to do this!”

Ingrid laughed. “I know I don’t have to do this.” She pulled off her right shoe, a slip on jail-issued canvas shoe, exposing her socked foot. The shoe had next to no ventilation, and the socked foot was already sweaty and smelled. “I want to. Oh, very much, I want to.” She gave Jocelyn’s arch a quick swipe with her index finger, and the tiny blonde yelped, trying and failing to pull away. Her foot was warm and damp, and it danced back and forth, seeking an escape that wasn’t there. “You’re going to get what you deserve today. And, so am I.” She winked and gave the captive foot in front of her another tickle with both hands, which elicited another high-pitched yelp from her victim.

“Please please please!” Jocelyn begged. “Don’t do this! I swear, I’ll never be mean to you again! I promise! I’ll pay you, do whatever you want, just please don’t tickle me!” She squirmed, but didn’t move more than an inch. “Please forgive me! If there’s any way that I can make it up to you –“

“That’s enough of that,” a pale brunette woman said, walking up behind her. “No one is here to listen to you speak. They’re hear to listen to you laugh.” She produced a red ball gag from the box behind the stocks, cramming it into Jocelyn’s mouth and strapping it around her head, connecting the straps on the back of her neck.

Jocelyn’s expression was a thundercloud. “What the hell?” she mumbled through the gag. “Taking this thing off of me, right now!”

“I’m Kelly,” she said to Ingrid, and the crowd which had begun to form behind her. “The Chief Punishment Officer. Looks like it’s going to be a busy day, and we’ve got some ground rules to go over.” She posted a medium sized sandwich board in front of the stocks with Jocelyn’s name, crime, and sentence, out of the way. “First, this woman is a criminal and she’s here for punishment. Nothing more and nothing less. She participated in a protest and a riot earlier this week, and is guilty of violating the Presidential Mandate. She’s sentenced here for three consecutive days, from 8 AM to 6 PM, over the holiday weekend. The hearing is on Tuesday when the courthouse reopens, but we’re ordered to proceed without delay.” Kelly smiled, an evil light in her eye as she looked at Jocelyn for a moment and said nothing.

Ingrid’s pulse quickened, and she licked her lips in anticipation. It was clear at a glance that Kelly was enjoying this situation as much as she was, and Jocelyn was in very, very deep shit. Her heart fluttered and she refocused, listening to the CPO as she continued with the rules.

“It needs to be understood that this is public punishment, and it is intended to be brutal. Merciless. If she’s a whimpering mess and can’t remember her own name by this evening, then our work here has been a success. We want her completely, unequivocally broken. No comforting, no consoling, no mercy, no stopping. You are not to help her in any way, as that will be considered interfering with her sentence and you will join her in her fate. Is that clear?”

“Yes ma’am,” Ingrid replied, her mouth dry. She fought the urge to pinch herself, just to make sure she wasn’t having the best dream of her entire life.

Kelly strolled around to the front of the stocks, Jocelyn’s baleful glare following her. “You will not injure the inmate. The point of this particular punishment is that it leaves no lasting marks, and we do not want to damage property of the Public Correction Department. You are free to touch her anywhere you like so long as you’re tickling her while doing it.” Ingrid almost choked, but remained silent. Breathe. Her heart galloped. The crowd behind her had continued to grow, and they were all listening with religious fervor to the CPO explain how this was going to play out.

“If a line forms, there is a 15 minute time limit so everyone can have a turn. However, feel free to double up or triple up on each side or behind her, if you prefer. This is, after all, a public service to participate in her punishment. Humiliation is a plus. If it shames her and helps her to regret her actions, it is considered beneficial. Be creative. Make it an art form. Her body is your canvas.” OH. MY. GOD. Ingrid’s breath shuddered involuntarily. This has to be a dream. Hurry before you wake up!

“We’ve already conducted a series of tests to determine what will be the most effective form of recalibration for the inmate. In this case, tickle torture is her sentence.”

“Help me!” Jocelyn screamed around her gag, trying to get the crowd behind Ingrid to come to her aid. “Please help me!” No one moved, but a few jeered. “Oh help me, help me, pretty please?” a man called from the crowd in a falsetto voice, drawing laughter from his peers.

“We’ve tested her, and found her quite receptive to tickle torture, especially on her bare feet. Audience participation is not only encouraged but expected. You are serving your government by doing your part in her punishment. Please, do not hold back. Be savage and ruthless. The more excruciating, the better. If she’s not crying and begging, you’re not trying hard enough.”

Kelly indicated a bucket filled with various object and tools at the base of the stocks while Jocelyn tried and failed to peer over the wooden restraints, eyes bulging with panic. “Here you’ll find a complete set of tools to aid your efforts. We have four different types of hair brushes for scrubbing her soles. The stiffer bristles seem to work the best on her arches, while the more flexible bristles drive her up the wall on her toes. There are also two plastic combs, eight electric toothbrushes fully charged, a Whartenberg wheel, a bottle of baby oil, and an electric dental pick.” She paused, retrieving several more items from behind Jocelyn’s back. “We’ve also provided two stools, so that you can take your time. Prolonged torture is the most effective, so please don’t feel rushed unless there is a line forming. We have 10 hours to work with, and we could use as much of your help as you’re able to give. She needs to fully internalize her punishment in order to see the error of her ways. You can use these stopwatches to set time limits for when your turn is over, if needed.”

A broad grin full of joy appeared on the CPO’s face. “And lastly, if the sun doesn’t heat them enough, we’ve provided a propane space heater for each foot. I can verify that they are waaaay more ticklish when sweaty, although the baby oil is a nice lubricant as well. Probably don’t go past setting 5, as that will actually burn her soles and ruin the fun for everyone. And if that happens, you’re going to replace her. Settings 3-5 will be enough to get them dripping with sweat without harming her skin.”

Ingrid trembled, sure she was going to start hyperventilating any moment now. This was lightyears beyond every fantasy she’d entertained about tickling Jocelyn. Every detail had been attended to. And she not only didn’t have to hide her secret fetish, she was encourage to indulge it all day long. Her knees felt weak, and she sat on one of the stools, which also served to claim her spot as first in line.

Kelly laughed. “Ah, we have an eager civil servant. We appreciate your enthusiasm, but please wait a moment longer, I’m almost done.” She held up a plastic water bottle with a straw protruding from the top. “She will receive regular water breaks, long enough only for drinking. We need her to stay hydrated, but she’s not moving from this spot for 10 hours, and it is fully expected that she will lose control of her bladder.” She pointed to a hose dangling beneath the bench on which Jocelyn sat. “A small funnel with a hose is attached beneath her seat, which has a hole in it. The hose will carry any urine to a bucket behind her bench. Please don’t worry about her pissing herself. We’re counting on it.”

Laughter and applause greeted this last announcement, and Ingrid shuddered involuntarily. She did NOT want to cross Kelly, even accidentally by breaking any of her rules. To end up in the stocks like Jocelyn would be a nightmare, and it was one she intended on staying on the giving end of. Ingrid quivered with excitement. Jocelyn was going to suffer mightily beneath her fingernails.

“The entire sentence will be supervised,” Kelly continued. “In the event you have finished your contribution to her recalibration and no one is available to take your place, please press this button.” She motioned to a red button the side of the stocks. “It’s connected to me via Bluetooth and will alert me that no one is able to continue, and I will step in until we have another volunteer. The intention is that she receive almost no breaks during the day, to maximize her time to reflect on her crimes.” Kelly paused, beaming while drawing a deep breath, a flush of excitement all over her skin. “Now, that was a lot of talking. Who’s ready for a demonstration?”

The crowd behind Ingrid exploded in cheering, laughing and taunting. “Get her toes!” a pretty, middle aged woman called. “No mercy!” a man shouted. “Show that Lib what happens when you defy the government!” A half dozen calls for the torture to commence echoed from the group, which now numbered at least thirty people. Jocelyn literally trembled with fear, and she looked at Ingrid with pleading eyes that were starting to tear up. “Please,” she mumbled, but then looked away when Ingrid responded by licking her lips.

Kelly removed her remaining shoe and both socks, stopping to smell them before setting them aside. She looked ecstatic, and it was clear that she loved her new job. Grabbing the toes on Jocelyn’s left foot, she bent them back and used one of the brushes from the bucket to furiously scrub up and down her stretched taut arch. Jocelyn shrieked and bucked in the stocks, but she couldn’t escape. Her eyes were wild with panic, and she thrashed to no avail. Helpless guffaws cried out from her ball gag, but Kelly didn’t slow down for one second, scrubbing away like her life depended on it, a huge smile on her face.

“Nononononononooooooo!” Jocelyn cried, her panic coming through the ballgag perfectly clear. She convulsed, shaking her head back and forth as if trying to deny what was happening to her helpless foot. The brush had moved to the balls of her foot, and she screamed like a banshee, futilely attempting to move her captive sole away from the tickling. The crowd yelled its approval, cheering her on. “Make her cry!” another woman shouted. “Don’t stop!” Kelly obliged, savagely scrubbing her soles for another couple of minutes. Jocelyn burst into tears, screaming and shaking.

“That,” Kelly said, “is how it’s done. You’re encouraged to use all of the tools in the bucket to see what works best, to find her worst spots. Spoiler alert,” she said, holding her hand by her mouth but also raising her voice. “It’s the balls of her feet and her toes.” She laughed, and everyone else did too. “While it’s fun to see her flap her foot around in desperation, sometimes it’s helpful to have it immobilized so she can’t move it at all, and then you can use both hands. That’s what the toe ties are for!” She was breathing heavily, and Ingrid could see the lust painted on her face plain as day. Ingrid understood, and she approved. This was the best thing that had ever happened to her, without a close second. Kelly was getting paid for this? She decided then and there that she had to be hired as a CPO. Hell, she’d do it for free!

Grabbing one of the strings hanging from an eye ring mounted on top of the stocks, Kelly tied it around the big toe of her left foot and pulled back, stretching her sole taut until it was immobile. She then tied her pinky toe to the outer most ring, effectively holding the foot completely still with the toes spread. She flicked on one of the electric tooth brushes, placing its head between her big and index toes. Jocelyn shrieked with laughter and tried to move away, but her helpless sole moved maybe a millimeter, and her toes not at all. Kelly explored in between her toes with precision and focus, and Jocelyn could do nothing but scream in helpless laughter and take it. “When you find a good spot and have identified your favorite tool,” she said over the desperate laughter, holding the toothbrush bristles between the toes, “consider focusing on it long term. At least 5 or 10 minutes, before moving to the next spot. It’s the only way she’s going to learn and change her ways.”

Another minute passed while she dug around between each of the toes, merciless and methodical. She turned the tooth brush off but continued raking the stretched sole with her fingernails, scratching relentlessly in little circles as fast as her fingers would move. Jocelyn thrashed behind the wooden restraints to no avail, howling for mercy. She received none. Kelly continued tickling with one hand, while the other pulled Jocelyn’s long golden hair, forcing her to look up at her. “Say that you regret what you’ve done,” she commanded.

Jocelyn continued to scream in helpless laughter, tears streaming down her alabaster face. Her expression was a case study in terror and panic. She was drooling, but nothing came out of her gagged mouth besides muffled shrieks and gales of desperate, breathless laughter.

“Say it,” Kelly ordered. “Or I can add additional days to your sentence.”

Jocelyn jerked like she’d been shocked, eyes widening in fear. “I regrahahahahahaha!” Jocelyn gurgled, unable to get the words out. She shrieked like she was being stabbed, and then continued guffawing. “I regrehehehet what I dihihihid!” she finally managed. “P’ease stop!” After another couple of minutes Kelly stopped, and released her hair.

“And that concludes our demonstration,” Kelly announced. The crowd, still growing, cheered her. “Please feel welcome to entertain yourselves to your content. Regrettably the genitals are off limits per federal law in case minors in the crowd, but otherwise it’s open season. You can literally do anything you want. Live out your fantasies on her exposed body.” Ingrid heartrate galloped at that last offer. “Tease, taunt, taste and torture. She’s ticklish everywhere, although her feet are absolutely her worst spot. Please enjoy yourselves, and make sure she doesn’t. And remember: no breaks, and no mercy. Go scorched earth and break her. If no one is available to take your place, you are required to page me, and I will be happy to take your place. Have fun!”

Several other inmates were also laughing hysterically, including the curly haired brunette to Jocelyn’s left. Her name was Tara according to the notice displayed in front of her, and she was being punished for a third DUI. Trump hated drinking. The brunette screamed and laughed at the same time through her own ball gag, trying in vain to pull her feet away from a group of malicious late teens who were just getting started. Two boys were licking her nipples while digging into her ribs. A young woman was sucking on her big toe while tickling her arch, and another woman was holding back the other big toe while scrubbing the stretched sole with a hairbrush. The ticklers were all laughing and taunting, very clearly enjoying the sexual experimentation they were being allowed to perform. Tara looked skyward and roared with helpless laughter, tears streaming from wide, panicky eyes.

“I need to go supervise the other three victims…I mean inmates. Please do your duty, the worse it is, the better it is. Enjoy those vulnerable feet!” With that she wandered over to Tara and began to demonstrate the most effective ways to tie her toes spread apart, and pointed out the most ticklish areas. In Tara’s case, it was between the toes, and she squealed when the electric toothbrush was introduced. Ingrid thought she might cum on the spot watching it, and then realized everyone was waiting for her to get started.

“Mmm,” Ingrid moaned, moving closer. “I remember how you made me feel, when you humiliated me. You were such a bitch, and you were so abusive. Seems like a good way to respond. I think it’s time we see who dominates who, won’t we?” She smelled Jocelyn’s sweaty right foot, breathing in the pungent odor. It smelled like old cheese that had been left out in the sun. Leaning in, she licked up the length of the slender, exposed foot, savoring the salty taste. Jocelyn jerked away, her face a mask of rage, but Ingrid grabbed hold of her foot and held it still. Her tongue darted in between her skinny toes, swishing back and forth and excavating the toe jam lodged in the crevasses. Jocelyn laughed and screamed, furious, curling and flexing her toes in a futile attempt to dislodged Ingrid’s probing tongue. Ingrid immediately orgasmed, trembling with ecstasy for several long moments.

She’d tasted a lot of feet in her 38 years, but never one this sweaty, this vulnerable and exposed. Usually it was playful foot worship on a couch during a date, or sucking on the toes of one of her sleeping friends during a sleepover in junior high. She had often snuck into her older sister’s room in the middle of the night, and was well acquainted with how her bare feet tasted. Her sister slept like the dead, and even when she’d licked between every toe and held the foot while tickling it, she’d never woken. She’d enjoyed that routine dozens of times in high school until her sister moved out, never knowing that Ingrid was intimately familiar with the taste of her soles. Once in college, her friend Christina had drank too much at a frat party and passed out at Ingrid’s apartment soon after in her sandals. Ingrid had indulged in a foot licking bender that lasted for hours while her gorgeous friend snored and twitched her perfect feet. Eventually she’d tied her ankles together and her toes backwards when it became clear she wasn’t going to wake up, tickling to her heart’s content for most of the night. She had hundreds of pictures saved from that magical evening which she’d sold online many times. Notwithstanding all of these foot victories, they were almost never ultra sweaty, fresh from the shoe, as she thought of it. This, however, was next level. Jocelyn’s toes gushed sweat and tasted like she’d just run a marathon. Just wait for the heaters, you little bitch. I’m going to put on a clinic on how to torture your cheesy little tootsies.

“Tickle her!” someone screamed behind her. “Punish her!” another called.

Ingrid snapped her eyes open, aware that the crowd was watching her lick Jocelyn’s foot but do nothing to torture her. Oh just you wait. She placed the big toe in her mouth and pushed towards the stocks, holding it stretched back while her fingers glided over the balls of her foot. Jocelyn jerked her foot in spasms, but Ingrid’s mouth held her toe firmly, and the rest of the foot suffered her fingernails while Jocelyn shrieked with laughter, thrashing uselessly behind the restraints.

After a few minutes Ingrid finally released the sweaty toe from her mouth, surfacing to survey her results. Jocelyn was a mess, drenched in perspiration and heaving desperately for breath, tears streaming from her eyes. “Your toes are really sweaty and stinky, you know that?” she said with a grin. “Fun fact: it’s not actually the sweat that stinks, but the bacteria that eats it. More sweat, more bacteria, more cheesy smell. You must have a lot of toe sweat!” She laughed, giving the arch a quick tickle. Jocelyn jumped like she’d been electrocuted, yelping in protest. “I want to explore the rest of your foot, and see if Kelly is right about your worst spots.” She retrieved the dangling ropes and tied the big toe and pinky toe, like had been done during the demonstration. The right foot was now also completely immobilized, toes spread.

“Let’s start at the bottom,” she giggled, bursting with excitement. She grabbed one of the combs and sawed it across the heel, eliciting squeals of surprise. Jocelyn pulled against the toe ties, but the laughter was only moderate level. Ingrid switched to one of the hairbrushes and savagely attacked the heel, taking erotic pleasure in the immediate panic it caused. Pushing harder, she poured herself into the assault, for which she was rewarded with peals of desperate, uncontrollable laughter. “Aaaarghahahahaha!” Jocelyn screamed, struggling to free herself. “No more!” She tried thrusting her vulnerable feet forward since it was the only direction they could move, but it only pulled her toes back further and made it worse.

“Your heel is a good one, but I think we can do better!” She moved the brush up to the stretched arch and began scrubbing viciously, ignoring Jocelyn’s desperate pleas for mercy.

“Oh my Gohahahahahad!” she cried around her gag. “Plehehehease stoooooop!” Ingrid ignored her, dropping the brush and digging in with her fingernails. Jocelyn bucked behind the restraining boards, wailing in hysterics. The sound of her agony turned Ingrid on more than she had ever experienced. Her nails danced over the helpless sole, targeting her expose arch with a vengeance and digging in. The foot jerked and spasmed, but was unable to get away even a little bit, and she kept after it, using all ten fingers to punish the wrinkled skin for close to ten minutes. Jocelyn was openly sobbing now. Her hair was plastered to her head, and she was shaking. “Ok, arch. That was a good one. Write that down,” she called over her shoulder, and the crowd laughed, cheering her efforts. “Let’s keep going. I don’t want you to get bored,” she said to her victim, “and I’m sure you don’t want Kelly to come back over here.”

“Pwease,” Jocelyn begged, sobbing. “Please, no more! I can’t ‘ake it anymore!” She stared at Ingrid, pleading with eyes that were now bloodshot, eyebrows pinched together in a pathetic expression begging for mercy. “I ‘an’t breathe! Pwease, I can’t do this!”

Ingrid laughed, giving the sweaty foot in front of her face a long lick. “Oh you can, and you will. You have no choice, and I’m going to be here all day. Let’s see how the sides and tops of your feet react!” She attacked, and was rewarded with repeated yelps and quivers, but nothing of the magnitude she was looking for. “Ok, that’s fine, good but not great. But…you know what comes next?” she asked, dragging a sharp nail across the balls of the foot. Jocelyn shrieked again, voice hoarse but no less desperate. Ingrid doubled her assault, scraping her nails over the helpless sole repeatedly, scrabbling over the balls of the foot over and over again. This was her favorite spot to tickle, as she’d found over the years that it tended to be one of the most sensitive and sweaty areas. She’d seen a research study from Australia that claimed the arch was the most sensitive on women and toes on men, but she’d conducted quite a bit of her own research and disagreed. The stretched taut balls of a woman’s foot were almost always the Armageddon of tickle torture, and she was intent on proving that theory.

Jocelyn wailed, trying to move her foot away, but Ingrid didn’t let her have a single second of rest. She glided her fingers over the ball of the big toe, attacking the spot with single-minded ferocity. Jocelyn bucked and writhed, trying in vain to escape the relentless torture while laughing hysterically, tears pouring from her shut eyes. Theory confirmed, but just in case, she wanted to retest and do best out of ten. “Oh my goodness,” Ingrid said, and then licked between her toes again. “I think I’ve found the single most ticklish square inch on your entire body.” She traced a fingernail along a wrinkle running side to side, just beneath the ball of the foot, and Jocelyn howled in outrage and helpless laughter. “Kitchy kitchy coo!” Ingrid said, laughing.

The crowd had swelled to several dozen now, and they were all laughing, pointing, and cheering. It would have made Ingrid sick to see such a malevolent crowd enthralled by torture if it weren’t her inflicting it. Again, she made sure to adhere to the rules. Ending up in this position would be worse than years in prison. “Torture those toes!” a Russian woman called. “Make her pee!”

A young college aged woman joined her at the left foot, scratching at the balls of that one at the same time. Jocelyn went ballistic, screeching like a boiling tea kettle. Her upper body and arms thrashed, and her hands flexed and clenched into fists, but her stretched soles were taut, immobile and utterly helpless. “Yep, that’s her spot!” Ingrid shouted, laughing. Together they scratched away layers of sweat, and the once pale soles were pink from endless tickling. Every time Ingrid dragged her sharp nails over the vulnerable foot, they left white lines in the pink skin like tracers, showing where she was targeting.

Jocelyn had laughed so hard for so long that barely any sound was coming out past the ball gag any longer. She wheezed in desperation, laughing almost silently, unable to summon the lung power to push her hysterical laughter out any longer. Ingrid checked her watch; it was 11:15. “Oh sweetheart, it’s going to be a long day,” she said, renewing her efforts. Turning to the young woman who was savagely attacking the left foot, she said “Let’s focus on her spot for an hour or two, ok?”

“Absolutely,” the other woman, who introduced herself as Kacey, said with a vicious grin. “Let’s break this bitch and teach her a lesson!” She was licking in between the spread toes on the left foot while dancing eight fingers just beneath her tongue. “Mmm,” she moaned. “It’s nice and cheesy in between your toes! I could do this all day. Maybe I will!” She laughed and continued tickling helpless toes with her tongue, causing their blonde victim to shriek with renewed panic. “Fucking liberal! I hope you don’t learn your lesson so I can educate you on the errors of your ways again!” She laughed and tickled harder, her lip raised in an unconscious snarl while she scrubbed ferociously. Her nails were a half inch long and looked wicked sharp.

The mob behind them continued to grow, pulling in viewers from all parts of the park who heard the shrieking laughter and came to see the spectacle. There were over a hundred people watching now, taunting and cheering. No one was pushing for their own turn, and they generally seemed content to watch with sadistic fascination while Ingrid and Kacey punished her helpless feet with merciless efficiency. Ingrid had never in her entire life enjoyed herself so much, and it wasn’t even lunch time yet. A group of forty something women had gathered right behind them, and one of them was unabashedly masturbating while she watched them work. “Get her toes!” she demanded. Another directed them to get out the toothbrushes. A man in the back requested that they go back to her arches and start over. “Show them Dems what happens when they get out of line!” someone shouted.

Ingrid tickled as hard as she could, moving her fingernails up into the toes. No sound was coming from Jocelyn at all any longer, except for a faint wheezing as she guffawed into her gag and the occasional desperate squeal. Ingrid was busy licking another fresh layer of sweat from the trapped foot when she heard a solid thud! Jocelyn’s forehead rested on top of the restraining board, her movements ceased. She had lost consciousness after three hours of non-stop tickle torture. Ingrid flipped the button on the vibrating panties fob while tasting the foot sweat again, and instantly came. Her body shuddered uncontrollably.

Kacey pressed the button on the side of the stocks, and Kelly was there in less than a minute. “Uh, yeah, this bitch passed out and we want to keep tickling her. What do we do?” She ran her nails down the left sole, as if making sure it still wasn’t working.

Kelly chortled, producing smelling salts and waiving them under Jocelyn’s nose. Their victim jerked awake, wild eyes scanning the scene before her in terror. “You won’t get out of it that easy!” Kelly admonished. “We still need to get your long, helpless toes!” She laughed, giving the left foot a quick tickle. Jocelyn yelped and jumped. “But first, it’s time for a drink. We can’t hear you laughing, and that means it doesn’t count. You want it to count, don’t you?” She unclasped the ball gag, pulling it out of the blonde’s mouth. “I want to hear you scream again.” She held the bottle of water to Jocelyn’s mouth, and she drank greedily, draining the bottle. “See, I can be nice too.”

“Fuck you!” Jocelyn wheezed.

“Oh honey, I don’t think so,” Kelly said. “I’m going to fuck you. And you’re going to like it. Let’s see if you end up tied to your bed in your cell tonight. Time to buckle up sweetie, because we’re just getting started.” She wadded up Jocelyn’s sweat-soaked socks and pushed them into her mouth, and then placed the gag back in her mouth after wrestling with her head for a moment, tightening it even further than before. She turned to Ingrid and Kacey. “I think it’s time for the toes. The toothbrushes are the most cruel and effective. I’ll give you each $100 cash if you can make her pass out again in the next hour. Make this bitch beg for mercy, and give her none.”

They each retrieved two of the electric toothbrushes and immediately went to work, dragging the oscillating bristles over and between each of the tied toes in front of their hungry faces. Ingrid worked methodically as Kelly had done, using one of the vibrating heads on the stalk of the toe while the other focused on the pad of the toe at its tip. Jocelyn shrieked, pulling and thrashing against her bonds to no avail. The addition of her own sweaty socks crammed into her mouth made it harder for her to get any recognizable words out, so it was mostly unintelligible howls of laughter, but one plea did make it through after a few minutes.

“Not my ‘oes!” she screamed. “P’ease! S’op!” She bucked violently on her bench, and Ingrid wondered if it were possible that she might have a heart attack before the day was done. Medical personal were standing by for such an occasion. Unfortunately for Jocelyn, she was strictly ordered to show no mercy, to not slow down or stop, so she felt it was best to follow orders. Jocelyn was young and in good shape, so it was probably fine, and she’d brought this on herself. Which Ingrid was eternally grateful for. Besides, this was the single most erotic thing she’d ever experienced, and nothing was going to take this moment from her. Nothing.

“Not your toes?” Ingrid taunted, moving the brushes over to explore in between her middle and index toes. “Are you sure? It seems like you’re having fun since you’re laughing so much. Don’t worry, it’ll probably only be another hour or so. Tickle tickle tickle! Not so tough anymore, are you?” She held one brush head against the meaty pad of the big toe while the other continued to wander outward, violating the fourth and pinky toes, and of course the crevasse between.

Kacey was employing a similar tactic, dragging a brush head along the base of her toes where they connected to the foot while torturing between them with the other. “Laugh if you want us to continue tickling your toes!” Kacey yelled, drawing the crowd into the taunting. Jocelyn howled in a wordless cry of anguish, rocking back and forth, unable to move her tied toes away from the relentless tickling. She laughed uncontrollably, sobbing while hyperventilating and struggling to draw breath through her nose. Kacey clearly had a foot fetish also and was enraptured in the torture, a look of furious determination on her face as she applied herself to the punishment. Her face was contorted into an angry mask of sadistic pleasure, eyebrows furrowed, lip raised over clenched teeth, glaring eyes narrowed. I need to get that girl’s number, Ingrid thought.

A moment later, they heard a splashing sound, and Ingrid realized what was happening. “She’s peeing herself!” she called out with a laugh. “Kitchy kitchy coo! Awww, does that tickle?” It was just before noon, four hours into the 10 hour torture session.

The mob behind her cheered, laughing and pointing. Several were taking videos and pictures, immortalizing the moment on the internet. Jocelyn’s face was bright red, awash with shame and embarrassment. “Finally!” a man called, laughing. “Serves her right!” The urination continued for a long moment, during which the tickling never relented. Jocelyn trembled, her bladder emptying while she shrieked muffled pleas for a break. “P’ease! P’eeeeeeaaaaase! Stop! I nee’ a break!” She dissolved into a hysterical fit of cackling, her eyes rolling back in their sockets.

“No breaks, remember?” Kelly said as she approached from behind. She reached around from behind and fondled Jocelyn’s nipples, scratching ruthlessly at the petite breasts. Jocelyn roared with laughter, rocking side to side to avoid Kelly’s fingers with minimal success. Kelly responded by grabbing hold of her by either side of her ribs and digging in for several moments. “Don’t worry though, you’ll get another drink of water in an hour, and that’ll probably take at least 20 seconds.” She chuckled, digging into armpits and drawing out a squeal of forced laughter.

Someone had set the stopwatches, and they went off with an electronic chirping, signaling a changing of the guard. “Time to share now, ladies,” Kelly said with a smirk. “Don’t worry though, you can certainly get back in line. Gotta go make my rounds.” She wandered over to the man on the far side of the circle of stocked inmates, attacking his toes in front of a crowd of onlookers. He screamed, frantically trying to evade her practiced fingers, and eventually lapsed into a prolonged fit of subservient, frantic laughter. Kelly didn’t stop.

Ingrid looked at the petite woman before her, who was still dribbling into her bucket, and suddenly realized she needed to pee also. After exchanging info with Kacey, she used the restroom by the pavilion. She was immediately drawn by the sound of intense, raucous laughter from the inmate next to Jocelyn, and hurried over to watch. Tara Lofflin, guilty of a third DUI, was getting brutalized in her stocks. Two couples were gang tickling her, and she was absolutely losing her shit. Ingrid pushed through the crowd to get a closer look.

Tara wasn’t what Ingrid would consider ‘hot’, probably a 6 or 7 at best. Her eyes were kind of small and her nose was slightly too big. But what she lacked in superficial beauty she more than made up for with her over the top desperation. The two couples were tickle torturing her into hysterics, and Tara could barely breathe she was laughing so hard. One of the men was on her right foot, licking her toes and furiously tickling with both hands. His wife stood behind the stocks, assaulting Tara’s ribs and sides. The other man stood opposite her behind the stocks, digging into her armpits and sucking on her nipple. The second woman was positioned in front of the left foot, and was sawing between Tara’s toes with both combs.

“Pleehehehehehease!” Tara finally managed around her gag, staring in wide-eyed panic at her own feet. “Stohahahahahap!”

“I don’t think so,” the brunette lady said from in front of her left foot, taking a long sniff and lick. “These have to be the stinkiest feet I’ve ever smelled! You totally deserve what we’re going to do to you. We’re just getting started! Mmm, nice and sweaty.” She traded in the combs for two hairbrushes, and viciously began scrubbing the large, toe-tied foot in front of her face. Tara let out a high pitched squeal, struggling uselessly. Based on how they were interacting, it seemed to Ingrid that these two couples were probably swingers, and getting their sexual gratification at Tara’s expense. If they were on a fetish date, that was the coolest thing Ingrid had ever heard of. She made a mental note to do that sometime soon, and now that public punishment was sanctioned by the government, she was absolutely going to take advantage of it.

The gang tickling was a coordinated attack, and their victim could do nothing except cackle helplessly. She thrashed back and forth, but no matter where she tried to go, two hands were there to extract her forced laughter. Her defenseless feet twitched in minor spasms but couldn’t get away from tongues or brushes. Guffawing in ragged gasps, she shrieked and lost her bladder, and the crowd applauded. The two couples didn’t stop, and Tara continued bawling and begging for mercy that she wasn’t going to receive. They just laughed and continued torturing her non-stop while continuously commenting on how much her feet stunk. It didn’t stop the two in front from tasting them repeatedly.

“It’s almost my turn,” a middle aged woman said nearby. “I’m going to punish her feet like she owes me money. This is going to be the worst 15 minutes of her life!” Several other people agreed, and Ingrid knew there would be a long line. She decided to move on, hoping to get a turn tomorrow before a huge crowd had gathered again.

Making her away around the far side of the pavilion, Ingrid stopped in front of the loan male inmate, who was currently being attacked by several college age women. Owen Guard, guilty of participating in a riot, sentenced to three days just like Jocelyn. He was extremely handsome, probably around 30 years old with dark hair and perfect white teeth. His feet looked like they were size 12, and were tied and stretched to their limits. Two of the women were digging into his toes, and he laughed uncontrollably, shaking and crying. A third woman stood behind him and had her hands in his boxers, stroking him with one hand while she tickled his ribs with another. Ingrid recalled that this was supposedly off limits, but apparently it didn’t seem to be enforced.

“Such a big strong man,” said one of the ladies at his feet. “Why is such a big strong man laughing under my fingers? Poor baby, does it tickle?” she taunted, laughing, before she began sucking on his toes. The other woman joined in, taking long licks of his exposed foot. “Rioting doesn’t seem like such a good idea now, does it?” she asked, dancing her fingers over the balls of his foot which caused him to burst into a fresh gale of helpless laughter. “Too bad your feet are so ticklish, because we’re going to punish you until you pass out, no matter how long it takes! I hope it takes all day!” She laughed again, scrubbing his arch with a hairbrush. “Look at the vulnerable widdle footsy!” She stood behind the stocks and stuck her tongue in between the big and index toe while tickling with both hands, and had her friend take a picture. “There’s my new screensaver!”

The third woman had moved in front of his hips and was now openly blowing him while tickling his stomach. He was red-faced and shamed, but couldn’t do anything other than roar with laughter into his ballgag. The women were merciless and brutal, and Ingrid was beyond aroused watching them dismantle their victim. On a ticklish scale of 1-10, Ingrid thought he had to be at least an 8 or 9, which is probably how he got stuck with this brutal sentence. Brown eyes wide with raw panic, he bucked and thrashed but couldn’t get away from the thirty vicious fingers driving him to hysteria. Owen was soon a sobbing wreck, but they didn’t give him a single second of rest. It seemed they meant to follow through on their threat, and he was well on his way to losing consciousness. Ok, add this guy to the list. I’ve gotta get those feet!

“Fuck you!” he yelled through the gag before lapsing back into panicked, high-pitched laughter. “Get off my fuckin’ feet you bitches!”

“Oh, bad call,” the woman on his right foot said. “Now we have to start over. I think the electronic dental pick between your toes was your favorite?” They viciously doubled their assault and he screamed, unable to form any further words. Ingrid watched in erotic fascination as the torture continued long term. Every time he almost ejaculated the third woman stopped sucking him off. By the third time, it had to be giving him the worst blue balls in the universe. All three were focusing on his feet now, and after another 10 minutes of scream laughing, he finally passed out. One of them pushed the button to summon Kelly, who promptly roused him with smelling salts.

“I don’t think so, tough guy,” one of them said when he was awake again. “You have the nerve to call us bitches? I just cleared the rest of my day asshole. Your feet are going to suffer until the last minute when they have to pull me off of you!” She retrieved the heaters and started roasting his feet while exploring with the toothbrushes. He screamed in panic, laughing hoarsely, and Ingrid almost felt bad for him. Almost. But not enough that she wasn’t going to do the exact same thing to him the first chance she got. She couldn’t wait. This guy was ultra vulnerable and she was going to push him to his limits and beyond. Someone was going to be tickle torturing him tomorrow, so it may as well be her.

As Ingrid continued her tour of the inmates, she discovered that she’d saved the best for last. Close to 200 people stood around Christine Green, and for good reason. Her hysterical laughter was delicious, and Ingrid instantly felt excitement tingle her vagina when she saw the diminutive victim thrashing in the stocks. She was pale white, with long dark hair parted down the middle. Green eyes bulged in terror, watching a young man and woman attack her feet with fingers, tongues and a variety of tools. According to the placard placed in front of her, she was a political science teacher at the community college who had spoken out against the President and his dictator-like mandates. Unfortunately for her, not all of her students were a fan, and she’d been reported by some of them.

Christine writhed in her stocks, desperation lacing every forced laugh. She struggled frantically, but her toes were tied so tightly that her big toes were a light shade of purple. She wasn’t moving a millimeter, and the fingernails savagely scraping her bare feet took full advantage.

“Noooooo!” Christine screamed through her gag. “You ‘an’t do this to me!” She dissolved into hysterical laughter, rocking back and forth and going nowhere. The two ticklers were apparently her students, and taking immense pleasure in torturing their former teacher.

“This is what you get for failing me, you dumb bitch,” the woman said with an evil laugh. “I hope it was worth it. I’m going to make you suffer! Hard!”

Christine screamed, choking on her own laughter, unable to draw breath much less respond. The woman was tasting between her spread toes, and it was driving her crazy. She shrieked in helpless rage while her soles were violated, and the crowd cheered them on, incensed by her extreme reaction. Ingrid watched them for at least a half hour, and the entire time they never stopped tickling the balls of her feet and her toes. Not even for a second. Clearly that was her worst spot, just like Jocelyn. Theory confirmed, again.

“You should know,” the woman said, “that it was me who turned you in.” Christine’s eyes bulged in outrage, or maybe it was the extreme tickle torture. Probably both. “I recorded everything you said on my phone. I was hoping to just get you fired, but this is sooooo much better. I always wanted to tickle torture your feet, and now look at you. Your sweaty toes are delicious, by the way.”

Christine shrieked in outrage, unable to stop laughing. It was a deep belly laugh, the kind that you simply can’t stop, and the two students in front of her certainly weren’t giving her any chance to catch her breath. She laughed and laughed, hopeless, completely at their mercy which was of course viciously lacking. They kept their fingers moving, even while licking, never giving a moment of reprieve.

“I ‘ailed you ‘ecause you didn’t do any hahahahaha of your ahahahahassignments!” Christine finally managed. She lapsed into a delirious frenzy, laughing like she’d gone mad. Which, Ingrid considered, she might have.

“What was that?” the young man, apparently the boyfriend, said. “We couldn’t hear you through all the laughing. Could you repeat that?” He licked her foot, continuously digging into her toes with two toothbrushes.

Their victim was unable to respond, reduced to panicky, screaming laughter. This lady was a 10/10, and there was no way Ingrid was letting her escape tomorrow. Hopefully she lasted that long, because it looked like she was going to shit her pants and have an aneurism at any moment. The line to get a turn was hours long, and while she badly wanted to torture this teacher to extinction, she needed to get back to Jocelyn. More than anything else, that bitch needed to suffer. As bad as possible. For as long as possible.

She reluctantly wandered over to the Saturday market to buy some lunch. She didn’t want to stray far, as she very much intended on taking another turn on her tiny blonde victim. She could hear Jocelyn screaming all the way from across the park, and wanted to get back in the driver’s seat asap. Fifteen minutes later, she carried a styrofoam container of yakisoba noodles back over to where Jocelyn was bound, and watched with aroused appreciation as two girls who looked like they had just graduated high school went to town on Jocelyn’s feet with vicious determination. Apparently Kelly had checked their IDs, and they were both 18.

As she watched, it became obvious that these girls were also no stranger to Jocelyn. “Disgusting lesbians, huh?” one of them shouted into her face. “You think it’s funny to tell my mom, just because your stupid son felt rejected?” She doubled down, scraping her nails down the sweaty foot tied before her, drawing agonized laughter from her defenseless victim. That was just plain rude, exposing a young woman’s homosexuality to her parents without letting her come out in her own time. Ingrid watched with renewed enthusiasm, enjoying the anguished hysteria they were causing. The girl’s friend had grabbed two of the brushes and was brutally scrubbing one over the arch and the other over the balls of the left foot. Jocelyn wailed, begging for mercy. “Now you’re a MILT: Mom I’d Like to Tickle!”

“I’m ‘orry!” she screamed through her gag. “No ‘ore, pwease! Pwease!” No mercy was given, not even for a second, and she was soon reduced to hysterical shrieking, her bucking growing weaker and weaker. She sobbed freely, head bowed. “I can’t, I can’t, please!” The two girls just laughed, wiggling their fingers over her tied toes with fiendish enthusiasm. “How’s karma today, asshole?” one of them laughed.

The crowd continued to jeer, hurling insults and taunts. The majority of the crowd were men who were nearly all aroused and trying to pretend they weren’t. Ingrid noticed with some small amount of excitement that the women in the crowd were the instigators who seemed most sadistic, most vindictive and intent on making the punishment as severe as possible. Upon closer inspection, they seemed to be just as aroused as the men but were doing a better job of masking it behind demands for justice to be served. “You deserve it!” one of them cried, throwing an apple core at Jocelyn’s head. “Serves you right!” another one said. “Get her! Punish her!” someone else screamed. When they thought no one was looking, they each had an excited, lusty flush and they were clearly enjoying the show.

The teenagers were now taking turns recording each other licking her toes while tickling her arches, drawing furious shrieks of outrage and laughter from their victim. “This is totally going on Social,” one of them said. “You’re gonna be the Foot Tickle Bitch for the rest of your life!” She laughed, resuming her assault with the hair brushes. At their urging, three more of their friends emerged from the crowd. One went behind Jocelyn and dug into her ribs and armpits, while the other two joined in front where they helped double team the defenseless feet. Jocelyn howled in panicked agony, screaming and crying, no words coming out. Just panicky laughter. Twenty fingers attacked each sole, spreading the suffering over every inch of her feet. Ingrid turned her panties on and came again, watching the spectacle with horrified fascination. No one else was in line, so they were able to continue the prolonged attack for 45 minutes until she was completely broken, reduced to weak jerking and silent screams. Her face was bright red and a vein stood out prominently in her forehead. They finally stopped when she lost control of her bladder again, the tickle torture simply too much to control her bodily functions. The mob behind them cheered, and Kelly came over to inspect with a devilish smile. “Next!” one of the girls called to the crowd.

“Thank you for your service, young women,” Kelly said. “We’ll be here tomorrow and Monday also, please come back and help if you’re able. I’m sure this inmate appreciates the attention you’ve bestowed upon her. It’s crucial she gets the help she needs, and your efforts are supporting her recovery.”

Jocelyn bawled in response, head held low in shame. Ingrid thought it might be the best moment of her day so far, because Kelly was letting her have another break to drink more water, and Jocelyn was drawing it out as long as she could. She managed all of one minute before Kelly forced her head back and made her drink the rest. “Stop stalling, you aren’t smooth.”

It was now almost 2:00 and Ingrid was ready to get back into control. “Can I use the heaters?” Ingrid asked, stepping up before anyone else could jump in. “I want to see how sweaty I can get them,” she added, making eye contact with Jocelyn. “You’re right, the tickling is so much worse when they’re sweaty, and I think we can take this punishment to the next level if we can get them nice and toasty. And can we leave the gag out, just for a little bit? I want to hear her beg.”

Kelly laughed. “I love it. Yes of course. You’ll be tickling her while heating them, I’m sure?”

“Yes of course,” Ingrid added hastily. “But first in the spirit of humiliation, I was wondering if I could make her smell and lick my feet. It might be a small break, but I want to make her suffer in as many ways as I can.”

With a dubious expression, Kelly eyed her. “Ok, but only for a short stint. We don’t want her having a chance to catch her breath and rest, after all. You’ve got five minutes, tops.” She stood aside, clearly intent on watching.

Ingrid peeled off her own sweaty sock, ramming it into Jocelyn’s mouth before she could react.

“Eww!” Joceyln screamed. “Gross! S’op!” The sock was firmly in her mouth, moist and stinky, and there was nothing her victim could do about it.

“Ok, I’ll stop,” Ingrid said, with a wink to Kelly. “Because now you’re going to lick in between my toes, and the moment you stop, it’s back to the torture. Someone, get a video of this, please?” She removed the sock and placed her ripe foot in Jocelyn’s face, balancing her calf on top of the stocks. “Well, get started.”

Jocelyn was revolted, trying to turn her head away as much as possible, but when Kelly started to step forward she straightened, tentatively pushing her face forward. “Eww, it stinks! This is so disgusting!” she whined, new tears falling down her cheeks.

“Lick ‘em, bitch, or else!” Ingrid responded, waving her foot and flexing her toes. “I’m not feeling very forgiving today.”

Jocelyn leaned in and licked Ingrid’s foot, gagging before taking another full sized taste of the entire sole. “Between my toes. Now!” The blonde women cried silently and stuck her tongue out, ramming it between Ingrid’s sweaty toes briefly. She pulled back and gagged, nauseated. “I can’t,” she breathed. “They’re so nasty! When’s the last time you washed your stinky feet you fucking deranged weirdo?”

“Ok, that’s enough,” Kelly said. “Back to the tickling. I want her screaming in the next minute or we’ll need to move onto someone else.” Jocelyn appeared to realize what she’d just said in her enraged outburst and her face went pale again, raw panic resuming its place. She started to apologize, but was cut off when Kelly put the ball gag back in. Ingrid shook her head, quickly putting her sock and shoe back on while assuming her position on the stool in front of the stocks. “I’d welcome some help from the crowd on the left, but I definitely want to get the right foot again. And I’m ready for the heaters.”

Kelly complied with enthusiasm, setting each of the heaters up in front of the feet, turning them on. They immediately roared to life, sending a heatwave out onto the stretched soles. The early afternoon sun had already risen the temperature into the mid 80s, but Ingrid wanted to make the sweating reach critical mass for her next round of enforcement. Heat blasted out of the heaters, and Jocelyn screamed while her feet roasted. A man around her own age stepped forward and sat on the right stool, and together they attacked the immobilized feet, creating a symphony of helpless laughter with their fingernails. It was like playing a piano at breakneck speed.

“My girlfriend doesn’t let me tickle her feet,” he said. “But she’s ok with me taking it out on this criminal!” He laughed and doubled his assault, sucking on her toes while tickling as hard and fast as possible. His erection was impossible to miss.

After only a few minutes the foot Ingrid was torturing was sweating profusely, rivulets of salty fluid running down her stretched sole. She licked it up in a moment, forcing her tongue in between the cheesy toes while her victim screamed and laughed, unable to do anything but endure the torment. The sweat and odor had increased a dramatic amount, literally dripping down her soles, and she lapped it up, making sure to keep her fingernails digging in the entire time.

“BWAHAHAHAHA!” Jocelyn screamed, thrashing wildly. “No ‘ore! Pleeeeeeaaase!”

Her pleas fell on deaf ears. Ingrid began taking instruction from the crowd, getting them involved as much as possible. They alternated between yelling at her to ‘get her toes’ or ‘use the brush’, directing the torment to various parts of the foot depending on which area had received a reprieve for too long. She tied each of the three middle toes back also, spreading them as far as possible. Using the electronic dental pick in one hand and a comb in the other, she sawed between the toes again, torturing every millimeter of slippery skin. Their combined assault went on for around an hour while the crowd continued to grow, cheering them on. Ingrid had moved her focus to the balls of the foot again, scraping her fingernails over the stretched skin, digging in hard. Jocelyn shrieked, screamed, begged and cried but none of it gained her a moment of relief. Eventually another thud! announced that she had lost consciousness again, her labored breathing too much to keep up. Her golden head lay on top of the stocks, her body motionless.

“I hope we didn’t kill her,” the man said from the left foot, his expression sheepish and concerned. He pressed the red button.

“Nah, she’s fine,” Ingrid said with joyful malice. “This is a pattern, and she thinks she can escape. Give it a moment, and we’ll be back in action.”

Kelly woke her up again with the smelling salts, positioning herself between Jocelyn and the EMTs standing by. “We don’t want to do that too many times,” she said with an impish grin. “Or the medics will have the ability to intervene.” She glared at the medical staff, who were standing in the pavilion and watching the festivities with horror. “I’m working on changing that,” she muttered. “We’ve got a little under 3 hours left until this shift is over. Let’s set up a tournament!” Her announcement was greeted with applause and cheering. “In ten minute intervals with teams of two, whoever is able to make her either pass out or pee again will win $500 cash to split between their duo. You may only select one tool to be used the entire time, including fingers and tongues. Who’s interested?” The crowd roared in approval. Kelly forced her to drink another bottle of water.

People surged forward, with 17 teams putting their names on the list to cover the final 2 hours and 50 minutes. Ingrid made sure she was 17th on the list so she could go last, after all of the other abuse had been heaped on the tiny woman. There was even a waiting list should one of the teams wander away or become unavailable. Someone even started up a gambling ring for side bets, based on who the ticklers were, what tools they announced they would be using, and at which point in the order of teams they were to participate. Each team recorded their attempt and posed for pictures with Jocelyn sobbing inconsolably in the background, her vulnerable feet prominently on display. Within an hour it was viral on the internet, achieving over 10,000,000 views and counting.

After what felt like an eternity (for Ingrid and certainly for Jocelyn), it was finally Ingrid’s turn again. She’d signed Kacey up as her partner, and they assumed the position on the stools. Jocelyn had only received a 15 second break while teams traded places, and her nostrils were flared and heaving for breath. She look wild-eyed around herself, looking for help that wasn’t coming. Kacey let out an evil laugh, smelling her foot. “My new girlfriend and I are going to get you, little blonde lady. I hope you’re ready, because I’m not playing nice this time!”

New girlfriend? Ok! And…playing nice? That last time was NICE? Whoa.

“It’s go time, Joss,” Ingrid said, giving her a sweet smile. “We saved the best for last. I’m so glad we got to catch up. We should do this more often!”

“ ’Uck you!” Jocelyn shrieked.

Kacey had selected a stiff bristled brush, while Ingrid preferred her fingers. They attacked on cue, viciously digging into the tender, naked feet before them. Jocelyn sobbed, laughing harder and harder with each passing minute. There was no way she could keep this up, and Ingrid could see her stamina failing. It was all she could do to keep drawing breath, and her laughter had gone back to the silent, shaking variety while Ingrid finger raped her bare foot. Jocelyn was so overstimulated she literally couldn’t even get the agonized laughs out any more, weakly rocking back and forth because she couldn’t move her toetied feet even a tiny bit.

They only had 3 minutes left, and Ingrid wanted that prize. She dug her sharp fingernails into the stretched toes, digging in between, sliding over them, as fast as she could. Kacey was attacking the balls of her left foot with fury, brushing so hard and so fast she was actually panting with exertion. So was Jocelyn, and Ingrid could feel victory sliding within her grasp. She badly wanted to lick her toes again, but per Kelly’s rules for the tournament, that would count as an additional ‘tool’. She dug into the exposed skin harder, raking her nails over the exposed arch in front of her. Jocelyn shrieked like she’d been thrown in boiling water, her whole body stiffening. The defeated laughter extracted by force gave Ingrid goosebumps and made her moist again. The sound had changed to one of utter despair, and from the anguish painted all over her tear-streaked face, poor little Jocelyn was about to lose her mind. Literally. They were so close, just another minute and she was guaranteed to collapse.

“And…..time!” Kelly announced. Three seconds later, Jocelyn was peeing again, her entire body limp and wracked with sobs.

“Hey, no fair!” Kacey protested. “She would’ve started peeing before you called time. It takes a few seconds for the pee to go through the tube, and she’s clearly spent. Look at her!”

“Sorry, it was close,” Kelly said. “But it had to be clear before the buzzer went off. Depending on how tomorrow goes, we may be able to set up a rematch. For now, the law requires that I end this shift and take the inmates back to jail.” She sounded wistful.

Now Ingrid leaned in, licking up the sole and between the toes. She sucked on the big toe, and gave the other toes one last tickle, which was greeted by a scream and a spasm.

Two officers from the Public Punishment Department arrived and opened the stocks, helping the nearly catatonic blonde to stand. She was so weak she could barely move, and after helped her put her jumpsuit and shoes back on and handcuffed her, they mostly carried her to the van that would take her back to jail while she quietly shuddered with sobbing the entire way.

“Joss!” Ingrid called after her. “I have no plans at all this weekend. See you tomorrow morning!”

<to be continued…>

 

[Smellking]

Very nice story. I would really appreciate a greater proportion of tickling from male perpetrators.

 

[Titillating 2.0]

Awesome story, cool premise

 

[Smellking]

I´m waiting for the next part.