tklmysole
Registered User
- Joined
- Nov 22, 2021
- Messages
- 19
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- 3
A mouthy, conceited young businesswoman suffers near-endless tickle torture in the rear seat of her chauffeur’s car.
On the corner of a busy intersection, Henry found himself slumped over the steering wheel of his black sedan, gazing up at an office building. It was an imposing structure, with polished aluminum and mirrored glass panels stretching toward the clouds. A modern engineering marvel, it towered over everyone at street level, appearing as a physical manifestation of vertical career trajectory and near-endless business aspirations. But, the same could be said about dozens of similar buildings that littered the downtown core and blocked the sky from view.
The drone of rush hour traffic grew steadily louder. Hordes of pedestrians ambled by; a sea downturned heads staring at their devices. How they managed to maneuver through the crowd without colliding with another human being was remarkable, Henry thought, shortly before rolling up his window in an effort to silence the grating sounds of the city.
After several years as a chauffeur, he’d grown accustomed to the noise - and clientele - but, it never became any easier. It didn’t matter who he picked up; male or female, young or old, it was all the same. Interchangeable people wearing tailored suits, briefcases in hand, wearing polished leather dress shoes or high heels. Everyone had somewhere to go, and little time to spare. Finding someone who could slow down and have a chat was a rarity, it seemed, and he’d accepted that he was looked upon as a service to be used. The days were long, navigating congested streets and avoiding jaywalkers who darted out in front of moving vehicles without a second thought. Not to mention ongoing roadwork at multiple points throughout the city, bringing traffic to a standstill for longer than he thought possible.
His hand drifted toward the car’s stereo controls, incrementally twisting the tuning knob, but mile-high towers of steel and concrete hindered the satellite signal, leaving nothing but harsh static; white noise that sounded eerily similar to the cityscape on the other side of his window. This, coupled with passing vehicles and shuffling bodies on the crowded sidewalk, ensured Henry was able to focus on little else.
Reaching in his shirt pocket to retrieve a small comb, Henry ran it through his neatly parted, coal-black hair, then returned it to the pocket while switching off the radio for good. He’d finally accepted the ambient background chatter of countless passersby on their way home, envious that his day hadn’t also come to an end. But, he had one last client to pick up, and evidently punctuality was not her top concern. Withdrawing a pen from the coils of his well-worn notebook, Henry scrawled his estimated time of arrival and indicated the client’s tardiness in the margin. It was a proven method of keeping on track, ensuring each pick-up and drop-off was prompt, while also jotting any notes regarding specific client needs.
One late pick-up would ordinarily throw off his entire schedule, affecting not only his other clients but his wallet as well - being penalized for someone else's error was not something he tolerated when it came time to collect his weekly paycheque - but in this case, it wasn’t as much of an issue. After six o’clock he was technically on his own time, meaning the stress of adhering to a strict itinerary was off his mind, enabling him to wind down after another day of time constraints. After driving this final client to her home, he’d be headed to his own, and that pleasant thought did something to brighten his mood, if only slightly.
Yet as time ticked on his impatience grew, and he double-checked his driver’s log to ensure he’d arrived at the correct location. He’d visited this section of town before - it was a frequent stop - but this wasn’t his typical route, and was therefore unfamiliar with today’s client list. The most recent message in the log indicated this was exactly where he needed to be, so he closed his eyes and resigned himself to waiting a little longer.
A rapid knock on the tinted glass window woke him with a start. A glance toward the clock on the dashboard indicated it was nearly six-thirty, and it appeared his wayward client had finally surfaced.
A brunette was standing to the immediate right of his car, shoulders squared as she squinted her hazel eyes in his direction. She was quite tall, though he imagined her imposing height was aided by a pair of high heels. Her olive skin was aglow with the light of the setting sun, bathed in splendid hues of pink and orange, amplified by countless mirror-like panes of glass from surrounding office buildings. Her arms were folded, a look of irritation on her thin face as she withdrew a small leather handbag from under her arm, using it to rap on the glass once more. As their eyes met, she tilted her head slightly and began tapping a foot impatiently against the concrete sidewalk. She appeared younger than his usual clients, likely twenty-five, give or take a few years.
“Door,” came her muffled voice from the passenger side of the vehicle.
She was wearing formal business attire, dressed neatly in black, and although this elegant choice of clothing was commonplace, she pulled it off better than most. The multitude of gold rings decorating her slender fingers glittered in the sunlight as she adjusted the bold, black-framed glasses resting on her nose, while a matching gold necklace lay flat against her collarbone, leading his eye to her plunging neckline and ample cleavage.
“Door,” she repeated sternly after clearing her throat.
Once his eyes had refocused somewhere slightly more appropriate, Henry couldn’t help but wonder what she did for a living. One could assume she was a lawyer, or at the very least, a paralegal. Alternatively, she might be an assistant of sorts, though her stunning silhouette and stern facial expression led him to believe she held a position of power and wasn’t confined to a reception desk on a daily basis.
The blazer she wore over her white dress shirt was perfectly tailored, hugging her curves while accentuating her lean, athletic figure. It was paired with a knee-length pencil skirt; high-waisted and flattering. Altogether it was a polished, professional appearance. She projected a look of superiority, from her clothing and jewelry to her body language, effortlessly exuding confidence without moving a muscle.
“Ahem,”
She cleared her throat yet again, plainly attempting to grab his attention. With a furrowed brow she tilted her head to the side while motioning with her eyes toward the rear passenger door handle.
“Would you care to unlock the car, or shall I begin walking home?” she asked, loudly enough to be heard over the traffic whizzing by. “I wouldn’t mind, you know, it’s a lovely evening. It’s just that these pumps aren’t the most comfortable things to wear, and I have quite a ways to go.”
She looked down at her feet, then back at Henry, a wry grin appearing on her face.
“Ah, yes. Of course, of course. I’m so s-sorry, ma’am,” came his eventual reply, stumbling over words as she pulled him from quiet rumination.
Henry’s hand fumbled to locate the button to unlock all four doors, first pushing the window locks, receiving nothing but an audible ‘click’ and a glower from his aggravated client. Upon finding the correct button, he opened his door into traffic - regretfully so, as choice words were spoken by passing motorists informing him of his intelligence level - in an attempt to make his way to her side of the car to open the door.
“No, my dear. Stay where you’re at,” she spat, holding up a hand and halting his advance. “I’m capable of letting myself in. And the last thing I need is to fill out paperwork tomorrow morning regarding the untimely demise of my chauffeur.”
Upon opening the door she looked him in the eye once again, then said, “Please, get in before you hurt yourself,”
With that, the bewitching brunette extended a long leg, stepped into the back seat, and vanished entirely.
Mouth agape, Henry sat back into the driver’s seat, closed his door with a firm ‘thud’, and found himself returned to a familiar position behind the steering wheel. Though embarrassed, he was glad to be back in an air-conditioned vehicle, as the humid late-summer air was thick and his necktie felt suffocatingly tight.
Henry grabbed his tablet laying on the seat to the right, opened the driver’s log app and checked his new passenger’s destination. It was a suburb on the city’s outskirts, beyond the bright lights and noise he’d become accustomed to. It would take a while to get there, as inevitable delays must be accounted for, but at least—
“Drive,” she said assertively.
With a subtle nod of the head, he buckled his seatbelt, both hands instinctively gripping the leather-wrapped steering wheel, but not before looking in the rearview mirror at his attractive passenger. Regrettably, his gaze lingered a bit too long, and their eyes met for a third time. Henry quickly looked away, pretending to make minor adjustments to his seat, ultimately returning it to the same position. He heard a scoff from over his shoulder but chose not to look. His left hand found the turn signal stalk while the right shifted into gear, and with a firm yet steady push on the accelerator he was in motion, merging into traffic and heading to their destination.
“Feel free to turn on the radio,” said the woman in the back seat, as she removed a hair tie and several bobby pins, allowing loose, honey-brown ringlets to tumble over her shoulders.
“Ah, I would, it’s just that—”
“Don’t bother explaining, silence may be the better option. It’s been quite a long day,”
“Of course, ma’am,” replied Henry, once again twisting the tuning knob of his car’s stereo, receiving crackling static in return. “See? It’s the buildings, they block the signal for the satellite radio. Now, I could always switch to the local stations, but I find the music to be…” his words trailed off at the sight of her unimpressed expression in the rearview mirror.
She was looking over her glasses, full lips pursed with visible aggravation. Well-defined cheekbones and almond-shaped eyes contributed to her comely appearance, but it was certainly a harsh, austere beauty that she possessed. That cold stare was a betrayal, cracking the veneer of an otherwise glamorous charm.
For several long minutes, few words had been exchanged. Henry resolved not to annoy his passenger any further, though he found it difficult not to speak a word, and more challenging still not to let his eyes wander to the rearview mirror, as she had an allure all her own. Traffic flowed steadily for a mile or two, but came to a bottleneck near the end of the financial district, substantially slowing their progress. Against better judgment, Henry decided to strike up a conversation, as the awkward silence had grown too much to bear. Perhaps he’d find common ground with this stern stranger, or at least hoped to, otherwise this would be a rather dull drive.
“I’m Henry, by the way,” he said.
A sigh was returned to him from the back seat. “Hello, Henry. My name’s Erica, although I’m sure you knew that already as you’re my driver,”
“Yes, ma’am,” he replied, smiling, hoping his cheery tone would put her at ease and prompt her to open up. “But it’s nice to officially meet you. So, that building where I picked you up, is that where you work?”
“Well, I certainly don’t spend the majority of my day there for my own enjoyment,”
“Ah, yes, of course, that makes sense,” He felt foolish for having asked the question.
The sultry brunette shifted her weight in the back seat, repositioning her body. By leaning her back against the door, Erica was able to swing both legs up to rest comfortably atop the leather seat, one crossed over the other, as one black pump dangled over the edge.
Henry maintained his hand position of ten and two, checking blind spots periodically for nearby vehicles attempting to merge into his lane. The sun dipped steadily lower into the western sky, lengthening shadows cast by surrounding vehicles as it fell, yet causing chrome trim to gleam with blinding intensity. The flow of traffic was stagnant, which unfortunately didn’t appear to be changing anytime soon, as his fellow motorists crept forward at a snail’s pace. At the moment, the cause for delay remained unknown. It might’ve been an accident, or more roadwork around the bend, though he couldn’t say for sure. For now, he thought it best to relax somewhat and continue chatting.
When his eyes touched the rearview again, he noticed a pair of long, tanned legs resting on his back seat. His temperamental passenger was wearing sheer nylon stockings, and on her feet were a pair of black stiletto-heel, peep-toe pumps. Her ankles were crossed, one foot bobbing up and down as it dangled off the edge of the ivory leather, while the other rested on the seat itself.
Were it anyone else, he might’ve spoken up and asked politely to remove their footwear from the seat so as not to leave a stain - ivory leather in a black sedan looked posh, but was a pain to keep clean - however, in this instance he thought twice, deciding instead to keep quiet. His eyes lingered for a time, spellbound by the hypnotic rhythm of her stiletto-clad foot bobbing up and down; it was unintentionally seductive, and he was unsure if she’d chosen this particular seating arrangement for comfort, or amusement.
“Do you think we’ll be moving anytime soon, Harry?” came her voice from behind, causing his eyes to dart back to the road.
Clearing his throat and refocusing his vision, he decided it was best to concentrate on what lay ahead, and for the moment avoid this pleasant distraction.
“Umm, it’s Henry, ma’am,” he replied, mustering the mental fortitude to look anywhere but the mirror.
“Right, of course it is. Well, Henry, do you think we’ll be rolling anytime soon? We’ve been essentially motionless for god knows how long,” Erica replied, scrolling through emails on her phone. “Didn’t you know this street would be gridlocked at this hour of the day? My usual driver would’ve known better. Where is he, by the way?”
“Oh, well, I’m not sure exactly. I was simply told I’d be covering his run today, and picking up a few of his regular—”
“That’s fine, say no more,” she said, cutting short his words once again. “As long as you know left from right and how to press the accelerator, we’ll get along fine.”
Until now, Henry had been strongly considering closing the tinted privacy window that separates the front and rear seats. Some clients preferred to have it shut, the smoky glass allowing for phone calls and conversations of a private nature, while some simply preferred not to feel the obligation of chatting with their driver. To most, he was a means to an end; a service provided on behalf of corporations and businesses to shuttle important clients or packages from one section of town to another, nothing more. With the push of a button, his irritable passenger could have the privacy she seemed to so desperately want. But, after a long day he welcomed this visual stimulus. Even if she was a poor conversationalist - bordering on disrespect - he could handle it for a while longer if it meant watching those toned calves resting upon his seat, and those sexy jet-black heels fidgeting back and forth.
“Well, ma’am, I know all about long days,” said Henry, slipping a finger under the collar of his dress shirt to loosen the knot on his wide, silk necktie. “These roads are like a maze, twisting this way and that, plus there’s traffic to contend with. Well, you can imagine—”
“Yes, I can imagine what it’s like to sit in an air-conditioned luxury sedan all day, following the direction of a satellite-linked navigation system. And swivelling one’s head around to check blind spots must be terribly exhausting,” said Erica curtly, while using the tip of her right shoe to pop off the heel of her left.
Henry’s finger once again found the inner rim of his shirt’s collar, pulling outward to alleviate his rising blood pressure while peering into the back seat. His eyes were glued to the nylon-clad heel of her left foot, which had been newly revealed as her ankle now rested upon the shin of her right leg.
“And, please,” she continued. “Don’t call me ‘ma’am’.”
“Oh, of course, ma’am—er, Erica. Not a problem,”
“Splendid, I’m glad we could have this talk,” she said, idly flipping through various apps on the phone, focusing her attention away from her talkative driver.
Although traffic had begun to flow, Henry found himself captivated by the pump dangling from the big toe of her left foot. She flexed it gently up and down, causing the shoe to sway rhythmically as it teetered above the carpeted floor of the car. One small bump would send it careening downward and reveal what he longed to see in its entirety; it may have been the only time in his life he’d wished for a pothole to appear.
“Well, Erica,” said Henry, both eyes fixed to the rearview still. “Just have patience and you’ll be home in no time flat.”
“Perfect, I look forward to—”
Her body suddenly lurched, rolling to the side as her weight was abruptly transferred toward the front of the vehicle. Bracing herself against the front seat with a well-timed placement of her right arm, Erica managed to absorb the impact. The sound of screeching tires filled her ears as their car came to a sudden halt.
“What in the hell was that all about?!” she shouted, brushing hair from her eyes and adjusting her glasses.
“H-He came outta nowhere!” responded Henry, shaken.
“Out of ‘nowhere’, are you serious?! I find it difficult to believe that you were unable to see the multitude of cars surrounding us!”
“I’m, s-sorry ma’am! I didn’t mean to scare you,” he sputtered, giving an apologetic wave to the driver of the white SUV he’d cut off. “It’s just that I hadn’t seen that guy trying to take the exit. I guess… I guess I was… distracted.”
“You guess? What could’ve possibly distracted you?”
“I-I was looking in the rearview mirror at, well, it’s not important…”
“I’m quite sure it is important, as I certainly don’t want a repeat of that nonsense,” she said indignantly while reaching a hand below the seat in search of her phone. “It’s been an incredibly taxing day and I’d like to arrive home in one piece. Now, what were you looking at? Spit it out.”
“Well, I was looking at your foot—ah, wait, that didn’t come out right. What I meant to say is that you were dangling your shoe from your toe and it caught my eye, is all. Nothing major,”
“Well, which is it then? Was the cause of your distraction my feet, or my footwear?”
“Uh, both, I suppose. But it was a simple mistake, and I assure you it won’t happen again,”
Erica’s hand searched the crevice between seat and door, blindly feeling for the missing phone, yet unable to locate the device by touch alone. Withdrawing her arm and breathing deeply, it appeared to the flustered brunette that this would be a significantly longer drive home than she’d anticipated. However, if that was the case, who’s to say she couldn’t have some fun along the way?
Erica’s black pump had indeed fallen off her foot, tumbling to the floor below when her absentminded driver nearly ran headlong into another vehicle. She was able to see the reflection of his eyes from her current position, and the small privacy window separating them allowed a limited view of his head. Her own eyes narrowed, studying him, watching his focus shift between the mirror and the road, repeating over and over as she flexed her long, nylon-encased toes methodically back and forth.
“Henry,” she called. “Shall I place my shoe back on my foot and remove it from view? I’d hate to distract you, yet again.”
“Ah, well, no. I mean, you don’t have to. I plan on watching the road closely going forward. Not that I was staring at you, of course. No further distractions for me, ma’am. As I said, I’ll have you home in no time,”
“Thank you for the reassurance, but do you remember what I requested? About addressing me as Erica,” she said, running a hand down the length of her thigh.
“Right, of course. Force of habit,”
“Old habits die hard, isn’t that what they say?” she stated, leaning forward and running a hand slowly over the arch of her exposed left foot.
“I-I suppose so…” came his reply, leering as she gently massaged her own sole.
“Matter of fact, I’d go so far as to say that you don’t wish to break some of your habits, would I be correct?”
Her hand glided effortlessly from heel to toes and back again, stopping momentarily to massage her thumb into the centre of her sole. From there, she began lightly scratching her arch, using her long acrylic nails to nimbly spider all across the tantalizing nylon-clad foot, teasing with purposeful intent.
“Uh, well, maybe so,” said the distracted driver. “I guess it depends on what that habit might be,”
“There you go guessing again. Do you believe that I guessed my way into my current position?” asked Erica, softly rubbing the top of her foot as all five toes curled over in response.
“What is your current posi—”
“I’ll answer for you,” she interrupted. “No, I took what I wanted and ran with it, finding success along the way. Consider this a learning opportunity; push your limits, because that’s what life demands of you - determination, conviction, and drive. Do you have drive, Henry?”
While taking a moment to ponder the question, he observed those enchanting toes flexing in and out. They’d cast a spell over him; capturing his attention completely while the vehicle and the safe delivery of its occupant were now an afterthought, devoid of further consideration.
“Yes, absolutely,” he answered after a prolonged silence. “I have a drive to succeed, to be the best version of myself that I can be,”
“That’s an admirable sentiment, but success is a byproduct of drive; it’s your expected outcome. How will you get there? What I’m talking about is seizing what you crave and not worrying about naysayers or negativity, least of all consequences,” she replied, still watching his reactions closely. “Would you take what’s rightfully yours, if and when the opportunity arose?”
“I-I guess—”
Erica’s hand immediately retracted from her foot, straightening her leg until the nylon-clad appendage was beyond view of the small mirror, leaving his eyes to linger on a pair of naturally-tanned legs instead. A feeling of longing swelled within as he wished dearly that she’d present it to him just one more time, if only for a brief moment.
“You and I both know what guessing will accomplish, my dear,” she said humourlessly.
“Okay, okay. You’re right, I’m finished guessing, I know what I want,” he said, firmly pressing the gas pedal as traffic began flowing steadily once more.
“Is that so? Do tell,”
“Well, what I want is respect,”
“Respect isn’t given freely, it’s earned. Anyone with a few brain cells could tell you that. What’ve you done that’s deserving of my respect?”
“I gue—I know that I haven’t been as attentive, or assertive, as I should’ve been, but that’s changed now,”
“Has it really?”
“Oh yes, absolutely,”
“You appear to have convinced yourself, but I’m not so sure,” Her voice was smooth and silky. “In fact, I’ll prove it.”
Her left foot came back into view, much to Henry’s delight, resting upon her right shin once more, as if on a pedestal. Had there been another roadblock up ahead he would’ve driven directly into it. The opportunity to gaze upon her heavenly sole might be fleeting, so committing it to memory was priority number one. Those slender toes resumed their wiggly dance, agonizingly slow and sensual, as if beckoning him closer. If only he could have a closer look, that would be a dream realized. Enamoured by its delicate beauty while letting a primal instinct guide him, he began to speak, but the words escaped his lips as nothing more than garbled nonsense.
“Don’t you see?” chimed the buxom brunette, ignoring his mumbling. “You’re out of your element; you’re a follower, you lack drive and your newfound assertive nature is meaningless without action to back it up.”
Using both arms to brace herself, she slid her bum across the leather seat toward the centre of the vehicle. She now found herself seated directly in his line of sight, both feet planted firmly on the carpeted floor of his car, still missing a shoe. Smoothing out the wrinkles in her skirt with both hands, she stared into his unblinking eyes, the corners of her mouth curling upward as the seconds ticked on, and as her wicked smile grew so too did her interest in him. The muted hum of tires rolling against pavement was the only sound either could hear, that is until Henry cleared his throat and opened his mouth to speak.
“Look, I-I won’t argue with you, you clearly know more about it than I do,” he stammered nervously. “But, I’m in control of my actions and I do take what I need, when I need it.”
“I’m still not convinced. But let’s see, shall we?” she replied coyly, giving him a little wink.
In one fluid motion, Erica raised her left leg, brought her knee to her chest, extended it forward, then slid her foot through the square window between them.
Henry’s grip on the steering wheel tightened, his knuckles turning white as his heart began to race, thumping loudly in his ears while staring at the mirrored reflection of the lusciously soft, nylon-clad sole perched over his right shoulder. It was suffused with rays of deep golden light from the setting sun beaming through the windshield, and he could feel his cheeks redden the longer he stared. He was keenly aware of its presence, able to feel body heat emanating from it, even if he hadn’t laid a hand on it - yet.
“Erica, I-I don’t think this is appropriate,”
“Is that so? What a disappointment. Only moments ago you told me that you’d changed, that you’d become more decisive,” she said, wiggling her toes slowly in his periphery. “It saddens me to hear that it was nothing but talk.”
“No, I—”
“Perhaps I misjudged you. I assumed you had a spark of confidence dwelling within; a smouldering ember waiting to ignite, all it needed was some encouragement. Oh well, my mistake,”
“It’s just that I need to drive—”
“This was your moment and I assure you that opportunity rarely knocks twice. But if you choose to let it pass by, that’s fine by me. You haven’t wasted my time,” Her leg slowly retracted. “You do need to drive, after all. And I’d like to get home safely, so perhaps I shouldn’t distract—”
Before her foot had completely disappeared through the small opening it was brought to a sudden halt. A hand firmly gripped her big toe, with just enough pressure on the digit to render it motionless. Erica’s gaze met Henry’s, and for a brief moment neither spoke a word. She felt him squeezing her toe while pulling her foot toward himself, back through the window, only releasing his grip once it was resting over his shoulder once more.
“I’m glad to see that you’ve finally decided to act, to seize what you want so dearly,” she said with a smirk, pointing all five of her toes directly toward him. “You know, I don’t think respect is the only thing you’re looking for.”
“It might not be,” he responded with an earnest smile, returning his hands to the wheel, but not before folding down the sun visor to shield his eyes from the harsh brilliance of the sunset. “As you said, if opportunity’s knocking, it might be wise to answer.”
The bustling, overcrowded streets had fallen out of view. With gridlock behind them, Henry and his passenger had been given a rare opportunity to spend some time alone. The tires of his sedan rolled slowly across slabs of cracked asphalt, past crooked street signs and vacant storefronts, deep into the secluded outskirts of the city.
Mile-high towers of glass didn’t exist here. Instead, small rundown apartment buildings and long-abandoned warehouses lay stacked alongside one another, derelict and crumbling. It was an area shrouded in darkness, with an interwoven network of narrow alleyways akin to a maze to those unfamiliar, but navigating these shadowy corridors was second nature to Henry. There were plenty of passageways to be taken; numerous offshoots that could cut travel time down substantially, and in his line of work every minute saved was crucial. It was also an area that lent itself to seclusion, with plenty of places to park, hidden from prying eyes. Few people would walk these streets this evening, and those that did would take little notice of a black car parked in a dark alley.
The once-vibrant sky, previously illuminated by radiant shades of pinkish-orange, had been replaced by bleak notes of gray and indigo as the sun dipped below the horizon and out of sight. Rusted wrought-iron street lamps flickered to life, casting finger-like tendrils of light that crept across the walls of nearby buildings as a thick fog descended, encircling the car, bringing with it an eerie stillness and sudden drop in temperature.
“A rather gloomy part of town, wouldn’t you agree?” chirped Erica, her long leg still outstretched, poking through the tinted privacy glass that once separated them. “It’s too quiet. Makes you long for the hustle and bustle of the inner city, doesn’t it?”
“Honestly, I don’t miss it,” Henry replied quickly. “When you spend your days behind the wheel, stuck in traffic jams, enduring blaring horns that make your ears ring, you begin to appreciate the quiet moments.”
“How interesting, thank you for informing me,” she said, her words dripping with sarcasm. “Now, shall we begin?”
“Begin?” he asked, puzzled.
“Yes, wasn’t that your plan? You’ve driven me out here, to quite possibly the worst section of town imaginable, are you not going to finally take what you crave?” she asked eagerly. “Surely after our previous conversation you’ve realized that this is your moment, now seize it.”
Henry located a suitable area to park: a small back alley wedged between two weathered brick buildings. It was nondescript, perfect for what was to follow. The vehicle slowed to a stop, its engine rumbling as it idled, both headlamps briefly pushing back the dark before being switched off.
Releasing his grip on the steering wheel, Henry repositioned himself, pivoting his body and spinning around in his seat to have a direct line of sight at the object of his affection. He was now mere inches away from and directly facing the bossy brunette’s nylon-encased sole, staring intently as she intimately and ceaselessly wiggled those long toes. It was a perfect tactic, as he found himself leaning ever forward, drawn toward them. The nylon stretched as all five toes fanned out, and he wanted nothing more than to fill the empty spaces between with his tongue.
“Do you adore my pretty feet, Henry?” she asked, curling and uncurling her toes in a come-hither motion.
Equal parts excited and apprehensive, he continued to gawk, oblivious to her question. The soft glow of a nearby lamppost illuminated her toes; yellowish light slicing through the dense fog allowed for a clear view, while the owner of the foot remained draped in shadow, sitting comfortably in the back seat. It appeared to Henry what must be happening; she was enjoying this. She was undoubtedly accustomed to commanding a certain amount of respect in her professional life - dictating orders to subordinates came naturally enough - though somehow this felt different. He wasn’t her employee, or lackey, and therefore wasn’t required to obey. But, he was following her direction all the same.
“Hello? Are you still with me? Tell me how much you love them. And be honest, because I’ll spot a lie instantly,”
“I wish I could answer that, Erica,” he replied, perking up. “But, I don’t think I’m able to make a final judgement yet.”
“Oh? Why might that be?”
“Well, I’ve only laid eyes on one so far, and I’d require the pair to give my honest opinion,”
“You’re clever, aren’t you. But you’ll receive what I decide to give when I choose to give it, and no sooner,” she said sharply. “Now, since you have me in such a vulnerable position, what’s your next move?”
There was no hesitation this time. His head tilted forward, leaning toward her sole until the tip of his nose made contact with her big toe.
“Poor thing,” she continued. “Unable to resist. You footboys are all the same. You’re a blunt instrument, wishing to be used.”
It took a brief moment for the reality of the situation to sink in; the passenger sitting in his back seat - whom he’d only recently met - had her leg extended through the privacy glass and was currently encouraging him to indulge in his fetish. This was something normally reserved for stories on internet forums and certainly not an experience he’d ever dreamed of encountering. Unfortunately, not a single part of this was remotely appropriate; a blatant breach of driver/client relation, pure and simple. Should his employer discover any of this, his termination would be effectively guaranteed. And yet, he couldn’t help himself. He felt neither shame nor guilt. His baser instincts were in charge now, pulling him toward the object of his deepest desire. Transfixed on the lone foot displayed before him and with little rational thought factoring into his decision-making process, he continued to nuzzle her nylon-clad sole, utterly engrossed by its magnetic pull. The smell, shape, and distinct feeling of nylon against his skin were all surreal.
“That’s it, don’t be shy. I know you want to feel every inch of my lovely foot, isn’t that right?” she asked knowingly.
Henry uttered a grunt of acknowledgment and continued.
“I need you to say it, I’m afraid a grunt simply won’t do. Tell me how badly you need the foot you see in front of your nose,”
“I do, I really do,” he muttered under his breath, burying his nose in the cleavage between her first and second toe, breathing deeply.
It was a wonderful, complex aroma; sweet and fruity like citrus, with a mild earthiness as well, as he’d detected subtle notes of what could only be described as patchouli, or so he thought. Regardless, her body lotion of choice was a fantastic blend of rich fragrances, stimulating his senses each time he inhaled. Yet, there was also a certain indescribable musk - she’d likely been wearing those heels all day long - emanating from her intoxicating exposed sole, one that was certainly not off-putting or overpowering in any way. In fact, it had quite the opposite effect, as Henry wished to savour this unique, exotic smell. This was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, after all, there was no need to rush.
“Louder,” she demanded, applying firm yet even pressure against his face, smooshing his nose with the sole of her foot. “I want to hear you clearly from where I’m sitting.”
“I need it,” came his reply, speaking more clearly while increasing the volume of his voice to ensure he’d been heard.
“Mhmm,” she purred approvingly. “I’d imagine that you could spend hours beneath my perfect feet, couldn’t you?”
“Yes, I could…”
“I know what they do to boys like you. Look at you, infatuated with my toes. They’ve been stuffed inside my shoes all day long. They needed this escape, and so did you by the look of it. I might even let you clean them with your tongue, as a reward for good behaviour. Would you like that, my naughty little footboy?”
“Yes, please…”
“Wonderful. I’m happy to see that you’re finally taking some initiative. Our little talk must’ve struck a chord and made you realize just how much you’d been missing out on. I’m eagerly anticipating how attentive you can be under the right circumstances. Do you now see what happens when you take what you want?”
Henry could only process every other word Erica had spoken, as he’d been far too distracted with his face pressed squarely against her sole, inhaling repeated lungfuls of that heavenly scent. His reply once again came in the form of a grunt, rather than actual words, which hadn’t gone unnoticed.
“Did you hear a word I said? If you’re not going to pay attention when I speak then you’ll no longer have the privilege of enjoying this,” she said, waggling her foot back and forth in front of his face.
That did indeed catch his attention, as having this lovely appendage disappear after such a short time would be immensely disappointing.
“Yes, yes of course. I heard you—”
“Doubtful,” she replied, retracting her leg. “You clearly don't deserve it.”
But as before, he’d managed to catch her in the nick of time, firmly pinching her big toe between thumb and forefinger, halting the retreat. He heard a scoff from the back seat, followed by a short chuckle.
“Well, now. Someone’s eager, aren’t they?” She extended her leg through the privacy glass, flattening his nose with her sole once again. “How could I possibly deny you this pleasure? Tell me, do you adore the smell?”
“Yesss…” he whispered, as his right hand clamped itself firmly around her ankle, ensuring it remained exactly where it belonged.
“I know you do, but I don’t recall permitting you to grab me like that. I might’ve encouraged you to act on impulse and take what you want, but let’s not forget who’s in charge here,”
Without dispute, Henry released his grip. His arm fell limply into his lap as he continued sniffing her bewitching foot.
“Who’s in charge, Henry?”
“You are…” came his muffled reply.
“Good boy,” she cooed. “As long as you continue to listen you’ll be rewarded. In fact, why don’t I give you a treat right now?”
Erica raised her right foot from the floor of the sedan, lifting her leg high enough to squeeze it through the small window, positioning it directly in front of Henry’s face. Once through the tight opening, she gave her foot a wiggle side-to-side, watching his head closely follow its movements.
Henry gazed in awe at the pair of feet on display before his eyes; one encased in sheer nylon, the other trapped within the confines of a high heel. He studied it; the gloss-black patent leather shoe had a seduction all its own, yet was multiplied tenfold by the long, tanned leg attached to it. It was a size nine - as indicated on the rubber sole facing him - and the tip of her big toe cheekily peeked through a small opening, teasing him.
Side-by-side they lay, ankles close together; the narrow opening appeared just the right size for both feet to fit through. Her lateral movement was severely limited in this position, and he couldn’t help but picture her locked up tight in a set of padded wooden stocks. It was a terrific image; sturdy, hinged planks entrapping both slender ankles, easily restraining these sublime soles, watching as she struggled to escape the inevitable punishment as a tickle-hungry mob descended. Truth be told, it wouldn’t take much to achieve the same effect. But, patience is a virtue.
His left hand moved of its own accord; the tip of his index finger resting on the sole of her shoe, tracing the number nine. It then ran downward, rounded her heel, and began travelling upward again toward her toes and on arrival lingered a moment. He then gently grazed the tip of her exposed big toe, noticing her foot twitch, if only slightly.
“What do you think? These shoes were a recent purchase, and to be honest they’re not that comfortable, but I didn’t buy them for that reason alone. I know foot pervs like you simply adore high heels, isn’t that right?”
“Oh, yes. They’re perfect,” he replied, trying to ignore the insult while running his hand down the top of her foot. Being referred to as a ‘footboy’ was embarrassing, sure, but being called a ‘perv’ was so much worse. How long could he stand to be degraded?
“Mhmm, I’m so glad to hear that. You’d like to remove it, wouldn’t you?”
“May I?”
“Hmm, perhaps,” said Erica, delicately stroking her chin with a slender, ring-adorned finger, as if to appear in deep contemplation. “Who am I to refuse your request and spoil your chance of enjoying these beauties?”
She pumped both feet forward and back as if peddling a bicycle, watching her eager observer practicality salivate in response. Her awestruck chauffeur was nothing if not obedient, and good boys would receive exactly what they deserved, in due time.
“Allow me,” Henry gripped the heel of her shoe with one hand and began pulling it gently toward himself, keen to remove it and enjoy what he’d been craving.
“Not so fast, my dear,” she declared, causing him to pause a moment. “You’ll have to earn it.”
“Oh, okay. What would have me do?”
“Lick it,”
“L-Lick it?” he asked in disbelief. “Lick your shoe?”
“That’s correct. Go on, be a good little footboy. Don’t pretend the idea repulses you, we both know you’ll happily abide,”
Erica smirked while watching him consider the request, his brow knitted in a mixture of confusion and surprise. This was the first opportunity she’d been given to study him at length, though her view was somewhat limited due to her own pair of legs blocking the majority of the small privacy window separating them.
Although attractive, his features wouldn’t be considered classically handsome. His eyes were warm and expressive as they scanned her shoe, framed by faint laugh lines creased into his fair skin. Scratching the patchy stubble that peppered his jawline, he appeared to be lost in thought, mulling over the request while scrutinizing every inch of her footwear. He had a wiry frame and round shoulders, and because they tended to hunch forward it gave the appearance of defeat; his posture did him no favours. His choice of clothing was appropriate, but as she stared more imperfections became visible; loose threads protruding from the seams of an ill-fitting dress shirt and an outdated necktie that refused to lay flat. This was the look and attire of a man who spent more time behind the wheel than anywhere else.
His friendly demeanour had a certain endearing charm, and he’d been agreeable thus far, but she was genuinely curious to see if he’d blindly follow every command. Ultimately, he would toe the line or she’d simply remove her feet from view, and she was betting that he hadn’t come this far to quit now.
“Well?” she prompted, nudging him with her toe. “What’re you waiting for? You’ve been given instruction. Get to it.”
“O-Okay…”
His words trailed off as his lips parted, leaning toward her shoe and running his tongue along the length of the four-inch stiletto heel. He could hear a moan of approval emanate from the back seat of the car, which was all the encouragement he required to keep going.
“There you are, just like that. How does it taste, Henry?”
“Good. It tastes good, Erica,” he replied, trying his best to sound convincing. Truthfully, he wished to remove it entirely and savour both feet, but to do so he’d need to play her game just a little longer.
“I’m so pleased to hear that. But, I believe I preferred when you addressed me as ‘ma’am’, so let’s do that from now on, shall we?”
“Yes, ma’am. Not a problem.”
“Perfect. You may now remove my footwear, I suppose you’ve earned it. But, do ensure you wipe off any residual spit, those pumps weren’t cheap, you know,”
“Of course, ma’am,”
The heel of her sexy black shoe glistened with saliva as Henry raised his head, looking through the tiny window into the rear seat, making eye contact with the condescending brunette. Although cloaked in darkness, he could make out her silhouette contrasting against the ivory leather interior, yet it was those eyes that drew him in. There was a ferocity to them, an ever-present glare that pierced him as though he were transparent; it was unnerving. Her mannerisms and attitude conveyed power and authority. She knew who was in control and from the moment they’d met she’d been using him, teasing and mocking, toying with his emotions. It wasn’t going to stop, that much was clear, not unless he put an end to it. Erica, and those like her, had been abusing who they deemed inferior for far too long with minimal consequence. Perhaps it was time to atone.
Henry’s focus shifted back to the spit-covered shoe. His moment had finally arrived and he dutifully obliged; with one fluid motion, he popped it over the heel of her foot and slid it off, revealing what he’d been waiting to see. Greeting him were five wiggly toes - encased in nylon, just like their neighbours - which appeared quite happy now that they no longer found themselves in captivity. The remaining spit was wiped on Henry’s pants and the shoe set aside.
“Well, now that you have both in front of you, what’s the verdict?” she inquired, still wiggling her toes back and forth as if saying ‘hello’.
A familiar, fragrant aroma filled both nostrils as he nestled himself between the toes of her newly-revealed right foot, inhaling repeatedly until it occurred to Henry that he hadn’t yet answered the question.
“My verdict? Well, I like what I see, that much is true,” he admitted, slowly reaching a hand toward the unsuspecting foot. “And I do love these sheer nylons. But, if I could just remove them, and bare these feet of yours…”
“I’m not sure that you—AIIEEHEEHEE!” giggled Erica, as Henry’s inquisitive fingers made contact with her sole. “What exactly do you think you’re doing?!”
A sly grin crept across his face, as her reaction to his touch was precisely what he’d hoped for.
“I’m just enjoying what you’ve put on display for me, isn’t that what you wanted?”
“What I want is for you to behave, like the good little footboy you are,” she stated matter-of-factly while rubbing one foot with the other.
“Come on, Erica. We both know—”
“Beg pardon? I must’ve misheard you. Did you just call me ‘Erica’?”
“Oh, s-sorry, ma’am. What I meant to say was, we both know that these feet of yours are gorgeous, you clearly take care of them. But, I’d just love to see them, to feel them, without these on,” he said, tracing his finger along the seam of her nylons. “I’ve listened carefully, been a good ‘footboy’ and done exactly what you’ve asked of me. I think—no, I know it’s time they came off.”
“Well now, I must say that I’m impressed by this new assertive attitude of yours. It took a while, but you got there eventually. I suppose you’d been listening after all,”
“Of course. So, what d’ya say?”
“I say, let’s have some fun,”
The air in the cabin of the sedan had become stagnant and muggy, so Henry slid open the sunroof, allowing the cool evening breeze to filter through, bringing with it ambient sounds from a city miles away. In doing so, he’d also shed some light on his once-temperamental passenger, as the car’s interior became flooded with silvery light from an orb of a moon hanging overhead.
The high-pitched laugh that left Erica’s lips when Henry’s curious fingertips made contact with her sole was incredibly pleasing to the ear, and he wished to repeat it as soon as possible. But, if rushed she’d undoubtedly deny him the pleasure, and that simply wouldn’t do; a subtle, tactful approach was needed. She obviously loved to be the one pulling strings, so if he could appeal to her desire for control and unwillingness to appear vulnerable, he might have a shot at tickling those beautiful feet. As if prompted by his wandering thoughts, they flexed backward as she stretched both legs. They’d likely been getting stiff from resting in the same position for so long.
“Henry?”
“Y-Yes?” he answered, slightly startled.
“Were you daydreaming? I swear, just when I think I have your complete attention your eyes glaze over and I lose you again,”
“No, I wasn’t daydreaming. Just thinking about something, I was a little—”
“—Distracted? Yes, I know,” she replied in a tone of voice matching the unimpressed look on her face. “That’s becoming a common theme with you. At any rate, did you hear what I asked?”
“Uh, no. I must’ve missed it,” he replied sheepishly.
Erica sighed, then said, “Allow me to repeat it, and pay attention this time. Which foot would you like to bare first?”
This might’ve been the only question he’d ever been asked where his choice would be completely inconsequential. There was no wrong answer here, as they both led to the same wonderful outcome. Although haughty and possessing an inflated sense of self-worth, deep down Henry knew that she had a sensitive side, one he'd thoroughly enjoy exploring.
“Ah, well, if you’d like me to pick, then let’s start with the left, since it was the first one I’d laid eyes on,”
“Great choice,” she agreed, winking. “Whenever you’re ready.”
Giddy with excitement, Henry pinched the tip of her left big toe and began to pull, stretching the thin fabric as he withdrew his arm toward his body. Nylon only stretches so far before tearing, and that wasn’t his intention. As if reading his mind, Erica lifted her leg a few inches, allowing the removal to continue with minimal effort and within seconds he’d managed to slip it completely off, laying bare what he’d been dying to see.
Five toes were the first thing to catch his eye. They appeared slender and elegant - much like the individual they were attached to - not to mention deliciously suckable. As he stared they curled over, revealing a french pedi that was in perfect contrast to the golden undertones of her sun-kissed skin. Surprisingly, her wrinkly, high arch was creamy-white and looked tender as can be, just like her marshmallowy-soft heel. How anyone could spend a full day in those shoes and have feet this flawless was baffling. The urge to reach out and rake his nails down the length of her mouthwateringly-decadent bare foot was overwhelming. But, showing restraint now would pay dividends later.
“Is it to your liking?” she asked, twirling a lock of hair around a finger.
“You have no idea,”
“Oh, I have some idea. Do you believe I’d allow anyone to enjoy my feet like this? I can assure you I wouldn’t. But, I’ve had kinky boys like you before, who drool at the sight of these soles and toes. Some preferred me in fishnets or socks, others wanted me barefoot. Unique inclinations all; to be smothered, trampled or used as a human footrest. Regardless of fantasy, it was their weakness, like it is yours. I was their goddess, able to make them do just about anything with the promise of a few minutes with my perfect feet,” she said smugly. “You should feel privileged to have gotten this far.”
“I’m honoured, really,”
“I hope that’s sincerity I’m detecting in your voice, otherwise you’ll lose these special privileges. You’d make an excellent foot slave, you know. So submissive and willing to serve…”
As Erica’s monologue droned on, Henry’s self-control had begun to wane. He couldn’t help himself, that silky-soft sole was an open invitation; tempting him, begging to be caressed, fondled and played with. He wanted - no, he needed to reach out and tickle-test her bare foot.
“…and as you can imagine,” she continued. “I show them off as often as possible. They turn a lot of heads, you know, especially from men around the office. So, since you’ve—EEIIEEHEEHEE!”
Her foot recoiled at the touch of Henry’s finger as girlish giggles filled the small space, cutting short her words.
“Again? You’ve got some nerve,” she spat, plainly attempting to regain her composure. “Didn’t I tell you to behave?”
“I couldn’t help myself, ma’am,” he said with a cheeky grin. “It’s like opening a gift on Christmas morning and not playing with it right away - it’s just not right. It’d be a crime to neglect these feet of yours,”
“Now there’s something we can agree on. So, as I was saying before your urges got the better of you; since you’ve stripped off my stocking and bared my foot, what’s your next move?”
The last time she’d posed that question he dove in head-first and was promptly degraded and verbally abused. This time would be different. This time he’d need to answer carefully or risk further humiliation at the hands - or rather, feet - of this demeaning, pretentious businesswoman.
“My next move?”
“That was the question. Didn’t I tell you to pay attention?”
Henry glanced down at the garment clutched in his hand, feeling it, studying it. As he rolled the stretchy material between thumb and index finger he took note of its warmth, and when raised to his nose that now-familiar scent took hold, propelling him back to that initial whiff of her perfumed foot. Gazing up, he watched her toes playfully spread, further enticing him. This was nothing more than a game to her, one he’d grown tired of. But, that just might be the answer he’d been searching for.
“How about a game?” he blurted. “You said you wanted to have some fun, right?”
“A game?” she remarked, slowly blinking her eyes in a bemused sort of way. “A little juvenile, but why not? I’ll humour you. What type of game did you have in mind?”
“I’ll explain the rules after I set it up, okay?” he said, holding up her discarded nylon stocking.
“If that’s what you want, be my guest. Though I must warn you, I play to win,”
Whether gullible or proud, it made little difference; that unchecked ego would lead to her downfall. But he had the green light, so he began.
“Great!” said Henry enthusiastically. “Let’s get started.”
He began by wrapping the nylon around her left ankle; two, three, then four times. The material stretched as it was wound tight, maximizing durability. A double knot was then tied, ensuring it remained in place. From there, he ran the remaining length of the garment to the passenger-side headrest and repeated the process, during which his willing subject hadn’t moved a muscle, much to Henry’s delight.
“You don’t have to tie me up, my dear,” she said with a snicker. “I’m still miles away from home, and I certainly don’t plan on walking.”
“Oh, I know. I just want to make sure we play fair. So, just give me a second and I’ll finish up,”
Henry loosened the wide knot on his tie, slipped it from under his collar and removed it from around his neck. The relief was instantaneous, though the satisfaction he felt would hopefully pale in comparison to watching Erica struggle against her bonds. Wasting no time, he mirrored the previous technique used to secure her other foot, now ensuring both were properly tied. However, as an added security measure he looped the silky necktie around both ankles before tying it off snugly to the driver-side headrest. He didn’t mind using it for such a purpose, as it was high time this particular tie was retired.
Leaning back to take in the view, he couldn’t help but smile at the results. Both feet - one bare, one still encased in nylon - were within reach; isolated and vulnerable, tied tightly in opposite directions to the post of a headrest.
“Okay, the set-up is finished. But, before we begin I’ll need you to test out my knots, if you don’t mind,”
Henry watched carefully as she wiggled her feet while attempting to withdraw each leg, but try as she might the beguiling brunette was unable to break free of the makeshift restraints. She was well and truly trapped, and Henry’s face lit up with impish glee as he imagined the possibilities.
“Well, I must say I’m impressed. You’ve done a fine job of tying me up, I can’t move my legs an inch!” she said while pretending to applaud his success. “And using your own necktie, how creative.”
“I’m glad you approve,”
“So, are you going to tell me what this game is all about? Or, do you plan on keeping me in suspense?”
“Just have patience, the wait is nearly over. We’re almost ready to play,” he replied. “But first - a test. Tell me, which is more sensitive…”
Henry raised his index finger into the air, ensuring it was visible through the limited space provided above her immobilized feet.
“Will it be the nylon-covered foot…”
The lone finger made contact with her sole. Beginning at the base of her big toe it travelled south over the ball of her foot, down the arch, coming to a stop at her heel.
“Mphheeheee…” giggled Erica softly, raising a hand over her mouth to stifle the sound as her toes curled over in response to the tickly touch.
“Hmm, interesting. But, I wonder…” continued Henry, his hand looming eagerly in front of her bare size nine sole. “Will this one be even more receptive?”
He repeated the process, yet the reaction he received was quite similar, producing muffled giggles while causing all five toes to curl over, showing off that pretty pedi once again.
“Are you okay, ma’am?”
Erica glared at her driver through the tiny window separating them. A sliver of space above her toes enabled her to view his expression; the self-satisfied smirk on his face told the tale of a man all too pleased with himself. But, she wouldn’t be beaten so easily and that pathetic attempt at trying to fluster her would be nothing more than a temporary annoyance. He undoubtedly wanted to hear how much it bothered her, how it tickled so badly and how she desperately needed it to stop. He'd never have the satisfaction.
“Yes, I’m quite alright,” she replied casually, feigning nonchalance. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“I’m just making sure. One didn’t feel more sensitive than the other?”
“Hardly felt a thing, to be honest,”
“Well, since you’re that confident, maybe it’s best to jump right into the game. Sound good?”
“Certainly,” She wiggled her toes invitingly. “I’m ready when you are.”
“Great. The rules are simple; I’ll try to tickle you for two minutes, and you’ll try to keep perfectly still while holding in your laughter. If you can do that, you win, and I’ll set you free. I’m sure it won’t be much of a challenge, of course, since you seem so unbothered by my touch,”
Erica swallowed hard, replying, “What a foolish game. But, if that’s what you wish, you may begin anytime,”
“Just remember, you can speak but I don’t want to hear one giggle, snicker or tee-hee, got it?” said Henry, reaching toward the tablet resting on the passenger seat. He opened the timer app, set it for two minutes, then propped it up on the dashboard within her line of sight. “Good luck!”
“I’ve never relied on luck and I don’t plan on starting now. Play your little game, footboy. I’m not frightened and, as I said, I play to win,” she replied, her voice laced with trepidation.
“We’ll see…”
After activating the timer, Henry raised both hands and inched them toward the pair of helpless, trembling soles displayed before him. Her bare left foot would no doubt prove to be the more sensitive of the two, so he decided to begin with the right and ease her into it. He pressed the tip of his index finger against her big toe and gently moved downward, barely applying any pressure to the adorable digit. Down it travelled, teasing from the tip of her toe to the bottom of her heel and back again. Upon reaching those long, lovely toes they twitched, but otherwise remained still.
The silence that had overtaken the car was an assault on the senses, but Erica was committed to remaining tight-lipped. Her breaths came short and shallow while her gaze remained glued to the timer, watching seconds tick away, each one punctuated by another feather-light pass of his fingertip. Of all the men who’d ever fawned over her feet, not one had attempted something like this, nor had she ever imagined herself tied up in the back seat of her chauffeur’s car while being forced to endure a ticklish trial. It was hellish and insufferable, yet had only just begun, and as the timer counted down it dawned on Erica just how alone they truly were.
“How’re you doing so far?” he asked, continuing to lightly tease the trapped girl’s tender foot.
“Fine…” she muttered.
“What’s that? Speak up, please. I’d like to hear you clearly from where I’m sitting,”
Henry watched his attractive passenger’s face contort with a mixture of discomfort, irritation and withheld laughter. It was endlessly satisfying to witness firsthand the beginning of her ticklish demise, so he continued to glide a single finger up and down the length of her nyloned sole in an attempt to make her crack a smile.
“I’m fine…” she repeated, raising the volume of her voice to be heard from the front seat, wincing as she felt the finger leisurely explore her foot.
“I’m so happy to hear that, I guess this doesn’t bother you at all, does it?”
“…not in the s-slightest…”
He could hear the truth revealed in her voice; she was speaking in a higher register now, trying dearly to remain composed, gritting her teeth between each word spoken. But it was clear as day; weakness was peeking through and her bravado was rapidly fading as her body betrayed her. She’d succumb, it was simply a matter of time.
“I hope that’s sincerity I’m detecting, or you’re in a lot of trouble. Now, let’s kick it up a notch,”
Rather than waste any more time on the right, Henry thought it best to focus on the left foot; it was smooth as satin, practically begging to be tickled. He began by circling a fingernail on the ball of the bound girl’s bare foot, swirling around and around, steadily increasing pressure to elicit a reaction from his helpless plaything. But, she was nothing if not determined, stubbornly remaining stone-faced throughout the duration of his tickly technique. So, he instead began strumming two or three fingers on her wrinkly arch, changing the rhythm to keep her guessing. He could feel resistance as she tried to pull away, but the skillfully-tied, improvised bondage ropes held tight and allowed no movement whatsoever.
“What’s the matter, ma’am? Hold on, you’re not a little bit… ticklish, are you?” he asked knowingly.
Simply hearing that word said aloud amplified the torturous feelings coursing through the bottom of her bare foot. Giggles were bubbling to the surface, but the resolve to win this foolish ‘tickle challenge’ had thus far outweighed her desire to laugh and rip her foot away from his meandering fingertips - if indeed that were even possible. And so, she bit her lower lip, stifling mounting giggles while maintaining her composure as best she could, given the circumstances.
“…no, I am n-not…”
“Oh, come on. You want to laugh, I know you do. I can see it in your eyes,” he taunted. “You’re doing far better than I predicted, but how long can you hold out? Remember: you laugh, you lose!”
A quick glimpse at the timer indicated less than one minute remaining, so it was time to shift gears. The barefoot brunette’s willpower was fast decaying and one sure-fire way to force a smile was to dedicate some time to those tantalizing toes. Henry allowed a finger to slip between her first and second toe, vibrated it, then slid it out and repeated it one toe over. As he made his way down the line he felt her body shudder at his touch, that hyper-sensitive skin was sinfully-soft and he knew this was pushing her dangerously close to the breaking point. She was breathing more heavily than before; nostrils flared while staring intently at the timer over his shoulder as if willing it to move faster would make a lick of difference. She was hanging by a thread and he’d managed to dismantle her defences, one toe at a time.
“Coochie, coochie, coo! Aww, does this tickle? Be honest, because I’ll spot a lie instantly,”
“N-No…” she insisted as her eyes welled with tears, adamantly refusing to give him the pleasure of seeing her wipe them away.
As his fingers slid lazily between her toes, Erica was reminded of her monthly pedicure and the price paid for flawless feet. Her personal nail technician had skilled hands - an absolute necessity due to her extreme sensitivity - but cotton balls and pumice stones both tickled like mad, which was an unfortunate side effect. Still, this felt altogether different, as her driver was focused solely on making her squirm. A foot care routine was important; paraffin wax dips, exfoliating scrubs, and liberal amounts of the finest moisturizer ensured her skin remained healthy and supple. However, the downside was playing out before her eyes.
“Nghhh…”
“Oh, what's that? Sounds like you’re finding it difficult to keep quiet. You can let it out, there’s no shame in losing,”
Through gritted teeth, she suppressed a wayward chuckle that nearly broke loose from her lips. Her bare left foot was far too delicate to handle much more of this, but it was nearly over and once she’d beaten his silly ‘game’ she’d thoroughly enjoy the ability to move her lower limbs again. She couldn’t falter now, not with victory within reach.
It was plain that she was about to snap, and with the timer approaching zero Henry knew it was now or never.
“Only moments ago you told me that you weren’t afraid, that you’d win my little game. It saddens me to hear that it was nothing but talk,”
After hooking his thumb around the big toe of her left foot, Henry blindsided the poor girl by raking his nails down the length of her velvety-soft sole.
“BWAHAAHAAAA!”
The reaction was instantaneous and dramatic; her toes splayed outward as if trying to flee, then immediately curled over causing a multitude of deep wrinkles to appear. Erica erupted with laughter, and for the first time since they’d met the smile on her face wasn’t one of mischief or wickedness, but pure hysteria.
“GYIIHAAHAHAA! YOU CH-CHEATED—EIIAHAAHAA!”
“Cheat? No way, I play fair. I guess you weren’t up to the challenge after all,” he replied, cruelly digging his nails into her supple skin.
“AIIEHEEHAAHAA—S-STAHAAP IT—HEEEHAAHAA!”
His roaming fingers devastated her bare foot, applying just enough pressure to make her squeal; that high-pitched wonderful sound rang throughout the car, whetting his appetite for more. Holding her foot still was easy, making tickling the pompous brunette a true joy, something he could continue for hours.
“BWAAHAAAHAA! TIME’S UP!—EIIEEHAAHAA!”
She was correct, the timer had expired. Though he was enjoying the booming laughter, his intent wasn’t to push her over the edge - at least not yet. Releasing his grip on her big toe, he killed the alarm chiming in the background and let her draw breath.
“You tried your best, ma’am. Unfortunately, it wasn’t enough. We could always play again, if you’re up to it,” he said with a smirk.
“You sonofabitch! You didn’t play fair at all!” she screamed, rubbing both feet together in an effort to reduce any lingering tickly sensations.
“I’ll take that as a ‘no’ for a rematch,”
Erica’s cheeks were flushed, her breathing laboured. For the first time in recent memory, she felt truly powerless. The bonds holding her feet in place were tied more securely than she’d anticipated, and the irony of having her own nylon stocking used for such a nefarious purpose was not lost on her.
“Listen to me…” she panted. “You’ve played your little game and had your fun. I’ll admit when I’ve been beaten. You win. Is that what you want to hear?”
Admitting defeat didn’t come easily and the words felt odd in her mouth, but if this is all it took to earn her freedom she’d happily oblige.
“That’s gracious of you. I haven’t known you very long, but I’d say you’re unfamiliar with losing,”
“You’d be correct,” she declared proudly.
“Well, there’s a first time for everything. You know, for someone who appears so tough you’re pretty darn sensitive,”
“It will be the last time you see my sensitive side, my dear,” she said, her face hard and unsmiling as she glared soberly over her glasses. “Now, release me.”
“Why would I do that? I thought you said you wanted to have some fun. Isn’t that what you told me?”
“No… well, yes. But you cannot twist my words around like that. You have to let me go,”
“Oh, do I?” he asked, receiving a scornful look from his passenger. “I’m not so sure. In fact, I’ll prove it…”
To illustrate his point, Henry’s finger gently traced an ultra-fine crease down the centre of her ivory arch, causing the foot to flinch and a strained chuckle to emerge from his oh-so-ticklish prisoner.
“W-Wait, don’t—eiieheehee…”
“Oh, yes. I can do whatever I want to these pretty, pampered feet of yours,” he teased. “You’re not so high and mighty now, are you? This is for keeping me waiting earlier. Tickle, tickle…”
“Henreeheehee… let meeheee go, right now!”
Her muffled laughter was escaping and there was little that could be done about it. The mere act of a finger gliding down her sole was enough to perpetuate a fit of cute, sporadic giggles. Stroke by ticklish stroke she was robbed of both strength and dignity, and the layers of mental protection she’d worked so hard to build were quickly stripped away. But although her defences had begun to crumble, her spirit remained unbroken.
“You’re in no position to be giving commands, Erica,” he said, mirroring the same technique on her right foot. “And I’m done taking orders from you. Now, laugh for me...”
Her size nines snapped one way then the other, valiantly trying to evade his tickly touch. But try as she might his damned fingers followed, effortlessly tracking her movements. She’d subconsciously begun holding her breath, lips pursed while sucking both cheeks against her teeth in an effort to suppress the giggles. It worked for a moment, enabling her to withstand the tickles, but was nothing more than a bandaid fix - she’d require oxygen soon. This was a test of wills, one she was currently winning, that is until his strategy suddenly changed. No longer was he gliding up and down the sole, instead multiple fingers had begun crawling across both unprotected feet. It proved too much to handle, and as she exhaled the pent-up laughter spilled out.
“...eiieehehehee…pleeheease… s-stopp thisss!”
“I don’t think so,”
Henry was grinning like a fool as she spasmed and flailed in response to his touch. Giving this manipulative bitch a taste of her own medicine was infinitely satisfying, not to mention long overdue. The difference in texture beneath his fingers was interesting, as her nyloned sole seem to elicit a slightly different reaction as compared to the bare foot.
“Thisss is t-torture—heehehehee!”
“Torture?!” he replied in mock outrage. “Don’t be so dramatic, you haven’t felt torture. Not yet, anyway.”
Swinging both feet side-to-side didn’t seem to be working, if anything her tickle-obsessed driver was making yet another game out of tormenting her. This maddening, incessant teasing had become unbearable. It needed to end, right now.
“O-OKAAAY—EIIEHEHEE—E-ENOUGH OF THIS!” bellowed the flustered girl.
Ceasing the tickling and withdrawing his fingers, Henry listened to the agitated woman in the back seat, allowing her a moment’s respite.
“I’ve had quite enough of this foolishness, it’s time to release me. Immediately,” demanded Erica, forcing herself to speak calmly in an effort to regain some dignity.
“Release you? Why on Earth would I do that?”
“Because you are my driver, and you will carry out my instructions,”
“I hate to break it to you, but you’re not my boss,” he replied, delighted to have one-upped her yet again. “I was hired by the company you work for, that’s it. I’m not under your employ, and I’m certainly not your flunky.”
It occurred to Erica that her driver was merely flexing his newfound confidence, just as she’d encouraged. There was little doubt he was committed to proving himself, that he could take what he wanted. Perhaps after acknowledging his transformation from sheepish, meek nobody to a take-charge alpha he’d set her free. Though it wasn’t in her nature to do so, she had little choice but to appeal to his ego.
“You’re not the same man who picked me up in front of my building earlier today. He was weak, timid and biddable, but no longer. I can see that the ember within has finally ignited, fuelling this impressive display of power. You’ve definitely changed,”
“Oh, I have. I distinctly remember being told not to worry about naysayers, negativity or consequences. Is that true?”
“Indeed. But come now, we both know that you can’t keep me tied up forever. Besides, my dear, you want nothing more than to bury your face in my soft soles again; to be smothered while enjoying them to the fullest. Am I right?”
“You’re not wrong,”
“I rarely am. Now then, if you’ll untie me we can continue having fun, and you may resume worshipping my lovely bare foot,” She pointed her toes in his direction, smiling.
“We’ll get there eventually. But, that reminds me, isn’t it about time your right foot matched the left?”
“Beg pardon?”
“Here, let me show you,” he suggested, both hands drifting leisurely toward her struggling right foot.
“Now, h-hold on just a moment…” she sputtered, eyes widening behind her glasses as they followed the movement of his hands. “What do you think you’re doing?!”
Pinching the nylon between his fingers he shot her a mischievous glance, his silence speaking volumes.
“Don’t you dare…”
With minimal effort, he tore open the thin material to reveal five toes, then pulled it back until the ripped fabric dangled unceremoniously around her ankle. Erica’s last shred of protection, however small, had vanished instantly and with it the hope that this would end anytime soon. Meanwhile, Henry marvelled at the matching pair of perfectly-pedicured bare feet on display, not an imperfection to be found, both squirming nervously as he stared intently at the multitude of wrinkles on those porcelain-like arches.
“If you think for one second that I’m going to stand for this—”
“You don’t need to stand,” he said with a wide, toothy grin. “You’re sitting, silly girl, very comfortably I might add. The comfort of my clients is always a top priority.”
“You dirty little foot perv, was this your plan all along?! This was premeditated! How dare you treat me like this?!” she spat, mouth twisting in animated fashion as both cheeks flushed to a burning crimson, all while trying to wrench her legs free - to no avail.
“You’ll catch more flies with honey than vinegar. But, if memory serves, I’m not the one who started this. You took a special interest in me, don’t deny it; encouraging me to act on impulse while feeding my insatiable hunger for these beauties,” he said, motioning to her exposed feet. “So, if anyone’s to blame for your current situation, I’d say it’s you.”
No reply was returned. Instead, he was met with a scowl. The car’s interior had become silent as a crypt while Henry graciously allowed the hot-tempered girl a minute to settle herself, and stew on his words. Evidently, she’d finally realized that a series of errors on her part had led to this outcome. There was nothing but dead air between them, and with the feeling of animosity palpable, he decided to lighten the mood.
“Wow, speechless for once?” he asked, elated to have this wonderful pair of defenceless soles awaiting his tickly touch. “Don’t look so sad, we’re having fun, aren’t we? Here, let me put a smile back on your face.”
“I’m not sad. And if you touch my feet again I’ll—YEEHAAHAHAA!” she yelped, as her driver raked his fingernails down the length of her newly-naked right foot.
“Sorry, you’ll do what exactly?” he asked, sinking his fingertips into her baby-soft skin and dragging them downward yet again.
“GYAHAHAHAA! STAAHAAHAAP!”
“That’s what I thought. Let’s not forget who’s in charge here,”
The power he felt while assaulting the tender-footed brunette was an experience like no other; it was addictive, plain and simple, and the melodic tones of frantic laughter produced by the cocksure businesswoman were invigorating. Not content with only one foot, he decided to scratch his nails down her left sole as well - from the base of her long, distressed toes to her round, pillowy-soft heel - while revelling in her pathetic, garbled cries for help. Henry could happily tickle these soft, girly feet until they turned pink, which at this rate wouldn’t take long.
“NYAAHAHAA—NOOOHOOO, N-NOT MY FEEHEEET!”
“Why not? Too much to handle? Seems to me like you’re out of your element, my dear,” he said with vindictive pleasure, the words drowned out by peels of raucous laughter.
“P-PLEEHEEASE—I CAHAAHAAN’T—HEEHAHAA!
He could feel her shake and convulse with mirth; the entire car was rocking side-to-side as she pulled against her bonds in another futile attempt to free herself. Yet again his mind wandered; it was difficult not to fantasize when presented with a situation like this.
‘A feather would suit these silken soles quite well’, he thought, visualizing the plume gliding down both arches. Though a clichéd tickling implement, it would nonetheless be ideal to tease these unprotected, impossibly-soft soles. It would twirl in his fingers while being drawn between her toes, which would undoubtedly scrunch up once they felt its soft, fluffy caress. Or, he might use the blunt quill to draw a firm, straight line down her imprisoned foot while banshee-like wails echoed in the enclosed space. Technique was only part of the picture, however, as feather choice was equally important. A wider one could cover a larger surface area while being used as a feather-duster of sorts to tease the tops of her spectacular feet, whereas a smaller, more narrow feather would serve to pinpoint specific areas requiring a precise touch. Regardless, any aforementioned combination would be enough to drive her wild.
EIIEEHAAHAA! LEMMEE GO—NYAAHAHAA!
Rather than continue to assault her with brutal, flesh-rending tickle torture, he’d begun fluttering a few fingers on her oversensitive soles, as if emulating the distinct feeling of a downy feather - still lingering on his mind. His movement was rapid, as each finger waggled unpredictably, and he’d succeeded in confusing her; she didn’t know how to react now that the tickles were lighter than before.
At this point, Erica would do nearly anything to repel his wandering fingers. Her previous appeal to reason was dismissed, as was a thinly-veiled attempt at flattery. Although a disgusting thought, it seemed there was no other option but to implore him to stop. It was revolting to even consider lowering herself to such a level, but if she didn’t act soon her poor feet would continue to be fiendishly fondled, with no end in sight.
“GYIAHAAHAHAA! H-HAVE MERCY! I’M BEGGIN’ YOU—HEHEEHAAHAA!”
After being jolted back to reality, he gave the wildly-ticklish girl one more flurry upon those marvellous, blushing soles, then relented.
“Mercy? You’re begging for mercy so soon? Hmm, I expected more from you,” he sneered.
Her breathing was choked and rough; chest heaving in and out, wheezing while sucking air into her lungs. Apart from seething anger, she felt nothing but utter humiliation - to be brought down by something as simple as tickling was truly appalling. The olive-skinned beauty brushed strands of hair away from her eyes and off her forehead, dabbing glistening beads of sweat with the sleeve of her blazer. This pause was sorely needed. She watched, horror-struck, as his fingers floated menacingly in the air; his tickle cravings clearly hadn’t been extinguished yet. She’d never be able to elude him and her chances of escape were highly unlikely. So, to avoid yet another bout of crippling tickle torture and much to her chagrin, she began to speak.
“Listen to me, this cannot continue. I can barely breathe, I’m sweaty and my legs are sore. Plus, being tickled like this, it’s mortifying. Please, I beg of you, untie my ankles and drive me home. It’s getting quite late and you’ve proven yourself, believe me. Let this draw to a close,”
“That’s out of character for you, isn’t it?” he asked, pausing briefly to rejoice in his triumph. “I never thought you’d be one to beg, maybe I did push you a bit too far. But what can I say, opportunity knocked and I answered. You’re right, though. We should wrap this up, and you’ve just given me the perfect way to go about it.”
“I-I have?”
“Oh, yes. Let’s ‘draw’ this to a close,” he repeated, withdrawing his pen from the coils of his notebook. “I couldn’t have said it better myself.”
A leaden feeling had formed in the pit of Erica’s stomach as she gaped at the ballpoint pen between Henry’s fingers. None of this seemed real anymore. It was all too hazy, too jumbled, her tickle-addled brain was no longer firing on all cylinders. There must be some way to get through to him. She opened her mouth to speak, but hesitated, uncertain what else needed to be said. She was never one to mince words, never short of them either, but it appeared they’d now deserted her entirely.
“You know,” said Henry, piercing the quiet and interrupting her thoughts. “I appreciate your plea, that must’ve been difficult for you. So, how about a little break? I suppose you’ve earned it. Actually, I might take you up on that offer now.”
“A ‘break’, are you serious?!” she hissed, red-faced and fuming. “No, you’ll release me immediately! Do you think I’ll let this slide? I’ll obtain your manager’s number and you’ll be gone in a heartbeat, not to mention thoroughly embarrassed! Your reputation, your career - all gone. You’d be wise to listen, or do you fancy yourself invincible?!”
Ignoring the chatter, he replied, “Don’t be too hasty to refuse my generosity, I’m offering a truce. Turn me down and, well…” He waggled the pen in the air. “You get the idea.”
The sour, pouty expression on her face was proof that he was in the driver’s seat, literally and figuratively. Her gaze still pierced him - those hazel eyes hadn’t lost any ferocity - but, there was something else hidden there. Something that, up until this moment, she’d been able to conceal - fear. She could scarcely hold back her terror any more than he could deny his cravings.
“Fine,” she replied through clenched teeth. “To what offer do you refer?”
“The offer to enjoy your soft soles to the fullest, don’t you remember? Or was I daydreaming again?”
“Yes, I recall,”
She chewed on it a time, remaining sullen and silent, weighing options, if any. He’d extended an olive branch; without question a peaceful gesture. The offer was more than fair - a few minutes of foot worship and this feeling of dread would finally subside, hopefully making this whole horrible ordeal nothing but a distant memory. Hubris had put her in this awful predicament, and she needed to escape by any means necessary. This was the best-case scenario. With that in mind, Erica uttered a grunt, nodding her head in agreement.
“I need you to say it,” said her chauffeur with a lecherous stare. “I’m afraid a grunt simply won’t do.”
“Yes, yes. Get on with it then,”
“My pleasure,”
Without delay, he pressed his face against the hapless girl’s lusciously-soft, mesmerizing bare soles - now a rosy shade of pink - and found them warm to the touch. It was a welcome embrace, the evidence of which manifested itself as a long, low moan, prompting Henry to quickly clear his throat in a flimsy attempt to disguise it - not that he’d care if she noticed. His nose had imbedded itself between the third and fourth toe of her right foot, inhaling sharply, gorging himself on the scent, holding each consecutive breath longer than the last.
Not a sound was uttered from the scornful young woman in the back seat as rough stubble pricked and scraped both soles, feeling akin to a wire brush or sandpaper. Even though it tickled somewhat, it was considerably more tolerable than the harrowing ordeal she’d just been through; her poor peds were haunted by tickly sensations yet to vanish.
Withdrawing himself, he examined her pale arches, more specifically the crease where they met. He'd begun imagining her feet upturned, coated with baby oil and wrapped around his cock, squeezing ever tighter, pumping up and down until he could hold back no longer. It likely wouldn’t be the first time they’d milked out a load, but they’d doubtlessly drain his wallet nearly as quickly as his balls, given the chance - she clearly had a taste for the finer things in life, her attire made that obvious - and perhaps, in another time and place, that perverse pleasure might’ve been a reality. But here, tonight, he’d make due just fine with what he had. Cupping both heels in the palms of his hands, he watched her toes scrunch anxiously, creating a pair of adorable foot-fists while revealing the pearly-white tips of her french pedi once again. Numerous wrinkles had appeared on her soles, and his attentive tongue was hellbent on counting each one.
“Eeiiehee…” she squeaked, fighting the rising urge to laugh as the wide blade of his wet tongue lapped at both bare feet.
The arrogant brunette’s delectable toes were next on the menu. A true treat for the palate, they were hungrily devoured as Henry consumed each wiggly digit on display, feeling her shudder with fearful apprehension as his talented tongue coiled like a serpent around each one. Unable to sate his appetite, Henry’s mouth engulfed those slender toes one by one in an act of unabashed gluttony.
“Nfffnnn…” she groaned, withholding yet another giggle. Her body would jolt each time his lips enveloped a toe, nibbling and passionately sucking each one in sequence.
As all ten toes were meticulously tended to, Erica couldn’t help but wonder the direction her evening would’ve taken had her usual driver been waiting outside the building at day’s end. Were that the case, she’d likely be soaking in a piping-hot bubble bath by now, melting away the day's stresses, a glass of chilled red wine perched on the edge of the tub. But, it served little purpose to dwell on what might’ve been. In reality, each time he plopped one of her toes into his waiting mouth she quivered, on edge, waiting on inevitable torment. Mercifully, he’d remained true to his word, and rather than assail her with further inhuman tickle torture, he’d spent several long minutes greedily slurping on her spit-soaked toes. By the time he’d finished, there were seldom few places his inquisitive tongue hadn’t slithered, and to cap it all off he’d planted one warm, wet, loving kiss upon the sole of each foot. It might’ve served as an apology, or perhaps a ‘thank you’. Either way, it appeared that his foot lust was satiated at last.
An uneasy, short-lived silence befell the vehicle as both captor and captive shifted in their respective seats. After wiping a bit of drool that had dribbled down his chin, Henry gazed at Erica’s sopping-wet soles, appearing to blush the longer he stared. Stringy strands of spit hung like webs as the poor thing spread her toes. But unlike before, her playfulness had all but evaporated, appearing more solemn and serious while peeking through the small gap above her trapped feet, watching him.
“Did you enjoy that, my dear?” she asked, not wishing to give him additional time to scheme. “It certainly seemed like it. You were quite thorough, and ravenous, I was positive that you were going to swallow my toes whole for a moment,”
Erica punctuated the statement with an awkward, artificial chuckle, which prompted Henry to nod his head. But the smile that crept across his face afterward was anything but cordial, in fact, it looked downright sinister.
“Splendid,” she continued. “Well then, if you’re satisfied, perhaps it would be best to untie my ankles and drive me home, at long last. What do you say, my little footboy?”
“I’m not your ‘footboy’, I would’ve thought you’d learned that by now. But, if you need another lesson—”
“No! I mean, no, of course I don’t. I meant no offence. My mistake, Henry, it won’t happen again. Surely you could release me now…”
“I will, don’t worry,” he replied, dabbing the saliva that hadn’t yet dried with the sleeve of his shirt. “I haven’t abducted you. We’re enjoying each other's company, wouldn’t you agree?”
“Yes… yes, of course we are. But… the offer. You said you’d let me go…”
“And I will, but I didn’t say immediately afterward, did I? You’ll receive what I decide to give when I choose to give it,”
“It’s just that I really must get home…”
“You don’t work tomorrow, my driver’s log told me as much, so what’s the rush?”
“There’s no rush, it’s just—”
“Glad to hear that, because we’re not done yet,”
“W-What do you want from me?!” she cried. “Money, is that it? I have money, I assure you, and I can pay!” Her hands fumbled to open the small handbag resting on the seat. “If that’s what this is about, it’s yours. Here, take it…”
“No, that’s not—”
“Hold on, wait a moment. What about these?” asked the panic-stricken girl, clutching a fistful of cash while hastily removing the golden rings from her trembling fingers. “Please, take these as well. I have others, too. Once you drive me home you can have more. You need only untie me…”
“I don’t want your money or your jewelry, but you will pay. And I told you what I wanted while we were stuck in traffic, you really should pay attention. Say it with me…” He mouthed the word ‘respect’, which she begrudgingly repeated. “Yes, that’s right. And I plan on earning it. Actually, I should thank you for pushing me this far. You kicked me into gear and gave me the drive I needed to try something like this. I’m grateful, sincerely. This will be an evening I won’t soon forget, and I know you feel the same. Now, let’s continue.”
“Continue?! No, no you can’t… y-you have to end this…”
“I plan on it,” came his reply while uncapping the pen. “Just not yet. You know what they say about old habits, after all…”
“N-No, no p-please don’t do this… n-not again…not my feet, please…I can’t handle it, you know that… no more…” she whimpered, in a final impassioned plea for mercy.
But there was no pity in his eyes, not for her.
Warm, yellow light from the lamppost spilled through the steamy windows of the black sedan, illuminating the wide grin fixed to his face as Erica fought for freedom. And as she squirmed and wriggled, trying to loosen the knots just enough to slip a leg free, his smile grew broader still. But it was hopeless. Barefoot and bound, the desperate girl could do little but surrender to fate, and brace for oncoming torment as the pen was lowered to her exquisite, quivering size nines. Lips twitching and muscles tensed, she wished he’d reconsider, but the tickle-crazed man was too far gone; drunk on power and beyond reasoning. Her thoughts were scattered, and she soon felt his hand wrap tightly around her ankle.
“Please, not that… anything but tha—AHHAHAAAT!”
As the pen made contact with the arch of her left foot, the musical sound of laughter filled his ears. Half song, half scream.
“FUCKK YOU—HEEHEHAAHAA!”
Although the foot remained relatively motionless, the person it belonged to writhed around in ticklish agony. Breathless with laughter, her body flailed in the back seat, furiously pounding a pair of clenched fists upon the ivory leather, then leaning forward to grip her calves in a desperate, though fruitless, attempt to pull her astonishingly-sensitive bare soles away from this deviant.
“S-STAAHAAP IT—YEIIAAHAHAA! NOOHOHOO, LEMME GO!”
With fluid, measured strokes Henry gleefully ran the pen’s tip the entire length of her foot, leaving a trail of blue ink in its wake, all while listening to the undeniably-ticklish girl cackle like a lunatic. Her skin was all too responsive to the improvised tickle tool, and he soon found himself methodically drawing patterns, zigzagging repeatedly, cruelly devastating both buttery-soft soles. With a simple flick of the wrist, he could stimulate countless nerve endings, causing uncontrolled babbling, devolving into frenetic screams.
“Poor thing, unable to resist…” he heard himself say, over a score of escalating laughter.
“BWAHAHAHAA—FUCK, PLEEEHEEASE, N-NO MORE!”
With heavy, laboured breaths she sucked down air as fast as possible while issuing a continuous stream of incoherent pleas for mercy, unfortunately, they’d once again fallen on deaf ears. The ticklish attack was unavoidable and relentless. Screwing her eyes shut, she released another ear-splitting howl as he tirelessly worked the damn pen up and down both soles, wreaking havoc on both body and mind.
“EIIHAAHAHAAA! MOTHERFUCKER—BWAAHAHAA!”
“You’re the one who thinks themselves invincible, but it’s just the opposite; I found your vulnerability and I’m having a blast exploiting it. Not bad for a ‘blunt instrument’, huh?” he mocked, not worrying if she could hear a single word above her own frenzied, anguished cries. “Speaking of, look what I can do with my little pen.”
What had begun as a low, guttural scream from the depths of her belly had transformed into a shrill shriek as he maneuvered the pen beneath her clenched toes. Her thrashing became wilder with each and every poke; slapping the seat, pulling at the door handles - which remained locked no matter how hard she tried - and clawing at the windows. Dozens of vivid blue lines soon crisscrossed the bottoms of her bare feet, with more being added every second as he hastily scrawled, scribbled, sketched and doodled, pretending that her silky soles were blank pages in his notebook.
“GYIIHAHAAA—IT’S TOO MUCH—EIIEEHAAHAA!”
In lieu of toe cuffs, Henry locked both big toes together with thumb and forefinger, prying them back, drawing taut the supple skin. It proved highly effective. Now that she was unable to switch them side-to-side, the pen could deftly skate across each painfully-sensitive sole with ease; drawing lazy little circles on both heels, spiralling upward across those creamy high arches, and finally probing beneath all ten toes. He was unable to stop, unable to take his eyes from them. While in this trance-like state, he varied the speed, pressure and duration of each stroke while observing the various reactions. Short dashes caused her toes to spasm - there was no rhyme nor reason to their terrified wiggles - whereas drawing longer lines made them flare out. Next, the pen ran up each toe stem, pinky to pinky, ensuring each one received ample attention. And all his unwilling participant could do was laugh and fight for breath.
NYAAHAHAAA! N-NOT MY TOHOHOOES!”
Once again he visualized her locked in stocks; arms outstretched, thick leather bindings securing both wrists to the boards. Similar straps would secure both knees, and of course, her ankles would fit snugly through holes in the rough-hewn planks, immobilizing each immaculate bare foot. Her face was beet-red, frantically thrashing as thirty, forty, now fifty collective fingers explored her sweat-slicked flesh, tracing the curves of her body, exploiting all the sensitive spots she’d once hoped to conceal. Not an inch of bare, tanned skin would go unmolested; her breasts, the smooth hollows of her underarms, even her belly button - it was all fair game. Multiple fingers would poke the spaces between her ribs, knead both thighs, and squeeze her hipbones, while others would delight in blowing raspberries on her flat tummy. There would be no safeword and no breaks. The mouthy, conceited young woman would be condemned to this nightmare from which there was no escape, screaming and cursing up until the very moment that one of her own socks was stuffed into her open mouth. The crowd would swell as near-endless waves of eager participants lined up, hoping to contribute to her suffering; pinching, prodding and pushing her into tortured, sweet agony while she sobbed muffled pleas for mercy into the gag.
“N-NOO MORE—HEEHAAHAA! IT TICKKLESSS!”
“I know it does, but this was your own doing. You wanna be a cock tease? Go ahead, but there’s a price to pay for such behaviour; parading your feet around the office, bending men like me to your will. I wonder, how many of them would kill to see you in a spot like this?”
“I’M S-SOOHOORY! NYEEHAAHAAHA! I WON’T DO IT AGAIN, P-PULEEHEEASE!”
“Doubtful,” he replied, savagely terrorizing the girl’s defenceless feet with sadistic delight, drinking in her increasingly-deranged laughter. “Consider this a learning opportunity.”
The violently-ticklish girl openly wept. She’d been propelled well beyond maniacal laughter, beyond animalistic roars, to a fit of soundless convulsions. Slack-jawed and gasping for air, she slumped in her seat as her head rolled to the side. Despite innumerable protests and assurances, her ticklish lesson would continue and those precious feet would receive this treatment for several more agonizing minutes. Until, at last, the pen was removed from her inky soles.
The woman in the back seat was no longer shouting, laughing, or pleading for that matter. Instead, she lay still and speechless. In stark contrast to her formerly composed, domineering self, Erica’s head now hung limp, bangs matted to her forehead as her chest rose and fell in rapid succession. She was a snivelling mess; those tear-stained cheeks were a testament to his cruelty. Golden rings littered the back seat and her glasses lay askew on her face; the ruthless tickle session she’d been subjected to over the course of the evening had taken its toll, yet somehow she’d prevailed.
Henry, meanwhile, had returned to his familiar position behind the steering wheel, staring into the inky blackness of the alleyway. He twisted the tuning knob of his car’s stereo, but instead of crackling static, he was happy to hear a tune playing through the speakers. He adjusted the volume; not too loud, as his ears were ringing, courtesy of his ticklee. The grin had yet to leave his face as he picked up his notebook to update the earlier entry. Upon completion, he drew a small feather in the margin, then closed the book and capped his pen.
“Still with me back there?” he asked, craning his neck to peek through the small window, which her feet still protruded out of.
Henry waited for a response, but was met with silence. It was understandable, of course, as one wouldn’t expect her to be overly energetic, or talkative, after what she’d just experienced. Her disposition had wholly changed, now appearing small and docile, vastly different from the boastful woman he’d met downtown.
“What do you think of this gloomy area now? Still prefer the bustling inner city? Or has your opinion changed?” he continued, removing the comb from his shirt pocket and running it through his hair, then spinning around in his seat to face her again. “Personally, I think our time together was well spent. You needed this, but that goes for both of us. Plus, my radio is finally picking up a signal, it’s a win-win.”
“…just drive me… home…” she spoke at last, her voice raspy from overuse. The bottoms of her bare feet still tingled, and she could only imagine what they looked like, covered top to bottom with blue ink.
“I told you I would, don’t fret, you’ll be home soon enough,” he replied, the wry grin lingering on his face. “But the fun isn’t over yet. Besides, if you intend on divulging the details of our drive and ending my career, I should make the most of our limited time together, don’t you agree?”
The exhausted, hopelessly-ticklish girl wore a woeful expression as she watched him through bleary eyes, finally replying, “I won’t tell anyone, please…”
“No? How can I be sure of that?”
“I promise, you must believe me…”
“Oh, come on. We both know that you’ll spill the beans the second you get out of my car,”
“No, I won’t… it’ll be our little secret… I swear. I should’ve held you in higher regard, and for that I’m… I’m sorry,”
“Thanks for the reassurance,” Henry held up his small comb, running his thumb along its row of teeth. “But there’s no need to apologize, you’re hardly the first to treat me with contempt. I must admit, my love for the job had long faded, but I think you’ve managed to rejuvenate it. I just wish we’d met sooner, look at what I was missing out on. Now, I guess I could take you at your word, but we both know what that’ll accomplish. No, I think I should enjoy this while I can, who knows when I’ll have the chance again.”
“No, no please… I’ve learned my—”
“—Lesson? Hmm, I’m still not convinced. Some lessons are hard-learned, and I’d say you might need a little more seat-time for it to really sink in,”
“N-No, no more… you have my respect, please… not again…” she said, her voice little more than a whisper.
Her toes twitched involuntarily while staring at the comb. In anyone else’s hands, it would be utterly harmless, but when Henry held it aloft it seemed a fearsome tickle tool, and the malicious look on his face gave her the distinct impression that he intended on using it as such. Reduced to tears and pushed beyond her limits, the time spent in the back seat of his car had been a gruelling test of endurance, and sadly it wasn’t over yet. Paralyzed with fear, she attempted to speak, but the words caught in her throat as Henry lowered the comb to her trapped bare soles, and once again the sounds of sweet, suffered laughter drifted on the cool evening breeze.
Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this story, try one of my others:
Wrap It Up
Beach Daze
- I -
On the corner of a busy intersection, Henry found himself slumped over the steering wheel of his black sedan, gazing up at an office building. It was an imposing structure, with polished aluminum and mirrored glass panels stretching toward the clouds. A modern engineering marvel, it towered over everyone at street level, appearing as a physical manifestation of vertical career trajectory and near-endless business aspirations. But, the same could be said about dozens of similar buildings that littered the downtown core and blocked the sky from view.
The drone of rush hour traffic grew steadily louder. Hordes of pedestrians ambled by; a sea downturned heads staring at their devices. How they managed to maneuver through the crowd without colliding with another human being was remarkable, Henry thought, shortly before rolling up his window in an effort to silence the grating sounds of the city.
After several years as a chauffeur, he’d grown accustomed to the noise - and clientele - but, it never became any easier. It didn’t matter who he picked up; male or female, young or old, it was all the same. Interchangeable people wearing tailored suits, briefcases in hand, wearing polished leather dress shoes or high heels. Everyone had somewhere to go, and little time to spare. Finding someone who could slow down and have a chat was a rarity, it seemed, and he’d accepted that he was looked upon as a service to be used. The days were long, navigating congested streets and avoiding jaywalkers who darted out in front of moving vehicles without a second thought. Not to mention ongoing roadwork at multiple points throughout the city, bringing traffic to a standstill for longer than he thought possible.
His hand drifted toward the car’s stereo controls, incrementally twisting the tuning knob, but mile-high towers of steel and concrete hindered the satellite signal, leaving nothing but harsh static; white noise that sounded eerily similar to the cityscape on the other side of his window. This, coupled with passing vehicles and shuffling bodies on the crowded sidewalk, ensured Henry was able to focus on little else.
Reaching in his shirt pocket to retrieve a small comb, Henry ran it through his neatly parted, coal-black hair, then returned it to the pocket while switching off the radio for good. He’d finally accepted the ambient background chatter of countless passersby on their way home, envious that his day hadn’t also come to an end. But, he had one last client to pick up, and evidently punctuality was not her top concern. Withdrawing a pen from the coils of his well-worn notebook, Henry scrawled his estimated time of arrival and indicated the client’s tardiness in the margin. It was a proven method of keeping on track, ensuring each pick-up and drop-off was prompt, while also jotting any notes regarding specific client needs.
One late pick-up would ordinarily throw off his entire schedule, affecting not only his other clients but his wallet as well - being penalized for someone else's error was not something he tolerated when it came time to collect his weekly paycheque - but in this case, it wasn’t as much of an issue. After six o’clock he was technically on his own time, meaning the stress of adhering to a strict itinerary was off his mind, enabling him to wind down after another day of time constraints. After driving this final client to her home, he’d be headed to his own, and that pleasant thought did something to brighten his mood, if only slightly.
Yet as time ticked on his impatience grew, and he double-checked his driver’s log to ensure he’d arrived at the correct location. He’d visited this section of town before - it was a frequent stop - but this wasn’t his typical route, and was therefore unfamiliar with today’s client list. The most recent message in the log indicated this was exactly where he needed to be, so he closed his eyes and resigned himself to waiting a little longer.
*
A rapid knock on the tinted glass window woke him with a start. A glance toward the clock on the dashboard indicated it was nearly six-thirty, and it appeared his wayward client had finally surfaced.
A brunette was standing to the immediate right of his car, shoulders squared as she squinted her hazel eyes in his direction. She was quite tall, though he imagined her imposing height was aided by a pair of high heels. Her olive skin was aglow with the light of the setting sun, bathed in splendid hues of pink and orange, amplified by countless mirror-like panes of glass from surrounding office buildings. Her arms were folded, a look of irritation on her thin face as she withdrew a small leather handbag from under her arm, using it to rap on the glass once more. As their eyes met, she tilted her head slightly and began tapping a foot impatiently against the concrete sidewalk. She appeared younger than his usual clients, likely twenty-five, give or take a few years.
“Door,” came her muffled voice from the passenger side of the vehicle.
She was wearing formal business attire, dressed neatly in black, and although this elegant choice of clothing was commonplace, she pulled it off better than most. The multitude of gold rings decorating her slender fingers glittered in the sunlight as she adjusted the bold, black-framed glasses resting on her nose, while a matching gold necklace lay flat against her collarbone, leading his eye to her plunging neckline and ample cleavage.
“Door,” she repeated sternly after clearing her throat.
Once his eyes had refocused somewhere slightly more appropriate, Henry couldn’t help but wonder what she did for a living. One could assume she was a lawyer, or at the very least, a paralegal. Alternatively, she might be an assistant of sorts, though her stunning silhouette and stern facial expression led him to believe she held a position of power and wasn’t confined to a reception desk on a daily basis.
The blazer she wore over her white dress shirt was perfectly tailored, hugging her curves while accentuating her lean, athletic figure. It was paired with a knee-length pencil skirt; high-waisted and flattering. Altogether it was a polished, professional appearance. She projected a look of superiority, from her clothing and jewelry to her body language, effortlessly exuding confidence without moving a muscle.
“Ahem,”
She cleared her throat yet again, plainly attempting to grab his attention. With a furrowed brow she tilted her head to the side while motioning with her eyes toward the rear passenger door handle.
“Would you care to unlock the car, or shall I begin walking home?” she asked, loudly enough to be heard over the traffic whizzing by. “I wouldn’t mind, you know, it’s a lovely evening. It’s just that these pumps aren’t the most comfortable things to wear, and I have quite a ways to go.”
She looked down at her feet, then back at Henry, a wry grin appearing on her face.
“Ah, yes. Of course, of course. I’m so s-sorry, ma’am,” came his eventual reply, stumbling over words as she pulled him from quiet rumination.
Henry’s hand fumbled to locate the button to unlock all four doors, first pushing the window locks, receiving nothing but an audible ‘click’ and a glower from his aggravated client. Upon finding the correct button, he opened his door into traffic - regretfully so, as choice words were spoken by passing motorists informing him of his intelligence level - in an attempt to make his way to her side of the car to open the door.
“No, my dear. Stay where you’re at,” she spat, holding up a hand and halting his advance. “I’m capable of letting myself in. And the last thing I need is to fill out paperwork tomorrow morning regarding the untimely demise of my chauffeur.”
Upon opening the door she looked him in the eye once again, then said, “Please, get in before you hurt yourself,”
With that, the bewitching brunette extended a long leg, stepped into the back seat, and vanished entirely.
Mouth agape, Henry sat back into the driver’s seat, closed his door with a firm ‘thud’, and found himself returned to a familiar position behind the steering wheel. Though embarrassed, he was glad to be back in an air-conditioned vehicle, as the humid late-summer air was thick and his necktie felt suffocatingly tight.
Henry grabbed his tablet laying on the seat to the right, opened the driver’s log app and checked his new passenger’s destination. It was a suburb on the city’s outskirts, beyond the bright lights and noise he’d become accustomed to. It would take a while to get there, as inevitable delays must be accounted for, but at least—
“Drive,” she said assertively.
With a subtle nod of the head, he buckled his seatbelt, both hands instinctively gripping the leather-wrapped steering wheel, but not before looking in the rearview mirror at his attractive passenger. Regrettably, his gaze lingered a bit too long, and their eyes met for a third time. Henry quickly looked away, pretending to make minor adjustments to his seat, ultimately returning it to the same position. He heard a scoff from over his shoulder but chose not to look. His left hand found the turn signal stalk while the right shifted into gear, and with a firm yet steady push on the accelerator he was in motion, merging into traffic and heading to their destination.
*
“Feel free to turn on the radio,” said the woman in the back seat, as she removed a hair tie and several bobby pins, allowing loose, honey-brown ringlets to tumble over her shoulders.
“Ah, I would, it’s just that—”
“Don’t bother explaining, silence may be the better option. It’s been quite a long day,”
“Of course, ma’am,” replied Henry, once again twisting the tuning knob of his car’s stereo, receiving crackling static in return. “See? It’s the buildings, they block the signal for the satellite radio. Now, I could always switch to the local stations, but I find the music to be…” his words trailed off at the sight of her unimpressed expression in the rearview mirror.
She was looking over her glasses, full lips pursed with visible aggravation. Well-defined cheekbones and almond-shaped eyes contributed to her comely appearance, but it was certainly a harsh, austere beauty that she possessed. That cold stare was a betrayal, cracking the veneer of an otherwise glamorous charm.
For several long minutes, few words had been exchanged. Henry resolved not to annoy his passenger any further, though he found it difficult not to speak a word, and more challenging still not to let his eyes wander to the rearview mirror, as she had an allure all her own. Traffic flowed steadily for a mile or two, but came to a bottleneck near the end of the financial district, substantially slowing their progress. Against better judgment, Henry decided to strike up a conversation, as the awkward silence had grown too much to bear. Perhaps he’d find common ground with this stern stranger, or at least hoped to, otherwise this would be a rather dull drive.
“I’m Henry, by the way,” he said.
A sigh was returned to him from the back seat. “Hello, Henry. My name’s Erica, although I’m sure you knew that already as you’re my driver,”
“Yes, ma’am,” he replied, smiling, hoping his cheery tone would put her at ease and prompt her to open up. “But it’s nice to officially meet you. So, that building where I picked you up, is that where you work?”
“Well, I certainly don’t spend the majority of my day there for my own enjoyment,”
“Ah, yes, of course, that makes sense,” He felt foolish for having asked the question.
The sultry brunette shifted her weight in the back seat, repositioning her body. By leaning her back against the door, Erica was able to swing both legs up to rest comfortably atop the leather seat, one crossed over the other, as one black pump dangled over the edge.
Henry maintained his hand position of ten and two, checking blind spots periodically for nearby vehicles attempting to merge into his lane. The sun dipped steadily lower into the western sky, lengthening shadows cast by surrounding vehicles as it fell, yet causing chrome trim to gleam with blinding intensity. The flow of traffic was stagnant, which unfortunately didn’t appear to be changing anytime soon, as his fellow motorists crept forward at a snail’s pace. At the moment, the cause for delay remained unknown. It might’ve been an accident, or more roadwork around the bend, though he couldn’t say for sure. For now, he thought it best to relax somewhat and continue chatting.
When his eyes touched the rearview again, he noticed a pair of long, tanned legs resting on his back seat. His temperamental passenger was wearing sheer nylon stockings, and on her feet were a pair of black stiletto-heel, peep-toe pumps. Her ankles were crossed, one foot bobbing up and down as it dangled off the edge of the ivory leather, while the other rested on the seat itself.
Were it anyone else, he might’ve spoken up and asked politely to remove their footwear from the seat so as not to leave a stain - ivory leather in a black sedan looked posh, but was a pain to keep clean - however, in this instance he thought twice, deciding instead to keep quiet. His eyes lingered for a time, spellbound by the hypnotic rhythm of her stiletto-clad foot bobbing up and down; it was unintentionally seductive, and he was unsure if she’d chosen this particular seating arrangement for comfort, or amusement.
“Do you think we’ll be moving anytime soon, Harry?” came her voice from behind, causing his eyes to dart back to the road.
Clearing his throat and refocusing his vision, he decided it was best to concentrate on what lay ahead, and for the moment avoid this pleasant distraction.
“Umm, it’s Henry, ma’am,” he replied, mustering the mental fortitude to look anywhere but the mirror.
“Right, of course it is. Well, Henry, do you think we’ll be rolling anytime soon? We’ve been essentially motionless for god knows how long,” Erica replied, scrolling through emails on her phone. “Didn’t you know this street would be gridlocked at this hour of the day? My usual driver would’ve known better. Where is he, by the way?”
“Oh, well, I’m not sure exactly. I was simply told I’d be covering his run today, and picking up a few of his regular—”
“That’s fine, say no more,” she said, cutting short his words once again. “As long as you know left from right and how to press the accelerator, we’ll get along fine.”
Until now, Henry had been strongly considering closing the tinted privacy window that separates the front and rear seats. Some clients preferred to have it shut, the smoky glass allowing for phone calls and conversations of a private nature, while some simply preferred not to feel the obligation of chatting with their driver. To most, he was a means to an end; a service provided on behalf of corporations and businesses to shuttle important clients or packages from one section of town to another, nothing more. With the push of a button, his irritable passenger could have the privacy she seemed to so desperately want. But, after a long day he welcomed this visual stimulus. Even if she was a poor conversationalist - bordering on disrespect - he could handle it for a while longer if it meant watching those toned calves resting upon his seat, and those sexy jet-black heels fidgeting back and forth.
“Well, ma’am, I know all about long days,” said Henry, slipping a finger under the collar of his dress shirt to loosen the knot on his wide, silk necktie. “These roads are like a maze, twisting this way and that, plus there’s traffic to contend with. Well, you can imagine—”
“Yes, I can imagine what it’s like to sit in an air-conditioned luxury sedan all day, following the direction of a satellite-linked navigation system. And swivelling one’s head around to check blind spots must be terribly exhausting,” said Erica curtly, while using the tip of her right shoe to pop off the heel of her left.
Henry’s finger once again found the inner rim of his shirt’s collar, pulling outward to alleviate his rising blood pressure while peering into the back seat. His eyes were glued to the nylon-clad heel of her left foot, which had been newly revealed as her ankle now rested upon the shin of her right leg.
“And, please,” she continued. “Don’t call me ‘ma’am’.”
“Oh, of course, ma’am—er, Erica. Not a problem,”
“Splendid, I’m glad we could have this talk,” she said, idly flipping through various apps on the phone, focusing her attention away from her talkative driver.
Although traffic had begun to flow, Henry found himself captivated by the pump dangling from the big toe of her left foot. She flexed it gently up and down, causing the shoe to sway rhythmically as it teetered above the carpeted floor of the car. One small bump would send it careening downward and reveal what he longed to see in its entirety; it may have been the only time in his life he’d wished for a pothole to appear.
“Well, Erica,” said Henry, both eyes fixed to the rearview still. “Just have patience and you’ll be home in no time flat.”
“Perfect, I look forward to—”
Her body suddenly lurched, rolling to the side as her weight was abruptly transferred toward the front of the vehicle. Bracing herself against the front seat with a well-timed placement of her right arm, Erica managed to absorb the impact. The sound of screeching tires filled her ears as their car came to a sudden halt.
“What in the hell was that all about?!” she shouted, brushing hair from her eyes and adjusting her glasses.
“H-He came outta nowhere!” responded Henry, shaken.
“Out of ‘nowhere’, are you serious?! I find it difficult to believe that you were unable to see the multitude of cars surrounding us!”
“I’m, s-sorry ma’am! I didn’t mean to scare you,” he sputtered, giving an apologetic wave to the driver of the white SUV he’d cut off. “It’s just that I hadn’t seen that guy trying to take the exit. I guess… I guess I was… distracted.”
“You guess? What could’ve possibly distracted you?”
“I-I was looking in the rearview mirror at, well, it’s not important…”
“I’m quite sure it is important, as I certainly don’t want a repeat of that nonsense,” she said indignantly while reaching a hand below the seat in search of her phone. “It’s been an incredibly taxing day and I’d like to arrive home in one piece. Now, what were you looking at? Spit it out.”
“Well, I was looking at your foot—ah, wait, that didn’t come out right. What I meant to say is that you were dangling your shoe from your toe and it caught my eye, is all. Nothing major,”
“Well, which is it then? Was the cause of your distraction my feet, or my footwear?”
“Uh, both, I suppose. But it was a simple mistake, and I assure you it won’t happen again,”
Erica’s hand searched the crevice between seat and door, blindly feeling for the missing phone, yet unable to locate the device by touch alone. Withdrawing her arm and breathing deeply, it appeared to the flustered brunette that this would be a significantly longer drive home than she’d anticipated. However, if that was the case, who’s to say she couldn’t have some fun along the way?
Erica’s black pump had indeed fallen off her foot, tumbling to the floor below when her absentminded driver nearly ran headlong into another vehicle. She was able to see the reflection of his eyes from her current position, and the small privacy window separating them allowed a limited view of his head. Her own eyes narrowed, studying him, watching his focus shift between the mirror and the road, repeating over and over as she flexed her long, nylon-encased toes methodically back and forth.
“Henry,” she called. “Shall I place my shoe back on my foot and remove it from view? I’d hate to distract you, yet again.”
“Ah, well, no. I mean, you don’t have to. I plan on watching the road closely going forward. Not that I was staring at you, of course. No further distractions for me, ma’am. As I said, I’ll have you home in no time,”
“Thank you for the reassurance, but do you remember what I requested? About addressing me as Erica,” she said, running a hand down the length of her thigh.
“Right, of course. Force of habit,”
“Old habits die hard, isn’t that what they say?” she stated, leaning forward and running a hand slowly over the arch of her exposed left foot.
“I-I suppose so…” came his reply, leering as she gently massaged her own sole.
“Matter of fact, I’d go so far as to say that you don’t wish to break some of your habits, would I be correct?”
Her hand glided effortlessly from heel to toes and back again, stopping momentarily to massage her thumb into the centre of her sole. From there, she began lightly scratching her arch, using her long acrylic nails to nimbly spider all across the tantalizing nylon-clad foot, teasing with purposeful intent.
“Uh, well, maybe so,” said the distracted driver. “I guess it depends on what that habit might be,”
“There you go guessing again. Do you believe that I guessed my way into my current position?” asked Erica, softly rubbing the top of her foot as all five toes curled over in response.
“What is your current posi—”
“I’ll answer for you,” she interrupted. “No, I took what I wanted and ran with it, finding success along the way. Consider this a learning opportunity; push your limits, because that’s what life demands of you - determination, conviction, and drive. Do you have drive, Henry?”
While taking a moment to ponder the question, he observed those enchanting toes flexing in and out. They’d cast a spell over him; capturing his attention completely while the vehicle and the safe delivery of its occupant were now an afterthought, devoid of further consideration.
“Yes, absolutely,” he answered after a prolonged silence. “I have a drive to succeed, to be the best version of myself that I can be,”
“That’s an admirable sentiment, but success is a byproduct of drive; it’s your expected outcome. How will you get there? What I’m talking about is seizing what you crave and not worrying about naysayers or negativity, least of all consequences,” she replied, still watching his reactions closely. “Would you take what’s rightfully yours, if and when the opportunity arose?”
“I-I guess—”
Erica’s hand immediately retracted from her foot, straightening her leg until the nylon-clad appendage was beyond view of the small mirror, leaving his eyes to linger on a pair of naturally-tanned legs instead. A feeling of longing swelled within as he wished dearly that she’d present it to him just one more time, if only for a brief moment.
“You and I both know what guessing will accomplish, my dear,” she said humourlessly.
“Okay, okay. You’re right, I’m finished guessing, I know what I want,” he said, firmly pressing the gas pedal as traffic began flowing steadily once more.
“Is that so? Do tell,”
“Well, what I want is respect,”
“Respect isn’t given freely, it’s earned. Anyone with a few brain cells could tell you that. What’ve you done that’s deserving of my respect?”
“I gue—I know that I haven’t been as attentive, or assertive, as I should’ve been, but that’s changed now,”
“Has it really?”
“Oh yes, absolutely,”
“You appear to have convinced yourself, but I’m not so sure,” Her voice was smooth and silky. “In fact, I’ll prove it.”
Her left foot came back into view, much to Henry’s delight, resting upon her right shin once more, as if on a pedestal. Had there been another roadblock up ahead he would’ve driven directly into it. The opportunity to gaze upon her heavenly sole might be fleeting, so committing it to memory was priority number one. Those slender toes resumed their wiggly dance, agonizingly slow and sensual, as if beckoning him closer. If only he could have a closer look, that would be a dream realized. Enamoured by its delicate beauty while letting a primal instinct guide him, he began to speak, but the words escaped his lips as nothing more than garbled nonsense.
“Don’t you see?” chimed the buxom brunette, ignoring his mumbling. “You’re out of your element; you’re a follower, you lack drive and your newfound assertive nature is meaningless without action to back it up.”
Using both arms to brace herself, she slid her bum across the leather seat toward the centre of the vehicle. She now found herself seated directly in his line of sight, both feet planted firmly on the carpeted floor of his car, still missing a shoe. Smoothing out the wrinkles in her skirt with both hands, she stared into his unblinking eyes, the corners of her mouth curling upward as the seconds ticked on, and as her wicked smile grew so too did her interest in him. The muted hum of tires rolling against pavement was the only sound either could hear, that is until Henry cleared his throat and opened his mouth to speak.
“Look, I-I won’t argue with you, you clearly know more about it than I do,” he stammered nervously. “But, I’m in control of my actions and I do take what I need, when I need it.”
“I’m still not convinced. But let’s see, shall we?” she replied coyly, giving him a little wink.
In one fluid motion, Erica raised her left leg, brought her knee to her chest, extended it forward, then slid her foot through the square window between them.
Henry’s grip on the steering wheel tightened, his knuckles turning white as his heart began to race, thumping loudly in his ears while staring at the mirrored reflection of the lusciously soft, nylon-clad sole perched over his right shoulder. It was suffused with rays of deep golden light from the setting sun beaming through the windshield, and he could feel his cheeks redden the longer he stared. He was keenly aware of its presence, able to feel body heat emanating from it, even if he hadn’t laid a hand on it - yet.
“Erica, I-I don’t think this is appropriate,”
“Is that so? What a disappointment. Only moments ago you told me that you’d changed, that you’d become more decisive,” she said, wiggling her toes slowly in his periphery. “It saddens me to hear that it was nothing but talk.”
“No, I—”
“Perhaps I misjudged you. I assumed you had a spark of confidence dwelling within; a smouldering ember waiting to ignite, all it needed was some encouragement. Oh well, my mistake,”
“It’s just that I need to drive—”
“This was your moment and I assure you that opportunity rarely knocks twice. But if you choose to let it pass by, that’s fine by me. You haven’t wasted my time,” Her leg slowly retracted. “You do need to drive, after all. And I’d like to get home safely, so perhaps I shouldn’t distract—”
Before her foot had completely disappeared through the small opening it was brought to a sudden halt. A hand firmly gripped her big toe, with just enough pressure on the digit to render it motionless. Erica’s gaze met Henry’s, and for a brief moment neither spoke a word. She felt him squeezing her toe while pulling her foot toward himself, back through the window, only releasing his grip once it was resting over his shoulder once more.
“I’m glad to see that you’ve finally decided to act, to seize what you want so dearly,” she said with a smirk, pointing all five of her toes directly toward him. “You know, I don’t think respect is the only thing you’re looking for.”
“It might not be,” he responded with an earnest smile, returning his hands to the wheel, but not before folding down the sun visor to shield his eyes from the harsh brilliance of the sunset. “As you said, if opportunity’s knocking, it might be wise to answer.”
- II -
The bustling, overcrowded streets had fallen out of view. With gridlock behind them, Henry and his passenger had been given a rare opportunity to spend some time alone. The tires of his sedan rolled slowly across slabs of cracked asphalt, past crooked street signs and vacant storefronts, deep into the secluded outskirts of the city.
Mile-high towers of glass didn’t exist here. Instead, small rundown apartment buildings and long-abandoned warehouses lay stacked alongside one another, derelict and crumbling. It was an area shrouded in darkness, with an interwoven network of narrow alleyways akin to a maze to those unfamiliar, but navigating these shadowy corridors was second nature to Henry. There were plenty of passageways to be taken; numerous offshoots that could cut travel time down substantially, and in his line of work every minute saved was crucial. It was also an area that lent itself to seclusion, with plenty of places to park, hidden from prying eyes. Few people would walk these streets this evening, and those that did would take little notice of a black car parked in a dark alley.
The once-vibrant sky, previously illuminated by radiant shades of pinkish-orange, had been replaced by bleak notes of gray and indigo as the sun dipped below the horizon and out of sight. Rusted wrought-iron street lamps flickered to life, casting finger-like tendrils of light that crept across the walls of nearby buildings as a thick fog descended, encircling the car, bringing with it an eerie stillness and sudden drop in temperature.
“A rather gloomy part of town, wouldn’t you agree?” chirped Erica, her long leg still outstretched, poking through the tinted privacy glass that once separated them. “It’s too quiet. Makes you long for the hustle and bustle of the inner city, doesn’t it?”
“Honestly, I don’t miss it,” Henry replied quickly. “When you spend your days behind the wheel, stuck in traffic jams, enduring blaring horns that make your ears ring, you begin to appreciate the quiet moments.”
“How interesting, thank you for informing me,” she said, her words dripping with sarcasm. “Now, shall we begin?”
“Begin?” he asked, puzzled.
“Yes, wasn’t that your plan? You’ve driven me out here, to quite possibly the worst section of town imaginable, are you not going to finally take what you crave?” she asked eagerly. “Surely after our previous conversation you’ve realized that this is your moment, now seize it.”
Henry located a suitable area to park: a small back alley wedged between two weathered brick buildings. It was nondescript, perfect for what was to follow. The vehicle slowed to a stop, its engine rumbling as it idled, both headlamps briefly pushing back the dark before being switched off.
Releasing his grip on the steering wheel, Henry repositioned himself, pivoting his body and spinning around in his seat to have a direct line of sight at the object of his affection. He was now mere inches away from and directly facing the bossy brunette’s nylon-encased sole, staring intently as she intimately and ceaselessly wiggled those long toes. It was a perfect tactic, as he found himself leaning ever forward, drawn toward them. The nylon stretched as all five toes fanned out, and he wanted nothing more than to fill the empty spaces between with his tongue.
“Do you adore my pretty feet, Henry?” she asked, curling and uncurling her toes in a come-hither motion.
Equal parts excited and apprehensive, he continued to gawk, oblivious to her question. The soft glow of a nearby lamppost illuminated her toes; yellowish light slicing through the dense fog allowed for a clear view, while the owner of the foot remained draped in shadow, sitting comfortably in the back seat. It appeared to Henry what must be happening; she was enjoying this. She was undoubtedly accustomed to commanding a certain amount of respect in her professional life - dictating orders to subordinates came naturally enough - though somehow this felt different. He wasn’t her employee, or lackey, and therefore wasn’t required to obey. But, he was following her direction all the same.
“Hello? Are you still with me? Tell me how much you love them. And be honest, because I’ll spot a lie instantly,”
“I wish I could answer that, Erica,” he replied, perking up. “But, I don’t think I’m able to make a final judgement yet.”
“Oh? Why might that be?”
“Well, I’ve only laid eyes on one so far, and I’d require the pair to give my honest opinion,”
“You’re clever, aren’t you. But you’ll receive what I decide to give when I choose to give it, and no sooner,” she said sharply. “Now, since you have me in such a vulnerable position, what’s your next move?”
There was no hesitation this time. His head tilted forward, leaning toward her sole until the tip of his nose made contact with her big toe.
“Poor thing,” she continued. “Unable to resist. You footboys are all the same. You’re a blunt instrument, wishing to be used.”
It took a brief moment for the reality of the situation to sink in; the passenger sitting in his back seat - whom he’d only recently met - had her leg extended through the privacy glass and was currently encouraging him to indulge in his fetish. This was something normally reserved for stories on internet forums and certainly not an experience he’d ever dreamed of encountering. Unfortunately, not a single part of this was remotely appropriate; a blatant breach of driver/client relation, pure and simple. Should his employer discover any of this, his termination would be effectively guaranteed. And yet, he couldn’t help himself. He felt neither shame nor guilt. His baser instincts were in charge now, pulling him toward the object of his deepest desire. Transfixed on the lone foot displayed before him and with little rational thought factoring into his decision-making process, he continued to nuzzle her nylon-clad sole, utterly engrossed by its magnetic pull. The smell, shape, and distinct feeling of nylon against his skin were all surreal.
“That’s it, don’t be shy. I know you want to feel every inch of my lovely foot, isn’t that right?” she asked knowingly.
Henry uttered a grunt of acknowledgment and continued.
“I need you to say it, I’m afraid a grunt simply won’t do. Tell me how badly you need the foot you see in front of your nose,”
“I do, I really do,” he muttered under his breath, burying his nose in the cleavage between her first and second toe, breathing deeply.
It was a wonderful, complex aroma; sweet and fruity like citrus, with a mild earthiness as well, as he’d detected subtle notes of what could only be described as patchouli, or so he thought. Regardless, her body lotion of choice was a fantastic blend of rich fragrances, stimulating his senses each time he inhaled. Yet, there was also a certain indescribable musk - she’d likely been wearing those heels all day long - emanating from her intoxicating exposed sole, one that was certainly not off-putting or overpowering in any way. In fact, it had quite the opposite effect, as Henry wished to savour this unique, exotic smell. This was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, after all, there was no need to rush.
“Louder,” she demanded, applying firm yet even pressure against his face, smooshing his nose with the sole of her foot. “I want to hear you clearly from where I’m sitting.”
“I need it,” came his reply, speaking more clearly while increasing the volume of his voice to ensure he’d been heard.
“Mhmm,” she purred approvingly. “I’d imagine that you could spend hours beneath my perfect feet, couldn’t you?”
“Yes, I could…”
“I know what they do to boys like you. Look at you, infatuated with my toes. They’ve been stuffed inside my shoes all day long. They needed this escape, and so did you by the look of it. I might even let you clean them with your tongue, as a reward for good behaviour. Would you like that, my naughty little footboy?”
“Yes, please…”
“Wonderful. I’m happy to see that you’re finally taking some initiative. Our little talk must’ve struck a chord and made you realize just how much you’d been missing out on. I’m eagerly anticipating how attentive you can be under the right circumstances. Do you now see what happens when you take what you want?”
Henry could only process every other word Erica had spoken, as he’d been far too distracted with his face pressed squarely against her sole, inhaling repeated lungfuls of that heavenly scent. His reply once again came in the form of a grunt, rather than actual words, which hadn’t gone unnoticed.
“Did you hear a word I said? If you’re not going to pay attention when I speak then you’ll no longer have the privilege of enjoying this,” she said, waggling her foot back and forth in front of his face.
That did indeed catch his attention, as having this lovely appendage disappear after such a short time would be immensely disappointing.
“Yes, yes of course. I heard you—”
“Doubtful,” she replied, retracting her leg. “You clearly don't deserve it.”
But as before, he’d managed to catch her in the nick of time, firmly pinching her big toe between thumb and forefinger, halting the retreat. He heard a scoff from the back seat, followed by a short chuckle.
“Well, now. Someone’s eager, aren’t they?” She extended her leg through the privacy glass, flattening his nose with her sole once again. “How could I possibly deny you this pleasure? Tell me, do you adore the smell?”
“Yesss…” he whispered, as his right hand clamped itself firmly around her ankle, ensuring it remained exactly where it belonged.
“I know you do, but I don’t recall permitting you to grab me like that. I might’ve encouraged you to act on impulse and take what you want, but let’s not forget who’s in charge here,”
Without dispute, Henry released his grip. His arm fell limply into his lap as he continued sniffing her bewitching foot.
“Who’s in charge, Henry?”
“You are…” came his muffled reply.
“Good boy,” she cooed. “As long as you continue to listen you’ll be rewarded. In fact, why don’t I give you a treat right now?”
Erica raised her right foot from the floor of the sedan, lifting her leg high enough to squeeze it through the small window, positioning it directly in front of Henry’s face. Once through the tight opening, she gave her foot a wiggle side-to-side, watching his head closely follow its movements.
Henry gazed in awe at the pair of feet on display before his eyes; one encased in sheer nylon, the other trapped within the confines of a high heel. He studied it; the gloss-black patent leather shoe had a seduction all its own, yet was multiplied tenfold by the long, tanned leg attached to it. It was a size nine - as indicated on the rubber sole facing him - and the tip of her big toe cheekily peeked through a small opening, teasing him.
Side-by-side they lay, ankles close together; the narrow opening appeared just the right size for both feet to fit through. Her lateral movement was severely limited in this position, and he couldn’t help but picture her locked up tight in a set of padded wooden stocks. It was a terrific image; sturdy, hinged planks entrapping both slender ankles, easily restraining these sublime soles, watching as she struggled to escape the inevitable punishment as a tickle-hungry mob descended. Truth be told, it wouldn’t take much to achieve the same effect. But, patience is a virtue.
His left hand moved of its own accord; the tip of his index finger resting on the sole of her shoe, tracing the number nine. It then ran downward, rounded her heel, and began travelling upward again toward her toes and on arrival lingered a moment. He then gently grazed the tip of her exposed big toe, noticing her foot twitch, if only slightly.
“What do you think? These shoes were a recent purchase, and to be honest they’re not that comfortable, but I didn’t buy them for that reason alone. I know foot pervs like you simply adore high heels, isn’t that right?”
“Oh, yes. They’re perfect,” he replied, trying to ignore the insult while running his hand down the top of her foot. Being referred to as a ‘footboy’ was embarrassing, sure, but being called a ‘perv’ was so much worse. How long could he stand to be degraded?
“Mhmm, I’m so glad to hear that. You’d like to remove it, wouldn’t you?”
“May I?”
“Hmm, perhaps,” said Erica, delicately stroking her chin with a slender, ring-adorned finger, as if to appear in deep contemplation. “Who am I to refuse your request and spoil your chance of enjoying these beauties?”
She pumped both feet forward and back as if peddling a bicycle, watching her eager observer practicality salivate in response. Her awestruck chauffeur was nothing if not obedient, and good boys would receive exactly what they deserved, in due time.
“Allow me,” Henry gripped the heel of her shoe with one hand and began pulling it gently toward himself, keen to remove it and enjoy what he’d been craving.
“Not so fast, my dear,” she declared, causing him to pause a moment. “You’ll have to earn it.”
“Oh, okay. What would have me do?”
“Lick it,”
“L-Lick it?” he asked in disbelief. “Lick your shoe?”
“That’s correct. Go on, be a good little footboy. Don’t pretend the idea repulses you, we both know you’ll happily abide,”
Erica smirked while watching him consider the request, his brow knitted in a mixture of confusion and surprise. This was the first opportunity she’d been given to study him at length, though her view was somewhat limited due to her own pair of legs blocking the majority of the small privacy window separating them.
Although attractive, his features wouldn’t be considered classically handsome. His eyes were warm and expressive as they scanned her shoe, framed by faint laugh lines creased into his fair skin. Scratching the patchy stubble that peppered his jawline, he appeared to be lost in thought, mulling over the request while scrutinizing every inch of her footwear. He had a wiry frame and round shoulders, and because they tended to hunch forward it gave the appearance of defeat; his posture did him no favours. His choice of clothing was appropriate, but as she stared more imperfections became visible; loose threads protruding from the seams of an ill-fitting dress shirt and an outdated necktie that refused to lay flat. This was the look and attire of a man who spent more time behind the wheel than anywhere else.
His friendly demeanour had a certain endearing charm, and he’d been agreeable thus far, but she was genuinely curious to see if he’d blindly follow every command. Ultimately, he would toe the line or she’d simply remove her feet from view, and she was betting that he hadn’t come this far to quit now.
“Well?” she prompted, nudging him with her toe. “What’re you waiting for? You’ve been given instruction. Get to it.”
“O-Okay…”
His words trailed off as his lips parted, leaning toward her shoe and running his tongue along the length of the four-inch stiletto heel. He could hear a moan of approval emanate from the back seat of the car, which was all the encouragement he required to keep going.
“There you are, just like that. How does it taste, Henry?”
“Good. It tastes good, Erica,” he replied, trying his best to sound convincing. Truthfully, he wished to remove it entirely and savour both feet, but to do so he’d need to play her game just a little longer.
“I’m so pleased to hear that. But, I believe I preferred when you addressed me as ‘ma’am’, so let’s do that from now on, shall we?”
“Yes, ma’am. Not a problem.”
“Perfect. You may now remove my footwear, I suppose you’ve earned it. But, do ensure you wipe off any residual spit, those pumps weren’t cheap, you know,”
“Of course, ma’am,”
The heel of her sexy black shoe glistened with saliva as Henry raised his head, looking through the tiny window into the rear seat, making eye contact with the condescending brunette. Although cloaked in darkness, he could make out her silhouette contrasting against the ivory leather interior, yet it was those eyes that drew him in. There was a ferocity to them, an ever-present glare that pierced him as though he were transparent; it was unnerving. Her mannerisms and attitude conveyed power and authority. She knew who was in control and from the moment they’d met she’d been using him, teasing and mocking, toying with his emotions. It wasn’t going to stop, that much was clear, not unless he put an end to it. Erica, and those like her, had been abusing who they deemed inferior for far too long with minimal consequence. Perhaps it was time to atone.
Henry’s focus shifted back to the spit-covered shoe. His moment had finally arrived and he dutifully obliged; with one fluid motion, he popped it over the heel of her foot and slid it off, revealing what he’d been waiting to see. Greeting him were five wiggly toes - encased in nylon, just like their neighbours - which appeared quite happy now that they no longer found themselves in captivity. The remaining spit was wiped on Henry’s pants and the shoe set aside.
“Well, now that you have both in front of you, what’s the verdict?” she inquired, still wiggling her toes back and forth as if saying ‘hello’.
A familiar, fragrant aroma filled both nostrils as he nestled himself between the toes of her newly-revealed right foot, inhaling repeatedly until it occurred to Henry that he hadn’t yet answered the question.
“My verdict? Well, I like what I see, that much is true,” he admitted, slowly reaching a hand toward the unsuspecting foot. “And I do love these sheer nylons. But, if I could just remove them, and bare these feet of yours…”
“I’m not sure that you—AIIEEHEEHEE!” giggled Erica, as Henry’s inquisitive fingers made contact with her sole. “What exactly do you think you’re doing?!”
A sly grin crept across his face, as her reaction to his touch was precisely what he’d hoped for.
“I’m just enjoying what you’ve put on display for me, isn’t that what you wanted?”
“What I want is for you to behave, like the good little footboy you are,” she stated matter-of-factly while rubbing one foot with the other.
“Come on, Erica. We both know—”
“Beg pardon? I must’ve misheard you. Did you just call me ‘Erica’?”
“Oh, s-sorry, ma’am. What I meant to say was, we both know that these feet of yours are gorgeous, you clearly take care of them. But, I’d just love to see them, to feel them, without these on,” he said, tracing his finger along the seam of her nylons. “I’ve listened carefully, been a good ‘footboy’ and done exactly what you’ve asked of me. I think—no, I know it’s time they came off.”
“Well now, I must say that I’m impressed by this new assertive attitude of yours. It took a while, but you got there eventually. I suppose you’d been listening after all,”
“Of course. So, what d’ya say?”
“I say, let’s have some fun,”
- III -
The air in the cabin of the sedan had become stagnant and muggy, so Henry slid open the sunroof, allowing the cool evening breeze to filter through, bringing with it ambient sounds from a city miles away. In doing so, he’d also shed some light on his once-temperamental passenger, as the car’s interior became flooded with silvery light from an orb of a moon hanging overhead.
The high-pitched laugh that left Erica’s lips when Henry’s curious fingertips made contact with her sole was incredibly pleasing to the ear, and he wished to repeat it as soon as possible. But, if rushed she’d undoubtedly deny him the pleasure, and that simply wouldn’t do; a subtle, tactful approach was needed. She obviously loved to be the one pulling strings, so if he could appeal to her desire for control and unwillingness to appear vulnerable, he might have a shot at tickling those beautiful feet. As if prompted by his wandering thoughts, they flexed backward as she stretched both legs. They’d likely been getting stiff from resting in the same position for so long.
“Henry?”
“Y-Yes?” he answered, slightly startled.
“Were you daydreaming? I swear, just when I think I have your complete attention your eyes glaze over and I lose you again,”
“No, I wasn’t daydreaming. Just thinking about something, I was a little—”
“—Distracted? Yes, I know,” she replied in a tone of voice matching the unimpressed look on her face. “That’s becoming a common theme with you. At any rate, did you hear what I asked?”
“Uh, no. I must’ve missed it,” he replied sheepishly.
Erica sighed, then said, “Allow me to repeat it, and pay attention this time. Which foot would you like to bare first?”
This might’ve been the only question he’d ever been asked where his choice would be completely inconsequential. There was no wrong answer here, as they both led to the same wonderful outcome. Although haughty and possessing an inflated sense of self-worth, deep down Henry knew that she had a sensitive side, one he'd thoroughly enjoy exploring.
“Ah, well, if you’d like me to pick, then let’s start with the left, since it was the first one I’d laid eyes on,”
“Great choice,” she agreed, winking. “Whenever you’re ready.”
Giddy with excitement, Henry pinched the tip of her left big toe and began to pull, stretching the thin fabric as he withdrew his arm toward his body. Nylon only stretches so far before tearing, and that wasn’t his intention. As if reading his mind, Erica lifted her leg a few inches, allowing the removal to continue with minimal effort and within seconds he’d managed to slip it completely off, laying bare what he’d been dying to see.
Five toes were the first thing to catch his eye. They appeared slender and elegant - much like the individual they were attached to - not to mention deliciously suckable. As he stared they curled over, revealing a french pedi that was in perfect contrast to the golden undertones of her sun-kissed skin. Surprisingly, her wrinkly, high arch was creamy-white and looked tender as can be, just like her marshmallowy-soft heel. How anyone could spend a full day in those shoes and have feet this flawless was baffling. The urge to reach out and rake his nails down the length of her mouthwateringly-decadent bare foot was overwhelming. But, showing restraint now would pay dividends later.
“Is it to your liking?” she asked, twirling a lock of hair around a finger.
“You have no idea,”
“Oh, I have some idea. Do you believe I’d allow anyone to enjoy my feet like this? I can assure you I wouldn’t. But, I’ve had kinky boys like you before, who drool at the sight of these soles and toes. Some preferred me in fishnets or socks, others wanted me barefoot. Unique inclinations all; to be smothered, trampled or used as a human footrest. Regardless of fantasy, it was their weakness, like it is yours. I was their goddess, able to make them do just about anything with the promise of a few minutes with my perfect feet,” she said smugly. “You should feel privileged to have gotten this far.”
“I’m honoured, really,”
“I hope that’s sincerity I’m detecting in your voice, otherwise you’ll lose these special privileges. You’d make an excellent foot slave, you know. So submissive and willing to serve…”
As Erica’s monologue droned on, Henry’s self-control had begun to wane. He couldn’t help himself, that silky-soft sole was an open invitation; tempting him, begging to be caressed, fondled and played with. He wanted - no, he needed to reach out and tickle-test her bare foot.
“…and as you can imagine,” she continued. “I show them off as often as possible. They turn a lot of heads, you know, especially from men around the office. So, since you’ve—EEIIEEHEEHEE!”
Her foot recoiled at the touch of Henry’s finger as girlish giggles filled the small space, cutting short her words.
“Again? You’ve got some nerve,” she spat, plainly attempting to regain her composure. “Didn’t I tell you to behave?”
“I couldn’t help myself, ma’am,” he said with a cheeky grin. “It’s like opening a gift on Christmas morning and not playing with it right away - it’s just not right. It’d be a crime to neglect these feet of yours,”
“Now there’s something we can agree on. So, as I was saying before your urges got the better of you; since you’ve stripped off my stocking and bared my foot, what’s your next move?”
The last time she’d posed that question he dove in head-first and was promptly degraded and verbally abused. This time would be different. This time he’d need to answer carefully or risk further humiliation at the hands - or rather, feet - of this demeaning, pretentious businesswoman.
“My next move?”
“That was the question. Didn’t I tell you to pay attention?”
Henry glanced down at the garment clutched in his hand, feeling it, studying it. As he rolled the stretchy material between thumb and index finger he took note of its warmth, and when raised to his nose that now-familiar scent took hold, propelling him back to that initial whiff of her perfumed foot. Gazing up, he watched her toes playfully spread, further enticing him. This was nothing more than a game to her, one he’d grown tired of. But, that just might be the answer he’d been searching for.
“How about a game?” he blurted. “You said you wanted to have some fun, right?”
“A game?” she remarked, slowly blinking her eyes in a bemused sort of way. “A little juvenile, but why not? I’ll humour you. What type of game did you have in mind?”
“I’ll explain the rules after I set it up, okay?” he said, holding up her discarded nylon stocking.
“If that’s what you want, be my guest. Though I must warn you, I play to win,”
Whether gullible or proud, it made little difference; that unchecked ego would lead to her downfall. But he had the green light, so he began.
“Great!” said Henry enthusiastically. “Let’s get started.”
He began by wrapping the nylon around her left ankle; two, three, then four times. The material stretched as it was wound tight, maximizing durability. A double knot was then tied, ensuring it remained in place. From there, he ran the remaining length of the garment to the passenger-side headrest and repeated the process, during which his willing subject hadn’t moved a muscle, much to Henry’s delight.
“You don’t have to tie me up, my dear,” she said with a snicker. “I’m still miles away from home, and I certainly don’t plan on walking.”
“Oh, I know. I just want to make sure we play fair. So, just give me a second and I’ll finish up,”
Henry loosened the wide knot on his tie, slipped it from under his collar and removed it from around his neck. The relief was instantaneous, though the satisfaction he felt would hopefully pale in comparison to watching Erica struggle against her bonds. Wasting no time, he mirrored the previous technique used to secure her other foot, now ensuring both were properly tied. However, as an added security measure he looped the silky necktie around both ankles before tying it off snugly to the driver-side headrest. He didn’t mind using it for such a purpose, as it was high time this particular tie was retired.
Leaning back to take in the view, he couldn’t help but smile at the results. Both feet - one bare, one still encased in nylon - were within reach; isolated and vulnerable, tied tightly in opposite directions to the post of a headrest.
“Okay, the set-up is finished. But, before we begin I’ll need you to test out my knots, if you don’t mind,”
Henry watched carefully as she wiggled her feet while attempting to withdraw each leg, but try as she might the beguiling brunette was unable to break free of the makeshift restraints. She was well and truly trapped, and Henry’s face lit up with impish glee as he imagined the possibilities.
“Well, I must say I’m impressed. You’ve done a fine job of tying me up, I can’t move my legs an inch!” she said while pretending to applaud his success. “And using your own necktie, how creative.”
“I’m glad you approve,”
“So, are you going to tell me what this game is all about? Or, do you plan on keeping me in suspense?”
“Just have patience, the wait is nearly over. We’re almost ready to play,” he replied. “But first - a test. Tell me, which is more sensitive…”
Henry raised his index finger into the air, ensuring it was visible through the limited space provided above her immobilized feet.
“Will it be the nylon-covered foot…”
The lone finger made contact with her sole. Beginning at the base of her big toe it travelled south over the ball of her foot, down the arch, coming to a stop at her heel.
“Mphheeheee…” giggled Erica softly, raising a hand over her mouth to stifle the sound as her toes curled over in response to the tickly touch.
“Hmm, interesting. But, I wonder…” continued Henry, his hand looming eagerly in front of her bare size nine sole. “Will this one be even more receptive?”
He repeated the process, yet the reaction he received was quite similar, producing muffled giggles while causing all five toes to curl over, showing off that pretty pedi once again.
“Are you okay, ma’am?”
Erica glared at her driver through the tiny window separating them. A sliver of space above her toes enabled her to view his expression; the self-satisfied smirk on his face told the tale of a man all too pleased with himself. But, she wouldn’t be beaten so easily and that pathetic attempt at trying to fluster her would be nothing more than a temporary annoyance. He undoubtedly wanted to hear how much it bothered her, how it tickled so badly and how she desperately needed it to stop. He'd never have the satisfaction.
“Yes, I’m quite alright,” she replied casually, feigning nonchalance. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“I’m just making sure. One didn’t feel more sensitive than the other?”
“Hardly felt a thing, to be honest,”
“Well, since you’re that confident, maybe it’s best to jump right into the game. Sound good?”
“Certainly,” She wiggled her toes invitingly. “I’m ready when you are.”
“Great. The rules are simple; I’ll try to tickle you for two minutes, and you’ll try to keep perfectly still while holding in your laughter. If you can do that, you win, and I’ll set you free. I’m sure it won’t be much of a challenge, of course, since you seem so unbothered by my touch,”
Erica swallowed hard, replying, “What a foolish game. But, if that’s what you wish, you may begin anytime,”
“Just remember, you can speak but I don’t want to hear one giggle, snicker or tee-hee, got it?” said Henry, reaching toward the tablet resting on the passenger seat. He opened the timer app, set it for two minutes, then propped it up on the dashboard within her line of sight. “Good luck!”
“I’ve never relied on luck and I don’t plan on starting now. Play your little game, footboy. I’m not frightened and, as I said, I play to win,” she replied, her voice laced with trepidation.
“We’ll see…”
After activating the timer, Henry raised both hands and inched them toward the pair of helpless, trembling soles displayed before him. Her bare left foot would no doubt prove to be the more sensitive of the two, so he decided to begin with the right and ease her into it. He pressed the tip of his index finger against her big toe and gently moved downward, barely applying any pressure to the adorable digit. Down it travelled, teasing from the tip of her toe to the bottom of her heel and back again. Upon reaching those long, lovely toes they twitched, but otherwise remained still.
The silence that had overtaken the car was an assault on the senses, but Erica was committed to remaining tight-lipped. Her breaths came short and shallow while her gaze remained glued to the timer, watching seconds tick away, each one punctuated by another feather-light pass of his fingertip. Of all the men who’d ever fawned over her feet, not one had attempted something like this, nor had she ever imagined herself tied up in the back seat of her chauffeur’s car while being forced to endure a ticklish trial. It was hellish and insufferable, yet had only just begun, and as the timer counted down it dawned on Erica just how alone they truly were.
“How’re you doing so far?” he asked, continuing to lightly tease the trapped girl’s tender foot.
“Fine…” she muttered.
“What’s that? Speak up, please. I’d like to hear you clearly from where I’m sitting,”
Henry watched his attractive passenger’s face contort with a mixture of discomfort, irritation and withheld laughter. It was endlessly satisfying to witness firsthand the beginning of her ticklish demise, so he continued to glide a single finger up and down the length of her nyloned sole in an attempt to make her crack a smile.
“I’m fine…” she repeated, raising the volume of her voice to be heard from the front seat, wincing as she felt the finger leisurely explore her foot.
“I’m so happy to hear that, I guess this doesn’t bother you at all, does it?”
“…not in the s-slightest…”
He could hear the truth revealed in her voice; she was speaking in a higher register now, trying dearly to remain composed, gritting her teeth between each word spoken. But it was clear as day; weakness was peeking through and her bravado was rapidly fading as her body betrayed her. She’d succumb, it was simply a matter of time.
“I hope that’s sincerity I’m detecting, or you’re in a lot of trouble. Now, let’s kick it up a notch,”
Rather than waste any more time on the right, Henry thought it best to focus on the left foot; it was smooth as satin, practically begging to be tickled. He began by circling a fingernail on the ball of the bound girl’s bare foot, swirling around and around, steadily increasing pressure to elicit a reaction from his helpless plaything. But, she was nothing if not determined, stubbornly remaining stone-faced throughout the duration of his tickly technique. So, he instead began strumming two or three fingers on her wrinkly arch, changing the rhythm to keep her guessing. He could feel resistance as she tried to pull away, but the skillfully-tied, improvised bondage ropes held tight and allowed no movement whatsoever.
“What’s the matter, ma’am? Hold on, you’re not a little bit… ticklish, are you?” he asked knowingly.
Simply hearing that word said aloud amplified the torturous feelings coursing through the bottom of her bare foot. Giggles were bubbling to the surface, but the resolve to win this foolish ‘tickle challenge’ had thus far outweighed her desire to laugh and rip her foot away from his meandering fingertips - if indeed that were even possible. And so, she bit her lower lip, stifling mounting giggles while maintaining her composure as best she could, given the circumstances.
“…no, I am n-not…”
“Oh, come on. You want to laugh, I know you do. I can see it in your eyes,” he taunted. “You’re doing far better than I predicted, but how long can you hold out? Remember: you laugh, you lose!”
A quick glimpse at the timer indicated less than one minute remaining, so it was time to shift gears. The barefoot brunette’s willpower was fast decaying and one sure-fire way to force a smile was to dedicate some time to those tantalizing toes. Henry allowed a finger to slip between her first and second toe, vibrated it, then slid it out and repeated it one toe over. As he made his way down the line he felt her body shudder at his touch, that hyper-sensitive skin was sinfully-soft and he knew this was pushing her dangerously close to the breaking point. She was breathing more heavily than before; nostrils flared while staring intently at the timer over his shoulder as if willing it to move faster would make a lick of difference. She was hanging by a thread and he’d managed to dismantle her defences, one toe at a time.
“Coochie, coochie, coo! Aww, does this tickle? Be honest, because I’ll spot a lie instantly,”
“N-No…” she insisted as her eyes welled with tears, adamantly refusing to give him the pleasure of seeing her wipe them away.
As his fingers slid lazily between her toes, Erica was reminded of her monthly pedicure and the price paid for flawless feet. Her personal nail technician had skilled hands - an absolute necessity due to her extreme sensitivity - but cotton balls and pumice stones both tickled like mad, which was an unfortunate side effect. Still, this felt altogether different, as her driver was focused solely on making her squirm. A foot care routine was important; paraffin wax dips, exfoliating scrubs, and liberal amounts of the finest moisturizer ensured her skin remained healthy and supple. However, the downside was playing out before her eyes.
“Nghhh…”
“Oh, what's that? Sounds like you’re finding it difficult to keep quiet. You can let it out, there’s no shame in losing,”
Through gritted teeth, she suppressed a wayward chuckle that nearly broke loose from her lips. Her bare left foot was far too delicate to handle much more of this, but it was nearly over and once she’d beaten his silly ‘game’ she’d thoroughly enjoy the ability to move her lower limbs again. She couldn’t falter now, not with victory within reach.
It was plain that she was about to snap, and with the timer approaching zero Henry knew it was now or never.
“Only moments ago you told me that you weren’t afraid, that you’d win my little game. It saddens me to hear that it was nothing but talk,”
After hooking his thumb around the big toe of her left foot, Henry blindsided the poor girl by raking his nails down the length of her velvety-soft sole.
“BWAHAAHAAAA!”
The reaction was instantaneous and dramatic; her toes splayed outward as if trying to flee, then immediately curled over causing a multitude of deep wrinkles to appear. Erica erupted with laughter, and for the first time since they’d met the smile on her face wasn’t one of mischief or wickedness, but pure hysteria.
“GYIIHAAHAHAA! YOU CH-CHEATED—EIIAHAAHAA!”
“Cheat? No way, I play fair. I guess you weren’t up to the challenge after all,” he replied, cruelly digging his nails into her supple skin.
“AIIEHEEHAAHAA—S-STAHAAP IT—HEEEHAAHAA!”
His roaming fingers devastated her bare foot, applying just enough pressure to make her squeal; that high-pitched wonderful sound rang throughout the car, whetting his appetite for more. Holding her foot still was easy, making tickling the pompous brunette a true joy, something he could continue for hours.
“BWAAHAAAHAA! TIME’S UP!—EIIEEHAAHAA!”
She was correct, the timer had expired. Though he was enjoying the booming laughter, his intent wasn’t to push her over the edge - at least not yet. Releasing his grip on her big toe, he killed the alarm chiming in the background and let her draw breath.
“You tried your best, ma’am. Unfortunately, it wasn’t enough. We could always play again, if you’re up to it,” he said with a smirk.
“You sonofabitch! You didn’t play fair at all!” she screamed, rubbing both feet together in an effort to reduce any lingering tickly sensations.
“I’ll take that as a ‘no’ for a rematch,”
Erica’s cheeks were flushed, her breathing laboured. For the first time in recent memory, she felt truly powerless. The bonds holding her feet in place were tied more securely than she’d anticipated, and the irony of having her own nylon stocking used for such a nefarious purpose was not lost on her.
“Listen to me…” she panted. “You’ve played your little game and had your fun. I’ll admit when I’ve been beaten. You win. Is that what you want to hear?”
Admitting defeat didn’t come easily and the words felt odd in her mouth, but if this is all it took to earn her freedom she’d happily oblige.
“That’s gracious of you. I haven’t known you very long, but I’d say you’re unfamiliar with losing,”
“You’d be correct,” she declared proudly.
“Well, there’s a first time for everything. You know, for someone who appears so tough you’re pretty darn sensitive,”
“It will be the last time you see my sensitive side, my dear,” she said, her face hard and unsmiling as she glared soberly over her glasses. “Now, release me.”
“Why would I do that? I thought you said you wanted to have some fun. Isn’t that what you told me?”
“No… well, yes. But you cannot twist my words around like that. You have to let me go,”
“Oh, do I?” he asked, receiving a scornful look from his passenger. “I’m not so sure. In fact, I’ll prove it…”
To illustrate his point, Henry’s finger gently traced an ultra-fine crease down the centre of her ivory arch, causing the foot to flinch and a strained chuckle to emerge from his oh-so-ticklish prisoner.
“W-Wait, don’t—eiieheehee…”
“Oh, yes. I can do whatever I want to these pretty, pampered feet of yours,” he teased. “You’re not so high and mighty now, are you? This is for keeping me waiting earlier. Tickle, tickle…”
“Henreeheehee… let meeheee go, right now!”
Her muffled laughter was escaping and there was little that could be done about it. The mere act of a finger gliding down her sole was enough to perpetuate a fit of cute, sporadic giggles. Stroke by ticklish stroke she was robbed of both strength and dignity, and the layers of mental protection she’d worked so hard to build were quickly stripped away. But although her defences had begun to crumble, her spirit remained unbroken.
“You’re in no position to be giving commands, Erica,” he said, mirroring the same technique on her right foot. “And I’m done taking orders from you. Now, laugh for me...”
Her size nines snapped one way then the other, valiantly trying to evade his tickly touch. But try as she might his damned fingers followed, effortlessly tracking her movements. She’d subconsciously begun holding her breath, lips pursed while sucking both cheeks against her teeth in an effort to suppress the giggles. It worked for a moment, enabling her to withstand the tickles, but was nothing more than a bandaid fix - she’d require oxygen soon. This was a test of wills, one she was currently winning, that is until his strategy suddenly changed. No longer was he gliding up and down the sole, instead multiple fingers had begun crawling across both unprotected feet. It proved too much to handle, and as she exhaled the pent-up laughter spilled out.
“...eiieehehehee…pleeheease… s-stopp thisss!”
“I don’t think so,”
Henry was grinning like a fool as she spasmed and flailed in response to his touch. Giving this manipulative bitch a taste of her own medicine was infinitely satisfying, not to mention long overdue. The difference in texture beneath his fingers was interesting, as her nyloned sole seem to elicit a slightly different reaction as compared to the bare foot.
“Thisss is t-torture—heehehehee!”
“Torture?!” he replied in mock outrage. “Don’t be so dramatic, you haven’t felt torture. Not yet, anyway.”
Swinging both feet side-to-side didn’t seem to be working, if anything her tickle-obsessed driver was making yet another game out of tormenting her. This maddening, incessant teasing had become unbearable. It needed to end, right now.
“O-OKAAAY—EIIEHEHEE—E-ENOUGH OF THIS!” bellowed the flustered girl.
Ceasing the tickling and withdrawing his fingers, Henry listened to the agitated woman in the back seat, allowing her a moment’s respite.
“I’ve had quite enough of this foolishness, it’s time to release me. Immediately,” demanded Erica, forcing herself to speak calmly in an effort to regain some dignity.
“Release you? Why on Earth would I do that?”
“Because you are my driver, and you will carry out my instructions,”
“I hate to break it to you, but you’re not my boss,” he replied, delighted to have one-upped her yet again. “I was hired by the company you work for, that’s it. I’m not under your employ, and I’m certainly not your flunky.”
It occurred to Erica that her driver was merely flexing his newfound confidence, just as she’d encouraged. There was little doubt he was committed to proving himself, that he could take what he wanted. Perhaps after acknowledging his transformation from sheepish, meek nobody to a take-charge alpha he’d set her free. Though it wasn’t in her nature to do so, she had little choice but to appeal to his ego.
“You’re not the same man who picked me up in front of my building earlier today. He was weak, timid and biddable, but no longer. I can see that the ember within has finally ignited, fuelling this impressive display of power. You’ve definitely changed,”
“Oh, I have. I distinctly remember being told not to worry about naysayers, negativity or consequences. Is that true?”
“Indeed. But come now, we both know that you can’t keep me tied up forever. Besides, my dear, you want nothing more than to bury your face in my soft soles again; to be smothered while enjoying them to the fullest. Am I right?”
“You’re not wrong,”
“I rarely am. Now then, if you’ll untie me we can continue having fun, and you may resume worshipping my lovely bare foot,” She pointed her toes in his direction, smiling.
“We’ll get there eventually. But, that reminds me, isn’t it about time your right foot matched the left?”
“Beg pardon?”
“Here, let me show you,” he suggested, both hands drifting leisurely toward her struggling right foot.
“Now, h-hold on just a moment…” she sputtered, eyes widening behind her glasses as they followed the movement of his hands. “What do you think you’re doing?!”
Pinching the nylon between his fingers he shot her a mischievous glance, his silence speaking volumes.
“Don’t you dare…”
With minimal effort, he tore open the thin material to reveal five toes, then pulled it back until the ripped fabric dangled unceremoniously around her ankle. Erica’s last shred of protection, however small, had vanished instantly and with it the hope that this would end anytime soon. Meanwhile, Henry marvelled at the matching pair of perfectly-pedicured bare feet on display, not an imperfection to be found, both squirming nervously as he stared intently at the multitude of wrinkles on those porcelain-like arches.
“If you think for one second that I’m going to stand for this—”
“You don’t need to stand,” he said with a wide, toothy grin. “You’re sitting, silly girl, very comfortably I might add. The comfort of my clients is always a top priority.”
“You dirty little foot perv, was this your plan all along?! This was premeditated! How dare you treat me like this?!” she spat, mouth twisting in animated fashion as both cheeks flushed to a burning crimson, all while trying to wrench her legs free - to no avail.
“You’ll catch more flies with honey than vinegar. But, if memory serves, I’m not the one who started this. You took a special interest in me, don’t deny it; encouraging me to act on impulse while feeding my insatiable hunger for these beauties,” he said, motioning to her exposed feet. “So, if anyone’s to blame for your current situation, I’d say it’s you.”
No reply was returned. Instead, he was met with a scowl. The car’s interior had become silent as a crypt while Henry graciously allowed the hot-tempered girl a minute to settle herself, and stew on his words. Evidently, she’d finally realized that a series of errors on her part had led to this outcome. There was nothing but dead air between them, and with the feeling of animosity palpable, he decided to lighten the mood.
“Wow, speechless for once?” he asked, elated to have this wonderful pair of defenceless soles awaiting his tickly touch. “Don’t look so sad, we’re having fun, aren’t we? Here, let me put a smile back on your face.”
“I’m not sad. And if you touch my feet again I’ll—YEEHAAHAHAA!” she yelped, as her driver raked his fingernails down the length of her newly-naked right foot.
“Sorry, you’ll do what exactly?” he asked, sinking his fingertips into her baby-soft skin and dragging them downward yet again.
“GYAHAHAHAA! STAAHAAHAAP!”
“That’s what I thought. Let’s not forget who’s in charge here,”
The power he felt while assaulting the tender-footed brunette was an experience like no other; it was addictive, plain and simple, and the melodic tones of frantic laughter produced by the cocksure businesswoman were invigorating. Not content with only one foot, he decided to scratch his nails down her left sole as well - from the base of her long, distressed toes to her round, pillowy-soft heel - while revelling in her pathetic, garbled cries for help. Henry could happily tickle these soft, girly feet until they turned pink, which at this rate wouldn’t take long.
“NYAAHAHAA—NOOOHOOO, N-NOT MY FEEHEEET!”
“Why not? Too much to handle? Seems to me like you’re out of your element, my dear,” he said with vindictive pleasure, the words drowned out by peels of raucous laughter.
“P-PLEEHEEASE—I CAHAAHAAN’T—HEEHAHAA!
He could feel her shake and convulse with mirth; the entire car was rocking side-to-side as she pulled against her bonds in another futile attempt to free herself. Yet again his mind wandered; it was difficult not to fantasize when presented with a situation like this.
‘A feather would suit these silken soles quite well’, he thought, visualizing the plume gliding down both arches. Though a clichéd tickling implement, it would nonetheless be ideal to tease these unprotected, impossibly-soft soles. It would twirl in his fingers while being drawn between her toes, which would undoubtedly scrunch up once they felt its soft, fluffy caress. Or, he might use the blunt quill to draw a firm, straight line down her imprisoned foot while banshee-like wails echoed in the enclosed space. Technique was only part of the picture, however, as feather choice was equally important. A wider one could cover a larger surface area while being used as a feather-duster of sorts to tease the tops of her spectacular feet, whereas a smaller, more narrow feather would serve to pinpoint specific areas requiring a precise touch. Regardless, any aforementioned combination would be enough to drive her wild.
EIIEEHAAHAA! LEMMEE GO—NYAAHAHAA!
Rather than continue to assault her with brutal, flesh-rending tickle torture, he’d begun fluttering a few fingers on her oversensitive soles, as if emulating the distinct feeling of a downy feather - still lingering on his mind. His movement was rapid, as each finger waggled unpredictably, and he’d succeeded in confusing her; she didn’t know how to react now that the tickles were lighter than before.
At this point, Erica would do nearly anything to repel his wandering fingers. Her previous appeal to reason was dismissed, as was a thinly-veiled attempt at flattery. Although a disgusting thought, it seemed there was no other option but to implore him to stop. It was revolting to even consider lowering herself to such a level, but if she didn’t act soon her poor feet would continue to be fiendishly fondled, with no end in sight.
“GYIAHAAHAHAA! H-HAVE MERCY! I’M BEGGIN’ YOU—HEHEEHAAHAA!”
After being jolted back to reality, he gave the wildly-ticklish girl one more flurry upon those marvellous, blushing soles, then relented.
“Mercy? You’re begging for mercy so soon? Hmm, I expected more from you,” he sneered.
Her breathing was choked and rough; chest heaving in and out, wheezing while sucking air into her lungs. Apart from seething anger, she felt nothing but utter humiliation - to be brought down by something as simple as tickling was truly appalling. The olive-skinned beauty brushed strands of hair away from her eyes and off her forehead, dabbing glistening beads of sweat with the sleeve of her blazer. This pause was sorely needed. She watched, horror-struck, as his fingers floated menacingly in the air; his tickle cravings clearly hadn’t been extinguished yet. She’d never be able to elude him and her chances of escape were highly unlikely. So, to avoid yet another bout of crippling tickle torture and much to her chagrin, she began to speak.
“Listen to me, this cannot continue. I can barely breathe, I’m sweaty and my legs are sore. Plus, being tickled like this, it’s mortifying. Please, I beg of you, untie my ankles and drive me home. It’s getting quite late and you’ve proven yourself, believe me. Let this draw to a close,”
“That’s out of character for you, isn’t it?” he asked, pausing briefly to rejoice in his triumph. “I never thought you’d be one to beg, maybe I did push you a bit too far. But what can I say, opportunity knocked and I answered. You’re right, though. We should wrap this up, and you’ve just given me the perfect way to go about it.”
“I-I have?”
“Oh, yes. Let’s ‘draw’ this to a close,” he repeated, withdrawing his pen from the coils of his notebook. “I couldn’t have said it better myself.”
- IV -
A leaden feeling had formed in the pit of Erica’s stomach as she gaped at the ballpoint pen between Henry’s fingers. None of this seemed real anymore. It was all too hazy, too jumbled, her tickle-addled brain was no longer firing on all cylinders. There must be some way to get through to him. She opened her mouth to speak, but hesitated, uncertain what else needed to be said. She was never one to mince words, never short of them either, but it appeared they’d now deserted her entirely.
“You know,” said Henry, piercing the quiet and interrupting her thoughts. “I appreciate your plea, that must’ve been difficult for you. So, how about a little break? I suppose you’ve earned it. Actually, I might take you up on that offer now.”
“A ‘break’, are you serious?!” she hissed, red-faced and fuming. “No, you’ll release me immediately! Do you think I’ll let this slide? I’ll obtain your manager’s number and you’ll be gone in a heartbeat, not to mention thoroughly embarrassed! Your reputation, your career - all gone. You’d be wise to listen, or do you fancy yourself invincible?!”
Ignoring the chatter, he replied, “Don’t be too hasty to refuse my generosity, I’m offering a truce. Turn me down and, well…” He waggled the pen in the air. “You get the idea.”
The sour, pouty expression on her face was proof that he was in the driver’s seat, literally and figuratively. Her gaze still pierced him - those hazel eyes hadn’t lost any ferocity - but, there was something else hidden there. Something that, up until this moment, she’d been able to conceal - fear. She could scarcely hold back her terror any more than he could deny his cravings.
“Fine,” she replied through clenched teeth. “To what offer do you refer?”
“The offer to enjoy your soft soles to the fullest, don’t you remember? Or was I daydreaming again?”
“Yes, I recall,”
She chewed on it a time, remaining sullen and silent, weighing options, if any. He’d extended an olive branch; without question a peaceful gesture. The offer was more than fair - a few minutes of foot worship and this feeling of dread would finally subside, hopefully making this whole horrible ordeal nothing but a distant memory. Hubris had put her in this awful predicament, and she needed to escape by any means necessary. This was the best-case scenario. With that in mind, Erica uttered a grunt, nodding her head in agreement.
“I need you to say it,” said her chauffeur with a lecherous stare. “I’m afraid a grunt simply won’t do.”
“Yes, yes. Get on with it then,”
“My pleasure,”
Without delay, he pressed his face against the hapless girl’s lusciously-soft, mesmerizing bare soles - now a rosy shade of pink - and found them warm to the touch. It was a welcome embrace, the evidence of which manifested itself as a long, low moan, prompting Henry to quickly clear his throat in a flimsy attempt to disguise it - not that he’d care if she noticed. His nose had imbedded itself between the third and fourth toe of her right foot, inhaling sharply, gorging himself on the scent, holding each consecutive breath longer than the last.
Not a sound was uttered from the scornful young woman in the back seat as rough stubble pricked and scraped both soles, feeling akin to a wire brush or sandpaper. Even though it tickled somewhat, it was considerably more tolerable than the harrowing ordeal she’d just been through; her poor peds were haunted by tickly sensations yet to vanish.
Withdrawing himself, he examined her pale arches, more specifically the crease where they met. He'd begun imagining her feet upturned, coated with baby oil and wrapped around his cock, squeezing ever tighter, pumping up and down until he could hold back no longer. It likely wouldn’t be the first time they’d milked out a load, but they’d doubtlessly drain his wallet nearly as quickly as his balls, given the chance - she clearly had a taste for the finer things in life, her attire made that obvious - and perhaps, in another time and place, that perverse pleasure might’ve been a reality. But here, tonight, he’d make due just fine with what he had. Cupping both heels in the palms of his hands, he watched her toes scrunch anxiously, creating a pair of adorable foot-fists while revealing the pearly-white tips of her french pedi once again. Numerous wrinkles had appeared on her soles, and his attentive tongue was hellbent on counting each one.
“Eeiiehee…” she squeaked, fighting the rising urge to laugh as the wide blade of his wet tongue lapped at both bare feet.
The arrogant brunette’s delectable toes were next on the menu. A true treat for the palate, they were hungrily devoured as Henry consumed each wiggly digit on display, feeling her shudder with fearful apprehension as his talented tongue coiled like a serpent around each one. Unable to sate his appetite, Henry’s mouth engulfed those slender toes one by one in an act of unabashed gluttony.
“Nfffnnn…” she groaned, withholding yet another giggle. Her body would jolt each time his lips enveloped a toe, nibbling and passionately sucking each one in sequence.
As all ten toes were meticulously tended to, Erica couldn’t help but wonder the direction her evening would’ve taken had her usual driver been waiting outside the building at day’s end. Were that the case, she’d likely be soaking in a piping-hot bubble bath by now, melting away the day's stresses, a glass of chilled red wine perched on the edge of the tub. But, it served little purpose to dwell on what might’ve been. In reality, each time he plopped one of her toes into his waiting mouth she quivered, on edge, waiting on inevitable torment. Mercifully, he’d remained true to his word, and rather than assail her with further inhuman tickle torture, he’d spent several long minutes greedily slurping on her spit-soaked toes. By the time he’d finished, there were seldom few places his inquisitive tongue hadn’t slithered, and to cap it all off he’d planted one warm, wet, loving kiss upon the sole of each foot. It might’ve served as an apology, or perhaps a ‘thank you’. Either way, it appeared that his foot lust was satiated at last.
An uneasy, short-lived silence befell the vehicle as both captor and captive shifted in their respective seats. After wiping a bit of drool that had dribbled down his chin, Henry gazed at Erica’s sopping-wet soles, appearing to blush the longer he stared. Stringy strands of spit hung like webs as the poor thing spread her toes. But unlike before, her playfulness had all but evaporated, appearing more solemn and serious while peeking through the small gap above her trapped feet, watching him.
“Did you enjoy that, my dear?” she asked, not wishing to give him additional time to scheme. “It certainly seemed like it. You were quite thorough, and ravenous, I was positive that you were going to swallow my toes whole for a moment,”
Erica punctuated the statement with an awkward, artificial chuckle, which prompted Henry to nod his head. But the smile that crept across his face afterward was anything but cordial, in fact, it looked downright sinister.
“Splendid,” she continued. “Well then, if you’re satisfied, perhaps it would be best to untie my ankles and drive me home, at long last. What do you say, my little footboy?”
“I’m not your ‘footboy’, I would’ve thought you’d learned that by now. But, if you need another lesson—”
“No! I mean, no, of course I don’t. I meant no offence. My mistake, Henry, it won’t happen again. Surely you could release me now…”
“I will, don’t worry,” he replied, dabbing the saliva that hadn’t yet dried with the sleeve of his shirt. “I haven’t abducted you. We’re enjoying each other's company, wouldn’t you agree?”
“Yes… yes, of course we are. But… the offer. You said you’d let me go…”
“And I will, but I didn’t say immediately afterward, did I? You’ll receive what I decide to give when I choose to give it,”
“It’s just that I really must get home…”
“You don’t work tomorrow, my driver’s log told me as much, so what’s the rush?”
“There’s no rush, it’s just—”
“Glad to hear that, because we’re not done yet,”
“W-What do you want from me?!” she cried. “Money, is that it? I have money, I assure you, and I can pay!” Her hands fumbled to open the small handbag resting on the seat. “If that’s what this is about, it’s yours. Here, take it…”
“No, that’s not—”
“Hold on, wait a moment. What about these?” asked the panic-stricken girl, clutching a fistful of cash while hastily removing the golden rings from her trembling fingers. “Please, take these as well. I have others, too. Once you drive me home you can have more. You need only untie me…”
“I don’t want your money or your jewelry, but you will pay. And I told you what I wanted while we were stuck in traffic, you really should pay attention. Say it with me…” He mouthed the word ‘respect’, which she begrudgingly repeated. “Yes, that’s right. And I plan on earning it. Actually, I should thank you for pushing me this far. You kicked me into gear and gave me the drive I needed to try something like this. I’m grateful, sincerely. This will be an evening I won’t soon forget, and I know you feel the same. Now, let’s continue.”
“Continue?! No, no you can’t… y-you have to end this…”
“I plan on it,” came his reply while uncapping the pen. “Just not yet. You know what they say about old habits, after all…”
“N-No, no p-please don’t do this… n-not again…not my feet, please…I can’t handle it, you know that… no more…” she whimpered, in a final impassioned plea for mercy.
But there was no pity in his eyes, not for her.
Warm, yellow light from the lamppost spilled through the steamy windows of the black sedan, illuminating the wide grin fixed to his face as Erica fought for freedom. And as she squirmed and wriggled, trying to loosen the knots just enough to slip a leg free, his smile grew broader still. But it was hopeless. Barefoot and bound, the desperate girl could do little but surrender to fate, and brace for oncoming torment as the pen was lowered to her exquisite, quivering size nines. Lips twitching and muscles tensed, she wished he’d reconsider, but the tickle-crazed man was too far gone; drunk on power and beyond reasoning. Her thoughts were scattered, and she soon felt his hand wrap tightly around her ankle.
“Please, not that… anything but tha—AHHAHAAAT!”
As the pen made contact with the arch of her left foot, the musical sound of laughter filled his ears. Half song, half scream.
“FUCKK YOU—HEEHEHAAHAA!”
Although the foot remained relatively motionless, the person it belonged to writhed around in ticklish agony. Breathless with laughter, her body flailed in the back seat, furiously pounding a pair of clenched fists upon the ivory leather, then leaning forward to grip her calves in a desperate, though fruitless, attempt to pull her astonishingly-sensitive bare soles away from this deviant.
“S-STAAHAAP IT—YEIIAAHAHAA! NOOHOHOO, LEMME GO!”
With fluid, measured strokes Henry gleefully ran the pen’s tip the entire length of her foot, leaving a trail of blue ink in its wake, all while listening to the undeniably-ticklish girl cackle like a lunatic. Her skin was all too responsive to the improvised tickle tool, and he soon found himself methodically drawing patterns, zigzagging repeatedly, cruelly devastating both buttery-soft soles. With a simple flick of the wrist, he could stimulate countless nerve endings, causing uncontrolled babbling, devolving into frenetic screams.
“Poor thing, unable to resist…” he heard himself say, over a score of escalating laughter.
“BWAHAHAHAA—FUCK, PLEEEHEEASE, N-NO MORE!”
With heavy, laboured breaths she sucked down air as fast as possible while issuing a continuous stream of incoherent pleas for mercy, unfortunately, they’d once again fallen on deaf ears. The ticklish attack was unavoidable and relentless. Screwing her eyes shut, she released another ear-splitting howl as he tirelessly worked the damn pen up and down both soles, wreaking havoc on both body and mind.
“EIIHAAHAHAAA! MOTHERFUCKER—BWAAHAHAA!”
“You’re the one who thinks themselves invincible, but it’s just the opposite; I found your vulnerability and I’m having a blast exploiting it. Not bad for a ‘blunt instrument’, huh?” he mocked, not worrying if she could hear a single word above her own frenzied, anguished cries. “Speaking of, look what I can do with my little pen.”
What had begun as a low, guttural scream from the depths of her belly had transformed into a shrill shriek as he maneuvered the pen beneath her clenched toes. Her thrashing became wilder with each and every poke; slapping the seat, pulling at the door handles - which remained locked no matter how hard she tried - and clawing at the windows. Dozens of vivid blue lines soon crisscrossed the bottoms of her bare feet, with more being added every second as he hastily scrawled, scribbled, sketched and doodled, pretending that her silky soles were blank pages in his notebook.
“GYIIHAHAAA—IT’S TOO MUCH—EIIEEHAAHAA!”
In lieu of toe cuffs, Henry locked both big toes together with thumb and forefinger, prying them back, drawing taut the supple skin. It proved highly effective. Now that she was unable to switch them side-to-side, the pen could deftly skate across each painfully-sensitive sole with ease; drawing lazy little circles on both heels, spiralling upward across those creamy high arches, and finally probing beneath all ten toes. He was unable to stop, unable to take his eyes from them. While in this trance-like state, he varied the speed, pressure and duration of each stroke while observing the various reactions. Short dashes caused her toes to spasm - there was no rhyme nor reason to their terrified wiggles - whereas drawing longer lines made them flare out. Next, the pen ran up each toe stem, pinky to pinky, ensuring each one received ample attention. And all his unwilling participant could do was laugh and fight for breath.
NYAAHAHAAA! N-NOT MY TOHOHOOES!”
Once again he visualized her locked in stocks; arms outstretched, thick leather bindings securing both wrists to the boards. Similar straps would secure both knees, and of course, her ankles would fit snugly through holes in the rough-hewn planks, immobilizing each immaculate bare foot. Her face was beet-red, frantically thrashing as thirty, forty, now fifty collective fingers explored her sweat-slicked flesh, tracing the curves of her body, exploiting all the sensitive spots she’d once hoped to conceal. Not an inch of bare, tanned skin would go unmolested; her breasts, the smooth hollows of her underarms, even her belly button - it was all fair game. Multiple fingers would poke the spaces between her ribs, knead both thighs, and squeeze her hipbones, while others would delight in blowing raspberries on her flat tummy. There would be no safeword and no breaks. The mouthy, conceited young woman would be condemned to this nightmare from which there was no escape, screaming and cursing up until the very moment that one of her own socks was stuffed into her open mouth. The crowd would swell as near-endless waves of eager participants lined up, hoping to contribute to her suffering; pinching, prodding and pushing her into tortured, sweet agony while she sobbed muffled pleas for mercy into the gag.
“N-NOO MORE—HEEHAAHAA! IT TICKKLESSS!”
“I know it does, but this was your own doing. You wanna be a cock tease? Go ahead, but there’s a price to pay for such behaviour; parading your feet around the office, bending men like me to your will. I wonder, how many of them would kill to see you in a spot like this?”
“I’M S-SOOHOORY! NYEEHAAHAAHA! I WON’T DO IT AGAIN, P-PULEEHEEASE!”
“Doubtful,” he replied, savagely terrorizing the girl’s defenceless feet with sadistic delight, drinking in her increasingly-deranged laughter. “Consider this a learning opportunity.”
The violently-ticklish girl openly wept. She’d been propelled well beyond maniacal laughter, beyond animalistic roars, to a fit of soundless convulsions. Slack-jawed and gasping for air, she slumped in her seat as her head rolled to the side. Despite innumerable protests and assurances, her ticklish lesson would continue and those precious feet would receive this treatment for several more agonizing minutes. Until, at last, the pen was removed from her inky soles.
*
The woman in the back seat was no longer shouting, laughing, or pleading for that matter. Instead, she lay still and speechless. In stark contrast to her formerly composed, domineering self, Erica’s head now hung limp, bangs matted to her forehead as her chest rose and fell in rapid succession. She was a snivelling mess; those tear-stained cheeks were a testament to his cruelty. Golden rings littered the back seat and her glasses lay askew on her face; the ruthless tickle session she’d been subjected to over the course of the evening had taken its toll, yet somehow she’d prevailed.
Henry, meanwhile, had returned to his familiar position behind the steering wheel, staring into the inky blackness of the alleyway. He twisted the tuning knob of his car’s stereo, but instead of crackling static, he was happy to hear a tune playing through the speakers. He adjusted the volume; not too loud, as his ears were ringing, courtesy of his ticklee. The grin had yet to leave his face as he picked up his notebook to update the earlier entry. Upon completion, he drew a small feather in the margin, then closed the book and capped his pen.
“Still with me back there?” he asked, craning his neck to peek through the small window, which her feet still protruded out of.
Henry waited for a response, but was met with silence. It was understandable, of course, as one wouldn’t expect her to be overly energetic, or talkative, after what she’d just experienced. Her disposition had wholly changed, now appearing small and docile, vastly different from the boastful woman he’d met downtown.
“What do you think of this gloomy area now? Still prefer the bustling inner city? Or has your opinion changed?” he continued, removing the comb from his shirt pocket and running it through his hair, then spinning around in his seat to face her again. “Personally, I think our time together was well spent. You needed this, but that goes for both of us. Plus, my radio is finally picking up a signal, it’s a win-win.”
“…just drive me… home…” she spoke at last, her voice raspy from overuse. The bottoms of her bare feet still tingled, and she could only imagine what they looked like, covered top to bottom with blue ink.
“I told you I would, don’t fret, you’ll be home soon enough,” he replied, the wry grin lingering on his face. “But the fun isn’t over yet. Besides, if you intend on divulging the details of our drive and ending my career, I should make the most of our limited time together, don’t you agree?”
The exhausted, hopelessly-ticklish girl wore a woeful expression as she watched him through bleary eyes, finally replying, “I won’t tell anyone, please…”
“No? How can I be sure of that?”
“I promise, you must believe me…”
“Oh, come on. We both know that you’ll spill the beans the second you get out of my car,”
“No, I won’t… it’ll be our little secret… I swear. I should’ve held you in higher regard, and for that I’m… I’m sorry,”
“Thanks for the reassurance,” Henry held up his small comb, running his thumb along its row of teeth. “But there’s no need to apologize, you’re hardly the first to treat me with contempt. I must admit, my love for the job had long faded, but I think you’ve managed to rejuvenate it. I just wish we’d met sooner, look at what I was missing out on. Now, I guess I could take you at your word, but we both know what that’ll accomplish. No, I think I should enjoy this while I can, who knows when I’ll have the chance again.”
“No, no please… I’ve learned my—”
“—Lesson? Hmm, I’m still not convinced. Some lessons are hard-learned, and I’d say you might need a little more seat-time for it to really sink in,”
“N-No, no more… you have my respect, please… not again…” she said, her voice little more than a whisper.
Her toes twitched involuntarily while staring at the comb. In anyone else’s hands, it would be utterly harmless, but when Henry held it aloft it seemed a fearsome tickle tool, and the malicious look on his face gave her the distinct impression that he intended on using it as such. Reduced to tears and pushed beyond her limits, the time spent in the back seat of his car had been a gruelling test of endurance, and sadly it wasn’t over yet. Paralyzed with fear, she attempted to speak, but the words caught in her throat as Henry lowered the comb to her trapped bare soles, and once again the sounds of sweet, suffered laughter drifted on the cool evening breeze.
DRIVE
Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this story, try one of my others:
Wrap It Up
Beach Daze
