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TMF Poster
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[f/f - feet], [mf/f - feet], [*/f - feet]
Whew, this was quite the experience. This story marks the completion of my first request ever! This story was requested by the delightful putri@nila some time ago. I have to admit, it was a bit challenging, setting into writing what another person had imagined, but I'd be lying if I said that I didn't have quite a lot of fun with it. I have to thank the requester for being so patient with me as I worked out the scenery and details, but the end result was ultimately something that we were both very happy with. That said, I'm not sure if I'll be taking too many requests in the future unless it's an idea that I'm as eager as the requester to write about. Commissions however, I may be able to do. The problem is that I have no idea how popular written commissions are. Ah well, it's all irrelevant details that I'll be happy to work out with anybody interested.
But anyway, the premise of the story involves a rich, spoiled, bitchy beauty who goes by the name of Nadya. Nadya hasn't had to work for much. If it wasn't her family's money that paid for everything, it was her own looks and flirtatious behaviours. One of those said behaviours is her infamous penchant for shoeplay. She loves wearing loose flats and, every chance she gets, she plays with them: in front of important clients in her family's business, at parties and venues, even in her car, which she almost always drives barefoot. The story focuses on her visit to a luxury estate auction where she hopes to make a purchase, but not without first trying her hand (or foot) at bartering. Nadya instigates her usual shoeplay routine, but soon finds that the situation quickly gets out of hand >:3. Now, without further ado: here is the story! I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! And thanks to putri@nila once again for the wonderful request!
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The morning began as any other; Nadya awoke to sunlight flooding her modern, richly decorated room, her lavish, silk quilt brushing luxuriously against her bare shoulders on its way down her body when she sat up. She sighed and her breath blew aside a few strands of long, black hair that had escaped the confines of her bun. Another dreamless night, another boring day. She kicked her legs from under the quilt and leapt out of bed, onto the soft saffron carpeting underneath. There Nadya stood for a good minute or two, contemptuously studying her room. It was starting to get old, even if she had only lived in the estate for a year, an impulse buy that was already followed by regret—not a financial regret, no, Nadya had enough money to make dozens more impulse buys, but certainly it was some kind of regret. She lifted her arms over her head and stretched, the sunlight shone against every lithe, athletically toned inch of her pale flesh that faced the enormous window. Her sleeveless shirt rode up her slim belly, her smooth thighs tightened against the fabric of her soft panties, and her clothes settled again when she relaxed. Nadya had a good idea of what she wanted to today, and it was certainly rarely when she didn’t get what she wanted.
She sauntered lightly across her room to the bathroom. Like the rest of her possessions, the bathroom was exquisite in its furnishing. Nadya shivered when her bare feet left the comfort of her room’s carpeting and stepped onto the cold marble tiling. She moved to the solid glass bowl sink and looked at the mirror; an alluring face scowled back. Mechanically, she began her routine, washing her face, brushing and flossing her teeth, and finally applying makeup. When she was finished she looked back into the mirror. Her beautiful oval face was further augmented by her skilful application of makeup: gentle blush that drew attention to her smooth cheeks, attractive lipstick that pronounced her lips, and deep, dark applications that gave her almond-shaped eyes a large, almost cat-like flair. She checked her nails, satisfied with their finely manicured finish. One last place required her attention before she would dig through her wardrobe.
Nadya grabbed a few products from the bathroom’s closet walked back to the bedroom and sat on the edge of her bed. She folded her legs on top of each other, Indian-style, and studied her upturned soles. Like the rest of her, they were flawless, milky-white with the gentlest touches of peach on the pads where the bottoms of her feet met the ground. Her feet were just about typical in size, but there was nothing typical about their sensual beauty. Every shapely curve, from the alluring figure of her heels to the warm slope of her soles to the definition of her high arches to the length of her flirtatious toes was accentuated by her skin’s almost visible softness. Their surface was remarkably smooth and unmarred, with the slightest of wrinkles appearing around her arches when she wiggled her toes.
Of all her possessions, Nadya was most proud of her feet. Taking care of them was a daily ritual, and the results were more than to her satisfaction. She smirked as she fondly remembered how many men, young and old, would stare when she comfortably propped her feet up in public, playing with her shoes, dangling them from her toes. It wasn’t just her wealth that allowed her to get whatever she wanted—she took excellent care of entire body to make sure that she turned heads wherever she went. Popping the tops off the products, Nadya began her routine. When she was finished, her feet smelled fragrantly of fruits and flowers and her bright red toenails shone with polish. She left the products on her bed and began to look through her wardrobe, finally deciding on an attractive, white summer dress to go with the weather and her favourite pair of loose yellow flats before she went downstairs.
“Morning.” Her sister was already up, sitting in the massive living room with a bowl of cereal, watching an early morning talk show on their wall-mounted television that was just about the same size as the wall.
“Morning, Jenny,” Nadya replied and got her own bowl of cereal. Instead of joining her sister on the couch, she ate at the kitchen table. When she was finished, she sat down next to Jenny with her laptop open.
“Ugh, there’s nothing better on?” Nadya asked when she looked up at the screen.
“I’m watching it.” Jenny replied.
Nadya sneered. The old windbags were arguing about unemployment rates or something or other—who wanted to hear about poor people this early in the morning? She tapped her nails impatiently against the surface of the couch just as the laptop finally booted on. When she was done signing in, she immediately jumped on the internet.
“I’m gonna need you to drive me in a little bit.”
“Where?” Jenny turned to her.
“I don’t know yet. I’ll tell you in a few minutes.
Jenny leaned over to look at the computer’s screen. Nadya was surfing a luxury estate listing.
“Are you serious? What’s wrong with this place?”
“I’m tired of it,” Nadya answered flatly. “It’s boring.”
“We haven’t even been here that long! I like it!”
“Then you can have it.”
Jenny pursed her lips and bit back angry remarks. She really didn’t like it when her sister was so frivolous with their money. It didn’t matter that their parents had left them more than they would ever know what to do with, if Nadya didn’t cut back a little, there would be no money left to wave around. Jenny turned back to the television with a huff and refocused on the program.
“Hey, remember the Astor place across the city? They’re doing an open house today, no reservations, but there’s a door fee... Noon today. Great. Will you drive me?”
“I guess. You should listen to me though, I’m not gonna—” Jenny’s voice trailed off when she saw that Nadya had opened Facebook up in a new tab and wasn’t listening to a word being said. At around eleven, Jenny reluctantly took Nadya out to drive. Surprisingly, the traffic was relatively light on a Saturday in the city. Streets and faces blurred by as they drove, until the concrete jungle grew sparser and sparser and they left it altogether, driving along highways into secluded green country. They arrived at about noon-thirty, at the luxury estate’s gates, black metal curving in arabesque forms and patterns.
“Alright, tell me how it goes,” Jenny said as Nadya got out of the car.
“I’ll call you to pick me up when it’s done.”
“I’m not your chauffeur! Call Richard or something!”
“He drives too slow.”
“Well I won’t pick up, so you might as well. Love you.”
“Ugh. Love you too.”
Nadya folded her arms across her chest and watched her sister drive away. She turned back to the estate when the car disappeared in the distant highway. The estate was stunning, definitely a worthy prize to pursue, with enough modern flair in its design and use of glass to be stylish, while still maintaining a prestigious appearance in its overall color and location.
Inside the foyer, over a dozen people had already assembled, men in crisp suits, women in all manner of casual and elegant dress. The room was abuzz with conversation that dimmed when Nadya walked in. She smiled coyly at every face that turned to look at her and gave her credit card to a gentleman who came to collect the door fee. She didn’t have to worry about mingling with the other prospective buyers (she had no interest in doing so anyway) because a moment later, from the top of the gorgeous staircase that led to the bottom of the foyer, an older Asian lady in a stunning jade dress appeared. Her curly hair fell to just her earlobes in an attractive corona. She looked like she was in her middle thirties, but Nadya had a feeling that her real age was somewhere in her later forties. If there was anything Nadya knew, it was that proper care could shave the years right off your features.
“Thank you all for coming,” she began in a clear voice, touched with poise and deliberation. It was obvious she had been preparing for the day for quite some time. “My name is Syella. I’m glad to see that so many are interested in this fine estate. If you’ll join me in the conference room, the door immediately to you right, I’ll be happy to share a bit of its history with you before beginning the tour.”
The conference room was as spacious as the foyer, and as artfully decorated with dark wood tones and a grand table at the center of the room, around which each potential buyer began to take his or her seat. Standing at the head of the table was a bald Asian man in an attractively tailored gray vest, white-collared shirt, and formal black pants.
“This is my associate David. He will be sharing the history of the estate with us.”
“Thank you, Syella.” He bowed and smiled warmly at her, before turning to the rest of the group. Everyone was already seated; Nadya had chosen a spot near the middle on the left side, closer to the front of the table where the realtors stood. Her mouth curved in a devilish smile when she saw the glances that were being thrown her way, some outright lustful in their intensity, others more discreet about their hunger. She spread and wiggled her toes under the table, tested her flats, and then smiled. They were loose enough for her devious purposes.
“This estate was originally built in 1974, commissioned by the Astor family, who, as some of you may know, had commissioned many such luxurious buildings all over the city. While their name was relatively well-known fo... for... um... Excuse me. Miss?”
Nadya looked up at the man with an innocent smile. Her feet were propped up on the table, crossed at the ankles, and had drawn the eye of every potential buyer around her. She was scrunching and relaxing her feet in hypnotically slow motions, her every movement a calculated exercise in enticement. Her shoes moved with her feet, tightening against their slender form when she stretched her foot up, and bending against her soles when she squeezed her toes down. It was at these movements those who watched stared their hardest. As her shoes folded, the sides came loose and they could see the whole curve of her instep, deliciously soft and wrinkled, against the dark background of the inside of her shoe. A few men leaned closer; Nadya could see them out of the corner of her eyes. She could almost read their thoughts as she continued playing with her feet; she knew how loosely her flats clung to the edges of her smooth heels. Nadya continued teasing, stretching and scrunching, bringing the back ends of her shoes close to slipping off of her feet before stretching them again, reversing the downward climb of her flats and letting them slip back around the edges of her feet. For a moment, David forgot what he was going to say.
“Miss, it’s rude of you to keep your feet on the table,” he finally said, and mustered up enough authority in his voice to convince the others that he himself wasn’t entranced by her shoeplaying.
“Why? It’s not bothering anyone. I paid a lot of money just to be here, I’m allowed to get comfortable. You just keep talking about the Astors, baldy.”
His face burned with indignant ire, but when he turned to Syella, she merely nodded. Why was she so calm? David shook his head. He didn’t understand the thin smile on his associate’s lips, but said nothing else to Nadya when he turned back to the table.
“Right. As I was saying... with the Astors expanding their real estate expertise, they began to purchase land for their own construction affairs. This allowed them to further corner the market...”
David’s voice trailed off as Nadya continued playing with her feet, smirking all the while. She loved the stares she was getting, even a few women had begun to look, the disgust or jealousy in their eyes transitioning into something similar to what the men wore. Nadya couldn’t help but wonder how many of them actually did have foot fetishes. It wasn’t that common, she simply attributed the men’s attention as a guy thing. If a woman could tease so skilfully with her feet, imagine what else she was capable of in the dim light of a steamy bedroom. Her grin grew a little bit when her shoes finally couldn’t keep up with her movements. What everybody was anticipating had finally happened: her shoes released their loose grasp of her heels and snapped outward, held only by the strength of her toes. She heard the shuffling in a few seats around her as some leaned in for a better look, or to adjust the growing concern in their pants. Nadya knew that her heels were now completely visible, but she also knew how to continue teasing in her favour. Pointing her toes up, she stretched her feet as high up as she could, keeping her shoes as far away from her heels as she could. To her tremendous satisfaction, she heard more shuffling, more shifting in seats as those around her could not only see the full form of her sultry heel, but also the depths above it as her soles curved upward into the darkness of the shoe. Just as they were taking in the sight, she scrunched her toes again and brought the shoes back down on her heels. Only the soft peach glow of their outlines could be seen now; Nadya almost giggled when she saw the disappointment on a few faces.
“...It was originally valued at three and a half million...” David’s voice trailed on, but Nadya tuned in at just the right moment and couldn’t help but feel a surge of animosity rise in her stomach.
“Three and a half million? For this?” she asked incredulously.
David furrowed his brow.
“That was its original value. We plan on beginning the bidding at two million—”
Nadya snorted derisively.
“Don’t bother. I’ll toss you two and three-fourths of a million and we’ll call it a day.”
“Excuse me! Your rudeness will not be tolerated!”
All the while as Nadya and David began a shouting match, Syella’s smile only grew.
“You seem to know quite a bit about real estate,” Syella interrupted the two. Nadya’s haughty expression almost made the older woman giggle, but she suppressed it and kept her smile on the edge of earnestness and venom. “Ladies and gentlemen, please remain seated. Young lady, will you come with me? I feel as though I can negotiate the price with you in private. I can tell that you’re a no-nonsense kind of person, and I admire that.”
Nadya let a smug smile overtake her face. She was about to get her way—again. It came as no surprise; she was easily the best-looking person in the room. All she had to do was play her cards right and the old bat would be eating out of the palm of her hand. Nadya popped her shoes back on and rose to her feet from her chair.
She didn’t see Syella wink at David as she followed the older woman to a door near the back, where they began to descend down a flight of stairs. The longer they walked however, the more Nadya felt that something was off. Their destination seemed to be awfully out of the way to simply negotiate a price. When they reached the bottom of the flight, they were facing a long hallway, trimmed with gold and lined with a luxurious crimson carpet. They took the closest door on the left and entered.
The room seemed to be a guest bedroom, as well decorated as the rest of the house, with royal-looking features and gorgeous lighting fixtures that drew the eye to various sculptures and other pieces of interest. One of those pieces of interest was a strange-looking construction, looking almost like a wooden work-out bench, softened with purple pads, bolted to the center of the room.
“We’re going to discuss the price here?” Nadya asked.
“Boys, please take care of her while I finish up in the conference room.” Syella said with an authoritative tone. Nadya spun her head to her right and shrieked with surprise. She hadn’t seen the two brawny men standing on either side of the doorway. They surged on her before she even had the chance to react.
“You fucking apes! Let me go!” she cried as they grabbed hold of her arms and walked her writhing form to the center of the room. She struggled as hard as she could but there was nothing she could do against their vice-like grips. With a frightened scream, she was pushed down onto the device, with her belly down on the cushioning over the wood.
“AAAIIIEEE! What the fuck is this kinky shit?! Let me go, you fucking faggots!”
She struggled and flailed but it proved futile. Despite her well-trimmed form, she still couldn’t stand up to the brute strength of a bouncer, much less, two of them. They fastened her hands down underneath the bench and forced her head into a cushioned rest just in front of her. With her struggling limited, it was easy to grab her long, shapely legs and set them on the bench. They bent them at her knees and one bouncer held them still while the other worked a crank beneath the bench, bringing the other set of stocks closer to her legs and higher to her feet. The device went between her immobile calves and ran straight up to her feet, which were easily set into the waiting stocks.
“MOTHERFUCKERS! LET ME GO RIGHT NOW!” she screamed at the top of her lungs. There was still fight in her, but it was getting her nowhere fast. She was stuck in the thing, her hands tied beneath her, her body strapped to the bench by way of belts that ran over her back, and her feet and legs utterly immobilized behind her. All she could do was wiggle her flat-clad feet in the stocks and scream at the bouncers, who were already gone out the door.
“SOMEBODY! HELP! GET ME OUT OF THIS FUCKING THING!”
She was more than familiar with the position of her body. Resting on her stomach on a beach blanket, with her bare feet up in the air behind her, teasing whoever walked by, it was a very versatile way to tantalize, but she couldn’t imagine why she was forced into it now.
“ANYBODY! HURRY UP!”
Beneath the vicious fury in her voice, little touches of fear began to rise. She could feel the air on her ass, uncovered by the dress in her rough handling. Had she gone too far in her teasing this time? Was someone finally going to do something about it? She didn’t like not being in control of men, or not being in control in general. Being locked down so tightly made her extremely vulnerable, and with her dress dishevelled and her legs secured behind her...
“SOMEBODY GET HERE NOW!”
Nadya knew it was coming, she heard of rich girls disappearing all the time. Her body began to shake as fear and anger mixed coldly in her heart. She didn’t deserve to be raped—or taken away to never be heard from again. She felt a little spark of hope when she thought of her sister, but then realized that there would be no way her sister could come see her now. She didn’t even tell Jenny when the sham of an estate sale would be over, much less know herself. Suddenly Nadya heard footsteps coming down the stairs behind her. She began to scream for help anew, but when the door opened, her heart sank. It was Syella, smiling calmly, and David, leering at her with a considerable amount of contempt.
“So! Nadya! Twenty-six years old, interior design consultant and director of your own family’s firm,” Syella said.
“How did you know all that?”
“We get a lot of prestigious people at these sales, and you just disappointed quite a few of them. Two million and seven hundred and fifty thousand? Really? You think they can’t match or beat that? You have some nerve, young lady.”
“Fuck you, you old bitch. You let me go right now or I’ll call the fucking cops!”
“Hah! The police! Please. Do. We’ll be right here, waiting,” David sniggered as he spoke.
“You fucking bald ******! Let me go! Now!”
“I don’t think we will,” Syella said with a cruel smile. “We looked at your record. You have quite a history of mischief, don’t you? Minor arrests, felonies, and goodness, you’ve caused so much trouble for so many people around you.”
“What, you’re gonna lecture me like this, grandma?” This was ridiculous. The fear evaporated instantly. The stupid old bint, who did she think she was?
“No, of course not, you’re far too old to learn anything from us. But we didn’t take very kindly to your actions in the conference room.”
Nadya felt pangs of confused worry as the two approached her, both smiling now.
“What are you doing?”
“Well, we just want to know what your feet look like. You never did get your shoes all the way off back there.” David spoke with a grin. Suddenly realization gripped the young woman. She began to struggle and shake, but the wooden frame held fast.
“Get the fuck away from me!” she cried. She cursed herself in her mind; her feet were going to be her undoing after all. After practicing for years the art of slowly removing her shoes, the irony wasn’t lost on her when she spread her toes and desperately kept her feet as rigid as possible to keep them on.
“What’s the matter? You don’t want to tease now?” David chuckled as he easily slipped one finger under the heel of her flat and pushed it up and away from her foot. It fell to the ground with a thud. Nadya cursed herself again. Why did she have to wear the loose flats today? Warm air caressed her soles when the second shoe joined its twin on the ground.
“My, my, my... your feet really are pretty.”
It was Syella’s voice and for the first time in her life, Nadya didn’t want her feet to be so hungrily ogled. She wiggled her toes and tried to get herself free but then decided not to. No, better to not give them the satisfaction. The way her feet moved as she tried to struggle was all too similar to the way they moved when she teased and captured the hearts and desires of those around her.
“They’re so smooth and soft... Hah! I can smell flowers! You really care about your feet!”
David’s teasing compliments humiliatingly washed over her. She tried to struggle again, her face burning with rage and embarrassment where once such words would have filled her with arrogant pride.
“Yes, yes... they look very, very soft...”
“Pffahaha! No! Get the fuck away from me!”
The sudden feeling of a single digit’s touch on her bare sole shocked her to her core.
“Don’t you fucking touch my feet you dirty bald pervert fuck!”
“Haha, but why not? You take such good care of them. There must be a reason for it.”
He dragged a finger up her twitching foot, slowly from the bottom of her heel up to the center of her arches. A stream of horrified giggles involuntarily erupted from her mouth. God, please no, her mind began to race, not this—please don’t let them do this!
“Syella, come take a look.”
“I think I will,” she tittered as she walked to where David stood. This couldn’t be happening. Nadya squirmed in her bonds and tried to get her other foot to rub away the unpleasant tingling sensation. This was bad. This was very, very bad. She thought back to when her father would tickle her, her mother, her sister, what boyfriends she allowed the pleasure of touching her feet. She hated being tickled; it was absolutely the worst loss of control she could ever experience. There was no way to hold back the laughter when her tender nerves were stimulated, no way to turn away the piercing, panicky little jolts that overwhelmed her clarity of thought at every touch and stroke.
“D-Don’t touch me!” it was outright fear that marked her voice this time.
“Hmm? Should we listen to you? We asked you to listen to us,” Syella remarked almost nonchalantly as she let her eyes feast on the ticklish potential before her. She tested the waters with a simple finger-stroke horizontally across Nadya’s left foot. The result was a yelping laugh that brought a smile to Syella’s face.
“This will be delightful. Did you know that we had a girl like you once before? A few years back. She was rude too, flaunted her feet, played with her shoes, and caused a disturbance at our prestigious business meetings. By the end of the day, she learned a little bit better.”
As if to emphasize her point, Syella dragged a well manicured nail down Nadya’s immobile sole, slowly—too slowly for Nadya’s comfort. Every impossibly small amount of flesh the nail slid over launched the young woman into hysterics. A mess of half-words tumbled from her mouth with the steady stream of laughter, she couldn’t find the words to curse or plead. If only the old bitch would just finish dragging her finger already! But Syella knew well what she was doing. A slow trip down the map of nerves was always a good way to test someone’s ticklishness, and Syella was more than happy with what she discovered in Nadya. Her nail left a visible path in the beautifully soft, silky smooth skin—the flesh was so pliant that it seemed almost to follow her nail as it leisurely, maddeningly, teased down to her heel.
“Oh I am going to enjoy myself. You have such a cute little laugh, my dear.”
“Fuhuhuh... Fuck you!” Nadya spat when she could finally collect her wits. The little mocking compliments flushed her face with humiliation. How dare she be put in such a situation? Before she could further express her indignity, her thoughts fizzed and snapped and were lost in an inundation of tickling.
“EEYEEEHEHEHE!! GAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAWD NOHOHOHOHO EEHEHEHEHEHEHEHE!”
Syella listened with closed eyes and a smile, as if she was seated in front of a beautiful orchestra where she herself was the conductor. It struck her as unusual that such a rude young lady would have such an exquisite laugh: high-pitched, almost giggly, but intense in volume and breathless quality. Not that she wasn’t enjoying herself to begin with, but the especial cuteness of the laughter certainly did help. Syella looked over to David, who was standing with his arms folded and was smiling already. From the look they gave each other, anyone could tell that they shared similar thoughts.
“So, ticklish little girl, do you do this sort of thing often?” David asked, loudly enough for Nadya to hear over the sound of her own helpless laughter. Hearing it was one thing, but whether she still retained enough sense to understand the question was an entirely different matter. Syella had changed up her technique. She focused with both fingers on one foot at a time, but not for long enough for Nadya to become accustomed to the technique. The older lady dragged with both fingers cruelly, sensually exploring the soft flesh as if she were touching an exquisite fabric. When she was satisfied with the number of long drags she had made, she let her sharp nails scratch underneath Nadya’s long, shapely toes. This elicited a much more intense response; the toes fanned out, as if shocked at the touch, and then immediately scrunched themselves, effectively trapping Syella’s nails to burrow into those warm, damp spaces to her heart’s desire. And just as quickly, her nails left, and began the same process on the other foot.
“I asked you a question,” David growled. “Do you want me to come and help?”
“NOHOHOHOHO! YAHEEHEHEHEHEHEHEHE!”
“I don’t think she understands you,” Syella said and stopped tickling. Nadya gasped out a few more giggles and began panting as though she had just ran a marathon. Her mind was reeling from the sensations; her feet glowed with agonizing tickle fire that she couldn’t brush away or do anything about. How could this be happening? The day started out as any other, her shoeplay was as enjoyable as any other. How did everything go downhill so quickly?
“Well?” David asked again.
“Wh-whahaha...what do you want...” Nadya sputtered.
“I want to know if you play with your shoes often.”
She couldn’t believe, the bald old pervert! How did he have the nerve to ask her that? Hell, how did the two of them have the nerve to put her in such a position to begin with?
“Gohoho fuck yourself!”
“Pretty little girls shouldn’t use that kind of language,” Syella sinisterly remarked behind her.
In an instant, Nadya felt the sharpness of the tickling nails return and was howling with breathy, giggling laughter again.
“Oh, I think I found a good spot!”
She did, but Nadya would have denied it if she had the breath to speak. Syella had crossed her hands over each other and was gently scratching Nadya’s insteps with quick, pincer-like movements. The way the spot curved into the rest of her foot made the tickling much worse. She could feel little tickling sparks venturing into the entire surface of her soles, like heat that surrounded the ticklish inferno of her instep. She thrashed against her bonds, her feet flinched and danced but otherwise could not get away, and the hopelessness of it all began to dawn on her. Her hair was a mess over her pretty face as she tossed her head from side to side, as if trying to shake loose the screaming hysteria that plagued her. The tickling stopped again and there was silence as Nadya tried to catch her breath.
“Do you wanna tell me now?” came Davids’ voice.
“N-nohoho...”
Nadya yelped when Syella brushed and stopped sporadically. A scrape against her instep and then it was gone. Another, and then nothing, another, and then nothing. The stop and go drove her crazy, not because of the ticklishness (and it still did tickle terribly) but because of the unpredictable way it made her nerves jump and scream.
“St-staha—YEEHEEHE! NohohAHAHAHA!”
“How often do you play with your shoes?” he insisited.
“H...hehe... all the t-time...” Nadya finally said. She wanted the tickling to stop so badly but she was ashamed to have something so childish control her. Her face burned crimson and she despised every loose giggle that escaped her lips.
“Oh? Like when?” Syella spoke now. She smiling broadly now. “Answer or I’ll do more of this.”
Nadya screamed with laughter when Syella scratched her insteps again.
“S-stohop, stop! I p-play with my shoes at work!”
“Oh? In front of other people?”
“Y-yes! At c-client meetings... A-and at lunch...”
“Do you do it for the men?” David asked this time.
“N-no, w-women too,” Nadya’s face and chest burned with humiliation. Why were they so interested? It was creepy enough, everything about what was happening wasn’t right. How dare these two old perverts dig their noses into her affairs? “J-just let me go.”
“Not yet,” Syella said with a chuckle and set her fingers on Nadya’s feet again. The ensuing peals of laughter rendered asking further questions pointless, but when she was finished again and Nadya was reduced to a puddle of giggles, she spoke.
“Where else do you do it?”
“Eheheheverywhere... I drihive b-barefoot too...”
“Oh? You like the feeling of the pedals on your bare feet?”
Nadya shut her eyes.
“Yehehes...”
“If your driving is anything like your attitude, you probably get pulled over a lot, don’t you,” Syella asked. The humiliation was unbearable.
“Y-yes... once...”
“Tell us about it, did you get a ticket?”
Nadya clamped her mouth shut. She didn’t want to tell the story, she didn’t want this weird degradation to go on any further—but she knew that if she didn’t speak soon—
“Eeeeheehee! Hahahaha nohoho!”
Syella had returned to her toes, invading the soft spaces and probing in tiny, intense wiggles.
“Tell us,” the older woman commanded.
“Hehehe... I wahas... s-speeding and... a girl c-cop puhulled me over...”
“So you tried playing with your feet right? Like you do all the time? You thought if you wiggled them in her face you wouldn’t get a ticket,” David said.
The unwelcome memory rose from the depths of her mortified being. Nadya had been speeding, as she said, and when the officer approached, she pulled her feet out from under the wheel and let them rest on the open window. She could see other people walking by and slowing down to catch a glimpse of her beautiful feet, but the policewoman wasn’t buying it. Not only did she get a ticket, but she got a lecture, a loud and demeaning one about the dangers of speeding and of trying to distract an officer of the law. The people who had been previously ogling her were now sniggering as they walked by. It was easily the most embarrassing day of her life—or so she thought until today.
“What a naughty little girl!” he remarked.
At least they couldn’t see her face, at least that small amount of dignity she could still preserve. Tears cascaded down her smooth, red cheeks. It was so debasing, she would rather be tickled than treated like this.
“So why do you do it?”
She didn’t answer.
“My partner asked you a question, dear.”
Again Syella’s nails descended on Nadya’s twitching insteps. Short little bursts, scratch and go. Syella tittered as she watched the rude young lady’s feet squirm under her touch. She loved how helpless they were, how easy it was to toy with Nadya when her delectable soles weren’t her own to control.
“Yeeheheheahahaha! B-because I like it!”
“What do you like about it?” Syella asked.
“I-I like the attention.”
“You like the way the men look at you?” David chimed in.
“Y-yes.”
“That’s very naughty. No doubt they make fools of themselves for you? Do you like being a little tease?”
“I d-do...”
“You picked the wrong place. We’re prestigious salespeople. Such silliness won’t be tolerated.” Syella sharply chided. A small sob escaped Nadya’s lips as she panted. “But we still have lots of time. We called Sandra up to talk to the other buyers, she is very good at talking about the estate. They should start the bidding soon,” Syella continued.
“Sorry you missed your chance,” David interjected. “But really, two and three quarters of a million?” He came over and laid his fingers on Nadya’s still twitching sole. “That doesn’t seem right.”
“Yeeeeheehee! I’m sorry! J-just d-don’t tickle me!”
“What would be a better price? Tell us,” Syella said with a smirk.
“I-I don’t know! Three?”
“That’s still no profit for us,” David remarked, as if personally offended. Before Nadya could think to change her answer, the tickle fire overwhelmed her again, this time on both feet at once. She shrieked with forced mirth, her agonized laughter mixing with cries of weary frustration. She didn’t want to be tickled anymore, she just wanted to go home and forget that the whole thing ever happened, but she knew that the two maniacs tickling her would not allow that. David’s stubby fingers spidered all along the bottom of her foot, not focusing on any particular place, just tickling and stroking everywhere he could, as if trying to cover as much space in as little time as possible. The simplicity of such a brutal method reduced Nadya to sobbing, desperate laughter. She couldn’t even keep track of where his fingers went anymore. For all she knew, he had grown extra fingers that were relentlessly titillating every last inch of her feet. She could feel him digging under her toes, wiggling over her arches, pinching against her soles, all seemingly at the same time, at the rate he was going.
Syella was much more precise, much more torturous in her technique. One hand rested on Nadya’s instep, scraping and wiggling and setting the rest of her sole on fire, and with the fingers of her other hand, she exploited the additional sensitivity. While the hand on Nadya’s instep was constant, Syella’s free hand wasn’t. It drew long lines and patterns in the silky soft feet, it mercilessly raked its nails against her flesh as Nadya cried and screamed with overwhelming laughter. The combined assault left both of her feet feeling as though they were on fire. Her legs danced behind her in a series of infinitely struggling twitches, but her feet stayed right where they were: vulnerable, hopelessly trapped for the pair’s sick amusement. She had never been tickled this intensely ever before, she didn’t even know it was possible for her to be this ticklish; it was torture—pure and utter torture. She was going to lose her mind at this rate, Nadya knew she was. Every single nerve on her feet screamed with ticklish distress and all she could do was frantically laugh her head off in response.
“C’mon, think about it. What should the estate be worth?” David asked.
The tickling stopped.
“Ihihi dohohon’t know! Four million!” Nadya cried.
“So stingy in such a position? That’s not good,” Syella said. The two began their work all over again, resuming the work they had momentarily abandoned.
“She really is stingy,” David commented over the storm of laughter. “I would think she could respect the property more.
“But she did miss the tour. I think I understand why she would say such a price.”
“There’s a lot of history to think about. The estate has a reputation.”
“That’s true, maybe she doesn’t know how the Astors began their enterprise?”
Nadya’s eyes widened as she heard every word. She couldn’t believe it; they were acting as though she wasn’t even there, but still viciously tickling her feet with nothing but the cruellest of intent. The indignity was maddening, she did not think that she could feel any more humiliated than she already was, and yet beyond those feelings all she could think about was the maddening torture—deliberate, excruciating, driving her into a frenzy.
“SIIHIHIHIHIHIX MIHIHIHIHLLIHIHION! HEHEHEHEHEEEHEEEEHEE!! AYEEHAAHAAHAHAAHAHAHAA!”
“See? That’s better isn’t it?” Syella cheerfully said. The two stopped tickling and listened with satisfaction as Nadya’s pants were laced with sobbing giggles.
“We’ll be back soon, we’re gonna check on how things are going with Sandra. Meanwhile, think about if what you do is worth it,” Syella said.
“We’re not the only people with money around here. Someone else could get tired of your little games just as quickly as were,” David added. Without another word they were making their way up the stairs, leaving Nadya a quivering sobbing mess, still stuck on in the contraption.
“Thank you all for coming!” Syella said to the group. “And congratulations to Eric Hall for his winning bid of six and a half million!”
Applause broke out. The man in question smiled and bowed, obviously pleased with his purchase.
“We hope that you had a good experience, and we apologize for the outburst earlier,” Syella continued. “But we don’t want you to just have a good experience; we want you to have a memorable experience! So we have something special prepared for you!”
The crowd clamoured. People were beginning to wonder about what the curious tarp-covered figured was to Syella and David’s left. It was angular on each side, like a box, but the top kept moving, up and down, strangely, as though it were alive. David walked over to the object and pulled the tarp away. Shocked gasps burst into the air when the tarp revealed that it was Nadya, stuck in a clear box, pounding on the walls her screams muffled to the point of whispers. She growled with vexation. Her flats, almost as if to insult her, were placed neatly in front of the plexiglass box.
“Don’t worry, she agreed to do this! She’s very sorry about the way she acted and decided to help us with a little finale to our open house,” Syella said, with all the air and smiles of a ringmaster.
“Air is circulating well into the plexiglass box, but as you can see, we left her feet out of it! Seeing as how they were the cause of the commotion, it’s only right that they be included in our finale. You’ll notice that on the box is a pen. We want you to write your names on her feet as a sign that you enjoyed our open house! Think of it as a guestbook!”
There was a positive clamour in the group. Nadya watched with an expression of utter terror. Her mascara had run down her face in black streaks, her face was still red from laughing just minutes earlier. No doubt even her feet still had the marks of her ticklish abuse. Did none of them realize what was happening? Or did they think it was all just a novel little show? She slapped her hands futilely against the walls and tried to wiggle her feet, but neither of those actions did her any good. The glass was too strong, and her feet were tied back by her toes, rendering them taught and immobile—an eager canvas for the hungry pen.
“Let me the fuck out! I didn’t agree to this!” she screamed, but the crowd was beginning to form a line now, with Eric Hall at the front, grinning from ear to ear, as if he was participating in a cute joke. Panic seized Nadya’s heart as he began to come closer. She pulled down on her feet, knowing that it would do nothing.
“Don’t! Please for fuck’s sake!” she cried and pleaded and looked up into his face with eyes brimming with tears, but he was still smiling, completely ignorant of her plight. He picked up the pen and hungrily looked over her taut soles. He was going to enjoy spending a moment with them, when all he could do was stare at the conference room.
“Remember to save room for each other!” Syella said with another happy smile. Eric nodded and set the pen down on Nadya’s left sole, right on the ball of her arch. It tickled worse than Syella’s nails; it was precise and sharp, but still left her entire sole tingling, despite the small surface area it covered. She bounced where she sat and howled with laughter, which caused the crowd and especially Eric to laugh as well. He was blushing now as he continued, smoothly signing his name on the soft, quivering flesh of her sole, going back over the letters where he thought they needed more definition and pressing down with the pen to make bold, solid lines. Nadya tried to flail but the confines of the box were too small. It made the tickling that much more maddening. She couldn’t get away, surrounded by people who were enjoying her suffering. Her face was red with embarrassment and frustration; even her high-pitched laughter seemed to be mocking her, the way it bounced in the tightness of the box.
“IHIHIHIT TIHIHIHCKLES! HEHEHEHEHE NOOHOHOO!”
The few seconds that it took for him to finish his signature felt like an eternity to Nadya. She screamed with furious laughter, unable to make sense of time or even her own thoughts under the dull, constant pointing of the devilish pen. When he finished she fell back in her seat, panting, relieved that for the moment there was respite from the torment. Until another person came up to her feet, a woman this time, one of the few who had been eyeing her shoeplay as hungrily as the men. The woman bit her lip when she lifted the pen, and happily took in every inch of Nadya’s helpless soles that she wasn’t able to see due to the young lady’s provocative teasing. She chose a spot on the instep, and brought the signature around the curve of her sole just above Nadya’s heels.
“NOHOHOHOT THEHEHERE! YEEEHEHEHEHEHEHEHE! AHEEHEHEHEHE!”
Angry, defeated tears further stained her face as she began to thrash again, uselessly pounding on the walls of the box, cursing God for giving her such ticklish feet, and, most of all, cursing herself for her frivolous shoeplay earlier. She tired herself out faster than she thought was possible. As the woman wrote, tittering to herself the entire time, Nadya resigned to letting her back rest against the glass as her legs kicked and twitched. Her hands crawled into her hair, tugging and grasping but otherwise doing nothing to alleviate the devastating tickling sensations that spread from her burning instep like ticklish tendrils to the rest of her sole. The woman was tracing over her signature now, defining the lines, or was she just enjoying the way the pen’s touch drove Nadya insane? Nadya certainly couldn’t tell the difference. She threw her head back and forth, side to side, her hands still entangled in her hair. There was nothing she could do; her awareness disappeared into a world where there was only her feet, the pen, and the seemingly endless flood of sensations that wracked her body with unendurable laughter.
The touch of the pen disappeared; the woman was done. Nadya watched her walk away and started to cry embittered tears anew when she saw that another woman had begun to approach. Nadya began to desperately laugh and squirm before the tickling even began—as soon as the woman picked up the pen and looked down at Nadya with a triumphant smirk. Here was definitely one that didn’t find her shoeplay particularly cute. The pen descended like the violent tool of an executioner. The spot that she chose was the side of the foot. The woman turned her body so that she could better see what she was writing.
“OHOHOHOH MY GOHOHOHOHOD! PLEHEHEHEHEHEASE STAHAHAHAP! PLEHEHEHEHEHEASE! EEEHEHEHEHEHE! I’M SOHOHOHORRY! EEYAAAHAHAHAHEHEHEHE!”
Nadya didn’t know what was worse; the precise intensity of the pen’s cruel touch or the way the woman was looking at her. The self-righteousness in her smile, as if what she was doing was out of necessity, made every stroke and press all the more degrading. Just how long was the woman’s name anyway? She was still writing over the entire side of Nadya’s foot, taking her sweet time from the look of it too. She started from the top of Nadya’s toes and was now well down to where her heel began without any sign of stopping any time soon. Nadya screamed with laughter, praying that the woman would just hurry the fuck up and finish what she was writing.
But there were still so many people left in line...
Whew, this was quite the experience. This story marks the completion of my first request ever! This story was requested by the delightful putri@nila some time ago. I have to admit, it was a bit challenging, setting into writing what another person had imagined, but I'd be lying if I said that I didn't have quite a lot of fun with it. I have to thank the requester for being so patient with me as I worked out the scenery and details, but the end result was ultimately something that we were both very happy with. That said, I'm not sure if I'll be taking too many requests in the future unless it's an idea that I'm as eager as the requester to write about. Commissions however, I may be able to do. The problem is that I have no idea how popular written commissions are. Ah well, it's all irrelevant details that I'll be happy to work out with anybody interested.
But anyway, the premise of the story involves a rich, spoiled, bitchy beauty who goes by the name of Nadya. Nadya hasn't had to work for much. If it wasn't her family's money that paid for everything, it was her own looks and flirtatious behaviours. One of those said behaviours is her infamous penchant for shoeplay. She loves wearing loose flats and, every chance she gets, she plays with them: in front of important clients in her family's business, at parties and venues, even in her car, which she almost always drives barefoot. The story focuses on her visit to a luxury estate auction where she hopes to make a purchase, but not without first trying her hand (or foot) at bartering. Nadya instigates her usual shoeplay routine, but soon finds that the situation quickly gets out of hand >:3. Now, without further ado: here is the story! I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! And thanks to putri@nila once again for the wonderful request!
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The morning began as any other; Nadya awoke to sunlight flooding her modern, richly decorated room, her lavish, silk quilt brushing luxuriously against her bare shoulders on its way down her body when she sat up. She sighed and her breath blew aside a few strands of long, black hair that had escaped the confines of her bun. Another dreamless night, another boring day. She kicked her legs from under the quilt and leapt out of bed, onto the soft saffron carpeting underneath. There Nadya stood for a good minute or two, contemptuously studying her room. It was starting to get old, even if she had only lived in the estate for a year, an impulse buy that was already followed by regret—not a financial regret, no, Nadya had enough money to make dozens more impulse buys, but certainly it was some kind of regret. She lifted her arms over her head and stretched, the sunlight shone against every lithe, athletically toned inch of her pale flesh that faced the enormous window. Her sleeveless shirt rode up her slim belly, her smooth thighs tightened against the fabric of her soft panties, and her clothes settled again when she relaxed. Nadya had a good idea of what she wanted to today, and it was certainly rarely when she didn’t get what she wanted.
She sauntered lightly across her room to the bathroom. Like the rest of her possessions, the bathroom was exquisite in its furnishing. Nadya shivered when her bare feet left the comfort of her room’s carpeting and stepped onto the cold marble tiling. She moved to the solid glass bowl sink and looked at the mirror; an alluring face scowled back. Mechanically, she began her routine, washing her face, brushing and flossing her teeth, and finally applying makeup. When she was finished she looked back into the mirror. Her beautiful oval face was further augmented by her skilful application of makeup: gentle blush that drew attention to her smooth cheeks, attractive lipstick that pronounced her lips, and deep, dark applications that gave her almond-shaped eyes a large, almost cat-like flair. She checked her nails, satisfied with their finely manicured finish. One last place required her attention before she would dig through her wardrobe.
Nadya grabbed a few products from the bathroom’s closet walked back to the bedroom and sat on the edge of her bed. She folded her legs on top of each other, Indian-style, and studied her upturned soles. Like the rest of her, they were flawless, milky-white with the gentlest touches of peach on the pads where the bottoms of her feet met the ground. Her feet were just about typical in size, but there was nothing typical about their sensual beauty. Every shapely curve, from the alluring figure of her heels to the warm slope of her soles to the definition of her high arches to the length of her flirtatious toes was accentuated by her skin’s almost visible softness. Their surface was remarkably smooth and unmarred, with the slightest of wrinkles appearing around her arches when she wiggled her toes.
Of all her possessions, Nadya was most proud of her feet. Taking care of them was a daily ritual, and the results were more than to her satisfaction. She smirked as she fondly remembered how many men, young and old, would stare when she comfortably propped her feet up in public, playing with her shoes, dangling them from her toes. It wasn’t just her wealth that allowed her to get whatever she wanted—she took excellent care of entire body to make sure that she turned heads wherever she went. Popping the tops off the products, Nadya began her routine. When she was finished, her feet smelled fragrantly of fruits and flowers and her bright red toenails shone with polish. She left the products on her bed and began to look through her wardrobe, finally deciding on an attractive, white summer dress to go with the weather and her favourite pair of loose yellow flats before she went downstairs.
“Morning.” Her sister was already up, sitting in the massive living room with a bowl of cereal, watching an early morning talk show on their wall-mounted television that was just about the same size as the wall.
“Morning, Jenny,” Nadya replied and got her own bowl of cereal. Instead of joining her sister on the couch, she ate at the kitchen table. When she was finished, she sat down next to Jenny with her laptop open.
“Ugh, there’s nothing better on?” Nadya asked when she looked up at the screen.
“I’m watching it.” Jenny replied.
Nadya sneered. The old windbags were arguing about unemployment rates or something or other—who wanted to hear about poor people this early in the morning? She tapped her nails impatiently against the surface of the couch just as the laptop finally booted on. When she was done signing in, she immediately jumped on the internet.
“I’m gonna need you to drive me in a little bit.”
“Where?” Jenny turned to her.
“I don’t know yet. I’ll tell you in a few minutes.
Jenny leaned over to look at the computer’s screen. Nadya was surfing a luxury estate listing.
“Are you serious? What’s wrong with this place?”
“I’m tired of it,” Nadya answered flatly. “It’s boring.”
“We haven’t even been here that long! I like it!”
“Then you can have it.”
Jenny pursed her lips and bit back angry remarks. She really didn’t like it when her sister was so frivolous with their money. It didn’t matter that their parents had left them more than they would ever know what to do with, if Nadya didn’t cut back a little, there would be no money left to wave around. Jenny turned back to the television with a huff and refocused on the program.
“Hey, remember the Astor place across the city? They’re doing an open house today, no reservations, but there’s a door fee... Noon today. Great. Will you drive me?”
“I guess. You should listen to me though, I’m not gonna—” Jenny’s voice trailed off when she saw that Nadya had opened Facebook up in a new tab and wasn’t listening to a word being said. At around eleven, Jenny reluctantly took Nadya out to drive. Surprisingly, the traffic was relatively light on a Saturday in the city. Streets and faces blurred by as they drove, until the concrete jungle grew sparser and sparser and they left it altogether, driving along highways into secluded green country. They arrived at about noon-thirty, at the luxury estate’s gates, black metal curving in arabesque forms and patterns.
“Alright, tell me how it goes,” Jenny said as Nadya got out of the car.
“I’ll call you to pick me up when it’s done.”
“I’m not your chauffeur! Call Richard or something!”
“He drives too slow.”
“Well I won’t pick up, so you might as well. Love you.”
“Ugh. Love you too.”
Nadya folded her arms across her chest and watched her sister drive away. She turned back to the estate when the car disappeared in the distant highway. The estate was stunning, definitely a worthy prize to pursue, with enough modern flair in its design and use of glass to be stylish, while still maintaining a prestigious appearance in its overall color and location.
Inside the foyer, over a dozen people had already assembled, men in crisp suits, women in all manner of casual and elegant dress. The room was abuzz with conversation that dimmed when Nadya walked in. She smiled coyly at every face that turned to look at her and gave her credit card to a gentleman who came to collect the door fee. She didn’t have to worry about mingling with the other prospective buyers (she had no interest in doing so anyway) because a moment later, from the top of the gorgeous staircase that led to the bottom of the foyer, an older Asian lady in a stunning jade dress appeared. Her curly hair fell to just her earlobes in an attractive corona. She looked like she was in her middle thirties, but Nadya had a feeling that her real age was somewhere in her later forties. If there was anything Nadya knew, it was that proper care could shave the years right off your features.
“Thank you all for coming,” she began in a clear voice, touched with poise and deliberation. It was obvious she had been preparing for the day for quite some time. “My name is Syella. I’m glad to see that so many are interested in this fine estate. If you’ll join me in the conference room, the door immediately to you right, I’ll be happy to share a bit of its history with you before beginning the tour.”
The conference room was as spacious as the foyer, and as artfully decorated with dark wood tones and a grand table at the center of the room, around which each potential buyer began to take his or her seat. Standing at the head of the table was a bald Asian man in an attractively tailored gray vest, white-collared shirt, and formal black pants.
“This is my associate David. He will be sharing the history of the estate with us.”
“Thank you, Syella.” He bowed and smiled warmly at her, before turning to the rest of the group. Everyone was already seated; Nadya had chosen a spot near the middle on the left side, closer to the front of the table where the realtors stood. Her mouth curved in a devilish smile when she saw the glances that were being thrown her way, some outright lustful in their intensity, others more discreet about their hunger. She spread and wiggled her toes under the table, tested her flats, and then smiled. They were loose enough for her devious purposes.
“This estate was originally built in 1974, commissioned by the Astor family, who, as some of you may know, had commissioned many such luxurious buildings all over the city. While their name was relatively well-known fo... for... um... Excuse me. Miss?”
Nadya looked up at the man with an innocent smile. Her feet were propped up on the table, crossed at the ankles, and had drawn the eye of every potential buyer around her. She was scrunching and relaxing her feet in hypnotically slow motions, her every movement a calculated exercise in enticement. Her shoes moved with her feet, tightening against their slender form when she stretched her foot up, and bending against her soles when she squeezed her toes down. It was at these movements those who watched stared their hardest. As her shoes folded, the sides came loose and they could see the whole curve of her instep, deliciously soft and wrinkled, against the dark background of the inside of her shoe. A few men leaned closer; Nadya could see them out of the corner of her eyes. She could almost read their thoughts as she continued playing with her feet; she knew how loosely her flats clung to the edges of her smooth heels. Nadya continued teasing, stretching and scrunching, bringing the back ends of her shoes close to slipping off of her feet before stretching them again, reversing the downward climb of her flats and letting them slip back around the edges of her feet. For a moment, David forgot what he was going to say.
“Miss, it’s rude of you to keep your feet on the table,” he finally said, and mustered up enough authority in his voice to convince the others that he himself wasn’t entranced by her shoeplaying.
“Why? It’s not bothering anyone. I paid a lot of money just to be here, I’m allowed to get comfortable. You just keep talking about the Astors, baldy.”
His face burned with indignant ire, but when he turned to Syella, she merely nodded. Why was she so calm? David shook his head. He didn’t understand the thin smile on his associate’s lips, but said nothing else to Nadya when he turned back to the table.
“Right. As I was saying... with the Astors expanding their real estate expertise, they began to purchase land for their own construction affairs. This allowed them to further corner the market...”
David’s voice trailed off as Nadya continued playing with her feet, smirking all the while. She loved the stares she was getting, even a few women had begun to look, the disgust or jealousy in their eyes transitioning into something similar to what the men wore. Nadya couldn’t help but wonder how many of them actually did have foot fetishes. It wasn’t that common, she simply attributed the men’s attention as a guy thing. If a woman could tease so skilfully with her feet, imagine what else she was capable of in the dim light of a steamy bedroom. Her grin grew a little bit when her shoes finally couldn’t keep up with her movements. What everybody was anticipating had finally happened: her shoes released their loose grasp of her heels and snapped outward, held only by the strength of her toes. She heard the shuffling in a few seats around her as some leaned in for a better look, or to adjust the growing concern in their pants. Nadya knew that her heels were now completely visible, but she also knew how to continue teasing in her favour. Pointing her toes up, she stretched her feet as high up as she could, keeping her shoes as far away from her heels as she could. To her tremendous satisfaction, she heard more shuffling, more shifting in seats as those around her could not only see the full form of her sultry heel, but also the depths above it as her soles curved upward into the darkness of the shoe. Just as they were taking in the sight, she scrunched her toes again and brought the shoes back down on her heels. Only the soft peach glow of their outlines could be seen now; Nadya almost giggled when she saw the disappointment on a few faces.
“...It was originally valued at three and a half million...” David’s voice trailed on, but Nadya tuned in at just the right moment and couldn’t help but feel a surge of animosity rise in her stomach.
“Three and a half million? For this?” she asked incredulously.
David furrowed his brow.
“That was its original value. We plan on beginning the bidding at two million—”
Nadya snorted derisively.
“Don’t bother. I’ll toss you two and three-fourths of a million and we’ll call it a day.”
“Excuse me! Your rudeness will not be tolerated!”
All the while as Nadya and David began a shouting match, Syella’s smile only grew.
“You seem to know quite a bit about real estate,” Syella interrupted the two. Nadya’s haughty expression almost made the older woman giggle, but she suppressed it and kept her smile on the edge of earnestness and venom. “Ladies and gentlemen, please remain seated. Young lady, will you come with me? I feel as though I can negotiate the price with you in private. I can tell that you’re a no-nonsense kind of person, and I admire that.”
Nadya let a smug smile overtake her face. She was about to get her way—again. It came as no surprise; she was easily the best-looking person in the room. All she had to do was play her cards right and the old bat would be eating out of the palm of her hand. Nadya popped her shoes back on and rose to her feet from her chair.
She didn’t see Syella wink at David as she followed the older woman to a door near the back, where they began to descend down a flight of stairs. The longer they walked however, the more Nadya felt that something was off. Their destination seemed to be awfully out of the way to simply negotiate a price. When they reached the bottom of the flight, they were facing a long hallway, trimmed with gold and lined with a luxurious crimson carpet. They took the closest door on the left and entered.
The room seemed to be a guest bedroom, as well decorated as the rest of the house, with royal-looking features and gorgeous lighting fixtures that drew the eye to various sculptures and other pieces of interest. One of those pieces of interest was a strange-looking construction, looking almost like a wooden work-out bench, softened with purple pads, bolted to the center of the room.
“We’re going to discuss the price here?” Nadya asked.
“Boys, please take care of her while I finish up in the conference room.” Syella said with an authoritative tone. Nadya spun her head to her right and shrieked with surprise. She hadn’t seen the two brawny men standing on either side of the doorway. They surged on her before she even had the chance to react.
“You fucking apes! Let me go!” she cried as they grabbed hold of her arms and walked her writhing form to the center of the room. She struggled as hard as she could but there was nothing she could do against their vice-like grips. With a frightened scream, she was pushed down onto the device, with her belly down on the cushioning over the wood.
“AAAIIIEEE! What the fuck is this kinky shit?! Let me go, you fucking faggots!”
She struggled and flailed but it proved futile. Despite her well-trimmed form, she still couldn’t stand up to the brute strength of a bouncer, much less, two of them. They fastened her hands down underneath the bench and forced her head into a cushioned rest just in front of her. With her struggling limited, it was easy to grab her long, shapely legs and set them on the bench. They bent them at her knees and one bouncer held them still while the other worked a crank beneath the bench, bringing the other set of stocks closer to her legs and higher to her feet. The device went between her immobile calves and ran straight up to her feet, which were easily set into the waiting stocks.
“MOTHERFUCKERS! LET ME GO RIGHT NOW!” she screamed at the top of her lungs. There was still fight in her, but it was getting her nowhere fast. She was stuck in the thing, her hands tied beneath her, her body strapped to the bench by way of belts that ran over her back, and her feet and legs utterly immobilized behind her. All she could do was wiggle her flat-clad feet in the stocks and scream at the bouncers, who were already gone out the door.
“SOMEBODY! HELP! GET ME OUT OF THIS FUCKING THING!”
She was more than familiar with the position of her body. Resting on her stomach on a beach blanket, with her bare feet up in the air behind her, teasing whoever walked by, it was a very versatile way to tantalize, but she couldn’t imagine why she was forced into it now.
“ANYBODY! HURRY UP!”
Beneath the vicious fury in her voice, little touches of fear began to rise. She could feel the air on her ass, uncovered by the dress in her rough handling. Had she gone too far in her teasing this time? Was someone finally going to do something about it? She didn’t like not being in control of men, or not being in control in general. Being locked down so tightly made her extremely vulnerable, and with her dress dishevelled and her legs secured behind her...
“SOMEBODY GET HERE NOW!”
Nadya knew it was coming, she heard of rich girls disappearing all the time. Her body began to shake as fear and anger mixed coldly in her heart. She didn’t deserve to be raped—or taken away to never be heard from again. She felt a little spark of hope when she thought of her sister, but then realized that there would be no way her sister could come see her now. She didn’t even tell Jenny when the sham of an estate sale would be over, much less know herself. Suddenly Nadya heard footsteps coming down the stairs behind her. She began to scream for help anew, but when the door opened, her heart sank. It was Syella, smiling calmly, and David, leering at her with a considerable amount of contempt.
“So! Nadya! Twenty-six years old, interior design consultant and director of your own family’s firm,” Syella said.
“How did you know all that?”
“We get a lot of prestigious people at these sales, and you just disappointed quite a few of them. Two million and seven hundred and fifty thousand? Really? You think they can’t match or beat that? You have some nerve, young lady.”
“Fuck you, you old bitch. You let me go right now or I’ll call the fucking cops!”
“Hah! The police! Please. Do. We’ll be right here, waiting,” David sniggered as he spoke.
“You fucking bald ******! Let me go! Now!”
“I don’t think we will,” Syella said with a cruel smile. “We looked at your record. You have quite a history of mischief, don’t you? Minor arrests, felonies, and goodness, you’ve caused so much trouble for so many people around you.”
“What, you’re gonna lecture me like this, grandma?” This was ridiculous. The fear evaporated instantly. The stupid old bint, who did she think she was?
“No, of course not, you’re far too old to learn anything from us. But we didn’t take very kindly to your actions in the conference room.”
Nadya felt pangs of confused worry as the two approached her, both smiling now.
“What are you doing?”
“Well, we just want to know what your feet look like. You never did get your shoes all the way off back there.” David spoke with a grin. Suddenly realization gripped the young woman. She began to struggle and shake, but the wooden frame held fast.
“Get the fuck away from me!” she cried. She cursed herself in her mind; her feet were going to be her undoing after all. After practicing for years the art of slowly removing her shoes, the irony wasn’t lost on her when she spread her toes and desperately kept her feet as rigid as possible to keep them on.
“What’s the matter? You don’t want to tease now?” David chuckled as he easily slipped one finger under the heel of her flat and pushed it up and away from her foot. It fell to the ground with a thud. Nadya cursed herself again. Why did she have to wear the loose flats today? Warm air caressed her soles when the second shoe joined its twin on the ground.
“My, my, my... your feet really are pretty.”
It was Syella’s voice and for the first time in her life, Nadya didn’t want her feet to be so hungrily ogled. She wiggled her toes and tried to get herself free but then decided not to. No, better to not give them the satisfaction. The way her feet moved as she tried to struggle was all too similar to the way they moved when she teased and captured the hearts and desires of those around her.
“They’re so smooth and soft... Hah! I can smell flowers! You really care about your feet!”
David’s teasing compliments humiliatingly washed over her. She tried to struggle again, her face burning with rage and embarrassment where once such words would have filled her with arrogant pride.
“Yes, yes... they look very, very soft...”
“Pffahaha! No! Get the fuck away from me!”
The sudden feeling of a single digit’s touch on her bare sole shocked her to her core.
“Don’t you fucking touch my feet you dirty bald pervert fuck!”
“Haha, but why not? You take such good care of them. There must be a reason for it.”
He dragged a finger up her twitching foot, slowly from the bottom of her heel up to the center of her arches. A stream of horrified giggles involuntarily erupted from her mouth. God, please no, her mind began to race, not this—please don’t let them do this!
“Syella, come take a look.”
“I think I will,” she tittered as she walked to where David stood. This couldn’t be happening. Nadya squirmed in her bonds and tried to get her other foot to rub away the unpleasant tingling sensation. This was bad. This was very, very bad. She thought back to when her father would tickle her, her mother, her sister, what boyfriends she allowed the pleasure of touching her feet. She hated being tickled; it was absolutely the worst loss of control she could ever experience. There was no way to hold back the laughter when her tender nerves were stimulated, no way to turn away the piercing, panicky little jolts that overwhelmed her clarity of thought at every touch and stroke.
“D-Don’t touch me!” it was outright fear that marked her voice this time.
“Hmm? Should we listen to you? We asked you to listen to us,” Syella remarked almost nonchalantly as she let her eyes feast on the ticklish potential before her. She tested the waters with a simple finger-stroke horizontally across Nadya’s left foot. The result was a yelping laugh that brought a smile to Syella’s face.
“This will be delightful. Did you know that we had a girl like you once before? A few years back. She was rude too, flaunted her feet, played with her shoes, and caused a disturbance at our prestigious business meetings. By the end of the day, she learned a little bit better.”
As if to emphasize her point, Syella dragged a well manicured nail down Nadya’s immobile sole, slowly—too slowly for Nadya’s comfort. Every impossibly small amount of flesh the nail slid over launched the young woman into hysterics. A mess of half-words tumbled from her mouth with the steady stream of laughter, she couldn’t find the words to curse or plead. If only the old bitch would just finish dragging her finger already! But Syella knew well what she was doing. A slow trip down the map of nerves was always a good way to test someone’s ticklishness, and Syella was more than happy with what she discovered in Nadya. Her nail left a visible path in the beautifully soft, silky smooth skin—the flesh was so pliant that it seemed almost to follow her nail as it leisurely, maddeningly, teased down to her heel.
“Oh I am going to enjoy myself. You have such a cute little laugh, my dear.”
“Fuhuhuh... Fuck you!” Nadya spat when she could finally collect her wits. The little mocking compliments flushed her face with humiliation. How dare she be put in such a situation? Before she could further express her indignity, her thoughts fizzed and snapped and were lost in an inundation of tickling.
“EEYEEEHEHEHE!! GAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAWD NOHOHOHOHO EEHEHEHEHEHEHEHE!”
Syella listened with closed eyes and a smile, as if she was seated in front of a beautiful orchestra where she herself was the conductor. It struck her as unusual that such a rude young lady would have such an exquisite laugh: high-pitched, almost giggly, but intense in volume and breathless quality. Not that she wasn’t enjoying herself to begin with, but the especial cuteness of the laughter certainly did help. Syella looked over to David, who was standing with his arms folded and was smiling already. From the look they gave each other, anyone could tell that they shared similar thoughts.
“So, ticklish little girl, do you do this sort of thing often?” David asked, loudly enough for Nadya to hear over the sound of her own helpless laughter. Hearing it was one thing, but whether she still retained enough sense to understand the question was an entirely different matter. Syella had changed up her technique. She focused with both fingers on one foot at a time, but not for long enough for Nadya to become accustomed to the technique. The older lady dragged with both fingers cruelly, sensually exploring the soft flesh as if she were touching an exquisite fabric. When she was satisfied with the number of long drags she had made, she let her sharp nails scratch underneath Nadya’s long, shapely toes. This elicited a much more intense response; the toes fanned out, as if shocked at the touch, and then immediately scrunched themselves, effectively trapping Syella’s nails to burrow into those warm, damp spaces to her heart’s desire. And just as quickly, her nails left, and began the same process on the other foot.
“I asked you a question,” David growled. “Do you want me to come and help?”
“NOHOHOHOHO! YAHEEHEHEHEHEHEHEHE!”
“I don’t think she understands you,” Syella said and stopped tickling. Nadya gasped out a few more giggles and began panting as though she had just ran a marathon. Her mind was reeling from the sensations; her feet glowed with agonizing tickle fire that she couldn’t brush away or do anything about. How could this be happening? The day started out as any other, her shoeplay was as enjoyable as any other. How did everything go downhill so quickly?
“Well?” David asked again.
“Wh-whahaha...what do you want...” Nadya sputtered.
“I want to know if you play with your shoes often.”
She couldn’t believe, the bald old pervert! How did he have the nerve to ask her that? Hell, how did the two of them have the nerve to put her in such a position to begin with?
“Gohoho fuck yourself!”
“Pretty little girls shouldn’t use that kind of language,” Syella sinisterly remarked behind her.
In an instant, Nadya felt the sharpness of the tickling nails return and was howling with breathy, giggling laughter again.
“Oh, I think I found a good spot!”
She did, but Nadya would have denied it if she had the breath to speak. Syella had crossed her hands over each other and was gently scratching Nadya’s insteps with quick, pincer-like movements. The way the spot curved into the rest of her foot made the tickling much worse. She could feel little tickling sparks venturing into the entire surface of her soles, like heat that surrounded the ticklish inferno of her instep. She thrashed against her bonds, her feet flinched and danced but otherwise could not get away, and the hopelessness of it all began to dawn on her. Her hair was a mess over her pretty face as she tossed her head from side to side, as if trying to shake loose the screaming hysteria that plagued her. The tickling stopped again and there was silence as Nadya tried to catch her breath.
“Do you wanna tell me now?” came Davids’ voice.
“N-nohoho...”
Nadya yelped when Syella brushed and stopped sporadically. A scrape against her instep and then it was gone. Another, and then nothing, another, and then nothing. The stop and go drove her crazy, not because of the ticklishness (and it still did tickle terribly) but because of the unpredictable way it made her nerves jump and scream.
“St-staha—YEEHEEHE! NohohAHAHAHA!”
“How often do you play with your shoes?” he insisited.
“H...hehe... all the t-time...” Nadya finally said. She wanted the tickling to stop so badly but she was ashamed to have something so childish control her. Her face burned crimson and she despised every loose giggle that escaped her lips.
“Oh? Like when?” Syella spoke now. She smiling broadly now. “Answer or I’ll do more of this.”
Nadya screamed with laughter when Syella scratched her insteps again.
“S-stohop, stop! I p-play with my shoes at work!”
“Oh? In front of other people?”
“Y-yes! At c-client meetings... A-and at lunch...”
“Do you do it for the men?” David asked this time.
“N-no, w-women too,” Nadya’s face and chest burned with humiliation. Why were they so interested? It was creepy enough, everything about what was happening wasn’t right. How dare these two old perverts dig their noses into her affairs? “J-just let me go.”
“Not yet,” Syella said with a chuckle and set her fingers on Nadya’s feet again. The ensuing peals of laughter rendered asking further questions pointless, but when she was finished again and Nadya was reduced to a puddle of giggles, she spoke.
“Where else do you do it?”
“Eheheheverywhere... I drihive b-barefoot too...”
“Oh? You like the feeling of the pedals on your bare feet?”
Nadya shut her eyes.
“Yehehes...”
“If your driving is anything like your attitude, you probably get pulled over a lot, don’t you,” Syella asked. The humiliation was unbearable.
“Y-yes... once...”
“Tell us about it, did you get a ticket?”
Nadya clamped her mouth shut. She didn’t want to tell the story, she didn’t want this weird degradation to go on any further—but she knew that if she didn’t speak soon—
“Eeeeheehee! Hahahaha nohoho!”
Syella had returned to her toes, invading the soft spaces and probing in tiny, intense wiggles.
“Tell us,” the older woman commanded.
“Hehehe... I wahas... s-speeding and... a girl c-cop puhulled me over...”
“So you tried playing with your feet right? Like you do all the time? You thought if you wiggled them in her face you wouldn’t get a ticket,” David said.
The unwelcome memory rose from the depths of her mortified being. Nadya had been speeding, as she said, and when the officer approached, she pulled her feet out from under the wheel and let them rest on the open window. She could see other people walking by and slowing down to catch a glimpse of her beautiful feet, but the policewoman wasn’t buying it. Not only did she get a ticket, but she got a lecture, a loud and demeaning one about the dangers of speeding and of trying to distract an officer of the law. The people who had been previously ogling her were now sniggering as they walked by. It was easily the most embarrassing day of her life—or so she thought until today.
“What a naughty little girl!” he remarked.
At least they couldn’t see her face, at least that small amount of dignity she could still preserve. Tears cascaded down her smooth, red cheeks. It was so debasing, she would rather be tickled than treated like this.
“So why do you do it?”
She didn’t answer.
“My partner asked you a question, dear.”
Again Syella’s nails descended on Nadya’s twitching insteps. Short little bursts, scratch and go. Syella tittered as she watched the rude young lady’s feet squirm under her touch. She loved how helpless they were, how easy it was to toy with Nadya when her delectable soles weren’t her own to control.
“Yeeheheheahahaha! B-because I like it!”
“What do you like about it?” Syella asked.
“I-I like the attention.”
“You like the way the men look at you?” David chimed in.
“Y-yes.”
“That’s very naughty. No doubt they make fools of themselves for you? Do you like being a little tease?”
“I d-do...”
“You picked the wrong place. We’re prestigious salespeople. Such silliness won’t be tolerated.” Syella sharply chided. A small sob escaped Nadya’s lips as she panted. “But we still have lots of time. We called Sandra up to talk to the other buyers, she is very good at talking about the estate. They should start the bidding soon,” Syella continued.
“Sorry you missed your chance,” David interjected. “But really, two and three quarters of a million?” He came over and laid his fingers on Nadya’s still twitching sole. “That doesn’t seem right.”
“Yeeeeheehee! I’m sorry! J-just d-don’t tickle me!”
“What would be a better price? Tell us,” Syella said with a smirk.
“I-I don’t know! Three?”
“That’s still no profit for us,” David remarked, as if personally offended. Before Nadya could think to change her answer, the tickle fire overwhelmed her again, this time on both feet at once. She shrieked with forced mirth, her agonized laughter mixing with cries of weary frustration. She didn’t want to be tickled anymore, she just wanted to go home and forget that the whole thing ever happened, but she knew that the two maniacs tickling her would not allow that. David’s stubby fingers spidered all along the bottom of her foot, not focusing on any particular place, just tickling and stroking everywhere he could, as if trying to cover as much space in as little time as possible. The simplicity of such a brutal method reduced Nadya to sobbing, desperate laughter. She couldn’t even keep track of where his fingers went anymore. For all she knew, he had grown extra fingers that were relentlessly titillating every last inch of her feet. She could feel him digging under her toes, wiggling over her arches, pinching against her soles, all seemingly at the same time, at the rate he was going.
Syella was much more precise, much more torturous in her technique. One hand rested on Nadya’s instep, scraping and wiggling and setting the rest of her sole on fire, and with the fingers of her other hand, she exploited the additional sensitivity. While the hand on Nadya’s instep was constant, Syella’s free hand wasn’t. It drew long lines and patterns in the silky soft feet, it mercilessly raked its nails against her flesh as Nadya cried and screamed with overwhelming laughter. The combined assault left both of her feet feeling as though they were on fire. Her legs danced behind her in a series of infinitely struggling twitches, but her feet stayed right where they were: vulnerable, hopelessly trapped for the pair’s sick amusement. She had never been tickled this intensely ever before, she didn’t even know it was possible for her to be this ticklish; it was torture—pure and utter torture. She was going to lose her mind at this rate, Nadya knew she was. Every single nerve on her feet screamed with ticklish distress and all she could do was frantically laugh her head off in response.
“C’mon, think about it. What should the estate be worth?” David asked.
The tickling stopped.
“Ihihi dohohon’t know! Four million!” Nadya cried.
“So stingy in such a position? That’s not good,” Syella said. The two began their work all over again, resuming the work they had momentarily abandoned.
“She really is stingy,” David commented over the storm of laughter. “I would think she could respect the property more.
“But she did miss the tour. I think I understand why she would say such a price.”
“There’s a lot of history to think about. The estate has a reputation.”
“That’s true, maybe she doesn’t know how the Astors began their enterprise?”
Nadya’s eyes widened as she heard every word. She couldn’t believe it; they were acting as though she wasn’t even there, but still viciously tickling her feet with nothing but the cruellest of intent. The indignity was maddening, she did not think that she could feel any more humiliated than she already was, and yet beyond those feelings all she could think about was the maddening torture—deliberate, excruciating, driving her into a frenzy.
“SIIHIHIHIHIHIX MIHIHIHIHLLIHIHION! HEHEHEHEHEEEHEEEEHEE!! AYEEHAAHAAHAHAAHAHAHAA!”
“See? That’s better isn’t it?” Syella cheerfully said. The two stopped tickling and listened with satisfaction as Nadya’s pants were laced with sobbing giggles.
“We’ll be back soon, we’re gonna check on how things are going with Sandra. Meanwhile, think about if what you do is worth it,” Syella said.
“We’re not the only people with money around here. Someone else could get tired of your little games just as quickly as were,” David added. Without another word they were making their way up the stairs, leaving Nadya a quivering sobbing mess, still stuck on in the contraption.
“Thank you all for coming!” Syella said to the group. “And congratulations to Eric Hall for his winning bid of six and a half million!”
Applause broke out. The man in question smiled and bowed, obviously pleased with his purchase.
“We hope that you had a good experience, and we apologize for the outburst earlier,” Syella continued. “But we don’t want you to just have a good experience; we want you to have a memorable experience! So we have something special prepared for you!”
The crowd clamoured. People were beginning to wonder about what the curious tarp-covered figured was to Syella and David’s left. It was angular on each side, like a box, but the top kept moving, up and down, strangely, as though it were alive. David walked over to the object and pulled the tarp away. Shocked gasps burst into the air when the tarp revealed that it was Nadya, stuck in a clear box, pounding on the walls her screams muffled to the point of whispers. She growled with vexation. Her flats, almost as if to insult her, were placed neatly in front of the plexiglass box.
“Don’t worry, she agreed to do this! She’s very sorry about the way she acted and decided to help us with a little finale to our open house,” Syella said, with all the air and smiles of a ringmaster.
“Air is circulating well into the plexiglass box, but as you can see, we left her feet out of it! Seeing as how they were the cause of the commotion, it’s only right that they be included in our finale. You’ll notice that on the box is a pen. We want you to write your names on her feet as a sign that you enjoyed our open house! Think of it as a guestbook!”
There was a positive clamour in the group. Nadya watched with an expression of utter terror. Her mascara had run down her face in black streaks, her face was still red from laughing just minutes earlier. No doubt even her feet still had the marks of her ticklish abuse. Did none of them realize what was happening? Or did they think it was all just a novel little show? She slapped her hands futilely against the walls and tried to wiggle her feet, but neither of those actions did her any good. The glass was too strong, and her feet were tied back by her toes, rendering them taught and immobile—an eager canvas for the hungry pen.
“Let me the fuck out! I didn’t agree to this!” she screamed, but the crowd was beginning to form a line now, with Eric Hall at the front, grinning from ear to ear, as if he was participating in a cute joke. Panic seized Nadya’s heart as he began to come closer. She pulled down on her feet, knowing that it would do nothing.
“Don’t! Please for fuck’s sake!” she cried and pleaded and looked up into his face with eyes brimming with tears, but he was still smiling, completely ignorant of her plight. He picked up the pen and hungrily looked over her taut soles. He was going to enjoy spending a moment with them, when all he could do was stare at the conference room.
“Remember to save room for each other!” Syella said with another happy smile. Eric nodded and set the pen down on Nadya’s left sole, right on the ball of her arch. It tickled worse than Syella’s nails; it was precise and sharp, but still left her entire sole tingling, despite the small surface area it covered. She bounced where she sat and howled with laughter, which caused the crowd and especially Eric to laugh as well. He was blushing now as he continued, smoothly signing his name on the soft, quivering flesh of her sole, going back over the letters where he thought they needed more definition and pressing down with the pen to make bold, solid lines. Nadya tried to flail but the confines of the box were too small. It made the tickling that much more maddening. She couldn’t get away, surrounded by people who were enjoying her suffering. Her face was red with embarrassment and frustration; even her high-pitched laughter seemed to be mocking her, the way it bounced in the tightness of the box.
“IHIHIHIT TIHIHIHCKLES! HEHEHEHEHE NOOHOHOO!”
The few seconds that it took for him to finish his signature felt like an eternity to Nadya. She screamed with furious laughter, unable to make sense of time or even her own thoughts under the dull, constant pointing of the devilish pen. When he finished she fell back in her seat, panting, relieved that for the moment there was respite from the torment. Until another person came up to her feet, a woman this time, one of the few who had been eyeing her shoeplay as hungrily as the men. The woman bit her lip when she lifted the pen, and happily took in every inch of Nadya’s helpless soles that she wasn’t able to see due to the young lady’s provocative teasing. She chose a spot on the instep, and brought the signature around the curve of her sole just above Nadya’s heels.
“NOHOHOHOT THEHEHERE! YEEEHEHEHEHEHEHEHE! AHEEHEHEHEHE!”
Angry, defeated tears further stained her face as she began to thrash again, uselessly pounding on the walls of the box, cursing God for giving her such ticklish feet, and, most of all, cursing herself for her frivolous shoeplay earlier. She tired herself out faster than she thought was possible. As the woman wrote, tittering to herself the entire time, Nadya resigned to letting her back rest against the glass as her legs kicked and twitched. Her hands crawled into her hair, tugging and grasping but otherwise doing nothing to alleviate the devastating tickling sensations that spread from her burning instep like ticklish tendrils to the rest of her sole. The woman was tracing over her signature now, defining the lines, or was she just enjoying the way the pen’s touch drove Nadya insane? Nadya certainly couldn’t tell the difference. She threw her head back and forth, side to side, her hands still entangled in her hair. There was nothing she could do; her awareness disappeared into a world where there was only her feet, the pen, and the seemingly endless flood of sensations that wracked her body with unendurable laughter.
The touch of the pen disappeared; the woman was done. Nadya watched her walk away and started to cry embittered tears anew when she saw that another woman had begun to approach. Nadya began to desperately laugh and squirm before the tickling even began—as soon as the woman picked up the pen and looked down at Nadya with a triumphant smirk. Here was definitely one that didn’t find her shoeplay particularly cute. The pen descended like the violent tool of an executioner. The spot that she chose was the side of the foot. The woman turned her body so that she could better see what she was writing.
“OHOHOHOH MY GOHOHOHOHOD! PLEHEHEHEHEHEASE STAHAHAHAP! PLEHEHEHEHEHEASE! EEEHEHEHEHEHE! I’M SOHOHOHORRY! EEYAAAHAHAHAHEHEHEHE!”
Nadya didn’t know what was worse; the precise intensity of the pen’s cruel touch or the way the woman was looking at her. The self-righteousness in her smile, as if what she was doing was out of necessity, made every stroke and press all the more degrading. Just how long was the woman’s name anyway? She was still writing over the entire side of Nadya’s foot, taking her sweet time from the look of it too. She started from the top of Nadya’s toes and was now well down to where her heel began without any sign of stopping any time soon. Nadya screamed with laughter, praying that the woman would just hurry the fuck up and finish what she was writing.
But there were still so many people left in line...
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