ElFewja
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Meh. It’s annoying and different, but I enjoy this one. Based on some conversations (though not this one sadly) I used to have with Ex-face. One such conversation that I remember was a debate, comparing chocolate to candy; it was something about is candy chocolate, but I digress.
This is in large part somewhat inspired by Six Characters in Search of an Author, a play I plug, quite literally, all the time. It really changed my view on how an author sees his characters; my argument is that a large amount of the time the characters are used to further a plot rather than themselves; that is, their sole existence is for the sake of something other than their own. It… brings up troubling issues, and presents quite a dilemma; namely, that an author has a large amount of responsibility for the people he creates. I really hope that that comes out here; yes, the end is somewhat hot, but at the same time… well, you’ll see when you get there. (I like to pretend) that it is subtle(, but it probably isn’t). Oh well. Do enjoy reading, as I certainly enjoyed writing.
Responsibility of the Author (M/F Feet)
“The pen is not mightier than the sword!” shouted Marsha, an old friend – who was also a girl, if that much wasn’t already obvious – of mine during highschool. We decided to hang out at my place for a bit today, since we hadn’t seen each other for a few years, but as you can see, we ended up getting into a bit of a fight; well, that’s how things always go, to be fair.
“Sure it is.” I responded coolly; it’s how I get when I am exceedingly angry.
“A sword can kill!”
“And a pen can defame; worse, in a story, the characters actions are-“
“It’s a story! Life is real!”
“-are at the whim of the author. Their entire-“
“If you die, that’s it! You’re dead!”
“-fate is decided by my pen strokes!”
“You’re wrong!”
“No, you are!”
“Prove it!”
“I just did!”
“Doesn’t count!”
“Fine. I’ll really prove it, then.”
“Go ahead!”
“You sure you want me to?”
“Yeah! But you can’t, so there.”
“Alright. Fine. Hold on a sec.”
It was at this point I grabbed a notebook of mine – it’s ugly shade of maroon glaring, as the light above shined brightly against it, so that it sprayed the disgusting color onto the sky blue walls of my bedroom – then took a pen into hand, and began scribing all that had previously happened – skipping the boring stuff, of course – up to this point.
“I’m waiting,” she said impatiently as I wrote the last paragraph, tapping the toe of her sneaker noisily against the newly refurnished hardwood floor of my room.
“Alright, ready.” I said to her.
“Good. I’ve been.”
“Ok. Well, don’t say I didn’t warn you,”
“Not that you did before, but go on.”
“Right.” I now began penning down words hastily, without much thought to them, while reading what I had written aloud. “There were two individuals, fighting in a spacious bedroom, when suddenly, in a fit of rage, the male trapped them both within one of his stories, subjecting his fire-haired friend to his favorite torture.”
“Ooh, you make my hair sound fantastic, thanks. Wait, torture?”
“I like your eyes more, he said, as their jewel green glow captivates me.”
“Yeah that’s not corny at all. What torture?”
“,she asked again in that annoying nasally voice of hers.”
“Hey!”
“, she shouted, when suddenly, she found herself on her knees, her hands and feet helplessly bound behind her inside of a stockade that had appeared.”
“Oh! What the hell?!”
“,she shouted, perplexed by her situation.”
“Al-alright, I think you proved your point,”
“,she began to beg.”
“I am not begging! You can stop writing now!”
“,she pleaded.”
“I am-“
“As she begged, her shoes and socks mysteriously disappeared from her feet, appearing instead of on their owner on top of the nearby bed as she asked him,”
“Oh! My shoes and socks! What the hell are you doing?”
“ He responded, looking up from his work, ‘I’m showing you how the pen is mightier than the sword.’”
“Why my shoes, though? You’re scaring me a bit.”
“, she asked, puzzled as she attempted to figure out what might be her friends goals.
“That’s annoying.”
“Sorry. I’ll stop. And, to answer your question, they were in the way.”
“Wh..what? In the way?”
“From his pocket, he withdrew a large raven’s tail feather, its black fang like ends glistening in the light, ready to tear into flesh with fervor.”
“Feather?”
“As he rose from his chair, she looked at him in terror.”
“Wait, why am I afraid?”
“,she asked fearfully.”
“Stop that!”
“’Fine!’ as he said this, he noticed a sign on the stockade, which read, ‘please tickle my feet’. Looking at the feather in his hand, he wistfully knelt down behind her, in order to grace the tender size.. ’Hm. What size are your feet again?’”
“They’re eights.”
“-tender size 8 feet with the touch of his hungry feather, which desired nothing more than to send a poor woman into hysterical laughter.”
“They’re not tender. And they’re not ticklish. Nice try though. Anyway, you can let me out now. I get your point.”
“’You forget that this is my story,’ he said as the feather gently caressed her right heel, drawing a delicate circle around it, forcing Marsha to laugh lightly as those long unused sensory receptors suddenly came alive, betraying her to the handsome author’s whims.”
“She giggled lightly, and, fighting against herself, yelled back at her friend who had begun to torment her feet.”
“’Hehehe…the hehehell? You can make me ticklish?’ she said, slightly panicked as she realized how unbearable being tied would make the tickling sensations feel.”
“’Yup. How about we try your toes?’ he asked as she cringed. The feather danced its dance of merriment down her arch, causing Marsha to buck violently as she tried to pull her cream colored, soft flesh away from that feather’s maddening touches before it could reach her delicate toes, her struggles growing rampantly wild as the feather’s lazy path came nearer and nearer to those most sensitive parts of her feet. As she laughed heartily, she began to beg for an end.”
“Aaahaha! Alright! Alrightahahaha! You win! You can stop now! Did you hear me?! You can stop!”
“But he ignored her pleas-“
“Shihahahahat!”
“And moved on to her toes, letting the feathers delicate dance continue as the toes owner was driven further into hysterics. After a few minutes of letting the feather play along the bottoms of her wiggling toes, he allowed it to venture in-between, raking it harshly against that virgin flesh until she cried out loudly. A few seconds more of the tickling-torture, and he stopped.
“Thanks.”
“She said, panting heavily. But she had nothing to be thankful for, as he had only stopped because her feet were now lightly and thoroughly coated with peanut butter; outside of the bedroom door, a pack of hungry dogs who had not been fed in a weeks time bayed, urging their owner to admit them so that they could enjoy their meal, their tongues moist and ready as he rose, setting his hand upon the doorknob.”
“Shit! You wouldn’t dare!”
“Oh come on. How long have you known me?”
“Don’t!”
“Say please.”
“No!”
“As he turned the handle and opened the door but a crack, one of the mutts knocked him aside, rushing towards the fair maiden’s feet, breathing heavily upon her soles, sending a chill up her spine that informed her of the trouble her feet now were in. He stalked closer and closer, hunger ravaging his insides as her lurched forward and-“
“PLEASE!”
“She shouted loudly as the dogs disappeared. ‘Yeah, I’m not that mean,’ he said to her. ‘Well,’ he said, correcting himself as he hastily marked some words upon the paper; a single dog re-entered the room and licked Marsha’s much deserving right sole straight up once, causing her to shriek in surprise.”
“Eep!”
“Was the reply that left her lips due to the foreign feeling. But the man, too, was hungry, and could not help but skillfully lick clean her left foot’s big toe. Though she enjoyed the feeling, it still tickled, and her foot naturally tried to pull away, until he held it still so that he could suck the toe quite clean.
“’Mm,’ she moaned, giggling lightly every now and then, “That feels great. Don’t stop. Wait?! What the- Ahhh!”
“As he began to nibble, she creamed with laughter.”
“I do not like this! Stop! Ahh!”
“She protested, in order to hide her true feelings, until he sucked upon the toe once more. After this, he stopped, so that she might catch her breath in order for them to converse.”
“Alright… alright…”
“She repeated several times between pants.”
“I get it now. You win, ok? Can you let me go? Please? I’ll do anything.”
“Anything?”
“Yes!”
“Well that’s good. I want to finish this story. Besides, it say’s right here that you don’t want me to, but that you’re afraid to let me know that. We’ve only just started, anyway. I just wanted you to sample some things first, though; the real torture starts now.”
“What?!”
“As she said this, her feet magically became clean again; her left foot now wore a white nylon, though it’s big toe struck through the material, leaving it naked, so that it would be unable to avoid whatever may come; her two largest toes were bound together with a small amount of white string, which was then secured to the bottom of the stockade by a second piece of black string, pulling her toes back so that they grazed the carpet of the guy’s bedroom, leaving them quite immobile and her soles were extremely exposed and vulnerable.”
“My toes are tied.. I can’t even wiggle my feet now…”
“She said with the realization of her new situation. ‘That’s the point. Wait until the electric toothbrush. Oh, man!’ he responded.”
“Will it tickle?”
“’Oh yeah.’ With that, the nails on his fingers grew in length by a few centimeters – just long enough to reach past the skin – making them the perfect size for tickling, so that they were at a perfect size for tickling, and he began his assault with much more fervor than before just before he leaned towards her helpless feet. “Hm,” he mused to himself while stepping away, rubbing at his chin as he did so. Again, he made that “Hmm,” sound before clarifying what he was thinking; “No, no; this won’t do at all.”
“What’s up? I’m defenseless, aren’t I.”
“Yeah, but I’ve done this before. Kind of makes our little personal story not so interesting.”
“Well… I don’t know what to tell you.”
“How about… yeah.” Quickly, he scribed some words down, before furiously crossing out some lines from earlier; it wasn’t suddenly, because what he had done changed everything so that it had always been so, but there then appeared a pair of sneakers upon her feet, their naked soles removed with black strands of shoe lace that weaved through the tongue of the thing, tying her toes against the top of the sneaker. After finishing his editations, he looked over his work and commented on it; “Yeah, I always kind of wanted to try this. I like the irony that it presents, with there being shoes, but that they bind you rather than protect you.”
“That’s evil.”
“I know, isn’t it?” With that, he began to scratch at the arches of her feet, one hand on each foot, catching her off guard and forcing her to laugh as she kicked her feet. “Oh, I’m starting now, by the way.”
“Yeah, no shehehet! Jerk!”
“And so he tickled her, and tickled her, and tickled her. Immediately she began to lose her mind as a result of no longer being able to struggle or protect her feet in anyway; having lost that sole defense of curling her toes to protect them, forcing her feet to remain taut before the ticklers skilled and devilish fingers. As a reflex, she attempted to break those thin but sturdy ties with her feeble, albeit adorable, little toes, but they hardly gave way. As he tickled her, he drank in her image; her once perfectly straight hair now a mess of tangled knots obscuring her face while she covered her eyes with her newly freed hands, hoping that that might end the sensations that assailed the flesh that she so willingly bared to her captor.”
“I did hehehehe I did not!”
“Through crazed laughter, she shouted at her captor, as she tried to deny how much she began to enjoy the sensations.”
“No! You may not do that!”
“She shouted at him, attempting to hide the mirth and pleasure in her eyes with that biting command that caused her assailant to momentarily stop, allowing her a moment to breathe before he struck a finger nail at her toe, forcing her to yelp with surprise.”
“Eep!”
“Hahaha, yeah I love that. Anyway. Discovering just how ticklish her now entirely vulnerable toes were, he decided to turn his attention to them, instead.”
“Oh, no, please don’t! Not my toes, please!”
“And even though she begged him with all the sincerity in the world, it only served to fuel his desires more.”
“Crap.”
“Actually, tell me, are you having fun? He asked as he turned his palms upward and raked his nails against the base of her immobile toes, enjoying how much those feet, in their shoes that bound her for tickling, flailed, unable to escape any of the touches.”
“’Yes! Yehehes!’ she spoke before clenching her teeth and attempting to withhold the laughter as he moved towards his notebook and, while still lightly scratching her toes, penned a few words. ‘Don’t stop, though,’ she begged, before squeeling, ‘Eep! I didn’t mean that! That’s not fair!’”
“’ she said, denying the feelings that welled up inside of her’”
“Stohohohop… that isn’t funny.’”
“’Wouldn’t know by the way you’re laughing’”
“’Hush!’”
“She cried out amidst laughter while her back arched. As she gripped her thighs, each hand tightly digging into the muscle of the leg on its appropriate side, she fought to contain the explosive feelings that welled up inside of her, damming them so that when they truly burst, the sensations would be that much more overwhelming. Though she wanted to be entirely overwhelmed – to laugh her pretty head off as tears rolled down her cheeks – she also could not allow this, and fought hard to prevent it.”
“Ok, you can stop now! I’ve had enough!”
“’Of course you have’, he reassured her while stopping the torment with his right hand just long enough to be able to take up the electric toothbrush in his now free hand. “But not before we try… this!”
“Try whahahat?!- no! no!”
“As soon as she tried to ask what he had meant by that, she felt the bristles touch the smooth, bare flesh of her big toe just before the thing was turned on and began vibrating with those maddening sensations. Instantly, she lost control of herself and of reality – flailing about madly, fighting with every ounce of energy that had not yet been utilized in an attempt to escape that loud whirring thing, though she knew she could not and would have to endure the two minutes of torturous sensations that it offered.”
“TWO MINUTES?!”
“Yup! Don’t worry, there really isn’t much I can describe or write about here. I’m just going to caress and clean your big toe, quickly run it over the rest of your toes, and down your sole a bit, but you’re still going to scream-“
“God, stop! This is too much!”
“-because this is where I break you.’ As the two minutes lingered on, and the brush found new flesh with which to torture, her crazed laughter and yelps filled the air, broken by the occasional moan. A burning sensation had built up inside of her, and was now pouring through each pore of her body, as the endorphins from the tickle torture piled far over the top and oozed out from every inch of her body, especially the areas attacked by that brush. ‘Hm. This won’t do at all,’ he spoke, stepping up and rising to write a few more sentences, ‘I need your toes to be free for this next part. Well, I’ll keep the left one’s shoe, but I’m taking the right’s away.’”
“’Oh god, thank you, that was too muHahahah!’” she screamed out as the brush began it’s attacks anew. ‘Well, at least I can protect my toes now!’ she shouted out as the brush neared them, vibrating against the bit of sole just beneath it, an area her toes continually tried to guard but could not reach.”
“Can you?” he asked before giving the simple command “Spread them apart for me, please, so I can tickle them more thoroughly.’ He said this as he moved the brush closer to her toes, which spread apart, allowing the brush access between them to the most sensitive parts of her foot, causing her to scream and buck harder than before.”
“’Whahahahat the fuck! No! Stop! This is not fair! This is not fair! You can’t do that!’ she screamed wildly as she fought to keep her toes apart so that he could tickle her more fully. ‘Let me close them again PLEASE’ she screamed at him”
“’Fine.’ He said as her toes clenched shut, grabbing the brush in an attempt to make it stop; however, this only served to amplify the feelings she felt, as she held the vibrating thing so tightly against her skin.”
“’You jackass!’ she cried at him, causing him to laugh.”
“’I’m just trying to give you what you want. And I think that that is more tickling.’ He said overtop the inevitable deluge of laughter that poured from her, and because he no longer needed to use both hands to hold the brush as she held it for him, he used his free hand to ferociously scratch at her sensitive, wrinkled arch.”
“’No more’ she yelled, the flames of emotion burning hotter and hotter so that she could no longer contain them, ‘Nohoho more!’” Just as the burning sensation became unbearable, and the poor girl thought that she would lose herself forever, the brush’s timer ran out, causing it to stop and the tickling to end.”
“No… no fair…ending it like that…’ she panted out.”
“She breathed out with what air she could manage. After a few seconds – long after she had caught enough air – her torturer leaned in and slowly licked her left foot, from her heel straight up to her big toe. ‘Except, this shoe is annoying,’ with that, he snapped his fingers and it disappeared. Again, he licked up, slowly, darting his tongue here and there, sending a new sort of tickling through the girl’s already frazzled mind as she gasped from the new experience. As the tongue hit her toes, she instinctively spread them so that he might be able to give each inch of them that loving caress.”
“What.. are you…”
“She tried to ask breathfully as he opened his mouth and wrapped it around her big toe, interrupting her question with a breathy gasp and moan. For long seconds he delicately wrapped his tongue around the toe, licking all over, before nibbling lightly making her giggle the most erotic of giggles – before kissing it’s pad and ending her torture altogether.”
“Oh. Oh, please. You don’t have to stop.”
“She begged, enjoying this new and foreign amount of attention that her feet had endured, but he had already penned down the words the end. As he did, everything returned to what it was before he had begun; the stocks disappeared, and the two of them stood where they had been before the argument had started. Even her shoes had been returned to her. The End. Shame, too,” he continued as he sat down, “I kind of liked you like that.”
“Shut up. Really, you didn’t have to stop, though.”
“Yeah, but I was running out of stuff to do. Besides, I already pushed you way past your limits, and really I only wanted to show you the power of an author, and the responsibility he – or she, from that glare you’re giving me – has to have, for the sake of his characters.”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“Well, you know it, now.”
As she wistfully looked down, towards her feet, a slight frown formed on her face. “What’s up?” He asked her.
“Nothing. I dunno. Will I ever be able to experience that again?”
“I dunno.”
“Was it even real?”
“That is for you to decide.”
“I mean – my feelings, how it felt – are those real or not?”
“I dunno. Did you like it?”
“I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking.” As she stood, looking to him for an answer, he knew not what to say, simply offering her a shrug of the shoulders. “Will you… yeah, this is kind of weird…”
“No it’s not.”
“Well, for you. Not for me. Would you… let me try again sometime? For real?”
“I guess I could.”
“Thanks. Anyway, I’m going to go now. Also – that last part – when you licked my foot.”
“Yeah?”
“I think I nearly… hm. I never really did before, so I don’t know. But I think I could…”
“What?”
“Nothing. Um. I’ll see you later, I guess.”
With that, she left; a few seconds after she had, the man picked up his pen and paper again, and wrote down the last few parts that had occurred, writing the words The Real Ending after them, smirking at the lack of responsibility he had chosen to take within this story.
This is in large part somewhat inspired by Six Characters in Search of an Author, a play I plug, quite literally, all the time. It really changed my view on how an author sees his characters; my argument is that a large amount of the time the characters are used to further a plot rather than themselves; that is, their sole existence is for the sake of something other than their own. It… brings up troubling issues, and presents quite a dilemma; namely, that an author has a large amount of responsibility for the people he creates. I really hope that that comes out here; yes, the end is somewhat hot, but at the same time… well, you’ll see when you get there. (I like to pretend) that it is subtle(, but it probably isn’t). Oh well. Do enjoy reading, as I certainly enjoyed writing.
Responsibility of the Author (M/F Feet)
“The pen is not mightier than the sword!” shouted Marsha, an old friend – who was also a girl, if that much wasn’t already obvious – of mine during highschool. We decided to hang out at my place for a bit today, since we hadn’t seen each other for a few years, but as you can see, we ended up getting into a bit of a fight; well, that’s how things always go, to be fair.
“Sure it is.” I responded coolly; it’s how I get when I am exceedingly angry.
“A sword can kill!”
“And a pen can defame; worse, in a story, the characters actions are-“
“It’s a story! Life is real!”
“-are at the whim of the author. Their entire-“
“If you die, that’s it! You’re dead!”
“-fate is decided by my pen strokes!”
“You’re wrong!”
“No, you are!”
“Prove it!”
“I just did!”
“Doesn’t count!”
“Fine. I’ll really prove it, then.”
“Go ahead!”
“You sure you want me to?”
“Yeah! But you can’t, so there.”
“Alright. Fine. Hold on a sec.”
It was at this point I grabbed a notebook of mine – it’s ugly shade of maroon glaring, as the light above shined brightly against it, so that it sprayed the disgusting color onto the sky blue walls of my bedroom – then took a pen into hand, and began scribing all that had previously happened – skipping the boring stuff, of course – up to this point.
“I’m waiting,” she said impatiently as I wrote the last paragraph, tapping the toe of her sneaker noisily against the newly refurnished hardwood floor of my room.
“Alright, ready.” I said to her.
“Good. I’ve been.”
“Ok. Well, don’t say I didn’t warn you,”
“Not that you did before, but go on.”
“Right.” I now began penning down words hastily, without much thought to them, while reading what I had written aloud. “There were two individuals, fighting in a spacious bedroom, when suddenly, in a fit of rage, the male trapped them both within one of his stories, subjecting his fire-haired friend to his favorite torture.”
“Ooh, you make my hair sound fantastic, thanks. Wait, torture?”
“I like your eyes more, he said, as their jewel green glow captivates me.”
“Yeah that’s not corny at all. What torture?”
“,she asked again in that annoying nasally voice of hers.”
“Hey!”
“, she shouted, when suddenly, she found herself on her knees, her hands and feet helplessly bound behind her inside of a stockade that had appeared.”
“Oh! What the hell?!”
“,she shouted, perplexed by her situation.”
“Al-alright, I think you proved your point,”
“,she began to beg.”
“I am not begging! You can stop writing now!”
“,she pleaded.”
“I am-“
“As she begged, her shoes and socks mysteriously disappeared from her feet, appearing instead of on their owner on top of the nearby bed as she asked him,”
“Oh! My shoes and socks! What the hell are you doing?”
“ He responded, looking up from his work, ‘I’m showing you how the pen is mightier than the sword.’”
“Why my shoes, though? You’re scaring me a bit.”
“, she asked, puzzled as she attempted to figure out what might be her friends goals.
“That’s annoying.”
“Sorry. I’ll stop. And, to answer your question, they were in the way.”
“Wh..what? In the way?”
“From his pocket, he withdrew a large raven’s tail feather, its black fang like ends glistening in the light, ready to tear into flesh with fervor.”
“Feather?”
“As he rose from his chair, she looked at him in terror.”
“Wait, why am I afraid?”
“,she asked fearfully.”
“Stop that!”
“’Fine!’ as he said this, he noticed a sign on the stockade, which read, ‘please tickle my feet’. Looking at the feather in his hand, he wistfully knelt down behind her, in order to grace the tender size.. ’Hm. What size are your feet again?’”
“They’re eights.”
“-tender size 8 feet with the touch of his hungry feather, which desired nothing more than to send a poor woman into hysterical laughter.”
“They’re not tender. And they’re not ticklish. Nice try though. Anyway, you can let me out now. I get your point.”
“’You forget that this is my story,’ he said as the feather gently caressed her right heel, drawing a delicate circle around it, forcing Marsha to laugh lightly as those long unused sensory receptors suddenly came alive, betraying her to the handsome author’s whims.”
“She giggled lightly, and, fighting against herself, yelled back at her friend who had begun to torment her feet.”
“’Hehehe…the hehehell? You can make me ticklish?’ she said, slightly panicked as she realized how unbearable being tied would make the tickling sensations feel.”
“’Yup. How about we try your toes?’ he asked as she cringed. The feather danced its dance of merriment down her arch, causing Marsha to buck violently as she tried to pull her cream colored, soft flesh away from that feather’s maddening touches before it could reach her delicate toes, her struggles growing rampantly wild as the feather’s lazy path came nearer and nearer to those most sensitive parts of her feet. As she laughed heartily, she began to beg for an end.”
“Aaahaha! Alright! Alrightahahaha! You win! You can stop now! Did you hear me?! You can stop!”
“But he ignored her pleas-“
“Shihahahahat!”
“And moved on to her toes, letting the feathers delicate dance continue as the toes owner was driven further into hysterics. After a few minutes of letting the feather play along the bottoms of her wiggling toes, he allowed it to venture in-between, raking it harshly against that virgin flesh until she cried out loudly. A few seconds more of the tickling-torture, and he stopped.
“Thanks.”
“She said, panting heavily. But she had nothing to be thankful for, as he had only stopped because her feet were now lightly and thoroughly coated with peanut butter; outside of the bedroom door, a pack of hungry dogs who had not been fed in a weeks time bayed, urging their owner to admit them so that they could enjoy their meal, their tongues moist and ready as he rose, setting his hand upon the doorknob.”
“Shit! You wouldn’t dare!”
“Oh come on. How long have you known me?”
“Don’t!”
“Say please.”
“No!”
“As he turned the handle and opened the door but a crack, one of the mutts knocked him aside, rushing towards the fair maiden’s feet, breathing heavily upon her soles, sending a chill up her spine that informed her of the trouble her feet now were in. He stalked closer and closer, hunger ravaging his insides as her lurched forward and-“
“PLEASE!”
“She shouted loudly as the dogs disappeared. ‘Yeah, I’m not that mean,’ he said to her. ‘Well,’ he said, correcting himself as he hastily marked some words upon the paper; a single dog re-entered the room and licked Marsha’s much deserving right sole straight up once, causing her to shriek in surprise.”
“Eep!”
“Was the reply that left her lips due to the foreign feeling. But the man, too, was hungry, and could not help but skillfully lick clean her left foot’s big toe. Though she enjoyed the feeling, it still tickled, and her foot naturally tried to pull away, until he held it still so that he could suck the toe quite clean.
“’Mm,’ she moaned, giggling lightly every now and then, “That feels great. Don’t stop. Wait?! What the- Ahhh!”
“As he began to nibble, she creamed with laughter.”
“I do not like this! Stop! Ahh!”
“She protested, in order to hide her true feelings, until he sucked upon the toe once more. After this, he stopped, so that she might catch her breath in order for them to converse.”
“Alright… alright…”
“She repeated several times between pants.”
“I get it now. You win, ok? Can you let me go? Please? I’ll do anything.”
“Anything?”
“Yes!”
“Well that’s good. I want to finish this story. Besides, it say’s right here that you don’t want me to, but that you’re afraid to let me know that. We’ve only just started, anyway. I just wanted you to sample some things first, though; the real torture starts now.”
“What?!”
“As she said this, her feet magically became clean again; her left foot now wore a white nylon, though it’s big toe struck through the material, leaving it naked, so that it would be unable to avoid whatever may come; her two largest toes were bound together with a small amount of white string, which was then secured to the bottom of the stockade by a second piece of black string, pulling her toes back so that they grazed the carpet of the guy’s bedroom, leaving them quite immobile and her soles were extremely exposed and vulnerable.”
“My toes are tied.. I can’t even wiggle my feet now…”
“She said with the realization of her new situation. ‘That’s the point. Wait until the electric toothbrush. Oh, man!’ he responded.”
“Will it tickle?”
“’Oh yeah.’ With that, the nails on his fingers grew in length by a few centimeters – just long enough to reach past the skin – making them the perfect size for tickling, so that they were at a perfect size for tickling, and he began his assault with much more fervor than before just before he leaned towards her helpless feet. “Hm,” he mused to himself while stepping away, rubbing at his chin as he did so. Again, he made that “Hmm,” sound before clarifying what he was thinking; “No, no; this won’t do at all.”
“What’s up? I’m defenseless, aren’t I.”
“Yeah, but I’ve done this before. Kind of makes our little personal story not so interesting.”
“Well… I don’t know what to tell you.”
“How about… yeah.” Quickly, he scribed some words down, before furiously crossing out some lines from earlier; it wasn’t suddenly, because what he had done changed everything so that it had always been so, but there then appeared a pair of sneakers upon her feet, their naked soles removed with black strands of shoe lace that weaved through the tongue of the thing, tying her toes against the top of the sneaker. After finishing his editations, he looked over his work and commented on it; “Yeah, I always kind of wanted to try this. I like the irony that it presents, with there being shoes, but that they bind you rather than protect you.”
“That’s evil.”
“I know, isn’t it?” With that, he began to scratch at the arches of her feet, one hand on each foot, catching her off guard and forcing her to laugh as she kicked her feet. “Oh, I’m starting now, by the way.”
“Yeah, no shehehet! Jerk!”
“And so he tickled her, and tickled her, and tickled her. Immediately she began to lose her mind as a result of no longer being able to struggle or protect her feet in anyway; having lost that sole defense of curling her toes to protect them, forcing her feet to remain taut before the ticklers skilled and devilish fingers. As a reflex, she attempted to break those thin but sturdy ties with her feeble, albeit adorable, little toes, but they hardly gave way. As he tickled her, he drank in her image; her once perfectly straight hair now a mess of tangled knots obscuring her face while she covered her eyes with her newly freed hands, hoping that that might end the sensations that assailed the flesh that she so willingly bared to her captor.”
“I did hehehehe I did not!”
“Through crazed laughter, she shouted at her captor, as she tried to deny how much she began to enjoy the sensations.”
“No! You may not do that!”
“She shouted at him, attempting to hide the mirth and pleasure in her eyes with that biting command that caused her assailant to momentarily stop, allowing her a moment to breathe before he struck a finger nail at her toe, forcing her to yelp with surprise.”
“Eep!”
“Hahaha, yeah I love that. Anyway. Discovering just how ticklish her now entirely vulnerable toes were, he decided to turn his attention to them, instead.”
“Oh, no, please don’t! Not my toes, please!”
“And even though she begged him with all the sincerity in the world, it only served to fuel his desires more.”
“Crap.”
“Actually, tell me, are you having fun? He asked as he turned his palms upward and raked his nails against the base of her immobile toes, enjoying how much those feet, in their shoes that bound her for tickling, flailed, unable to escape any of the touches.”
“’Yes! Yehehes!’ she spoke before clenching her teeth and attempting to withhold the laughter as he moved towards his notebook and, while still lightly scratching her toes, penned a few words. ‘Don’t stop, though,’ she begged, before squeeling, ‘Eep! I didn’t mean that! That’s not fair!’”
“’ she said, denying the feelings that welled up inside of her’”
“Stohohohop… that isn’t funny.’”
“’Wouldn’t know by the way you’re laughing’”
“’Hush!’”
“She cried out amidst laughter while her back arched. As she gripped her thighs, each hand tightly digging into the muscle of the leg on its appropriate side, she fought to contain the explosive feelings that welled up inside of her, damming them so that when they truly burst, the sensations would be that much more overwhelming. Though she wanted to be entirely overwhelmed – to laugh her pretty head off as tears rolled down her cheeks – she also could not allow this, and fought hard to prevent it.”
“Ok, you can stop now! I’ve had enough!”
“’Of course you have’, he reassured her while stopping the torment with his right hand just long enough to be able to take up the electric toothbrush in his now free hand. “But not before we try… this!”
“Try whahahat?!- no! no!”
“As soon as she tried to ask what he had meant by that, she felt the bristles touch the smooth, bare flesh of her big toe just before the thing was turned on and began vibrating with those maddening sensations. Instantly, she lost control of herself and of reality – flailing about madly, fighting with every ounce of energy that had not yet been utilized in an attempt to escape that loud whirring thing, though she knew she could not and would have to endure the two minutes of torturous sensations that it offered.”
“TWO MINUTES?!”
“Yup! Don’t worry, there really isn’t much I can describe or write about here. I’m just going to caress and clean your big toe, quickly run it over the rest of your toes, and down your sole a bit, but you’re still going to scream-“
“God, stop! This is too much!”
“-because this is where I break you.’ As the two minutes lingered on, and the brush found new flesh with which to torture, her crazed laughter and yelps filled the air, broken by the occasional moan. A burning sensation had built up inside of her, and was now pouring through each pore of her body, as the endorphins from the tickle torture piled far over the top and oozed out from every inch of her body, especially the areas attacked by that brush. ‘Hm. This won’t do at all,’ he spoke, stepping up and rising to write a few more sentences, ‘I need your toes to be free for this next part. Well, I’ll keep the left one’s shoe, but I’m taking the right’s away.’”
“’Oh god, thank you, that was too muHahahah!’” she screamed out as the brush began it’s attacks anew. ‘Well, at least I can protect my toes now!’ she shouted out as the brush neared them, vibrating against the bit of sole just beneath it, an area her toes continually tried to guard but could not reach.”
“Can you?” he asked before giving the simple command “Spread them apart for me, please, so I can tickle them more thoroughly.’ He said this as he moved the brush closer to her toes, which spread apart, allowing the brush access between them to the most sensitive parts of her foot, causing her to scream and buck harder than before.”
“’Whahahahat the fuck! No! Stop! This is not fair! This is not fair! You can’t do that!’ she screamed wildly as she fought to keep her toes apart so that he could tickle her more fully. ‘Let me close them again PLEASE’ she screamed at him”
“’Fine.’ He said as her toes clenched shut, grabbing the brush in an attempt to make it stop; however, this only served to amplify the feelings she felt, as she held the vibrating thing so tightly against her skin.”
“’You jackass!’ she cried at him, causing him to laugh.”
“’I’m just trying to give you what you want. And I think that that is more tickling.’ He said overtop the inevitable deluge of laughter that poured from her, and because he no longer needed to use both hands to hold the brush as she held it for him, he used his free hand to ferociously scratch at her sensitive, wrinkled arch.”
“’No more’ she yelled, the flames of emotion burning hotter and hotter so that she could no longer contain them, ‘Nohoho more!’” Just as the burning sensation became unbearable, and the poor girl thought that she would lose herself forever, the brush’s timer ran out, causing it to stop and the tickling to end.”
“No… no fair…ending it like that…’ she panted out.”
“She breathed out with what air she could manage. After a few seconds – long after she had caught enough air – her torturer leaned in and slowly licked her left foot, from her heel straight up to her big toe. ‘Except, this shoe is annoying,’ with that, he snapped his fingers and it disappeared. Again, he licked up, slowly, darting his tongue here and there, sending a new sort of tickling through the girl’s already frazzled mind as she gasped from the new experience. As the tongue hit her toes, she instinctively spread them so that he might be able to give each inch of them that loving caress.”
“What.. are you…”
“She tried to ask breathfully as he opened his mouth and wrapped it around her big toe, interrupting her question with a breathy gasp and moan. For long seconds he delicately wrapped his tongue around the toe, licking all over, before nibbling lightly making her giggle the most erotic of giggles – before kissing it’s pad and ending her torture altogether.”
“Oh. Oh, please. You don’t have to stop.”
“She begged, enjoying this new and foreign amount of attention that her feet had endured, but he had already penned down the words the end. As he did, everything returned to what it was before he had begun; the stocks disappeared, and the two of them stood where they had been before the argument had started. Even her shoes had been returned to her. The End. Shame, too,” he continued as he sat down, “I kind of liked you like that.”
“Shut up. Really, you didn’t have to stop, though.”
“Yeah, but I was running out of stuff to do. Besides, I already pushed you way past your limits, and really I only wanted to show you the power of an author, and the responsibility he – or she, from that glare you’re giving me – has to have, for the sake of his characters.”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“Well, you know it, now.”
As she wistfully looked down, towards her feet, a slight frown formed on her face. “What’s up?” He asked her.
“Nothing. I dunno. Will I ever be able to experience that again?”
“I dunno.”
“Was it even real?”
“That is for you to decide.”
“I mean – my feelings, how it felt – are those real or not?”
“I dunno. Did you like it?”
“I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking.” As she stood, looking to him for an answer, he knew not what to say, simply offering her a shrug of the shoulders. “Will you… yeah, this is kind of weird…”
“No it’s not.”
“Well, for you. Not for me. Would you… let me try again sometime? For real?”
“I guess I could.”
“Thanks. Anyway, I’m going to go now. Also – that last part – when you licked my foot.”
“Yeah?”
“I think I nearly… hm. I never really did before, so I don’t know. But I think I could…”
“What?”
“Nothing. Um. I’ll see you later, I guess.”
With that, she left; a few seconds after she had, the man picked up his pen and paper again, and wrote down the last few parts that had occurred, writing the words The Real Ending after them, smirking at the lack of responsibility he had chosen to take within this story.
