Sunset Shores Island

[putri_nila]

Probably just a boring classic tickling story that i just want to share.
I'm sorry if i don't so creative and if the story way to flat.
Thank you.

--------

Irene stepped off the plane in Sunset Shores Island, her long black hair swinging behind her. She was wearing a tight white tank top that showed off her toned midriff, paired with faded blue jeans that hugged her curves. On her feet were a brand new pair of white flats - crazy thin sandals that must have cost a fortune.

Her husband Daniel trailed along behind her, looking a bit schlubby in khaki shorts and a wrinkled tee. Irene didn't seem to notice or care. She was already striding towards the airport exit, her feet smacking along in those ridiculous paper-thin sandals.

A gypsy woman was sitting by the doors, a beat-up cardboard cup in front of her for change. Irene knocked right into her, stumbling but not falling.

"Watch where you're going!" Irene snapped, her face flushing red with anger. The gypsy woman shrank back, holding up her hands defensively.

"S-sorry miss, I didn't mean..." she stammered out in halting English.

But Irene wasn't having it. "You stupid woman! Look what you've done!" She gestured furiously at her new s, one strap now twisted and slightly scuffed. "Do you know how much these cost? More than you'll see in a lifetime!"

The gypsy was shrinking in on herself, eyes wide with fear. Daniel finally caught up, putting a hand on Irene's bare arm.

"Babe, calm down, it was an accident. Let's just go, we're already late for the hotel check-in."

Irene shot him a withering glare. "Don't you 'babe' me. This?" She pointed at the scuffed sandal. "Is unacceptable."

With that, she turned on her heel, those ridiculous flat sandals slapping the tile as she flounced away. Daniel gave the gypsy woman an apologetic look before hurrying after his wife.

From the corner of his eye, he could see Irene examining her shoes, using her colorful manicured nails to try and unbend the strap. Those feet and those fancy flats were going to be problem this whole trip, he could already tell.

Irene was still fuming after the airport incident. Before Daniel could stop her, she rounded on the poor gypsy woman again.

"Do you know how much these cost? More than you'll ever be worth in your pathetic life!"

Daniel tried to grab Irene's arm and pull her away. "Babe, babe, calm down. It was just an accident."

But Irene shook him off, getting even more enraged, her cheeks flushed red. The gypsy woman just kept stuttering apologies until finally a security guard came and diffused the situation.

Irene was still going berserk, not letting up on the poor gypsy woman at all. She slapped her hard across the face, leaving a red mark.

"That's for scratching my $600 sandals, you worthless trash!" Irene screamed.

Then she violently shoved the woman, causing her to tumble backwards and land hard on her butt. The gypsy woman's ragged skirt rode up, exposing her bony legs.

"C'mon babe, let's get out of here," Daniel pleaded, finally managing to pull Irene away. She gave the gypsy woman one last hateful look before storming off.

Outside, Irene ordered a taxi driver to take them to their luxury resort. She made sure to stick her foot out in front of her, admiring those crisp white sandals. The thin straps perfectly framed her delicate pale feet.

Meanwhile, the gypsy woman - her name was Aminah - found her daughter Nayla waiting for her in a beat-up old car. Nayla was wearing a long, colorful printed skirt and a loose-fitting top. Bangles jingled on her wrists.

"That awful woman..." Aminah shook her head. "We must follow her. She has brought a curse upon herself."

Nayla nodded grimly. "I saw the way she abused you, all because of her precious sandals. We cannot let her get away with such cruelty."

Keeping a safe distance behind the taxi, they tailed Irene and Daniel all the way to the resort. Aminah's eyes were locked on those fancy white sandals poking out the taxi window.

The taxi pulled up to the grand entrance of the Ritz-Carlton resort. Daniel got out first, then turned to help Irene. She stuck one bare foot out onto the pavement, those white sandals glistening in the sunlight. Her toenails were perfectly pedicured in a fresh coat of pale pink polish.

As Irene stood up fully, her thin spaghetti strap tank top and tight jeans hugged her toned body. Those sandals made her feet look delicate yet elegant. She wiggled her toes against the strap as she smoothed her skintight pants down over her backside.

A short distance away, Aminah and Nayla watched furtively from their beat-up car. Aminah's eyes were glued to those fancy white sandals that the cruel woman had shoved in her face.

"Look at her," Aminah hissed. "Flaunting her wealth and beauty while treating us lower than dirt."

"We cannot let her get away with such disrespect, mother," Nayla agreed. "Especially after she slapped you and pushed you down."

Aminah licked her lips as Irene's bare foot emerged from the sandal again. "Those pretty feet..."

"Exactly." Nayla gave a sly grin. "Which is why I have an idea to teach that arrogant woman a lesson. One that focuses on those pampered feet of hers."

Aminah raised an eyebrow with interest. "I'm listening..."

"You know the ancient sarcophagus we use for our fortune telling chamber?" Nayla said. "The one with the foot ticklers installed?"

A wicked smile crossed Aminah's cracked lips. "Ahh yes, I know exactly what you have in mind, my daughter. That robust Chinese lady won't know what hit her..."

--

The hotel room was already feeling tense as Irene and Daniel settled in. Irene kept shooting him icy glares as she unpacked her suitcase, angrily tossing aside clothing and belongings.

"I can't believe you took that beggar's side over mine," she seethed, yanking a silk blouse out of the case so hard she nearly ripped it. "After everything I do for you, supporting us with my family's money..."

Daniel sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Look, you just went way too far back there. Assaulting someone like that is never okay, no matter who they are."

Irene whirled on him, hands on her hips and eyes blazing with fury. "Well if you think you know so much better than me, then maybe you should just stay here!"

"You didn't have to be so cruel to that poor woman!" Daniel pleaded. "Slapping her, kicking her when she was down? That was too far, babe."

Irene whirled on him, long hair swinging. "Too far?! She scuffed my brand new s! These cost more than your monthly salary!" She shoved one bare foot towards his face, wiggling her toes angrily.

Daniel recoiled from her foot. "Okay, okay! I get it. Just...try to let it go, alright? We're on vacation."

"Whatever." Irene snatched up her oversized beach tote. "I need some air. Don't wait up for me."

Before Daniel could respond, Irene spun on her heel and started marching toward the exit, her sandals clicking sharply with each angry step.

"Where are you going?" Daniel called after her.

"Out!" she flung over her shoulder. "I need to get away from you for a while before I say something I'll regret."

With that, she stormed out of the suite, those skinny sandals smacking along the marble floor. Once outside the hotel, she paused, taking a minute to adjust the straps.

That's when a young local woman approached her. "Excuse me, miss? You look troubled."

Irene glanced up, eyes narrowing as she sized up the woman. She seemed harmless enough in a loose printed dress. "What's it to you?"

The woman - Nayla was her name - gave her a bright smile. "No trouble, just thought you might need advice on where to relax. I know all the best spots around here for tourists."

"Do you?" Irene couldn't hide the snippy edge to her tone. She looked Nayla's simple outfit up and down disparagingly. "And what would you know about how people like me like to unwind?"

If Nayla took any offense, she didn't show it. "Well, there's an amazing fortune teller not far from here. Mystics, card readings, the whole shebang. Lots of the richer tourists love going there to get their fortunes read. Very authentic and...relaxing."

Irene considered this for a moment, tapping one sandaled foot idly. A fortune teller did sound kind of appealing right now - maybe it would get her mind off that filthy gypsy woman.

"Fine, whatever. Where is this place?"

"Just a couple blocks over!" Nayla pointed down the road. "I can show you if you'd like?"

Irene waved a hand dismissively. "I can find it."

With that, she clicked off down the sidewalk, her expensive sandals slapping the pavement. Nayla watched her go, then quickly pulled out her phone and typed out a text to her mom:

"She took the bait! The rich one is on her way to your shop right now. Is the sarcophagus ready for her?"

A moment later, her mother Aminah's reply came through:

"Yes, my child. The tickle torture chamber is prepared and waiting. That arrogant foot will get what's coming to her as soon as she steps through my door! Have no fear - that pretty little Barbie is about to get payback for her cruelty. Her skinny ankles and wiggling toes won't save her from the tickle torment I have planned!"

Nayla grinned wickedly as she pocketed her phone and hurried off after Irene. This was going to be fun...

Irene stalked down the sidewalk, mood foul and heels clacking angrily. That annoying local woman Nayla was trailing behind her like a lost puppy.

"You're still following me?" Irene whirled on her, hands on her hips. She looked Nayla up and down dismissively. "What, you got nothing better to do?"

Nayla didn't seem fazed by Irene's rude attitude. "Just making sure you find the fortune teller okay. It can be tricky to spot from the street."

"Well I'm not an idiot," Irene snapped. She jutted out one sandaled foot, admiring the skinny white strap. "So this place has like, ancient sarcophagus and stuff?"

Nayla nodded eagerly. "Oh yes, the most authentic torture devices from the old days. They say if you're ticklish, the sarcophagus can be...quite the experience."

Irene let out a derisive snort. "As if. I don't do ticklish."

A few minutes later, they arrived at a nondescript shop wedged between a cafe and souvenir stand. There was a faded sign declaring it "Aminah's Fortunes & Readings."

Irene wrinkled her nose but shrugged, figuring she may as well check it out. She brushed past the beaded curtains into the dimly lit interior.

That's when she spotted the woman from the airport - or at least, who she thought was that same gypsy beggar. But this time she was dressed in ornate robes and adorned with jewels, her face fully made up. Clearly the fortuneteller act was just that - an act.

"Welcome, welcome!" The woman, who was indeed Aminah in disguise, spread her arms wide. "You've arrived at just the right time, my dear."

As Irene stepped further inside, Aminah did a slow head-to-toe appraisal. She was wearing a tight white ribbed tank top that clung to her curves, with an exposed midriff. A pair of light blue jean shorts showed off her tanned, toned legs, ending high up on her thighs.

But Aminah's eyes were instantly drawn to Irene's feet. Those strappy white sandals were a vision - delicate yet stylish, framing her bare feet perfectly. Her toenails were painted a soft pink, well-pedicured and free of any chips. Aminah could only imagine how smooth and tender those pampered soles must feel.

"My, what lovely...assets, you've been blessed with," Aminah purred, giving Irene a sly smile. "I think I have just the right fortunetelling experience for someone of your obvious taste and privilege."

Aminah began waving her hands dramatically over a crystal ball, putting on an elaborate fortunetelling show for Irene. "I sense you will soon face...an intense tickling sensation!"

She moved over to the tarot cards next, slowly turning them over one-by-one. "Ah yes, focused on your feet. Your lovely sandaled feet will not be able to escape the exquisite torment!"

Irene shifted uncomfortably, feeling a nervous tingling in her bare soles already. She angled one sandal out in front of her, almost subconsciously protecting her feet.

Aminah gave a sly grin. "I can see your inherent weakness, my dear. That place which will leave you howling with laughter...where exactly are you most ticklish?"

Bristling with overconfident arrogance, Irene jutted out her chin. "My feet, obviously. They're unbearably ticklish, especially my arches and toes." She wiggled her sandal-clad feet for emphasis. "But your silly fortune telling is just a fraud, isn't it? Go ahead and try!"

While maintaining her mystical facade, Aminah began pumping some kind of sleeping gas into the room's air vents. "Oh I'll do much more than try, you arrogant girl. This is one fortuntelling that will leave you begging for mercy!"

Suddenly, Irene felt lightheaded and woozy. She stumbled dizzily as the gas took effect. "Wha...what are you...?" She never finished her sentence before crumpling to the ground, fast asleep.

That's when Nayla burst into the room, that devilish smile on her face once more. "Excellent work, mother! She's fully unconscious."

"Yes, now we can begin the realfortunetelling..." Aminah cackled as they both grabbed Irene's sleeping body under the arms. "One that will show this spoiled bitch just how ticklish those pretty feet of hers can be!"

Together, mother and daughter started dragging the slumbering Irene toward the ancient sarcophagus chamber in the back.

Aminah and Nayla half-carried, half-dragged Irene's limp body through a beaded curtain into the back chamber. In the center of the room was an ancient stone sarcophagus, positioned horizontally.

"Perfect, just as I had the chamber prepared," Aminah said with a satisfied nod.

Together, they hoisted Irene up and slid her into the elongated stone box. Nayla grabbed her ankles and positioned her legs so that her feet stuck straight out from one end of the sarcophagus. Aminah made sure Irene's upper body was cradled properly, leaving her head exposed at the opposite end.

Already, Irene's bare feet were twitching slightly in her sleepy daze. Aminah paused for a moment, running an admiring gaze over those delicate soles peeking out from the straps of the sandals. So smooth and vulnerable looking.

Once Irene was secured in place, they sealed the stone lid shut, leaving just her head and feet sticking out. Her pink pedicured toes wiggled once more as the lid closed over her body with a heavy thud.

Aminah and Nayla both moved to stand at the foot of the sarcophagus, smiling slyly at the sight before them: Irene's scornful, sleeping face at one end, and those pretty sandal-adorned feet at the other - utterly defenseless and simply begging to be tickled.

"Comfortable in there?" Nayla couldn't resist a mocking coo toward the unconscious woman's helpless foot exposure.

"She will be soon..." Aminah chuckled deeply. With a wave of her hand, a pair of long thick feather quills magically appeared. "Though perhaps not in the way she'd prefer."

Grinning wickedly at each other, they each grasped one of the feathery tickle instruments, holding them menacingly above Irene's sandal-framed soles as they awaited her rude awakening.

Aminah and Nayla took their time slipping off Irene's expensive sandals, peeling each strap away one-by-one. The sandals put up some resistance, clinging tightly to Irene's feet as if reluctant to reveal the soft soles hidden beneath.

But eventually, with a few firm tugs, the footwear was removed entirely - leaving Irene's bare feet exposed in all their glory.

"Oh my..." Aminah's eyes went wide, admiring the pale, flawless arches and silky smooth balls of Irene's feet. Not a single blemish or rough patch of skin. "Her soles are absolute perfection."

Nayla nodded in agreement. "You can tell she's never had to work a hard day in her life. Her feet are like a pampered little girl's."

Running her fingertips lightly over Irene's instep, Aminah marveled at the suppleness. "So tender and sensitive feeling too. I can only imagine how dreadfully ticklish these pudgy soles must be."

"Probably feather-light," Nayla laughed. "With all that privilege, she's likely never built up any tolerance." She gave an experimental poke to Irene's arch, causing her toes to twitch reflexively.

That's when Irene began to stir, shaking off the lingering grogginess of the sleeping gas. Her eyes fluttered open in a daze. "Wha...what's happening?"

She tried shifting her body but found herself completely immobilized inside the stone sarcophagus. As her blurry vision focused, she gasped at the sight of her bare feet so vulnerably exposed.

Aminah and Nayla just grinned devilishly down at their helpless victim, quill feathers poised and ready to strike.

"Let's find out just how ticklish those pretty little feet of yours truly are, shall we?" Aminah's voice dripped with sadistic delight. "I have a feeling we're about to hear a symphony of shrieks and laughter."

--

Irene's eyes shot fully open as she became aware of her entrapment in the stone sarcophagus. She thrashed from side to side, trying in vain to wiggle free from her confined prison.

That's when Aminah sauntered up, leaning over Irene's face with a taunting grin. "Well, well...if it isn't the charming lady from the airport."

Irene's eyes went wide with recognition as she angrily spat, "You! You're that filthy beggar I had thrown out!"

Rage and indignation flooded through her as she continued struggling against her restraints. "Let me out of here this instant, you wretched gypsy scammer!"

Aminah just laughed mockingly. "Such fury! Though I don't recall you being quite so feisty during my fortune telling earlier."

At those words, Irene suddenly remembered the strange reading about intense tickling sensations. A cold shiver ran down her spine as her mind finally registered the sensations flowing from her bare feet.

Spontaneously, Irene wiggled her bare feet, suddenly aware of their naked vulnerability. Her toes squirmed and flexed as a look of pure dread crossed her face.

"No...oh god no, please! Not my feet!" she blurted out in a panic.

Spinning her head to the left, Irene's eyes landed on her white sandals sitting neatly on a small table. She was completely barefoot and about to find out just how ticklish those pampered soles could be.

Of their own accord, her eyes shot down in panic toward her vulnerable soles. Irene gasped in horror at the sight of her legs protruding bare and defenseless from the sarcophagus stone - her feet utterly naked and stripped of those priceless sandals.

"No...no, oh god..." Irene's voice shook with terrified realization. She whipped her head to the left, confirming her white sandals sitting tauntingly out of reach on a side table.

"Now you understand, don't you, you spoiled bitch?" Aminah sneered, reveling in Irene's fright. "This is the moment where you'll learn a lesson in humility..."

Helpless tears started forming in Irene's eyes as Nayla approached on her other side, dragging those long feathery quill plumes behind her.

"...At the mercy of your ticklish feet," Aminah finished in a wicked hiss.

Irene squeezed her eyes shut, shaking her head in panicked denial. But there was no stopping what she knew was coming next for those trembling naked soles.

Aminah leaned back with a cruel smile. Nayla eagerly gripped one of the large feather quills in her hand, brushing it lightly over Irene's twitching foot to elicit a shuddery gasp.

"You've tormented your last innocent person with your wealth and privilege," Aminah proclaimed. "Now you'll learn what it's like to be utterly powerless and at someone else's mercy."

Irene futilely tried yanking her feet inward, but they were sealed tightly in the sarcophagus's foot openings. Sharp, prickly tingles were already dancing across her bare arches just from the feathers' teasing caresses.

"No no no! Please, I'm begging you! I'll give you anything, … anything! Just don't do this!" Irene thrashed and sobbed as Aminah and Nayla raised their quills menacingly over her soles.

But it was too late. The relentless tickle torture was about to begin.

"You arrogant, entitled little bitch," Aminah sneered down at the helpless Irene. "It's far past time someone taught you a lesson in humility."

Irene whimpered, giving another futile tug against her restraints. "Please, I'll do anything! Just let me go!"

"Oh, we'll be doing plenty," Aminah promised darkly. "Starting with an attitude adjustment to get that anger of yours under control."

She ran the tip of the feather quill along the length of Irene's defenseless foot, smiling wickedly as Irene's toes curled and flexed. "Tell me, do your bare feet feel...vulnerable right now? Exposed without those expensive sandals to protect them?"

Irene squeezed her eyes shut, gnawing her lip to stifle the tingling sensations that simple feather stroke elicited. "Y-yes...oh god, they feel so naked!"

"Good, you're being honest." Aminah continued feather-light teasing strokes up and down Irene's arches. "And what do you think is about to happen to those pudgy, pampered soles of yours?"

"Th-they're going to be...tickled," Irene whimpered, wiggling her toes involuntarily. The skin along her insteps already started prickling with agony just from the soft feather's gentle caresses.

"Correct. Tickled until you're screaming for mercy, thrashing with laughter." Aminah finally pulled the quill away, allowing Nayla to step up beside her.

Irene let out a shaky breath of relief, until she saw Nayla's fingernails - sharpened to fine points. The gypsy girl grinned and raked them experimentally down Irene's soft arch.

"Eeeyaaaahhhh!" Irene threw her head back, screaming in shock at the pinpoint torture streaking fire across her tender sole. Her bound leg jerked uselessly in the sarcophagus opening, failing to pull her helpless foot away.

"That's just a small preview of what's to come," Aminah cackled with delight. "If you thought a feather was torturous, just wait until your ticklish soles experience these nails up close and personal!"

Irene had never felt such agony, all over her most unbearably ticklish spots. These wicked women weren't going to stop until they had reduced her to a hysterical, begging wreck. There was nowhere for her quivering feet to find reprieve or escape...

Nayla wasted no time in unleashing her nails upon Irene's helpless soles. She raked them cruelly up and down the valleys of Irene's arches in light, torturous strokes.

"AHHHHHHHHHHHH! AHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAAAAA!" Irene threw her head back, shrieking laughter immediately. Her bound legs kicked and trembled uselessly as she thrashed against the sarcophagus restraints.

Nayla's wicked nails found every last ticklish crease and ridge of Irene's feet, zoning in on the most unbearably sensitive spots. She scratched at the wrinkly skin, spider-walked up and down the arches, even dragged her talons along the soft pads of Irene's vulnerable heels.

"STAHAHAHAHAHAP! OH GODDD PLEHEHEHEEASE!" Irene howled through her hysterics, legs shaking with powerless laughter.

"Not a chance, you pompous fool," Aminah sneered. "This torturous tickling is now your attitude adjustment. Let's start with your arches - how ticklish are those?"

"S-SO TICKLIHIHIHISH! HAHAHAHAHA THEY'RE AGONYYYY!" Irene screeched, tears rolling down her cheeks.

Nayla immediately focused her attention there, spidering her nails back and forth across the twitching arches over and over. Irene wailed and convulsed against the stone.

"And what about those chubby little toes? How ticklish are they?" Aminah grabbed Irene's foot by the toes, squeezing them painfully.

"STAHAHAHAP! NOHOHOHO NOT MY TOES! THEY'RE THE WOHOHOHOORST!" Irene thrashed her head, red-faced and delirious.

Nayla obliged by dragging her sharp fingernails slowly over each wiggling toe in turn, causing fresh shrieks of laughter agony.

"Excellent. Just one more question before we take a break..." Aminah leaned down to Irene's gasping face. "Look to your left and tell me - what do those soft bare feet of yours wish they had right now?"

Irene turned her head weakly to follow Aminah's gaze. There on the table were her white sandals. She wailed at the sight of them, that soft leather that could have protected her wiggling soles, if only for a little while.

"MYHYHY SAAHAHANDALS! OH GOD I WAHAHANT THEM BACK!"

Aminah just smiled cruelly. "I thought you might say that..."

Nayla kept up the agonizing tickle assault, switching between raking her sharpened nails over Irene's wriggling soles and light, feathery strokes that felt like torturous fire across the sensitive skin. She covered every last inch - from the tips of Irene's scrunched toes, to the hollow arches, all the way down to the tender heels.

"AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA STAHAHAHAP! NOHOHOHO MOHOHOHORE!" Irene screamed through her hysterical laughter fits, tears streaming down her flushed cheeks. Her body trembled helplessly against the restraints as Nayla's tickling instruments of torment danced across her bare feet.

"Keep begging, you entitled little bitch," Aminah taunted. "Maybe if you suffer enough, you'll finally learn some humility."

She leaned down close to Irene's contorted, laugh-ravaged face. "Now, let's have a little lesson, shall we? Why exactly were you so rude and demeaning to me at the airport?"

"B-BECAUSE I'M A SNAHAHAHANOBBISH RICH GIHIHIRL!" Irene wailed, writhing from Nayla's nails dragging cruelly along her arches. "I THOHOHOUGHT I COULD TREAT PEOPLE LIKE TRAHAHASH!"

Aminah nodded in satisfaction. "Good, at least you can admit it. And why did you arrogantly flaunt those sandals of yours so proudly?"

"BECAUSE THEY COHOHOHOST SO MUHUHUCH!" Irene shrieked, trembling toes wiggling helplessly from the feather torment. "I WAHANTED PEOPLE TO BE JEALOUS OF THEM!"

Each response was punctuated by renewed tickling from Nayla, who somehow found even more sensitive hollows in Irene's frantic, quivering soles to torment.

"I see. Do you regret that arrogance now, with those tender soles of yours thoroughly exposed?" Aminah raked her fingernails around the edges of Irene's squirming feet, smiling at her victim's shuddering gasps.

"YEHEHEHES! OH GODDDD I'M SOHOHOHO SORRYYYY!"

"On a scale of one to ten, just how tender are those pudgy soles right now?" Aminah ruthlessly gripped and squeezed Irene's wiggling toes.

"T-TEHEHEHEN! A SOHOHOHOLID TEN! THEY'RE SOOOOOHOHOO SOFT AND TEHEHENDER!"

"Fitting. And finally, how ticklish are those feeble, naked feets tortured right in this moment?"

Irene's wild laughter reached a hysterical peak as Nayla's relentless sharp nails found her most agonizingly ticklish spots all over again. "TEHEHEHEN! AHAHAHAHAHA A MILLION OUT OF TEHEHEHEN! NOHOHOHO MOHOHOHORE PLEHEHEHEEASE!"

But there would be no mercy, no escape from this exquisite torment - all courtesy of her own arrogance and privilege. This humbling tickle torture was just the start of Irene's attitude re-adjustment.

Aminah took over from Nayla, dragging her cruelly sharpened nails up and down Irene's frantically wiggling soles. She paid extra focus to the arches, scratching back and forth through the hollows in light, torturous strokes.

"AHHHHHHHHHHHH! NOHOHOHOHO NAHAHAHAT THE ARCHES!" Irene threw her head back, screaming through her hysterics. Her legs kicked uselessly against the restraints as fire danced across her most ticklish spots.

"That's it, laugh for me you bitchty little princess!" Aminah cackled, switching to lightly spidering her nails across the balls of Irene's feet. "Let's see if we can make those pampered soles even more tender and raw!"

While her mother continued the agonizing tickle assault, Nayla moved up to hover over Irene's contorted, giggling face.

"You regret doubting my mother's fortunetelling skills now, don't you rich girl?" she taunted, grabbing Irene's chin roughly. "Care to remind us what she foretold about an 'intense tickling sensation?'"

"YEHEHEHES! OHHHH GODDD STAHAHAHAP!" Irene writhed against the sarcophagus, tears streaming down her face. "SHE SAHAHAID MY FEEEHEHEHEET WOULD BE TICKLED!"

Nayla nodded with a cruel smile. "That's right, and look at you now - shrieking with helpless laughter just like she predicted!"

Aminah took that moment to rake her nails firmly up Irene's arches one final time, sending her into fresh hysterics.

"AHAHAHAHHAHAAAAA! PLEHEHEHEEASE I'M BURNINGGGGGG!"

"Burning with ticklish torment no doubt," Nayla laughed mockingly. "Since you seem to be suffering so 'intensely,' remind me spoiled girl - where are you most ticklish?"

Irene's laughter reached a fever pitch as Aminah targeted her wriggling toes, scorching each one individually with her nails. "MYHYHY ARCHESSS! THEY'RE THE WOHOHOHOORST! STAHAHAHAP TICKLING THEM!"

"I think she's telling the truth for once," Aminah grinned wickedly, eagerly focusing all her efforts on driving her nails between each spasming toe over and over.

Between shrill shrieks of laughter, Irene could only nod furiously in desperation, her mind overwhelmed by agony. She had learned a brutal, inescapable lesson about her pampered arrogance at the hands - or rather the sharpened nails - of Aminah and Nayla.

Aminah took her time tormenting every inch of Irene's helpless bare soles. She alternated between raking her sharpened nails in slow, precise strokes and light feather brushes that seared like fire across Irene's sensitive skin. The combination was sheer torturous ecstasy for Aminah.

"AHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAAAA! NOOOHOHOHOHOO!" Irene shrieked and convulsed, desperately trying to pull her feet inward with no success.

"Let's quantify this ticklish agony shall we?" Nayla purred, leaning down toward Irene's gaped, giggling mouth. "On a scale of 1 to 100, how ticklish are those chubby little toes of yours right now?"

"N-N-NIHIHIHIHINETYYYYY!" Irene's toes involuntarily flexed and curled from Aminah's precision nail-dragging between each one.

Nayla raised an eyebrow. "Oh? And those tender arches?"

"OHOHOHO GAHAHAHAD! ONE...ONE HUHUNDRED!" Irene thrashed her head back against the sarcophagus wildly as the feather brushed her arches.

"What about those ticklish heels?" Aminah chimed in, lightly scratching her nails along the soft pads.

"AAAAAAHHHHHHH! EIHHHHIHIHIHIGHTY FIHHHHIHIHIVE!"

Nayla nodded with satisfaction. "Good, you're being fully honest about your intense ticklish suffering. Now then, I want you to promise us, no more sandals for the rest of your pampered vacation here!"

"YEHEHEHES! I PROHOHOMISE!" Irene's laughter reached a fevered peak as the dual nail/feather torture concentrated on her arches again. "I'LL HOHOHONESTLY NEVER WEAR THEM AGAIN!"

"Excellent. How long were you planning to spend here?" Aminah demanded, not letting up on the tickling.

"T-TWOHOHOHOO WEHEHEEKS!" Irene's entire body convulsed against her restraints.

Nayla smirked. "Well then rich girl, since you admit your wrongdoing, here's what's going to happen. Every morning for those two weeks, you'll come visit us here before enjoying the rest of your day."

"WHAHAHAHAT?! NOHOHOHO!" Irene's eyes went wide with dismay.

"Oh yes! So we can give you a thorough tickle torture refresher course on humility," Aminah cackled darkly. "Lest you start slipping back into your arrogant, entitled ways!"

Nayla rejoined her torment by dragging the feather along Irene's scrunched, quivering soles slowly. "Perhaps you'll start going barefoot everywhere after enough of these punishing sessions!"

Irene could only shriek and tremor with frantic laughter at the prospect of such relentless ticklish torment every single day. Her privileged toes wouldn't know a moment's peace or relief for the duration of her once luxurious vacation.

Aminah showed no signs of relenting, her gnarled fingertips continuing their agonizingly slow torture up and down Irene's splayed soles. She paid particular focus to the wriggling toes, tracing every ridge and crevice with light, feathery scratches.

"AHHHHHEEEEEE! NOHOHOHO MOHOHOHORE! I'M TICKLIHIHIHISH! MY FEEHEHEHEET!"

Irene's laughter echoed through the small room, her entire body convulsing wildly against her restraints. Aminah responded only by dragging her nails along the tender arches in meandering patterns, drinking in Irene's desperate shrieks.

"PLEHEHEHEHEASEEE! I'MSOOHOHOSORRY! I'LLBEHEHEHEBETTER! I PROMISE!"

The tormenting exploration continued across Irene's squirming feet - the impossibly ticklish arches, the sensitive heel curves, the frantic little toes. With each light stroke of Aminah's calloused nails, Irene descended deeper into hysterics.

"NOHOHOHO! NAHAHAHAT THEHEHEHERE! I'MTOOHOTICKLIHUHUHUISH!"

Throughout the torment, Nayla watched with a wicked grin, biding her time until Irene's gales of laughter finally subsided to hoarse giggling. She leaned in with a predatory gleam in her eye.

"You claim to be sorry for your arrogance, and that your feet are unbearably ticklish..." Nayla reached out to lightly drag a fingernail along Irene's arches, eliciting a pitiful squeak. "Well then, allow me to explain exactly how you'll be apologizing and proving your ticklishness for the next two weeks."

She allowed a tense pause as Aminah's tickling continued, savoring Irene's flinches and gurgles of laughter.

"Each morning before you're allowed to explore the city, you'll be reporting here to our humble shop," Nayla finally continued, her tone taking on a dangerous edge. "Where my mother and I will systematically torture those pathetic soles of yours in new, inventive ways."

Irene's eyes went wide with horror as the words sank in, loud snorts punctuating Nayla's sinister promise. The young woman grinned wickedly.

"Unless of course you'd prefer to keep those sandals on and your feet shielded from our tickle torture?" She tsked dismissively at Irene's furious headshake. "I thought not. Now tell me again - what will you be wearing during your Sunset Shores Island vacation to ensure those ticklish toes remain exposed?"

"B-B-BAREHEHEHEFEET! NUHUHUHOSANDALS!" Irene finally managed between guffawing giggles as Aminah's nails continued skating along her arches.

"Excellent," Nayla purred. "One final question before we call it a night, girl..."

She leaned down until her lips were nearly grazing Irene's twitching toes, causing the helpless woman to flinch in ticklish anticipation.

"Tell me and my mother exactly what you think is going to happen to those insolent soles every morning you report here."

Irene didn't need to be asked twice, blurting out the words between hysterical bouts of shrieking laughter.

"Y-YOHOHOU'REGONNATICKLEHEHEHETHEM! TORTUHUHUREANDTICKLETICKLEMYBAHAHAHAREFEET!"

"That's what I thought," Nayla grinned victoriously, pulling back to allow her mother's merciless nail attack to continue undisturbed.

Irene's desperate giggling and thrashing echoed late into the humid Sunset Shores Island night as her torment seemed to stretch on endlessly. But this was apenas the start of her promised "attitude adjustment"...

--

After what felt like an eternity of laughter-induced torment, Aminah and Nayla finally relented in their tickle assault on Irene's bare feet. The quills and sharpened nails were set aside as they moved to open the stone lid of the sarcophagus.

Irene was a trembling, sweat-soaked mess as they pulled her spent body free from its restraints. Her feet were throbbing and tingling with lingering ticklish torment. When her wobbly legs hit the floor, they immediately buckled beneath her.

"P-Please...no more...I c-can't..." Irene sank to her knees, too weakened and overstimulated to even stand properly.

Aminah looked down at the pitiful rich girl kneeling before them, chest heaving. "Oh, we're quite done with you for today. But you'll be seeing us again bright and early tomorrow morning."

Irene's head snapped up, eyes wide. "Wh-What? No! You can't..."

"We can and we will," Nayla stated firmly. "Unless you want to risk walking out of here still barefoot?"

Irene glanced over at her pristine white sandals sitting on the table. She opened her mouth to beg for them.

"Don't even ask," Aminah cut her off sternly. "You'll go without those torture devices for your punishment."

Crestfallen, Irene's gaze dropped back to her own sore, wiggling feet.

"In fact, say it," Nayla commanded with a cruel smile. "Tell us what will happen to those ticklish soles every morning for the next two weeks while you're our 'guest' here."

Irene swallowed hard, feeling fresh tingling prickles dance across her naked arches already. "Th-They'll be...tickled. Tormented and tormented until I'm screaming..."

"That's right," Aminah purred with sadistic delight. "This is your penance for being such an arrogant, entitled bitch to me."

With tremendous effort, Irene managed to pull herself up to shaky feet, trembling like a newborn fawn. She cast one last imploring look at her sandals before resigning herself to the fact that her punishing reeducation was only just beginning.

Slowly, cringing with each step, the tearful, barefoot Irene made her way out of the fortune teller's back chambers and toward the front exit. A brutal two weeks of agonizing tickle torture awaited her...all thanks to her own spoiled arrogance.

--
Irene shuffled back to the hotel on shaky, bare feet, feeling utterly drained and humiliated. Her poor soles were red and raw from the vicious tickle torture, tingling with lingering sensitivity.

As she slipped into the suite she shared with her husband Daniel, he immediately looked up from the book he was reading with a concerned expression.

"Babe? Where have you been all afternoon? I was starting to get worr-" His eyes went wide as he took in her disheveled appearance. "What happened to you?"

For a long moment Irene simply stood there, trembling slightly, unable to meet his gaze. Then the words came tumbling out in a rush.

"That gypsy woman...from the airport? Her name is Aminah. She runs this...this fortune telling shop near here. With her daughter Nayla."

Irene launched into an increasingly hysterical retelling of the day's events - how Nayla had lured her to Aminah's shady establishment, the ominous fortune reading about tickles and feet, being gassed unconscious and waking up trapped in that torturous sarcophagus.

"A-And then they...they took off my new sandals!" Irene gulped, wiggling her bare toes reflexively. "Stripped my feet completely bare. I'd have to come back every morning for...for more lessons!"

She shuddered violently, haunted eyes finally meeting Daniel's shocked gaze. "They...they tickled me, Danny. All over my feet, with their nails and feathers and everything! Mercilessly, until I was screaming and sobbing for mercy!"

Irene's voice cracked with emotion. "Those sick freaks made me promise that I'd return each day before doing anything else. For the whole two weeks until we leave Sunset Shores Island!"

Daniel was struck speechless for a long moment, mouth hanging open as he processed the outrageous story his normally proud, arrogant wife was shakily relating. Finally, he managed one burning question.

"They...actually tickled your bare feet? Like, REALLY tickled them?" His eyes dropped to her wiggling pink soles as if seeing them for the first time. "Those cute little tongue-pretzels are your most ticklish spot in the whole world, aren't they?"

Irene flushed crimson but nodded miserably. "They made me admit it. And Nayla...she said they're going to spend two weeks reacquainting themselves with my bare soles!"

Fresh tears sprang to her eyes at the mere thought. Daniel could only gape in stunned silence as it sank in - his hopelessly ticklish, pampered wife at the sadistic mercy of those depraved women for their entire vacation...

"They...they said it was an attitude adjustment," Irene mumbled, face flushed. "For how cruel I was. Aminah made me admit I was ticklish, that my feet were the most ticklish part..."

Daniel's brows knit in concern as she haltingly recounted Aminah and Nayla's ruthless tickle torture session, lavished mercilessly upon her helpless bare feet with nails, feathers and callous interrogation. He could see her trembling just recalling the sheer ticklish hell they'd subjected her to.

Finally, Irene revealed the humiliating promise she'd been forced to make - returning to their shop for more "lessons" each morning for the remainder of their trip.

"They...they made me agree to it," she whispered, staring down at her reddened, inflamed soles. "To keep coming back and letting them torment my ticklish feet over and over..."

Daniel was aghast. Tentatively, he reached out to caress her foot - and was shocked when Irene flinched violently away, nearly tumbling off the bed with a hysterical gigglefit.

"Whoa, hey!" He held up his hands placatingly. "So they really did it, huh? They actually tickled the most ticklish feet in the world into total submission?"

Irene could only nod miserably, curling into a protective ball on top of the covers. Those two demented women had broken her spirit completely, reducing her to a sniveling, giggling wreck by exploiting her ultimately ticklish weakness.

"I can't do it again! Oh god, the incessant tickling, the way they mocked me...their nails raking up and down my smooth ticklish arches!" She whimpered, fresh tears streaking down her cheeks. "How can they do this to me? It's...it's completely bad!"

Though struggling to process the unthinkable situation, Daniel ultimately rose and gently pulled his trembling wife into a comforting embrace, stroking her hair soothingly.

"Shh...it's okay, honey. It's okay. We'll get out of this, I promise. Maybe if we leave immediately, get on the next flight home..."

But Irene interrupted by shaking her head against his chest, seemingly already resigned to her inescapable torment.

"They'd only find us again...and it would be even worse for disobeying their demands," she mumbled in hopeless despondency. "No, the only way is to just...endure their sick adjustments each morning. For the full two weeks I committed to..."

With that admission, Irene pulled back and lifted her vulnerable bare soles directly toward Daniel's face - as if further emphasizing the point to her stunned, sympathetic husband. Her previously pampered feet that she'd flaunted with such vanity and privilege now seemed to embody her total degradation and subjugation to her vengeful gypsy captors.

"Just look at them," Irene murmured bitterly, flexing her wiggling toes with humiliated resignation. "Always covered in the latest designer sandals and soft pedicured to perfection. But now...now they're helpless little targets, defenseless against Aminah and Nayla's nails whenever they wish."

A shudder ran through her body as she lowered her feet, sinking to her knees in abject surrender.

"I have to face it, Daniel," she whispered in hollow acceptance of her fate. "For the next two weeks, whenever those gypsies command it...these bare soles shall be theirs to torment and make laugh until they're satisfied. My wealth and privilege means nothing anymore. Just...just the hysterics and humiliation of a bound, ticklish woman at their mercy..."

As Irene hugged her knees, Daniel could only watch helplessly, heart aching for his wife's unavoidable degradation to come over the next fourteen hours mornings. The proud, pampered princess whose feet he'd once doted over was already little more than a shattered, tear-stained sacrifice - utterly humbled and primed for the ruthless torment to resume first thing tomorrow on her defenseless bare soles.

And she had to keep going back for more...

--

The next morning, Irene emerged from the hotel suite with tired, puffy eyes and shuffling steps. She was clad simply in a tank top and cutoff jean shorts, her bare feet slapping quietly against the tile.

Daniel followed close behind, watching his wife's slow, almost reluctant gait with a sympathetic frown. He knew where they were headed - per Irene's harrowing retelling the previous night, she'd promised to return to that sadistic fortune teller's lair before doing anything else on their vacation.

Sure enough, Irene led them through the winding Sunset Shores Islandn streets until the nondescript shop front came into view. She hesitated at the entrance, chewing her lip nervously.

Before either of them could knock, the beaded curtain was pushed aside and Nayla stepped out, eyeing the couple appraisingly.

"Well, well...the princess actually showed up as promised," she purred in a tone of mock surprise. "I was half-expecting you to try and be a no-show."

Irene flushed and dropped her gaze submissively. Daniel put a protective arm around her shoulders.

"What exactly did you have planned for my wife this morning?" he asked warily.

Nayla laughed lightly. "Don't worry, you won't be involved. Just a continuation of Irene's...lessons on humility and attitude adjustment."

She smirked down at Irene's bare feet meaningfully. The poor woman's toes clenched self-consciously against the hot pavement.

"You'll have to wait outside, lover boy. This is private girl time."

Daniel opened his mouth to protest, but Irene stopped him with a tremulous head shake. Stepping forward, she turned to give him a tight hug, trying not to let her anxiety and dread show on her face.

"I'll be okay," she whispered, pulling back to offer him a feeble smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Just...wait for me, alright?"

Steeling himself, Daniel nodded and watched as Irene turned to follow Nayla through the beaded curtain. The young woman cast him a wicked grin over her shoulder before disappearing inside.

The shop was just as dimly lit and oppressive as Irene remembered. Aminah stood beside the sarcophagus, arms crossed with an imperious look on her heavily made-up face.

"Welcome back, princess," she intoned mockingly. "Did those pampered little feets of yours enjoy their final night of rest?"

Irene swallowed hard, trying not to look at the sinister stone coffin and failing. Her toes curled anxiously against the tiled floor.

"N-No ma'am..." she mumbled, head bowed in submission.

Aminah's cruel smile widened as Nayla reappeared at her side. "Good. Then let's get started, shall we? Time for your first full day of lessons!"

With a snap of the old woman's fingers, Nayla moved to pin Irene's arms behind her back in a vice-like grip. Though she whimpered plaintively, the doomed woman knew better than to struggle as they marched her across the room...

Irene's breath caught in her throat as she entered the dimly lit room and saw Aminah standing imperiously beside the ominous stone sarcophagus. Even worse, the old woman was holding Irene's brand new white sandals, running her fingers almost lovingly over the straps.

"You...you have my sandals," Irene stammered out, rooted to the spot.

Aminah's lip curled in a cruel smirk. "Of course, princess. I wouldn't dream of tickle torturing those tender soles with these pretty little foot-traps still shielding them."

She tossed the sandals disdainfully onto a nearby table with a clatter. Irene flinched instinctively.

"Now then..." Aminah's dark eyes bored into hers. "Into the sarcophagus with you. Don't make this more difficult than it needs to be."

"No, please!" Irene instantly began babbling, backing up until she bumped into Nayla's restraining grip. "I've learned my lesson, I swear! I'll be good, h-humble, I promise!"

But Aminah was having none of it. With a curt nod, she signaled for Nayla to start frogmarching the trembling, barefoot woman towards the sarcophagus. Despite her frantic pleading, Irene was effortlessly hoisted up and slid into the narrow stone coffin, just like the previous day.

As the tough leather straps were rebuckled over her limbs, rendering her helplessly immobile once more, tears of despair pricked at Irene's eyes. This was really happening again...

Nayla and Aminah stepped around to the foot of the sarcophagus, leering down at Irene's defenseless, wriggling toes and soft soles with undisguised glee.

"So, princess..." Aminah began in a tone of mocking curiosity. "Does your devoted husband Daniel have any inkling of the ticklish plight those pampered little feets of yours will be suffering today?"

Irene flushed, giving a tiny shake of her head. "Yes...I didn tell him the details."

"Well, we'll have to make sure he gets an earful of your helpless laughter, won't we?" Aminah cackled darkly.

Nayla cupped Irene's bare foot in her hands, making the confined woman tense up in dread. A wicked grin spread across the young woman's face as she caressed the tender arch.

"I imagine these pudgy piggies are already missing the security of those strappy sandals, hmm? Too bad - they'll be completely nude and vulnerable all day long while we lavish some...extra thorough tickle torture on them!"

She lightly dragged a sharpened nail along the wrinkled ball of Irene's foot. The helpless woman bit her lip to stifle a whimper, toes clenching reflexively.

"S-Stop...please, not my feet!" she begged hoarsely.

"Answer the question, princess," Nayla crooned, making her nail drag slowly up towards Irene's wiggling toes. "Tell us what it feels like having these pretty feets forced bare and available for our torment!"

Irene squeezed her eyes shut, mind struggling to form a response through the growing tingles of impending ticklish doom spreading up from her sensitive soles.

"It...it feels awful!" she burst out shakily. "My feet are so naked and defenseless without my sandals! P-Please, you can't keep doing this to me, it's too much!"

But Aminah and Nayla had apenas heard Irene's frantic words over their own cackling laughter as the tickle torture began anew...

--

Two weeks later, Irene's form was practically boneless as she stumbled out of Aminah's fortune teller shop for the final time. Her cheeks were stained with dried tear tracks, eyes puffy and bleary.

Every inch of her bare feet felt utterly raw - the soles chafed pink, the tender arches and wiggling toes well-acquainted with agony after the relentless, merciless tickling they'd endured daily.

Behind her, Nayla and Aminah watched with sadistic smirks, the old woman idly dangling Irene's rumpled white sandals from one hand.

"Have a safe flight back home, princess!" Aminah called out in mocking tones. "Don't forget to write us about buying some proper footwear for those ticklish little piggies!"

Irene flinched at the sound of the woman's voice, toes clenching involuntarily against the hot pavement. The simple act of walking sent sparks of lingering sensation up from her abused soles.

As she slowly made her way back to the hotel's lobby, she found Daniel anxiously awaiting her arrival, rising from a couch with clear relief on his face.

"Irene! Thank god, I was starting to-" His eyes went wide as he took in her trembling, haggard state. "Babe, what did they do to you this time?"

Sinking mutely onto a plush chair, Irene simply stuck out her bare feet in response, wiggling her vulgar toes. Daniel inhaled sharply at the sight of the reddened, almost burnished skin.

"They...tickled you. Again." It wasn't a question.

Irene could only nod numbly, a few stray tears leaking down her cheeks. Daniel reached out as if to take her foot in his hands, then seemed to think better of it and pulled back.

"For two straight weeks," his wife mumbled hoarsely. "Every single day, more and more and more tickling without mercy. Feathers, nails, bristles, you name it..."

She shuddered violently at the memories, subconsciously curling her toes inward.

"I...I can't feel my feet anymore, Danny. They've been tortured to the point of numbness."

Daniel could only gape in muted horror. He'd never seen Irene look so utterly broken, hollowed out in the wake of her literally ticklish ordeal.

As they embraced in the bustling hotel lobby, his only thoughts were of getting them on the soonest flight back home as possible - far away from Sunset Shores Island, from the depraved clutches of Aminah and Nayla.

Away from anything that could ever bring those tormenting ticklish sensations back to Irene's poor, defenseless little feet.

Back at Aminah's fortune telling shop, mother and daughter were savoring their satisfying victory over the formerly entitled Irene.

Nayla sauntered over to the ancient stone sarcophagus, idly trailing her fingers along the rough surface where Irene's lithe form had been so thoroughly subjugated and tormented.

"You really went all out on the princess these past two weeks, Mother," she remarked with an impressed grin. "By the end, I don't think I'd ever seen daintier little feet so utterly stroked-out and tickle-ravaged!"

Aminah chuckled darkly, tossing Irene's crumpled designer sandals onto the table with a clatter. "The arrogant brat deserved every last ounce of torment. Maybe now she'll think twice before judging others so harshly."

She moved to join Nayla beside the sarcophagus, running an admiring hand along the leather restraints that had held Irene's trim body completely immobile.

"Did you see how she could barely walk when we released her? Her piggies were trembling and twitching with every step!" Aminah cackled. "I'll wager she won't be able to even look at a pair of strappy sandals without flinching for months to come!"

"If ever," Nayla agreed with a dark smile. She traced the pads of her fingers over the indents in the stone where Irene's wiggling toes had futilely flexed and curled during her merciless tickle sessions.

"These pudgy little spaces will be forever etched in my memory. Remember how she'd scrunch up her toes each time we focused our full attention on them? Driving her utterly hysterical!"

The two women dissolved into malicious giggle-fits at the thought, relishing every agonizing detail of Irene's tortured, ticklish downfall.

"That'll teach the insufferable princess to talk down her exceptional nose at common folk like us," Aminah managed once she'd caught her breath. "If she's wise, she'll steer well clear of Sunset Shores Island from now on. Her feet surely can't withstand another round of what we put them through!"

The fortune teller reached out to affectionately pat the sarcophagus lid, a wicked gleam entering her eye.

"Then again...I certainly wouldn't object to refreshing her ticklish memories someday, should she have the misfortune of crossing our path again..."

Nayla grinned eagerly, already picturing the look of sheer panic and horror that would creep over Irene's pretty features once the traumatized woman realized her bare soles' ticklish torment was being cruelly revisited.

"I don't doubt we could find...all sorts of creative new torments to lavish upon those helpless little feets," she purred darkly. "Places we didn't even scratch - literally - over these past two weeks of focus!"

Mother and daughter turned to exchange one final devious look, their raucous laughter echoing through the dimly lit chamber where the pampered, ticklish princess had learned such harsh humbling lessons.

Perhaps they would get their chance to impart further humiliating teachings on poor Irene someday after all...

--

It wasn't until they were back in the serene confines of their luxury penthouse suite that Daniel felt Irene finally beginning to unwind slightly from her traumatic Sunset Shores Islandn experience. The poor woman had been practically catatonic during their long flight home, lost in haunting memories.

As Irene sank into the plush living room sofa with a weary sigh, she instinctively curled her bare feet up beneath her. Even the soft caress of the expensive fabric against her abused soles made her wince slightly.

"You hanging in there, babe?" Daniel asked gently, settling onto the couch beside her and wrapping a comforting arm around her shoulders. "I know that was...a lot to go through."

Irene shuddered and nodded mutely. Only when her husband tenderly brushed some stray hairs from her face did she find her voice.

"I've never felt so powerless and humiliated in all my life," she confessed in a small, fragile tone. "Having my biggest weakness so ruthlessly exploited and tortured day after day..."

She trailed off, solemn gaze dropping to study her feet almost guiltily - the toes still bearing the faintest pink indents from the sarcophagus restraints digging in.

"These stupid things have been my Achilles heel since I was a little girl," Irene mumbled. "I don't know what made me think I could hide that shameful truth from those...those sadistic women."

Daniel pulled her close, hushing her self-deprecations with a tender kiss on the temple. They stayed like that for several long minutes, Irene trembling intermittently as the demons slowly released their grip.

She was jarred fully back to the present by the familiar chime of an incoming email on her phone. Frowning, Irene extricated herself from Daniel's embrace just long enough to scoop up the device from the coffee table.

The frown deepened into a look of abject horror as she read the sender's name. Her hand flew to cover her mouth, muffling a tiny gasp of dismay.

"Irene? What's wrong, who is it?" Daniel moved closer in concern, peering over her shoulder at the bright screen.

"I-It's...it's from Nayla," Irene choked out, voice thick. "That twisted fortune teller's daughter who helped torment me!"

Fighting back a surge of nausea, she tapped open the new message with shaking fingers. It contained just three words in the body:

"We aren't finished."

Attached, however, was a video file simply labeled "Memories.mp4." Sharing an apprehensive look with her husband, Irene steeled herself and tapped to download the attachment.

The video began with shaky handheld footage of the outside of Aminah's shop. The camera angle soon swiveled to focus on the beaded curtain, where a series of unmistakable squeals and hysterical giggles could be heard emanating from within.

"Oh god..." Irene paled, instinctively curling her toes as she recognized her own riotous laughter, muffled but carrying clearly even through the walls. "Is this...? They recorded my..."

But Daniel simply watched in horrified silence as the footage continued, Irene's manic giggling intensifying into shrieking peals of unbridled mirth punctuated by desperate pleas and pathetic snorting guffaws.

By the time the minute-long clip faded to black, Irene was rigid and staring at the phone screen with tears streaking down her blotchy cheeks. Daniel held her trembling hands tightly, at an utter loss for words.

The final insult arrived a moment later in the form of another email from Nayla - a single line of text glowing on the screen:

"Join us for another unforgettable session first thing tomorrow morning, princess? We miss those pretty little feet of yours..."

--

Against her husband's frantic protestations, Irene found herself on the first flight back to Sunset Shores Island the following morning. Some twisted, morbid fascination compelled her to face her tormentors one final time.

As she approached the nondescript shopfront bearing Aminah's faded sign, her steps slowed until she was standing frozen a few yards away. Irene's heart pounded in her ears, palms slick, toes clenching anxiously inside her simple flats.

Before she could make up her mind about fleeing, the beaded curtain swept aside to reveal Nayla's grinning face.

"Well, well! The delightfully ticklish princess returns!" The young woman's voice was a mixture of mock surprise and dark delight. "We starting to think you'd be too chicken to show after that little video teaser."

Irene swallowed hard as Nayla's eyes dropped to openly leer at her wiggling feet.

"I...I'm not afraid of you monsters," she managed, proud facade cracking slightly. "This...this is just unfinished business."

"Oh, I'll say!" came Aminah's cackling tones from within the dim shop. The old fortune teller swept aside the curtain fully, eyeing Irene up and down in a way that made her shudder.

"And what unfinished business would that be, princess? Are those pampered little feets of yours just aching for another round of exquisite tickle torture?"

Aminah's mocking words ignited a long-buried spark of defiance in Irene. Squaring her shoulders, she boldly stepped up to the shop's entrance, right into the two women's leering faces.

"You think I enjoyed what you did to me? The humiliation, the suffering?" she spat, a hint of her former arrogance creeping back in. "You haven't even scratched the surface of my ticklishness!"

Aminah raised an imperious eyebrow even as a cruel smile quirked the corners of her garish red lips. "Is that so? Well then...by all means, princess - come inside and give us a demonstration, why don't you?"

She cast a sidelong look at her daughter, the gleam in her dark eyes nothing short of wicked. "I do believe this foolish child is asking us to lavish some...remedial tickle tuition upon her."

Nayla's grin widened to match her mother's sadistic mirth as she reached out to seize Irene's wrist in a vice-like grip.

"In that case, let's get started immediately! We have two whole weeks of harsh lessons to re-impart!"

Despite herself, Irene's toes curled instinctively inside her flats at the very notion as Nayla mercilessly dragged her into the shadowy depths of Aminah's inner sanctum. The fortune teller followed closely behind, looking very much like the spider who'd just ensnared a fresh, plump fly.

"Don't worry, princess..." she crooned with naked malice. "We'll have those pathetic, defenseless feets of yours screaming for mercy and giggling until they're raw and spent before long!"

As the portentous curtain fell closed behind them, the first of Irene's hapless laughter could already be heard bubbling forth, echoing off the sinister stone walls and floors.

She may have been seeking closure - but this naive, ticklish fool had merely delivered herself directly back into the bristling clutches of her brutal tormentors...and the worst was yet to come.

Once they were situated in the dimly lit back room, Aminah made a big show of meticulously laying out her tarot cards and other mystical accoutrements on the small round table. Irene stood stiffly nearby, every instinct screaming at her to flee.

"Shall we have another peek into your future, princess?" the old fortuneteller purred, shuffling the deck with a flourish. "See what cruel ticklish trials await those pretty little pudgy piggies of yours this time?"

Irene flushed, unable to meet Aminah's mocking gaze as she drew card after card - all depicting bizarre medieval tickle torture scenarios. The Hanged Man bound at the ankles, the Wheel of Fortune equipped with feathers, that sort of thing.

Finally, Aminah set the spread aside with a theatrical sigh. "Oh yes, I'm afraid the cards hold nothing but merciless tickle torment in store for you yet again, child. Your feet shall be Our bare, squirming playthings!"

She leaned back, scrutinizing Irene intently. "Speaking of...whatever became of those scandalous little foot-billboards you wore upon our first meeting? You know, the strappy sandal numbers that left your soles so tantalizingly accessible?"

Irene squirmed, flexing her feet inside her simple flats self-consciously. "I, uhh...I haven't worn anything like that since-"

"Since we re-educated those pathetic hoofies as to their supreme ticklish vulnerability?" Nayla cut in with a dark chuckle from nearby. She strode over to circle around behind Irene, making the hackles on the back of the taller woman's neck prickle.

"Is that why you've chosen to sheathe them in these modest little slippers today?" Nayla goaded in a voice dripping with faux pity. "Hoping to protect them from our...attentions?"

Aminah laughed outright at that. "Oh, princess - surely you didn't think a bit of fabric could save your delicate soles from their inevitable undoing, did you?"

Stooping, she grasped the ankle of Irene's right foot and gave it an insistent tug. The flat shoe slipped off with ease, leaving her foot bare. Nayla quickly relieved her of the other flat as well, leaving Irene's wiggling toes completely nude and defenseless in their midst.

"There now..." Aminah crooned, feasting her eyes on the writhing pink digits. "Isn't that better? We can't have any pesky barriers in place for what we have planned!"

Irene made a futile attempt to twist her feet out of their grips, a panicked whine escaping her lips. "Please...you don't have to do this! My feet are NOT that ticklish, I swear!"

"Is that so?" Nayla quirked an eyebrow, callously digging her nails into the trembling arch until her captive let out an involuntary squeal of mirth. "Then I'm sure you won't mind us...verifying that little assertion, hmmm?"

Aminah was already producing a collection of feathers and bristles and other torturous tickle implements, grinning like the true sadist she was. Irene squeezed her eyes shut against the onslaught she knew was coming.

"In fact, princess - why don't you tell us where precisely your most ticklish spots ARE located?" the old woman prompted in sugary tones. "Save us some time in finding them ourselves!"

But Irene only whimpered piteously, clenching her toes against the cruel caresses Nayla was already lavishing on her quivering soles. It was clear she wouldn't - or couldn't - bring herself to admit the awful truth about her hypersensitive undoing out loud.

"No?" Aminah sighed in mocking disappointment. "Very well then...I suppose we'll simply have to thoroughly re-map every last giggle-button on those poor ticklish feets!"

With that ominous pronouncement, she leaned in with the feather duster grasped mercilessly in her withered hand. Irene's desperate shrieks and peals of hysterical laughter filled the small room once more as her harsh re-education began anew.

"Tickle tickle, princess!" Nayla sing-songed, dragging her nails teasingly up the wrinkled arch of Irene's left foot. "We're just getting reacquainted with these cute little soles!"

Irene convulsed with giggles, writhing helplessly as Aminah set to work simultaneously attacking her other foot with the feather. "N-Nohohoho! St-stop it you freaks!"

"Freaks, are we?" Aminah raised an eyebrow, lips quirking. "That's awfully rude language for someone who came crawling back of their own volition."

She lightly brushed the feather over Irene's wiggling toes, making her yelp and recoil. "What was it you said before? That we 'hadn't even scratched the surface' of your ticklishness?"

On the other foot, Nayla's nails closed in on the ball, making Irene squeal through her residual laughter. "Y-Yeah well, I didn't...I didn't actually WANT you to st-start scratching it again!"

Aminah tutted mock-chidingly. "Now now, let's not be flip with us after we went to so much effort preparing a refresher course, hmm? I'd hate to have to spend extra...vigorous attention on these pudgy piggies."

To emphasize her point, she swirled the plume directly over Irene's scrunched up toes, making her throw her head back with raucous howls. Nayla matched the tempo on the other foot, watching with sadistic glee.

"Speaking of which," the younger woman piped up once Irene's shrieks subsided to breathless panting. "You never did get around to answering Mother's question from before!"

She seized Irene's foot firmly, letting her nails graze the tender underside. "Where exactly ARE your most ticklish spots located, princess? We wouldn't want to accidentally neglect any of your sensitive areas, after all!"

Irene swallowed hard, squirming uncomfortably under her captor's dark gazes. Part of her defiant bravado was already crumbling in the face of their ruthless torments, no matter her earlier bluster.

"You already know where my worst spots are," she muttered sourly. "You spent two whole weeks mapping out every damn inch!"

"Tsk tsk, such language!" Aminah leaned in until her heavily powdered face was mere inches from Irene's own. "Is that any way for a pampered little princess to speak to her elders? I think we need to spend some...quality time working on your overall attitude again."

With a deft flick of her wrist, she raked the feather up the defenseless sole before them, drawing forth a fresh peal of hysterics from Irene. As she squirmed and thrashed against their grips, tears of mirthful torment sprang to her eyes.

"No no no STAHAHAHAHAP!!" she howled desperately. "Not my feeEEEET AGAIN! I CAHAHAHAHAN'T!!"

But Aminah and Nayla were already cackling along with her frenzied giggling, drinks in the helpless squirming of her abused feetin their cruel clutches. They had no intentions of relenting anytimefor soon.

Perhaps the true "remedial tickle tuition" this foolish, ticklish woman needed would finally take root this time around...

"Ah c'mon princess, just admit it already!" Nayla chided in a teasing lilt as she dug her nails into the squirming arch of Irene's bare foot. "These pudgy little piggies are ticklish as all get-out, aren't they?"

"N-Nohohohoo!!" Irene gasped out between hysterical giggles, tears of over-stimulated mirth already leaking from the corners of her tightly squeezed eyes. "I'm n-not tick...lihihish!!"

The blatant lie only made Aminah cackle derisively as she dragged the feather plume along the helpless woman's quivering toes.

"Is that so? Then what's with all the mirthful squealing, hmm?" she sneered. "Sounds an awful lot like those pampered feetsies are singing a very ticklish song to me, child!"

Irene shook her head frantically, desperate whimpers and snorts bubbling up from her throat as Aminah simultaneously stippled the feather's soft fronds directly into her vulnerable heel. The conflicting sensations of soft brushing and sharp prickles made her slim body writhe and contort uncontrollably.

"N-N-Nohohoho, pleheeheehease stop! I c-can't...I can't t-take it!!" she managed to blubber out between breathless peals of laughter.

"You most certainly CAN take it," Nayla retorted with mock sternness, "And you WILL, until you're an utterly spent, ticklish mess just like the last time!"

Trailing her claws up from Irene's deliriously twitching toes to the wrinkled balls of her foot, she tutted chidingly. "Now, be a good ticklish little princess and tell Aunties Nayla and Aminah - where are you most ticklish? Your dinky tootsies? Your fuzzy footsies? Don't be shy!"

Irene's only response was a wordless, squealing howl of mirthful torment as Aminah chose that moment to glide the very tip of the feather along the sculpted curve of her arches. She threw her head back, thick dark locks whipping to and fro as wave after wave of unbearable ticklish sensations crashed through her helplessly bared soles.

"St...STAHAHAHAHAAHAP!!" the agonized woman finally shrieked, chest heaving violently. "MYMYMYTOHOHOHOESTOOOOOEEEESAARETHEMOOOHOHOSTTIHHIHICKLISH!!"

Aminah and Nayla immediately ceased their ministrations, twin grins of sadistic satisfaction cresting their features as they savored Irene's ragged, gulping breaths.

"Come on princess, out with it!" Nayla goaded, dragging her nails along the wrinkled arch of Irene's left foot. "Where're those most ticklish sweet spots we need to focus on?"

Irene threw her head back, peals of hapless laughter already bubbling up. "N-Nohoho! I w-won't...tell youhuhuhu!"

"Have it your way." The young woman shrugged, swapping her ruthless digits for a soft feather plume. She set about gliding the feathery tendrils maddeningly along the twitching ridges of Irene's soles.

"AHAHAHAHEEEHEEEHEE!!" Irene's shrieks reached a piercing new pitch as her ultra-sensitive nerves were mercilessly activated. "ST-STAHAHAP! NOHOHOT THE FEAHAHATHERS!!"

Aminah watched the spectacle with undisguised glee, idly rolling a couple of knobby brushes between her calloused hands.

"You heard the girl, child - no more lollygagging! Find those critical tickle zones and exploit them!"

"You got it, Mother!" Nayla replied with a wicked grin. Dropping the feather, she used both hands to seize Irene's ankles in a bruising grip, bending the whimpering woman's legs at the knee until her soles were fully exposed.

Irene instantly knew what was coming and broke out in a cold sweat of dread. "Oh god...p-please no, not the-AAAIIIEEEEEE!!"

Her desperate wail wascut off as Nayla attacked with the bristle brushes, scrubbing and scritching the wiry bristles up and down her helpless arches. Irene's back arched clean off the floor, toes curling and flexing wildly as every inch of her tender soles was ruthlessly overwhelmed.

"STAHAHAHAP! NOHOHOHO MOHOHOHORE!!" Animalistic shrieks of hysterics poured from her gasping mouth.

Aminah cackled, watching the agonizing scene play out with great amusement. "There's those sweet soles you claimed weren't very ticklish, eh princess? Every last wiggle-worm seems to disagree!"

Irene could only howl and shake her head frantically, chest heaving. The ferocious brushing went on and on until her flushed, perspiring face was frozen in a mask of mirthful torment.

Finally, Nayla relented, rocking back on her heels to admire her handiwork - Irene splayed out bonelessly, sucking deep gulps of air that quickly devolved into weak giggling fits. The poor woman's feet twitched in residual shockwaves of ticklish sensation.

"Well?" Aminah prompted gruffly after allowing her captive a brief respite. "Let's try this again, shall we? Seeing as you're already mid-tickle frenzy..."

She leaned down until her face was level with Irene's, dark eyes glinting cruelly. "Where. Are. Your. Most. Ticklish. Spots?"

Irene whimpered, lower lip quivering. She cast a desperate, haunted look between her two tormentors before finally giving a tiny, miserable nod of surrender.

"M...My toes," she gasped out in a barely audible rasp. "A-And the arches, and..." Her chest hitched in a rueful giggle as Nayla wiggled her fingers meaningfully. "And the heels! They're...the worst!"

Satisfied smirks spread across Aminah and Nayla's faces at the confession.

"Excellent, princess!" Aminah crooned with dark delight. "Now we're getting somewhere..."

She snapped her withered fingers and Nayla instantly set to work, scribbling her nails and bristles over every last one of those critical weak spots. Irene's piteous whinnies and hyena-like howls of helpless, ticklish torment echoed through the shadowy shop once more as her harsh re-education continued in earnest...

"Well, well!" Aminah purred triumphantly. "I do believe this pampered little princess has FINALLY started learning her lesson about ticklish humility!"

Reaching down, she used one long, painted nail to lightly skate along the spasming pads of Irene's wiggling toes - eliciting one final, pitiful squeak of mirthful torment.

"Though it seems more...REMEDIAL instruction is still required before this arrogant behavior is fully corrected."

Nayla grinned eagerly, already brandishing a fresh array of insidious tickle devices. "Then I suppose we'd better double our efforts, Mother! These poor excuse-ited soles aren't going to de-flate and de-prive themselves!"

Irene could only whimper weakly in dread, every last ounce of defiance and resistance crushed beneath the debilitating weight of her own hyper-ticklishness. Her feet - her TOES - were the ultimate exposed weakness...

...And for the next two torturously mirthful weeks, Aminah and Nayla would mercilessly re-educate the arrogant princess on that inescapable truth over...and over...and over again.

--

Two weeks had passed, and Irene was finally on her way home from the hellish "vacation" in Sunset Shores Island. Every single morning for the last 14 days, she had been dragged to Aminah's fortune teller shop, stripped of her sandals, and secured inside that torturous sarcophagus.

For hours on end, the sadistic gypsy women would meticulously work over every last inch of her bare soles - brushing, raking nails, swirling feathers. Irene's hysterical laughter and desperate pleas for mercy would echo through the chamber as those tender arches and wiggling toes were stimulated into realms of ticklish delirium.

By the end of each "lesson", Irene would be a sobbing, cackling wreck, her feet glistening with perspiration and tears of frantic mirth. She'd be allowed a temporary reprieve, but forced to spend the rest of the day bare-soled as constant reminders of her debasing punishment.

Through it all, Aminah and Nayla never showed an ounce of mercy or relented in their torment. If anything, Irene's hysterical giggle-fits and frenzied squirming only seemed to spur them on to more creative, crueler methods of tickling.

"We must eradicate every last remnant of that foul arrogance," Aminah had declared time and again as Irene howled with laughter. "Leave no corner of those precious soles untickled!"

By the time their taxi arrived at the airport, Irene could barely walk due to the constant stimulation and overstimulation her feet had endured. She winced with every step, feeling phantom tingles shoot through her arches.

Beside her, Daniel looked on sympathetically, gently rubbing his wife's shoulders. He knew there was nothing he could say that would erase the embarrassing, oft-humiliating memories of those last two weeks.

All he could do was be there for Irene as she slowly tried to regain her dignity and pride. Though he suspected it would be a long time before she fully recovered from her "attitude adjustments" at the hands of those devious gypsies...

"God, I can't wait to get home and put all this behind us," Irene sighed wearily as they shuffled through the airport terminal. Every step sent little aftershock tingles up her abused soles.

Daniel gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "Don't worry, babe. Once we're back home, those witches can't get to you anymore."

Irene snorted humorlessly. "Yeah, except they're probably haunting my dreams for the next decade at least." She shuddered involuntarily. "Every time I close my eyes, I can still feel those damn feathers and brushes tickling my feet mercilessly!"

"I'm so sorry you had to go through all that," Daniel murmured, pulling her close. "If I could go back and prevent you from stepping foot in that cursed shop..."

"Not your fault," Irene insisted, though the bitterness was clear in her tone. "I'm the idiot who insulted those psychos in the first place."

They lapsed into silence for a few moments as they continued the trek to their gate. Irene unconsciously curled and uncurled her still-tingling toes.

"You know, part of me almost wishes I'd just ignored that crazy old bat's so-called 'fortunes'," she mused darkly. "But no, I had to run my damn mouth and prove how much smarter I thought I was than some gypsy."

Daniel cringed at the self-loathing in his wife's voice. "Irene, don't beat yourself up like this..."

"How can I not?" she demanded, suddenly rounding on him with red-rimmed eyes. "Those sadistic bitches destroyed what little pride and dignity I had left! All because of my big mouth and obstinate attitude."

Irene had to take a shuddering breath to regain her composure. When she spoke again, her voice was barely above a whisper.

"I'm never going to be able to wear sandals again without having traumatic flashbacks to having my bare feet tickled within an inch of sanity..."

The sheer brokenness in her tone made Daniel's heart clench. He pulled Irene into a fierce embrace, stroking her hair soothingly.

"It'll be okay," he murmured, more for his own sake than hers. "We'll get through this together, I promise. And maybe...maybe one day you'll even be able to laugh about it?"

Irene simply shook her head, allowing a few rogue tears to streak down her cheeks and dampen Daniel's shirt. She knew the memories of those torturous tickle sessions would haunt her forever - an eternal reminder of her hard-learned lessons in humility and respect.


END

 

[Bluedash9317]

Nice story. Some great descriptive teasing.

Bravo!

 

[primetime]

I like this!!! This is definitely a story you love to write and think about. You have really good descriptions and I am glad to see Irene get what she deserves! You can't treat people rudely because you just never know what could happen to you. She reminds me of a "milder" version of a character of mine. I think you know who. hahahaha

Congratulations! Good job. I enjoyed this.

 

[putri_nila]

I like this!!! This is definitely a story you love to write and think about. You have really good descriptions and I am glad to see Irene get what she deserves! You can't treat people rudely because you just never know what could happen to you. She reminds me of a "milder" version of a character of mine. I think you know who. hahahaha

Congratulations! Good job. I enjoyed this.

Thank you, Prime ... What a big big compliment.
What an honor to receive a good comment from the greatest story writer of TMF and the writer of the greatest and the longest series of Deputy.
Somehow i really miss Mrs. Priscilla Montenegro 🙂 waiting her return to the series 😛
Again, thanks for your kindest words 🙂

Nice story. Some great descriptive teasing.

Bravo!

Thank you, Dear.
That's a compliment for me.

 

[Titillating 2.0]

Fantastic story! Thanks so much for sharing, awesome progression/buildup— quite the torturous mother/daughter duo. Here’s hoping Irene learned her lesson haha

 

[putri_nila]

Fantastic story! Thanks so much for sharing, awesome progression/buildup— quite the torturous mother/daughter duo. Here’s hoping Irene learned her lesson haha

Many thanks of your kind words, my friend.