Scene 6: Torment
Gasps and murmurs of surprise swept through the crowd as all three women blushed deep red. They began calling for mercy and struggling furiously as the deputies approached, but no pleas or protests could stop the process. Their shoes were removed in turn, and then their stockings were tugged through the stocks and rolled off their feet. Now, where there had only been shoe bottoms visible before, three sets of pale bare soles faced the ogling crowd.
They’re like small people, Rebecca thought, regarding the women's bare feet, each with their own personalities. Martha’s smooth foot bottoms were solid and sensible, largeish and gently rectangular, with long, slender toes. Lizzy's wrinkled soles were a study in ovals; mid-sized, round, and soft as they tried to curl out of view. Agnes’ feet were a marvel, large and wide like a man’s, but expressive with an unexpectedly feminine touch for one so hard and tough.
The women were mortified, wheeling their feet frantically to try and hide them from view. The crowd hooted and clapped with appreciation at their frenzied efforts.
Martha’s embarrassment was quickly growing into resolve. She couldn’t begin to imagine how to recover from this; she only knew to endure for the moment. For her part, Lizzy was deeply uncomfortable, but acknowledged to herself that there was nothing she could do but ride this out. She couldn’t seem to stop her feet from squirming, but she tried to calm herself. One didn’t raise four children in this world and then fall apart from a little humiliation. Agnes was a sight to behold, muscles flexing and straining, pitting all of her strength and resolve against one of the few things in town sturdier than herself as her naked feet kicked in the air.
But the reverend wasn’t finished. At his signal, the deputies each took a nail and drove it into the top of the stocks directly between the women’s trapped ankles. At the sound of tapping, the women stopped their struggles and looked up in confusion.
“What nonsense is this?” Martha asked.
“I promised laughter,” the reverend replied, raising his voice to the crowd. “And laughter we shall have. There are three women among us you have wronged, and the council would have them made whole. Martha Whitcomb, Elizabeth Carter, and Agnes Thorne, the council’s final decree is for your toes to be tethered and your feet publicly tickled by those most harmed from your actions. Deputies, bind their toes! Abigail, Clara, Rebecca, you may approach.”
The stocked women exchanged incredulous glances as the deputies produced lengths of twine and began to wrap their great toes together. “This is indecent!” Martha screamed as her flailing feet were bound, pulled back, and anchored to the newly placed nail. Lizzie, to the crowd’s delight, began to yelp and laugh the minute the deputy touched her toes. Agnes provided her own entertainment, growling and thrashing wildly as a deputy struggled to bind her.
Finally the deputies stepped away, their work completed, leaving the soles of each Mother’s Circle leader tied securely in place behind them. The younger Circle members were handed stools from nearby stalls as they approached to ascend the stage. Rebecca set hers near Martha's feet, Clara near Lizzy’s, and a smiling Abigail smugly settled near Agnes’s feet as the blacksmith’s wife continued her struggles.
Lizzy was futilely tugging at her arms and legs as the young women approached. “Martha,” she said softly. “Martha?” Her friend looked over. “I'm not sure I can bear this bravely. I can't stand for my feet to be touched! I'm afraid I'll…”
“You may laugh, Lizzy, as may we all.” Martha’s voice faltered. “It will be a humiliation like no other. Our friends are out there watching. Our husbands, our children. Just bear it with what dignity you can.”
Her gaze shifted to Agnes, and Lizzy turned as well. The face of the powerful smith’s wife was a study in hate and fury, glaring daggers at Abigail as she approached. Her muscles flexed under her dress like braided rope cables as she struggled, but the oaken stocks held firm.
“Rebecca,” Martha turned to her tormentor as the young woman sat before her. “You could object to this. We could avoid this indignity.”
“The reverend feels otherwise, Mrs. Winthrop,” Rebecca replied. “The choice is not mine.”
“Rebecca, I ask you as a friend, please don’t tickle my…”
Martha’s calm plea was abruptly drowned out by Lizzy’s panicked begging. She snapped her gaze to her friend and then looked at Clara, who was leaning over, smiling, and busily beginning to work her nails over the screaming woman's trapped soles.
Lizzy was frantic. “Clara no! CLARA!!! You can’t do this! Clara please! Oh! Oh! OH!!! OH NO!!! Aiiii!!! HAHAHAHAHA!!!”
Abigail and Agnes looked at Lizzy as well, Agnes fuming in anger as her tormentor grinned evilly. “That will be you in a moment,” teased the reverend’s daughter, waggling her fingers in the air near the smith's wife's struggling feet.
“Well your dainty hands are unfit for any honest labor, prig, so do your worst!” Agnes spat to some cheers and catcalls from the crowd.
“Gladly,” Abigail said with relish, beginning to scribble her nails over Agnes's tethered soles.
Lizzy continued to yelp and scream as Rebecca turned back to Martha and raised up her fingers. Martha bit her bottom lip. “You should have listened,” Rebecca lamented as she began to stroke the leader’s long feet.
Rebecca’s first tickling touch drew a “BAH-ha!” from Martha as the Circle leader flinched, flexing her toes in irritation as the younger woman's nails traced a path down to her heels. She bit her lip again and threw her head back quietly, rocking side to side as the torment continued, toes wiggling frantically now as she fought for composure.
Rachel marveled at the change in Martha as she struggled to hold in her laughter. She looks so young, Rachel thought. I've never seen her really smile before. Martha began to bounce in her seat as helpless squeaks of mirth fought past her clenched jaw.
Of the three suffering women, Reverend Harper was most enjoying the burly smith's wife's struggles at his daughter’s hand. Her face had been contorted with fury when she spat her insult, but her aspect was quite different now with Abigail tickling her soles. Agnes's eyes had flown wide at the first gentle touch, and her scowl had been overcome with a strangled smile. Now she was thrashing wildly in the unforgiving restraints, grunting and struggling heroically to contain her hysterics as the crowd cheered his daughter on.
Lizzy was roaring with wild, high-pitched laughter now, pausing to beg only when she could steal a breath. Clara was laughing too as the beloved town mom utterly fell apart under her tickling fingers. The crowd was enthralled; even Lizzy's own children were laughing and pointing.
“Tickle-tickle-tickle,” Abigail teased as Agnes’s control began to slip. “Laugh for us, Agnes. You can't hold it in much longer!”
“NO!!!” Agnes screamed. There was nothing she could do. The young girl's tiny hands were relentless, digging and teasing across every inch of her soles. She could feel the laughter bubbling up, washing over her fury and frustration at the annoying pixie smiling down on her.
“Staaaahp!” she finally managed, a warble creeping into her voice. “Stop or I'll mmmmmm…”
“Stop or you'll what?” Abigail asked sweetly, teasing and probing. “Come on Agnes, you're almost there!” She ran her nails gently up and down the outsides of Agnes’s feet, trying a new trick. And the dam finally broke.
“OOHOHOHOHOHAHAHA!!! STOP! STOP YOU LITTLE OOWAHAAAHAHAHA!!!”
Agnes's collapse into helpless guffaws brought another cheer from the crowd. Now with two of the town’s leading mothers actively losing their wits, there was only one battle remaining.
“She still has her dignity but look at her toes!” a young girl yelled from the crowd, pointing at Martha's struggle. Rebecca had returned to digging her nails with some pressure into the Circle leader’s smooth arches, which seemed to be the tactic that tested her resolve the most dearly. As Martha fought valiantly to hold herself, whatever laughs she was suppressing were compelling her long toes to curl and dance like wild things.
“Rebecca! NO!!! Rebecca please stop!” she pleaded as her will began to waver. But even if Rebecca could hear her over the tormented roaring of Lizzy's and Agnes’s laughter, she paid no heed. The young girl simply looked Martha in the eye and tickled harder, pushing her to the edge.
“NO! I! WILL! NOT! Eeek!!! Eeeeek!!! EEEhehehEEEEK!!! PLEEEAASE!!!"
Martha's final resistance came as a series of short, panicked screams as her composure gave way. She began to buck helplessly and shake her head as if to negate the sensations that were besting her, but it was no use. Her screams became rich belly laughs as she threw back her head and succumbed to the overwhelming urges she'd been fighting so hard.
Rebecca laughed with her.
A new cheer went up as all three women were finally overcome. Their wild howls rang out and echoed across the square, drawing even bigger crowds to watch them thrash and struggle. For the agonizing minutes it lasted, the tickle torture of the Havenwood Mother’s Circle leaders was practically the town’s sole entertainment.
After a time, the reverend moved up and touched Rebecca, Clara, and Abigail on the shoulder, bidding them to stop. The laughter died down, and the three exhausted mothers slumped in their seats.
Giddy from the spectacle, the crowd offered a final enthusiastic round of applause and whistles. But they had one surprise left.
A deputy stepped out and placed a small metal pail under each of the mother’s feet as the young women finished tickling and took their bows. Feathers, spoons, and brushes peeked over the pails’ edges.
“The women will be here some hours longer,” Reverend Harper announced, “and God hates a time-waster. So dig out some pennies for yourselves and your children, and let me tell you about today's new fundraiser to benefit the town's widows!”
The end
