proud2tickle
TMF Expert
- Joined
- Feb 29, 2004
- Messages
- 502
- Points
- 18
This story was written after being inspired by the stockville story on here many years ago. Here is the intro:
The wooden confessional booth stood ominously at the center of the community center, its stocks gleaming under the fluorescent lights. James, the HOA president, adjusted his tie with a practiced ease, his fingers lingering on the knot as he surveyed the room. The air was thick with anticipation, the kind that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. He loved this part—the moment before the first confession, when the women’s nerves were raw, their defenses down. It was then that he could extract the secrets they so desperately tried to hide.
Wendy Berry was the first to step forward, her flip-flops slapping against the polished floor. She tossed her reddish-brown hair over her shoulder, her spunky demeanor intact despite the situation. But there was a flicker of unease in her eyes as she glanced at the stocks. “Alright, James,” she said, her voice a little too bright. “Let’s get this over with.”
James smiled, a slow, deliberate curve of his lips. “Of course, Wendy. You know the drill.” He gestured toward the stocks, and she hesitated for just a moment before placing her wrists into the restraints. The wooden frame closed around her ankles with a soft click, and James knelt before her, his fingers hovering over her size-seven feet.
He took his time, removing her flip-flops one by one, the sound of the straps sliding off her heels echoing in the quiet room. Wendy’s breath hitched as his fingers traced the arch of her foot, her toes curling involuntarily. “Ticklish, are we?” James murmured, his voice low and teasing.
Wendy let out a nervous laugh. “You know I am. Just get on with it.”
James didn’t rush. He picked up a feather, its delicate tip brushing against the sensitive skin of her sole. Wendy’s laughter bubbled up, unrestrained and high-pitched, as she squirmed in the stocks. “Stop! Please, I’ll talk!” she gasped between giggles.
James paused, the feather still poised. “Oh? And what do you have to confess, Wendy?”
Her cheeks flushed, and she glanced away. “Amber’s been stealing. I saw her at the grocery store last week.”
James’s smile widened. “Good girl,” he purred, rewarding her with a brief respite before the feather resumed its torment.
Amber Abrams was next, her boots clacking against the floor with every step. She crossed her arms over her chest, her black hair with blonde highlights framing her face like a shield. “This is ridiculous,” she snapped, her tone sharp as ever. “I’m not some criminal to be interrogated.”
James didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he knelt before her, his hands working at the laces of her boots. Amber’s jaw tightened, a faint tremor running through her as he peeled off her socks to reveal her size-ten feet. Her soles were soft, the skin slightly pink from the heat of her boots. James ran a finger along the arch, and Amber sucked in a sharp breath, her eyes widening.
“You’re more sensitive than I expected,” James murmured, his tone almost conversational. “Let’s see how long you can keep that tough exterior.”
Amber’s lips pressed into a thin line, but her resolve wavered as soon as he picked up the brush. The bristles danced across her soles, and she let out a strangled laugh, her body jerking against the stocks. “Stop! Stop it!” she demanded, though her voice lacked its usual bite.
James cocked his head, his gaze steady. “Tsk, tsk. You’re not in charge here, Amber. Tell me what I want to know, and this can end.”
Her chest heaved as she struggled to speak through her laughter. “Fine! Shania’s been stealing from the community garden. She’s been taking more than her share.”
James’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction. “See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?”
Shania Little entered the booth next, her chestnut brown hair cascading over her shoulders. She smiled, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “James,” she greeted, her voice warm but cautious.
He returned the smile, his hands already on her Adidas tennis shoes. “Shania. Let’s see what secrets you’ve been keeping.”
Her breath caught as he slipped off her shoes, revealing her soft, silky soles. James traced a finger along the curve, and Shania’s toes curled. “I-I don’t have anything to hide,” she stammered, though her voice trembled.
“We’ll see about that,” James replied, picking up a feather. The first stroke had her laughing uncontrollably, her body writhing in the stocks. “Tell me, Shania. Who’s been tampering with the HOA ballots?”
She shook her head, tears of laughter streaming down her face. “I don’t know! I swear!”
James increased the pressure, the feather moving faster. “Think hard, Shania. Who has something to gain?”
Between gasps, she managed to choke out, “Mindy! It’s Mindy! She’s been trying to sway the votes!”
He paused, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips. “Good. Very good.”
Mindy Tart entered, her blonde hair catching the light as she sauntered into the booth. “Alright, James,” she said, her voice loud and brash. “Let’s get this over with.”
James chuckled, his hands on her running shoes. “Oh, Mindy. I’ve been looking forward to this.” He peeled off her shoes and socks, revealing her size-eleven feet. Mindy’s cheeks flushed as he teased, “Such big feet. They must be so sensitive.”
She rolled her eyes, though her voice wavered. “Just get on with it.”
He obliged, his fingers skimming along her soles. Mindy’s laughter erupted, loud and unrestrained, as she thrashed in the stocks. “Stop! Please!” she begged, though her voice held a hint of amusement.
James leaned in, his tone softening. “Tell me, Mindy. Who’s been spreading rumors about Kimberly?”
Mindy’s laughter slowed, her breath coming in short gasps. “It was me,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “I was jealous of how perfect she is.”
James nodded, his expression unreadable. “Thank you for your honesty.”
Kimberly Maine was the final one to enter, her blonde hair falling in soft waves around her face. She was shy, her eyes downcast as she approached the stocks. “I didn’t do anything wrong,” she murmured, her voice barely audible.
James smiled gently, his hands on her tennis shoes. “I know, Kimberly. But sometimes, the truth needs a little coaxing.”
He removed her shoes, her size-ten feet exposed to the cool air. Kimberly’s breath hitched as his fingers brushed against her soles, her body trembling. “Please,” she whispered, her voice shaking. “I can’t—”
James picked up the brush, his touch light but deliberate. “Tell me, Kimberly. Who’s been stealing from the snack bar at the pool?”
Her laughter was soft, almost musical, as she squirmed in the stocks. “It’s Shania,” she admitted, her voice breaking. “She’s been taking money from the till.”
James’s eyes glinted with triumph. “Thank you, Kimberly. You’ve been very helpful.”
He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against her ear. “But I’m not done with you yet.”
Let me know what you think.
The wooden confessional booth stood ominously at the center of the community center, its stocks gleaming under the fluorescent lights. James, the HOA president, adjusted his tie with a practiced ease, his fingers lingering on the knot as he surveyed the room. The air was thick with anticipation, the kind that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. He loved this part—the moment before the first confession, when the women’s nerves were raw, their defenses down. It was then that he could extract the secrets they so desperately tried to hide.
Wendy Berry was the first to step forward, her flip-flops slapping against the polished floor. She tossed her reddish-brown hair over her shoulder, her spunky demeanor intact despite the situation. But there was a flicker of unease in her eyes as she glanced at the stocks. “Alright, James,” she said, her voice a little too bright. “Let’s get this over with.”
James smiled, a slow, deliberate curve of his lips. “Of course, Wendy. You know the drill.” He gestured toward the stocks, and she hesitated for just a moment before placing her wrists into the restraints. The wooden frame closed around her ankles with a soft click, and James knelt before her, his fingers hovering over her size-seven feet.
He took his time, removing her flip-flops one by one, the sound of the straps sliding off her heels echoing in the quiet room. Wendy’s breath hitched as his fingers traced the arch of her foot, her toes curling involuntarily. “Ticklish, are we?” James murmured, his voice low and teasing.
Wendy let out a nervous laugh. “You know I am. Just get on with it.”
James didn’t rush. He picked up a feather, its delicate tip brushing against the sensitive skin of her sole. Wendy’s laughter bubbled up, unrestrained and high-pitched, as she squirmed in the stocks. “Stop! Please, I’ll talk!” she gasped between giggles.
James paused, the feather still poised. “Oh? And what do you have to confess, Wendy?”
Her cheeks flushed, and she glanced away. “Amber’s been stealing. I saw her at the grocery store last week.”
James’s smile widened. “Good girl,” he purred, rewarding her with a brief respite before the feather resumed its torment.
Amber Abrams was next, her boots clacking against the floor with every step. She crossed her arms over her chest, her black hair with blonde highlights framing her face like a shield. “This is ridiculous,” she snapped, her tone sharp as ever. “I’m not some criminal to be interrogated.”
James didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he knelt before her, his hands working at the laces of her boots. Amber’s jaw tightened, a faint tremor running through her as he peeled off her socks to reveal her size-ten feet. Her soles were soft, the skin slightly pink from the heat of her boots. James ran a finger along the arch, and Amber sucked in a sharp breath, her eyes widening.
“You’re more sensitive than I expected,” James murmured, his tone almost conversational. “Let’s see how long you can keep that tough exterior.”
Amber’s lips pressed into a thin line, but her resolve wavered as soon as he picked up the brush. The bristles danced across her soles, and she let out a strangled laugh, her body jerking against the stocks. “Stop! Stop it!” she demanded, though her voice lacked its usual bite.
James cocked his head, his gaze steady. “Tsk, tsk. You’re not in charge here, Amber. Tell me what I want to know, and this can end.”
Her chest heaved as she struggled to speak through her laughter. “Fine! Shania’s been stealing from the community garden. She’s been taking more than her share.”
James’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction. “See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?”
Shania Little entered the booth next, her chestnut brown hair cascading over her shoulders. She smiled, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “James,” she greeted, her voice warm but cautious.
He returned the smile, his hands already on her Adidas tennis shoes. “Shania. Let’s see what secrets you’ve been keeping.”
Her breath caught as he slipped off her shoes, revealing her soft, silky soles. James traced a finger along the curve, and Shania’s toes curled. “I-I don’t have anything to hide,” she stammered, though her voice trembled.
“We’ll see about that,” James replied, picking up a feather. The first stroke had her laughing uncontrollably, her body writhing in the stocks. “Tell me, Shania. Who’s been tampering with the HOA ballots?”
She shook her head, tears of laughter streaming down her face. “I don’t know! I swear!”
James increased the pressure, the feather moving faster. “Think hard, Shania. Who has something to gain?”
Between gasps, she managed to choke out, “Mindy! It’s Mindy! She’s been trying to sway the votes!”
He paused, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips. “Good. Very good.”
Mindy Tart entered, her blonde hair catching the light as she sauntered into the booth. “Alright, James,” she said, her voice loud and brash. “Let’s get this over with.”
James chuckled, his hands on her running shoes. “Oh, Mindy. I’ve been looking forward to this.” He peeled off her shoes and socks, revealing her size-eleven feet. Mindy’s cheeks flushed as he teased, “Such big feet. They must be so sensitive.”
She rolled her eyes, though her voice wavered. “Just get on with it.”
He obliged, his fingers skimming along her soles. Mindy’s laughter erupted, loud and unrestrained, as she thrashed in the stocks. “Stop! Please!” she begged, though her voice held a hint of amusement.
James leaned in, his tone softening. “Tell me, Mindy. Who’s been spreading rumors about Kimberly?”
Mindy’s laughter slowed, her breath coming in short gasps. “It was me,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “I was jealous of how perfect she is.”
James nodded, his expression unreadable. “Thank you for your honesty.”
Kimberly Maine was the final one to enter, her blonde hair falling in soft waves around her face. She was shy, her eyes downcast as she approached the stocks. “I didn’t do anything wrong,” she murmured, her voice barely audible.
James smiled gently, his hands on her tennis shoes. “I know, Kimberly. But sometimes, the truth needs a little coaxing.”
He removed her shoes, her size-ten feet exposed to the cool air. Kimberly’s breath hitched as his fingers brushed against her soles, her body trembling. “Please,” she whispered, her voice shaking. “I can’t—”
James picked up the brush, his touch light but deliberate. “Tell me, Kimberly. Who’s been stealing from the snack bar at the pool?”
Her laughter was soft, almost musical, as she squirmed in the stocks. “It’s Shania,” she admitted, her voice breaking. “She’s been taking money from the till.”
James’s eyes glinted with triumph. “Thank you, Kimberly. You’ve been very helpful.”
He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against her ear. “But I’m not done with you yet.”
Let me know what you think.
