Volsung1
1st Level Red Feather
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This story is related to "Tommy goes to an Art Museum"
http://www.tickletheater.com/showthread.php?t=83043
Tilly needed some extra money for Christmas, which was coming up in a couple of months. She was also looking forward to the much needed break from school that was, to her, rather timely as well. She scanned the college kiosk board for some job opportunities. The usual job descriptions were all tacked up on the board which was made of cork, and rather haphazardly, she thought. Several of the ads literally overlapped and you had to really ‘dig’ to find something interesting. She giggled to herself at the irony and kept looking. Just then something caught her eye. The note was old, because it was buried deep behind newer posts. Looking back, that alone should have warned her… but Tilly was desperate. She scanned the note, read the words “Art Museum” and proceeded to remove the ad, trying not to take all the overlapping notes with it.
The next day she was on the doorstep of the Art Museum. She went in quickly. It was freezing outside. She hunted around, and eventually found the business office. She went in and told the receptionist about the advertisement.
“Oh yes, please do have a seat…” the receptionist paused and glanced up over the rim of her glasses, expecting a reply.
“Tilly… McTeal.” Tilly quickly answered.”
“Yes, Ms. McTeal… the director will be with you shortly.”
A minute or two passed. Tilly sat and tried to guess what the job was… maybe it was going to be some night-guard sort of thing.
The directors door then suddenly opened and a rather tall man motioned for her to come in. She got up and walked over. He waved her to sit in the chair that was placed in front of the large maplewood desk and proceeded to take some paperwork from the receptionist. The man walked back into the room and closed the door behind him. He didn’t sit behind the desk, but leaned on the top, near a corner. He glanced at the receptionist’s notes.
“I’m sure you’re wondering…Ms McTeal, what this is all about.” His face immediately brightened as he smiled down at her.
“To cut to the chase… we need help with an exhibit.”
Tilly blinked. Not the answer she was expecting… certainly.
“What sort of… help?”
“Do you take care of your feet?” The question came out of left field… it seemed almost nonsensical.
“Why, I suppose so… I’m not… fanatical, about it, if that’s what you mean…”
“May I? I should like to see.”
Tilly scrunched back into the chair, as though she were trying to escape from something.
“What does that have to do with the exhibit?” She asked, trying to deflect the situation.
“The exhibit is one of those, multimedia sorts of things… much more than just looking at a painting…” The man grew more and more excited as he spoke, almost as though he had come up with the idea himself. “it’s a three dimensional representation, but it’s more than that even… we are looking for interaction, not something just typically passive.” He could see by the look on her face that he was becoming successful… kinda leading her in with the concept.
“Are you ticklish? You know, on your feet?”
It was almost as though the question, instantly nullified the wonderfully descriptive sales pitch she had just heard.
“Oh I don’t know… I haven’t had a lot of… experience.”
“Quite all right,” He interjected. “that’s not really necessary. It would just add another layer to the dynamics is all. We do insist that your foot be of model quality though.”
Tilly really wanted this job and so she found herself untying her red shoes for him, slipping them off and rolling down her socks. Not in a million years did she think that wiggling her toes barefoot in some guys office was going to lead her into landing a job. She caught herself blushing. It was almost like she had undressed for him. She knew it wasn’t rational, but that didn’t change the reddish tint that was slowly spreading over her face. There was an uncomfortable pause in the conversation as he scrutinized her bare feet.
“Quite cute, about a seven?”
It was slightly unnerving to her that he should be able to nail her shoe size so instantly.
“Soles please…” Tilly bit her bottom lips and placed her hands under her calves, then pulled up her legs, to display her smooth, pinkish soles. There was another pregnant pause in the conversation…
“Yes Ms… um, Teal… you may begin today… immediately if you wish.”
Tilly dropped her legs, and put her shoes and socks back on in record time.
“The artist will assist you from here.”
————
The artist was an older woman, in her mid thirties. They were both standing in front of a blank, white canvas. In the center was a hole, like somebody had cut out the middle of the picture.
“This is where your bare foot will go through.” Tilly nodded. It seemed rather straight forward all right. Then the artist led Tilly to a back door. It opened into a room that was on the other side of the wall on which the picture of the hole hung. There was a chair, a small glass of water on a table top nearby… a book about art… not much else. The artist motioned for her to sit…
“We’re gonna need a taller chair I think. She quickly left the room and returned with a taller chair. Tilly scrunched down into the chair a raised her leg, then proceeded to slip her foot through the hole.
“This will take an adjustment. Please hold still and try not to move too much.”
The artist left the room… moments later, Tilly felt her shoe slip off. It was a weird feeling… not being able to see. Then she felt her sock roll off. Weird indeed… knowing that your foot, and only your foot was in another room entirely. Tilly felt something on her bare foot, it instinctively made her flinch. Repeated motions… like wiping something off your hands, but it was wiping something off her foot instead. She giggled and wished it would stop. Eventually, it did.
The artist reappeared back in the room with Tilly.
“Just a few more adjustments to make, and we’ll be all set!” She tightened the insulated band around her ankle. “We want a tight fit here. After all, we don’t want you pulling out now, do we…” She smiled down at Tilly and for the first time, Tilly had second thoughts. What happens it she found out that she was in fact, ticklish on her bare feet? Maybe even… REALLY ticklish! But it was too late now. Tilly moaned to herself. What a fix she had gotten herself in.
“Well, that’s just about it.” The artist rubbed her hands together, in a villainous way. Tilly thought, that if the older woman had a handlebar mustache, she would be twirling it right now. It was really quite funny, in a way.
“There is a microphone, on either side of the wall… if we need it. Otherwise… just be yourself and have fun with it… “ The artist was already walking out of the little secret room. “… and good luck!” She closed the door and Tilly was truly for the first time… alone. Alone with her foot stuck in a hole in the wall… Her BARE foot, exposed, stuck in the wall. How long would she have to stay like this? She reminded herself that she needed the money. It was a shallow excuse and she felt stupid, that this was the best argument she could come up with.
Tilly glanced at her wristwatch and noted that the art museum would be opening soon. She shifted in her chair, trying to get as comfortable as she could. She leaned over and picked up the art book that was just within reach… interesting, lots of pictures… nice. Then she got to the last page…
Somebody had scribbled something on the last page. It was sloppy, like somebody was in a hurry to write it. There were also little blotches of wrinkled areas all over the page, like someone had cried on it.
“If you are reading this… then it is already too late, and I’m sorry. They told you it was just an experimental art exhibit didn’t they… the bastards! I hope you're not ticklish… They have held me here against my will… well, at first they did… but the more I was tickled (and yes, you WILL be tickled intensely) the more I liked it. I know it sounds strange. Over time I developed a foot/tickle fetish… in fact, now I can’t even orgasm unless my foot is being tickled. They had to let me go eventually, because I was having too many orgasms. I blame the jerks who run this insane asylum… I wish I could help you…”
Tilly’s eyes practically popped out of her head. This was beyond belief! What a sucker she was! She sniffed… well, maybe she wouldn’t be ticklish on her feet after all… just maybe… She slowly put the art book back on the table and closed her eyes.
She heard the noise of a crowd of people. Then it trickled off… she heard some girls giggling, but this too passed… Throughout she made an effort to remain perfectly still. Perhaps if her foot didn’t look real, then they would leave it alone.
Suddenly a new light fulled the hidden room. It was’t especially bright, but it was enough that Tilly instantly looked up at the source. There, in the corner near the ceiling, was a television monitor, and it had just come on. She couldn’t help but to stare in disbelief. It was clearly a security camera, there were many in the building, positioned to watch the people come and go, making sure that nobody would touch the various works of art. On one wall, she saw her own foot, silhouetted in the middle of a blank canvas. It didn’t look real. She wiggled her toes. The foot on the canvas wiggled its toes. Crap!
Then it finally happened. Tilly saw a young man with headphones on wander into the room. He was about her age. He walked up and began to inspect her picture. He took several steps closer, towards the painting. Tilly was horrified. She forced herself to keep absolutely still. But it wasn’t working… He was so close that she imagined that she could feel his gentle breath on her bare sole. She saw him look around the room, like he was going to do something he shouldn’t. Tilly swallowed hard. “
“Please god no…”
Tilly wasn’t sure if she really wanted to be looking at this, it almost made it worse to do so. She saw him lift a finger and place it against the ball of her naked foot. It felt neutral, but there was a pressure there… just barely perceptible. Then he moved his fingertip slowly down the center of her sole, right down the middle, towards her heel. Tilly clamped her hands over her mouth, fighting back a giggle. It tingled… itched… tickled. The man then walked a few paces back, looked over the articles on the table, took one and walked back to the picture.
He then proceeded to finger tickle and scratch various areas on her sole. Tilly giggled and waved her arms around in the air in an absolute panic. She couldn’t make the feeling stop. She involuntarily flexed her trapped foot, as much as she could, trying to ward off the tickling intruder. But it was simply useless. She laughed… not really the expression she wanted to display right now, but she couldn’t help it. The man’s fingertips danced and skittered all over the bottom of her foot. Tilly laughed harder and harder. It was making her crazy… and the man, horny.
“HAHA HAHA!!! STOP!!! HAHA PLEASE!!!” She laughed. Tilly had to fight just to get the words out.
“Coochie, choocie coooo!” The man replied.
She could just barely hear him over her own cackling laughter. Tilly looked at the screen and saw that he was now holding a feather in his hand.
“OH, NO! HAHAHA!!! NOT THE FEATHER!!!”
She could feel the light, stiff plume, slowly moving up and down her sole.
“Coochie, choocie coooo! I’m gonna tickle you!”
Tilly laughed maniacally. This seemed far worse than the finger tickling. The man was ruthless and efficient as he moved the feather all around her ticklish foot bottom. Sometimes moving it fast, mostly moving it slow. The passage of time, distorted. For Tilly, it seemed like the tickling went on, and on, and on.
She laughed until her sides ached. She laughed until she could laugh no more. The man dropped the feather and walked away…
-------
To give credit where credit is due... The GIF is of course, by our very own member... Anitickle
http://www.tickletheater.com/attachment.php?attachmentid=366015&d=1544035938
http://www.tickletheater.com/showthread.php?t=83043
Tilly needed some extra money for Christmas, which was coming up in a couple of months. She was also looking forward to the much needed break from school that was, to her, rather timely as well. She scanned the college kiosk board for some job opportunities. The usual job descriptions were all tacked up on the board which was made of cork, and rather haphazardly, she thought. Several of the ads literally overlapped and you had to really ‘dig’ to find something interesting. She giggled to herself at the irony and kept looking. Just then something caught her eye. The note was old, because it was buried deep behind newer posts. Looking back, that alone should have warned her… but Tilly was desperate. She scanned the note, read the words “Art Museum” and proceeded to remove the ad, trying not to take all the overlapping notes with it.
The next day she was on the doorstep of the Art Museum. She went in quickly. It was freezing outside. She hunted around, and eventually found the business office. She went in and told the receptionist about the advertisement.
“Oh yes, please do have a seat…” the receptionist paused and glanced up over the rim of her glasses, expecting a reply.
“Tilly… McTeal.” Tilly quickly answered.”
“Yes, Ms. McTeal… the director will be with you shortly.”
A minute or two passed. Tilly sat and tried to guess what the job was… maybe it was going to be some night-guard sort of thing.
The directors door then suddenly opened and a rather tall man motioned for her to come in. She got up and walked over. He waved her to sit in the chair that was placed in front of the large maplewood desk and proceeded to take some paperwork from the receptionist. The man walked back into the room and closed the door behind him. He didn’t sit behind the desk, but leaned on the top, near a corner. He glanced at the receptionist’s notes.
“I’m sure you’re wondering…Ms McTeal, what this is all about.” His face immediately brightened as he smiled down at her.
“To cut to the chase… we need help with an exhibit.”
Tilly blinked. Not the answer she was expecting… certainly.
“What sort of… help?”
“Do you take care of your feet?” The question came out of left field… it seemed almost nonsensical.
“Why, I suppose so… I’m not… fanatical, about it, if that’s what you mean…”
“May I? I should like to see.”
Tilly scrunched back into the chair, as though she were trying to escape from something.
“What does that have to do with the exhibit?” She asked, trying to deflect the situation.
“The exhibit is one of those, multimedia sorts of things… much more than just looking at a painting…” The man grew more and more excited as he spoke, almost as though he had come up with the idea himself. “it’s a three dimensional representation, but it’s more than that even… we are looking for interaction, not something just typically passive.” He could see by the look on her face that he was becoming successful… kinda leading her in with the concept.
“Are you ticklish? You know, on your feet?”
It was almost as though the question, instantly nullified the wonderfully descriptive sales pitch she had just heard.
“Oh I don’t know… I haven’t had a lot of… experience.”
“Quite all right,” He interjected. “that’s not really necessary. It would just add another layer to the dynamics is all. We do insist that your foot be of model quality though.”
Tilly really wanted this job and so she found herself untying her red shoes for him, slipping them off and rolling down her socks. Not in a million years did she think that wiggling her toes barefoot in some guys office was going to lead her into landing a job. She caught herself blushing. It was almost like she had undressed for him. She knew it wasn’t rational, but that didn’t change the reddish tint that was slowly spreading over her face. There was an uncomfortable pause in the conversation as he scrutinized her bare feet.
“Quite cute, about a seven?”
It was slightly unnerving to her that he should be able to nail her shoe size so instantly.
“Soles please…” Tilly bit her bottom lips and placed her hands under her calves, then pulled up her legs, to display her smooth, pinkish soles. There was another pregnant pause in the conversation…
“Yes Ms… um, Teal… you may begin today… immediately if you wish.”
Tilly dropped her legs, and put her shoes and socks back on in record time.
“The artist will assist you from here.”
————
The artist was an older woman, in her mid thirties. They were both standing in front of a blank, white canvas. In the center was a hole, like somebody had cut out the middle of the picture.
“This is where your bare foot will go through.” Tilly nodded. It seemed rather straight forward all right. Then the artist led Tilly to a back door. It opened into a room that was on the other side of the wall on which the picture of the hole hung. There was a chair, a small glass of water on a table top nearby… a book about art… not much else. The artist motioned for her to sit…
“We’re gonna need a taller chair I think. She quickly left the room and returned with a taller chair. Tilly scrunched down into the chair a raised her leg, then proceeded to slip her foot through the hole.
“This will take an adjustment. Please hold still and try not to move too much.”
The artist left the room… moments later, Tilly felt her shoe slip off. It was a weird feeling… not being able to see. Then she felt her sock roll off. Weird indeed… knowing that your foot, and only your foot was in another room entirely. Tilly felt something on her bare foot, it instinctively made her flinch. Repeated motions… like wiping something off your hands, but it was wiping something off her foot instead. She giggled and wished it would stop. Eventually, it did.
The artist reappeared back in the room with Tilly.
“Just a few more adjustments to make, and we’ll be all set!” She tightened the insulated band around her ankle. “We want a tight fit here. After all, we don’t want you pulling out now, do we…” She smiled down at Tilly and for the first time, Tilly had second thoughts. What happens it she found out that she was in fact, ticklish on her bare feet? Maybe even… REALLY ticklish! But it was too late now. Tilly moaned to herself. What a fix she had gotten herself in.
“Well, that’s just about it.” The artist rubbed her hands together, in a villainous way. Tilly thought, that if the older woman had a handlebar mustache, she would be twirling it right now. It was really quite funny, in a way.
“There is a microphone, on either side of the wall… if we need it. Otherwise… just be yourself and have fun with it… “ The artist was already walking out of the little secret room. “… and good luck!” She closed the door and Tilly was truly for the first time… alone. Alone with her foot stuck in a hole in the wall… Her BARE foot, exposed, stuck in the wall. How long would she have to stay like this? She reminded herself that she needed the money. It was a shallow excuse and she felt stupid, that this was the best argument she could come up with.
Tilly glanced at her wristwatch and noted that the art museum would be opening soon. She shifted in her chair, trying to get as comfortable as she could. She leaned over and picked up the art book that was just within reach… interesting, lots of pictures… nice. Then she got to the last page…
Somebody had scribbled something on the last page. It was sloppy, like somebody was in a hurry to write it. There were also little blotches of wrinkled areas all over the page, like someone had cried on it.
“If you are reading this… then it is already too late, and I’m sorry. They told you it was just an experimental art exhibit didn’t they… the bastards! I hope you're not ticklish… They have held me here against my will… well, at first they did… but the more I was tickled (and yes, you WILL be tickled intensely) the more I liked it. I know it sounds strange. Over time I developed a foot/tickle fetish… in fact, now I can’t even orgasm unless my foot is being tickled. They had to let me go eventually, because I was having too many orgasms. I blame the jerks who run this insane asylum… I wish I could help you…”
Tilly’s eyes practically popped out of her head. This was beyond belief! What a sucker she was! She sniffed… well, maybe she wouldn’t be ticklish on her feet after all… just maybe… She slowly put the art book back on the table and closed her eyes.
She heard the noise of a crowd of people. Then it trickled off… she heard some girls giggling, but this too passed… Throughout she made an effort to remain perfectly still. Perhaps if her foot didn’t look real, then they would leave it alone.
Suddenly a new light fulled the hidden room. It was’t especially bright, but it was enough that Tilly instantly looked up at the source. There, in the corner near the ceiling, was a television monitor, and it had just come on. She couldn’t help but to stare in disbelief. It was clearly a security camera, there were many in the building, positioned to watch the people come and go, making sure that nobody would touch the various works of art. On one wall, she saw her own foot, silhouetted in the middle of a blank canvas. It didn’t look real. She wiggled her toes. The foot on the canvas wiggled its toes. Crap!
Then it finally happened. Tilly saw a young man with headphones on wander into the room. He was about her age. He walked up and began to inspect her picture. He took several steps closer, towards the painting. Tilly was horrified. She forced herself to keep absolutely still. But it wasn’t working… He was so close that she imagined that she could feel his gentle breath on her bare sole. She saw him look around the room, like he was going to do something he shouldn’t. Tilly swallowed hard. “
“Please god no…”
Tilly wasn’t sure if she really wanted to be looking at this, it almost made it worse to do so. She saw him lift a finger and place it against the ball of her naked foot. It felt neutral, but there was a pressure there… just barely perceptible. Then he moved his fingertip slowly down the center of her sole, right down the middle, towards her heel. Tilly clamped her hands over her mouth, fighting back a giggle. It tingled… itched… tickled. The man then walked a few paces back, looked over the articles on the table, took one and walked back to the picture.
He then proceeded to finger tickle and scratch various areas on her sole. Tilly giggled and waved her arms around in the air in an absolute panic. She couldn’t make the feeling stop. She involuntarily flexed her trapped foot, as much as she could, trying to ward off the tickling intruder. But it was simply useless. She laughed… not really the expression she wanted to display right now, but she couldn’t help it. The man’s fingertips danced and skittered all over the bottom of her foot. Tilly laughed harder and harder. It was making her crazy… and the man, horny.
“HAHA HAHA!!! STOP!!! HAHA PLEASE!!!” She laughed. Tilly had to fight just to get the words out.
“Coochie, choocie coooo!” The man replied.
She could just barely hear him over her own cackling laughter. Tilly looked at the screen and saw that he was now holding a feather in his hand.
“OH, NO! HAHAHA!!! NOT THE FEATHER!!!”
She could feel the light, stiff plume, slowly moving up and down her sole.
“Coochie, choocie coooo! I’m gonna tickle you!”
Tilly laughed maniacally. This seemed far worse than the finger tickling. The man was ruthless and efficient as he moved the feather all around her ticklish foot bottom. Sometimes moving it fast, mostly moving it slow. The passage of time, distorted. For Tilly, it seemed like the tickling went on, and on, and on.
She laughed until her sides ached. She laughed until she could laugh no more. The man dropped the feather and walked away…
-------
To give credit where credit is due... The GIF is of course, by our very own member... Anitickle
http://www.tickletheater.com/attachment.php?attachmentid=366015&d=1544035938
Last edited:
