Persephone
2nd Level Red Feather
- Joined
- Sep 24, 2008
- Messages
- 1,480
- Points
- 38
"You're on in ten minutes Mrs. Boltmann," the intern politely reminded his boss, as he looked down at the clip board to make sure everything was in working order.
"Thanks Jim, I'll be out in a few. I just need to check my make-up," Amy smiled into the mirror, seeing the reflection of her newest intern standing behind her in the open dressing room doorway.
"No problem ma'am. I will make sure Mr. Holdings is almost ready too," Jim nodded and disappeared, closing the door politely.
Amy looked back at her reflection and sighed. Make-up worked miracles, as did the professional hair dresser who dolled up her hair and made it look completely perfect. But Amy knew the truth, beneath all this glitz and glam was a bitter, very lonely and recently divorced woman in her mid-thirties. She had no reason to look forward to going home, except to see her golden retriever, Maximus.
Home...it was so lonely ever since George had left her. Nothing but a note and an empty closet left in his wake. Unfortunately ever since the nasty break up Amy was slowly spiraling to a bad place of self-pity and loathing.
"No one will ever want me again...even George left me for his younger assistant," she mumbled to herself in a sad voice.
But no matter how depressed she felt about her life at the moment, at least she had a busy full time job to focus on and immerse herself in to momentarily forget her woes.
Standing up, the petite Amy adjusted her blouse and checked her hair once more and then walked from her dressing room towards the stage.
"Cameras ready and make sure the sound guy gets closer this time," the director was ordering the crew around as Amy appeared.
"Hey Amy, ready for tonight?" he smiled as she walked up to his side and stopped for a moment to view the crew getting ready.
"Aren't I always ready Ron?" she smiled and then walked up onto the stage and took her seat behind the immense glass table.
"Hi Amy, how are you feeling today?" her co-anchor asked as he took the seat next to her.
"As good as I can hope to feel Ted," she smiled sadly and adjusted the papers laying before her.
"Oh before I forget, they are changing your first story. They dropped the one about the school violence and instead are doing a live news-feed about some kind of criminal," Ted explained.
"What kind of criminal?" Amy asked in curiosity.
"I'm not sure really, the boss was kind of vague. Just read the teleprompter and I'm sure it will say everything you need to know," he responded.
Amy nodded as the direction shouted for it to be quiet on the set as the cameras turned on. Silently the director held up his fingers and counted down backwards from three. Finally he gave the signal they were live and the eight o'clock evening news began.
"Hi I'm Ted Holdings," he smiled. "And I'm Amy Boltmann. And this is the eight o'clock news."
The camera then focused on Amy as she looked into the teleprompter and smiled as she began to read the first story, "Our first story tonight is on the latest news about the the so called "feather burglar." So far over eight women have fallen victim to this serial burglar in the past seven months. No one knows his identity but any information on him should be reported to the police immediately. Now we are going live to the latest victim's house with our field-anchor, Antonia Sanchez."
As the news wrapped up at eight-thirty, Ted and Amy bid their audience a good and safe evening and then the show wrapped.
"Good job team," the director smiled as the cameramen began to shut everything down.
"Good job tonight," Ted smiled as he stood up and cracked his back. Amy grimaced, hating the sound of bones popping.
"Thanks. I can't believe they are searching for a guy called the feather burglar. What's so scary about a guy who ties you down and tickles you with a feather?" Amy chuckled, rolling her eyes.
"Well it must be serious if the cops are even making us report it on the news and not just in the local paper," Ted replied, taking a sip of water.
"Yeah I guess so," Amy shrugged, "Have a good night Ted."
With a small wave and smile, Amy stepped off the stage to go change in her dressing room and head home for another lonely evening with her television, Maximus, and a bowl of Ben-and-Jerry's.
Nestled beneath her favorite wool blanket, Amy held the remote in one hand, as her other hand rested on Maximus' head as he rested on the couch beside her, his head on her thigh and his eyes closed in content.
Amy flipped through the late night sitcoms and couldn't find anything good to watch. Switching the TV off she set the remote down onto the end table beside her empty ice cream bowl.
She felt too warm and comfortable to move from her spot on the big, squishy leather sofa. The fire was dying away and it was almost midnight anyway. Besides it wasn't like she had anyone to go upstairs and meet in the bedroom.
Amy sighed and snuggled down further into her blankets and closed her eyes for a good nights rest. At least tomorrow was Saturday, and she didn't have to work until Monday.
As Amy drifted off to sleep, plans of meeting her friends for a Saturday dinner and some cocktails floated around in her head and then she passed out on her couch.
The sound of running water was heard and it caused Amy to wake in surprise. Had she left the kitchen sink running? Oh crap! She tried to sit up to quickly go turn it off and clean up whatever mess was left but grunted as she couldn't move. Half in shock and still half way drowsy she shook her head and realized she wasn't even able to move at all.
“Aww did the running water wake you up? Sorry honey,” a deep voice chuckled to her left. Amy stifled a scream, as she realized a piece of duct tape was across her mouth, and muffled it.
Standing to her left was a man, clad all in black, and only his face was visible. He was handsome, probably in his early thirties with short dark hair and piercing dark eyes.
He was standing by her wet bar, filling up a popcorn sized bowl with steaming water. Why did he look so familiar? All of a sudden it dawned upon her who he was.
“Mmmpphh!” she grunted in terror and began to struggle in her bondage.
“Something to say? I just didn't want you to wake up and start screaming,” her captor explained for the gag. Gently he ripped the piece of tape from her mouth and she gasped in slight pain and adjusted her jaw.
“You...you're the feather burglar,” Amy whimpered out as she struggled in her bondage. The man turned off the water since the bowl was full and approached the couch where she lay helpless. He frowned down at her and shook his head, “No Mrs. Boltmann, I am not the feather burglar as you called me tonight on the news. That is actually an insult to my craft. I prefer to be called...” he paused in thought, “...the serial tickler.” He grinned as he sat down beside her helpless form.
“Comfortable?” he asked, surveying his work of the bondage. “I had to be careful because I didn't want you to wake up too soon.”
“Why are you doing this to me?” Amy whimpered, not liking his close contact.
“Because I've been watching you on the news for such a long time and had quite the little crush on you. So I figured I'd drop in and give you a personal visit. You know you are much prettier in person than you are on TV,” he chuckled, caressing her dark hair.
Amy grimaced again and tried to wiggle away from him. “You aren't going anywhere honey, not for a long time. We have a long weekend of fun planned ahead for us.”
“W...weekend?” Amy gasped out in horror, watching as smirked down at her, still stroking her hair.
“But of course,” he grinned, “I know all about you Mrs. Amy Boltmann. Recently divorced, living all alone, no close relatives living nearby. No one will miss you for a few days, believe me. Besides I am pretty good at reading people, and though you are smiling on TV you're eyes aren't and you seem lost and almost dead inside. But don't you worry,” he stroked her cheek fondly, “after this weekend you'll be all smiles.”
He stood up and began to walk down towards her feet, helplessly bound together side by side.
“So how do you feel in the bondage?” he asked with an amused smile.
“Hot...and I can't move an inch,” Amy whimpered.
While she had been knocked out, the intruder had rolled her up tightly in several wool blankets she had been nestled under. Then with the use of duct tape he had firmly made sure she was wrapped up night and tight beneath the blankets and tape. She wasn't going anywhere. Finally he had bound her big toes together with a small strip of tape and she was ready for his 'treatments.'
“You know Mrs. Boltmann, I actually went to your station's website to read the biography on there about you. And you know what caught my eye and definitely made me decide to make you my next victim?” the intruder asked her.
“What?” she nervously whispered.
“When they asked what is something about yourself that embarrasses you, and you said your large feet. And you do have very big feet, at least a size eleven, am I right?” he gently rubbed the tops of her feet with his fingers.
Amy's feet immediately twitched beneath his touch and she giggled nervously, “Y-yes you are right! But please don't touch my feet! I keep them extra pedicured so I can deal with wearing shoes that cover up my ugly feet.”
“Oh but no, no, no. That isn't right. You have the most beautiful feet I've ever seen and I also happen to love...or more or less, obsessed with big feet. Especially ones like yours, that look like the feet of Venus herself,” he grinned, leaning down and kissing the soft balls of her left foot.
Amy arched her back and squealed as her toes tried to curl reflexively, but were only able to just a little bit since her big toes were motionless.
“Well first on the agenda tonight, I always like to start with a clean pallet. So first a quick touch-up of your soles then the fun begins,” he explained.
“A touch-upEEhaee NOOEAHAA!” Amy screeched as she felt two toothbrushes, obviously dipped in his bowl of steaming water, began to scrub without mercy all over her twitching, large feet.
She thrashed and squealed in unbearable agony as he was cleaning her already pristinely pedicured feet.
“Leave my feeEEaatTT aloneEEahaa!” she squealed, as tears of laughter slid down her face.
“Oh, we've barely begun our weekend of fun!” he yelled with an evil grin over her helpless squeals of total agony.
“NooEEhaa!” Amy protested as she wiggled in the bondage and wasn't able to stop the scrubbing sensations on her feet.
“You know you are the first victim who's feet are soft enough, I don't even need to use my pumice stone,” he remarked as the scrubbing stopped about ten minutes later.
Amy's now extremely pristine feet almost glistened with cleanliness as he began to rub some shea butter onto her soles, to keep them slick and softer as he would begin his 'treatments' on her.
“There now,” he rubbed the tops of her feet fondly with his hands, “your feet are all ready for the fun to begin. Since it's the first night I'll go easy on you, but tomorrow the heavier stuff begins. I have a whole bag of toys and many different positions I will be trying out on you this weekend.”
“What?” Amy gasped in horror but he ignored her and instead began looking around in his back for his favorite paintbrush. Once it was in his hand he took the time to soak in the mental image of Amy's feet, so he'd always remember what they looked like.
Her feet were large, more narrow on the bottom and wider at the top. Her toes were average size and wiggled nervously in anticipation. The flesh of her soles had a rosy hue and looked very soft and plump, especially after his touch up. She had very deep and long wrinkly arches.
His practically was salivating as he quickly took the piece of tape away from her big toes and freed them of their small bondage.
“Are...are you letting me go?” Amy gasped in surprise to feel her toes loosened up. She curled her toes tightly to protect her feet the best she could, and as she did many delicate wrinkles and nooks of flesh appeared on the creamy soles of her feet.
“Not exactly,” he smirked, “tonight I plan to focus on your soles. I can save your toes for later. Your feet are so wrinkly I plan to trace every single one tonight with my artist's brush.” He laughed under his breath at the look on her face.
“Not thereEEhaee!” Amy pleaded with him among her laughter as he began to stroke the stiff black bristles of the brush on the tender wrinkles of her soft arches. Her feet spazzed and wiggled helplessly, sweat trickling down her flushed face as the torture was causing overwhelming and new sensations to run through her body.
Half an hour later, after countless laughter as relentless bristles brushed patiently over most of her tiny and ever so tender wrinkles, she felt him stop.
She struggled to regain her breath as she heard him unscrewing the lid to some kind of jar.
What could he possibly be doing now. She gasped in revulsion as she felt some thick and crunchy peanut butter being smeared across her feet.
“Now that your feet are all warmed up, it's time to finish up with a little dessert. You know you have such a nice dog, he didn't even growl at me or anything when I broke in a few hours ago,” the intruder chuckled.
“Maximus! Come here boy!” he whistled and Amy heard the familiar sound of her dogs nails clicking as he walked from his bed bed in the den, across the wooden floors and towards the couch.
“We have a nice treat here for you Maxie boy, since you've been such a good boy,” he grinned as the dog walked past his bound master and towards the intruder, with total trust, as only an animal could have.
“No Max! Bad dog! Stop!” Amy whined, but her dog of course immediately was drawn to the delicious smell of the sugary peanut butter that coated his master's trembling, large, and soft feet.
“No! Max! NO!” she screeched as the dog sniffed her feet with curiosity. Suddenly the dog lapped his large pink tongue up her soles, from her heels to the tips of her toes.
Amy almost screamed with laughter because this tickled so much worse than the brush had on her tender feet.
The intruder took a seat beside of Amy's writhing body, cocooned in the blankets and duct tape.
“You know Amy,” he grinned as he stroked her sweaty hair, “Maximus has been such a good boy I think he deserves a few more coats of peanut butter. What do you think?”
Amy would have protested but was too busy squealing with agonized laughter that echoed off the walls of her empty house.
“I knew you'd agree!” he stood up and walked back towards her feet, as her left foot was almost now completely polished and Maximus was eagerly licking beneath her toes to get whatever peanut butter was stuck between them.
“Time for a fresh coating,” the intruder grinned, holding up a spoonful of peanut butter. Amy laughed in protest and shook her head, but he mercilessly began to coat her flailing foot as Maximus was busying himself with her right foot.
It was going to be a long weekend for poor Amy Boltmann, and it was only very early into Saturday.
Her squeals of laughter echoed on into the night as the weekend continued on at a slow pace and her feet twitched helplessly, as the serial tickler continued his 'treatments' on his newest victim.
The End.
"Thanks Jim, I'll be out in a few. I just need to check my make-up," Amy smiled into the mirror, seeing the reflection of her newest intern standing behind her in the open dressing room doorway.
"No problem ma'am. I will make sure Mr. Holdings is almost ready too," Jim nodded and disappeared, closing the door politely.
Amy looked back at her reflection and sighed. Make-up worked miracles, as did the professional hair dresser who dolled up her hair and made it look completely perfect. But Amy knew the truth, beneath all this glitz and glam was a bitter, very lonely and recently divorced woman in her mid-thirties. She had no reason to look forward to going home, except to see her golden retriever, Maximus.
Home...it was so lonely ever since George had left her. Nothing but a note and an empty closet left in his wake. Unfortunately ever since the nasty break up Amy was slowly spiraling to a bad place of self-pity and loathing.
"No one will ever want me again...even George left me for his younger assistant," she mumbled to herself in a sad voice.
But no matter how depressed she felt about her life at the moment, at least she had a busy full time job to focus on and immerse herself in to momentarily forget her woes.
Standing up, the petite Amy adjusted her blouse and checked her hair once more and then walked from her dressing room towards the stage.
"Cameras ready and make sure the sound guy gets closer this time," the director was ordering the crew around as Amy appeared.
"Hey Amy, ready for tonight?" he smiled as she walked up to his side and stopped for a moment to view the crew getting ready.
"Aren't I always ready Ron?" she smiled and then walked up onto the stage and took her seat behind the immense glass table.
"Hi Amy, how are you feeling today?" her co-anchor asked as he took the seat next to her.
"As good as I can hope to feel Ted," she smiled sadly and adjusted the papers laying before her.
"Oh before I forget, they are changing your first story. They dropped the one about the school violence and instead are doing a live news-feed about some kind of criminal," Ted explained.
"What kind of criminal?" Amy asked in curiosity.
"I'm not sure really, the boss was kind of vague. Just read the teleprompter and I'm sure it will say everything you need to know," he responded.
Amy nodded as the direction shouted for it to be quiet on the set as the cameras turned on. Silently the director held up his fingers and counted down backwards from three. Finally he gave the signal they were live and the eight o'clock evening news began.
"Hi I'm Ted Holdings," he smiled. "And I'm Amy Boltmann. And this is the eight o'clock news."
The camera then focused on Amy as she looked into the teleprompter and smiled as she began to read the first story, "Our first story tonight is on the latest news about the the so called "feather burglar." So far over eight women have fallen victim to this serial burglar in the past seven months. No one knows his identity but any information on him should be reported to the police immediately. Now we are going live to the latest victim's house with our field-anchor, Antonia Sanchez."
As the news wrapped up at eight-thirty, Ted and Amy bid their audience a good and safe evening and then the show wrapped.
"Good job team," the director smiled as the cameramen began to shut everything down.
"Good job tonight," Ted smiled as he stood up and cracked his back. Amy grimaced, hating the sound of bones popping.
"Thanks. I can't believe they are searching for a guy called the feather burglar. What's so scary about a guy who ties you down and tickles you with a feather?" Amy chuckled, rolling her eyes.
"Well it must be serious if the cops are even making us report it on the news and not just in the local paper," Ted replied, taking a sip of water.
"Yeah I guess so," Amy shrugged, "Have a good night Ted."
With a small wave and smile, Amy stepped off the stage to go change in her dressing room and head home for another lonely evening with her television, Maximus, and a bowl of Ben-and-Jerry's.
Nestled beneath her favorite wool blanket, Amy held the remote in one hand, as her other hand rested on Maximus' head as he rested on the couch beside her, his head on her thigh and his eyes closed in content.
Amy flipped through the late night sitcoms and couldn't find anything good to watch. Switching the TV off she set the remote down onto the end table beside her empty ice cream bowl.
She felt too warm and comfortable to move from her spot on the big, squishy leather sofa. The fire was dying away and it was almost midnight anyway. Besides it wasn't like she had anyone to go upstairs and meet in the bedroom.
Amy sighed and snuggled down further into her blankets and closed her eyes for a good nights rest. At least tomorrow was Saturday, and she didn't have to work until Monday.
As Amy drifted off to sleep, plans of meeting her friends for a Saturday dinner and some cocktails floated around in her head and then she passed out on her couch.
The sound of running water was heard and it caused Amy to wake in surprise. Had she left the kitchen sink running? Oh crap! She tried to sit up to quickly go turn it off and clean up whatever mess was left but grunted as she couldn't move. Half in shock and still half way drowsy she shook her head and realized she wasn't even able to move at all.
“Aww did the running water wake you up? Sorry honey,” a deep voice chuckled to her left. Amy stifled a scream, as she realized a piece of duct tape was across her mouth, and muffled it.
Standing to her left was a man, clad all in black, and only his face was visible. He was handsome, probably in his early thirties with short dark hair and piercing dark eyes.
He was standing by her wet bar, filling up a popcorn sized bowl with steaming water. Why did he look so familiar? All of a sudden it dawned upon her who he was.
“Mmmpphh!” she grunted in terror and began to struggle in her bondage.
“Something to say? I just didn't want you to wake up and start screaming,” her captor explained for the gag. Gently he ripped the piece of tape from her mouth and she gasped in slight pain and adjusted her jaw.
“You...you're the feather burglar,” Amy whimpered out as she struggled in her bondage. The man turned off the water since the bowl was full and approached the couch where she lay helpless. He frowned down at her and shook his head, “No Mrs. Boltmann, I am not the feather burglar as you called me tonight on the news. That is actually an insult to my craft. I prefer to be called...” he paused in thought, “...the serial tickler.” He grinned as he sat down beside her helpless form.
“Comfortable?” he asked, surveying his work of the bondage. “I had to be careful because I didn't want you to wake up too soon.”
“Why are you doing this to me?” Amy whimpered, not liking his close contact.
“Because I've been watching you on the news for such a long time and had quite the little crush on you. So I figured I'd drop in and give you a personal visit. You know you are much prettier in person than you are on TV,” he chuckled, caressing her dark hair.
Amy grimaced again and tried to wiggle away from him. “You aren't going anywhere honey, not for a long time. We have a long weekend of fun planned ahead for us.”
“W...weekend?” Amy gasped out in horror, watching as smirked down at her, still stroking her hair.
“But of course,” he grinned, “I know all about you Mrs. Amy Boltmann. Recently divorced, living all alone, no close relatives living nearby. No one will miss you for a few days, believe me. Besides I am pretty good at reading people, and though you are smiling on TV you're eyes aren't and you seem lost and almost dead inside. But don't you worry,” he stroked her cheek fondly, “after this weekend you'll be all smiles.”
He stood up and began to walk down towards her feet, helplessly bound together side by side.
“So how do you feel in the bondage?” he asked with an amused smile.
“Hot...and I can't move an inch,” Amy whimpered.
While she had been knocked out, the intruder had rolled her up tightly in several wool blankets she had been nestled under. Then with the use of duct tape he had firmly made sure she was wrapped up night and tight beneath the blankets and tape. She wasn't going anywhere. Finally he had bound her big toes together with a small strip of tape and she was ready for his 'treatments.'
“You know Mrs. Boltmann, I actually went to your station's website to read the biography on there about you. And you know what caught my eye and definitely made me decide to make you my next victim?” the intruder asked her.
“What?” she nervously whispered.
“When they asked what is something about yourself that embarrasses you, and you said your large feet. And you do have very big feet, at least a size eleven, am I right?” he gently rubbed the tops of her feet with his fingers.
Amy's feet immediately twitched beneath his touch and she giggled nervously, “Y-yes you are right! But please don't touch my feet! I keep them extra pedicured so I can deal with wearing shoes that cover up my ugly feet.”
“Oh but no, no, no. That isn't right. You have the most beautiful feet I've ever seen and I also happen to love...or more or less, obsessed with big feet. Especially ones like yours, that look like the feet of Venus herself,” he grinned, leaning down and kissing the soft balls of her left foot.
Amy arched her back and squealed as her toes tried to curl reflexively, but were only able to just a little bit since her big toes were motionless.
“Well first on the agenda tonight, I always like to start with a clean pallet. So first a quick touch-up of your soles then the fun begins,” he explained.
“A touch-upEEhaee NOOEAHAA!” Amy screeched as she felt two toothbrushes, obviously dipped in his bowl of steaming water, began to scrub without mercy all over her twitching, large feet.
She thrashed and squealed in unbearable agony as he was cleaning her already pristinely pedicured feet.
“Leave my feeEEaatTT aloneEEahaa!” she squealed, as tears of laughter slid down her face.
“Oh, we've barely begun our weekend of fun!” he yelled with an evil grin over her helpless squeals of total agony.
“NooEEhaa!” Amy protested as she wiggled in the bondage and wasn't able to stop the scrubbing sensations on her feet.
“You know you are the first victim who's feet are soft enough, I don't even need to use my pumice stone,” he remarked as the scrubbing stopped about ten minutes later.
Amy's now extremely pristine feet almost glistened with cleanliness as he began to rub some shea butter onto her soles, to keep them slick and softer as he would begin his 'treatments' on her.
“There now,” he rubbed the tops of her feet fondly with his hands, “your feet are all ready for the fun to begin. Since it's the first night I'll go easy on you, but tomorrow the heavier stuff begins. I have a whole bag of toys and many different positions I will be trying out on you this weekend.”
“What?” Amy gasped in horror but he ignored her and instead began looking around in his back for his favorite paintbrush. Once it was in his hand he took the time to soak in the mental image of Amy's feet, so he'd always remember what they looked like.
Her feet were large, more narrow on the bottom and wider at the top. Her toes were average size and wiggled nervously in anticipation. The flesh of her soles had a rosy hue and looked very soft and plump, especially after his touch up. She had very deep and long wrinkly arches.
His practically was salivating as he quickly took the piece of tape away from her big toes and freed them of their small bondage.
“Are...are you letting me go?” Amy gasped in surprise to feel her toes loosened up. She curled her toes tightly to protect her feet the best she could, and as she did many delicate wrinkles and nooks of flesh appeared on the creamy soles of her feet.
“Not exactly,” he smirked, “tonight I plan to focus on your soles. I can save your toes for later. Your feet are so wrinkly I plan to trace every single one tonight with my artist's brush.” He laughed under his breath at the look on her face.
“Not thereEEhaee!” Amy pleaded with him among her laughter as he began to stroke the stiff black bristles of the brush on the tender wrinkles of her soft arches. Her feet spazzed and wiggled helplessly, sweat trickling down her flushed face as the torture was causing overwhelming and new sensations to run through her body.
Half an hour later, after countless laughter as relentless bristles brushed patiently over most of her tiny and ever so tender wrinkles, she felt him stop.
She struggled to regain her breath as she heard him unscrewing the lid to some kind of jar.
What could he possibly be doing now. She gasped in revulsion as she felt some thick and crunchy peanut butter being smeared across her feet.
“Now that your feet are all warmed up, it's time to finish up with a little dessert. You know you have such a nice dog, he didn't even growl at me or anything when I broke in a few hours ago,” the intruder chuckled.
“Maximus! Come here boy!” he whistled and Amy heard the familiar sound of her dogs nails clicking as he walked from his bed bed in the den, across the wooden floors and towards the couch.
“We have a nice treat here for you Maxie boy, since you've been such a good boy,” he grinned as the dog walked past his bound master and towards the intruder, with total trust, as only an animal could have.
“No Max! Bad dog! Stop!” Amy whined, but her dog of course immediately was drawn to the delicious smell of the sugary peanut butter that coated his master's trembling, large, and soft feet.
“No! Max! NO!” she screeched as the dog sniffed her feet with curiosity. Suddenly the dog lapped his large pink tongue up her soles, from her heels to the tips of her toes.
Amy almost screamed with laughter because this tickled so much worse than the brush had on her tender feet.
The intruder took a seat beside of Amy's writhing body, cocooned in the blankets and duct tape.
“You know Amy,” he grinned as he stroked her sweaty hair, “Maximus has been such a good boy I think he deserves a few more coats of peanut butter. What do you think?”
Amy would have protested but was too busy squealing with agonized laughter that echoed off the walls of her empty house.
“I knew you'd agree!” he stood up and walked back towards her feet, as her left foot was almost now completely polished and Maximus was eagerly licking beneath her toes to get whatever peanut butter was stuck between them.
“Time for a fresh coating,” the intruder grinned, holding up a spoonful of peanut butter. Amy laughed in protest and shook her head, but he mercilessly began to coat her flailing foot as Maximus was busying himself with her right foot.
It was going to be a long weekend for poor Amy Boltmann, and it was only very early into Saturday.
Her squeals of laughter echoed on into the night as the weekend continued on at a slow pace and her feet twitched helplessly, as the serial tickler continued his 'treatments' on his newest victim.
The End.
