I posted this on the other forum a while back, I thought I should post it here as well...
The Shortcut
By J The Quill (Kindred at TMF)
Angela grabbed her wallet out of her purse, “It’s my turn to buy.” She stated as they got out of the car. The dingy roadside diner may not have looked too appealing under normal circumstances, but at his time of the day and for as long as they had been traveling, Becky, Angela and Catherine thought it looked like heaven.
They had flown into Memphis on Thursday for a few meetings at their company’s Tennessee location. They had stayed overnight and had planned to fly out that next night right after work and spend the weekend in Colorado, but Catherine thought it would be fun if they rented a car and drove together. Angela, the auburn haired lawyer, had reservations about it, but after Catherine, the perky blonde marketing assistant, promised she would drive the entire way, Angela agreed. Becky, the raven-haired administrative assistant, hated flying anyway, so it was fine with her. They rented a Cadillac and set out late Friday afternoon.
Well, Catherine driving turned out to be a mistake, the girls found themselves promptly lost and from what the road signs said, they were almost in Texas. With Catherine now regulated to the role of backseat driver. With no sun to work with, Angela drove back in the direction they had come, remembering the dirty truck stop that they had passed about an hour back.
Becky thought of their earlier remarks about how horrible the diner had looked when they had first passed, but now, two hours later and quite a bit hungrier, the diner looked like Tavern on the Green.
They pulled into one of the numerous empty parking spaces and headed into the diner. In the parking lot, a group of tough looking bikers surveyed the beauties as they walked to the front of the diner. The toughs started whistling and catcalling the three.
Becky and Angela had ignored the brash, lewd comments, being used to that kind of treatment. But Catherine, who loved attention, slyly turned her head to encourage a few more comments.
“Will you stop it!” Angela whispered harshly.
“I can’t help it. They’re all so cute!” Catherine shook her behind once more before going through the door.
“Great. First you get us lost, now you’re gonna get us killed. And probably raped! In that order from the looks of them.” Becky whispered as they took seats at the counter.
“They’ve probably never seen gorgeous women like us, dressed as well as we are.” Catherine was right, though they were still in the outfits they had worn to work that morning, the three of them did look impeccable.
Angela had worn a black blouse with a matching mini-skirt and a red blazer. She had complimented her outfit with nude pantyhose and four-inch black opera pumps with a Cuban heel.
Becky loved the color black, she had gone as far as to dye her hair black from it’s natural brown color. The fair pale features of her face seemed to be accentuated with her hair this color, and she could get by with little or no make-up. For the office today she had worn a black satin dress that always felt cool to the touch. The hem came down about midway to her calf. She wore a black shawl across her bare white arms and sheer black nylons on her legs. Though she would have been more comfortable with her lace up boots on, today she had worn black high-heel sandals.
Catherine had always loved the business world and loved to dress accordingly. She had word her tan suit, a short skirt and matching blazer. Under she wore a pure white silk blouse that was open too far and showed too much cleavage. Her legs were clad in dark brown pantyhose and she wore chocolate colored open toed sling backs with a four-inch stiletto heel.
“Look, let’s just grab something quick, get directions and get back on the road. We lost enough time today.” Angela, the highest-ranking employee on the trip, had to assume rank. She had a feeling she might be able to trust Becky now, but she knew she just couldn’t trust Catherine’s judgment. The lawyer realized she would have to stay in charge to get them back on the right path. She looked on the menu for something appealing.
The waitress approached them, looking them over first. “What can I get for ya?”
Becky looked over the menu, everything seemed like it was dipped in grease and deep-fried. She decided on a grilled cheese sandwich and a large iced tea.
Angela needed something meaty, she opted for a hamburger and fries and a chocolate shake.
Catherine began a long topic of discussion on the menu items with the waitress who was beginning to look as annoyed as Angela. After five minutes of deciding and debating, the ditzy blonde decided on a tossed green salad with ranch dressing an cucumbers on the side, unsweetened ice tea with three packets of sweet and low and an order of the breadsticks with warmed marinara sauce on the side.
“That all?” The waitress asked.
“Umm…” Catherine looked shocked as Angela reached across Becky and took the menu away from her and handed it to the waitress.
“That’ll be it.” Catherine told the woman.
The waitress went into the kitchen and began her second job as cook.
The women sat in silence as they looked intently at the map. They didn’t notice one of the biker’s outside opening the unlocked back door of the rented Cadillac and making off with their purses and cell phones. In a flash he grabbed their handbags from their hiding place under the backseat and was on his bike and gone with his biker friends behind him.
The waitress brought the food and Angela paid the bill with money in her wallet, retrieving a receipt. “Excuse us, but were kinda lost. Well, we know where we are now, but is there a faster way to highway 40 from here other than going west? Or if not, is there a motel around anywhere?”
“Yeah, if you head west it’s an easier way, but if you go east for about a mile, then turn north on route 16, you can save yourself about an hour of driving.”
“That sounds good to me.” Becky exclaimed.
“Me too.” Angela agreed.
Catherine was about to say something, but the look Angela gave her quieted the blonde.
“Here’s the rest of the way. Stay on Route 16 for about I’d say maybe ten miles. You’ll come to a few turn offs, look for a sign that says Route 5, you want to take that one over the hills cause it’s paved the whole way. Stay on it for about maybe fifteen or twenty miles, you’ll come to Highway 40. About ten minutes north from there you’ll find a nice motel, The Overnighter, I think. They always have vacancies.”
“Thanks you’re so great.” Angela said, leaving a big tip for the woman.
The three made their way back to the car and headed east. The darkness was now punctuated by storm clouds moving rapidly south. They found Route 16 and the rain started to fall. They drove in harsh rain while the storm was passing over. After about ten minutes of driving, Catherine spotted a sign on the side of the road. “Route 5” it said. Catherine finally dared to speak. “I just saw a sign for Route 5, take the next turn.”
Angela slowed down and took the turn that lead up into the hills.
The wind blew harshly on the branch that was covering half the sign that Catherine had seen. Under the words, “Route 5” was more writing saying, “2 miles.”
Angela maneuvered on the narrow winding road wondering why the waitress would send them this way? This didn’t seem like that great of a road. Probably wanted a better tip, the lawyer thought. Or she was pissed at Catherine. Who wasn’t at this point?
They had been on the road when the paved road disappeared under the car and became a dirt road.
“This has to be wrong.” Becky said, “The waitress said it was an entirely paved road.”
“The sign said Route 5.” Catherine argued.
“Well whether it’s Route 5 or not, I’m turning around when I get a chance.” Angela announced. She went down the wet dirt road for another mile before she found a spot where she thought a turnaround would be possible. She started a three-point turn in the big Cadillac; now wishing they had rented a compact or a Jeep. She backed up to make the final turn and went nowhere when she pushed on the accelerator. The back wheels were spinning.
“NO!” Angela screamed.
“Rock it.” Becky suggested. “Forward and back.”
After a few minutes of trying they realized they were stuck.
Angela was at the end of her rope. This can’t be happening, she thought as she turned on the interior light of the car. “Catherine, hand me my cell phone from my purse.”
“Your purse isn’t back here.” Catherine said, looking around. “My purse isn’t back here!”
“What the hell are you talking about? It’s under the seat, I threw it there when we went into the diner!”
“Well it’s not here now!”
Angela looked over the back of her chair. “Well what happened to it?”
“I don’t know!”
“Mine’s gone too!” Becky said, “I put it under the seat when I saw those bikers at the diner.”
“You don’t think they stole our purses do you?” Catherine asked, almost in tears.
“I don’t know, how could they have broken into the car without us noticing?” Becky asked.
Catherine mumbled something.
“What was that?” Angela yelled, not believing what she had just heard.
“Cause I forgot to lock my door.” Catherine said in a whining baby voice. “I’m sorry!”
Becky rolled her eyes. Angela just sat there in shock.
I can’t lose it, Angela thought. I’m a grown woman. I can survive this. “Okay, here’s what we’re gonna do. Let’s get some sleep, and in the morning, we’ll walk back to the diner and call for some help. I still have my wallet, we’re low on cash, but I have my credit cards. We’ll be okay.”
“Is that a house in the distance?”
There was a house in the distance. Angela could barely make out light in a window about a half-mile down the road. Built in front of a mountain, the house would have been invisible if not for the paned window that light was emitting through. “Okay, I need a volunteer.” Angela smiled at Becky and both looked back at Catherine.
Pouting all the way to the house, Catherine walked on the mud soaked road. My shoes are a wreck, she thought, they’re probably laughing at me right now. I didn’t mean to do all this stuff, sometimes it just happens to me. I don’t ask for it. She was still sulking when she got to the house. She knocked once and waited. She moved to the side of the door where the lighted window was. She saw no one inside the cozy cabin, but she did see a fire going in the fireplace. Someone must be home, she thought. She walked back to the door and knocked again, a little harder this time. She waited again and knocked a third time. Giving up, she tried the doorknob. Surely the people inside would understand a stranger just barging in. She was in a desperate situation. They would have to understand.
“Should we have sent her alone?” Becky asked.
“Right now, sending her away from me was the safest move.”
“She means well.”
“I know, but she always seems to find trouble.”
“Again I ask, should we have sent her alone?”
“It’s walking, knocking and asking to use the phone. If she screws this up, she might not want to come back. I’m gonna get some sleep, are you?”
“No, I’ll wait up until she gets back.”
“Okay, wake me up when she gets here.” Angela shifted around in the driver seat trying to get comfortable. Becky stared out the window towards the house, waiting for Catherine to return when she heard a familiar sound. It was the sound of Angela slipping her shoes off. Becky took a baited breath and tried to calm herself down as she heard the high heels hit the floor.
Becky had a thing for feet, especially Angela’s. The auburn haired lawyer had perfect feet. They were a size six and a half. Becky knew it well. The black-haired admin would wait patiently for the afternoon hours when Angela would strut around the office without her shoes. She had always gone and inspected the shoes when Angela was out of the office.
There was never a day that Angela wasn’t wearing a skirt and a pair of nylons. Being her assistant, Becky always looked forward to what she called, “The Angela Show.”
Well now, The Angela Show was within reach and Becky was panicking. She had calmed down enough to where she could concentrate as long as she looked out the window and not at Angela. She would’ve been completely okay, when she heard Angela mumble. “Do you mind if I put my feet in you lap?”
A second later, Angela’s nylon-clad peds were in Becky’s lap, and Becky was on the verge of hyperventilating. She laid her head back and tried to think of anything else. Soon Angela’s breathing became slow and steady. Becky laid a hand gently on the sole of one of the feet resting her in lap. They were cool to the touch and as soft as she had often dreamed. Hr mind started to wander and soon she drifted off to sleep.
Becky woke with a start. She looked at her watch out of reflex but had no light to see the face. She reached over Angela’s outstretched legs and turned the key on the ignition. The clock came on, it was past midnight, they had slept for almost two hours and Catherine hadn’t returned yet. Probably found herself a lumberjack, Becky thought, and she forgot all about us. She nudged Angela’s leg, an act she was pleased to do. When Angela was awake, they grabbed a flashlight and decided they had to go investigate.
“I should have changed into my boots.” Becky said, as one of her heels caught in the mud.
“We could go back, I wouldn’t mind changing into my tennis shoes.”
They walked back to the car, as they approached, Angela pulled on the door handle, but the door didn’t budge.
“Did you lock the door?”
“Yeah.” Becky said, “After how mad you got at Catherine, I wasn’t taking any chances.”
“I left the keys in the ignition.”
“Why did you leave them there?”
“Because the car wasn’t going anywhere! Why did you lock the door?”
“So no one would break in!”
“AAAAAAGH!!!!!” The two girls screamed in unison.
The walk to the cabin was a silent one.
They got to the cabin and knocked one the door, but no one answered. Angela tried the door, finding it open she looked inside. She could see muddy footprints on the floor that went inside, but then disappeared.
Becky gripped Angela’s arm. “It doesn’t mean anything.” Angela told her, “She probably took her shoes off after tracking mud inside.”
“Or someone carried her off, I don’t like this.” Becky whispered.
“Me either. I’m gonna go in this way, take the flashlight, but don’t use it unless you have to. See if you can find a back door or a back window to get another look.”
“Okay, if anything happens, scream as loud as you can.”
“No problem there.”
Angela paused at the door and took her mud-covered pumps off. She tiptoed inside and softly closed the door behind her.
Becky walked to the far end of the cabin and peered around the side. She could barely see in the dark, but stepped forward anyway, keeping a hand on the side of the house for stability. When she got close to the back of the house, she could hear a faint moaning, coupled with a muffled giggle. The sounds were somewhat pained, yet somewhat pleasured. She’s having sex, Becky thought, of all the nerve. Here we are worried about her and she’s over here doing the bad thing with her lumberjack. She waited for the moaning to die down, but her curiosity got the best of her, she turned around the corner, She shined the flashlight in the direction of the moaning, hoping to scare the heck out of them.
What she saw scared her more than anything else that had happened tonight. Catherine was lying on the ground with her arms outstretched. She was still dressed in her tan suit and she had been gagged with a cloth between her teeth. When Becky came closer she saw that the blonde’s wrists had been tied to stakes driven into the ground. There were two more stakes driven in on either side of her waist and a rope had been tied to them, effectively holding her to the ground.
Becky shined the flashlight at her feet, what she saw there horrified her even more. From what she could tell Catherine’s feet had been dipped into what appeared to be honey. Her feet were tied slightly apart on a t-bar driven into the ground. The t-bar had been strategically placed over an anthill. The ants were swarming all over her feet. Catherine’s squirming had cause one of her shoes to fall off. Ants swarmed that sole now that it was completely unprotected. The strap of her other sling back had come loose, but that shoe had stayed in place. Becky especially noticed the ants gathering in and around the open toe of the shoe.
Catherine moaned and giggled as much as she was allowed through the gag. Becky hesitated for a moment, her own passion for feet and tickling overwhelming her for a second. Being very ticklish herself, she thought for a moment how helpless a situation her co-worker was in. Coming to her senses, she leapt into action. Catherine eyes widened at the possibility of release. As she knelt by Catherine bound hands, she shined the light on the stake and worked on the rope with her free hand. The knot proved to difficult for one hand and she put the flashlight down so it shined on the stake and tried again. She didn’t know why, but in between moans, no sound would come out of her moving mouth. The tickling and itching proved to be too much for the captured blonde and she began to laugh and moan again. Catherine’s screams and giggles covered the sounds of footsteps coming up behind Becky, who felt a thud across her head and slumped over into unconsciousness.
Angela tiptoed around the house and was coming up empty in every section. She had first started right and looked into the kitchen and the pantry beyond. She looked out the back windows, but because of the light inside, she couldn’t see out them. She moved back into the main room and down a hallway to the left where she found shut doors. The first door was unlocked and opened to reveal and empty closet. She moved to the next door and found that one locked. With no other choices, she went to the last door and, finding it open, went inside. In this room she found a lavish bed that looked invitingly soft. She almost hated herself for the thoughts, but she couldn’t help but think about jumping into the bed and getting some good sleep. But she would catch hell from the other girls. She went to the window but couldn’t see out this one either. She realized they were in a valley and depending on the moon position, they might not have any natural light outside. She turned around and saw for the first time a large tome sitting on the dresser. She went and looked at the huge leather bound book. Her curiosity got the best of her and she opened the book. She heard a snapping, like a twig had broken and the floor gave way beneath her. Her body fell through a trapdoor and she landed in the confines of a hempen net. She had twisted on her way down and now found herself caught in the net with her feet sticking out. Her weight had caused the top of the net to close to the point where she wouldn’t be able to climb out. She twisted and turned, but couldn’t free herself.
“I see you found you way into my lair.” A grizzled female voice called to her. A she twisted to see who spoke to her, she saw an old crone walking down a flight of stairs carrying a torch on one hand and Becky slung over her other shoulder.
“Lady, I am a lawyer and I will sue the pants off you! You better get me out of here.”
“Pah!” The old woman scoffed. “I know what you are, and I know what you aren’t. I can see through lies, so stop telling yours or you will end up with your golden-haired friend. She told me lies when she arrived and now she will be punished until dawn. This one tried to free her and exposed herself to me a Wicca. I know you are witch hunters now. Confess to me and I will treat you justly. Lie and I can make no promises.”
“You loony old bat! We’re not witch hunters! She’s not a witch, she a Goth! I am a lawyer and I’m gonna make sure you pay for this!”
“Pah! Have it your way.”
She plopped Becky down into the corner of the room and shackled her wrists to chains that dangled down from the corner. She took another apparatus that hung from a chain a little farther out from the corner. It was shape in a quarter circle with the chain attached to the center. Each side of the quarter circle had five thumbscrews set into it. She took each of Becky’s feet and removed the black strappy sandals that she had worn all day. She slipped her toes into each half of the quarter circle and screwed the thumbscrews into the undersides of her toes until each foot was helplessly immobile.
She turned a crank on the wall and the chains began to rise until Becky was balanced on her butt. She took something that looked like an oddly shaped birdcage off a shelf and placed it over Becky’s head. When it was fully locked on, the head cage not only gagged Becky’s mouth, but blindfolded her as well. “This exact apparatus had been used on my mother in Salem when they had found her guilty. She could not speak in her defense, not face her accusers. It binds a Wicca as well as a witch.”
“Okay lady!” Angela yelled, “I have had enough! I have had a long day and I want out of this now! You have assault, kidnapping, and I don’t know how many other charges the cops will make up. You better let me go now!”
“Pah! I’m tired of your voice.” The crone came to the other side of the room and plucked a jar of red powder off the shelf. She turned another crank on the wall and the net began to lower.
Angela felt her stocking foot touch the floor and the lowering stopped. As she turned around to yell some more, the lady blew some of the red powder in her face. It tasted bitter as she breathed it in. She felt her throat tighten for a second then relax.
She yelled, “You Bitch!” at the woman, but no sound came out. She reached for her throat and screamed but again, no sound came out. The net began to rise again as Angela tried to find her voice.
She felt the old crone begin to scratch her foot that was sticking helplessly out of the net. She laughed and tried to yell. The laughter came, but no words could form. She tried to pull her foot free, but she hadn’t the leverage to pull away. The old witch continued to tickle her, making sure the red powder had done its job. True to its form, it would allow a victim to laugh, but leave the victim without speech. When she was confident that it had been fully effective, she walked away giggling, knowing her captives would go nowhere.
Angela took a look at her surroundings. They were in some kind of cave. It must be a fairly huge cavern under the cabin. She tried to scream, but still had no voice. She struggled for an hour, eventually falling asleep from her exhaustion.
Outside Catherine still writhed and twisted as much as her bound body was allowed. The tickling was more than she could stand, but the itching of the tiny insects all over her helplessly immobile feet was what drove her crazy. Again she tried to scream for help, but that red powder that the old woman had blown in her face still prevented her from speaking any words. Her other shoe had fallen off, taking some of the ants with it, but her feet would remain ravaged until dawn, that’s what the woman had told her. She wasn’t sure of the time, but she knew it was nowhere near dawn. The ants had made their way to her knees and a few strayed around her thighs. The itches were as maddening as her helplessness. She finally stopped struggling, but the sensations that wormed their way up and down her spine kept her awake through most of her torture.
She thought of Becky, captured as well, but wondered if Angela had happened to get away and go for help. Gradually, dawn came and so had the crone. Catherine felt her hands being untied and a bucket of water was dumped on her legs to rid them of the ants. She was half carried, half dragged into small opening in the side of the mountain. She was led down into the cave until they reached a cavernous room that had cages suspended from the ceiling. These cages were man shaped. She was led up onto a platform next to one and shoved inside it. The bands of the cage could be adjusted and tightened. The crone busied herself until the entire cage had conformed to Catherine’s body. The crone spun the cage much to her own delight. As the cage rotated, she could see someone else confined into another cage a few feet away. Soon the cage lost momentum and spun back the other direction. The cage kept spinning back and forth for a while. When it slowed enough, she could see Angela constricted by the other cage. Catherine’s hopes for escape died. Tired, dizzy and helpless, the captive blonde girl finally fell asleep.
Becky awoke in the darkness. She had no idea of the time because the blindfold keeping light from the candles in the cavern away from her sight. Her toes ached from their hanging position. She heard footsteps approaching, and moaned through the gag to attract attention.
“Pah!” She heard a voice say to her. “You are accused of consorting with witch hunters and betraying the sisterhood. Nod your head if you wish to confess.”
Becky’s mind raced while she thought of the words spoken to her. Sharp nails began tickling her offered soles. Her dreams were coming true in a harsh reality. She had often thought of being kidnapped and tickle tortured, but those thoughts were of excitement. Now her excitement was coupled with fear, rather than the safety she felt in her imaginary scenarios. She began to laugh, the gag keeping her noise to muffled cries.
“Yes, laugh white witch! You have the mark of the elders and you wear the sun around your neck. I knew you would come someday, so I prepared for you and the two who would come with you. I will steal your powers and theirs. I will tickle and torture you until you are ready to surrender it to me freely. Already the goldenhair has felt just an inkling of what is to come, and the tall one will feel my power shortly.”
The goldenhair? She must mean Catherine, Becky thought. The tall one must be Angela. She thought of the tattoo she had done a few years ago and the sun medallion that she wore around her neck. The woman thought her a full-fledged witch. Becky had read some books and had tried some things, but there was no way she could be considered a Wicca.
“Now laugh harder as I take your energy from you.” The nails began to increase in speed as they roughly assaulted Becky’s tender soles. The muffled laughter became louder as Becky pulled and twisted against her bonds. Her toe restraints stayed in place as the old crone dug even harder into her ticklish nylon–clad feet. Her torture continued for half an hour without any let up. When the old witch figured Becky had passed out, she left the cavern and went to prepare a torture for the tall one.
The old crone went to her workshop and set a kettle to boil over a fire. She then took items from various jars and mashed them into powder using a large stone. She collected the contents into two cups and poured the hot water into them. She stirred the concoctions making sure they mixed well. She carried the two cups into the cavern with the hanging cages to find her two captive birds awake and ready for their next torture.
She lowered the cages without freeing them. Once they were on their back she turned to Angela’s cage. She adjusted the head portion until the lawyer lips and nose protruded through the cage. Pinching her nose, she poured the contents of the first cup into the auburn-haired beauty’s mouth and holding a hand over her mouth, forced her to drink it. She took a few minutes to do the same to Catherine. Once she was done, the old crone proceeded to unlock them from their cages.
By the time both were free, they were in a very suggestive stupor. She easily led them both to a small wood lined room that had various wooden contraption contained in it. She led Angela into the center where there was a crate bolted to the floor. “When you hear the clap of hands, you will be the most foot-ticklish woman in the world, your feet will be completely immobile when they are tickled.” She placed the tall auburn-haired lawyer on her back in the box and closed her in, guiding her tan, stocking-clad feet into a devious sat of stocks built into the top. From the outside, all you would see would be a ticklish pair of feet protruding from the top. The old crone turned to the blonde. “When you hear the clap of hands, you will be the most vicious tickler in the world, one who can’t resist a helpless pair of stocking-clad feet. Every time you hear your victim laugh, it encourages you to tickle softer, but if the feet at your disposal don’t wriggle at your touches, you will tickle harder. You will tickle non-stop and you will show no mercy.”
The old crone began to leave the room. She looked at Catherine, kneeling next to the box containing Angela. She raised her hands above her head and clapped loudly. As if woken from a dream, Catherine reach out and viciously began to tickle the helpless nylon-clad feet in front of her. Angela’s pained laughter began to ring throughout the room. The crone left the two alone.
In the confines of the box, Angela tried to beg for mercy, but still couldn’t get words to come out of her mouth. The she pulled on her legs, trying to free her ankles from the stocks that held her effectively.
Outside, Catherine watched the feet as her tickling commenced the laughter slowed down her attack, but the feet not moving pushed her to tickle more viciously. The laughter would increase, and she would slow, but still the feet wouldn’t move, infuriating her to scratch harder.
Angela was going insane, the speed of the tickling would slow and quicken without warning, she couldn’t get used to the attack to summon any strength to fight it. Unable to do anything, she laughed.
The old crone walked back to the cavern where she had the Wiccan held captive. Perhaps some torture might loosen her tounge, she thought to herself. That would come later, she thought, for now, let see where these three had come from. She went to the secret passage that led to the cabin above her lair. She grabbed her gnarled walking stick from out back where she had left it after conking out Becky with it.
She made her way to the path and ascended the rise to the main road a mile away. She found the Cadillac. Upon investigation she found the doors locked. She wiggled her fingers at the door and watched as the button popped up. She opened the car door and looked through it. Finding the keys in the ignition, she made her way to the trunk and opened it. He found their luggage and stepped back from the trunk. Waving her arms in the air, she called on the woodland spirits to hear her call. Within moments, the bags lifted out of the trunk and began to move towards the cabin, carried by unseen servants. Satisfied that she had found all there was to find, she called again and the car began to move off the road and into a clearing where the thick underbrush began to grow, completely camouflaging the car from any inquiring eyes.
She went back down the path to her home and examined the contents of the bags. These hunters were ill prepared, but their clothing would provide an interesting bit of fun before she rids herself of them. She began thinking of the spell her mother taught her to imbue inanimate objects with magic power.
She found a few more pieces of jewelry bearing symbols in one bag. The Wicca’s bag she thought. The next had clothes for the tall one, meaning the last had to be the goldenhair’s. They were all her playthings now; they had practically given themselves to her.
She went down and mixed another batch of her “Walking Sleep” for her favorite plaything. She found her still balancing on her backside and hanging from her toes. She loosened the gag piece on the brank and poured the potion down her captive’s throat. Within moments, Becky had succumbed to the potion. She was freed and walked towards her next torture.
The dunking stool itself was ancient, but the craftsmen who had built it had done an excellent job. It still remained functional even to this day. But now, instead of being mounted on a pier over a lake, this on was bolted into the rock floor of the cavern.
She moved Becky into the chair and began fastening her down. Her upper torso was completely strapped to the back of the chair and each leg had straps around it holding them to each respective chair leg.
With a strength that belied her frail form, the old woman seized a huge mallet next to the device and hit a rock that was pinned under the counterweight. As the rock rolled away, the weight dropped to the floor slowly, it being just slightly heavier than Becky, strapped helplessly to the other end.
The witch pulled slightly on a rope that was tethered to the bottom of the chair and Becky returned to the ground. When the chair came to rest, the Goth-girl’s feet were about twelve inches off the floor. The old woman giggled at the fun she was about to have. She released the rope and began the rest of the preparations.
Still in the euphoria induced by the potion she had been forced to drink, Becky had very little awareness of the peril she was in. When she was finished with her preparations, the old woman pulled the chair down again and stepped on the rope to hold it down. She began whispering into the young girl’s ear. “At the clap of hands, your feet will become most sensitive. When you are like this, you will feel sensations on your feet and nothing will distract you from feeling. Your mind will clutter and you will think of nothing else, except the sensations on your feet.”
The old woman clapped her hands, bringing Becky out of her euphoria, then re-tightened the gag piece on the head prison and released the rope, leaving the black-haired beauty’s sheer black, nylon-clad feet struggling about four feet off the floor. Becky yelped in anger at her confinement.
The old woman looked at the helpless feet. She easily ran her fingers across one of the silk stretched soles, causing Becky to yelp in a different way.
“Pah! You think you will endure something as enjoyable as tickling? You will suffer through this session!”
The old lady walked over to the wooden wall and pulled a rope connected to a board that rose straight up, allowing water to rush through a flume and push a wheel at the end. The old woman walked back to the dunking stool, now lowering to the floor and coming to rest for about twenty seconds before the mechanism activated by the water’s rush, allowed it to rise again. On it’s way up the chair rotated about two feet to the right and lowered again for another twenty seconds. The witch’s cackle could be heard echoing throughout the cavern as she walked away from the restrained girl.
As she lowered the next time, Becky screamed through the gag. Her right foot had come to rest in a half barrel full of ice water. She screamed for the full twenty seconds until the chair rose and rotated the two feet to the right. Becky held her breath, knowing her left foot was next for the icy torture. As she had predicted, her left foot did come to rest in the half barrel formerly occupied by her right. Her right foot was not ignored either as it came to rest over hot coals, that steamed as the excess water dripped from her feet. She screamed again for the full duration of the dipping. She rose again, unable to catch her breath. She felt the rotation of the chair and the welling of tears in her eyes as she plummeted once again. Her left foot met the coals while her right found a new barrel of ice water. There was never a pattern that she could get use to, first it was ice and coal, then coal and ice, then ice and ice, then coal and coal. He distracted mind couldn’t keep track of the extreme sensations as the chair rotated in a full circle. Her overly sensitive feet forced to bear the torture set to her by the witch.
The witch walked into the wooden room and clapped her hands. Catherine slumped to the floor from her crouched position over the box where Angela’s feet protruded. She dragged Catherine out of the room and up to the cabin, she returned a few moments later for Angela. She placed them both in the bedroom and went outside to find the materials for the spell her mother had taught her. It took about an hour to find the exact ingredients, the ivy being out of season and all the bird life had since abandoned her forest years ago. But as witches tend to do with the components of a spell, she found both. The rest would be back in her lair and in the handled boxes the hunters had brought with them. She cackled all the way back to her cabin. What a wonderful lure she has created for the game she so loved to capture. When she was back in front of her cauldron, she stoked the fire under the huge pot and said chants into it until they green smoke trails wafted upwards. It was time for the enchantment. She tossed in the braided ropes and the keyless padlocks. An explosion of yellow smoke belched from the pot and steadily turned to green. She said the words from memory and the things in the cauldron disappeared. A swirling red mass developed in the bottom of the pot and twirled like a whirlpool. She threw in the ivy and the feathers she had gathered in the woods near her cabin, saying the words again and again having the contents evaporate amidst the swirling red smoke. The mist within the pot began to turn into a violent storm, swirling higher in the cauldron. She took the final ingredients and held them aloft in her right hand, saying the words again, the soft garments began to glow and radiate as they were thrown into the pot. A giant fireball billowed out of the top and the fire under the cauldron went out quickly taking the light with it. The old lady walked to the far wall and retrieved a torch, bringing it back to the cauldron. She tested the side of the pot with her finger it was still ice cold. Careful not to come too long into contact with the sides, she lifted the now enchanted items from the pot and took them to the cabin. She found her captives where she had left them, in the big feather bed in one of the bedrooms. She undressed them and laid out their outfits for when they awoke from their slumber.
Now after two hours of her feet being accosted by the old woman’s devious tortures, Becky finally was able to pass out. The crone returned a few minutes later and stopped the mechanism; the chair slowly rose to its full height. Pulling two of the coal filled brazier out of the way, she stepped up and examined the wet and tortured feet.
She awoke Becky by pulling her hair until she cried out in pain. “Now your soles will suffer as never before! Give me your power, or you will suffer for like this for days.”
I don’t have any power, Becky thought as the old woman began raking her tortured soles without mercy. Soon the tickling on her soles became unbearable, she began to cry as the pain welled up inside of her and burst forth.
“That’s right, give in to me. Perhaps now you will be more compliant.” The old witch continued her assault on the helplessly ticklish feet before her.
She began to nod her head. She would do whatever this woman wanted to avoid this torture. She would confess anything the woman wanted.
“Oh so you will give in won’t you?”
Becky’s head nodded faster as her relief came in sight.
“So you are a white witch?” The woman asked her.
Again Becky nodded as agreeable as the head cage would allow.
“And you and your friends came to capture me and steal my power?”
Again Becky nodded furiously.
“Then suffer white witch.” The old crone tickled the soft nylon-clad feet harder than she had before.
Angela woke softly, comfortable in a feather bed. Where was she? She wondered as she looked around the plush bedroom of the cabin. She was naked on a bed with Catherine next to her. Was it all a dream? She wondered. Maybe it had been. Catherine had suggested they drive together so they could perhaps spend some time together. They knew their affair had been a well-kept secret at the office, but they had hoped to maybe bring Becky in on their fun.
She thought about the time in the car, and placing her feet on Becky’s lap. She knew Becky was into feet, Angela’s especially. She always noticed her assistant staring at her feet in the office. She was always wondering if the black-haired girl would ever work up the nerve to try and touch them. The few touches she had felt the other night was all she really remembered. Then everything after was a dreamy blur.
She woke Catherine with a kiss and the two got up and got dressed. Angela hadn’t mentioned the dream; she didn’t feel the need yet. She pieced the night together for herself, as she got dressed in the clothes her lover must have laid out for her. Catherine and her had obviously made up after the blond had gotten them lost, but she wondered if Becky now knew about their relationship.
She put on a black thong, then her black silk bra. She pulled on her taupe pantyhose and her gray skirt. She buttoned up her white silk blouse and her black blazer. Stepping into her four-inch black stilettos with the ankle straps, she completed her outfit.
Catherine slipped on her white satin bikini briefs and a white lace bra. She had tan pantyhose and a white mini skirt. Her blouse was a pale blue and had decided to wear her white platform sandals.
“Does Becky know?” Angela asked Catherine.
“I’m not sure, I don’t remember much after getting here.”
The two walked out into the main room, looking for Becky. Angela thought it was weird that both of them couldn’t remember last night, perhaps Becky could shed some light on it for them.
“You know Angela, I had the weirdest dream.”
Angela stopped dead in her tracks. “Tell me about it.”
“Well, I dreamt this old lady had tied me up and staked me to an anthill. The ant’s started crawling all over my feet and tickling me. Well I couldn’t stand it. Then Becky came to free me, but the old lady got her too. Then the lady made me tickle your feet while you were helpless in a box-.”
“Oh my God!” Angela began. It was then she felt the first itch.
It started of small, just on the side of her knee, she brushed it away, only to have another one appear at her panty line. Soon there were three and soon there were four. Soon she didn’t have enough hands to cover the itches that were irritating all over her body. Catherine was reaching all over herself as well the nasty itches materializing out of nowhere.
A minute later the tickling started. Light little tickles started at both of their toes and slowly grew to titillate every ticklish spot along their bodies. Soon they toppled over from the itching and giggling. Angela reached down to remove her shoes but the strap wouldn’t come undone. Her blazer buttons wouldn’t open; her skirt wouldn’t unzip.
Catherine was already overwhelmed with the tickling the clothes were inflicting on her. She lay on her back trying to scratch with her hands while trying to force a sandal off one foot with the other.
It was real, Angela thought to herself, the dream was real.
From her shackled position against the wall, Becky stared at her friends helplessly laughing and itching in the scrying glass on the witch’s table.
“Pah! You see how easy your friends are to torture when they are in my control? Look at them, laugh and giggle while they itch all over. They cannot appease the itches and the itches distract them, so they cannot bear the tickling. A most delicious torture.”
The old witch walked over and seized the ankles of her chained captive and began raking the helpless stocking soles again, just showing her who was the master and who was the slave. Becky started heaving from this newest assault as the tickles began to overwhelm her, but this time, as she was tickled, she could buck her legs. For the first time since her capture, she was able to kick her feet. First one caught the old lady’s shawl, for the first time revealing the crescent moon symbol she wore around her neck. The old lady didn’t notice as she fought to hold the legs that Becky’s flailing feet had hooked her chain. With one good tug the necklace went flying towards the wall. As it hit the wall a portal opened, and a great wind began to resonate through the chamber. It swirled and caught the old witch as it tried to suck everything in the room into the portal. Becky felt herself going as well, but she was still chained to the wall. She began to rise off the floor, as the wind grew greater and angrier. The old witch began to be pulled towards the vortex, but had presence of mind to grab one of Becky’s ankles as an anchor. She looked over her shoulder, into the portal and saw her true master waiting for her. She looked up at her captive just in time to see the captive’s stocking foot come down and crash into her face. She released her grip and sailed into the portal. The wind died as the portal closed and Becky came to rest on the floor. She pulled against the chains still holding her to the wall to no avail. Then she saw the moon necklace lying a few inches from her foot. She stretched and flexed until she reached the chain. She worked it onto her ankle and was going to try to toss it to her hands when the chains released.
Angela couldn’t stand it anymore, she was laughing and scratching for all her worth and still couldn’t satisfy her itches. There was no way to avoid the tickling sensations. Catherine had passed out and she could feel herself on the verge.
Her last sight was Becky walking towards them.
Angela woke up in the car; she looked up at Becky, sleeping in the passenger seat guarding her bosses’ nylon-clad feet in her lap. She looked up to see Catherine walking towards the car. It had to be near morning.
Catherine came around and got into the backseat. “Sorry you guys.” Catherine began. “I didn’t find anybody home, so I kinda opened the door and walked right in. The phone inside had some connection problem and the operator said try in five minutes, but I fell asleep waiting.”
“How dry does the ground look?” Angela asked her.
“It was pretty dry all the way back up the trail.”
Angela tried the ignition and the car turned over okay. She put the transmission in gear and eased off the break. The tires caught traction and the car moved. Angela guided the car back down the road and didn’t stop until they were on the main road. They found a gas station and got gas and directions to the nearest airport. They booked themselves on the next flight to Denver and waited at the airport for their flight.
It wasn’t much later, as they sat in silence at the airport that Angela noticed that Becky’s ever present sun necklace was gone and in its place was a crescent moon.
The Shortcut
By J The Quill (Kindred at TMF)
Angela grabbed her wallet out of her purse, “It’s my turn to buy.” She stated as they got out of the car. The dingy roadside diner may not have looked too appealing under normal circumstances, but at his time of the day and for as long as they had been traveling, Becky, Angela and Catherine thought it looked like heaven.
They had flown into Memphis on Thursday for a few meetings at their company’s Tennessee location. They had stayed overnight and had planned to fly out that next night right after work and spend the weekend in Colorado, but Catherine thought it would be fun if they rented a car and drove together. Angela, the auburn haired lawyer, had reservations about it, but after Catherine, the perky blonde marketing assistant, promised she would drive the entire way, Angela agreed. Becky, the raven-haired administrative assistant, hated flying anyway, so it was fine with her. They rented a Cadillac and set out late Friday afternoon.
Well, Catherine driving turned out to be a mistake, the girls found themselves promptly lost and from what the road signs said, they were almost in Texas. With Catherine now regulated to the role of backseat driver. With no sun to work with, Angela drove back in the direction they had come, remembering the dirty truck stop that they had passed about an hour back.
Becky thought of their earlier remarks about how horrible the diner had looked when they had first passed, but now, two hours later and quite a bit hungrier, the diner looked like Tavern on the Green.
They pulled into one of the numerous empty parking spaces and headed into the diner. In the parking lot, a group of tough looking bikers surveyed the beauties as they walked to the front of the diner. The toughs started whistling and catcalling the three.
Becky and Angela had ignored the brash, lewd comments, being used to that kind of treatment. But Catherine, who loved attention, slyly turned her head to encourage a few more comments.
“Will you stop it!” Angela whispered harshly.
“I can’t help it. They’re all so cute!” Catherine shook her behind once more before going through the door.
“Great. First you get us lost, now you’re gonna get us killed. And probably raped! In that order from the looks of them.” Becky whispered as they took seats at the counter.
“They’ve probably never seen gorgeous women like us, dressed as well as we are.” Catherine was right, though they were still in the outfits they had worn to work that morning, the three of them did look impeccable.
Angela had worn a black blouse with a matching mini-skirt and a red blazer. She had complimented her outfit with nude pantyhose and four-inch black opera pumps with a Cuban heel.
Becky loved the color black, she had gone as far as to dye her hair black from it’s natural brown color. The fair pale features of her face seemed to be accentuated with her hair this color, and she could get by with little or no make-up. For the office today she had worn a black satin dress that always felt cool to the touch. The hem came down about midway to her calf. She wore a black shawl across her bare white arms and sheer black nylons on her legs. Though she would have been more comfortable with her lace up boots on, today she had worn black high-heel sandals.
Catherine had always loved the business world and loved to dress accordingly. She had word her tan suit, a short skirt and matching blazer. Under she wore a pure white silk blouse that was open too far and showed too much cleavage. Her legs were clad in dark brown pantyhose and she wore chocolate colored open toed sling backs with a four-inch stiletto heel.
“Look, let’s just grab something quick, get directions and get back on the road. We lost enough time today.” Angela, the highest-ranking employee on the trip, had to assume rank. She had a feeling she might be able to trust Becky now, but she knew she just couldn’t trust Catherine’s judgment. The lawyer realized she would have to stay in charge to get them back on the right path. She looked on the menu for something appealing.
The waitress approached them, looking them over first. “What can I get for ya?”
Becky looked over the menu, everything seemed like it was dipped in grease and deep-fried. She decided on a grilled cheese sandwich and a large iced tea.
Angela needed something meaty, she opted for a hamburger and fries and a chocolate shake.
Catherine began a long topic of discussion on the menu items with the waitress who was beginning to look as annoyed as Angela. After five minutes of deciding and debating, the ditzy blonde decided on a tossed green salad with ranch dressing an cucumbers on the side, unsweetened ice tea with three packets of sweet and low and an order of the breadsticks with warmed marinara sauce on the side.
“That all?” The waitress asked.
“Umm…” Catherine looked shocked as Angela reached across Becky and took the menu away from her and handed it to the waitress.
“That’ll be it.” Catherine told the woman.
The waitress went into the kitchen and began her second job as cook.
The women sat in silence as they looked intently at the map. They didn’t notice one of the biker’s outside opening the unlocked back door of the rented Cadillac and making off with their purses and cell phones. In a flash he grabbed their handbags from their hiding place under the backseat and was on his bike and gone with his biker friends behind him.
The waitress brought the food and Angela paid the bill with money in her wallet, retrieving a receipt. “Excuse us, but were kinda lost. Well, we know where we are now, but is there a faster way to highway 40 from here other than going west? Or if not, is there a motel around anywhere?”
“Yeah, if you head west it’s an easier way, but if you go east for about a mile, then turn north on route 16, you can save yourself about an hour of driving.”
“That sounds good to me.” Becky exclaimed.
“Me too.” Angela agreed.
Catherine was about to say something, but the look Angela gave her quieted the blonde.
“Here’s the rest of the way. Stay on Route 16 for about I’d say maybe ten miles. You’ll come to a few turn offs, look for a sign that says Route 5, you want to take that one over the hills cause it’s paved the whole way. Stay on it for about maybe fifteen or twenty miles, you’ll come to Highway 40. About ten minutes north from there you’ll find a nice motel, The Overnighter, I think. They always have vacancies.”
“Thanks you’re so great.” Angela said, leaving a big tip for the woman.
The three made their way back to the car and headed east. The darkness was now punctuated by storm clouds moving rapidly south. They found Route 16 and the rain started to fall. They drove in harsh rain while the storm was passing over. After about ten minutes of driving, Catherine spotted a sign on the side of the road. “Route 5” it said. Catherine finally dared to speak. “I just saw a sign for Route 5, take the next turn.”
Angela slowed down and took the turn that lead up into the hills.
The wind blew harshly on the branch that was covering half the sign that Catherine had seen. Under the words, “Route 5” was more writing saying, “2 miles.”
Angela maneuvered on the narrow winding road wondering why the waitress would send them this way? This didn’t seem like that great of a road. Probably wanted a better tip, the lawyer thought. Or she was pissed at Catherine. Who wasn’t at this point?
They had been on the road when the paved road disappeared under the car and became a dirt road.
“This has to be wrong.” Becky said, “The waitress said it was an entirely paved road.”
“The sign said Route 5.” Catherine argued.
“Well whether it’s Route 5 or not, I’m turning around when I get a chance.” Angela announced. She went down the wet dirt road for another mile before she found a spot where she thought a turnaround would be possible. She started a three-point turn in the big Cadillac; now wishing they had rented a compact or a Jeep. She backed up to make the final turn and went nowhere when she pushed on the accelerator. The back wheels were spinning.
“NO!” Angela screamed.
“Rock it.” Becky suggested. “Forward and back.”
After a few minutes of trying they realized they were stuck.
Angela was at the end of her rope. This can’t be happening, she thought as she turned on the interior light of the car. “Catherine, hand me my cell phone from my purse.”
“Your purse isn’t back here.” Catherine said, looking around. “My purse isn’t back here!”
“What the hell are you talking about? It’s under the seat, I threw it there when we went into the diner!”
“Well it’s not here now!”
Angela looked over the back of her chair. “Well what happened to it?”
“I don’t know!”
“Mine’s gone too!” Becky said, “I put it under the seat when I saw those bikers at the diner.”
“You don’t think they stole our purses do you?” Catherine asked, almost in tears.
“I don’t know, how could they have broken into the car without us noticing?” Becky asked.
Catherine mumbled something.
“What was that?” Angela yelled, not believing what she had just heard.
“Cause I forgot to lock my door.” Catherine said in a whining baby voice. “I’m sorry!”
Becky rolled her eyes. Angela just sat there in shock.
I can’t lose it, Angela thought. I’m a grown woman. I can survive this. “Okay, here’s what we’re gonna do. Let’s get some sleep, and in the morning, we’ll walk back to the diner and call for some help. I still have my wallet, we’re low on cash, but I have my credit cards. We’ll be okay.”
“Is that a house in the distance?”
There was a house in the distance. Angela could barely make out light in a window about a half-mile down the road. Built in front of a mountain, the house would have been invisible if not for the paned window that light was emitting through. “Okay, I need a volunteer.” Angela smiled at Becky and both looked back at Catherine.
Pouting all the way to the house, Catherine walked on the mud soaked road. My shoes are a wreck, she thought, they’re probably laughing at me right now. I didn’t mean to do all this stuff, sometimes it just happens to me. I don’t ask for it. She was still sulking when she got to the house. She knocked once and waited. She moved to the side of the door where the lighted window was. She saw no one inside the cozy cabin, but she did see a fire going in the fireplace. Someone must be home, she thought. She walked back to the door and knocked again, a little harder this time. She waited again and knocked a third time. Giving up, she tried the doorknob. Surely the people inside would understand a stranger just barging in. She was in a desperate situation. They would have to understand.
“Should we have sent her alone?” Becky asked.
“Right now, sending her away from me was the safest move.”
“She means well.”
“I know, but she always seems to find trouble.”
“Again I ask, should we have sent her alone?”
“It’s walking, knocking and asking to use the phone. If she screws this up, she might not want to come back. I’m gonna get some sleep, are you?”
“No, I’ll wait up until she gets back.”
“Okay, wake me up when she gets here.” Angela shifted around in the driver seat trying to get comfortable. Becky stared out the window towards the house, waiting for Catherine to return when she heard a familiar sound. It was the sound of Angela slipping her shoes off. Becky took a baited breath and tried to calm herself down as she heard the high heels hit the floor.
Becky had a thing for feet, especially Angela’s. The auburn haired lawyer had perfect feet. They were a size six and a half. Becky knew it well. The black-haired admin would wait patiently for the afternoon hours when Angela would strut around the office without her shoes. She had always gone and inspected the shoes when Angela was out of the office.
There was never a day that Angela wasn’t wearing a skirt and a pair of nylons. Being her assistant, Becky always looked forward to what she called, “The Angela Show.”
Well now, The Angela Show was within reach and Becky was panicking. She had calmed down enough to where she could concentrate as long as she looked out the window and not at Angela. She would’ve been completely okay, when she heard Angela mumble. “Do you mind if I put my feet in you lap?”
A second later, Angela’s nylon-clad peds were in Becky’s lap, and Becky was on the verge of hyperventilating. She laid her head back and tried to think of anything else. Soon Angela’s breathing became slow and steady. Becky laid a hand gently on the sole of one of the feet resting her in lap. They were cool to the touch and as soft as she had often dreamed. Hr mind started to wander and soon she drifted off to sleep.
Becky woke with a start. She looked at her watch out of reflex but had no light to see the face. She reached over Angela’s outstretched legs and turned the key on the ignition. The clock came on, it was past midnight, they had slept for almost two hours and Catherine hadn’t returned yet. Probably found herself a lumberjack, Becky thought, and she forgot all about us. She nudged Angela’s leg, an act she was pleased to do. When Angela was awake, they grabbed a flashlight and decided they had to go investigate.
“I should have changed into my boots.” Becky said, as one of her heels caught in the mud.
“We could go back, I wouldn’t mind changing into my tennis shoes.”
They walked back to the car, as they approached, Angela pulled on the door handle, but the door didn’t budge.
“Did you lock the door?”
“Yeah.” Becky said, “After how mad you got at Catherine, I wasn’t taking any chances.”
“I left the keys in the ignition.”
“Why did you leave them there?”
“Because the car wasn’t going anywhere! Why did you lock the door?”
“So no one would break in!”
“AAAAAAGH!!!!!” The two girls screamed in unison.
The walk to the cabin was a silent one.
They got to the cabin and knocked one the door, but no one answered. Angela tried the door, finding it open she looked inside. She could see muddy footprints on the floor that went inside, but then disappeared.
Becky gripped Angela’s arm. “It doesn’t mean anything.” Angela told her, “She probably took her shoes off after tracking mud inside.”
“Or someone carried her off, I don’t like this.” Becky whispered.
“Me either. I’m gonna go in this way, take the flashlight, but don’t use it unless you have to. See if you can find a back door or a back window to get another look.”
“Okay, if anything happens, scream as loud as you can.”
“No problem there.”
Angela paused at the door and took her mud-covered pumps off. She tiptoed inside and softly closed the door behind her.
Becky walked to the far end of the cabin and peered around the side. She could barely see in the dark, but stepped forward anyway, keeping a hand on the side of the house for stability. When she got close to the back of the house, she could hear a faint moaning, coupled with a muffled giggle. The sounds were somewhat pained, yet somewhat pleasured. She’s having sex, Becky thought, of all the nerve. Here we are worried about her and she’s over here doing the bad thing with her lumberjack. She waited for the moaning to die down, but her curiosity got the best of her, she turned around the corner, She shined the flashlight in the direction of the moaning, hoping to scare the heck out of them.
What she saw scared her more than anything else that had happened tonight. Catherine was lying on the ground with her arms outstretched. She was still dressed in her tan suit and she had been gagged with a cloth between her teeth. When Becky came closer she saw that the blonde’s wrists had been tied to stakes driven into the ground. There were two more stakes driven in on either side of her waist and a rope had been tied to them, effectively holding her to the ground.
Becky shined the flashlight at her feet, what she saw there horrified her even more. From what she could tell Catherine’s feet had been dipped into what appeared to be honey. Her feet were tied slightly apart on a t-bar driven into the ground. The t-bar had been strategically placed over an anthill. The ants were swarming all over her feet. Catherine’s squirming had cause one of her shoes to fall off. Ants swarmed that sole now that it was completely unprotected. The strap of her other sling back had come loose, but that shoe had stayed in place. Becky especially noticed the ants gathering in and around the open toe of the shoe.
Catherine moaned and giggled as much as she was allowed through the gag. Becky hesitated for a moment, her own passion for feet and tickling overwhelming her for a second. Being very ticklish herself, she thought for a moment how helpless a situation her co-worker was in. Coming to her senses, she leapt into action. Catherine eyes widened at the possibility of release. As she knelt by Catherine bound hands, she shined the light on the stake and worked on the rope with her free hand. The knot proved to difficult for one hand and she put the flashlight down so it shined on the stake and tried again. She didn’t know why, but in between moans, no sound would come out of her moving mouth. The tickling and itching proved to be too much for the captured blonde and she began to laugh and moan again. Catherine’s screams and giggles covered the sounds of footsteps coming up behind Becky, who felt a thud across her head and slumped over into unconsciousness.
Angela tiptoed around the house and was coming up empty in every section. She had first started right and looked into the kitchen and the pantry beyond. She looked out the back windows, but because of the light inside, she couldn’t see out them. She moved back into the main room and down a hallway to the left where she found shut doors. The first door was unlocked and opened to reveal and empty closet. She moved to the next door and found that one locked. With no other choices, she went to the last door and, finding it open, went inside. In this room she found a lavish bed that looked invitingly soft. She almost hated herself for the thoughts, but she couldn’t help but think about jumping into the bed and getting some good sleep. But she would catch hell from the other girls. She went to the window but couldn’t see out this one either. She realized they were in a valley and depending on the moon position, they might not have any natural light outside. She turned around and saw for the first time a large tome sitting on the dresser. She went and looked at the huge leather bound book. Her curiosity got the best of her and she opened the book. She heard a snapping, like a twig had broken and the floor gave way beneath her. Her body fell through a trapdoor and she landed in the confines of a hempen net. She had twisted on her way down and now found herself caught in the net with her feet sticking out. Her weight had caused the top of the net to close to the point where she wouldn’t be able to climb out. She twisted and turned, but couldn’t free herself.
“I see you found you way into my lair.” A grizzled female voice called to her. A she twisted to see who spoke to her, she saw an old crone walking down a flight of stairs carrying a torch on one hand and Becky slung over her other shoulder.
“Lady, I am a lawyer and I will sue the pants off you! You better get me out of here.”
“Pah!” The old woman scoffed. “I know what you are, and I know what you aren’t. I can see through lies, so stop telling yours or you will end up with your golden-haired friend. She told me lies when she arrived and now she will be punished until dawn. This one tried to free her and exposed herself to me a Wicca. I know you are witch hunters now. Confess to me and I will treat you justly. Lie and I can make no promises.”
“You loony old bat! We’re not witch hunters! She’s not a witch, she a Goth! I am a lawyer and I’m gonna make sure you pay for this!”
“Pah! Have it your way.”
She plopped Becky down into the corner of the room and shackled her wrists to chains that dangled down from the corner. She took another apparatus that hung from a chain a little farther out from the corner. It was shape in a quarter circle with the chain attached to the center. Each side of the quarter circle had five thumbscrews set into it. She took each of Becky’s feet and removed the black strappy sandals that she had worn all day. She slipped her toes into each half of the quarter circle and screwed the thumbscrews into the undersides of her toes until each foot was helplessly immobile.
She turned a crank on the wall and the chains began to rise until Becky was balanced on her butt. She took something that looked like an oddly shaped birdcage off a shelf and placed it over Becky’s head. When it was fully locked on, the head cage not only gagged Becky’s mouth, but blindfolded her as well. “This exact apparatus had been used on my mother in Salem when they had found her guilty. She could not speak in her defense, not face her accusers. It binds a Wicca as well as a witch.”
“Okay lady!” Angela yelled, “I have had enough! I have had a long day and I want out of this now! You have assault, kidnapping, and I don’t know how many other charges the cops will make up. You better let me go now!”
“Pah! I’m tired of your voice.” The crone came to the other side of the room and plucked a jar of red powder off the shelf. She turned another crank on the wall and the net began to lower.
Angela felt her stocking foot touch the floor and the lowering stopped. As she turned around to yell some more, the lady blew some of the red powder in her face. It tasted bitter as she breathed it in. She felt her throat tighten for a second then relax.
She yelled, “You Bitch!” at the woman, but no sound came out. She reached for her throat and screamed but again, no sound came out. The net began to rise again as Angela tried to find her voice.
She felt the old crone begin to scratch her foot that was sticking helplessly out of the net. She laughed and tried to yell. The laughter came, but no words could form. She tried to pull her foot free, but she hadn’t the leverage to pull away. The old witch continued to tickle her, making sure the red powder had done its job. True to its form, it would allow a victim to laugh, but leave the victim without speech. When she was confident that it had been fully effective, she walked away giggling, knowing her captives would go nowhere.
Angela took a look at her surroundings. They were in some kind of cave. It must be a fairly huge cavern under the cabin. She tried to scream, but still had no voice. She struggled for an hour, eventually falling asleep from her exhaustion.
Outside Catherine still writhed and twisted as much as her bound body was allowed. The tickling was more than she could stand, but the itching of the tiny insects all over her helplessly immobile feet was what drove her crazy. Again she tried to scream for help, but that red powder that the old woman had blown in her face still prevented her from speaking any words. Her other shoe had fallen off, taking some of the ants with it, but her feet would remain ravaged until dawn, that’s what the woman had told her. She wasn’t sure of the time, but she knew it was nowhere near dawn. The ants had made their way to her knees and a few strayed around her thighs. The itches were as maddening as her helplessness. She finally stopped struggling, but the sensations that wormed their way up and down her spine kept her awake through most of her torture.
She thought of Becky, captured as well, but wondered if Angela had happened to get away and go for help. Gradually, dawn came and so had the crone. Catherine felt her hands being untied and a bucket of water was dumped on her legs to rid them of the ants. She was half carried, half dragged into small opening in the side of the mountain. She was led down into the cave until they reached a cavernous room that had cages suspended from the ceiling. These cages were man shaped. She was led up onto a platform next to one and shoved inside it. The bands of the cage could be adjusted and tightened. The crone busied herself until the entire cage had conformed to Catherine’s body. The crone spun the cage much to her own delight. As the cage rotated, she could see someone else confined into another cage a few feet away. Soon the cage lost momentum and spun back the other direction. The cage kept spinning back and forth for a while. When it slowed enough, she could see Angela constricted by the other cage. Catherine’s hopes for escape died. Tired, dizzy and helpless, the captive blonde girl finally fell asleep.
Becky awoke in the darkness. She had no idea of the time because the blindfold keeping light from the candles in the cavern away from her sight. Her toes ached from their hanging position. She heard footsteps approaching, and moaned through the gag to attract attention.
“Pah!” She heard a voice say to her. “You are accused of consorting with witch hunters and betraying the sisterhood. Nod your head if you wish to confess.”
Becky’s mind raced while she thought of the words spoken to her. Sharp nails began tickling her offered soles. Her dreams were coming true in a harsh reality. She had often thought of being kidnapped and tickle tortured, but those thoughts were of excitement. Now her excitement was coupled with fear, rather than the safety she felt in her imaginary scenarios. She began to laugh, the gag keeping her noise to muffled cries.
“Yes, laugh white witch! You have the mark of the elders and you wear the sun around your neck. I knew you would come someday, so I prepared for you and the two who would come with you. I will steal your powers and theirs. I will tickle and torture you until you are ready to surrender it to me freely. Already the goldenhair has felt just an inkling of what is to come, and the tall one will feel my power shortly.”
The goldenhair? She must mean Catherine, Becky thought. The tall one must be Angela. She thought of the tattoo she had done a few years ago and the sun medallion that she wore around her neck. The woman thought her a full-fledged witch. Becky had read some books and had tried some things, but there was no way she could be considered a Wicca.
“Now laugh harder as I take your energy from you.” The nails began to increase in speed as they roughly assaulted Becky’s tender soles. The muffled laughter became louder as Becky pulled and twisted against her bonds. Her toe restraints stayed in place as the old crone dug even harder into her ticklish nylon–clad feet. Her torture continued for half an hour without any let up. When the old witch figured Becky had passed out, she left the cavern and went to prepare a torture for the tall one.
The old crone went to her workshop and set a kettle to boil over a fire. She then took items from various jars and mashed them into powder using a large stone. She collected the contents into two cups and poured the hot water into them. She stirred the concoctions making sure they mixed well. She carried the two cups into the cavern with the hanging cages to find her two captive birds awake and ready for their next torture.
She lowered the cages without freeing them. Once they were on their back she turned to Angela’s cage. She adjusted the head portion until the lawyer lips and nose protruded through the cage. Pinching her nose, she poured the contents of the first cup into the auburn-haired beauty’s mouth and holding a hand over her mouth, forced her to drink it. She took a few minutes to do the same to Catherine. Once she was done, the old crone proceeded to unlock them from their cages.
By the time both were free, they were in a very suggestive stupor. She easily led them both to a small wood lined room that had various wooden contraption contained in it. She led Angela into the center where there was a crate bolted to the floor. “When you hear the clap of hands, you will be the most foot-ticklish woman in the world, your feet will be completely immobile when they are tickled.” She placed the tall auburn-haired lawyer on her back in the box and closed her in, guiding her tan, stocking-clad feet into a devious sat of stocks built into the top. From the outside, all you would see would be a ticklish pair of feet protruding from the top. The old crone turned to the blonde. “When you hear the clap of hands, you will be the most vicious tickler in the world, one who can’t resist a helpless pair of stocking-clad feet. Every time you hear your victim laugh, it encourages you to tickle softer, but if the feet at your disposal don’t wriggle at your touches, you will tickle harder. You will tickle non-stop and you will show no mercy.”
The old crone began to leave the room. She looked at Catherine, kneeling next to the box containing Angela. She raised her hands above her head and clapped loudly. As if woken from a dream, Catherine reach out and viciously began to tickle the helpless nylon-clad feet in front of her. Angela’s pained laughter began to ring throughout the room. The crone left the two alone.
In the confines of the box, Angela tried to beg for mercy, but still couldn’t get words to come out of her mouth. The she pulled on her legs, trying to free her ankles from the stocks that held her effectively.
Outside, Catherine watched the feet as her tickling commenced the laughter slowed down her attack, but the feet not moving pushed her to tickle more viciously. The laughter would increase, and she would slow, but still the feet wouldn’t move, infuriating her to scratch harder.
Angela was going insane, the speed of the tickling would slow and quicken without warning, she couldn’t get used to the attack to summon any strength to fight it. Unable to do anything, she laughed.
The old crone walked back to the cavern where she had the Wiccan held captive. Perhaps some torture might loosen her tounge, she thought to herself. That would come later, she thought, for now, let see where these three had come from. She went to the secret passage that led to the cabin above her lair. She grabbed her gnarled walking stick from out back where she had left it after conking out Becky with it.
She made her way to the path and ascended the rise to the main road a mile away. She found the Cadillac. Upon investigation she found the doors locked. She wiggled her fingers at the door and watched as the button popped up. She opened the car door and looked through it. Finding the keys in the ignition, she made her way to the trunk and opened it. He found their luggage and stepped back from the trunk. Waving her arms in the air, she called on the woodland spirits to hear her call. Within moments, the bags lifted out of the trunk and began to move towards the cabin, carried by unseen servants. Satisfied that she had found all there was to find, she called again and the car began to move off the road and into a clearing where the thick underbrush began to grow, completely camouflaging the car from any inquiring eyes.
She went back down the path to her home and examined the contents of the bags. These hunters were ill prepared, but their clothing would provide an interesting bit of fun before she rids herself of them. She began thinking of the spell her mother taught her to imbue inanimate objects with magic power.
She found a few more pieces of jewelry bearing symbols in one bag. The Wicca’s bag she thought. The next had clothes for the tall one, meaning the last had to be the goldenhair’s. They were all her playthings now; they had practically given themselves to her.
She went down and mixed another batch of her “Walking Sleep” for her favorite plaything. She found her still balancing on her backside and hanging from her toes. She loosened the gag piece on the brank and poured the potion down her captive’s throat. Within moments, Becky had succumbed to the potion. She was freed and walked towards her next torture.
The dunking stool itself was ancient, but the craftsmen who had built it had done an excellent job. It still remained functional even to this day. But now, instead of being mounted on a pier over a lake, this on was bolted into the rock floor of the cavern.
She moved Becky into the chair and began fastening her down. Her upper torso was completely strapped to the back of the chair and each leg had straps around it holding them to each respective chair leg.
With a strength that belied her frail form, the old woman seized a huge mallet next to the device and hit a rock that was pinned under the counterweight. As the rock rolled away, the weight dropped to the floor slowly, it being just slightly heavier than Becky, strapped helplessly to the other end.
The witch pulled slightly on a rope that was tethered to the bottom of the chair and Becky returned to the ground. When the chair came to rest, the Goth-girl’s feet were about twelve inches off the floor. The old woman giggled at the fun she was about to have. She released the rope and began the rest of the preparations.
Still in the euphoria induced by the potion she had been forced to drink, Becky had very little awareness of the peril she was in. When she was finished with her preparations, the old woman pulled the chair down again and stepped on the rope to hold it down. She began whispering into the young girl’s ear. “At the clap of hands, your feet will become most sensitive. When you are like this, you will feel sensations on your feet and nothing will distract you from feeling. Your mind will clutter and you will think of nothing else, except the sensations on your feet.”
The old woman clapped her hands, bringing Becky out of her euphoria, then re-tightened the gag piece on the head prison and released the rope, leaving the black-haired beauty’s sheer black, nylon-clad feet struggling about four feet off the floor. Becky yelped in anger at her confinement.
The old woman looked at the helpless feet. She easily ran her fingers across one of the silk stretched soles, causing Becky to yelp in a different way.
“Pah! You think you will endure something as enjoyable as tickling? You will suffer through this session!”
The old lady walked over to the wooden wall and pulled a rope connected to a board that rose straight up, allowing water to rush through a flume and push a wheel at the end. The old woman walked back to the dunking stool, now lowering to the floor and coming to rest for about twenty seconds before the mechanism activated by the water’s rush, allowed it to rise again. On it’s way up the chair rotated about two feet to the right and lowered again for another twenty seconds. The witch’s cackle could be heard echoing throughout the cavern as she walked away from the restrained girl.
As she lowered the next time, Becky screamed through the gag. Her right foot had come to rest in a half barrel full of ice water. She screamed for the full twenty seconds until the chair rose and rotated the two feet to the right. Becky held her breath, knowing her left foot was next for the icy torture. As she had predicted, her left foot did come to rest in the half barrel formerly occupied by her right. Her right foot was not ignored either as it came to rest over hot coals, that steamed as the excess water dripped from her feet. She screamed again for the full duration of the dipping. She rose again, unable to catch her breath. She felt the rotation of the chair and the welling of tears in her eyes as she plummeted once again. Her left foot met the coals while her right found a new barrel of ice water. There was never a pattern that she could get use to, first it was ice and coal, then coal and ice, then ice and ice, then coal and coal. He distracted mind couldn’t keep track of the extreme sensations as the chair rotated in a full circle. Her overly sensitive feet forced to bear the torture set to her by the witch.
The witch walked into the wooden room and clapped her hands. Catherine slumped to the floor from her crouched position over the box where Angela’s feet protruded. She dragged Catherine out of the room and up to the cabin, she returned a few moments later for Angela. She placed them both in the bedroom and went outside to find the materials for the spell her mother had taught her. It took about an hour to find the exact ingredients, the ivy being out of season and all the bird life had since abandoned her forest years ago. But as witches tend to do with the components of a spell, she found both. The rest would be back in her lair and in the handled boxes the hunters had brought with them. She cackled all the way back to her cabin. What a wonderful lure she has created for the game she so loved to capture. When she was back in front of her cauldron, she stoked the fire under the huge pot and said chants into it until they green smoke trails wafted upwards. It was time for the enchantment. She tossed in the braided ropes and the keyless padlocks. An explosion of yellow smoke belched from the pot and steadily turned to green. She said the words from memory and the things in the cauldron disappeared. A swirling red mass developed in the bottom of the pot and twirled like a whirlpool. She threw in the ivy and the feathers she had gathered in the woods near her cabin, saying the words again and again having the contents evaporate amidst the swirling red smoke. The mist within the pot began to turn into a violent storm, swirling higher in the cauldron. She took the final ingredients and held them aloft in her right hand, saying the words again, the soft garments began to glow and radiate as they were thrown into the pot. A giant fireball billowed out of the top and the fire under the cauldron went out quickly taking the light with it. The old lady walked to the far wall and retrieved a torch, bringing it back to the cauldron. She tested the side of the pot with her finger it was still ice cold. Careful not to come too long into contact with the sides, she lifted the now enchanted items from the pot and took them to the cabin. She found her captives where she had left them, in the big feather bed in one of the bedrooms. She undressed them and laid out their outfits for when they awoke from their slumber.
Now after two hours of her feet being accosted by the old woman’s devious tortures, Becky finally was able to pass out. The crone returned a few minutes later and stopped the mechanism; the chair slowly rose to its full height. Pulling two of the coal filled brazier out of the way, she stepped up and examined the wet and tortured feet.
She awoke Becky by pulling her hair until she cried out in pain. “Now your soles will suffer as never before! Give me your power, or you will suffer for like this for days.”
I don’t have any power, Becky thought as the old woman began raking her tortured soles without mercy. Soon the tickling on her soles became unbearable, she began to cry as the pain welled up inside of her and burst forth.
“That’s right, give in to me. Perhaps now you will be more compliant.” The old witch continued her assault on the helplessly ticklish feet before her.
She began to nod her head. She would do whatever this woman wanted to avoid this torture. She would confess anything the woman wanted.
“Oh so you will give in won’t you?”
Becky’s head nodded faster as her relief came in sight.
“So you are a white witch?” The woman asked her.
Again Becky nodded as agreeable as the head cage would allow.
“And you and your friends came to capture me and steal my power?”
Again Becky nodded furiously.
“Then suffer white witch.” The old crone tickled the soft nylon-clad feet harder than she had before.
Angela woke softly, comfortable in a feather bed. Where was she? She wondered as she looked around the plush bedroom of the cabin. She was naked on a bed with Catherine next to her. Was it all a dream? She wondered. Maybe it had been. Catherine had suggested they drive together so they could perhaps spend some time together. They knew their affair had been a well-kept secret at the office, but they had hoped to maybe bring Becky in on their fun.
She thought about the time in the car, and placing her feet on Becky’s lap. She knew Becky was into feet, Angela’s especially. She always noticed her assistant staring at her feet in the office. She was always wondering if the black-haired girl would ever work up the nerve to try and touch them. The few touches she had felt the other night was all she really remembered. Then everything after was a dreamy blur.
She woke Catherine with a kiss and the two got up and got dressed. Angela hadn’t mentioned the dream; she didn’t feel the need yet. She pieced the night together for herself, as she got dressed in the clothes her lover must have laid out for her. Catherine and her had obviously made up after the blond had gotten them lost, but she wondered if Becky now knew about their relationship.
She put on a black thong, then her black silk bra. She pulled on her taupe pantyhose and her gray skirt. She buttoned up her white silk blouse and her black blazer. Stepping into her four-inch black stilettos with the ankle straps, she completed her outfit.
Catherine slipped on her white satin bikini briefs and a white lace bra. She had tan pantyhose and a white mini skirt. Her blouse was a pale blue and had decided to wear her white platform sandals.
“Does Becky know?” Angela asked Catherine.
“I’m not sure, I don’t remember much after getting here.”
The two walked out into the main room, looking for Becky. Angela thought it was weird that both of them couldn’t remember last night, perhaps Becky could shed some light on it for them.
“You know Angela, I had the weirdest dream.”
Angela stopped dead in her tracks. “Tell me about it.”
“Well, I dreamt this old lady had tied me up and staked me to an anthill. The ant’s started crawling all over my feet and tickling me. Well I couldn’t stand it. Then Becky came to free me, but the old lady got her too. Then the lady made me tickle your feet while you were helpless in a box-.”
“Oh my God!” Angela began. It was then she felt the first itch.
It started of small, just on the side of her knee, she brushed it away, only to have another one appear at her panty line. Soon there were three and soon there were four. Soon she didn’t have enough hands to cover the itches that were irritating all over her body. Catherine was reaching all over herself as well the nasty itches materializing out of nowhere.
A minute later the tickling started. Light little tickles started at both of their toes and slowly grew to titillate every ticklish spot along their bodies. Soon they toppled over from the itching and giggling. Angela reached down to remove her shoes but the strap wouldn’t come undone. Her blazer buttons wouldn’t open; her skirt wouldn’t unzip.
Catherine was already overwhelmed with the tickling the clothes were inflicting on her. She lay on her back trying to scratch with her hands while trying to force a sandal off one foot with the other.
It was real, Angela thought to herself, the dream was real.
From her shackled position against the wall, Becky stared at her friends helplessly laughing and itching in the scrying glass on the witch’s table.
“Pah! You see how easy your friends are to torture when they are in my control? Look at them, laugh and giggle while they itch all over. They cannot appease the itches and the itches distract them, so they cannot bear the tickling. A most delicious torture.”
The old witch walked over and seized the ankles of her chained captive and began raking the helpless stocking soles again, just showing her who was the master and who was the slave. Becky started heaving from this newest assault as the tickles began to overwhelm her, but this time, as she was tickled, she could buck her legs. For the first time since her capture, she was able to kick her feet. First one caught the old lady’s shawl, for the first time revealing the crescent moon symbol she wore around her neck. The old lady didn’t notice as she fought to hold the legs that Becky’s flailing feet had hooked her chain. With one good tug the necklace went flying towards the wall. As it hit the wall a portal opened, and a great wind began to resonate through the chamber. It swirled and caught the old witch as it tried to suck everything in the room into the portal. Becky felt herself going as well, but she was still chained to the wall. She began to rise off the floor, as the wind grew greater and angrier. The old witch began to be pulled towards the vortex, but had presence of mind to grab one of Becky’s ankles as an anchor. She looked over her shoulder, into the portal and saw her true master waiting for her. She looked up at her captive just in time to see the captive’s stocking foot come down and crash into her face. She released her grip and sailed into the portal. The wind died as the portal closed and Becky came to rest on the floor. She pulled against the chains still holding her to the wall to no avail. Then she saw the moon necklace lying a few inches from her foot. She stretched and flexed until she reached the chain. She worked it onto her ankle and was going to try to toss it to her hands when the chains released.
Angela couldn’t stand it anymore, she was laughing and scratching for all her worth and still couldn’t satisfy her itches. There was no way to avoid the tickling sensations. Catherine had passed out and she could feel herself on the verge.
Her last sight was Becky walking towards them.
Angela woke up in the car; she looked up at Becky, sleeping in the passenger seat guarding her bosses’ nylon-clad feet in her lap. She looked up to see Catherine walking towards the car. It had to be near morning.
Catherine came around and got into the backseat. “Sorry you guys.” Catherine began. “I didn’t find anybody home, so I kinda opened the door and walked right in. The phone inside had some connection problem and the operator said try in five minutes, but I fell asleep waiting.”
“How dry does the ground look?” Angela asked her.
“It was pretty dry all the way back up the trail.”
Angela tried the ignition and the car turned over okay. She put the transmission in gear and eased off the break. The tires caught traction and the car moved. Angela guided the car back down the road and didn’t stop until they were on the main road. They found a gas station and got gas and directions to the nearest airport. They booked themselves on the next flight to Denver and waited at the airport for their flight.
It wasn’t much later, as they sat in silence at the airport that Angela noticed that Becky’s ever present sun necklace was gone and in its place was a crescent moon.
