Sablesword
TMF Master
- Joined
- Jun 13, 2001
- Messages
- 793
- Points
- 18
“It’s time, Mr. Williams,” Juanita said in her sweet clear voice.
Ross Williams checked the wall clock; a digital display in the deliberately retro style affected by TMI Inc. “So it is,” he agreed. He put the sheet of hardcopy in the top drawer of his desk, locked down the desk’s display, and bent to remove his shoes and socks. They came off quickly; Ross had a lot of practice. That gave him time to watch Juanita as she finished rolling out the RecRak from its closet.
Miss Juanita was black-haired and copper-skinned, with dark brown eyes in a heart-shaped face. She was also his private secretary, assigned to him by TMI Inc. Normally, she did what he needed without having to be told. Now she gestured at the RicRak, opened and waiting for him.
“We’re ready, Mr. Williams.”
Ross nodded and walked over to the RicRak, aware, as usual, of the thick carpet under his now-bare feet. The carpet, the desk and executive chair, and the RicRak all shared a style, as they were all supplied by OakSword furniture, the office supplier to TMI Inc. But the RicRak had a specialized purpose, reflected in its specialized appearance.
“In you go, Mr. Williams,” Juanita said with a bright smile.
Ross smiled back. “In I go, Juanita,” he agreed and lowered himself onto the piece of special furniture. Most of the time she worked for him, but when she spoke the magic words, he obeyed her. It was unthinkable to do otherwise.
The RicRak was perhaps more like a lounge chair than any other ordinary piece of furniture. But it came loaded with soft restraints, restraints that held its occupant helplessly in place. Ross was well-muscled; TMI Inc. wanted its executives to be as physically fit as they were mentally fit. When the restraints folded into place however, he might as well have been the proverbial ninety-pound weakling. He could not escape. He was trapped until Miss Juanita chose to release him. And that would not be for a while yet.
Miss Juanita pulled up a task chair and began her task. And that task was tickling.
The RicRak held both Ross’s ankles and his toes, leaving his bare soles completely vulnerable. Juanita took full advantage of this vulnerability, expertly using the fingers of both hands to apply a light tickle-touch. Ross felt the tease running down from the base of his toes to the heels of each foot. He squirmed in a futile attempt to escape the RicRak. He grimaced in a losing effort to resist the tickle. On the third stroke he broke into laughter.
Ross felt more long strokes run down his bare soles, with each of Juanita’s fingers leaving its own tickle-trace. He felt those fingers wiggle, expertly seeking out his weak points: Just where the balls of his feet met his arches, and along the inner edges of the arches themselves. The fingers then wandered to other points to cultivate a further sensitivity, now tickling quickly, now moving slowly. Their paths sometimes curved and circled and sometimes ran in straight lines. Then Juanita’s fingertips tickle-teased the shafts and pads of Ross’s toes, before moving back to Ross’s broad bare soles, applying alternating touches to each sole in turn.
Again Ross tried to resist the tickling, knowing that he couldn’t. The laughter came out, forced by Juanita’s expert touches. Ross twisted in the RicRak, or tried to, and the RicRak held him in place to receive that tickle-tickle-tickle sinking into his bare soles.
“Tickle-tickle-tickle!” Juanita said. “Tickle-tickle-tickle!”
“Hahaha heehee hahahaha!” Ross answered.
The finger tickling continued, now with little gentle digs into the bare skin of his soles. It seemed to Ross that his special tickle-spots grew to cover his entire foot. To cover both his feet, trapped and helpless under Juanita’s tickling. And that tickling went on, now with quick light touches, touches that landed everywhere and tickled everywhere, with the tickle-teases sinking into his feet, teases that continued to force squirming and the laughter from him.
Ross felt the tickle change. Juanita was now using a feather. A vibro-feather, with the quill embedded in a powered handle to give the feather’s tip an enhanced effectiveness. Juanita traced that feather-tip over Ross’s bare soles with casual skill, making it meander and wander. It could only tickle one spot at a time, but that spot kept moving. Ross was aware of that moving touch, and wherever it went, it tickled.
“Tickle-tickle, Mr. Ross!” Juanita said. “Tickle-tickle-tickle!”
Ross answered with uncontrolled laughter. “Hahahee heeheehee haha-hahaha!”
The exquisite tickling tip of the vibro-feather riveted Ross’s attention. He felt it run in straight lines, from the toes of his right sole down to the heel. Over and over again. He felt the touch move to his left foot, circling and spiraling over all of that foot’s bare and vulnerable sole. He felt it run across the pads of his toes, and wiggle between each toe in turn. He squeaked as it jumped back and forth from foot to foot, so that Ross couldn’t anticipate which ticklish spot it would tease next.
And Juanita kept the tickle going. She made Ross aware of the implacable tease of his helpless feet, while carefully avoiding any overload that would numb the tickle and make it diminish.
Ross felt the tease of the vibro-feather turn into to a slow meander, first on his right sole and then on his left. He was giggling again, under the spell of that slow meander. He couldn’t help but giggle, under its tickle. And then he felt the tickling change yet again.
Juanita had switched to a toe-brush. To a pair of toe-brushes, looped around the fingers of each hand. Ross felt her begin a vigorous brushing of his soles with them. A tickle brushing that made Ross strain at his restraints and howl with laughter.
“Ahh Eee! Hahahee Eee! Eee! Hahaheeheeheee!” Ross said.
“Tickle-tickle Mr. Ross!” Juanita smiled – grinned – at him. “Tickle-tickle-tickle!”
“Heeheehaaa! Hahaheeheee!”
Ross pulled at the RicRak’s restraints with all the strength of his well-muscled body. Uselessly. Those restraints were strong beyond any human effort, made to ensure that the captive could not escape until the captor released him. Ross was a captive of the RicRak, and as a captive he had to endure the tickle.
Juanita continued that brushing tickle of Ross’s feet for an unmeasured time. Then she began to show him the tricks an expert could play with those toe-brushes. Tickle tricks, on Ross’s helpless bare soles. Sometimes the brushes applied a surprisingly light and delicate touch. Other times Ross felt an elegant prickle-tickle tease his vulnerable feet. Ross sensed that this tickle session was a long way from over, but he no idea as to when it would end.
Ross felt the tickle-tempo increase. “EEE! AHH! HEEHEEE HAHAHAA!” he howled.
“Tickle-tickle-tickle!” he heard Juanita say, as if from a great distance.
Ross writhed under that sole-tickling. He couldn’t have stood it if the RicRak hadn’t held him in place for it. He had to escape if he possibly could. But he couldn’t, not possibly, and that tickle-tickle-tickle of the toe brushes was driving him mad. Mad with laughter. Looking down the length of his restrained body, he could see that his feet were the same size as before. They just felt a meter long. A meter long with every centimeter being a ticklish one.
The tickling wasn’t a torment, however. Not quite. Not even with the toe-brushes. It wasn’t intended to be a torment. It was only intended to break him; to break him into a dozen laughing pieces. And it was working. He was being broken into a dozen laughing pieces.
Ross gasped for air. Precious air. The RicRak still held him, which meant his tickling wasn’t finished. This was just a pause, a break so that when the tickling resumed, it would tickle more.
Juanita still sat in her task chair, watching Ross as he gasped. He made himself breath deeply and felt himself begin to recover.
Four more women entered the room, women from the transcription pool. The first two held vibro-feathers, and the second pair held old-style shaving brushes. “It’s time, Mr. Ross,” their leader, a tall brunette, said.
“Time for Part Two, Mr. Ross,” Juanita amplified.
The four new women drew up task chairs, two on each side of Ross as he lay trapped in the RicRak. Looking down at Juanita, still seated by his bare feet, Ross saw his clothing disappear, leaving him in nothing but his skivvies.
Ross realized then that he was in a VR. A VR where he was an executive of TMI Inc., doing important Think-work for the company. But who was he, what was he, outside the VR?
As Ross tried to remember, the new tickle began, drawing all his attention to the tease of his bare skin. He was aware of the soft shaving-brushes on his arms and sides. He was aware the exciting feather-tips touching his belly and the sensitive places on the back of his knees. And he was especially aware of Juanita’s expert fingers, tickle-teasing his bare and vulnerable soles. A flash of memory came: This will be good for you, someone had told him. Then the memory flitted away as the tickle sensations poured in, making Ross squirm and giggle.
Applied by themselves, the soft brushes and insistent vibro-feathers would have held Ross’s entire attention. With Juanita’s expert finger-tickle of his bare soles, however, they were reduced to a counterpoint. Trapped in the RicRak, Ross’s soles were as vulnerable as ever, and Juanita took advantage of that vulnerability. Ross felt her hands applying their light but irresistible touch, tickling both his soles at once as they ran down from the base of his toes to the heels of each foot. And did so again. And again. He was already giggling from the tickle-attentions that the transcription pool paid to his upper body, and now he broke into full laughter.
Ross felt more long strokes tickle his bare feet, in time with the brush and feather tease of his upper body. He felt Juanita seek out his weak spots once again with her skillfully wiggling fingers. She made him laugh and she made him squirm, even as his squirming body underwent an upper-body tickle from the transcription pool. But his soles were being tickled more than his upper body, tickled where the balls of his feet met his arches and along the inner edges of the arches themselves. The brushes and feathers on his sides and belly were straightforward tickles, but the fingers on his feet were implacable, curving and circling, and running in straight lines, sometimes on both bare soles at once, and sometimes alternating between his left and right foot, tickling the shafts of his toes, the pads of his toes, and all over his vulnerable soles.
Five women were tickling Ross. Tickling him, and tickle-tickling him, and tickle-tickle-tickling him, and he couldn’t possibly resist. He couldn’t resist the soft shaving brushes on his belly. He couldn’t resist the tips vibro-feathers running down his sides. And he certainly couldn’t resist Juanita’s expert fingers, as they now applied gentle little tickle digs into the skin of his bare soles. The RicRak held him in place, trapped and unable to escape, and forced him to accept the tickling. All of the tickling.
“Tickle-tickle-tickle!” Juanita said. “Tickle-tickle-tickle!”
“Tickle-tickle-tickle!” the other four women echoed. “Tickle-tickle-tickle!”
“Hahaha heehee hahahaha!” Ross answered. “Heeheehee! Haha-heehee! Heeheehahaha!”
Juanita smiled at him. “Still lots of time to go, Mr. Ross! I haven’t even started using the toe-brushes yet. Tickle-tickle-tickle!”
“Yes,” Ross gasped. “Yes! Hahaheehee! Hahahahee! Heeheehahaheee!”
Warden-Third Juanita Palmer came out of the VR. She nodded thanks as her partner handed her a caffeine- and electrolyte-fortified drink.
“How did it look from inside?” Alexandra Harmon asked.
Juanita paused with the bottle half-drained. “Well enough. It’s well-started, anyway. The V-bots can finish the session without further supervision.” She took another swallow. “How did it look from outside?”
“Well enough,” Alexa answered. “His Obedience is up another quarter-point, although the P-factor for this session was low. Again.”
“Alexa, you know that the Punitive score is so much BS. It was instituted to shut up the idiots who were whining about how the testosterone-poisoned barbarians were not getting what they deserved. It doesn’t matter. What matters is that Inmate Ross dash Seven-Six-Six does have a rising O-score, and is continuing to produce useful Think-work.”
“That’s one way to look at it.” It was a long-running disagreement between the two petty-wardens at the TMI confinement facility. “Anyway, it’s now my turn to go inside. Who’s next on the list?”
Juanita read the display. “Inmate Harry-406-130.”
“Ugh.” Alexa grimaced. “Well, duty calls, and maybe this time I can do something about his abysmal O-score. Help me get set up, and I’ll go in.”
“It’s time, Mr. Preston.”
From behind the executive’s desk in his TMI Inc. office, Harry Preston made a face. “What, already?”
“Yes, Mr. Preston,” Miss Alexandra said. As Harry watched, paralyzed, his private secretary pulled the RicRak from its closet. “Now please stop fussing and get yourself ready.”
Reluctantly, Harry bent down and began to remove his shoes and socks.
(End)
Afterword: This story was inspired by Scotttickle's AI generated images on DeviantArt - not by any one particular image but a fistful of randomly chosen ones.
Ross Williams checked the wall clock; a digital display in the deliberately retro style affected by TMI Inc. “So it is,” he agreed. He put the sheet of hardcopy in the top drawer of his desk, locked down the desk’s display, and bent to remove his shoes and socks. They came off quickly; Ross had a lot of practice. That gave him time to watch Juanita as she finished rolling out the RecRak from its closet.
Miss Juanita was black-haired and copper-skinned, with dark brown eyes in a heart-shaped face. She was also his private secretary, assigned to him by TMI Inc. Normally, she did what he needed without having to be told. Now she gestured at the RicRak, opened and waiting for him.
“We’re ready, Mr. Williams.”
Ross nodded and walked over to the RicRak, aware, as usual, of the thick carpet under his now-bare feet. The carpet, the desk and executive chair, and the RicRak all shared a style, as they were all supplied by OakSword furniture, the office supplier to TMI Inc. But the RicRak had a specialized purpose, reflected in its specialized appearance.
“In you go, Mr. Williams,” Juanita said with a bright smile.
Ross smiled back. “In I go, Juanita,” he agreed and lowered himself onto the piece of special furniture. Most of the time she worked for him, but when she spoke the magic words, he obeyed her. It was unthinkable to do otherwise.
The RicRak was perhaps more like a lounge chair than any other ordinary piece of furniture. But it came loaded with soft restraints, restraints that held its occupant helplessly in place. Ross was well-muscled; TMI Inc. wanted its executives to be as physically fit as they were mentally fit. When the restraints folded into place however, he might as well have been the proverbial ninety-pound weakling. He could not escape. He was trapped until Miss Juanita chose to release him. And that would not be for a while yet.
Miss Juanita pulled up a task chair and began her task. And that task was tickling.
The RicRak held both Ross’s ankles and his toes, leaving his bare soles completely vulnerable. Juanita took full advantage of this vulnerability, expertly using the fingers of both hands to apply a light tickle-touch. Ross felt the tease running down from the base of his toes to the heels of each foot. He squirmed in a futile attempt to escape the RicRak. He grimaced in a losing effort to resist the tickle. On the third stroke he broke into laughter.
Ross felt more long strokes run down his bare soles, with each of Juanita’s fingers leaving its own tickle-trace. He felt those fingers wiggle, expertly seeking out his weak points: Just where the balls of his feet met his arches, and along the inner edges of the arches themselves. The fingers then wandered to other points to cultivate a further sensitivity, now tickling quickly, now moving slowly. Their paths sometimes curved and circled and sometimes ran in straight lines. Then Juanita’s fingertips tickle-teased the shafts and pads of Ross’s toes, before moving back to Ross’s broad bare soles, applying alternating touches to each sole in turn.
Again Ross tried to resist the tickling, knowing that he couldn’t. The laughter came out, forced by Juanita’s expert touches. Ross twisted in the RicRak, or tried to, and the RicRak held him in place to receive that tickle-tickle-tickle sinking into his bare soles.
“Tickle-tickle-tickle!” Juanita said. “Tickle-tickle-tickle!”
“Hahaha heehee hahahaha!” Ross answered.
The finger tickling continued, now with little gentle digs into the bare skin of his soles. It seemed to Ross that his special tickle-spots grew to cover his entire foot. To cover both his feet, trapped and helpless under Juanita’s tickling. And that tickling went on, now with quick light touches, touches that landed everywhere and tickled everywhere, with the tickle-teases sinking into his feet, teases that continued to force squirming and the laughter from him.
Ross felt the tickle change. Juanita was now using a feather. A vibro-feather, with the quill embedded in a powered handle to give the feather’s tip an enhanced effectiveness. Juanita traced that feather-tip over Ross’s bare soles with casual skill, making it meander and wander. It could only tickle one spot at a time, but that spot kept moving. Ross was aware of that moving touch, and wherever it went, it tickled.
“Tickle-tickle, Mr. Ross!” Juanita said. “Tickle-tickle-tickle!”
Ross answered with uncontrolled laughter. “Hahahee heeheehee haha-hahaha!”
The exquisite tickling tip of the vibro-feather riveted Ross’s attention. He felt it run in straight lines, from the toes of his right sole down to the heel. Over and over again. He felt the touch move to his left foot, circling and spiraling over all of that foot’s bare and vulnerable sole. He felt it run across the pads of his toes, and wiggle between each toe in turn. He squeaked as it jumped back and forth from foot to foot, so that Ross couldn’t anticipate which ticklish spot it would tease next.
And Juanita kept the tickle going. She made Ross aware of the implacable tease of his helpless feet, while carefully avoiding any overload that would numb the tickle and make it diminish.
Ross felt the tease of the vibro-feather turn into to a slow meander, first on his right sole and then on his left. He was giggling again, under the spell of that slow meander. He couldn’t help but giggle, under its tickle. And then he felt the tickling change yet again.
Juanita had switched to a toe-brush. To a pair of toe-brushes, looped around the fingers of each hand. Ross felt her begin a vigorous brushing of his soles with them. A tickle brushing that made Ross strain at his restraints and howl with laughter.
“Ahh Eee! Hahahee Eee! Eee! Hahaheeheeheee!” Ross said.
“Tickle-tickle Mr. Ross!” Juanita smiled – grinned – at him. “Tickle-tickle-tickle!”
“Heeheehaaa! Hahaheeheee!”
Ross pulled at the RicRak’s restraints with all the strength of his well-muscled body. Uselessly. Those restraints were strong beyond any human effort, made to ensure that the captive could not escape until the captor released him. Ross was a captive of the RicRak, and as a captive he had to endure the tickle.
Juanita continued that brushing tickle of Ross’s feet for an unmeasured time. Then she began to show him the tricks an expert could play with those toe-brushes. Tickle tricks, on Ross’s helpless bare soles. Sometimes the brushes applied a surprisingly light and delicate touch. Other times Ross felt an elegant prickle-tickle tease his vulnerable feet. Ross sensed that this tickle session was a long way from over, but he no idea as to when it would end.
Ross felt the tickle-tempo increase. “EEE! AHH! HEEHEEE HAHAHAA!” he howled.
“Tickle-tickle-tickle!” he heard Juanita say, as if from a great distance.
Ross writhed under that sole-tickling. He couldn’t have stood it if the RicRak hadn’t held him in place for it. He had to escape if he possibly could. But he couldn’t, not possibly, and that tickle-tickle-tickle of the toe brushes was driving him mad. Mad with laughter. Looking down the length of his restrained body, he could see that his feet were the same size as before. They just felt a meter long. A meter long with every centimeter being a ticklish one.
The tickling wasn’t a torment, however. Not quite. Not even with the toe-brushes. It wasn’t intended to be a torment. It was only intended to break him; to break him into a dozen laughing pieces. And it was working. He was being broken into a dozen laughing pieces.
=O+O+O=
Ross gasped for air. Precious air. The RicRak still held him, which meant his tickling wasn’t finished. This was just a pause, a break so that when the tickling resumed, it would tickle more.
Juanita still sat in her task chair, watching Ross as he gasped. He made himself breath deeply and felt himself begin to recover.
Four more women entered the room, women from the transcription pool. The first two held vibro-feathers, and the second pair held old-style shaving brushes. “It’s time, Mr. Ross,” their leader, a tall brunette, said.
“Time for Part Two, Mr. Ross,” Juanita amplified.
The four new women drew up task chairs, two on each side of Ross as he lay trapped in the RicRak. Looking down at Juanita, still seated by his bare feet, Ross saw his clothing disappear, leaving him in nothing but his skivvies.
Ross realized then that he was in a VR. A VR where he was an executive of TMI Inc., doing important Think-work for the company. But who was he, what was he, outside the VR?
As Ross tried to remember, the new tickle began, drawing all his attention to the tease of his bare skin. He was aware of the soft shaving-brushes on his arms and sides. He was aware the exciting feather-tips touching his belly and the sensitive places on the back of his knees. And he was especially aware of Juanita’s expert fingers, tickle-teasing his bare and vulnerable soles. A flash of memory came: This will be good for you, someone had told him. Then the memory flitted away as the tickle sensations poured in, making Ross squirm and giggle.
Applied by themselves, the soft brushes and insistent vibro-feathers would have held Ross’s entire attention. With Juanita’s expert finger-tickle of his bare soles, however, they were reduced to a counterpoint. Trapped in the RicRak, Ross’s soles were as vulnerable as ever, and Juanita took advantage of that vulnerability. Ross felt her hands applying their light but irresistible touch, tickling both his soles at once as they ran down from the base of his toes to the heels of each foot. And did so again. And again. He was already giggling from the tickle-attentions that the transcription pool paid to his upper body, and now he broke into full laughter.
Ross felt more long strokes tickle his bare feet, in time with the brush and feather tease of his upper body. He felt Juanita seek out his weak spots once again with her skillfully wiggling fingers. She made him laugh and she made him squirm, even as his squirming body underwent an upper-body tickle from the transcription pool. But his soles were being tickled more than his upper body, tickled where the balls of his feet met his arches and along the inner edges of the arches themselves. The brushes and feathers on his sides and belly were straightforward tickles, but the fingers on his feet were implacable, curving and circling, and running in straight lines, sometimes on both bare soles at once, and sometimes alternating between his left and right foot, tickling the shafts of his toes, the pads of his toes, and all over his vulnerable soles.
Five women were tickling Ross. Tickling him, and tickle-tickling him, and tickle-tickle-tickling him, and he couldn’t possibly resist. He couldn’t resist the soft shaving brushes on his belly. He couldn’t resist the tips vibro-feathers running down his sides. And he certainly couldn’t resist Juanita’s expert fingers, as they now applied gentle little tickle digs into the skin of his bare soles. The RicRak held him in place, trapped and unable to escape, and forced him to accept the tickling. All of the tickling.
“Tickle-tickle-tickle!” Juanita said. “Tickle-tickle-tickle!”
“Tickle-tickle-tickle!” the other four women echoed. “Tickle-tickle-tickle!”
“Hahaha heehee hahahaha!” Ross answered. “Heeheehee! Haha-heehee! Heeheehahaha!”
Juanita smiled at him. “Still lots of time to go, Mr. Ross! I haven’t even started using the toe-brushes yet. Tickle-tickle-tickle!”
“Yes,” Ross gasped. “Yes! Hahaheehee! Hahahahee! Heeheehahaheee!”
=O+O+O=
Warden-Third Juanita Palmer came out of the VR. She nodded thanks as her partner handed her a caffeine- and electrolyte-fortified drink.
“How did it look from inside?” Alexandra Harmon asked.
Juanita paused with the bottle half-drained. “Well enough. It’s well-started, anyway. The V-bots can finish the session without further supervision.” She took another swallow. “How did it look from outside?”
“Well enough,” Alexa answered. “His Obedience is up another quarter-point, although the P-factor for this session was low. Again.”
“Alexa, you know that the Punitive score is so much BS. It was instituted to shut up the idiots who were whining about how the testosterone-poisoned barbarians were not getting what they deserved. It doesn’t matter. What matters is that Inmate Ross dash Seven-Six-Six does have a rising O-score, and is continuing to produce useful Think-work.”
“That’s one way to look at it.” It was a long-running disagreement between the two petty-wardens at the TMI confinement facility. “Anyway, it’s now my turn to go inside. Who’s next on the list?”
Juanita read the display. “Inmate Harry-406-130.”
“Ugh.” Alexa grimaced. “Well, duty calls, and maybe this time I can do something about his abysmal O-score. Help me get set up, and I’ll go in.”
=O+O+O=
“It’s time, Mr. Preston.”
From behind the executive’s desk in his TMI Inc. office, Harry Preston made a face. “What, already?”
“Yes, Mr. Preston,” Miss Alexandra said. As Harry watched, paralyzed, his private secretary pulled the RicRak from its closet. “Now please stop fussing and get yourself ready.”
Reluctantly, Harry bent down and began to remove his shoes and socks.
(End)
Afterword: This story was inspired by Scotttickle's AI generated images on DeviantArt - not by any one particular image but a fistful of randomly chosen ones.
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