ElFewja
2nd Level Red Feather
- Joined
- Dec 21, 2007
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You Do It To Yourself (M/f all over, mostly feet)
"L.O.D. Please, L.O.D." For a second Sam pointed her fingers and wiggled her hand, watching the light glint from her ruby nails. Tossing her head back onto the chair, she closed her eyes and rubbed her neck. There was always something. Cracking her eyes open she looked at the vacant schedule of managers posted within her office, then drew a hazy line towards the mounted clock. "Sam please, Sam," the weasely voice burbled again, bouncing around the unadorned walls. Rocking her chair back, she reached above, interlocked her fingers and stretched. As she let her arms drop to her sides and hang beyond the rests the voice chirped at her again: "L.O.D. Please, L.O.D." Damnit.
Stooping forward and swiping her arm she took the black hunk of plastic in hand, pressed down the rubber button and muttered out a "Yes?" The clock lazily drug it's longest hand about the board, rhythmically clacking with each struggled movement. Clack. Clack. Clack. Clack. "Go for--"
"L.O.D Please, L.O.D." sizzled over her.
"Go for the L.O.D," she growled out, barring her teeth at the plant in the corner.
"Hey, can you come up to guest services please?" The voice nipped out.
Staring at the walkie, she flicked it around in her palm a bit. "Go to 4." Snapping a button on the side she stared at the peeling paint on the walls, waiting.
"I'm on four."
Creaking back into her chair, she dropped the arm with the walkie over the side, letting it wave back and forth. After laying her head back she tapped at the large button. "What do you need?"
"Well, there's a guest and he wants to talk with you."
Immediately she took the device to her mouth. "Did you not hear me? I asked what you need. What's the problem?"
"He just – it's a return and--"
Clicking the button, his voice vanished. Upon releasing it his voice continued, "--but it also--" Slapping the button again, she smiled as he disappeared a second time. Flipping the switch on the side again she rose, gliding to the door. As she meandered into the dark hall the lights flipped on automatically. Though she slowly strode down the hall, the heels of her platform sandals announced her presence to the silence, a sharp clack loudly reverberating with each step.
After exiting the employee's only area she slid the walkie onto her belt and threw her arms above her, bolting her fingers together behind her neck. Despite the store being empty save for one or two straggling shoppers she caught an employee running at nearly full speed, pulling items forward as he darted down the aisles. He must have heard her because he began to squeak out "Can I help you--" while throwing his head up. Their eyes met as she stopped and smiled. His glassy eyes went wide and he threw himself down the aisle faster than before, hands ripping at the canned goods that rested there. Smiling wider, she began drifting towards the front while that hollow voice scraped out "L.O.D Please, L.O.D" yet again.
Moments later, with her hands still around her neck, she came into sight of guest services, catching the scruffy man behind the counter as he drew his walkie to his mouth. Looking over, he stopped and gave a tightly spun smile. As she neared he began rambling about the issue but Sam ignored him, turning instead to the guest. She looked up into his tomato red face as he slammed a phone down and began yelling incomprehensibly. Smiling, she grabbed the receipt in front of him and ran it under the glimmering red light of the register. Hitting enter a few times caused a second receipt to print out, which she handed to the guest. "Have a nice day." The red vanished and the guest smiled, bowing slightly before he left.
Turning on her heels, she glared up at the unkempt face of the man that had been calling her. "Now, was that so hard?" she mewled out with a venomous level of politeness. The female employee behind him to giggle.
"But we're not--"
Looking over his shoulder she saw a mound of the store's items spilling over top of a counter and onto the floor. Sharply cutting him off, she stabbed his words in twain: "What's all this?"
His head shot to his left. "I—reshop, but--"
Crossing her arms, she asked in a quiet yet tight voice, "Why's it up here?"
His hands fluttered, his fingers wiggling as though they were twirling pens. "Er, well, returns and--"
"If that isn't all put away by the time the store closes then you need to stay late and finish putting it back." His jaw sagged open as she turned and left. Behind her she could hear the girl giggling again.
On her way back to her office she took note of a few cashiers talking with one another. Their lines were empty. Sighing, she put her hands on her hips and shouted over at them, "If you don't have people to ring out then at least tidy up the candy." The two girls cowered, immediately hopping to their respective sections of sweets and began frantically fixing the garish gaps.
Sneaking down an aisle, she walked along the back wall, avoiding the few people that still stalked through the store. Throwing the door open, she masqueraded into the vacant office area that served as a final blockade between her and the hourlies. All along the wall she spied upon empty chairs; her lips gnawed at her cheeks. Suddenly, the world rocked around her as her tan nyloned foot slid within her platform sandal. Catching herself on the half-wall she stopped from stumbling. As she stood up she straightened her blouse then quickly hovered down the hall, slamming her door open before throwing it shut. After striding across the room she fell back into her slightly warm chair as a sigh escaped her. Damned plebeians: can't get a damned thing done without being told how to do it.
Slumping deep into the chair, she pawed for the mug that loafed in front of her. After successfully taking hold of the brown thing she brought it to her mouth and threw it back, sucking deeply at the stale liquor that melded into her like rocky lava. Shifting about in her chair, she whipped her leg around the bottom of her desk, her foot slithering inside of the handle of a drawer. A brisk flick and the drawer shot open, revealing several lengths of rope she had requisitioned from the store.
A glance at the clock revealed the time as ten minutes after the store had closed. Lobbing the mug onto a mound of paperwork she slid back into her chair further, a wiry smile curling into her cheeks. Fishing into the drawer with her foot, she caught two wily pieces of rope, kicking them up to herself as she dropped her legs to the ground; her sandals thudded against the beige carpet. With swift motions she wrapped the rope over her slacks at the ankles, looping the ends together around the middle. As she knotted her handiwork, the coals of a fire began glowing within her. Sitting back, she looked at her legs, slapping her feet individually of one another as the coals spit out flames.
Stooping over, she felt around for one of her ball gags, finding it after blindly excavating the drawer for several seconds. As soon as that was fitted into her mouth she threw her arms behind her and under the back of her seat Crossing her arms at the edges of her palms, she began loosely circling her wrists with the second length of rope, using her nearly immobile thumbs and fingers to slip it into an unstable knot. The small campfire turned to a blaze, burning from her toes to her shoulders. Sweat formed around her cheeks as she shimmied about in the chair, lifting her legs to her side and then sliding them under, slipping her feet through the small hole behind her.
The flames raged, overwhelming her, forcing her eyes to flicker in elation. A light moan wafted from the abyss deep within her as she tugged at the bondage that shackled her to the chair. Imagining that some brash brigand had forced his way into her office, she dropped her head to her shoulder, closing her eyes as a content sigh loosed itself from her lungs. Of course he would drop what he was doing, walk up to her and brush the hair from her cheek before stealing a rough kiss from her. Afterwards he would take his knife – because a thief always carried a knife – and slit her shirt open, having his way with her body. Ecstasy pulsated through her, throbbing within her trembling body as she mewled out a second moan.
Her door creaked open, causing her to jump in her seat, bumping the heel of her right sandal against the chair; she felt her footwear veer down her heel. The man from guest services slinked in, staring at some papers in his hand as he began to spit out nasally words. "Excuse me, Sam, I--" he looked up and stopped as if he had been frozen in place. Sam could feel her face turn red as sweat visibly dripped to the floor. Backing up, he left the room and shut the door without a word.
Just as her head fell forward and she sighed with relief he opened the door again, a puzzled look to his face. His mouth flew open, hung there for a second, then tightly shut itself. Tilting his head, he stared vacantly, opened his mouth again then shook his head and closed the door. She had begun immediately shredding at the rope with her fingers but could only just nip at the ends of it, failing to catch hold of the frayed things.
Entering for a third time, the man closed the door behind him and crossed his arms, staring at her. For several long moments he stood there while she covertly clawed at her bindings, hoping to free herself. As he took a step forward, she shirked away, moving her chair back slightly by throwing her weight. "Y'know," he began, crossing behind her desk and stopping behind her, "I'd untie you, to prove I'm a better person than you and all, but I'm really not." A sob wrenched itself from within her as he tightened the rope around her wrists. "Relax, though. Not gonna hurt you none. Don't want to leave any evidence, y'know? Like how the Chinese used to do it, without leaving a mark." Jumping in place, she began to try to kick her legs out from behind her, though only succeeding at loosing her right sandal so that it dangled, swinging about by her ball. Finally it slid away from her, thumping against the floor. "Fine suggestion," he said coolly. A soft scrape smoothly slid across her silk clad big toe; she jumped straight up, lifting the chair from the ground.
A small poke harassed the center of her foot and she whipped about in the chair, tugging at her feet in a vain attempted to free them from the hole. Unable to find any leverage in her position she succeeded in only wiggling her feet back and forth, occasionally slamming her sensitive heel into the back of her chair while he just barely stroked her sole. Rocking back and forth, she managed to turn her feet onto one side, though they were also too wide that way and only slapped at her chair helplessly. Several pokes rained lightly against her nyloned flesh, convincing restless giggles to escape their confines. A very light streak formed, beginning at her heel and running down the very middle of her foot, releasing a small shriek from Sam.
"Heard once that tickling is a hard stop for most people in the bsdm community. You believe that? They take all that pain but can't handle a little--" several fingers scratched at her toes, "--coochie coo?" Her toes snapped shut, catching his wiggling fingers. A chuckle came, and he began lightly struggling within his bindings, sending several shocks up her spine. Kicking her feet back and forth, she began to wail into her gag with muffled laughter.
He stopped and over her shoulder she could see that he had crossed his arms. Wave after wave of hot yet hollow emotion poured through her with only faint and inaccurate words to describe it appearing in her mind: defenseless, powerless, weakness, helplessness. Even without doing anything she felt as though he fanned that fire from before as it engulfed and consumed her. It was almost as if those feelings were a weight, dragging her deep into the ground.
"You know what," he hobbled out, "beg me to tickle you, and I'll stop." Making eye contact, she attempted to unfurl the knot at her wrists. "Well?" he asked, seemingly unaware of her struggle. Fiercely biting into her gag, she shook her head violently from left to right. "Darn," he quipped sarcastically, throwing his arms around her in a tight bear hug. Like a hellish conductor he drizzled his hands up and down her sides, organizing her dammed laughter into a suppressed symphony. She bucked wildly, trying to knock the chair over, but he held it in place with his elbows while he stroked back and forth, crawling nearer and nearer to her tightly clamped armpits. With each pass she fell into a flurry of laughter, giving it out so freely to this man that seemed so devoid of comedy. "C'mon," he chided, "Just beg me to tickle you a little more."
Dampness nipped at her eyes and her feet flailed back and forth weakly in the chair. Dropping her head and giggling like a giddy schoolgirl, she coughed out a muffled "tickle me."
"What was that?" he wheedled out, smirking.
He brought his fingers just beneath her pits, drawing circles on either side of her body. Again she began hopping in place, howling "Tickle me!"
He laughed, sputtering out, "Hm, I can't hear you," just as he dipped into her armpits.
Like an electrified wire she began convulsing, repeatedly screaming into her gag "Tickle me! Tickle me!"
"Well, if you insist," he said slyly, casting his hands down her shirt, strumming her ribs like a harp, harmonizing her squeals into a splendid sonata. Defeated, she rocked back and forth, laughing harder than she ever had before. Sensations bombarded her and she found herself unable to pinpoint them, her mind instead collapsing her entire body into one ticklish nerve that vibrated with the music. A tightness provoked by her incessant laughter began welling up within her stomach. The pain stretched through her and sound ceased to escape her though the sensations multiplied.
Routing his hands, she continued to squirm, giggling lightly as ghost fingers prickled her sides. "Hmmmm," he exclaimed quietly as her senses started to return. Peeking through her matted hair, she saw him standing back with arms crossed, looking down. A light feeling brushed at her heel, the sensation slowly squirming down her foot. Her eyes went wide and she quickly flexed her foot, straightening it in an attempt to keep her remaining sandal from running away. A demonic smile wrapped around his face as he watched her futile efforts, her sandal swaying back and forth, slowly escaping her foot. It slid further and further until it dangled from it toes.
"I mean," he started, dropping his arms, "if you really want me to tickle both of your feet." Sucking in air, she wildly screamed no into her gag. With a simple prod, her foot shook about, dismissing that single sentinel that only had her protection in mind; her shoulder muscles fell limp as the thud resounded. A second later both of her sandals flew through the air, crashing onto her desk and seeming to glare disappointment at her.
Like a wolf, he bounded upon his prey, tearing against her silken soles with unadulterated glee. The stockings seemed to stretch his touch, spreading it against her flesh while simultaneously allowing him swifter and easier access to her feet; the sensations devastated her unlike anything she could have ever imagined. A mix of screams and laughter rocketed through her throat. It felt as though a bottle of soda had been shaken up, the carbonation exploding violently through a hole far too small and dammed poorly by her gag so that the sounds pooled within her mouth, spurting out through the small gaps between her teeth.
His hands became a furious storm, an unquenchable hurricane that rended her for what little laughter she had left. Pathetically flapping her feet, she yelled at the unassailable sky hoping to turn it away with raw emotion, though this seemed only to hasten her inevitable demise as the gales increased in force. With the fury of an terrible tornado he rampaged across her flesh so quickly that it felt he touched every part of her foot at once. Slamming her arms into the back of her chair, she collapsed onto her side, laughing maniacally. Not a centimeter of her skin escaped his wrath, each touch seeming to tickle more than the last; she could laugh no harder than she had a few minutes ago though her savaged throat desperately tried.
Settling upon her toes he wiggled his fingers there, treating them like a piano. Giggles continued to explode from her while the blaze flared up, turning into an inferno that threatened to flood her mind. A great conflict emerged within her as immense pleasure racketed her body while the laughter the man invoked threatened to overwhelm her. Every thought vanished as she sank beneath the waters, her laughter now intermixed with whimpering moans. Unable to suppress either feeling, unable to tread the waves, she felt heat overtake her, the combined pain and ecstasy smothering her ego with her own id.
A sinister laugh crashed into her, though she was only distantly aware of the words that followed. "Man, you're getting off to this aren't you?!" His tumultuous assault only increased in intensity as he grabbed her toes and began flaying her soles with his fingers. The sensations doubled, then tripled, as the bliss seasoned her sensitivity with a wonderful buzzing. Her moans came so quickly that she could no longer squeeze laughter into the blend though it tickled what felt a thousand times more than before. It was as if a star was going supernova across her feet, the violent energy overtaking her.
Straining her palms by reaching out with her spread fingers, she could feel the muscles in her arms lurching forward, stretching so tightly it felt that they would snap and double over. Throwing her head back onto the chair rest, her eyelids fluttered as she shuffled in the chair while rhythmically thrusting her hips. With each horrendous rake that he inflicted upon her soles she quivered, her stomach tensing tighter and tighter into a boulder of scalding magma while her feet cried for her attention, pleading with her to laugh so that their suffering might be known. As she gasped and exhaled steamy breaths the liquid fire blazed through her, spreading and seeping, ripping at her flesh as the inferno conquered her body.
He stopped. He stopped, and he crossed to the front of her desk as Sam sat writhing, exhaling whimpered moans, her desperate eyes pleading with him. With a sick laugh he moved towards the door, then turned back to her and shook his head. "Such a freak," he spewed out before gushing through the door. The ghost hands still plagued her soles, tingling like the smoldering remains of a wildfire. With all of her willpower she pushed down her convulsions, biting her lip in order to restrain the overwhelming phantom joy that criss-crossed her molested feet. Utter humiliation nibbled at her, yet the pleasure embraced it, welcoming it. Throwing her head back she let a banshee shriek rip through her gag as she wiggled her toes and the conflagration railed it's hellfire upon he. Unable to unleash the rapture within her, she curled into a ball, weeping.
--Not part of the story--
This was 'inspired' (ripped off) from the piece written here.
Eh, I wrote a bit in the front and then deleted it and wasn't going to put anything. Didn't want to color anybody's opinions on this story, but then I couldn't really suppress the urge to be self-important. I wasn't so sure about all of the target speak but the more I read over it, the more I thought, well, it's actually pretty contextual in there so even if it's not obvious what the Target-speak means, then at least people can figure it out. Maybe. The other issue I had was with the ideas of "tickle-rape," and where this is an acceptable thing. I hate that combination of words because it really devalues rape, but this story is about as close to rape as I've gotten in anything. I'm not sure how I feel about that, and how I'm trying to justify it in the writing by showing the lee to enjoy herself. I think there's a decent discussion to be had over it.
"L.O.D. Please, L.O.D." For a second Sam pointed her fingers and wiggled her hand, watching the light glint from her ruby nails. Tossing her head back onto the chair, she closed her eyes and rubbed her neck. There was always something. Cracking her eyes open she looked at the vacant schedule of managers posted within her office, then drew a hazy line towards the mounted clock. "Sam please, Sam," the weasely voice burbled again, bouncing around the unadorned walls. Rocking her chair back, she reached above, interlocked her fingers and stretched. As she let her arms drop to her sides and hang beyond the rests the voice chirped at her again: "L.O.D. Please, L.O.D." Damnit.
Stooping forward and swiping her arm she took the black hunk of plastic in hand, pressed down the rubber button and muttered out a "Yes?" The clock lazily drug it's longest hand about the board, rhythmically clacking with each struggled movement. Clack. Clack. Clack. Clack. "Go for--"
"L.O.D Please, L.O.D." sizzled over her.
"Go for the L.O.D," she growled out, barring her teeth at the plant in the corner.
"Hey, can you come up to guest services please?" The voice nipped out.
Staring at the walkie, she flicked it around in her palm a bit. "Go to 4." Snapping a button on the side she stared at the peeling paint on the walls, waiting.
"I'm on four."
Creaking back into her chair, she dropped the arm with the walkie over the side, letting it wave back and forth. After laying her head back she tapped at the large button. "What do you need?"
"Well, there's a guest and he wants to talk with you."
Immediately she took the device to her mouth. "Did you not hear me? I asked what you need. What's the problem?"
"He just – it's a return and--"
Clicking the button, his voice vanished. Upon releasing it his voice continued, "--but it also--" Slapping the button again, she smiled as he disappeared a second time. Flipping the switch on the side again she rose, gliding to the door. As she meandered into the dark hall the lights flipped on automatically. Though she slowly strode down the hall, the heels of her platform sandals announced her presence to the silence, a sharp clack loudly reverberating with each step.
After exiting the employee's only area she slid the walkie onto her belt and threw her arms above her, bolting her fingers together behind her neck. Despite the store being empty save for one or two straggling shoppers she caught an employee running at nearly full speed, pulling items forward as he darted down the aisles. He must have heard her because he began to squeak out "Can I help you--" while throwing his head up. Their eyes met as she stopped and smiled. His glassy eyes went wide and he threw himself down the aisle faster than before, hands ripping at the canned goods that rested there. Smiling wider, she began drifting towards the front while that hollow voice scraped out "L.O.D Please, L.O.D" yet again.
Moments later, with her hands still around her neck, she came into sight of guest services, catching the scruffy man behind the counter as he drew his walkie to his mouth. Looking over, he stopped and gave a tightly spun smile. As she neared he began rambling about the issue but Sam ignored him, turning instead to the guest. She looked up into his tomato red face as he slammed a phone down and began yelling incomprehensibly. Smiling, she grabbed the receipt in front of him and ran it under the glimmering red light of the register. Hitting enter a few times caused a second receipt to print out, which she handed to the guest. "Have a nice day." The red vanished and the guest smiled, bowing slightly before he left.
Turning on her heels, she glared up at the unkempt face of the man that had been calling her. "Now, was that so hard?" she mewled out with a venomous level of politeness. The female employee behind him to giggle.
"But we're not--"
Looking over his shoulder she saw a mound of the store's items spilling over top of a counter and onto the floor. Sharply cutting him off, she stabbed his words in twain: "What's all this?"
His head shot to his left. "I—reshop, but--"
Crossing her arms, she asked in a quiet yet tight voice, "Why's it up here?"
His hands fluttered, his fingers wiggling as though they were twirling pens. "Er, well, returns and--"
"If that isn't all put away by the time the store closes then you need to stay late and finish putting it back." His jaw sagged open as she turned and left. Behind her she could hear the girl giggling again.
On her way back to her office she took note of a few cashiers talking with one another. Their lines were empty. Sighing, she put her hands on her hips and shouted over at them, "If you don't have people to ring out then at least tidy up the candy." The two girls cowered, immediately hopping to their respective sections of sweets and began frantically fixing the garish gaps.
Sneaking down an aisle, she walked along the back wall, avoiding the few people that still stalked through the store. Throwing the door open, she masqueraded into the vacant office area that served as a final blockade between her and the hourlies. All along the wall she spied upon empty chairs; her lips gnawed at her cheeks. Suddenly, the world rocked around her as her tan nyloned foot slid within her platform sandal. Catching herself on the half-wall she stopped from stumbling. As she stood up she straightened her blouse then quickly hovered down the hall, slamming her door open before throwing it shut. After striding across the room she fell back into her slightly warm chair as a sigh escaped her. Damned plebeians: can't get a damned thing done without being told how to do it.
Slumping deep into the chair, she pawed for the mug that loafed in front of her. After successfully taking hold of the brown thing she brought it to her mouth and threw it back, sucking deeply at the stale liquor that melded into her like rocky lava. Shifting about in her chair, she whipped her leg around the bottom of her desk, her foot slithering inside of the handle of a drawer. A brisk flick and the drawer shot open, revealing several lengths of rope she had requisitioned from the store.
A glance at the clock revealed the time as ten minutes after the store had closed. Lobbing the mug onto a mound of paperwork she slid back into her chair further, a wiry smile curling into her cheeks. Fishing into the drawer with her foot, she caught two wily pieces of rope, kicking them up to herself as she dropped her legs to the ground; her sandals thudded against the beige carpet. With swift motions she wrapped the rope over her slacks at the ankles, looping the ends together around the middle. As she knotted her handiwork, the coals of a fire began glowing within her. Sitting back, she looked at her legs, slapping her feet individually of one another as the coals spit out flames.
Stooping over, she felt around for one of her ball gags, finding it after blindly excavating the drawer for several seconds. As soon as that was fitted into her mouth she threw her arms behind her and under the back of her seat Crossing her arms at the edges of her palms, she began loosely circling her wrists with the second length of rope, using her nearly immobile thumbs and fingers to slip it into an unstable knot. The small campfire turned to a blaze, burning from her toes to her shoulders. Sweat formed around her cheeks as she shimmied about in the chair, lifting her legs to her side and then sliding them under, slipping her feet through the small hole behind her.
The flames raged, overwhelming her, forcing her eyes to flicker in elation. A light moan wafted from the abyss deep within her as she tugged at the bondage that shackled her to the chair. Imagining that some brash brigand had forced his way into her office, she dropped her head to her shoulder, closing her eyes as a content sigh loosed itself from her lungs. Of course he would drop what he was doing, walk up to her and brush the hair from her cheek before stealing a rough kiss from her. Afterwards he would take his knife – because a thief always carried a knife – and slit her shirt open, having his way with her body. Ecstasy pulsated through her, throbbing within her trembling body as she mewled out a second moan.
Her door creaked open, causing her to jump in her seat, bumping the heel of her right sandal against the chair; she felt her footwear veer down her heel. The man from guest services slinked in, staring at some papers in his hand as he began to spit out nasally words. "Excuse me, Sam, I--" he looked up and stopped as if he had been frozen in place. Sam could feel her face turn red as sweat visibly dripped to the floor. Backing up, he left the room and shut the door without a word.
Just as her head fell forward and she sighed with relief he opened the door again, a puzzled look to his face. His mouth flew open, hung there for a second, then tightly shut itself. Tilting his head, he stared vacantly, opened his mouth again then shook his head and closed the door. She had begun immediately shredding at the rope with her fingers but could only just nip at the ends of it, failing to catch hold of the frayed things.
Entering for a third time, the man closed the door behind him and crossed his arms, staring at her. For several long moments he stood there while she covertly clawed at her bindings, hoping to free herself. As he took a step forward, she shirked away, moving her chair back slightly by throwing her weight. "Y'know," he began, crossing behind her desk and stopping behind her, "I'd untie you, to prove I'm a better person than you and all, but I'm really not." A sob wrenched itself from within her as he tightened the rope around her wrists. "Relax, though. Not gonna hurt you none. Don't want to leave any evidence, y'know? Like how the Chinese used to do it, without leaving a mark." Jumping in place, she began to try to kick her legs out from behind her, though only succeeding at loosing her right sandal so that it dangled, swinging about by her ball. Finally it slid away from her, thumping against the floor. "Fine suggestion," he said coolly. A soft scrape smoothly slid across her silk clad big toe; she jumped straight up, lifting the chair from the ground.
A small poke harassed the center of her foot and she whipped about in the chair, tugging at her feet in a vain attempted to free them from the hole. Unable to find any leverage in her position she succeeded in only wiggling her feet back and forth, occasionally slamming her sensitive heel into the back of her chair while he just barely stroked her sole. Rocking back and forth, she managed to turn her feet onto one side, though they were also too wide that way and only slapped at her chair helplessly. Several pokes rained lightly against her nyloned flesh, convincing restless giggles to escape their confines. A very light streak formed, beginning at her heel and running down the very middle of her foot, releasing a small shriek from Sam.
"Heard once that tickling is a hard stop for most people in the bsdm community. You believe that? They take all that pain but can't handle a little--" several fingers scratched at her toes, "--coochie coo?" Her toes snapped shut, catching his wiggling fingers. A chuckle came, and he began lightly struggling within his bindings, sending several shocks up her spine. Kicking her feet back and forth, she began to wail into her gag with muffled laughter.
He stopped and over her shoulder she could see that he had crossed his arms. Wave after wave of hot yet hollow emotion poured through her with only faint and inaccurate words to describe it appearing in her mind: defenseless, powerless, weakness, helplessness. Even without doing anything she felt as though he fanned that fire from before as it engulfed and consumed her. It was almost as if those feelings were a weight, dragging her deep into the ground.
"You know what," he hobbled out, "beg me to tickle you, and I'll stop." Making eye contact, she attempted to unfurl the knot at her wrists. "Well?" he asked, seemingly unaware of her struggle. Fiercely biting into her gag, she shook her head violently from left to right. "Darn," he quipped sarcastically, throwing his arms around her in a tight bear hug. Like a hellish conductor he drizzled his hands up and down her sides, organizing her dammed laughter into a suppressed symphony. She bucked wildly, trying to knock the chair over, but he held it in place with his elbows while he stroked back and forth, crawling nearer and nearer to her tightly clamped armpits. With each pass she fell into a flurry of laughter, giving it out so freely to this man that seemed so devoid of comedy. "C'mon," he chided, "Just beg me to tickle you a little more."
Dampness nipped at her eyes and her feet flailed back and forth weakly in the chair. Dropping her head and giggling like a giddy schoolgirl, she coughed out a muffled "tickle me."
"What was that?" he wheedled out, smirking.
He brought his fingers just beneath her pits, drawing circles on either side of her body. Again she began hopping in place, howling "Tickle me!"
He laughed, sputtering out, "Hm, I can't hear you," just as he dipped into her armpits.
Like an electrified wire she began convulsing, repeatedly screaming into her gag "Tickle me! Tickle me!"
"Well, if you insist," he said slyly, casting his hands down her shirt, strumming her ribs like a harp, harmonizing her squeals into a splendid sonata. Defeated, she rocked back and forth, laughing harder than she ever had before. Sensations bombarded her and she found herself unable to pinpoint them, her mind instead collapsing her entire body into one ticklish nerve that vibrated with the music. A tightness provoked by her incessant laughter began welling up within her stomach. The pain stretched through her and sound ceased to escape her though the sensations multiplied.
Routing his hands, she continued to squirm, giggling lightly as ghost fingers prickled her sides. "Hmmmm," he exclaimed quietly as her senses started to return. Peeking through her matted hair, she saw him standing back with arms crossed, looking down. A light feeling brushed at her heel, the sensation slowly squirming down her foot. Her eyes went wide and she quickly flexed her foot, straightening it in an attempt to keep her remaining sandal from running away. A demonic smile wrapped around his face as he watched her futile efforts, her sandal swaying back and forth, slowly escaping her foot. It slid further and further until it dangled from it toes.
"I mean," he started, dropping his arms, "if you really want me to tickle both of your feet." Sucking in air, she wildly screamed no into her gag. With a simple prod, her foot shook about, dismissing that single sentinel that only had her protection in mind; her shoulder muscles fell limp as the thud resounded. A second later both of her sandals flew through the air, crashing onto her desk and seeming to glare disappointment at her.
Like a wolf, he bounded upon his prey, tearing against her silken soles with unadulterated glee. The stockings seemed to stretch his touch, spreading it against her flesh while simultaneously allowing him swifter and easier access to her feet; the sensations devastated her unlike anything she could have ever imagined. A mix of screams and laughter rocketed through her throat. It felt as though a bottle of soda had been shaken up, the carbonation exploding violently through a hole far too small and dammed poorly by her gag so that the sounds pooled within her mouth, spurting out through the small gaps between her teeth.
His hands became a furious storm, an unquenchable hurricane that rended her for what little laughter she had left. Pathetically flapping her feet, she yelled at the unassailable sky hoping to turn it away with raw emotion, though this seemed only to hasten her inevitable demise as the gales increased in force. With the fury of an terrible tornado he rampaged across her flesh so quickly that it felt he touched every part of her foot at once. Slamming her arms into the back of her chair, she collapsed onto her side, laughing maniacally. Not a centimeter of her skin escaped his wrath, each touch seeming to tickle more than the last; she could laugh no harder than she had a few minutes ago though her savaged throat desperately tried.
Settling upon her toes he wiggled his fingers there, treating them like a piano. Giggles continued to explode from her while the blaze flared up, turning into an inferno that threatened to flood her mind. A great conflict emerged within her as immense pleasure racketed her body while the laughter the man invoked threatened to overwhelm her. Every thought vanished as she sank beneath the waters, her laughter now intermixed with whimpering moans. Unable to suppress either feeling, unable to tread the waves, she felt heat overtake her, the combined pain and ecstasy smothering her ego with her own id.
A sinister laugh crashed into her, though she was only distantly aware of the words that followed. "Man, you're getting off to this aren't you?!" His tumultuous assault only increased in intensity as he grabbed her toes and began flaying her soles with his fingers. The sensations doubled, then tripled, as the bliss seasoned her sensitivity with a wonderful buzzing. Her moans came so quickly that she could no longer squeeze laughter into the blend though it tickled what felt a thousand times more than before. It was as if a star was going supernova across her feet, the violent energy overtaking her.
Straining her palms by reaching out with her spread fingers, she could feel the muscles in her arms lurching forward, stretching so tightly it felt that they would snap and double over. Throwing her head back onto the chair rest, her eyelids fluttered as she shuffled in the chair while rhythmically thrusting her hips. With each horrendous rake that he inflicted upon her soles she quivered, her stomach tensing tighter and tighter into a boulder of scalding magma while her feet cried for her attention, pleading with her to laugh so that their suffering might be known. As she gasped and exhaled steamy breaths the liquid fire blazed through her, spreading and seeping, ripping at her flesh as the inferno conquered her body.
He stopped. He stopped, and he crossed to the front of her desk as Sam sat writhing, exhaling whimpered moans, her desperate eyes pleading with him. With a sick laugh he moved towards the door, then turned back to her and shook his head. "Such a freak," he spewed out before gushing through the door. The ghost hands still plagued her soles, tingling like the smoldering remains of a wildfire. With all of her willpower she pushed down her convulsions, biting her lip in order to restrain the overwhelming phantom joy that criss-crossed her molested feet. Utter humiliation nibbled at her, yet the pleasure embraced it, welcoming it. Throwing her head back she let a banshee shriek rip through her gag as she wiggled her toes and the conflagration railed it's hellfire upon he. Unable to unleash the rapture within her, she curled into a ball, weeping.
--Not part of the story--
This was 'inspired' (ripped off) from the piece written here.
Eh, I wrote a bit in the front and then deleted it and wasn't going to put anything. Didn't want to color anybody's opinions on this story, but then I couldn't really suppress the urge to be self-important. I wasn't so sure about all of the target speak but the more I read over it, the more I thought, well, it's actually pretty contextual in there so even if it's not obvious what the Target-speak means, then at least people can figure it out. Maybe. The other issue I had was with the ideas of "tickle-rape," and where this is an acceptable thing. I hate that combination of words because it really devalues rape, but this story is about as close to rape as I've gotten in anything. I'm not sure how I feel about that, and how I'm trying to justify it in the writing by showing the lee to enjoy herself. I think there's a decent discussion to be had over it.
