The feather touched her again, softly, its stiffened tip peppering her peach-smooth heel with kisses that had her toes cringing against the cords which bound them. And then it swept high, licking through the sensitive skin of her arch in a bold and determined way that threw her head back, made her hiss through her teeth. Then a second one descended and she sank her manicure into the frame's padded armrests. It touched down upon her immobilized toes and dipped into the tight and sweaty crevices between each, fuckìng them in that maddening, sinfully ticklish manner that had her shuddering with barely suppressed laughter.
“O—Okay—” Danni stammered quickly before snapping her teeth shut, desperate to stop the giggles from bubbling up too high. She couldn't let them out. They would drown her if she didn't keep them contained. “I'll give—give you my—my full li—library—” Her voice was shaking. Her whole body was shaking, the sensations in her feet shooting through her legs a vibration of pink electricity, shoving her towards what felt like an explosion.
It was too much, too overwhelming. Screw professional integrity. If surrendering thousands of dollars worth of images might stop this madness, she'd do it in a heartbeat.
But it wasn't stopping. It wasn't even slowing. The feathers had found hotspots beneath her pinky toes that made her jerk against the frame like she was being elèctrocuted. So that's where they stayed. Stroking harder, faster, flickering their stiffened tips in a way that threw all pretense of teasing right out of the window. They were punìshing her delicate skin, and the urge to release the laughter suddenly became intolerable. She arched vìolently away from the frame, growling through her teeth in a frenzied, last ditch effort to resist. Then something sharper poked into the skin to the side of her little toenail, and something inside of Danni snapped.
Immediately she exploded with loud, whooping hysterics, what little cool she had left bursting out through her lips in a hail of spit. Every muscle in her body sprang rigid, swelling into the cuffs that pinned her down with an ease that rapidly became terrifying. Her universe contracted to two tiny points of pressure nibbling into her toes, igniting her with a white-hot panic that seared down to her soul. She could barely move, barely gather a thought, barely keep hold of what little air she could suck down before it screamed right back out of her chest. The feathers had been spun around, the sharp end of the quills were carvìng tiny, exquisitely hellish patterns into the skin beneath her toes and it was scattering her vision with stars.
It tickled like nothing she could have believed possible even in her darkest, sweat-soaked nightmares, and in a frantic effort to make it stop she barked out anything and everything she could think to offer them, her pride crushed by the weight of her desperation.
Fùck how degrading it might be to go through with them. It needed to stop. Now.
But then the hell in which she was trapped took on an even crueler, even more vicious edge. Ten of them, in fact. The feathers were discarded and in their stead two sets of immaculately manicured fingernails, each of them honed to wicked peaks, sank into the sticky skin between her toes and clawed slowly, so excruciatingly slowly, downwards through the full curvature of her soles.
It was insane. Scalding shards of sensation sinking through the balls of her feet, scouring deep through the arches, and pìercing into the heels, smoothing out the delicate wrinkles as they passed by. Only to immediately latch back on for an equally slow, equally brutal return journey north. They weren't tickling her anymore, no, whatever it was it transcended anything she could describe as tickling. It was too hard, too sharp, cuttìng her mind out of her brain and imprisonìng it inside the soles of her feet. If she'd been told that the person working her over had been granted powers by an ancient, unholy goddess of tickling, she would have believed it.
Seconds weighed heavy as minutes and she was coming apart at the seams, racked with exhaustion that tinged her eyes pink, soaked them wet with paìn. The tickling was destroying her. She hadn't even the strength to laugh, grunting a strangĺed sound whenever more delicate spots were lingered upon, and otherwise reduced to shuddering, almost silent fits of a wretched, heartbroken sobbing.
Then a shock of awareness clawed its way back into her mind. Every time the manicure slipped from the edge of her heels, she was granted blessed seconds when nothing was touching her feet. Time enough for her to sense the flicker of something sparkling and sensitive sizzling in her belly, deep in the space behind her muscles. They had been aching for such a long time, concealing all else that might be going on down there, but now there was no hiding it. It was unmistakable.
It was simmering in the pit of her belly, radiating through her hips, flinging tendrils of heat outwards in every direction until they came to dominate her senses, defying even the scorching agony thrust upon her soles. Her lips stretched wide, wider, fully locking in a pained O. Calves, thighs, arms, everything flexed until they smoldered with the tension. But there was no stopping what was coming. They were going to tickle an orgasm right out of her, one that threatened to tear her apart, and all she could do was try to brace herself, praying that she could survive it.
“O—Okay—” Danni stammered quickly before snapping her teeth shut, desperate to stop the giggles from bubbling up too high. She couldn't let them out. They would drown her if she didn't keep them contained. “I'll give—give you my—my full li—library—” Her voice was shaking. Her whole body was shaking, the sensations in her feet shooting through her legs a vibration of pink electricity, shoving her towards what felt like an explosion.
It was too much, too overwhelming. Screw professional integrity. If surrendering thousands of dollars worth of images might stop this madness, she'd do it in a heartbeat.
But it wasn't stopping. It wasn't even slowing. The feathers had found hotspots beneath her pinky toes that made her jerk against the frame like she was being elèctrocuted. So that's where they stayed. Stroking harder, faster, flickering their stiffened tips in a way that threw all pretense of teasing right out of the window. They were punìshing her delicate skin, and the urge to release the laughter suddenly became intolerable. She arched vìolently away from the frame, growling through her teeth in a frenzied, last ditch effort to resist. Then something sharper poked into the skin to the side of her little toenail, and something inside of Danni snapped.
Immediately she exploded with loud, whooping hysterics, what little cool she had left bursting out through her lips in a hail of spit. Every muscle in her body sprang rigid, swelling into the cuffs that pinned her down with an ease that rapidly became terrifying. Her universe contracted to two tiny points of pressure nibbling into her toes, igniting her with a white-hot panic that seared down to her soul. She could barely move, barely gather a thought, barely keep hold of what little air she could suck down before it screamed right back out of her chest. The feathers had been spun around, the sharp end of the quills were carvìng tiny, exquisitely hellish patterns into the skin beneath her toes and it was scattering her vision with stars.
It tickled like nothing she could have believed possible even in her darkest, sweat-soaked nightmares, and in a frantic effort to make it stop she barked out anything and everything she could think to offer them, her pride crushed by the weight of her desperation.
Fùck how degrading it might be to go through with them. It needed to stop. Now.
But then the hell in which she was trapped took on an even crueler, even more vicious edge. Ten of them, in fact. The feathers were discarded and in their stead two sets of immaculately manicured fingernails, each of them honed to wicked peaks, sank into the sticky skin between her toes and clawed slowly, so excruciatingly slowly, downwards through the full curvature of her soles.
It was insane. Scalding shards of sensation sinking through the balls of her feet, scouring deep through the arches, and pìercing into the heels, smoothing out the delicate wrinkles as they passed by. Only to immediately latch back on for an equally slow, equally brutal return journey north. They weren't tickling her anymore, no, whatever it was it transcended anything she could describe as tickling. It was too hard, too sharp, cuttìng her mind out of her brain and imprisonìng it inside the soles of her feet. If she'd been told that the person working her over had been granted powers by an ancient, unholy goddess of tickling, she would have believed it.
Seconds weighed heavy as minutes and she was coming apart at the seams, racked with exhaustion that tinged her eyes pink, soaked them wet with paìn. The tickling was destroying her. She hadn't even the strength to laugh, grunting a strangĺed sound whenever more delicate spots were lingered upon, and otherwise reduced to shuddering, almost silent fits of a wretched, heartbroken sobbing.
Then a shock of awareness clawed its way back into her mind. Every time the manicure slipped from the edge of her heels, she was granted blessed seconds when nothing was touching her feet. Time enough for her to sense the flicker of something sparkling and sensitive sizzling in her belly, deep in the space behind her muscles. They had been aching for such a long time, concealing all else that might be going on down there, but now there was no hiding it. It was unmistakable.
It was simmering in the pit of her belly, radiating through her hips, flinging tendrils of heat outwards in every direction until they came to dominate her senses, defying even the scorching agony thrust upon her soles. Her lips stretched wide, wider, fully locking in a pained O. Calves, thighs, arms, everything flexed until they smoldered with the tension. But there was no stopping what was coming. They were going to tickle an orgasm right out of her, one that threatened to tear her apart, and all she could do was try to brace herself, praying that she could survive it.
