The Castle Tour Tickle

When I left College, I have to admit this isn't quite the career I had in mind. But being a tour guide for the Castle Dungeons could have its advantages and today was going to be one of those days.

As the group entered the lower levels of the castle and lined up against the wall of the infamous Harlow torture chamber, a familiar face stood out to me. Mid 30's, blonde with a tight ass, killer legs and perky tits, there was no doubt, this was Miss Hartwell in the flesh. It was the click of those black heels on the stone floor that brought back a lot of memories.

Now despite the fact she was stunning, she was also arrogant as hell, stuck up, dismissive and she knew she was attractive and she had no need to try. She would laugh at people, ignore them when she choose too, but I like so many others couldn't keep our eyes off her. The times I had watched her dangle a heel, bouncing off the ball of her foot, so of course I had always wondered what those feet would be like.

Well it's clear she wouldn't remember someone like me, especially after a couple of years, but to see her here with her husband, a tall and well built man, a plan began to form.

I called out to the group, "Now who dares submit themselves to the much feared torture, that is the stocks." Then not giving her a chance to think, I lunged forward grabbing her by the arm and pulled her to the front. She was shaking her head desperately, trying to pull back. But the crowd began to cheer her on and before she knew it I had guided her to the wooden stocks and swiftly placed her hands through the leather straps. With two firm tugs her arms were pulled tight above her head.

The more attitude she gave, the more the crowd encouraged her and I ushered her husband to come forward as well and support his wife. It was almost to easy as he lay down on the rack alongside his wife and he even seemed to be enjoying it.

I took a bit more time to explain to the crowd how we secure prisoners such as this and pretty soon he was tied tightly with his feet pulled to the bottom of the rack and both arms bound to each corner.

I returned to Miss Hartwell and totally ignoring her, I placed each foot into the stock and pulled down the hinge. I added the bolt to make sure she was going nowhere, the whole time explaining to the crowd why punishments such as these existed during the middle ages. Her feet swirled around the holes of the stocks and I was dying to pull off those heels and reveal her soles, but I forced myself to wait.

She called out, "Enough's enough, you had your fun now let us out right this minute."

With that I turned to group and led them to the exit explaining we would be leaving these prisoners to serve their time, which was met with plenty of laughter and probably relief this hadn't been them.

Michelle, a fellow guide, picked up the tour and went back to see how Miss Hartwell and her hubby were getting on. I locked the doors to the chamber and with this being the last tour there would be no one to disturb us for the next couple of hours until closing. I sent a message to a friend who I knew would be very interested in Miss Hartwell's current predicament with an open invite, after all, what are friends for.

As I walked towards her she began to speak, but I cut her straight off. Not wasting a second, I slide off her black heels, revealing her size 8 silky soft soles, with just a slight wrinkle and arches you wouldn't believe. Her nails were painted blue and her perfect toes flexed as the shoes hit the floor. I took my phone out and started to take pictures.

Miss Hartwell shouted out to her husband, "This freak is taking pictures of me, get me out of this and kick his ass."

He strained against his ropes, but I had tied him well and he would be going nowhere. He shouted and growled at me, but they were the last words I had to put up with as a black ball gag was shoved in his mouth and the straps fastened.

I whispered in his ear that I hadn't finished with him and with that he bucked like a wild animal.

My attention was now firmly on Miss Hartwell's stunning feet and I was getting perfect shots. She called out, "You better not show these to anyone or I'll make sure you are fired."

I thought it was time to explain the rules. I was busy pulling out the tripod and camera from behind the curtain, but I explained, "This is a torture chamber Miss Hartwell and yes I know your name. This is what we do and by the end of this you will be begging me to release you. I'll also be requiring your permission to use every picture I take and video I make, in any way I choose."

With that I raked my nails up both of her soles, "I hope you're not ticklish." She squealed with laughter and I thought, this is almost to easy. Before she could get her breath back I looped the ropes around each of her big toes and secured these to the front of the stocks. Her feet were now vulnerable and exposed, she was unable to escape what was to come.

She began to beg, she smiled, she charmed, but it was all short lived as my fingers danced over her, tickling every inch of her beautiful feet. Her laughter filled the room and drowned out he muffled grunts of her husband.

My cock was now rock solid, forcing against my jeans as I got my face right up to her soles, watching her toes flex, clench, desperate to avoid the tickling. This was good footage and I asked her how it felt to be the star of her very own tickle video.

As soon as she tried to talk, I struck, up and down, up and down with my nails. This was only broken up with manic scrubbing of brush and this went on for a full 10 minutes with no break. I looked across at the husband and I could see he was also hard, his cock struggling to break free.

Over the next 20 minutes the tickling was relentless and I would only stop every now and again to lick each soles and suck her toes, before the torment would continue.

The desperation of her situation was now clear to her and she screamed through the laughter, "I give up, I give up, please god I give up, I will do what you say." She starred straight at the camera, trying to hold it together. She said, "I am Emma Hartwell and I star in this video of my own free will. I am a willing tickle slut". She turned to me, out of breath begging, "Now please untie us, I cant take anymore."

I stood in front of her helpless feet and said, "Miss Hartwell, or can I call you Emma? What do you think is going to happen to your job when this video is posted on tickle sites and someone spots its their very favourite teacher starring in the flesh." Emma begged, but I told her straight that no one will be disturbing us for the next couple of hours. I explained as firmly as I could, "I suggest you do exactly what you are told and maybe, just maybe this will stay in my private collection."

She clearly had no choice and she knew it. I looked across to her husband and said, "This goes for both of you!"

To be continued...