Wrap It Up - A Tickling Story

She'd been tickled in the past, sure, but not to this extent. It was cruel and unusual punishment, and certainly undeserved. Emma's entire body was incredibly sensitive, a single stroke across her fair skin was more than enough to make her squirm, with her bare soles having long been a weak spot. Growing up she'd endured countless attacks, whether from friends at sleepovers, or boys at the local pool, she became an easy target, eliciting girlish squeals that attracted even more attention. Hell, even her younger sister had once pinned her down while arguing over which movie to watch a few years ago, and been granted several long minutes to torment her overly-sensitive foot bottoms.

But to be trapped like this, unable to move a muscle, to just lay here and suffer this horrible fate; it wasn't how she wanted to end her week. Tickling should be fun, perhaps even sensual with the right partner, but this was a lot to handle, and it was beginning to take its toll.

"I'm serious, you need to get off, and let me up,"

"But I thought ya were enjoying it. Or, are ya finally ready to admit just how ticklish ya really are?" he asked, knowingly.

"Fuck you! Yes, I'm ticklish! Happy? Now let me up, you idiot!"

"An idiot, am I? I'd been considering letting ya up, but after that crude remark, well, now I'm not so sure..."

His fingers were yet again floating directly above her exquisite soles. They were intoxicating, their shape, colour, everything about her feet screamed 'ticklish'. They were lusciously tender, and incredibly inviting. They were whispering his name even now. His fingers wiggled slowly, not that she would notice, but he relished the anticipation all the same.

"Let me up now and I promise that I won't--aiieheehee! No, n-not again, plehehease!"

Ten fingers scribbled with haste across her precious feet, from round heels to wiggly, distressed toes. Not an inch of her delectable soles would go untouched. And no matter how much she tried to escape, she'd never be able to elude his skilled fingertips. They could track them with ease, regardless of how much she switched them side-to-side, or covered one with the other; her chances of fleeing were minimal.

"Coochie, coo! Are little Emma's feet ticklish?" he teased.

"Yesss..." she hissed through clenched teeth. "Y-Yes--heehehaahaa! I'm fuckin' t-ticklish, now stahahap!"

She hadn't yet realized that her frustration was part of his pleasure; her pleading would do nothing but encourage him.

His arousal had grown steadily as time went on. The combination of deathly-ticklish bare feet, melodic tones of girlish laughter, and Emma's writhing body beneath him was overwhelming. His erection was throbbing against his boxers, threatening to make its presence known sooner than later. He wasn't sure just how far this would actually go, but was excited to find out.

"Yiiiehehahaa!" howled the desperate blonde. "Quit it! N-No more tickl--eiiehehee!"

"Hmm, this is super fun, but it's time to change up the game a little," said Dave, relenting for a brief moment and reaching for the object he'd obtained from her dresser.

Emma's cackling ceased, and with an exasperated sigh she squirmed within the tightly-rolled blanket once more. The mummy-wrapped girl was thankful for another break, but was praying the ruthless tickler sitting astride her calves had finally grown tired of this nonsense. But deep down in her soul she knew that no amount of prayer would save her. There'd be no divine intervention here, not today.

"The 'game'? This is all just a game to you?!"

"Well, sort of. If it is a game, I'd say that I'm winning. But, I wanted to try something out. Let me know how this feels, okay?"

"How what feel--eiieheehee..."

A small makeup brush touched down on the struggling girl's soles. This particular brush was the stray he'd accidentally located earlier, being designed specifically for the precise application of eyeshadow. It was tapered, with a dense array of supple synthetic bristles arranged in an oval shape, nearly one inch in length. It had a slender wooden handle with a blunt point at the end, much like a thin artist's brush.

'What a fantastic tickle tool', he thought, while stroking it gently up and down the pair of quivering feet. It was a pleasant coincidence that he'd happened upon it, as it appeared tailor-made for poking in between toes - which he'd get to soon enough - but equally as good at dusting along a pair of wrinkly soles.

Her toes scrunched up at its touch, while attempting to withhold her mounting laughter. 'What the hell is that thing?' she wondered, trying her level best to remain silent, refusing to give him the satisfaction of hearing her laugh. She bit her lower lip while feeling it twirl lazily down her right sole, certain she'd be capable of withstanding this prolonged teasing. But what was he using? It was an indiscernible texture, feeling soft and light, much like a downy feather. No, that wasn't it, she didn't make a habit of keeping feathers in her room.

"Know what it is yet?" he asked, while teasing the small brush across her feet.

"...n-no, I don't..." she replied, her voice somewhat strained.

Emma soon felt the mystery object softly circle the tender heel of her left foot. Round and round it went, agonizingly slow and deliberate, causing her eye to twitch as she persevered through the insufferable torment. It then began working its way across her arch where it lingered far too long. He was waving it back and forth, in a lethargic brushing motion, causing her little foot to tremble, a laugh on the cusp of breaking loose from her lips.

'Brushing motion' she thought, that must be it!

"Surely you've figured it out by now," he said.

"...y-yes... it's one of my... makeup b-brushes!"

"Yes! Ya got it! How'd ya figure it out so fast? Was this used on these little feet of yours before?"

He was savouring every second of her repressed laughter, using it the way he would a paintbrush, practically drooling while stroking it across his 'canvas', making short strokes here, while drawing longer fluid lines elsewhere. He traced the perimeter of both soles, then ran a straight line from her pillowy-soft heels up her arch and across the ball of the foot toward her ever-twitching toes.

"...s-stop it... that's mine..."

"It is yours, that's right. But I'm putting it to much better use, wouldn't ya agree?" he asked, with a self-satisfied smirk.

The brush's soft, wispy bristles circled the ball of her foot, trailing downward along her arch then looped around her heel to make its way upward again. No pressure need be applied, a gentle application was all that was necessary. She had other makeup brushes that would've worked equally as well - a larger powder brush coming to mind, in order to cover a wider surface area - but this smaller, more intricate eyeshadow brush was doing its job quite well, and all that was required on his part was a steady pace.

By alternating his movements while keeping up the rhythm, he ensured both of her magnificent soles were 'painted' thoroughly, methodically drawing random patterns across each one, following no set path. Although never before applying any sort of makeup, he imagined he'd take to it easily enough, picturing one sole as a palette from which to chose the appropriate shade, then applying it to the other.

"...p-please...stop this..."

"Stop? Why would I do that? You're tough, babe. It's just a little tickling after all,"

Time for some fun. Grabbing ahold of her toes, two at a time, he pried them apart while stroking the small brush on the tender flesh between each trembling digit. It was terrific how a small brushstroke could elicit such strong responses from his unwilling participant. One-by-one he feathered her own brush between all ten terrified toes, feeling growing resistance as they tried to curl, his strong hands easily able to hold them still while worming it and out.

Emma's face contorted, tears welling in her eyes as she endured painfully slow, unrelenting brushstrokes between each hyper-sensitive toe. It was horrible, but although her defences were beginning to crumble her spirit was not yet broken. Adamant that she'd outlast him, she stifled her giggles and pushed through, resolving not to emit a single, solitary sound resembling a laugh. He wouldn't get the better of her again.

"Does it feel nice? I bet it's wonderful on your sleepy feet, huh?"

"...n-no it isn't... I... I hate it..."

There wasn't a chance in hell she'd be able to resist much longer. The virgin skin between her toes was incredibly delicate, and he was fascinated by how much she squirmed beneath him with each swipe. She was nothing if not determined, as the poor thing hadn't burst into laughter as he'd anticipated. In fact, if he didn't know any better he'd say she was enjoying it. Between each strained word he was certain he'd heard a subtle moan slip out, and her hips felt as if they'd begun to gyrate. He too was swinging his hips forward and back, his aching cock leaking sticky precum onto his boxers while continuing to tease the barefoot girl.

"Aww, 'hate' is such a strong word, my dear. I know ya too well, and I think you're enjoying it. Maybe not as much as I am, but you're getting there,"

He ran the tip of the brush up each toe stem, ensuring each and every one received the attention it deserved. Afterward he held the brush between thumb and forefinger, spinning it on the tip of each little toe, feeling her quake beneath him. A second brush would be fantastic, as one on each bare foot would certainly break her. But he'd have to make due with what he had, and exploit every wildly-sensitive inch of her feet.

"Are ya gonna laugh for me? I know that ya want to..."

'Not a chance', she thought, he couldn't keep this up forever. She was winning thus far, and salvation was within reach. Surely he'd throw in the towel, as that damn brush had grazed every square inch of her soles multiple times, what was left? Gritting her teeth while feeling it lick at her arches once again, she made a mental note to hide her makeup kit going forward, not wishing to repeat this brutal humiliation in the future. But her determination had paid off, the end was in sight and she couldn't falter now.

"Tickle... tickle... tickle..."

Her pelvis was slowly grinding into the bed as he continued teasing. Why did she have this love/hate relationship with tickling? A fierce battle was raging inside, and despite the cruelty of his tickly touch it was proving to be an erotic experience, finding herself equally as irritated as she was aroused. Why was this turning her on? It was completely illogical; being at once pleasurable, and overwhelmingly torturous.

Dave admired her strength of will. The stubborn girl had proven she could, in fact, endure the soft, gentle brushstrokes brought on by the cosmetic tickle tool. But he craved her frantic laughter, that cackle he knew she was capable of. In order to draw it out he'd simply require a change of tactic, which was long overdue.

Flipping the brush end-for-end he grabbed both of her big toes with one hand, and used the blunted tip of the brush's wooden handle to draw a firm, straight line down her immobilized right foot, toes to heel.

"NYAAHAHAAHAA! F-FUCK YOU--EIIEEHAAHAA!"

It was the straw that broke the camel's back. Emma had surrendered to her boyfriend's skilled technique. Ten glossy orange toes curled over in response, but his firm grip was more than enough to pry them back, until her poor soles were taut; utterly smooth and defenceless.

"Wow! I really know how to use this thing, huh," he said, fiendishly stroking her painfully-sensitive soles. "Does this make me a beautician?"

"N-NOO--AIEEHAAHAA! IT F-FUCKIN' DOESN'T--GYAAHAAHAA!"

The insufferable handle dashing across her arches was a stark contrast to the feathery-soft brushstrokes mere moments ago. It was electric, stimulating nerve endings she didn't know existed. Wishing dearly to pull her feet away to safety, she could do nothing but cackle, releasing a banshee-like scream that echoed within the walls of the tiny room. But it was hopeless, she was stuck fast, and between the mind-bending tickles and her unruly libido kicking into overdrive, Emma was unsure of how much longer she could take it.

"JEEHEESUS! YOU GOTTA STAHAAHAP--NYAHAAHAHAA!"

The brush was wielded with lethal precision, not unlike a surgeon holding a scalpel. Her formerly porcelain-like soles were now a rosy shade of pink, becoming redder with each pass of the torturous tool. Although not its intended use, it proved to be just as effective at making her scream. Firmly gripping both big toes with one hand, he was provided insurance that his ticklish plaything's mobility was severely limited, effectively acting as a makeshift set of toe cuffs.

"I ain't gotta do anything except tickle these perfectly soft feet of yours, my dear,"

"BWAHAAHAHAA--I'LL DO ANY--EIIEEHAAHAA--ANYTHING!"

The muscles in her legs tensed. The tickling was diabolically savage, yet her lust hadn't faded. If anything it had grown, becoming unbearable while writhing within the blanket, begging for release. A dormant persona had awoken within her. It had been trapped, buried deep down, craving this type of torture.

"Poor thing, whatever will ya do? Nowhere to go, babe..."

Dave had begun to probe beneath her spasming toes. The tender flesh was ultra-responsive to each poke, causing her thrashing body to become wilder, more furious, akin to riding a raging bull. But the blanket held tight, and no matter how much she tried to escape, it would be fruitless.

"PULEEHEEASE--EIIEEHAAHAA! I'M B-BEGGIN'--AHHAAHAA!" she cried, sputtering out an impassioned plea for release.

Loosening his vice-like grip on her two big toes, the tickle-crazed boy focused his efforts on the spaces between. After slipping the narrow brush between each toe, he'd drag it down over the ball of her foot toward her high arches, then glide it up again to repeat the process. Her velvety-soft soles squirmed as he applied just enough pressure to make her squeal and plead for freedom. Each garbled cry for help was yet another notch on his belt, knowing that he was driving her to the brink of insanity but never intending to push her over the edge.

"Tickle, tickle, little girl..." he teased. "Laugh for me."

"NYAAHAHAA! N-NOOHOOO MORE, PULEEHEEASE! NYAAHAHAA..."

Her strained cries for help had become more akin to animalistic howls, yet he did not stop. The deranged girl slipped beyond booming laughter, propelled headlong into a fit of near-silent convulsions that he felt resonate throughout the bed beneath him.

Yet as intoxicating as this had become, he didn't wish to wear her out quite yet. With his hunger for tickling satiated for the moment, it was time to let her breathe.

PART II

The eyeshadow brush came to a halt, and was removed from the tortured girl's tender feet. Lingering tickly sensations haunted her poor soles, and she tried rubbing them together once more to alleviate the feeling. Vivid red lines criss-crossed her foot-bottoms, as if dozens of tally marks had been writ there, slowly fading to reveal their natural rosy complexion.

Her chest was heaving; breath laboured. The tear-stained pillow evidence of limits broken. She'd been barefoot and bound for what felt like hours, though in reality couldn't have been more than twenty minutes. Still, any amount of tickling whilst wrapped up and vulnerable was going to feel like an eternity.

Emma desperately wanted to continue protesting this inhuman torture, but what was left to say? Even if she'd found the correct combination of words to convince her heartless captor to set her free, she certainly couldn't muster the energy to speak them.

Dave was unable to see the expression on her face from his position at the foot of the bed, but he gathered from her silence that a meltdown was imminent. Had he pushed her too far? If so, he'd undoubtedly be sleeping on the couch tonight, and those cupcakes they'd planned on making were likely out of the question.

It would be wise to let her up, to free her from the torment, but before he could make another move, she spoke.

"I-I dunno what's gotten into you, but it's a lot to handle," mumbled the exhausted girl.

"Well, I admit that I might've taken it too far. It's just that I--"

"No, it's okay," she replied, cutting him off. "I'm just outta breath, I need a break. But, I know you must be enjoying this. And to be honest, so am I."

The nearby alarm clock pierced the quiet that had befallen the room, noisily ticking the seconds away, punctuating each moment that nothing further was spoken. Repeated slow, strained breaths emanated from the far end of the bed as the poor girl's heart rate gradually dropped.

He was aching for more; cock dripping like a leaky faucet. Why should he continue to temper his wilder impulses? This recent revelation confirmed her enjoyment, much to his surprise, so he had little choice but to continue.

Try as she might, the residual tickly sensation on the soles of her feet refused to disappear, and her mind reeled at the thought of prolonging this any further. Her admission that this brutal tickling was anything but horrendous may well have been a grave mistake. But what was pure, unadulterated torture only moments ago had now become all too appetizing.

Suddenly, the weight had been lifted from her legs, the mattress shifting in the process as her boyfriend's feet hit the floor. She'd give anything to see what he was up to, unfortunately her current position significantly hindered her viewpoint, much to her dismay.

"Are you letting me up?" she asked, his motives still unclear.

Dave found himself at the foot of the bed frame, kneeling before his captive girlfriend's upturned soles. Side-by-side they laid, utterly motionless. His eyes lingered on her pale-white arches, specifically the crease at which they met. He pictured them wrapped tightly around his hard cock, stroking its entire length. As her feet pumped up and down he'd dig his fingers in, listening to her squeal as each stroke brought him dangerously close to the edge. But could he manifest this dream into reality?

"Dave? Are you there?"

Sensing her nervousness, he cleared his throat and replied.

"Yeah, I'm right here. Just thinkin' about something,"

"Oh. About what?" she asked, hints of trepidation in her weary voice.

His palm began to lightly stroke his engorged member through the fabric of his boxers, straining the limits of the stitching. She was still mummy-wrapped and at his mercy, and he'd have to be careful not to get too excited, as the last thing he wanted was to get carried away and miss out on all the fun yet to be had.

"Listen," she continued. "I know that you're enjoying my feet, but maybe we could--"

A pair of lips pressed firmly against the heel of her left foot, cutting short her words. They lingered for several seconds, then vanished. That kiss, however brief, meant this was far from over. A second passionate kiss was then placed upon her right sole, causing her painted toes to curl ever so slightly. It felt serene, quite the welcome change from what she'd be forced to endure. The pieces were falling into place for something new, and she was primed and ready, keen to see how it would unfold.

"Mhmm..." she moaned with approval, in hopes it would continue.

Warm, apologetic kisses continued to be planted upon both trapped bare feet, slowly travelling toward her scrunched toes. Upon arrival, his tactic was decidedly different.

"Mhmmm--ohhnn!"

Her body jolted as she felt his lips wrap around the big toe of her right foot, sucking gently. Her disobedient libido was in control once again, finding herself grinding her hips into the plush mattress, biting her plump bottom lip as her boyfriend lovingly sucked upon each toe in sequence, working toward her pinky. Little beads of sweat had begun to appear on her forehead, and her cheeks flushed with arousal as her subtle moans grew steadily louder.