Wrap It Up

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 was 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. It would likely be wise to let her up, 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 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.

"Yup. 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.