Traveling Man

Postby sarumansauron » Fri Sep 03, 2010 7:08 am

Good story! Thanks!
I love TUGS and TICKLING Torture!!!!!

Re: Traveling Man

Postby Jay Feely » Fri Sep 03, 2010 8:01 am

Did you get in trouble for this?
You will have to subdue me to restrain me. I been a bad boy so make sure you torture me too with anything but pain.

Re: Traveling Man

Postby Jay Feely » Fri Sep 03, 2010 10:21 am

Sorry, I should have been clearer. I meant your character in the story. Did your character get in trouble for this?
You will have to subdue me to restrain me. I been a bad boy so make sure you torture me too with anything but pain.

Traveling Man

Postby Chase Ricks » Sat Oct 08, 2011 7:59 pm

Reposted for your reading pleasure. Enjoy.

My mother owned a boarding house in Wheeling, West Virginia in the thirties. I was 20 in 1938 and anxious to get out of that small town and see the world, but I was needed at home. My mom had four other kids, and my dad had gotten killed in a mining accident. My mom wanted me to go to college, but we had to save for it, so I helped her run the boarding house. In May of that year, we took in a young traveling salesman who was new to town. He was handsome in an East Coast, Waspy sort of way with shiny blond hair, fair but high colored skin, blue eyes and an athletic gait. He acted like he was from a good family and he looked the part, but I thought to myself the scion of a rich New York family would not be selling silk stockings in Wheeling, West Virginia during the Depression.

Still, he paid his weekly rent on time and was nice to mom and the little ones. With me, however, he was an A-Number-One Asshole. I was actually pretty close to his age, and he got a kick out of ordering me around. I had to be nice to all the boarders, mom was pretty strict about that, and he picked up on that right away. He would make me run errands for him�"Boy, I�m bushed. Why don�t you run down to the corner and get me pack of cigs."---or "Charlie, trot on over to the mailbox and mail this letter to my girl back in Buffalo."

By far the worst thing he did, though, was to make me get a foot bath for him after a hard day pounding the pavement. "Charlie, my dawgs are killin� me. Damn, that sidewalk is hard and hot. Get that basin and make sure the water is hot. Last time it was only luke warm. Now, would your mom like the way you are treating a paying guest."

He would always smirk when he ordered me around like that, and it really burned me up. He had some kind of thing about his feet. He liked to keep them in good shape, and I guess that was important in his line of work. I also think he secretly felt that nicely cared for feet and hands were the mark of a gentleman and to maintain his self image, he had to keep them clean and pampered. I had to admit that he had nice looking feet for a guy who was on them all day. They were pretty big and masculine with veins on top, but they were smooth and pink on the bottoms. Creamy even. His toes were strong and the nails were always trimmed and clean. Same with his hands.

I think he knew I really resented getting his foot bath for him so he started asking for it even more often. He would make me stand there while he pulled off his shoes and socks and wiggle his toes. "Aah. That feels good. These babies don�t smell too bad, do they, Charlie?" I would try to be stoic, but my clenched jaw must have been a give away.

Then one day, he went too far. After I had laid the basin of hot water and Epsom salt down and started to leave his room, he said,""Hey Charlie, not so fast. My tootsies are really hurtin� tonight. I think I need more than just that old foot bath. Why don�t you rub �em for me."

I was steaming, and about ready to tell him off when he continued. "You, know old lady Fitzgerald runs a good boarding house down the street. I bet that daughter of hers would rub my poor tired feet for me." We couldn�t afford to lose a paying boarder, so I swallowed my indignation and my pride and picked up his big bare feet. He was grinning in a very disagreeable way at my humiliation. His feet sure were soft, I thought. I massaged them for awhile and moaned appreciatively. I didn�t say a word to him but I was determined to get him back for that indignity.

My chance for revenge came sooner than I expected. The next night after the foot massage was a Saturday, and Mr. Salesman went on a bender. He had apparently received a �Dear John� letter from the girl in New York and he set out to drown his sorrows. Mom didn�t allow drunks, so he had to sneak in after we had all gone to bed. I heard him, though and watched him stumble to his room. I waited a few minutes and then crept into the darkened hallway. I opened the door to his room and saw him passed out on his stomach on the still made bed. His trousers lay rumpled on the floor along with his shirt and shoes. He was clad in boxer short, a sleeveless white undershirt and one black sock. I was mesmerized by the one bare foot shining in the moonlight that streamed through the window.

My plan crystallized in a heartbeat and I went into action. I snuck down to the basement and got some sturdy rope. I went back to his room and smiled to myself as I looked down upon my snoring enemy. He was a handsome devil, but he had to pay. I carefully flipped him over so he lay on his back. He was out to the world. I raised his muscular arms above his head and lashed them to the headboard. I spread his strong legs and tied each ankle to the posts at the foot of the bed. I left his one sock on. Then, I went back to bed and waited till morning.

On Sundays, mom and the little ones went to church and then to dinner at her sister�s house. The boarders were left to fend for themselves, and most of them left early in the summer for a day at Oglebay Park. I felt pretty safe in assuming that my salesman and I would be alone for a good part of the day. I grinned when I heard a bellowing yell about ten that morning.

I walked into his room and saw him spread out just like I had left him. "What in the hell is going on here? Untie me, Charlie."

"Not so fast", I said.

"Huh?"

" I don�t like the way you�re always bossing me around. I think you should be nicer to me."

"Fat chance of that, little boy."

"See, the thing is, I�m not a little boy. In fact, you�re not that much older than me. If it wasn�t for my mom, I would beat the tar out of you for being such a pain in the neck."

"Hah! Untie me and I�ll show you who�s boss around here."

I ignored him and walked over to the foot of the bed.

"You only managed to get one sock off last night. Must have been some evening. You smell like a gin mill. Bet Mom wouldn�t like that. Hey, do you want a foot massage?"

I reached down and touched his bare foot. I just used one finger to lightly drag up his sole and the reaction was electric.

"HEY!"

"What�s wrong. I thought you like having your feet massaged?"

"That�s not a massage, damnit. Hey! Cut that out!"

I continued stroking the sole of his creamy smooth bare foot and he was fidgeting and testing the ropes. Lotsa luck on that�I was an Eagle Scout.

"I think someone is a little ticklish," I taunted.

"Aw, c�mon, be a pal. DON�T! OH! Charlie, really�I mean it--- NO! HAAHA!"

I started picking up the pace and brought more fingers into action. I loved watching him squirm and try to kick. He was trapped and I was just beginning to torture this arrogant bastard. I guess I�m what you would today call a sadist, but back then, all I knew was I was getting an amazing thrill from tickling this big guy�s bare foot and watching him suffer.

The black socked foot was flopping around like a fish, so I used my other hand to start scratching that sole. His struggles doubled. "Which one tickles more?", I innocently asked. I stuck my fingers up under the toes of the socked foot where the material was bunched up and wriggled them around a little. This drove him wild and he bucked harder than ever.

I really liked his bare feet better. I pulled off the sock and sat on the floor between the posts to which I had tied his big bare feet. My helpless victim pulled out his greatest attempts at salesmanship trying to talk me into letting his go. But as I thought of all the crap I had taken from him, all the humiliation he had put me through, there was no way I was gonna set him free. The big guy needed a lesson. And I was gonna use his big bare feet to teach it to him.
I let my index finger scrape his arch, under his toes, and the ball of his foot, feeling the severely ticklish twitch of his entire leg and foot with each finger-nailed tickling stroke.

Then my hand began tickling in earnest. He squealed with laughter and struggled to free his foot.

" AAUUUUUUUGHHHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA", he belly-laughed. I still had only tickled his left foot by this time, so "Oops, can't neglect the other one." I grabbed the other ankle my nails and fingers attacked this bare foot with intense madness. He let out a howl that had to be heard about two blocks away and laughed and laughed and screamed and laughed some more.
After a good long foot tickling session. I eased up a bit and surveyed my victim. He was covered in sweat and trembling. His face was red and he was still laughing even though I wasn�t touching him. My eyes were drawn to his spread open armpits. The skin there was as smooth and creamy as the rest of his body with only a little blond hair. I climbed upon his chest.

"H-Hey. What are you doing?"

I wiggled my fingers and brought them slowly towards his pits.

"Oh no! C�mon. You�ve done enough. I�ll be nicer, I promise�OOH NOOO!!

I dove into his pits and was rewarded with a screech. I toyed with the damp hair and stroked the skin all around the pits. I poked and prodded and tickled and he laughed and laughed.

"HAAHAHAHAHAHARRRH!! N-N-OOOOOOOOOO!HAA HEEEHEHEHEHEHAHAHA!!!OH! OOOH!! S-ST-STOP! ARRRHAHA! P-PPPLEASE!!!HAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!"

He was whipping his head back and forth as I diddled in his pits and along his sides. He was entering that panicked state where he was being transported to a place he didn�t know and didn�t want to know. The closer he got to that place, the more excited and intent on my job I became. I felt intense pleasure at the tickling torture I was subjecting the salesman to, and I didn�t want to stop. I was surging with power.

I couldn�t help but notice his crotch was now bulging. I wasn�t a sex expert, but I knew I could have some fun with a hard cock. I actually had a reputation for making a guy squirm. My pals and I got down Spider Watson one night and I torqued his big cock until he was crying for me to let him spew. Yeah, I knew how to treat a cock.

I spied his open sales case on the floor and a wicked idea came into my head. I climbed down from his drenched body and picked up some of his wares. "Ya know, a real man wouldn�t sell a pansy item like stockings. I bet you like wearing these things yourself, dontchya?"

He was too stricken to speak and I don�t think he fully understand what I meant, but he weakly shook his head. I took a silk stocking and dangled it over his body. I dragged that stocking along his sweaty white body and he gasped and broke out into a million goose bumps. I untied his left leg and lifted it up. He was still too weak to kick me, so I wrestled the silk stocking on and secured it with a fancy looking garter. I retied the leg. He looked mortified at the humiliating sight of his muscular leg encased in silk, but his cock gave up all pretenses and surged out of his fly. He was dripping. His cock was hard and the same delicate pink as his toes and heels.

"Oh, yeah, fella, you�re gonna get it now. I bet you know all about tickling a foot all done up in a silk stocking, don�t you? Well, now you�re gonna find out what it feels like. I�m gonna do a number on those tootsies of yours and you are going to suffer. That silk scrunching up in your toes is gonna drive you batty, I bet. Just think, this punk kid got you tied down with your own silk stockings on your big smelly feet, and is going to tickle you to death. Think you can stand it?"

"Oh, no, kid, Please. I�m begging you. You�re killing me. I can�t take it. It tickles too much. I�m going crazy," he practically sobbed.

"Tough."

I began gently stroking the bottom of his silk covered foot and I knew I had hit upon a gold mine for both of us. For me, I was liking the feel of the silk on my fingertips and the obvious distress it was causing him. For him, well, let�s just say having his foot tickled while he was wearing a silk stocking was revolutionary. If I thought he had jumped and squealed before, I was in for a nice surprise. This guy went totally crazy.

"OOOHOH!!AAAAAAAHEEEEEEAHHAHOAOHO! STOPP!! Y-You�can�t�noo Oh Please PL-Please aHAHHAHAHHAHHHHAAARRR!!!"

My fingers glided over the smooth material and his poor foot twisted and squirmed. His cock looked even bigger. I thought it was time to move on to the next level of fun and spend some time with his dick.

I grabbed another silk stocking and held it up for him to see. I grinned my most sinister grin as I stretched that diaphanous piece of material in both hands and then snapped it . I laughed to myself because I probably looked like a demented strangler. In a way, I guess I was, because I was about to strangle his hard dripping cock.

"Okey-dokey, big boy, let�s see how this silk feels on your little friend."

I moved closer and he began thrashing and sputtering. I drew the toe of the stocking all around his groin, but never touched his cock. You should have seen him jump when I hit his balls. He jumped and gasped, but I noticed his cock straining to make contact. I gave him his wish. I gingerly put the silk stocking onto his throbbing dick. His straining erection was entirely covered by the silk. He moaned and wriggled trying to enough stimulation to cum, but I put a stop to that by tying off his cock and balls with his own shoe string. More teasing, much more teasing, for Mr. Salesman.

I used my fingertips to gently stroke the length of his cock. It spasmed with every caress and gasped and moaned from the horrible teasing. He cried when my fingers danced a little jig on his purple cockhead.

"AAAAHHHH! OH! TOO MUCH TOO MUCH!! (sob!) P�P-PLEEEEEEEZE!"

"Yeah, does that girl of yours treat this piece of meat like this, buddy? Betcha ya like to pound her with your tool and then roll over for a smoke. I could do this all day, pal. I wanna see those balls of yours turn blue."

After saying this, I started playing with those low hanging babymakers. He couldn�t stand having a guy even touch his precious balls, and here I was tickling �em with impunity.

"OH!OH!OH!"

I had the big time traveling salesman right where I wanted him. I played with him like a puppet all afternoon. You should have seen when I took off my shoes and socks and made him sniff and even lick my feet. He hated that. He hated it even more when I lay down next to his feet and started tickling them again as I used my bare toes to torment his balls. When it got to be about the time that mom was due back, I untied his dick and tickled his feet hard as I stroked his tortured dick with my bare foot. Pretty humiliating to have to cum on the foot of a punk like me. I, of course, made him lick it up.

I never had much trouble with the salesman after that. If he started getting uppity, I would just smile a little and wiggle my fingers. Brought him into line just like that.