There was an old house in the country outside of London, built in the Renaissance style. It was built by an old count who emigrated from Italy, and he wanted to feel like he's home, regardless of London smog and moisture in the air. It even had underground dungeons. Built several centuries ago, the current owner was spending a lot more time back there in the States, where he was doing the bonds business. Very rich, and with a very strange sexual appetite, he decided to visit his old house, place where he partialy grew up. Why now? He wasn't sure, but he had a very strong urge to check up the house of his reminiscence. So he bought a plane ticket, told everyone that he'll go to London, and that he is on vacation. Seats in the first class, Martini and Pink Floyd songs made his travel comfortable, and after landing on Heathrow, drinking a tea and eating a dinner in the finest restaurant he could find, he took the famous London cabs to his destination.
At the same time, Angela was picking her worn out Levi's jeans, green hood and a gray jacket. She was preparing to go out, and she thought it is going to be just an ordinary night, with alcohol or pot, the nights teenagers do. It's all part of growing up. But this night, Angela will not forget. So so got out. She was living alone for a couple of days, because her mother had gone with her new lover, and Angela's father left them when she was very young. Angela was 19 now, but she didn't go to university. She was working a waitress in the nearby restaurant. So she got out, took the guitar, and went to an antique mansion where her 'gang' was hanging up. By the time they went in there, it was already darkening. A pale afternoon was turning to a cloud eventide. Old house was just waiting for the pure, black, nightmarish midnight. They entered the long room with a small ceiling, which served as a servants bedroom once, but nothing remained except mildewish walls, window shutters that were barely standing in the bearing and dirty fireplace. They lighted up a fire and soon the entire room was cozy and warm. They were starting to relax.
He was climbing up the hill when he saw a light trough the windows. He stopped, amazed by the fact that supposedly empty house was not empty at all. He hid in the fencing and came up with the plan. Living in the US taught him to be ready all the time, so he had an electroshocker. Armed with pure energy and umbrella he proceeded, he left the door open, as he was planing to capture just one poor soul and play with her during the night. He was hoping for some hot babe too. He took some rope from the hall and followed the noise. Guitar, he thought. He took a glimpse into the room...four or five people, one is surely female. Another glimpse. Hot one. Well, time for action:
- What are you doing in my house?!?
The crew glanced in fear, shock and suprise. And after a second of thinking, they threw their bottles and joints, and quickly marched to the door. Angela was last, as she was trying to save the guitar, and he hit her with electrods, causing her to faint. While she was unconscious, he took her to the dungeon, tied her to the chair, pulled the chair in front of the table, placing 10 grams of cannabis in front of her, and 3 joints. He accidently found their 'stash', so girl was now facing a 5 year sentence in prison, minimum. He smiled – convining her will be a lot easier when threaten with jail. Snapped her a couple of times, she regained conscious. Since he taped her lips, she couldn't talk, but instead tried to wriggle her way out of her bonds.
– Take it easy girl, calm down. Listen to what I got to say, and then I'll let you go... if you wish. Ok? Girl nodded obiously because she had nothing else to do.
– I have here 10 grams of cannabis. Enough to put you to jail for a couple of years, especialy if I give some money to the right people. Or I could just toss it into the fire, if you agree to my challenge. Here is what I have in mind...I will torture you feet, first with fire and ice, then with electricity and then hitting them with cane and rods...you'll be free by prime. What's your call? – he said and removed her gag.
Girl thought for a moment, and then asked:
- Is it going to hurt?
- Yes, it will hurt like hell. But you have a right to go to jail.
- Please, don't make me go to jail, please...
- So, you're accepting my dare?
She thought again. God knows what are they going to do her in prison. They could rape her, torture her, beat her, insert stuff into her vagina, turn the cigarets on her... with a fear in her heart, she accepted:
- Ok, i accept your challenge.
He smiled, and she could an errected cock. He kneed down next to her right foot, raised her dirty jeans, and slowly started to untie her red canvas Converse shoes. Laces were getting out of the holes, until, at last, her socked foot came out. Black Nike socks, really made him horny. With a hunger in his eyes, he slowly took of her socks.
- What a nice foot you have. – And indeed, her foot was soft and white as a sour cream, her toes were long and beautiful, and her nails weren't polished, but carefuly cut and shaped. He was amazed by it's beauty. Then he took her foot, and licked it. She moved her leg in disgust, but he just places her foot on the ground. Then he walked and lighted up a fire in a fireplace, and threw a ton of carbon in there. Slowly he returned to her Converse Allstar, pulling out the laces and took off a sock with his teeth. Then he sucked her toes, and kept on doing that for a couple of minutes.
Now he pulled her to a heavy, wooden table, and made her lie on her stomach, leaving her calves hanging from the end, and then he took a bottle of a lotion, slowly rubbed agains her feet, and took a piece of a charchoal from the fire.
- Yea, but please, don't do it hard...
After he put a charchoal close to her feet, she tried to escape from an embrace of intense burning from an ember. But he kept it bringing closer and closer. Her feet were red by now. The blood was really circulating, but then he put some ice on her feet. She sighed with relief, but he placed the ember close again. He kept on doing it again and again, for five minutes. But then he stopped. After all, that is just preparation of things to come.
He then connected the wires to her feet, even places some under her toenails. Then again, for the second time that evening, in the old house echoed a scream, trough her halls, her passages and dungeon.
- AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA, pleeeaaase stop!!!!
- No – he said, and kept on with the electroplay. After couple of minutes, he stopped.
- No, no more, please!!!!
- We have a deal, girl!
- AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA, stop, stop, help!!!!
- Noone will hear you here.
- AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA, I'll do whatever you want, just stop!!!
- You're already doing what I want, now shut up!!!
And this went on for a couple of minutes again. And suddenly it stopped again, and a girl was at ease, again. He wasn't coming for about an hour, and then he came again. Carrying a twig, a strap and a wooden broom handle.
- It's time for a real play, girl..., what's your name anyway?
- Ok, Angela, I want you to count the strokes.
Swis! The strap landed on the insteps of her feet. He wasn't hitting hard, he was just warming her up...20 strokes and her feet were red and hot.
- Now, my dear Angela, I will give you 10 strokes with my broom handle. These will hurt. I want you to count the strokes.
As the first stroke landed, the sound of a blunt stroke filled the air before a cry:
- AAAAAAAAAAAAaaaa...one, sir!
- AAAAAAAAAAAAAaa...two sir! Please stop it sir!
- If I stop it, Angela, you'll go to prison
- AAAAAAAAAAAaa..three sir!!
- Do you like it Angela?
- No, you sick fuck.
- For that, young lady, we'll start over again.
And that continued for a half an hour. Then he took a twig and started to hitting her feet without mercy, but this time in a classic falaka position. Her feet, on fire by previous torture, couldn't endure much more, but they had to...her feet were shaking and started to get bruised.
- Angela, we had a lovely night- he told her, when she was going away in the morning.
- Go to hell, you sadistic bastard!
- It's your bad language again, i'm affraid I'm gonna have to punish you again. I still have you pot, you know...
- - News
- - I`m new
- - General Discussion
- - Support
- - - - Mona Lisa's Foot Torture
- V.I.P. Area
- - V.I.P.
- - Exquisitely Falaka
- - Falaka, Bastinado & Foot Torture
- - BDSM
- - Foot Fetish
- - Capture
- - Stories
- - Poetry
- - Images
- German Area
- - Deutschsprachiger Bereich (German Area)
- - - BdSm
- - - Fetisch
- - - Geschichten
- - - Un- bis Wahnsinn
Who is online
Users browsing this forum: No registered users and 1 guest