Little Zoe Z Tortures

"I find this method works best on freshly moisturized soles," One of his hands slid my foot up towards the top of the chair leg and then rested it down onto his knee. The sole still facing upwards, I felt a sudden cold blob meet the skin, and then came a pacifying massage. I was surprised to find my body relaxing once more.

"Little Z," Nathaniel spoke casually, "I want to talk to you about your eating problem. Tell me how you feel. Tell me everything."

Strange as it was, I did this. My feet were massaged and moisturized once at a time, while I confessed my terrible weaknesses. He paused to retrieve more cream and then returned to hear the worst parts of my trials. How I hid in shame, how I over-consumed so often in a blanket of mindless indulgence.

"I want to stop," I continued for him, feeling tears at the corners of my eyes, "I want to be better. I just don't know how."

"I can tell you how," he finally replied, settling both my feet upon what I assumed were his knees, "but you have to do what I tell you, in order for this to work."

"Okay," I considered, realizing that so far all I had endured was a foot massage and hair-brushing, and that he probably wasn't out to kill me.

"I want you to come here every week, and update me on your progress," he commanded.

"Yes, but what progress?"

"The progress you will make so that you don't have to endure this,"- I felt suddenly the bristles returning to the tenderised soles of my feet. The heightened sensation, overwhelming me so- more than fingers had ever been able to accomplish in this kind of torture-

I laughed hysterically.

I thrashed and begged as the brush glided up and down- left and right- across each of my soles in a devilishly evil torture. I couldn't calculate the movements of each individual stroke, because a million tiny little ball points were each causing individual stimulation- and I lost control.

"That's really cute," Nathaniel paused, allowing me to catch my breath, "your giggle, it's like a little girl's."

"Okay, okay, okay," I pulled at the hands that were bound behind me, fruitless as it were, "you can stop now though. I get it. I've been a horrible person with my eating. I will stop eating junk food."

He laughed at me.

"You think I believe that fucking little tattle-tale?" He wriggled his fingers between my toes causing me to squeal for help, "go on- try lying to me again."

"I'm sorry!" I begged for him to stop, "Please I wasn't lying! I won't say it again! I won't lie!

"Good girl," he crooned, "I'm thinking your ribs might be the next best place to attend to. What do you think?"

I drew my arms closely into my sides, as best I could, yet I knew they weren't positioned to protect me completely. I was truly helpless. He let my feet fall to the floor as he moved towards my upper body. He hoisted himself atop of my bottom and wriggled his fingers across my hips suggestively.

Attempting to toss him off of my body was impossible. My feet practically glued in place, and his weight included in this burden, I began panting once more. The panting, I recalled, was a symptom of adrenaline- but also- something I did only when Greg would seduce me in particular ways.

Confusion daunted over me as I likened my usual arousal-responses to this new kind of torture. Was it possible that I was enjoying this just as much as I was desperate for it to stop? I groaned from beneath the black strawberry sack that clouded my vision and furthered my humiliation.

"Ticklish little brats who don't know how to take care of themselves,"- Nathaniel prodded my left rib- "they get tickled the most."- he prodded my right.

"Stop it!" I gasped, "I don't want this!" -he dug intrusively into my sides and pinched with evil speedy repetition- "please don't!"

It was an annoyingly funny sensation, and my tickler would not cease! He dashed his fingertips up and down the sides of my body- instincts begging me to find release- he would stop and start again- he would tease- "you fucking pathetic little kid," he jabbed and squeezed, "all you have to do it eat some fucking vegetables- it's not rocket science- you aren't allowed to have candy for dinner!"

I cried between giggles and became a limp- fucking pathetic- mess. Nathaniel enjoyed spider crawling his fingers occasionally across my back and attacking the sensitive skin around my neck and ears. I writhed beneath him and promised obedience to his instructions.

"I'll do it! I promise!"

"You better fucking do it," I bucked my hips weakly as he viciously tickled away; "or else I'm going to have to get you even worse next time."

He leaned forward and started caressing around under my arms. I couldn't escape his tortuous circles and prods. He laughed and wriggled back down my sides before reached backwards and squeezing the shit out of my sensitive inner thighs. I cried out for mercy, yet that simply made him move faster.

"I hate you!" I bellowed from deep within my stomach, "Please stop!"

"You hate me?" He paused for a moment, "well that's not very nice Little Z," he tutted and then pulled my shirt up to full expose my rib cage. He counted them then, pressing in to "make sure" they were all there... and then losing count and stating that he had to begin again.

I found this game humiliating. Of course all my ribs were there! There was no need to count them! No need to leave me so urgently in need of his mercy. He counted again, "I think you have one missing here," he hummed to himself, "how strange."

"Stop it! Stop it! No!" I squeaked and then laughed silently, unable to produce another sound- reserving the last of my energies to just surviving the sensations he dished out to me.

"No... are you sure? hmmm... oh... no, wait, you're right. They are all there!" He said playfully, "thank god we sorted that one out. I was really worried for you."

Nathaniel hopped off of me and moved down to pinch behind my knees. My knees were jammed hard against the front legs of the chair, unmoveable, stuck. I couldn't escape except to permit his fingers to manipulate my whole body into its shame.

"You," he began, "are adorable like this."

-

I had laughed and writhed until I passed out beneath him. I awoke unbound, nestled on the floorboards with a light blanket over my aching body. My eyes opened slowly to reveal Nathaniel sitting on the wooden chair, reading a newspaper, and tapping his foot against the floor.

I feared speaking. That he would come and get me again. That I would be so over-whelmed by sensation I would lose my breath and faint once more. However, as fearful as I was, I also noticed a few inches away rested a tempting glass of water. The thirst was devastating.

I caved into my desperation and speedily gulped down every last drop.

"Oh good, you're awake," Nathaniel folded the newspaper and placed it onto the ground. He leaned forward, allowing his dark hair to fall across his shoulders, and looked down at me with what seemed to be kind eyes. I put the empty glass down and stared back at him.

"You tortured me," I mumbled timidly, "you..."

"It was just so easy," he winked, "but seriously, that was only two hours' worth of your punishment, and you passed out like a baby."

"Two entire hours," I repeated in shock, wrapping the blanket around my body protectively.

"In the cabinet," he nodded, "I've placed a specific set of instruments for our use only. You're going to reach in there and touch only the scales. They are on the left bottom side. Do it."

I looked at him suspiciously and crawled across the floor. Rising tentatively I turned the handle and opened the cabinet up widely. My eyes scanned the interior.

The hard wooden cabinet concealed many hooks with items hanging from them. A hair brush, moisturiser, bondage straps, feathers, gardening gloves, blindfolds... and yes, on the bottom left corner there was a set of scales. I retrieved these obediently and placed them onto the floor.

Nathaniel and I made eye contact momentarily, but he did not need to tell me what to do. I turned the scales on and stood awkwardly over them to reveal the numbers I had been avoiding for the better part of the last five years. It was crushing.

He stood up and walked over to see the numbers for himself. Then he retrieved a pen from inside of his pocket and playfully bopped me on the nose with it. I stepped off the scale, red faced and shame filled, as he walked back over to his chair and sat down.

"Come sit by my feet," he ordered firmly.

I obeyed silently, demeaned by my own failures.

"Now place either your left or right foot on my knee," I cringed at his words, "or else we will have to start all over again until you learn how to listen like a good girl."

"But I don't want you to tickle me," I winced. Nathaniel did not respond to this verbally, however the seriousness in his expression drilled fear so deep inside of my rib cages that I forced myself to do as he wished.

My left food came up to his knee and rested shamefully against him. He positioned it so that the sole was facing openly to him, and tossed the pen lid aside, before grasping my little toes firmly. I pulled tentatively, but once again was distilled by the firmness of his gaze.

He would torture me all over again, if I didn't listen.

With the pen, another torturous ball pointed object that could slide up and down the sole of my helpless weak points- he began to write. I squealed and pulled my foot clean off after about a half of a second. Nathaniel's eyebrows rose threateningly, and I placed my foot neatly back where he desired it.

He firmly grasped my ankle and scrawled across there a torturous four words that I now loathed for their existence. Whatever they were- I knew I would loath them eternally for being so meticulously forced onto the skin of my poor defenceless foot. I curled my toes and tried desperately to resist until I fell back into the floor and screamed for mercy.

He stopped.

I flailed away from him and pulled my foot around to see what had been written. It said; one kilo or else.

"I'll be seeing you next week," he stood up, satisfaction practically drooping from his lips.

"Next week?" I gulped, "but..."

"If you want my help," he crossed his arms over his chest, "then you will come back next week. If you do as you're told, then the punishment will be lessened. If you don't make any progress, you will get the same treatment- and if you are a very bad girl..." he trailed off.

"I won't be," I came to my knees and held my hands together like a child begging for supper, "please."

"If you're a bad girl, you will regret it."

"I'll be good," I promised, this time honestly.

Nathaniel stood up before me, looking down with dark dangerous eyes that were both honest in their expression and petrifying. He was merciless. He was evil.

He patted my head patronizingly, "Very good girl."