275 lines
14 KiB
Plaintext
275 lines
14 KiB
Plaintext
Madame Hortense awakened David with kisses. "Good morning,"
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she sang, "and how's my favorite tickle-slave this morning?"
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David muttered something sleepily.
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Madame Hortense bent close to David's ear and whispered,
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"Kootchy, kootchy."
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David laughed half-sleepily.
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"Did you enjoy tickle-torturing me yesterday?" she cooed.
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"Yes...yes I did," he said.
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"Why how DARE you derive pleasure from tickling me. Remind
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me to tickle YOU with a perfumed Q-tip sometime," she said in
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mock indignation.
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"You really enjoyed that, didn't you Madame Hortense," David
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said.
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"Yees...how dare you think of something different before I
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do...you should be careful about giving me new ideas, slave. I
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just might use them on you...Did you know that the second toe on
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your right foot tastes just like sugar?"
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"Really?" David queried.
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"Why yees," she responded. "It's the sweetest toe I've ever
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tasted...and what do my toes taste like?" his mistress inquired.
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"Pleasantly salty to the palate," David chose his words
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carefully. "You have very nice toes, Madame Hortense."
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"Well, I'm glad you like them," she smiled extending her
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foot towards him. "Make a feast of them now...before I send you
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downstairs to wash the dishes."
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David took Madame Hortense's toes into his mouth and sucked
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them gently. "Don't forget my crevices, darling," she cooed.
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David darted his tongue between her toes. "Ooh, that tickles,"
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she squealed. "No fair tickling me on during the week...that's a
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no-no...it's a breach of our contract...please...continue."
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David continued sucking her toes. "Ooh, my little piggies just
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LOVE your tongue," the mistress squealed in a high-pitched tone.
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All of a sudden Madame Hortense pulled her foot away from
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David abruptly. "Enough of this," she snapped, "you have dishes
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to do! Report to the kitchen immediately...and I don't want to
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see any spots on the glasses like the last time! Or else..."
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"Yes, Mistress," David said, and he hurried downstairs to
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the kitchen where a sink full of dirty dishes awaited him.
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"And I'm going to inspect each and every dish, glass, cup
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and saucer, so you'd better do a good job! Understand?!" she
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called after him.
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"Yes, Mistress," David called out. He was already halfway
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down the stairs.
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* * *
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David stood over the sink washing what amounted to a week's
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worth of dirty dishes. "God, I hate this!" he said to himself.
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"What does she think I am, a maid! All she ever does is bark
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orders and tickle me...bitch. Maybe I ought to just tell her to
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take this job and shove it." David thought a minute.
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"Naaaaaaaaah!" and kept on cleaning the dishes, whistling as he
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cleaned. In the distance he could hear the clump, clump, clump
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of Madame Hortense's boots descending the stairs. She strode
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into the kitchen. David looked up from the sink. She was
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wearing her leather mistress outfit and a stern look on her face.
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"I heard you whistling. You're not allowed to whistle while you
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work. I sent you down here to do the dishes, NOT to entertain
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yourself. Cease that whistling immediately," she turned to
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leave. She turned back toward David and said, "Call me when you
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have finished washing the dishes. I'm going to check to see that
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they're absolutely spotless."
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"Yes, Madame Hortense," David said obediently.
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Madame Hortense turned to leave the room. David broke out
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into a whistle in spite of himself. Madame Hortense wheeled and
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glared at him with fire in her eyes.
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"Oops, sorry. Must've slipped out," he said grinning
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sheepishly, his hand to his mouth.
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Madame Hortense's expression changed not one iota. "You're
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going to SUFFER for that one later, young man," she said icily,
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and she stormed out of the kitchen.
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David continued with the dishes. "God, I never realized
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just how many dishes she has," remarked David. "This is going to
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take forever. Well...I guess it's really my fault for letting
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them go for so long."
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David kept washing dish after dish, cup after cup, saucer
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after saucer, and glass after glass until finally, five hours
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later, he had finished. "Whew! I'm glad THAT job is done!" he
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said mopping his brow. He called out to Madame Hortense.
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"Madame Hortense, I've finished with the dishes!"
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"Well it certainly took you long enough!" his mistress
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snapped storming back into the kitchen. Madame Hortense picked
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up a dish out of the rack and inspected it thoroughly as David
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stood beside her apprehensively. She examined it from every
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angle, holding it close up to her eyes at first, and then at a
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distance, cocking her head from one side to the other and all the
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time saying, "Hmm, hmm." At length she announced, "This dish
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passes inspection. You have done well so far, my slave. But we
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still have many more dishes to inspect, don't we. If I find ANY
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dishes that are not cleaned to my satisfaction, you shall suffer
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one hour's worth of tickle-torture for each dish. Nooow, let's
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have a look at this next one."
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Madame Hortense inspected each and every dish, glass, cup
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and saucer as David stood with bated breath beside her hoping
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against hope that all the dishes were done to her satisfaction.
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One by one she picked up each and every dish, inspected it, and
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put it back in the rack after thorough examination, announcing
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that it had passed inspection. She was down to the last glass
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now and held it up to the light. David was breathing a sigh of
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relief. "I'm saved," he thought. All of a sudden Madame
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Hortense gasped at what she saw. "David, what IS this on this
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glass!" David's heart sank. "ANSWER ME!" his mistress
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demanded.
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David looked up at the glass. "I-it's a spot, Madame
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Hortense," David stammered dejectedly.
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"A spot?! A spot?! You dare leave spots on my precious
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glasses! Have you been using that generic dishwashing liquid
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that I specifically told you NOT to buy?"
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"Yes, ma'am. The store was out of your favorite brand," he
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explained.
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"And it never occurred to you to try another store?!" she
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asked in amazement.
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"No, ma'am," David stammered.
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"You're getting a tickling session right now!" Madame
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Hortense shouted. "A full hour's worth! Push that table over to
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the sink!"
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"But, Madame Hortense, what are you going to do?" asked the
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terrified David.
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"That another hour's worth of tickling for questioning me,"
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she said, "now push that table over here and be quick about it."
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David pushed the table over by the sink.
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"Now get on the table and hold your feet over the sink! I'm
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going to put this worthless dishwashing liquid to some good use!"
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David placed his feet over the sink. Madame Hortense
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grabbed David's ankles and jammed his feet down into the sink so
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hard he thought she had broken them. She took the squeeze bottle
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in her hand and squirted dishwashing liquid all over David's
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feet. Next she turned on the hot water tap.
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"YEEEOOWWW!" David screamed as the scalding hot water
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hit his feet.
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"Oh shut up!" Madame Hortense snapped. "I'm going to use
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this worthless dishwashing liquid on your feet as part of your
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punishment! That's about all it's good for anyway! Why it's
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almost as worthless as you are!"
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David was in excruciating pain. The scalding hot water was
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causing stabbing, burning sensations in his feet. He was sure
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he'd never walk again. Yet the soap suds felt strangely sensuous
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on his feet.
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Madame Hortense reached down into the water and stroked the
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bottom of David's foot with her fingernail. "Can you feel that?"
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she asked. David's pained laughter told her that he could.
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"Goooood. I don't want your feet entirely numb. I want you to
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FEEL you punishment." And with that, she took a scouring pad off
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the sink, reached down into the water and began stroking David's
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half numb feet with it. "Does that tickle?" she asked
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hopefully. David burst out with uncontrollable gales of
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laughter. "I'm going to tickle your feet with this scouring pad
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and scrub them in this infernal generic dishwashing liquid," she
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said scrubbing harder. "This will teach you to disobey me. And
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the next time I send you to the store for dishwashing liquid
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don't you DARE buy generic. Nothing but the best for MY sacred
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dishes! Do you understand me?!"
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"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Yes, Mistress," David nodded laughing.
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Madame Hortense kept scrubbing the soles of David's feet
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with the scouring pad. She ran it between his toes and squeezed
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it out under his toenails. She scrubbed the tops of his feet and
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his heels.
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"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAA!" David was screaming, half in
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laughter, half in pain from the scalding hot water.
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"Using generic dishwashing liquid on my precious dishes!
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I'm VERY upset with you today, very, very, very! Don't you EVER
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buy generic dishwashing liquid again. EVER!"
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"HAHAHAHAHA, yes Mistress," David squealed.
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"You don't have the sense you were born with!" she spat. "I
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don't believe you didn't think to go to another store. Have you
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taken complete leave of your senses? I'm going to tickle
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you...and tickle you...and tickle you...all over the soles of
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your feet."
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"HAHAHAHA!" laughed David, "M-m-madame Hortense, please, I
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can't stand it anymore. Please...stop!"
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"STOP?! STOP?! Don't tell me to stop, it's not your place
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to tell me to stop!" screamed Madame Hortense quickening the
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pace. "I am your mistress and I will tickle you for as long as I
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like! Where did I put that scrub brush!"
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"OH NO, please, Madame Hortense, not the scrub brush,
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PLEEEASE!" pleaded David.
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"SHUT UP!" his mistress shouted, "you've still got a full
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hour and a half's worth of punishment to endure!" and she
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started scrubbing the soles of David's feet with the scrub brush.
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"YAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" David cried, half laughing, half
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screaming.
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"Why, I think you rather enjoy the sensation of this brush
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on your feet," his mistress cooed. "Does it tickle?"
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"HEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHE! YEEES, MISTRESS, YEESS!" David cried.
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"Gooooooood," his mistress cooed, "I'm enjoying scrubbing
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your feet with this brush. I'm going to get them all squeaky
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clean...so I can suck them later. Won't that be fun?" she said
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licking her lips, "But for now...let's just TICKLE them!" and
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she accelerated the pace, scrubbing and tickling David's feet
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with the brush.
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David was beside himself with laughter. The pain of the
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scalding hot water, the sensuous feeling of soapsuds on his feet
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and the sensation of Madame Hortense tickle-scrubbing his feet
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with the bristly scrub brush was making him ecstatic. The
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tingling sensations he was feeling in his feet were exquisite.
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Madame Hortense played him like an instrument, tickling and
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scrubbing his feet. She kept up the pace relentlessly. "This
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will teach you to use generic dishwashing liquid on my dishes.
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See what torture I'm forced to subject you to? Is it your
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fervent desire to be punished every day like this for your
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misdeed?"
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"Oh, NO, Madame Hortense," David managed between snickers.
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"You're lying to me!" his mistress scolded. "Don't ever
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lie to your mistress! You know you love it when I tickle your
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feet. That's why you misbehave the way you do, because you know
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I'll tickle you. What other pleasures do you have in your dull
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life besides my ministerings to your ticklish needs? You love to
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be tickled. You NEED to be tickled. It's your nourishment.
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ADMIT IT! Tell me how much you like to be tickled. SAY IT! Say
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'Madame Hortense, I loved to be tickled, and I want only you to
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tickle me.'"
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"Never," David managed weakly, he was laughing so hard.
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"SAY IT!" his mistress demanded. "Repeat after me, 'I am
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Madame Hortense's tickle-slave.'"
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"I am Madame Hortense's tickle-slave," David repeated
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between smirks.
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"It is an honor to have her tickle my feet."
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"It is an honor to have her tickle my feet."
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"Serving her is my life's only pleasure."
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"Serving her is my life's only pleasure."
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"She is my all, my everything."
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"She is my all, my everything."
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"I will serve her faithfully until my dying breath."
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"I will serve her faithfully until my dying breath."
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"And if I ever use generic dishwashing liquid on her dishes
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again..."
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"And if I ever use generic dishwashing liquid on her dishes
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again..."
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"She has carte blanche to immerse my feet in dishwashing
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liquid and scrub my feet with a brush."
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David hesitated.
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"Say it!" Madame Hortense exhorted him.
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"She has carte blanche to immerse my feet in dishwashing
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liquid and scrub my feet with a brush--please, Madame Hortense, I
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surrender. Please stop tickling me," David pleaded half out of
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breath from laughing so long.
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"I'll decide when to stop tickling you, thank you very
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much," his mistress chided. "You're forgetting your place, young
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man. I'll have to tickle you some more to remind you." And she
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laid the brush aside and went at David's feet under the hot soapy
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water with her long fingernails.
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"YAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAA!" David roared. "Madame Hortense,
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isn't my two hours of punishment up? I can't take any more.
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HAHAHAHAHA!"
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"Weeell...," Madame Hortense mused, "technically, I could
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assess you another hour's worth of torture for tickling my toes
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with your tongue this morning when it wasn't a weekend. You did
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breach our contract by that action...Should I be a merciful
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mistress and forgive you?...Naaaaaaaaaaaah!"
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[ to be continued ]
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