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You're sweating, breathing heavily, limply suspended by your restraints. His fingers begin to lightly dance over your soles once more, sending tingling shivers up your legs.

“Oh God, nooo,” you moan with a sob, your voice trembling with a blend of desperation and surrender. You know there's no escape from the teasing fingers that dance across your sensative soles.

"Please, stop," you beg once more with another half-hearted sob as he moves to your other foot. You know he won't, and you know how silly you sound, pleading over something as ridiculous as a little tickling, but you can't help yourself.

He may very well feel pity, but all you know for sure is that something is driving him to torture you. He wants you to laugh and writhe under his teasing touch, and you do. He glides a comb over your sole relentlessly, the sensation almost painful. Your legs strain against the stocks with a mind of their own, your foot twisting from side to side in a desperate attempt to escape. Your scream quickly dissolves into laughter, uncontrollable and wild. The sensation, the situation, something about it all is so maddeningly funny that you can't help but laugh, a maniacal, unstoppable laugh.