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