Borin shook his head. Like his captive, he was having a hard time believing this was really happening. He was a grizzled man, hardened by a life of toil that was only barely rewarded. How many harvests had he lost in total, he wondered, to the tax-men of the king? His mind wandered to his youth, when a dashing nobleman had passed by the fam, and seeing Borin's then-young-and-pretty wife, ordered his men to carry her off with them; days later, he found her disheveled and barefoot in the woods, still lashed to a tree, her ankles raw from the ropes tied tightly around them, holding them at just the right height for the noble and his men to play with them. He'd done nothing then--what could he do? Vengeance was out of the question--like the rest of the peasants, Borin knew it was his role in life to survive, and if that meant the nobles did as they pleased, so it was to be.
But now, he had the most jaw-droppingly beautiful princess in generations squirming helplessly in front of him. Her royal hair, so smooth and shiny, was splayed across his straw. Her lithe, taut, teenage body writhed furiously; her long, bare legs dangling in front of him. Best of all, her delicate, perfect feet now struggled in vain, trying to work their way out of his leather bonds. Gods, and what feet they were! So soft and smooth, they seemed to have never been walked on. Creamy-white arches, gently-pink heels and toes; supple and young and gorgeous. Borin's wife was old now, alternately bony and fat in all the wrong places. Even the harlots in the village tavern were impossible to compare to Kyra. He'd never imagined such a lovely creature, and her gentle, friendly demeanor during their first meeting only inflamed his lusts further. The girl had no right to be so pure, so pretty, so sweet.
He reached out to her feet. Kyra had ceased trying to wiggle them free, and was now trying to pull her knees towards her chest and then kick out violently. He'd pulled the leather rope fairly taut, so her kicks were small and relatively harmless, but it was an enjoyable enough sign of her defiance. She continued shouting angrily into her filthy gag. Her voice, even when afraid and furious, was truly lovely. He hated the girl's perfection so much.
She froze when his rough, callused fingers wrapped around her tiny teen foot. He laid a torn, jagged set of fingernails against her tender sole, and she remained frozen, her eyes now locked on his. She shook her head slowly, her anger subsumed by a sudden fear.
"I see you'e a ticklish girl," Borin said. "So you know what it means when my fingers are like this."
He waited for a moment, his eyes feasting on her absolutely perfect feet. Then he looked back at her. "That was a question. I expect an answer."
After a moment, Kyra made the slightest, smallest nod.
"Good! That's good. Good girl. When I ask a question, I expect an answer."
Borin's heart was pounding in his chest. He couldn't help himself--he so desperately wanted to rake his filthy nails down the princess' lovely little feet. It was an opportunity that was rarer than once in a lifetime. He couldn't stop savoring the imminence of her torture, and he loved the look of fear in the girl's bright, frightened eyes.
"You know what's going to happen?" he asked. Again, after a long moment, Kyra nodded, still trembling.
"You know once I stop, it might be quite a while until I stop," Borin added, leaning in close to Kyra's foot. Her soles were so soft, so supple, so tender in his hand--the bounty of youth mixed with the payoff of privilege. A sudden desire raced through him, and the burly farmer leaned close to Kyra's tied feet. His mouth opened, and his tongue emerged, inching closer and closer to her soles...
Kyra scowled and let out a muffled shriek of rage. The moment she'd been waiting for had come. At once, she pulled her feet away from his grip what little bit she could, and then with all the force in her legs kicked out. The slim teen was far from a mule, but it was still the best kick she could muster, and it landed square on Borin's nose. If her heel had been less soft, or her legs less willowy, or her bindings less restrictive, it probably would have caused extreme pain.
But she was a tightly-tied, wispy sixteen-year-old girl. He recoiled from the blow, saw a moment of stars, and then was himself again. Kyra had followed the kick with a renewed effort to escape, but to no avail. A moment later, the angry farmer was hauling her back onto the bale of hay.
"How dare you!" Kyra sputtered, spitting the gag from her mouth enough to speak. "I'll never give in to your evil! I won't so much as smirk--" she was saying, as Borin shoved the gag back in place and tied it again around her head. He stormed back to where her feet were still suspended in the air.
"That was a good move, but a damn stupid one!" he steamed, though on the inside, he was pleased. Her defiance only further inflamed him. "And you'll more than giggle, girl. You'll laugh until you die!"
There were stories of monsters that kidnapped young girls and subjected them to that very fate, but of course Borin had no intention of truly hurting the young princess. But he did plan on using her well, and even as she shouted another muffled protest into her gag, he seized her slender ankles and began scratching her bare soles.
Kyra inhaled sharply as the sensation reached her, but pressed her eyes shut. The girl was determined not to give the filthy farmer the pleasure of seeing her laugh--it was repulsive enough he was touching her royal person, and her bare feet at that!
Borin let out a low groan as he raked the tips of his nails over her beautiful feet. She wasn't laughing, but he could tell from the way she curled and flexed her toes and tried to pull her feet away that she was feeling the effects of the tickle torture. She was definitely a ticklish young girl--he didn't even know about the witch's curse, which amplified the effect even more! He switched from his random attack and put all five nails against the top of her feet, then slo-o-o-owly dragged them down her soles, from toes to heel. Kyra pulled as hard as she could, raising her back totally free of the hay bale and letting a faint 'eep!' out of her pretty lips as Borin did so. Naturally, he repeated the move a second time, slower, and then repeated it in reverse. Each time, Kyra let out a faintly louder sound.
"That's a good girl," Borin purred. "Let it out. You can even beg, if you want. Beg me to stop."
Kyra shook her head furiously.
"Your choice, girly-girl," the farmer replied, and he raked down her soles again, then back up them, and then down yet again, with no pause for the girl to catch a breath. She was now rolling from side to side on the hay bale, her teeth clenched firmly around the cloth gag, the picture of determined resistance.
Next, Borin used just his index and pointer fingers, wiggling them against the soft skin just under her cute bubble toes. He kept it up until she was panting and her eyes shot open, and in between gasps the teen let out a few unwilling moans that were so torturously close to being giggles.
"There it is," Borin boasted. "Let it out, girl! Let it out!" And he dug in even harder, now adding in his thumbs which he used to tickle her delicate arches.
"Nnnnn!" Kyra cried. "Nnnnnnnnnnnnnnn!" The whine was pained and low and desperate. She was breaking, and all the kicks she managed did nothing to slow Borin.
"I've got very strong hands. All the fieldwork," he explained, keeping the tickle going ceaselessly. "You might as well just take a real breathe and start begging now. I'll be merciful then, really!"
"No!" Kyra cried out, thrashing her head from side to side violently. The gag had fallen aside again, but Borin was okay with that. He expected to hear her beg anyhow.
"I'll never give in!"
Then, all at once, Borin set in with all five fingers, each worming against their own specific part of the princess' teenage feet, and the girl's cry of surprise broke into a ceaseless string of tortured laughter.
"Yes! Yes! That's it!" Borin cried out victoriously, watching the beautiful princess thrash from side to side, barefoot and helpless against his torture. It was the crowning moment of his entire life so far. Her laughter was as sweet and innocent as the rest of her, he noticed with glee. He stopped and watched the girl continue to wiggle and shiver as the sensation continued to echo through her tiny body.
He turned to the pile of tools he'd collected earlier and picked up a stiff brush. He carried it to Kyra's head.
"That's just my welcome. You've got such wonderful little feet. I've never even heard of anything like it. Don't worry, I plan on keeping my hands on them as much as possible. But there are other...options. See this, girl?" he asked, lifting the brush. "We use it to clean the horses. The quills are mighty tough. I've always been curious " He lifted the gag and shoved it back into her mouth. "For this, I can't risk you waking the wife," he explained, and slowly stalked back to the girl's struggling feet, smiling mockingly. Internally, Kyra was already wincing. The young princess was so furious and yet very frightened. She didn't know how she was going to get out of this--she only knew she had to keep fighting until she saw a chance to escape.
Borin lifted the brush and set it against Kyra's delicate teenaged soles. The farmer and the girl locked eyes, and
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