Soles of a Spy

A sadistic foot-lover interrogates a hunky spy using a variety of foot torture & tickling in this older story from D. Art by 2Tops4Slave

Soles of a Spy
by D
Art by 2Tops4Slave

Soles-Of-a-Spy“Ahhh…another spy captured and being delivered into my capable hands”, Steele reflected, “I just hope he’s not as easy to break as the one’s I’ve been getting lately”. Steele was a man who loved his job. That job being extracting useful information from unwilling captured spies. He was the boss here, allowed to conduct his interrogations according to his whims. He had a method much different then most of his peers’ crude means of information retrieval. Steele believed (and rightly so) that one of the most sensitive areas of a man’s body is his feet (more specifically, the soles of the feet). He focused his attentions here, while most in his line of work took a more general approach to torture.

Steele shuffled the papers on his desk, pulling up the file of today’s victim. Chad Wright was his name – a good-looking young man: a lean, athletic body, ruggedly handsome features, dark hair, 28yrs old. Confidential disks were found on his person and Steele’s job was simply to discover the password needed to retrieve the top-secret documents contained on them. Steele sighed aloud as he gazed again at the handsome face on the 8×10 glossy in front of him, “a wet-dream walking”, he thought, then smiled, “or should I say a wet-dream running…” He moved over to the window to look out at the complex’s track outside. In the distance he could make out Chad Wright being forced to run lap after lap around the track by his guards. This had been an order of Steele’s (just a part of the initial preparation of his victims).

There were three phases that Steele put his victims through during the day to prepare their feet for the interrogation session that would take place in the evening. Steele’s hand trailed down to the crotch of his pants where he pressed firmly against his hard cock beneath the fabric as he watched Chad run in the heat. He’d been forced to run for almost an hour now, wearing sneakers that Steele had specially made with heavy lead weight encased inside the rubber of the soles. Steele knew the boy must be suffering now, in fact, from what he could see through the window of his air-conditioned office it looked as if he were close to collapsing, his body shining with sweat out on the field. Steele picked up his cellular phone and rang one of the guards running Chad…

“Okay. He’s run enough, bring him to the box now…”

Steele watched through the window as the guards stopped Chad and led him to a plexiglass enclosure in the sand nearer to his window. At the door to this enclosure one guard held Chad at gunpoint while the other stripped him of his shoes, sweats, and underwear. Steele was awestruck by the youth’s body. It was perfection and literally dripping with sweat from his forced exertions. He stood naked except for thick white sweatsocks in front of the thick plexiglass door. The guard cuffed his hands behind his back and, finally, lifted each of his legs to remove his socks before pushing Chad into the enclosure and locked the door. It wasn’t long before Chad realized what the idea here was. The sand was hot!! Steele couldn’t help laughing as he watched the expression on Chad’s face change. Steele knew that sand was well over a hundred degrees this time of day, Chad’s feet were bare, and there was no place for him to go! He was naked so there was no relief to be had from sitting (not only would he burn his tight little ass, but it would be even more humiliating than hopping from foot to foot, which was what he was doing now. It was always the same…the first few minutes the spy would try to act as if nothing was bothering him, then he would begin shifting from foot to foot to try and relieve the discomfort, then he’d start hopping and soon, when the sting of the hot sand became unbearable against the tender skin of his bare soles…ah yes, there he goes…he’d start dancing frantically around the small plexiglass enclosure driven insane by the searing pain. The guards, as well as Steele, got a big kick out of this and would turn on a mini-stereo they had and play music loudly in sync with the poor dancing spy. Steele cracked his window a bit…some upbeat ragtime tune, “good choice”, Steele mused and watched Chad do his painful dance for almost another hour before giving the guards another call…

“Prepare for Phase 3.”

The guards immediately went to work, digging a deep rectangular hole in the sand, leaving Chad to dance in agony alone. When the hole was finished one guard removed the almost grateful Chad Wright while the other ushered him, at gunpoint, over to the hole. Without removing the handcuffs, they forced him into the hole lying on his stomach. his legs were bent at the knees and the hole was filled with tightly packed wet sand that almost immediately dried hard. When they were done, the only parts of Chad’s body left exposed were his head and his feet, soles facing the sky. There was no way for him to escape his predicament, especially since his hands were cuffed beneath the hard sand. With the sand packed level all the way up his neck and to his ankles, it appeared that a pair of upturned feet and a head about four feet away sprouted up from the ground separately. Steele smiled sadistically to himself as the guards coated his soles with cooking oil then left him to roast his soles in the sun. Now it would be only a few more hours till the sun went down and he’d have the unfortunate Chad Wright escorted to his chambers by the guards, soles severely sunburnt, for the main event!! Steele sat back in his comfortable over-stuffed leather chair swiveled toward the window. The sun was beginning to do it’s job. Chad’s feet were writhing in the heat, but the guards had spread his legs far enough apart so that one foot could provide no shade for the other. The pit he suffered in was close enough to his window so that Steele could see that the tortured soles of Chad’s feet were already turning pink. Steele gave his rigid cock another squeeze as he imagined how unbearably ticklish and sensitive to his tortures the boy’s feet were going to be by evening.

Steele let Chad’s feet burn in the sun all afternoon. The guards came to his office once about three hours after he’d had them bury Chad Wright in the sand to tell him that the spy had finally started to beg them for release. He’d played the stoic for awhile, “The poor man’s feet must really be burning up!”, Steele smiled. The guards asked him if they should try to get the password from him then. Steele shook his head, “No”, and instructed them to leave the boy in the sun till dusk and ignore his pleas. At seven thirty they were to give him a mild, short-term tranquilizer injection and deliver him to Steele’s chambers. When they left, he moved to the window to see how poor Chad was doing. It was four in the afternoon, but the sun was still high in the sky, blazing. Chad’s feet squirmed helplessly around in an effort to face the soles away from the sun, but it was useless. The soles themselves were a deep pink now, the oil magnifying the rays for a more intense sunburn. Even walking was going to be a problem for the spy. Tears of pain streamed down his face, still buried to the neck in the sand, thankfully turned away from the sun. Steele chuckled to himself as he watched the boy suffer, then he picked up his cellular again. The guard answered on the first ring:

“I think our boy needs a basting.”

Moments later, one of the guards appeared with the cooking oil and a wide paintbrush. Chad saw him coming and began shaking his head from side to side. Steele cracked his window again to listen.
“No,no,no,no,please,nooooo…”, Chad pleaded his tear-stained face following the guard who ignored him and walked over to where Chad’s feet protruded from the ground. He dipped the paintbrush in the oil and slathered a fresh coat across the boy’s soles. His toes curled and his tenderized feet recoiled from the touch of the stiff bristles, his face screwed up in agony. “Ah yes”, Steele sighed as he noted the young man’s reaction to the touch of the brush, “This one was MADE for my brand of torture”. Then he dozed off in his chair, cupping his balls in his hands…

…he was awakened by a knock at the door. he glanced at the clock.

7:45. “Time to play”, he whispered to himself, grinning, “come in!”.

The door was opened and the guards shuffled in supporting the weight of the unconscious spy between them, naked as he’d been since he’d been forced into the plexiglass enclosure. “How long until he comes to…?” The guards informed Steele that the prisoner should be waking up in about a half hour. “Alright then guys, I can take it from here. You can go.” Steele was dying to finally be alone with his current project. The guards turned to leave. “Wait!”, Steele stopped them, “you’re both off duty. Go home. Relax. But take off your socks and leave them here before you go. The men had learned not to question his orders and immediately sat to remove their boots and peel the wet, white socks from their big feet. They put their boots back on and left to rest at the end of a long day.

Steele surveyed the form of Chad Wright draped across the couch where the guards had dumped him. This was the first good look he’d gotten of the youth. A strong, sinewy body dripping sweat. Ruggedly handsome unshaven face with a strong jaw. Washboard abs and beautiful feet! Steele couldn’t wait to get to work. He hefted the sleeping spy across the room and up onto a waist high curious-looking table pushed against the wall there. Steele held him upright sitting length-wise atop the table, back flat against the cement wall. He pulled the boy’s arms up to shoulder height, stretched them out to the sides buckled leather straps embedded in the wall tightly around his wrists, at his elbows, and right next to his shoulder joints. There was a strap that went around his neck and one more that buckled around his waist. Now Chad’s upper-body was solidly anchored to the wall. Next Steele straightened the young man’s legs out in front of him and set the sleeping boy’s ankles into the two openings in the heavy oak stocks bolted to the opposite end of the table and locked them. More leather straps attached to the table were buckled tight around his knees and upper thighs.

Steele then moved back down to where the spy’s feet were held captive between the wooden planks of the stocks. The boy definitely had beautiful feet! They were large, masculine, wide-soled feet. the balls of his feet looked plump and sensitive, the toes were adorable and well-kept, the heels were broad and sturdy and the only area that seemed to have slightly rough skin. And boy, Steele noted, were those poor tootsies burned!!! His poor soles were a dark pink, almost red, and Steele knew that the slightest touch would register as pain as soon as the boy was awake. In a few days he knew the bottoms of the captive man’s feet would be peeling, but right now they were the most gorgeous things he’d ever seen! He snapped a quick picture of the stud’s trapped soles with his polaroid and added it to the collection of his victims’ feet he kept in a desk drawer.

Steele glanced at the clock. Fifteen minutes until Chad woke up. He quickly moved to put the finishing touches on the prisoner’s bondage. Each toe was spread far apart and tied tightly to one of ten separate eyehooks screwed into the wood over the ankle holes. This forced his feet into a hyper-flexed position, would keep his feet completely still during the torture, and afforded access to those incredibly sensitive spots between his toes. Finally he retrieved the sweaty socks that the guards had left balled up on the couch. Smelling each pair, he chose the most rank, tied the toes of the socks together and then around Chad’s head so that the sweaty knot at the toes was pushed up right against his nose. He balled up one from the other pair, shoved it into Chad’s mouth and anchored it there with the other. Steele went to his desk to retrieve a candle and a box of matches. He turned down the lights in the room and moved himself a chair right up to where the boy’s feet were held trapped at the end of the table.

“Wakey, wakey…”, Steele whispered as he lit the tapered candle and held the flame to the boy’s feet, letting it lick at the boy’s tender soles. in the dark room, the little flame illuminated the spy’s soles with it’s flickering light. Steele continued to move the flame slowly around the bottoms of the man’s trapped feet, watching his face for the first reaction. First, when the heat became intense enough, the muscles in the soles of Chad’s bound feet began to tense and strain, but could effect no actual movement and then his eyes suddenly snapped open. Even though the candle flame just barely touched the surface of his soles and Steele kept it in constant motion, the heat paired with the bad sunburn caused poor Chad to scream a muffled scream into the sock gag. Then the smell of the filthy sweatsock tied under his nose and the salty taste of the sock in his mouth hit him and his face screwed up in disgust. He tried pulling his feet away from the tormenting little fire to no avail. Then he glanced from side to side and Steele saw his eyes widen with fear as he realized that he was securely bound and completely unable to move his crucified upper body, legs, and, of course, his feet (even his toes were helplessly bound)! he began moaning loudly into the sock as Steele continued to explore his sunburned soles with the evil flame. Caressing the tender flesh with the cruel flame, he’d occasionally hold the little fire motionless against an area, the arch, between his big and first toes, and watch the fear build as that pinpoint of pain became more and more intense, the muscles of his legs flexing uselessly in an attempt to escape the flame, and then he’d move the candle on… This went on for almost an hour, with Chad writhing as much as his restraints would allow (almost none), screaming, breathing hard, sweating in pain. Then Steele became bored with the game, blew the candle out, and untied each of Chad’s toes. the spy sighed with relief, thinking his ordeal was over, at least for the day.

Steele untied only his toes, though. Then he went over to his desk and returned with a box of rubberbands, the big, wide, heavy-duty variety. Pulling out ten from the box, he proceeded to place five around each of Chad Wright’s bound feet, slipping them over his toes and moving them down. One bisecting his foot just below the toes, one just below the balls, two across the insteps and one just above each heel. Then his toes were tied back into place. Chad watched all this in silence, his face falling as he realized that the day’s torture was STILL not over, and wondered what fresh hell he was in store for. When he was done, Steele pulled the rubberband at the ball of his right foot (the pinkest area of his burned soles) out as far as it would stretch (almost a foot) and held it poised there, looking directly into his captive’s eyes. It suddenly dawned on him what was going to happen now and Chad began shaking his head violently from side to side shouting indecipherable pleas into the stinking gag. Steele stretched the rubberband just a little further and watched Chad stare in terror at his helpless, waiting feet.
“Is there a password you’d like to share with me, Chad Wright?”, Steele asked with a growing grin.

The spy slowly closed his eyes and shook his head, “No”.

“That’s what i was hoping you’d say…”, and Steele let the rubberband fly. It made a loud slapping sound when it made contact with his sunburned sole and Chad cried out in agony from the stinging pain. Steele laughed out loud at his misery and pulled back the band just under the toes of his right foot and let it go. Chad screamed again. Steele had no idea how this felt since he’d never sunburned his own soles and repeatedly stung them with rubberbands, but judging from the reactions he’d gotten from every prisoner he’d tried it on, he gathered it was excruciating. He pondered how ruthlessly sadistic he was as he began rapidly and incessantly stinging the boy’s feet at random spots. He basked in the youth’s agony, tears rolling down his cheeks now, loud sobs wracked his throat as Steele continued the torture thinking how glad he was that he wasn’t in Chad Wright’s shoes (or out of them, as the case may be). This phase of the interrogation lasted almost another hour before Steele decided to move on.

Steele used scissors to cut away the rubberbands and produced two small metal devices. He held them in front of Chad who hadn’t the slightest idea what they were, but knew he’d found out soon and probably wish they’d never been made.

“Password?”, Steele made a half-hearted attempt to get the information he needed even though he hoped it be a while longer before the boy broke. Chad shook his head and Steele moved back down to his trapped feet. He placed one of the metal devices on each helpless big toe and turned a screw embedded in each device. The small apparatuses worked like tiny vices, squeezing his toes between two small metal plates. Steele watched Chad’s face as he slowly turned the screws tighter and tighter causing the spy to cry into his gag as this new pain gradually increased. When Steele felt satisfied that the pain in the boy’s toes must be more than unbearable, he left the screws as they were and pulled out a thin strip of black rubber tubing. Before Chad knew what was happening, Steele had begun to use the strip of rubber to whip the soles of his immobile feet. he didn’t hit hard enough to break bones or cause swelling (he had no desire to mar the beauty of these big, manly feet), but even a tap across those tenderized soles would have registered as pain. Steele prided himself on his talent for extracting information without the use of no-holds-barred barbaric force. None of his victims had ever left his chambers permanently damaged in any way, but with memories of tortures so cruel they’d have nightmares for weeks nonetheless. now with each lash of rubber against flesh he repeated the question in earnest ,”Password?”. And still the boy held out even though each stroke produced a loud yelp and brought fresh tears to his eyes. finally Steele’s arm began to tire and he decided to move to the final stage of torture. The prisoner’s feet were now sensitive enough for his most diabolical of torments. not one of his victims had ever held out through this next ordeal, and everything he’d done so far to poor Chad’s feet was merely in preparation for what was coming next.

He walked over to his desk again, this time to retrieve a box of assorted feathers he kept there…

When the whipping of his soles finally stopped Chad closed his eyes, his head drooping, his hair drenched with sweat, and took deep, ragged breaths in an attempt to regain his composure. as soon as the echoing pain of that last sting of rubber against his soles died away, the dull ache of the small screw-vices attached to his toes came back into focus and he became aware once again of the stench of the guard’s sock tied under his nose. Eyes still defiantly shut, he moaned into the salty gag and prayed that they were done with him for the day. He heard Steele walk back up to the table and pull up the chair to sit down. He opened his eyes to see his tormenter smiling at him from the other end of the table in front of his trapped feet.

“Are you ready to give me that password, Chad?”

The young spy took a deep breath and even though he was audibly whimpering he shook his head slowly from side to side, fearing for the raw soles of his feet. Steele opened the lid of the black box he’d gotten from his desk and pulled out a handful of various types of feathers. Fanning them out like a poker hand in front of Chad he asked, “Which one would you like to start with?”.

The simple sight of the feathers sent a shock through the man’s entire body, every muscle tensed in an involuntary effort to free himself from his bondage. Alas, all his determination could do was to cause a faint creaking in the wood of the heavy oak stocks. He pleaded incoherently into the dirty sock and shook his head violently from side to side. Steele grinned sadistically, he knew that Chad must have been really ticklish to begin with, judging from his reaction. He knew the boy was going to be horrified at how much more ticklish his feet were going to be after all the abuse they’d suffered today: made tender by a long sweaty run, then more tender dancing on hot sand, even more tender after the forced sunburn, and then super-tenderized by the rubberband stings and the whipping. Even the guys he’d tortured who weren’t initially ticklish and scoffed when he pulled out the feathers found it impossible to withstand once they found out how ticklish their feet had become after the ordeal. this was going to be fun!!

“I think we’ll start with the softest and work up to the stiffest feather…unless you have something to tell me?”, he got up and moved up to where the spy’s torso was strapped to the wall and untied the sock gag, leaving the other pair tied over his nose, “Anything to say?”.

It took a second for Chad to find his voice, and when he did speak his deep, sexy voice trembled. Steele knew he was close to breaking. “P-p-please. please. you gotta understand. I-I-I can’t. I just can’t betray my country. no-no-no matter what you do.(a nervous pause here). so please, please stop this, please…”

Without a word, just a cold smile. Steele slowly walked back down to the end of the table where the poor man’s feet protruded through the wooden planks of the stocks. He chose the most delicate feather from the box, a soft, short, white one. “oh god. oh god. oh god oh god. ohgodohgodohgod…”, he heard Chad chanting to himself in anticipation of the torture even before the feather made contact! Steele was enjoying himself immensely, his cock becoming even more rigid in his pants. He placed the very tip of the feather against the stretched ball of his left foot, right at the spot where his toes connected and slowly began dragging it back and forth horizontally.

“Aaaaaaahhahaha god god godgoooooooood ga ah ga ga jeeeeze shit shit ah ahahaaaaaahaaaaaheeee god god ha ha haaaaarghahaa haaaargh geee heeeeee….”, Chad Wright’s face was a twisted mask of ticklish agony as he immediately broke down into helpless laughter.

Steele quickly replaced the white feather with a longer, stiffer, brown one without missing a beat and began sliding it’s tip up and down his left sole vertically. His toes strained to instinctively curl but were held stretched, and splayed by the eyehooks. the muscles in his feet were rigid and his foot was visibly vibrating in torment as I traced about it’s instep with the feather, more aggressively applied now.

“Plea-PLEA-PUH-Leeeeeeeeze god stop. stop. stop. sthaaaaaaaaaaap! hee heeeehahahaaaargh!! ha ha haaaa!! hahahaaa! I-I-I can’t t-t-take hee ha ha thissssssss ss sssahahaaaaa…”, Chad was wild-eyed now, whipping his head from side to side, slinging beads of sweat from his wet hair that occasionally hit Steele’s face. He’d lick the salty drops from his lips and continue to ceaselessly, and without mercy, tickle his trapped soles.

Steele could tell he was very, very close to breaking now and traded the brown feather for the stiffest one, a long spotted feather with wiry separated tendrils. Steele placed it between the big and first bound toes of his right foot, held it with both hands by the end and tip and rapidly began sliding it back and forth with sadistic relish. Chad’s body tensed even more, the muscles beneath his wet suffering flesh seemed so tight they’d snap and a loud, long, hopeless, deep-throated screaming laugh poured from his lips and echoed loudly in the room and then he said the word…

“SILVER TONGUE! SILVER TONGUE! ah ah hahahaaaa S-I-L-V-E-R T-O-N-G-U-E, SILVER TONGUE!!! that’s the fuckin’ password d-d-damnit ta tahahaaaa! stop! stop!! STOP!!!”

Steele knew the poor boy wasn’t lying, but he couldn’t bring himself to stop just yet. He picked up a second feather and tickled both feet simultaneously and watched the spy’s body trembling in pure ticklish agony. He suddenly noticed the boy’s cock had become urgently erect despite the torture. Steele was delighted and stopped the foot tickling to move up to Chad’s secured lap where his penis stood at attention. He began stroking just the head with the tip of the feather and it grew even larger.

“Oh. oh. ohhhhhhh….mmmmm”, Chad sighed almost with pleasure. Steele discarded the feather and made a tight fist around the shaft and began slowly, but firmly stoking it up and down. “Oh. ooooh god. god….”

“You wanna cum don’t you?”, Steele asked and, humiliated, Chad nodded his head, “yes…yes…”.

Steele stroked faster and faster, the boy’s abs tensed to cum, and just as he was about to shoot Steele released his penis denying him his reward. his neglected cock pulsed in mid-air, aching, with no hope of orgasm. “noooooooo….”, Chad was actually weeping at the sudden ceasing of the badly needed stimulation. Steele chuckled sadistically and moved back down to the boy’s sunburned, tortured feet and unzipped his pants. He pulled out his hard cock and inserted it between the big and first toes of his right foot. he began sliding it in back and forth between the toes. The hot sunburned flesh felt delicious against his cock and each time his pubic hair brushed against the bottom of the foot Chad yelped in pain. Within moments he came explosively all over the spy’s toes as he enviously watched, making the poor boy even hornier.

Steele went back to his desk and called a guard to come and retrieve the prisoner. He instructed him to tie the boy down to the cot in his cell. Steele had decided not even to allow the boy to bring himself of in the night, simply after of pure meanness.

After the boy was gone, Steele put his head down on his desk and replayed the torture session from beginning to end in his mind. He fell asleep with a wicked smile on his face and a hand cupped around his balls. In the middle of the night he was awakened by a loud explosion and then inexplicably knocked unconscious…

…when Steele awoke again, his eyes were met with a blinding light. He squinted painfully and tried to get up. He couldn’t move! As his eyes became used to the light, he realized he was outside and buried to the neck in the sand. Directly in front of his face were the soles of three pairs of feet, crossed at the ankles. so close he could smell them, combat boots and socks lying nearby. Looking up Steele recognized the faces of his last three victims smiling down at him. Chad moved one of his feet closer and pulled his lip down with a sunburned big toe, “Let’s see how YOU do, tuff-guy!”

Steele craned his neck around to see his feet upturned and sticking out of the ground about four feet behind him. He noticed that the soles glistened with cooking oil in the sun and he was suddenly aware of the heat building on the bottoms of his feet. He felt himself starting to cry and couldn’t stop thinking about those rubberbands…

D

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