By stb
Jake “Ticklefoot” Briggs loved his job. and because he loved it, he was very good at it. Jake made quite a name for himself with the law enforcement of the local counties with his expertise in interrogation and punishment techniques for ornery teen lads. By law, you couldn’t harm the lad in any way. In the law’s eyes, this limited the techniques that could be utilized. Jake specialized in tickling. To be more specific, he specialized in tickling a lad’s feet. Most teens get cocky and think they have outgrown their boyhood ticklishness or that there’s no way tickling could break them. Jake had proven each one of them wrong eliciting confessions and pleas of mercy from his talented fingers, feathers, and brushes. Tough cases needed some time with the cats or goats or both.
Jake had been summoned by the sheriff of Marshville to lend a hand (so to speak) to two rather closed mouth boys. Jake liked Marshville because they were the only town around that had a set of box stocks. These stocks held the victim with his head sticking out of the top and his feet sticking out of the front. Other that that, the victim was completely encased in the oak box. Sitting on a seat, the victim was free to move his arms and hands to no avail, giving the victim the false sense of hope that he could free himself with his hands. Not so. It was just a tease. The best part was the victim had a clear view of his feet as he tried to endure Jake’s famous tickling. They didn’t last too long.
Gabe and Luke were best friends. Like any good ole southern boy, they were good looking teens. Tough and muscles by farmwork, they would spend their summers barefoot like any self respecting boy would chasing the local gals and getting into their share of trouble. Both about 6 feet tall, Gabe was dark haired while Luke had sandy brown hair. The two boys had been caught stealing tobacco from a local farm. Except, there was no tobacco to be found on them. Wanting to know where the missing crop was, the sheriff questioned them to no avail. Tired of this game, he contacted Jake who promptly agreed to the task. Plus he would get to use the box stocks. When Jake arrived, the two teens were encased in the box stocks, their hat covered heads sticking out of the top and feet out the front. Jake and the sherrif shook hands.
“These them?” Jake asked. The sheriff nodded. Jake opened his sack and pulled out some string. “Have your men tie their toes to the spreader bar. I need them pulled back and apart so they can’t move them. Tight soles.”
The sheriff’s men took the string and tried to tie the lad’s toes. The boys responded by making foot fists and the deputies were having trouble pulling them back. Jake walked over. “Push here on the sole and rub,” he showed them a spot on the arch on the tendon , “it will relax their toes enough.” The deputies did as Jake said and soon the teen’s toes relaxed a bit, enough to pull them back and secure them to the spreader bar. Jake knelt in front of the boys.
“Well, fellas, you’ve gotten into quite a jam. It will be easier on you if you just cooperate now.”
The boys laughed.
“Good, you like to laugh. You’ll be doing a lot of that.”
Luke stopped laughing . “what do you mean?”
Jake smiled. “Tickling. specifically, foot tickling. You got these big ole farmboy feet and I work very well with big farmboy feet.”
“We can take any tickling you can dish out,” Gabe defied.
“They all say that,” jake said. “Then they beg for mercy. You’ll talk. they all do. Let’s see here..” he began to examine Lukes feet. Size 13. Nice. Wide soles with good toe spread giving his feet the shape of big ovals. Strong arches. “Good farmboy feet here Luke. You like being barefoot a lot, don’t you?” Luke cautiously nodded his head. “I am familiar with these feet. Strong and powerful, yet soft and ticklish especially just under the toes and in between and right in the arch.” Luke looked panicked and tried to free his toes. “don’t worry big boy. those toes are tied too tight for you to get them away. And let’s see here..” He examined Gabe’s feet. Size 12. More pointy looking from the log big toe and decending sized smaller toes. “Arch and in between toes. ” “No way,” Gabe said. “Boys,” Jake began, “you might think your tough, but your feet are weak. They’re sensitive as every teen boy’s feet are.” He reached into his sack and brought out a jar and opened it. A thick brown substance was in it.
“What’s that?” Luke asked hesitantly.
“Molasses and salt,” Jake replied. “I really don’t have a lot of time today so we’re going to cut to the chase. I could start with fingers, then feathers and then brushes but I need some answers quickly.” He began to apply the stuff to Lukes soles. “So were gonna let the girls have at these feet.”
“Girls?” Gabe asked.
“I call them girls. You call them goats.”
“OH NO!” Gabe yelled.
“What’s with the goats?” Luke asked.
“Wanna tell him or should I?” Jake asked Gabe.
“He’s gonna let goats lick our feet!”
Lukes eyes popped out of their sockets. “NO! You can’t. There’s laws against that! Cruel and unusual punishment! Stop with that stuff!”
“Just a little more betwen the toes,” Jake said before moving to Gabe’s feet. “Wait until you feel those tongues – all warm and slick and wiggling between these toes, licking up the arch. Drives a kid crazy.” Jake turned to Gabe “You’ve been licked before, haven’t you.” Gabe nodded. “Then I’ll make sure there’s extra food for them just to bring back some memories. Ok sheriff, bring the girls!”
The sheriff walked up with 4 goats on leashes, 1 goat for each bare foot. They tied the leadh to a ring in the stocks just below each foot.
“Last time boys, where’s the tobacco?” The sheriff asked.
Luke was running his hands over the seat feeling the splintered wood and deep groves in the seat and wondering how they got there. He felt the top of the box stocks and felt it splintered as well. he gave no answer. Gabe didn’t either.
“Let em go!” jake said.
The goats wasted no time. They attacked the boys bound feet earnestly with quick frenzied licks on the soles. Luke started to thrash his head trying not to laugh, digging his fingers into the wood seat.
“This is the first stage – they try not to laugh. ” Jake said to the sheriff. “They grab the seat, tear at the wood.”
Then Gabe began to snicker, followed by Luke.
“Stage two. The laughter begins to slip out. This doesn’t last long. They’re really feelin the effect of the goat’s tongues now as you can see by their thrashing and scratching at the top of the box stocks trying to get out. Stage three should be here quickly, which is…”
“AHAHAHAH! HAHAH! HAHA! IT TICKLES!!” Gabe yelled.
“HAHAHA !! LEAVE MY FEET ALONE!!”
“…hysterical laughing,” Jake said.
“AHAH! NO! I CAN’T STAND HAVING MY FEET LICKED!” Gabe yelled.
“we know. No boy can. How’s your first lickin, Luke.?”
“AHAH! BAD! IT TICKLES SOOOOO BAD!!!” Luke cried.
“Just the location of the tobacco,” the sheriff asked.
“AHAHAH!”
“Luke, those goats are going to get those toes now. Ready?”
“AAHAHA! GET THEM AWAY! NOT MY …..AHAHAHHAHHHHHHHHHHAHAHAHHA! STAHHHHHHHHP! NOT MY TOES! GET THEM OFF MY TOES!!!!!”
“AAHAHA! MY TOES TOO!”
The goats tongues were tickling under the spread toes of each lad. Then they slipped in between, cleaning the sensitive spaces.
“AHAHAH! NO MORE!! AHAHA!” Gabe cried.
“AHAHA! LEAVE MY FEET ALONE! MY POOR TOES! AHAHAH! AHAHA! STTTAAAHHHHHHHPPP! AHAHA! IN THE OLD BARN! IN THE OLD BARN!!!!”
Jake smiled. “Sheriff, there you have it. I gotta go, but I’d let those goats work thos feet for a while as a reminder to the boys. Here’s the molasses. There’s enough there for about 2 hours of nonstop foot lickin.”
“AHAHAH! NO! STOP! MERCY!”
“They all break in the end,” Jake said. How he loved the box stocks.