Tickle Torture on the Farm: Farmer Woman tickles Female Student
Summary:
Student Lisa has an appointment with farmer Hilda. As soon as the young woman arrives at the farm, things happen quickly. In no time, Lisa finds herself on the bed, being thoroughly tickled by the older lady.
Helplessly at Mercy: Older Woman Ties Student to Bed
On a chilly morning, under a bleak sky, Lisa carefully stepped onto the farm. She clasped her hands together, trying to shake off the moisture in the autumn air.
The farm looked rundown and sleepy, but she had an appointment with Hilda. The old farmer had lived there all her life, far from the city, and was known to be tough as nails.
Lisa wore light, sporty sneakers and held her feet close together as she opened the creaky wooden door. There stood Hilda. The farmer eyed Lisa sharply and growled, “You’re late.”
“I’m sorry, the train was delayed,” Lisa mumbled, but Hilda cut her off with a dismissive wave. Her long red nails glistened in a way that made the hairs on Lisa’s neck stand up. Hilda pointed to the house: “In with you. No time for chit-chat.”
Before Lisa knew it, Hilda grabbed her by the arms, strong as a vice, and hauled her with surprising force into her bedroom.
Lisa gasped in surprise, stumbling over the creaking wooden floorboards until she landed roughly on a large, old wooden bed. The mattress groaned under her weight.
Hilda pulled a rough leather belt from the closet and tied Lisa’s wrists to the bedposts. Lisa gasped, pulling against the bonds, but Hilda just grinned.
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“No escape, girl,” she growled, pulling Lisa’s arms tight.
Lisa squirmed. “What… what are you going to do?” Her voice trembled, but Hilda only put a finger to her lips.
“You’ll find out soon enough,” Hilda said, her eyebrows arching menacingly.
Plump Farmer Woman Thoroughly Tickles Young Woman
Slowly, Hilda placed her hands on Lisa’s sides, running her rough fingers along the fabric of Lisa’s shirt.
Lisa squeaked, trying to twist her body away, but the restraints left her no room to move. A shiver ran down her spine as Hilda’s fingers moved lower and began tickling her side with the tips of her fingers.
“Ah! No! Stop that!” Lisa cried, laughing. Her body jerked, and the young woman squirmed, but Hilda continued to tickle without hesitation.
Lisa shrieked, flailing wildly, but her wrists were tightly bound. She felt every finger gliding over her skin, digging into the most sensitive spots, drawing uncontrollable, giggling laughter from her.
“Oh, you’re really sensitive,” Hilda sneered, leaning close to Lisa’s ear, letting her words feel like a threat.
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Her fingers traveled over Lisa’s stomach, creeping like bugs. Lisa screamed, twisted, pulled her legs up, only to realize she had no chance of escaping this tickling marathon.
But Hilda was far from done. She grinned across the bed, her gaze slowly drifting down to Lisa’s feet.
Lisa, panting heavily and with her hair disheveled around her face, noticed where Hilda’s gaze was focused and immediately tried to press her legs together.
“Oh no, my dear,” said Hilda, reaching for Lisa’s ankle.
Her long, rough fingers closed around Lisa’s ankle, holding it firmly as she slowly pulled the sock from her foot. The fabric slid over Lisa’s toes.
Tickle Torture on the Farm: Older Woman Tickles Student
Lisa shivered, her toes wiggling in the air—a delightful sight.
“Please… please, don’t,” Lisa pleaded, her voice barely a whisper, but Hilda only grinned wider.
“Ah, such sweet little feet, so soft, so delicate.” She pulled off the second sock, leaving Lisa’s bare feet on the bed, her toes pressed shyly together.
With a sly smile, Hilda took a small bottle of oil from her pocket, poured a bit into her hand, and rubbed it generously over her hands.
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Lisa watched with wide eyes, a shiver of discomfort running through her as Hilda began to spread the oil over her soles, massaging it in.
The touch tickled even now, and Lisa couldn’t help but giggle softly. Her feet twitched and twisted. But Hilda held her tightly.
“Not so fast, this is only the beginning.” Hilda grinned, rubbing the oil over every inch of her sole, letting her fingers trace every line and groove in the skin.
Lisa’s toes quivered; she curled them, screaming as Hilda gently ran her fingernail down the arch of her foot.
And then—without warning—Hilda pulled a small feather from her pocket.
Farmer Woman Extensively Tickles Young Lady’s Feet
Lisa saw the soft, white tip of the feather, and her eyes widened.
“No! Please! Not my feet!” But Hilda showed no mercy. She began to trace the feather lightly over Lisa’s oiled soles.
The touch was featherlight but burned like sparks on her skin.
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Lisa jerked, kicked, and laughed loudly, but there was no escape.
The feather glided over her sensitive spots, tickling the middle of her foot, then between her toes, which were so unbearably sensitive that Lisa nearly lost her mind.
“Come on, sweetheart, I’m not done yet.” Hilda’s voice sounded like a dark promise. She let the feather drift over the inside of Lisa’s thighs, right where the skin was especially soft and vulnerable.
Lisa twisted desperately, laughing, gasping, but the feather wouldn’t stop. Hilda played with her, twirling the feather, sometimes soft, sometimes a bit firmer, until Lisa’s face was red, and her breath was ragged.
Finally, when Lisa was completely exhausted and breathless, Hilda let the feather drop. She looked over her handiwork with satisfaction and finally released Lisa’s wrists. Lisa lay there, spent, motionless, with a grin that wouldn’t fade.
This had been one of the most intense moments of her life. Surprisingly, in a good way—even if it had felt uncomfortable at first.
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