Pams Public Penalty

I had never enjoyed so called family entertainment TV shows. I found them trite, noisy and full of slapstick superficial humour. This of course earned me lots of ribbing and joking from my wife Pam. Although not a devotee herself, she would none the less curl up on he settee of a Saturday evening and generally laugh along with the events on the screen.

This is how we came to be sitting in the TV studio, participating in the audience as one of these shows was broadcast live. Pam had, unknown to me written off for tickets. On the evening in question she had told me that we were going out for a meal, which indeed we did.

As we left the restaurant she produced the tickets, and with a wicked smile stated her true intentions. She knew that I wouldn't really be angry. I would swallow my pride and go along for the hell of it. And hell it was. What seemed to cause everyone to fall about laughing left me wondering what was the joke . Never mind, Pam was enjoying herself and I loved her dearly. It gave me pleasure to be there. We had married some five years earlier.

Both in our forties and divorced we had found a nice and secure friendship. Pam was petite and easily fitted a size ten. She had gorgeous slim legs which seemed very long no doubt accentuated by her trim figure. Her dainty feet were encased as always in high heels. On this occasion she wore a cream silk blouse, with a dark brown skirt that ended just above the knee. A dark 'box cut' jacket completed the outfit. Her legs looked stunning in her dark sheer hold ups, and her shoes were of a classic forties style, heeled but with a lace up front.

The application of soft makeup, eye pencil and her favourite 'mocha' lipstick added to her femininity. In moments of boredom during the show, and believe me there were many, I would glance sideways enjoying the almost schoolgirl profile of Pam's pretty face. She would be engrossed in some of the antics on the stage. She looked stunning, and I reached for her hand gently caressing her long slender fingers, playing with the edge of her beautifully manicured dark painted nails.

The show included a number of audience participation sections. As always these were cringe worthy and involved ego centric members of the audience achieving five minutes of glory, usually resulting in their total humiliation by the slick host. In the earlier part of the show there had been a competition for male contestants.

The 'chosen' man was to perform a task, in this case building a wall from polystyrene bricks whilst being showered with foam and water from blindfolded female volunteers. For this he 'won a prize of £100. I wasn't sure how, but it had the audience in shrieking, screaming hysterics.

During the break we retired to the bar where Pam indulged in her favourite strong drink, followed by a Gin. On returning to our seats she giggled and complained that her legs were wobbly. This was not unusual. She never became blindingly drunk, but a drink seemed to go straight to her legs. The second half of the show got under way. The compere announced that it was now time for the women's competition. This was to be a surprise endurance test with the competitor winning another £100. The lights dimmed as the compere announced that the first female to be in the seat number he announced would be invited to compete. With his best Oscar award voice he announced ' and the number is ; seat 145'

A spotlight flashed forward and back across the assemble audience before coming to rest on Pam. Being normally shy, she immediately grabbed my arm and blushed profusely, but already two assistants were trotting up the aisle to help her from her seat, encouraged by the compere and the cheering and whistling of the crowd. I watched as my beautiful Pam was led up onto the stage.

There were the usual preliminary questions as she was introduced' before the compere said 'will you accept the mystery challenge?' She really didn't have a choice of course, the pressure was intense.

She nodded and forced a 'yes' from her dry lips.

'Brilliant' screamed the compere, 'So Pam lets see how you can be £100 pounds better off'. he turned her to face the right side of the stage which now revolved.

Pam put her hand to her mouth as the platform revealed a pair of stocks with padded leather ankle cuffs. The seat consisted of a large firm cushion. 'There's no going back now' said the compere leading Pam across to the stocks. As they approached, two pretty female assistants clad in high heels and short white dresses took Pam by each arm.

The stocks were opened and she was seated the cushion. In a few seconds the stocks had been closed and my pretty wife was held prisoner awaiting her fate. The two assistants stood back and all was quiet. I noticed that a giant TV screen above the stage was now portraying every precise detail to the audience. The compare turned to the audience ' and now tonight's special guest- the man you'll love to hate, please greet The Baron otherwise known as the master tickler'

The applause was interspersed with jeers and boo's as a bald headed slim tall man in his early fifties walked onto the stage. He was dressed entirely in black, with knee length riding boots giving him an air of superiority. He stopped to stare at Pam. The audience went silent. The Baron continued just to look as if psyching her out. It worked. Pam wriggled nervously.

The compere continued ' Pam, your challenge is to accept two minutes of tickling. You can stop it at any time by pushing the large green button within reach of your right hand. You are allowed two attempts. If you can stand it you win the prize, but I should warn you; no one has ever endured the Barons torture'

So doing he walked to the side of the stage.

My mouth was dry as I watched the proceedings unfold before me, my stomach was somersaulting and to my shame and joy I was becoming very aroused by what was happening. The two female assistants took up position each side of Pam. They did not restrain her but seemed to be offering comfort enabling Pam to clutch at their hands.

The Baron walked slowly forward. Kneeling before Pam both of her shoes were skilfully and quickly removed. The Baron ran the index finger of his right hand from her heel to the top of the toes of her right foot.. Pam flinched and struggled nervously. The Baron smiled broadly. This was just the test and he now had his victim exactly where he wanted her. From an inside pocket he produced a long white firm goose feather.

For maximum psychological impact, this was swished around in the air before being placed at the ball of Pam's foot.

'The time starts now' shouted the compere. Immediately the feather was brushed methodically up and down Pam's foot. The effect was astounding. Within seconds Pam was shrieking and wriggling as never before. The Baron simply continued to torment her sensitive soles, each stroke of the feather bringing fresh screams and hysterics.

After only about ten seconds Pam lunged for the green button. I noticed that the Baron continued to apply three more strokes before ceasing. Pam was now clutching at the hands of the assistants. She already seemed utterly exhausted. Her mouth open as she gasped for breath, her head resting against one of the girls. The girls seemed to offer some words of encouragement, and I noticed that one of them gently stroked her hair.

' One minute and fifty seconds to go- can you take the challenge asked the compare' Before Pam could speak the audience answered for her.

Her own reply was lost in the melee.

'Pam you are a star' said the compare 'start the clock' Again the seconds ticked by. The Baron was so sure of himself he did nothing.

For several seconds he simply played with the feather, brushing it against his hand and blowing gently on it before kneeling in front of Pam's elegant and dainty feet. With a smile in which malice , cruelty and pleasure were strangely mixed the Baron again began his unbearable ministrations. I noticed that he steadied the back of Pam's foot with one hand compressing her toes back with his thumb.

This prevented her from wriggling and stretching her gorgeous foot. Consequently there was no escape and soon her shrieks became hysterical and fearful. I watched as if hypnotised as she tossed and threw her body around as much as the bonds would allow. Her slim and elegant legs wriggling frantically. Her hands clutched the assistants so tightly that her knuckles were white. Encouraged by the audience the roar was deafening, everyone was on her side.

After about thirty seconds I became convinced that Pam was losing her mind. Her writhing body just seemed to be a mass of screaming nerve endings, she tossed wriggled and jerked as if one possessed. I truly believed that she no longer had the cognisance to stop the torture even if she had wanted. I found myself rising out of my seat, I wanted to rush up on the stage and stop this cruel yet erotic torment.

It was clear that she had gone past the point of endurance why couldn't they see?. As I began to rise from my seat, I noticed that I was trembling quite violently- this was through excitement, and I collapsed back into the chair.

My eyes were drawn to the large screen were Pam's torment was displayed in precise detail. As her head tossed wildly from side to side I noticed that the top two buttons of her blouse had undone exposing the white lacy join of her bra. Her stylish silk blouse had during the course of her frantic struggles been pulled out of her skirt and now hung and crumpled around her slim waist.

Her dishevelledness seemed only to make the whole incident even more exciting. The audience shrieked and screamed their support for her, whipped up in their own frenzy, many of the women no doubt imagining what unendurable sufferings she must be experiencing. Some sat frozen in their seats fingers to their mouths as if somehow they were awaiting their turn to be the next 'victim'.

Lost in the moment I was unaware of a loud gong sounding, indicating time was up. The compare returned to the centre stage announcing loudly that the Baron had been beaten. As he was booed and ushered off the stage, the revolving section turned and I had a final glimpse of my lovely Pam collapsed in the arms of the pretty assistants. The show continued almost immediately, Pam being hailed as a hero for her stamina and endurance, but I knew better.

During the applause I left the auditorium and was escorted back stage and into a small dressing room. After her ordeal Pam had to be carried exhausted off the stage. She was lying on a clinical couch covered in a blanket. She seemed to be gradually regaining her senses and was in the company of an assistant who I had not seen before.

I introduced myself as the husband and the assistant left. I took Pam's hand in my own and gently kissed her fingers. After some minutes she had fully recovered and I helped her to sit upright on the couch her lovely legs dangling over the side. Kneeling before her I was able to help her with her shoes, but not before I had gently kissed the tops of both of her slim feet.

When we arrived home I made Pam a warm drink before tucking her into bed. She was asleep almost instantly. I sat stroking her hair for several minutes. A couple of days later a cheque for £100 pounds arrived in the post. Over breakfast I commented that I was changing my mind about game shows, but I have a feeling that Pam had learned her lesson.