Her suspicions were confirmed when she felt the tip of the vine drag along the length of her socked foot, which jerked and twitched at the sudden, ticklish sensation. The sensation lingered even after contact, as if the vine were leaving the specter of its touch behind. But Lara forgot this when the vine applied a second delicate touch to her socked sole.
Like one long, nimble finger, the vine teased and stroked, skittered and danced, drawing impossibly elegant designs of torture on Lara's ticklish soles. Inside the flower she writhed and cackled helplessly as her socked foot jerked and twitched in a futile effort to escape the torment.
The vine's movements were impossibly precise, calculated to discover Lara's most sensitive areas, and even through the fabric of the sock she could feel its every incisive touch. So when she noticed the vine slipping away from her sole and back up to the top of her long white sock, she screamed and thrashed as much as she could--which was, given her bondage, not much. The vine slipped deftly beneath the elastic band of Lara's sock, and with a smooth, sensual glide, it ran down the surface of her calf, then past her ankle and down to her heel.
Finally, with an abrupt flourish, it yanked the sock from Lara's foot.
With her slender bare foot now exposed, her sexy toes wiggling in the air, Lara felt achingly vulnerable. Dread overwhelmed her, and she groaned into the darkness of the flower. Resourcefulness had always been her calling card, but now she recognized the hopelessness of her situation, and her inability to influence events had become a humiliating rebuke to her reputation as a plucky woman-of-action. Moreover, since her sense of self-worth had always been attached to that reputation, the experience of having her foot unwillingly revealed would now be forever associated with feelings of weakness and embarrassment.
She was so steeped in shame that she momentarily forgot about the vine. But then, like a victim of trauma, she was flooded by sensory memories of its ticklish assault on her socked sole. Now barefoot, she shuddered to imagine how much more intense the sensations were about to be.
Then she froze, immobilized by fear, having experienced an uncanny intuition: for she knew, without needing to see it, that the vine now hovered inches from her bare sole, giving off a palpable, predatory electricity. Her heart raced in anticipation of the vine's inevitable touch, and a bead of sweat trickled across her temple. She tried to slow her breathing, knowing the importance of regulating it during moments of heightened--
But without warning the vine brushed against her sole, jolting her body into rigid attention and throwing her eyes wide in terror. Her foot flexed back and her toes splayed wide, and her initial yelp vanished in a cacophony of startled guffaws as the vine began to whirl along the tender surface of its target. Relentless waves of ticklish sensation surged against her sensitive skin, and with a series of ineffective judders, her foot sought to escape the vine's ticklish onslaught.
On her heel, along her arch, in between her toes...
At no point could Lara anticipate which spots the vine might tickle next, or how long it might focus attention on the spots it chose. She lived in a state of constant anxiety, unable to detect any pattern to the vine's attacks--and down in the darkness of the flower, anxiety had become for Lara a physical thing, pressing down on her and shortening her breath. She sucked in desperate lungfuls of air and prayed for release as her chest heaved in distress. Yet at all times, her distress was tempered by feelings of tingly pleasure--unbearable pleasure, but pleasure nonetheless. Bewildered by this mixture of emotion, she laughed and laughed as the vine continued to dance along her sole.
Every now and then the sun burst through holes in the canopy above, dappling Lara's pale bare foot with radiant light and accentuating its beauty. Her foot was long and lithesome, fetching and flexuous, and to see it in motion was a delicious, seductive sight. Despite being hidden away in combat boots most of the time, it was clearly pampered in between missions. Now, the vine was expressing its own appreciation for this beautiful foot, caressing it with loving, ticklish sweeps. Each brush and stroke sent Lara into hysterics of laughter and full body spasms, but with her legs frozen in a vise-grip, she could do nothing to evade her fate.
As the minutes dragged on like the vine against her soles, Lara felt her muscles slackening and her body dripping with sweat, running out of stamina. She was a fit woman, but there was only so much a person could take.
With hopeless desperation--as a last-ditch effort to stop the onslaught--Lara tried clenching her toes around the vine as it explored the crevices between them. She managed only to brush and stroke the rigid stalk with the tips of her pretty toes, but oddly enough, the vine seemed to
