Sister Finds Out F/M
Posted: Sun Nov 02, 2025 6:37 pm
Keiran squirmed helplessly in the makeshift tickle stocks he'd rigged up in the basement, his heart pounding with a mix of thrill and vulnerability. The wooden contraption locked his ankles firmly in place, his bare feet protruding through the holes, soles up and utterly exposed. He'd tied his own toes back with thin cords, stretching them taut so not even a wiggle was possible—every nerve ending in his insanely ticklish feet screaming for mercy that wouldn't come. His arms were stretched high above his head, wrists cuffed to a overhead beam, leaving his armpits and sides defenseless too. The blindfold—a thick black cloth—plunged him into darkness, and the gag... oh god, the gag. He'd stuffed his mouth with his sister Emily's gym socks, the ones she'd worn for months without washing, reeking of sweat and foot funk, then sealed it with duct tape. The taste was overwhelming, salty and musky, forcing him to breathe through his nose in shallow gasps.
He'd borrowed her tights too—the sheer black ones she'd left in the laundry—sliding them over his legs for that extra layer of humiliating smoothness against his skin. It was supposed to be a quick solo session, just him indulging in his secret kink while Emily was out. But now, the basement door creaked open upstairs, footsteps thundering down.
"Keiran? What the hell are you doing down here?" Emily's voice boomed, laced with confusion that quickly twisted into fury. At 30, she towered over him at 5'10", her athletic build from years of gym sessions making her presence intimidating. She froze at the bottom of the stairs, taking in the sight: her little brother, 25 and pathetic, trussed up like a tickle toy in *her* gear.
Her eyes narrowed on the socks bulging in his gagged mouth, the tights hugging his thighs. "Those are *my* socks. Three months old, you little perv. And my tights? You stole them from my room?" She stormed over, her workout sneakers squeaking on the concrete. Keiran thrashed muffled protests into the gag—"Mmmph! Sssrrry!"—but it came out as garbled nonsense, drool soaking the fabric.
Emily's lips curled into a wicked grin, anger mixing with dark amusement. "Oh, you're gonna be sorry, alright. You wanted to play with my stuff? Fine. But now it's *my* turn." She kicked off her shoes, revealing her own bare feet—still sweaty from her morning run, size 9 and powerful. Without warning, she grabbed a feather from his nearby toy kit (how convenient) and dragged it slowly across his immobilized sole.
Keiran bucked wildly, laughter exploding into the gag as electric tickles shot up his legs. "MMMMMPH! HAHAHA!" His toes strained against the ties, but they held firm, exposing every wrinkle and arch. Emily laughed, deep and mocking. "Look at you, helpless with your ticklish little feet on display. You tied them back yourself? Smart, 'cause I'm not stopping."
She escalated, nails scribbling furiously over both soles—under the toes, along the arches, into the balls of his feet. Keiran screamed with muffled hysteria, body convulsing, tears soaking the blindfold. "Coochie coo, baby bro. These feet are *mine* now." She pinched his big toe, wiggling it. "And this gag? Perfect. Keeps you quiet while I teach you a lesson."
Hours seemed to pass in tickle hell—fingers, feathers, even her tongue teasing his heels for that wet, slippery torment. She made him sniff her fresh sweaty feet between rounds, pressing them over his nose. "Smell what real gym socks are like, thief."
Finally, panting and broken, Keiran nodded frantically for mercy. Emily uncuffed his arms but left the feet locked. "Session's not over. You're staying like this till I say. And next time? Ask permission... or I'll invite friends." She smirked, leaving him giggling residually in the dark, her tights still on his legs as a reminder. Big sis was in charge now.
He'd borrowed her tights too—the sheer black ones she'd left in the laundry—sliding them over his legs for that extra layer of humiliating smoothness against his skin. It was supposed to be a quick solo session, just him indulging in his secret kink while Emily was out. But now, the basement door creaked open upstairs, footsteps thundering down.
"Keiran? What the hell are you doing down here?" Emily's voice boomed, laced with confusion that quickly twisted into fury. At 30, she towered over him at 5'10", her athletic build from years of gym sessions making her presence intimidating. She froze at the bottom of the stairs, taking in the sight: her little brother, 25 and pathetic, trussed up like a tickle toy in *her* gear.
Her eyes narrowed on the socks bulging in his gagged mouth, the tights hugging his thighs. "Those are *my* socks. Three months old, you little perv. And my tights? You stole them from my room?" She stormed over, her workout sneakers squeaking on the concrete. Keiran thrashed muffled protests into the gag—"Mmmph! Sssrrry!"—but it came out as garbled nonsense, drool soaking the fabric.
Emily's lips curled into a wicked grin, anger mixing with dark amusement. "Oh, you're gonna be sorry, alright. You wanted to play with my stuff? Fine. But now it's *my* turn." She kicked off her shoes, revealing her own bare feet—still sweaty from her morning run, size 9 and powerful. Without warning, she grabbed a feather from his nearby toy kit (how convenient) and dragged it slowly across his immobilized sole.
Keiran bucked wildly, laughter exploding into the gag as electric tickles shot up his legs. "MMMMMPH! HAHAHA!" His toes strained against the ties, but they held firm, exposing every wrinkle and arch. Emily laughed, deep and mocking. "Look at you, helpless with your ticklish little feet on display. You tied them back yourself? Smart, 'cause I'm not stopping."
She escalated, nails scribbling furiously over both soles—under the toes, along the arches, into the balls of his feet. Keiran screamed with muffled hysteria, body convulsing, tears soaking the blindfold. "Coochie coo, baby bro. These feet are *mine* now." She pinched his big toe, wiggling it. "And this gag? Perfect. Keeps you quiet while I teach you a lesson."
Hours seemed to pass in tickle hell—fingers, feathers, even her tongue teasing his heels for that wet, slippery torment. She made him sniff her fresh sweaty feet between rounds, pressing them over his nose. "Smell what real gym socks are like, thief."
Finally, panting and broken, Keiran nodded frantically for mercy. Emily uncuffed his arms but left the feet locked. "Session's not over. You're staying like this till I say. And next time? Ask permission... or I'll invite friends." She smirked, leaving him giggling residually in the dark, her tights still on his legs as a reminder. Big sis was in charge now.
