(You are reading the Extreme Edition of this story, featuring tickle torture and some hard bastinado. For a tickling-only version, please see the link in the description!) DAY 1 In order to properly collect my thoughts, I have figured I will start recording a diary of my daily work. I have been performing the same duties now for a good few years, on and off, originally employed as a henchwolf in my late younger years. I am not employed in the traditional sense, I simply do whatever my boss tells me to do, whenever he tells me to. Quite frequently, the boss requires information to be extracted from people he believes are screwing around with him. My “subjects” are almost always other wolves, usually wolves who think they are tough. Of course, they never think they are tough after they have been broken by me without me even having to draw a single drip of blood. I've heard rumours that the boss has gotten himself into a spot of bother again, apparently some funds missing from his account. With any luck, I will have another pathetic toy to play with in no time... DAY 2 So soon after I heard about a potential new victim, sure enough I get a call from the boss this evening, telling me that he is planning a kidnap operation throughout the night, and if successful, I will have a drugged wolf arriving at my place in the morning. I hope he is a strong one. My last victim gave in so easily after just three days...I never even got to cause him any pain. I need a good bit of resistance to my techniques, to give me a little opportunity to test out the really exciting stuff... DAY 3 The kidnapping went perfectly. I have a new, cute little wolfy friend to play with waiting in my basement. It took him a while to wake up, but that gave me enough time to restrain him. His wrists tied behind the wooden chair he is sat in via tight rope, plus some rough, rusty chains to shackle his ankles upwards towards the ceiling. He is a young little wolf, barely out of his teenage years, with light grey fur and wearing casual shirt and pants, with black shoes. Hopefully not for too long... I haven’t touched him yet, just talked to him. His replies often consisted of spitting at me and calling me a prick, but that's to be expected when a victim has not yet suffered. Tomorrow we will chat a little more...and I will decide which techniques to use. DAY 4 I appear to have a rather energetic little wolf in my hands. Even just simply questioning him today, he was vainly attempting to break his rope and chain by squirming and thrashing. He seems to think im stupid and would use cheap restraints. It was another day of being nice. You cannot immediately begin torture of a victim, as that is what they are anxiously waiting for. In order to be truly imposing and threatening, you need to keep that anxious waiting sustained. He knows he will be tortured, he is at my mercy in the restraints, but he has no idea when I will actually begin his treatment. Just to be nice and let him know I'm not far from moving forward, and to give myself a treat, I ended our talk this evening by slipping off those shoes and socks of his that were protecting his footpaws. His feet are so soft and cute, his toes so plump and lively as they wiggled freely. I'm going to have fun with that barefoot cutie first thing in the morning... DAY 5 I went down to the basement first thing to give my guest a little breakfast. I had placed his footwear just next to him, on a desk. It's important that this is done, as the sight of their footwear adds to the teasing over time. After a few days he will be desperate for the shoes to protect his soles from my play. Not that they will again, mind...even when I do release a victim after a successful interrogation, I keep their shoes as a souvenir of our time together and leave them barefoot. I love watching a pair of bare soles struggle on the rocks outside my house. It was still clear that he was not talking, so I introduced my beginners tool to him. A small, soft feather. Nothing special, just something I found myself on the ground outside. We continued our chat, except every time I was offered a negative response, I swiped the feather down his right sole, then up his left. Down the right sole, up the left. Down the right sole, up the left. This continued for most of today's work. This one is certainly ticklish. He didn’t quite laugh today, but I can tell from his expressions and movements that as soon as his feet feel even a slightly more intense tool, then he will laugh like a good wolf. His toes move wonderfully, as I swiped down his toes would curl. Swipe up, they would spread. Curl, spread. Curl, spread. Predictable, but no less wonderful to admire. I will have fun with this one...I await tomorrow eagerly. DAY 6 I felt like upping my game a little today, so I picked up another feather from outside. There was no simple chatting today. He knew what I wanted to know, I knew how to get it out of him. So, as soon as I woke him up, the feathers touched each of his soles. I travelled them up and down continuously, all day, only stopping twice, briefly, to eat. He has begun to giggle now, especially when I occasionally stop the up-down pattern to slide the feather between his plump toes. As well as the cute giggles, there is something wonderful about the clunking of the chains as his feet attempt to move away from the feather. They cant move much, but the chain noises complement his squirming toes beautifully. He seems far away from talking yet. I'm going to have a little hands-on experience tomorrow. DAY 7 Now almost a week has passed. I've made sure he is well fed and looked after so he can remain energetic during the tickling. And the tickling today was very enjoyable indeed. I chose to rid myself of the tools for a little bit and feel those big sensitive feet for myself. With my big meaty fingers and pointy claws, the boy danced and laughed heartily as I had some fun fondling and tickling all over his soles and especially between his delightfully wiggling toes. The sound of the rattling chains became a lot louder, but it didn’t overpower those adorable giggles. I can tell that he is starting to break a little bit. He knows now that I mean some serious business. The length and persistence of the tickling is starting to get to him and it cannot be long now before he is pleading and begging. And when there is begging, vital information is not too far behind. That is the beauty of interrogation~ It is a late one tonight. I could have stroked my fingers all over and across his struggling feet for literally days, but I must sleep. And I must make it absolutely clear that I mean business tomorrow. The brushes are coming out. DAY 8 Ooh, things just keep getting more and more entertaining with this one... I spent the day making him acquainted with my brush collection. I have all sorts, from the small, incredibly soft make-up brushes to the hard, rough, unforgiving scrub brushes. I had a lot of fun teasing him with the make-up brushes at first. They are super fluffy and soft, much like a feather, but cover a much wider surface area, and they are absolutely perfect to rotate between his splaying toes. He was not giggling as loudly, but his blushing was through the roof. The softer brush was causing very humiliating, teasing sensations when stroking across his feet. At one point he politely asked me to stop – a sound I've been eagerly waiting to hear. I responded by using another brush on his other sole to make it clear to him that those soft, delicate bare feet of his were going to suffer a lot and pleading was going to get him nowhere. When I began to use the rough brushes, well, you would not believe the volume of his laughter. It was clear that the rougher pointier bristles were just too much for him to handle. I brushed real hard, but not too fast. Slower brushing is more torturous, letting him feel each individual bristle scrape across his nerve endings. His laughter became almost silent, but the chains made so much more noise as he seemed to still believe that there was any way out for those bare feet. Unfortunately for him, he still seemed to feign ignorance and not want to tell me the information. Which means I have something much, much worse in store for him tomorrow. No more playful tickle time, it's time to get serious. DAY 9 I managed to find my old hairdryer in a cupboard somewhere. It's completely useless at drying fur after a shower unless you have seven hours to spare each morning, but it can still deliver a pretty powerful hot blow. This makes it ideal to offer some further tenderisation to my guest's soft helpless paws. It's great to roast a set of paws, as the response goes very quickly from light squirming and cringing to distressed writhing and gasping in hot pain. Young paws like these react particularly strongly to a hot blast of air from a dryer, and they will have become significantly more sensitive with each passing second of the torture. I had to be very careful not to actually burn the boy, so I turned off the heat just as his shouting reached a certain volume. Once his feet were thoroughly roasted, I got out one of my most intense interrogation tools. A nice, long, sharp, multi-wheeled pin roller. Given that it is a tool specifically designed to stimulate the nerve endings, it is invaluable to my work as a torturer. I think they are intended for use by doctors but whatever. The tender feet were given a thorough work over with the pinwheel and was clearly an unbearable stimulus for him. You must be very careful when applying a pinwheel to feet – very gentle, soft rolls up and down, firm enough to really terrorise his soles but soft enough to not cross over into pain. The thin line between extreme tickling and light pain can very easily be tread on with a pinwheel, even moreso after pre-tenderising the unfortunate soles, and that's why I adore it. He alternated between heavy giggles and light moans and gasps as he felt me force the cruel sensation of the pins against his vulnerable paws, and within minutes they had become even redder than they were after the hairdryer treatment. But I kept it up. For hours, and hours. By the end of it, he had tears streaming down his face, he was clearly exhausted, and was desperately pleading for me to show mercy. But he wasn't talking. All that stimulation and torture to his young untrained feet, and still, this boy remains so stubborn. He is starting to anger me, and I have a rather fond liking to whipping the soles of boys who anger me... DAY 10 After ten days, it can be very easy to grow impatient with a boy who just will not co-operate. As a result, painful measures must be taken. And this makes me very happy, as I get to use the oldest tool I have – my trusty, thick leather riding crop. It's good to start off slow to build fear and anticipation for them – light, melodic taps across their bare soles, letting them feel the leather, and feel the pain begin. The sound of leather on flesh is wonderful, particularly when it slowly increases in volume and is joined by the sound of the victim's moans and whimpers as they feel the real smacks begin to make contact. Then you can go up to the intense stuff, really pulling back and walloping the leather across those deliciously vulnerable soles. This boy had such beautiful whimpers, and after each smack he curled up those cute little toes of his and paddled his feet a bit. It was adorable, and it just made me want to keep laying the smackdown on those soft arches and just below the toes, where I seemed to get the best reaction. He soon began to cry as I kept beating his soles long after they became reddened and pained. But did he talk? Did he fuck. The little asshole still thinks he can keep his mouth shut around me, and trust me, I really went hard on him with the crop for the last hour or so. His feet must have been seriously stinging. The crop is usually where I get some progress with the stubborn ones, but this boy's will is far stronger than his soles. I only have one more method, one that even I often find too cruel. For his own sake, he had better speak up early tomorrow. DAY 11 It's not often I feel sorry for the victims that I interrogate. But when I have to use my long, heavy, rough whip, it is difficult not to feel kinda bad when I am lashing the hell out of their bound bare feet. It was important to make it very clear to him, that he wouldn't be able to cope with the bastinado if he did not give me the info I required. I emphasised as much between every single strike – but, alas, I still have not received said information. As such, the poor, young little wolf felt the power of a brutal whip against his soft, frail little bare feet. The sound of the strikes were loud enough but his cries and screams of pain were even louder. I could tell he was in absolute agony. Bastinado will always do that to a wolf like him, people just don't seem to realise how brutal and sadistic the act of whipping the soles can be. After a few hours he was loudly begging, but he still wouldnt talk. The sound of the whip striking his soft soles and bruising them filled the room all day long, along with the pained crying and whimpering of the poor boy. I indeed felt sorry for him...but then again, he is getting on my nerves and he has sexy paws, so a hard bastinado is exactly what he deserves. After the final blow of the day came, I inspected his feet for damage. Although the whip had badly bruised them, and made them tender to the point where my finger stroking down them made him scream, the skin had not been broken. Unfortunately, given that he didn't talk, I can't guarantee that his skin will not be broken tomorrow... DAY 12 Definitely no more playing around today. I am really putting this poor boy under some extreme duress now. With his soft, tender, reddened bare feet hoisted up in the air, I set up a randomiser app on my phone to decide his torture for him. That way, he isnt even at my mercy – he is at the mercy of a computer. Feather tickling, brushing, riding crop spanking, whip bastinado, hairdryer heating, or the pinwheel. He could have been lucky and gotten only the feather option on repeat – I can happily say that he was very unlucky. The first chosen ordeal was the whip. Five minutes of that is difficult for anyone to put up with. For him, with those soft, tender, already beaten soles...it was hell. He didn't scream, he simply sobbed and yelped as each lash landed on those delicate feet. I made it very clear to him afterwards, and indeed after every 5 minutes, that if he gave me the information I wanted to know, I would cease the torture and let him out instantly. But the boy still didn't want to talk...luckily for his bruised feet the next option was the feather. But even a tiny feather like that is a stressful ordeal for such tender young paws. Every time I set off the app he whimpered, his next round of foot torture about to be decided...and it was so much fun. Tormenting his delicious feet in every way, seeing them get redder, more sore, more sensitive~ I can safely say it was the most intense day of foot torture I have ever administered. The boy's feet are weak and getting weaker, but his will is much stronger than I ever thought. Every option on the randomiser was used at least ten times, the bastinado being brutally administered three times in a row at one point. Right now, his feet are extremely reddened, bruised and sore. And tomorrow, this shall happen again. And the next day, and the next day. He will be at the mercy of the computer from this point on until he tells me what I want to know. And from the way he looks now, it isnt long before he begins to bleed. Something very strange seems to be happening right now though. A lot of loud struggling noises coming from the dungeon. I shall have to go and investigate. If he is causing a ruckus, I shall find a way to punish him, and I shall have some great fun detailing it in tomorrow's diary entry im sure... DAY 13 Today, something went terribly, terribly wrong. In my unfortunate silliness, I have been giving the boy some freedom in the dungeon at night, letting him move around without restraint. Fair enough, since I can always easily overpower him and tie him back up each morning, and in fact for the past few days he hasn't bothered putting up a fight. But I screwed up. I believe I left a toolbox containing a bottle of chloroform open before leaving him last night. And when I went into to inspect the noise, well, I will just say that I am currently trapped as a prisoner in my own dungeon. The young boy, despite being a pathetic weakling, managed to get me into the bondage setup whilst I was unconscious. And he tried his best to torture me, oh he really did, but his useless tickling was absolutely no match for my well trained feet. The feathers and brushes I had used on him that worked so perfectly against his delicate soles had almost no effect on mine. In fact, with just some focus and brainpower I could barely even feel it at all. The twat may as well have been giving me a massage. So in the end, after he realised he was no match, he simply left me down here in my dungeon, sodding off himself and locking the door behind him. I managed to break free of the chains after much straining, but I was far too tired to break through the door. I expect the boy will have gotten away now anyway. Fuck. DAY 14 It pains me to have to write this diary entry. It figures that, as soon as I begin to write-up my work, I would fail so catastrophically. I'll admit, there have been times when I have failed to obtain info for the boss, but in those cases, as long as I can pass on the restrained victim to him for further interrogation, he is usually accepting and friendly about the lack of success. But now I don't even have the wolf boy anymore. Luckily I did manage to smash my way through the dungeon door once I had rested, but it was too late. The boy had long escaped. I'm going to eat before I inform the boss of my failure. No doubt he will want me to report to him. I was glad that the wolf didn't use any of the whips on me yesterday but the boss is extremely fond of bastinado. I expect I shall continue these diary entries, as it will be one of the only things I can do whilst not being able to walk well for the next week. Today though, I shall relax. It has been a fun two weeks with that boy and I am sure my treatment has had a profound effect on him. And I still have his shoes and socks as a souvenir. That's a rather comforting thought – that little asshole having to tread barefooted on those sharp pointy rocks outside my house. I wonder what state his feet are in right now...