Blindfolded and restrained, the jock's world is reduced to the sensation of his feet, the tickling a sweet, maddening torment. Every brush of the feather sends jolts of pleasure-pain through him, his cries echoing in the room. His feet, his soles, his toes, they all beg for mercy, for release, but his tormentor is merciless, driving him to the brink of ecstasy with just the touch of a feather on his bare feet.