The Maresaw Pact

Chapters

Wie Sie Befehlen, Mein Führer
Discussing the Terms
Like the Führer, the Pact is Sealed

Wie Sie Befehlen, Mein Führer

Spinning around in her luxurious leather office chair, the Führer of Germaneigh sighed. She put her heavily-armoured feet up on her desk, shifting many different papers out of the way, in an attempt to regain at least some form of calm. She was beset by nothing but worry after worry, having taken the reins of the country after Adolf Trotler's fall.

Aryanne, his second-cousin, twice-removed, was struggling to clean up every mess the head of the Pferd Reich made over six years of tyrannical rule. Economic devastation, massacre of the gryphons to the west of the country (as well as inside Germaneigh itself), and political isolation, as well as Prance's recent alliance with Equestria, were the biggest issues she had to face.

"Sigh...when will this torment end..." she mumbled to herself. Despite her country's proud heritage and language, their continuous involvement with so many other pony nations and their allies eventually led to most of the Germanes speaking Equish. If only it were less bloody involvement...

Taking a deep breath and closing her eyes, after a long day of signing papers, marching along with her troops, and trying to ease tensions within the country, she spoke into her microphone which was sitting on her desk. She needed this badly, and her Reichsmarshall, Anonymous, was the perfect man for the job.

"RM Anon, you are needed in my office. Now. Over," said Aryanne. While she waited, she decided to unlace her combat boots, freeing her tough, yet smooth feet from the confines of their war-torn prisons.

Anonymous knocked on her door, three times, saying her name after each knock. They developed this code-knock, just in case Aryanne had any enemies.

"Come in, Reichsmarshall."

And enter he did. Anon removed his hat, and upon seeing how bare, how...shiny her feet were from the sweat, he grinned, respectfully saluting the curvy soles.

"I take it Mein Führer would like her massage?" Anon guessed. He knew Aryanne so well, he already had her favourite ointment in hand. Aryanne nodded, curling each of her strong, enticing white toes.

Anon knew what to do immediately. He sat down in front of his superior's desk, lathering up his hands with Aryanne's favourite caramel-vanilla scented lotion. Not long after, his thumbs began to sink into the military commander's arches, much to her pleasure.

Aryanne trusted Anon fully with care of her tired feet, because of how much he loved them, how much he truly cared for their wellbeing. She let out a long moan of bliss, her feet throbbing at the sensation of his fingertips drifting upwards towards her upper soles.

With just a few precious minutes to relax, to clear her head, Aryanne's thoughts began to drift towards one of her predecessors, Trotto von Bismarck. In such a dire situation, what would he do? How would he react?

Trotto von Bismarck always had a plan.

Germaneigh had the best military equipment in the world. They were the only nation besides Prance to own any firearms, they had the only tanks on the planet, besides the Hooviet Union to the northeast, and their sciences far exceeded the other species and their countries. The problem was, though, Equestria's rather medieval military had far greater numbers than her own trained military.

That wouldn't be much of a problem, but Equestria excelled in magical arts. They had nearly-divine mages on their side, and they had the most powerful magic in the world: the Elements of Harmony. They weren't afraid to use them, and their powers could obliterate entire armies, entire countries.

There was also the problem of their alliances. The IFA (Interspecies Friendship Alliance) consisted of themselves, the Dragonlands, Gryphonstone, the Changeling Kingdom, Mt. Aris and Seaquestria, and Yakyakistan. Recently, Prance and the Crystal Empire joined the organisation as well.

Such a large coalition of nations would make short work of Germaneigh's devastated...well, everything. An attack on any of them meant facing all of them at once.

Right in the middle of her thoughts, and Anonymous slotting his fingers between her toes to squeeze them affectionately, Aryanne heard her telephone ring. HER telephone, not one of her assistants' phones. Cautiously, Anon picked it up for her.

"You've reached Reichsmarshall Anon, how may I help?"

The accent indicated this person was of Nechoslovak origin, where the tallest people in the world lived. They had an unusual affinity for giraffes...but obsessing over horses wasn't exactly normal, either.

"My name is Antall Josef Novotny, and I am lead Nech man. I would like to speak with Aryanne, privately," the voice said.

Anon held the mouthpiece of the phone tightly, and whispered to his glorious Führer, "Aryanne, he claims to lead another country...his name is 'Antall'? Should i let him talk to you?"

Aryanne nodded, "Even if it is a prank of some sort...we can just trace him and kill him," as she grabbed the phone from Anon. "Hello, this is Aryanne?"

Anon continued to tend to his leader's feet. As the two leaders spoke, he decided to have a little fun with Aryanne, as he often did while she was busy. Ever so slowly, he began to trace a single finger around Aryanne's slim, curvy sole, smirking at her.

"...and re-arming the country is...absolutely needed..." Aryanne continued, biting her lower lip, but still not moving her feet from their position on the desk. It was a pride thing, she couldn't BEAR anyone thinking her feet were weak enough to fall to a single finger.

"I know you fear us re-arming and taking control of you...but we have nothing...nnngh...to re-arm with..."

Anon leaned a little closer, grabbing a patch-badge for military uniforms out of a small box on Aryanne's desk. Its shape and design matched her cutie mark on the sides of her thighs, so he decided to use the pointy end of the heart to tickle gently under her left toes. He then let his tongue hang out and pressed it on her right heel.

A shade of red made its way to Aryanne's stoic, beautiful white face. Anon knew Aryanne absolutely loved feeling a tongue slide along the underside of her perfect feet. And it was working, Aryanne was clearly holding back a yelp of pleasure as she listened to the other end of the phone.

"....y-yes, nngh, must prepare a defence against Equestria...aahh...and its five alliances with other species...an alliance would be much more favourable than war..." she stammered out, as her Reichsmarshall slid his tongue between her toes, causing them to involuntarily flex. Her other foot was curled as tight as it could be as well, the pointy end of the patch digging into her sensitive skin.

As Anonymous pulled his face away and raked his fingers down Aryanne's slickened, curvy arches, she finally slammed the phone down, a foal-like scowl apparent on her features.

"NEIN. Anonymous, mein minderwertig, you should know that I do NOT tolerate your obsession with my feet while I am attending to affairs of state!" she shouted, her big toes pinching around Anon's nose. He chuckled and held the backs of her feet, tracing his thumbs along the soles.

"You have two choices. You will be thrown into prison for many years...or..." she began, smearing her sole over his cheek, "you will be forced to worship them. Enthusiastically."

He didn't need a brain to know which option was more appealing. As per the usual, he crawled and sat under the desk of his überlegen, and delicately took her right foot into his hands. Anonymous then began to lay passionate, loving kisses on the tops of Aryanne's sexy lower extremities. Each kiss earned him a moan from the military mare above himself, and on the third kiss, she was fully into it. Her strong fingers, having fired many a rifle, pistol and rocket launcher, dug themselves into her uniform's trousers. It didn't take long for her skilled digits to get her in a haze of pleasure.

The wet spot between her legs grew and grew as Anonymous held each foot tightly, kissing each toe delicately. His fingers ran along the führer's soles, not to tickle her, but to stimulate her enough to sink her into an orgasmic trance.

"Ja, R-reichsmarshall...oooh, ja..." Aryanne stuttered. As she felt her feet become trapped in Anonymous's greedy grip, and her soles rub together sensually on his tongue, an earth-shattering orgasm rocked her stressed out body. Her toes curled up tightly the whole way through, and Anon wrapped his lips around as many digits as he could, snaking his tongue between all the toes he caught.

When the haze of heavenly pleasure finally cleared from her head, Aryanne cleared her throat, and sat back in her chair like what just happened didn't actually occur. Anon grabbed her boots, slipping them back on as a favour to her, and then climbed out from underneath the desk.

"Anonymous. I've just been called to a meeting. Nechoslovakia, the Hooviet Union, and Germaneigh are to have an alliance. Perhaps it's because of our strategic geography, being able to reach four different enemy nations within a few days?"

Anonymous nodded. "Yes, they probably want to set up military bases here. The dragons to the northeast, changelings to the northwest, gryphons to the west, and Prance to the southwest can be reached with any bulk of troops at a moment's notice."

"Precisely. This is why I must ask you to stay here, Reichsmarshall. You will be in charge while I am gone."

Anon hesitantly nodded, asking, "Wait, mein Führer. I know you can defend yourself, but shall I at least deploy a military convoy to escort you?"

"Negative. This needs to be small, unseen. Anon, I will be back within a few days. Hand me my disguise, I will be in Maresaw, Poneland to discuss terms with the two other signatories."

Anonymous sighed, nodding. "As you wish, Aryanne. Glory to the fatherland," he said, giving Aryanne her usual magical skin paste and wig. With those two things on, and without her military uniform, she now looked like a normal citizen.

"Farewell, mein Führer, may you return safely."

Author's Note

Germane Translations:
Wie Sie Befehlen=As you command
Führer=Leader
Pferd=horse
Reich=Nation, realm
Reichsmarshall=second-in-command
Mein=My
Nein=no
Minderwertig=inferior
Überlegen=superior
Ja=yes

Discussing the Terms

Aryanne quickly left her office, and began to travel eastwards on foot. Obviously it was no trouble for her, she marched almost all day long with her troops, so her legs were built to handle all this walking.

The head of state traveled over mountains...through forests...across the sea...and through the sky. Just kidding! Germaneigh was mosty flat plains and farms, with a few large cities in between. A perfect funnel for an invading army, another reason she needed help.

All it took was a single day for her to enter Poneland, and half a day more to reach the eastern half of the country, where Maresaw was located.

Once Aryanne stepped into the gates of Maresaw, she was greeted by one very tall soldier, and one rather...skeletal-looking soldier. Both of them had tiny pins of their flags on their uniforms, Nechoslovakia and the Hooviet Union, respectively.

"Ahoj, dobre odpoledne...Can I help you?" the Nechoslovak soldier asked.

Aryanne nodded, remembering the password that Antall Novotny gave her over the phone.

"In unity we overwhelm."

The two soldiers looked at each other, nodding, and grabbing both of her hands. Aryanne jolted, but they both had a firm grip and teleported her before she could properly react.

Aryanne found herself in a dimly-lit basement, sitting in an enormous chair at a conference table. Suddenly, the lights brightened up, and she shielded her eyes.

Once she adjusted to the light, Hooviet leader Josef Stallion was sitting at the end of the table, in the flesh. Unlike many of his citizens, he looked rather healthy, and quite large.

"Ahhh, Aryanne, Führer of Germaneigh...Привет, честь познакомиться с вами," he said, "no need for that silly disguise, we are safe."

She nodded, shaking his strong hand, noting that he held onto it just a LITTLE longer than he should have. She took off her disguise, and attempted to ignore the fact that he kept looking at her rather strangely. Most of her citizens did that anyway, why would this be any different?

"Hmm, I expected there to be more than just the two of us here, but it seems Nechoslovakia is l-" Josef began, but then the door to the conference room opened. Through it came the Nechoslovak president, Antall Josef Novotny.

"Dobrý den, your excellencies. Apologies for my lateness, I was taking time to prepare my terms for signing this glorious alliance."

Josef Stallion coughed slightly. "Ehem, well then, now that we are all here, courtesy of my puppet president Bolesaddle Bierut...let us discuss how we are able to counter the significant advancements in recent years of the IFA."

Antall chimed in, leaning down and taking off his boots, placing his tired feet up on the conference table. "But first, I believe we could all use a little rest from our journeys. We all walked here on our own, did we not?"

Josef facepalmed and replied, "You COULD rest your feet without placing them on the expensive table...but if it strengthens the friendship between our nations, then I will participate as well."

As the Hooviet head of state removed his own military boots and rested his large, rough feet on the table, he turned to Germaneigh's supreme leader. "Perhaps, Aryanne, you'd like to rest your exhausted feet, like both of us are? I'm sure a more relaxed environment will get us all better terms on this treaty of cooperation and friendship."

Aryanne became a little apprehensive. She didn't wear any socks for the journey, and except in the presence of Anonymous, she didn't like them to be seen or touched.

But Josef Stallion was right about the terms. So, as she leaned down to remove her only layer of protection against prying eyes from her feet, her face turned a bright shade of red. She tried not to let her shyness be seen as the heels touched down on the expensive mahogany surface.

Both the other leader's eyes, even while focusing on their paperwork, somehow began to watch every little movement of her strong, yet so highly sensitive feet. So Aryanne tried to move them as little as possible, a habit that was quite hard to break.

Regardless of the two communist leaders eyeing up her slim white soles like they were big delicious Equestrian apples, the political meeting commenced. Much of the time was spent debating over how much control the Hooviets and the Nechs would have over their respective countries. But when Aryanne began to discuss military bases for both countries being built near her major cities, the two leaders of the stronger countries lost most of their focus on their terms of the treaty.

"...and, um...it would benefit us all if you stationed troops near my cities, kept them under your protection..." Aryanne explained, her feet rubbing together slightly out of habit, "And Germaneigh is prepared to aid in any sort of pre-emptive strike against other nations..."

Josef couldn't concentrate. Both he and Antall were thinking the same thing. He decided to break this uncalmable sexual tension, leaned over towards Germaneigh's glorious leader, and swiped his fingers up her right sole.

"EEP!!" Aryanne yelped, her bare sole yanking back at the feeling of Josef's adventurous fingers. "What...did you..."

Josef Stallion chuckled at Aryanne's flustered reaction. "дорогой, the Hooviet Union is as strong as ever. You and I both know that Germaneigh barely has any troops, or resources for that matter, to even speak of. No, what the Union wants...what I want...is full, unbridled access to a DIFFERENT sort of resource that Germaneigh has...a jewel, you might say. A pair of them, and I'm not talking about ones you would find between my legs."

Antall, President of Nechoslovakia, scooted closer to the Führer, and poked his fingers into her left ribs, causing her to jolt. "Nechoslovak troops would be happy to help Germaneigh repel any and all invasions from IFA if their leader got hands-on access, permanently, to what's in those boots of yours...as well as the rest of your uniform..."

Aryanne began to sweat profusely. Were these two leaders asking...to...do things to her feet? And that's what she had to give? On the one hand...anyone except her Reichsmarshall touching her bare skin was a no-go (despite feeling all too good) and on the other hand...depriving her people of protection was also a no-go...

As the two leaders reached down and began to grope both of her feet, causing her to pant and her mind to haze over, she finally shouted out.

"ORDNUNG, ORDNUNG!! F-for my people...if my body must suffer...it is agreed..." Aryanne gasped, curling her toes and pulling her feet out of their grasp. But she knew it was only for a short time.

"Excellent, 'Mein Führer'...I have written up the treaty, will you sign it?" Josef inquired, sliding the treaty towards her, already signed by Nechoslovakia.

Aryanne read through the terms of the Maresaw Pact. The terms were simple: the ability for either, or both, leaders to enter Germaneigh, and have unrestricted access to her nude body, whatever she happened to be doing. In exchange, both nations would station troops all around Germaneigh and provide resource aid.

And reluctantly, Aryanne signed her name. The Maresaw Pact was done, the countries were bound.

Josef Stallion grinned, lustfully, staring into Aryanne's eyes. "And we'll have our first session of 'access' right now, glorious Aryanne...but we need to do it in a more secure location..." he said, as Antall Novotny grabbed Aryanne's chest through her military uniform. She scowled at him, trembling and blushing madly, but she couldn't do anything to stop him. Nor could she stop Josef from teleporting all of them away, leaving her precious boots behind and sealing the fate of her soles.

All three of the leaders materialised in a deep, dark hallway of a Ponelish prison. Antall and Josef held onto the Germane head of state tightly, as Josef led them along the various cells. Aryanne noted that oddly, none of them contained any prisoners. But as they approached the end of the hallway and looked to the left, Aryanne began to shiver a little.

Both leaders led her into that cell, larger than the rest, and sat her on the cushioned metal table in the middle of it. Shackles for the wrists, stocks for the ankles, toe cuffs on the stocks all were unnerving features built into the large table...and when she saw the small, slightly-ajar chest in the corner of the cell...she knew what she was in for.

"As bare, helpless and exposed as your delicious feet are right now, Aryanne...I think I can speak for us both when I say, I demand you to remove the rest of your clothing," Antall said, grinning maliciously.

Aryanne nodded softly. It was part of the treaty, after all. As Josef Stallion knelt down to feel and inspect her perfect feet, she tried her best to ignore it and opened up her military top, exposing a lacy pink bra that had the same design as her cutie mark, and two rather ample breasts behind it. Ashamedly, she also pulled off her trousers, allowing her legs, strong and shiny from marching all the time, to be exposed to her two captors.

Both of the leaders pointed to the stocks and the shackles. "Now, you wouldn't FORCE your new allies to put you in there themselves, would you?"

Even though Aryanne knew what would happen if she were to be stuck on this table...she obeyed, placing her feet in the stocks, and they were locked very quickly by the Hooviet Union supreme leader. Next, he took great joy in locking every one of her toes up, one at a time, to be as restrained as they could be. Josef couldn't let her go anywhere, these feet were his to have fun with.

The same thing happened to her wrists, with the Nechoslovak president swiftly closing them around her limbs. Aryanne let out a nervous sigh, unable to cover herself. At least her bra and panties were doing the job.

But then, Antall grabbed hold of each article of clothing, tearing them up with one swift motion for both of them.

"Sorry, Aryanne...these have to go," he said, as he tossed the ruined undergarments onto the floor. Now that she was taut, completely bare, and exposed, the two leaders sat in front of her feet, laying their hands on each one.

Aryanne was defenceless. There was nothing she could do now.

Author's Note

Nechoslovak translations:
Ahoj=Hello, Hi
Dobre/Dobrý=Good
Odpoledne=Afternoon
Den=day

Hooviet translations:
Привет, честь познакомиться с вами=It's an honour to meet you
дорогой=My dear

Germane translations:
Ordnung: All right

Like the Führer, the Pact is Sealed

Aryanne felt Josef's strong hands slide up the length of her captive soles. "Mmmm, I certainly believe sharing your resources equally among your fellow ponies is nice," he began. Then, his nails dug deeply into the bare skin above her heels. Aryanne tensed up in her bindings, instinctively trying to curl her toes. Too bad those blasted toe-cuffs happened to be the perfect size to hold her feet fast, vulnerable to anyone who wanted to experience them.

"But, perhaps keeping a little something to myself would be understandable," he finished. Aryanne clenched her teeth and shut her eyes tight as Josef began to skate his greedy fingers all over her soles.

"PffftBAHAHAHA!!" she cried out, forced giggles leaving her lungs in droves. Unfortunately for Aryanne, even the sheer amount of foot-fun sessions with her RM, Anonymous, weren't able to prepare her for this sort of intensive tickling. What he did was gentle, stimulating...what the Hooviet leader was up to, was nothing short of selfish. His nimble, adventurous fingers raked up and down Aryanne's captive feet without any hint of consideration for her own comfort. She continued to howl with laughter, her tickle-induced brain deducing that it couldn't get any harder than this.

But then it did.

Nechoslovak leader Antall Novotny joined in to assist in Aryanne's rough ticklish torment. His thinner, longer fingers began to explore the rest of her toned, yet oh-so-sensitive naked body. He decided to start by driving his hands deep into her restrained underarms, earning him a desperate jolt of her body and a giggle-filled squeal that echoed off the walls of the prison cell.

"EEEEEHEHEHEHEHE!!!!" Aryanne screamed, as Josef's fingers sharply stimulated the spaces between her tough, flexible toes. They were strong, yes, but not nearly strong enough to break out of the metal cuffs they were trapped in. But Josef's obsession with tormenting her pristine white peds was not the only thing she had to deal with here. Antall wasn't bothering to show even a modicum of leeway or mercy. And he certainly wasn't focusing on just one horribly sensitive area of the Führer's body.

He wasn't satisfied just giving her armpits everything he had in the way of tickling. Despite the overwhelming amount of torment that was clouding her mind with both laughter, and the slightest hint of warmth between her legs, she could feel his hands working their way towards the center of her nude torso. She let out a loud yelp when he grabbed hold of her well-endowed breasts, before melting back into a gasping pile of giggles.

Josef looked up at Aryanne's blushing face, noting that the colour matched the slight shade of red on her barely-moving feet, and relinquished his grip on her toes, sitting back and signalling to Antall to tone it down. This was so she could gasp for breath, which she did with vigour when the Nechoslovak president slowed his tickling to a gentle grope-massage.

"Hah...ahhh..." Aryanne panted, squeezing her own thighs together. The tingling in her feet was starting to have a little more of an effect on the poor military mare, but neither of the two tickled her enough to bring her to orgasm. Perhaps she was just a little too...on-guard to accept such pleasure?

Maybe it wasn't so bad for her...she was beginning to drip between her legs. Neither of the two noticed (or cared) that she was getting hot and heavy, but if she just laid down and accepted that the two had her in their grasp...

"That was a fun ten minutes, Aryanne. As much as I LOVE feeling those sexy soles of yours...I think it's time for other things to be used," Josef said, to Aryanne's complete shock. Ten minutes? That TORTURE was only ten minutes long?

But Aryanne had no time to respond. Josef had been searching through the little chest in the corner of the cell while he spoke, and he had brought a few things back to her feet with him. And he didn't hesitate to begin USING those things.

Her naked feet were subjected to two different, equally torturous sensations. Her right, which was sweating profusely from Josef's heavy focus on it earlier, was being assaulted by a large, firm brush. The bristles, every single one of them, dragged over the slick, unmoving surface like it was nothing, causing a rough, scratchy sort of ticklishness on every inch of the skin. Wherever this deeply-digging brush explored on her right foot, it brought sensations that were both agonising and sexy to her nerves.

The left foot, which was spared slightly from Josef's wrath earlier, was now being put under much more precise torment than the right sole. A single stainless steel fork slowly, but much more firmly dragged its way from her mid-toe spaces, over her curvy arch, and below her heel. This combination of opposing methods of tickling caused her to clench and rub her thighs together, as well as to cry out with unbelievable amounts of forced laughter.

"ZUVIEL ZUVIE-AHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!" Aryanne managed to choke out in between her howling. But this didn't faze Josef Stallion in the slightest, he kept right on with his tickling routines and enjoying the use of the tools. Antall, however, continued to enjoy the use of his hands to scratch along her sensitive breasts, and then pinch every inch of skin slightly until he worked his way over to her sides.

Aryanne tried to thrash madly in her bindings, but she was too weak from the continuous violation of her body. Wherever she tried to pull, Antall's fingers continued to squeeze and scratch along her vulnerable ribcage, and she could do nothing about it.

And then, something between her legs caught Antall's eye as his fingers slid along her lower sides.

"Oh my, is dear Aryanne...ENJOYING this, i wonder? I hope you see what I see, Mr. Stallion..." he pointed out. Josef took a single look between the captive mare's legs, and nodded to the Nechoslovak president.

Antall Josef Novotny decided to dial up his methodical tickling to eleven. Being careful and slow wasn't going to satisfy him, or his beautiful tickle pet, much longer. His grabby hands left her lower sides alone, and his right set of fingers scribbled wildly along Aryanne's toned navel, his nails leaving slight red lines in their wake. His left hand, meanwhile, gave a hearty grope to her firm, but sensitive backside, and then immediately his fingers spidered over the shape of her adorable cutie mark.

To stop her from flailing around in her bindings, where she belonged, Antall climbed up onto the table and sat down so his legs held onto Aryanne's sides. Now that her torso was fully trapped, and she couldn't concentrate due to Josef's masterful work on her beautiful, sexy feet, he decided to switch his hands. His left was now scraping over her cute belly in long vertical lines, and his right set of fingers traced the shape of her highly-sensitive cutie mark.

Aryanne began to cry for help through her tears and her unending squeals of laughter, but that was music to Josef's ears, encouraging him to attack her feet with more force. Due to the sweat coating both of them in equal amounts, each tool he used was able to glide over her soles with unprecedented ease, sending heated vibrations all the way up to the loins of the Führer.

Aryanne couldn't escape. She couldn't move any longer, and she was completely at the mercy of her two tickle-obessed captors. And she definitely couldn't take the arousal invading her mind anymore.

Josef had switched gears with the awful tools. Now the stainless steel fork was erratically sliding all across her sole, getting deep under her soft skin with ease. The firm, rough brush was now the one focusing mostly on her toes, invading the sacred spots in between, and slipping directly across the undersides that weren't covered by the metal cuffs. But that didn't mean her bright red, right sole was left out of the mix. The brush still was hitting all of her weak spots due to its wideness, and the slim nature of her feet.

Antall leaned down over a screaming Aryanne and dragged his tongue between her soft breasts, burying his face deep between the supple mounds of flesh. This, coupled with the intensive tickling that was being delivered to her overly-sensitive belly, her left cutie mark, as well as Josef's ferocious attack on her sexy soles, was far too much for Aryanne to take anymore.

She unleashed all the pent-up sexual frustration in droves, moans of sheer bliss replacing the loud giggles she was forced to make, and she was violently thrusting her body back and forth, despite Antall's lower body trying to hold her in place. Eventually, he was thrust off her body and onto the floor due to the sheer power of her orgasm, and the fact that Josef was still tormenting her nude, vulnerable feet the whole way through.

When she finally calmed down from her orgasm, Josef turned his furious tickling down further and further, until it was a standstill. He unlocked the toe cuffs, allowing Aryanne's feet to wiggle freely, as she gasped and panted, struggling to catch her breath.

Antall pulled himself back up from the floor, tenderly rubbing his shoulder, but he was grinning, quite satisfied with the torture the two put the military supreme leader through. A shade of bright red nearly entirely covered her abused, sweating soles, a blush of the same hue was on her cheeks, and her torso was spotted with very slight red marks and trails from his earlier work. And finally, her toes were scrunching and curling, gripping Stallion's greedy fingers whenever they neared her feet, putting on quite an attractive show for them both.

"Mmm, Aryanne, můj láska..." Antall began, as he worked on undoing the poor mare's bindings, "that was a very fun few hours. Perhaps you'd like to travel with myself and Josef to the palace bedroom for a little rest from your ordeal?"

Aryanne gulped, finally managing to catch her breath, and placed her heated, blushing feet on the cell floor, shivering at the coldness that shot up her body.

"Ahhh...hah...no, I c-can't...must get back to my country now, we will discuss locations where aid is needed, where troops should be stationed, over the phone...if you'd be so kind as to hand me my clothing and boots..." she panted, trembling as she stood back up.

Josef shook his head, standing up and towering over the military mare, backing her into a corner, and she stared up at him, nervously. "Ah ah ah, miss Aryanne...Antall, show her the pact."

He instantly unrolled the piece of parchment, and underlined the exact words she agreed to.

'Unrestricted access to the body of Aryanne, WHATEVER SHE HAPPENED TO BE DOING.'

Her eyes went wide, in horror. How could she not have realised this? She thought that would mean within SOME sort of reason...but those were written on the treaty. She couldn't leave their iron grip without their permission.

"Heh, not to worry, Aryanne...we will still hold up our end of the bargain, with your second-in-command, Anonymous...but, you are coming to the bedchambers with us. Immedately," Stallion commanded, wrapping his fingers around her right breast.

Aryanne gulped, wiping sweat off her face, and looked down in shame. Although she may have saved her country from utter destruction, it came at a high cost to herself. So, being the honourable military commander she was, she resigned herself to her fate, as their tickle pet, and held onto Josef's hands as they teleported her, nude, to the bedchambers of the Ponelish palace.

True to their word, they did begin discussing where to send aid to, where to station military bases. But they did so after shoving her into the enormous bed, each of them taking hold of one of her curvy, cute feet. They drew maps of Germaneigh on her soles with their fingers, dotting where things needed to go with their fingers, sending little shivers up Aryanne's spine and causing her to chortle a little with each poke.

This was her life now. A sexy tickle pet they could command to do whatever they needed. She would never be able to return to Germaneigh to carry out her duties.

She could only hope Reichsmarshall Anon was doing a good job.

Author's Note

Germane Translations:
Zuviel=too much

Nechoslovak Translations:
Můj láska=my love

I know this wasn't a usual story from me, but hey, history, geopolitics, and tickling...what's not to love? Make sure to hit the follow button so you don't miss any sexy foot fun from me.
Cause if you do...Maybe your feet will be enough for me to give you some foreign aid~