Princess Daphne's feet had always been extremely sensitive.  While most people would have seen this as a problem, Daphne had always embraced it.  From the time she was little, she loved to run around barefoot.  Her mother would try to make her wear shoes, as she felt bare feet were unladylike.  But at the first opportunity, Daphne would simply kick them off  and go back to her barefoot ways.  She loved all the different sensations; the soft grass; the cool, wet creek; the cold, stone castle floor.  She even loved to be tickled.  And then there was Dirk.
       Daphne had always known Dirk liked her feet.   Even as children, he would constantly sneak glances at them. Occasionally, he would come up with lame games and other excuses that would allow him to tickle or otherwise touch her feet.  Daphne was never fooled, though she always went along with whatever Dirk was up to.  She loved the attention he paid to her feet, but more importantly, she loved him.  By the time they were teenagers and Dirk had admitted his attraction, all pretense was gone, and Daphne would just plop her feet in his lap and ask him to rub or play with them.  Once they were married, they would often incorporate footplay into their lovemaking.  Dirk knew ways to rub, lick, tickle, and suck her feet and toes that would drive her to the heights of passion.  Indeed, her feet had always been a source of great sensual pleasure.  But tonight was different.  Tonight there was no pleasure.   Tonight, there was only pain.  

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        "AIEEEEE!!! OH GOOOOD!!! NO MOOOORE!!! PLEASE!!!"
        Count Malthius had been roasting Princess Daphne's soles for well over an hour, only offering brief respites to rub more lard on her feet.  The poor girl bucked wildly in the stocks in a desperate, but futile effort to escape the burning agony in the bottoms of  her feet.  She would try to cover one foot with the other in a vain attempt to find some relief.  Finally, Malthius decided it was time to move on.  After all, he did still owe her another ten strokes with the cane.
        "Okay Princess, you can stop whining now," said Malthius as he lowered the tray.  "This part of your torture is over."
        Daphne once again collapsed in her restraints, covered in sweat and crying softly, as Malthius removed the brazier of coals.  
        "May I please have a drink of water?" she managed weakly.  
        "But of course my dear."  Malthius made sure to keep a bucket of fresh drinking water on hand.  After all, torturing was thirsty work and he didn't want the Princess succumbing to dehydration.  The Count dipped a ladle into the bucket and took a nice big drink himself, as much to show Daphne that the water was okay as to relieve his own thirst.  Then he dipped the ladle a second time and held it to her lips as she drank eagerly.  He let her drink as much as she needed.  
        "Thank you,"  she said, and then cringed. The words had just slipped out.  She had heard of cases where hostages would begin to identify with their captors and she did not want that to happen here.  Remember, he's not acting out of kindness, he just wants to play with you for as long as he can, she told herself.
        "Well break time's over," said Malthius, and Daphne let out a low moan as she watched him grab the cane and  the blindfold she had been wearing when she first found herself in this hell.  "Time to get back to work."
        "What is this for?" she asked as the Count tied the cloth over her eyes.  
        "I'm going to give you the last ten strokes of the cane.  You'll find that the experience is far more…interesting…when you don't know when the blows are coming.  You'll find the anticipation to be maddening."
        When he finished tying the blindfold, Malthius took a moment to admire the scene and allow the Princess to think about what was coming.  Somehow she looked more beautiful than he had ever seen her.  It was her vulnerability,  her delicate wrists shackled, her lovely little feet, ordinarily pink, now a deep red, trapped in the stocks.  It was the way her long blond hair, damp with perspiration, gave her an earthier look.   It occurred to him that this is what she must look like after sex.  With this thought, his eyes wandered to her heaving bosom.   The girl's lovely blue dress, soaked with sweat, clung to her breasts in a most pleasing way.  He could hardly wait to see her without that dress, but that would come later.  Right now, he had to focus on the business at hand.  
        Malthius took a practice swing in the air.  He smiled as the whistling sound caused Daphne to jump and cry out.  He took another phantom swing, causing the Princess to flinch again.  The Count swung the cane again, and this time it connected with the balls of Daphne's feet.
        "OWWAAAHHH!!!"
        Once again Daphne felt the bite of the cane, only this time it was somehow worse.  She didn't know if the heat from coals made her soles more sensitive, if the blindfold heightened her sense of touch, or both.  What she did know was that the next nine strokes would be unbearable.  
        Malthius waited a long moment to let the Princess savor the pain before suddenly delivering the next blow to the middle of her soles.
        "AARRRGGHHH!!!"
        The sharp pain started in her arches, shot up her legs and seemed to radiate through her body.  It felt as if he hit her harder than before.  Was it possible he had been holding back?  Just how much harder could he hit?
        The Count took another false swing and chuckled as Daphne gasped at the whistling sound.  After a few seconds, he swung again, this time landing the cane on her heels.  Daphne let out another cry, though the pain wasn't quite as bad as the previous two blows.  The next one, however, was a different story.
        CRACK!
        "AAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!"
        This time Malthius hit her just beneath the toes.   The pain was exquisite.   Daphne was certain the cane must have broken the skin.  She could no longer remember just how many blows she received or how many were coming and began to shake with fear.  
        The Count waited a full four minutes before rapidly giving her the next five strokes.
        WHAP WHAP WHAP WHAP WHAP
        Daphne struggled and screamed in agony as the blows rained down on her helpless soles.  Her poor feet felt as if they were on fire.  When he finished, thinking this part of her ordeal was over, she collapsed in her bonds and cried tears of relief.
        Malthius smiled to himself, realizing the Princess had lost count.  But he had saved the best for last.  With all of his strength, the Count suddenly delivered the final stroke to the middle of her soles.
        Daphne's mouth flew open as if to scream, but no sound came out.  It was as if the shock and pain had knocked the wind out of her.  Finally, after what seemed an eternity, she let out her loudest, most blood curdling scream.   When the initial pain subsided, a tingling, throbbing ache remained. She was sure her feet must be a bloody, broken mess.   Would she ever walk again?
        Malthius relished the sight of the suffering Princess.  Being the expert torturer, he hadn't broken the skin or any bones.  But deep red, almost purple, lines crisscrossed her soles which were beginning to swell.  In a little while, he would have her walk around a bit to keep the swelling  down.  Then he would transfer her to the rack in preparation for her next torture.  Let her rest for now, he thought as he moved to the table of nasty instruments.  The Count picked up a long needle, admiring it in the torchlight.  Yes, let her rest for now, he chuckled to himself.