Tickle Strip Part one

Tickle Strip

Tickle Strip by: Jeff McN

 The Group had picked out Cindy as their victim for the evening.

Francine had spotted her first, at the beginning of the evening. She was a lovely thing, a pert little brunette freshman with big eyes and a pixie face, her dark hair swept back into a playful ponytail.

Francine studied her calculatingly during the party. She watched her dance, listened to her laugh, took in her appearance from head to toe--the airy pink silk scarf wrapped around her neck, the blue denim jacket and miniskirt; the frilly white blouse opened just far enough and the bit of lace peeking out between her full round breasts; the laced-up pumps and sheer, chocolate-colored stockings, with lacy garter tops that you could just glimpse now and then under the hem of her tight skirt.

Such a tantalizing dish--Francine felt a tingling in all the right places and decided Cindy was the perfect toy for their little monthly game.

She didn't notice Paul coming up beside her. "You can't go girl-watching without a bra, babe."

Francine blushed and quickly folded her arms over the front of her sweater. "Bastard."

Paul followed her stare, and whistled silently. "Oh, yeees," he said. "Very pretty."

"I thought you'd like her," Francine said with a wicked grin.

Paul nuzzled her ear and whispered, "She'd look even better with some of those clothes off, wouldn't she. Squirming on the table."

Francine nodded. "Let's test her."

A little while later, Cindy was wandering through the party looking for someone she knew, without much luck. She loved parties, but she was a bit of a stranger at this one. She knew that if some activity were to start up, maybe then she'd have an in. But this didn't seem like the right crowd for games.Then she noticed a very attractive, honey-blonde girl smiling at her from across the room. She stood almost a head taller than Cindy in her suede boots, which she wore with black nylon hose over her long, shapely legs. Cindy could tell she was a looker; the hot pants and snug white turtleneck didn't hurt either.

Cindy grinned and waved.

"Hi, I'm Francine," the blonde said. "New in town?"

"I'm Cindy," she replied, a bit shyly. "I came with a few friends and they all disappeared. I think--I'm kind of lost."

"Have no fear, you're in good hands now." Francine grinned. "I'm a senior. My boyfriend's somewhere around, getting beers. We always make a point of going to welcome-week parties--see the new faces, make them feel at home."

"You sure are dressed for it," Cindy said with a giggle.

"You don't look so bad yourself," Francine replied, with a bit of a leer that wasn't quite a joke. Cindy grinned and looked embarrassed.

"Oh, just my party clothes," she said. "You never know what's going to happen."

"How true," Francine said, grinning ear to ear.

Suddenly Cindy shrieked and nearly jumped out of her shoes. Francine and a few others standing around all started asking what the matter was as she contorted herself and nearly fell to the floor, wriggling furiously and trying to claw at her back through her clothes.

She excused herself, blushing, and almost ran for the bathroom.

Paul smiled at Francine, from where he had been standing behind Cindy. "Well, her *back* is very ticklish," he said.

Francine was getting very excited. "Let's get the others."

"I'll do it. Keep an eye on her."

Cindy came back out in a few minutes, having managed to dislodge the mysterious piece of fluff that had fallen down her collar. She marvelled at how it had seemed to seek out the very person, the very bit of skin that could stand it the least.

She searched the rooms for Francine. She didn't want to lose her; she seemed like a good person to get in with--someone who knew how to have fun.

She found her in the hallway. She looked relieved to see Cindy. "There you are. Everything okay?"

"Oh, yeah, sure," Cindy said, giggling nervously. "Something fell down my blouse."

 "Yipes. Good thing it didn't get any lower," Francine said with a devilish grin. She watched with hidden glee the reaction Cindy had to that idea.

Then Paul sidled up holding a couple of beers. "Hey babe. Who's your friend?"

"You are, silly. And this is Cindy. Cindy--Paul."

"Hi, Paul," Cindy said.

 "Greetings," Paul said. "Welcome to the realm of higher learning."

The three of them drank and chatted for a while, getting quite chummy. Then Paul said to Francine, in an audible sotto voce, "Speaking of new faces, we're one short for the game later on. I can't find anyone."

"On no!" Francine said.

Cindy perked right up. "A game? What game?" she asked.

Francine looked around and spoke in the same low tone. "Oh, um, we try to keep it a secret. Everybody always wants to play, but we don't want just anybody."

"What is it?" Cindy said excitedly.

"*You* know. *The* game."

Paul whispered conspiratorially, "T.S."

"But the players have to be just right for it," Francine said, "or it just doesn't work."

 "George has everything set in the basement," Paul said, before Cindy could say a word. "But we're still looking. It's not easy keeping it a secret."

"T.S.?" Cindy said.

"Yeah," Francine said enthusiastically, "we play downstairs, while the party's going on--without anyone even knowing about it."

"Good sound-proofing," Paul said. "They'd kill to get in on it." Cindy stared at both of them, wondering if she should pursue it. She was dying to ask how you played, but didn't dare--since it was something *everyone* knew. There was only one way to find out.

"God, I'd *love* to play," she said. "I haven't played it in *so* long." She paused, and added nonchalantly, "I used to be pretty good."

Francine looked sharply at her, then at Paul. "What do you think?"

"I don't know, we'd have to ask the others. She does *look* perfect for it."

 Cindy almost bounced up and down, making her ponytail wave from side to side. "Oh please, I'd really love to. I won't tell anyone."

Francine giggled. "I'll bet you won't."

Paul nodded. "Okay, hang on, I'll check with George and Tricia."

Cindy beamed as Paul dashed out of the room. Francine smiled at her, and oddly enough, seemed to be looking her up and down. Cindy gave her a quick look.

"I'm not--uh, dressed wrong for it, am I?" she said anxiously.

Francine grinned. "Oh no, you're absolutely perfect." Then she frowned a bit. "Don't you know?"

Cindy caught herself. "Well, yeah, of course. Uh, I just meant, maybe for *you*..."

"How long ago did you play last?"

"Well, let's see..." Cindy mumbled. "In my, uh, last year at..."

Francine eyed her sternly. "Cindy, tell me the truth," she said, "you don't know the game, do you?"

Cindy looked crestfallen. "Oh!... well... not really."

 "Oh, Cindy," Francine said with a disappointed look.

"Please let me play," Cindy pleaded. "I pick things up very quickly. I promise. Please don't tell them."

Francine thought about it. "I don't know..."

"Please, please, Francine--really, you just have to give me the basics--I'm very good with games--"

Francine looked at her, softening, and suddenly she grinned. "I'll bet you are. Okay. We'll keep it a secret. I'll clue you in and give you some pointers. You'll catch on fast." She grinned again. "Real fast."

"Oh, good! Thank you," Cindy said. "Okay--so tell me--what do I-- what happens first?"

"Well, first," Francine said, "we pick a victim--"

"A what?"

 Francine laughed. "Oh, that's just what we call her--I mean, it. We pick the person who--" She waved across the room. "There's Paul."

Paul was giving a thumbs up and motioning for them to come. "Okay, I'll fill you in while we play." Francine whispered. "Come on."

Cindy followed, a little nervously. They went into the kitchen, where Francine and Paul introduced her to George and Tricia. George, tall and long-haired, she had already met. Tricia was a very pretty redhead, about her height, dressed similarly to Francine, with cut-off blue jeans, lavender hose and pumps.

They waited until no one else was in the room, and then George opened the door to the cellar, and they all filed into a pitch black stairwell. Francine took Cindy by the hand and led her in, and George followed, locking the door behind them and then padding it with sound proofing foam while Cindy tried to make out what he was doing.

"The game gets pretty noisy," Francine explained.

George flicked on a flashlight and led the way down. "Watch your step, guys."

"Quick," Cindy whispered. "Tell me what to do."

"You might not have to do anything," Francine replied mischievously."It's easy to play if you get picked."

"Picked for what?"

"That's how the game starts, you draw lots to pick a victim."

Cindy felt her heart beating faster. She squeezed Francine's hand in the dark and asked, "What--what happens to the--the victim?"

"T.S.," Francine replied. "Also known as Tickle Strip."

*"What?"*

Francine giggled. "Any part of you that shows can be tickled. The more you're ticklish, the more you take off." She squeezed Cindy's hand. "And the more you take off, the more you get tickled."

Cindy gasped. They had reached the basement, a small room moodily lit by a few track lights. It was plush-carpeted and sparsely furnished with a few chairs, a long, polished table--and a number of silk ropes hanging from sturdy hooks in the concrete ceiling. On a wall rack across the room Cindy saw an array of instruments that made her go weak at the knees--artist brushes and shaving brushes, Q-tips and broom straws, a rather large collection of feathers of all types, a smaller one of real feather dusters.

Cindy took it all in, and a cold sweat ran down her back. What had she gotten herself into?

*Tickle Strip*. Her limbs to jelly.

"Okay, let's play," George said, and produced a deck of cards, began shuffling it. "Ace of spades is the victim. Cindy, as our guest player, would you care to cut the cards?"

"Uh... sure," she said. She looked at Francine, who smiled encouragingly.

Well, she thought, there's five of us. My chances are pretty good. This could be a lot of fun...

She cut the cards and they all stood around the table while George dealt them out, face up. Tricia watched Cindy, then looked at Francine, who winked back. George, of course, could make a deck of cards do whatever he wanted.

Nervously at first, Cindy watched the cards go round the table once, then twice, and was almost beginning to enjoy the fearful anticipation, when the Black Ace landed right in front of her.

She stared at it and her heart froze. She looked desperately at Francine, who grinned back--then at the door--but there was no way she could back out now. *Tickle Strip...*

She swallowed hard. They were all looking at her.

Redheaded Tricia approached her, and Cindy instinctively wrapped her arms around herself. "Hey, hey, don't do that," Tricia purred. "You know the rules, hon."

Cindy stared at her, guessing what she meant. She let her arms fall and looked at her submissively, trembling.

"Good girl," Tricia said, looking her up and down. "I've got a king--I start?"

 "She's all yours," George said, clearing the table.

Cindy looked around frantically. "But--but--"

"But what, honey?" Tricia stage-whispered. She blew a few strands of hair from Cindy's face. "You look cute in a ponytail. Doesn't she have pretty ears?"

Without warning Tricia's hands shot out and fluttered two little downy feathers behind Cindy's ears. Cindy sputtered and giggled involuntarily. "Hee-hee-heee! Stoop!"

"Good girl. You lose." Tricia began unwinding her scarf from around her neck.

"What?" Cindy gasped, as her delicate neck was bared. "But--"Francine nodded at Paul. Paul took firm hold of both Cindy's arms and Francine moved behind her, and began to gently run her long fingernails up and down the back of Cindy's neck.

"See, honey," Francine whispered in her ear, "there are three magic words: 'no,' 'stop,' and 'uncle.' Every time you say any of them, you lose another piece of clothing. The more ticklish you are, the farther you strip."

Cindy gulped. "How f-far?" she whispered back urgently, "D-d-down to... my underwear?"

Francine giggled. "Down to your birthday suit, sweetie. And we can tickle you anywhere we can see skin."

Cindy gasped. "*Anywhere?*"

"Yeeeess," Francine purred. "Once you lose your undies it gets a *lot* of fun."

Cindy's eyes went wide with horror--and then Francine attacked her with her fingernails.

"Eeeeeee! Eeeeee!" Cindy convulsed and squealed. Francine flicked all ten fingers down her neck and inside her collar, and Cindy writhed in a childish giggling fit. "Eeeee-hee-hee! Eeeee-hee-hee-hee-hee-hee! Sto-o-o-op!"

"What did you say, Cindy?" Francine asked, pausing briefly. Cindy caught herself, her heart pounding. "Uuuh--I--" The fingers wriggled down her neck again and she exploded. "Eeeeeeeeeeeh! Uncle! U-u-uncl-le!"

"Nice try, Cindy," Francine cooed. "We'll have you down to your stockings in no time."

*Oh my God!* thought Cindy. *I have to get out of this!!!* She blushed furiously as Francine slipped her out of her denim jacket. *I have to keep control!*

The sleeves of her blouse were conveniently rolled up above her elbows. Paul gripped her just above her left wrist, and with his other hand he produced a Q-tip. He grinned. "Most women don't know how sensitive they are here," he said.

Cindy stared fearfully as the cotton tip neared the delicate flesh of her wrist. Her ears reddened and she fought an irresistible urge to squirm. Then the Q-tip slid down the inside of her forearm--she gasped in surprise. It sent shock waves down her body--she bit her lip and began to whimper. Paul grinned and began swirling the cotton tip inside her elbow, and Cindy's knees buckled. She couldn't take it! It was excruciating!

She tried to wiggle her arm free but Paul held it firmly while expertly dabbing her skin with the wicked cotton tip. She fell to her knees.

She heard herself moan, "Ooh! Oooh! Oh my gooosh!" Then Paul flicked the tip rapidly just below her hand and she lost all control, contorting her body, tossing her head back and forth in a loud fit of squeals.

"Aaaaah! Eeeeeh! Eeeeeeeeh! Sto-o-o-op!"

"Off comes your blouse," Paul said in triumph, as Cindy gasped for breath. Francine held Cindy's arms to her sides as Paul unbuttoned her. Cindy watched helplessly as her blouse opened down the front and revealed her white cotton bra.

Francine let go of her arms and her blouse slid to the floor. Cindy's brassiere gleamed against her flushed skin as they lifted her to her feet. George took her bare arms and brought them together at the wrists. She saw the silk cord hanging in front of her and let out a shriek. "Oh--God no--please not that!"

As she stared in helpless horror George quickly and expertly bound her wrists together, pulled the cord taut and tied it to the hook in the ceiling, leaving Cindy, ribs and underarms exposed, teetering perilously on the toes of her booties. "Comfie? Now for the real thing," George said with glee, and the others grinned and watched.

Cindy was barely breathing now, and sweat was trickling down her pink armpits. She watched helpless and terror-stricken as George approached with two pointy feathers he had selected from the rack on the wall. "Oh, no--oh, no--please no--"

"Don't say that yet, babe," George chided. "You'll lose your skirt." Cindy eyes went wide, and she swallowed and crossed her legs by reflex. She knew she didn't have a chance. *Pleasepleaseplease let me hold on--* The feathers touched her skin and she gasped and jerked away spasmodically. Then George ran them slowly up her sides. Up to her elbows, and then down to her waist, where they lingered for a few playful flicks.

"Eeeh! Aaaah!" Cindy squealed and contorted herself to escape the feathers. Then George slid them back up her sides and she gasped. Then back down her arms; she was trembling and recrossing her legs in anticipation. Back and forth, a little further up, a little further down--until she was thoroughly flushed and her heart was pounding--and finally they grazed her smooth, moist armpits.

Cindy instantly exploded in frantic squeals. She danced and giggled uncontrollably, straining at the rope, as George tickled her underarms, driving her completely insane--she'd never been this helpless! The feather-tips twirled under her arms and she squealed like a child. "Eeee-eeee-e-e-e-eh! Eeeeeeeeeeee-e-eyaaeeeyaaeyaaaah!"

George flicked the feathers down her glistening sides and under her ribs, which brought her to convulsive giggles. "Eeee-hee-hee! Eee-hee-hee-heee! Plee-hee-heease sst--" Ohmigod! She'd barely caught herself! "Aaaa-ha-ha-haaa!"

"That was close, Cindy," George said with glee. He slid the feathers along her bra strap, and then down the curve of her back--she jerked and twisted in the air in helpless spasms. "Ooo-o-o-e-e-hee-hee-hee-hee-hee-hee!" She desperately wanted to say the magic word--*I can't! I'll lose my skirt!*

The feathers flicked back up her sides--and once again found the pink hollows of her armpits. Cindy was gurgling, her face beet red, and she crossed and uncrossed her dangling legs under her miniskirt. She couldn't stand anymore! "Eee-he-he-he-he-heeeee! N-n-noo! Nooo! Ooooheee-he-he-he-heeee! U-u-u-uncllle!"

"I think you lose," George said.

Cindy hung from the ceiling, unable to stand, and felt her waistband being unhooked, and the zipper come down. *Noooooo!*

"You won't be needing this any more." George dabbed the feathers around her waist, making her squeal and wriggle--and shake her miniskirt down her bum. He kept tickling her until it slid to the floor.

Cindy looked around at the group, her face turning beet red as she dangled from the ceiling, in her undies, stockings and shoes, in front of four fully-dressed strangers--she thought she'd pee with embarrassment!

"Get the table," Tricia said. George and Paul grabbed Cindy's ankles and pulled her feet out from under her. Cindy shrieked in surprise and fear, swinging helplessly in mid-air as Tricia and Francine dragged the table under her dangling bottom. Tricia pulled a stiff-bristled artist's brush from the rack and climbed on top of her.

"W-what are you *doing?*" Cindy whimpered.

Tricia grinned wickedly, running the brush over her white cotton panties. "Don't worry, honey. I'm just going to tickle your tummy."

"Please--no--" Cindy panted, "I c-can't--"

"Sshhh! Haven't started yet!" Tricia traced the bristles over Cindy's naked belly, slowly, back and forth. "Is tummy ticklish?"

"A-a-a-a-ah-- e-e-eh-- g-gee-hee-hee--"

"Oooooh, yes it is!" Cindy tried to twist away from the brush, but Tricia was sitting between her legs, pinning Cindy's thighs under her knees. "Hold on, sweetie," Tricia teased, "This is a big one. We're playing for your shoes." She dabbed at Cindy's pink flesh, just above her panty line.

"Ee-he-he-he-hee! Do-o-ho-ho-ho-hon't!" Cindy giggled childishly. "Oh ple-he-he-he-hease! Hee-hee-heeeee!" Tricia was merciless. She flicked the brush just above her hip, and then followed her panty line all the way across her belly and back again. Cindy shrieked and twisted helplessly.

"Oh, I'll bet you've got a real ticklish belly-button," Tricia said.

Cindy squirmed from side to side. "Nnnnn--dooon't! G-g-gaaa-ha-ha-ha-haaaa!"

Tricia slipped the tip of the brush into Cindy's little hole; Cindy shrieked and wiggled her pantied bottom as Tricia twirled the bristles mercilessly. "Aaaah! Aaaaah! Aaaa-haa-haa-haaa! N-n-n-n--nnaaaa-haa-haa-haa-haaa!

"That was very close," said Tricia, "but I think I'll give it to you." Tricia kept twirling the brush and reached down with her other hand between Cindy's legs, running her fingernail along the top of her stocking. Cindy gasped and struggled to free her legs to no avail. The brush tortured her belly as Tricia's nails attacked her inner thighs and she started shrieking with laughter. "Aa-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha! Aaaa-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!"

Tickle Strip Part 2

Tricia reversed her hands and dug into Cindy's belly with her fingers as she flicked the brush down her thighs. Cindy was gurgling again, her legs helplessly pinned open. Tricia rapidly flicked the bristles right under her pussy, on either side of her panty crotch."Tickle tickle."

"Eeeeeh! Eeeeeeeh! Eeeeaahahahahaha!" Cindy wailed and twisted frantically under the torture. "I can't take it! I'll wet myself! Eeeeeeee-hee-hee-hee-hee!"

"Say the magic word, Cindy!"

Cindy squirmed madly as the bristles teased her inner thighs."Stooop! *Stooooop!*"

Tricia stopped and grinned. "That was a good one," she said. "You lose again."

Cindy was flushed and panting, and her legs were shaking. *Oh my goood!* That last bit of torture had left a frightening throb between her legs--her legs were twitching and she could feel the slick wetness in her cotton panties. *What's happening to me?*

George and Paul each grabbed one of her ankles, and Tricia unlaced her booties and pulled them off--baring Cindy's tiny feet in their sheer hose. "Ohgod... no..." Cindy pleaded through her gasps as the cool air caressed her nyloned feet.

Francine was grinning as she sat on the table down by Cindy's squirming feet. She began softly stroking the tops of Cindy's toes through her sheer stockings.

"I can see them, Cindy, so I can tickle them," she purred.

Cindy bit her lip to stifle a delirious moan--Francine's fingers brushing her toes were sending electricity through her body!

Francine toyed with her. Without actually tickling her she ran her fingertips down Cindy's sole while she caressed her toes. "Nylon can make your feet *so* much more ticklish," she cooed teasingly. "And sheer hose makes *e-e-everything* visible for tickling." She lightly raked her nails up Cindy's arch. "Can't you just feel it coming?"

"A-a-a-a-a-ah!" Cindy moaned. She tried to wriggle her feet but George and Paul held them firmly in place. She writhed on the table in a building ecstasy--her panties were soaking wet! "Nnnnaaaa-a-a-a-a-a-a...!" She was on fire from the waist down--squirming and squeezing her legs over her throbbing, dripping pussy.

"We're going to strip you naked," Francine teased her, as she twirled her thumbs in Cindy's nyloned arches. "First your stockings--"

"Nnnnnaaaaa-a-a-a-a-a-a-a!" Burning and throbbing!

"--then off comes your bra--"

"Gggaa-a-a-a-a-a-aaah!" Cindy gasped for breath. Francine was stroking the sides of her feet, and gently running her forefinger under her nyloned toes. Cindy tossed her head from side to side... *my clitty... I'm about to... noooo--*

"--then your panties come off, and we'll tickle you *everywhere*, until you--"

"AAAAAA-HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaaah!" Cindy arched her back and trembled in midair with the look of delicious agony contorting her face.She flopped back down on the table as her orgasm washed up and down her body.

Francine froze and stared at her, swallowing hard. Cindy just lay there, panting and twitching. Her skin was flushed, her cotton undies were glistening wet and had the unmistakeable odor of come-juice.

George, Paul and Tricia looked at each other, and George let out a long silent whistle. "Wow."

"You blew it, Francine," Paul said.

Francine looked around at them in terror. "No!... You've got--you've got to be kidding..."

"Just 'cause it's never happened," George said, "doesn't mean we don't play by the rules." He grinned wickedly. "You wrote them, babe."

Francine backed away imperceptibly, her eyes wide, and bumped into Tricia behind her. Her face was crimson under her honey-blonde hair. "Ohmigod... no..." she pleaded weakly.

Tricia took her arms from behind. "Relax, honey," she said. "Enjoy it."

Cindy was still moaning, in a daze. George started to untie her. "What--what's happening?" she asked.

"Francine made you cum," Tricia said. "She goes bust. You switch places. Those are the rules."

Cindy couldn't believe it. She slid off the table and got to her feet and looked around the room to make sure it was for real. They pulled Francine into the middle of the room. *I'm free! I won! And Francine is going to get it!...*

Francine was looking around at them all in a panic. *This can't be happening to me!* She pleaded with her eyes, but they were enjoying her predicament too much. They all knew how very, *very* ticklish she was.

*Oh my God...! I'm not even wearing underwear...!* She was only wearing pantyhose. Sheer-to-waist pantyhose.

George dealt out another card to each player. "Paul's next," he announced.

"Oh, good...!" Paul answered, grinning at Francine. She wrapped her arms around herself by reflex and stared back, frantically.

"Oh no you don't," Paul said. "You know better." Francine blushed furiously and let her arms down. Paul raised them over her head, and bound her wrists. Her breasts were deligthfully contoured by her wool sweater.

She tried to stare at him defiantly. "Don't be so smug," she said. "You'll be next. Where are you going to try?"

Paul smiled. He looked her over from head to toe. Her honey-blonde hair tumbled down over her ears. Her turtleneck covered her neck and wrists. But farther down--between her suede boots and her tight shorts,there were her legs, in sheer black hose. He picked a couple of short, stiff feather from the rack, and held them by their quills. "On the table," he said.

Tricia and George pulled her up by the feet and laid her down on the table, holding her firmly by her ankles. Paul moved next to the table, feathers in hand. He leaned over her nyloned legs. Francine watched him, her throat tightening in fear; her pantyhose was very sheer, very thin and very smooth.

Paul slid the quills under her calf up to her knee, and she gasped.

Paul grinned. He flicked the quill behind her knee. She squirmed and gasped again, and clutched the rope and held her breath in panic.

He dabbed the quill in the hollows of her knee, wriggling it maddeningly until she squealed.

"I'm just getting started, babe," he said. He subjected her ticklish knees to another minute of squealing torment, and then twirled the quills up the tops of her thighs. She reacted with convulsive spasms.

"Aaaah! Aaaaaah!" Francine tried to pull away but her legs were firmly pinned to the table. Paul now slid the quills down both sides of one nyloned thigh, and flicked them underneath. "Eeee-e-e-e-e-e-eeh!"

Francine bit her lip. *I'll hold out--he won't get me--* Paul wormed the feathers under her knee again and she convulsed with girlish laughter. "Eeee-hee-hee-hee-hee! Aa-ha-ha-ha-haa! Eee-hee-hee!"

She was ready--Paul made his move. He dropped the feathers and attacked her legs with his fingernails, flicking them smoothly over the sheer hose. Francine gave a startled shriek and then exploded with frantic squeals, writhing on the table top, as Paul tickled her up and down her nyloned legs, goosing her calves and thighs and zeroing in on the hollows of her knees. "Eeeeee-e-e-e-hee-hee-hee! Do-ho-ho-ho-ho-o-on't!--Sto-o-o-op!--Eee-hee-hee-hee!"

"There we go!" Paul crowed. "Nothing like a sneak attack." Francine gasped and turned red. Paul slid his hands down her leg and began taking off her left boot.

"Now for your tootsies," he said.

"Yum-yum," Tricia said, holding up her card. "It's my turn."

Paul pulled off one boot, and let Tricia remove the other. Francine panicked. She tried kicking her legs free but her ankles were firmly pinned to the table by Cindy and Paul. She curled her toes. Tricia grinned, and sat on the table by Francine's pantyhosed feet, brushing her fingertips over her heels.

"It's been a long time, hon," she purred, crawling her fingers up Francine's squirming nyloned soles. "Do you remember what I used to do to you?"

"Please--Trish--don't--not that--" Francine gasped. Tricia went tsk-tsk and twirled her nails slowly above the heels and Francine began gurgling, and convulsing with each small, torturing circle traced in her hose. Tricia raked her nails lightly up her arches, and worked her way up to the toes with achingly slow tickles. Francine reddened and writhed in torment. "Aaaaaaah--uuunnngh--uuuuunnnngh--"

Tricia signalled Cindy and Paul to take firm hold of Francine's big toes. Then she went to work on the undersides of her toes, brushing the nylon with feather-light touches. Francine was near hysteria. She shook all over, helplessly wiggling her free toes. She knew what was coming!

"I know what yo-o-o-ou like," Tricia cooed teasingly.

"Please n--! Please! (Hee-hee-hee!) Oh please don't! (Gglllee-hee- hee!)"

Tricia grinned even more as she wormed her fingertips in-between Francine's nyloned toes. "You want us to take off your sweater?" she said.

"Gllaaaah--n-n-n-- please--"

"Then hold still, little girl." Tricia quickly flicked her fingers back and forth.

"Aaahaaaaaa! Ahahaaaaa! I can't take it! Oh hoo hoo hahahahaaaa!" Francine bucked on the table, writhing in ticklish agony as Tricia slid her fingertips in and out of the spaces between her toes. "Heeaaah heeeaaah heeahahahahaaaa! Please! Doon't! *Do-o-o-o-oon't!*"

"My, what ticklish little feet," Tricia teased. "*Such* a ticklish little girl!"

"Aaaaaaa-haa-haa-haa-haa! Pleee-hee-hease! Dooo-ho-ho-hoa-ha-ha-ha-ha!" Francine was in tears, writhing on the table.

Tricia flicked her thumbs up and down her arches as she wiggled her fingers, tickling her nyloned soles. "Tickle, tickle, tickle..."

"Noooo! Noooooo! Ahahahahahaaa! (gasp!) Sto-o-o-o-op!" Francine laughed and screamed in hysterics. "Ahahahahahahahahaha! Ahahahahahahaaa-a-a-a-a!"

"You lose!" Tricia said. Francine gasped for breath, and Tricia crawled up the table to her face, and cooed teasingly. "Let's see what's under your sweater, hmmm?"

They were grinning at her and Francine flushed in embarrassment as she panted on the table-top. Tricia slid her sweater up and peeked underneath. "Oh my, what are these?" she cooed. She slipped the turtle-neck up and over Francine's head and her full, round breasts swung out, gleaming with sweat, nipples large and erect. Tricia tied the sweater to the rope so it wouldn't fall back down. George dragged the table away and Francine dangled from the ceiling, bare-boobed and helpless, down to hot pants and hose.

Now Francine watched with increasing terror as George picked a pair of feathers from the rack--longish ones, with stiff vanes and fluffy edges. He waved them in front of her face. "Where next, darling?"

She stared and bit her lip. She knew what was coming. "Please..." she whispered.

George danced the feathers along her shoulders, dabbed them playfully down her cleavage--and then swept them under her titties.

"Aaaaaaaaaah!" She jumped--or would have if Paul wasn't pinning her feet to the floor. "Not there! P-p-please not there!"

"Here then?" He traced a circle around one large nipple. She gasped. "Or here?" He circled the other pink bud. Francine was beet red and starting to whimper.

"No, not yet. We'll try something else first." George began tickling her under her arms. With the edges of the vanes, he traced looping circles that brushed down the sides of her breasts before arcing up and merely grazing the bottom of her shaven hollows. Francine stifled a squeal, but soon began moaning as the circles widened--the feathers sliding up into her armpits, then down her tits, with each pass coming closer and closer to her reddening areolas.

Francine was delirious. Round and round, from armpit to nipple, George teased her relentlessly until her breasts were tingling and her nips hugely erect. She whimpered pitifully.

Quick as lightning, George dug his fingers under her titties and now she was shrieking with girlish laughter. "Eeeeeeeee-heeheeheeheeheee! Aaaaaeeee-heee-heeeee! Eeeaa-haa-haa-haaa-heee-heee! Aaaaaaaa-ha-ha-ha-haaeee!"

Francine squealed with the embarrassed giggles of a little girl as George danced his fingers under her jiggling breasts; she twisted from side to side helplessly, shaking her honey-blonde hair all over her flushed face, and then he made her convulse with quick flicks to her armpits, down her sides to her waist, and then back to her bouncing boobs.

Suddenly Francine felt her arms being held by Tricia and Paul, keeping her from moving. She opened her eyes just in time to see George pick up his feathers and start on her nipples.

He went for both of them in turn, trapping the swollen buds between the stiff vanes and sawing back and forth. Francine screamed insanely at the torture. "Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeh! Plee-e-e-ease s-s-s-sta-a-a-a-ha-ha-ha-haaap! Eee-hee-hee-hee! Aaaa-ha-ha!"

"What did you say, sweetie?" George blew on her nipples as he slid the feathers up and down. "You want me to take off your pants?"

"Ssstaa--sstaaaa--sta-a-a-ahhp!" Francine gasped. "Sta-a-a-ahhp! Aaaaaeeee-e-e-e-e-hee-hee-hee-hee-e-e-e!"

"Whatever you say. Give me a hand, Cindy."

He motioned Cindy to the other side of Francine, and they pulled her pants off. Francine turned even redder while they slid them down her black nyloned thighs with obvious enjoyment; she was naked under the hose, just a black cotton panel barely covering her crotch. Francine saw the excitement in Cindy's eyes--whether it was lust, or hunger for revenge, she couldn't tell.

"She's all yours, Cindy," George said. "Make her say 'uncle'... or else!" He wiggled her fingernails at her for emphasis.

Cindy looked at Francine, still flushed and panting from the titty-torture--and knew where she'd be most sensitive right now. "Get the table," she said.

Arms still tied to the ceiling, Francine was put back on the table, and Cindy climbed on top of her, straddling her middle, so that she faced those long smooth legs, that taut round belly, all painted in sheer black hose with her little triangle of pubes peeking out in-between.

Cindy scraped her fingernails gently up the tops of her thighs and around her bush--and Francine jerked under her with sudden giggling spasms. "Naughty, naughty," Cindy said, tickling her just under her nylon waistband.

Francine gritted her teeth and swallowed hard. Cindy dragged her fingertips down her belly, and cooed, "I can seeee it..." Francine panted. Cindy's fingernails circled down her pantyhose-- down toward her mound of pussy-fur...

"...I can tickle it!"

"Eeeeeeeeeeeh!! Eeyee-yee-yeeehehee! Yaaah!" Cindy flicked her nails up and down the ticklish sides of her mound and Francine was gurgling and tossing her head from side to side, nyloned legs kicking helplessly. "Ag-gg-aaaallgg--aaahgggll--ggll-ggllll--"

Cindy locked her arms around Francine's jerking thighs and pried them open. She flicked her nails between her legs--and watched her helpless pubes squirm under her pantyhose.

"What a ticklish little tummy!" she teased, goosing her down her belly.

"Gllleee-hee-hee-heeeee!"

"And what's down here? Kootchy kootchy kootchy!"

"No-o-o-o-o-o-eee-heee-heee-heeea-ha-ha-ha-ha!"

"And a *ticklish* little pussy, too!" Cindy tickled her inner thighs, just under the cotton crotch of her pantyhose, and Francine started howling and beating the table top with her stockinged feet. "Omigo-o-osh! O-o-o-oooh! Aaaa-a-a-a-aah! Oo-o-o-a-a-ha-ha-ha-ha! A-ha-ha-ha-ha!" Cindy noticed the cotton panel was glistening wet. *Time to go in for the kill.*

She trapped Francine's kicking legs and spread them, and with one hand savagely tickled her nyloned belly. "Nooooo--I can't--I can't--ooaa-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha! Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha--"

As Francine felt the first little fingernail on her nyloned bum, she screamed.

"Eeeyeeeaaeaaaeeeaaaaeeee nnnnn--n-not the-e-e-e-re--ggghaaa-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-haaa--" Francine squealed hysterically. Cindy had her thighs pinned back with her elbows while tickling her squirming bum with one hand and her spasming belly with the other and she shrieked and kicked the air helplessly with her stockinged feet. "Nnnnnaaa-ha-ha-ha!--nnnnnaaaaaaa-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!--stooop!--I'm going to wet my pantyho-o-oseeeeeeeeheeheeheeheeheeheeheeheeeee stoooooop--"

"Cindy stop! You won!" Tricia and Paul had to grab her arms to get her to stop, just in the nick of time for Francine--she crossed her legs and clenched them in a panic and felt a tiny trickle wet her nyloned bum.

They cheered and applauded, and Cindy relented. Francine whimpered convulsively as Cindy climbed off of her; she was twisting her legs together and desperately trying to avoid embarrassing herself horribly.Then Cindy whispered in her ear, "You lose!"

She lay gasping on the table as Cindy slid her sweaty, pee-stained hose down her bare bottom; the others pulled the table away once more, and Cindy peeled the hose down her legs. She dangled from the ceiling again, stripped naked, frantically crossing her legs and clenching...

*Oh my God, I lost the game!...*

 "Know what we're going to do now?" Cindy taunted.

She looked up. The others stood around her, grinning. They all had feathers.

"No! God no! *Pleaseplease* no!"

Paul was on her left, grinning wickedly at her. "Now it gets a lot of fun." He took a slow step toward her.

Francine clenched and reclenched her legs, staring at him in help-less terror. Tricia was in front of her, Cindy was on her right. "Oh no... oh no no... c'mon... don't... don't make me... I'm going to *wet myself*... pleeease..."

George feathered the small of her back and she jumped forward into Tricia's hands. "EeeeeeyaaaaaAAAAAAAAAH!"

Tricia tickled her belly and she squealed and jumped back. On either side of her Paul and Cindy started goosing her ribs. "Eeeeeeeh! Eeeeeeeeh! Eeeeeeeeeeh! Ooo-ho-ho-o-o my-y-y G-g-gaa-haa-haaaa..."

Tricia slipped her feather into her belly-button. George ran his down her bum, and wiggled in between her clenched cheeks. Francine screamed in wild, ticklish panic; she twisted and jumped back and forth to try to escape, her legs wrapped together. Their fingers and feathers teased the worst spots on her nude body... Her knees buckled and she was dangling from the ceiling, squealing helplessly as feathers ran down her sides, legs and feet. "Stooop! Stoooop! Eeeeeeeee-e-e-e-e! Noooooa-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-haaaa--"

"Grab her feet!" Paul said. Cindy and Tricia grabbed her legs and pulled them out from under her and lifted her, squealing and kicking--and Paul quickly tied each ankle to two more ropes that hung from the ceiling. They let go of her and she swung in the air, spread-eagled and helplessly exposed, her bladder about to let go. Her golden-brown pussy glistened between her wide open legs...

Paul leaned over her and brushed the tip of his feather down her front, stroking her belly teasingly. "Tickle tickle," he said.

"Nooooooo doooooooon't..." Francine gasped and tossed her beet red face from side to side--then gurgled childishly as Tricia and Cindy both began to lightly feather her feet. "Aaaaaa-ga-ga-glllaaah! Heeeeaaa-ha-ha-ha-haaa! Aaaae-e-e-e-hee-hee-hee!"

Paul trailed his feather along the side of her furry triangle, cruelly teased the outer lip of her pussy. Francine thought she'd go insane. Paul slid the plume down her inner thigh. He glanced back at her face; her teary eyes were staring at him pleadingly through her gurgles and sobs.

She couldn't see George, who was standing behind her head, all ten fingers poised under her arms. Paul grinned and backed away. The girls dropped their feathers and stood with fingers ready.

"Wha--wha--" Francine stared at each of them in fear.

Paul crouched beside her and started feathering her bum gently.

Francine screamed.

Paul wormed his plume between her cheeks, and slid it down...

"Nooooooo! Nooooooo! Not THEEEEEEERE! Ahahahahahaaaaaaa!"

Francine howled and thrashed helplessly against the ropes and sprinkled her pee all over her naked legs.

"Eeeeeaaaaaggghh! Waaaahahahahaha!" Paul tickled her asshole and the girls attacked her soles and George dug under her tits. She pumped her feet back and forth maniacally, squirting a long golden stream between her legs. They tickled her without let-up until the last few drops trickled down her bottom.

George crept up behind Francine's beet red face and cooed in her ear, "Naughty naughty, little girl. What are we going to do with you?"

Cindy picked up her feather and moved between her legs. "Let's make her come!"

Tricia ran over to Francine's side. "I get her titties!"

Francine felt Cindy's feather slide up her inner thigh, and began to scream again.

She hung limp and sobbing, her body dripping sweat, tears and ejaculate. "Oo-ooh... oo-oo-ooooh... ooooh my god..."

George said, "Game over."

They pushed the table under her and began untying her. Cindy kissed her cheek and whispered in her ear, "Good game, hon."

"Just... just wait..." Francine gasped, "just wait till I get you alone... you and your precious little feet..."

End.

Man, I haven't been able to find this one in ages! This is, and always will be, great!

The All Time Classic

First story I ever read and still my fave!

Absolute classic, now when are we going to see PArt 18, Primetime? We have waited quite a while!
Love,
Heather and Anna

wow if Heather and Anna hadnt bumped this up i would never have read this wonderfully creative story. just the kind of game i love. Cindy seemed to get into the game quite well. the descriptions and details were fantastic. loved this story. wish there were a part three to see if Francine was as good as her word about getting back at Cindy

isabeau

I read this a long time ago and thought it was incredibly sexy It definitely still is. Thanks for posting it again.

Wow. Great story. I would loose for sure.

I'm glad you liked the story. I'm surprised you replied to a thread whose last reply was over seven years ago.

RCAMaleLer said:

I'm glad you liked the story. I'm surprised you replied to a thread whose last reply was over seven years ago.

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I'm glad they did, great one!

Haven't read this in ages...one of the best ever!!!!!!!!