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Machinehead
12-04-2002, 06:35 PM
Hey this not my story but I found on a website and I thought you would like it.
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!"



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..."

Battousai
12-04-2002, 07:09 PM
I remember this story from a long, long time ago. Thanks for posting it ^^x

Machinehead
12-05-2002, 11:40 AM
Hey I love this story.

Golem
12-05-2002, 12:06 PM
what a great story -- whoever wrote it is a tickling genius (and the prose ain't bad either)....all the essential body parts are victimized.

AND it's got perhaps the best butt tickling scene i've ever read. if anybody knows of other stories that might compare in this regard, please share the info!

muchas gracias...

g

Neutron
12-05-2002, 05:44 PM
Flapper Party was written by the same author.

Tron

Heather & Anna
03-30-2006, 09:20 AM
"bump!"
For Isabeau!
Love,
Heather and Anna

sole seeker
03-30-2006, 11:21 AM
Well now, that was intense!

Somehow I missed this when it first posted. Thanks for the bump!

isabeau
03-30-2006, 11:32 AM
"bump!"
For Isabeau!
Love,
Heather and Anna

thank you darlings , i love ticklestrip stories.. this one was fantastic.

isabeau

TickleMantis
03-31-2006, 12:47 AM
This and flapper party were both great. I think they are also both of Feathery's website, http://www.ticklingemporium.com

Heather & Anna
04-15-2006, 10:01 PM
For the meanie tactical bone.....

Love,
Heather and Anna

TickleMantis
04-16-2006, 03:39 PM
For the meanie tactical bone.....

Love,
Heather and Anna

.....What?

Heather & Anna
04-16-2006, 08:07 PM
He forgot Anna's name!
Love,
Heather and Anna
P.S I (Heather) allow no-one to forget either of our names! Love you Heather! love you too Anna!

tactical_bone
04-16-2006, 11:25 PM
sorry Heather and Anna...

I never thought that it would be a big deal..

Again, my apologies..

Heather & Anna
04-17-2006, 01:30 AM
No problem! Just it was kind the point of changing the name. Anyway, did you like the Beginning of the Rise? We gave you back tickling like you requested!
Love,
Heather and Anna
P.S You should try writing Bone... you might like it, cute girl!

Heather & Anna
04-17-2006, 01:32 AM
Ummm.... we were wondering are you male or female? We assume male at first but now we're unsure! Anyway, we hope you liked the beginning of the rise and that you were one of the 2 other people who voted. We feel we should have had 2 votes, though! And did you like it Isabeau? Well we hope you did!
Love,
Heather and Anna

TickleMantis
04-18-2006, 01:33 AM
For the meanie tactical bone.....

I had no idea there was a person called 'tactical bone'. So, as you can no doubt see, the above sentence made no sense whatsoever out of context.

LB_Ticklingisfun
01-10-2007, 11:44 PM
this is one of my favorite stories, so bump. :bump:

love feet
06-28-2011, 02:59 AM
amazing!