Just a quick something I drafted this afternoon off the top of my head. Apologies for the rough-drafty nature of the story and any amateurish writing mistakes. 
enjoy!
Lianne huffed with exhaustion as she tossed the heavy blanket and sheet back over her bed, leaving a large, inviting triangle of magenta-colored comfort for her to slide into. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she slipped her feet out of her fuzzy slippers and pushed her pink “Rubber Ducky” pajama bottoms down, using her navy blue painted toes to toss the thin bottoms in the general direction of her laundry pile. She unbuttoned her pajama top, and with a grunt of effort, owing to the soreness in her abs from today’s workout, Lianne slid it off of her shoulders and flung it there as well.
She stuck her phone on the wireless charger by the bed, turned, and inserted herself between the sheets, tugging them up and nestling herself into a comfortable, happy little bundle, as she had since she was a very small child. Some habits die hard – and this is one that she’d had for over 20 years. She reached up and tugged the chain on her bedside light, and within only a few moments, she was fast asleep.
At some point, she must have rolled onto her back. An indeterminate time had passed before she woke up again, but she got the feeling it was the wee hours of the morning, just from the feel of things. She realized she had to pee, so she rolled to the side and started for the bathroom.
She tried to, anyway, but nothing worked. Her limbs were like lead, heavy and dead weight. She would have grunted again with the effort of moving if she could, but literally nothing would respond to her brain’s commands to move! She tried her arms, her legs, she even tried to simply open her eyes and mouth, but all remained still.
Lianne suffered from something called “Sleep Paralysis” – a condition that causes one to wake up and be almost fully conscious, but with no ability to move, speak, or react to anything. Since the symptoms of this condition were always temporary, Lianne didn’t think on it too much – although she did find it odd that her bare feet were poking out from the opposite end of the blanket and sheet. She couldn’t stand having cold feet in the slightest, but Lianne knew that in a few minutes she’d be able to get up, use the bathroom, and totter back to bed.
At least, that’s what she assumed from having this condition since she was nine years old. She had no idea how wrong she would be on this night.
Several minutes ticked by, and the clock on the wall opposite her bed seemed extraordinarily loud in the thick silence of her empty room. Lianne pondered what her doctor had said several visits ago – “if the symptoms persist or if you find you stay that way for too long, we can start you on some anti-depressants that usually help.”
“Fuck that noise,” she thought. “I don’t need a pill to –“
Her thoughts were cut off sharply by the sudden realization that she was not alone. She had no reason to believe anyone else was in her room, but…she felt someone nearby. That feeling you get when someone is staring at the back of your head? It was like that, but much, much more intense. There wasn’t a sound in the room at all, not a single noise echoed in the darkness, but someone – or something – was in there with her.
Instinctively, she tugged her legs to hide her bare feet under the covers, the whole “monster under your bed” fear overwhelming her briefly. Of course, her legs didn’t move, her toes didn’t even twitch, and her bare size 5 feet continued to rest where they were.
The first sensation that slid up her left sole scared her so bad, she was absolutely certain that she would snap upright in bed, but nothing happened. What felt like the tip of a ballpoint pen started at the base of her heel, right in the middle, and slowly slid up, gliding over her heel, along her arch, over the ball of her foot, and between her second and third toe. She’d have shrieked in surprise if her mouth worked, but instead, she simply laid there, paralyzed in the darkness and completely immobile.
The second stroke was on her right foot. The exact same sensation, sending a jolt of wicked ticklishness up her still leg. She tried to scrunch her toes, but to no avail. In the darkness behind her eyelids, she saw a disturbing mental image – a large, horned demon, looking over the lump in the covers from the bottom of the bed, sliding one of it’s claws up and down her little feet, one at a time. Lianne’s heart pounded in her chest as the childish fear of being devoured by the Underbed Beast flowed through her.
Again and again the sliding, stroking sensation coursed over each sole, causing her to mentally curse with fear and ticklishness, wanting so badly to pull her feet away. She tugged so hard with her mind, but her legs simply refused to move. She couldn’t bat her arms at the unseen monster, she couldn’t kick at it, and she definitely couldn’t call for help. Lianne had never felt so helpless and nervous in her life.
That is until the tickling got worse. Two points slid along her soles now, not stopping to switch. Both arches were now being stroked by the concealed assaulter, and the ticklish sensations were beginning to annoy her. Not only were her feet painfully ticklish – she always had to see the same girl at the spa when she went because she was the only one who made sure to never tickle Lianne’s feet while giving her a pedicure – but she HATED being tickled, with a passion. She couldn’t stand it at all, and would kick any boyfriend in the face if they so much as massaged her feet the wrong way. In fact, she was presently single due to having done just that a few months ago to a guy who had real long-term potential, and she hadn’t heard from him since she almost broke his nose.
Yet here she lay, unable to react, unable to move, and entirely helpless against this unwanted assault. She felt her bladder beginning to protest as the ticklish explosions slid up her legs, causing her to tingle all over and goodebumps to stand out on her arms and shoulders. Motionless, she screamed with anger and laughter in her head, a third point now drawing random patterns all over each sole. It was as if multiple demons were now paying their cruel attention to her feet at the same time, long, slow strokes and quicker, patterned gliding beginning to make her fear wetting the bed.
Lianne’s heart nearly stopped when she felt the sheet and blanket beginning to slide over her to her right. Since she laid on the right side of the bed most nights, there was plenty of blanket left to keep her covered, but both the sheet and the blanket were moving faster now, and soon, if whatever force was tugging on the bedsheets didn’t stop, she’d be lying flat on her back, unable to move even an inch, in nothing but her mismatched black panties and purple, lacy bra.
It only took a few seconds, and the cool air touched her taut tummy, her shoulders, and her thighs. She could feel her cheeks reddening with unreleased laughter combined with the shame of being exposed to whatever monster was taking advantage of her, and the goosebumps on her arms stood even taller.
Had it not been for the fact that she had no control of her body, Lianne would have screamed when she felt the warm, moist sensation of lips enveloping her big toes, both at the same time. A fourth point of sensation began sliding back and forth underneath her little toes, right where the stems met the balls of her feet, and this was one of her weakest spots. The feeling of ticklishness that exploded from that spot made her immediately fear wetting herself, but she was able to hold on – barely.
The sucking sensation on her big toes became more intense, and she shivered – that is, she would have – at the strange sensation. Her efforts to tug her legs up to her body redoubled when she then felt each individual toe getting the same attention at the same time, and after only a second, she realized that her toes were being pulled back slightly by the wet mouths that were devouring her digits. After a moment, her toes were not only immobile, but splayed, and her soles were pulled taut, the skin of her arches pulled taut across her feet. A fifth, then a sixth point began drawing circles and stars and shapes against her heels, arches, and the balls of her feet, and if she could have, Lianne would have begun to cry with ticklish agony.
Her night of torture had only begun. Several more small spot of stimulation began to slide up along her ankles, then her calves, then her thighs. There they stayed, stroking and wriggling against the insides of her bare legs. Her mind screamed for mercy, began begging for at least a break, because her soles were on fire with tickly, tingly sensations, and her thighs were turning out to be almost as sensitive. Lianne felt the urge to wet herself building up again, and this time, she couldn’t hold it.
But she didn’t let loose…at least not in the way she expected. Amidst the foot and thigh stroking which was driving her absolutely furious with ticklish frustration, she felt herself squeezing, trying to release her bladder, and a similar satisfying sense of relief, but no wetness between her thighs. It took several seconds of this to realize that she wasn’t urinating at all, but orgasming untouched, and against her will. Lianne’s muscles clenched – or, rather, would have - and her mind swam, as pulse after pulse, wave after wave flowed through her helpless, immobile body.
What felt like several long, torturous minutes passed by as her now maddeningly sensitive soles were tortured, her thighs were stroked, and her womanhood ached with ever-intensifying forced pleasure. All she could see was the pitch blackness behind her closed eyes, and not a single sound met her ears – although a fair bit of blush had. Lianne could feel the results of her forced lust against her cheeks, chest, and ears, her body responding against her will to the forced ecstasy continuing to slide through her.
Finally, the sensations of tickling and pleasure stopped, but only for a few moments.
She could feel her labia, untouched and still covered by her thin black panties, throbbing with an unbidden ache for more. Lianne thanked the heavens for this reprieve, but soon was cursing every god imaginable as the same sensations began along her bare ribs. What felt like a thousand powerful fingertips suddenly began vibrating and wriggling against her immobile sides, playing her like some sort of helpless, silent instrument of ticklish abandon. The sensations forced wave after wave of painfully intense ticklishness through her upperbody, and Lianne swore to herself as she felt her nipples beginning to strain against the inside of her purple bra.
This would not be a problem for long, however, as the straps for her bra began unravelling from behind her. The hook-and-clasps slowly slid apart and the strap felt as though it was being slowly tugged out from behind her back, and the shoulder straps began to cruise down over her arms. Soon, her perky, excited tits were exposed to the same cool air as the rest of her body, and she had no idea which direction her bra went – all she knew is that she needed this to stop. Now.
She strained against the paralysis, still unable to move, and unsure she’d even be able to if she could with all this ticklishness running through her. Lianne’s nipples became her unseen torturer’s next target, with sharp, incredibly ticklish pinpoints of sensation circling them, stroking their tips, and sliding in rapid circles around the globes of her breasts. She had never felt a sensation that was both so infuriatingly ticklish and deeply pleasurable at the same time in her life.
Just as she was reflecting on her hate for tickling and how viciously she would murder whatever it was who was doing this to her as soon as she got the chance, the tickling of her feet and thighs began again. This time, countless little pinpricks of ticklish torture coursed like tiny ants all over both of her feet and up and down both legs. Unable to bear the torture any longer, she tried again to scream in desperation, but unknown to Lianne, her ordeal wasn’t even halfway finished yet.
Between her toes, in the hollows between where the balls of her feet meet her arches, completely covering both sensitive breasts, up and down both thighs, all along her ribs, and now swarming over her taut tummy and swirling around and into her navel, cruel, merciless ticklish sensations of an intensity Lianne never had thought possible invaded her nearly naked body. She begged silently for mercy, screaming to herself mentally that she couldn’t take it, needed it to stop, but there was no mercy.
Soon, the ticklishness spread to her underarms – another weak spot – and within seconds, it seemed like every inch of her skin was being tortured by unfeeling, uncaring talons that only wanted to drive her entirely insane.
She didn’t feel her panties sliding down at first. The sensation of the fabric leaving her waist went entirely unregistered while Lianne’s mind was preoccupied with the incredible torture she was being forced to receive, and it wasn’t until they were completely gone that she realized how exposed and naked she had been made. As if cued by this sudden realization, the ticklish, torturous sensations began slowly, teasingly crawling over her labia, sliding up and down the length of her lips and causing something in her to break. The intensity of this ticklish feeling wasn’t matched by her ribs, her underarms, or even the soft soles of her feet – she had never, ever felt anything like this before.
After only another moment, she exploded. Squirting clear liquid to the end of the bed, Lianne came harder that she ever had during any sex or masturbation in her life, screaming into the echo chamber of her own mind. She felt tears streaking down her cheeks and into her hair as she helplessly orgasmed through the tickle torture that had now enveloped her entire naked body. Jet after jet of her pleasure shot from between her legs, soaking the fitted sheet and mattress beneath her. Her pink womanhood had engorged with the torturously intense pleasure, her lips moist and her clit pulsing and twitching in the cool air as she spasmed again and again. The repeated climaxes drained her of everything she had left, soaking the bed and her legs thoroughly until she hadn’t a drop left to squirt out, but the orgasms never stopped.
Her torture felt like it would last until morning and well after. Cumming over and over, screaming silently with ticklish abandon and feeling the sensations getting more and more intense every second, she soon was a mental puddle, with no energy or willingness to think about anything but being tickle tortured and forced to climax after climax. No breaks, no slowing…just constant, cruel, merciless tickling and painfully intense explosions of pleasure and lust. What felt like hours passed, and Lianne’s pillow was soaked with the tears of her torture, small rivulets of salty moisture sliding along her skin and into her hair.
After an impossible amount of time, a sudden rush of clarity came to her all at once, the tickle torture still unceasing, but a new feeling snapping her out of her tickle-and-pleasure-induced trance. As the spidery tickle torture sensations began to slide over her aching, quivering clit and into her sopping entrance, she screamed mentally for mercy, “NO NO NO NO NO PLEASE, ANYTHING BUT THAT, NOOOO!!”
Her inner walls and agonizingly ticklish clit absolutely lit up with a combination of tickle torture and brutal, ground-shaking pleasure. Lianne was now experiencing an inhuman level of ticklishness and raw, unbridled ecstasy.
In the darkness and silence of her pitch black room, sparkles and fireworks of color exploded behind her eyelids, and her feral mind lashed out at her invisible molestor. In an out of her womanhood the feelings slid, making Lianne feel like an objectified sex toy for some depraved, tickle mad sadistic demon. Lianne was now cumming so hard, she thought she’d finally pass out, and an impossible sensation of tension began to build up in her chest. A bubbling magma of lust was beginning to rise inside of her, and what felt like an orgasm of a magnitude she’d never even imagined threatened to pitch her into an endless pit of mind-numbing pleasure. She felt herself building closer and closer, the ghostly ticklefucking of her helpless, immobile body becoming the only thing she ever wanted or needed, the oncoming explosion becoming the sole focus of every fiber of her being, despite the persistent and torturous crawling tickles all over every inch of her skin. Time drew out nearly to infinity, and she rode the edge of this oncoming detonation for much too long, every cell in her body wanting - needing - to feel more. A sudden sensation of falling enveloped her, and Lianne felt the dam burst. Just as her chest tightened and she braced her mind for an orgasm that would almost certainly give her a stroke...
Lianne suddenly sat up bolt upright with a scream of frustration, yanking her legs up to her chest and hugging them tight to her upperbody. Several weak, nervous giggles escaped her lips as she shook with relief at waking up, rocking back and forth on her bed, still quivering from her nightmare.
“Oh my god,” she repeated weakly to herself, clenching her eyes closed after looking frantically around her room. She was in her bed, the blanket on the floor and her sheet crumpled at the foot of her bed. Her bare feet flexed as she realized she was still in her underwear, and that it had only been a dream.
Looking down and breathing heavily from the shock of awakening, Lianne realized her bed was perfectly dry – but her panties were not. A patch of dark moisture stained the fabric between her legs, and she suddenly became desperately aware of an intense, unsatisfied arousal that was pulsing through her. She looked at her feet, wriggling her toes slightly and reminding herself that it was just a dream.
enjoy!Lianne huffed with exhaustion as she tossed the heavy blanket and sheet back over her bed, leaving a large, inviting triangle of magenta-colored comfort for her to slide into. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she slipped her feet out of her fuzzy slippers and pushed her pink “Rubber Ducky” pajama bottoms down, using her navy blue painted toes to toss the thin bottoms in the general direction of her laundry pile. She unbuttoned her pajama top, and with a grunt of effort, owing to the soreness in her abs from today’s workout, Lianne slid it off of her shoulders and flung it there as well.
She stuck her phone on the wireless charger by the bed, turned, and inserted herself between the sheets, tugging them up and nestling herself into a comfortable, happy little bundle, as she had since she was a very small child. Some habits die hard – and this is one that she’d had for over 20 years. She reached up and tugged the chain on her bedside light, and within only a few moments, she was fast asleep.
At some point, she must have rolled onto her back. An indeterminate time had passed before she woke up again, but she got the feeling it was the wee hours of the morning, just from the feel of things. She realized she had to pee, so she rolled to the side and started for the bathroom.
She tried to, anyway, but nothing worked. Her limbs were like lead, heavy and dead weight. She would have grunted again with the effort of moving if she could, but literally nothing would respond to her brain’s commands to move! She tried her arms, her legs, she even tried to simply open her eyes and mouth, but all remained still.
Lianne suffered from something called “Sleep Paralysis” – a condition that causes one to wake up and be almost fully conscious, but with no ability to move, speak, or react to anything. Since the symptoms of this condition were always temporary, Lianne didn’t think on it too much – although she did find it odd that her bare feet were poking out from the opposite end of the blanket and sheet. She couldn’t stand having cold feet in the slightest, but Lianne knew that in a few minutes she’d be able to get up, use the bathroom, and totter back to bed.
At least, that’s what she assumed from having this condition since she was nine years old. She had no idea how wrong she would be on this night.
Several minutes ticked by, and the clock on the wall opposite her bed seemed extraordinarily loud in the thick silence of her empty room. Lianne pondered what her doctor had said several visits ago – “if the symptoms persist or if you find you stay that way for too long, we can start you on some anti-depressants that usually help.”
“Fuck that noise,” she thought. “I don’t need a pill to –“
Her thoughts were cut off sharply by the sudden realization that she was not alone. She had no reason to believe anyone else was in her room, but…she felt someone nearby. That feeling you get when someone is staring at the back of your head? It was like that, but much, much more intense. There wasn’t a sound in the room at all, not a single noise echoed in the darkness, but someone – or something – was in there with her.
Instinctively, she tugged her legs to hide her bare feet under the covers, the whole “monster under your bed” fear overwhelming her briefly. Of course, her legs didn’t move, her toes didn’t even twitch, and her bare size 5 feet continued to rest where they were.
The first sensation that slid up her left sole scared her so bad, she was absolutely certain that she would snap upright in bed, but nothing happened. What felt like the tip of a ballpoint pen started at the base of her heel, right in the middle, and slowly slid up, gliding over her heel, along her arch, over the ball of her foot, and between her second and third toe. She’d have shrieked in surprise if her mouth worked, but instead, she simply laid there, paralyzed in the darkness and completely immobile.
The second stroke was on her right foot. The exact same sensation, sending a jolt of wicked ticklishness up her still leg. She tried to scrunch her toes, but to no avail. In the darkness behind her eyelids, she saw a disturbing mental image – a large, horned demon, looking over the lump in the covers from the bottom of the bed, sliding one of it’s claws up and down her little feet, one at a time. Lianne’s heart pounded in her chest as the childish fear of being devoured by the Underbed Beast flowed through her.
Again and again the sliding, stroking sensation coursed over each sole, causing her to mentally curse with fear and ticklishness, wanting so badly to pull her feet away. She tugged so hard with her mind, but her legs simply refused to move. She couldn’t bat her arms at the unseen monster, she couldn’t kick at it, and she definitely couldn’t call for help. Lianne had never felt so helpless and nervous in her life.
That is until the tickling got worse. Two points slid along her soles now, not stopping to switch. Both arches were now being stroked by the concealed assaulter, and the ticklish sensations were beginning to annoy her. Not only were her feet painfully ticklish – she always had to see the same girl at the spa when she went because she was the only one who made sure to never tickle Lianne’s feet while giving her a pedicure – but she HATED being tickled, with a passion. She couldn’t stand it at all, and would kick any boyfriend in the face if they so much as massaged her feet the wrong way. In fact, she was presently single due to having done just that a few months ago to a guy who had real long-term potential, and she hadn’t heard from him since she almost broke his nose.
Yet here she lay, unable to react, unable to move, and entirely helpless against this unwanted assault. She felt her bladder beginning to protest as the ticklish explosions slid up her legs, causing her to tingle all over and goodebumps to stand out on her arms and shoulders. Motionless, she screamed with anger and laughter in her head, a third point now drawing random patterns all over each sole. It was as if multiple demons were now paying their cruel attention to her feet at the same time, long, slow strokes and quicker, patterned gliding beginning to make her fear wetting the bed.
Lianne’s heart nearly stopped when she felt the sheet and blanket beginning to slide over her to her right. Since she laid on the right side of the bed most nights, there was plenty of blanket left to keep her covered, but both the sheet and the blanket were moving faster now, and soon, if whatever force was tugging on the bedsheets didn’t stop, she’d be lying flat on her back, unable to move even an inch, in nothing but her mismatched black panties and purple, lacy bra.
It only took a few seconds, and the cool air touched her taut tummy, her shoulders, and her thighs. She could feel her cheeks reddening with unreleased laughter combined with the shame of being exposed to whatever monster was taking advantage of her, and the goosebumps on her arms stood even taller.
Had it not been for the fact that she had no control of her body, Lianne would have screamed when she felt the warm, moist sensation of lips enveloping her big toes, both at the same time. A fourth point of sensation began sliding back and forth underneath her little toes, right where the stems met the balls of her feet, and this was one of her weakest spots. The feeling of ticklishness that exploded from that spot made her immediately fear wetting herself, but she was able to hold on – barely.
The sucking sensation on her big toes became more intense, and she shivered – that is, she would have – at the strange sensation. Her efforts to tug her legs up to her body redoubled when she then felt each individual toe getting the same attention at the same time, and after only a second, she realized that her toes were being pulled back slightly by the wet mouths that were devouring her digits. After a moment, her toes were not only immobile, but splayed, and her soles were pulled taut, the skin of her arches pulled taut across her feet. A fifth, then a sixth point began drawing circles and stars and shapes against her heels, arches, and the balls of her feet, and if she could have, Lianne would have begun to cry with ticklish agony.
Her night of torture had only begun. Several more small spot of stimulation began to slide up along her ankles, then her calves, then her thighs. There they stayed, stroking and wriggling against the insides of her bare legs. Her mind screamed for mercy, began begging for at least a break, because her soles were on fire with tickly, tingly sensations, and her thighs were turning out to be almost as sensitive. Lianne felt the urge to wet herself building up again, and this time, she couldn’t hold it.
But she didn’t let loose…at least not in the way she expected. Amidst the foot and thigh stroking which was driving her absolutely furious with ticklish frustration, she felt herself squeezing, trying to release her bladder, and a similar satisfying sense of relief, but no wetness between her thighs. It took several seconds of this to realize that she wasn’t urinating at all, but orgasming untouched, and against her will. Lianne’s muscles clenched – or, rather, would have - and her mind swam, as pulse after pulse, wave after wave flowed through her helpless, immobile body.
What felt like several long, torturous minutes passed by as her now maddeningly sensitive soles were tortured, her thighs were stroked, and her womanhood ached with ever-intensifying forced pleasure. All she could see was the pitch blackness behind her closed eyes, and not a single sound met her ears – although a fair bit of blush had. Lianne could feel the results of her forced lust against her cheeks, chest, and ears, her body responding against her will to the forced ecstasy continuing to slide through her.
Finally, the sensations of tickling and pleasure stopped, but only for a few moments.
She could feel her labia, untouched and still covered by her thin black panties, throbbing with an unbidden ache for more. Lianne thanked the heavens for this reprieve, but soon was cursing every god imaginable as the same sensations began along her bare ribs. What felt like a thousand powerful fingertips suddenly began vibrating and wriggling against her immobile sides, playing her like some sort of helpless, silent instrument of ticklish abandon. The sensations forced wave after wave of painfully intense ticklishness through her upperbody, and Lianne swore to herself as she felt her nipples beginning to strain against the inside of her purple bra.
This would not be a problem for long, however, as the straps for her bra began unravelling from behind her. The hook-and-clasps slowly slid apart and the strap felt as though it was being slowly tugged out from behind her back, and the shoulder straps began to cruise down over her arms. Soon, her perky, excited tits were exposed to the same cool air as the rest of her body, and she had no idea which direction her bra went – all she knew is that she needed this to stop. Now.
She strained against the paralysis, still unable to move, and unsure she’d even be able to if she could with all this ticklishness running through her. Lianne’s nipples became her unseen torturer’s next target, with sharp, incredibly ticklish pinpoints of sensation circling them, stroking their tips, and sliding in rapid circles around the globes of her breasts. She had never felt a sensation that was both so infuriatingly ticklish and deeply pleasurable at the same time in her life.
Just as she was reflecting on her hate for tickling and how viciously she would murder whatever it was who was doing this to her as soon as she got the chance, the tickling of her feet and thighs began again. This time, countless little pinpricks of ticklish torture coursed like tiny ants all over both of her feet and up and down both legs. Unable to bear the torture any longer, she tried again to scream in desperation, but unknown to Lianne, her ordeal wasn’t even halfway finished yet.
Between her toes, in the hollows between where the balls of her feet meet her arches, completely covering both sensitive breasts, up and down both thighs, all along her ribs, and now swarming over her taut tummy and swirling around and into her navel, cruel, merciless ticklish sensations of an intensity Lianne never had thought possible invaded her nearly naked body. She begged silently for mercy, screaming to herself mentally that she couldn’t take it, needed it to stop, but there was no mercy.
Soon, the ticklishness spread to her underarms – another weak spot – and within seconds, it seemed like every inch of her skin was being tortured by unfeeling, uncaring talons that only wanted to drive her entirely insane.
She didn’t feel her panties sliding down at first. The sensation of the fabric leaving her waist went entirely unregistered while Lianne’s mind was preoccupied with the incredible torture she was being forced to receive, and it wasn’t until they were completely gone that she realized how exposed and naked she had been made. As if cued by this sudden realization, the ticklish, torturous sensations began slowly, teasingly crawling over her labia, sliding up and down the length of her lips and causing something in her to break. The intensity of this ticklish feeling wasn’t matched by her ribs, her underarms, or even the soft soles of her feet – she had never, ever felt anything like this before.
After only another moment, she exploded. Squirting clear liquid to the end of the bed, Lianne came harder that she ever had during any sex or masturbation in her life, screaming into the echo chamber of her own mind. She felt tears streaking down her cheeks and into her hair as she helplessly orgasmed through the tickle torture that had now enveloped her entire naked body. Jet after jet of her pleasure shot from between her legs, soaking the fitted sheet and mattress beneath her. Her pink womanhood had engorged with the torturously intense pleasure, her lips moist and her clit pulsing and twitching in the cool air as she spasmed again and again. The repeated climaxes drained her of everything she had left, soaking the bed and her legs thoroughly until she hadn’t a drop left to squirt out, but the orgasms never stopped.
Her torture felt like it would last until morning and well after. Cumming over and over, screaming silently with ticklish abandon and feeling the sensations getting more and more intense every second, she soon was a mental puddle, with no energy or willingness to think about anything but being tickle tortured and forced to climax after climax. No breaks, no slowing…just constant, cruel, merciless tickling and painfully intense explosions of pleasure and lust. What felt like hours passed, and Lianne’s pillow was soaked with the tears of her torture, small rivulets of salty moisture sliding along her skin and into her hair.
After an impossible amount of time, a sudden rush of clarity came to her all at once, the tickle torture still unceasing, but a new feeling snapping her out of her tickle-and-pleasure-induced trance. As the spidery tickle torture sensations began to slide over her aching, quivering clit and into her sopping entrance, she screamed mentally for mercy, “NO NO NO NO NO PLEASE, ANYTHING BUT THAT, NOOOO!!”
Her inner walls and agonizingly ticklish clit absolutely lit up with a combination of tickle torture and brutal, ground-shaking pleasure. Lianne was now experiencing an inhuman level of ticklishness and raw, unbridled ecstasy.
In the darkness and silence of her pitch black room, sparkles and fireworks of color exploded behind her eyelids, and her feral mind lashed out at her invisible molestor. In an out of her womanhood the feelings slid, making Lianne feel like an objectified sex toy for some depraved, tickle mad sadistic demon. Lianne was now cumming so hard, she thought she’d finally pass out, and an impossible sensation of tension began to build up in her chest. A bubbling magma of lust was beginning to rise inside of her, and what felt like an orgasm of a magnitude she’d never even imagined threatened to pitch her into an endless pit of mind-numbing pleasure. She felt herself building closer and closer, the ghostly ticklefucking of her helpless, immobile body becoming the only thing she ever wanted or needed, the oncoming explosion becoming the sole focus of every fiber of her being, despite the persistent and torturous crawling tickles all over every inch of her skin. Time drew out nearly to infinity, and she rode the edge of this oncoming detonation for much too long, every cell in her body wanting - needing - to feel more. A sudden sensation of falling enveloped her, and Lianne felt the dam burst. Just as her chest tightened and she braced her mind for an orgasm that would almost certainly give her a stroke...
Lianne suddenly sat up bolt upright with a scream of frustration, yanking her legs up to her chest and hugging them tight to her upperbody. Several weak, nervous giggles escaped her lips as she shook with relief at waking up, rocking back and forth on her bed, still quivering from her nightmare.
“Oh my god,” she repeated weakly to herself, clenching her eyes closed after looking frantically around her room. She was in her bed, the blanket on the floor and her sheet crumpled at the foot of her bed. Her bare feet flexed as she realized she was still in her underwear, and that it had only been a dream.
Looking down and breathing heavily from the shock of awakening, Lianne realized her bed was perfectly dry – but her panties were not. A patch of dark moisture stained the fabric between her legs, and she suddenly became desperately aware of an intense, unsatisfied arousal that was pulsing through her. She looked at her feet, wriggling her toes slightly and reminding herself that it was just a dream.
