Here goes nothing...more to follow if the feedback's positive.
***
Bonnie stood in her backyard, staring up at the sky. She was slim and blonde, her hair falling in short, tousled ringlets around her rosy-cheeked face. There was a pixyish quality about her, an impishness in her smile and a roundness to her petite frame that made her almost unbearably cute. Her tiny, five-foot-tall body was lean and white, with a flat tummy and slender legs, her slim figure rescued from boyishness by a smooth, rounded buttocks and deliciously curvy, pert breasts that bounced cheerfully when she moved. But she wasn’t moving now, and her lovely, full-lipped mouth was curved in a frown. A myriad of stars twinkled merrily above her, but there was no sign of movement, nothing that didn’t belong there. Of course there wasn’t; Bonnie didn’t believe in UFOs. It had simply been a shooting star, a trick of the light...
And it was back. Bonnie’s china-blue eyes widened in disbelief as she watched the egg-shaped object swoop into position above her, eclipsing the stars. Deep purple lights glowed in its center, pulsating, hypnotic. A strange sensation gripped Bonnie, starting in her stomach and spreading out to her head, her fingertips, even right to the bottoms of her sensitive soles...her limbs felt heavy, her skin tingled unbearably, and her head felt ready to drift off her shoulders, except that the tingling demanded her attention. It grew stronger, harder to ignore, and it was spreading...now she could feel it in the sensitive hollows behind her knees, along the soft undersides of her breasts, in her armpits...oh, god, her armpits...
She squeezed her eyes shut, fighting panic as the ticklish sensations engulfed her, inescapable, unbearable, and growing, growing...Bonnie clamped her arms to her sides and doubled over, giggling, desperate to protect herself from the invisible, merciless tickler, but there were no hands to block, no feathers to brush away. There was only the strange shape in the sky, the pulsating lights, and her own body, twitching and writhing as the tickling intensified.
“N-n-no,” Bonnie gasped between giggles. She had always been horribly, almost debilitatingly ticklish. She dreaded doctor’s appointments, she would not let the salesmen help her when she shopped for shoes, and she couldn’t slow dance for fear of letting her partner touch her sensitive waist. Even dressing was a challenge, because the touch of silk or satin on her ticklish sides and armpits was enough to send her into hysterics. And now this strange thing in the sky was tickling her, stimulating her most vulnerable spots without so much as a touch. It had to be a nightmare!
“Ple-hehe-hease....stooooooppp....ahahahahahahHAHAHAHA....”
But it did not stop. Instead, the purple light grew suddenly, painfully bright, and the tickling intensified right along with it. With one last, desperate scream, Bonnie lost consciousness.
She opened her eyes slowly, wondering where she was, wondering how much time had passed. Whiteness greeted her eyes—brilliant, antiseptic whiteness, shining from everywhere at once. Rising unsteadily to her feet, Bonnie became aware of two very disturbing facts. First, she was utterly alone—the featureless white walls and floor formed a cell about the size of Bonnie’s living room, with no visible entrances or exits.
Second, she was completely nude.
Vainly trying to cover herself with her arms, Bonnie turned in a full circle, searching for any sign of her unseen captors. “He—hello?” she called in a quavering voice.
“Hello, Bonnie,” a man’s voice called from behind her. Bonnie whirled to see a handsome young man standing a few feet away from her, seeming to have appeared out of nowhere. He was of average height (though he still towered over Bonnie), with a lean, muscular build and dark, well-groomed hair. Unlike Bonnie, he was fully clothed, wearing what looked like hospital scrubs and a white lab coat. Bonnie backed away from him fearfully, uncomfortably aware of her nakedness.
“How do you know my name?” Bonnie demanded, fighting to keep the terror out of her voice. “Who are you? What do you want?”
“I’m Dr. Murphy,” the man said with a smile, as if this were the most natural thing in the world. “As for what I want, that will take some explaining. But don’t worry...we’ve got plenty of time. Oh, and don’t bother covering up,” he added casually, taking a complicated-looking device out of his pocket and punching a few buttons. “It won’t help.” A strange humming sound filled the room, and Bonnie gasped as she found herself suddenly immobilized, rising off the floor as if lifted by invisible hands. She floated across the room, towards Murphy, until she came to rest flat on her back, several feet off the floor, lying as if on a doctor’s examination table, only there was nothing beneath her. Whatever was manipulating her didn’t stop there, either; Bonnie could do nothing but watch in horror as her arms and legs began to spread apart, not stopping until her arms were stretched completely over her head, away from her body, and her legs were spread so wide that the tendons of her inner thighs stood out prominently against her milky skin. Years of yoga had left Bonnie flexible enough that the position caused her no pain, but that did nothing to diminish her panic as she realized her complete and utter vulnerability. Every inch of her tight, tiny body was exposed--front, back, and sides--and she would be helpless to stop anything the demented doctor decided to do to her. She struggled, testing the limits of her invisible, intangible bonds. She could make the muscles of her arms, legs, and torso twitch and tense, but no amount of effort would make them move. She couldn’t even wiggle her toes. She discovered that she could turn her head with some effort, and she did so, struggling to keep the mysterious Dr. Murphy in her field of vision as he walked in a slow circle around her helpless, suspended body as if admiring his handiwork.
“Let me explain your situation to you, Bonnie,” he said, coming to a halt near Bonnie’s waist and staring at her so intently that Bonnie felt her cheeks coloring. “We are aboard one of the ships of the Kal’zar, an alien race so highly evolved that they no longer have physical form. When I first encountered the Kal’zar, they were fascinated by my accounts of the variety of sensation the human nervous system can produce. They desperately wanted to experience those sensations, but lacking bodies of their own, they were unable to do so.” As he spoke, the doctor reached out and laid a single finger on Bonnie’s side, just below her breast. Bonnie tensed and tried to flinch away, but her restraints made escape impossible. “What the Kal’zar lack in form, however, they make up for in technology. With my help, they have learned to record the physical experience of a human subject, and that recording can be played back directly into the Kal’zar mind. They’ve become addicted to it—it’s like television, only a thousand times better, because they get to experience it, not just watch. There’s only one problem.” Murphy began to move his finger slowly, ever-so-lightly down Bonnie’s side. Bonnie gasped and twitched, but she could do nothing to halt the teasing digit as it continued to worm its way along her exposed skin. “You see, the Kal’zar mind is so advanced that their tolerances for sensation are higher. Feelings that are overwhelming to us barely register as an itch for the Kal’zar.” He smiled, continuing his teasing exploration of Bonnie’s ribs as he spoke. “So when the captian of this vessel asked to experience tickling...well, I knew that I’d have to tickle-torture someone who was already excruciatingly ticklish if she was going to feel anything at all.” By now, the doctor’s finger had reached the sensitive hollow above Bonnie’s hip, and she began whimpering. “That’s where you come in, Bonnie. You see, according to our probe, you are very...” sensing a weak point, Murphy stepped up the tempo, making light, teasing circles just above the helpless girl’s pelvic bone ...”very...” Bonnie started shaking her head from side to side, not knowing whether to laugh or scream...”ticklish.” Without warning, Murphy dug stiff fingers into Bonnie’s sides, and she dissolved into helpless hysterics. Never, never had she stood still long enough for someone to tickle her this way. Her boyfriend had tried it once, and she’d struggled so hard she wound up giving him a black eye. But now there was nothing she could do as Murphy’s fingers danced expertly in curve of her waist, hitting all her most sensitive spots with dead-on accuracy. It was horrible, it was overwhelming...it tickled, damn him, it tickled unlike anything she’d ever felt. Bonnie’s lungs ached as the overwhelming sensations forced her to scream, laugh, and plead simultaneously.
“Plehehehehease...NOHOHOHOHhohohoh....hahahahaHAHAHA... NOOOOOO!”
Mercifully, Murphy let up after a few seconds—although to Bonnie, it felt like an eternity. “Please,” Bonnie panted as soon as she could catch her breath, “no more. I’ll die!”
The doctor laughed heartily. “My dear, we haven’t even started yet!” He patted her arm affectionately, and Bonnie flinched. “Come, now, it’s not that bad. Tomorrow, this will all be a memory.”
Bonnie shook her head as vigorously as her invisible restraints would allow. Tomorrow?!! “Please,” she begged, her voice raising an octave, but Murphy had already backed out of her field of vision. He returned a moment later, pushing what looked like a high-tech utility cart. Bonnie couldn’t see what was on it.
Murphy rearranged things on the cart for a while, finally coming away with what looked like a miniature hula hoop. The object was maybe a foot in diameter, its surface inscribed with strange markings and studded with blinking violet lights. “This is the recorder,” he said, seeing Bonnie’s terrified glance. “I’ll just fit it over your head...like so...” Murphy brought the hoop to bear over the top of Bonnie’s head and let go. The thing hovered for a moment like some bizarre halo, then slid down over Bonnie’s blonde curls, coming to rest about her forehead. It adjusted its size as it did so, until it hovered around the girl’s head without touching her, about an inch away from her temples. Bonnie tossed her head in an attempt to dislodge the device, but the restraints made her movements slow at best, and the recorder followed her every move. “Now,” Murphy said, his tone suddenly all-business, “I’m afraid you passed out before our probe could get an accurate tickle-map for you, so we’re going to have to start with a little exploration. I’ve taken the liberty of modifying the recorder to regulate your system, so you won’t lose consciousness this time.”
Bonnie wasn’t sure what the doctor meant by “exploration,” but she was sure she didn’t like the sound of it. She just kept tensing and relaxing her muscles, tugging at her invisible restraints.
“Now,” said Dr. Murphy, “I realize this isn’t easy for you, so I’m going to be nice and let you make the choice. Shall I start at your head, or your feet?”
Bonnie stared at him. Was he serious? He was going to make her ask to be tickled?
“I’m not going to wait forever, Bonnie,” Murphy warned, poising his fingers above her ribs again. Bonnie flinched with ticklish anticipation, giggling before he even touched her. “Either make the decision, or I’ll make it for you.”
“I—uh—my head,” she stammered finally. If he really began with her head, she reasoned, she’d have some time before he got down to anyplace truly ticklish…she couldn’t bear the thought of having her feet tickled right away. Or ever!
“Head it is, then,” Murphy agreed gamely, moving to stand behind Bonnie. Bonnie craned her neck, but could not see what he was doing as he reached over and took something off the utility cart. The she squealed as something soft brushed the back of her neck, sending crawling, tickling sensations down her spine. He was using a feather on her! She tossed her head as much as the invisible restraints would allow, fighting to escape the tickling, teasing object that was now circling her ear. It was irritating as hell, but at least it was bearable; Bonnie squeezed her eyes shut, determined not to give in to the urge to giggle.
A second feather now joined the first, tickling and teasing her other ear as the first one began a slow, ticklish trek towards her throat. The restraints reduced Bonnie’s struggling to a slow-motion head shake, completely useless in her efforts to evade the feathers. At least both of the doctor’s hands were busy now, Bonnie reasoned as she squirmed under his ticklish ministrations. The third feather, therefore, caught her completely by surprise. A small, frustrated giggle escaped her as she felt it slip entirely into her ear, then circle her earlobe and brush her cheek as the other two feathers began a frenetic zig-zag routine around her chin. And it didn’t stop there. Now there were four soft, teasing touches...now five...now six. Soon her entire face and neck tingled with the brush of feathers, more feathers than Dr. Murphy could possibly have been holding. Bonnie began to titter despite her resolve. “Quit it,” she giggled, still swinging her head uselessly back and forth in ticklish irritation. “Cut it out!”
Murphy obviously had no intention of cutting it out. Bonnie was still squirming and twitching, suffering the constant touch of what felt like thousands of feathers, when the doctor’s skillful fingers made contact with the soft flesh of her neck. “Hahahahahey! Stohahahahaha....!” It was no use. Somehow Murphy had managed to keep up the stimulation on Bonnie’s face and ears without using his hands, and now his hands were dancing furiously on both sides of her neck, torturing her with quick, light touches, pushing her overwrought nerve endings to the breaking point. “hahahahAHAHAHAHA...NOOOhahahaha....” Bonnie bent her head towards her shoulders, trying to trap one of the tickling hands, but whichever way she turned, Murphy stood poised to tickle her other side. “Stop it!” she managed to shout between peals of laughter. “Stop it stop itstopit stopstopSTOPAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”
But it didn’t stop. Murphy continued his tap-dance on her throat with his fingertips, staying in each spot just long enough to turn it into a nightmare of ticklish sensitivity, then moving to another before Bonnie could react. “Plehehehehease...” Bonnie moaned, then gasped and yelped as a well-timed poke sent her into another round of helpless laughter.
“Don’t worry,” Dr. Murphy’s voice came from behind her, sounding distant and hollow through Bonnie’s tickle-tormented haze. “Just three more minutes, then we can move on to the next grid.”
Next grid? Bonnie had no time to worry about what that meant as she bucked and writhed, lost in helpless laughter. Sooner than she’d expected, everything stopped. Had it really been three minutes? It didn’t matter. This was a vital opportunity, a chance to brace herself for the next onslaught, and she wasn’t about to pass it up. She closed her eyes in silent gratitude, breathing heavily...and her eyes snapped open again as an entirely new sensation erupted on the super-sensitized skin of her neck. “Ah! No, no no please not that...nooooooooohahahahahahahaHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”
Murphy ignored the captive girl’s pleas as he ever-so-softly kissed the soft skin of her neck, ruffling the tiny hairs of her throat with his breath, flicking the sensitive flesh behind her ear with his tongue. He gave the left side of her throat a thorough tongue-bath, paying special attention to her delicate earlobes and the oh-so-sensitive skin beneath, before he shifted his attention and began the same devastating procedure on the right side. Bonnie bucked, and screamed, and pleaded, and moaned, but to no avail; the doctor was clearly enjoying himself, so much so that he entirely lost track of the time. Only after ten agonizing minutes was there any respite, and Bonnie lay gasping and sweating for several minutes, still giggling softly with no one touching her.
“Not bad,” Murphy noted quietly, punching a few buttons atop his utility cart. “A bit of a slow start, but a decent warm-up nonetheless.” He glanced down at Bonnie, who’d finally gotten a hold of herself and was gazing up at him fearfully. “In fact, I daresay you liked it.”
“No!” Bonnie squealed, shaking her head vigorously. “Let me go!”
“No?” Murphy repeated with a smile, reaching down and running a single finger down the length of Bonnie’s exposed pussy. Bonnie clamped her eyes shut and willed herself not to respond, but she gasped involuntarily as the digit slid teasingly close to her hard little clit, pausing to tickle her engorged inner labia before withdrawing. Murphy held up his finger for her inspection, and even from a distance Bonnie could see the glistening film of moisture on its tip. “You sure?”
“I’m serious!” Bonnie shouted, embarrassed into anger. “Let me out of here!”
Murphy just kept on smiling. “No,” he said, his tone one of cheerful indifference. “Now...grid two.” And he reached out towards her helpless armpits.
***
Bonnie stood in her backyard, staring up at the sky. She was slim and blonde, her hair falling in short, tousled ringlets around her rosy-cheeked face. There was a pixyish quality about her, an impishness in her smile and a roundness to her petite frame that made her almost unbearably cute. Her tiny, five-foot-tall body was lean and white, with a flat tummy and slender legs, her slim figure rescued from boyishness by a smooth, rounded buttocks and deliciously curvy, pert breasts that bounced cheerfully when she moved. But she wasn’t moving now, and her lovely, full-lipped mouth was curved in a frown. A myriad of stars twinkled merrily above her, but there was no sign of movement, nothing that didn’t belong there. Of course there wasn’t; Bonnie didn’t believe in UFOs. It had simply been a shooting star, a trick of the light...
And it was back. Bonnie’s china-blue eyes widened in disbelief as she watched the egg-shaped object swoop into position above her, eclipsing the stars. Deep purple lights glowed in its center, pulsating, hypnotic. A strange sensation gripped Bonnie, starting in her stomach and spreading out to her head, her fingertips, even right to the bottoms of her sensitive soles...her limbs felt heavy, her skin tingled unbearably, and her head felt ready to drift off her shoulders, except that the tingling demanded her attention. It grew stronger, harder to ignore, and it was spreading...now she could feel it in the sensitive hollows behind her knees, along the soft undersides of her breasts, in her armpits...oh, god, her armpits...
She squeezed her eyes shut, fighting panic as the ticklish sensations engulfed her, inescapable, unbearable, and growing, growing...Bonnie clamped her arms to her sides and doubled over, giggling, desperate to protect herself from the invisible, merciless tickler, but there were no hands to block, no feathers to brush away. There was only the strange shape in the sky, the pulsating lights, and her own body, twitching and writhing as the tickling intensified.
“N-n-no,” Bonnie gasped between giggles. She had always been horribly, almost debilitatingly ticklish. She dreaded doctor’s appointments, she would not let the salesmen help her when she shopped for shoes, and she couldn’t slow dance for fear of letting her partner touch her sensitive waist. Even dressing was a challenge, because the touch of silk or satin on her ticklish sides and armpits was enough to send her into hysterics. And now this strange thing in the sky was tickling her, stimulating her most vulnerable spots without so much as a touch. It had to be a nightmare!
“Ple-hehe-hease....stooooooppp....ahahahahahahHAHAHAHA....”
But it did not stop. Instead, the purple light grew suddenly, painfully bright, and the tickling intensified right along with it. With one last, desperate scream, Bonnie lost consciousness.
She opened her eyes slowly, wondering where she was, wondering how much time had passed. Whiteness greeted her eyes—brilliant, antiseptic whiteness, shining from everywhere at once. Rising unsteadily to her feet, Bonnie became aware of two very disturbing facts. First, she was utterly alone—the featureless white walls and floor formed a cell about the size of Bonnie’s living room, with no visible entrances or exits.
Second, she was completely nude.
Vainly trying to cover herself with her arms, Bonnie turned in a full circle, searching for any sign of her unseen captors. “He—hello?” she called in a quavering voice.
“Hello, Bonnie,” a man’s voice called from behind her. Bonnie whirled to see a handsome young man standing a few feet away from her, seeming to have appeared out of nowhere. He was of average height (though he still towered over Bonnie), with a lean, muscular build and dark, well-groomed hair. Unlike Bonnie, he was fully clothed, wearing what looked like hospital scrubs and a white lab coat. Bonnie backed away from him fearfully, uncomfortably aware of her nakedness.
“How do you know my name?” Bonnie demanded, fighting to keep the terror out of her voice. “Who are you? What do you want?”
“I’m Dr. Murphy,” the man said with a smile, as if this were the most natural thing in the world. “As for what I want, that will take some explaining. But don’t worry...we’ve got plenty of time. Oh, and don’t bother covering up,” he added casually, taking a complicated-looking device out of his pocket and punching a few buttons. “It won’t help.” A strange humming sound filled the room, and Bonnie gasped as she found herself suddenly immobilized, rising off the floor as if lifted by invisible hands. She floated across the room, towards Murphy, until she came to rest flat on her back, several feet off the floor, lying as if on a doctor’s examination table, only there was nothing beneath her. Whatever was manipulating her didn’t stop there, either; Bonnie could do nothing but watch in horror as her arms and legs began to spread apart, not stopping until her arms were stretched completely over her head, away from her body, and her legs were spread so wide that the tendons of her inner thighs stood out prominently against her milky skin. Years of yoga had left Bonnie flexible enough that the position caused her no pain, but that did nothing to diminish her panic as she realized her complete and utter vulnerability. Every inch of her tight, tiny body was exposed--front, back, and sides--and she would be helpless to stop anything the demented doctor decided to do to her. She struggled, testing the limits of her invisible, intangible bonds. She could make the muscles of her arms, legs, and torso twitch and tense, but no amount of effort would make them move. She couldn’t even wiggle her toes. She discovered that she could turn her head with some effort, and she did so, struggling to keep the mysterious Dr. Murphy in her field of vision as he walked in a slow circle around her helpless, suspended body as if admiring his handiwork.
“Let me explain your situation to you, Bonnie,” he said, coming to a halt near Bonnie’s waist and staring at her so intently that Bonnie felt her cheeks coloring. “We are aboard one of the ships of the Kal’zar, an alien race so highly evolved that they no longer have physical form. When I first encountered the Kal’zar, they were fascinated by my accounts of the variety of sensation the human nervous system can produce. They desperately wanted to experience those sensations, but lacking bodies of their own, they were unable to do so.” As he spoke, the doctor reached out and laid a single finger on Bonnie’s side, just below her breast. Bonnie tensed and tried to flinch away, but her restraints made escape impossible. “What the Kal’zar lack in form, however, they make up for in technology. With my help, they have learned to record the physical experience of a human subject, and that recording can be played back directly into the Kal’zar mind. They’ve become addicted to it—it’s like television, only a thousand times better, because they get to experience it, not just watch. There’s only one problem.” Murphy began to move his finger slowly, ever-so-lightly down Bonnie’s side. Bonnie gasped and twitched, but she could do nothing to halt the teasing digit as it continued to worm its way along her exposed skin. “You see, the Kal’zar mind is so advanced that their tolerances for sensation are higher. Feelings that are overwhelming to us barely register as an itch for the Kal’zar.” He smiled, continuing his teasing exploration of Bonnie’s ribs as he spoke. “So when the captian of this vessel asked to experience tickling...well, I knew that I’d have to tickle-torture someone who was already excruciatingly ticklish if she was going to feel anything at all.” By now, the doctor’s finger had reached the sensitive hollow above Bonnie’s hip, and she began whimpering. “That’s where you come in, Bonnie. You see, according to our probe, you are very...” sensing a weak point, Murphy stepped up the tempo, making light, teasing circles just above the helpless girl’s pelvic bone ...”very...” Bonnie started shaking her head from side to side, not knowing whether to laugh or scream...”ticklish.” Without warning, Murphy dug stiff fingers into Bonnie’s sides, and she dissolved into helpless hysterics. Never, never had she stood still long enough for someone to tickle her this way. Her boyfriend had tried it once, and she’d struggled so hard she wound up giving him a black eye. But now there was nothing she could do as Murphy’s fingers danced expertly in curve of her waist, hitting all her most sensitive spots with dead-on accuracy. It was horrible, it was overwhelming...it tickled, damn him, it tickled unlike anything she’d ever felt. Bonnie’s lungs ached as the overwhelming sensations forced her to scream, laugh, and plead simultaneously.
“Plehehehehease...NOHOHOHOHhohohoh....hahahahaHAHAHA... NOOOOOO!”
Mercifully, Murphy let up after a few seconds—although to Bonnie, it felt like an eternity. “Please,” Bonnie panted as soon as she could catch her breath, “no more. I’ll die!”
The doctor laughed heartily. “My dear, we haven’t even started yet!” He patted her arm affectionately, and Bonnie flinched. “Come, now, it’s not that bad. Tomorrow, this will all be a memory.”
Bonnie shook her head as vigorously as her invisible restraints would allow. Tomorrow?!! “Please,” she begged, her voice raising an octave, but Murphy had already backed out of her field of vision. He returned a moment later, pushing what looked like a high-tech utility cart. Bonnie couldn’t see what was on it.
Murphy rearranged things on the cart for a while, finally coming away with what looked like a miniature hula hoop. The object was maybe a foot in diameter, its surface inscribed with strange markings and studded with blinking violet lights. “This is the recorder,” he said, seeing Bonnie’s terrified glance. “I’ll just fit it over your head...like so...” Murphy brought the hoop to bear over the top of Bonnie’s head and let go. The thing hovered for a moment like some bizarre halo, then slid down over Bonnie’s blonde curls, coming to rest about her forehead. It adjusted its size as it did so, until it hovered around the girl’s head without touching her, about an inch away from her temples. Bonnie tossed her head in an attempt to dislodge the device, but the restraints made her movements slow at best, and the recorder followed her every move. “Now,” Murphy said, his tone suddenly all-business, “I’m afraid you passed out before our probe could get an accurate tickle-map for you, so we’re going to have to start with a little exploration. I’ve taken the liberty of modifying the recorder to regulate your system, so you won’t lose consciousness this time.”
Bonnie wasn’t sure what the doctor meant by “exploration,” but she was sure she didn’t like the sound of it. She just kept tensing and relaxing her muscles, tugging at her invisible restraints.
“Now,” said Dr. Murphy, “I realize this isn’t easy for you, so I’m going to be nice and let you make the choice. Shall I start at your head, or your feet?”
Bonnie stared at him. Was he serious? He was going to make her ask to be tickled?
“I’m not going to wait forever, Bonnie,” Murphy warned, poising his fingers above her ribs again. Bonnie flinched with ticklish anticipation, giggling before he even touched her. “Either make the decision, or I’ll make it for you.”
“I—uh—my head,” she stammered finally. If he really began with her head, she reasoned, she’d have some time before he got down to anyplace truly ticklish…she couldn’t bear the thought of having her feet tickled right away. Or ever!
“Head it is, then,” Murphy agreed gamely, moving to stand behind Bonnie. Bonnie craned her neck, but could not see what he was doing as he reached over and took something off the utility cart. The she squealed as something soft brushed the back of her neck, sending crawling, tickling sensations down her spine. He was using a feather on her! She tossed her head as much as the invisible restraints would allow, fighting to escape the tickling, teasing object that was now circling her ear. It was irritating as hell, but at least it was bearable; Bonnie squeezed her eyes shut, determined not to give in to the urge to giggle.
A second feather now joined the first, tickling and teasing her other ear as the first one began a slow, ticklish trek towards her throat. The restraints reduced Bonnie’s struggling to a slow-motion head shake, completely useless in her efforts to evade the feathers. At least both of the doctor’s hands were busy now, Bonnie reasoned as she squirmed under his ticklish ministrations. The third feather, therefore, caught her completely by surprise. A small, frustrated giggle escaped her as she felt it slip entirely into her ear, then circle her earlobe and brush her cheek as the other two feathers began a frenetic zig-zag routine around her chin. And it didn’t stop there. Now there were four soft, teasing touches...now five...now six. Soon her entire face and neck tingled with the brush of feathers, more feathers than Dr. Murphy could possibly have been holding. Bonnie began to titter despite her resolve. “Quit it,” she giggled, still swinging her head uselessly back and forth in ticklish irritation. “Cut it out!”
Murphy obviously had no intention of cutting it out. Bonnie was still squirming and twitching, suffering the constant touch of what felt like thousands of feathers, when the doctor’s skillful fingers made contact with the soft flesh of her neck. “Hahahahahey! Stohahahahaha....!” It was no use. Somehow Murphy had managed to keep up the stimulation on Bonnie’s face and ears without using his hands, and now his hands were dancing furiously on both sides of her neck, torturing her with quick, light touches, pushing her overwrought nerve endings to the breaking point. “hahahahAHAHAHAHA...NOOOhahahaha....” Bonnie bent her head towards her shoulders, trying to trap one of the tickling hands, but whichever way she turned, Murphy stood poised to tickle her other side. “Stop it!” she managed to shout between peals of laughter. “Stop it stop itstopit stopstopSTOPAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”
But it didn’t stop. Murphy continued his tap-dance on her throat with his fingertips, staying in each spot just long enough to turn it into a nightmare of ticklish sensitivity, then moving to another before Bonnie could react. “Plehehehehease...” Bonnie moaned, then gasped and yelped as a well-timed poke sent her into another round of helpless laughter.
“Don’t worry,” Dr. Murphy’s voice came from behind her, sounding distant and hollow through Bonnie’s tickle-tormented haze. “Just three more minutes, then we can move on to the next grid.”
Next grid? Bonnie had no time to worry about what that meant as she bucked and writhed, lost in helpless laughter. Sooner than she’d expected, everything stopped. Had it really been three minutes? It didn’t matter. This was a vital opportunity, a chance to brace herself for the next onslaught, and she wasn’t about to pass it up. She closed her eyes in silent gratitude, breathing heavily...and her eyes snapped open again as an entirely new sensation erupted on the super-sensitized skin of her neck. “Ah! No, no no please not that...nooooooooohahahahahahahaHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”
Murphy ignored the captive girl’s pleas as he ever-so-softly kissed the soft skin of her neck, ruffling the tiny hairs of her throat with his breath, flicking the sensitive flesh behind her ear with his tongue. He gave the left side of her throat a thorough tongue-bath, paying special attention to her delicate earlobes and the oh-so-sensitive skin beneath, before he shifted his attention and began the same devastating procedure on the right side. Bonnie bucked, and screamed, and pleaded, and moaned, but to no avail; the doctor was clearly enjoying himself, so much so that he entirely lost track of the time. Only after ten agonizing minutes was there any respite, and Bonnie lay gasping and sweating for several minutes, still giggling softly with no one touching her.
“Not bad,” Murphy noted quietly, punching a few buttons atop his utility cart. “A bit of a slow start, but a decent warm-up nonetheless.” He glanced down at Bonnie, who’d finally gotten a hold of herself and was gazing up at him fearfully. “In fact, I daresay you liked it.”
“No!” Bonnie squealed, shaking her head vigorously. “Let me go!”
“No?” Murphy repeated with a smile, reaching down and running a single finger down the length of Bonnie’s exposed pussy. Bonnie clamped her eyes shut and willed herself not to respond, but she gasped involuntarily as the digit slid teasingly close to her hard little clit, pausing to tickle her engorged inner labia before withdrawing. Murphy held up his finger for her inspection, and even from a distance Bonnie could see the glistening film of moisture on its tip. “You sure?”
“I’m serious!” Bonnie shouted, embarrassed into anger. “Let me out of here!”
Murphy just kept on smiling. “No,” he said, his tone one of cheerful indifference. “Now...grid two.” And he reached out towards her helpless armpits.
But you could probably guess as much from my name. 
