Dave2112
Level of Cherry Feather
- Joined
- Apr 17, 2001
- Messages
- 10,295
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Jennifer Combs walked into the psychiatrist’s office with something unshakable tagging along for the ride. No, it wasn’t the delusions or the fear or any of the myriad other things that had brought her to this point, but something else…
…déjà vu. Serious déjà vu.
She wasn’t one predisposed to these sort of emotions, but given her recent mental state, she was about prepared for anything. As instructed by the red-haired secretary outside, she stepped in to the oak-rimmed office and took a seat on a leather couch that could have come right out of the Sigmund J. Freud catalog. Everything in the office, in fact, looked brand-new, as if this doctor had just set up shop. But the references she got were glowing, even if she’d never heard of this doctor before. Her friend Rachel wouldn’t steer her wrong, would she? After all, she’d known Rachel for…what? Years? It was hard to remember much these days…
After what could have been minutes or could have been hours, the doctor in question entered the room and sat not behind, but on top of his perfect mahogany desk. Hadn’t she once known someone who had a habit of sitting on his desk? Perhaps. It was again hard to tell. So much seemed so real that wasn’t lately. He looked safe enough, perhaps 40 or so, trimmed beard with a few streaks of white throughout, neat hair, fairly handsome. She’d seen plenty of men that looked like him, it was almost a generic look. Maybe she even knew someone who looked a lot like him, she wasn’t sure what to believe anymore, so she didn’t give it another thought.
“Good afternoon, Ms. Combs,” the man said in a calm but lively voice, “I’m Doctor Rogers. How are you?”
Doctor Rogers…another name that seemed to irritate the back of her memory like a nail picking at a scab. Was that name familiar, or was it just another part of whatever was troubling her of late?
“I wish I could say I’m fine, Doctor,” she replied after a moment, “but I wouldn’t be here if I was, right?”
“Point taken, Jennifer…may I call you Jennifer?” he politely asked.
“Oh, of course, no problem.” she replied.
“So what seems to be the trouble today, Jennifer?” he asked, going to work, bringing out the standard leather-bound notebook and expensive-looking silver pen.
“You mean troubles? I hope you have a few days.” she let out in exasperation.
“Well, we’ve got an hour to start with, so why don’t we cover the big things first, ok?” he said, writing something on his tablet.
“Listen, before we start, you need to promise me something,” Jennifer said quickly.
“If I can, what is it?”
“You’re not going to call the guys in the white coats on me. I know you’re a practiced psychiatrist and have probably heard it all…but this might throw even you for a loop.”
“I assure you, Jennifer,” he said calmly, “I’m only here to listen to you right now, not try to have you committed. I lose points for every patient I get put away down at the Shrink’s Club, and I’m so close to a Jaguar now that I can taste it.”
It took Jennifer a moment to recognize the joke. Damn girl, she scolded herself, relax would you?
“I’m sorry…ok, here goes.” Jennifer braced herself, “I’m having hallucinations.”
“Well,” the doctor said, not lifting his head from the notebook, “there are a lot of very normal causes for these things, some physical, some--”
“No,” she cut him off, “You don’t understand. I only call them hallucinations because I can’t think of another word. They’re real in every way.”
“What do you mean?” he asked, still jotting notes, now raising his head a bit.
“I mean…well….” she was about to bare her secret for the first time and could already feel the striaghtjacket straps tightening, “I can feel things in them.”
“Feel what things? You’re having full-sensory hallucinations?” Now he was interested, leaning forward on his bridged hands.
“Ok, you asked…I keep dreaming that I’m being tickled.”
“Tickled? That’s a first, even for me…go on.”
“I’m serious, and it’s not funny.” she almost cried.
“Jennifer,” the doctor assured her, “I don’t think it’s the slightest bit funny, and I’m not passing any judgement on you. I only want to see if we can get to the root of this. Please continue.”
“Ok, I’m sorry….it’s just so…weird.” she stammered as she gathered her courage. Everything poured out as the tears started to leak from the corners of her eyes. “Every day, everywhere I go, no matter what I’m doing, I start to see things real fuzzy…and then I’m trapped.”
“Trapped?” he asked.
“Yes, in one way or another. Sometimes I’ll be on the subway and the railings fold around my body…or I’m lying in bed and the sheets wrap around me and tie me to the bed…or I’m at a friend’s house and everybody jumps on me and pins me down…it’s all so real!”
“And this is when the imaginary tickling starts?” the doctor asked, scribbling like mad, but not seeming to even look at his notebook.
“It’s not imaginary! At least it doesn’t feel that way…” she sobbed, “Like on the subway…after I’m helpless, everybody on the train starts to tickle me. In my bed, the sheets themselves come alive and tickle me everywhere! Even when I have these spells at my friend’s house and all of the other guests take turns tormenting me, they never remember it after, or even talk about it! I know it has to be in my head then, but it’s so damned real! I can feel everything, and I can’t take it anymore! I-I…”
“Calm down, Jennifer,” Doctor Rogers said as he patted her shoulder, “We’ll figure this out. Now, why do you suppose it’s tickling that you think you’re subjected to?”
“You have no idea,” she replied with a nervous titter, “I am so ticklish that it’s almost like pain. I can’t stand it! If you wanted to get state secrets out of me, fuck the electro-shock…just tickle me and I’ll be singing in three seconds.”
“Hmmmm,” he noted as he took another note, “can you tell me when this started?”
“Right after my husband and I separated. It was pretty ugly.”
“How ugly? What kind of a man are we talking about?” the doctor asked, increasing his interest in the topic at hand.
“My husb- my ex-husband is a biologist. Works for the government or something, he never really talked about his work much. Hardly ever home. I think he might have been having an affair with his assistant, but I’m not sure. That’s what probably led me to…ummm…”
“Go on, Jennifer,” the doctor soothed her, “it’s alright.”
“To stray.” There. It was said. “But not because I didn’t try to make things work! I did! The man I met wasn’t someone I was looking for, he was just someone my husband brought home from work one evening, and after awhile, things got…complicated.”
“How so?” he asked, more notes finding a home in the pad.
“I became infatuated with this Steve, he was everything my husband wasn’t. We slept together, and my husband found out.”
“And then?”
“He flew into a rage! My husband didn’t have relationships, he owned people, at least that’s how he looked at it. My lover was fired, his work destroyed as my husband claimed it for his own and -”
“What was your lover working on?” Doctor Rogers interrupted.
“Huh?” Jennifer shrugged, “I don’t know, I never understood all that science stuff. Something about synopsis-synaptic….something like that. But anyway, after firing him, my husband…well…I think he threw me out.”
The doctor put down his pen.
“What do you mean you ‘think’ he threw you out?” he asked.
“That’s what’s so bizarre! I can’t remember! One day I was in my house, the next I’m on my own. This is when the delusions started. Every day it’s like a new situation or something. My memory is foggy and spotty, and then I have these fucking hallucinations…” she started to openly cry.
“Now, now Jennifer,” Doctor Rogers said as he got up from his desk, “I’m sure there’s a reason behind all this. One that we’ll get to the bottom of…”
He put down his pad and pressed a button on his desktop intercom.
“Ms. Bowens, I think I’ll need you for a few minutes.”
“I thought this was all confidential!” Jennifer gasped.
“Oh, it is,” he replied, “I’m just going to need some help with something…to help you, of course.”
The secretary she’d seen in the lobby entered the room…
…holding some serious-looking restraints.
“What the hell is going-” Jennifer yelped.
“Don’t worry, Ms. Combs…I think I know what’s at the root of your problem.
As he continued to talk, Jennifer noticed some sickeningly familiar changes taking place. For one, her clothing was gone, leaving her clad in an embarrassingly small pair of panties…
“You are feeling misplaced guilt for cheating on your husband…”
…the secretary was binding Jennifer’s wrists in the padded cuffs, and she couldn’t break the grip of steel the woman had…
“…your worst fear is to be helpless…”
…the woman had stretched Jennifer tight on the couch as she fastened the ankle cuffs…
“…and to be tickled while helpless is something your mind associates with punishment…”
…Jennifer’s body was taut as a guitar string, tied to the long couch, as the woman blindfolded and gagged the helpless blond….
“…and you’ve been a very bad girl who knows that she really needs the punishment that her mind is making up for her.”
What was he saying? What kind of a doctor had she gotten involved with? She screamed into the gag, but realized that she was utterly helpless. She was in the hands of a madman, or she had once again slipped into a hallucination….either way, she braced for the torment she knew was coming. Her toned body wriggled against the unforgiving straps that pinned her to the couch as, unseen by her, the Doctor excused his secretary and hovered over her with a general look of mayhem about him.
“So,” he said, “we’ve got a naughty little girl on our hands, do we?” he taunted as he pulled up a low ottoman, poising himself.
“Mmmnnnpphhh…MMNNGGGG!!!” Jennifer mewled into the thick cloth gag.
“And we just hate to be tickled, don’t we? Perhaps a slut like you deserves nothing better, don’t you think? Just fuck around on your husband, and then come crying to me that your life is so terribly bad?”
He trailed a finger down her arm and placed the tip over the smooth skin of her bared armpit.
“Should I? Should I tickle the bad little girl?” he cackled.
“Mnn…Mnnn..MMNNNPPHH!!!”
His lone finger began to lightly stroke the ticklish skin as the girl it was attached to did some wriggling of her own. The bonds were tight and gave not one inch as the doctor tickled under both of her arms.
“Kitchie-Kitchie Kooooo!! Ha ha ha….what a little slut you are…you love this don’t you?”
The begging words were caught by the cruel gag as Jennifer felt the horrible tickling again slam into her brain. Little electric shocks went up her arms as the madman tickled under her pits and along the sides of her full breasts. His fingers were fluttering all over her ticklish skin as all she could do was take it.
“Well, I’ll bet you wiggled better than that for your boyfriend, didn’t you?” he teased, never ceasing the torment, “maybe we should see if you’ll do it for me, eh?”
Jennifer squealed like a trapped animal when Doctor Rogers clawed at her ribcage, digging into the subtle curves of the protruding bones. Raking up and down, side to side and then in ever-increasing circles, he tickled her ribs like a man possessed. While one hand tortured the bound girl’s ribs, the other tickled under her arm.
“MMMNNPPHH!!!MNNMNNHMMM….HHMMM…HMMMMM!!!”
“Now that’s better, little slut. Now…where do we tickle next?”
Small tears were leaking from under the blindfold as, unknown to Jennifer, the doctor shifted his seat to the foot of the couch…two smooth and perfectly tied little feet hovering in space before him.
“I think we should tickle these tiny feet, don’t you, you little tease?”
“MMMNNNPPHHH!!!!!” Jennifer tried to scream.
One finger slid up each sole, as Jennifer’s body arched in response. The jolts were unbearable as the pace was increased to two fingers, then three, then all of them tickling the helpless skin of her tied feet.
“Tickle, tickle, tickle!” he taunted again, throwing himself into the cruel torture of the bound girl, “Come on, squirm for me, bitch! This is what you get for cheating, didn’t you know that? You’re not having hallucinations, I think your friends just see what a slut you are and make you pay! Tickle, tickle, tickle!!!”
He held the toes of her right foot back as he used his free hand to scrape his nails along her stretched sole. Jennifer was in her silent prison, only able to feel the tickling and suffer the torture. It grew like a fungus, spreading from her feet, up her legs and threatened to throttle her senses. He just wouldn’t stop. Every time the tickling of her feet seemed as if it would kill her, she crossed another barrier. She was thrashing against the bonds, screaming into the gag.
At long last, the doctor stopped tickling her feet and stood up. Jennifer squealed when she felt him straddle her hips.
“Now, little whore,” he said as he grabbed the gag and pulled it down, “let’s hear some begging from you, shall we?”
“Nopleasedon’t,” she gasped, “I can’t- I can’t…t-take anym-more…AAAIIGGHH!!!!!”
She screamed aloud as he placed his hands on her slim waist. The touch alone brought forth the scream, and she knew what would happen once her most unbearable ticklish spot was exploited.
“Beg me again….I like it.” he said matter-of-factly as he squeezed just a little into the tender flesh.
“PLEASE!!!!” she spat out, “Please DON’T! I’ve been bad, OK? I’m sorry! Pleaseplease don’t tickle me there, I beg you, I BEG YOU!!!!”
“Not good enough.”
That was all he said, and the last thing she heard other than her own laughter and screams. The doctor scrabbled his fingers along the curve of her waist, moving inward with each circle. A spot over her hipbones proved to be particularly soft and ticklish, so he tickled there continuously as the sobs poured out of the tied girl.
“NNOOOOOOOOO!!!!! HAAHAAHAAHAA….P-PLEEEAAAAAASSSSSEEENOOOO…OHGODOHGODOHSHHHIIIIIITTTT…..HAAAHAAHAAHAHAAA…HEEHEEHAAAHAHAHA…AAIIIGGHHHHGGGAAAWWWDDDDNOOOOO!!!!!”
The doctor was not content with this. Grasping her waist, he drove home the ultimate torture. Squeezing his fingers in and out, he tickled hard the softest, most tender spot on the girl’s tight belly. The stiff fingers stroked the silky flesh and massaged the involuntarily tightening muscle underneath, sending the bound blond into utter hysterics.
“NNNOOOO!!!!!….AAAIIIGGGHHHHH!!!! AAIIIGGHHH!!!!! HHAAAHAAHAHAAAAAAA..”
As the screams reverberated through her own mind, Jennifer wondered how long this hallucination was going to last. Or if it were even a delusion or not. Nothing mattered, nothing existed except her helplessly tied body and the sadistic tickling that threatened to melt her brain…
*********************************
“You know Roger,” Rachel said, her red hair swishing as she entered the room, “this one was evil even for you.”
“Yes, dear, I know…but I grow so bored when you’re away.” the man answered, swinging his legs down from the desk he was sitting on top of. He looked at the object on his desk and stroked his graying beard. “How was your ‘test’ with the hapless Dr. Steve?”
“Oh, interesting,” she said as she slid her arms around Roger Combs and kissed him on the lips, “and yours?”
“I think we can keep this up indefinitely, or at least as long as her regular life-span, anyway. It’s amazing how simple it really is to keep these things alive. The added stimulus doesn’t seem to be causing any physical damage, but it would be interesting to be able to test the mental stability.”
“Well, my love,” Rachel said as she turned to leave the lab, “you know we can’t do that yet…so you’re going to have to be happy just playing with your toy for now. Come, the car is waiting and we’ve got reservations. She’ll be alright for another hour or two.”
“Yes, I suppose you’re right. But it would be nice to be a fly on the wall in there, wouldn’t it? I mean, I know what I’m putting in there, synaptically speaking, but I’d love to see how it’s manifesting itself. Ah well, perhaps tomorrows tests will shed some light. I’ll be right along.”
As Rachel left the room, Roger bent down, his face level with the object on his desk….
…a human brain, suspended in cerebral fluid, floating in a glass jar. Wires of all kinds attached to it at precise points, running from a rather large bank of new synaptic-interface computers.
“Now, my dear,” he said softly as he stroked the outside of the jar, “you hang in there, I’ll switch the program after we get back. All’s fair in Love and Science, right Jennifer?”
Roger left the room, shutting the lights on the way out.
He paused.
If he weren’t a man of science, he could have sworn he heard the faintest echo of a tortured, laughing scream coming from the motionless jar. Perhaps his imagination.
Or just wishful thinking.
…déjà vu. Serious déjà vu.
She wasn’t one predisposed to these sort of emotions, but given her recent mental state, she was about prepared for anything. As instructed by the red-haired secretary outside, she stepped in to the oak-rimmed office and took a seat on a leather couch that could have come right out of the Sigmund J. Freud catalog. Everything in the office, in fact, looked brand-new, as if this doctor had just set up shop. But the references she got were glowing, even if she’d never heard of this doctor before. Her friend Rachel wouldn’t steer her wrong, would she? After all, she’d known Rachel for…what? Years? It was hard to remember much these days…
After what could have been minutes or could have been hours, the doctor in question entered the room and sat not behind, but on top of his perfect mahogany desk. Hadn’t she once known someone who had a habit of sitting on his desk? Perhaps. It was again hard to tell. So much seemed so real that wasn’t lately. He looked safe enough, perhaps 40 or so, trimmed beard with a few streaks of white throughout, neat hair, fairly handsome. She’d seen plenty of men that looked like him, it was almost a generic look. Maybe she even knew someone who looked a lot like him, she wasn’t sure what to believe anymore, so she didn’t give it another thought.
“Good afternoon, Ms. Combs,” the man said in a calm but lively voice, “I’m Doctor Rogers. How are you?”
Doctor Rogers…another name that seemed to irritate the back of her memory like a nail picking at a scab. Was that name familiar, or was it just another part of whatever was troubling her of late?
“I wish I could say I’m fine, Doctor,” she replied after a moment, “but I wouldn’t be here if I was, right?”
“Point taken, Jennifer…may I call you Jennifer?” he politely asked.
“Oh, of course, no problem.” she replied.
“So what seems to be the trouble today, Jennifer?” he asked, going to work, bringing out the standard leather-bound notebook and expensive-looking silver pen.
“You mean troubles? I hope you have a few days.” she let out in exasperation.
“Well, we’ve got an hour to start with, so why don’t we cover the big things first, ok?” he said, writing something on his tablet.
“Listen, before we start, you need to promise me something,” Jennifer said quickly.
“If I can, what is it?”
“You’re not going to call the guys in the white coats on me. I know you’re a practiced psychiatrist and have probably heard it all…but this might throw even you for a loop.”
“I assure you, Jennifer,” he said calmly, “I’m only here to listen to you right now, not try to have you committed. I lose points for every patient I get put away down at the Shrink’s Club, and I’m so close to a Jaguar now that I can taste it.”
It took Jennifer a moment to recognize the joke. Damn girl, she scolded herself, relax would you?
“I’m sorry…ok, here goes.” Jennifer braced herself, “I’m having hallucinations.”
“Well,” the doctor said, not lifting his head from the notebook, “there are a lot of very normal causes for these things, some physical, some--”
“No,” she cut him off, “You don’t understand. I only call them hallucinations because I can’t think of another word. They’re real in every way.”
“What do you mean?” he asked, still jotting notes, now raising his head a bit.
“I mean…well….” she was about to bare her secret for the first time and could already feel the striaghtjacket straps tightening, “I can feel things in them.”
“Feel what things? You’re having full-sensory hallucinations?” Now he was interested, leaning forward on his bridged hands.
“Ok, you asked…I keep dreaming that I’m being tickled.”
“Tickled? That’s a first, even for me…go on.”
“I’m serious, and it’s not funny.” she almost cried.
“Jennifer,” the doctor assured her, “I don’t think it’s the slightest bit funny, and I’m not passing any judgement on you. I only want to see if we can get to the root of this. Please continue.”
“Ok, I’m sorry….it’s just so…weird.” she stammered as she gathered her courage. Everything poured out as the tears started to leak from the corners of her eyes. “Every day, everywhere I go, no matter what I’m doing, I start to see things real fuzzy…and then I’m trapped.”
“Trapped?” he asked.
“Yes, in one way or another. Sometimes I’ll be on the subway and the railings fold around my body…or I’m lying in bed and the sheets wrap around me and tie me to the bed…or I’m at a friend’s house and everybody jumps on me and pins me down…it’s all so real!”
“And this is when the imaginary tickling starts?” the doctor asked, scribbling like mad, but not seeming to even look at his notebook.
“It’s not imaginary! At least it doesn’t feel that way…” she sobbed, “Like on the subway…after I’m helpless, everybody on the train starts to tickle me. In my bed, the sheets themselves come alive and tickle me everywhere! Even when I have these spells at my friend’s house and all of the other guests take turns tormenting me, they never remember it after, or even talk about it! I know it has to be in my head then, but it’s so damned real! I can feel everything, and I can’t take it anymore! I-I…”
“Calm down, Jennifer,” Doctor Rogers said as he patted her shoulder, “We’ll figure this out. Now, why do you suppose it’s tickling that you think you’re subjected to?”
“You have no idea,” she replied with a nervous titter, “I am so ticklish that it’s almost like pain. I can’t stand it! If you wanted to get state secrets out of me, fuck the electro-shock…just tickle me and I’ll be singing in three seconds.”
“Hmmmm,” he noted as he took another note, “can you tell me when this started?”
“Right after my husband and I separated. It was pretty ugly.”
“How ugly? What kind of a man are we talking about?” the doctor asked, increasing his interest in the topic at hand.
“My husb- my ex-husband is a biologist. Works for the government or something, he never really talked about his work much. Hardly ever home. I think he might have been having an affair with his assistant, but I’m not sure. That’s what probably led me to…ummm…”
“Go on, Jennifer,” the doctor soothed her, “it’s alright.”
“To stray.” There. It was said. “But not because I didn’t try to make things work! I did! The man I met wasn’t someone I was looking for, he was just someone my husband brought home from work one evening, and after awhile, things got…complicated.”
“How so?” he asked, more notes finding a home in the pad.
“I became infatuated with this Steve, he was everything my husband wasn’t. We slept together, and my husband found out.”
“And then?”
“He flew into a rage! My husband didn’t have relationships, he owned people, at least that’s how he looked at it. My lover was fired, his work destroyed as my husband claimed it for his own and -”
“What was your lover working on?” Doctor Rogers interrupted.
“Huh?” Jennifer shrugged, “I don’t know, I never understood all that science stuff. Something about synopsis-synaptic….something like that. But anyway, after firing him, my husband…well…I think he threw me out.”
The doctor put down his pen.
“What do you mean you ‘think’ he threw you out?” he asked.
“That’s what’s so bizarre! I can’t remember! One day I was in my house, the next I’m on my own. This is when the delusions started. Every day it’s like a new situation or something. My memory is foggy and spotty, and then I have these fucking hallucinations…” she started to openly cry.
“Now, now Jennifer,” Doctor Rogers said as he got up from his desk, “I’m sure there’s a reason behind all this. One that we’ll get to the bottom of…”
He put down his pad and pressed a button on his desktop intercom.
“Ms. Bowens, I think I’ll need you for a few minutes.”
“I thought this was all confidential!” Jennifer gasped.
“Oh, it is,” he replied, “I’m just going to need some help with something…to help you, of course.”
The secretary she’d seen in the lobby entered the room…
…holding some serious-looking restraints.
“What the hell is going-” Jennifer yelped.
“Don’t worry, Ms. Combs…I think I know what’s at the root of your problem.
As he continued to talk, Jennifer noticed some sickeningly familiar changes taking place. For one, her clothing was gone, leaving her clad in an embarrassingly small pair of panties…
“You are feeling misplaced guilt for cheating on your husband…”
…the secretary was binding Jennifer’s wrists in the padded cuffs, and she couldn’t break the grip of steel the woman had…
“…your worst fear is to be helpless…”
…the woman had stretched Jennifer tight on the couch as she fastened the ankle cuffs…
“…and to be tickled while helpless is something your mind associates with punishment…”
…Jennifer’s body was taut as a guitar string, tied to the long couch, as the woman blindfolded and gagged the helpless blond….
“…and you’ve been a very bad girl who knows that she really needs the punishment that her mind is making up for her.”
What was he saying? What kind of a doctor had she gotten involved with? She screamed into the gag, but realized that she was utterly helpless. She was in the hands of a madman, or she had once again slipped into a hallucination….either way, she braced for the torment she knew was coming. Her toned body wriggled against the unforgiving straps that pinned her to the couch as, unseen by her, the Doctor excused his secretary and hovered over her with a general look of mayhem about him.
“So,” he said, “we’ve got a naughty little girl on our hands, do we?” he taunted as he pulled up a low ottoman, poising himself.
“Mmmnnnpphhh…MMNNGGGG!!!” Jennifer mewled into the thick cloth gag.
“And we just hate to be tickled, don’t we? Perhaps a slut like you deserves nothing better, don’t you think? Just fuck around on your husband, and then come crying to me that your life is so terribly bad?”
He trailed a finger down her arm and placed the tip over the smooth skin of her bared armpit.
“Should I? Should I tickle the bad little girl?” he cackled.
“Mnn…Mnnn..MMNNNPPHH!!!”
His lone finger began to lightly stroke the ticklish skin as the girl it was attached to did some wriggling of her own. The bonds were tight and gave not one inch as the doctor tickled under both of her arms.
“Kitchie-Kitchie Kooooo!! Ha ha ha….what a little slut you are…you love this don’t you?”
The begging words were caught by the cruel gag as Jennifer felt the horrible tickling again slam into her brain. Little electric shocks went up her arms as the madman tickled under her pits and along the sides of her full breasts. His fingers were fluttering all over her ticklish skin as all she could do was take it.
“Well, I’ll bet you wiggled better than that for your boyfriend, didn’t you?” he teased, never ceasing the torment, “maybe we should see if you’ll do it for me, eh?”
Jennifer squealed like a trapped animal when Doctor Rogers clawed at her ribcage, digging into the subtle curves of the protruding bones. Raking up and down, side to side and then in ever-increasing circles, he tickled her ribs like a man possessed. While one hand tortured the bound girl’s ribs, the other tickled under her arm.
“MMMNNPPHH!!!MNNMNNHMMM….HHMMM…HMMMMM!!!”
“Now that’s better, little slut. Now…where do we tickle next?”
Small tears were leaking from under the blindfold as, unknown to Jennifer, the doctor shifted his seat to the foot of the couch…two smooth and perfectly tied little feet hovering in space before him.
“I think we should tickle these tiny feet, don’t you, you little tease?”
“MMMNNNPPHHH!!!!!” Jennifer tried to scream.
One finger slid up each sole, as Jennifer’s body arched in response. The jolts were unbearable as the pace was increased to two fingers, then three, then all of them tickling the helpless skin of her tied feet.
“Tickle, tickle, tickle!” he taunted again, throwing himself into the cruel torture of the bound girl, “Come on, squirm for me, bitch! This is what you get for cheating, didn’t you know that? You’re not having hallucinations, I think your friends just see what a slut you are and make you pay! Tickle, tickle, tickle!!!”
He held the toes of her right foot back as he used his free hand to scrape his nails along her stretched sole. Jennifer was in her silent prison, only able to feel the tickling and suffer the torture. It grew like a fungus, spreading from her feet, up her legs and threatened to throttle her senses. He just wouldn’t stop. Every time the tickling of her feet seemed as if it would kill her, she crossed another barrier. She was thrashing against the bonds, screaming into the gag.
At long last, the doctor stopped tickling her feet and stood up. Jennifer squealed when she felt him straddle her hips.
“Now, little whore,” he said as he grabbed the gag and pulled it down, “let’s hear some begging from you, shall we?”
“Nopleasedon’t,” she gasped, “I can’t- I can’t…t-take anym-more…AAAIIGGHH!!!!!”
She screamed aloud as he placed his hands on her slim waist. The touch alone brought forth the scream, and she knew what would happen once her most unbearable ticklish spot was exploited.
“Beg me again….I like it.” he said matter-of-factly as he squeezed just a little into the tender flesh.
“PLEASE!!!!” she spat out, “Please DON’T! I’ve been bad, OK? I’m sorry! Pleaseplease don’t tickle me there, I beg you, I BEG YOU!!!!”
“Not good enough.”
That was all he said, and the last thing she heard other than her own laughter and screams. The doctor scrabbled his fingers along the curve of her waist, moving inward with each circle. A spot over her hipbones proved to be particularly soft and ticklish, so he tickled there continuously as the sobs poured out of the tied girl.
“NNOOOOOOOOO!!!!! HAAHAAHAAHAA….P-PLEEEAAAAAASSSSSEEENOOOO…OHGODOHGODOHSHHHIIIIIITTTT…..HAAAHAAHAAHAHAAA…HEEHEEHAAAHAHAHA…AAIIIGGHHHHGGGAAAWWWDDDDNOOOOO!!!!!”
The doctor was not content with this. Grasping her waist, he drove home the ultimate torture. Squeezing his fingers in and out, he tickled hard the softest, most tender spot on the girl’s tight belly. The stiff fingers stroked the silky flesh and massaged the involuntarily tightening muscle underneath, sending the bound blond into utter hysterics.
“NNNOOOO!!!!!….AAAIIIGGGHHHHH!!!! AAIIIGGHHH!!!!! HHAAAHAAHAHAAAAAAA..”
As the screams reverberated through her own mind, Jennifer wondered how long this hallucination was going to last. Or if it were even a delusion or not. Nothing mattered, nothing existed except her helplessly tied body and the sadistic tickling that threatened to melt her brain…
*********************************
“You know Roger,” Rachel said, her red hair swishing as she entered the room, “this one was evil even for you.”
“Yes, dear, I know…but I grow so bored when you’re away.” the man answered, swinging his legs down from the desk he was sitting on top of. He looked at the object on his desk and stroked his graying beard. “How was your ‘test’ with the hapless Dr. Steve?”
“Oh, interesting,” she said as she slid her arms around Roger Combs and kissed him on the lips, “and yours?”
“I think we can keep this up indefinitely, or at least as long as her regular life-span, anyway. It’s amazing how simple it really is to keep these things alive. The added stimulus doesn’t seem to be causing any physical damage, but it would be interesting to be able to test the mental stability.”
“Well, my love,” Rachel said as she turned to leave the lab, “you know we can’t do that yet…so you’re going to have to be happy just playing with your toy for now. Come, the car is waiting and we’ve got reservations. She’ll be alright for another hour or two.”
“Yes, I suppose you’re right. But it would be nice to be a fly on the wall in there, wouldn’t it? I mean, I know what I’m putting in there, synaptically speaking, but I’d love to see how it’s manifesting itself. Ah well, perhaps tomorrows tests will shed some light. I’ll be right along.”
As Rachel left the room, Roger bent down, his face level with the object on his desk….
…a human brain, suspended in cerebral fluid, floating in a glass jar. Wires of all kinds attached to it at precise points, running from a rather large bank of new synaptic-interface computers.
“Now, my dear,” he said softly as he stroked the outside of the jar, “you hang in there, I’ll switch the program after we get back. All’s fair in Love and Science, right Jennifer?”
Roger left the room, shutting the lights on the way out.
He paused.
If he weren’t a man of science, he could have sworn he heard the faintest echo of a tortured, laughing scream coming from the motionless jar. Perhaps his imagination.
Or just wishful thinking.
