"Okay, all ready. Now could you take of your shoes, socks andblouse?"
Her smiled faded. I grinned, went to another machine andpretended to do something. When I turned around again, she was ready. "If you could just lie back on the table... I'm sorry about the restraints, but a lot of movement could interfere with the data." She didn't move for about half a minute, then, slowly, she complied,lying back onto the black leather padding. I walked around to the head of the table, gently took a hold of one wrist and pulled it above her head, then tied it securly to the stainless steel extension with the leather strap. I did the same with the other arm, then next secured her ankles. Only after she was completely helpless did I attach the other straps to knees, upper thighs just below the crotch, and the elbows. They were to minimize excessive struggling and make her easier to tickle. I also had a metal frame which fit into a notch in the table over her feet. It clamped around the heel and each toe, keeping her feet almost completely motionless. Her head was raised, watching everything I did to her feet. She had a grimmacing, helpless sort of smile while I worked with her toes, but I don't think it was because she was happy.
"I don't think I can go through with this," she said with a voice suddenly high-pitched and cracking.
"Of course you can . It'll be over before you know it." She was spead-eagled and helpless. I turned a small adjustmentwheel at the extensions for her arms, lengthening them. This stretched her body, as if on a rack, making her skin taut, the hollows of her armpits deepen. "Comfy?" I asked.
"Uh, no," she answered.
I laughed as if at a joke and began attaching wires to her head and slipped an EKG patch beneath her bra below her left nipple. I turned on the various video equipment which would record the whole session, and then I got out my case. To me, the case was the most valuable piece of equipment in thelab. I set it on a small metal table which I wheeled down into position at the foot of the table right next to her immobilized feet, then I sat down ona chair facing her exposed soles. I opened the case and looked lovingly at my assortment, all neatly laid out on black velvet, of feathers, vibrators,and assorted brushes. All of my tickling accessories accumulated over the years. Then I pulled out my pride and joy, my finest feather. It was longand white, just stiff enough, with a thin, pin-point tip with just enough flexibility. Michelle's eyes widened with horror as I held it up in the air. Her feet began wiggling, an almost imperceptible movement, so tightly were her toes bound, stretched back. "We'll start with the soles of your feet." Ismiled and brought the feather slowly into contact with her soft, senisitvesole.
"No, NO! Don't do it... PLEASE!!" she screamed. She started pulling at the straps about her wrists and squirming as much as she could under her bonds. It didn't do her the least bit of good. She was totally helpless. Then I began moving the feather, slowly, very slowly down the sole of her foot, then up again, dragging the soft tip over the white,sensitive skin. "NOOOOO!! AH HA HA HA HA HA HA ha ha hahaha....." she started laughing, high-pitched and hysterical, a strained, grimacing smile on her previously quiet, shy face. The EEG strip-chart recorder continued spitting out its white tongue of paper, a meaningless scribble of myriadblack lines oozing out with it. I took another feather, twin of the first, and pulled it up and down along her other sole. "OH NOOO! AAAAAH HA HA HAHAHA ..." she screamed anew as she realized I was now tickling both bare soles at once,dragging my evil feathers slowly back and forth across the underside of her immobilized toes, in opposite directions, then down to her arches, brushingthe feather tips there, first back and forth, then up and down, then swirlingaround in slow, lazy circles inside of the arches of her soles, the skinstretched tight as a drum. When I pulled out still more feathers and began inserting them then pulling them out from between her splayed out toes, over and over and over again, sometimes spinning them between my two fingers, her horror at what was being done to her bare feet grew still more "OOOOOH, NOT THAT!!!! AHHHHH HA HA HA HA...NOT BETWEEN THE TOES!!! AAAAH NOT THAT!!! AH HA HA HA HAHAHA ..." She was shaking her head back and forth violently. her mouth stretched open in a hystericalrictus of mad laughter.
"Just hold on!" I almost had to shout over the screaming laughter."I only need 15 or 20 minutes more of this for the computer." I laughed and continued tickling her feet. Twenty Minutes??!!!
"NOOOOOOOOO...HA HA HA HA HAhahaha... gasp... HA HA HA HA!!!" She couldn't stand it, couldn't catch her breath. I discarded the feathers and brought my fingertips to bear against her soles, skitcha skitcha skitcha, like a spider,up and down the bare flesh of her soles, again and again, tickling her feet while she screamed helpless, hysterical laughter for twenty, long, horrible minutes. When I finally stopped, her head sagged to one side and the bangsof her long, auburn hair was plastered to her forehead, sweaty. her chestheaved up and down, trying to catch a breath. I hadn't allowed her to catch one for over ten minutes. "No more... please.. I..I can't take it... let me loose... I beg you,pleeeease... " she gasped, exhausted.
"What?" I laughed. "That was just the preliminary. This session is supposed to be for an hour and a half. It's all in the release you signed."
"Don't care... let me loose... I changed my mind."
"It's a little late for that now... Let's see, I think the underarms are next on my list." I smiled, this time letting all the wickedness I could muster shine through. I advanced on her stretched out armpits, my index fingers extended and wriggling menacingly.
She suddenly didn't seem to be out of breat any more. Her eyes and mouth opened wide and she pulled at her restraints again, desperately. "Not my armpits! Not my armpits! Please! Not my armpits!" She began to giggle helplessly as I brought my fingers closer, very, very slowly,without actually touching her. This part was impor tant. Some people can be tickled without any physical contact. Just the threat of tickling can sendthem into hysterics. I needed to see if her brainwave pattern showed any appreciable difference.
"Aaah, is poor baby's underarms sensitive?" I asked, pouting. My wriggling index fingers drew closer, almost touching the smooth skin ofher armpits. I wanted to draw this out as long as possible.