Dave2112
Level of Cherry Feather
- Joined
- Apr 17, 2001
- Messages
- 10,294
- Points
- 0
(Interactive Tickling Stories are not for everyone. Only your doctor can decide if Interactive Tickling Stories are right for you. While generally safe, a small percentage of the population have experienced side-effects including, but not limited to: Headache, Stuffy Nose, Chills, Massive Hair Loss, Retroactive Blindness, Getting Jiggy, Expansive Colon, Possesion by the Dark Prince, Heightened Urinary Crystallization and Spontaneous Testicular Explosion.)
Marie regained consciousness to find herself in (a compromising position, tight bondage, deep shit). The last thing she remembered was creeping silently down a hallway in the hidden installation and feeling a (moist rag, gas mask, Kaiser Roll) pressed against her mouth. Now, in horror, she realized that she’d been restrained and stripped of her (uniform, dignity, WBC Title). With no clothing to cover her, Marie was strapped at every joint to some sort of frame shaped like an (X, sideways cross, parallelogram). She was on her back, tied to the horizontal device. Her limbs were stretched and her movement was limited to (wiggling her toes, curling her fingers, inflating her colorful throat sac).
Alone in the dark, nearly empty room, she had time to (reflect, look back, get her online GED). She had been a member of the French Secret Service for two years now. Starting out as a (police officer, helicopter pilot, Vegas Showgirl) she worked her way up the ladder by (training constantly, learning all she could, putting out) and taking every crappy assignment that came along. This one wasn’t turning out as planned. She was the last one left of her (group, regiment, species). There would be no one to (rescue her, save her, read her a bedtime story). The others were dead, and she’d been captured.
The German installation was disguised as a (warehouse, library, Schiezer video shoot), but her government knew that Hitler’s scientists were up to something there. And what a something that turned out to be. They were working night and day on creating the (Atom Bomb, Germ Rocket, One-Eyed Heat-Seeking Moisture Missile) before the Americans did. They’d almost infiltrated deep enough into the (bowels, armpit, pancreas) of the place to destroy the machinery when the (gun battle, firefight, Indian Leg Wrestling) started. Marie remembered trying desperately to find her way back out alone when she was grabbed from behind.
And now she was bound helpless, and knew she was going to be (tortured, broken, sodomized). It didn’t take long for her fears to be confirmed as a tall man in a (German Uniform, German doctor’s apron, German Shepard costume) entered the room.
“Grreetings, Marie,” said the man in a thick accent, “I trust you are comfortable?”
He knew her (name, true hair color, innermost fantasies), and she grew more and more uncomfortable by what else he might know.
“You can call me (Hans, anytime you want, Ray…or you can call me Jay…or you….) and I vill be in charge of getting information out of you. I trust that you vill cooperate?”
“I’ll never (tell you anything, give you what you want, fall in love again), so you may as well turn me over to the (French, Secret Service, Branch Davidians) before you have a major international incident on your hands. The Americans are growing more and more determined to wipe you out, and your war crimes are pushing them ever closer.”
“Oh, do not vorry, my dear,” Hans replied with (a sneer, confidence, pantomime), “You vill not be…..permanently damaged. But you vill talk…..yes, you vill….”
“I don’t know what you think I’m going to tell you, but you might as---”
“You vill tell me,” Hans interrupted her, “Everything about your (operation, mission, life as an inner-city child) vit pleasure vunce ve begin.”
Marie craned her neck to see (what Hans was doing, what Hans was grabbing, the squirrel in Hans’ pants). When he turned back around from the low table he was in front of, he had something that (made her gasp, caused her to shriek, a little penicillin could clear up).
Two long feathers.
“Wh-What are you going to do with those?” she asked as she struggled against her bonds.
“Vy, I am going to tickle you, my dear, vat else?”
“Are you (insane, crazy, free Saturday night)?!?!?” Marie shrieked, “You’re the Nazis for chrissakes, and the best you can come up with is tickling me?”
“I assure you” he continued, “that there is a reason. I vill tickle you because (I can’t haff you visibly marked, it is the most effective torment ve haff found, dis is Dave’s story und I do vat I’m told).”
“Nooooooo…” Marie begged as Hans drew closer to her wriggling feet, twitching the evil feathers in (circles, the air, rhythm with the lambada music).
“Are you the last vun, or are there others we haven’t found?” Hans asked as he stroked the feathers down the length of Marie’s tied feet.
“NOOOOO!!!!!! AAAHAHAHAHAHAAA!!!!!!!!” she squealed, unable to concentrate on the question.
“Are you alone?” he repeated as he (continued tickling her feet, played the feathers over her soft soles, drooled all over her toes).
“HAAAAHAAAAAA…….Y-YYEEESSSS!!!!!!!….SSSSSTTTOOOPPPP!!!!!!”
“Very good, Marie, now tell me….(What haff you seen, how much do you know, do you ever haff that not-so-fresh feeling)?”
“P-PPLLEEEAASSEEEEEE!!!!!SSSSTTTOPPPIIITTT!!!!!….HHEH EHHEEE…AAHAHAHAHAA!!”
“I can’t (hear you, understand you, get in touch with my inner child)!” Hans said as he dropped the feathers in favor of (his fingers, his hands, an old toilet brush).
Marie’s bare soles were powerless against the tickling that the evil German was putting her through. She’d been trained against any kind of (torture, interrogation, bathing), but who would have thought of tickling??? She was struggling desperately, but to no avail. She was pinned like a (classroom butterfly, defeated wrestler, a 1950’s Sorority sister 10 minutes before giving it away in the back seat of a Ford).
“Von more time, Marie,” Hans asked as he scratched his fingernails all over her ticklish feet, “Vat haff you seen?”
“AAAAIIGGHHH!!!!!…….I….HAHAHHAA….S-SSSAAWWW…..HHAAHAHHEEEE……THE…OOOHHHHAAAHAHAAA!!!…. .(BOMB, MISSILE, M-MOST….UNUSUAL PLACE…HHAHAHAHAHAAA…AND Y-YOU WERE THERE…..AHAHAHHAAA….AND YOU WERE THERE….AAHAHAHAAAAA!!!!!)”
“Very Good, my (dear, pet, naughty little schoolgirl),” said Hans as he stepped away from the cruel apparatus restraining his (victim, captive, secret twin).
Hans took a moment to look over his bound beauty. For that’s what she was. Most of the women brought to him for interrogation were (not nearly as lovely, frumpy secretaries, East German--’nuff said). But this French darling was something else. The dainty feet so cruelly strapped down were only the beginning of a long pair of legs. They were smooth and silky, muscular but trim, and the place between them held the promise of (unbridled lust, illicit pleasure, Syphillis).
Her hips were gorgeous, the bones protruding slightly due to (the tightness of her bonds, the helpless position, a birth defect). This only added to the sexiness of the woman’s flat belly, the small waist curved (like an hourglass, in perfect symmetry, outward like a bloated “Etheropian” boy). Her deep navel was a perfect depression in a sea of (smooth skin, creamy flesh, cottage cheese).
The unforgiving bondage stretched Marie’s body to the point where her ribcage was extended, the delicate ribs (pressed against the golden skin, tight against the smooth flesh, sautéed to perfection). Her arms over her head and strapped down, she would never be able to (defend herself, pull them down, pull off this free-throw) if Hans decided to (tickle, torment, brand) her there.
Which was precisely what he intended as the next phase of questioning began. Marie’s long dark hair whipped back and forth as Hans lowered his fingers over the ticklish skin under her arms. Her lovely face was (contorted, twisted, in desperate need of Clearasil) as the tortured laughter escaped her lips.
“NNNOOOOOOO!!!!!…HHAHAHAHAHHA!!!!!….NOTTHERE!!!!!… ..OHGODNO!!!!!”
“Are ve ticklish here, Marie?” Said Hans as he stroked his fingers up and down her arms, wriggling them like crazy when he got to her exposed armpits. He wasn’t asking any questions yet. Hans wanted her broken a little first. By the time he started asking his victims anything, they were usually ready to (break, tell him anything, ram a hot poker up his Nazi ass).
“AAAIIIGGHHH!!!!!!……I-I C-CAN’T…..HHAAAAAHAAHAHAHAAAA!!!!….T-TAKEANYMOOOOREEEE!!!…..NNOOONONONONONOAAAHAHAHAHEE EHAAHAAHAHAA!!!”
“Now, Marie,” Said Hans as he continued tickling up and down the arms of the captured spy, “Vat haff you been able to tell your government about our…operation?”
“HAAHAHAHAAA!!!!!….N-NOTTTHHHHIIIIINNNNNNG!!!!…..I-I….HAHAHAHAHHAA….N-NEVER…..HAHAHAHAHAAAA…HADTIME!!!!!!!…AAIIGGGHHHH!! !”
“I do not believe that you are (telling the truth, being honest vit me, still not taking advantage of 10-10-220 for all of your long distance calls)!”
He stepped up the tickle torture, poking into her armpits and rubbing his fingers over the hyper ticklish skin. Her full breasts were (heaving, bouncing, so obviously “worked on”) as Hans started to lower his tickling hands down her body. The sides of her tits felt (light stroking, small tickles, parts of the old guy’s crusty yellow nails flake off), sending her into a new bout of giggles. This didn’t last long as Hans placed his clawed hands over the entire ribcage of the (helpless spy, terrified victim, “genius” of infiltration). Without yet moving, he (looked, stared, poked) Marie in the eye.
“Tell me again, vay haff you told you superiors?”
“I-I……hahahaa……t-told you…….n-nothing!…I….(pant,pant)….never had time……”
“Are you sure?” asked Hans, and without warning, assaulted Marie with sadistic tickling. There were no light strokes, no fluttery tickles, only the intense tickling of Marie’s ribs. Hans kneaded (his fingers, his knuckles, bread dough) into the tender area, rubbing bone against skin, stimulating thousands of (nerve endings, ticklish spots, American GI’s watching on closed-circuit TV). The soft flesh between each rib was (stroked hard, tickled violently, marinated in Mesquite sauce) as Hans tortured the poor woman into utter hysterics.
“AAAAIIIGGHHHH!!!!!!…….SSSSTTOPPPPPP!!!!!…AAAAHHAH AHAHAHAA…AAHHHH..AAHHHHHH….AAAHHHHAAAHAHAHAHEEEHAA AAA….NONONONONO!!!!…HAHAHAH!!!”
“Vat haff you told you superiors?” Hans asked again, tickling her ribs like (a maniac, a lunatic, a certain disturbed tickling author).
“HHAHAHAHAHHAAA……N-N…..OOOOHHHGGGAAAWWDDDD…..NOTHIIIIINGG!!!”
Convinced that no one would withhold information through that kind of torture, Hans relented, allowing his victim to (catch her breath, compose herself, empty her bladder).
“P-Plleaase…..no….more……” Marie gasped.
“There is….one more question I’m afraid I need to ask you, my dear” he said as he stood by the side of the wicked contraption.
“I-I’ll….tell you …..anything….j-just….don’t tickle me (anymore, to death, like such a wussy-boy)….”
“I need to know where inside our border you are operating from.”
Marie audibly gasped. Even through this kind of torture, she couldn’t give up that information. Hundreds of people working behind enemy lines would die. She had to hold out. She wasn’t sure (if she could, how she would do it, if she’d turned the coffee pot off before she left), but she knew that it had to be done.
Hans asked her again as he started to run his hands down her body, stroking her belly.
“Vere are you operating out of, Marie?” he asked as he started to subtly arch his fingers and use the tips to (stroke her sides, stimulate her midriff, roll a big fattie). The speed began to pick up, as did the pressure from Hans’ wriggling (fingertips, digits, Peruvian Fleshworms).
“N-NOOOO!!…P-PLLEEEAASSEEEEEGODNOOOOOO!!!!…HEEHEHEHEEEEE….THATT ICKLESITICKLES!!!!!…..HEHEHEHEHEHEEHAAHAHAHA!!”
“Just tell me vere you are hidink, und it vill stop. Until then…..tickletickletickle…..”
Hans scraped his fingers down her smooth flanks from armpits to hips and back up again. When he again reached her waist, he fluttered his fingers all over the sensuous curves of the bound woman. Her bondage prevented her from (arching her back, struggling much, running his testicles through the “thin” setting of a deli slicer), and she was utterly helpless to lessen the cruel tickling of her flesh. He worked his way in toward her navel and worked a single finger over the delicate depression as his other hand tickled her right over her pubic bone, a spot that had always driven Marie crazy.
“NONONONONONONOOOOO!!!!!!…..OHGODOHGODNOOOOOOO…..H HAHAHAHAHHEEEEEE!!!AAIIGGGHH…AAIIIGGHHH!!!!…..HAHA HAHAHAHAHAHEEEHAHAAAAAAA!!”
“Tell me, Marie, und tell me now!” Hans barked as he clawed his hands over her waist. His thumbs pressed into her belly on either side of her navel, and his fingers curled around the back of her waist. He looked her in the eye and asked one last time.
“Marie, I grow tired of asking this, so this will be the last time….(Where are they located, where are you operating from, where is the hidden Rebel Base)?”
“I-I…C-CAN’T….T-TELL YOOOUUUUUOOOHHHAAAAAHAHAHANNOOOO!!!…..AAAIIGGGHGGH HHHH!!!!!!!”
Marie’s scream echoed through the room as Hans tickled her hard. There was no (mercy, pity, intelligence) in those eyes of his, only (anger, lust, crusty sleep wax). Up and down the helpless girl’s body he tickled, digging into every inch of ticklish skin. The muscles under her tight skin were getting (sore, achy, toned in two twenty minute workouts a day), both from the sadistic tickle-torture and her own howls of laughter. Marie couldn’t (form words, tell Hans anything, calculate a hyperspace jump) even if she wanted to. Her breathing was coming (in gasps, in hitched torment, by Federal Express) as the tickling continued mercilessly.
“You vil die soon, Marie” said Hans as he continued unabated in torturing the pitiful woman, “or go insane. All you need to do is (tell me what I want to know, give me the location, make me a cannoli) and this all stops.”
Marie was in (Hell, utter agony, a lovely Tudor-Style in the Hamptons) when she decided to scream out the location of her base camp. But to her horror, no sound came out. Her laughter had been replaced by (hoarse screams, silent gasping, Meineke Muffler…Rt. Eins, downtown Berlin). No words would come as Hans tickled her past all human endurance. The severe pressure of his fingers had not let up, and she was losing consciousness fast.
Sensing this, Hans relented to give his victim one last chance to (tell him, confess, try that new Doritos flavor everyone’s been raving about).
“Vere….are…..you…..located?” Hans asked as Marie sucked (in air, up oxygen, just plain sucked).
“We…..hahaha……(aaahhhh)…..are in…….hehee…..the village……of……”
As she was about to (give the location, tell Hans the name of the place, get all of her buddies killed because she was to much of a wuss to take a few lousy hours of sadistic tickle-torture), there was a loud bang that reverberated through (the room, the building, Hans’ bald little head).
It was the (second unit from base camp, American GI’s, Ambiguously Gay Duo), and in the nick of time!
One shot rang out as Marie’s evil torturer crumpled to the floor, a small red hole in his forehead and a whole lot of (nothing, brain tissue, shakin’ goin’ on) around the back.
“P-Please…….get me……out of this……” Marie gasped, her gorgeous body still quivering, her smooth skin covered in a sheen of (sweat, perspiration, 90W gear oil).
As the leader of her rescuers approached her, she was momentarily shocked as his hand slowly drifted away from the strap he was about to unfasten.
“So,” he asked, “what exactly happened here? You don’t look (hurt, scarred, 29 so don’t even try it).”
“He-he…..tickled me!….Almost to death!……..”
“Tickled you, huh? I thought you French Forces babes were trained against anything.”
“Just untie me, please?” Marie moaned as the man got an unpleasant look in his eye.
“Now, just how many times do we have to bail you French out of something? Perhaps you need to be (trained more intensely, exposed to all possible forms of interrogation, punished for being Daddy’s Bad Bad Little Girl)?”
“What are you…..talking about…..please just get me out of this?” Marie knew that there wasn’t any real love lost between her troops and the troops of her rescuer. Any chance to embarrass the French Military would be to hard to resist, especially when confronted with a bound female after months in a tent with ten other guys.
“So is this what they did? Intelligence gathering, of course…..” He said as his fingers dipped into the smooth hollows of Marie’s armpits.
“NNNOOOOO!!!!!!…….NOMORE!!!!!!….WHY…..HEHEHEE…WHY WOULD…..YOOOU….HAHAHAHA….DO THIS??????”
“Why would I do this?” asked the GI as his tickling grew in speed.
“HAHAHAHAAAAAA…WWWHHHHYYYYY?????….HAHAHAHAHHAAAAA”
“Simple, really….(I haven’t been around a woman in months and no one will find out anyway, I can’t stand you smart-ass French spies always needing rescuing, this is Dave’s story and he can end it any Goddamn way he wants no matter how ludicrous or unbelievable it is)!”
Marie closed her eyes and prepared for the Fires of Hell.
Marie regained consciousness to find herself in (a compromising position, tight bondage, deep shit). The last thing she remembered was creeping silently down a hallway in the hidden installation and feeling a (moist rag, gas mask, Kaiser Roll) pressed against her mouth. Now, in horror, she realized that she’d been restrained and stripped of her (uniform, dignity, WBC Title). With no clothing to cover her, Marie was strapped at every joint to some sort of frame shaped like an (X, sideways cross, parallelogram). She was on her back, tied to the horizontal device. Her limbs were stretched and her movement was limited to (wiggling her toes, curling her fingers, inflating her colorful throat sac).
Alone in the dark, nearly empty room, she had time to (reflect, look back, get her online GED). She had been a member of the French Secret Service for two years now. Starting out as a (police officer, helicopter pilot, Vegas Showgirl) she worked her way up the ladder by (training constantly, learning all she could, putting out) and taking every crappy assignment that came along. This one wasn’t turning out as planned. She was the last one left of her (group, regiment, species). There would be no one to (rescue her, save her, read her a bedtime story). The others were dead, and she’d been captured.
The German installation was disguised as a (warehouse, library, Schiezer video shoot), but her government knew that Hitler’s scientists were up to something there. And what a something that turned out to be. They were working night and day on creating the (Atom Bomb, Germ Rocket, One-Eyed Heat-Seeking Moisture Missile) before the Americans did. They’d almost infiltrated deep enough into the (bowels, armpit, pancreas) of the place to destroy the machinery when the (gun battle, firefight, Indian Leg Wrestling) started. Marie remembered trying desperately to find her way back out alone when she was grabbed from behind.
And now she was bound helpless, and knew she was going to be (tortured, broken, sodomized). It didn’t take long for her fears to be confirmed as a tall man in a (German Uniform, German doctor’s apron, German Shepard costume) entered the room.
“Grreetings, Marie,” said the man in a thick accent, “I trust you are comfortable?”
He knew her (name, true hair color, innermost fantasies), and she grew more and more uncomfortable by what else he might know.
“You can call me (Hans, anytime you want, Ray…or you can call me Jay…or you….) and I vill be in charge of getting information out of you. I trust that you vill cooperate?”
“I’ll never (tell you anything, give you what you want, fall in love again), so you may as well turn me over to the (French, Secret Service, Branch Davidians) before you have a major international incident on your hands. The Americans are growing more and more determined to wipe you out, and your war crimes are pushing them ever closer.”
“Oh, do not vorry, my dear,” Hans replied with (a sneer, confidence, pantomime), “You vill not be…..permanently damaged. But you vill talk…..yes, you vill….”
“I don’t know what you think I’m going to tell you, but you might as---”
“You vill tell me,” Hans interrupted her, “Everything about your (operation, mission, life as an inner-city child) vit pleasure vunce ve begin.”
Marie craned her neck to see (what Hans was doing, what Hans was grabbing, the squirrel in Hans’ pants). When he turned back around from the low table he was in front of, he had something that (made her gasp, caused her to shriek, a little penicillin could clear up).
Two long feathers.
“Wh-What are you going to do with those?” she asked as she struggled against her bonds.
“Vy, I am going to tickle you, my dear, vat else?”
“Are you (insane, crazy, free Saturday night)?!?!?” Marie shrieked, “You’re the Nazis for chrissakes, and the best you can come up with is tickling me?”
“I assure you” he continued, “that there is a reason. I vill tickle you because (I can’t haff you visibly marked, it is the most effective torment ve haff found, dis is Dave’s story und I do vat I’m told).”
“Nooooooo…” Marie begged as Hans drew closer to her wriggling feet, twitching the evil feathers in (circles, the air, rhythm with the lambada music).
“Are you the last vun, or are there others we haven’t found?” Hans asked as he stroked the feathers down the length of Marie’s tied feet.
“NOOOOO!!!!!! AAAHAHAHAHAHAAA!!!!!!!!” she squealed, unable to concentrate on the question.
“Are you alone?” he repeated as he (continued tickling her feet, played the feathers over her soft soles, drooled all over her toes).
“HAAAAHAAAAAA…….Y-YYEEESSSS!!!!!!!….SSSSSTTTOOOPPPP!!!!!!”
“Very good, Marie, now tell me….(What haff you seen, how much do you know, do you ever haff that not-so-fresh feeling)?”
“P-PPLLEEEAASSEEEEEE!!!!!SSSSTTTOPPPIIITTT!!!!!….HHEH EHHEEE…AAHAHAHAHAA!!”
“I can’t (hear you, understand you, get in touch with my inner child)!” Hans said as he dropped the feathers in favor of (his fingers, his hands, an old toilet brush).
Marie’s bare soles were powerless against the tickling that the evil German was putting her through. She’d been trained against any kind of (torture, interrogation, bathing), but who would have thought of tickling??? She was struggling desperately, but to no avail. She was pinned like a (classroom butterfly, defeated wrestler, a 1950’s Sorority sister 10 minutes before giving it away in the back seat of a Ford).
“Von more time, Marie,” Hans asked as he scratched his fingernails all over her ticklish feet, “Vat haff you seen?”
“AAAAIIGGHHH!!!!!…….I….HAHAHHAA….S-SSSAAWWW…..HHAAHAHHEEEE……THE…OOOHHHHAAAHAHAAA!!!…. .(BOMB, MISSILE, M-MOST….UNUSUAL PLACE…HHAHAHAHAHAAA…AND Y-YOU WERE THERE…..AHAHAHHAAA….AND YOU WERE THERE….AAHAHAHAAAAA!!!!!)”
“Very Good, my (dear, pet, naughty little schoolgirl),” said Hans as he stepped away from the cruel apparatus restraining his (victim, captive, secret twin).
Hans took a moment to look over his bound beauty. For that’s what she was. Most of the women brought to him for interrogation were (not nearly as lovely, frumpy secretaries, East German--’nuff said). But this French darling was something else. The dainty feet so cruelly strapped down were only the beginning of a long pair of legs. They were smooth and silky, muscular but trim, and the place between them held the promise of (unbridled lust, illicit pleasure, Syphillis).
Her hips were gorgeous, the bones protruding slightly due to (the tightness of her bonds, the helpless position, a birth defect). This only added to the sexiness of the woman’s flat belly, the small waist curved (like an hourglass, in perfect symmetry, outward like a bloated “Etheropian” boy). Her deep navel was a perfect depression in a sea of (smooth skin, creamy flesh, cottage cheese).
The unforgiving bondage stretched Marie’s body to the point where her ribcage was extended, the delicate ribs (pressed against the golden skin, tight against the smooth flesh, sautéed to perfection). Her arms over her head and strapped down, she would never be able to (defend herself, pull them down, pull off this free-throw) if Hans decided to (tickle, torment, brand) her there.
Which was precisely what he intended as the next phase of questioning began. Marie’s long dark hair whipped back and forth as Hans lowered his fingers over the ticklish skin under her arms. Her lovely face was (contorted, twisted, in desperate need of Clearasil) as the tortured laughter escaped her lips.
“NNNOOOOOOO!!!!!…HHAHAHAHAHHA!!!!!….NOTTHERE!!!!!… ..OHGODNO!!!!!”
“Are ve ticklish here, Marie?” Said Hans as he stroked his fingers up and down her arms, wriggling them like crazy when he got to her exposed armpits. He wasn’t asking any questions yet. Hans wanted her broken a little first. By the time he started asking his victims anything, they were usually ready to (break, tell him anything, ram a hot poker up his Nazi ass).
“AAAIIIGGHHH!!!!!!……I-I C-CAN’T…..HHAAAAAHAAHAHAHAAAA!!!!….T-TAKEANYMOOOOREEEE!!!…..NNOOONONONONONOAAAHAHAHAHEE EHAAHAAHAHAA!!!”
“Now, Marie,” Said Hans as he continued tickling up and down the arms of the captured spy, “Vat haff you been able to tell your government about our…operation?”
“HAAHAHAHAAA!!!!!….N-NOTTTHHHHIIIIINNNNNNG!!!!…..I-I….HAHAHAHAHHAA….N-NEVER…..HAHAHAHAHAAAA…HADTIME!!!!!!!…AAIIGGGHHHH!! !”
“I do not believe that you are (telling the truth, being honest vit me, still not taking advantage of 10-10-220 for all of your long distance calls)!”
He stepped up the tickle torture, poking into her armpits and rubbing his fingers over the hyper ticklish skin. Her full breasts were (heaving, bouncing, so obviously “worked on”) as Hans started to lower his tickling hands down her body. The sides of her tits felt (light stroking, small tickles, parts of the old guy’s crusty yellow nails flake off), sending her into a new bout of giggles. This didn’t last long as Hans placed his clawed hands over the entire ribcage of the (helpless spy, terrified victim, “genius” of infiltration). Without yet moving, he (looked, stared, poked) Marie in the eye.
“Tell me again, vay haff you told you superiors?”
“I-I……hahahaa……t-told you…….n-nothing!…I….(pant,pant)….never had time……”
“Are you sure?” asked Hans, and without warning, assaulted Marie with sadistic tickling. There were no light strokes, no fluttery tickles, only the intense tickling of Marie’s ribs. Hans kneaded (his fingers, his knuckles, bread dough) into the tender area, rubbing bone against skin, stimulating thousands of (nerve endings, ticklish spots, American GI’s watching on closed-circuit TV). The soft flesh between each rib was (stroked hard, tickled violently, marinated in Mesquite sauce) as Hans tortured the poor woman into utter hysterics.
“AAAAIIIGGHHHH!!!!!!…….SSSSTTOPPPPPP!!!!!…AAAAHHAH AHAHAHAA…AAHHHH..AAHHHHHH….AAAHHHHAAAHAHAHAHEEEHAA AAA….NONONONONO!!!!…HAHAHAH!!!”
“Vat haff you told you superiors?” Hans asked again, tickling her ribs like (a maniac, a lunatic, a certain disturbed tickling author).
“HHAHAHAHAHHAAA……N-N…..OOOOHHHGGGAAAWWDDDD…..NOTHIIIIINGG!!!”
Convinced that no one would withhold information through that kind of torture, Hans relented, allowing his victim to (catch her breath, compose herself, empty her bladder).
“P-Plleaase…..no….more……” Marie gasped.
“There is….one more question I’m afraid I need to ask you, my dear” he said as he stood by the side of the wicked contraption.
“I-I’ll….tell you …..anything….j-just….don’t tickle me (anymore, to death, like such a wussy-boy)….”
“I need to know where inside our border you are operating from.”
Marie audibly gasped. Even through this kind of torture, she couldn’t give up that information. Hundreds of people working behind enemy lines would die. She had to hold out. She wasn’t sure (if she could, how she would do it, if she’d turned the coffee pot off before she left), but she knew that it had to be done.
Hans asked her again as he started to run his hands down her body, stroking her belly.
“Vere are you operating out of, Marie?” he asked as he started to subtly arch his fingers and use the tips to (stroke her sides, stimulate her midriff, roll a big fattie). The speed began to pick up, as did the pressure from Hans’ wriggling (fingertips, digits, Peruvian Fleshworms).
“N-NOOOO!!…P-PLLEEEAASSEEEEEGODNOOOOOO!!!!…HEEHEHEHEEEEE….THATT ICKLESITICKLES!!!!!…..HEHEHEHEHEHEEHAAHAHAHA!!”
“Just tell me vere you are hidink, und it vill stop. Until then…..tickletickletickle…..”
Hans scraped his fingers down her smooth flanks from armpits to hips and back up again. When he again reached her waist, he fluttered his fingers all over the sensuous curves of the bound woman. Her bondage prevented her from (arching her back, struggling much, running his testicles through the “thin” setting of a deli slicer), and she was utterly helpless to lessen the cruel tickling of her flesh. He worked his way in toward her navel and worked a single finger over the delicate depression as his other hand tickled her right over her pubic bone, a spot that had always driven Marie crazy.
“NONONONONONONOOOOO!!!!!!…..OHGODOHGODNOOOOOOO…..H HAHAHAHAHHEEEEEE!!!AAIIGGGHH…AAIIIGGHHH!!!!…..HAHA HAHAHAHAHAHEEEHAHAAAAAAA!!”
“Tell me, Marie, und tell me now!” Hans barked as he clawed his hands over her waist. His thumbs pressed into her belly on either side of her navel, and his fingers curled around the back of her waist. He looked her in the eye and asked one last time.
“Marie, I grow tired of asking this, so this will be the last time….(Where are they located, where are you operating from, where is the hidden Rebel Base)?”
“I-I…C-CAN’T….T-TELL YOOOUUUUUOOOHHHAAAAAHAHAHANNOOOO!!!…..AAAIIGGGHGGH HHHH!!!!!!!”
Marie’s scream echoed through the room as Hans tickled her hard. There was no (mercy, pity, intelligence) in those eyes of his, only (anger, lust, crusty sleep wax). Up and down the helpless girl’s body he tickled, digging into every inch of ticklish skin. The muscles under her tight skin were getting (sore, achy, toned in two twenty minute workouts a day), both from the sadistic tickle-torture and her own howls of laughter. Marie couldn’t (form words, tell Hans anything, calculate a hyperspace jump) even if she wanted to. Her breathing was coming (in gasps, in hitched torment, by Federal Express) as the tickling continued mercilessly.
“You vil die soon, Marie” said Hans as he continued unabated in torturing the pitiful woman, “or go insane. All you need to do is (tell me what I want to know, give me the location, make me a cannoli) and this all stops.”
Marie was in (Hell, utter agony, a lovely Tudor-Style in the Hamptons) when she decided to scream out the location of her base camp. But to her horror, no sound came out. Her laughter had been replaced by (hoarse screams, silent gasping, Meineke Muffler…Rt. Eins, downtown Berlin). No words would come as Hans tickled her past all human endurance. The severe pressure of his fingers had not let up, and she was losing consciousness fast.
Sensing this, Hans relented to give his victim one last chance to (tell him, confess, try that new Doritos flavor everyone’s been raving about).
“Vere….are…..you…..located?” Hans asked as Marie sucked (in air, up oxygen, just plain sucked).
“We…..hahaha……(aaahhhh)…..are in…….hehee…..the village……of……”
As she was about to (give the location, tell Hans the name of the place, get all of her buddies killed because she was to much of a wuss to take a few lousy hours of sadistic tickle-torture), there was a loud bang that reverberated through (the room, the building, Hans’ bald little head).
It was the (second unit from base camp, American GI’s, Ambiguously Gay Duo), and in the nick of time!
One shot rang out as Marie’s evil torturer crumpled to the floor, a small red hole in his forehead and a whole lot of (nothing, brain tissue, shakin’ goin’ on) around the back.
“P-Please…….get me……out of this……” Marie gasped, her gorgeous body still quivering, her smooth skin covered in a sheen of (sweat, perspiration, 90W gear oil).
As the leader of her rescuers approached her, she was momentarily shocked as his hand slowly drifted away from the strap he was about to unfasten.
“So,” he asked, “what exactly happened here? You don’t look (hurt, scarred, 29 so don’t even try it).”
“He-he…..tickled me!….Almost to death!……..”
“Tickled you, huh? I thought you French Forces babes were trained against anything.”
“Just untie me, please?” Marie moaned as the man got an unpleasant look in his eye.
“Now, just how many times do we have to bail you French out of something? Perhaps you need to be (trained more intensely, exposed to all possible forms of interrogation, punished for being Daddy’s Bad Bad Little Girl)?”
“What are you…..talking about…..please just get me out of this?” Marie knew that there wasn’t any real love lost between her troops and the troops of her rescuer. Any chance to embarrass the French Military would be to hard to resist, especially when confronted with a bound female after months in a tent with ten other guys.
“So is this what they did? Intelligence gathering, of course…..” He said as his fingers dipped into the smooth hollows of Marie’s armpits.
“NNNOOOOO!!!!!!…….NOMORE!!!!!!….WHY…..HEHEHEE…WHY WOULD…..YOOOU….HAHAHAHA….DO THIS??????”
“Why would I do this?” asked the GI as his tickling grew in speed.
“HAHAHAHAAAAAA…WWWHHHHYYYYY?????….HAHAHAHAHHAAAAA”
“Simple, really….(I haven’t been around a woman in months and no one will find out anyway, I can’t stand you smart-ass French spies always needing rescuing, this is Dave’s story and he can end it any Goddamn way he wants no matter how ludicrous or unbelievable it is)!”
Marie closed her eyes and prepared for the Fires of Hell.
