"Okay, Olivia. It's do or die," the dirty blonde woman muttered to herself. She took a nervous glance through a gap in the stage's curtain and another swig from her water bottle to calm her nerves. The crowd looked awfully big. She'd always loved the Tickling Machine Festival. There wasn't a single thing she looked forward to more than the nationally broadcast yearly event where a bevy of beautiful women were stripped naked and strapped into the worst tickling machines a community of sadistic inventors could cobble together. Now the 26-year-old woman standing in the back room with only a bath robe covering her was beginning to realize just how daunting being one of those girls was.
Olivia had dreamed of participating in the Tickling Machine Festival ever since she was old enough to attend. After getting out of college with the engineering degree necessary to become licensed to build a tickling machine of her own, she'd taken out the biggest loan she could get to make her dream machine come true. She now realized how foolish she'd been. She had mismanaged her budget to the point where she wasn't able to rent a slave to demo the machine for her. And as much as she loved the sight of another woman suffering in the depths of man-made tickle hell, the very thought of spending even a couple minutes in one of these things made her break out in a cold sweat. The fact that she would be spending every day for the next month subjecting herself to the machine she had so lovingly poured every ounce of cruelty that she could into was only slightly less terrifying to her than the knowledge that a potential sponsorship was the only thing standing between her and her debts threatening to trap her into a life as a public tickling slave.
"Contestant Olivia? You're up." A voice broke Olivia out of her fretting. She turned around to see one of the backstage staff flanked by a couple of large men. The nervous contestant managed to swallow down her nervousness enough to nod in understanding. She followed as the large men loaded her tickling machine onto a dolly and wheeled it out to the middle of the stage.
It was all Olivia could do to keep her knees from knocking together standing on stage. The stage light felt like it had grown a few thousand lumens brighter. The crowd filling the music stadium's bleachers looked like they blurred together into a countless seething horde. She could've sworn that her judges had transformed into demons, even the elderly ex-tickling slave who was generally positive towards everyone. Olivia found herself too frightened to even be able to speak.
"So Ms. Holden, what machine are you presenting for us today?" It was the elderly judge who jumped to her rescue.
"Ah, yes!" Olivia jumped on the leading question to try and recenter herself. "T-today I'd like to present my tickling machine. The..." she indistinctly waved her hand at her prized tool and cursed herself. She'd spent nights coming up with names for the thing and now that it really mattered she couldn't remember a single one.
"It doesn't look very impressive," said the male judge. Olivia had enjoyed watching him complain about every little thing a lot more when she'd been a part of the audience. Though it hurt even more since she couldn't argue back. She'd been so focused on functionality that she'd never given a thought about its form. Even she would admit that her machine being built into a large capsule pod with the front torn off wasn't the most appealing appearance she could've given it.
"I don't think whoever's trapped in it will exactly have the capacity to care about what it looks like. How it tickles is much more important." The elderly judge came to her rescue again after a couple seconds of Olivia floundering for a response. Even in her nervousness, Olivia got the hint from the meaningful look the judge shot her. The interview portion was going horribly. Her best hope of salvaging this was that they'd be suitably impressed by what she'd built to overlook her current inability to explain it.
Olivia undid the belt of her bathrobe and let the fabric slide off of her shoulders to hit the ground. She walked with halting steps to lie in the machine. The sensors inside activated feeling her body weight and caused mechanical cuffs on appendages to lock in place around her ankles and wrists and wrestle her into lying with her arms above her head and her legs slightly spread. The machine then lifted itself on legs to stand vertically so everyone could have a full view of her. Olivia's face burned with embarrassment. She had never once been naked in front of someone before, and now here she was baring it all to the untold masses. And she knew that it was only to get worse since she fully planned to humiliate herself further as part of the show.
"Hehehe..... hehehehehe!" Olivia instinctively went rigid feeling a pair of mechanical effeminate hands covered in synthetic skin extend out of the wall of the capsule to begin to poke and prod at her sides. She did her best to hold in the building giggles, but there was no way she could win. The hands methodically put nails carefully designed to be the perfect sharpness for tickling up and down her sides until she couldn't hold it in anymore.
"Oh godhehehe! Not therehahahAHAHAHEHEHEHEEHAHAHAHA!" Olivia squealed in surprise and burst out begging for the machine to stop when the hands unexpectedly jumped from her sides up to her armpits. Even having programmed the thing she was caught off guard by it suddenly targeting her worst spot. Her giggling transformed into full blown laughter and she thrashed around trying escape, but the sensors built in the tickling machine insured that the hands perfectly followed her around to continue punishing her. They poked, fluttered, and scratched at her sensitive pits before finally settling on repeatedly raking the tips of all of its nails inside the depths of her hollows to make her to cackle with forced mirth.
"Oh my, is the machine targeting what gets the best reaction on purpose?" the elderly judge asked.
"It says here that she'd built a learning AI into the machine that's supposed to experiment, track what gets the best results, then focuses on those to maximize its effectiveness," chimed in the younger female judge that'd been quiet up until then. She was reading from a paper Olivia had been made to provide before hand on the machine's selling points.
"Get them off! Gehet themhaha offhohoHAHAHAHAHAHA!" Olivia was given a couple seconds break between the hands pulling back and the next part of the sequence starting. Big metal boots emerged from a compartment at the bottom of the capsule. They separated in two briefly before reforming to lock around her waiting feet.
"How are we supposed to tell what's going on when we can't see how she's being tickled?" griped the male judge.
"But look at her holler! Whatever she's got going on in there must tickle like mad!" exclaimed the elderly judge.
Olivia had once read in a hentai comic about a pair of boots that were infested with tickling tentacle monsters. The girl in the comic had been made to laugh herself silly after putting them on by the tentacle monsters wrapping around her feet to hold them in place before putting their feelers to work simultaneously exploiting every single centimeter of her tender soles. She'd become dedicated to recreating them, figuring that even if they didn't work as a part of the machine they'd still work as a standalone product, and was proud to say that she'd done it with a special fabric she'd invented. Nobody could see it, but her heels and toes were being restrained by the fibers to immobilize her feet so dozens of tiny tips could trace random patterns across her soles. The machine got better at controlling them with every second to soon leave Olivia throwing her head back to scream with laughter.
"BANANA HAHAHAHAHAHA! BANA-MMPH HHEHEHEHEHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" Olivia had planned on using her safe word purely to show off one of the machine's functionalities, but the tickling was already proving too much for her to stand. She honestly couldn't take it anymore. It was torture. But when she started to scream her safe word in the hope that the judges would end the session the machine responded by producing a ball-gag from a compartment and shoving it inside of her mouth. The sadist in her actually kinda appreciated that the function was serving its intended purpose, to torture its victim by taking away the hope that their safe word would save them from the tickling in favor of more punishment. Now if only it wasn't happening when she genuinely needed the tickle torture to stop.
"Did the machine just gag her?"
"It says here that the machine has what's called 'Full Punishment Mode'. It turns out that the in built safe words in the machine are a sham. Attempting to use one to get out only makes it gag you and go all out tickling you as punishment," explained the female judge. Full punishment mode was activating as she spoke. Baby oil squirted out of a nozzle directly into Olivia's exposed armpits and was quickly followed up by a pair of hairbrushes on appendages emerging to punish her worst spot as hard as the machine could. Feather dusters emerged to start shaking around her jiggling breasts while a trio of stiff eagle feathers were put to use flicking against her rock hard nipples and pussy.
"I'll admit, that's appreciably twisted," the male judge chuckled.
Olivia howled with laughter with her eyes squeezed shut. Her entire body quaked trying to avoid the tickling, but it was everywhere. Attempting to pull away from one hairbrush simply pushed the other harder against her. The evil feathers added a dimension of sexual torture that left moans sneaking in between her screams. The battle of pleasure and tickling now waging in her mind was proving to be infinitely more horrible than the tickling alone had been. She could only describe it as pure torture that she spent every second desperately wishing would end.
She cracked open an eye and screamed in horror. Full punishment mode was only supposed to last a couple minutes at most. But the display in front of her that was supposed to show her her remaining time, and taunt her inability to get it to stop, only had a series of scrolling error messages. She was left howling with laughter as the punishment continued far longer than it was intended to.
"Well, I think that's enough of a demo for now," the elderly judge eventually stated. Olivia felt a wave of hope. It was over. The torture was finally over. She knew that she had been assigned a 10 minute time slot, but to her it'd felt like so much longer than that.
"Wait!" the younger female judge called out before her compatriot could call to have her released. Olivia's hope was instantly replaced with dread. She watched in horror as the judge's eyes flickered over to the broken timer display on the machine with a look of pure glee. "Our contestant has obviously chosen to have an extended demo to show off the learning AI of her machine. How about we let it continue like she wanted? I say we move her to the show floor so others can take their turn on stage, but she'll still be allowed to continue her demo. Sound fair?"
Olivia screamed into her gag. She fought against her bonds as hard as she could, straining against the straps holding her in place to no avail. That proved to be a mistake. The judges all smiled at her obvious desperation to avoid being tickled more. None of them bothered to hide that they all liked the idea of taking such an easy excuse to prolong her torment when it was so obvious that she couldn't stand it. She could only watch in despair as they all enthusiastically agreed to the crowd's applause.
A crew of event staff came by to load the machine onto a cart and wheel Olivia off to the showroom with Olivia being forced to laugh the entire way. She was deposited at the end of a line of a dozen or so other machines all currently in use, each containing a naked woman who'd clearly been tortured to the point of no longer being aware of anything other than the endless tickling. Most of them were tickling slaves that'd been trapped inside since the very minute the event started and all of them, like Olivia, had no hope of escaping until they were granted the mercy of being freed or passing out. Olivia's laughter intermingled with theirs to fill the hall.
Olivia did everything she could think of to try and escape. She futilely clawed at the machine's padding wherever her hands could reach. Her body yanked in every possible direction trying to find some non-existent structural weakness in her bondage. Her begging for anyone passing by to help her was distorted into being unintelligible by her gag and at best got her looks of amusement from the people stopping to watch her suffer anyways. The machine didn't care about any of that. It continued analyzing which tools and techniques got the best reaction just like it'd been programmed to and continuously incremented its way to the worst possible tickle torture Olivia was capable of experiencing.
The machine had glitched out again. Rather than go back to normal tickling mode, punishment mode had escalated past what she'd programmed it to do. The tickling boots were now permanently strapped around Olivia's feet. She could feel the synthetic fiber within moving in ever more precise ways to perform more horrible foot tickling than she had known was possible. Brushes continued to scrub her armpits and feathers flicked against her nipples while the feather dusters shook all over her quivering breasts. She'd become so unwillingly turned on by the tickling that the feather attending to her sex had become unusably soaked, so the machine had opted to replace it with a pair of simulated tongues set to double team her sexually with one exploring deep inside of her and the other agonizingly slowly licking her exposed clit. Everywhere else was covered by the hands. Synthetic nails scraped against her inner thighs, squeezed her sides and hips, wiggled in her belly button, flicked against the back of her knees, pried in between her ribs, and skittered across her stomach. It was already an assault so overwhelming Olivia would've happily sold herself into slavery to get out of it, and it only grew worse as the AI made the minute adjustments necessary to provoke the worst ticklish responses possible.
After nearly an hour of unadulterated torture, the final part of the machine activated. A thin mist sprayed out of a nozzle to cover the bound Olivia in a special chemical. It had been Olivia's proudest invention. She'd reveled in the patents and praise she'd managed to secure for the sheer evil she'd managed to bring into the world that could seal a woman's fate in a living tickle hell.
Everywhere the chemical touched instantly felt better. All of her pain and fatigue vanished like it'd never been there to leave her feeling fully refreshed. Not just refreshed, but better than before. Olivia could feel a warmth building in the bottom of her belly. The machine had dispensed her own special chemical that not only refreshed the nerve endings to renew them after getting desensitized, it also served as an aphrodisiac, increased the victim's sensitivity ever so slightly, and sustained them so there would never need to be a break for food or water. It was her proudest invention that was praised the world over for being able to completely deny a ticklee ever receiving a break again. The machine had been programmed to monitor its victim's reactions and spray them every time their suffering fell past a certain percentage of the worst torture it could put them through.
Olivia's laughter, which had already been at its previous highest, transformed purely into screaming. Tears of agony freely streamed down her face. She'd completely underestimated how much the chemical would increase how ticklish she was. There was an undeniably exponential increase in how badly the mechanical hands, tongues, feathers, and brushes assaulting her entire body tickled. She could feel every minute detail from every single prong, fingertip, lick, and feather's strand working her over with crystal clear clarity. Now even the licking inside of her pussy was almost as bad as her earlier armpit tickling had been. The hairbrushes in her now super-sensitive armpits were proving to be devastating past her worst nightmares.
And to top it off, the aphrodisiac portion brought her ever closer to orgasm. The new level of intensity for her tickle torture wasn't enough to prevent the building pressure, but cruelly just horrible enough to keep her from cumming. Olivia screams rose above even her fellow unfortunate ticklees over the resulting 10 minutes of edging before she was finally pushed over the brink. Her orgasm was thoroughly, horribly ruined by the worst tickling of her life and only served to make her even more ticklish.
It tickled too much for her to form words anymore. She screamed in incoherent fear, praying with what little concentration she could still muster that someone, anyone, would save her. But nobody would. Nobody would ever dream of taking a ticklish girl out of a tickling machine at an event based around demoing the things. She regretted giving the event staff orders to replace the cartridge whenever it was getting low even if someone was currently being tickled in the machine back when she'd still assumed that she wouldn't be in it herself. With a broken timer she was completely trapped. The judges had just sentenced her to be tortured non-stop for the next month, with no rest, growing ever more ticklish, and being made to cum harder and more frequently only to have every last orgasm ruined with new heights of tickling.
And even if she somehow managed to remain sane through an entire month of the waves of ticklish sensations already wearing away at her mind, escape entirely hinged on none of the myriad sadists attending the event enjoying her predicament enough to decide to keep her trapped like this forever.
Olivia had dreamed of participating in the Tickling Machine Festival ever since she was old enough to attend. After getting out of college with the engineering degree necessary to become licensed to build a tickling machine of her own, she'd taken out the biggest loan she could get to make her dream machine come true. She now realized how foolish she'd been. She had mismanaged her budget to the point where she wasn't able to rent a slave to demo the machine for her. And as much as she loved the sight of another woman suffering in the depths of man-made tickle hell, the very thought of spending even a couple minutes in one of these things made her break out in a cold sweat. The fact that she would be spending every day for the next month subjecting herself to the machine she had so lovingly poured every ounce of cruelty that she could into was only slightly less terrifying to her than the knowledge that a potential sponsorship was the only thing standing between her and her debts threatening to trap her into a life as a public tickling slave.
"Contestant Olivia? You're up." A voice broke Olivia out of her fretting. She turned around to see one of the backstage staff flanked by a couple of large men. The nervous contestant managed to swallow down her nervousness enough to nod in understanding. She followed as the large men loaded her tickling machine onto a dolly and wheeled it out to the middle of the stage.
It was all Olivia could do to keep her knees from knocking together standing on stage. The stage light felt like it had grown a few thousand lumens brighter. The crowd filling the music stadium's bleachers looked like they blurred together into a countless seething horde. She could've sworn that her judges had transformed into demons, even the elderly ex-tickling slave who was generally positive towards everyone. Olivia found herself too frightened to even be able to speak.
"So Ms. Holden, what machine are you presenting for us today?" It was the elderly judge who jumped to her rescue.
"Ah, yes!" Olivia jumped on the leading question to try and recenter herself. "T-today I'd like to present my tickling machine. The..." she indistinctly waved her hand at her prized tool and cursed herself. She'd spent nights coming up with names for the thing and now that it really mattered she couldn't remember a single one.
"It doesn't look very impressive," said the male judge. Olivia had enjoyed watching him complain about every little thing a lot more when she'd been a part of the audience. Though it hurt even more since she couldn't argue back. She'd been so focused on functionality that she'd never given a thought about its form. Even she would admit that her machine being built into a large capsule pod with the front torn off wasn't the most appealing appearance she could've given it.
"I don't think whoever's trapped in it will exactly have the capacity to care about what it looks like. How it tickles is much more important." The elderly judge came to her rescue again after a couple seconds of Olivia floundering for a response. Even in her nervousness, Olivia got the hint from the meaningful look the judge shot her. The interview portion was going horribly. Her best hope of salvaging this was that they'd be suitably impressed by what she'd built to overlook her current inability to explain it.
Olivia undid the belt of her bathrobe and let the fabric slide off of her shoulders to hit the ground. She walked with halting steps to lie in the machine. The sensors inside activated feeling her body weight and caused mechanical cuffs on appendages to lock in place around her ankles and wrists and wrestle her into lying with her arms above her head and her legs slightly spread. The machine then lifted itself on legs to stand vertically so everyone could have a full view of her. Olivia's face burned with embarrassment. She had never once been naked in front of someone before, and now here she was baring it all to the untold masses. And she knew that it was only to get worse since she fully planned to humiliate herself further as part of the show.
"Hehehe..... hehehehehe!" Olivia instinctively went rigid feeling a pair of mechanical effeminate hands covered in synthetic skin extend out of the wall of the capsule to begin to poke and prod at her sides. She did her best to hold in the building giggles, but there was no way she could win. The hands methodically put nails carefully designed to be the perfect sharpness for tickling up and down her sides until she couldn't hold it in anymore.
"Oh godhehehe! Not therehahahAHAHAHEHEHEHEEHAHAHAHA!" Olivia squealed in surprise and burst out begging for the machine to stop when the hands unexpectedly jumped from her sides up to her armpits. Even having programmed the thing she was caught off guard by it suddenly targeting her worst spot. Her giggling transformed into full blown laughter and she thrashed around trying escape, but the sensors built in the tickling machine insured that the hands perfectly followed her around to continue punishing her. They poked, fluttered, and scratched at her sensitive pits before finally settling on repeatedly raking the tips of all of its nails inside the depths of her hollows to make her to cackle with forced mirth.
"Oh my, is the machine targeting what gets the best reaction on purpose?" the elderly judge asked.
"It says here that she'd built a learning AI into the machine that's supposed to experiment, track what gets the best results, then focuses on those to maximize its effectiveness," chimed in the younger female judge that'd been quiet up until then. She was reading from a paper Olivia had been made to provide before hand on the machine's selling points.
"Get them off! Gehet themhaha offhohoHAHAHAHAHAHA!" Olivia was given a couple seconds break between the hands pulling back and the next part of the sequence starting. Big metal boots emerged from a compartment at the bottom of the capsule. They separated in two briefly before reforming to lock around her waiting feet.
"How are we supposed to tell what's going on when we can't see how she's being tickled?" griped the male judge.
"But look at her holler! Whatever she's got going on in there must tickle like mad!" exclaimed the elderly judge.
Olivia had once read in a hentai comic about a pair of boots that were infested with tickling tentacle monsters. The girl in the comic had been made to laugh herself silly after putting them on by the tentacle monsters wrapping around her feet to hold them in place before putting their feelers to work simultaneously exploiting every single centimeter of her tender soles. She'd become dedicated to recreating them, figuring that even if they didn't work as a part of the machine they'd still work as a standalone product, and was proud to say that she'd done it with a special fabric she'd invented. Nobody could see it, but her heels and toes were being restrained by the fibers to immobilize her feet so dozens of tiny tips could trace random patterns across her soles. The machine got better at controlling them with every second to soon leave Olivia throwing her head back to scream with laughter.
"BANANA HAHAHAHAHAHA! BANA-MMPH HHEHEHEHEHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" Olivia had planned on using her safe word purely to show off one of the machine's functionalities, but the tickling was already proving too much for her to stand. She honestly couldn't take it anymore. It was torture. But when she started to scream her safe word in the hope that the judges would end the session the machine responded by producing a ball-gag from a compartment and shoving it inside of her mouth. The sadist in her actually kinda appreciated that the function was serving its intended purpose, to torture its victim by taking away the hope that their safe word would save them from the tickling in favor of more punishment. Now if only it wasn't happening when she genuinely needed the tickle torture to stop.
"Did the machine just gag her?"
"It says here that the machine has what's called 'Full Punishment Mode'. It turns out that the in built safe words in the machine are a sham. Attempting to use one to get out only makes it gag you and go all out tickling you as punishment," explained the female judge. Full punishment mode was activating as she spoke. Baby oil squirted out of a nozzle directly into Olivia's exposed armpits and was quickly followed up by a pair of hairbrushes on appendages emerging to punish her worst spot as hard as the machine could. Feather dusters emerged to start shaking around her jiggling breasts while a trio of stiff eagle feathers were put to use flicking against her rock hard nipples and pussy.
"I'll admit, that's appreciably twisted," the male judge chuckled.
Olivia howled with laughter with her eyes squeezed shut. Her entire body quaked trying to avoid the tickling, but it was everywhere. Attempting to pull away from one hairbrush simply pushed the other harder against her. The evil feathers added a dimension of sexual torture that left moans sneaking in between her screams. The battle of pleasure and tickling now waging in her mind was proving to be infinitely more horrible than the tickling alone had been. She could only describe it as pure torture that she spent every second desperately wishing would end.
She cracked open an eye and screamed in horror. Full punishment mode was only supposed to last a couple minutes at most. But the display in front of her that was supposed to show her her remaining time, and taunt her inability to get it to stop, only had a series of scrolling error messages. She was left howling with laughter as the punishment continued far longer than it was intended to.
"Well, I think that's enough of a demo for now," the elderly judge eventually stated. Olivia felt a wave of hope. It was over. The torture was finally over. She knew that she had been assigned a 10 minute time slot, but to her it'd felt like so much longer than that.
"Wait!" the younger female judge called out before her compatriot could call to have her released. Olivia's hope was instantly replaced with dread. She watched in horror as the judge's eyes flickered over to the broken timer display on the machine with a look of pure glee. "Our contestant has obviously chosen to have an extended demo to show off the learning AI of her machine. How about we let it continue like she wanted? I say we move her to the show floor so others can take their turn on stage, but she'll still be allowed to continue her demo. Sound fair?"
Olivia screamed into her gag. She fought against her bonds as hard as she could, straining against the straps holding her in place to no avail. That proved to be a mistake. The judges all smiled at her obvious desperation to avoid being tickled more. None of them bothered to hide that they all liked the idea of taking such an easy excuse to prolong her torment when it was so obvious that she couldn't stand it. She could only watch in despair as they all enthusiastically agreed to the crowd's applause.
A crew of event staff came by to load the machine onto a cart and wheel Olivia off to the showroom with Olivia being forced to laugh the entire way. She was deposited at the end of a line of a dozen or so other machines all currently in use, each containing a naked woman who'd clearly been tortured to the point of no longer being aware of anything other than the endless tickling. Most of them were tickling slaves that'd been trapped inside since the very minute the event started and all of them, like Olivia, had no hope of escaping until they were granted the mercy of being freed or passing out. Olivia's laughter intermingled with theirs to fill the hall.
Olivia did everything she could think of to try and escape. She futilely clawed at the machine's padding wherever her hands could reach. Her body yanked in every possible direction trying to find some non-existent structural weakness in her bondage. Her begging for anyone passing by to help her was distorted into being unintelligible by her gag and at best got her looks of amusement from the people stopping to watch her suffer anyways. The machine didn't care about any of that. It continued analyzing which tools and techniques got the best reaction just like it'd been programmed to and continuously incremented its way to the worst possible tickle torture Olivia was capable of experiencing.
The machine had glitched out again. Rather than go back to normal tickling mode, punishment mode had escalated past what she'd programmed it to do. The tickling boots were now permanently strapped around Olivia's feet. She could feel the synthetic fiber within moving in ever more precise ways to perform more horrible foot tickling than she had known was possible. Brushes continued to scrub her armpits and feathers flicked against her nipples while the feather dusters shook all over her quivering breasts. She'd become so unwillingly turned on by the tickling that the feather attending to her sex had become unusably soaked, so the machine had opted to replace it with a pair of simulated tongues set to double team her sexually with one exploring deep inside of her and the other agonizingly slowly licking her exposed clit. Everywhere else was covered by the hands. Synthetic nails scraped against her inner thighs, squeezed her sides and hips, wiggled in her belly button, flicked against the back of her knees, pried in between her ribs, and skittered across her stomach. It was already an assault so overwhelming Olivia would've happily sold herself into slavery to get out of it, and it only grew worse as the AI made the minute adjustments necessary to provoke the worst ticklish responses possible.
After nearly an hour of unadulterated torture, the final part of the machine activated. A thin mist sprayed out of a nozzle to cover the bound Olivia in a special chemical. It had been Olivia's proudest invention. She'd reveled in the patents and praise she'd managed to secure for the sheer evil she'd managed to bring into the world that could seal a woman's fate in a living tickle hell.
Everywhere the chemical touched instantly felt better. All of her pain and fatigue vanished like it'd never been there to leave her feeling fully refreshed. Not just refreshed, but better than before. Olivia could feel a warmth building in the bottom of her belly. The machine had dispensed her own special chemical that not only refreshed the nerve endings to renew them after getting desensitized, it also served as an aphrodisiac, increased the victim's sensitivity ever so slightly, and sustained them so there would never need to be a break for food or water. It was her proudest invention that was praised the world over for being able to completely deny a ticklee ever receiving a break again. The machine had been programmed to monitor its victim's reactions and spray them every time their suffering fell past a certain percentage of the worst torture it could put them through.
Olivia's laughter, which had already been at its previous highest, transformed purely into screaming. Tears of agony freely streamed down her face. She'd completely underestimated how much the chemical would increase how ticklish she was. There was an undeniably exponential increase in how badly the mechanical hands, tongues, feathers, and brushes assaulting her entire body tickled. She could feel every minute detail from every single prong, fingertip, lick, and feather's strand working her over with crystal clear clarity. Now even the licking inside of her pussy was almost as bad as her earlier armpit tickling had been. The hairbrushes in her now super-sensitive armpits were proving to be devastating past her worst nightmares.
And to top it off, the aphrodisiac portion brought her ever closer to orgasm. The new level of intensity for her tickle torture wasn't enough to prevent the building pressure, but cruelly just horrible enough to keep her from cumming. Olivia screams rose above even her fellow unfortunate ticklees over the resulting 10 minutes of edging before she was finally pushed over the brink. Her orgasm was thoroughly, horribly ruined by the worst tickling of her life and only served to make her even more ticklish.
It tickled too much for her to form words anymore. She screamed in incoherent fear, praying with what little concentration she could still muster that someone, anyone, would save her. But nobody would. Nobody would ever dream of taking a ticklish girl out of a tickling machine at an event based around demoing the things. She regretted giving the event staff orders to replace the cartridge whenever it was getting low even if someone was currently being tickled in the machine back when she'd still assumed that she wouldn't be in it herself. With a broken timer she was completely trapped. The judges had just sentenced her to be tortured non-stop for the next month, with no rest, growing ever more ticklish, and being made to cum harder and more frequently only to have every last orgasm ruined with new heights of tickling.
And even if she somehow managed to remain sane through an entire month of the waves of ticklish sensations already wearing away at her mind, escape entirely hinged on none of the myriad sadists attending the event enjoying her predicament enough to decide to keep her trapped like this forever.
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