"So are you finally going to lose your virginity to that boy, Cindy?" opined Tina. You looked up bleary eyed at her. Why can't you explain to her how you feel? "I...I want you to take my virginity! I love you, Tina! Please just love me! I don't c-care about anything, do whatever else you want, just love me!" you plead, tears running down your face. She lifted your face and gently kissed your soft lips. You melted into her embrace, finally able to enjoy those tender lips. Her fingers gently teased your tickle belly, halting your kiss in giggles. She winks at you before dragging her fingers across your ribcage. You begin to laugh harder as she continues her wriggles across each ribs, making you thrash. She digs into your belly and with one last howl, you are in her arms. She kisses you again as she walks with you naked in her arms. Two girls in love; all forgotten.
*************
Your eyes open as you realise those love feelings for Tina are over. You feel even greater hatred for Tina for putting you through that. But you are more concerned with the fact that you are bounded and moving. "Girls, let me go! PLEASE!" you scream. But you keep moving along. After a few futile screams, it's clear you are on top of a truck or maybe a van. Where are the nutty girls taking you? You saw something ahead, but you couldn't make it out. You stop suddenly, making you scream again, trying to free yourself. Tricia waves at you as you plead for your freedom. The car re-engages as you hear a click. You look up and the car begins as the other 3 girls are waving at you as well. You cry again when you see it. You bucked as hard as you could when the dangling, broad strips of fabric, motorized and slick with soapsuds came into view. Beyond them was a gauntlet of spinning brushes, all automatic, all unfeeling, all merciless.
Your eyes were wide with fear. They couldn't. You closed them not wanting to see how these terrible devices would start. The strips agitated side to side, driven by an unseen whirring motor, as the slider nosed the van gently into them. They lathered industrial strength soap on the chrome bumper, headlights, and grill; then another
push from the slider inched the van forward so the windshield came under the soapy strips. You struggled desperately and your limbs tensed with the urgency to
escape. Your bare feet, ankles tightly tied with nylon to the front rim of the rack, disappeared into the shadows under the car wash's canopy. The horrible advance of the
strips as they continued over the driver's cab and onto the roof, heading ever nearer to your helpless feet.
The high-speed machinery screamed as you did, spasming when a dangling strip stroked the bottoms of her feet, leaving soapy streaks across her soles and the tips of her toes. Your breasts jump and bobble and fists balled, white-knuckled, as the soft, cushiony fabric rasped across your insteps. The strips slid back and forth across your footsies, igniting ticklish sensations along all the nerve endings of your peds. You tried to ignore it, if only you paid attention during those martial arts lessons instead of later banging and dumping the instructor. You might even had learned how to use your mental and physical strength to withstand it, but the strips swung back and forth, incessantly rubbing her feet until you cried. Your hips squirmed and her thighs twitched, and your large boobies kept bouncing.
The strips slipped up your shins, leaving swirls of soap behind as they danced over your knees and up along the curves of your thighs. One errant strip found its way between your legs and stroked the insides of those tender thighs as it swung side to side, making your laughter leap into squealing hysteria. You squirmed, trapped under the strips as they swung over you, moving slowly and agonizingly up your strapped legs, getting closer to your defenseless pussy and belly. You screamed anew when the strip rubbed against your molten, pulsating pussy, teasing the tender lips. Your round butt came off the roof and you threw your hips around, trying to get the strip off your most sensitive of spots before it touched your clit, trying to bounce it off yourself, but the soap film on the strip stuck to the soap film on your skin and glued the strip to you. Another moment, and the strip swung over your tender love button. Your pleasure bud twitched, and further cries left that sore throat.
The suds prickled across it, tickling it and the membranes around it, filling your lower body with titillating itches and teasings. Your puckered anus winked, and your nipples rose hard and full on the crests of your heaving breasts. A girl's clit shouldn't have been subjected to such torment, but the car wash didn't know that, and the strip swept over it repeatedly until it stood stiff and throbbing, in the midst of a tortured pussy. Then it left, on its way up to her belly, leaving the
clitty aroused and alone. The perspiration that had broken out on your tummy was swept away by the strips when they came up and over your naked stomach. Your clit was still being tease as it trembled in your pussy. The pliable fibers in the strips scratched softly along your tingling skin, tickling up your tummy, over your belly button, and onto your midriff. This was truly tickle hell, worse than the Flapper Party and Tickle Strip Game combined.
Your howls briefly went silent as the strips returned to your breasts and massaged them. Your nipples were so swollen and hard, it was if they had been replaced by diamond cutters, though your titties bobbed again as you thrashed at the touch of the strips in your exposed armpits. You cried out, then relaxed as the strips fell behind the van. But relief was temporary, and there was yelping when you saw the spinning scrubber brushes descend on the van. Two came in from the sides, spinning perpendicular to the van to clean the sides, and one long roller came down from above to clean the front and the roof. You screamed with renewed vigour at the first approach. The side brushes went by first. Infrared sensors sent the brushes inward until their long bristles whipped against the sides of the van, thumping hard at 120 rpm. It was your left foot, tied at the edge of the roof, that received the brushes' attention first, before your right foot on the other side, swiftly following suit. Your laughter become a frenzied explosion when you felt the bristles whistling by over your toes and tender insteps. You bucked and writhed under the automated tickling torture of the brushes, screaming louder and louder as the brushes moved up your legs to your hips. "I'm going to die!" you thought as the instruments continued.
You tried to shy back from the brushes when they touched the crests of your hips, unable to handle such sensations. You became more frantic and squirmed pointlessly as the brushes spiraled up to your flanks. The soft flesh of each of your sides trembled and shook under the gentle, teasing whipping. Rose-colored blushes spread from where the brushes touched you, making pinkish tracks that glowed under the soap that now covered your Cindy body. Your struggles continued despite being aimless and you felt greater helplessness as your mind began to splinter and shatter under the relentless tickling of the brushes, which now swept up along the left side of your rib-cage. Each new spin, each new touch of each bristle was a new torment, and there were two new torments each second. The bristles spun along your
ribs, and the mechanized sped at which they rotated made certain each rib was tickled at least four to six times, and the space between ribs was teased almost as many times. The tunnel was filled with helpless, frenetic laughter that escalated to an animalistic cry of ticklishness when your ribs under the bristles began increasing its speed. You twisted, turned, and repeatedly slammed your tight butt down on the roof in your mad need to escape the ongoing tickling, but
you were held captive as a machine unthinkingly tortured you to death.
You felt such hatred for these 4 evil girls. No doubt they felt liberated as an avalanche of keening laughter left your mouth. You were in agony, being driven into instant insanity by 4 cruel madwomen. You hear a sound and tentatively raised your head up and looked. The center roller drew near. The roller was thick with damp bristles, shorter than the bristles on the side brushes, but packed at much greater density. It descended on you, not yet spinning, and six sets of ticklish toes were engulfed by the bristles. It was as if the bristles were made of silk or velvet, they were so soft and gentle against their toeprints. You cried as the horrible device began helping the terrible ribtickler.
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
More by this author