TICKLISH TANTALISM, PART ONE: JOSELLE'S CAPTURE

"Ouch!" Joselle's hand rose to her neck, thinking a wasp or hornet had just stung her. Odd for a hornet to be out so late at night, she thought as she walked thru the near-empty parking garage to her car after a long day in court.

No sooner did she begin to lift her arm, however, she felt incredibly lightheaded and, within seconds, passed out cold.

"That wasn't a hornet, Joselle," said a man's deep voice.

"Where am I," she said. Joselle still felt groggy and light-headed, and a small pinching pain in the back of her neck. As she went to rub it, she realized her hands were bound above her, entrapped in silk-lined cuffs of some sort well above her head. She was laid out on what appeared to be a gynecological table, with her feet curiously close together. Oddly enough, she was still fully dressed, wearing her tight Diesel jeans over the tops of her new Cole Hahn leather boots. Inside her boots, she wiggled her toes inside her striped black nylon knee-high socks.

"Where the hell am I? Who are you?" she screamed, thinking a rape or other terrible assault was imminent.

"I'm Dr. Vynter," said the man. He was about 45 years old, tall with dark hair and a powerful build. "You've been 'selected' for a little experiment of mine. That pain in your neck earlier in the parking garage wasn't a bee-sting, it was a tranquilizer dart. You see, I had to put you to sleep for the transport here to the lab. While the Dr. spoke he began running down a list of items noted on his clipboard.

"I didn't consent to any 'experiments,' and demand you release me right now! I'm an attorney and will sue you for assault, false imprisonment, and a lot of other things!"

"Now now Joselle, I assure you you're going to have a splendid time here. Now lets see, have you ever had any breathing problems or high blood pressure?"

"I WANT TO BE RELEASED THIS INSTANT" she screamed, pulling hard at her bonds and squirming within the limits of the restraints.

"Joselle, I've explained already that release isn't possible. We have to complete the experiment, and I plan to go about this very methodically and thoroughly. I think you may even enjoy some of the tests we're about to perform.
With that, the doctor turned his attention to her Cole Hahn boots. He pulled a small paintbrush from his pocket and began slowly swirling it about the stiff leather, making circular marks first across the toe of the right boot before moving on to the sole.

"What are you doing, giving me a shoeshine?," Joselle said.

"No Joselle, I'm merely testing your "sensitivity" shall we say. In a few moments when this boot comes off, I'll get a better idea of just how ticklish you are."

"Noooo! Joselle shrieked. Ever since childhood, she had been terribly ticklish, to the point where even the slightest graze across her foot was sheer torture. "You can't tickle me, I can't stand it. Anything but that! I'll have sex with you, you can burn me...anything but TICKLING!"

"Joselle, understand this: I am going to tickle you using various instruments and tools, including my manicured, well-buffed fingernails. They are torture devices in themselves, my fingers, as they are smooth enough not to so as much rip your cute little striped nylon knee socks."
Joselle was in fear like she'd never felt before. The doctor began slowly and methodically tugging her boot away from her right foot. Joselle "clenched" her foot and tried to hook her toes into the boot to make it harder to pull off, and it was working. At least for a moment, anyway.

"My my, Joselle, I get the feeling you'd rather leave your boots on! Now how I am going to tickle those lovely feet of yours with these heavy boots in the way? That just wouldn't work, would it?"

Joselle gritted her teeth and curled her toes tightly, trying desperately to keep the boots from coming off her foot. But she was no match for the doctor, who used his strong grip to finally pull the boot down past her heel and off.

Now exposed, Joselle's foot glistened thru the black striped knee sock. The dark burgundy of her toenail polish could be seen thru the thin nylon. The doctor stood back and gazed a moment at her sock-covered foot, admiring it.

"What a lovely foot you have, Joselle. Why did you want to cover & hide such a lovely foot inside those thick leather boots?"

Joselle felt rabid pangs of fear rise in her throat as the doctor walked slowly about, taking in the view of her foot from different angles but not touching it. Yet.

Suddenly, the Doctor raked a finger slowly across her foot from the toes down the arch to the heel. Just one single stroke, but it had a effect on Joselle that was electric! She twitched within the limits of her restraints and laughed hysterically. "My my Joselle, you are ticklish aren't you? I barely even touched you! Imagine how bad it's going to be when I go at you with this" The doctor held up a small electric toothbrush, which he switched on so Joselle could hear the buzzing sound.

"Of course, that's for later. We have this as well!" said the Doctor cheerfully, pulling a soft, round make-up brush from his shirt pocket. He twirled the brush between his thumb and forefinger, mimicking the technique he's use later to torment her.

With that, poor Joselle simply broke down. Hysterical. She had no idea how (or if) she'd be able to withstand the type of tickling the doctor was talking about. On a scale of one to ten, her ticklish level was about a 99. It was the poor little thing's worst nightmare, a horrific dream that was, to her writhing, uncontrollable fear, about to come evilly true!

The doctor walked over to kneel beside Joselle's now-sobbing head for a moment. She was crying hysterically and shaking, her chest heaving and snorting, mucus-clearing like sounds emitting from her nostrils. The Doctor wiped a stray tear from the corner of her eye with his finger.

"Now now, Joselle, it isn't going to be so bad. I'm going to tickle you, and tickle you severely. That is assured, and there simply isn't a thing you're going to about it, being all "buckled up."

With that, the Doctor patted gently the strong leather cuffs which bounds her hands to the table, as if to emphasis the severity of her predicament.

PART 2

Now let's just switch on some "tunes to tickle by," Joselle! With that, the doctor pulled a remote control from his pocket and pressed "Power." Instantly the room was filled with a deep, throbbing bass sound as what sounded like club music or techno began to flood the chamber.

"You like the music, Joselle?" The doctor had to shout into her ear to be heard above the roar and thump of the sound.

"Why are you doing this to me," Joselle asked. He had to read her lips as the music was too loud to hear her.

"Joselle, he shouted in her ear, "this is so I can't hear you beg. Often times my patients beg almost hysterically for me to stop tickling, but now you can shout yourself hoarse- and you will, I assure you- and I won't hear a thing! And if I can't hear you tell me to stop, I won't stop. Understood?"

Joselle began crying again as the Doctor began unbuttoning her blouse. Joselle had plump, round breasts, and the Doctor undid enough buttons to expose her bra and cleavage, Then, pulling a pair of scissors from his pocket, he cut between her bra straps and eased her breasts from their cups just enough so her puffy nipples were visible.

"OK, now we're ready to begin." Joselle of course couldn't here him as a pulled a small wheeled stool between her feet. Her toes wriggled nervously beneath the striped nylon, curling and uncurling as if trying to protect themselves from the oncoming tickle assault.

The doctor slowly rolled Joselle's jeans up her right leg, carefully folding and tucking the denim so it wouldn't get unrolled while she struggled. Being careful not to wrinkle or disturb her lovely black knee-high nylons. Her recently waxed leg shone beautifully under the harsh light of the laboratory, gleaming thru the translucent stripes of the nylon. Once her jean was rolled up to her kneecap, the Doctor gave her a quick, playful tickle right behind her knee, which caused Joselle to convulse and nearly lift herself off the table in hysterical laughter. Referring to his clipboard, the doctor noted that area (behind her knee) as one to address later with the electric toothbrush, which he was certain would be unbearable beyond belief for her. Before moving on, the Doctor gave a gentle "tug" to the top of her nylon sock, pulling it tight and smoothing the handful of wrinkles that had formed as it went up her calf.

Moving downwards. the Doctor gently placed his hands atop her foot, and carefully pulled slightly upwards on her toes, stretching taut her high arches beneath the nylon, making them more vulnerable. Preliminaries done, he began to gently wriggle the fingers of his other hand down her arch, saving his softest touches to lightly torment her heel. Her foot (indeed, her entire leg) twitched and convulsed violently, yet the restraints held her fast. There was no escape possible.

PART 3

Preliminaries finished, the Doctor now began tickling little Joselle's petite foot in earnest. The thin, black nylon of Joselle's socks seemed to amplify and make more intense the devilish wriggling of the Doctor's fingers against her bare soles. Joselle especially hated the deep, throbbing club music which the Doctor had now turned to blaring volume. It's bass throbs shook the metal gyno table and sent ticklish vibrations thru her bones. It was as if she was strapped to a giant, buzzing cell phone!

After a minute or so, the doctor released her pulled-back toes from his grip. He watched as she cutely flexed her toes, and began trying to curl them downward in an effort to 'guard' her vulnerable soles. The black stripes of the nylon were like prison bars, tautly stretched against the pale skin beneath.

So ticklish was Joselle that she had never had a pedicure, at least not a professional one. She's always attended to her own feet, as she secretly feared having a ticklish breakdown and possibly embarrassing herself in public at the nail salon. Now her worst nightmare had come true, with a ticklish fiend attacking her poor foot relentlessly.

Her break from tickling was short lived. The doctor took a moment to swing a large, body-length mirror in place over the gyno table so Joselle could now see her reflection staring back down at her. What a sight she was! Her hair was mussed & tousled from where she'd shook her head back and forth during her torture, and her crying had dissolved her mascara and sent purple rivers of it down her reddened cheeks. The doctor quickly raked an index finger down her arch, and her face contorted in laughter like a sad clown, her ruined makeup giving her an absurd, defeated appearance.

The doctor apparently noticed this, as he wheeled his stool over and put his face only inches from hers.

"Poor little Joselle," he said softly. "It appears the tickling has got your makeup all messed up. We can't have that, now can we?"

"Please untie me, I'm begging you. I'll do anything-ANYTHING- you want, just please don't tickle me anymore. I'll have sex with you, I'll blow you, anything but, anything but this tickling!...."

"Now Joselle," the doctor said sternly, "we've been over all of that already. You are scheduled for a nice, long tickle today. I have several areas noted on my clipboard that we need to explore, and it's going to be a long day of experiments. Now let me see about fixing that makeup of yours. Hold still...."

With that, the doctor took a puffy white cotton ball and began wiping away the streaked mascara that had run down her cheeks. Once cleaned off, he pulled a small bottle of mascara and began brushing it back in place over her eyelids. His touch was as gentle as her own would've been. In only a minute or two he was finished.

Joselle gazed up at her own face, seeing that the Doctor had applied her mascara and eyeliner much more heavily than she would have. Her exposed nipples were rock hard, her chest heaving as she still sought to regain her breath.

"Hhhm", the doctor said, looking at the mascara brush and eyeliner applicator. "I think since I was nice enough to fix your makeup with these, you should let me tickle your breasts a bit with these, don't you?"

"Please don't, I'm begging you," Joselle pleaded. But the doctor was already beginning. He carefully untucked the remainder of Joselle's breasts from her bra cups, so that he might get better access to her entire breast.

"Cootchie cootchie coo," the doctor said as he began to circle the makeup brush around Joselle's exposed and hardened nipple. He took the handle of the brush between his palms and spun it, making the bristles twirl against the defenseless flesh of her tit. While tormenting the bottom of her breast with the soft makeup brush, he began using the eyeliner applicator's stiffer bristles to torment her nipple.

Joselle exploded in laughter, her large chest heaving as she struggled against the sensations. Her wrists tore helplessly at her bonds, as the throbbing techno music seemed to tickle inside her skull. Unknown to her, the Doctor's music was specially designed to use sound frequencies that caused a highly irritating tickling feeling throughout her body. The doctor himself wore underclothing that protected him from the vibrations, but poor Joselle had no such luck. Furthermore, the stainless steel gyno table she was strapped to served as a sort of "amplifier" which transmitted the music's deep, tickling bass through her skin and into her bones, it's entire surface vibrating with the rhythm. The vibrations seemed to buzz annoyingly against her spinal cord, and from there cycle throughout her entire body.

The Doctor continued his torment of her breast, circling the puffy makeup brush in random patterns across the soft flesh, while using the stiff little eyeliner brush to torment her nipples. The remaining bits of makeup on these tools turned Joselle's entire boob a light shade of purple, as if she'd been bruised.

He finally stopped attacking her breast and allowed her to briefly regain her composure. Joselle had been hyperventilating, and sweat and tears had again mussed her makeup. Streaks of purple eyeshadow ran down her cheeks.

"There there, Joselle. It isn't so bad. You see, I did you a 'favor' by fixing your makeup, and all I asked is that you return the favor by allowing me to tickle your boobs. Of course, I was going to do it anyway. Are you enjoying our little experiments here, Joselle?" The Doctor had to cup his hands and speak directly into her ear, so as to be heard over the roar of the music. Joselle hated when he spoke to her like this, his very words and breath seemed to tickle inside her eardrums as he mouthed the words into her eardrum.

"Please just let me go," Joselle cried. "You don't understand what torture this is for me. I can't stand it- it, it's torture!" Joselle balled up her fists and began thumping her head against the cold, polished steel of the table. Poor Joselle was beyond frustrated, and her head and body ached from the tickling, breathlessness, and throbbing techno music in the torture chamber.

The Doctor quickly took his clipboard in hand and re-checked Joselle's restraints. They were designed specifically for tickle torture: the cuffs were fur-lined and made of heavy fabric like a car's seat belts, designed to withstand prolonged struggled and thrashing. Yet they weren't so tight that the 'victim's' circulation would be cut off and thus have her lose sensitivity. Methodically, the doctor pressed a few buttons on the table and the restraints self-tightened, making sure Joselle wasn't going anywhere.

"How about a little 'snack' to restore your energy, Joselle?" said the Doctor. His words and breath tickled her ear again as he spoke. Joselle suddenly realized she was in fact quite hungry, she had had lunch....when? How long had she been here? Two hours? Two days? The torture seemed to make time stand still, and of course there were no clocks in the torture chamber. Only her breathless heartbeat served to measure the time.

The Doctor wheeled his little doctor's stool over to a small dorm fridge and began shuffling about inside. In a few moments he returned with some melon slices & fruit salad on a small plate.

"How can I eat when I'm tied up like this?" asked Joselle. Her face screwed up into a haughty, spiteful look, which the Doctor found somewhat amusing, considering her predicament. Poor Joselle was bound with her arms stretched above her, inescapably bound to the table. Her legs were bound into the tables gyno stirrups, one leg clad in jeans and a boot, the other pantleg rolled up past her knee, and her lovely striped nylon knee-sock sexily covering her shapely leg. Those socks, the black stripes like prison bars, her leg & foot trapped for tickling.

Her starched blouse was unbuttoned and pulled away from her chest, with the remnants of her lacy bra cups tucked firmly beneath each breast, causing her prominent chest to point upwards invitingly. Each breast bore a slight purplish hue where the leftover mascara from the brush had rubbed off on her tits during the tickling session.

"How do you expect me to eat?," asked Joselle again. Her hunger suddenly seemed severe.

"Why, I'll feed you, of course," said the Doctor.

"With your FINGERS!," shouted Joselle. "That's gross." Joselle was in fact something of a germ nut- she washed her own hands many times a day, and avoided any restaurant without an A grade from Board of Health.

"Why what do you know, I have a fork right here! The Doctor plucked an ordinary white plastic fork, wrapped in a sanitary plastic cellophane, from his shirt pocket. Carefully, he poked the tines of the fork thru the cellophane wrapper and withdrew the fork from inside.

'Open sesame," said the Doctor, waving a forkful of melon before Joselle's nose. She struggled to reach it with her outstretched tongue, but the Doctor kept it just out of reach.

Joselle was burning with anger inside. She felt just like a suckling infant, being fed fruit slices by this evil monster.

"What's the matter Joselle? Are you not so hungry after all," laughed the Doctor. Joselle was trying desperately to "reach" the food, but she was bound so securely that her mouth & tongue couldn't stretch enough to reach the forkful of melon.

Finally, the Doctor held the fork just close enough for Joselle's tongue, when fully outstretched, to reach the melon and work it off the end of the fork. Sadly, she ended up dropping it on to her chest rather than "catching" it inside her mouth, since her tongue was so ridiculously extended. She barely was able to reach the food at all!

"Joselle, I am very angry with you," scolded the Doctor. "This fruit plate was VERY expensive, and you go and 'play' with your food rather than eat it. How ungrateful you are!," said the Doctor nastily.

"But, but, you didn't hold it close enough for me to reach it," said Joselle. God, she was hungry. She could just taste the bit of melon that had left it's residue on the tip of her tongue from the brief moment it was there. It was beyond frustrating, and boy was she hungry. The tickling had sapped nearly all of her energy. She could smell the sweetness of the melon slice rising from where it lay on her chest.

"No more food for you, young lady," the Doctor admonished her. "If you like to play with your food rather than eat it, I'm afraid you'll have to be punished. You've been a very naughty little girl, Joselle."

PART 4

With that, the Doctor gave her a condescending pat on the head. Joselle burned and seethed with anger, hunger, and frustration:

"You bastard," she said. "How do you expect me to eat when you don't put the fork close enough for me to reach."

The Doctor looked at her quizzically for a moment. Then he said "Joselle, if you'd like the fork a bit closer, I think that can be arranged. first, however, we have to attend to that smart, disobedient little mouth of yours.

He went over to a gleaming metal cabinet and Joselle could hear metal instruments clinking inside as the Doctor searched the drawer. After finding what he wanted, the Doctor approached Joselle and again looked her dead in the eyes.

"This is a spider gag, Joselle," said the Doctor. "It's what we use here on disobedient little girls who can't hold their tongues."

Dangling before her was the dreaded gag. It looked downright medieval, like some torture device from ancient history. Between a pair of thick, black leather belts was a chrome "O" ring, with ominous stainless steel brackets protruding from all 4 corners.

Joselle, upon seeing the spider gag, screwed her mouth tightly shut.

"Come on now Joselle," lectured the Doctor. "This is going in your mouth one way or the other. You've already earned yourself a punishment for being difficult about this."

Joselle just stared back at the Doctor with hatred in her eyes. Under no circumstance was she going to open her mouth and have that dreadful-looking thing jammed into her jaw.

"I see you've chosen the hard way," said the Doctor. "So be it." With that, the Doctor took his right hand and used 2 fingers to pinch Joselle's nostrils tightly shut. Her air supply cut off, it would only be a matter of seconds before she was forced to open her mouth and draw in a deep breath. The clock was ticking......

42 seconds. That's what it took until a breathless, defeated Joselle's lungs gave out, and she opened her mouth to gasp a deep, well-earned breath. The Doctor immediately shoved the ring gag into her gaping mouth, tucking the metal "O" ring tightly behind Joselle's teeth. Just as fast, he circled the leather straps about her head and buckled it tightly behind her head, pinching & pulling her hair cruelly in the process as it tangled in the buckle.

"Aaaargh, ugggh, arg, u basthard," Joselle uttered. Her ability to speak had been severely restricted by the spider gag's large "O" ring stretching her jaw, prying open her mouth uncomfortably wide. She felt a dull ache beginning already in her jaw from it being pushed open so unnaturally wide.

"Beautiful, simply beautiful," said the Doctor, stepping back a few feet to admire his work. "This gag is for your own good, Joselle. It will help you draw in more oxygen as we begin the next stage of tickling."

"Nooohgh" Joselle blurted thru her gag. Already a thin ribbon of drool was leaking from the corners of her wide-open mouth. She looked quite a mess, with the remains of her mascara flowing in purple streams down her now-bulging cheeks, and the melon slice still on her chest where she'd "dropped" it earlier whilst trying to get it off the fork."

"Now Joselle, before you became so defiant, we were having a conversation that the fork wasn't close enough to reach. I think we can remedy that for you." With that, the Doctor produced a small razor and began slicing the thin material of her blouse from under Joselle's right armpit. He cut about a 4 inch slit in the material, and by way of a tickle test quickly thrust a few wriggling fingers inside to "test" Joselle's reaction to armpit tickling.

"Aaargh ummph," Joselle muttered thru her gag. The Doctor tickled her armpit for about 10 seconds, seeing if any areas produced an especially violent reaction. In Joselle's case, the soft skin about an inch up her armpit, the soft flesh just outside the pit itself, seemed especially ripe territory. The gyno table creaked as Joselle tugged manically at her bound hand, trying vainly to bring her arms down and protect the sensitive flesh. Of course this was fruitless- she was bound too tightly for any chance of movement.

"Now where were we?,' said the Doctor, scratching his chin for a moment. Joselle was still convulsing from the brief, recent finger tickling of her armpit. "Ah yes, the fork," said the Doctor. "You said before it wasn't close enough for you to reach, correct? I think I can fix that for you, young lady."

With that, the Doctor inserted the plastic fork into the slot he'd cut in the blouse to access Joselle's armpit. He turned the fork upside down and slowly raked the tines of the fork gently to and fro beneath her armpit, barely letting the plastic graze her butter-soft skin.

The effect was like an electric shock! Joselle writhed and moaned miserably as the Doctor tormented her armpit with the fork. He pretended Joselle's armpit was fragile as an egg yolk, and grazed the fork's prongs ever so slightly across her skin, barely touching her at all. To Joselle it felt completely unbearable, like a cross between a terrible itch and a tickle. He kept up like that for a full 10 minutes, until Joselle was gasping and hyperventilating thru her gag, Drool and spit now ran like rivers from both corners of her spider gag, and her dark hair was soaked with sweat and drool about her shoulders. She was horribly, terribly ticklish under her arms, and driven nearly to the point of insanity. Worse yet, the metal of her ring gag seemed to send the throbbing bass vibrations deep inside her jaw, almost tickling her skull. Having her mouth pinned open so severely was torture in itself, as her nonstop laughter caused a dull ache that radiated from her teeth up into her sinuses. The gag also made swallowing difficult, so the majority of her saliva dripped embarrassingly from corners of her gagged mouth.

The Doctor let her cool down for a few moments before beginning anew. This time, he decided to pretend the fork was an insect, and "walked" the fork's prongs back and forth down Joselle's armpit, sort of gently "poking' her as he "walked" the forked sideways down her armpit. It drove Joselle insane, making her feel as if a huge spider were building a nest under her arm. He varied the speed and technique, such that at times it felt like one large insect and at times he poked and moved it quickly, so it felt as if a swarm of bugs were crawling around poor Joselle's pit. She was hysterical and tearing so hard at her arm restraints that the Doctor had to briefly pause and make sure they remained taut & secure. The victim was afford no protection whatsoever, her arms were puled tightly over her head, leaving her pit completely exposed and completely unprotected & vulnerable.

Tiring of her armpits, the Doctor decided to move 'south' a bit, and unbuttoned the remaining blouse buttons below Joselle's exposed breasts, exposing her flat tummy. Her belly button was exquisitely cute and innocent, an "innie," and seemed to almost beg for a through tickled. He gently tucked the "flaps" of her blouse underneath the small of her back, making sure it would not interfere or flail about as he set down to tickling her tummy proper.

First, he gently dragged the prongs of the plastic fork from between Joselle's ample cleavage down to her belly button, stopping just short of her adorable, innocent little navel. A navel that, until now, had never been the victim of a sadistic, merciless tickle.

He raked the fork up and down, up and down, sweeping it gently from between her cleavage to just above her belly button, yet avoiding the navel itself. For now, anyway.

Sometimes about an inch above the navel he'd 'turn' the fork to the right, continuing a trail that raked & curved down her lower tummy. Other times he'd draw a "figure 8," skimming the fork from just under her breasts and making the center of the "8" just north or south of her cute little navel, before finishing off the bottom loop across her lower abdomen.

Suffering horribly, Joselle's tummy sucked and heaved as he tormented her, and he had to be careful to get the "pressure" of the fork just right so he'd make enough contact just to tickle, but not to scratch, poor Joselle as she squirmed and squealed in ticklish hell. The contrast of the gleaming white fork against her soft olive skin was exquisite. The tight muscles of her stomach convulsed in deep belly laughter, and a wet spot formed in the crotch of her jeans as Joselle's suffering bladder finally gave way. He kept this torment up for a full 20 minutes before moving on to the "main event": her precious little navel.

PART 5

Joselle was beyond exhausted. She'd tried as hard as possible to "suck in" her tummy and thus prevent contact with the fork, but the Doctor was a master of his craft. Whenever she sucked her tummy in, he followed with appropriate 'pressure' on the fork to assure that her tender skin had no break from his torments. With her arms and legs tightly bound, there was little Joselle could do but lie back and endure it. Pissing herself only added to the humiliation she felt, and her soggy jeans and panties added another layer of misery to her ceaseless torment.

The evil Doctor granted Joselle just a few second's reprieve to catch her flagging breath before attacking her belly button proper. He'd been fantasizing about this moment for nearly a half hour, and could hardly wait to see her reactions. Ever so slowly, like a baker probing the top of a hot, sticky pan of brownies, the Doctor gently pushed the tips of the fork prongs into Joselle's tender navel. The effect on Joselle was like an electric charge! She gasped thru her gag and jolted upwards, the small of her back nearly lifting off the table. The Doctor noted this on his clipboard, and a small indicator light lit up on the side of the gyno table. Beneath the indicator light it read: "Additional Restraints Required."

Reaching beneath the table, the Doctor pulled a pair of additional dark blue straps which were attached underneath on a retractable reel, much like a car's seat belt. He placed on tightly above and one tightly below Joselle's belly button, fully immobilizing her midsection so she couldn't squirm so much as an inch, not arch her lower back upwards.

The gyno table's machinery adjusted the straps to the appropriate tension, and he set about tickling her navel in earnest. He again gently inserted the prongs of the plastic fork into her belly button, lightly twisting it as if poking the top of a puff-pastry soufflé. Joselle's suffering was incredible, as her belly button was almost unbearably sensitive. The Doctor then gently raked the fork in circular fashion around the perimeter of her belly button, making just enough contact to torment Joselle hysterically. He made a huge spiral, staring almost at her sides and slowly ringing in closer until the fork's tines were scraping inside her navel itself. The additional straps performed their function well, keeping Joselle's tummy from escaping the fork's irritating, ticklish quest.

Joselle's tummy heaved and churned as the fork continued it's assault. She began to wonder just how much worse it could get. Soon, she would find out......

(to be continued)