Jungle Girl's Torture

Linda looked at herself in the full-length mirror at the end of the hall, thinking she was crazy for agreeing to let her dumb little brother play a stupid game of capturing Jungle Girl and putting her on the rack. But she had to admit that the image of the young woman, her shoulders completely bare in her sleek strapless dress with the leopard spot pattern, did look the part. And the thought of being stretched out tightly on the rack while wearing this outfit was kind of exciting. She knew he wasn't planning to use the rack to inflict pain; he wouldn't need to. Once he had on the rack, she was going to get one hell of a tickling.

If she could take the torture, he'd do the dishes for a week. Linda was convinced that he expected her to reveal the location of the twenty she had hidden. Well, twenty dollars was twenty dollars, and she wasn't about to tell him where it was. Not even under torture.

Linda saw Bobby at the other end of the hall a second before he said, "There you are, Jungle Girl, I caught you!"

Trying to look wide-eyed and scared, Linda turned around and gasped. "Who-who are you?" she asked. The little dork was pointing a squirt gun at her.

"An evil villain, and I'm going to take you back to my dungeon."

"No, please, not your dungeon," she said, trying to keep a straight face.

"Then tell me where the treasure is."

"No, never. I'll never tell you."

"We'll see," he said with a ridiculous attempt at an evil laugh. "I'm going to put you on the rack. What do you think of that?"

"Not the rack," Linda gasped, noticing that his gaze had shifted to her bare shoulders as he mentioned the dreaded device.

"Let's go," he said, motioning toward the back door with his squirt gun.

"P-please don't hurt me, evil villain."

"I won't hurt you, I promise," he said with a wicked grin. "I have no intention of...hurting you."

Linda let him order her to the garage at "gunpoint." Behind her, Bobby admired his sister in her strapless outfit, liking the way her bare upper back looked above the top of her dress. But best of all, he was going to get to tickle her really good, and she understood exactly what was in store for her. For the rest of the afternoon, he realized that he could do anything he wanted to her (within reason, he understood), and what he wanted to do more than anything was tickle her. He wanted to tickle her until she was exhausted and begging for mercy, then tickle her some more. He didn't understand why, but the thought of tickling girls was fascinating to him.

Linda stopped at the garage door while Bobby opened it, and beckoned her in. He had been right. The rack was there. She shuddered and rubbed the goosebumps on her arms, leaving her hands on her bare shoulders as she looked at the leather straps attached by ropes to wooden roller at one end, the stocks for her ankles at the other. Suddenly she felt very vulnerable.

"Take of your shoes," commanded her little brother.

Linda/Jungle Girl slipped of her sandals, approached the dreaded rack, and climbed on it. The Evil Villain lifted the stocks and pointed to them. Linda, sitting up and leaning back with her hands flat on the rack, obediently placed her ankles in the holes, and watched him lower the top half over them.

Bobby locked the stocks in place with a wooden peg and reached for Linda's left foot, gently tickling her bare sole. She giggled and twisted her foot sideways to escape. Then he reached for her other foot, and watched it move the opposite direction before he even get a chance to touch it. It didn't matter, there was plenty of time. "Lie down with your arms over your head," he said.

Linda lay down, and lifted her arms over her head, aware that her bare underarms were showing. Fearful that she might change her mind at the last minute, he quickly wrapped one strap around her wrist and buckled it in place. A few seconds later, he was on the other side and fastening the other. There was a little slack in the ropes, so he moved the lever and turned the roller until the gear on the side caught. He did it a couple of more times until the rope looked pretty tight. He didn't want to hurt her, but he didn't want her to be able to move much either. He stepped back to admire how she looked.

Now the rope which came over the top of the roller had been tightened enough so that she couldn't place her wrists on the boards. He looked from the leather straps around her wrists, down the length of her bare arms to her smooth underarms, then to her bare feet trapped in the stocks. Now the only question was where to begin.

As soon as she had felt Bobby buckle the second strap around her wrist, Linda had doubts about committing herself to this. Was getting out of the dishes for a week with it? She might think so tomorrow, but right now it was debatable. On the other hand, she thought as her little brother worked the lever and stretched her arms out higher, there was something thrilling about being a scantily-clad damsel in distress on the rack, facing the challenge of withstanding harmless torture. She was very much aware of her bare feet and underarms.

"Now I got you," Bobby said triumphantly, as he headed toward her feet.

Linda lifted her head to watch him and instinctively curled her toes, not that it would do much good.

Bobby reached out and touched her bare sole, which was enough to make her giggle and twist her foot as she had before. Then he did it to her other sole. Next he used the fingers of both hands to lightly tickle both her feet at the same time.

Linda laughed and tried to twist her feet away. It was not the nonstop merciless tickling that Aunt Vivian loved to inflict on her, but it was still annoying. With her ankles clamped in place, she could evade a little bit of the tickling, but she knew his fingers could simply follow her feet. Again and again, Linda laughed as Bobby would ripple his fingertips on her bare soles, and she would twitch to get away. After a while she found her neck was getting sore from trying to watch, and lay her head down. When she felt the fingers dance across her right sole, she jerked her leg and laughed, only to feel the same sensation reappear on her left foot. Laughing, she squirmed and pulled at the ropes holding her arms over her head.

Encouraged by her laughter and struggling, Bobby again tickled both her feet at the same time, but this time he kept it up, chasing her evasive feet and working on her soles. She was laughing continuously now, and jerking both legs spasmodically. When her laughing began changing into shrieks, he stopped.

Abandoning her feet, he walked to the other end of the rack and looked at his sister, lying flat on her back in her strapless dress with her arms stretched out over her head. She turned her head toward him. "Well, Jungle Girl, you're now my captive. Tell me where the twenty is, and I'll release you."

"Never," she answered, knowing what that answer would bring. It was kind of scary, refusing to give in, when she was in that kind of position, knowing that she would be tickled for it.

"Then I am going to use my special torture on you." He'd noticed that when she had pulled at the ropes, she had been able to bend her elbows a little. So he pushed the lever until the gear wheel caught again, watching her reaction carefully to make sure he wasn't hurting her. Her arms were both pulled very straight now over her head with her wrists slightly farther apart than her shoulders. Her strapless dress left both of her smooth underarms completely exposed, and there was nothing she could do about it.

He reached for a bare underarm and ran his fingers up and down for a few seconds, causing her to giggle. Leaving his finger in the center of her underarm, liking the feel of the warm smooth skin, he said, "Talk."

"No," she said, still giggling, even though he had stopped tickling her. "Heheheheeeeehaaahaa," she laughed, as he probed and poked her underarm for a few more seconds.

He climbed up on the rack and rested beside her on his knees. Then he placed both hands on her bare underarms.

"No!" she laughed. Just being touched there was enough.

"Talk," he repeated.

"No," she giggled, then shrieked as he began tickling her again.

She didn't even try not to laugh. She just let herself go, pulling at the straps around her wrists, while she felt his fingers running up and down her underarms. One thing about tickling, Linda understood, was that the victim never remembered just how bad it was when it wasn't happening. Now she was experiencing it again, laughing louder as her bratty little brother ran his fingers up and down. It was pure torture.

It went on for what seemed like forever, but eventually he stopped and she stopped laughing, her eyes half closed. She tried to imagine herself as a damsel in a movie, helplessly stretched on the rack, arms and shoulders bare, tormented by a dastardly villain.

"Ready to talk, Jungle Girl?"

"Never," she replied bravely.

This time, Bobby placed his fingers on the sides of her neck, feeling the warm bare skin of her shoulders against the back of his hands. Already she was giggling. He gently rippled his fingers over the sides of her neck She laughed and twisted her head. When he her laughing became stable, he briefly, and without warning, switched to her underarms again, which changed the laugh to a screech. Her entire upper body jerked in a spasm as she tried to pull her arms down. He returned to her neck, for a few moments, then let his rippling fingers wander down across her collarbones to her bare chest.

Since her dress was strapless, Linda's entire upper body above her breasts was bare, and Bobby let his fingers run in patterns across all the warm skin between her collarbones and the edge of her dress, avoiding her underarms. Her dress was designed so that the front dipped at her cleavage, and Bobby tickled her there as well.

Linda, giggling pleasantly, actually found herself enjoying this. She was ticklish on her chest, but not unbearably so. And there was the constant awareness of the stocks around her ankles and the straps on her wrists, keeping her tightly stretched out. She was surprised to find the experience pleasurable. But then he again dug his fingers into her bare underarms, and she shouted "No, not there!" a second before her ability to speak was lost in hysterics. With all her strength, she yanked at the ropes to get her arms down, as those fingers kept on torturing her. After about a half minute, he switched back to her chest.

"Heeheeheee, ahh, heehehee," she giggled.

"Talk," he said.

"Heeheeee, no, hehehe, Arrgghhhhh!" she screamed, as he went back to her underarms. "Noo, hahahaaa, stophahaha."

"You want me to stop?"

"Yeshahahaah," she wailed.

Bobby stopped.

"Tell me where the treasure is."

"Loosen this thing first," she said, stalling for time.

Bobby ran his fingers up and down her bare underarms again.

"Nohahaha!" she screamed. "Nohaha..ahh..ahha.hhahahh!"

Bobby knew he had her now. She was about ready to "talk." So he stopped. He didn't want her to talk just yet. If she did, he'd have to release her, and it was too much fun keeping her on the rack.

He hopped off the edge of the rack and looked at his older sister. Her chest was heaving as she caught her breath. The backs of her bare shoulders were lying on the rough wooden slats, and he wondered if it were uncomfortable for her.

Linda wasn't thinking about her shoulders on the wood, of course. She was simply grateful the ticking had stopped for the time being. She also knew it would start again, and was beginning to have doubts that she could take much more. The little squirt was getting good at tickling, and that last round had been more than she had bargained for.

But to her surprise, she was also enjoying this. It was kind of a kick being tied down with her underarms exposed and not being able to do anything about it, with the ever-present threat of more tickling. She pulled at the ropes, but they held her securely stretched out.

Bobby walked around the rack, just to see how she looked from different angles. When he passed her feet, he ran one finger up one sole then the other, which got the expected giggles. She nervously followed him with her eyes. When he got back to her upper body, he climbed back up on the rack and looked down at her. "Ready to talk, yet?"

"No," she said, tensing for what was coming next, uncertain if she could take it.

He hadn't worked on her upper sides along the edge of her dress yet, the area right below her underarms. So he began gently pinching her there.

"No!!!hahaha, Oh my God! Nohahahhheeee!" she screamed.

Gradually, he moved his frantically tickling fingers up toward her underarms again.

"StophahaheheeeeeeI'lltalkhaaahaaahaa."

"What?" he asked, still tickling.

"I'll talkhaaaahaaaaahaaa."

He stopped.

Through gasps for air, she said, "L-loosen this thing."

Bobby jumped down and used the lever to loosen her a couple of notches, waiting for her to catch her breath. Her elbows were slightly bent, although her arms were still pulled up pretty tight. "Tell me where the treasure is," he said.

Linda looked at him, smiled, and said, "No."

"Okay," he said, tightening the lever again.

"What the hell's going on here?" boomed a loud, angry voice.

Bobby and Linda both turned to see their father standing in the doorway, glaring at them both. Bobby was so surprised and embarrassed, he just stood there speechless with his hand on the lever. Behind him was their mother.

Linda was surprisingly quick-witted. "We're rehearsing, Daddy."

"Yeah, that's right," agreed Bobby.

"I've told you not to play with the museum pieces, haven't I?'

"Yes," said Bobby.

Their mother said, "I think it's cute."

"I don't," he said. "You're grounded, Bobby."

"Aw, Dad," he whined.

"Daddy!" said Linda, "That's not fair!"

But he had already left.

Bobby loosed the lever and released Linda, who wearily sat up on the edge of the rack. Bobby could see the red marks on the back of her shoulders where they had rested against the wood.

"I'm sorry, squirt," she said.

"It's not your fault."

"Hey, you tortured me pretty good," she said with a smile. "I'll do the dishes."

"You don't have to. I didn't make you talk."

"You would have, eventually."

"You think so?"

"Yeah, you little dweeb." Linda rubbed one shoulder, exposing her upper side. Bobby didn't waste any time poking her there. "Hey!!!" she yelled, pulling her arm down. "You little creep!"