"H-Hey, stop that it tickles!" she snickers, instinctively withdrawing her feet. She glares at you. "I think you need to be punished for that, little man" she snaps, grabbing you and jumping to her feet.
"What?," you gasp, "But I didn't mean it! It was an accident! What are you.." you trail off, frightened as her deceptively innocent face twists into an expression of sadistic glee. "Tell me, little man" she murmurs, "Are you ticklish?" You gulp and remain silent, hoping against hope that she'll lose interest, but your hesitation only further arouses her curiosity. "I asked you a question, little man" she snarls, "And now that I have to find out for myself, you'll be punished even more for your impudence!"
Before you can object, she tugs off your shoes and socks, ripping away your shirt, pants, and underwear with a flicker of her wrist. Nude and helpless, you shudder nervously in the palm of her hand. She starts testing your body to see which place is the most ticklish. Placing her index fingers at your arms, she slowly drags them down before settling at your armpits, moving her fingertips in little circles to exacerbate your torment. "Does it tickle there, little man"? she teases. "Admit it, and I might just stop.." Though you're tempted by the offer, you're determined not to give her the satisfaction, forcing out a tortured "No..." You squirm and writhe but just barely manage to keep your mouth shut despite your body being wracked by ticklish sensations. Disappointed by the lack of reaction, she darts out her tongue, dabbing at your little feet as she continues her relentless assault on your armpits. This causes you to giggle, but you quickly clamp your mouth shut and hope she doesn't hear you.
"You're only resisting the inevitable you know," she taunts with a mocking smile.
Determined to break your resistance, she brings her whole hand to play now, targeting your lower stomach with random, ticklish pinches. The inability to predict her next move only heightens the ticklish sensations with each pinch. You twitch and squirm, until finally your resistance crumbles, the accumulated laughter bubbling forth as you yelp and squeal, begging for mercy.
"There you go, doesn't it feel better when you just let it out?" she asks, smiling wickedly.
"Hehehe, Alrighhit, alrighhht, I'm tihihicklish! I'm vehehehery tihihicklish! Ahahahaha plehehease stahahahap!" You beg, but the Carrie continues, deaf to your pleas. Her nails move to your hip, scratching and lightly squeezing in a way that makes you howl.
"Poor little man" Carrie whispers. "Poor, ticklish little man. You didn't really think I'd stop, did you? I'm going to keep playing with my ticklish little pet until I drive him crazy!" All you can do is writhe and squirm, groaning plaintively and gasping for breath between fits of laughter.
Chuckling at your predicament, Carrie begins gently tracing her fingernails up and down your ribs, causing a fresh wave of ticklish tingles to crash against your skin. Your stomach aches from all this laughter, and you're afraid that if Carrie keeps this up much longer, you'll black out.
What happens?
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