"Preliminary sensetizing complete! Initiating torsal probing..." Catherine declared with enthusiasm, getting even farther into the quasi-scientific spirit of the moment. I twitched nervously as the two 'drills' positioned on either side of my ribs whirred slowly to life and began to move inwards. I closed my eyes tightly, anticipating the feeling of contact as the spinning brushes contacted my chest.
A few seconds went by, with myself just sitting there, tense and braced -but suffering a conspicuous lack of tickling. Slowly, I cracked open my eyes again. "Say... Are you dragging this out or something, Kitty?"
"Well, there's no point in it now, I suppose." She hmmphed playfully.
The drills lightly moved in another centimetre or so, and the spinning increased. Trailed by tingling nerves-ending, the feathers started lightly tracing away over my chest, following a pre-set pattern that a small part of me realized was likely adjusted to my size. The delicate, pointed plumes traced just their tips over my body; as my ribs were bearing the brunt, and ususally less than overwhelmingly receptive to such soft measures, it didn't tickle that much. But it still caused me to squirm and giggle no small amount, almost actively wanting it to intensify. It was as if I was building up energy in an instinctive but futile attempt to ward off the feathers, but the effective retraints and only limited laughter I could produce wasn't allowing me to vent it; it was getting hopelessly bottled up inside of me. I was starting to feel, in a bizarrely pleasent way, that I would simply explode if Catherine left the machine on too long.
That wasn't the only effect of this interesting setup. As I mentioned, the feather tips had a specific route that they followed, guided by the drills. They started by dragging against my skin midway up my ribs, and then sloowly folowed the curves of my rib-cage down and over the top of my belly, before flicking perfectly up over my nipples. As me and Catherine had learned some time ago, they weren't to be overlooked where extra-sensetive regions were concerned, and their receptiveness seemed to be directly related to how aroused I was. The annoying/fortunate thing was; the more I was tickled there, the hornier I became.
From there, they traced onward to the very bottom of my underarms, not tickling the armpit proper but producing a tingling that spread fully across it and no doubt sensetized it quite alot for the attacks that would be going their way in the near future.
Kitty had pulled up a padded chair shortly after starting the machine and now gazed at me shuddering and squirming away, getting exhaustively aroused and tickled almost painfully slowly, with a look normally reserved for either a peice of art one was proud of or a half-dozen adorable puppies crammed togethor in a woven basket.
"Cahahahthy? Hehehee! Cat?! Turn it up or some-hehehe!-thing, darn it!" I giggled.
She sighed as if I was the very embodiement of people who were hard to please, and casually flicked a switch without looking away from me. Two slowly rotating, dough-nut shaped peices of fluff on jointed arm emerged from the fabric beneath my feet. These also had been measured, or so it seemed, as the size of the circular peices perfectly matched the curvature of my arches, which they very firmly pressed into.
Had I been able to twitch or move at all, I would have lept a meter in the air at the unexpected, heavier feeling! It was shocking how much thet fact that they were rotating, dragging dozens of miniature little brushes forcibly down my foot produced an added ticklign affect. My legs jerked uncontrollably, torso temporailry relegated to the back seat, as now I started laughing in earnest.
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