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Falco approached the tickle torture exhibit. A feather danced between his fingertips.

The same hazel pine marten was in the same bondage chair, same cute feet sticking out of the same sturdy stocks. A bit of dried pussy juice spotted the leather between her legs; the last exhibition attendee to visit her--a handsome mouse she had begged to finish her off--only cared about tickling the everlasting shit out of her feet, and that was a solid hour ago, so, by now, she'd mostly settled down.

She giggled. Fingers danced their merry way down her armpits. The girl squirmed away from the pinches to her sides. "You're pretty good at this," she said, turning to face the unexpected patron. "Oh, it's you."

Falco prodded her ribs. "Mhm. I'm back."

She flinched with each jab. "I don't wanna talk to you. You're mean, Mr. Fox. You don't care about the rules on that dumb sign outside. You did it all on purpose." Her face pinched in anger. "You're on my list."

"What list?"

"My Sugar Honey Iced Tea list."

"Your what?" Falco tutted and shook his head. "Oh. I get it. You can't even bring yourself to say the dreaded S-word, huh?" He twirled the feather between his fingertips. "Any chance I could be taken off said list?"

She glowered at him, sneaking glances at the feather. "Nope." She harrumphed and looked the other way. "I don't forgive people that mess with my heart or my orgasms."

"Let me make it all better." Falco flicked his wrist--the feather found her clit.

The pine marten gasped and bit her lip. Her whiskers twitched. "Nuh-uh." The slightest hint of red spotted her cheeks. "That's nothing, Mr. Fox."

"Nope. Don't hide it. Come on, I know this is getting you going."

"Nuh-uh," she said, bubble butt rocking back and forth against leather. "It's gonna take more than that."

He tweaked one of her nipples between thumb and forefinger. "Is it now? Then why are your tits all puffy and hard?"

By this time, a few spectators had gathered around the duo. They fidgeted, squirmed, and exchanged lascivious glances.

The girl licked her lips. "You're a foxy rascal." Her eyes swiveled to meet his. "Maaaaybe there's some hope for you after all." A clear drop of pussy juice zigzagged down her engorged lips.

"Attagirl," said Falco, tickling her chin. "Whatcha say we let bygones be bygones?"

She lowered her head and studied him. "That's a possibility." The girl closed her eyes and concentrated on the tingling between her legs. "Promise me you'll ignore the rules on that stupid sign this time, m'kay?"

"All right." Falco caressed her cheek and chuckled. "I promise." When his claws grazed the curvy part of her waist, she tittered and jerked away. "Left you all hot and bothered before, huh?"

Her pussy and butthole twitched in tandem with Falco's expert teasing. "Yessss, you're the devil. You're so mean."

"Still want that cherry pie, cutie?"

The pine marten smiled and leaned her head back. "Mhm. I really do need me a slice, Mr. Fox. And I want it real hot and freshly baked, m'kay?"

"Well, that's today's specialty of the house. You're in luck." He drew a circle around her nipple with the tip of a finger. "A homemade tart cherry pie. Whipped cream and ice cream to go along with it, too."

All kinds of anthros surrounded them. Most of the guys and some of the gals were enjoying the girl's pleasurable ordeal--a wolf was in the first quarter of a very obvious game of pocket pool, and a macaw had taken to surreptitious photography. With the sole of her foot in the foreground, he focused on her gyrating hips, on her pussy.

The tip of her tail twitched. "You and me are gonna be friends after all."

"A feather and a slice of cherry pie?" Falco's paw glided down her pussy lips, and the feather soaked up some of her juices. "That's all it takes for a beautiful friendship to blossom?"

"Don't tease!" She angled her hips to try and get it back. "Keep it right there, mister. You did that last time, too!"

"Why shouldn't I tease?" Up went the feather to fixate on her clit. "Was something going to happen?"

A sweet giggle escaped her as she eyed the fox coquettishly. "You know why you shouldn't tease," she said. "And you know _exactly_what was gonna happen, silly."

"No idea. Humor me, you cute li'l thing."

She clasped the stainless steel wrist restraints. "Oh, geez." Caramel skin turned ever so slightly pink. "Mr. Fox! I'm gonna . . ." Her ass twerked to the rhythm of the feather. "I'm gonna . . ."

He leaned close. "Is this what you've been waiting for? Hm?" the fox crooned into her ear. The bristles separated as he dragged the feather up and down her clit. "Gonna have that first bite of cherry pie, cutie?" The fox cupped her tit with the other paw. "Gonna cum, yeah?" Her nipple pulsed against his palm. "Gonna have your orgasm?"

She smiled wide at him and nodded.

"Hell, even the way you curl your toes is super adorable," he said, glancing at her feet. "It's like you're saying, 'I'm close,' but you're also saying, 'I'm ticklish right here!'"

She laughed out loud at his comment--sure enough, most of her toes were curled tight; the big ones pointed straight up. "I can't control it!" She shivered in sheer delight. "It's your fault, silly! You're gonna make my toes cramp so good!" The pine marten's pearl pulled up into its hood. "Yes! Almost!" Falco followed it with the feather. "Oh my gosh! Right there!" She bit her lip and closed her eyes. The girl breathed harder, faster, louder. "ALMOST!" Her tail curled up and froze in place, and her back arched off the chair. "I'M GONNA CU--"

"Say, wait a minute!"

The pine marten screamed and shuddered in shock.

Falco stood there, eyebrow raised, juice-soaked feather held up to eye level. "That reminds me," he said. He fished the exhibition brochure out of his back pocket.

"NO! Oh my gosh, why'd you stop, Mr. Fox?!" Her cuffs rattled as she humped the air. "I was gonna cum!"

He tapped the brochure with the quill of the feather. "See, I knew it."

"Can't this wait?" she yelled, wide-eyed. "I'm so close!"

"Clause here says you can't do anything that hurts or injures volunteers." Falco bent forward. "Didn't you say I was gonna make your toes cramp up?" His warm breath tickled her whiskers. "And cramps count as injuries."

"What?" she said, voice weak. "No! You promised!"

Falco nodded. "I did. I promised I'd ignore the rules on the sign." He narrowed his eyes. "Don't remember saying anything about this here brochure, though."

"NO! You cannot be serious! You can't do this to me!" She tried to squeeze her legs together to get some friction, the briefest touches needed for sweet, sweet relief. "I was exaggerating! It's not like a super painful cramp or anything like that! You can make me cum! I mean it!" she said amidst shallow, rapid breaths as the spectators snickered at her desperation. "Please, please, please, just one touch!" He just had to finish her off. "It's all I need!" No one could be this evil.

"Like this?" asked Falco. He grazed her lips with the feather--of course, he missed her clit by a whole half-millimeter.

She yelped and thrust her ass up. "_NOOOO!_Don't stop!" A hair-trigger away from an earth-shattering orgasm, she gulped and took a deep breath. "Look! I promise I won't curl my toes when I cum! Mr. Fox, I'll stay completely still! I'm begging you!"

He wiped lube off the feather. "Nope. You said before you can't control it."

"You won't hurt me! For real! Just _please_forget what I said and make me cum!"

"Sorry, cutie. They don't just ban you--you gotta pay for the medical bills, too. Anyway," he said, finger-waving at her, "I gotta be somewhere else now." Falco blew her a kiss as he walked away, a spring in his step, feather in pocket.

"NO! Mr. Fox! Come back!" Her cute little butt hovered in the air as the crowd of smirking attendees closed in. Juice dripped onto the chair's matte leather. "I'm so, so close!" Her gaze darted between them. "I'm going nuts here! Just a tap! A little touch, a flick! Guys, please!" she squealed breathlessly, perky breasts jiggling.

A stoat walked up to her. "Sorry, sugartits. I ain't got the kinda money to foot someone's hospital bills. I'm glad I looked at the brochure when your 'Mr. Fox' friend mentioned it. It all checks out!"

"NO!" she yelled. "Mr. Fox is a gosh-darned, no-good son of a gun! Forget about him! Make me cum!"

"If we make you cum, you could hurt yourself, and I didn't dump a month's pay into getting tickets just to get kicked out," a rat explained. "We all owe that fox a beer or something." He exchanged sly glances with his partners in crime. "Dodged a real bullet there." He grabbed hold of her ankle.

She grimaced and spread her legs. "Guys, I'll blow you! You can take me from behind!" The desperate girl held her ass up in the thick, sex-stained air as shimmering pussy juice leaked down her lips, taint, butthole. "You won't hurt a single hair on my head! Just _please_make me cum!"

"No can do," said a bear. "It's way too risky. Now, sit down, toots!" He pinched her ticklish side and forced a gasp out of her; with an unceremonious plop, her rump met leather, and with it, the puddle of her own juices.

"Please, please, please!" She made frantic eye contact with the leering faces. Her heavy heartbeat pulsed in tandem with her clit, her nipples. "I'll do anything!"

Without wasting another second, they attacked, a cruel grin plastered on their faces.

"HAHAHAHA! NO! I WAS GONNA CUM! BWAHAHAHAHAHA! I WAS SO CLOSE!"

The bear treated her upper body--her ribs, her sides, her tummy--like his personal live stress ball: he'd squeeze, he'd jab, he'd tase, each touch eliciting a howl of laughter.

"HAHAHAHAHA! I WANTED TO CUM SO BAD! BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

The rat's fingers were remarkably adept at tickling. They followed her wiggling toes and curling feet with precision, adjusting speed and location for maximum mirth; the stoat favored light touches under her arms, something that drove the pine marten wild.

"I--BWAHAHAHAHA--DARN YOU TO HELL, MR.FOX! BWAHAHAHAHAHA!"

Over time, the trio worked her from head to toe. They grabbed her thighs, her knees; grazed their claws over her neck; scritched her thick, squirmy tail.

"I WANTED TO CUM SO BAD! BWAHAHAHAHA! NO! BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA! NOT THERE!"

Not a square inch of skin was spared.

"HAHAHAHAHA! MR.FOX! BWAHAHAHAHA! YOU'RE A LOUSY, ROTTEN--BWAHAHAHAHA!"

Well, that's not actually true . . .

"I WAS SO CLOSE! BWAHAHAHAHAHA! I WAS GONNA CUM! HAHAHAHAHAHA!"

Because they all ignored her poor, _poor_clit.