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Falco chuckled to himself as he adjusted his hat; he'd just hung the exhibition pass around his neck, and the brim needed to be folded back. His ears swiveled in the direction of sweet-sounding laughter. In his experience, only one thing could elicit such beautiful, rhythmic tittering, guffawing and occasional howling. To confirm his suspicion, he thumbed through the exhibition brochure and scanned the map with his amber eyes. A few seconds later, he felt vindicated--there it was, right there, and it seemed to be right where the hysterical laughter was coming from.

---

As five exhibition spectators made short work of her, the hazel pine marten whooped hysterically and thrashed around in her restraints. The girl was strapped down butt naked to a chair with her legs and arms spread, feet--a lovely tan countershading smeared on the most sensitive part, the soles--sticking out of sturdy stocks. She'd been cussing, yelling, and hooting nonstop for the past hour; despite this, everyone knew she secretly enjoyed it, for she hadn't uttered her safe word.

Two bear brothers delighted in watching her eight toes wiggle and squirm whenever their huge claws glided up and down the bare soles of her feet. A goat and an armadillo kneaded and prodded the sensitive skin under her arms, and a cat counted her ribs over and over, sinking two fingers into her sides, right where her curves were, just after reaching the bottommost ribs.

Falco marched over and surveyed the scene. He chuffed. The Tickle Trinity as he called it--feet, sides and armpits--were hogged.

He had to improvise.

Grabbing two goose feathers that just happened to be lying on the floor, he walked over and began tickling her inner thighs with one of them. "My, my," he said. As if on cue, everyone except the cat stopped. "Ticklish in all the usual places, I see." The pine marten threw her head back and belly laughed when the cat tased her sides one last time. "But what about ... here?" he asked as the pine marten's laughter dwindled to giggles.

She gasped when Falco began teasing her pink clit with the tip of the feather.

"Tha-Tha-That feels, good," she said. The spectators around them began to fidget, trying to hide their newly developing boners. She rocked her hips and looked shyly at Falco. "It's sorta ticklish, but it's much more, more, you know ..."

"Erotic?" Falco smiled at her and twirled the feather over her lips and nub. "What's wrong? Feeling turned on?"

She bit her lip and nodded. "Yes ..." she crooned, her nipples throbbing once as if making up for her bashful drawl.

"Think you need a break from all this tickling? A bit of release?"

The pine marten leaned her head back. "Mhm. Please." A drop of pussy juice slid down her taint and dripped onto the leather under her.

"You want a bit of cherry pie, don't you, cutie?"

"Yes, Mr. Fox, please give me a slice," she said with a hilariously cute whisker twitch.

"Oh, you can have the whole thing, crust and all. Gotta be careful, though." Falco produced the second feather, clutched between two fingers of his other hand, and teased her nipple. "Don't wanna get burned. Just took it outta the oven."

Her nostril twitched and she smiled wide--blood rushed to the nipple Falco worked on. "But I like it real hot, Mr. Fox," she said as Falco shifted his attention to the other nipple, his right paw still tickling her swollen clit.

"Well, this is gonna be piping hot, cutie. You want that?" Left and right went one feather, the other twirling in place and teasing the crap out of her bud.

The girl grinded her clit against the feather. "Yessss, I want it real bad."

"You're a sweetheart; you know that, right?" Falco dipped the feather in her juices and stroked the girl's pearl as if delivering the finishing touches to a masterpiece.

She smiled and nodded. "Mhm." Her toes, all except the big ones, curled up hard. "Oh, geez." Both her nipples swelled, the brown skin taking on a slightly pink tone. "I'm gonna, I'm gonna ..."

"Cum? Gonna have your orgasm?" Falco focused on her clit. He teased the pea-shaped mass of hypersensitive flesh with the feather bristles, letting them part as he dragged it over her nub.

"Yes! YES!" With each frantic cry, her groin twitched. The pine marten's clit retracted into its hood where the fox's teasing touch followed it. "Almost! ALMOST!" Her thick tail curled, her back arching into the imminent surge of pleasure. "I'M CU--"

Her eyes shot open and she gasped.

Falco had cruelly flicked the feathers out of his hand. Soaked in her pussy juice, one of them dropped like a rock and landed in a puddle of her own pussy juice exactly where it was before. "Nope."

"Wait, what?! Why?!" Bewilderment and last-second betrayal made her body lurch and her toes splay apart. "I was gonna cum!"

"The sign outside says to stick to each exhibit's kink," said Falco amidst the spectators' chuckles and snickers, "and, according to the brochure, you're part of the tickle torture exhibit. Doesn't say anything about orgasms!"

She thrust her hips a few times and, as a frenzied, desperate offering, held her pussy in place; a shimmering line of pussy juice stretched from her lips all the way to the matte leather she was resting her cute, round ass on. "Screw what the sign says!" she yelled as the silky strand of juice snapped. "Just touch me a few more times, Mr. Fox! Please, please, please, you can't just stop now!"

She was still hopeful that he'd finish her off. He just had to. Her butt floated a millimeter off the cushion. Tan palms clutched metallic wrist restraints for dear life. Falco, however, leaned over and playfully poked her ticklish flank; she gasped and squirmed--her sweaty ass came crashing down all the way, flattening out and kissing the leather. "Sorry, cutie. All I did was try tickling a bit between your legs 'cause everyone else was going for your usual spots. Thing is, you don't seem very ticklish there, so what's the point in continuing?" he said and walked off, a shit-eating grin extending from ear to ear. The other feather was still floating down, going left and right like a conductor's baton. Falco plucked it out of the air and pocketed it.

The wide-eyed pine marten turned her attention to the remaining five. "Oh my gosh, I was so close!" Her perky tits jiggled back and forth as she struggled with her bondage and tried to spread her legs, clumsily inviting the motley crew of smirking anthros to give her the last few touches she needed to climax, to chomp down on Falco's metaphorical cherry pie. "Please, please, please! Just rub a few times!"

One of the bears grabbed her foot by the top. "The fox was right. Can't be breaking museum rules."

"Maybe next time you'll choose something where you can actually get off. Can't blame us for not wanting to get into trouble," said the goat, getting behind her, ready to attack her exposed underarms.

Her heart sank. "You can't be serious! Please, no one will know!" she said, her rock-hard nipples pulsing, begging for relief. "I was gonna cum so hard! Please!"

The bears were the first to resume the tickle torture; as soon as their claws touched the bottoms of her feet, she went berserk. "HAHAHAHAHA! I WAS-HAHAHAHA-I WAS GONNA CUM! NO! HAHAHAHAHAHAHA! I WAS SO CLOSE! BWAHAHAHAHAHA! I WANTED TO CUM!"

The rest followed suit. She laughed and laughed and laughed, the mild ache in her sides competing with the frustration, the ache, of the earth-shattering orgasm that could have been. They tickled all over: under her arms, her ribs, her thighs, her knees, you name it.

Well, everywhere except between her legs. Wouldn't want to violate museum rules, now would we?