in this custom clip, ivy greene has been instructed to gag me, blindfold me and tickle me relentlessly under my arms for an intense interrogation. she straddles my upper arms and demands to know the password to my phone, on a hunch i've been talking to her boyfriend. her method of extracting this information is tickling me only under my arms, removing the gag every so often to ask if i'm ready to talk yet. i'm stubborn, but i melt under her every touch, even the slightest, softest strokes, which she gravitates toward very much, making me erupt in panicked laughs and high pitched giggles. i beg and plead through the gag, but her legs hold me still as i thrash around underneath her tickles.
