Invisible hands grabbed his shoulders.
Spinning around, he almost dropped the money. Nobody there.
Cinch squeezed harder. What the hell did he think he was doing? That money didn't belong to him -
Ducking out of its grip, he started to bolt for the door.
A thief. Criminal. The police had to be summoned. And that meant he couldn't be allowed to get away.
Hands pounced on his arms.
He didn't like that. Dropping the cash, he yelled and started trying to pull free. In his zeal he kicked a table -
So Cinch grabbed his leg. Actually it clamped on just below his knee -
Immediately he looked down, and made a desperate little groan.
Curious. It tightened the fingers just a little, shifting them.
With a hiss, he became tense all over. As if he was fighting something internal...
Oh ho.
It had a ticklish thief in its hands.
Mischievously, Cinch curled two sets of strong fingers around his ribs -
"No ho ho ho," he bellowed. It was competely involuntary, and he couldn't help himself. That was exciting. The thief was covered with sweat, and yelling with undisguised panic, but he was caught. And no one else could hear him.
By moving its hands experimentally it found a place where he went rigid and stopped squirming. The sound of his laughter became... more intense. Now this would incapacitate him until the police arrived.
Or...
A sinister idea occurred to Cinch. Naughty - but oh so much fun.
This is your punishment, it thought. A good, hard... tickling.
Let's see. Lay him out right here? No, there was a bed in the next room. It picked him up.
His black t-shirt was thin, but it realized he'd really go nuts if it was gone. His jeans, too.
The police didn't have to be called right away. It could collect a few things... and really have some fun.
It was a nice, solid bed. No matter how hard he thrashed tonight - miserably hysterical - the house was remote enough to protect him from being discovered.
Yeah, this was gonna be good...
It wasn't really necessary, but Cinch shut the door. Now, it gloated, an empty bedroom becomes my torture chamber. Just like that.
He was too whacked out to stand up, so it leaned him over and quit holding him up. He collapsed in a giggly heap, not at all in character, and tried to sweep the fingers off his sides. It was far too quick for him, though. Cinch scooted him up further on the mattress. Armpits were good places to tickle, weren't they?
More hands took control of his wrists and spread 'em way over his head.
The thief managed to bounce a little, but then he hiccuped twice and kept right on laughing. It was like he had a fever, and Cinch held the button which turned it off and on. Fascinating.
Then it remembered that feet are really ticklish too. He was dragged further up, and his ankles were held down. Oh, yeah.
When he needed a little rest, between attacks, this was the right place for it. Whenever he woke up again, he'd be all set for more impossibly hot fingering.
He couldn't move now. So many ticklish spots were unprotected...
It dug in more firmly on his sides, making him wail. He pulled and twisted harder, which didn't do any good.
Maybe if he could see some kind of visible reminder that he wasn't going anywhere -
Four hands kept on tickling and tickling as it checked the garage.
Ah.
Nylon tie-downs and two old coils of rope cruised toward the bedroom. It opened the door, brought the items inside and shut it hard.
Yeah, that got him to look. Squinting, he laughed and fought more desperately.
Off came the jeans, underwear, shoes and socks.
That made him panic - as well it should.
By tickling a little harder, Cinch had no trouble containing his fight... as it looped the bonds around his wrists. Really, it was so satisfying to prevent a criminal from making his escape. And immeasurably better was tying his wrists way up there, near the corners of the bed. Many loops and knots. His hands were far away. He fought like crazy! Roaring, bellowing laughter. No one was around to hear him.
It tied his other wrist. Taut, and down.
Another set of fingers began dancing under each arm.
His upper body was so spectacularly vulnerable now! It could roam with the hands, digging and squeezing wherever it liked. He screamed and bounced, rocking violently - but there were always so many tempting spots to cover no matter what gyration he tried.
Bellowing hollowly, with an impressive violence, he put as much of his energy into breaking loose... but gradually it was diverted. To the tickling. That was much more imperative.
Before long, his ankles were tied - three ropes anchoring each, because those bare feet just looked torturously sensitive, and the leg muscles just had to be neutralized. That would rule out any unlikely surprises.
No, he was going to stay right here and laugh his brains out!
Fingers nuzzled against his arches -
One deranged shriek, and then he was roaring. Harder. Oh, yes - harder, thief, so much more vigorous! Give it all you got. All. None of this nonsense about getting away from the fingers. No one will come close enough to hear.
Ten hands were carefully tickling all over him.
The muscle tension was going...
And the laughter became airy. Distracted - no, he was clearly no less ticklish. So obviously, the opposite. He was internalizing the onslaught.
Oh, yes - with a stab of delight it caught on. Movement, even laughter, was competing. He had so much more to feel than he could possibly bear.
The fingers dug in a little more deeply.
He relaxed, in the ropes, and turned inward. Surely there was no way he found any relief in concentrating harder on this! Not a chance. He had nowhere else to go.
It was transfixed with the reaction to each hand that stroked, and kneaded, and fingered.
His breathing became slow and shallow. Trembling came and went.
But Cinch slowed its hands way down, finding a level he could take - and remain conscious.
With rest breaks, the tickling continued for three and a half galvanizing hours.
As he napped, it cleaned his ruddy body and changed the sheets. The rope, of course, was obsessively retied.
Awake again, and shaky, he drank all the water it brought.
Then a finger touched midway between scrotum and asshole.
Instantly he hissed, and went tense again.
It slid the fingertip up and down, not hurrying at all.
Pleading and writhing burst out simutaneously. Tears flooded his eyes - and it decided that was because he knew, now, just how much more insanely ticklish he was.
I'm good at this, Cinch thought. What a rush...
Another finger chucked under his right knee.
His pleas became less and less articulate as one finger after another started to tease. Left knee, chin, breastbone, throat, left elbow, right thigh. Lightly scratching.
And he just exploded with laughter.
More fingers joined in over the next five minutes.
Soon they became sadistic kneading hands.
It kept reminding itself that he had to go off to jail.
His sensitivity jumped again after his second cumshot, and Cinch was reconsidering its plan. What would happen if the thief was arrested tonight? Would he be out on bail quite soon? The trial could even turn in his favor, and then he'd be right back out there stealing again. Free...
The thought of him somewhere else, not giggling and sweating and pissing uncontrollably, was not sitting well.
Even if they found him guilty, what then? Possibly a ridiculously short sentence.
Eight locations on his body were so reliably sensitive that he was being thoroughly punished... right here.
Why risk him getting off easy? A man this ticklish didn't deserve a break.
With that thought, its hands dug in again.
There were three sessions that night, totaling almost eight hours.
By the time the thief passed out, letting him get away was unthinkable. He was way too much fun to tickle.
Instead it looked around town...
Here!
A cellar room was quickly cleaned and prepared.
Very nice.
The granite walls and thick ceiling insured there would be not the least chance of his gleeful wails reaching the outside world. His voice becoming stronger than it currently was seemed unlikely.
Food was gathered. The adult store warehouse didn't disappoint - incredible leather cuffs and slings, pulleys, spreader bars, ten cock toys, twenty promising tickling implements. More cases of food, then.
The thief groaned, and he yawned twice. Then he started studying his surroundings.
Six oiled gloves were ready and waiting over him.
A web of leather straps kept his body wide open. After a sigh of despair, the thief began trying to pull the cuffs loose. Gradually working harder and harder, he whined and begged for Cinch to do anything except tickle him again.
This is where the criminal belongs, it thought confidently. Here with me.
He just couldn't laugh hard enough to find relief - or to suit his tickler.
It never took long for the howls to fade away. Then the really intricate torment could proceed.
Hours of intricate tickling occupied him all afternoon, then all evening.
A list was growing. Things to do, items to get...
His punishment would never be need to be interrupted now.
It's your own fault, Cinch thought, bringing a fistful of feathers over his chest.
12jul2006