So Callie and I shoot the shit for awhile. Finally he sighs and says he really better get back to Autumn or else she'll kick him to the couch.
I glance over as he ambles out, and pick up my glass. Kill it. Ah, yeah. Tequila.
Wait... I don't like tequila.
Come to think of it, where are my cigarettes?
Shit. Here we go. I sigh hard and sneak a look at myself. No cuffs on my limbs, no gloves holding on. But the lack of smokes is a bad sign. Would I come in here and not smoke?
"Dizz," I say quietly.
That easy laughter sighs in my ear.
Aw, hell. Here we go.
I seem to "come to..."
Yeah, it's time to go home. Just another dull, uneventful night. Maybe get in a little fishing tomorrow. So I settle up with Scott.
"Semifinals tomorrow night," he says happily. "You comin' in?"
Something rolls over my brain. Well, more of a light wind. Immediately there.
"Naw," I tell him. "On the road tomorrow."
"Aw. Your loss."
"Yeah."
"See ya when we see ya."
"You know it," I smirk. It'll be a while. Scott's used to it. Sometimes I drop out of sight for a few days. Other times, a few weeks.
I step outside of the bar and head toward my truck. A cigar sounds good... so I get one out and light it. Oh, yeah -
"I love that sound."
That stops me in my tracks. Dizz. I didn't even know I had cigars in my pocket. Where did my cigarettes go?
"What sound?" I finally ask.
"That moan. Contented and satisfied. Never get tired of that one."
"I aim to please."
"And you do that real well. Let's go for a ride."
"The animals," I say quickly.
"I left a note for Ryan. And I'll check up on 'em. Have I ever let your menagerie down? Huh?"
"No," I sigh.
Driving south, I sorta pick at recent memories. It's a lost cause, and I know it, 'cause she'll revise things a dozen times a minute if she feels like it.
"Wait," I said. "Tequila. That was you."
"That was me," she agrees. "You turn into even more of a tough guy on that shit. And I feel like taking down a real shady character tonight, Jack. Lay him low."
"And that's where I come in."
"Such a skank. Prison's too good for the likes of you." That giggle, again.
She's in a mood.
I feel a cold chill run down me. Almost like a blast of A/C from the vent...
Suddenly I sorta perk up. Snap out of my daydream, whatever it was about. My smokes aren't in my shirt pocket. Must've finished another pack already. I really oughta slow down. My hand finds the open carton under my seat.
There we go.
It almost feels like Dizz is around.
"Hey," I say experimentally.
"Jack."
A-ha. "Where we goin'?"
"I love a good mystery."
I snort. "For me. Always a big mystery. You know full well..."
What about my animals? Wait, I think she already told me. Ryan's on it. My memory is definitely getting messed with. Anyway, she's never let 'em down before. So that's okay. At least they won't get put through the wringer like I will.
"Mountain man," she says seductively, "off on an adventure."
"Sure. What the hell are you doing in Alaska anyway? There's a lot more tough bastards down there to grab. Seattle, Portland. Sedona."
"There is is again!" she whoops. "I'm not forcing that. Really. What is it with you and Sedona?"
She's asking me? Probably put the idea in there herself. I just shrug. "Sounds different. Desert -"
"Lots of empty space. You know what else? Sedona's got a much higher concentration of... um... secret jails." She says the words with happy emphasis. "Nooo-ooobody knows where they're hidden. So many gorillas are getting the business there, 'round the clock. Bad boys, Jack. Like you. In for the ride of their lives." Then she laughed - freely, almost suddenly, sounding like she just thought of something.
"What?" I finally snap.
"You're getting horny."
"Dammit..."
Am I really - or is there a little red glove in my head somewhere, riding the switch?
"And the look on your face. Are you gonna get it."
That worries me. A little. "What look?"
"When you started thinking about why you were drinking tequila," she burbles. "That smile was there. Just for a second. Horndog. You thought of me, and got that dirty leer -"
"I did not."
"Sedona. Yeah, there's that reaction again, just hearing the word."
"Hearing you say the word," I sigh.
"Se-don-a." She giggles. "Yeah, that's definitely a sign," Dizz decides. I've heard this riff before. "You got some attraction to the southwest. I think you need a nice, long vacation down there. Iron-man craziness in the desert."
"Ooooh, I'm real scared," I sass her. "Or I would be, if you'd get out of my head for a few sec-"
The wind flared up. Odd...
And I start to chuckle. Smutty as anything.
Dizz tweaked my thoughts again. She doesn't usually let me notice. I can't really fight it anyway, since she'll just push a little harder. No, she wants me to play along.
"I don't wanna get messed with tonight," I say. Grinning. I mean, I can feel this bigass smirk on my face. Stuck there. "Strapped down, and... you know."
"Strapped down? Are you crazy?"
She's such a liar. "I mean, if anybody ever found out -" And some warning bell goes off, deep inside. But I want to make her admit what's coming...
"Found out what?"
"Uh. You know."
"Jack. Why would I strap you down and tickle you until you were totally off your rocker? Is that any way to thank General Hysteria?"
Oh, wow. I crack up. "Damn. I totally forgot about that."
After she got me buffed out - and I still say there had to be some 'roids involved, though she was real sneaky - I came to in this one dungeon in a super-hero outfit. That spandex doesn't help at all when you're as much of a basket case as I am, let me tell you.
"You like that memory?"
"Is it real?"
She sighs. "Jack."
A wave - slower, this time, from the back of my brain to the front.
Oh, it was real.
Almost seven weeks. A triumphant villain - invisible and powerful - teasing the shit out of me, in a perfectly secret lair, and there was no telling how long it could go on. No interrogation game, and there wasn't talk of vengeance for any particular reason. Just torture for its own sake. Entertainment. I can still smell the candle wax.
Dreams like that, I can get into. That place, and what happened...
"Well, you can't blame me for not being sure," I mumble.
"I know. You want a clear moment?"
That idea gives me mixed feelings, and she can read my face. "For real?"
"Promise you won't drive the truck off the road or anything."
"Like you'd let that happen," I say automatically. "Okay. Hit me."
Whoosh.
Clear. Wow.
I can think - and remember.
She's nabbed me a good dozen times. I hate this shit... uh, don't I?
Well, out of necessity I've come to enjoy certain things. Really eat 'em up. She never stops piling 'em on, so why not?
"Whoooh. You run me around, don't you?"
She sighs happily. "Uh-huh."
"This is really my own memory? Right?"
"Nothing but."
I grunt and get a new smoke going.
The first time she trapped me in my cabin - seems like fifty years ago. Other places...
It just isn't fair. She's got no right to do this to me. So what if I learned to appreciate certain things? I still wouldn't be driving to another frickin' dungeon right now if I had a choice.
"Hey," she says quietly. "You remember what were you like seven years ago?"
"After?" The divorce. That's what she means. I've heard that question enough times. "Drinking like a fish. A little meth -"
"A little," she scoffs. "Such a sad case. And it wasn't your fault."
"I know that," I snap.
"She wasn't good enough for you. But if she didn't know better - running around like that, when she had such a... prime specimen all to herself -"
"Quit," I warn her.
"I still can't believe you were faithful, all that time. Self-control isn't really your thing, Jack."
Pot, meet kettle. I don't say it, though. Just take another drag and nod...
We make it three or four miles before she giggles.
I get punched in the bicep. The invisible hand was disturbingly large. Like a giant's hand. If she hadn't held back, it could've broken my arm.
"Ow! Dammit."
"Big baby."
"Next," I say quickly, "you're gonna run some bullshit about how it's not real torture, and at least you get me off. But it's still wrong to do this to me. Not all bad - I mean, sure, there's some... big perks. But it's kidnapping, and -"
"You just about through?" And that tone of voice makes it sound like a command.
So I shut up - and think up one more dig to get in. "You flip Rozzi yet? Or is he telling you the same things?"
Silence.
I'm really screwed now...
Rozzi showed up again. He'd just dropped out of sight for a couple months. I had my suspicions. As soon as I saw his face again - yup. I don't know him as well as Yves does, so it didn't seem right to pipe up just yet. Rozzi was paranoid enough.
He knows Dizz isn't done with him. Hell, Rozzi is probably still trying to hold onto the idea that she'll move on soon...
Yves never hung out in town regularly, but I knew he drove a big rig. Sometimes. When he was allowed to, obviously.
A few years ago he was in the bar when I limped in. Dizz had found some new toys, or some shit like that, and it was the longest "sentence" she'd passed on me yet. The day after she dumped me in my own bed - When I could finally move enough to get dressed - I head into town and Yves, he knew right away. What I'd been going through. Stared at me for awhile, and I caught on. He was concerned, but not puzzled at all. I threw him a weak thumbs-up, because any day was less shitty if I wasn't howling my ass off for the invisible temptress. And we exchanged a nod.
He and I have been in the bar at the same time only twice since then. I guess we're on her rotation.
And Rozzi too. Hell, I wasn't even sure she was the one messing with him - until now.
A rush of air rocked me backward.
I snapped back to reality - smoky truck cab, a couple spare packs on the dash, and ancient country-western crooners on the satellite radio... that was a greeting. How many times had I jumped in and turned the engine over, then heard George or Patsy coming out of my speakers? Five times? Six?
"Jack," Dizz said impatiently.
"Sorry. I was thinking... Bet you really like the look on my face. Right? When I get into my truck, totally clueless, and recognize I'm hearing Tammy Wynette again?"
After a second or two, she flicked my nose. "Irresistible."
"So sadistic," I say quietly.
"Well, too bad. You're just an accident... waiting to happen."
A wind scoots past my face.
That phrase -
why can't she ever let anything go?
"Now that's such bullshit," I say, getting another cigarette out. "Ooooh, I'm Dizz, make that Saint Dizz, I don't do anything wrong."
"Like... basing."
Damn, but suddenly I want to tweak real hard. "Not in a long time. Get off my back already!"
"Gonna get drunk too? Drive home?"
"I will if I wanna." The anger feels great. I don't know why my mood changed so suddenly, but shit - I'm going with it.
"Oh yeah?"
"You can't take us all down at once. The whole frickin' town."
"Maybe just the most dangerous ones, then. Bad seeds."
I wanna pound the dashboard when she gets like this. "Just let me be!"
"No. You're on a tear," she says. Mind all made up. "It's obvious everybody else will be better off if you... just lay low for awhile. Blow off some steam."
"Mind your own damn business."
"Get taken down a couple pegs," she says - chuckling.
The breeze hits my face, all of a sudden, and right away it's gone.
I'm driving...
Shit, I don't even know which road this is. I really zoned out, there -
A Buck Owens tune is on the radio.
"Shit," I groan. That station isn't playing because I picked it. So... I'm snagged again. That's just great. "Yo. Dizz."
"Hi, Jack."
I sag. "Were you just... tickling me?"
"Do you want me to?"
Hands push down on my collarbones, steadying me.
"No no no. Hey. Not... yet. I mean, were you gettin' busy a minute ago."
She gives me a hard squeeze. And the hands pull off. "I haven't tickled you at all today," she pouted. Exaggerating the disappointment, almost like a cartoon character's voice. "You got riled up, there."
I think about that. Seems like I'd remember getting angry enough to get my heart thudding this fast. "I did? Huh."
"You need some extra-special massage."
That makes me chuckle right away. "No, I don't. Oh, man. Listen, not tonight, uh, I'm just fine."
"Horsefeathers."
Immediately, I shiver real big. She's got all kinds of feathers. The closet in that last dungeon was huge. Twisted stuff went on... but that's Dizz. There's no way to stop her, and I've talked up every unattached guy I know to get her to leave me alone. Chessy is a real cocky son-of-a-bitch, and his two great loves are weightlifting and weed. Seems like a slam-dunk to me.
But she laughs off every suggestion and plea and threat, starting another asskicking day all over me. I mean, sure, I'm already strapped down and everything...
Mental juju, too. That drove me nuts at first, even when I wasn't in one of her cells. What's real, what isn't real... and all I could do in the end was shrug. Take it as it comes.
Right now she's taking me away. I'll end up laughing my guts out no matter what. With a throbbing ass, too likely as not.
"Why, Dizz," I tell the windshield, "stop me if I'm wrong, but I do believe you're planning to take advantage of me."
"Yeah," she says, with a giggle or two.
Air seems to gust from the heater vent - some kind of surge...
Next thing I know I'm smoking another cigar. And it's just excellent.
I look out the window and find the pole star. So - we're going west? Why the hell would she wanna go that way?
"I think you need a nice, quiet night. Catch up on your sleep."
"Ohhhh no you don't," I say. Somehow this doesn't seem like the first time I've had to talk her into it. "You're making me want it. I know y-"
"Just lay around, maybe watch a flick or two."
Memories flicker past - she's got the most hardcore tickling movies...
Ex-cons and tradesmen getting absolutely shredded. Massive bondage. It's so obvious they're not there voluntarily. I don't want to watch those movies - never really did - but once they're running I just get totally revved up. Sympathy for the stuck dudes, maybe. I don't know.
Red-hot exciting to watch, though, and Dizz loves to cuff me down before playing any of 'em. It's never long before she breaks out the massage oil...
"Ticklish." That'll get her. "I haven't been worked over in, what, a couple months? I'm overdue, babe."
"Shut up," Dizz orders.
"And I have those dreams just about every night. The shit you do... Hold on. I hate being tickled, don't I?"
"Lookin' pretty hyped right now."
"Well, yeah. I mean, when you're not doin' your reprogramming thing -"
"That's right. You... learned to put up with it. Take what you could enjoy."
I nod. That's what I thought. "Yeah, but tonight... Dizz. Please? Tear me up one side and down the other. Enjoy yourself."
"You don't want that."
"No. I need it. You have the touch."
"You better stop now," she says coyly, "because you really have no idea what a world of hurt you're bringing down on yourself."
Yeah, she's caving. I laugh. Victory!
There's a pause. Oh - she's been toying with me again. But I can't imagine her ever passing it up. Nuking my ass...
This can't be my idea of a good time. It feels exciting, though.
"You're sweating," Dizz says softly.
"Oh, c'mon."
"You have no idea, really," she ponders, "what kind of special... ordeal I've been thinking about. For you."
I shiver real hard. "Uh. You say the nicest things."
She laughs. "Okay, stud. Enough of that."
A gust of wind - from the window gap I've been flicking ashes out of? - makes my hair fly around. That's how it feels...
I'm standing in the woods. Smoke is leaving my nostrils. Confusing. I look around, but I don't see my truck.
My arms are pulled behind my back.
Cold... handcuffs.
"March," Dizz orders.
A flashlight beam shows me the trail.
Maybe fifteen minutes later, she holds my arms as I start downhill.
"If I wasn't used to this," I mumble, "it would really freak me out."
"Which part?" she teases. "Being so far away from any other person who could hear you laughing? Or not knowing which way to run?"
"Um. You got me there."
"Oh yeah. I got you..."
The light moves up.
Dark little cabin.
"Oh, hell."
Of course, the door creaks as it swings in.
"I wonder if this place is a shithole on the inside," she says. Giving me a friendly shove...
So I stand a few paces from the door. Her hands make me stand there, in the dark, as she shuts the door.
"Yeah. bay-bee. You're gonna get it now."
Click. Loud. That had to be a padlock.
I hear a match flaring -
And see small things gleaming here and there. From the growing flame, I'd guess she has an oil lamp.
"No, no, aw shit," I sigh.
The usual gear. Wall-to-wall. I hate the stocks, I really hate the sling, and she knows I got a phobia about the flying rack. Just seeing that bastard makes me start to chuckle.
"Is something funny?" She's loving this. Got big plans for me...
Wind comes from somewhere, gentle enough but I rear back a little -
"Oh yeah," I growl.
"What's with you?"
"I don't wanna be here," I tell the cigar that's floating up, "but you're doing a number on me. So I... n-need it."
"Need what?" Dizz says, firing up my lighter.
I puff a few times, trying not to chuckle. "A massage."
"Ooooh," she says. "I didn't even - no. Look, I just wanted to lock you up. Give the law-abiding folks a break."
"Because I'm bad."
"Duh."
From way, way back in my mind, the idea comes to me - she's gonna make me beg for it. Unbelievable. Pleading for that, and it's torture. Yeah, that's a good word to hang onto. It is torture. Ain't all great. I don't care how hot she makes me, I can't forget the way she cranks up the tickling...
"So - I guess you better punish me," I chuckle. But I'm thinking dammit, shut your mouth! You asshole. Don't get her in a mood -
"As if being a scummy, disreputable thug wasn't punishment enough."
"Not even close," I fire right back, leering.
"Jack. If you think I'm feeling charitable enough to... entertain you -"
"Please?"
"Oh. Honestly." A hand grabs my chin. "Forget it, lowlife. I'm locking you away only so you don't run around hurting people and stealing things."
"I'm not so bad," I say. My blood is pounding, and I can feel this ridiculous grin around the cigar...
"You're worse." She lets go of my chin. "Don't put ideas into my head."
"Tickling," I pant. "You are hardcore."
"Well..."
"Don't drag me out here, with all of this shit ready and waiting, and then mess with my head like this. I'm gonna pop."
"I can see that."
"If you're so set on locking me up," I laugh, "why not have some fun? For yourself."
"If I didn't know better, Jack, I'd think - no, wait, it's just too preposterous."
"Pleee-eeeeeeeze?"
She sighs. "What a pain in the ass..."
The wind seems to gust from behind me.
I'm stretched out tight. Just like that.
Wrists together, way up over my head. Ankles touching too. Little Jack's standing at attention.
I seem to be halfway through a cigarette. Funny, but I thought I had a cigar...
She's got a fire going, over to my right. The stones and the hearth look old. "Hey. Have I been here before? This cabin?"
"Now, Jack," she says.
"Just wondering."
"It messes with you more when you're not entirely sure. In fact, You think waaaaa-ay too much."
That sounds like a cue.
Yup. Here come the feathers.
My body starts pulling and arching right away. I manage to get one last drag, though.
I'm sorta confused when she doesn't throw in one last taunt. The feathers just get to it. I watch 'em start on my inner thighs -
"Oh no, Dizz, c'mon now."
She just laughs.
Trying to shove my legs together doesn't close the gap. The feathers are skimming up to my package, and groaning at 'em doesn't begin to cut it. I'm giggling, snickering, and unable to get complete words out...
Belly-button. Oh shit, I got it bad there. A couple of feathers circle around, wiggling in my navel, tracing their points around my abs and back to the center again. I try to arch my back, but they stay put.
Dizz has me laughing good and hard.
More feathers slide over my nipples. I shouldn't be surprised, because they're always popular with her. But I slam down, snort a couple times, and kick out this low, crazed roar.
"Drink up."
It seems to take me a few attempts to get my eyes open. A bottle of water with a long, curvy straw is waiting. She waited until my breathing settled down...
I go along and suck like a good captive.
It's insane how much my body still tingles. Dizz warmed me up real good. She's got my legs apart now. Here we go, I think, dreading that kind of excitement when I'm chained up like this - and desperate for it too.
"Smoke," I finally say.
"Not after I get started," she shoots back.
"Dammit!" This is one of her many ways to twist the knife. She'll make sure there's a pack where I can see it - laugh at it! - but I've heard all that bullshit from her before about increased lung function and capillary dilation. At the moment I don't have a clue what any of that means, but the upshot is that she'd going to tease me - a lot - but never let me have a cigarette. And naturally I'm not going to be able to grab one, myself...
"Maybe you should go back to chewing tobacco. After I let you go, of course."
"Gross - wait. Back to it? I don't remember chewing."
"There's a lot of things you don't remember."
Well, that's a puzzler. If she told me I used to dance in the Anchorage Ballet I wouldn't know if it was true or not...
A hand curls around my favorite body part. Slippery -
Red satin.
We have a battle going.
I need to finish off - I mean, really need some relief - and when I start to make it happen, she cuts loose on my torso. Gloves and feathers get busy. That throws me off altogether, and she gets to slow things back down until I'm begging again, with the tears running down my cheeks, to get one of her magic gloves down there to help me out. Just a few seconds.
But instead my feet get drilled, again and again.
A long time passes before she finally, uh, raises the stakes.
I do what comes naturally, wearing myself out. Just as soon as my breathing settles down a little - when my body feels ten times bigger, and so much more ticklish - she starts back in.
Now it's like I'm living through it with a magnifying glass stuck to my brain. Moving at all, even grunting are completely beyond me. Stars keep exploding, all through me, and she's not easing up at all.
Damn, do I need a cigarette.
But I take a deep breath and open my eyes.
There's three different kinds of brushes hanging over my feet. Four of each. Absolutely insane. She's already got the oil laid on thick, oozing down my insteps. Even that tickles way too much.
"Lay off," I whisper. "M-mmmore than I can... take."
"You know better than that," Dizz says.
"C'mon..."
"Lay off where?"
I groan, trying to pull my arms free."Uh. Everywhere."
"Name a spot. C'mon, big boy. Tell me."
I gulp. "My f-feet."
"You don't think your feet can take any more of this heartless tickling?"
"Please, Dizz, aw plee-"
A gust of wind.
"What? Get... busy," I grumble.
"No," she replies smoothly. "You've had enough."
I'm getting confused - and disappointed. I've had enough? What's up with her? "The hell I have. Don't you dare quit on me now." And leave my hands chained up so I can't reach the cigarettes that are sitting right there, dammit...
"Honestly, your feet can't take another second."
"Well, now -"
"I wouldn't want 'em to get used to the sensation."
"Dizz," I complain. "That's never happened. You know exactly how to avoid that. I don't have a single freakin' defense - thanks to you. All those weeks. You know they're hopeless."
"Maybe you need a nap," she says, giggling.
"Not now! You know who you're talkin' to? I'm Jack. The lowlife."
That calls for a tug on the chains. "I got hours of suffering before I need some shut-eye."
"There's no shame in needing to sleep, badass."
"Aw, hell, I'm nowhere near tapped out yet, Dizz."
"Well..." I got her, hoooh yeah, I can just feel her crumbling. "Maybe the feather dusters -"
"Get those frickin' brushes busy," I yell. "All of 'em. You're gonna drive me out of my mind if you quit now. Get me good."
"Maybe you need another, uh, happy ending," she says.
"No. I need you to get medieval on my ass. You sick of torturing me, or something?"
"Oh, Jack - no. Never ever!"
"Cool. Get busy. Crank it up, Dizz sweetheart. Get me good."
I hear a sigh of wind. A slight breeze...
"Um," I say.
"Yes?"
"Did you just make me, uh, beg for it? Full-bore tickling?"
"You were very persuasive," Dizz giggles.
The brushes start in.
"You really dread these gloves, don't you?"
I'm trembling. Fingers are just about to mess with my right armpit. I don't even want to know where else they're about to latch on.
One glove is bad, when Dizz is making it move. Two of 'em can keep me roaring like a fool... and now she's got at least a dozen hands poised to get me. I'm dizzy just thinking about it. She knows how to use these bastards to keep me overflowing with sensation. Dizz isn't ever satisfied with fidgeting and helpless giggling. She wants fireworks. Mind-blowing fever.
They're going to cover me again. Solidly riling up all the wrong places - and she knows exactly how to stick it to each spot. My breathing will be deep and regular soon - but inside I'll be unable to handle a fraction of the current they're rubbing in, like there's a thick wall trapping all of the thunderstorm of tickling right close around me. Familiar as my own name...
I feel like I'm staring at my executioners.
"Do you dream about them, Jack?"
"All the time," I whisper.
Maybe she'll cut me a break. Just maybe -
Wow!
Talk about wrong. Unbelievable excitement blasts through me...
Somehow I missed a rest break. By the time I realize the last round was really over, I'd already caught my breath and drained a big bottle of water...
Brushes and fingers start back in.
It just shatters me. After all this time, Dizz has my number so well that I can't find any way to... adapt. The worst of the deep ticklish shock is still coming, always hitting harder and never peaking. Electric, sizzling, blazing - everywhere. Scrabbling fingers dig diligently into the most frickin' ticklish part of my armpits. Firm bristles are coasting around the outer edge, straying over to tease my nipples now and then.
She squeezes my ribs with the exact combination of speed and pressure - and I long to stop breathing, so I can pass out and get away from all of this. She's just downright malicious. Gloves are doing heavy, horrible things to my thighs, on the outside, and soft mink bristles are making me need to get my own fingers curled around Little Jack, sliding...
Even by themselves, the brushes scrubbing my back would make me howl. Shoulders, collarbones - unspeakably sensitive. Maybe it's the oil.
I'm drooling. It doesn't matter in the overall scheme of things.
At least she lets me sleep in.
That's better for her, in the long run. When I am awake, I'm probably whacked out.
It takes me several tries to roll off the bed. Everything buzzes - I mean, my ribs are remembering how brutally they were tickled, my legs, and of course putting any pressure on my soles is an instant ticket to mindless giggling...
When the sweet throbbing dies down, I discover I'm on the floor. Something's sizzling. I look over - and see pans on a camp stove. There better be a steak coming, I think. Frickin' earned it.
Slowly, I get to my knees, wait for the snickering to pass, and see the cigarettes. I sneak a look at the stove. Eggs are being scrambled, best I can tell from here.
It feels like a big, sneaky triumph to light a smoke. I slump down, with my back against the bench. Yeah, I really needed this cigarette.
"You're not fooling anyone," Dizz says.
"Thank you for not taking 'em away," I growl. My voice is shot again.
"Don't think I wasn't tempted. Holding 'em just out of reach. You guys."
"So what's on the agenda today, Dizz?"
Hands pick me up. Even that contact, around my biceps, makes me crack up. She sits me on the bench. "Same thing that's happening every day, buster. Your schedule is booked."
After breakfast, Dizz lays me out on the rack.
My head is elevated a little. The stocks prevent me from seeing my feet. It doesn't help, really, to watch her tools go...
She's making me wait. Any second now she'll start again. I'm getting annoyed - not because she's teasing me, but because I feel like a million bucks. Vibrant, immobilized, alert.
"You are perfect for this," she says happily.
I flip her off.
"Aw. Tough guy." An invisible finger trails along my jaw. I pull my head away. "With a metabolism that never quits. Not when it's getting tickled good and hard. Do you have any idea how completely satisfying you are?"
"Blah, blah, blah."
"It would mean a lot to me if you knew how delightful - how incredible - it is to overload you with pleasure."
"Pleasure," I scoff automatically. But she didn't say anything. I think she's actually waiting for an answer. Give me a break and uncuff me, I think irritably. Don't drive me crazy all day.
But I take a big breath. "I get that you really enjoy this. Somehow. And that's not a big act."
"So I can't stop now," she teases.
"Yeah. Right."
"Good boy."
Gloves race up and start kneading all up and down my legs.
"If you had any idea how inspiring it is to hear you beg," Dizz says cheerfully, "you'd never want to open your mouth again. But you can't help it."
I just lay there and pant. This, coming from the sadist who has a little button in my head she can push to make me grovel like a pussy. Please tickle me hard. Honestly, sometimes I don't think she's even listening to the shit that she's saying to me.
She's going for another one. I can't believe this.
Giggling quietly, she picks the locations for each fingertip very carefully.
Those gloves have my full attention - until the buffers click on.
Soon I'm buried in the fever again, and just... vibrating. Miserably.
She finally got under the fake shell and was tickling the real me, which is a lot more ticklish. The past month has been mind-warping, but now she's really getting down to business.
As another rest break crawls by, she starts provoking me again in much the way I'd do it myself - if my hands weren't cuffed down. This is either the fourth or fifth jackpot since I woke up. Certain parts involved are aching pretty good.
Her latex gloves slide over the oil. Under, above, alongside. I'm getting really wound up. Unusually swamped by this familiar need, even though Dizz has never been exactly shy...
Fingers dig a quick riff under my knees.
She waits until I get done cackling. "You're such an animal," Dizz observed.
Feathers swipe down my shins.
"Damn..."
She has a glove pat my belly. "It looks like you're stepping up your game, there. Such a fine bundle of impulses at my disposal. Reflexes. Anchored down, right here. And I've got my foot on the pedal, so to speak. The gearshift -"
I groan at that. Good grief, the fingers are doing the trick. Wow.
"That's my Jack. You like this?"
"Oh baby," I rasp. If she stops now, I'm a goner.
"Or would you rather I stopped?"
The feathers blitz my feet. High-speed.
I squeal and laugh like a lunatic. But my pelvis doesn't stop... pushing.
Dizz took the feathers away. "What a horndog."
"D-don't stop," I gasped. It's very hard to form words right now. "This is... in... incredible."
"All the times you've yelled at me to get my hands off you," she teased, "and now you tell me not to stop."
Instead, she wraps things up there.
I really think this is it. The end. It's so frickin' wonderful that for a while I don't even think about the gloves - and yup, I sneak a look and see 'em ready to boogie, so many fingers right here, about to make the most of my fully energized state...
I wake up in the sling.
My legs are cuffed and strapped. She's added a simple harness around my favorite body parts.
"Good morning," Dizz says brightly. "Of course, to make it a great morning you'll want to clean out the pipes. Right? So I guess that tough-lookin' toy has to go."
After a second, I reach down. Something is weird -
Ah. There's leather mitts buckled snug over my hands. Like little boxing gloves.
I wonder if there's any chance Dizz would let me pull at one of these straps with my teeth. She'd find that amusing. But no, I think these bastards are staying on for awhile.
"You sadistic b-"
"On second thought, it looks like that little bondage device isn't going anywhere."
She grabs my arms. Hauls 'em over to the cuffs, which are already spreading wide.
"Oooooh, if only your fingers weren't trapped," she mocks.
Brushes float on up. Hell, I don't even want to count 'em. Maybe twenty. They start landing, from my shins on up. The last pair twists slowly along either side of my neck...
Then the tickling starts, and I forget about the spreader for the longest time.
Jingling noise. I'm being moved.
It feels like the bench - yeah. There's the stocks. I try to pull away, out of reflex, but she traps my ankles and snaps the lock closed.
My arms are going up.
I yawn and pull harder, watching the cuff-straps snake through the buckles.
"Is it tomorrow?" I mumble.
Dizz laughs at me. "You needed a nap."
"In the middle of the day?"
My big toes are pulled up. Leather starts tightening around 'em, and I grit my teeth to keep from giggling. "Well, convict, sometimes I just gotta kick your ass harder than usual."
I nod. I'm fuzzy enough that things are all blurring together. She starts restraining the next biggest toes.
"You can't keep doing this forev-"
Fingers dance all up and down my sides. Right away I'm snorting, giggling, trying to twist.
"Oh, really," Dizz says. "I can't? Who's gonna stop me, Jack?"
One little sign, I think, that she's getting bored. It would be so sweet. Dizz never acts like she's losing interest in this shit. I have no idea how many weeks it's been since she caught me - this time - but it seems like years and years.
"Nooooh hoooh hoooh nuh huh huh n-nnnobody-eee hee heee heee-eeeee," I blubber.
"Somebody needs to get high," she says firmly. "A certain criminal type who's not going anywhere today. Right?"
This is crazy. I can't just hang here and get nuked again, stoned out of my mind... but there's no way out. Weed makes it so much worse. Deeper, somehow. Real intimate.
She's waiting for an answer. I'm so deranged I don't remember the question she just asked me. Guess wrong, and these fingers are gonna get mean.
Eventually I nod wildly.
Dizz slows down the tickling. Whew. "Your punishment isn't anywhere near over, Jack. Not even close. Have you been suffering nice and hard?"
I nod again, yelping at the gloves. Oh, shit, they pull off...
"What could I do to you," she says thoughtfully, "that would be worse?"
"This is it," I pant. "You got it. Right here."
"Oh, good."
Fingers wrap around my ribs.
"I'm going to drive you crazy," she taunts.
Many hours later I remember the tone of her voice.
She pulls back, though, whenever I start to faint or anything. After all the time she's spent on me, the promise is just another mind-game. She wouldn't think of letting me miss out on a single delirious second of this...
I smell smoke. Oh, boy -
But there's no cigarette near me. Instead, I've been tricked into looking at a bunch of feather dusters, vibrators, forks - and brushes.
"You're impossible," I hiss. Not my nipples, oh damn. And I sure don't like where that bullet vibrator is headed.
"You're ticklish," she says. "One trapped, hopelessly ticklish convict. And I have just the thing to discipline you."
They all move in and get rowdy.
I flop, and gasp, but Dizz wants me to roar for awhile... so that's what I do.
26jul10