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Looking for the bathroom, I opened the wrong door. It was a bedroom. A guy was -
"Whoops," I said, before I could stop myself. Then I just stared.
He wasn't... just lying on the bed. No shirt on, barefoot - and the way his arms and legs were spread, and fully extended -
A-ha. I saw the straps. Nylon tie-downs were wrapped around and around his wrists, anchoring his lower legs. A Crimson Tide t-shirt was hanging halfway down from the side table, as if it had been thrown there. Discarded.
What kind of party was this?

Lou had never struck me as that interesting of a guy. The only reason I'd come to his party was because Aurora was going too, and I was determined to get next to her if it took me all year.

But she was running late, and I had that one-beer-too-many... though at that point I was primarily interested in blowing my nose.
Instead, I was staring at a scared young buck. Was he ever glad to see me!
His shirt and shoes were off, and there was a blue ball-gag jammed between his teeth. The situation didn't look like one he was enjoying.
I looked around, to make sure I wasn't about to get bashed in the head or something, but there was nobody else in the room and the closet door was closed. So I walked over.
There was a piece of paper stuck in the waistband of his jeans.
"You okay?" I finally asked.
He shook his head violently, yelling something into the bandanna.
Practical joke, I decided. Not funny at all. I never understood the entertainment value of humiliating somebody like this. Best-case scenario, or the most likely explanation he'd give everyone, was an angry woman who took advantage of him, passed-out on the bed there, to make a point.
The thing was, the cuffs were monsters. Heavy leather. There was no way I would expect dull old Lou to own restraints like these.
Somebody wanted this dude... really stuck.
And there was a note stuck to the wall. The big blue letters were easy to read from where I stood...

What the hell, I thought. There weren't any gloves around...
Oh. There they were, stuffed under his head. Black leather. They looked fairly new.
I didn't see what the enigmatic message was all about. "Is this for real?" I asked him. "The note?"
He groaned. That was one weird expression. Couldn't decide what he was thinking - but hey, the predicament had driven him to wrestle so hard that he was all sweaty. It wasn't hard to imagine he was fairly scrambled just then. I didn't wait for him to nod. Shit. Poor dude. Reaching for the wrist-cuffs, I decided he'd probably want the gag to go away first.
But the buckle was way in back...
He coughed a few times - sounding quite pathetic. But then the bastard smiled. Right at me. Cunning, malicious.
That made me pause. He's wigged out, I reminded myself. Who wouldn't be? "I'll get you out of this in no t-"
Warmth -
Then a weird little jolt touched my right hand. I'd reached underneath his head to get at the buckle, or hopefully just velcro - whatever kept the gag strap that tight. Two of my fingers had brushed against the gloves.
Immediately, I started getting a little dizzy.
I heard a click... behind me.
The bedroom door had closed.

While I stared, the frickin' thing locked.
Turning back around, there was no doubt about it - the guy was looking at me like I was a bacon cheeseburger. No, make that as if he just won the lottery.
Without any warning, my legs buckled.
I slumped forward. My nose slid across his breastbone, getting sweat on my face - and he made a sudden barking noise. Well, shit, now this was embarrassing...

Everything appeared to be covered in gray mist.
It took its sweet time, thinning out...

There was something moving. I squinted at it. A person.
That guy. His hair was kinda wet, messed up... and he was smoking. I got to watch him take another drag. He was really enjoying it too.
Wait - how could he do that if he was caught?
My arms were pulled taut.
"Huugggffh," I sputtered. A wet, rubbery sphere was blocking my tongue.
Oh. Shit.
The prisoner had clothes on. He wasn't strapped down anymore.
Now I was!

Lunging, and twisting, I gave the restraints a go. The gag was wet. His drool, my drool. That totally grossed me out.
He was so relieved. I could see that. That grin was still there, even if he was more relaxed. Not a real kind, nice expression. "Looks like they got what they wanted."
"Huh?" I grunted.
"You!" he laughed. "They were gunning for you. Tracking you for awhile, I guess. And now they got you." He chuckled, and looked at me. I was confused, and that seemed to bug him. "I was the bait, genius. And it worked. You shouldn't have touched the gloves. That was all it took."
It seemed like an excellent time to pull and yell with everything I had.
"After they haul you off, dude, they're gonna have a kickass time."
Who the hell is "they," I wondered. Crazy with curiosity. Who owns the gloves?
I thought of the door. Locking, and we were across the room. Nobody there to lock it. Perfect timing.
Or, maybe, nobody I could see.
That was silly, and downright impossible. Yet it felt like the right answer. Horribly, tragically correct -
There was motion from my right side. Oh, look. Coming in the window...
A glove brought me a roll of black duct tape.
It was alive. Just like its mate, which cruised in with a roll of its own. They were full, and way too graceful. Gloves, looming over me, with their tape.
One of them came down, extending a thumb. I yelled at it.
But the leather touched my forehead.
"Seeya," the guy mocked.
I faded out in no time.

Eventually the snoring I heard was obviously me. It sounded weird. When had I ever heard myself snoring, before?
Shit, I wasn't even asleep. The room was dark, though.
My mouth was sorta numb, though. I didn't understand it. Groaning, I reached up there -
There's a smooth, curved ball between my jaws.
For a second I wondered if I was really awake after all.

There were two buckles. That was just so weird. I couldn't seem to get the damn gag to loosen up.
Who would -
And I tensed right up. This can't... be happening. Why were they hunting for me?
I wasn't laying in my own bed. This one was a lot bigger. Softer -
I had no idea at all where I was.

A quiet, familiar sound came from somewhere past my feet. It was a match, flaring. Moving to a big candle and lighting it - all by itself. Well, shit, there must be someone there, I thought. The guy I tried to rescue? But I didn't see him or anyone else.
Rising up - backlit by the flame - I saw an eagle feather. No visible fingers held it. More magic.
What the hell?
My brain started to come up with a word. Before it even really came to me, I was in motion. Scrabbling for the edge of the mattress right away, my body was freakin' serious about getting out of there - and I still didn't get it.
Fingers curled around my right wrist.
I didn't get any closer to the door. Stopped right there. No more momentum.
Amazing - there was an empty leather glove, fingers curled tight. With no arm or any other visible support it was strong enough to... hang there and keep me from getting off the bed.
One glove.
"Nuh," I said to it. "Lannh guuh."
Nuthin'... doin'. Pressure clamped around my other wrist.
I really started to yell. And kick. But they pulled me down, so I was on my back, and dragged me toward the center of the bed.
More gloves dove in. Pinning my elbows, thighs.
Fighting 'em all didn't change a damn thing.

They pushed down on my shins and ankles, holding them right next to each other...
A tracing, sweeping touch. Right foot. I guessed it was the feather. My head popped up - uh-huh.
Just not possible. I'd go totally freakin' nuts.
But it trailed back down.
My protests were nothing more than wet grunts. Damn this gag. I made a whining sound, really high-pitched. Frankly, I scared myself with it.
A pair of gloves cruised down and got behind my head. They weren't exactly careful. My hair got caught a couple times, and I yelled harder...
But they took the gag away.
"Whooooh," I sighed. Damn them. How dare they do this?
I opened my mouth to yell for help - and the gloves lifted my feet way up into the air and held them together.
The roll of tape was coming... and I mean, arriving by itself. The loose end stood up straight and tight. A good half-meter of tape, suddenly ripped free.
No matter what I tried, my legs stayed right where they freakin' were. The tape circled around and around.
Something about the firmness of the gloves, holding me down, and the easy wrapping of that tape suggested that the bastards had done this a thousand times.
The roll floated up to my left wrist...

I had still hoped I could rip through a lousy layer of tape...
But almost the entire roll had been used up. Twenty layers, making an impromptu strap. Far too many loops around my wrist.
Both of my arms were absolutely stuck. Apparently they were just gonna hold my legs for awhile - because glove after glove had locked on. It was really hard to turn my toes the least little bit.
The gloves were too strong for me.
Something scary was coming. Heart-stopping.
I took a couple deep breaths, and I guess they let me. After my third slow exhale, the next item floated up from the bed's far edge.
A feather duster.
"Oh no oh no oh shit naaaaaaw!" I yelled, snapping and twisting, lunging and bouncing. But I just couldn't move.
Not one feather - more like hundreds...
Times four. More of them were coming.
"Oh hell no, pleeeeeeeeezzze," I begged the approaching feathers.
One for each foot, one for my belly - and one for my chest, or neck.
Shit, I just couldn't do a thing about 'em.
 

There were all kinds of horrors that first night. Everywhere.
The one that got to me the most - and still does - and the blue brushes. Firm little bristles, coated with latex... but still enough flexibility to spring a little. They just do me in.
That first time I was squealing and hooting for 'em, and it seemed like hours. Hours and hours and hours, laughing, freakin' dripping with sweat, laying in my own piss, with tears and snot all over my face.
Burning up, inside. The flame never seemed to dwindle.
 
 

The heat only grew every day that followed. Fatter, warmer... inexhaustible.
The ticklers were that good.
So many times a day I'd finally open my eyes, panting for breath. Another freakin' eternity of it, and there was more every time I'd recovered enough to pull at the straps.
Sweaty, all the time - and it was a rare occasion when I wasn't stuck to a drenched sheet, a little hungry, wistfully remembering what a cigarette felt like.
 

After the first couple days, they brought in a lot of leather. Padded with foam, usually, 'cause they kept the cuffs on until I zonked out.
So many cuffs and straps, chains, slings, harnesses...
 
 

A week later, maybe two months later, I woke up alone.
That's what I wanted to believe. Hell, I really needed to think it was over. There was a pack of smokes on the side table. My brand. Unopened.
Wasting no time, I sat on the side of the bed and snagged those bad boys. Got one out, checked the drawers for a match - oh yeah. Paydirt.
So that was totally cool. Far and away the most enjoyable smoke of my life, even if it felt weird in my lungs and tasted like shit and made me seriously dizzy.
Okay. I was ready.
"I'm hungry," I said to the floor.
The door opened. I heard the creaking off to my left, there.
I didn't need to look. A sand-colored plastic tray, and it would levitate in front of me with... let's see, a huge mound of scrambled eggs and bacon, grits, some kind of awful microwaveable hash browns. I could picture the bottle of hot sauce, there between the salsa jar and that big plastic coffee mug. Good java, too. With cream. Real cream.
Same thing every morning.
The smells, taken all together, got my appetite going.
I had learned to eat every single thing that was brought to me. When I resisted, the plate was thrown across the room - and immediately those little rotary polishing tools were brought down to my ribs, used with way too much personalized skill until I finally passed out.

After I ate, two gloves popped up in front of me. They were moving quickly, for a change, so I guessed somebody had a message for me that they thought was pretty damn important.
The glove on the left was holding my car keys.
The glove on the right was holding one of those eagle feathers.
I thought that one over for the better part of three smokes...

It wasn't a sequence of events. This, then that? No - I was already trapped in the second half.
I decided it was a choice.
What was odd about it is that I only had one quick surge of hope, when I saw the keys. But I couldn't fool myself for long. They were nowhere near done tickling my ass.
What it seemed to come down to was... now or later. Get nuked now, or go for a drive - and get nuked after the trip was over.
Some choice.
I took a long, shaky drag... and then I reached for the keys.

While I smoked, there were things flying out the door. I gathered my old car was going to be packed to the roof.
Gee, I thought, a big road trip. Someplace more private... and then the tickling can start up again.

A collar came over to me. Then a pair of black cotton boxers.
Brand-new work boots were next. We couldn't have anything happen to my frickin' feet. Oh, no. It wasn't like I'd be walking all that far anyway.
Riot chains - because naturally they weren't taking any unnecessary risks with losing a captive as ticklish as me - and then the last item was a pair of dark sunglasses, with a drawstring catching the earpieces, pulling tight around the back of my head so I couldn't gonna throw 'em off.
The door opened...
And like some kind of fairy tale, another door opened too. Farther away.
A glove shoved my shoulder. March.

Whoa - it was warmer outside than I expected. The sun was about ten minutes away from disappearing.
Pure wilderness. I nodded to myself. That just figured. So far away from anybody who might find out. And now, I was off to another place the asshole felt was even "better" than this.
I took a couple deep breaths, enjoying air that didn't smell faintly like an outhouse -
The car started. It was a few steps away, aimed at me... and they had loaded it up, alright. I watched the driver's side door swing out.
Was there any chance, I wondered, of hobbling off into the woods?
A glove slapped the top of my head. They were on to me. Looking this way and that, I couldn't have been much more obvious.
I sighed, and walked to the car.

There was a pack of smokes waiting. As soon as the gloves eased me behind the wheel, I watched a cigarette and a lighter come up to my face.
The car door was closed, and the gear-shift slid into reverse.
Off we go, I thought. At least I'd get to smoke...
They gave me a light and let me empty my lungs. Then a glove came up and curled around the back of my neck. Another one took a very loose grip on my throat.
When they didn't tighten up, I dared to tug on the cigarette. There was the slightest little massaging pressure, barely rocking - more of a rolled motion - and it was being laid down by each thumb.
I was fairly sure they were indicating their approval. Beyond that, I wasn't going to think too much. I had bigger problems.
The car started to roll... taking me to even more tickling.
So much more.
 
 

If I'd tried to run, maybe... just maybe. As hopeless as that chance was, I've never been outside since.
Aw, I can't even begin to figure out how long it's been since they drove me way out here. That doesn't bother me nearly as much as it should - it's just been so damn long that I guess I don't expect this shit to end.
That seems like a bad attitude, somehow, but I never get much time to think before they start in again.

06mar2008