"Gotcha," Dweg sighed.
Reese had quit yelling for help, and stopped making threats. His earnest struggles had suspended too. His breathing was settling down...
Dweg had told him that he wouldn't be harmed. It had studied and learned well. Oh, he'd be temporarily insane, but his captor would always bring him back. A few smokes, or a joint, and easy conversation did the trick.
Reese was Dweg's first solo tickling adventure. He was lean, and healthy. Spasmodically ticklish! It was very happy with him.
The enthusiasm of these post-graduation ordeals was always particularly fierce. Like Dweg wanted anything less! All of the supervision was a thing of the past.
From now on, it could nab guys like Reese and do... as much contact play... as it wanted.
His panic was all but gone. Dweg's bondage expertise kept him firmly anchored down. Nothing could possibly stop it now.
Calling all the shots - finally!
The abs it had caught were exposed. So tempting. But Dweg was almost trembling at the thought of scootching some invisible hands around his ribs. Making him go absolutely wild! Sliding fingers up into those armpits, unbucking his belt... while he stayed exactly where it had pinned him.
Oh, yeah, this was not a test. Reese belonged to Dweg now. It longed to pet and rub, and never let go -
"Whuh... what are you gonna do?" Reese asked.
Absolutely perfect.
It was the question Dweg had longed to hear. Asked just like that - no more arrogance, no agonized fear. What happens now, mister kidnapper?
Four hands zeroed in. Reese couldn't see them -
But he grunted, and hissed, when they answered his question... by embracing his sides.
"Oh, no," he said, and then he started to chuckle.
"Ooooh, yeah," Dweg laughed.
It was time for more acrobatics. As he threw himself this way and that, a whoop slipped out of his mouth. His distress didn't seem to be fueled by any macho dignity at all, and that surprised Dweg.
No, Reese was grappling to come to terms with the answer to his question.
Happily, gratefully, Dweg polished and traced -
"Huh oh hoh hoh nnnnoh thih heh huh huh t-tthis c-can't be whuh-aww-hah-haaaah--hah-hah-haaaaaaah!" Reese crowed.
Dweg brought the fingers to a stop, flooded with the desire to really dig in. Tear it up! He had the suicidal nerve to think this was it? Just this? Like he wouldn't be undone by solid, methodical tickling all night long -
But there was another interpretation. Dweg's fingertips rocked gently in place.
"Noooo hoh hoh hoh," he begged. Sweat was breaking out everywhere. His face didn't show any disgust, or contempt. Actually there was... an honesty there now. Simple amazement. Even shock.
Dweg took a chance, and guessed at what the big question in Reese's mind was...
"I'm doing this to you. Of all possible things," it said warmly.
His eyes opened wide, and he gulped.
Then Reese roared with laughter...
And Dweg's hands were just holding on. Not even tickling him then.
How interesting!
"Can you move?" it asked.
"N-nnno!" But he thrashed around for a bit again.
"Do you think I'd go to all this trouble, only to stash you in a room where somebody can hear you howl? Come to your rescue?"
Reese cackled, throwing his head all around. It didn't seem like the reaction of a hot-head who was expecting to find a way to prevail. It took him another thirty seconds to reel in the thunderstruck laughter.
Dweg liked him more all the time.
"Oh, fff-fuck," he panted.
"I think this kind of torture is grueling enough," Dweg chuckled. "Don't you?"
His eyes roamed the room for some reassurance. Yeah, he was accepting the situation. Staked out like this - achingly ticklish - there was no uglier technique needed. Reese's skin and muscles and nerves would be taken care of like he never dreamed they could be.
There was absolutely no hurry now.
"You're gonna..." And then he started laughing again, from the gut. Shaking, all over. His head rolled from side to side - but more slowly. Dreamily. Oh no, oh no, not this, oh fuck.
Dweg made the fingers press down, into his ribs. Restless to get busy. "Say it."
"Noooo!"
"Aw, c'mon. Saaaa-ay it, Reese."
He giggled like a loon.
"Please? Pretty please -"
"Tuh..." And he shook his head again, wailing laughter.
Its magical hands shifted around a bit. "You can do it. Just one little word. And I'm gonna be tireless, and methodical, and it'll take days and days to really get to know your best spots. It's going to blow your mind, frattie. Nothing can stop me now -"
"Tickling!" he shrieked, shaking his head again.
"Yeah. Good man."
"Stop, ssss-stop! This is gonna drive me cuh-craaaazy!"
"Not a chance. You're not escaping that way either." Dweg laughed at him. "I'm real glad you're the one."
"The one what?"
But it was going to spring the news on him later. "Never mind. Uh-oh, here it comes. Ignition in three... two -"
"Help meeeeee!"
"One..."
"Nooooh."
"TIME!"
And it underscored the point with happy fingers.
There was nothing better than provoking his frantic ribs again. He squealed and giggled, absolutely flipping out... and his arms stayed spread wide.
It could tickle anywhere. Everywhere. And Reese couldn't even begin to handle it. Oh, damn, this was what Dweg fuckin' lived for!
Over the next few minutes his laughter ramped up. Barks, screams... howls.
Dweg pulled his shirt up over his head and tore it apart. He didn't react or watch. That measly protection from its carefully tickling hands was gone for good.
Five more fingers came to each of his armpits -
Bouncing, keening hysteria! His body didn't seem to realize that it was strapped down - by a pro.
He couldn't settle down. It was getting more intense, and Dweg kept an eye on his restraints. Reese had probably never needed to move so badly...
And the show was only just beginning.
After five entrancing minutes, his struggling became convulsive. Irregular. Reese's laughter sounded more feverish now.
Dweg traced between his floating ribs, crawled heavily around the curves of each underarm, and kneaded in-between.
Extravagant rubbing.
Calm, focused victory.
Not ten minutes later, he was unable to do more than moan and twitch.
It had always had a knack for settling 'em down. Now Reese could try to endure the increasing throb of sensation without being able to writhe and hoot. The assault could go on for hours at a time now. It was so much more fulfilling without the distractions of a raw throat and an aching diaphragm... or Reese's brain continuing to try and find a way to black out and end the fun.
No, Dweg wanted each day to contain as much merciless, unencumbered tickling as possible.
All chances of being thwarted in that quest were zeroed out now.
Unseeable fingertips started getting to know Reese's pecs.
The tickler was more content than it could ever remember being. It had been almost unbearable - and unnatural! - to get Reese into the tickle-chamber and not rock his mutherfuckin' world right away. Oh, wow. But the training had kicked in.
Reese was carefully strapped down. His introduction to a hot new world would be... artful.
And it had eased him into the quiet, unresisting fever. There was every indication he could be kept there until sleep just couldn't be stalled off any longer. Then Dweg would have even more fun tomorrow.
To the credit of its instructors, it had no doubt whatsoever about the effect increasing for ol' Reese. They'd taught it well. Any nagging doubt - as it double-checked the gear, anxious to go out and grab the right victim - was long gone.
Reese would roar like a psycho if Dweg increased the stimulation enough, but it could keep him at this feral level until he slept. Barely laughing, with only a feeble movement here and there... as he tried to comprehend a vast new universe of sensation. Gigantic impact, and ever-growing, soothing and arousing and sizzling and piercing and maddening and delightfully funny.
So amusing. Far too intense to laugh about now...
DeShaun, back at school, had been more useful than Dweg realized.
The rapper's career had been helped along considerably, and he was ordered back to the training center once or twice a year. He threw himself into helping the new ticklers, in order to get cut loose as soon as possible. He'd actually struck a deal - but Tuzzlatch had built a very special dungeon for DeShaun, on some Canadian island, to be inaugurated after his "contract" with the trainers was up.
He'd been positively anxious to help. He critiqued tickling techniques in real-time... and up until now, Dweg had thought the most valuable thing he'd taught it was the hysterically frustrating impact of good restraints. As Reese floundered to keep up with eight lousy hands - and Dweg hadn't even pulled his shoes off yet! - it was reminded of DeShaun describing those faraway thoughts as he was locked in the fever. What if the bastard did move on to grim tortures... how could anyone make it through days and weeks of this complete arousal - and, perhaps best of all, the distracted realization that there was every indication that he could be still getting worked over a month from now, six months, with the intensity of the ticklishness still crawling upward to some level that was truly beyond all reckoning.
Reese tried to snicker. It was just the most inadequate response to the clutching, stroking hands.
Dweg had dreaded the idea of selecting a captive and not finding out until he was suffering that there wasn't too much potential there. Visual cues had been studied for years, but the new ticklers naturally wanted to spend their time on lusty animals who had no possible flaw or defense mechanism.
The proper hypothalamic structure was key. Sometimes the guys just couldn't let go of the anger, or their nervous system insisted on shutting down respiration enough so they could pass out. Many prospects just couldn't move past the tickle-induced terror, or something much like it.
But Reese was a keeper.
Oh, yeah, he felt the impact so much more strongly now. And the first hour wasn't even over yet!
Slowly - okay, worshipfully! - Dweg unhitched Reese's belt, opening his fly as far as it would go... exposing darn brown curlies that fairly begged for fingers to burrow down and tickle, and tickle and tickle and tickle, before the protection of his body hair was shaved away.
"Fuck," he slurred, testing the cuffs without much enthusiasm. "Oh fuck. I mean... wow..."
Reese was bouncing right back to full awareness. Now he could be tickled into immobility again, calmly breathing and grunting, instead of whipsaw-panic and rowdy laughter. He was almost ready for the the fingers to ride again until he went all the way back into the deepest prison of delirium.
Dweg had already brought him two liters of water. He was looking around the room with the most enticing childlike amazement. Well, maybe that word wouldn't be the right fit. Reese was full-grown, with nice big spots that were unbearably ticklish. His favorite body part would be a spectacularly useful addition to the mix -
He still hadn't even looked down, so Dweg patted his crotch hair.
"Wha? My... my jeans are open." Reese squinted at the sight - threw his head back, and fuckin' roared.
Yeah, he seemed to be getting the picture. They were gonna work together just fine.
He laughed and laughed, snapping at his bonds, because he had a pretty good idea of what some external attention down there was gonna do to his sensitivity level... everywhere else.
Dweg didn't need to ask if he'd ever been tickled before. In restraints. The dude was an open book.
"Hey. Want a cigarette?" Dweg asked him.
It took him a few seconds to wind back down. "Huh?"
"Smoke?"
"No," he growled - showing his haughty frat-jock face for a second.
Dweg chuckled.
It made a pack of Hammers float up.
"I said no," Reese fumed, twisting the straps with his arms.
"If you'd said yes," Dweg said, "I would've just set these babies right on the table."
He frowned, thinking hard. "And left 'em there."
"So you could howl, and look at 'em. Needing a smoke worse and worse." It opened the pack.
"Aw, hell," he sighed.
"This way, you get to look forward to the next cigarette - and four wonderful minutes without any tickling." When the power-tickling really took over, he was in for plenty of smokes between the rest periods. Not all of the dudes would quit roaring so soon, unable to do anything else as they were trying to feel "enough" of the growing excitement.
Pissed off, he took the cig when it came.
He had terrific potential. Deep types gave up the fight and the protests. Slip a cigarette between their lips, and reflex always took over. Dweg was gunning to get a couple of packs in him before sleepytime.
"I don't fuckin' believe this." But the bravado was evaporating already. Reese knew he wasn't calling any of the shots.
"Later, you can wail and beg for a smoke - after the habit's got ya good," the tickler said. "But that's not the main event here."
He started to chuckle, and immediately forced himself to stop.
"You shit your pants," Dweg said, "but you all do that. I gotta clean you up. Get these jeans off, and your underwear..."
It paused. Please get the hint, it thought gleefully, oh please -
"Aw, c'mon!"
Yeah, Reese was exactly what the tickler had been hoping to snag. This deal just couldn't get any better. "And that'll be difficult without removing... your... shoes."
That kicked off more desperate chuckling, as he launched another full-fledged battle with the cuffs.
"Please don't," he said - with no hope at all that his protest would matter.
A blue disposable lighter floated right up. "You'll smoke. Or there will be even more minutes of tickling, until you do," Dweg said gently.
He started to protest, and thought better of it. Reese yanked at the straps...
"This sucks!" he reported, after he emptied his lungs and coughed for awhile. "Couldn't you, uh, start out with a... low-tar one? White filter, not so harsh?"
"Hammers," Dweg said, "are our own private brand. These filtered ones are made for little babies like yourself -"
"Baby?" he snapped. Oh, fantastic, he took the bait. Way to go, Reese.
"Don't get your panties in a twist," it mocked.
"You... fuckin' bastard."
"Keep shooting your mouth off, son. I got a long memory." Dweg laughed and patted him on the head. It loved the angry way he tried to scoot his head away and unconsciously took a drag. Prime material, laid out for the plundering. "Now, Hammers are what any he-man smoke used to be like, back in the day. You'll be craving that nicotine in no time, Reese. And when I leave 'em just out of reach, you'll just go right ahead and feel the tickling... even... harder."
He wailed - but it was a reflexive thing. To Dweg's amazement, a smile flashed across its captive's face.
He tugged on the smoke.
Good boy, it thought.
Very nice.
He didn't seem to be enjoying the monstrous level of tickling, so the grin was probably a confused urge to laugh at the memory of what Dweg's fingers had been doing to him. A sudden burst of chuckling didn't necessarily mean a thing, this early in the game...
It hadn't pegged him as a guy that would try to deal with it by getting onboard. Liking it. Of course, that could be addressed. A slightly painful edge to the stimulation, or maybe thirty strong hands nuking him at once - and a guy's attempt to handle what was happen by enjoying it could be blown apart.
Are you going to end up digging this, Reese? it wondered privately. That outcome hadn't really occurred to Dweg. It had to ponder which way it wanted him to bend...
In any case he wasn't going to miss out on a single fiery second. They were gonna have no end of fun.
"You've never smoked before? Bullshit." It tried a friendly tone, just one of the guys here -
"No. Well. I mean, once or twice before. I was drunk."
Incredible! Open-book, then. A confident adult, realizing he was in a whole new world of hurt...
It was a wonderful time to remind the frattie how intricate the party was gonna get. "You, uh, like to get high? Reesey?"
He reacted like Dweg had slapped him. And the answer didn't matter. It had a dozen other things ready and waiting that would probably stoke his ticklishness. "No," he said - scoffing, but the look on his face changed the objection to something much more like a plea.
And if Reese expected to be even more ticklish after a couple of hits, that was more than half of the battle.
Watching his face change, as thoughts flitted through his mind, was downright mesmerizing. He was gonna get loaded - and then tickled. Didn't seem too relieved about the idea. Well, good!
"Listen," he finally said, "I, uh... you can't do this!"
But obviously, Dweg was doing it. Everything was set, his cuffs were snug - hell, a monster truck couldn't have dragged it away now.
Oh, shit, of course. He hadn't stammered out what he was really thinking. The tone of voice gave it away. "Reese," it said sadly. "Ree-eeeese, my partner in ultimate tickling - that's what makes this so electrifying! If I'm watching closely, you have to take it, and keep taking it. And yet you can't possibly stand another second - am I right? It's so damn obvious. Huh? Well, frattie, I'm gonna take plenty of time here to show you how much... more ticklish... you're gonna get."
He whimpered. Quite a compliment, somehow.
That seemed like a good time to dangle some hope. "Tell you what. If you're sure you want to, and you're real convincing, I'll wean you off these badass cigarettes before I let you go. Get ya some nicotine patches."
"Good," he said. Not quite ready to slip and use the word "Thanks" yet, huh? After a few coughs, his face took on the most adorable uh-oh expression. "And when..."
Dweg was just giddy with anticipation!
"When are you... g-gonna..."
It set a hand down on his head. And waited. It was so hard to keep the taunts inside!
"Wow," Reese finally said. Sighing out smoke.
"Yeah," Dweg laughed.
Dammit, break time was over. And how!
Invisible fingers took his cigarette away. "Oh fuck me, c'mon, don't j-just... Aw, shit."
"Tickle, ti-ckle," Dweg said. It made the words as menacing as it could. "Tickle."
And Reese giggled. He obviously didn't want to - but maybe body memory overruled any protest he wanted to make.
Dweg laid a hand down on his stomach. The fingertips arched just a little, like a runner in the starting blocks.
"Noooooo," he laughed. Head all restless again, limbs just longing to move.
The tickler slipped more fingers under his waistband... back into his armpits... and around his neck.
"No! Just hold on right there, just don't hoh hoh hah hah hah aaah hah hah haaaa-aaahhh!"
Reese was being consumed by his weakness. Dweg was extremely watchful, though, ensuring he'd never lose this delirious gift...
Oh, shit, he had an encouraging balls-out roar. He bucked like a champion bull. There was nowhere to go. No way to cope, no chance of alerting rescuers to get him away from Dweg's tickle-chamber, and nothing he could offer or threaten to do that would shave a single lusty day from his future.
He looked so betrayed, in a way - after their nice talk, and he even smoked a cigarette like it insisted, the dungeonmaster went right back to tickling him again! This was beyond any sensation he could endure. The cuffs weren't letting him slide away from any of the merciless attackers...
And there would be so many more hands. He had no-ooooo idea. The hundred-finger test, back at the training center, had been Dweg's absolute favorite. It had even cornered DeShaun that night and hauled him back into one of the playrooms. He'd given it all kinds of pointers - in exchange for being cut loose after a couple hours, so he could get some sleep before the carnage resumed the next day...
But it kept going.
Tuzzlatch had brought the fun to an end after the fourth hour. That night had been a real turning point. Dweg hadn't been able to stop itself. Finally - it was the only one in charge of a man's fever! It struck a deal with DeShaun and gleefully broke it, torturing him for another hour, and another, using the tips he'd given it... and it had been vigilant, so he was really feeling it all! Staying reactive.
But Tuzzlatch recognized its poor impulse control, and it monitored Dweg - without tolerating any more bullshit - for the rest of the course.
Tuzzlatch wanted every animal, but particularly DeShaun, to be reactive for months... not weeks.
Dweg had resented the "interference" for a few days, but the bigger picture became clear. It submitted to the instructor's guidance. And not only had it passed the weekend skill test the first time, but Tuzzlatch had even praised its careful attitude. It had been ready to fail Dweg - but by the end of finals week, the instructor had been pleasantly surprised.
But the last couple hours that night, with DeShaun... that memory was magic. That been the first time Dweg could imagine tickling one of these animals enough.
Reese was losing his mind again. He laughed like it was the most urgent thing ever. His body was plainly defeated by the restraints.
This extended ordeal was going to make DeShaun's extra hours look like a cake walk. Good ol' Reese, here, was a trouper. A frantic, howling mess - and it only had six phantom-hands in use just then. Keeping it light!
No instructor would save him now...
And time limits were a thing of the past.
Maybe the frattie could help it find out if "enough tickling" was even possible.
07apr13