K.O. walked down the street, lost in thought. He had to tweak the ad artwork to make it irresistible, which was no easy feat when the product in question was socks.
He smelled something. Looked down...
There was a cigar between his fingers.
An exasperated noise came out of him, and he started to throw it down. But he thought of that as littering. It was better, anyway, to know who put it there. He studied the cigar - dark, moist enough, half-gone. Moderately expensive. That ruled out two suspects right there.
It was tempting.
Punter. But that didn't fit either, though it was one of the few ticklers that could make just about anything happen seamlessly. When it was subtle enough, Punter could make him walk right into a trap. And it didn't like taking "no" for an answer. Since the ticklers were hardly ever this patient on the first, uh, meeting, that left one likely culprit.
"Cinchy," he said quietly.
"Yo, dude!"
"What did I say about smoking?"
"Thought you meant cigarettes," it shot back. The voice was gravelly and carefree. It seemed to emanate from a point just in front of his face...
"I did." Years ago, Cinchy had been one of the jerks who got K.O. thoroughly hooked. He was 16 or 17 when it first hid him and made that first carton of smokes float over.
"Aw, K.O. Now I saw the look on your face just now... and I know full well what you've bought more than a few times. You'll think it's a good cigar."
He sighed. "No doubt." Another little test. The solidly triumphant goofball had snuck the cigar between his fingers as a calling card. Guess who this is, buddy. He was approaching a trash can -
"Here." Hands took hold of his arm. As usual they were invisible, but they overpowered him easily and brought his hand up.
"Stop it," he said with irritation, pausing right by the trash can. He started loosening his fingers, but the tickler caught on and took the cigar away from him.
"Just give it a try," Cinchy wheedled, pressing the cigar against his lips.
With an irritated growl, he had a few puffs. Not bad. Smoother than he expected. "Let go," he snapped.
"Okay."
When the hands released his arm, he didn't want to do what he was set on doing. Dammit. But he took the cigar and snuffed it against the outside of the trash can, then lobbed it inside.
"I thought you'd like that one."
"I did," he admitted. Now he'd be daydreaming about a smoke all day. Just one... which inevitably led to another, and five more, and so on. He shook his head. "It was, uh, surprisingly good."
"Well, I got the rest of the box -"
That made K.O. laugh once. "You really think I'm that stupid? Go hunt down some rugby centre. They're usually in Shaney's by now. Tanked."
"I'll never get why any of the guys in this town get drunk."
"Me either."
"Makes the hunting almost too easy."
"I'm not taking the bait, Cinchy."
"Aaaaaawww..."
K.O. walked faster. It could be an ambush. Once in a while they worked together, and they viewed him as a challenge -
"Go get yourself a sturdy kid from Uni, okay?"
"I need a favor."
He rolled his eyes.
"Really. I'm not pulling your leg."
"An honest tickler. That would be a first."
"Well, you of all people..."
It didn't need to finish that sentence. He nodded quickly.
To their amazement, not to mention K.O.'s, he'd learned a new trick about three years ago. Unheard of, but it hadn't failed him yet.
If he was determined enough, they couldn't resist his will.
That made no sense to any of them. Or to him. Somewhere in the fever, he located a magic button or something. The first time, after Cubierto had been working him over for a few sizzling days, it was immediately hurrying to open the stocks and uncuff his hands. K.O. even got it to fetch him some clothes. The other ticklers never let Cubierto forget that, jokingly blaming it for K.O.'s annoying new ability.
His unspoken commands preoccupied them, like an irresistible urge. A completely new experience for the ticklers, to be sure. Cubierto had been so impressed that it returned with brand new leathers for him... and ever since they'd all been trying to understand how K.O. did it.
Their fascination would give way to scary new heights of cockiness - and sensation, piled on like never before to illustrate their vengeance - when they finally figured out how to overrule him, but so far nothing had worked.
He was safe, at least for now.
"I'm thinking about starting a class. You know - teach some other guys. Tickler control."
"Bite your tongue," it laughed nervously. That had to drive 'em nuts - not having the upper hand...
"Goodbye, Cinchy."
"Not anywhere near done with you."
"At least latch on to some bad guy. A mugger, maybe a car thief ."
A hand pressed his chest - or, rather, he walked into it. "Dude."
"Are you going to make me count to three?"
"I know you want one of those cigars."
He made an exasperated noise. "Go away!"
"Uh-huh. And to seal the deal... Kelly's about due to get sprung."
K.O. blinked. "I forgot just what a royal bastard you can be."
"Thank you," it said smoothly. "I don't know who's got him, so your mental tricks won't save the day. But if I ask around, I'll eventually find out where he's roaring the nights away."
"Dammit..." Kelly sorta deserved what he got. Sneaking into a club on the dockside, when K.O. had warned him over and over again. But Lindsey still had a thing for the little thug. His sister's ex-boyfriend. He'd gone missing about three weeks before...
But really, not even Kelly deserved what he was going through. The dude was terrific leverage, used to force K.O.'s hand whenever possible. Appealing to Cinchy to do the right thing and just spill the beans would only make it laugh. They didn't understand such things, but damn if they hadn't figured out how to use 'em as manipulation tools.
"Just give me a half-hour," the tickler pleaded. "I really need an honest opinion."
"About what?"
There was a pause. "I've mixed up these new oil blends."
"Get along!" he barked, sidestepping the hand. "No way."
"But think of Kelly. He must be really ticklish."
"I don't believe you freaks." K.O. felt defeated. He really didn't want to spend the next hour arguing with Cinchy. On the other hand, he wanted a smoke now. And there wasn't any place he had to be until tomorrow...
Caving in, he thought. And it doesn't even have any way to force me. Override what I want.
His feet were tingly.
A-ha. No, as convenient as it would be to blame the tickler... he really was sorta in the mood to roar. Bark out some stress, clear his head. Make it cut him loose in time to catch a little sleep -
"Aw, dammit," he sighed.
The room was a good four blocks away.
"I'm making you walk... to your doom," the tickler said happily.
"You're amused by the stupidest things," he grumbled. "All of you."
"Deliver yourself to my dungeon, K.O. We've had some great times. Just you and me."
"One hour," he reminded the tickler - thinking about something more like five hours.
"Nobody else can get away with that. It drives us wild."
"Too bad."
"Halt." The door to an old apartment building creaked open. "It's 519."
"Elevator?"
Cinchy just laughed.
"You owe me. I think I will take those cigars."
"Well, it never hurts to get a victim, um, a little sweaty. Beforehand."
"Rii-iiiight. If Kelly isn't sprung by this time tomorrow, I'm gonna make you go public. Tell the cops everything you know."
"That would be a first, big talker," it said breezily. "A deal's a deal."
He opened his mouth, and closed it again. No point. None of these sneaks ever kept their word if they could possibly help it. Cinchy was goading him again.
From the outside, it was just another dreary apartment door...
But the room was lined with thick foam soundproofing. It was a sticky yellow color that he knew all too well. No telling how many smokes were forced on guys in here.
Three pieces of "furniture" were hidden with black satin sheets. One wall of the room was covered, top to bottom, with tickling gear. The sight wasn't completely repellent to K.O., either... He was drawn toward the display. Chrome, feathers, sonic massagers. So many nights spent at the mercy of a collection such as this.
"I could tell 'em the address," he said. A cigar was floating over, and he waved it off. "Later. If the cops know that this is one of your little dungeons -"
"Then I'll just use one of the other seven cells I've got, set up and waiting. Silly human."
He shrugged. It was pointless.
Studying a soft circular brush he didn't remember having seen before, K.O. thought rather cynically that a guy laughing in here was keeping one more tickler busy, and that made life just that much safer for him. "Okay."
A sheet whisked into the air dramatically.
Stocks, he thought contemptuously. Of course. They were mounted on thick slabs of iron at one end of a short leather bench. At least six inches of padding. A guy could spend all night - well, of course. Hello. No telling how many dudes had.
"Shoes off, please," Cinchy mocked. "Or I could do it."
K.O. had to smirk. This tickler loved to do the striptease itself. He also realized, with a mixture of fear and interest, that it would surely want his hands out of the way. Not interfering. "Y'know," he said - eyeing the wall full of toys - "if those thigh-cuffs were on me, and I mean over my clothes, I guess you'd have to help get my feet... uh, ready."
"Sometimes, jerkface, you're the best," the tickler said happily. The restraints floated right over.
He recognized the excitement, both inside him and fairly radiating from Cinchy. Grinning, he started to back toward the door.
It locked. Then a second deadbolt turned too.
"Oh, no you don't," Cinchy teased.
"Maybe I changed my mind." K.O. concentrated on not being controlled at all.
"Hey..." There was a slow, frustrated grunt.
K.O. laughed... and let go.
"Don't do that!"
Cinchy tackled him to the floor with the cuffs.
"An hour," he reminded the tickler.
"You're gonna change your mind about that. I hope. Shoulda seen yourself. Almost drooling over the tools," it complained, buckling the wide leather around his thighs. "I know you."
"All warped," he sighed. "You made me this way."
"Well, I helped." It sat him up. "And now I'm getting your wrists..."
He was lifted into the air and set on the bench. "Oh, help," he said sarcastically. "I can't get loose."
"Keep mocking me," Cinchy said grimly. "You'll get yours. Look, K.O., you gotta be ready for a cigar now."
It wanted to see him... well, act as if he was under its control. Not able to veto every little detail. "Maybe I don't want to," he said petulantly.
After a second, the tickler laughed. It curled a hand around his throat and made him take the cigar. Then a match was struck against the stocks and brought up to him. "Since you're not man enough to just admit you're in the mood for one..."
Testing the cuffs, K.O. had a dismal moment. He didn't feel like working on the storyboards. All of the gear in the room, so damn close to him, brought vivid dreams to mind - his best memories from years of overwhelming tickling.
He reminded himself that the project was really due... after the weekend, and it needed most of a day to polish up. Right now it was Friday night, dammit.
Cinchy wanted a lot more than an hour, here.
If he pounded a triple espresso in the morning, and he could be together enough to meet up with Grace for brunch tomorrow...
"What are you thinking about?" the tickler said - seductively.
It didn't make a whole lot of sense to have his new ability - and still get tickled. So unnecessary. Except... sometimes he actually missed it. Pure insanity. And it was so wonderful to be able to say when it would be over.
He took his time, puffing on the cigar. "I got a bad feeling... you don't want just one measly hour."
Cinchy whistled. "Oh, I caught you in the right mood. Hot damn, prisoner! You ready to laugh - and passionately wish you could laugh a hundred times harder?"
K.O. couldn't hide the grin. The stupid goof meant every word. "Sounds like you're thinkin' I don't have anywhere to be tonight." It was so happy... to lay into him. Warped, twisted relationship. Like it or not.
"You like this shirt?"
"Cinchy."
"Looks like a rag to me."
He hesitated. It wasn't a particularly special t-shirt. Already it was thinking bigger than just his feet. Oiling and torturously sticking it to his soles - hey, dude, which one tickles more? This one... or this one?
"Don't you touch my shirt," he growled - in a tone of voice that he figured Cinchy wouldn't miss.
After it whooped, invisible hands grabbed and ripped the t-shirt. Uh-huh.
Clothes floated out of the bedroom. Black jeans - with the labels still attached - and a dark blue t-shirt all but covered with a huge, wiggling red feather. Cinchy's logo.
"You sadist," he mumbled around the cigar. "Making a guy wear that, after..."
"A night of fireworks?"
Two black plastic bottles were floating over. A box of latex gloves followed close behind.
I'm so screwed, he thought - with eager excitement. That wasn't true, unless he let it happen.
"Hey," he said suddenly. "A question."
"Shoot."
"Are you happier that I'm, uh, caught... or that I let you catch me?"
The bottles paused. "Interesting," the tickler finally said.
"I've told you that the hunt would be easier if you were aiming for volunteers. Those poor slobs who like any of this."
"You have never said that before," Cinchy said. Hands curled slowly around each of his ankles.
He looked down, staring as his legs were lifted up. "I didn't?"
"No. It's actually an intriguing thought. The right guy... going along. Huh." Each of his socks was shoved down quickly, and the tickler positioned his ankles in the hollows of the stocks. "I mean... dammit, there is something fun about the tension. You're wound up - and yet you asked for it?"
"Must've been Sledger I told that to, then."
"Forget about Sledger," Cinchy ordered. It was lowering the top half of the stocks. "No other ticklers matter right now, no job, nobody coming to your rescue. Feet that I know how to really light up, in my stocks. Remember all those other times I carted you into a dungeon - for weeks."
"Yeah," he said, thinking about the whole new dimensions of insanity he was taught. "Dammit."
A padlock floated up. K.O. felt his heart speed up. Not a bad sensation, really.
"You sure about this?" Cinchy mocked him.
"Uh, y-"
The lock flew into place, and snapped. "Too bad!" the tickler shouted with triumph. "I got you now! Whoooooh. Locked in. Nothing else matters. Your feet are mine!"
"Noooo," he whined sarcastically. "Don't, Cinchy. Let me go-oooooo."
Cackled laughter - as his shoelaces were pulled apart...
For a minute they were silent. K.O. smoked his cigar and watched the show.
Cinchy had been the first one to make such a production out of stripping his shoes and socks. He remembered how baffling and eerie it had been, staring up at the spreader bar that first time. He was eighteen. Damn, he actually didn't know what was on tap, back then. It seemed like twenty years ago.
"Oh, these calluses," the tickler complained. "Gonna take hours and hours of work."
He felt a chill race through him. Locked in. A tickler who not only had everything ready, but knew him as few others did, was bringing up two bottles of oil.
"I think I'd better... persuade you to stick around a while longer," Cinchy announced.
"What - persuade?" he yelled, tugging at his bonds. "No! I gotta - aw, help, please, somebody. Noooooo..."
Pleased chuckles, as the box of gloves was opened. "Yell all you want. Scream - with laughter. Nobody's going to interrupt your treatment."
It was all too goofy. He laughed.
"They need all night, these feet. I mean that."
"Shit!"
"You're not getting loose, buddy. Oh, no."
The bottles were just over his toes now. Tilting -
"Now, I wanna know which foot feels it worse," the tickler reminded him in a matter-of-fact voice.
"Got it," he replied.
"Smoke while you can."
K.O. hurried to get a few puffs in, and then the cigar was taken away. It floated off to toward the bathroom -
He saw two other things hanging in midair. "You're such a fiend!"
Cinchy snickered. "Well, you need to concentrate... on what I'm doing to you."
"Yeah, yeah." He looked at the bandanna thoughtfully, and shook his head. "I'm sorta in the mood for the blindfold."
It cruised right over. "But not the gag?"
"Naaah."
"So - you wanna just laugh your ass off. Loud and hard."
"Aw, hell," he whimpered. The strap was pulled tight. He couldn't see a thing -
Pressure made itself known around his waist. He rocked from side to side, but Cinchy had already pulled a strap over his thighs too, way up by his waist, to pin his ass to the bench. There would be no sliding off now, and it didn't matter how desperately he wanted that to happen.
He was safer, actually. These freaks really knew their stuff.
"My fingers... are in position," the tickler informed him.
"Noooooo," K.O. whined - and it was pure reflex. At that moment, he wanted 'em more than he dreaded 'em. He was more excited than usual about being able to force Cinchy, or any other ticklers who came in here tonight to pitch in, to stop and clean him up whenever he wanted.
"It's gonna be fierce!"
"I - I changed my mind," he begged. "Don't do this. Please. C'mon." But he wasn't issuing the command to stop, and of course his captor knew that.
"You're so screwed, prisoner."
"Oh, no."
Confident giggles -
And a finger touched each of his heels.
His body bucked and whipsawed from side to side. That was autopilot. He didn't mind. The most frustrated groan he'd made in a while was demanding to get out of his chest. The flash-rumble of insane ticklishness had been unleashed so many other times. A moment like this, when it was building - again - well, this felt so damn familiar. Even though the attention he paid to the pleasure-wave didn't come close to living the whole payback his body just couldn't handle -
Oh, shit. More fingers.
"Aw haaaaah nah nah nah hah hah!"
"Buddy. You're off your game. I'm hardly even touching you... yet."
He gibbered, shaking his head frantically.
"But I'm gonna tone you up. Oh, yeah. All-lllll mine."
The gloves took hold - fingertips riding gently on the inner and outer sides of each foot - and as they slid up the oil just made the sheer level of high-voltage fire climb up to some dangerously insane height. K.O. kicked and pulled for all he was worth, but Cinchy's stocks didn't disappoint.
He was shocked at how lusty his howls sounded.
"Trapped right," it said sweetly.
The fingers rubbed their way back down. More of them landed and began to work him over but good. Toes, arches, Achilles tendons.
K.O. was a bouncing, screaming animal. It tickles enough to blast ten men, his brain screamed frantically. Years of this, way too much sweet fire. I'm going to really lose it this time. The bastard doesn't ever wanna stop putting me through this. Oh good grief, this is criminally sadistic. Nothing can really tickle this much. I can't possibly stand this again.
His laughter was from the gut. It didn't help anywhere near enough, to make this much happy noise, and that was almost scary.
In some sick way, he needed this. It had been too long. The fingers felt so... indescribably good. Unbearable. He meant that. It was making him long to pass out from the cruel intensity of the foot-tickling - and Cinchy knew his hairtrigger zones, alright. The plain fact was that his feet weren't getting stimulated yet like they had been, even by this tormentor. Not really. That was a stone-cold fact, and yet when the power increased again and again - and so on - he'd just crack. Each time. This bastard knew his body.
It had already torn off his shirt.
Wailing, far too rattled to beg, K.O. checked to make sure he could pull it together enough to make the commands. Wonderfully, the ability was still there. Right there. Available, ever since he'd discovered it, no matter how thoroughly arresting the customized tickles or the resulting level of sensation became.
And the internal aftermath was growing already.
He relaxed, mentally, and bellowed laughter... more heartfelt, from the sound, wistful and sad and utterly consumed. K.O. was barely aware of his head shaking, almost dreamily, from side to side.
"Yes," Cinchy said. "Yes, yes, yes. You're done for, buddy."
And oh no, oh hell yeah! The fingers stuck it to him even harder.
The gasping died down. K.O. was becoming aware of his surroundings. Son of a bitch, that was... distracting.
"You're so screwed," Cinchy boasted.
A tortured groan rumbed out of him. It felt kinda good. He licked his lips. "Lemme... GO!"
The tickler laughed at him, and something touched his lip. Plastic. A tube.
Whew...
He sucked down the water.
What if it was in charge again, he thought - teasing himself. Purely exciting, when he didn't believe it for a moment. Could be that Cinchy already knows it can overrule me, But it's not letting on yet. Morning will come and it'll gag me - and then my mental commands will be laughed at. No escape hatch. Month after month, in such knowledgeable hands, as it makes up for lost time.
Its delighted payback would set new records for intensity, right here. And perhaps this tickler already knew he was absolutely screwed... just like the old days.
"I can't... believe you," he rasped, snapping at the thigh-cuffs.
"Lock down K.O. Tickle him. High-intensity! Lay into him good. Make it last."
"Noh-nnnoooooo - urk! Nuh oh hah hah hah hah hah haaaa-aaaah!"
Off again. The fingers had returned. This was just unbelievable. It tickled so damn much he was trying to flop around with all of his might, and that didn't do shit.
"Here you go," it fairly purred.
Cinchy's fingers, aw hell, they just didn't hold back at all. It had always seemed so incredibly happy to keep him wild all night, or all day.
It blew his mind - how could be forget, in between these nightmares, how consuming it was? He couldn't wait for the damn fingers to lay off.
A feather, or something like it, trailed under his navel -
K.O. suddenly made it lift off his skin.
"Hey," Cinchy complained.
Oh, yeah. An unspoken tug-of-war started - and then the fucker started flicking it across his glans. "Wanna step things up a notch, huh?"
And then - hot damn - a few feathers started on. Down his shaft, sideways over his nut-sac.
"You suh haah haaah aaaah-hai-hiii-eeee!"
"Gotcha," the tickler sighed.
He was confident his orders couldn't be ignored, but wow. Oh man, it was just making him freak out. Gentle stroking all over his package, the gloves still combing and massaging his sides. Cuffed tight, wriggling like crazy, wailing the most outraged laughter...
He was smoking a cigarette. That wasn't his idea, but at the moment K.O. had to admit it felt good.
Cinchy had made the last hour as intense... well, maybe as intense as it could. He definitely need to eat something after that climax - and the assault that followed.
"Beg me," it ordered.
He had to grin. "Aw shit, please. Pleeeeeze. No more."
It chuckled. "Like hell. You're mine, sucker. Here to make me happy."
There was something in its tone... "Cinchy."
"What."
He applied a little mental pressure -
"Stop it. Or I'll tickle you senseless. Kick it up so hard that you won't be able to do your little hoodoo trick at all -"
Something was up. K.O. pushed harder. "Tell meeeee."
There was a pause, and then a truly irritated sigh. "I hate you."
"Aaaaw. Spill it."
"Dungeon," the tickler said - unwillingly, as if through gritted teeth. "Steel doors. Four of 'em. A dozen of us, in there with you - snap the keys off, so you can't make us open the doors and let you go."
Nodding, he took another drag. "Ah. So many ticklers that I can't... focus enough to make one of you go out and drag a locksmith there. Or find some other guy close enough and get him to call the cops. Every waking minute, derailing my brain."
"More or less. Would it work?"
"I doubt it, Cinchy. Giving commands is right up front, in my consciousness. Never hard to find or use. And I'll tell all of your friends that I never looked for this ability. I don't wanna be a responsible adult, okay?"
"Incarcerated. By us."
"Well, if I could... figure out a way to be helpless only to you, or only during odd months, that would still seem like a huge improvement over the old days. At least a couple months in your hands, and then the day you cut me loose I get hit by a blowdart - and wake up to three months in Wreckrub's hands."
"Not our plan," it said quickly. An old argument.
"Okay. And I still want you to get this. After a point, a massive number of fingers and tickle-tools... well, forces me to think. And I've always been able to push, then. If there was a compromise, Cinchy, your total joy over shredding me would tempt me to try it. Get helpless again, get stuck way too securely in your straps."
A glove squeezed the back of his neck - affectionately. "I believe that, you asshole. There's no reason at all to say shit like that. No plan can prevent a quick thought, at some point during the hysterical captive's day. Mindgrip didn't make you forget you can push us, either."
He nodded, having forgot all about the memory erasing attempt. Good grief, that shit used to work on him any time.
"I don't see why you'd bullshit me about it - at all. Damn, still, I'd rather have a thorough night on you than no contact. That makes the coverage even more crazymaking for the next dude I catch. Way more intense. And we have history, so if you ever lose your ridiculous ability to say no, or if you want a longer captivity... you got my ownership tag on your shoulder. I'm your tickler."
"That's right," he grinned - having forgotten about Cinchy being so unbelievably jazzed to discover he didn't have a property-of tattoo anywhere. That happened less that a year before he got the push-gift. It was a better tat than most of his captor-artwork, though. "You are."
"Thank you. Hyena."
Yeah, there were three or four of the ticklers that he trusted. Somewhat. "That plan to... mega-distract me is a lot of work and trouble. You could be sticking it to twelve howling guys instead. Do not try the broken key plan," he ordered, "or the gigantic tickle distraction plan. If one of those plans, or any other, are going to get sprung on me during the next 18 hours, I order you to tell me as soon as you learn about it." Push.
"No p-plans. Grrrrrr. B-but dude - you got this fuckin' power over us!" it exploded. "That's not helpless little K.O. Or the marathon veteran I know. Dammit, you're always thoroughly unraveled. Not being able to dig into you for a month or two sucks! It ain't right."
"The one you can't have."
"Better not teach any other fuckers how to resist us," Cinchy said threateningly.
He chuckled. "Listen, you... fuckin' sadist, you gotta let me go now. This is killing me. No more t-tickling, please, just stop, I can't keep giving you the insanity you want. Take some other shady dude down a few peg."
Another wonderful pause. But he wasn't issuing an order. "Well, at least you're a generous asshole," it grumbled.
"No more tickling, no more tickling, aw fuck, lemme go."
That cheered it up. "Wrong! But first, we gotta feed you. Lots more energy. You know why?"
K.O. writhed around. "Please, pl- help me, somebody, get me outa heeeeeere!"
"It's gonna be a long, humorous night."
He wailed, but a big-ass smirk wouldn't leave his face.
"Oh, yeah," Cinchy declared. "It's gonna be a great blast from the past, mutherfucker."
"Interesting plan, though. To break me. Keep trying."
"Why, you -"
He laughed, and eventually the tickler joined in too.
27may2020