He looked around, but it wasn't like any motel room he'd ever seen.
Luggage was near the bed - and he didn't recognize it. While he'd zonked out pretty quickly in his van, with pillows and a sleeping bag just so he could avoid the shabby "inns" here, this made no sense. This place seemed sketchy. Daylight was shining along the edges of a dark board that covered the window.
There was cling-foam pulled between his jaws, and all his clothes were pulled off except his underwear.
The door opened.
Two more suitcases floated in.
Despite the gag, he yelled as loud as he could. The door closed even more slowly.
"Time for fun," a guy chuckled. Nobody was right there in front of him. An invisible biker? Then he stopped pulling and trying to kick, because it probably wasn't the voice of a man at all.
One of the new arrivals was laid on its side, and then it was opened.
Feathers. Brushes, gloves, shoe-buffers or something similar with silk covering the rotating pads.
He shook his head and tried to yell again, to bust the damn ropes. Fun... for the magical, mystical something-or-other that had drugged him and snuck him in here. And my van is out of sight too, if it plans shit this well.
Gloves were picked up from the suitcase.
They'll be first, he thought wildly. I'm ticklish, dammit. The trickster who was damn good at tying dudes down - several loops around each of his wrists and ankles, and no slack for him to work with - was going to know it had the kind of traveler it wanted to catch... in about fifteen seconds.
Fuckin' shiny hands. Satin, he thought desperately, as full as they'd be on a big guy's hands. Six were white, and eight or ten black slippery gloves were hanging around too.
Full-scale tickling.
He tried to beg. Tied too damn well, in a place where nobody would "accidentially" find out.
Shaking his head at the pair coming to his ribs didn't change a damn thing.
Way too much wonderful current, thick waves, all up and down him.
He tried to thrash with all he had. There was no way to laugh enough.
Fingers and palms provoked him everywhere. Not as fast or as firm as they could be, he thought, hooting with all he had. Just getting started.
They were gentle but relentless under his knees. That kept making him freeze up. Armpits, belly, invading his briefs and the creases under his taint - and his balls. Dammit, he had to do something more than pounding his head on the mattress!
Nothing worked. The unseen tickler had made real damn sure he'd stay right there, laid out like an 'X'.
He bellowed laughter at the stained ceiling, lifting his head to reflexively make it clear. Feeling it, oh wow...
His arches were petted. It was amazing how sensitive the skin between his toes was, and around his neck. Dammit, dammit - laugh harder. Calves, pecs, belly-button - his ears, too. A trickster wore the gloves, to tickle a captive who just couldn't tune out the gigantic sensation. Pull, wiggle, squirm.
Laugh like never before.
Mindblowing hours went by. Maybe a whole day. The cold truth was probably that is hadn't been anywhere near that long.
He panted - and groaned. The gag had been removed. Pulling himself together enough to scream should've been... something he could figure out. Fuck, scream laughter. Get somebody to come and untie his wrists.
The result of his effort to yell was hearty laughter. Five or six laughs, not as loud as he heard 'em in his mind. Then he chuckled a time or two. That was it.
Bigger waves of pleasure just paralyzed him. Meeting, overlapping. Fingers here, loose grips sliding there. It was more tickling than he could even keep track of. Every effort to take it all in fell apart because of the sensual ass-kicking from this or that pair out of the first few targets he'd survey.
On it went.
He had the vague idea that he'd been drinking water there. Had the wearer of the gloves taken a break? So they could hydrate their victim?
Trying to squeal and move away from the determined gloves was just too hard. The impact had increased. Unbelievable, but his feet were tickled faster. His ribs were squeezed more firmly. One glove palmed and fingered his balls, and another was pumping him off slowly. Collarbones, shoulder blades, shins.
His tickler used a more devastating technique in his armpits. Wow, oh wow.
Thinking was too much work. His focus raced from one pleasure-stimulated location to another.
Time could've stopped, outside the room. The wearer of the gloves seemed to be way less "bored" than before. It had a prisoner, he was insanely ticklish, and it was definitely getting to know how to customize the contact of each glove.
Breathing. Woozy. Still tied...
Had he been napping? No idea.
Another water bottle waited a half-meter above him.
It looked darker outside, to judge from the cracks around the window board.
"Please," he said - and his voice was just about shot.
The bottle descended. He drank.
About a dozen gloves waited around him... but at least that many feathers were even closer.
Many levels above the first banzai attack. Even more places were being studied.
Hours. It had to be. The room was dark...
Dark brick walls.
Padded reclining bench. Stocks immobilizing his ankles, with thick cushions that he took to be neoprene. Shelves around him loaded with toys - of all kinds.
He'd been moved to a room that had been specialized for... extended tickling.
Wider wrist-cuffs, three-inch straps around his upper arms and a thinner strap around his waist.
A clink alongside the bench got him to look. A bottle of beer was coming to his mouth. Magic. It was amazing, and yet he'd correctly predicted it. A pack of cigarettes, followed by an old-school metal lighter, was next.
He kicked out the smoke, wondering if there was any weed in the cell.
"You got what it takes," the low voice growled. "All... kinds... of fun."
Oh, hell, he found it impossible not to chuckle at the taunt. And nod. Moved to a long-term tickling hideout. He had no doubt at all that his van was stashed where no one could possibly see it.
Nodding slowly just felt right. Tugging on the cigarette, he felt the smirky grin on his face. The tickler had already made him feel so much more fun than he'd ever imagined was possible -
He looked at the brace-barred metal door, and all around the windowless room.
Yeah, it was on now.
2020