I wake up in the dorm. Midday, maybe later. No restraints. Huh.
Red satin sheets, sticking to me. I'm oily. It smells like flowers...
I roll over, leaning on my own hair. It's down past my nipples. I had a beard, too, for awhile. Shon said I looked more like a LK than ever.
My body still makes me, uh... hesitate, when I really look at it. Like it's not mine. Solid tats... And if Shon had bet me a million bucks - which he can sure as hell afford - that I could ever look this buff, I would've laughed in his face. They tape us, sometimes, when we're going through our paces. So at least there's some evidence. I've never looked this good. D, either.
Or felt it. I mean, physically. I feel like... I could lift the dorm. Three packs a day, at least... I don't know what they're feeding us, what they're sneaking into our food, but - damn.
No fingers on me, and no Camel getting stuck between my lips. So I yawn, and sit on the edge of the futon. Okay, asshole, come and get it.
My moccasins are squishy today. Oil. They're usually wool on the inside. This pair is black leather, and I think that's what the lining is, too. Black straps criss-crossing my ankles.
I can't figure out how the fuckers lock. The buckles. It's irritating, 'cause I get the idea that Tor is the one who's better with tools. Vex has big ideas, and I think Tor makes 'em happen. Such as the turbines. Retrofitting for methane instead of propane. And when I can really study the leatherwork it makes...
The fucker just thinks different. It came outa me, and then it goes and designs a moccasin-lock that doesn't resemble anything I can think of. And these babies pop right off, when they want 'em off. I've spent hours with a spare moccasin, poking at it with twigs. Tor just laughs at me.
We never, ever put our feet on the ground. Bare feet. I don't think it's even happened once. Moccasins, always, unless our ankles are held tight.
I need a cigarette. Where's Tor when you actually want something...
Getting up, I pad over to the door. Get my loincloth. There, in the pouch - a new pack. Not even opened. I don't remember it being there... And that gets me thinking, as I light up. When was the last time I wore it? Yesterday - when I was hustled into the infirmary. So I work backwards. Bath, chased around the clearing, dorm, shop. Infirmary. I haven't been on my feet in a while. That sorta explains why it let me sleep in...
There are handcuffs in the pouch. I don't touch 'em. Emptying stuff out, or trying to hide it, just doesn't work.
The fire is out, and the racks aren't around. I yawn, and walk up there. Sit on a log. Sit there and smoke. No sign of D.
A tray cruises out of the kitchen door. French toast, again. Scrambled eggs, canned ham. A huge pile of food. I sigh - this is Shon's favorite breakfast, but I was never that crazy ab-
I get poked, deep in my head.
And I'm starving. Oh, fuck yeah. I snap my cigarette into the firepit, as the tray comes close. That food looks perfect. Smells wonderful. But I still don't know where the damn chickens are kept, and we eat a lot of eggs...
He's in the new building. Tor as much as said so.
And I'm next.
I go right up the line - ready to throw myself backward and down if the hands latched onto me - and listen. And I yell a couple times...
I can't hear a thing.
That creeps me out. None of the other buildings are like this one. If we're not strapped down, we can wander around. Find each other, sometimes just by walking near the dorm, or the infirmary. Ah - here he is. Sometimes I can open the door and look inside - watch Shon get nuked - and Vex just pats my ass, real friendly. In a terrific mood because of what it's doing to D right then. Other times, it shoos me away. But I've always been able to check on him before, if Tor lets me. Hear him -
That building must be real solid.
What is it doing to him, in there?
Days go by.
My rack slides up to the door. I look up, groaning, from the futon...
Tor pulls the cuffs off, but its hands keep on massaging. Leather hands. I'm too tired to move. A Camel shakes loose from the pack...
When I'm strapped in, it hauls me out to the firepit. Sunset is coming...
Shon's there!
I get put next to him... and he looks like shit.
"D," I say, very relieved.
He nods. "H-hey."
"How's it been?"
Breathing hard, trying to smoke, but he manages to shake his head. "No. C-can't... say."
I think that one over, and eat smoke.
"Don't... Don't ask. Can't tell you." He hawks snot. "If I do... Another month." He is not a happy camper.
"Okay." I need to cheer him up. Cheer us both up... "Berry sent the mounties in. But I told 'em, don't bother. We're doin' okay." It's a stupid thing to say. Almost cruel.
He looks at me, and starts to smile. "I hate you. Did I ever tell you that?"
"Yeeeeah," I nod. Then I get inspired, and do a really bad imitation of his offscreen drawl. "Hey, uhhh, I got me an idea, Deck. Let's you and me go on down to South America. Get the shit tickled out of us for a year or two..."
He cracks up, and then I crack up. We both lose our smokes and hang there, whooping until the tears run down our cheeks. The ticklers have gotta be lovin' the sight of this.
- - 15 - -
And of course, we have the classic game that Tor can't lose, "Guess".
Sometimes with a blindfold, or a joint. It sets gloves, or feathers, all over me. Just parked everythere, but it's so eager to make 'em move I can feel this insane manic energy all around me.
"Liebre," it says. "Hey."
"What." I can't imagine how it's any more fun to make me play this stupid game, but it's a big hit. Obviously.
"Guess."
I take a drag. "Knees."
"Which knee?" And it's real happy now. Asshole.
"Right."
"Nooooo..."
And a glove starts tickling - high on my ass. Always somewhere I didn't guess. All these months, every guess has been wrong. What a surprise. Every fuckin' time...
It's all I can do to not drop the cigarette on myself, until Tor takes it away. Then the other fingers start moving. Very, very slow. The one glove gets the spotlight, for a few minutes. I chuckle my guts out, sweating like a pig.
Then they all just hold on to me for a minute, and another Camel floats up. After I take a few drags, Tor starts to giggle. So fuckin' pleased with itself.
"Okay, Deck. Now... Guess."
"Where are the fuckin' chiiiiiicks??"
I hear him, and force myself to open my eyes. Chicks?
It's so hard, but finally I manage to look over...
We're both on the netting. Flat-hammock. I don't know if it's tomorrow, or still the same day. It doesn't matter.
Vex laughs at him.
Shon's breathing hard. He grunts, showing his teeth. And he looks over at me... Starts to hoot.
I blink at him -
Tor rides harder. So I start to laugh. We both make noise for a few minutes.
The fingers back off. Just barely tracing around. Even that's too much. Just barely... I can't talk. Tor keeps 'em moving.
"Ch... Chicks," D blurts.
"Women?," Vex says. "Pussy? Pooooooontang?"
We both groan.
"Yeah. What about 'em?"
He lifts his head, and strains to get the words out. "You said. There'd be pussy. Here."
I don't need that to think about. Not right now. Aw, hell -
There's no answer. After a few seconds, he plows ahead anyway. "Dream g-girls. Babes f-fffrom Rio. Huh? C-ccc'mon, vuh... vvv-Vex." He gulps loud, and tries to pull himself together. "C'mon... I haven't g-gotten laid in months!"
You tell 'em, I think. Looking hard at Shon. Still can't remember how to talk, but I'm behind him. All the way. Go, dog, go.
"Yeah... It's been a while," Vex says thoughtfully.
"T-tellin'... me."
"You guys have been awfully busy."
Bastard, I think. You promised. I try to say it, and end up giggling instead. The fingers. Shit...
"Ssss... S-ss-ssso s-so so you luh. L-llll-lied. Lied. To us."
He means me. Too. In that "us". Good ol' D...
I wanna get laid. I need to get laid. Every time I thought I needed a woman before was just rehearsal for the way I feel now. And they promised us. At the palace, we'd be gettin' some.
"Actually... no." Vex pauses again. I find I'm eager to hear what it says next. Hanging on every word. "We intended to bring ya some pussy. A lot of pussy. But it turned out to be a little harder to pull off than we thought."
"Yuh. You... got us here."
"Yeeeeeeeah, we did. Didn't we, Tor? And here ya are. It's not the trip that's the big problem, rabbits. That's all set. It's your safety. We gotta watch out for you."
What the fuck, I think, as the fingers try to pull me back into the hot, exciting fog.
"Sssssss," D stutters. "Suh. Sssafe -"
"That's right, Buck. Safety. We're keeping you safe. You trust us to take real good care of you. We've got your feet, and your ribs, and your baskets... Don't we? We've got 'em, alright. And we've taken a real shine to 'em. Gonna protect 'em - as if they were ours. You understand?"
Shon blinks, chuckling low.
"The most important thing we do, to keep you safe, is to make sure you stay out of harm's way. Since you can't leave the palace, that's pretty easy. Until... someone finds out you're here. That could be risky, guys. No telling what could happen. If they came here, they might get some funny ideas. Try to tell us what to do. And you don't want that... do ya? Somebody else, butting in? Somebody who thinks they have a better idea?"
Tor laughs, then. Fairly hard.
"That would be bad. Wouldn't it? If somebody misunderstood why the palace exists. Why you get tickled so fuckin' much. Even if they were here to fuck ya, Shon... You too, Deck. They have to let us take care of you - our way. And they have to go away and not tell a single, solitary soul about the palace. Or else... There are some crazy people out there. You know that. Stupid ideas... Trying to find this place. Maybe even take you away. Kidnap you two. And how could we take care of you then? Huh? We can't take a risk like that - not with you.
"You're counting on us. You depend on us to keep you healthy. And strong. Amused. Excited. Entertained. And you know... we're happiest when we're keeping you... happy. So that's what we're gonna do. The only way to allow guests to visit - short-term guests - even beautiful, sexy women... would be if they forgot aaaaaaallll about the Palace, after you were done with 'em. Not the least little hint that there is a palace, or that you're living here. You see? If anyone knew, it's a risk. And where you two are concerned, any risk is unacceptable. We won't have it, Buck. No. Uh-uh. So before we can bring the babes here, we have to learn how to wipe every fuckin' trace of memory - about you guys - before they leave. Not very flattering, huh? But hey. We love taking care of you fuckers. Every minute. No problem, D.
"We're going to figure out how to do it safely. Bring the babes to ya, letcha do your thing, and drop 'em off - where we found 'em - with no possibility of them remembering the palace, or the rabbits... so there won't be any possibility of any unexpected company. Bothering you guys. Disturbing you. No chance. And we have our priorities in order. You guys come first. Heh. We'll worry about brainwashing the working girls later. Our main deal is you. Tickling... you."
- - 16 - -
Infirmary. I roll over, so I must not be cuffed down.
And - dammit - it's raining hard.
I light a cigarette, and watch a covered tray float in...
Laying there, with my feet flat on the satin, one arm tucked behind my head. Smoking one after the other. Waiting. I'll wait just as long as Tor wants me to.
Clearly, it's in a good mood. More intense than usual. I picture an enormous bear looming over me, tall as the ceiling... filling the room. Or a genie. Like in the cartoons. Gigantic, smooth, damn near omnipotent, with a crazed smile on its face.
"Hey," it says softly.
I sigh hard. Can't help it.
"It's raining."
"Uh-huh."
"Listen to it come down." And we do, for a while. "Ain't gonna let up for awhile. We might as well stay here, D."
Part of me wants to yell at it - just fuckin' get on with it, then! - but Tor doesn't need any encouragement on that score. And it's immune to sarcasm, or at least it pretends to be -
"Just hangin' around. Me and my conejo. Heh. So... whatcha wanna do?"
As calmly as I can, I force myself to say nothing. Just take a drag. Act nonchalant.
"You got any ideas?," it taunts.
"No mames," I finally say. So blown away I revert to Spanish. It means "you've gotta be shittin' me."
Tor laughs at me. One laugh. "Well, I know what I wanna do. More than anything else I can think of..."
I tug hard on the cigarette, knowing I won't get to finish it.
"Tell ya what. Let's have some fun. Okay? A lot of fun."
Does Shon hear bullshit like this, I wonder. Is Vex saying the same stuff to him, right now -
"And, Liebre, there is nothing more fun than tickling."
Even after all this time, my heart speeds up. "Well, now -"
"So. That is what we will do. One of us will be... Uh... I have no feet, D. And no armpits. So I can't be the one who gets tickled -"
"Tor -"
"So I will be... the tickler. Heh. And that means... you..."
Magic hands start clamping around my wrists. Pulling them out to the sides of the mattress. The satin makes that heart-stopping noise as my arms slide across it.
"Say it."
"Say... Oh, no."
"I will be the tickler, and you..."
My limbs are held down tight. I've got a bad feeling I've started to blush.
"Saa-ay it, conejo."
Tor's prepared to wait me out. This is worse, somehow, than the actual tickling. Just a few words away from the start of the firestorm...
Fuck!
"I'll be the... uh, the one who gets tickled."
"Oh." There's a pause. "You sure?"
"Dammit, Tor!"
Snickering - triumphant, very sinister. "Looks like we're going to be in here all day today, Liebre. Maybe all through the night."
From under the bed, the feathers start hovering up.
"You laugh like a southern boy," I say vacantly.
"Well, you laugh like an bato," he sasses back, sounding tired.
We're on our racks, by the fire. It's windy. Still more rain on the way.
Feathers have been workin' us over since dinner. I take a drag, but my armpits are under attack and I can't smoke right.
It would be nice to talk to Shon, right about now, but I'm too distracted to keep it up. So I try to watch the flames, there. Whipping away from us, and straightening up when the wind backs off...
Everything goes dark, but I can still hear the fire crackling. I try to turn my head, and figure out it's a hood. No eye-holes. This used to freak me out, until Tor pointed out that I hardly open my eyes anyway when it's fuckin' with me. Yeah, like that made it all okay.
"Hood," Shon yells. "Fuck..."
"Yeah," I confirm. Me too. My smoke is taken away, and something lands on my teeth. A tube. That usually means water. Sounds good -
It tastes wrong. I stop drinking.
"Oh no, you don't," Tor says, wrapping big fingers around my throat. "C'mon, now. You gotta swallow." And the water squirts into my mouth again. What else can I do, really...
Something really wrong with the taste. Some root-juice I don't think I've tasted before. Probably another tickle-enhancer, though they've already got two or three that are just impossibly... effective. Or a stimulant. Gonna rock all night tonight -
A strap tightens between my teeth. Not a gag, really, but it does keep my jaws apart. I can't hear well. The leather's too thick. I can breathe okay, though -
My pulse is getting... louder. And slower. Too slow.
"Tuhhr," I manage to whimper.
"Sssssh," it says, right away. Hands start petting the hood slowly, an oddly tender gesture. "Easy, Deck. I gotcha. Enjoy the trip."
That puzzles me. Trip... Going home? Am I gonna come to, chained to the raft again - but I hear a friendly chuckle, in my head. Negative. What a goofy conejo I am.
And then I get it. My heartbeat gets louder, and fuller. Echoing. We're talking acid -
"Easy..."
- - 17 - -
In Torland, again - but very suddenly this time. Blink, and it's all around me, as usual, loud colors, vivid and sharp.
The ground shakes. Dirt falls off, everything falls off. The ground is shiny. Chrome. Hyperrealistic in appearance. Under my bare feet, and then either I'm growing or the world is shrinking... I can see the curves easily. The horizon. Finally, it's like standing on a beachball.
And it vibrates, under my feet. I lose my balance. Falling -
But I don't land.Quicker than I can see, the ball... reaches out. Gets me. Quick sensation of diving into oil, and the sound of something snapping shut - like an enormous padlock.
Instantly, I am the sphere. Seeing in all directions... cast and frozen into that precise shape.
And then ... A feather approaches. Black - and wrong. It's made of leather. Still as flexible as a feather, but it's clearly made of cowhide, dyed black as the universe. It touches me, somethere near my south pole.
This is not really happening. I know that. I'm on my rack, at the firepit. Smoking a joint. Completely relaxed.
But that doesn't matter. The sensation flashes through my entire surface area, over the chrome, maybe through it. Inside, I'm seething with reaction. Ticklish in some universal, absolute way I never was before...
The feather touches me everywhere, probing gently, then brushing, then rubbing hard - harder - ramping up, and up again.
I laugh, inside, and cannot move.Trying, and failing, to remember that this is just a hallucination... that the real fun will start up on my ribs again later. By the fireside.
The image of my round chrome body, under careful attack, blocks out everything else.
"Sssssh," I hear somebody say. "Easy, Deck. Take it easy."
Another sound, low and constant. Some kind of animal. Whimpering...
My face is wet. Tears. Snot. Arms are hugging me. Good, old-fashioned, real live arms.
I'm laying down. My body is too long to be a... sphere. Tor must've changed me back. I'm a man again.
And I'm sobbing.
"Easy, now," Shon whispers. "It's all over." His hand is stroking my head. A human hand. It feels weird, somehow.
And eventually I realize we're on one of the futons, in the dorm. Still at the palace. Why that would surprise me, I have no idea. There's no leaving the palace. Tor will never, ever let me go.
I blink, and finally make out Shon's face. Damn. He looks worried.
"You ready to blow your nose?," he says, trying to grin at me. After I think it over, I nod at him. He reaches over and gets a silk scarf.
When I'm done with it I stare at it and try to figure out what to do with it. So I start to hand it back to him -
"Oh, no, dude. Gross." And he chuckles.
I look at him, and roll my eyes.
Immediately his whole face changes, like the weight of the world just fell off his shoulders.
"Better?," he says carefully.
"Uh-huh."
"Fuck."
"What happened?"
"Well... You did not have a good trip."
"No kidding."
Something bumps against my hand - a pack of smokes. Shon's got 'em, and he bobs his head a little. I know that gesture. C'mon. Let's do it. Let's go. It reminds me of hitting the bars, back when there were bars - when we were allowed to go to 'em...
That was the gesture. Yeeeah. C'mon, Deck, I want to, and I know you want to. You're gonna cave. I just know it. Won't it be fun.
I get a cigarette out, and finally remember how to light it.
"What's your name? What day is it?," he says - and I stare at him, starting to get mad. "Whoa. Bad joke."
"All the comedians in the world..."
"And I get marooned with you," he shoots back. Big ol', ridiculous smirk on his face.
"Somebody get the license number of that truck?"
"Al-right," D crows. "Now I know you're still in there."
"Unfortunately, yeah."
"You wanna... talk about it?"
I start shivering. "No... later. Okay?"
He nods, and squeezes me on the shoulder. "Welcome back."
"From beyond. Huh. Except I was thinkin' maybe this is Hell."
That gets me a groan. "Nope. That ain't in my screenplay... Besides, if this really was Hell, there'd be producers as far as the eye could see."
I look at him slyly, as he lights up. And I feel happier. So many producers... "So I guess that only leaves insanity. We're both in a state hospital, zonked on Thorazine -"
"Naaah. I'd be in a fancy private hospital. Very expensive."
I try to sock him in the arm, but my timing is still shot. He bats it away easily. "Capitalist snob."
"You're just jealous. Living in my shadow."
"Oh, I don't - Sucked into your... vortex. Supernatural tickling -"
"Hey, now, I said I was sorry."
"Fuck you."
"You're welcome." He cracked his knuckles. "Anytime you want me to book your next vacation, you just let me know."
"Oh, I think our R-and-R is booked up for awhile." He made a face, opened his mouth, and shut it again. "If only I'd remembered my place. Us guys that do the real work have no business mixing with the talent."
"It's unnatural."
"It's not... nice."
"Hey. Seriously," and he looked at the dirt floor for a second or two, "I'd be bugshit - I hate to think how scary this would be - if I was - if you weren't around."
"If you were alone."
"Well, y-yeah." He thought it over. "No! Both. Being alone, and if you weren't here... the one who was here. The other one -"
"I get it."
"So don't be goin' seriously veggie on me."
I stared at him. "Catatonic."
D shrugs.
"You either," I said. "Mister Celebrity."
"Not a chance," he sasses me. "And miss out on all this?"
Shon got through to them somehow - or Tor just didn't like what it saw going on in my head - so we get left alone for awhile. D cocked his head again, big overgrown kid, and we hauled one of the futons out by the firepit. He went and got a bottle, and some doobies... and somewhere he found a couple really excellent cigars.
No sign of the ticklers. Inside, or out. No racks, no... gloves. Nothing.
Later, I go to raid the kitchen, and it wasn't until I was stumbing back to the firepit that it dawned on me - I wasn't scared.
We fall asleep, slow and easy.
I don't remember any of my dreams.
When my bladder wakes me up, it's still dark. The fire is down to a bank of coals, but it was so big that there's plenty of heat.
I can't move.
Rope. I'm tied to Shon. We each have one arm anchored at a corner of futon-pad, but our other arms are tied together, over our heads. Same thing with our legs. We're a three-legged animal, prepared for tickling.
"I gotta pee," I announce, trying to pull the ropes loose. Shon grunts and wakes up.
"Quiet," Tor says - quietly. A urinal sldes over my cock.
"Whew..." And I piss for a long time. I get a smoke. So does D.
"No," he says. Matter-of-factly.
I look at him.
"Vex. Asking, do I want a urinal."
"Well, I don't want to sleep on the wet spot."
"We ain't gonna get any sleep for awhile," he mumbles, looking up at the stars. Distracted, faraway voice.
Fingers touch my belly. Shon goes rigid too. Cool... satin. And I'm so relieved. Just satin. They start moving, very gently.
Shon tries to arch, and I weigh him down...
"S-sorry," he says, gritting his teeth. "I forgot."
"No prob."
The fingers double, and split up. Tracing, ever so lightly, to my ribs.
"Back to the same ol' guh... grind," he says.
Real funny, I think - but I have to start chuckling instead. D starts to bray, a split-second later, and he tries to kick. Tries real hard.
Looking down, I see a few gloves there, making contact. Touching his feet with surgical precision...
One glove slides over a few inches, from his foot - to mine. The one tied to him. The tips skate up and down my sole, and I hoot quietly and look away. It wanders off me - and Shon starts to roar.
More fingers wrap around my cock.
"Muther fuh ffffh fuh huh huh huhhhuuccckkkkerrrr," he manages to say, keening and giggling.
I keep trying to squirm... the way I'm used to. So does he. We're being used to anchor each other, even more than we usually are.
Tor starts pumping me off like it means business - as if I'm not going to be aching to come for, oh, the next three hours. The fingers play in my armpits awhile, and start backtracking. And I can't bounce, or anything, because I've got this stupid actor tied to me...
There's something erotic about that. I didn't expect it, and I don't think I like it. But still.
This is pretty tame tickling. For them. They're easing me back into palace life. I don't know. Maybe it's some kind of sanity test. Bummer if they broke the Field-Hare, huh? Originator Two...
I am seriously excited about shooting my load.
All that tension, I think to myself. It's been a long night. What goes in, is gonna come rocketing out...
- - 18 - -
I might be crazy, after all, but it seems like the routine is slowing down. I'm not stupid enough to think it's permanent, but hey.
More and more often, I discover I'm just fuckin' relieved. Ever since that bad dream, of being a chrome ball... it's hard to get as worked up about a dozen gloves. Oh, okay. If that's all.
And Tor noticed, as it notices everything. The tickling is deep and extravagant now. I usually get to come after an hour, instead of three. Less frustration.
I think it's trying to win me over...
Eating breakfast, Shon and I. He's telling me how his night went. There's way too much joy in his face, as far as I'm concerned...
I mumble something sarcastic about how skilled they are at being cruel -
Two howls of protest, and D rolls his eyes.
"Oh, please," Vex says.
"Whose side are you on?," I say to Shon.
"D, c'mon, we've had this same damn discussion, like, ten times."
"Yeah. That's right," I say acidly. "I forgot. If they don't understand the concept, they're not capable of... atrocities."
"Oo-ooo, big word," Tor says.
"Let's go through it again," Vex sighs.
"Forget it."
My arms are pulled behind my back.
"We're all about pleasure," Vex continues. "You know that. And all you can find to argue about is a difference in degree -"
"I may not be able to explain it to your satisfaction," and I squirm around, watching a Camel slide out of the pack, "but that doesn't mean I'm wrong."
Tor sends the lighter up to me. "Well, shit. With all that's riding on it, I sorta thought you'd be eager to make it nice and clear."
Head-games. I take a drag, shaking my head. For all the hours I've spent trying to figure out how to word it, I still don't get anywhere. Tor's making me forget shit I used to know. That's my paranoid explanation. What truly sucks is that we both think they're baffled by the whole idea of cruelty. Genuinely confused.
I thought I had 'em when they acknowledged - after many tries - that Shon and I are suffering, in their hands. But they read the reactions of our bodies, as well as our thoughts, and decided that it's a good kind of suffering. Tor has never denied that I hate the tickling, in contrast to Shon... but that just makes it more determined to change my whole outlook.
Tor's mission is to get me to enjoy it. Never mind that we're captives. That we're being humiliated... We're supposed to forget all that and just wallow in the moment. Laugh it up.
Shon is more of a realist than I am. Fuck the way things should be, badass. Gotta roll with it. Things are the way they are...
"Seeya, Deck," Shon says, grinning.
I get picked up and carried out. "Let's you and me go do some of this cruel shit," Tor says. "Those little brushes - and feathers - now what's so fuckin' cruel, there?"
"There's more to torture than whips," I mutter. "And branding irons."
"Don't be givin' me ideas," it says darkly. Then it hoots at its little joke. "Torture. You? Naaah. All I'm gonna do is tickle my Liebre."
"Hours and hours of it... And I ain't your Liebre."
"Sure you are." The door to the dorm swings open, and in I go. A set of stocks is sliding up to meet me.
"Really. It would be too bad if something happened to her."
Shon stops thrusting. I do too. We both look at each other, so zoned from the need to cum...
After a few seconds, it sinks in. Her - Ciuna.
"Whuh?," I puff.
Vex sighs. "I mean... If she wasn't bugging us, we could take as long as we needed to win you over. Convince you. To stay."
D doesn't say anything. But he's looking at me real intently. Oh, fuck -
I explode. "Don't you bastards even think about doing anything to her -"
"Too... late," Tor growls.
"Now, Tor. They know we've been busy, right here. It's not like some other tickler... of the thousands of other ticklers roaming the world... got at her."
The feathers make me arch - arch... Nope. Not yet, dammit.
Liars, I think real hard. Get your stories straight...
If she wasn't a factor, there'd be no more talk about flipping us. Getting D to say, okay, sure, we're staying. Making me enjoy this shit...
But there's no need for that, really. We're stuck here anyway. They neutralize Ciuna, as a threat, and they can have all the fun they want.
- - 19 - -
Tor finally gets me off. I thump my ass on the pads, and yell like a Raiders fan. Happy, for the moment.
Then, braced for the fingers to start back in...
But they don't. A pail of water drifts over me, and starts pouring. Then a towel, drying me off - efficiently. It always seems a little odd now when I'm not getting tickled.
A leather vest lifts off a hook, and stops in the air over me. And a pair of chaps - Here comes a loincloth, and moccasins...
And a hood. At least it's... No, wait. It's an executioner's mask.
"Alright," Tor taunts, and my left cuff starts loosening. "This is gonna be so cool. Buck, he's waitin'."
I get to wear gloves. What a treat. Tight leather, with fringes, halfway up my forearms.
A collar buckles around my neck, and tugs. I start a cigarette, and watch the pack slide into the vest pocket. Hands get behind my shoulder blades and steer me toward the door.
It's dark - I didn't even know the sun had set. Huh -
There's Shon.
Horizontal, on his rack. I walk over...
There are restraints everywhere. A strap has been pulled between his teeth. Oil is dripping from him, landing on the grass. He's breathing fast.
When I get next to him, he stares. And lets out this moan -
"He wants it," Tor whispers, right in my ear. "Lookit." And it is the right kind of moan. Artifically induced, no doubt.
"So... uh, why do you need m-"
"Stop thinking, Liebre," Tor urges me. "Just do."
Shon's eyes -
It hits me. Whoosh.
He... wants it.
Oh fuck, is he gonna get it.
In my head, Vex is laughing like a maniac. And I get some idea of what it feels like to be... a tickler. With a favorite captive here, staked out tight.
I watch my hands rise.
Helpfully, a bottle of oil ambles over and fills the leather palms.
The gloves oil each other up, and I can't do a single thing to stop 'em.
"Let's hear your best sinister laugh," Vex encourages me. Right away, it bursts out of me. It's an amazing thing... full of victory. It's mean. Pure delight.
D looks like he was goosed, and starts writhing. He's not getting away. Oh no.
There's only one thing to do after letting loose with a laugh like that. I know. I've been in his position, a thousand times. It's like the laugh just ain't complete until -
Until -
My fingers start reaching. Down they go. Where to start? Doesn't matter. Not in the least - because he's going to be right here for more circuits than I could count. Toes to ears, everywhere in between, repeated diligently -
The gloves change course. His toes. They're so pathetically sensitive. Even his insteps. Heels...
My hands stalk him. As they move, the rest of my body is pulled along. There is no doubt in my mind - Shon is so for it.
A little table is under his feet. Feathers, brushes, and four kinds of tools I don't have names for... except the names Shon and I made up. Shon. He's so fucked now. I glance at his head - craning his neck to watch, eyes real big, shouting into the strap.
He's not shouting at me. Not exactly. It's the situation. I could go take a nap, and the next ten hours will be exactly the same for him...
And he wants it. Hell, it would be meaner not to tickle him now.
The gloves are, oh, ten inches from making some raw delirium.
From the way he's struggling - the look on his face - it doesn't exactly look like he wants it. Not right now...
Not when it's about to begin.
I try to stop my hands. They keep moving -
After it's on, though... he's one happy mutherfucker.
Another huge wave of satisfaction makes my knees buckle. Oh, fuck yeah. He's doomed. Now this is power. He'll whoop all night -
No matter what I do.
And I'm getting... confused.
Let's see. He gets it, with or without me. I look at the brushes laying there. All set. So many tools - just the right tools for the job. The night won't be nearly long enough.
My gloves creak softly as the fingers curl. Only an inch away. Trapped feet, acting as though they want to be somewhere else.
Two hands. All those tools. I...
Why am I being used? Vex can use as many tools as it wants. Simultaneously. So why would they want me t-
"Aaaaaah, shit." Tor sounds disgusted about something.
My hands... freeze.
Shon looks up at me, so frantic -
I pant for air. The pack slides out of my pocket. My right hand grabs it, totally casual, and shakes a Camel up so I can get it between my lips. The urge to tickle him is suddenly, utterly gone. In its place I feel a little fatigue coming on, adrenaline letdown.
"Whhuhf?," Shon barks.
A little piece of wood comes from the fire, to get my cigarette goin'.
"You're welcome," Tor says sarcastically. "Asshole."
D and I look at each other.
Vex snickers at us. "Amazing. He just doesn't want to."
"Uuuuuh?"
"Tickle. Tickle you," I say to Shon. "One of 'em... was working the gloves." I park the cig and take a drag -
"Dammit...," Tor says. In my head, it growls. At me.
Vex whistles. "Should've gone along, Hare." From its tone, the other half of the message is clear enough. Boy, are you gonna get it now.
"I did go al-"
My rack starts rolling out of the shop.
"Oh, bullshit. You fought it. Inside your head. That's why you let the questions sidetrack you."
"Get over here," Tor yells, as the rack comes to a stop right next to Shon's. But it's a happy yell.
"What - I don't wanna... ti-"
There's a long pause.
Four leather gloves grab me by the arms. Start dragging me over.
"Doesn't wanna tickle," Vex says, with a mocking laugh. Like I never said a stupider thing in my life.
"I know. He's off his nut," Tor agrees, pulling the chaps off. "So instead he's gonna get tickled. I mean, seriously -"
"I don't think he likes that any better."
"Aw, I'm used to him. I like him this way." I start fighting harder - though where I'd go if I got away, I have no fuckin' clue. The gloves tug the vest off, and pick me up. My butt lands on the rack.
"I dig the way you can't stand it, Liebre," it says quietly, as my limbs are pulled toward the open cuffs. "Dig it hard."
"Well. Both rabbits, then. What do you say, Tor? All night?"
"Hell, yeah," it barks. Feathers and brushes are rising - everything on the table, from the look of it. A bunch of gloves cruise on up there. My gloves are staying on, I guess, because they're held on by the wrist-cuffs.
A big crowd of anguished fun, dividing and taking their places.
"All morning, too."
"You got it," Vex says.
They attack.
Tor gusanos me, right from the start...
A strap lays across my molars, the ends pulling down against my neck, buckle jingling.
Brushes land in my pits. Feathers start on my nipples, fingers clench under my knees. Scratch my neck. Pet my hips.
On to Part 5
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