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Derry rolled his neck around, tugging on his cigarette.
"Okay, that's it," Walt said. He was the best rope guy around.
Enrico was staring hard at the contact prints on the screen, much more interested in the light and framing than anything else. This was the second time they'd all worked together.
He watched 'em discuss the raw shots. Enrico got a smoke out, then his lighter, and lit up - without once taking his eyes off the screen...

Feeling real good about the check in his wallet, Derry adjusted the kit-bag on his back and headed for the elevator. He smelled like that "dry-gloss" shit - same idea as baby oil, but not quite as shiny. It was a lotion that didn't really soak in, so it was easier to wipe off.
He could make it to the restaurant by five, if he hustled. Derry wasn't on the schedule for tonight, but there was a convention in town. Lai would nod at him and point to the prep area. Even dishwashing would be okay, after a shoot.
He pressed the ground floor button, and slumped back a little. It was better when he didn't have to stand right next to people with the dry-gloss stuff on, because it smelled like cookies. Some spice.
The door closed, and the elevator started down. Derry was feelin' real good. Something mindless, like washing dishes, was a nice contrast to the warm fuzzies he'd been enjoying in Walt's place -
The elevator car lurched a little.
He frowned.
And the very next thing he knew, he was ass-up in the air. Naked and tied!

It seemed to be the same ropework Walt had just done - but it had taken Walt the better part of an hour to fuss over every knot until he was happy. The results were amazing, though.
Suddenly, he was caught in it again. A good meter off the floor of the elevator, with no idea what was holding him up there - well, sure, no big deal. Just as helpless as he was in the studio, and getting only a little taunting "give" when he tugged or kicked.
"He's good," a guy said.
Derry looked around. Below, and above. Nobody else was in the elevator. "Uh -"
"Walt. This is a sweet design. Your ropes."
He tensed up - and then it hit him, clear as day, that panic wasn't gonna do any good at all. This couldn't be happening, but it was. His meat knew it, too. Traitor. Maybe if he was, uh, polite... "Yeah. You - you must've been watching."
"Uh-huh."
"And you're sorta magical."
Easy laughter. "Sorta. Did I get those shoulders right?"
Derry wrestled with a stab of worry - and a simultaneous cautious relief. "Not quite. Is my right upper arm higher..."
"N-no. It's... Wait. I got it."
In a blink, his arms were free.
And in another, they were tied up again. The stray tension twisting his right shoulder was gone.
Just like that. Poof. Hogtied again.

"Yup," he said, trying to sound calmer than he felt. "That's level. A little thing can make such a big difference."
"I like you," the invisible magician said. "You're easy to work with."
"Is that good? Who are you?" he snapped.
Instantly, there was more tension across his face. A ball-gag was wedged between his teeth. Three straps over, around and under his chin...
Before he could do a single thing, a finger zig-zagged down the sole of his right foot.
Uh-oh. Derry hissed in air immediately, and tried to flop around. Pure reflex.
That was the stupidest thing I could do, he thought. Reacting. Not that I knew -
"Oooooh, yeah," the voice chuckled.
More fingers raked down his left foot. They were gentle. Confident?
He snorted and bucked.
"You ever been tickled... for real? Unable to budge?"
Those words were shocking - and then, wow, there were hands sneaking around the inside of his thighs, way up there, crawling -
Derry's head fell, and he couldn't even wriggle. He could hoot and cackle, but the ball-gag stayed right where it was.
The tingling reaction inside... was slowly exploding. His dick was at full attention. A deep sensation radiated out from the hands on him, up and down and through. I can't move or roll at all, he thought. laughing right into the frustrating firmness of the rubber jammed between his jaws.
There was a loud click - and the elevator whined again.
This is the scene where we stop on a different floor, he thought crazily, and I get carried into a dungeon nobody ever suspected was there. That thought got him pulling and twisting around.

In no time - the very next thing he knew - he was lying on oiled leather. A pad...
He appeared to be a vacant house. Maybe the living room, because expensive-looking carpet and fancy trim was around him. Summer sun glowed from behind the curtains.
There were a whole bunch of emotions racing around in Derry. He had no idea where this place was.
The ropes had been replaced with thick leather cuffs and straps. Hell, he couldn't really move at all.
Protesting was obviously the most useless thing in the world. Well, at least the fuckin' hands were off him.
"You got my stuff?" he asked.
Poof. A pile of leather appeared - right next to his satchel. White smoke dispersed quickly - mostly water vapor? He thought of an e-cig. The fuckin' magician had added it for effect.
"Wow -" he said.
More smoke. Ta-dah. A pair of gloves had been set on top of the black clothes. New shirt, leather pants, engineer boots, and black dress socks that looked like silk. Really well-made clothes - for him? Along the same lines as what he'd worn to the photo shoot, but way better than any biker stuff Derry had ever bought... and the pants looked soft. So creamy-soft. His dick liked 'em too.
"I have a sneaking suspicion," he said to his new clothes, "that they fit real well."
"Yeah? I think maybe that's a ploy to get me to loosen a restraint or two. Ain't gonna work," the kidnapper said. It was calm, and happy, and friendly... and Derry couldn't even guess how much those gloves cost. Much less the rest -
"I wasn't trying - aaaah, never mind. So where did my clothes go?"
"Incinerator chute."
"No!" He tried to kick. "Why the hell would - and my wallet!"
"Derry," the voice said. It was a command. "Look here."
He heard a zipper.
His pack shifted a little and opened.
Wallet, keys, lighter and smokes floated out.
"Whew," he said.
"I can't help but notice," the voice teased, "that you're real interested in something other than the wallet already."
He was busted. Staring at the cigarettes.

Oh, yay, one floated out of the pack and came over -
And blink, he was face-up, floating above the pad, straps pulled around and around. He was in the body position that came when he sat in a recliner. Were there that many invisible hands, holding him up there? The cigarette hung in front of him, but out of reach of his lips, and it was already lit.
"Back there, you asked me who I am," the captor teased.
"Whooooh. You're the nice kidnapper who lets me smoke now."
"Huh. Or chain-smoke. From what I see, you've chained 'em before." He smirked, and nodded. "When you could afford it, am I right? Well, now you can."
He got his head as close to the cigarette as he could. "Pleeee-eease."
"What's the magic word?"
He snickered. "I am grateful... when you're, uh, not too mean."
The cigarette came to him. Whew.
"Grateful," his captor said thoughtfully. "What a catch." This whole deal was turning out to be more interesting than scary - even when he remembered the hands. Tickling his feet, and tickling his thighs. Only barely started on him -
Uh-oh. Hold on, there...

Remembering those fingers gave Derry a feeling of complete, inescapable doom.
There were some freaks he just wouldn't go around. His secret stayed safe that way. But now he looked around the unfurnished room and tried to keep his head, because a voyeur had decided to see if he really had the goods.
A magical tickler.
With great taste in clothing for scumbags...

He was more than glad to tug on the cigarette, but the idea of his clothes being -
Ah. That was why. "Um. Far be it from me t-"
"Don't tiptoe around me, prisoner. I'm not insecure. You got something on your mind. I can see that plain as day. What's up?"
"If I don't get that check cashed tomorrow - I'm talkin' about the one Walt just gave me - my landlord's gonna give me the boot. She ain't kidding this time. And my cell phone bill is... uh..."
Derry stopped talking. He looked around. This was a lot nicer place than the dump he lived in. The leathers wouldn't have been cheap.
Not that he had a choice, just then, because he was strapped down good and snug. No other or thing or job or payment mattered, while his hands were staying caught.
"It's on me," the kidnapper said. "Don't want you distracted. Ordinary bullshit."
A stab of fear made him wonder when he'd see his apartment again. Or make his next phone call. "Magical," he finally sighed.
"I can send you back and forth through time," the voice said.
He stopped in mid-drag. "For reals?"
"Naah. Kidding. Space is easy, though."
Derry fought back a grin. So totally bizarre. And now it was ruffling his fur a little. So to speak. "Y-yeeah. This is a lot to take in. I'm glad you're... not in a hurry. To... you know."
"Well, shit, it's nice to have somebody caught who's not pissing himself with fear already. I should've checked out bondage models sooner."
He snorted when those words hit home. One laugh, and he made himself stop. Un-friggin'-believable.
"But I'm not nice enough to let you go to the bank now, sub," the voice said. "Take that risk - with you? Fuck that."
Blink.
Money appeared right in front of him. Derry boggled at a tall stack of twenties. They were used, so counterfeit dough didn't seem to be an issue here. Five times ten, times... four, easy. He was staring at a few thousand bucks.
I'm not worth that much, he thought immediately. Not this year, so far.
"Why are you doing this?" he said, blown away.
"Because I can." More calm chuckling... "I want to. It's the only reason I ever do anything."

Some envelopes popped into existence next.
Luckily, Derry had kept a folded index card in his wallet with important phone numbers.. and account numbers too. He told his captor about it.
By the time the next cigarette was done and pulled from his lips, his overdue bills were covered. It was just amazing.
 

"So what do I call you?"
"Tickler will work. Unless -"
"Oh, fuck!" he gasped. "You're gonna tickle me-eeee?"
After a few seconds, the phantom was apparently unable to hold back the laughter. "Incredible."
"Yeah, well, Bondage does th-"
"So fucked!" it said affectionately. "You get to come up with a name that works for you. I mean, really. I got me a smartass, here. Maybe you flip through your fantasies... or somebody you knew who just wouldn't let up. Some guys just stick with 'Boss.'"
Derry wrinkled his nose.
"Thought so."
"Coach?" he said - suddenly feeling all shy.
There was a pause. "I gotta veto that one," the kidnapper said. "Which I hardly ever do. Your face changed. There's some unfinished business there for you, ropeboy. This is a whole new chapter, starting today. Soon you're going to be thoroughly delirious - feverish - and there's no upside, for either of us, in tangling that past garbage up with the incomparably exciting, mind-blowing fun I'm gonna inflict on ya."
"Okay," he said awkwardly.
Fingers danced on his right foot. Three seconds, and then gone.
He tried to arch, and bit off a quiet whine. Invisible fingers, shit just appearing in mid-air, help me...
"Just let it go," his captor said. "The right name will pop out at the right time."
"I gotta say, it's a huge relief that you're not, like, just nuthin' but ego," he said. Too risky, dammit, he thought. So he shook his head. "I mean - shit, that didn't come out right. I don't -"
"No worries. I mean it. Relax, sub."

It was a relief to hear that - and take the next cigarette that pushed right between his lips.
"What I can't get enough of," it snickered, "is what's gonna blow your mind, like nothing else ever has. You're gonna be wigged-out. So I don't get offended by the likes of you."
Well, shit, there was a puzzler. Good news - and also some scary information about the mind-games that were coming. He took a deep breath. "This would get... uh, bleak, real damn fast, if you were some full-blown 'Master' wannabe who makes everything... humiliating. Uh, I appreciate that."
"Yeah? You better tell me if you're grateful."
"I am."
"Say it," the tickler teased. "Go."
"Aw, shit. I'm grateful you're... not mean."
"Never got into that," the voice said. "Demolishing a dude's pride. Nah, that just ain't me."
"And the head-games begin."
He heard a quiet, dismissive laugh. "Way back in the elevator, yeah. And my newest tickle-toy is sharp. That's a plus, for me and for you."
"A plus, for me." He shook his head. "You mean that. And you got so much more experience in this."
"In what?" Teasing tone of voice.
Careful, he thought. Time for another drag. "You gain nothing by promising me that I'll come out ahead. In any way, shape or form."
"It ain't a promise. It's a fact. You'll see."
"And I believe you. How far gone am I, wow, I mean -"
"Let's find out." Poof - a little flat-screen monitor floated a half-meter over his face.
Invisible fingers pulled on his cigarette, and Derry took as hard of a drag as he could.

The screen lit up... and showed him his foot.
He looked past the side of the monitor. Yup. There was a camera down there, getting a profile shot of his left foot -
"The foot is captured. It can't imagine how much tickling..."
A black leather glove came right up to his sole, fingers curled and ready.
"This image will stay with you, ropeboy. My tools magically start back in. No telling how many mornings, or how many times I'll catch you again."
His mouth hung open, but that glove had his full attention. He shivered, and nodded.
"Unabridged... tickling." It chuckled quietly - like an experienced dom. "Go!"
The glove started digging in. Scrunch, scrunch, scrunch.
Derry moaned, wailed - and just fuckin' roared. Kicking didn't help. Trying to pull or turn didn't change the position of the glove's target at all!
Those fingers owned his sole... and then the sides, too. Toes, heels -
Another leather glove slapped down on his forehead.
"Watch the glove," the tickler ordered. "Memorize this. The first tickle-toy, of fifty. There is absolutely nothing you can do..."
Roaring even harder, he nodded.
"Abundant tickling."
He howled at the busy glove.

The brushes were dragged slowly. He'd gone from cackling to roaring... to laughing so hard it was silent. That faded, because of the gigantic influence of the rubber bristles on six oiled spots. About ten gloves looked eager to join in again.
It made him absolutely nuts - after he confirmed it by looking at the front curtains - that only about two hours of tickling had gone by.

"Hey. You know anything about typesetting?"
Derry eased out smoke, and finally shook his head. Whatever made the rest breaks run longer was fine with him. "So that's why I'm here. A-ha."
"You are in for such an awakening," it chuckled - nervously? "It's like... newspaper headlines. There's little ones, with mixed-case. Capital letters and small letters. Tickling. Alright, and then there's the next step up. Taller, thicker. And the big-ass banners they use to say we've gone to war, right? Massive. Solid. All-caps. TICKLING."
His gut churned.
"But it's a whole new world now, Derr," the tickler said. "The guys at the newspaper don't have to choose between three or four headline sizes. And neither do I. They use computers to stretch the letters any way they like. If they want to, they can make 'em a foot high. Fill the page with just the T... in 'tickling.' And it looks like you caught on, buddy. I'm not limited by what you think you can tolerate. Nice, fat letters a meter high. Like on a billboard. Or scale it up some more - put three billboards end-to-end and make the letters, oh, ten meters high. Cover the side of a building, they could, letters that big. And eventually, one for each skyscraper. There's no hard limit, Derry. Not for tickling - how much you feel it. Maybe your internal scale, right now, is one to a hundred. I can rewire you so it's one to a billion."
It waited him out.
"And that's what I'm in for."
"Yup." A smooth laugh or two. "It's gonna take some time. So much fun, prisoner. Coming right up. Nothing can stop me."
"Oh, fuck, let me out of here," he sighed. It just popped right out of his mouth. That was how scared, and plumb amazed, he was. Derry cocked his head.
"You're staying right h- okay, now what?"
"Leader," he said quietly. "You come off like a trainer, not like a real cruel boss."
"I'm gonna redefine 'feeling' and 'stimulating' for you."
He finally nodded, grimacing.
"Let's go with one syllable. Try this for awhile - Lead."
 

The fear was just about gone. So amazing, he thought again.
That state of mind was probably why he had such an intense need to ask "how long." It would just be a kick in the nuts if the kidnapper deflected the question with a leisurely joke. It had some idea, alright. Worse, even worse yet, if it hadn't even set a target or a goal because it was so fuckin' good at torturing guys that...
Damn.
It telling him any number - oh, about this many days and nights - would be impossible to really wrap his mind around, to say the least. He was caught by some kind of magic dude here who couldn't have been smoother so far. Human doms could learn a lot from Lead.
Derry pulled at the straps that held him, wishing that... that...
Hell, at that point he didn't know what the fuck he was wishing for.
The feathers and little brushes were coasting back to him. Break time's over, he thought, eating smoke while he could.
"Hey," he tried to bark, leaving his eyes closed. "What?" "Are you gonna tickle me... all summer?"
Silence.
"Aw, hell," he groaned.
"I didn't give you any answer. And I'm not about to tell you."
"But you could."
Derry heard a "eeh-hhh" sound, like the tickler didn't really want to commit to a yes or a no. "Not yet. Looks like that's eatin' you up, ropeboy. In just the right way. Is this gonna be a hardcore romp tonight, and then you reappear in your apartment... with an appointment card in your hand for your next session? Or maybe the tools of mine will be all over you for the next fuckin' year."
He thought that over. And shuddered.
Lead chuckled, confident as anything.
Brushes crawled, feathers traced -
Tell meeee, he wanted to laugh...
 

He woke up. Arms stretched over his head - probably on the rack again. More hilarious times ahead. What was this, day number six?
A cigarette suddenly hung from his lips. He took a drag -
And blinked at his own TV.
Stunned, he finally scanned all around quickly. He was in his own apartment, and he was actually laying in his ratty ol' recliner. His shoulder-pack was by his foot. The tickler had pulled his new clothes on him - and washed him down, first! Oh, yeah, those badass pants felt even better than he expected, despite the low screaming undercurrent of ticklishness all over him.
Son of a bitch!
"Left hand," Lead said.
The gloves were on his hands, and they fit as if they were made for him. They had some sweat-stains from long days in the fancy dungeon house... but there was a twenty-dollar bill between his fingers, with words written on the margin in red marker:
 

  JULY 4 - 6  
 

"Can't fuckin' believe this either, et cetera," he said.
"That's when I come get my ropeboy again," it said. "Sometime during those three days. You don't wanna schedule anything real important, or any modeling... after the 3rd."
"A month off? Nothing before then?"
"Yup. It's not quite a month. You need to rest up. Lift some weights, maybe run a little. Do it, or else."
Derry was fuckin' overwhelmed with relief. If that extra cash he saw the first day had been left in his satchel, he could run anywhere. Leave the bastard hanging...
Which sounded good.
Mostly.
But he wouldn't be sitting in his own place now, and not even tied-up, if there was any chance of pulling a disappearing act like that. This phantom wasn't an idiot.
He looked up from the thick red letters and numbers. "How long are you thinking, next time? When you haul me off?"
There was a scary pause. "Do not... schedule anything after the third of July. Nod if you understand that."

Derry closed his eyes, hoping he was worrying way too much. He nodded.
"For fuck's sake," the tickler sighed. "I don't have to be this nice to you. Or put up with this pigsty you live in."
He put his hands together, nodding his thanks. "Why am I home? I thought I'd be stuck there for a lot longer."
"Solid plans are in the works. Oh, yeah. See, you got an unusual gift. And I don't mean - heh, well, in addition to the ticklishness. I saw something else in you. Rare. Instinctive..."
He tugged on the smoke. "Gosh, my kidnapper, what is this gift you saw?"
"Heh. Well. I've put lots of men in restraints, but right after Walt got you positioned for the first shot, he stepped back - and I saw it. Enrico was still fussing with the lights... but ol' Derry was relaxed already. Inside and out."
"Well, yeah," he said.
"Of course," it mocked. "Listen, when you're helpless, through-and-through, you don't hate yourself. Most people work their way out of that after awhile. Macho idiots can't get there. Relaxing. Alert, making plans - but knowing... what?"
"I'm goin' nowhere," he finally said.
"Boom. That probably makes it easier for me to crank up your sensorium. Quicker, too. No limits."

There was a pause. He had to look up that big word later. Derry got fidgety. "I've already told ya I'm not gonna like it. Learn to like it. Aw yeah, baby, please, please do that to me, you know how intense I need it to get me off -"
"That's not what I'm talkin' about. It isn't resignation, either... or plain 'ol submission. Not cooperation - aaaah, we'll talk it out later." The captor chuckled.
"Aw, c'mon -"
"Hush. Now whenever you wake up from a totally intense, sweaty dream about some hot moment this week - and oh yeah, dude, you know they're coming, I mean, vivid replays of what I did to you. Maybe you'll try to understand how the hell you get more and more ticklish... Lots of you animals don't wanna close their eyes all that much, end up back in dreamland - in my restraints. Some guys just sit up and stare at a cup of coffee instead, burn through a pack of smokes. Worry, and wonder. I don't think your head's gonna go there. You're not scared of... being immobilized. Fretting over it? Not my ropeboy. He eases into the mystery, right quick."
"Great."
"You got a tone," Lead said - neutrally. It wasn't riled up that easily, but Derry knew he could be howling into a ball-gag, on his very own bed, with fifty gloves sticking it to him... any second now, and any instant from now on. That was gonna take some time to get used to.
"All I said was 'great.'"
"Sometimes I see a biker who's... hypersensitive... and I keep the heat on his ass real high. I concentrate on making him more ticklish. Intensity, and taking my time."
"I'm not a biker," he mumbled. "And I'm sorry."
But Lead leapt right on that last word, as it usually did. "Wha-aaat? Didn't quite catch that."

He had to grin. "Okay. I'm grateful, Lead. Once again." Apologizing was out. And it definitely seemed to like the word "grateful" more than "thanks". There had been a lot of reinforcement in the wee hours, during the last few mindblowing days. Fuck.
"Thaaaat's better," it teased. "I'm gonna leave you to it. Recover from all that fun."
He had a thought. "How do I know when you're really... not here?"
"You got me."
"Mind. Fucker."
"Heh heh. You'd better get your pecs and abs a little tighter," it said, "before I concentrate on 'em myself."
Derry shivered, and groaned. "Man, I'm gonna lose my... So, yeah. Damn. And now we're good? You're gonna just let me go out and get a pack of cigarettes now, Get up and... leave... You're gonna..." His voice finally just trailed off, all on its own.
In a puff of fake smoke, two cartons of his favorite brand landed in front of the TV.
And they weren't cheap! Those twenty packs would've set him back as much as a couple weeks' rent. It was a two-room firetrap, but still -
"Grab a burger, if you're up to it. Or just stay in. Wanna get out of this delightful dump of yours for a while? Do it... Aw, shit, does anything I say not surprise you?" Lead teased.
"How did you know," Derry said, eyes locked on the cartons...

But Lead spoke the last three words right along with him, and then it hooted. Victory. Yeah, it had been expecting his question. Shit, he must be real easy to read...
"You told me. Yesterday morning, at the start of a rest break. I got you Hammers. But these are supposed to be 'organic', right? And the maroon pack is what you had on you... when I tied your ass up. They cost so damn much - your words. When you're just starting to pull yourself back together, and the panting winds down, you talk and talk. Telling me all kinds of stuff I find useful, Derry."
Sinister tone of voice, there, at the end.
And it worked. "Dog-gone-it," he yelled, wondering why that weak curse came out of his very own mouth, "uh, dammit now, don't go acting like I told you all kinds of... useful s-secrets!"
"Prince Clive Gin," the voice said slowly. Teasing him. "The outlaw biker look gets the right women real interested. But bikers gotta bike, my howler, so I'm getting your ass on a putt. Gonna have me another tattooed wild-man to tickle. Uh - what else did you 'fess up to? It sounds like you have quite a bit of personal interest in Storm, and Wolverine, from the first couple movies, when they get into those X-Men costumes..."

He didn't know what to say. So busted. "Enough, alright," he grumbled. "I get it."
"Not a biker, huh? Horse... shit. You'll see. A fuckin' lowlife at heart. Now you take it easy, ropeboy, and stay safe. Next time - whoooooh."
Derry grimaced good and hard, and stood up. Those cigarettes wouldn't be floating over to him now, packs tearing open - not until July. The tattoo thing was gonna take some getting used to. Models used to know better. He thought about being back in those restraints, seeing a tattoo gun cruise over. Yeeee-ikes.
Sinister, mocking laughter -
And then a third carton landed on top of the other two.
"Wow," he said to it, fighting not to laugh.

22sep19