Two weeks later, at three-thirty in the morning, I was standing just inside a black cell.
"Who's the center of attention here?" it said.
"You are."
"Well - yeah. I like the way you think, but what I mean is why are y-"
"This is a favor you're doing for me," I said, with a grimace. "I get to watch. Not... the other thing."
"Exactly. Did I have to go to all this trouble?"
"No."
"Damn right. Could've just dragged you off. But no, I didn't do that -"
"Got it," I sighed, looking around.
The room it built was roughly circular, about ten feet across. A thick reclining bench - like a deck chair with huge pads on it - was bolted down, with a totally frightening pair of stocks to trap some ankles. Little cords and elastic bands were laying on the floor... and I realized they were fuckin' toe restraints, for later.
Ruze had installed a number of hidden cameras for me. Behind the bench there were two doors which opened and closed without a sound. Even the edges of the doorframe were hard to see until I got close. All the captive would see was solid black padding.
There were no locks on the doors that I could see.
I'd walked in and out a few times - nervous as I could be. It had built the cell in the middle of an old supermarket. Walking around the outside, I counted seven monitors showing different camera angles. My first suggestion had been to stay outside - safer, that way. But it pointed out, with a patient tone that really irritated the hell out of me, that I might as well just watch the video anywhere else... if that would give me the perspective I was lacking.
But it wouldn't, and Ruze - of course - knew that. I needed to be inside a real dungeon. And somehow escape from it, too. Fat chance...
It was going to blindfold the captive after a while, and it had already dropped hints about ways to force him to keep his eyes shut tight. Ruze had picked out a "virgin" for this ordeal so I could see the surprise and denial get wiped right off his face. This Ted character sure wasn't expecting to wake up in a dungeon - and suffer like this.
All I had on was a red satin pouch it had given me, and padded slippers.
Ruze wouldn't budge on that. It was determined that the victim never know I was there - something about grasping at straws. When I pulled off my shirt, I expected some flattering bullshit... but instead I barely heard it react at all, with danger - and contentment - in the growl.
It had taken me days to fool myself into thinking that Ruze was gonna let me walk out of that cell the same day, and suddenly all of my best rationaIizations fell apart. I wanted these camera setups to be the best work I'd ever done, and what I'd sent before was just okay. My imagination was tapped out.
Ruze didn't spend much time persuading me that I needed to be in here. Mostly I did that to myself. And ten minutes from now, or ten hours...
Until it jumped me I still had work to do - my camera angles. The black walls and the bench had given me two great ideas already. It knew how important the work was to me. Shit, that was the whole reason I'd -
The setups. Yeah. I couldn't get 'em to Angie, and be able to do any clarification or followup, if I was howling my ass off in here.
It felt like I'd been teasing a hungry lion, and there I was. There still seemed to be a chance...
Oh, fuck, I was kidding myself. Again. I had no confidence that it would listen to a thing I said, for my own sake or the prisoner's, but he wouldn't even know I was watching.
Get it over with, dammit. Meaning - me.
The frustration made me take a long drag and plant myself down on the bench.
"What?" Ruze said, sounding pretty amazed.
I snapped the ash off my smoke and planted it between my lips. Then I put my hands behind my head... and it was one of the hardest fuckin' things I've ever done, but I set one ankle and then the other in the cut-outs.
Five terrifying seconds went by.
"Uh," it finally said, "that's... um, not adjusted right. Your legs are shorter th-"
"So?"
You're out of your mind," it laughed nervously.
I shook my head hard, laughing along with Ruze - but I got off the bench as fast as I could.
"Well, fuck me. Did I pass? If you're not reassured yet, brother, I don't know what to tell ya."
The tension sorta gave way inside me, and I let loose with a big sigh. It whistled - pretty much the same emotion, I thought. Edging further away from the bench, I thought maybe it was time to shut up for awhile.
While I'd definitely improved Ruze's mood with that stunt, it seemed to be distracted for a little while after that. I couldn't have blamed it, really, if it had just decided what the fuck and jumped me. What was I thinking, anyway?
It managed to keep its mitts off, so I decided it probably was serious about letting me watch.
"How long until he, uh, wakes up?"
"One sec." The door opened. I barely had time to take a drag before I heard low chuckling again. "Half-hour, maybe."
"I feel weird about this."
"What now?"
Shifting from one foot to the other, I said, "Sorta responsible."
I heard a few rumbling snickers. "Hey. This is what I do. Even if I never hooked up with you there'd be some new guy, tonight, in a room like this - shouting at my gloves to go away. Got it? You're just along for the ride."
"Lucky me."
"And what's the most important thing in the world?"
"Absolute silence," I said. "He can't even suspect I'm here."
"That's right. He won't be able to look behind him, with a bench this wide - but you'd better not make a sound."
I held up my arms. "You got me naked. It's important. I get it."
"Aaah, that's not naked. But I gotta say, I'm inspired -"
"Save it."
Ruze snickered to itself. "You ready for the guest of honor?"
I sighed. "Yeah. Suppose so."
"Don't sound so excited," it said. "Shit."
A huge Nordic gym rat floated horizontally through the door. He was naked, and apparently fast asleep.
When he was lowered down to the bench I got a good look at his face. Towhouse?
No - a little brother, maybe. The guy looked like what Towhouse thought he saw when he looked in the mirror.
Humming quietly, Ruze made a jar of skin cream open in midair.
"If anybody told me I'd be in a room like this -"
"Yeah," it said quietly. "They all think that. Even this jock."
I watched a leather straitjacket catch the victim's arms.
"Finish that cigarette," it ordered me. "He might come to any time now."
There was an ashtray well behind the bench. I saw a couple of joints in it. "The smoke won't tip him off?"
"Not if he doesn't see where it's coming from," Ruze fired back. "Besides, I like a little ambiance."
"Shit..."
"This is a place... that hope forgot," it chuckled. "Many have come, and roared -"
"Left their odors. Hysterical sweat."
"Sounds like you're getting into the spirit of things."
"Yuck..."
It laughed freely. "Now, these buckles - on the sleeves in particular - they wouldn't even hold you, once I get busy..."
Black nylon straps raced up. Two of them snaked and pulled tight to trap his upper arms, and the other two were cinched around his wrists before they circled his gut.
"He's gonna sweat like a pig."
"You know it." The straps seemed to be getting a few final tugs. "But he won't slip it off. It doesn't help me any if he thinks it's starting to shift around. And check it out - I'm not strapping him to the pad. But If I need to, I will."
"Uh-huh."
There was a dreamy tone entering Ruze's voice. "Imagine how frustrating this is gonna be. His feet are just on fire... and more than anything else he's just gotta get his hands loose. If he doesn't, the night only goes downhill from there. This way he can thrash and bounce alll-lllll he wants, wailing the most soulful laughter he's ever kicked out. But he can't get his feet away from me. No matter what. A guy this muscular... And after he tires," it said, positioning his legs, "I'll cuff his arms alongside the bench. Double cuffs, for this one. That'll leave his torso as wide-open as it can be."
Rubber gloves wander up and start rubbing cream into his soles.
"Nothing he can do," Ruze mumbles, "except sit here and take it -"
The prisoner groaned.
"Okay. Stand behind his head. Not too close. And for fuck's sake, don't even sigh."
"Yessir." There was a monitor directly behind his back, showing me a close-up of his head.
"Not once. If you need to sneeze, run out the door."
The top section of the stocks came down. A big, old-fashioned padlock hooked the two halves together, and a second one sealed the other end.
"If you behave yourself," Ruze said, all cocky, "I'll let you in on a few things that I've never told - well, shit, probably no human's ever heard. Let's see, here - I really prefer to drag these big sons-of-bitches in while they're awake. Show 'em who's boss. But Mr. Towhouse here gets to come around, all groggy, like in the script. I went with the stocks and the straitjacket for this guy, as an intro, because he just seemed to deserve 'em. It's a simple, no-shit restraint system - like Ted's four-point chains. Intimidating as hell. I want you to notice how astounded he'll be when all that hard work at the gym gets him... no-fuckin'-where. Being able to wriggle around suggests, unconsciously, that maybe he's still got a chance. That's what you need to illustrate in the middle of that first dungeon scene, and the start of the next one -"
There was the softest possible groan.
"Are you gonna taunt him?" I whispered as quietly as I could.
"Nah." Ruze seemed to be whispering right in my ear. "Some of 'em take it the wrong way. A sign of hope. He's in for a big mystery. Yeah. The lines in the script are perfect. Taunting - and that's good, dude, the way you're whispering. Talk no louder than that and we'll be okay. Not a soul knowing he's getting nuked. Be really careful with sibilants though."
His eyes opened - and closed. On the screen provided for me, I watched the weightlifter yawn.
"Have I mentioned how much more ticklish these big, stretched muscles are?"
I nodded.
He didn't recognize the cell. I watched his expression go from "Huh?" to "Oh, shit." Apparently Ruze wasn't gonna move on him until he was more alert -
"Fuck this," the guy said quietly.
Kicking, and grunting, he fought with the straitjacket.
"Oooooh yeah," it sighed.
There was no way he could see me. I really wanted to study the whole setup from in front of his feet, but that would have to wait until the blindfold was on.
I saw his expression change from grim effort - as if he just had to knuckle down harder, and then just strolling out of there was a given - to doubt. It didn't seem to make sense that he could remain there.
He took a breath and pulled at the straitjacket even harder.
From what I could see, the straps were still pinning it tightly against him. And the stocks, of course, were barely rocking.
When he paused again to catch his breath, a finger laid down over my lips.
"Sometimes," it said to me, "at this point I'll make him smoke a cigar. It reinforces who's calling the shots - and that I'm some kind of magic fucker - but most of all it gives him time to think. Crotch wide open, restrained properly. Waiting for me to start the show." I shook my head slowly. "Yeah, I'm devious. His best hope, right now, is that I only want to play with him until morning. A guy ike this is usually good for nine or ten months if he's fed right. Now look at his feet."
A little cart started rolling over...
"Help," he said uncertainly. I didn't get the impression that he was eager to admit he needed it. Or maybe he already knew there was no chance whatsoever.
While he fought some more, I watched him stare at the cart as it came to a stop where he could see it. A disturbed, worried scowl stayed on his face.
There was a brown briefcase on the cart's top shelf, and now the lid swung up toward him. Blocking his view of the contents.
"Once in a while," Ruze told me, "they figure it out by now. I think this one's too stupid."
A big white feather levitated above the cart.
I watched him blink - twice - and his mouth fell open.
"Nice."
He kicked furiously at the stocks. "Nuh," he panted, shaking his head harder and harder. "No way. Nuh nuh nuh nuh."
"I predict... he's ticklish," it announced. "Think so?"
"I think you checked before y-"
"You know it. Quiet. Observe."
"Don't - dammit!" he shouted. "Help! Somebody, please, you gotta hear me. Right now. Help!"
Ruze laughed calmly in my ear, and started bringing the feather down to his straining feet.
"Haaaaalllp!, Aw, no," he said. I thought he was begging the feather itself. "Get me out of here, fuck, oh no you just can't do this to meeeee..."
"Countdown," Ruze sighed cruelly, for my hearing only. "in five, four..."
"Oh, I can't, I can't! Not this. No. Please - haaaaallllp - you gotta call it off, dammit, I - Ooooh."
"We have ignition."
For a moment I wondered if the dude was gonna start crying. Then his body started turning, and bucking around...
The feather was actually doing it! Tickling him slowly.
After grabbing a breath, he whimpered once. "Nooooo." And then he showed his teeth.
He was still giving the straitjacket everything he had when the giggles started bubbling out of him.
"Naaah huh huh haw!" he bellowed.
"Great reaction from the heels," Ruze whispered. "He's got no mental defense at all. Not that I couldn't get around that..."
There was almost a look of embarrassment on his face. Right after that it was clear he was trying not to laugh. Weird little yelps were being stuttered out instead. Sweat was already dripping from his forehead.
"It's not so bad," Ruze said. "He can take it. I mean, that's what he's telling himself. If this is as bad as it gets, he can hang tough. Maybe I don't have, oh, about a hundred tools and gloves within easy reach. Now - the wall comes tumbling down."
Another feather.
He screamed, wriggling with a whole new burst of desperate energy - and started to hoot. There was a scary, hysterical note in his voice.
"That's the panic talkin'. He's not feeling that much heat yet. Not like it sounds," and the fucker snickered again. "The instinctive reflex is failing to get him away from the stimulus. His brain is figuring out the awful truth. His legs are staying put. Can't get his hands down there to stop me, sure as hell can't get his feet away."
I watched the second feather pause just over the stocks. He gibbered and shook his head wildly, overcome with uncontrollable cackling.
"Oh yes, it will. Heh. Towhouse is discovering that the restraints are actually gonna hold him like this - no matter what he does - and that means the sweet, unbearable torture will keep happening. And it'll increase. Get worse. He'll remain right where he is. It's really, truly going to continue. For an hour? Ten? He has no say in the matter. As it should be -"
When the second feather actually started tickling, I was braced for the loudest screams yet. But he moaned. It was a sad, raw sound, and it ratcheted up to gut-wrenching hee-haws that sounded more and more lonely.
Five minutes later I heard Ruze say, "It's killing me to rush things like this. You owe me one..."
A pair of black satin gloves popped above the lid of the briefcase. It actually had 'em wait there until he looked over.
"Neeeeeef! Neeeeee-haaaaaaw haaaaah aaaaa-aaaahhhhh!" the captive laughed - like a foghorn - shaking his head with the most unmistakable mix of longing and hopelessness I'd ever seen.
"Guess again," it taunted. "Jock."
Two more gloves floated up -
and then they all started to move.
When they started tickling he went rigid, pushing back against the pad. After a few weak screams he barked out his reaction with pure, ragged enthusiasm.
The next two or three minutes were... hypnotic. It really didn't seem like time was passing at the usual rate. The glossy fingers stroked and scrabbled endlessly. Graceful and easy hands. Ruze moved 'em with such obvious skill that I felt like an ass for ever thinking it could be a blowhard. I watched the result of study and devotion.
Really getting to know a guy's feet takes a few days, it said once. That didn't seem like a crock of shit anymore.
Nobody standing behind the gloves, either. Magic and power were focused on tickling the absolute shit out of this Newhouse lookalike. It was hard to take my eyes off the sight - mystical hands, big feet.
I couldn't even begin to imagine trading places with the poor slob. Wailing, barking, squirming for all he was worth -
"Let's jump ahead," it said. "Just for you."
As his body sagged, the torrent of laughter started to slow down.
"Here's how it goes." Ruze slipped into that tone of voice I knew so well - the relaxed teacher, helping a pupil it liked. "Oh, wow. Fuck. Oh fuck, oh wow, I can't believe it. Oh... wow."
"Huh?"
"What he's thinking. Dipshit. First comes 'oh wow.' Before he even realizes - wait. Look."
His eyes fluttered. I didn't like the way the guy's chest was heaving, but Ruze had been at this a long time.
"Now... he's realizing that the tickling stopped. Whew. Oh, yeah, fuck yeah, it stopped. Soon he'll wonder if it's over. Can you imagine it? I still get blown away by that one. How can they seriously think that? Maybe I'm giving up because... I don't know, because he's in danger. Maybe I thought I heard somebody outside. Maybe I'm just bored. You guys. Shit."
The victim looked at the stocks - and he was scared. No doubt about it.
"Why did it stop? That's the new mystery. He's still caught. I could be listening to him roar, right now - but I'm not. Since the stocks aren't opening, he has to conclude the tickling will continue. Oh, yes it will..."
Something appeared from the briefcase - a little cigar, unwrapping as it came toward his mouth.
"I'm so unconcerned about time," it chuckled, "that I can give him a smoke. Most guys will realize that I'm doing it to fuck with their heads. When he's thinking about me, or what I love to do - I've got him so tight."
"Uh-huh."
He frowned at the cigar, and started to turn away - but then he caught himself.
"I'm ready to boogie on his feet, and I mean hard, if he resists at all. But most of the time you dudes go along. And they usually don't dare drop it. Anything to keep my fingers away - and maybe you'll catch a break in the meantime. Crazy, huh?"
A match seemed to drag itself along the top of the stocks...
"Okay. He knows what I want. He knows he can't stop me, and no one else came. Hmmmm... He needs a plan." Ruze laughed so heartily that I had to grin. "Avoiding more tickling is entirely up to him. Big, strong bodybuilder. Surely he can get his tender feet out of this room before his cigar's done. This is his big chance - his only opportunity, before he gets... really fatigued. The bastard who's tickling him must've missed something."
Almost on cue, he starts examining the straps, and trying to rotate his arms. Ash rolled down the straitjacket.
"There. Even this clown is smart enough to know, deep down, that there's no hope. I got him. But they all do this. He knows that the tickling will keep increasing to levels that will make his hair curl. And he's right. Maybe my pride is going to trip me up. Give him the break he wants more than anything else. I mean, he can't get me to change my mind -"
"You've got a whole brief...caay," I interrupted, leaving off the "s".
"Exactly! And this solid-looking cell. And I know how to wrap him up so he'll be totally fuckin' powerless to shoo me away. Oh, damn, the tickler had to overlook something, it just had to," Ruze said mockingly. "Otherwise I'm gonna die. Slowly. There must be something - just like in the movies. Dammit, I've got to think. Only a few minutes and those fuckin' gloves will peek over the stocks, and wave at me. Then I'm screwed. Really, hopelessly done for. But not right now. I'm a fuckin' weightlifter, dammit - these straps have gotta break. If they don't, the gloves are gonna really stick it to me. Tickle me, and tickle me... and tickle me some more."
Over the next couple minutes, the captive's distress kept increasing.
"It's like a logic problem," Ruze remarked. "There is only one solution - and that's when his hands will finally get loose, and the stocks get opened. I know what the answer is. You figure it out yet?"
After a few seconds, I shook my head.
A fist tapped me on the arm. "It's not some contortionist thing with the straitjacket. And it's not about him saying the magic word. Obviously I was careful to take him to a place where no one will ever think to look. You give up, dude? It's so easy. Aw... He escapes my tickling by feeling every damn second of it. Days, weeks, months, and when I decide to let him go - that's when it's over. Not one tickle before. That's the only possible outcome now."
His panic was obvious. The stocks didn't fall apart, though, and all of that leather still held him tight.
"Smoke that thing, while you can. Do you see how his thought processes during this little break apply to the second and third tickling scenes in the script?"
I nodded hard.
"Good. He's got three, maybe four minutes of sanity left. And I think he knows it."
"Dammit, let me go!" the captive yelled.
Within a minute he slammed back... and took a few puffs.
"I fuckin' love this part," Ruze sighed. "It can take 'em hours to get here. He's relaxing. You see it?"
I nodded.
"Good. You wanna understand this. That's an order. Ted's really defeated now, through and through, because he believes he is. More than ever. That's my boy. A totally insane, secure nightmare is underway, and he can't do the hero thing and bust out of here. So now he just leans back, all settled in against the pads - the ones I brought for his safety, so he wouldn't knock himself out - and tries to enjoy his cigar. It's the only normal thing here. Familiar. And it's burning down, marking the time he has left. Consider what he's needing... to keep it together. He wants to beg me, like a little kid. Or cry. But he smokes instead. They always stare at the stocks, too. Waiting for the gloves to come to life again. More tickling, more intense."
Ruze made a sound - absolute relaxation - that gave me goose-bumps.
"He just can't stand the thought of what he's been through already - and it's gonna get meaner. Damn right it will. If only he could pull a little harder... but he'll quit beating himself up about that eventually. The most important thing is that the cigar's just about done, and I'm gonna pick up those gloves again. All he can do is wait for 'em, and maybe watch 'em dig in. Over and over again. Can you put yourself in his place? Not a damn thing you can do -"
"Eeeek," I whispered.
That got me another belly-laugh - almost in my ear canal, and the captive didn't react at all. "He knows it now. Staying right on this fuckin' bench... and I'm going to have more fun with his big ol' feet than he can possibly imagine. Guaranteed. I have no right, and all that shit, but what matters most is the restraints. Every time he wakes up he'll be helpless, already, and I'll make even more of an impression. You know what I mean. Aaw-wwww, is he getting tired of that sweaty straitjacket? Just wait. I've got a second act that'll make him scream for mercy, give it up and settle down - until he discovers what I can do with his ribs -"
"Let me... go," he growled quietly. "I'm not gonna just... sit here, and let you - dammit all to hell. You'd better get these fuckin' straps off me right now, damn you, I'm not fuckin' around here!"
"Threats. Oh, no." Ruze sounds cocky. "And pleading is usually next. That'll pop back up for the next few days. Just in case I'm capable of feeling sympathetic."
"I'm gonna... dammit-all, I can't fuckin' stand this. You gotta get somebody else. Not - I can't do it. Look... Please. Okay? Not me. This is way more than I can take, already." He puffed on the cigar, listening. "Please?"
"Sssssh. Not one particle of hope, for this one."
He sighed... and took a long, shaky tug.
"They know it won't work, but most of 'em beg anyway. I've already shown him exactly what I want, and made him confirm that I'm going to keep on getting it. After a couple weeks he'll expect to be tickled all day. I think that state of mind is the right one. They don't cry anymore, and they rarely even pitch a fit. Their job is clear. It'll continue for a long time. Because I say so, dammit."
"Can anybody hear me?" he yelled.
"I do, buddy," Ruze chortled. "And I see you. Made real sure I'll be the only one, fucker. He'll learn that. The point is to keep tickling. That can't happen if some jerkoff accidentally becomes aware of it... Well, I mean, I've moved enough guys. New cells. They really hate that. But you know what I mean."
"I can't take this," he whimpered. "Please... Fucker. Listen to me. I'm gonna tear these fuckin' things apart. And you better be... uh, gone."
"Nice try," it sneered. "I'm so scared. Here's his answer."
The cigar popped out from between his molars.
"Noooo," the prisoner wailed, squirming again. "Aw hell. Just - don't."
The cigar floated to my hand - and a small bottle of water drifted up from the briefcase. The cap was already off, and I hadn't even heard Ruze crack it open.
"Please, no, aw please," he babbled, watching it arrive. "Not this. Anything but this..."
With a deep groan, he gave in and drank the water.
As soon as Ruze tossed it away, plump black fingers curled over the top edge of the stocks - and disappeared again.
"Naaaaaahh whooo hoo hooooo-oo! Nawww aw haw hah hah hah hah!" he roared.
"Yeah," it sighed. "Look - go have a smoke. You're overdue. And drink some water. You're sweating a lot. I bet this is a real trip."
"Identifying... with him."
"Well, of course you are. About another half-hour and the - uh, just keep in mind this is like a seriously abbreviated version. I'd never skip through this shit, usually, but I've already decided this sucker's gonna be my guest for five or six months. At least. Let me see if I can get him to show you the right mindset for the last tickling scenes."
I nodded, and snuck back toward the door.
"You're so fucked," Ruze said quietly - to the captive, I hoped - "and now I'll really get to know these arches. Glad to make your acquaintance..."
The guy jerked around like he was sitting on a tack. He just couldn't fuckin' laugh hard enough.
After I closed the door carefully, I looked down and saw the oozing hard-on stretching my pouch.
I sucked down a half-liter of water in one go, and just paced around for a couple cigarettes. The fierce howls and shouts were barely audible, but they didn't stop. No matter what I did, that guy was history. Where's Ted? I don't know. Haven't seen him since last spring, now that you mention it. Oh, well...
The captive looked a lot like Towhouse. It did that on purpose. Because it liked me?
"I'm still not that dumb," I mumbled to myself, looking at the shiny material the tickler made me wear. Sure.
On the nearest monitor I saw leather pads being strapped down over the prisoner's eyes...
"How's my little co-conspirator doin'?" Ruze teased me.
"Oh, man, don't say that."
A glove slid up and down the guy's dick, pointing it away from his face...
"Wait 'til I kick it up a notch."
I stared at the eerie satin hand. This shouldn't be possible, I thought vacantly. No way. But there it is.
He groaned louder and louder -
"Rushing things along, again," it reminded me. "You're welcome."
"Thank you. I think."
"Boom -"
The captive shot cum onto the stocks.
It started oozing down. One trail looked like it was going to reach his left ankle. My guess was that it wouldn't be cleaned up, either - something for him to look at during his next cigar, and the ten cigars after that...
As he spasmed, a hand took my wrist and pulled me toward the weightlifter's feet. I saw four gloves and two feathers poised to attack. The toe-restraints were already in place.
"And now," Ruze cackled, "the real fun begins."
Oh, fuck, the weightlifter just arched and squealed like... a large, sleepy animal.
Sweat was pouring off him. That made it as clear as anything else that he was affected - hard - even though he wasn't hollering laughter like before. This was deeper. His yearning, whooping body was caught in the rush of something that looked vast, even infinite.
The laughter faded away within the next couple minutes.
But there was no fuckin' doubt how much impact the tickling was having. He was lost within his head now. Fevered didn't quite describe it, because the delirium was being metered by the smoothest, most focused pro I'd ever come across. A beast writhed and chuckled in the leather restraints. His toes weren't even moving anymore - there was no point. Ruze's feathers were slowly torturing the incredibly sensitive skin, one toe-gap after another, and he could do nothing more about 'em than wish the fingers would go away.
"It's a shame to skip ahead to this, but oh well," Ruze sighed.
With a surprising burst of speed, the straps began falling off the captive's arms. He leaned forward suddenly and the straitjacket began unbuckling...
He was so addled that it took him almost a minute to open his eyes. By then he was pulled tight against the pads, and his wrists were being cuffed - two thick bands for each - to the underside of the bench.
"Just try to get some traction now, asshole," it gloated.
Way too late, he started trying to tug his arms free.
Four gloves assembled over his chest. New ones. His feet were still being teased by limber satin fingers.
He howled, once, and then the phantom hands leapt on him. They looked... happy.
"You're going to stop laughing, now, because it's just too much work," Ruze said in a sing-song voice. "I've got your number. Welcome to the future, meathead, it's such an incredibly funny place... He's good for another hour of this, I predict. Most of 'em top off after fifty, fifty-five minutes, and I just move over to another spot like his knees, maybe his neck."
He giggled - the most psychotic sound yet, somehow - and moved his head slowly. Looking for help? Maybe seeing a hundred gloves around him, taunting, waiting their turn...
"Hmmmm," it mumbled. "Let's see."
Two little toothbrushes came out of the briefcase and sawed rapidly across his soles.
With a gasp, he sagged back. Drool ran down his chin. "Huh," he said suddenly - and then he was quiet again.
"Does he seem to be relieved, now? Tuning it out?"
I looked him over. "Hell, no."
"Hell... no. I've taught him how to concentrate on more tickling. Less outward evidence, but if you were to ask him, oh, next year, he'd swear it keeps getting more intense every damn day. Thank you, thank you."
After a second or two, I pretended to clap for Ruze.
"There's new... vistas to discover. Upper limits can be pushed through, oh, twice a day. Every... day. This is about a thousandth of what he'll be feeling a month from now. That's just a rough guess, you understand. But the important thing, for Ted the doomed tickle-slave, is this - in expert hands, when will he max out?"
Damn. I was getting lightheaded. "Never."
I heard a satisfied laugh. "Ah. But you guys gotta work through that wishful thinking. What you want to believe." Ruze growled, and it was a sound full of luxurious contentment. "There must be a point - no more, the body shuts down. Nervous system, anyway. But I've been at this for... a lot longer than you think. I bet there's no fuckin' end to the increase in sensation for this asshole, here. Ever. I know how to pick my targets. Do you understand?"
"Yeah."
"Tickling without any limits. That's your last scene, for Towhouse."
The captive's breathing was steady. Gloves were rubbing and scritching like they were never going to stop - and he was even further away. Brain, ego, pride were all asleep under the effects of a huge avalanche of stimulation that had become the most important thing in his life. I wanted to believe he was adjusting to it, adapting somehow - but his face wasn't exactly human anymore. When Ruze stopped tickling him, all it had to do was wait for the cocky bastard to come back out. Make him enjoy another cigar, and pick up the gloves again...
It had never lied to me, as far as I knew. Inside the gym-rat's head there was no mechanism to tune out what he was feeling. No way to deal with it, and certainly no escape. Ruze would deliberately ramp up the level of pleasure he could stand, and the stimulation came this close to registering as pain. Always increasing. A year of that? How about two?
The thought just made my knees buckle.
"Easy there, cowboy."
Gloves were holding me up. White satin, so shiny... two empty hands curled around each of my upper arms. It was no big thing for Ruze to do us both at the same time. Almost too easy.
They brought me to the stocks and sat me down slowly. Their grip loosened, but I was almost glad they didn't go away - just because I felt like I could pitch over at any time.
My face was maybe six inches away from all of that action.
Twenty energetic fingers concentrated on the sides of each foot, then the arches, and so on. The brushes were riding around the outer curves of each heel. The feathers kept easing in and sawing their way back out from between the ruddy, captured toes. Black blurs, white blurs, red handles. Moving, always tickling, and for the first time I seriously wondered if they would ever fuckin' stop.
Ruze was singing very quietly. I couldn't make out most of the words, but the phrase "all night long" kept repeating. It was a teasing, confident tune.
I had the most bizarre dreams. Gloves chased me - and I ran as fast as I could, but it was hopeless. For some reason, that was arousing. The van was ready, they were cornering me... and I was so horny my hand wouldn't stay away from my dick.
There was a greased leather glove on it. I mean, I was wearing the glove, but it kept on pumping my meat.
Ruze laughed - louder than I'd ever heard it - and soft hands began taking hold, turning me toward the back of the van. The doors were open wide. Kidnap vehicle...
The fingers made me cum around the same time that the doors slammed shut.
Cool, and slippery - underneath me. Satin sheets. Jet black. They smelled new.
Without really hesitating I grabbed my dick and thrust against 'em, over and over, and fuckin' yelled when the spunk finally exploded out...
For a long time I laid there, gasping for air. Black satin. Dimly lit room.
When I rolled over, a cigarette was waiting for me.
"Ted," Ruze said warmly.
"Am I -"
"Dead. Yup. And now I've got you for eternity."
That made me blink. A lighter was stuck into my hand. That was when I noticed the gloves I wore - dark, so damn dark, and gleaming the way only satin could.
"You wish," I finally said.
"Yeah. Well."
It let me smoke. The walls were covered with black foam padding. Ceiling, too. I saw all of the restraint devices along the walls that I expected, and even more that were new to me.
"I have the perfect camera setups now," I said to the ceiling. "In my head. And Angie will never know."
"Fuck that," it chuckled. "we'll e-mail 'em. I've got a laptop and a scanner."
"Really?"
"Of course. Whatever it takes... Oh. Shit. I didn't tell you yet, did I? Check this out."
A piece of paper floated up from alongside the bed.
It was an e-mail - from me, to Angie. A reply, and then the original message.
Actually, I told her, great news and good news - she'd have the setups before the month was out. And they fuckin' rocked. I'd already been thinking about dropping out for a while and doing something real for a change, but I'd be back a good month before shooting started - and she could take that to the bank, haw haw. More to come.
Further down, her message was in boldface blue text, just like always. It was from her private address. No reason I could see to hope it was a fake.
So sorry to do this by e-mail but the phone just won't let up today, she'd typed. Good news, bad news. You have more time to finish the setups. Innes' schedule got changed around, so shooting had to be pushed back eight more months. Send me some astonishing setups, and then go park your ass on a beach or something. Wish I could...
I lowered the paper and took another drag. If she protected the script from any serious revisions - just like she had been doing - I wouldn't have to show my face there for nineteen months or so.
Ruze had a good year and a half before I really had to be... anywhere.
A thought occurred to me - and I looked at the date on the e-mail. Three days ago. It must've replied to her, printed out this piece of paper for me to stare at... and deleted both her e-mail and mine from my computer.
"Are you shitting me?" was all I could say.
It just laughed and laughed.
Finally, dammit, so did I.
"What a break!" it crowed, sounding as eager as a little kid. "For me, I mean."
"Yeah. Got that."
"Oh... you have no idea yet."
"Let me do the routine. Give you the usual bullshit you hear. You can't do this to me."
That made it break up again.
"Check. I have to assume you already tested me, or else I wouldn't have made the cut."
"Correct, sir."
"My house payment -"
"Let's cut to the chase. Know what I've been doing this morning? E-mails. Voice mail."
I didn't get it... at first. Then, "Oh, you son of a bitch."
"Uh-huh," it said gleefully. "Telling everyone who might even wonder that you're taking... wait for it... a long break. Volunteering at the clinic in Africa - the one that impressed you so much that you strong-armed Angie and bunch of other people into writing checks for it last year. Yeah, that one. They don't even have phones there. Very noble of you."
The timing of everything I'd just learned was perfect for my captor. "Out of touch," I murmured. "They won't expect me to resurface for... aw, hell, it couldn't be better - for you."
"I've been telling 'em that maybe you'd breeze back through around the end of the year sometime for a quick visit, but nobody should hold their breath or anything. I don't have to decide anything yet."
What could I say to that? It would fool 'em. Of course... I nodded a time or two.
"Got all of your financial records. Closed up your place. It's my job to make sure nobody gets suspicious, and I'm the best at covering for you maniacs. There won't even be a late payment on anything. I got it. Don't even give it another thought."
"A year and a half."
"This time," it said meaningfully.
"Oh. Yeah."
"I mean, we're buds. What kind of friend would I be if I didn't make you... more and more happy?"
The cigarette was taken away from me. Shit, oh shit, here goes -
"Where's the weightlifter?"
"Next cell over," it shot back.
About a dozen gloves zoomed over me, caked with lube. The first wave.
I couldn't even speak... and they were easing on down. No way I'd ever make it off the bed in time. Talk about a futile gesture -
"Ruze."
"What."
"You played me perfectly."
Every glove paused. It was like a miracle.
"Hey, thanks. I really appreciate that. I've never worked so hard - and you noticed. That's so cool. I respect you, dude. Really. And I didn't lie to you, Ted. Not even once. Ted the ticklish, doomed and hidden away for the long haul, just like the Ted in the script. And now I get to show ya how my man Peja got inspired. He's almost as much of a trip as you are."
They pinned my limbs first. Ridiculously strong.
"No, aw no, Ruze, no," I whined, fighting off the panic. "Please -"
"Less talk, dude. Now's the time... for action."
Hearty, sinister laughter boomed over me - right before so many fingers jumped on and started tickling.
Back to Part 1
15nov2005