My favorite dude needed a rest. Fifteen weeks of killer fun had worn him down pretty good, so I dumped Juri in his own bed. I'd catch him again later.
I flew across town and let myself into Sarah's place. Turned on her computer...
It was time to see how my new fish were coming along. There were a couple of imaginative dudes who were always good for a idea or two. They felt safe enough to tease me, in their e-mails, but knowing who they were really dealing with would've wiped the smirk right off their faces. My peers had cracked their e-mail service years ago. I'd get around to them, when they were ready...
After I'd sent off my replies, I skimmed the online clubs. Three guys there had caught my attention. One was a top who had more wisdom than I'd come to expect from any human, and I still wasn't convinced that "he" wasn't one of my friends dumbing it down to trick the prey. My next target was the exact opposite - a shy dude who didn't quite dare to follow through on his fantasies, but he was so damn close...
The last one was a big talker, and I was just about ready to turn the tables on him and tickle a good ten pounds off his ass. He claimed to have a big session set up for that same night. It would be amusing, I decided, to go up to Catbrough, slip in there and find out he was watching TV all by his lonesome. He'd be ready to shit bricks if I held up a few of his pathetic tickling tools and chuckled slowly.
Who would be the lucky hyena tonight, I wondered. Speaking of which...
I hovered into Sarah's bedroom. She had a diabolical imagination. Tickling wasn't her main kink, but after a couple feverish weekends I decided to try getting her on the team. That was almost two years ago now. I still hadn't hit it off with any other human female like I had with Sarah, but I was probably more open to their charms.
Right now, it was time for her to wake up.
We all have our little pleasures. One of mine is sneaking under comforters and such while I hover above a snoozing, helpless target. There's something quite nice about knowing before they do that they're about to go nuts.
Just a little nuts, sometimes. I took hold of her ankles and started tracing phantom fingernails across her soles, up each shin and back down -
Ah, here she is. Pulled out of sleep by the confusing, insistent sensation. Cute little yelps, and a puzzled whine.
Soft, easy tickling.
Her legs tried to move.
Aw, hell - I just couldn't resist.
"I gotta p-pee!" she shrieked, between laughing fits.
"Aw." But I pulled off. Three minutes - that was all. Any other captive I've waylaid would give everything they could get their grubby little paws on just to get me to stop tickling after three stinkin' minutes.
Breathing hard, Sarah reached over for her robe. With a laugh, I grabbed it. Held it just out of reach.
"Bloody wanker." She rolled out of bed and hurried to the bathroom. No doubt she closed the door behind her out of habit, but that's such a empty gesture when I'm around. I just coasted right through the wall.
"You better be grateful," I said, startling her. "Hell, I didn't even know I could stop tickling after only a couple minutes. Until you."
She shook her head, sweeping her hand in front of her face as if I was a fly. "You getting bored with Juri?"
"Asshole needs to rest up," I growled. "Until the next time."
"Uh-huh."
"So I thought, hey, I haven't wrecked Sarah's weekend in almost a year. Maybe some quality dungeon time. She's got that smartass streak -"
She laughed. Impertinent lass. "If I was next, darlin', you'd have me in restraints already."
"Damn," I said. "It's always the little things that give me away."
That lie didn't even rate a smirk. "So is he home now?"
"Yup. Now get to work."
Sarah paused in the doorway, looking over her shoulder. "Your dirty work."
"I'm thinkin' you should show up with a massage table. Tell him I insist."
"Ooooh, that's twisted," she nodded, padding into the kitchen.
I grabbed the jar of coffee, and filled a mug with water. "Get him a few days' worth of food. No cigarettes - and I don't care how much he whines."
"What - you mean now?"
"Well..."
"I'm working the early shift."
"Damn."
"How about if I get there before three?"
"It's a good thing somebody woke you up so early." I stuck the mug into the microwave and grabbed some paper.
"Under the phone book," she said.
So I followed her advice, and found a pen. "Thanks." I started scribbling out a list.
Her hands clenched. Such tiny fists. "Right, then. I'm not going to get any peace until -"
"Thaaa-at's right." I floated the paper over to her.
"I like Fuji apples better, myself," she said, reading down.
"He never eats 'em. They just go bad. McIntosh, though -"
"Is there anything you don't know about Juri?"
I chuckled. "You don't wanna go there. Waltzing Sarita."
Her head flew up. Damn, I'm good. "It would be so much more comforting, sometimes," she finally said, "if I was just insane. Making you up. How in the world did you find out about that?"
"Teddy-boy."
She looked pained. "You got him again, huh?"
"Me? Naaah. I just ran into the brother of a friend. He was almost too drunk to walk home. With a couple more pints poured down him, he was definitely at risk from the filth. So I was nice enough to let him crash in one of my... custom rooms. I went and had some more fun with Juri while Ted slept it off. Then... A few aspirin, another can of Fosters - and he was all set for a fun afternoon."
"And yet he didn't mention this to me," Sarah pondered.
"Conversations in your family must be fun," I said innocently.
Her eyes narrowed. "Who else - No, no," she finally sighed. "Later, you have to tell me just what you meant by that. I have too much to get done this morning to think that over. Thanks to you."
"Juri can't get enough of those croissants from Le Baguetterie," I added. "Not the ones with ham in 'em, though. They're just nasty."
Sarah rolled her eyes, cussing me out under her breath as she headed back to her room. I decided it would be considerate - another one of those stupid human notions - if I pretended not to hear.
"A-ha!" she said happily, pausing as she dried her hair.
"Don't think so hard. You'll hurt something."
"Somebody's got to," she fired back. "Since you never give me any warning in advance, I don't have enough cash to buy food for your favorite pet. I was going to deposit a check at lunch -"
"Silly little animal." I grabbed her arms.
"What now?"
"Let's go to the computer. If you ever dusted around here -" I let go. "What's hiding behind the left speaker?"
Frowning, she reached behind it...
And pulled out a bankcard.
"Ta," she said.
"If you don't guess the PIN code, I'm going to shred you all day," I laugh. "Three guesses. I mean it."
Sarah tapped the card against her palm. "J-U-R-I."
"You think you're so smart. Strike one."
She turned, shooting a smug look at nothing in particular. "You know, and I know, that he's your PIN code."
I finally laughed. "Busted."
While she dressed, I called a cab.
"I expect a stretch limo," she joked.
"Straight to tickle gaol."
"So funny..."
"Hey," I said suddenly, "Catbrough's near the river, right?"
She tied her hair back and thought a tick. "Way up north? Or the neighborhood here?"
"Where's here?" I muttered, following her out.
"Hampstead?" she said. "Hold on." Opening the door of the cab that had just arrived, she said, "Morning. Where's Catbrough?"
"Kilburn," the driver fired back.
"That one," Sarah said. She waved, with one hand, behind her back. "Never mind," she said to the driver, "I need to go to West Kensington."
Atta girl.
Good thing I asked her. I found the street as soon as I floated into the right neighborhood. The human tickler I'd been cyberstalking, who I had already named "Blowhard," had a garret room for his fun.
As soon as I peeked inside, though, I had to wonder if I was at the right house. There was no soundproofing. No decent acoustical foam - no blankets, nothing at all.
There was one little toolbox. Was he freakin' serious?
Juri would've laughed out loud if he saw these ratty feathers. Cheap brushes, too. No gloves. Plain old baby oil...
Clearly I overestimated Blowhard. What a waste.
I went back to watch Juri sleep for awhile.
Sarah had put the perishables away. After checking his usual hiding places for cigarettes, I decided to get him cleaned up. A finger in each armpit brought him around...
He was too wiped out to resist. Snickering mindlessly as I picked him up, Juri didn't react when I started filling the bathtub.
What a waste, I thought, if he'd been the eager sub going to that garret tonight. Blowhard would never have discovered, in a few amateurish hours, how exceptional Juri's ticklishness was.
If he deserved better, so did Blowhard's dupe.
The strangest idea came to me.
Pushing it aside didn't work, exactly. There were still a few hours before Blowhard got busy.
I wanted to see what his reaction would be. Afterward. Would he tell his internet tickling buddies - such as me - what had happened?
So I felt pretty damn stupid, three hours later, but by that time I was committed to the job.
If nobody ever made it clear, Blowhard would probably keep on dishing out these ridiculously lightweight tickle sessions. I try not to fault humans for having to eat and sleep, although it's beyond annoying at times... but really, from our online dialogue I expected more attention to detail. Because he liked to talk big, I was willing to give Blowhard a proper starter kit.
Soon it was ready and waiting in a lorry I'd parked further down the street.
My buddy Juri was parked on the couch when I checked back in. Footie on the tube - Man United was down by one, so that had to be eating at him.
As I watched, the asshole lit a cigarette off the previous one. Bad boy.
It was pleasant to see how reluctant he was to move. Those feet were still replaying all kinds of impossible stimulation. I enjoyed seeing how he was trying to keep his armpits open -
Spontaneous laughter rumbled out of him. Maybe he knew I was there. I hoped so.
A strong memory made him sag back and crow for a good long while...
There was a baggie on the table too. Radek, I thought. His brother-in-law must've come over with weed and smokes.
Oh, I'd deal with Radek, alright.
"Boo," I said to Sarah's back.
"I knew you were there," she whispered. That was probably true, since she didn't even drop the glass she was filling. "Quiet."
"What's the matter? Are you ashamed of me?"
"Dom is a patient man," she said immediately, "but he's got his pride."
"I can take him."
"Exactly my point," Sarah hissed. "Leave us alone, and go tickle somebody. You like thugs - there's a metal band playing at the Docket."
"Am I in the way? Were you two... Oh," I said, laying it on thick. "Did I interrupt something?"
She paused in front of the kitchen door, gritting her teeth. "Go away."
"Aye aye."
So I looked over the headbangers. Just scouting talent, tonight...
Twenty possibles were winnowed down to maybe a half-dozen interesting prospects, just by watching and listening. Finally I had it down to two - there was a big bruiser who looked like he hadn't smiled in ten years. I could definitely help that man learn to enjoy life...
Another dude had the right vibe. Skittish. Lean, quiet - covered with leather and piercings. No cigarette in his hand.
When I rubbed his sides, just once, he arched nice and hard - I mean, from the first touch he locked right up, unable to move. He gritted his teeth immediately. I don't see that kind of response anywhere near often enough. It's not a sure thing, but I know how to take a guy with that much promise and keep him crazy for a couple months.
Somebody needed to spend a few hours petting those ribs.
I snuck his ID card out - and started planning. A good, long intro on him would be time well spent. He could hang out in the southwest dungeon and keep me busy until Juri was his usual cocky self.
I wandered back to Catbrough.
What was happening there just set me off.
My proxy, Blowhard, was overweight. He didn't even seem that focused on what he was doing. Just swell.
Quarter-inch rope... and a cotton gag?
You know, I try to be patient. Blowhard was probably doing the best he knew how. But c'mon. A sweaty little hipster was tied down, there for the taking...
If the bottom hadn't been - well, cooperating, those ropes wouldn't have lasted ten minutes. Too much slack, lousy knots. Humans.
There was something so sad about the whole deal.
It was just another example of why I avoided volunteer bullshit.
Thinking back on some of his online posts, I decided Blowhard wasn't ignorant of the right way to go about it. He was lazy. And that was unforgivable. Even this half-assed tickling would be pure misery for... well, any captive who didn't know any better. But it just made me want to shove ol' Blowhard out of the way and take over.
The hipster, you see, wanted it.
He was trying so hard to enjoy the scene. Really into it. And Blowhard's technique was really disgraceful. Even so, the scruffy target wasn't just overcome with laughter - I could see right away that he was willing himself into a fantasy and doing his best...
Not to get all frou-frou or anything, but I was sorta touched. Little brother, there, was longing for the real thing.
Even though I'd just enjoyed those months on a trusty piece of meat who could take more abuse than I could rain down on him, there was no way I was going to let this hipster leave disappointed.
I was not a happy tickler as I went out to the lorry. Blowhard needed a good, long stretch on the receiving end to show him how tickling ought to be done. Maybe after the headbanger...
And that guy may have dodged a bullet this week, but I wouldn't let him get away. At the moment I had to help out a scrawny little rat who wanted to get hysterical so badly that he was putting up with some really stupid shit.
With all of my "gifts" piled at the bottom of the stairs, I dug out a syringe and another item for immediate use.
First things first.
I slipped the microbore needle into Blowhard's neck, right at the top of his spine. He twitched once, after I pulled the needle out... and then he slumped over. But I was ready to catch him. Pulling his hands away from the prize, I lifted him up -
And wrapped a velcro blindfold over my new plaything's eyes. He was still giggling...
Blowhard was tossed onto his own bed. He'd be out for a minimum of twelve hours.
So much to do. As I unrolled the soundproofing foam and readied a bunch of four-penny nails, I organized the restraints. Hipster concentrated on catching his breath. Little giggling fits kept locking him up. His feet pedaled wistfully, head rolling in a dreamlike fashion as he laughed for me...
Still tied down, and expecting to get tickled more. My kind of human.
I covered the nearest walls, and triple-layered the foam over the windows. No one would be allowed to hear him howl now.
It was almost time to see if he had what it took.
Gently, I removed the soggy bandanna from between his jaws. Tomorrow I'd find out if the impact was worse for him when he was gagged - but he wouldn't be getting too many chances, before his voice was shot, to yell for help. And I know my stuff, so the hipster wasn't going to be able to howl at full volume either.
I cuffed all four limbs at once. He was finally starting to thrash. I pulled his underwear down and tore it away.
"Hey," he said. Before he could complain any more, I slapped him alongside the head.
Five more straps...
There. He was ready for my kind of fun now.
My newest plaything was definitely surprised by the ball-stretcher. He grunted, yelling incoherently as I fastened the snaps - and then, wonderfully, he lifted his head and moved it, as if he was listening.
The bastard nodded!
That was mesmerizing. Death warrant, like waving raw meat in front of a Doberman, and so on. I was impressed. You want to get tickled, huh? Think you're up for the real deal?
I unpacked the surgical gloves and a bottle of oil - my favorite blend for first encounters. After he was shaved, I had other greasy surprises that would make him utterly lose it...
Letting a few drips fall on his pecs, I oiled up six hands, making slow noises to tease him.
The reaction was gratifying. He fought with the restraints - soulfully, I guess you could say. He was definitely trying to break free, but he wasn't going anywhere and I think he knew it.
Blowhard had been going at his feet. It was going to be a pleasure to follow that clumsy, incompetent teasing with... this.
He jumped, moaned - and laughed out a few shocked screams.
His entire body was instantly and completely determined to back out of the festivities. I held his shins down, and took my time prying his toes back.
His frenzy was quite a contrast from the reactions I'd seen earlier. This wasn't what he expected - or so I liked to think - but he was good and sensitive.
Yeah, I had a live one in my grip.
After a few minutes, I slowed the gloves down and re-oiled each set of fingers. His head started to roll around... and that was it. No begging. Very unusual.
Hell, my hipster didn't even tug at the straps.
I took hold of his sides -
He started to sob.
Well, shit. I wasn't expecting that so soon. This guy... thought he wanted it. And he was ticklish enough to amuse me. Was it even remotely possible he thought he'd get me to back off so soon?
What the hell. Totally unlike me - I mean, being uncertain of anything after all these years - I lifted one of the eye-patches.
He blinked a few times, spilling tears. And as he looked around, I heard him gasp. That wasn't a sound that discouraged me at all. I wasn't seeing true grief either.
This kind of overload was exactly what he'd been looking for. How interesting.
Impulsively, I sent a glove in front of his face and gave him a thumbs-up. Not that I was going to stop. Not a chance! But it was possible that bleak panic had swept away the enthusiasm - when I took over.
"Where are... Oooooh." And the hipster grinned. "Wow. It's really h-happening!"
Curiouser and curiouser, as they say.
I slammed the glove down on his chest, dropped the eye-patch, and started exploring his navel.
He tried to roll, but five other hands - tickling skillfully, if I do say so myself - made him too deranged.
His smile was huge.
He had a pleasing roar too. One very happy psycho.
This is what you were really after, I thought. It's harsh, and it's gonna stay unbearable. All night. You don't get to slither out of this, and you sure as hell aren't gonna hear anyone bust in here and get you away from my gloves. Stay stuck - and feel this with everything you've got. Good hipster.
Within two minutes I had him too stimulated to howl. His mouth hung open, sure - and there were stuttered barks now and then. Enraptured squeals and hoots that shook his whole body... He wanted to bellow as hard as he could, but I'd already taken than relief away from him.
I dribbled oil on his belly, and his thighs. The doomed hipster shook his head. Aw, was it just too much to handle? I hadn't even warmed him up yet.
My gloves raked lightly down his thighs, squeezed his neck, tortured his knees.
When I oiled his shins he moaned, long and low, before churning out more of those hoarse, rowdy cackles.
By the time I got to his throat, he was a perfectly disarmed victim. The excitement being laid down, stroked into him, had made laughter or resistance impossible. While it may seem odd to the humans - well, some of them - I liked my targets best of all when they were just like this.
It wasn't all that hard to get a ticklish guy whooping or flailing around. I was making a much harder impression now. Maybe Blowhard and his peers couldn't pick up on the signals. Under every fingertip and palm, the hipster's body was constantly telling me that it was barely able to transmit the load of ticklish feedback that had overthrown all voluntary muscle groups... not to mention any trace of rational thought.
Every second I could keep a man overrun with tickling - Juri, this hipster, the young metalhead I'd sentenced earlier - was perfectly fulfilling. If only I could keep Juri awake, twenty-four hours a day, feeling it like this...
It had been a long time since I'd broken in a willing sub.
His capacity was more promising than his appearance initially suggested. No more cigarettes. Whey powder supplements, a lot more protein. Definitely. I don't waste my time on average dudes anymore...
If I felt so inclined, I could view him as a challenge. Juri needed work at first too. I'd rather spend a month on his ass - no doubt about that. But this kid didn't strike me as grad school material, and he'd sorta paid his dues. He finally found the courage to get off the computer and get to his first session. It would be a damn shame if all he got was Blowhard's fumbling... and left disappointed.
Good thing I came along and rescued him from a couple measly hours of inferior action. Still, I preferred to go after the unwilling man - conflicted to the core when I clapped a hand on his shoulder to announce the start of his second confinement, and the third, and the tenth.
As he caught his breath, I had an idea...
The top's computer was already on. His passwords were conveniently stored on it, so I signed on and looked at his e-mail.
There was the confirmation for tonight's session, sent by -
Wait.
I was surprised. Perhaps it was a very similar nickname...
So I hopped over to the club message board and dug into the older posts, finding the self-introduction that had amused me so much. Flipping back to the e-mail, there was that nickname again!
Well, damn. The man I'd been working over tonight was my third subject of interest - the shy one. A surprising innocence was always there, in his responses, along with the overwhelming urge to be - well, handled like Juri was.
He'd come a good thirty klicks to get here tonight...
Dammit, this was too good to be true!
One of my long-term prospects was upstairs. Right in my hands. All mine now. Hell, I knew quite a bit about him already. No family, a spotty work history, and no health issues other than the cigarettes and the pot.
Now the intrigue that had motivated me to keep tabs on him for the past couple years was paying off. Hell, I had been meaning to get around to kidnapping him, and giving him more of what he wanted than he could imagine.
It was almost like he came right to me.
I made him drink a liter of water.
It would be really cruel, I thought, to stop tickling this hipster. And then it hit me that I wasn't really kidding.
Yeah, it looked like I had another mouth to feed.
He really wanted it. Overwhelmed, sure - but I had his number. I could tell. That was strange to see, after all those sessions on Juri...
I oiled him up again, working a little deeper.
The restraints got a workout. No big surprise there. He was staying helpless, and demented, no matter what he thought about it.
There would be some expectation, too, about the session ending soon.
I was definitely looking forward to trashing that notion.
The next three hours gave me twenty ideas for torturing him just right. He did start to panic, as if it was finally hitting home that I was going to keep piling on far more than he had expected... but he was too fatigued to wrestle around.
I steered all of his attention back to the excruciating stimulation being laid down. It was incredibly amusing to think of him showing up here for a few hours of ecstasy, when I considered any session less than a couple weeks to be a "quickie."
Getting him off increased his sensitivity just as much as I could wish.
I dug in hard for a half-hour to get him unconscious.
Then out we went...
I poked him with a smaller dose of the same sleep-agent, carried him into the cell - and visited his apartment.
Uh... his former apartment.
Vince was going to be so surprised.
No more roommates. He had a nice, secure place to live now. With me. The rent was... beyond anything he could imagine, but he wasn't getting out of the deal now. I thought he deserved a good, complete run-through to see if he really liked tickling after all.
Juri owed him a beer. Or a couple joints, knowing my favorite sub. He was going to left alone for a while. Then again, this dungeon had three rooms. I flirted with the idea of some side-by-side comparisons... And that metalhead I was gunning for wasn't getting any younger.
Vince's possessions - the ones I thought were worth keeping, anyway - fit in one corner of the long room. Even after I moved a few restraint devices around, there was plenty of space for more. And I liked to keep the place dimly lit. Spooky, dreamlike. The fetish daydream that just refuses to end.
I double-checked the straps, took a few photos of my new sub - and zoomed over to Sarah's.
She was worn out. I had to shake her several times.
"Wha?"
I slipped a hand over her mouth, pulled her out of bed and carried her to the main room.
"Dammit, leave me alone," she said as soon as I ungagged her.
"I could always take Dom away," I teased. "Two hours, and he'll be a new man. Real ticklish. I've got some drugs -"
"We have an agreement."
Damn, I was tired of hearing that. A wicked idea came to me, all of a sudden... "Kidding. Go to the computer."
She did. "Ooooh. A digital camera? For me?"
"Yeah," I said, after a pause. "Just get the photos off first."
"Do you have the cable?" I didn't say anything. "Honestly. Are you sure you're not a man?"
"You're gonna pay for that crack."
"One sec." She went into the bedroom, and came back out with a music player. It had a tail -
"I plug this end in here," she said, "and the little end into the camera. Voilą."
"What would I do without you, Sarah?"
"I shudder to think." I let her work.
A nice, tight shot of Vince's sleeping face appeared on the computer screen.
"You're terrible," Sarah said. She didn't sound all that shocked.
"Say hello to Vince. I need some art."
"Okay," she shot back, grinning at the image.
"Naked, on his knees, looking up at my gloves - and they're big -"
"Filling the foreground."
"Uh... yeah. So his boy-parts won't be visible - and I won't have to hear you whine about drawing 'em. Black leather gloves. A fistful of feathers in the right glove, and maybe a leash in the other one, running to his collar."
She studied the hipster's face, chewing a fingernail as she did. "Dungeon?"
"Black walls. Maybe soundproofed."
"This is gonna be fun. Poster-size?"
"Just like the last one. Juri getting spanked." I knew she'd enjoyed making that one.
Sarah nodded slowly. "I've got some ideas. Don't expect the rough sketches for a day or two."
"Drop everything and do 'em now."
"Go away. Let me get back to bed."
"With Dom."
She put up her fists. "Shut up."
"You're gonna get it..."
I dinked her and flew out the window.
One more stop.
Sarah had been getting too big for her britches. While I'd been dumb enough to agree to a deal with her, my buds had no such restriction... and I'd remembered one particular rookie who had the right sensibility. Call it a hunch.
I located it - yeah, we can do that, anytime we want - and raced over to its playroom. Seemed too nice, to me, but then I was a right bastard with good ol' Juri.
He was stripping linens off a bed. Somebody had been sweating buckets in there earlier.
"Yo." I said.
"Hey."
"They call you T. Right?"
"Uh-huh."
"Got somebody... I want you to meet."
He laughed shyly.
Back to my dungeon, and the soon-to-be-delirious Vince. Tempting ribs, there.
Last night's tickling was just too brief... so today's workout was going to stay with him until the day he died. For a guy this enthusiastic, it was a gift I knew he'd appreciate. Every time he thought he was starting to understand what tickling really was, I'd redefine pleasure all over again. My goal was twelve solid hours, to start. That kind of pace couldn't be kept up indefinitely, but I hoped he'd last.
I rubbed another coat of moisturizer into his hide. He was just beginning to twitch, still caught in sleep, when I massaged his feet.
It was time to snap the heavy shackles around his wrists and ankles.
Laying him down on the floor in the center of the room, I set a bottle of water within reach... and poked him in the butt-cheek with a light dose of my favorite steroids.
A few minutes later he snorted, and groaned almost silently.
Then he opened his eyes.
It took him a while to sit up successfully. He was still fighting off the effects of the drug, then trying to recognize the room...
"Oh, shit," he sighed, more to himself than to me. "I'm supposed to be at work at eleven -"
From way overhead, I dropped something on him -
Leather gloves.
Vince was startled, lunging backward out of reflex. But then he stared at them for a little too long. Yeah, I definitely got your number, I thought. A smug look came over his face, and he looked around the room.
Aw, no other people know you're here, little sub. Just me. Hey, Vince, at least I didn't hand you a collar.
That's when I threw the dink at him.
It's a dumb name, I know. The dink is a little salute to a fairy from an animated cartoon. This gesture is not to be confused with actual dinks - with all those nerve endings, so easy to rile up, and full-grown dudes get so blown away...
The dink is one of my ways to tell 'em that magic rules you now, asshole, and all bets are off. I whizz around Vince, and scatter a few tiny sparks as I do. That dungeon had such a great feel to it already that the unusual, deliberate aspects of the dink really stand out. Usually I can head off a lot of stupid first-timer questions this way. Juri just cusses immediately now, bracing himself for my hands to grab him, whenever I fire off the dink in front of his face, no matter where he is.
Vince was entranced. As I intended. "Whoa," he chuckled, turning this way and that. The wind I generated did not go unnoticed, either. He squinted as he tried to follow the tiny afterimage of light. Encircling him.
Damn right. Some captives realize, right away, that they're held by something much better than a human...
I came to his gloves and created a quick little burst of dark green light around the fingertips. Bigtime magic has got you now.
Pull the damn things on, Vince.
Show me that you deserve the education you said you wanted. It won't get you out of this dungeon any quicker... but hey, this is a moment you'll always remember. Give me a sign, whether you know I'll take it as a promise of complete obedience or not.
This, right here, is where you can become more than just another toy to me.
Seal your fate. Show me you're longing for months of delirium no human tickler could ever hope to provide...
He studied his new uniform. Looking around again, he shook his head almost imperceptibly, and gulped -
But he reached out and picked up the gloves.
Hesitantly, as if there might be snakes the fingers, he pulled 'em on.
As he did, the hipster stared at them - hopefully. This guy was just begging for it. There was definitely some concern there on his face, and he was breathing pretty rapidly...
That yearning expression was just as telling as his decision to glove up.
Now you've done it, I thought.
I sent a big dink around him and made it explode, like tiny fireworks, in the opposite corner.
The first pair of white satin gloves rose up from there and started to come over...
He did a wonderful double-take. Then his mouth dropped open, slowly. Was he thinking last night had been intense? After I showed up? Oh, you goofy little hipster. Prepare yourself.
He started to rear back, but really he was just too amazed to run. Staring at the hands which were going to move him to tears -
"Oh," he whispered. "Yeah. I've got to be dreaming. So perfect."
Huh. That was not the normal reaction!
The kid was just enraptured. It sorta took me back to the first time I energized a pair of gloves over a frightened captive. So exciting. The cop I had tied to the chair didn't look all that happy to see 'em, though.
Well, Vince wanted to get tickled. Here I come...
"Top-notch," he said with feeling. What a kiss-ass.
Slowly, I brought them almost within his reach. Sensible men were always scooting away at that point. Shouting at my gloves. So desperate -
"The shape, the size," he babbled. "Oooooh. And they shine."
He was just about drooling. For just a second I got annoyed with him. Was the little bastard mocking me?
But he had tears in his eyes, and a crazy smirk. His full attention was on the satin fingers, curling slowly above him... and the hipster wasn't afraid!
I realized something - this was a first for Vince. Except for one impulsive moment last night, he'd probably never seen a glove moving "all by itself," and after a few hysterical hours he probably decided that he must've been hallucinating. Gloves just don't move around all by themselves, right? And certainly not gloves specifically designed for tickling. I've been at this a while, and hell - I perfected the design of these babies.
He ogled the very first pair of satins that would make him want to climb the freakin' walls...
My little hipster sub was hungry for it. A nightmare come true. I wondered if he was actually going to cry before I even started drilling him.
Vince scanned his new temporary home again. I had the door hidden, of course. Sometimes that really gets 'em all worked up. But he was more interested in the stuff piled in a far corner...
"Is that my guitar case? Really? You didn't - oh no, no. Oh, wow! That's all mine. You couldn't... but damn. You did. All my stuff. Unbelievable," he groaned. "I just disappeared. Hidden away. Nobody... This can't be real. Oh, shit where are you? I can't stay... More of the same. Damn. Last night I thought I was gonna lose my mind... Mean, magic hands. Supercharged. And they look so soft."
His delight was getting me really fired up. I hoped he could take the deep work Juri knew so well.
Inch by inch, I brought them closer to his sides.
"They're going to drive me insane." He gulped. "No, look, I can't take this. I gotta get out of here."
Usually I would've just ignored the babbling, but I thought Vince just let me know, quite deliberately, that he was enjoying his fate. So I flipped him the bird with both gloves, just for a couple seconds, and kept approaching.
"Sassy."
Huh?
"You stay back," he barked. Then he giggled, though, ruining the whole command vibe. "Don't you t-touch me."
Sassy. That was a new one -
"You're gonna tear me apart," he said softly.
True. The best shredding possible, until he couldn't keep his eyes open another second.
I clenched the gloves into fists, and slowly opened the fingers up...
He watched them reach for his armpits.
"Oh noooo," he squeaked, already starting to giggle. His struggles didn't start until my hands were three or four inches away. Far too late. A dead giveaway.
Vince didn't really want to run. That was extraordinary.
I own your ass, I thought. And now... I get to play.
His eyes watched the satin dig into his left armpit, and my new sub whooped with delight.
"D-don't," he finally managed to scream out, flopping onto his side. "I'm s-ssso ticklish-shhh... Huh huh haaaaaallp puh hah hah hah haaaah-eeeee-eeeeee..."
That reflex - of trying to mash my fake, busy hand - called for the obvious response.
Right armpit.
He planted his shoulder blades on the floor and folded his arms tightly, trying to scoot back. There was the usual strain on his face, but it didn't compare to the joy I saw there too. This dude was reveling in it. Not a trace of concern.
Squeezing my fingers in a little further, I approved of his response. Raw - and pure. Very nice.
With another pair of gloves, I started chasing his feet.
Reflexive kicks gave way to squinting - and he shook his head, pinwheeling away from those fingers.
Naturally, I prefer to have my targets immobilized nice and tight. Vince would be tethered soon. But chasing some victims around - wearing 'em out before I bring out the cuffs - that gets me stoked too. It's more fun when their panic is well behind 'em.
This hipster didn't seem to have any fear at all.
I thought maybe it was time for his own hands to betray him. The gloves I gave him took control now, easing his arms away from that sweaty torso. My sub's hands sat like dead weights at the end of each arm.
He managed to shake his head a time or two - but then I pounced with two of the satin hands. I slid up and down his sides. Solid, ponderous torment. This, young Vince, is your future...
He shrieked in a most satisfying manner, bucking convulsively against the padded floor.
One of my gloves took hold of his right ankle, and its partner began scratching lightly down his sole. He was too busy roaring to watch a new pair start on his left knee.
We had a fine time.
I made him roll around and around, but my gloves always found their marks again. Wailing, chortling, he tried to crawl away - and his hands refused to cooperate. Spinning slowly, then kicking for all he was worth, he wore himself out before a half-hour had passed.
Laying face-down near a puddle he didn't realize he made, Vince couldn't do more than twitch and hoot wearily as I explored the back of his thighs, and his lower scalp...
Did he ever look blissful.
That suited me just fine.
Behind him, I assembled thick rails and slid their anchors into the floor. Tightening the bolts silently, I attached the cushions and cuffs... and laid out a few other items of sadistic interest.
Concentrating on his left ribs, I eventually made him curl up and squirm in that direction. I indulged myself with a few seconds of hard foot-petting - and then pulled off.
It took him thirty seconds to gather his wits...
When he looked, and saw the rack, his mouth hung open.
Aw, I wanted to nuke him more than ever.
The rails were positioned to spread him out in a gentle U-shape, but I could raise his arms or feet way up in a matter of seconds. I had toys laid out along each side of the rack. Brightly colored feathers, nylon-bristled brushes, creams and ointments that made the impact race like a runaway train.
"N-nnuh," he panted. "Oh no, oh no no no..."
I lifted his left hand, reached for his right - and slapped the gloves together. Sort of a sideways handshake. Then I made 'em move toward the rails - pulling him upright, even as he lunged backward and cackled like a maniac. His body was desperate for a chance to... well, catch up with what it had felt. I'd seen that before.
Give it up, Vince. You're in for weeks of master-class tickling.
The gloves he'd chosen to wear dragged him into position, turning him around - and laying his shackled wrists where my bolts could catch them. I was taking no shit from him now. He looked frantically from one anchored hand to the other, shaking his head as the hoots wound down. Excitement, and relief. I knew those emotions all too well - particularly when I was hobbling a victim like this.
I had the satin gloves snatch his ankles and take them within range of the bolts that hovered, waiting to trap each leg. Watching him try to rock back and forth, I decided to lower his arms a little. Yeah - that was better. Much less strain on his shoulders. I didn't intend to free him for quite a while...
One of the satin gloves brought him a surprise -
"Dammit!" he crowed. "You can't be s-serious."
Met by another of my tickling hands, it pulled the condom out of its wrapper and sheathed him. I already had his favorite body part at attention...
Until I floated a bit-gag to Vince's head. The thick roll of rawhide would be held in place by six little straps.
He couldn't fight nearly enough to keep me from pulling it over his face...
I let him struggle for a while. Vince was going to be really thirsty by the time I gave him a break, but I sorta liked the thought of that. Still, I wasn't in the mood to pause within the next couple hours...
So maybe a compromise was in order. I worked the tip of a squeeze-bottle between his lips, and squirted some glycerine in there. His expression was priceless as he moved his tongue through it, eventually swallowing.
Then we were facing off again. Feathers were aimed at his soles, two brushes were ready to light up his belly... and I had six gloves ready to take charge of his shins and his torso.
His eyes were huge. Vince's show of strength consisted of trying to rotate his arms.
I won.
"Brrglllllff," he whined.
"Not so sassy now... are ya, Vince?"
Oh, yeah. He jumped good and hard. Didn't expect to actually hear from me, I guess.
"Whuuuppbbbtt!" he yelled, trying to lunge around.
I had no idea what he was trying to say. It really didn't matter.
My toys touched down and got busy.
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