He got up his nerve and called the number.
"Dreamtime," a cheery woman said.
That threw him. "I was, uh, trying to call about an ad. Jobs -"
"You've got the right number. Have you ever done B&D before?"
What the hell is B&D, he thought. "No."
"Are you in good health?"
"Excellent."
"Under 30?"
"Uh... yeah."
"Then we've got all kinds of work for you."
He cheered up. "That's good news."
"Light, or heavy?"
"I guess I could do either one. Could you give me some examples?"
"Light stuff doesn't draw blood. Very little bruising."
Stunned, he kept trying to believe he didn't just hear that.
"Hello?" the lady said, a time or two. Waiting for him to reply -
"Blood? What kind of... I was calling about, uh, work jobs. Manual labor."
"Yeah, but you can make a lot more money if y-"
"No. Sorry, not me. Really," he said with a nervous laugh.
"Three thousand bucks. At least."
That stopped him in his tracks. "What?"
"You've never tried bondage before, I'm guessing. Not for real. Maybe tied to the bedposts, but not by anyone really, uh, interested. Am I right?"
"No. It doesn't matter. I'm not -"
"The first time, for a strong young guy - his introduction, you could say - is worth thousands of dollars. Not just anywhere, of course, but our clients are extremely... capable."
"You're kidding. Right?"
"Absolutely not."
That kind of money... "I don't think I could, uh, do anything like that."
"If you're under 25, not an addict and good-looking, it could be as much as six or seven grand. For two hours of your time."
Well, this was just great.
Leather straps all over - and they weren't just for show, either - so he was really stuck. Naked as a jaybird.
The invisible guy who sounded totally happy to have a victim anchored down had about twenty hands. Now he chuckled again and brought out feathers.
Paying all that money to tickle him? Just totally crazy.
"Not tickling," he tells the big white feathers dangling just over his gut - again. "No. No no no no, aw shit! No!"
"You signed up," the voice said, all puzzled. "Light S&M."
"Not this. This isn't light. It isn't. Not to me!"
Another quiet laugh. "Excellent."
While he yelled, about a dozen feathers dropped down... and started rocking his world.
There was pressure -
Son of a bitch. Hands he couldn't see were tying a gag between his teeth.
"You howl real nice," the dude said firmly, "but boys who beg too much get silenced. Now you think about that, if you can - while I tickle your lights out."
Gloves had floated out, and filled up. They looked like they were filled with invisible, muscular hands. Eight were a few inches from his hide, and at least that many were a yard or two further away. Unimaginable tickling, like nothing he'd ever -
Moving. A pair was going to land on his gut. Nothing he could do...
"Nuuuugh," he warbled.
They just dug in. He wailed, barked laughter and tried to arch.
Others arrived. Latching on, pressing, gripping - in no hurry at all. His pecs, his collarbones... and his inner thighs.
Alright, he thought, the time's gotta be up. Unbelievable. That had to be why the hands had let him rest. All done...
The restraints were still on him, though.
There was a window off to his right. It wasn't there before.
This was... a different room.
"All done," he said weakly. Voice all but shot. Snapping at the restraints didn't do a damn bit of good but he couldn't help it. "Tell 'em. Call the damn number and say I did my part."
"Okay," the tickler growled. "Sure. I'll get right on that."
"It was only supposed to be for two hours," he whined.
"The audition. Yeah. And you got the gig."
"What?"
"Congratulations."
"No, no, no, no. Let me go now. You gotta let me out of here!"
The voice almost snorted. "Nobody knows where you are now," the voice said smugly. "And I like it that way. No other human has any idea that this fine dungeon even exists."
"Well, of course," he groaned miserably, straining to break the cuffs loose.
"You know why?"
Fingertips traced down his stomach and kept on moving. Lower - and they were out of visual range. His body was just goin' crazy as they traveled and wiggled.
"Aw no, naaaaaah, help meee-eeeeee!"
"Feelin'... more ticklish, dude? All this privacy?"
He screamed hoarsely - and looked from one calm leather glove to another. Eight, ten, twelve tickling hands, obsessed, tireless...
Then they were parking confidently on his sides and feet, under his calves, taking hold of his ass-cheeks.
There was obviously no chance of succeeding, but he strained at his bonds with everything he had.
10jul2007