mirthgoblin
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Selections from the Mirth Collection
Part 4: The New Forest Friend (F/FFF, MF/F, FF/F, F/FF)
My search for my missing succubi is not difficult; all I have to do is follow the hysterical laughter back to its source. It leads me onward, to the areas of the dungeon designed for holding captives. I enter the open doorway, lean against the wall, and survey the adorable scene. Madira has found my triple stocks.
The three demonesses are bound with their wrists manacled behind their backs, while their ankles are trapped by the large, heavy set of stocks, each of the six ankle holes lined with sheepskin for extra comfort. They certainly don’t seem to be appreciating it. Each are bound next to each other, Xabre with her short, red hair and ram horns jutting from the sides of her head, Kasra’s long blue hair whipping about her, and Venla’s coal-black, shoulder length almost concealing the little horns on her forehead.
All three are as utterly breathtaking as all succubi, and they all now bear the red runes of binding on their ankles, currently hidden by the stocks. Ironically, each had taken less persuading than Kasra, though by the time we were done, Doll was so hyper from all the tickling she could sit still. Venla in particular had almost seemed to enjoy it, agreeing to the Pendleton’s binding only when I mentioned that she would be tickled for the rest of her time in our world. According to Kasra, Venla had never really fit in to the demon world; had never liked torturing mortals as much as her sisters. I was beginning to suspect that Venla may indeed have been born with a soul. Very rare among demons, as those who are discovered to possess a soul are killed upon birth. Thus has the demon race remained cruel and malicious.
Right now, neither trait is particularly visible, thanks much to the ministrations of Madira and her wicked claws. Each of the demoness’ laughing faces has a look of joy and happiness, most likely the last thing on their minds. Their bare, helpless feet are being poked, caressed, and generally tickle tortured by Madira’s pointed claws. Each of their toes has been wrapped in troll rope, pulled back, and tied to little hooks inlaid into the stocks, leaving their ticklish soles stretched and defenseless. Madira is making the most of their predicament by utilizing her war form. She is standing in front of Kasra, if the word ‘standing’ can be used for any creature without legs. Her upper hands are mercilessly tickling Kasra’s bare feet, tickling under the ticklish toes and sensitive arches. Her middle claws are stroking Xabre’s right foot and Venla’s left. Her lower arms are stretched, her fingers playing across the tender soles of Xabre’s left foot and Venla’s right. Madira does not even watch her hands or their feet, her eyes completely focused on their faces and reactions. She is constantly changing her tickling tactics, adjusting her strokes as to draw the most laughter from each girl. Ultimately it looks like Madira is playing a very complicated musical instrument, though to my goblin ears, the laughter is much lovelier than any conventional song.
Regretfully, I must speak up. “As much as I hate to interrupt this stellar performance, I will need to speak to my succubi at some point, and your tickling fingers are rendering them completely unable to process my words.”
Madira doesn’t even glance in my direction. “Just a few more minutes.”
Well, what kind of mastermind would I be if I didn’t listen to the requests of my second in command? Instead, I speak to Madira, having to raise my voice slightly against the giggly music.
“Not to pry, but how did you every manage to gain enough control over these girls to get them into such a, pardon the pun, ticklish situation?”
Madira turns her head, claws still absentmindedly sending the demonesses into throws of laughter. “It was pretty simple. I just grabbed Doll while she was near the demons and then tickled her until she told them to follow my every order.”
“Very clever, but I assume you know that since Doll adores being tickled, anything she did under tickle torture she most likely would have done had you simply asked.”
“Well, yes, but I didn’t see why that meant I couldn’t tickle her silly first.”
“Funnily enough, neither can I. Now, please, stop your delightful tickling, before they pass out. I truly do have business with them.”
Madira shrugs, a most interesting motion in a creature that currently has six arms, and gives each succubi a particularly nasty last tickling stroke before untying their strings and opening the stocks. By the time she finishes unmanacling them, they’ve recovered enough to regain their voices. Kasra gives me a fierce look, but doesn’t say anything. Xabre manages to look bored, but still listening. Venla just stares at her bare feet, blushing slightly.
I gesture for them to step forward and ask them to kneel.
“Now that you have been all summoned and have acquainted yourselves with the Black Forest and my dungeons beneath it, it is time to send you out into the wider world. Your task is to track down and bring back here the beings I describe to you.”
Kasra looks up at me. “How do you expect us to capture these mortals, much less find them?”
“I will equip you, Kasra, with a medallion that will allow you to channel my enchantments, most specifically my sleep spells. As for finding them, you will search by their greatest desires. As succubi, gifted with the ability to read the heart’s longing of any mortal, as well as your gift of flight, you are uniquely suited to finding these beings for me. As of this moment on, you three shall be my Hunters. And I have for you your first prey.”
I glance at my calendar scroll, and mark off another day. If I have one weakness I’ll confess to, its impatience. Anticipation is all well and good, but waiting without ending has always had the potential to drive me mad.
My musings are broken by Doll, who stumbles into my workshop and manages to drag herself onto the table before collapsing. Her ragged panting and giggles leave little mystery as to her condition.
“Been playing ‘Hide and Go Tickle’ with Madira again, have we?”
Doll instinctively covers her bare tummy with her hands and puts on a pouting face.
“Doll never win. Snakey lady always find Doll.”
I turn to face her.
“Doll, you possess my knowledge, so I really do hate to repeat what you already know, but Madira is smart, clever girl who descends from a race of creatures that specialize in tracking their prey and torturing them for hours at a time. What about this situation makes you believe that you have a chance of outrunning or outlasting her?”
Doll sticks her little, pink tongue out at me.
“Oh, Doll knows all that. Doll likes losing! Snake lady’s claws so tickly on Doll’s feetsies.” She holds up her feet and wiggles her toes at me. “Doll just wish Doll didn’t hafta lose all the time!”
I stand up, and pat Doll on her head. “You get than from me. I have always hated when one side always wins… Do not worry. Madira is just intensely focused on you because right now you are her only prey. What with the demon sisters out on my hunt,” I say, pausing as my keen ears pick up footsteps. Madira has taken to traveling around in her war form, and Fell and Garmr aren’t growling at the intruder. “And speak of the devils now. I assume your hunt went well?”
Kasra bursts through the door, her usual expression of violent anger flushing her lovely face. “How, by the Horns of the Hellfiend, did you know it was me?”
I ignore her question, much to fascinated by her dress. All three succubi had been bare when they’d left my castle. Kasra at least had seen fit to dress herself upon her return. Her perfect, ivory skin had been mostly covered by soft, leather armor, black of course and studded with metal spikes. The thick leather covered most of her torso, with heavy bracers on her forearms and full fingered gloves. Unusual for a succubi, there was no hint of cleavage or belly. Her lower body was equally modest, with every inch of her legs armored, and her high heeled, leather boots latched all the way up her knees. Despite completely covering everything below her neck, the tight leather only seemed to accentuate her sexy curves. Like all good succubi, she could have worn a burlap sack and still looked ravishing.
I spoke a quick word of magic, banishing all deception from my eyes, and resisted the urge to smile. Not an inch of Kasra’s outfit was illusion. Instead of magically assuming the image of armor, she had actually sought out mortal clothing. Nearly unprecedented among the demonic races.
Doll laughed and pointed at Kasra. “Demon lady all black and spikey!”
Kasra must have noticed my amusement, both at Doll’s comment and her outfit, for she scowled at me.
“Hey, with that tickling-crazy naga running around these dungeons, we had to protect ourselves some how. That pervert armor smith was more than happy to measure us all up and gear us for free. At least now we’ve got some protection.”
“My dear, Kasra, if you believe that Madira’s enthusiasm will be stifled by a few scraps of leather, then I fear you underestimate our naga’s power. I highly wish to be present when your current illusions of safety fail you.”
I notice a flicker of fear behind Kasra’s eyes before her usual bravado takes over.
“Never mind that. Do you want your precious ‘prey’ or not?”
I quickly discard my smile, returning to my more serious mode.
“I assume you have followed all my directions concerning her.”
“Of course we did. We hit her with that spell of yours, knocked her out quick. We even locked her up in that cell you wanted, latched her down tight.”
I nod. “Excellent. I knew you would not fail me. You are sure she possesses the desire I requested.”
Kasra tosses back her hair with an offhand gesture. “If there is one thing we succubi know, its desire.”
“Very well then. Doll, please find Madira and bring her to the prepared cell. You know the one. Do not let her enter until I arrive. Kasra, assemble your sisters in my study. I have another prey for you to hunt down.”
Kasra glares at me. “We just got back from your first hunt. Can’t we rest up a couple of days?”
I give her a grin Madira would be proud of. “Of course you may. I will instruct Doll to prepare a nice, hot, soapy bath and Madira can wash off all that tension and dust off your naked bodies. I am sure you will enjoy it immensely.”
Kasra’s eyes definitely fill with fear and show holds out her hands in a warding gesture. “No, no, never mind. We’re good to fly! Honest!”
“As I suspected. Gather your sisters. I will not have my hunting delayed.”
When I arrive at the cell in question, Fell and Garmr at my side as always, I find Doll and Madira flanking the door, waiting for me. I obviously interrupt some sort of exchange, for Doll is holding down one of her lower eyelids and sticking her tongue out as Madira, still in war form, is wiggling her army of claws in Doll’s direction. My arrival signals a ceasefire, as both parties attempt to look like they’ve been carefully watching the door the entire time.
Before I approach them, I turn to my hellhounds. “You two stay here. No sense in frightening the poor girl anymore than we already have.” The two lay down and close their eyes.
I walk over to the door, and stare up at Madira. “My dear, if you could shift to a less threatening form, I would greatly appreciate it.”
She stares down at me. “Why? What’s wrong with the way I look?”
“Our new guests has been captured by demons, spirited away to a series of dungeons, and imprisoned in the sort of room mostly used by men who employ hot, pointy objects. I am afraid the arrival of a fully grown naga in war form will strip what little courage remains to her. While I know you have grown fond of your current form, I believe something less terrifying will serve us better now.”
Madira shrugs all six of her shoulders, and begins to change. Her tail shrinks, and then divides into two perfect legs, ending in two adorable bare feet. Her arms merge together, forming a single pair of limbs. I watch with amazement, and then shock as suddenly she stops reforming, with her face perfectly level with mine. For once in my life, I am speechless.
For the second time today, my face betrays my emotions. Madira smiles at me, the first time.
“So, do you like my new form? Doll showed me how to do it. She told me my kind uses it to track prey, since it’s much closer to the ground.”
My jaw works up and down, but words escape me. Unfortunately, Doll misreads my silence. Her smile vanishes, and she looks nervous. “You do like it, right?”
I shake my head, my tongue finally loosening. “Like it? I adore it! I utterly forgot the tracking form existed! I am certainly glad Doll remembered.”
Madira rushes forward, and gives me a hug, her arms perfectly wrapping around my body. For the first time, I realize that she is utterly naked. I cough, and hold her at arms length, trying to keep my eyes above her waist. I reach into my robe pocket, and pull out a leather skirt.
“I brought this, for you to wear.”
She smiles at me. “How sweet of you.” She puts it on, the leather straps hanging down to her knees. “I was hoping for something a little more revealing.”
I cough into my hand. “It was supposed to be much shorter. After all, you are several hands shorter. In any event, I believe we have kept our new guest waiting long enough.” I open the door, and step inside. Doll and Madira follow behind me.
Our newest arrival is sitting in a heavy wooden chair, with the seat extended long enough to support her legs. Her wrists are locked down to the chair’s armrests by thick metal cuffs. Similar shackles hold her ankles fast to the long seat. The reason the metal isn’t cutting into her skin is, like Kasra, her entire body is encased in armor.
The armor itself is completely seamless and form fitting. Its surface looks exactly like tree bark, colored a light brown. The only skin revealed is her adorable face, slightly orange, like the heartwood of a tree. Her long, flowing green hair is just starting to turn yellow and red, just as the leaves are starting to turn as summer gives way to fall. Thick red tears, reminiscent of sap, are slowly trickling down her face. She doesn’t notice my presence.
Madira turns to me. I notice she no longer needs to lean down to whisper in my ear. “What is she?”
In an equally hushed voice, I say, “She is a dryad, a warrior and protector of her forest. Now, if you will give me a moment, I must properly greet her.”
I turn back to the dryad and cough. I speak, and my voice sounds like the groaning of tree branches.
She gasps, and looks up. Her eyes are a deep, lipid green, like a forest pool. She notices me, smiles through her tears, and speaks to me. Her lovely words are like the passing of winds through the leaves.
Madira gives me a puzzled look. “You say what?”
“My apologize. I was speaking in the language of the forest. It is rather hard to translate into the common speech. I offered to her a greeting involving an expression of welcome and a promise of safety, as well as a formal reminder of the goblins’ promise to the dryads. She expressed her joy at my remembering and accepted the rules and customs of my house.”
Madira shakes her head. “Wait a minute. You capture her, latch her to a chair, and she is happy about that. Do you know her?”
“Of course not, otherwise I would have invited her here. No, goblins and dryads have long been allies and friends, and we share a common understanding about how we treat each other. She is merely glad that she has fallen into my benevolent hands as opposed to someone who meant her harm.”
“How does she know you don’t mean to hurt her?”
“Had I any intentions of harming her, I would not have reminded her about the promise, which states that goblins will never cause pain or suffering to the dryad kind.”
She shakes her head. “You forest creatures are strange. Any chance of continuing your talk in a language all of us can understand?”
I grin at her. “You are the only one here who does not speak treefolkish. Doll is as fluent as I.” Doll gives a quick nod. “However, I will endeavor to fufill your request.” I turn to the dryad. “Do you speak the words of man?”
She gives a shy smile. “I do… a little.” Her voice is soft and hushed, like the rustling of leaves.
“Very well, than in the tongue of man, I give you welcome to my humble home. I am known among the humans as Mirth, a goblin of magic. Might I inquire as to your name?”
“You may. I am Athialathaia.”
“Athialathaia, daughter of the rain. Very poetic.”
Madira grimaces. “Poetic or not, there’s no way I’m trying to pronounce that.”
I shake my head. “My second in command wishes to grant you a shorter name, one that comes much easier to those without the forest tongue. Would you mind being known among us as Athia, rain?”
She smiles. “I would not. I will be known as Athia.”
I gesture to my companions. “This is Madira, a daughter of the sand snakes. She possesses their power and will, but not their gaze of death nor their evil desires. She is loyal to me and will not harm you. On my right is Doll, created by my own hand. She is my ally more than servant. Now that we are all acquainted, allow me to extend some goblin hospitality.”
Suddenly Athia looks both nervous and eager, casting her eyes down as a red blush comes to her lovely cheeks. Madira, as usual, looks confused.
“Goblin hospitality?”
“But of course. It is customary for a goblin to welcome attractive female guests to his house by granting them the touch of laughter. I am sure you remember your first session upon arrival.”
One of Madira’s wicked grins crawls across her face. “I think I’m going to like goblin hospitality.”
“I was sure you would. Now, Athia, do you consent to me tickling you, as per the promise?”
Athia closes her eyes, and bits her lower lip. She nods.
I draw from my robe pocket a short, silver knife and approach Athia’s legs. Madira shrinks away from the knife.
“What’re you doing?”
“Preparing to remove Athia’s armor. It is created magically by her forest, and as such is impervious to most forms of damage. One of the few materials that can pierce it is silver.” I notice Athia flinch when I say forest, but ignore it for now.
I pull over a small stool, and study Athia’s armor. Unlike her hands, where the armor contours to her fingers perfectly, her feet are generally covered, the armor resembling a single, flat-soled boot. I feel along the edge of the boot, noting how rough the bark armor is. I place my dagger at the very tip of the boot, and slide it in, making sure to keep it flat. I switch my eyes to Athia’s face, making sure I haven’t damaged her. She is pointed looking away, her breathing quickening.
I slid the blade down the edge of the sole, cutting it away. When I reach the heel, I withdraw my knife, its edge sticky with a red liquid. Madira notices, and points.
“Did you cut her? Is the hurt?”
“Peace, Madira. I have not harmed her. Dryad’s bleed clear, like rain water. This is just the glue that holds her armor to her skin, a sort of padding.
I continue to cut, this time on the other side of her left foot, until the sole is completely separate from the rest of her armor. I gently pull it away. All that can be seen is a massive of red sap, completely obscuring her skin.
Doll makes a sick face. “Icky-sticky goo!”
“Quite,” I say, as I pull a small bottle of light blue liquid from my pocket. I put a few drops onto my knife, and watch as the red sap melts away. I place my knife back in my pocket, and remove a white rage. I douse it with the blue liquid, and begin rubbing down the mass of red. Slowly, a cute, little bare foot emerges, soft, orange tinted skin taut. I continue rubbing until I can see the undersides of her toes and every square inch of her arches. I hear Athia sigh in pleasure at my gentle touches.
Once her full foot is revealed, I place down the rag. I gesture for Madira to come closer.
“You see, Madira, the red sap holds the armor tight against her skin, allowing her greater mobility than a knight, whose armor is only held on by straps and buckles. However, now the sap serves our purpose, for the top of her foot and the backs of her toes are stuck fast to the top of her armor, preventing her from even scrunching her sole. Her bare foot is completely at my mercy.” I demonstrate this by wiggling a single claw on her arch.
Athia breaks out into giggles, reminiscent of a bubbling brook. Her cute face breaks out into a lovely smile.
“Such a defenseless position calls for a unique tool.” I reach once more into the pockets of my robes, and withdraw a short, wooden fork, its four tines smoothed and polished.
Madira scoffs. “A fork?”
“To you, it is just a simple fork. But to her, it will be an object of exquisite torture.”
I place the tines on the ball of her foot, and pull it all the way down, leaving four thin indentations down her arch and heel. Athia giggling like mad, the red tears following their familiar streams down her face. I scrap the fork up and down her foot, taking special care to linger on her arches. Then I begin to jab it lightly at her toes, listening to her shriek with laughter at every poke. I slid it under her toes, enjoying how immobile they are, and wiggle it up and down. Athia shakes her head and clenches her fingers, unable to move any other part of her body. I delight at her beautiful smile.
Madira interrupts my delightful task. “Okay, I’ll admit your fork is pretty tickly, but it is no match for my claws. Scoot over and let me show you.”
“I am afraid I have already laid claim to this particular foot. If you truly wish to exercise your claws, cut away her right foot armor yourself.”
“How? I can’t even touch silver, much less wield a knife made of it.”
“I did not say that silver was the only way to cut through her armor. Your claws are also infused with a powerful magic, strong enough to combat the magic of the bark armor.”
She blinks, and then smiles at me, turning to Athia’s right foot. She effortlessly puncture the armor with her claw, sweeping it around to sever the sole from the armor. She picks up my leftover rag, and wipes away at Athia’s foot, with a lot less care and patience than I did. Athia catches on to Madira’s plan.
“No, please, not both of my feet. I could not bear it!”
“I am afraid, my dear Athia, you have already placed yourself in our trust. Just relax and enjoy the sensations.” I tickle her bare foot with my fork, drowning out her protests with sweet laughter.
Meanwhile, Madira has finished cleaning off Athia’s foot, and begins tickling it with a vengeance, running both sets of six claws up her ticklish sole. If Athia’s previous laughter was like a rushing stream, this new attack creates a cascading waterfall. She shakes her head back and forth, throwing her laughing tears across the room.
I smile at Madira. “My dear, I do believe your tickling talents have surpassed me. I bow to your superior skills.”
Madira flushes with pleasure at my compliment, looking adorable as her tickling claws torment the captive foot. I continue to smile at her, my fork never leaving Athia’s ticklish skin.
“I do believe that we should consult our lovely guest to determine who has the greater ability. Cease a moment.”
We stop and let Athia catch her breath. She smile at us both, completely tickle drunk.
“Dear Athia, both Madira and I have taken great pleasure in providing you with the touch of laughter. We ask you now, whose touch did you prefer?”
She looks at me and grins. “Your tickles were fast and fun. I enjoyed them.”
She turns to Madira and glares, still smiling. “You. You were evil.”
Madira stares at her a moment, while I try not to laugh. Then, Madira’s face turns determined. “Oh, evil am I? Now you’re just asking for it. I’ll show you how evil I can be.”
She picks up the rag, and hops onto Athia’s lap, her smaller form allowing her to take a similar position to the one I took on her.
She grins up wickedly at Athia. “I have to ask you, are you ticklish anywhere else?”
Athia holds her head up high. “I will not tell you, Evil.”
Madira shrugs. “I guess I’ll just have to find out, starting here.” She places one claw where the armor turns into a great mound over Athia’s chest, and begins to cut away.
Athia gasps. “What are you doing? Take you hands off me! Do not tickle me there, I beg of you!”
As Madira slowly, agonizingly cuts away Athia’s chest armor, I feel a tap on my shoulder. Doll smiles at me.
“Can Doll tickle nice tree lady too?”
I stare at her for a moment. I designed Doll to love and adore being tickled, but I hadn’t thought to give her a tickler’s instinct. Much of my own personality, including my love of tickling, had been removed from her creation, allowing her own individuality to form. Had Doll spontaneously decided she liked to tickle?
“Doll, why do you want to tickle Athia?”
She smiles. “Doll likes being tickled! Tickles make Doll happy. Doll knows tree lady sad in her heart. Doll wanna make tree lady happy. So Doll wanna tickle tree lady.”
Her generosity! Of course. Doll knows why I had Athia brought her, just as well as I do. She knows Athia is troubled, and wants to make her happy. I ruffle Doll’s short hair.
“You may join us in our tickling games, Doll. Athia’s bare feet seem to be available. Try tickling her there.”
Doll gives me a happy smile and skips over to Athia. Meanwhile, Madira has stripped away the bark around Athia’s chest, and rubbed off enough sap to reveal two lovely, bare breasts. Her nipples are a deep orange and already visibly stiffened. Madira licks her lips, and cups the breasts in her hands, tickling away with her claws. Athia bursts into hysterical laughter, shouting out “Evil!” in between breaths.
Doll stares at the bare feet before her for a few moments, listening to Athia’s ticklish agony. Then, like a pianist, she raises her fingers, and lets them slowly descend upon the soft skin. She runs the tips of her fingers up and down the soles, sliding along the end of the arches and dipping down into the hollows of her toes. As Athia’s laughter rises, it is clear to me that Doll has learned from her own ticklish experiences exactly what tickles the most. As she lets her fingernails slightly scrape Athia’s arches, I cannot help but marvel at my own creation.
I step back, and lean against the wall, encasing this image in my memory. Three lovely girls, one laughing along to the tickling treatments of the other two. Madira’s face is a picture of delight, each poke or prod to Athia’s ticklish breasts bring a greater smile to her face. Doll’s eyes are closed; she tickling completely by feel. She is softly smiling, her serene face a complete contrast to Athia’s wild, laughing expression. Athia has completely given up, all her strength sapped by the terrible tickling. I can tell by Madira’s tickling claws and Doll’s roaming fingers, they could keep this up until sundown.
Sadly, it is once again my role to be the voice of reason and restraint.
“Doll, Madira, enough. Athia and I have some business to discuss.”
Doll immediately stops, cart wheeling back over to my side. Madira does not hear me, so lost is she in her tickling pleasure. I give a loud clap, and finally she responds, reluctantly climbing down from Athia’s lap.
Athia is a picture of lovely distress, her bare breasts heaving as she draws in air. I walk over and unfasten her shackles. She slowly moves down off the chair and sits on the ground, tucking her legs under her to subconsciously hide her bare feet. I remove my robe, and drape it over her shoulders. It magically resizes and she holds the edges, covering her bare breasts.
She smiles up at me. “Thank you. Thank you so much. I have not laughed so loud nor been so happy since…” Her face darkens. I can sense the unpleasant memories returning.
I sit next to her, as Doll and Madira sit near her. I cup her chin in my furry hand, and turn her face towards mine.
“My Athia, the past can sometimes be a poison, building up in our minds. Let us draw the poison from you. You are among friends here. Tell us what happened to your forest.”
She speaks, her voice initially calm, though her tears tell of her emotions. “They came to attack the forest. Earthskinned women with white tattoos. They came with blades and fire. I stood before them. I told them to leave, told them I would fight them. They laughed at me and fired arrows. I summoned the vines and roots, but the hacked at them with their blades. I heard the trees cry out with pain. They thrust fire at me, put the flame to the leaves around me. I heard the trees, my friends, scream with fear and I… I…”
She collapses against me, her tears sticking to my shirt as she begins to sob.
“I ran! I was so scared and I ran! The earthskinned women ignored me, let me run. They did not care about me. They just burned, and laughed. They could not hear the screaming. I ran away from there, from my friends. I failed to be a protector.”
Madira pats her on the shoulder and looks at me. “Earth skinned women? White tattoos? Who were they?”
I can hear Madira’s thoughts of revenge in her voice. I hear my own words grow cold. “Queen Anora’s special army. The one she enlisted when she seized this kingdom. Dryad’s groves are always enchanted, places of powerful magic and if there is anything Anora fears, it is magic in the hands of anyone but man.” I run my claws through Athia’s hair. “It is alright, you are safe now.”
She sniffles, clutching me close. “I have been so lonely. The forests are all gone. Cities of dead trees are all I could find. The people feared me, chased me away. You are the first to be so kind. I miss the voices of the trees.”
I hold her up, help her to stand. “My dear, I confess I knew of your plight. I sent my Hunters out to bring me a dryad bereft of her forest, and they brought me you. Though you cannot feel it through these stone walls, we are in a forest now. It is different than the ones you are used to, sharp pines instead of leaves, darker and stronger than your old forest. But it still speaks the voice of the trees and it is now without a dryad to protect it. If you wish, I will show it to you. Perhaps you would like to remain here and watch over our forest.”
She wipes away her tears with the back of her barked hand, and stares down at me.
“But, I failed to protect my last grove.”
“This time, you will not stand alone. Blackwood is an old and powerful forest. It will not yield to blades or fire. It will protect you as you protect it. And we all would love for to stay with us.”
I turn to Madira and Doll. Madira smiles and nods, while Doll runs up and hugs Athia with all her might.
Athia beams. “I would like that.”
As we walk under the dark pines and thick vines of Blackwood Forest, I can see Athia’s face filling with life. She listens to the forest’s groans and whispers and she gazes up into the high branches as her bare feet slid along the soft moss. Ever move, ever step unites her with this ancient wood.
We stop in a clearing, near a small pool of water. Madira stretches her back, showing off her incredible breasts, while Doll chases after a few black butterflies. Athia stands in the middle of the wood, her eyes closes, her pointed eyes listening to every breath of the forest. Suddenly she opens her eyes, and stares at me.
“You are right. This wood is much different than my old grove. It is much larger, stretching far beyond the reach of most woods I have seen. And as you said, it is stronger. Many fires and axes have tried and failed to fell this wood, and it has mocked every attack. Ancient and brooding, it has never had a need for a dryad to protect it. I am not sure I trust this dark power.”
I feel my heart stop for a moment.
Then Athia grins. “But it has asked me to join it and I will not refuse it. It offers its strength and power. I will accept its magics.”
Then she speaks, loudly and clearly for the first time, accepting the forest’s offer in its own language. Doll and Madira stop and stare, and Athia begins to rise from the forest floor, held aloft by ethereal winds My robe falls from her shoulders as her bark armor reshapes itself, turning the deep, almost black color that gives Blackwood its name. Her hair falls from her head, growing back in a dark green, the same hue as the pines. Soon it is long enough to sweep the ground behind her. Her feet descend back down to the ground.
Her armor has changed. Before, it covered her body like a knight’s armor, leaving not trace of skin. Now, it resembles gladiator armor, covering her shoulders and wrapping around the sides of her breasts, covering just the tips of her breasts while leaving her whole front bare. A strange, bark skirt covers her waist and thighs, while bark bracers adorn her shins and forearms. Her feet remain completely bare, and I stare at the tops of her adorable toes. She smiles at me.
“This is my casual armor. However, should danger threaten…”
The armor suddenly expands, encasing her entire body. Even a facemask forms, its roughly triangular shape revealing only her lipid eyes. Sharp, bark claws spring from her fingers tips. I can’t help but notice that though her feet are covered and armored, I can still make out the shape of her toes.
She turns to Madira and Doll, who shrink back slightly at her changed form.
As Athia speaks, her voice echoes slightly behind the mask, sounding much deeper. “I must repay you two for your hospitality. Allow me to give you the touch of laughter.”
Vines spring up from the moss, wrapping around the two girls. Their arms are bound to their sides, as the vines wrap around them, under their breasts all the way down to their feet. Tiny vines sneak their way into Doll’s shirt. I can see their outlines as they begin to tickle her breasts. As she squeals with laughter, other vines wrap around her tiny toes, pulling them back, and the tips begin to tickle up and down her bare soles. Soon Doll is drowning in giggling mirth.
Madira struggles against the vines, but in vain. Her current form is hardly strong enough to fight against the will of the forest. She closes her eyes and concentrates. I can tell from past experience that she intends to shift forms, most likely into her war form. However, the vines have finished wrapping around her toes and feet, and they begin tickling away at the tender toes and sensitive feet. I see Madira’s lips curl into an unwilling smile and she begins to laugh. As her concentration is ruined, she is drawn cover to Athia. I can tell from her voice that she is smiling.
“Evil snake, you cannot escape my vines. I will not let you rest long enough to break free. I hope you enjoy your laughter.”
A number of smaller vines rise up and begin tickling Madira’s beautiful breasts, teasing her nipples and stroking the soft sides. Madira explodes with laughter, joining in with Doll in a chorus. Her deep, subtly laughter combines well with Doll’s light giggles.
Athia turns to me, her mask falling away, her face seeking approval.
I nod to her. “When I sought you out, I had high hopes. In this moment, you have surpassed them. I believe you will serve perfectly.”
Athia looks at me with puzzlement.
“Serve as what?”
“The first of my Binders.”
I hope you enjoy the fourth installment of my Mirth series! Please comment or critique. I love both: the former keeps me writing while the second helps improve my style.
Part 4: The New Forest Friend (F/FFF, MF/F, FF/F, F/FF)
My search for my missing succubi is not difficult; all I have to do is follow the hysterical laughter back to its source. It leads me onward, to the areas of the dungeon designed for holding captives. I enter the open doorway, lean against the wall, and survey the adorable scene. Madira has found my triple stocks.
The three demonesses are bound with their wrists manacled behind their backs, while their ankles are trapped by the large, heavy set of stocks, each of the six ankle holes lined with sheepskin for extra comfort. They certainly don’t seem to be appreciating it. Each are bound next to each other, Xabre with her short, red hair and ram horns jutting from the sides of her head, Kasra’s long blue hair whipping about her, and Venla’s coal-black, shoulder length almost concealing the little horns on her forehead.
All three are as utterly breathtaking as all succubi, and they all now bear the red runes of binding on their ankles, currently hidden by the stocks. Ironically, each had taken less persuading than Kasra, though by the time we were done, Doll was so hyper from all the tickling she could sit still. Venla in particular had almost seemed to enjoy it, agreeing to the Pendleton’s binding only when I mentioned that she would be tickled for the rest of her time in our world. According to Kasra, Venla had never really fit in to the demon world; had never liked torturing mortals as much as her sisters. I was beginning to suspect that Venla may indeed have been born with a soul. Very rare among demons, as those who are discovered to possess a soul are killed upon birth. Thus has the demon race remained cruel and malicious.
Right now, neither trait is particularly visible, thanks much to the ministrations of Madira and her wicked claws. Each of the demoness’ laughing faces has a look of joy and happiness, most likely the last thing on their minds. Their bare, helpless feet are being poked, caressed, and generally tickle tortured by Madira’s pointed claws. Each of their toes has been wrapped in troll rope, pulled back, and tied to little hooks inlaid into the stocks, leaving their ticklish soles stretched and defenseless. Madira is making the most of their predicament by utilizing her war form. She is standing in front of Kasra, if the word ‘standing’ can be used for any creature without legs. Her upper hands are mercilessly tickling Kasra’s bare feet, tickling under the ticklish toes and sensitive arches. Her middle claws are stroking Xabre’s right foot and Venla’s left. Her lower arms are stretched, her fingers playing across the tender soles of Xabre’s left foot and Venla’s right. Madira does not even watch her hands or their feet, her eyes completely focused on their faces and reactions. She is constantly changing her tickling tactics, adjusting her strokes as to draw the most laughter from each girl. Ultimately it looks like Madira is playing a very complicated musical instrument, though to my goblin ears, the laughter is much lovelier than any conventional song.
Regretfully, I must speak up. “As much as I hate to interrupt this stellar performance, I will need to speak to my succubi at some point, and your tickling fingers are rendering them completely unable to process my words.”
Madira doesn’t even glance in my direction. “Just a few more minutes.”
Well, what kind of mastermind would I be if I didn’t listen to the requests of my second in command? Instead, I speak to Madira, having to raise my voice slightly against the giggly music.
“Not to pry, but how did you every manage to gain enough control over these girls to get them into such a, pardon the pun, ticklish situation?”
Madira turns her head, claws still absentmindedly sending the demonesses into throws of laughter. “It was pretty simple. I just grabbed Doll while she was near the demons and then tickled her until she told them to follow my every order.”
“Very clever, but I assume you know that since Doll adores being tickled, anything she did under tickle torture she most likely would have done had you simply asked.”
“Well, yes, but I didn’t see why that meant I couldn’t tickle her silly first.”
“Funnily enough, neither can I. Now, please, stop your delightful tickling, before they pass out. I truly do have business with them.”
Madira shrugs, a most interesting motion in a creature that currently has six arms, and gives each succubi a particularly nasty last tickling stroke before untying their strings and opening the stocks. By the time she finishes unmanacling them, they’ve recovered enough to regain their voices. Kasra gives me a fierce look, but doesn’t say anything. Xabre manages to look bored, but still listening. Venla just stares at her bare feet, blushing slightly.
I gesture for them to step forward and ask them to kneel.
“Now that you have been all summoned and have acquainted yourselves with the Black Forest and my dungeons beneath it, it is time to send you out into the wider world. Your task is to track down and bring back here the beings I describe to you.”
Kasra looks up at me. “How do you expect us to capture these mortals, much less find them?”
“I will equip you, Kasra, with a medallion that will allow you to channel my enchantments, most specifically my sleep spells. As for finding them, you will search by their greatest desires. As succubi, gifted with the ability to read the heart’s longing of any mortal, as well as your gift of flight, you are uniquely suited to finding these beings for me. As of this moment on, you three shall be my Hunters. And I have for you your first prey.”
I glance at my calendar scroll, and mark off another day. If I have one weakness I’ll confess to, its impatience. Anticipation is all well and good, but waiting without ending has always had the potential to drive me mad.
My musings are broken by Doll, who stumbles into my workshop and manages to drag herself onto the table before collapsing. Her ragged panting and giggles leave little mystery as to her condition.
“Been playing ‘Hide and Go Tickle’ with Madira again, have we?”
Doll instinctively covers her bare tummy with her hands and puts on a pouting face.
“Doll never win. Snakey lady always find Doll.”
I turn to face her.
“Doll, you possess my knowledge, so I really do hate to repeat what you already know, but Madira is smart, clever girl who descends from a race of creatures that specialize in tracking their prey and torturing them for hours at a time. What about this situation makes you believe that you have a chance of outrunning or outlasting her?”
Doll sticks her little, pink tongue out at me.
“Oh, Doll knows all that. Doll likes losing! Snake lady’s claws so tickly on Doll’s feetsies.” She holds up her feet and wiggles her toes at me. “Doll just wish Doll didn’t hafta lose all the time!”
I stand up, and pat Doll on her head. “You get than from me. I have always hated when one side always wins… Do not worry. Madira is just intensely focused on you because right now you are her only prey. What with the demon sisters out on my hunt,” I say, pausing as my keen ears pick up footsteps. Madira has taken to traveling around in her war form, and Fell and Garmr aren’t growling at the intruder. “And speak of the devils now. I assume your hunt went well?”
Kasra bursts through the door, her usual expression of violent anger flushing her lovely face. “How, by the Horns of the Hellfiend, did you know it was me?”
I ignore her question, much to fascinated by her dress. All three succubi had been bare when they’d left my castle. Kasra at least had seen fit to dress herself upon her return. Her perfect, ivory skin had been mostly covered by soft, leather armor, black of course and studded with metal spikes. The thick leather covered most of her torso, with heavy bracers on her forearms and full fingered gloves. Unusual for a succubi, there was no hint of cleavage or belly. Her lower body was equally modest, with every inch of her legs armored, and her high heeled, leather boots latched all the way up her knees. Despite completely covering everything below her neck, the tight leather only seemed to accentuate her sexy curves. Like all good succubi, she could have worn a burlap sack and still looked ravishing.
I spoke a quick word of magic, banishing all deception from my eyes, and resisted the urge to smile. Not an inch of Kasra’s outfit was illusion. Instead of magically assuming the image of armor, she had actually sought out mortal clothing. Nearly unprecedented among the demonic races.
Doll laughed and pointed at Kasra. “Demon lady all black and spikey!”
Kasra must have noticed my amusement, both at Doll’s comment and her outfit, for she scowled at me.
“Hey, with that tickling-crazy naga running around these dungeons, we had to protect ourselves some how. That pervert armor smith was more than happy to measure us all up and gear us for free. At least now we’ve got some protection.”
“My dear, Kasra, if you believe that Madira’s enthusiasm will be stifled by a few scraps of leather, then I fear you underestimate our naga’s power. I highly wish to be present when your current illusions of safety fail you.”
I notice a flicker of fear behind Kasra’s eyes before her usual bravado takes over.
“Never mind that. Do you want your precious ‘prey’ or not?”
I quickly discard my smile, returning to my more serious mode.
“I assume you have followed all my directions concerning her.”
“Of course we did. We hit her with that spell of yours, knocked her out quick. We even locked her up in that cell you wanted, latched her down tight.”
I nod. “Excellent. I knew you would not fail me. You are sure she possesses the desire I requested.”
Kasra tosses back her hair with an offhand gesture. “If there is one thing we succubi know, its desire.”
“Very well then. Doll, please find Madira and bring her to the prepared cell. You know the one. Do not let her enter until I arrive. Kasra, assemble your sisters in my study. I have another prey for you to hunt down.”
Kasra glares at me. “We just got back from your first hunt. Can’t we rest up a couple of days?”
I give her a grin Madira would be proud of. “Of course you may. I will instruct Doll to prepare a nice, hot, soapy bath and Madira can wash off all that tension and dust off your naked bodies. I am sure you will enjoy it immensely.”
Kasra’s eyes definitely fill with fear and show holds out her hands in a warding gesture. “No, no, never mind. We’re good to fly! Honest!”
“As I suspected. Gather your sisters. I will not have my hunting delayed.”
When I arrive at the cell in question, Fell and Garmr at my side as always, I find Doll and Madira flanking the door, waiting for me. I obviously interrupt some sort of exchange, for Doll is holding down one of her lower eyelids and sticking her tongue out as Madira, still in war form, is wiggling her army of claws in Doll’s direction. My arrival signals a ceasefire, as both parties attempt to look like they’ve been carefully watching the door the entire time.
Before I approach them, I turn to my hellhounds. “You two stay here. No sense in frightening the poor girl anymore than we already have.” The two lay down and close their eyes.
I walk over to the door, and stare up at Madira. “My dear, if you could shift to a less threatening form, I would greatly appreciate it.”
She stares down at me. “Why? What’s wrong with the way I look?”
“Our new guests has been captured by demons, spirited away to a series of dungeons, and imprisoned in the sort of room mostly used by men who employ hot, pointy objects. I am afraid the arrival of a fully grown naga in war form will strip what little courage remains to her. While I know you have grown fond of your current form, I believe something less terrifying will serve us better now.”
Madira shrugs all six of her shoulders, and begins to change. Her tail shrinks, and then divides into two perfect legs, ending in two adorable bare feet. Her arms merge together, forming a single pair of limbs. I watch with amazement, and then shock as suddenly she stops reforming, with her face perfectly level with mine. For once in my life, I am speechless.
For the second time today, my face betrays my emotions. Madira smiles at me, the first time.
“So, do you like my new form? Doll showed me how to do it. She told me my kind uses it to track prey, since it’s much closer to the ground.”
My jaw works up and down, but words escape me. Unfortunately, Doll misreads my silence. Her smile vanishes, and she looks nervous. “You do like it, right?”
I shake my head, my tongue finally loosening. “Like it? I adore it! I utterly forgot the tracking form existed! I am certainly glad Doll remembered.”
Madira rushes forward, and gives me a hug, her arms perfectly wrapping around my body. For the first time, I realize that she is utterly naked. I cough, and hold her at arms length, trying to keep my eyes above her waist. I reach into my robe pocket, and pull out a leather skirt.
“I brought this, for you to wear.”
She smiles at me. “How sweet of you.” She puts it on, the leather straps hanging down to her knees. “I was hoping for something a little more revealing.”
I cough into my hand. “It was supposed to be much shorter. After all, you are several hands shorter. In any event, I believe we have kept our new guest waiting long enough.” I open the door, and step inside. Doll and Madira follow behind me.
Our newest arrival is sitting in a heavy wooden chair, with the seat extended long enough to support her legs. Her wrists are locked down to the chair’s armrests by thick metal cuffs. Similar shackles hold her ankles fast to the long seat. The reason the metal isn’t cutting into her skin is, like Kasra, her entire body is encased in armor.
The armor itself is completely seamless and form fitting. Its surface looks exactly like tree bark, colored a light brown. The only skin revealed is her adorable face, slightly orange, like the heartwood of a tree. Her long, flowing green hair is just starting to turn yellow and red, just as the leaves are starting to turn as summer gives way to fall. Thick red tears, reminiscent of sap, are slowly trickling down her face. She doesn’t notice my presence.
Madira turns to me. I notice she no longer needs to lean down to whisper in my ear. “What is she?”
In an equally hushed voice, I say, “She is a dryad, a warrior and protector of her forest. Now, if you will give me a moment, I must properly greet her.”
I turn back to the dryad and cough. I speak, and my voice sounds like the groaning of tree branches.
She gasps, and looks up. Her eyes are a deep, lipid green, like a forest pool. She notices me, smiles through her tears, and speaks to me. Her lovely words are like the passing of winds through the leaves.
Madira gives me a puzzled look. “You say what?”
“My apologize. I was speaking in the language of the forest. It is rather hard to translate into the common speech. I offered to her a greeting involving an expression of welcome and a promise of safety, as well as a formal reminder of the goblins’ promise to the dryads. She expressed her joy at my remembering and accepted the rules and customs of my house.”
Madira shakes her head. “Wait a minute. You capture her, latch her to a chair, and she is happy about that. Do you know her?”
“Of course not, otherwise I would have invited her here. No, goblins and dryads have long been allies and friends, and we share a common understanding about how we treat each other. She is merely glad that she has fallen into my benevolent hands as opposed to someone who meant her harm.”
“How does she know you don’t mean to hurt her?”
“Had I any intentions of harming her, I would not have reminded her about the promise, which states that goblins will never cause pain or suffering to the dryad kind.”
She shakes her head. “You forest creatures are strange. Any chance of continuing your talk in a language all of us can understand?”
I grin at her. “You are the only one here who does not speak treefolkish. Doll is as fluent as I.” Doll gives a quick nod. “However, I will endeavor to fufill your request.” I turn to the dryad. “Do you speak the words of man?”
She gives a shy smile. “I do… a little.” Her voice is soft and hushed, like the rustling of leaves.
“Very well, than in the tongue of man, I give you welcome to my humble home. I am known among the humans as Mirth, a goblin of magic. Might I inquire as to your name?”
“You may. I am Athialathaia.”
“Athialathaia, daughter of the rain. Very poetic.”
Madira grimaces. “Poetic or not, there’s no way I’m trying to pronounce that.”
I shake my head. “My second in command wishes to grant you a shorter name, one that comes much easier to those without the forest tongue. Would you mind being known among us as Athia, rain?”
She smiles. “I would not. I will be known as Athia.”
I gesture to my companions. “This is Madira, a daughter of the sand snakes. She possesses their power and will, but not their gaze of death nor their evil desires. She is loyal to me and will not harm you. On my right is Doll, created by my own hand. She is my ally more than servant. Now that we are all acquainted, allow me to extend some goblin hospitality.”
Suddenly Athia looks both nervous and eager, casting her eyes down as a red blush comes to her lovely cheeks. Madira, as usual, looks confused.
“Goblin hospitality?”
“But of course. It is customary for a goblin to welcome attractive female guests to his house by granting them the touch of laughter. I am sure you remember your first session upon arrival.”
One of Madira’s wicked grins crawls across her face. “I think I’m going to like goblin hospitality.”
“I was sure you would. Now, Athia, do you consent to me tickling you, as per the promise?”
Athia closes her eyes, and bits her lower lip. She nods.
I draw from my robe pocket a short, silver knife and approach Athia’s legs. Madira shrinks away from the knife.
“What’re you doing?”
“Preparing to remove Athia’s armor. It is created magically by her forest, and as such is impervious to most forms of damage. One of the few materials that can pierce it is silver.” I notice Athia flinch when I say forest, but ignore it for now.
I pull over a small stool, and study Athia’s armor. Unlike her hands, where the armor contours to her fingers perfectly, her feet are generally covered, the armor resembling a single, flat-soled boot. I feel along the edge of the boot, noting how rough the bark armor is. I place my dagger at the very tip of the boot, and slide it in, making sure to keep it flat. I switch my eyes to Athia’s face, making sure I haven’t damaged her. She is pointed looking away, her breathing quickening.
I slid the blade down the edge of the sole, cutting it away. When I reach the heel, I withdraw my knife, its edge sticky with a red liquid. Madira notices, and points.
“Did you cut her? Is the hurt?”
“Peace, Madira. I have not harmed her. Dryad’s bleed clear, like rain water. This is just the glue that holds her armor to her skin, a sort of padding.
I continue to cut, this time on the other side of her left foot, until the sole is completely separate from the rest of her armor. I gently pull it away. All that can be seen is a massive of red sap, completely obscuring her skin.
Doll makes a sick face. “Icky-sticky goo!”
“Quite,” I say, as I pull a small bottle of light blue liquid from my pocket. I put a few drops onto my knife, and watch as the red sap melts away. I place my knife back in my pocket, and remove a white rage. I douse it with the blue liquid, and begin rubbing down the mass of red. Slowly, a cute, little bare foot emerges, soft, orange tinted skin taut. I continue rubbing until I can see the undersides of her toes and every square inch of her arches. I hear Athia sigh in pleasure at my gentle touches.
Once her full foot is revealed, I place down the rag. I gesture for Madira to come closer.
“You see, Madira, the red sap holds the armor tight against her skin, allowing her greater mobility than a knight, whose armor is only held on by straps and buckles. However, now the sap serves our purpose, for the top of her foot and the backs of her toes are stuck fast to the top of her armor, preventing her from even scrunching her sole. Her bare foot is completely at my mercy.” I demonstrate this by wiggling a single claw on her arch.
Athia breaks out into giggles, reminiscent of a bubbling brook. Her cute face breaks out into a lovely smile.
“Such a defenseless position calls for a unique tool.” I reach once more into the pockets of my robes, and withdraw a short, wooden fork, its four tines smoothed and polished.
Madira scoffs. “A fork?”
“To you, it is just a simple fork. But to her, it will be an object of exquisite torture.”
I place the tines on the ball of her foot, and pull it all the way down, leaving four thin indentations down her arch and heel. Athia giggling like mad, the red tears following their familiar streams down her face. I scrap the fork up and down her foot, taking special care to linger on her arches. Then I begin to jab it lightly at her toes, listening to her shriek with laughter at every poke. I slid it under her toes, enjoying how immobile they are, and wiggle it up and down. Athia shakes her head and clenches her fingers, unable to move any other part of her body. I delight at her beautiful smile.
Madira interrupts my delightful task. “Okay, I’ll admit your fork is pretty tickly, but it is no match for my claws. Scoot over and let me show you.”
“I am afraid I have already laid claim to this particular foot. If you truly wish to exercise your claws, cut away her right foot armor yourself.”
“How? I can’t even touch silver, much less wield a knife made of it.”
“I did not say that silver was the only way to cut through her armor. Your claws are also infused with a powerful magic, strong enough to combat the magic of the bark armor.”
She blinks, and then smiles at me, turning to Athia’s right foot. She effortlessly puncture the armor with her claw, sweeping it around to sever the sole from the armor. She picks up my leftover rag, and wipes away at Athia’s foot, with a lot less care and patience than I did. Athia catches on to Madira’s plan.
“No, please, not both of my feet. I could not bear it!”
“I am afraid, my dear Athia, you have already placed yourself in our trust. Just relax and enjoy the sensations.” I tickle her bare foot with my fork, drowning out her protests with sweet laughter.
Meanwhile, Madira has finished cleaning off Athia’s foot, and begins tickling it with a vengeance, running both sets of six claws up her ticklish sole. If Athia’s previous laughter was like a rushing stream, this new attack creates a cascading waterfall. She shakes her head back and forth, throwing her laughing tears across the room.
I smile at Madira. “My dear, I do believe your tickling talents have surpassed me. I bow to your superior skills.”
Madira flushes with pleasure at my compliment, looking adorable as her tickling claws torment the captive foot. I continue to smile at her, my fork never leaving Athia’s ticklish skin.
“I do believe that we should consult our lovely guest to determine who has the greater ability. Cease a moment.”
We stop and let Athia catch her breath. She smile at us both, completely tickle drunk.
“Dear Athia, both Madira and I have taken great pleasure in providing you with the touch of laughter. We ask you now, whose touch did you prefer?”
She looks at me and grins. “Your tickles were fast and fun. I enjoyed them.”
She turns to Madira and glares, still smiling. “You. You were evil.”
Madira stares at her a moment, while I try not to laugh. Then, Madira’s face turns determined. “Oh, evil am I? Now you’re just asking for it. I’ll show you how evil I can be.”
She picks up the rag, and hops onto Athia’s lap, her smaller form allowing her to take a similar position to the one I took on her.
She grins up wickedly at Athia. “I have to ask you, are you ticklish anywhere else?”
Athia holds her head up high. “I will not tell you, Evil.”
Madira shrugs. “I guess I’ll just have to find out, starting here.” She places one claw where the armor turns into a great mound over Athia’s chest, and begins to cut away.
Athia gasps. “What are you doing? Take you hands off me! Do not tickle me there, I beg of you!”
As Madira slowly, agonizingly cuts away Athia’s chest armor, I feel a tap on my shoulder. Doll smiles at me.
“Can Doll tickle nice tree lady too?”
I stare at her for a moment. I designed Doll to love and adore being tickled, but I hadn’t thought to give her a tickler’s instinct. Much of my own personality, including my love of tickling, had been removed from her creation, allowing her own individuality to form. Had Doll spontaneously decided she liked to tickle?
“Doll, why do you want to tickle Athia?”
She smiles. “Doll likes being tickled! Tickles make Doll happy. Doll knows tree lady sad in her heart. Doll wanna make tree lady happy. So Doll wanna tickle tree lady.”
Her generosity! Of course. Doll knows why I had Athia brought her, just as well as I do. She knows Athia is troubled, and wants to make her happy. I ruffle Doll’s short hair.
“You may join us in our tickling games, Doll. Athia’s bare feet seem to be available. Try tickling her there.”
Doll gives me a happy smile and skips over to Athia. Meanwhile, Madira has stripped away the bark around Athia’s chest, and rubbed off enough sap to reveal two lovely, bare breasts. Her nipples are a deep orange and already visibly stiffened. Madira licks her lips, and cups the breasts in her hands, tickling away with her claws. Athia bursts into hysterical laughter, shouting out “Evil!” in between breaths.
Doll stares at the bare feet before her for a few moments, listening to Athia’s ticklish agony. Then, like a pianist, she raises her fingers, and lets them slowly descend upon the soft skin. She runs the tips of her fingers up and down the soles, sliding along the end of the arches and dipping down into the hollows of her toes. As Athia’s laughter rises, it is clear to me that Doll has learned from her own ticklish experiences exactly what tickles the most. As she lets her fingernails slightly scrape Athia’s arches, I cannot help but marvel at my own creation.
I step back, and lean against the wall, encasing this image in my memory. Three lovely girls, one laughing along to the tickling treatments of the other two. Madira’s face is a picture of delight, each poke or prod to Athia’s ticklish breasts bring a greater smile to her face. Doll’s eyes are closed; she tickling completely by feel. She is softly smiling, her serene face a complete contrast to Athia’s wild, laughing expression. Athia has completely given up, all her strength sapped by the terrible tickling. I can tell by Madira’s tickling claws and Doll’s roaming fingers, they could keep this up until sundown.
Sadly, it is once again my role to be the voice of reason and restraint.
“Doll, Madira, enough. Athia and I have some business to discuss.”
Doll immediately stops, cart wheeling back over to my side. Madira does not hear me, so lost is she in her tickling pleasure. I give a loud clap, and finally she responds, reluctantly climbing down from Athia’s lap.
Athia is a picture of lovely distress, her bare breasts heaving as she draws in air. I walk over and unfasten her shackles. She slowly moves down off the chair and sits on the ground, tucking her legs under her to subconsciously hide her bare feet. I remove my robe, and drape it over her shoulders. It magically resizes and she holds the edges, covering her bare breasts.
She smiles up at me. “Thank you. Thank you so much. I have not laughed so loud nor been so happy since…” Her face darkens. I can sense the unpleasant memories returning.
I sit next to her, as Doll and Madira sit near her. I cup her chin in my furry hand, and turn her face towards mine.
“My Athia, the past can sometimes be a poison, building up in our minds. Let us draw the poison from you. You are among friends here. Tell us what happened to your forest.”
She speaks, her voice initially calm, though her tears tell of her emotions. “They came to attack the forest. Earthskinned women with white tattoos. They came with blades and fire. I stood before them. I told them to leave, told them I would fight them. They laughed at me and fired arrows. I summoned the vines and roots, but the hacked at them with their blades. I heard the trees cry out with pain. They thrust fire at me, put the flame to the leaves around me. I heard the trees, my friends, scream with fear and I… I…”
She collapses against me, her tears sticking to my shirt as she begins to sob.
“I ran! I was so scared and I ran! The earthskinned women ignored me, let me run. They did not care about me. They just burned, and laughed. They could not hear the screaming. I ran away from there, from my friends. I failed to be a protector.”
Madira pats her on the shoulder and looks at me. “Earth skinned women? White tattoos? Who were they?”
I can hear Madira’s thoughts of revenge in her voice. I hear my own words grow cold. “Queen Anora’s special army. The one she enlisted when she seized this kingdom. Dryad’s groves are always enchanted, places of powerful magic and if there is anything Anora fears, it is magic in the hands of anyone but man.” I run my claws through Athia’s hair. “It is alright, you are safe now.”
She sniffles, clutching me close. “I have been so lonely. The forests are all gone. Cities of dead trees are all I could find. The people feared me, chased me away. You are the first to be so kind. I miss the voices of the trees.”
I hold her up, help her to stand. “My dear, I confess I knew of your plight. I sent my Hunters out to bring me a dryad bereft of her forest, and they brought me you. Though you cannot feel it through these stone walls, we are in a forest now. It is different than the ones you are used to, sharp pines instead of leaves, darker and stronger than your old forest. But it still speaks the voice of the trees and it is now without a dryad to protect it. If you wish, I will show it to you. Perhaps you would like to remain here and watch over our forest.”
She wipes away her tears with the back of her barked hand, and stares down at me.
“But, I failed to protect my last grove.”
“This time, you will not stand alone. Blackwood is an old and powerful forest. It will not yield to blades or fire. It will protect you as you protect it. And we all would love for to stay with us.”
I turn to Madira and Doll. Madira smiles and nods, while Doll runs up and hugs Athia with all her might.
Athia beams. “I would like that.”
As we walk under the dark pines and thick vines of Blackwood Forest, I can see Athia’s face filling with life. She listens to the forest’s groans and whispers and she gazes up into the high branches as her bare feet slid along the soft moss. Ever move, ever step unites her with this ancient wood.
We stop in a clearing, near a small pool of water. Madira stretches her back, showing off her incredible breasts, while Doll chases after a few black butterflies. Athia stands in the middle of the wood, her eyes closes, her pointed eyes listening to every breath of the forest. Suddenly she opens her eyes, and stares at me.
“You are right. This wood is much different than my old grove. It is much larger, stretching far beyond the reach of most woods I have seen. And as you said, it is stronger. Many fires and axes have tried and failed to fell this wood, and it has mocked every attack. Ancient and brooding, it has never had a need for a dryad to protect it. I am not sure I trust this dark power.”
I feel my heart stop for a moment.
Then Athia grins. “But it has asked me to join it and I will not refuse it. It offers its strength and power. I will accept its magics.”
Then she speaks, loudly and clearly for the first time, accepting the forest’s offer in its own language. Doll and Madira stop and stare, and Athia begins to rise from the forest floor, held aloft by ethereal winds My robe falls from her shoulders as her bark armor reshapes itself, turning the deep, almost black color that gives Blackwood its name. Her hair falls from her head, growing back in a dark green, the same hue as the pines. Soon it is long enough to sweep the ground behind her. Her feet descend back down to the ground.
Her armor has changed. Before, it covered her body like a knight’s armor, leaving not trace of skin. Now, it resembles gladiator armor, covering her shoulders and wrapping around the sides of her breasts, covering just the tips of her breasts while leaving her whole front bare. A strange, bark skirt covers her waist and thighs, while bark bracers adorn her shins and forearms. Her feet remain completely bare, and I stare at the tops of her adorable toes. She smiles at me.
“This is my casual armor. However, should danger threaten…”
The armor suddenly expands, encasing her entire body. Even a facemask forms, its roughly triangular shape revealing only her lipid eyes. Sharp, bark claws spring from her fingers tips. I can’t help but notice that though her feet are covered and armored, I can still make out the shape of her toes.
She turns to Madira and Doll, who shrink back slightly at her changed form.
As Athia speaks, her voice echoes slightly behind the mask, sounding much deeper. “I must repay you two for your hospitality. Allow me to give you the touch of laughter.”
Vines spring up from the moss, wrapping around the two girls. Their arms are bound to their sides, as the vines wrap around them, under their breasts all the way down to their feet. Tiny vines sneak their way into Doll’s shirt. I can see their outlines as they begin to tickle her breasts. As she squeals with laughter, other vines wrap around her tiny toes, pulling them back, and the tips begin to tickle up and down her bare soles. Soon Doll is drowning in giggling mirth.
Madira struggles against the vines, but in vain. Her current form is hardly strong enough to fight against the will of the forest. She closes her eyes and concentrates. I can tell from past experience that she intends to shift forms, most likely into her war form. However, the vines have finished wrapping around her toes and feet, and they begin tickling away at the tender toes and sensitive feet. I see Madira’s lips curl into an unwilling smile and she begins to laugh. As her concentration is ruined, she is drawn cover to Athia. I can tell from her voice that she is smiling.
“Evil snake, you cannot escape my vines. I will not let you rest long enough to break free. I hope you enjoy your laughter.”
A number of smaller vines rise up and begin tickling Madira’s beautiful breasts, teasing her nipples and stroking the soft sides. Madira explodes with laughter, joining in with Doll in a chorus. Her deep, subtly laughter combines well with Doll’s light giggles.
Athia turns to me, her mask falling away, her face seeking approval.
I nod to her. “When I sought you out, I had high hopes. In this moment, you have surpassed them. I believe you will serve perfectly.”
Athia looks at me with puzzlement.
“Serve as what?”
“The first of my Binders.”
I hope you enjoy the fourth installment of my Mirth series! Please comment or critique. I love both: the former keeps me writing while the second helps improve my style.
