ElFewja
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I've always had this thing for some type of ooze with a tickling property getting attached to the feet. It's something I've explored several times, actually. Mostly, I went out and got a candle one night and sat watching it burn and then... started to write this. Wrote it in early/mid 2012. I like it but it's probably not for everyone since it lacks a sort of tension; there isn't an adversary so much, you know? Enjoy.
The Top Floor (Machine/f feet)
"Of course," Her master spoke while looking out the window, "In order to complete your training we'll need to travel to the top floor, Sylvian."
The top floor. There were rumors, events of nightmarish proportions that befell apprentices under other masters. But--
"Sylvian?"
"Yes."
"I was ask--"
"I meant I will go. Yes, I will go."
Her master's eyebrows fell into one another as her eyes narrowed. With only a click of her tongue she turned around and exited the training quarters. Hesitating at first, unsure of whether or not she should, Sylvian followed.
Upon entering the silent hallway Sylvian's head turned, first left then right. Though the sun had looked at least two hours away from setting the evening torches were already lit, obscuring the hall with thick clouds of billowy white smoke.
"Sylvian!"
"Coming master." She darted down the hall after her master, first to her right, and then the left at the first intersection. Quickly rounding the corner led to almost walking straight into her master, who waited with crossed arms. Again she clicked her tongue, then turned, this time walking slowly.
"I swear girl, sometimes I wonder if you're ready."
"You know I am."
"I just wonder, is all."
"Is there anything left for you to teach me?"
Her master stopped, causing Sylvian to almost walk into her backside. As her master's right index finger slowly tapped at her left bicep Sylvian noticed the flame of a nearby torch crest and crash into itself, throwing a radius of smoke about.
"No." Just as suddenly her master began walking again, more hastily this time, so that Sylvian could barely keep up.
One of the gray robed apprentices peered out of her dormitory door's window at them as they passed. Sylvian watched the apprentice's eyes ogle her master before darting back. Her dark, coal-like eyes seemed to burst in flame when they caught hold of Sylvian, seemingly wringing her for an answer to a silent question.
But of course they would; even Sylvian knew that the staircase they approached only led to the top floor.
A deafening creak erupted down the hall as her master opened the wooden door; the sound came like a stream, overfilled by a week long storm so that it resembled a river, crashing into a low lying bridge. A gust of cold air vacating the stairwell freed a nearby torch of it's hungry fire.
They entered and closed the door.
"It's dark." An understatement, she thought, as she was unable to even imagine anything other than a lack of existence where they were.
Suddenly the shadow retreated, thrown back onto the stone blocks of the walls by an orange light which forced that fiend to canter about like a startled deer in a field.
"Impatient, as always." Her master began to walk up the steps while maneuvering her torch to her left hand, placing her now free hand on the rail.
"I always hear that patience is a virtue, but," her slipper, true to it's name, interrupted her by slipping off the edge of the step she had placed it on.
"Careful. Moisture accumulates here."
"I see." The step seemed more lenient to a gingerly touch and she began to slowly rise up the circular tower. Her slippers seemed to work against her as she climbed, sliding in the opposite direction that she moved, threatening to abandon her altogether at times. It didn't help that she could only fit the first quarter of her foot onto the step so that the backs of her slippers dangled precariously, hardly protecting her heels from the cool air that sucked at her soles.
"Are you sure you're ready?"
"Positive."
"We can turn back, you know."
"No."
"Hm. Excellent."
"Say again?"
"Without that kind of conviction it is unlikely you would be able to succeed, is all. That's why so many remain apprentices."
"Is it truly that difficult?"
"I cannot say."
"Well, of course you can. But you won't."
Even without the ability to see her master's face, she knew that she smiled.
"Of course."
For a while she listened to the clicks of their footsteps as they bounced down the stairs, toying at the idea of scampering down after them in order to reclaim them. Looking over the edge of the stairwell she tried to catch sight of the bottom, wondering how long it would take her to catch them and leave this forsaken tower, but the gluttonous shadows already claimed even the step behind her in it's maw. But then, who knew who, or further what, might hide in such thick darkness, or what it would do to a young woman such as herself. She stopped and her breathing quickened. Ahead she would have to face horrors her mind could not begin to fathom, and behind her formless nightmares planned her demise.
Somewhere above her metal clacked against metal and a moan roared down the stairs towards her. Quickly she fell to ground and huddled into the wall as a piercing yellow light leapt down the steps for her.
As she opened her mouth to scream, her master's voice called down at her. "Fool girl, hurry up! You've only an hour before supper so stop dawdling or you'll miss it."
She was on her feet and had cleared three steps before she had even realized it. "Coming, master!" A monster growled from inside of her stomach, the sound not unlike a cavern collapsing, rending itself from her abdomen yet quietly howling at the air like a well trained demon on a night lit by an overly fed moon.
"Now, slow down. Slow down!" her master's words came at her, but the darkness behind her crept faster than she could run, hastening her steps.
"Girl, stop! Now!" She stopped, turning her head to the right, slamming her chin into her shoulder as she did so. At least if something came she would be ready for it. "You can't enter this room as you are."
"Why?"
"Because apprentices are not allowed to see the room. Here." Something black slithered up her arm and coiled around her neck. Before she could scream her master's voice came again.
"Wrap that around your eyes. And be careful coming up the remainder of the steps." Touching the now lifeless serpent revealed it to be made of some soft material. Cloth, probably. As instructed, she stretched the material wide and wrapped it about her eyes, tying a knot behind her hair. Feeling at the wall, she hesitantly raised her slipper and let it fall slowly, feeling it slip slightly against the next step. Another step, and then a third. At the fourth her slipper gave way completely and she felt her knee crumble beneath her, until something cold grabbed at her wrist.
She screamed and the shrill thing she had loosed into the stairwell tumbled down, bouncing and mocking her the entire way until that darkness enveloped it and smote it from existence.
"Girl, what has gotten into you? This way." She sighed. Placing her foot on the next step was easy enough, but when she went to drop her left foot where the next step should have been she found nothing and tumbled forward.
"We're in the room, now."
"O-oh. Right."
"This way." They moved forward, the warm air brushing at her wrists and cheeks as she stepped.
"Here. Sit." Groping with her hands she felt something of wood, the grains of the board like the brushstroke's of a painter, placed carefully, twisting about in a circle. Moving her hands farther from her body she felt that it extended some distance. Leaning onto her hands, she gradually let her weight shift from her feet to her forearms, then turned and gently let her backside rest upon the boards.
"No, no not like that. Here."
Again, those cold things grabbed at her, but this time at her ankles. Her feet were lifted up and placed behind her.
"You need to sit on your knees."
"Ok." Throwing her arm to her right, she lifted her body and moved her legs underneath her. Her master pulled her feet further behind her, causing her knees to slightly scrape at the wood. Then, something else much colder grabbed at her ankles and she heard metal click.
"Hold your arms in front of you." Not wanting to question her master, she raised her arms and pointed them forward. Her master's nails brushed down her right wrist, then gripped her forearms together tightly so that she could feel her heart slowly pumping. Another set of much colder circles grasped her hands, and then a second metal click resounded. Soon after the tight things pulled her arms up above her head.
"What-"
"Hush!"
Suddenly the air behind her neck became unbearably warm and she tried to pull further away but found that the things that grasped her ankles held her in place. The air about her feet grew cold as she felt her slippers tugged away.
"My slippers?"
"You don't need them."
Something slithered between her toes, coiling about her pinky toe. It felt not unlike rope or string. As it tightened, it stretched her toe out, pulling the top of her foot flat against the wood. As the thing rounded her third toe, she attempted to wiggle her toes but found herself unable to pull them in.
"If you keep this up, I won't be able to wiggle my feet at all."
"That's the point.
Slowly the thing made its way around each of her toes, pulling them to the board, until at last they were all bound.
"What.. is this?"
"Your final trial. Obviously."
"Well... what am I supposed to do."
"That, is for you to figure out."
For a moment she pondered about her predicament. Obviously, she needed to find a way to get out. An attempt to pull her arms to her sides proved fruitless; whatever held her arms kept her from even being able to bend her elbows.
Trying to wiggle her toes proved impossible; though the string that dug into her flesh felt thin it was more powerful than she was. Her legs were stuck against the board.
Well, without an understanding of her environment, she reasoned that there would be no escape. Drawing in her breath, she allowed her diaphragm to extend. Slowly she allowed the air to release as she focused upon her lungs deflating. Again she breathed in, mentally forming a two as her ribcage subsided again.
In this way she counted to ten so that her mind was blank. Thoughts and images drifted across the void but she paid little heed to them, watching them float away as she would leaves down a stream.
With the eleventh exhale she extended the air around her like a bubble, slowly pushing it back to the walls of the room, feeling the features of each object in the room as though they were in her hands: the grains in the wood, the crooked tiles of the floor, her master sitting several feet in front of her, her legs crossed and her chin in her hand.
Behind her and above her legs ran a taut, miserable length of rope, fraying so badly that it seemed it might give way at any second. The rope held a board behind her, above her feet. Nearer to her a cylinder rested, giving way to the air she used to feel out the room. It was near the direction of the heat and rested under the rope.
"Ah." So that was it. Exhaling again -- now at twenty three -- she compressed a small amount of air in a half circle, letting it fly at what must be a candle.
Just as it neared the candle she lost sense of the air entirely. As she formed a second blade a warm substance not unlike water bounced against her heel, exploding upon impact. The thick, sticky material clung at her and she felt her heel begin to itch violently. The substance moved ever so slightly towards the edge of her heel, dropping off that cliff, quickly descending down her arch, coating a small trail. It felt like several ants walked down her foot and as she tried to wiggle it to relieve herself of that itch she remembered the strings that held her toes in strict bondage.
As the itch began to burn at her foot she realized she no longer knew how many breaths she had taken. Slowly, she allowed her diaphragm to fill once more but the gel-like substance held her focus as it nibbled at the ball of her foot, deciding to run around it to the left, so that more of her foot was conquered by the itchy goo.
A second drop landed against the heel of her other foot and seemed to burrow itself beneath her skin, embedding that strange sensation there. The corners of her mouths hooked upwards when the second drop claimed her vulnerable arch as a brief giggle welled up in her.
I need to stop that candle, or else I won't be able to concentrate, she thought to herself. Exhaling, she stretched her fingers then dug her nails into her palms, pushing a ball of air around the strange candle so that no more of it's wax would touch her.
The ball of air brushed against the rope and she took notice of a gap. The gap continued to grow despite her attempt to ward off the candle. Her smile widened as the second trail gained speed and sped over the hill that was her foot's ball, digging a trench for that itching sensation to take over. Still, if it was only a small amount of the wax, she could do it. She could feel several drops of the substance forming at the base of her bubble as the candle wore itself down; she blew air out of her nostrils as the back of her head began to ache, the weight of the bubble growing tremendously; at the rate the wax fell she would be unable to maintain the bubble for long.
Suddenly she became aware of the first trail as it neared the base of her toes, the itch growing to maddening proportions. She shook her head and gripped her teeth together tightly, fending off the smile that forced itself upon her face as she dug her nails into her palms tightly. The drop fell over that crevice, between her middle and third toe, where the itch took on the sensation of a feather striking at her, sawing between her toes, mining for her golden laughter.
A sharp, light chuckle forced itself from her lips and she whispered oh goddess under her breath. The intense pain in the back of her head banged against her skull as a nosy neighbor would bang upon a door, shouting some inane, unwelcome question.
The second trail spread quickly, the drop breaking in two, hungry to devour both her big and middle toes. She whispered no, no no under her breath as she pulled at her foot, wiggling her toes wildly in an attempt to break the bond. Instead of restraining the droplets she could feel her movements goad them on faster, towards the edges of her toe. She felt it near, felt it stand at the cliff as she bit her lip then murmured no, no not that.
As if urged by her words the drop split off, diving between her wiggling toes which smeared the gel tightly between them. The fire burned at her instantly, pleading with her to give in. Dropping her head she began to chuckle lightly as her toes twitched rapidly, the torturous burning intensifying each time her flesh rubbed against itself.
Unable to accept reality beyond her toes she laughed lightly, rapidly exhaling hot breaths of air into her dress, moistening the collar. Sensing her smile begin to claim her cheeks again she bit her collar tightly then drew her head up, dragging it with her. If she kept calm, if--
Her feet, her arches and her heels suddenly became warm and very wet, as if plunged into a swamp's murky abyss. Releasing the captive collar her jaw dropped as her head fell back onto stiffened arches while her mouth drew in as much air as her lungs would allow. The eep that tried to rend itself of her came halfheartedly, smothered out by the laughter that had broken free of the dam within her.
Still, she could hear her master speak. "Yes," came the cold, metallic words as the laughter poured from her. "Laugh harder. Suffer." If she said more she no longer had the willpower to comprehend it; her mind could only picture the two sensory organs behind her and the suffering that they underwent.
It seemed as if tiny critters scurried about her feet, their touch leaving a burning itch racing across her soles. She could feel the goo envelop more of her feet, dripping downward wetly, sucking more and more flesh into it's smiling void, forcing that well of laughter to surge from her without heed for the ripping pain it brought her throat. The slick material coated her balls and she began to plead. "Oh goddess!" she panted out between her pained laughter, "no!" A fit of laughter rolled through her as the material coated the flesh just before her toes, plunging them into an inferno, causing her to slump forward, dangling by her bound arms. "Goddess... master!" she forced out through her smiling lips, laughing harder as the ooze slowly gained upon her toes, "Please! Help."
The ooze touched the edge of her flesh and she drew in her breath, holding it. Against her will the sensations pulled her lips to her cheeks once more, then forced her teeth to reveal themselves as the gel glanced over the edge of her foot, towards her toes. Several drops slammed into her heels and she winced. The drops darted down her sole, down her arches and around the balls of her feet, shoving the hesitating members onward, towards those pinned prisoners which withheld the secrets of her ticklishness.
At once her toes combusting, igniting into a burning flame of maddeningly light tickles that seemed to pierce straight through her with pinpoint accuracy. The feeling was horrible, worse than anything she had felt and beyond her mind's ability to describe it. Throwing her head back and laughing was not enough to announce the sensations that berated her; her torso flailed wildly as she laughed nonstop, a painful scraping gnawing at her wrists as she desperately tried to free her hands of the shackles that kept them in place. Something damp trickled lightly from her palms to her wrists, followed by a stabbing pain where her nails rammed themselves into her hands.
She heard something snap beyond her cries of laughter and then a thud. New sensations met her: several spinning, whirling sensations that allied themselves along the insane itch, and she could only imagine that they were the embodiments of tickling and laughter themselves, choosing her feet as their new avatar.
A simple shriek came to life before quickly being smothered by the laughter that poured from her as the whirling devices prickled her flesh, spreading that strange, itching liquid about until the entirety of her soles were consumed. The light, prickling caresses of what felt like a makeup brush circled about her skin, turning the itching into a burning, agonizing sensation that seemed to soak into her flesh.
"I yield," She howled out, yelling louder than she had intended.
There was a distinct, clicking sound that she barely heard over her own laughter echoing within the room. As she tugged at her wrists the metal bit back harshly, offering not even a slight illusion of movement or freedom. No matter how she shifted her upper torso the shackles at her ankles held her feet in place for the brushes to trace their circles. Coupled with the bindings around her toes she could only allow her immobile feet to sit complacently and receive their punishment, which caused the muscles of her stomach to lump together in a bulge and continuously expel violent laughs.
More twirling sensations came, twisting about between her toes, splattering the liquid that had pooled there elsewhere, completely coating the edges and tips of her toes.
"Master!" She howled again.
For several moments she sat, the brushes at her feet commanding her to laugh at her failure and the situation she was now in. Falling forward limply, the bindings at her arms refusing to let her drop more than a few inches, she gasped for three swift gusts of air before slamming her teeth together and squealing. Still, despite being inescapably locked into this horrid tickling machine that seemed designed to milk her of her precious laughter, she had to make an attempt to break free. The material that held her toes, though strong, was somewhat pliable, allowing her toes subtle movement. With great effort she wiggled the toes of her right foot, clenching them in slightly, intensifying the feeling of the brushes enough that her foot spasmed, the toes attempting to spread away from the brushes but held fast by the bindings.
But if she could grab and halt the brushes, or at the very least allow her toes to escape... she had to try again.
Again, she struggled to pull her toes inward, the intense sensations bringing tears to her eyes as her toe pads neared the base of her foot. Blood rushed to her face as she attempted to hold the brushes still but the tickling became too much, overpowering her and forcing her to scream out laughter, leaving her throat feeling more and more raw with each guffaw that escaped. A tightness began rippling through her right arch and though she sought to ignore the pain it proved far worse than the tickling. Deciding the tickling was not nearly as painful, she released her toes, the bindings pulling her foot tightly against the wood with a thwuck and a snap.
Her body became rigid as she released a new flurry of laughter from her now gaping mouth. The brushes that had been between her right toes now drew (light circles) upon her immobile toe pads. All at once she twisted her torso wildly, pulling at both the shackles at her wrists and ankles, desperately trying to free herself from the tickling machine.
"Help!" she called out, unable to bear anymore, feeling the blindfold growing damp, the cloth grasping her face tightly. "Please, help!" she gasped out between pained laughs. A thought suddenly coalesced: what if she had been expected to overcome the trial? What if her master was no longer there, had long since abandoned her?
Through her smile her lungs drew in several quick pants of air so that she might continue her tortured laughs. How much more can I take? How much longer?
The thought forced her smile into stern submission and she attempted to draw back, pushing her consciousness to a coal-like center as she took in a quick puff of air. If she could just.. do something, conjure anything.. if she could stop the tickling... the tickling. For a moment the edges of her lips curled but she quickly beat them back into a solemn line as she imagined objects that might aid her, such as water to wash away the foul goo that seeped onto her. Her lips puckered. A flame, fire, to burn the machine.. it would hurt a little but she could escape. Wispy flames that could catch the machine off guard, pin it down, invade it from within, that would dance, spin, twirl around upon they're toes until.. until... she bit her lower lip as the ends of her lips crooked upward. Sensations poked and prodded at her mind and her focus wavered. She fought against it, giving off a growl like snicker through gritted teeth before straightening and releasing an explosion of laughter like an erupting geyser.
Once again she limped forward, her mouth gaping wide open like the V-like mask of a jester, her torment entertaining crowds around her, they guffawing together with her forced laughter. However her cries lasted only mere seconds before silence loomed loudly about her. Unable to close her mouth, or even convince that crazed smile to disappear, she hung, twisting lightly on occasion, her limp muscles unable to even tug at her bondage. Air no longer escaped, as if an invisible gag was held to her mouth, preventing her from breathing, even going so far as to steal her treasured laughter from her. Even if it was the only means she had by which to express the torment that her fair flesh underwent, having that taken from her set her stomach ablaze. It was inadequate at describing the torture, surely, but at least she had been able to express her torment. The brief idea that she could not acknowledge her own suffering but was instead forced to sit there smiling happily as if she enjoyed the situation burned her insides. This, however, had a short life span before it too was kidnapped from her.
Foreign sounds echoed but her focus remained upon her sensitive toes, each bristle that galloped across them feeling like a horse's hoof in size. But then they stopped prancing about, shoed off somewhere, perhaps to a neighboring maiden's trapped soles in order to graze upon her squealing laughter instead.
Thoughts coalesced between the burning, itchy tickles that continued to soak into her flesh, and she understood the brief sounds from earlier. You've suffered enough.
"-a moment near the end I thought you might overcome the challenge." A slight weight vanished from her feet. "Still, a failure is a failure." Some strange clicking sounds came from above her. "I'm going to release your arms now. Don't fall."
Tightness disappeared from her wrists and she began to drift forward, her arms falling limply, preventing the collapse.
"Hm. Supper will be ready in about forty-five minutes." Her right arm gave way and she sluggishly crashed onto her elbow, slumping onto her shoulder.
"Forty... five...?" She panted out.
"Yes. Forty five minutes. Use your powers to get out of this then clean yourself up. If you're late you won't eat."
"Only... fifteen... minutes?"
"Dear." Her master clucked out quickly like a hen when it's feathers were rustled. "It probably took us ten minutes just to climb the tower and prepare. Your trial only lasted five minutes."
"Fi...five... you're...-"
"I assure you," Even without seeing her, she knew her master's arms were crossed, "It was five minutes, if that. Now," a scratching upon the tiles came, followed by several clacks, "Clean yourself up." The sound of metal slithering along metal followed, ushered out by the muffled thunder of wood crashing shut.
Sylvian remained as she was for several minutes, panting, attempting to block out the mild, giggle inducing prongs that pierced her feet. "Five... five minutes..."
The Top Floor (Machine/f feet)
"Of course," Her master spoke while looking out the window, "In order to complete your training we'll need to travel to the top floor, Sylvian."
The top floor. There were rumors, events of nightmarish proportions that befell apprentices under other masters. But--
"Sylvian?"
"Yes."
"I was ask--"
"I meant I will go. Yes, I will go."
Her master's eyebrows fell into one another as her eyes narrowed. With only a click of her tongue she turned around and exited the training quarters. Hesitating at first, unsure of whether or not she should, Sylvian followed.
Upon entering the silent hallway Sylvian's head turned, first left then right. Though the sun had looked at least two hours away from setting the evening torches were already lit, obscuring the hall with thick clouds of billowy white smoke.
"Sylvian!"
"Coming master." She darted down the hall after her master, first to her right, and then the left at the first intersection. Quickly rounding the corner led to almost walking straight into her master, who waited with crossed arms. Again she clicked her tongue, then turned, this time walking slowly.
"I swear girl, sometimes I wonder if you're ready."
"You know I am."
"I just wonder, is all."
"Is there anything left for you to teach me?"
Her master stopped, causing Sylvian to almost walk into her backside. As her master's right index finger slowly tapped at her left bicep Sylvian noticed the flame of a nearby torch crest and crash into itself, throwing a radius of smoke about.
"No." Just as suddenly her master began walking again, more hastily this time, so that Sylvian could barely keep up.
One of the gray robed apprentices peered out of her dormitory door's window at them as they passed. Sylvian watched the apprentice's eyes ogle her master before darting back. Her dark, coal-like eyes seemed to burst in flame when they caught hold of Sylvian, seemingly wringing her for an answer to a silent question.
But of course they would; even Sylvian knew that the staircase they approached only led to the top floor.
A deafening creak erupted down the hall as her master opened the wooden door; the sound came like a stream, overfilled by a week long storm so that it resembled a river, crashing into a low lying bridge. A gust of cold air vacating the stairwell freed a nearby torch of it's hungry fire.
They entered and closed the door.
"It's dark." An understatement, she thought, as she was unable to even imagine anything other than a lack of existence where they were.
Suddenly the shadow retreated, thrown back onto the stone blocks of the walls by an orange light which forced that fiend to canter about like a startled deer in a field.
"Impatient, as always." Her master began to walk up the steps while maneuvering her torch to her left hand, placing her now free hand on the rail.
"I always hear that patience is a virtue, but," her slipper, true to it's name, interrupted her by slipping off the edge of the step she had placed it on.
"Careful. Moisture accumulates here."
"I see." The step seemed more lenient to a gingerly touch and she began to slowly rise up the circular tower. Her slippers seemed to work against her as she climbed, sliding in the opposite direction that she moved, threatening to abandon her altogether at times. It didn't help that she could only fit the first quarter of her foot onto the step so that the backs of her slippers dangled precariously, hardly protecting her heels from the cool air that sucked at her soles.
"Are you sure you're ready?"
"Positive."
"We can turn back, you know."
"No."
"Hm. Excellent."
"Say again?"
"Without that kind of conviction it is unlikely you would be able to succeed, is all. That's why so many remain apprentices."
"Is it truly that difficult?"
"I cannot say."
"Well, of course you can. But you won't."
Even without the ability to see her master's face, she knew that she smiled.
"Of course."
For a while she listened to the clicks of their footsteps as they bounced down the stairs, toying at the idea of scampering down after them in order to reclaim them. Looking over the edge of the stairwell she tried to catch sight of the bottom, wondering how long it would take her to catch them and leave this forsaken tower, but the gluttonous shadows already claimed even the step behind her in it's maw. But then, who knew who, or further what, might hide in such thick darkness, or what it would do to a young woman such as herself. She stopped and her breathing quickened. Ahead she would have to face horrors her mind could not begin to fathom, and behind her formless nightmares planned her demise.
Somewhere above her metal clacked against metal and a moan roared down the stairs towards her. Quickly she fell to ground and huddled into the wall as a piercing yellow light leapt down the steps for her.
As she opened her mouth to scream, her master's voice called down at her. "Fool girl, hurry up! You've only an hour before supper so stop dawdling or you'll miss it."
She was on her feet and had cleared three steps before she had even realized it. "Coming, master!" A monster growled from inside of her stomach, the sound not unlike a cavern collapsing, rending itself from her abdomen yet quietly howling at the air like a well trained demon on a night lit by an overly fed moon.
"Now, slow down. Slow down!" her master's words came at her, but the darkness behind her crept faster than she could run, hastening her steps.
"Girl, stop! Now!" She stopped, turning her head to the right, slamming her chin into her shoulder as she did so. At least if something came she would be ready for it. "You can't enter this room as you are."
"Why?"
"Because apprentices are not allowed to see the room. Here." Something black slithered up her arm and coiled around her neck. Before she could scream her master's voice came again.
"Wrap that around your eyes. And be careful coming up the remainder of the steps." Touching the now lifeless serpent revealed it to be made of some soft material. Cloth, probably. As instructed, she stretched the material wide and wrapped it about her eyes, tying a knot behind her hair. Feeling at the wall, she hesitantly raised her slipper and let it fall slowly, feeling it slip slightly against the next step. Another step, and then a third. At the fourth her slipper gave way completely and she felt her knee crumble beneath her, until something cold grabbed at her wrist.
She screamed and the shrill thing she had loosed into the stairwell tumbled down, bouncing and mocking her the entire way until that darkness enveloped it and smote it from existence.
"Girl, what has gotten into you? This way." She sighed. Placing her foot on the next step was easy enough, but when she went to drop her left foot where the next step should have been she found nothing and tumbled forward.
"We're in the room, now."
"O-oh. Right."
"This way." They moved forward, the warm air brushing at her wrists and cheeks as she stepped.
"Here. Sit." Groping with her hands she felt something of wood, the grains of the board like the brushstroke's of a painter, placed carefully, twisting about in a circle. Moving her hands farther from her body she felt that it extended some distance. Leaning onto her hands, she gradually let her weight shift from her feet to her forearms, then turned and gently let her backside rest upon the boards.
"No, no not like that. Here."
Again, those cold things grabbed at her, but this time at her ankles. Her feet were lifted up and placed behind her.
"You need to sit on your knees."
"Ok." Throwing her arm to her right, she lifted her body and moved her legs underneath her. Her master pulled her feet further behind her, causing her knees to slightly scrape at the wood. Then, something else much colder grabbed at her ankles and she heard metal click.
"Hold your arms in front of you." Not wanting to question her master, she raised her arms and pointed them forward. Her master's nails brushed down her right wrist, then gripped her forearms together tightly so that she could feel her heart slowly pumping. Another set of much colder circles grasped her hands, and then a second metal click resounded. Soon after the tight things pulled her arms up above her head.
"What-"
"Hush!"
Suddenly the air behind her neck became unbearably warm and she tried to pull further away but found that the things that grasped her ankles held her in place. The air about her feet grew cold as she felt her slippers tugged away.
"My slippers?"
"You don't need them."
Something slithered between her toes, coiling about her pinky toe. It felt not unlike rope or string. As it tightened, it stretched her toe out, pulling the top of her foot flat against the wood. As the thing rounded her third toe, she attempted to wiggle her toes but found herself unable to pull them in.
"If you keep this up, I won't be able to wiggle my feet at all."
"That's the point.
Slowly the thing made its way around each of her toes, pulling them to the board, until at last they were all bound.
"What.. is this?"
"Your final trial. Obviously."
"Well... what am I supposed to do."
"That, is for you to figure out."
For a moment she pondered about her predicament. Obviously, she needed to find a way to get out. An attempt to pull her arms to her sides proved fruitless; whatever held her arms kept her from even being able to bend her elbows.
Trying to wiggle her toes proved impossible; though the string that dug into her flesh felt thin it was more powerful than she was. Her legs were stuck against the board.
Well, without an understanding of her environment, she reasoned that there would be no escape. Drawing in her breath, she allowed her diaphragm to extend. Slowly she allowed the air to release as she focused upon her lungs deflating. Again she breathed in, mentally forming a two as her ribcage subsided again.
In this way she counted to ten so that her mind was blank. Thoughts and images drifted across the void but she paid little heed to them, watching them float away as she would leaves down a stream.
With the eleventh exhale she extended the air around her like a bubble, slowly pushing it back to the walls of the room, feeling the features of each object in the room as though they were in her hands: the grains in the wood, the crooked tiles of the floor, her master sitting several feet in front of her, her legs crossed and her chin in her hand.
Behind her and above her legs ran a taut, miserable length of rope, fraying so badly that it seemed it might give way at any second. The rope held a board behind her, above her feet. Nearer to her a cylinder rested, giving way to the air she used to feel out the room. It was near the direction of the heat and rested under the rope.
"Ah." So that was it. Exhaling again -- now at twenty three -- she compressed a small amount of air in a half circle, letting it fly at what must be a candle.
Just as it neared the candle she lost sense of the air entirely. As she formed a second blade a warm substance not unlike water bounced against her heel, exploding upon impact. The thick, sticky material clung at her and she felt her heel begin to itch violently. The substance moved ever so slightly towards the edge of her heel, dropping off that cliff, quickly descending down her arch, coating a small trail. It felt like several ants walked down her foot and as she tried to wiggle it to relieve herself of that itch she remembered the strings that held her toes in strict bondage.
As the itch began to burn at her foot she realized she no longer knew how many breaths she had taken. Slowly, she allowed her diaphragm to fill once more but the gel-like substance held her focus as it nibbled at the ball of her foot, deciding to run around it to the left, so that more of her foot was conquered by the itchy goo.
A second drop landed against the heel of her other foot and seemed to burrow itself beneath her skin, embedding that strange sensation there. The corners of her mouths hooked upwards when the second drop claimed her vulnerable arch as a brief giggle welled up in her.
I need to stop that candle, or else I won't be able to concentrate, she thought to herself. Exhaling, she stretched her fingers then dug her nails into her palms, pushing a ball of air around the strange candle so that no more of it's wax would touch her.
The ball of air brushed against the rope and she took notice of a gap. The gap continued to grow despite her attempt to ward off the candle. Her smile widened as the second trail gained speed and sped over the hill that was her foot's ball, digging a trench for that itching sensation to take over. Still, if it was only a small amount of the wax, she could do it. She could feel several drops of the substance forming at the base of her bubble as the candle wore itself down; she blew air out of her nostrils as the back of her head began to ache, the weight of the bubble growing tremendously; at the rate the wax fell she would be unable to maintain the bubble for long.
Suddenly she became aware of the first trail as it neared the base of her toes, the itch growing to maddening proportions. She shook her head and gripped her teeth together tightly, fending off the smile that forced itself upon her face as she dug her nails into her palms tightly. The drop fell over that crevice, between her middle and third toe, where the itch took on the sensation of a feather striking at her, sawing between her toes, mining for her golden laughter.
A sharp, light chuckle forced itself from her lips and she whispered oh goddess under her breath. The intense pain in the back of her head banged against her skull as a nosy neighbor would bang upon a door, shouting some inane, unwelcome question.
The second trail spread quickly, the drop breaking in two, hungry to devour both her big and middle toes. She whispered no, no no under her breath as she pulled at her foot, wiggling her toes wildly in an attempt to break the bond. Instead of restraining the droplets she could feel her movements goad them on faster, towards the edges of her toe. She felt it near, felt it stand at the cliff as she bit her lip then murmured no, no not that.
As if urged by her words the drop split off, diving between her wiggling toes which smeared the gel tightly between them. The fire burned at her instantly, pleading with her to give in. Dropping her head she began to chuckle lightly as her toes twitched rapidly, the torturous burning intensifying each time her flesh rubbed against itself.
Unable to accept reality beyond her toes she laughed lightly, rapidly exhaling hot breaths of air into her dress, moistening the collar. Sensing her smile begin to claim her cheeks again she bit her collar tightly then drew her head up, dragging it with her. If she kept calm, if--
Her feet, her arches and her heels suddenly became warm and very wet, as if plunged into a swamp's murky abyss. Releasing the captive collar her jaw dropped as her head fell back onto stiffened arches while her mouth drew in as much air as her lungs would allow. The eep that tried to rend itself of her came halfheartedly, smothered out by the laughter that had broken free of the dam within her.
Still, she could hear her master speak. "Yes," came the cold, metallic words as the laughter poured from her. "Laugh harder. Suffer." If she said more she no longer had the willpower to comprehend it; her mind could only picture the two sensory organs behind her and the suffering that they underwent.
It seemed as if tiny critters scurried about her feet, their touch leaving a burning itch racing across her soles. She could feel the goo envelop more of her feet, dripping downward wetly, sucking more and more flesh into it's smiling void, forcing that well of laughter to surge from her without heed for the ripping pain it brought her throat. The slick material coated her balls and she began to plead. "Oh goddess!" she panted out between her pained laughter, "no!" A fit of laughter rolled through her as the material coated the flesh just before her toes, plunging them into an inferno, causing her to slump forward, dangling by her bound arms. "Goddess... master!" she forced out through her smiling lips, laughing harder as the ooze slowly gained upon her toes, "Please! Help."
The ooze touched the edge of her flesh and she drew in her breath, holding it. Against her will the sensations pulled her lips to her cheeks once more, then forced her teeth to reveal themselves as the gel glanced over the edge of her foot, towards her toes. Several drops slammed into her heels and she winced. The drops darted down her sole, down her arches and around the balls of her feet, shoving the hesitating members onward, towards those pinned prisoners which withheld the secrets of her ticklishness.
At once her toes combusting, igniting into a burning flame of maddeningly light tickles that seemed to pierce straight through her with pinpoint accuracy. The feeling was horrible, worse than anything she had felt and beyond her mind's ability to describe it. Throwing her head back and laughing was not enough to announce the sensations that berated her; her torso flailed wildly as she laughed nonstop, a painful scraping gnawing at her wrists as she desperately tried to free her hands of the shackles that kept them in place. Something damp trickled lightly from her palms to her wrists, followed by a stabbing pain where her nails rammed themselves into her hands.
She heard something snap beyond her cries of laughter and then a thud. New sensations met her: several spinning, whirling sensations that allied themselves along the insane itch, and she could only imagine that they were the embodiments of tickling and laughter themselves, choosing her feet as their new avatar.
A simple shriek came to life before quickly being smothered by the laughter that poured from her as the whirling devices prickled her flesh, spreading that strange, itching liquid about until the entirety of her soles were consumed. The light, prickling caresses of what felt like a makeup brush circled about her skin, turning the itching into a burning, agonizing sensation that seemed to soak into her flesh.
"I yield," She howled out, yelling louder than she had intended.
There was a distinct, clicking sound that she barely heard over her own laughter echoing within the room. As she tugged at her wrists the metal bit back harshly, offering not even a slight illusion of movement or freedom. No matter how she shifted her upper torso the shackles at her ankles held her feet in place for the brushes to trace their circles. Coupled with the bindings around her toes she could only allow her immobile feet to sit complacently and receive their punishment, which caused the muscles of her stomach to lump together in a bulge and continuously expel violent laughs.
More twirling sensations came, twisting about between her toes, splattering the liquid that had pooled there elsewhere, completely coating the edges and tips of her toes.
"Master!" She howled again.
For several moments she sat, the brushes at her feet commanding her to laugh at her failure and the situation she was now in. Falling forward limply, the bindings at her arms refusing to let her drop more than a few inches, she gasped for three swift gusts of air before slamming her teeth together and squealing. Still, despite being inescapably locked into this horrid tickling machine that seemed designed to milk her of her precious laughter, she had to make an attempt to break free. The material that held her toes, though strong, was somewhat pliable, allowing her toes subtle movement. With great effort she wiggled the toes of her right foot, clenching them in slightly, intensifying the feeling of the brushes enough that her foot spasmed, the toes attempting to spread away from the brushes but held fast by the bindings.
But if she could grab and halt the brushes, or at the very least allow her toes to escape... she had to try again.
Again, she struggled to pull her toes inward, the intense sensations bringing tears to her eyes as her toe pads neared the base of her foot. Blood rushed to her face as she attempted to hold the brushes still but the tickling became too much, overpowering her and forcing her to scream out laughter, leaving her throat feeling more and more raw with each guffaw that escaped. A tightness began rippling through her right arch and though she sought to ignore the pain it proved far worse than the tickling. Deciding the tickling was not nearly as painful, she released her toes, the bindings pulling her foot tightly against the wood with a thwuck and a snap.
Her body became rigid as she released a new flurry of laughter from her now gaping mouth. The brushes that had been between her right toes now drew (light circles) upon her immobile toe pads. All at once she twisted her torso wildly, pulling at both the shackles at her wrists and ankles, desperately trying to free herself from the tickling machine.
"Help!" she called out, unable to bear anymore, feeling the blindfold growing damp, the cloth grasping her face tightly. "Please, help!" she gasped out between pained laughs. A thought suddenly coalesced: what if she had been expected to overcome the trial? What if her master was no longer there, had long since abandoned her?
Through her smile her lungs drew in several quick pants of air so that she might continue her tortured laughs. How much more can I take? How much longer?
The thought forced her smile into stern submission and she attempted to draw back, pushing her consciousness to a coal-like center as she took in a quick puff of air. If she could just.. do something, conjure anything.. if she could stop the tickling... the tickling. For a moment the edges of her lips curled but she quickly beat them back into a solemn line as she imagined objects that might aid her, such as water to wash away the foul goo that seeped onto her. Her lips puckered. A flame, fire, to burn the machine.. it would hurt a little but she could escape. Wispy flames that could catch the machine off guard, pin it down, invade it from within, that would dance, spin, twirl around upon they're toes until.. until... she bit her lower lip as the ends of her lips crooked upward. Sensations poked and prodded at her mind and her focus wavered. She fought against it, giving off a growl like snicker through gritted teeth before straightening and releasing an explosion of laughter like an erupting geyser.
Once again she limped forward, her mouth gaping wide open like the V-like mask of a jester, her torment entertaining crowds around her, they guffawing together with her forced laughter. However her cries lasted only mere seconds before silence loomed loudly about her. Unable to close her mouth, or even convince that crazed smile to disappear, she hung, twisting lightly on occasion, her limp muscles unable to even tug at her bondage. Air no longer escaped, as if an invisible gag was held to her mouth, preventing her from breathing, even going so far as to steal her treasured laughter from her. Even if it was the only means she had by which to express the torment that her fair flesh underwent, having that taken from her set her stomach ablaze. It was inadequate at describing the torture, surely, but at least she had been able to express her torment. The brief idea that she could not acknowledge her own suffering but was instead forced to sit there smiling happily as if she enjoyed the situation burned her insides. This, however, had a short life span before it too was kidnapped from her.
Foreign sounds echoed but her focus remained upon her sensitive toes, each bristle that galloped across them feeling like a horse's hoof in size. But then they stopped prancing about, shoed off somewhere, perhaps to a neighboring maiden's trapped soles in order to graze upon her squealing laughter instead.
Thoughts coalesced between the burning, itchy tickles that continued to soak into her flesh, and she understood the brief sounds from earlier. You've suffered enough.
"-a moment near the end I thought you might overcome the challenge." A slight weight vanished from her feet. "Still, a failure is a failure." Some strange clicking sounds came from above her. "I'm going to release your arms now. Don't fall."
Tightness disappeared from her wrists and she began to drift forward, her arms falling limply, preventing the collapse.
"Hm. Supper will be ready in about forty-five minutes." Her right arm gave way and she sluggishly crashed onto her elbow, slumping onto her shoulder.
"Forty... five...?" She panted out.
"Yes. Forty five minutes. Use your powers to get out of this then clean yourself up. If you're late you won't eat."
"Only... fifteen... minutes?"
"Dear." Her master clucked out quickly like a hen when it's feathers were rustled. "It probably took us ten minutes just to climb the tower and prepare. Your trial only lasted five minutes."
"Fi...five... you're...-"
"I assure you," Even without seeing her, she knew her master's arms were crossed, "It was five minutes, if that. Now," a scratching upon the tiles came, followed by several clacks, "Clean yourself up." The sound of metal slithering along metal followed, ushered out by the muffled thunder of wood crashing shut.
Sylvian remained as she was for several minutes, panting, attempting to block out the mild, giggle inducing prongs that pierced her feet. "Five... five minutes..."
