Hey, everybody! This story was a request from TMF member echolocation34. I liked the challenge because it meant getting a certain item into a certain setting that wasn't immediately obvious. In other words, if the setup seems long, it's because I wanted to take this story seriously and make the parts of the request fit each other.
But that's too much preamble, no? Have a read, and leave a comment, and then leave another author's story a comment!
As Feathers to Wanton Girls (f/f)
by
Kid Indy
She could feel the eyes on her as she made her way to her row. Those whose long stares were not undressing her simply marveled at her height--they had not often seen a girl so tall. She stowed her carry-on and sat, her phone already in hand. And there, once more, the face that was her torment.
Cindy.
Cindy visiting sick children at a hospital in Singapore.
Cindy posing with the Chinese national basketball team.
Cindy doing another television interview as the hosts--Australian--fawned over the fashion world’s rising star.
Lara closed the Twitter app and opened her blog-aggregator. And there she was again: the new wonder from Shanghai, the fashion world’s new darling.
Cindy.
Cindy brings new honesty and freshness to the runway!
Cindy adds personality to the runway side in an industry that is all about designers.
Cindy is taking the Pacific Rim by storm, and now she’s headed to Paris!
“Well, Cindy, you’re in luck. That’s just where I’m headed too!”
* * * * * * *
Lara’s driver found her easily enough when her plane landed. Her French, though accented by her childhood in the Amsterdam suburbs, was passable enough, and the driver, North African by Lara’s guess, was happy enough to load her bags and let her ride in peace. On her phone again she started to text the Americans, her conspirators.
[Chatter says she’s going to be at the Marie Claire reception Tuesday night.]
[We’re there.]
[We doing her like we did Bianca?]
[Absolutely. Security guy at Palais Garnier is going to let us in if we let him film.]
[Are we using a theater seat? Seems small.]
[They’re staging Lear. Think the scene with Kent.]
[Who’s Lear? Who’s Kent?]
[It’s Shakespeare, Nikki. Would you read a book?]
[I’m not English. I’m American!]
[No doubt there.]
* * * * * * *
Lara sneered at the backstage monitor Monday night. “She even smiles going down the runway. She needs to learn her place!” She enjoyed a brief, wry smile of her own as she heard herself play the role of the enforcer of the old ways in a young woman’s world. She prepared to greet the flashbulbs and the whispered chatter in her own way, the established way. Fixing a statue’s glare on her angular face, Lara started down the runway as Cindy came backstage, a goddess descending to give the mortals a glimpse. Techno music pounded as she cut through the evening air. She stopped. She turned. She walked as the masses only wished they could walk, back to the entry, behind the curtain.
And towards Cindy.
She decided to try English.
“Now that we have a moment to breathe, I want to meet the famous Cindy!”
Cindy turned from her dressing-room mirror, and she became seven inches shorter as her knees buckled at the sight. “Oh my goodness! Are you really Lara?”
Cindy was even more adorable when the cameras were off. That settled it. “Yes, it’s a pleasure to meet you. Will we see you at Marie Claire tomorrow night?”
“Oh yes! I’m going to be there! Who are you bringing?”
“Just some of the girls from the international circuit. We’ll see you there!” Lara smiled and turned and made her way to her own dressing area.
Always leave them wanting more.
* * * * * * *
Among the famous in Paris, the newcomers always give themselves away when they see the Eiffel Tower at night, and Cindy was no exception. Lara looked as the Chinese beauty made her way outside to a balcony view, and she quickly prepared her conspirators to make their move.
“Remember, let me take the lead. If you get lost, just get her listening to me again.”
Hayley nodded. “Are you going to be able to do this, Nikki?”
“Look, I’m not going to do any better if you keep doubting me!”
Lara stared hard. “Nobody is doubting you, Nikki. Are you ready?” The American brunette cast her eyes down from the Dutch alpha, bit her lip, and nodded.
Three pairs of long legs made their way to the balcony, where they took up positions to Cindy’s left and right. Lara made first contact. “Cindy!”
The young model took her eyes from the Tower for the first time in a few minutes, and when she saw Lara again, her hands raised to cover her mouth in delighted surprise. Lara exchanged a glance with Hayley. “Cindy, I want you to meet Hayley and Nikki, two of my American friends.”
“Hayley! Nikki! I’m so glad to meet you!” Now Lara locked eyes with Nikki as Cindy hugged Hayley. “I just can’t believe I’m really at Paris Fashion Week!”
Hayley picked up the cue. “You’re not just AT Fashion Week, Cindy! The world has come here to meet YOU!”
In the dim light Lara almost thought she could see Cindy blush. She wondered about that for a brief moment before she rejoined the hunt. “So do you have your Paris Opera shot yet?”
Cindy’s face became a picture of curiosity. “Opera shot?”
Nikki, surprising Lara a bit, followed without breaking rhythm. “In the nineteen-twenties, they used to have runway shows before opera shows.” Lara grimaced inwardly at that phrase but did not break character as Nikki continued. “So whenever a model does her first Paris Fashion Week, the other girls take her out so that she can get pictures on an opera stage!”
“At the Paris Opera House?”
Now it was time for Lara to close in. “No, back then the Paris Opera House was for the elite and fashion for the Bohemians. So we always break in to one of the smaller opera houses.”
Cindy’s face shifted from attentive listening to concern. “Break in?”
Hayley was right there for the catch. “Of course, Cindy! We’re all sisters on these runways, and sisters have adventures together!”
Lara could almost feel the trap spring. Cindy tried to seem conflicted, but something in the air told Lara that she had already won the game. “How do you break in to an opera house?”
“Let’s ditch this place, and you’ll find out!”
* * * * * * *
Lara and the Americans picked up their large purses, and Cindy followed them as they ducked out a back door and into the streets of Paris. Lara led the way, only a few blocks, until they arrived at the alley behind Palais Garnier. Hayley now took the lead and told the other girls to wait there in the alley while she scouted. She came back and threw a cinematic wink to the other three. She reached into her purse and whispered towards Cindy, “Keep an eye out, rookie! We’re going in!”
Lara marvelled as Hayley sold the con, pulling out some kind of multi-tool and pretending to pick the lock on a door in the back of the theater. She crouched and grunted and stalled, making the seconds drag out. Lara glanced at Cindy, who seemed genuinely convinced that the police or theater security might materialize at any moment. Nikki was barely stifling a laugh, though Lara’s icy glare helped the stifle. After an agonizing span of time the door clicked--three of the girls knew it had already been unlocked--and Hayley held it open for Cindy to enter.
Hayley closed the door once all three were in and used her phone’s flashlight to find a ground-level lighting control panel, one that they used for rehearsals when they did not need the full array. The main stage lights burst into life, and all three could hear Cindy gasp in wonder. They walked to the center of the stage, and Cindy’s Eiffel-Tower eyes scanned the vast space, taking in seats and aisles and doors and everything that one could see from the empty theater’s stage.
Nikki was ready to start bringing the moment home. “Okay, Cindy, give me your camera--I’ll get some Paris Opera shots for you!” Cindy handed over her phone, and Nikki called out commands for the young model as she had heard dozens of photographers call them out for her shots. Cindy posed like a champ--of course. Hayley disappeared. Lara prepared herself to move quickly and decisively. Her eye caught a shadow moving down one of the side aisles, out in the seats.
Cindy laughed with innocent delight at the fabricated rite of passage. Lara knew that, until she learned better, like Bianca had learned before her, she would think that she was entering a kind of secret society, a sisterhood of the runway.
This was going to be fun.
The scraping of a heavy wooden mass across the stage startled all three girls, and Lara watched as Cindy’s face registered recognition.
“Are those Kent’s stocks?”
Nikki threw her hands down in a pout. “Has everyone but me read Shakespeare?”
Lara ignored the outburst. “They’re putting on the opera version of Lear right now.”
Nikki would not let it go. “Who is Lear? And who is Kent?”
Cindy, gracious as always, spoke up. “Kent is a lord of England, one of only two to remain loyal to Lear when everyone else turns on him. They put him in those stocks for his loyalty.”
Hayley rested long, smooth fingers on the top of the stocks. “Yes. The classic tale of betrayal…
...and also a great photo to keep forever, right? Come on, Cindy! Try them out!”
Cindy was now visibly concerned. “Are you sure we can do this?”
Lara walked up behind her and put a hand on her shoulder. “We’ve already broken in, Cindy. Why not?” She walked over and sat on the wooden bench. “It’s not really uncomfortable like the audience imagines. The seat is padded.” She put her ankles on the lower openings and her wrists on the upper. “And you can’t see it from the seats, but these cuffs are padded. Just try it out!”
Nikki chimed in from the aisle. “Come on, Cindy! It’ll be fun!”
Cindy walked hesitantly towards the stocks. “Okay, just one picture, though.” She sat down on the bench and hummed her affirmation that the seat was indeed padded. Then she put her own ankles on the lower cuffs and her hands in the upper. The position of the four openings made her sit straight up, and she nodded in relief as she discovered that in fact the cuffs were not at all uncomfortable. “Okay, Hayley. Go ahead and lower the crossbar and then step away so that Nikki can take the picture.”
Lara and Hayley could not help exchanging a grin of triumph. Each lowered a heavy wooden bar to join the lower wooden plank, and they heard the satisfying slide of a mortise and tenon joint sliding into place. And then they held them there.
“Okay, now you need to step away so that Nikki can take the picture. Don’t worry--it’s in place!”
A man’s voice sounded from the darkened seats. “And now just hold the stocks there, and I can make sure they stay in place!”
Cindy scanned the darkness in panic. “Who’s there?”
Hayley leaned down and whispered in her ear, “Don’t worry, honey--he’s just here to watch!”
Cindy tried to pull herself free from the stocks, but whoever had built them built them steady, and without any leverage to speak of, she had no prospect of lifting the heavy beams while Hayley and Lara held them in place. A white man, chubby as stage-hands tended to be, approached the stocks and slid metal rods through the joints, and Cindy heard each one click as it engaged. Hayley released her grip on the ankle-stocks, and Cindy tried to disengage them, but she was stuck. She watched as Hayley stood over the security guard. “Phone, Andre.” The security guard handed over the phone and produced a battery-powered digital camera. “Remember, Andre, you film this, and then you give us the card. We hold on to it, and the next time we take a girl on this adventure, you get to film again.”
Andre seemed pleased with that arrangement.
Cindy, on the other hand, was stunned with the betrayal. “What are you doing? Let me out of here!”
Lara leaned down to whisper in her other ear. “You’ll leave when we say it’s time for you to leave and not before, Cindy. It’s time you learned that this industry isn’t about us models. You need to stand out of the way and let the designers be the stars and let your seniors… your superiors… keep our spot in the bright lights until it’s your turn.”
“I didn’t mean to offend anyone, I promise! Just let me go, and I promise I’ll do what you tell me!”
“I know you’re going to do that, Cindy, but we need some assurance. So Andre there is going to make some video for us, and we’re going to hold on to it, and you’re going to have a long and lucrative career!”
“Video of what?”
Nikki, who had made her way to the stage, was the first to answer. “Have you ever talked to any fetish models?”
Cindy’s arms pulled instinctively at the stocks, which gave no quarter. Hayley laughed and reminded her, “You’re not going anywhere until we take those pins out, Cindy. So you might as well relax and get ready to have some laughs with us!”
“No! Please don’t hurt me!”
Lara knew that now it was time for the big reveal. “We’re not going to hurt you, Cindy. We just want to find out the answer that certain corners of the Internet will always be asking when beautiful women’s pictures appear on the Internet.” She relished this next moment, the breathiness of the delivery, the look of terror that crossed young Cindy’s face. “How ticklish are you?”
Again Cindy’s instincts took over, and she pulled and twisted at the stocks. Nothing. With quick hands Hayley began to unfasten the belt around Cindy’s waist, and Nikki took off her walking shoes, exposing cotton ankle socks. Nikki tugged at the toe of one sock. “I wonder what those feet look like under these socks, girls!”
Hayley rested a hand on Cindy’s hip. “You have fun with those toes, Nikki. I want to find every ticklish spot that she has up here. She knows that she can’t cover up, right, Cindy?” As she posed the torturer’s question, she pinched at her hip, then at her side, then slid fingertips across her underarm. Cindy squirmed and tried to hold in a laugh.
Lara gave Cindy’s hip a firm squeeze, and her bottom bounced on the bench’s padded boards. As she squirmed in vain, trying to escape free hands with her bound body, Nikki had only to grasp a sock; Cindy’s writhing feet pulled against the left sock and left it dangling between Nikki’s fingers. Now Hayley was concentrated on the ticklish underarm she had discovered, and Cindy’s arms struggled against the immovable stocks as she willed her elbows to trap Hayley’s tickling fingers. The stocks refused, and Cindy’s laughter, at first contending with groans of protest, overwhelmed her, and she threw her head backwards as Lara continued to pinch at her hip. The right sock had come off in the melee, and Cindy’s bottom pounded a beat on the bench as Nikki’s long fingers scratched at her bare soles.
“Lara, take over up here. I’m going to go get something.” Cindy’s eyes went wide as Hayley walked over to where she had set her purse, but focusing on the distant was not an option; Nikki’s fingers were following her soles no matter where her ankles tried to flee, and Lara now had her hands wrapped around Cindy’s lower ribs, squeezing her thin torso and tickling Cindy with no hope of escape or defense.
Lara hissed in Cindy’s ear as she continued to tickle her ribs and as Nikki’s assault rocked Cindy’s feet. “We own you now, Cindy. You’re nothing but a pair of long, ticklish legs, and Nikki’s going to tickle those feet until you know that!”
“Please-- I didn’t mean to--” But Cindy could not form the sentences; the tickling overwhelmed her again, and she dissolved into giggles as Nikki’s fingernails found their way between her toes.
Nikki joined in the taunting. “Miss personality didn’t hold up once the tickling got hot, did she? Did she, Cindy?” Cindy’s uncontrollable laughter would not even allow her to answer.
All four hands stopped their attack as Hayley returned, carrying her purse. Cindy panted as she tried to catch her breath, and she gasped in terror as she watched Hayley’s hand emerged from the bag holding three dry-erase markers, the kinds that fashion-show directors always had on hand to organize models on backstage schedule-boards. She handed one to Nikki and one to Lara, and she took the cap off hers as she made her way to join Nikki at Cindy’s feet. “I think we need to put this in writing just in case poor Cindy forgets her place again!”
“No! No, please, I’ll stay out of your way!” Two more marker-caps popped in the quiet theater, and Cindy glanced over to see Andre recording and licking his lips. She tried to look Lara in the eye. “I didn’t know I was doing anything wrong! Please, just let me out of these stocks!”
“All in good time, Cindy. All in good time. But for now, we’re going to write. Ladies?”
Cindy tried to turn her body this way, then that, but all three models descended on her body. She felt the markers’ tips sliding across her heels and soles, and she shrieked at the intense tickling sensations. As she giggled her utter surrender, she felt Lara lifting up her short dress to her waist, then exposing her abdomen. She let out a scream, but even the scream fell short as the marker’s tip pressed into her sensitive belly and Cindy dissolved into agonized laughing.
Lara called out to her conspirator: “Hayley, what are you writing down there?”
“Tickle slave!”
“You’d better write it in French too--we are in Paris!”
“You know I don’t know French!”
“Just give it a try, Hayley. We can always clean her foot up and try it again! What about you, Nikki?”
“Know your place!”
“Oh, that just has to be in French too.”
“I don’t know French either!”
Hayley couldn’t resist. “You barely know English, Nikki!”
Nikki dropped her marker, and her hands shot out to squeeze Hayley’s ribs. She shrieked in delighted surprise, and Cindy gasped as her feet gained a moment of respite, two of her tormentors turned on each other in a tangle of limbs and giggles. Lara was not deterred, though: Cindy felt the marker’s tip sliding across her flesh in bursts and sweeps, and Cindy squealed whenever the marker pressed into certain spots. “My message will wash off when you shower, Cindy, but you must never forget it.” Cindy shrieked as Nikki and Hayley, their brief tickle-fight over, returned to writing on her feet. “Respect the industry. Respect seniority. Respect fashion. Do you know how long this is going to take me to write this in three languages, Cindy?”
Cindy shook her head no as she kept laughing.
The Shanghai sensation’s world had contracted to the boundaries of her own skin, and that skin was under attack. So when Hayley released her grip again, Cindy forced herself to look out beyond that boundary. She saw her reach into her bag again. What emerged this time was no marker, but Cindy had never seen anything like it. Then she realized, with a jolt that renewed her energy for one more surge, that whatever it was bore a definite resemblance to something else, and she wanted nothing to do with it. She pulled with weakened arms at the stocks, but between her own laughs she heard its sound start, a high-pitched buzz, and she saw Hayley making her way between her knees, then up between her thighs, and suddenly she could hear and feel the buzzing.
Cindy cried out, but she couldn’t sustain: Nikki was now scratching at the skin of her inner thigh with her merciless fingernails as Lara continued to write the devilish model’s creed on her belly, and within seconds all she could do was listen to herself as a roaring laugh and a deep moan of surrender battled for her voice. The buzzing did not stop, and it ignited her skin and everything inside her skin, and as her head dropped backwards she let out a groan as her body released all the coiled, tense energy that the vibrator had built up. Her eyes closed, and where moments before she could not imagine a world beyond the bottoms of her ticklish feet, suddenly she felt like her body had dissolved, that she floated above the opera house and the city and the world, an awareness of the whole world, all at once.
But Lara’s voice wasn’t coming from the whole world; Cindy could hear her whisper in her ear. “And now, Cindy, you’re going to learn something you probably never thought about. In the minutes after a sexual orgasm, your skin is more sensitive than it is any time in your life. And none of the three of us is done with you yet.”
Coming back to her bodily boundaries in a rush of awareness, Cindy realized that they had stopped tickling for a moment but that they all remained at the ready. She could not beg any more, only pant, and she shut her eyes tight to brace herself. What followed was like nothing she had ever imagined: Nikki’s fingernails on her feet traced explosions of ticklish sensations with every pass. Hayley turned her thighs into uninterrupted ticklish nerves. Lara, who had let her dress drop and cover at least her panties, poked fingers into her armpits that made her squeal and twist (in vain) and giggle. Within seconds all three of her torturers had homed in on spots that were throwing Cindy into the stratosphere, drawing energy from sources she didn’t know she had, and Cindy could not say where all of the energy, beyond her exhaustion, was coming from. Her body had nothing left to give, and yet she found herself wishing, after another eternity of tickling, that Hayley would pick up the vibrator again.
But it was not to be: when Lara gave the signal to stop, the three simply lifted their hands from her body. Lara and Nikki unfastened the latches in the stocks, and Hayley went to Andre to demand the storage card. Cindy, freed from her torment, refastened her belt and put her socks and shoes back on, and to her own surprise and disappointment, she found herself waiting for Lara and the Americans so that they could walk back towards Cindy’s hotel together.
As they left the opera house, Nikki put a hand on Cindy’s shoulder. “Don’t worry too much, Cindy. Next time we need to do this, we’ll have you along, and you can be on the fun end of this!”
Cindy’s hand unconsciously dropped to the front of her panties (which she remembered she needed to change). A part of her that she had never listened to before Paris started to look forward to next year’s Paris Fashion Week.
But that's too much preamble, no? Have a read, and leave a comment, and then leave another author's story a comment!
As Feathers to Wanton Girls (f/f)
by
Kid Indy
She could feel the eyes on her as she made her way to her row. Those whose long stares were not undressing her simply marveled at her height--they had not often seen a girl so tall. She stowed her carry-on and sat, her phone already in hand. And there, once more, the face that was her torment.
Cindy.
Cindy visiting sick children at a hospital in Singapore.
Cindy posing with the Chinese national basketball team.
Cindy doing another television interview as the hosts--Australian--fawned over the fashion world’s rising star.
Lara closed the Twitter app and opened her blog-aggregator. And there she was again: the new wonder from Shanghai, the fashion world’s new darling.
Cindy.
Cindy brings new honesty and freshness to the runway!
Cindy adds personality to the runway side in an industry that is all about designers.
Cindy is taking the Pacific Rim by storm, and now she’s headed to Paris!
“Well, Cindy, you’re in luck. That’s just where I’m headed too!”
* * * * * * *
Lara’s driver found her easily enough when her plane landed. Her French, though accented by her childhood in the Amsterdam suburbs, was passable enough, and the driver, North African by Lara’s guess, was happy enough to load her bags and let her ride in peace. On her phone again she started to text the Americans, her conspirators.
[Chatter says she’s going to be at the Marie Claire reception Tuesday night.]
[We’re there.]
[We doing her like we did Bianca?]
[Absolutely. Security guy at Palais Garnier is going to let us in if we let him film.]
[Are we using a theater seat? Seems small.]
[They’re staging Lear. Think the scene with Kent.]
[Who’s Lear? Who’s Kent?]
[It’s Shakespeare, Nikki. Would you read a book?]
[I’m not English. I’m American!]
[No doubt there.]
* * * * * * *
Lara sneered at the backstage monitor Monday night. “She even smiles going down the runway. She needs to learn her place!” She enjoyed a brief, wry smile of her own as she heard herself play the role of the enforcer of the old ways in a young woman’s world. She prepared to greet the flashbulbs and the whispered chatter in her own way, the established way. Fixing a statue’s glare on her angular face, Lara started down the runway as Cindy came backstage, a goddess descending to give the mortals a glimpse. Techno music pounded as she cut through the evening air. She stopped. She turned. She walked as the masses only wished they could walk, back to the entry, behind the curtain.
And towards Cindy.
She decided to try English.
“Now that we have a moment to breathe, I want to meet the famous Cindy!”
Cindy turned from her dressing-room mirror, and she became seven inches shorter as her knees buckled at the sight. “Oh my goodness! Are you really Lara?”
Cindy was even more adorable when the cameras were off. That settled it. “Yes, it’s a pleasure to meet you. Will we see you at Marie Claire tomorrow night?”
“Oh yes! I’m going to be there! Who are you bringing?”
“Just some of the girls from the international circuit. We’ll see you there!” Lara smiled and turned and made her way to her own dressing area.
Always leave them wanting more.
* * * * * * *
Among the famous in Paris, the newcomers always give themselves away when they see the Eiffel Tower at night, and Cindy was no exception. Lara looked as the Chinese beauty made her way outside to a balcony view, and she quickly prepared her conspirators to make their move.
“Remember, let me take the lead. If you get lost, just get her listening to me again.”
Hayley nodded. “Are you going to be able to do this, Nikki?”
“Look, I’m not going to do any better if you keep doubting me!”
Lara stared hard. “Nobody is doubting you, Nikki. Are you ready?” The American brunette cast her eyes down from the Dutch alpha, bit her lip, and nodded.
Three pairs of long legs made their way to the balcony, where they took up positions to Cindy’s left and right. Lara made first contact. “Cindy!”
The young model took her eyes from the Tower for the first time in a few minutes, and when she saw Lara again, her hands raised to cover her mouth in delighted surprise. Lara exchanged a glance with Hayley. “Cindy, I want you to meet Hayley and Nikki, two of my American friends.”
“Hayley! Nikki! I’m so glad to meet you!” Now Lara locked eyes with Nikki as Cindy hugged Hayley. “I just can’t believe I’m really at Paris Fashion Week!”
Hayley picked up the cue. “You’re not just AT Fashion Week, Cindy! The world has come here to meet YOU!”
In the dim light Lara almost thought she could see Cindy blush. She wondered about that for a brief moment before she rejoined the hunt. “So do you have your Paris Opera shot yet?”
Cindy’s face became a picture of curiosity. “Opera shot?”
Nikki, surprising Lara a bit, followed without breaking rhythm. “In the nineteen-twenties, they used to have runway shows before opera shows.” Lara grimaced inwardly at that phrase but did not break character as Nikki continued. “So whenever a model does her first Paris Fashion Week, the other girls take her out so that she can get pictures on an opera stage!”
“At the Paris Opera House?”
Now it was time for Lara to close in. “No, back then the Paris Opera House was for the elite and fashion for the Bohemians. So we always break in to one of the smaller opera houses.”
Cindy’s face shifted from attentive listening to concern. “Break in?”
Hayley was right there for the catch. “Of course, Cindy! We’re all sisters on these runways, and sisters have adventures together!”
Lara could almost feel the trap spring. Cindy tried to seem conflicted, but something in the air told Lara that she had already won the game. “How do you break in to an opera house?”
“Let’s ditch this place, and you’ll find out!”
* * * * * * *
Lara and the Americans picked up their large purses, and Cindy followed them as they ducked out a back door and into the streets of Paris. Lara led the way, only a few blocks, until they arrived at the alley behind Palais Garnier. Hayley now took the lead and told the other girls to wait there in the alley while she scouted. She came back and threw a cinematic wink to the other three. She reached into her purse and whispered towards Cindy, “Keep an eye out, rookie! We’re going in!”
Lara marvelled as Hayley sold the con, pulling out some kind of multi-tool and pretending to pick the lock on a door in the back of the theater. She crouched and grunted and stalled, making the seconds drag out. Lara glanced at Cindy, who seemed genuinely convinced that the police or theater security might materialize at any moment. Nikki was barely stifling a laugh, though Lara’s icy glare helped the stifle. After an agonizing span of time the door clicked--three of the girls knew it had already been unlocked--and Hayley held it open for Cindy to enter.
Hayley closed the door once all three were in and used her phone’s flashlight to find a ground-level lighting control panel, one that they used for rehearsals when they did not need the full array. The main stage lights burst into life, and all three could hear Cindy gasp in wonder. They walked to the center of the stage, and Cindy’s Eiffel-Tower eyes scanned the vast space, taking in seats and aisles and doors and everything that one could see from the empty theater’s stage.
Nikki was ready to start bringing the moment home. “Okay, Cindy, give me your camera--I’ll get some Paris Opera shots for you!” Cindy handed over her phone, and Nikki called out commands for the young model as she had heard dozens of photographers call them out for her shots. Cindy posed like a champ--of course. Hayley disappeared. Lara prepared herself to move quickly and decisively. Her eye caught a shadow moving down one of the side aisles, out in the seats.
Cindy laughed with innocent delight at the fabricated rite of passage. Lara knew that, until she learned better, like Bianca had learned before her, she would think that she was entering a kind of secret society, a sisterhood of the runway.
This was going to be fun.
The scraping of a heavy wooden mass across the stage startled all three girls, and Lara watched as Cindy’s face registered recognition.
“Are those Kent’s stocks?”
Nikki threw her hands down in a pout. “Has everyone but me read Shakespeare?”
Lara ignored the outburst. “They’re putting on the opera version of Lear right now.”
Nikki would not let it go. “Who is Lear? And who is Kent?”
Cindy, gracious as always, spoke up. “Kent is a lord of England, one of only two to remain loyal to Lear when everyone else turns on him. They put him in those stocks for his loyalty.”
Hayley rested long, smooth fingers on the top of the stocks. “Yes. The classic tale of betrayal…
...and also a great photo to keep forever, right? Come on, Cindy! Try them out!”
Cindy was now visibly concerned. “Are you sure we can do this?”
Lara walked up behind her and put a hand on her shoulder. “We’ve already broken in, Cindy. Why not?” She walked over and sat on the wooden bench. “It’s not really uncomfortable like the audience imagines. The seat is padded.” She put her ankles on the lower openings and her wrists on the upper. “And you can’t see it from the seats, but these cuffs are padded. Just try it out!”
Nikki chimed in from the aisle. “Come on, Cindy! It’ll be fun!”
Cindy walked hesitantly towards the stocks. “Okay, just one picture, though.” She sat down on the bench and hummed her affirmation that the seat was indeed padded. Then she put her own ankles on the lower cuffs and her hands in the upper. The position of the four openings made her sit straight up, and she nodded in relief as she discovered that in fact the cuffs were not at all uncomfortable. “Okay, Hayley. Go ahead and lower the crossbar and then step away so that Nikki can take the picture.”
Lara and Hayley could not help exchanging a grin of triumph. Each lowered a heavy wooden bar to join the lower wooden plank, and they heard the satisfying slide of a mortise and tenon joint sliding into place. And then they held them there.
“Okay, now you need to step away so that Nikki can take the picture. Don’t worry--it’s in place!”
A man’s voice sounded from the darkened seats. “And now just hold the stocks there, and I can make sure they stay in place!”
Cindy scanned the darkness in panic. “Who’s there?”
Hayley leaned down and whispered in her ear, “Don’t worry, honey--he’s just here to watch!”
Cindy tried to pull herself free from the stocks, but whoever had built them built them steady, and without any leverage to speak of, she had no prospect of lifting the heavy beams while Hayley and Lara held them in place. A white man, chubby as stage-hands tended to be, approached the stocks and slid metal rods through the joints, and Cindy heard each one click as it engaged. Hayley released her grip on the ankle-stocks, and Cindy tried to disengage them, but she was stuck. She watched as Hayley stood over the security guard. “Phone, Andre.” The security guard handed over the phone and produced a battery-powered digital camera. “Remember, Andre, you film this, and then you give us the card. We hold on to it, and the next time we take a girl on this adventure, you get to film again.”
Andre seemed pleased with that arrangement.
Cindy, on the other hand, was stunned with the betrayal. “What are you doing? Let me out of here!”
Lara leaned down to whisper in her other ear. “You’ll leave when we say it’s time for you to leave and not before, Cindy. It’s time you learned that this industry isn’t about us models. You need to stand out of the way and let the designers be the stars and let your seniors… your superiors… keep our spot in the bright lights until it’s your turn.”
“I didn’t mean to offend anyone, I promise! Just let me go, and I promise I’ll do what you tell me!”
“I know you’re going to do that, Cindy, but we need some assurance. So Andre there is going to make some video for us, and we’re going to hold on to it, and you’re going to have a long and lucrative career!”
“Video of what?”
Nikki, who had made her way to the stage, was the first to answer. “Have you ever talked to any fetish models?”
Cindy’s arms pulled instinctively at the stocks, which gave no quarter. Hayley laughed and reminded her, “You’re not going anywhere until we take those pins out, Cindy. So you might as well relax and get ready to have some laughs with us!”
“No! Please don’t hurt me!”
Lara knew that now it was time for the big reveal. “We’re not going to hurt you, Cindy. We just want to find out the answer that certain corners of the Internet will always be asking when beautiful women’s pictures appear on the Internet.” She relished this next moment, the breathiness of the delivery, the look of terror that crossed young Cindy’s face. “How ticklish are you?”
Again Cindy’s instincts took over, and she pulled and twisted at the stocks. Nothing. With quick hands Hayley began to unfasten the belt around Cindy’s waist, and Nikki took off her walking shoes, exposing cotton ankle socks. Nikki tugged at the toe of one sock. “I wonder what those feet look like under these socks, girls!”
Hayley rested a hand on Cindy’s hip. “You have fun with those toes, Nikki. I want to find every ticklish spot that she has up here. She knows that she can’t cover up, right, Cindy?” As she posed the torturer’s question, she pinched at her hip, then at her side, then slid fingertips across her underarm. Cindy squirmed and tried to hold in a laugh.
Lara gave Cindy’s hip a firm squeeze, and her bottom bounced on the bench’s padded boards. As she squirmed in vain, trying to escape free hands with her bound body, Nikki had only to grasp a sock; Cindy’s writhing feet pulled against the left sock and left it dangling between Nikki’s fingers. Now Hayley was concentrated on the ticklish underarm she had discovered, and Cindy’s arms struggled against the immovable stocks as she willed her elbows to trap Hayley’s tickling fingers. The stocks refused, and Cindy’s laughter, at first contending with groans of protest, overwhelmed her, and she threw her head backwards as Lara continued to pinch at her hip. The right sock had come off in the melee, and Cindy’s bottom pounded a beat on the bench as Nikki’s long fingers scratched at her bare soles.
“Lara, take over up here. I’m going to go get something.” Cindy’s eyes went wide as Hayley walked over to where she had set her purse, but focusing on the distant was not an option; Nikki’s fingers were following her soles no matter where her ankles tried to flee, and Lara now had her hands wrapped around Cindy’s lower ribs, squeezing her thin torso and tickling Cindy with no hope of escape or defense.
Lara hissed in Cindy’s ear as she continued to tickle her ribs and as Nikki’s assault rocked Cindy’s feet. “We own you now, Cindy. You’re nothing but a pair of long, ticklish legs, and Nikki’s going to tickle those feet until you know that!”
“Please-- I didn’t mean to--” But Cindy could not form the sentences; the tickling overwhelmed her again, and she dissolved into giggles as Nikki’s fingernails found their way between her toes.
Nikki joined in the taunting. “Miss personality didn’t hold up once the tickling got hot, did she? Did she, Cindy?” Cindy’s uncontrollable laughter would not even allow her to answer.
All four hands stopped their attack as Hayley returned, carrying her purse. Cindy panted as she tried to catch her breath, and she gasped in terror as she watched Hayley’s hand emerged from the bag holding three dry-erase markers, the kinds that fashion-show directors always had on hand to organize models on backstage schedule-boards. She handed one to Nikki and one to Lara, and she took the cap off hers as she made her way to join Nikki at Cindy’s feet. “I think we need to put this in writing just in case poor Cindy forgets her place again!”
“No! No, please, I’ll stay out of your way!” Two more marker-caps popped in the quiet theater, and Cindy glanced over to see Andre recording and licking his lips. She tried to look Lara in the eye. “I didn’t know I was doing anything wrong! Please, just let me out of these stocks!”
“All in good time, Cindy. All in good time. But for now, we’re going to write. Ladies?”
Cindy tried to turn her body this way, then that, but all three models descended on her body. She felt the markers’ tips sliding across her heels and soles, and she shrieked at the intense tickling sensations. As she giggled her utter surrender, she felt Lara lifting up her short dress to her waist, then exposing her abdomen. She let out a scream, but even the scream fell short as the marker’s tip pressed into her sensitive belly and Cindy dissolved into agonized laughing.
Lara called out to her conspirator: “Hayley, what are you writing down there?”
“Tickle slave!”
“You’d better write it in French too--we are in Paris!”
“You know I don’t know French!”
“Just give it a try, Hayley. We can always clean her foot up and try it again! What about you, Nikki?”
“Know your place!”
“Oh, that just has to be in French too.”
“I don’t know French either!”
Hayley couldn’t resist. “You barely know English, Nikki!”
Nikki dropped her marker, and her hands shot out to squeeze Hayley’s ribs. She shrieked in delighted surprise, and Cindy gasped as her feet gained a moment of respite, two of her tormentors turned on each other in a tangle of limbs and giggles. Lara was not deterred, though: Cindy felt the marker’s tip sliding across her flesh in bursts and sweeps, and Cindy squealed whenever the marker pressed into certain spots. “My message will wash off when you shower, Cindy, but you must never forget it.” Cindy shrieked as Nikki and Hayley, their brief tickle-fight over, returned to writing on her feet. “Respect the industry. Respect seniority. Respect fashion. Do you know how long this is going to take me to write this in three languages, Cindy?”
Cindy shook her head no as she kept laughing.
The Shanghai sensation’s world had contracted to the boundaries of her own skin, and that skin was under attack. So when Hayley released her grip again, Cindy forced herself to look out beyond that boundary. She saw her reach into her bag again. What emerged this time was no marker, but Cindy had never seen anything like it. Then she realized, with a jolt that renewed her energy for one more surge, that whatever it was bore a definite resemblance to something else, and she wanted nothing to do with it. She pulled with weakened arms at the stocks, but between her own laughs she heard its sound start, a high-pitched buzz, and she saw Hayley making her way between her knees, then up between her thighs, and suddenly she could hear and feel the buzzing.
Cindy cried out, but she couldn’t sustain: Nikki was now scratching at the skin of her inner thigh with her merciless fingernails as Lara continued to write the devilish model’s creed on her belly, and within seconds all she could do was listen to herself as a roaring laugh and a deep moan of surrender battled for her voice. The buzzing did not stop, and it ignited her skin and everything inside her skin, and as her head dropped backwards she let out a groan as her body released all the coiled, tense energy that the vibrator had built up. Her eyes closed, and where moments before she could not imagine a world beyond the bottoms of her ticklish feet, suddenly she felt like her body had dissolved, that she floated above the opera house and the city and the world, an awareness of the whole world, all at once.
But Lara’s voice wasn’t coming from the whole world; Cindy could hear her whisper in her ear. “And now, Cindy, you’re going to learn something you probably never thought about. In the minutes after a sexual orgasm, your skin is more sensitive than it is any time in your life. And none of the three of us is done with you yet.”
Coming back to her bodily boundaries in a rush of awareness, Cindy realized that they had stopped tickling for a moment but that they all remained at the ready. She could not beg any more, only pant, and she shut her eyes tight to brace herself. What followed was like nothing she had ever imagined: Nikki’s fingernails on her feet traced explosions of ticklish sensations with every pass. Hayley turned her thighs into uninterrupted ticklish nerves. Lara, who had let her dress drop and cover at least her panties, poked fingers into her armpits that made her squeal and twist (in vain) and giggle. Within seconds all three of her torturers had homed in on spots that were throwing Cindy into the stratosphere, drawing energy from sources she didn’t know she had, and Cindy could not say where all of the energy, beyond her exhaustion, was coming from. Her body had nothing left to give, and yet she found herself wishing, after another eternity of tickling, that Hayley would pick up the vibrator again.
But it was not to be: when Lara gave the signal to stop, the three simply lifted their hands from her body. Lara and Nikki unfastened the latches in the stocks, and Hayley went to Andre to demand the storage card. Cindy, freed from her torment, refastened her belt and put her socks and shoes back on, and to her own surprise and disappointment, she found herself waiting for Lara and the Americans so that they could walk back towards Cindy’s hotel together.
As they left the opera house, Nikki put a hand on Cindy’s shoulder. “Don’t worry too much, Cindy. Next time we need to do this, we’ll have you along, and you can be on the fun end of this!”
Cindy’s hand unconsciously dropped to the front of her panties (which she remembered she needed to change). A part of her that she had never listened to before Paris started to look forward to next year’s Paris Fashion Week.
