The storeroom smelled faintly of wood shavings and oil - the kind of clean, warm scent that clung to everything in Lira’s workshop. Dust floated in the late afternoon light that angled in through the single high window, catching on the curved metal arms of the device in the center of the room. It didn’t look like much at first glance - just an oval frame padded where a body might lean - but the polished joints and subtle inlays betrayed its purpose. Cael crouched beside it, tightening a clamp with a small, smug smile. He’d adjusted the feather arms twice already, picturing the way they would sweep and probe once the enchantments kicked in. All it needed now was the right victim.
The door creaked open behind him, and his shoulders stiffened before he forced them loose again. “Huh,” came Talli’s voice, bright and curious. “What’s this? Some new torture toy Lira’s cooking up?”
Cael turned halfway, schooling his face into mild surprise. “Something like that,” he said, straightening. “It’s a test build. Needs a volunteer to see if the motion sensors work.”
Her brows rose, and the grin that followed made the muscles low in his stomach draw in tight. “Oh? And you just happen to be here… alone… with it?” She strolled forward, hands clasped loosely behind her back, her gaze skating over the frame. “Why don’t you show me?”
“I was just calibrating-”
“Show me,” she repeated, drawing the words out, her tone the kind of playful that always made it impossible to tell if she was actually teasing or setting a trap of her own.
He made a show of sighing, reaching for the hem of his overshirt. “Fine. Just so you don’t snag anything, I’ll take this off.” The fabric slid up over his head; the cooler air prickled along his bare arms. When it dropped to the side, her gaze dipped - quick, but not quick enough to miss.
“Mm,” she murmured, tilting her head, eyes flicking to the narrow lines of his ribs. “You’ll need to do it properly, Cael. That means the undershirt, too.”
He hesitated, brows knitting. “It’s not going to-”
“Properly,” she repeated, the corner of her mouth twitching upward.
With a muttered grumble meant to look reluctant, he hooked his fingers into the thin fabric and pulled it up, baring the narrow cut of his ribs and stomach before tugging it the rest of the way off. Her eyes lingered in a way that prickled along his skin more than the draft did. He tossed it aside and stepped between the frame’s padded arms, resting his hands on the upper bars as if he were still the one in control.
“So,” he said, glancing over his shoulder at her, “happy now?”
Her smile was slow and knowing. “Oh,” she said, “I think I will be.”
The shift happened so fast he barely had time to register it. One second he was leaning casually inside the oval, still half-smirking at her, and the next her hands moved - quick and decisive - slamming the wrist clamps shut with a snap. The padded bands bit snug around his forearms before he could jerk back, and as he twisted to look at her in surprise, he felt the ankle restraints close with a soft, final click.
“Talli-” he started, but the name came out tight, the sound muffled by the way she’d stepped right into his space.
“Mmhmm,” she said, the hum rolling with satisfaction. “Looks like it fits you just fine.”
The frame adjusted around him with a slow, deliberate pressure that urged his spine into a subtle arch. His arms angled up and forward, wrists held higher than he could comfortably rest them, and his feet were set just far enough apart to feel off-balance. Every change in tension seemed to bare him more: ribs stretched, stomach taut, the faint curve of his hipbone lifting under the waistband of his trousers.
There was a faint hum, then a whispery sound - the feather arms gliding into place. Before he could brace, delicate touches began to tickle across him: teasingly tickling under his left arm that curled along the side of his ribs; mercilessly tickling down the right side of his stomach; twin brushes over each hip that lingered near the waistband. The softness was shocking - not a jab or scratch, but the kind of stroke that teased rather than attacked, enough to send a hot, shivery bolt up his spine.
His breath caught, then burst out in a surprised laugh. “Hhh - hah - wait -”
The frame reacted to the movement. He felt the clamps shift, micro-adjusting, turning his left side fractionally toward the feather that had made him flinch. Another arm slid fractionally higher, finding the edge of his underarm. A single plume spiraled in lazy circles, tickling his underarm without pause, until his laughter broke into frantic, high-pitched cracks, shoulders jerking up uselessly against the restraints.
“Sensitive there?” she asked, stepping close to watch the way he writhed in place. Her eyes tracked the lines of his stretched torso like she was memorizing them. “That’s just the machine tickling you lightly - imagine if it really went at it.”
He jerked when the stomach-feather glided lower, skimming just above his navel, only to be followed by a second feather curling along the opposite side. The frame adjusted again - his stance spread a little wider, trousers pulling snug over his hips, the soft glide of the plumes meeting the firm stretch of fabric.
Cael’s laughter came faster now, the involuntary kind that cracked and stumbled over itself. Heat flushed into his cheeks; the constant skimming and circling was starting to layer on itself, the friction and restraint pushing heat lower until it ached.
“Red already,” Talli murmured, her voice low with amusement. “We’ve barely even started tickling.”
He tried to twist away from the underarm feather, but the shift only presented his ribs more openly to the one on that side, relentlessly tickling up and down his ribs until every breath hitched and stuttered, his chest rising sharp and shallow like he could never catch air. Every escape gave the frame an excuse to expose him, every twitch a signal to dig in further.
The hip-feathers mercilessly tickled across his lower stomach, each pass dragging a helpless twitch from his hips, the strain in his trousers jerking higher with every brush. Cael gritted his teeth, shaking his head as if that could dispel the heat gathering under his skin. But the laughter kept breaking through, tangled with sharp intakes of breath whenever the plumes grazed somewhere new.
Talli leaned her weight on one of the frame’s bars, chin propped in her hand like she had all the time in the world. “Such a good test subject,” she said, her gaze fixed on the way his muscles strained and jumped under the tickling. “You’re really helping me see what this thing can do.”
It was when the frame tilted his hips forward that she noticed it - the faint but unmistakable tenting in the front of his trousers, straining higher every time the lower feathers brushed across him. Her grin widened. She let her eyes travel down slowly enough for him to see the attention, then back up to his flushed face.
“Well, well…” She stepped in close, her fingers drifting down from his hip until they cupped him lightly through the warm, stretched fabric. The reaction was instant - a sharp breath, a twitch against her palm - before he tried to jerk away, only for the torso bands to ease him right back into her hand. “Guess it’s not just ticklish, huh?”
His laugh cracked into something rougher as she stroked along the length of him, her thumb gliding over the ridge through the cloth. The feathers never stopped, their soft, maddening touches climbing his ribs, tickling his underarms, and tracing the taut plane of his stomach. Heat surged in his cheeks; the mix of sensations left his breathing ragged, the pleasure cutting jagged paths through the helpless laughter.
“Talli-” His voice caught, halfway between plea and warning.
She leaned in, her mouth close to his ear, letting her breath feather against the sensitive skin. “Y’know,” she murmured, “it’d be a really bad idea to cum right now.” Her fingers closed over him in a way that made him feel every inch of her palm. “Boys get even more sensitive after… and I don’t think our friend here”- she tapped the frame’s bar -“plans on stopping the tickling anytime soon.”
The words hit like a cold splash, cutting through the haze for just a moment. His head shook frantically. “Don’t - no, stop-”
Her laugh was soft and delighted, her hand never leaving him. “Stop? Oh, come on. You were just starting to enjoy yourself.” She dragged her palm over him in a long, teasing pass, then cupped his balls through the cloth, rolling them gently before returning to stroke along his aching shaft. “Keep laughing, Cael. I’m going to tickle you through every twitch.”
He felt the frame shift, a feather at his hip sweeping in to catch the base of his cock, the subtle pressure impossible to ignore even through the fabric. His muscles tensed hard; every few seconds a tremor ran through him that had nothing to do with laughter.
“Look at you,” she said, tilting her head to take in the sight of him: stretched bare from the waist up, flushed, breathing fast, cock throbbing under her hand. “You’re going to make such a mess, Cael.”
“No - hah - Talli, I can’t-” His voice pitched up, and he tried to twist his hips away, but the restraints shifted, spreading his stance just enough to press him back into her grip.
Her strokes quickened by degrees, never losing that rhythm that made his thighs tense and his breath hitch. She alternated between sliding over his shaft and cupping the heavy swell beneath, her thumb occasionally dragging over the dampening fabric at his tip. The laughter spilling from him broke into ragged gasps, every ticklish jolt winding tighter around the growing pleasure.
“Just let it happen,” she whispered, her tone sweet and utterly merciless.
The mix was too much - the constant tickling circles at his underarms, the feathers scribbling mercilessly over his ribs and stomach, her hand grinding heat into the ache between his legs. His hips jerked once, twice, then locked as the climax ripped through him - laughter breaking into ragged yelps even as his cock pulsed helplessly against her hand, a hot, helpless spill soaking into his trousers. She didn’t stop stroking until the last twitch faded, until the fabric was clinging damp and warm against him.
That was when the frame seemed to sense its moment. Every feather redoubled its tickling, zeroing in mercilessly on the spots it had found most ticklish earlier. Post-orgasm sensitivity hit like a live wire - his laughter broke into high, breathless yelps, his body writhing uselessly in the grip of the device.
“Awww,” Talli cooed over the sound, her hand’s warmth still on his cheek as the plumes kept him jerking in place. “Still ticklish? Looks like this frame just loves tickling you more and more. You really are a great test subject.” She stepped back to watch him squirm, the machine’s endless plumes reducing him to a gasping, trembling mess in the frame.
Talli trailed her hand down his heaving stomach, then straightened with a wicked smile. “Lira’s going to love seeing her toy in action,” she said, already drifting toward the door while the feathers mercilessly tickled him on. “Don’t go anywhere, Cael. I’ll fetch her.”
The door creaked behind her, leaving him alone with the machine’s unhurried hum. Every plume kept circling, scribbling, tickling without pause, reducing his protests to broken laughter that filled the empty workshop.
The door creaked open behind him, and his shoulders stiffened before he forced them loose again. “Huh,” came Talli’s voice, bright and curious. “What’s this? Some new torture toy Lira’s cooking up?”
Cael turned halfway, schooling his face into mild surprise. “Something like that,” he said, straightening. “It’s a test build. Needs a volunteer to see if the motion sensors work.”
Her brows rose, and the grin that followed made the muscles low in his stomach draw in tight. “Oh? And you just happen to be here… alone… with it?” She strolled forward, hands clasped loosely behind her back, her gaze skating over the frame. “Why don’t you show me?”
“I was just calibrating-”
“Show me,” she repeated, drawing the words out, her tone the kind of playful that always made it impossible to tell if she was actually teasing or setting a trap of her own.
He made a show of sighing, reaching for the hem of his overshirt. “Fine. Just so you don’t snag anything, I’ll take this off.” The fabric slid up over his head; the cooler air prickled along his bare arms. When it dropped to the side, her gaze dipped - quick, but not quick enough to miss.
“Mm,” she murmured, tilting her head, eyes flicking to the narrow lines of his ribs. “You’ll need to do it properly, Cael. That means the undershirt, too.”
He hesitated, brows knitting. “It’s not going to-”
“Properly,” she repeated, the corner of her mouth twitching upward.
With a muttered grumble meant to look reluctant, he hooked his fingers into the thin fabric and pulled it up, baring the narrow cut of his ribs and stomach before tugging it the rest of the way off. Her eyes lingered in a way that prickled along his skin more than the draft did. He tossed it aside and stepped between the frame’s padded arms, resting his hands on the upper bars as if he were still the one in control.
“So,” he said, glancing over his shoulder at her, “happy now?”
Her smile was slow and knowing. “Oh,” she said, “I think I will be.”
The shift happened so fast he barely had time to register it. One second he was leaning casually inside the oval, still half-smirking at her, and the next her hands moved - quick and decisive - slamming the wrist clamps shut with a snap. The padded bands bit snug around his forearms before he could jerk back, and as he twisted to look at her in surprise, he felt the ankle restraints close with a soft, final click.
“Talli-” he started, but the name came out tight, the sound muffled by the way she’d stepped right into his space.
“Mmhmm,” she said, the hum rolling with satisfaction. “Looks like it fits you just fine.”
The frame adjusted around him with a slow, deliberate pressure that urged his spine into a subtle arch. His arms angled up and forward, wrists held higher than he could comfortably rest them, and his feet were set just far enough apart to feel off-balance. Every change in tension seemed to bare him more: ribs stretched, stomach taut, the faint curve of his hipbone lifting under the waistband of his trousers.
There was a faint hum, then a whispery sound - the feather arms gliding into place. Before he could brace, delicate touches began to tickle across him: teasingly tickling under his left arm that curled along the side of his ribs; mercilessly tickling down the right side of his stomach; twin brushes over each hip that lingered near the waistband. The softness was shocking - not a jab or scratch, but the kind of stroke that teased rather than attacked, enough to send a hot, shivery bolt up his spine.
His breath caught, then burst out in a surprised laugh. “Hhh - hah - wait -”
The frame reacted to the movement. He felt the clamps shift, micro-adjusting, turning his left side fractionally toward the feather that had made him flinch. Another arm slid fractionally higher, finding the edge of his underarm. A single plume spiraled in lazy circles, tickling his underarm without pause, until his laughter broke into frantic, high-pitched cracks, shoulders jerking up uselessly against the restraints.
“Sensitive there?” she asked, stepping close to watch the way he writhed in place. Her eyes tracked the lines of his stretched torso like she was memorizing them. “That’s just the machine tickling you lightly - imagine if it really went at it.”
He jerked when the stomach-feather glided lower, skimming just above his navel, only to be followed by a second feather curling along the opposite side. The frame adjusted again - his stance spread a little wider, trousers pulling snug over his hips, the soft glide of the plumes meeting the firm stretch of fabric.
Cael’s laughter came faster now, the involuntary kind that cracked and stumbled over itself. Heat flushed into his cheeks; the constant skimming and circling was starting to layer on itself, the friction and restraint pushing heat lower until it ached.
“Red already,” Talli murmured, her voice low with amusement. “We’ve barely even started tickling.”
He tried to twist away from the underarm feather, but the shift only presented his ribs more openly to the one on that side, relentlessly tickling up and down his ribs until every breath hitched and stuttered, his chest rising sharp and shallow like he could never catch air. Every escape gave the frame an excuse to expose him, every twitch a signal to dig in further.
The hip-feathers mercilessly tickled across his lower stomach, each pass dragging a helpless twitch from his hips, the strain in his trousers jerking higher with every brush. Cael gritted his teeth, shaking his head as if that could dispel the heat gathering under his skin. But the laughter kept breaking through, tangled with sharp intakes of breath whenever the plumes grazed somewhere new.
Talli leaned her weight on one of the frame’s bars, chin propped in her hand like she had all the time in the world. “Such a good test subject,” she said, her gaze fixed on the way his muscles strained and jumped under the tickling. “You’re really helping me see what this thing can do.”
It was when the frame tilted his hips forward that she noticed it - the faint but unmistakable tenting in the front of his trousers, straining higher every time the lower feathers brushed across him. Her grin widened. She let her eyes travel down slowly enough for him to see the attention, then back up to his flushed face.
“Well, well…” She stepped in close, her fingers drifting down from his hip until they cupped him lightly through the warm, stretched fabric. The reaction was instant - a sharp breath, a twitch against her palm - before he tried to jerk away, only for the torso bands to ease him right back into her hand. “Guess it’s not just ticklish, huh?”
His laugh cracked into something rougher as she stroked along the length of him, her thumb gliding over the ridge through the cloth. The feathers never stopped, their soft, maddening touches climbing his ribs, tickling his underarms, and tracing the taut plane of his stomach. Heat surged in his cheeks; the mix of sensations left his breathing ragged, the pleasure cutting jagged paths through the helpless laughter.
“Talli-” His voice caught, halfway between plea and warning.
She leaned in, her mouth close to his ear, letting her breath feather against the sensitive skin. “Y’know,” she murmured, “it’d be a really bad idea to cum right now.” Her fingers closed over him in a way that made him feel every inch of her palm. “Boys get even more sensitive after… and I don’t think our friend here”- she tapped the frame’s bar -“plans on stopping the tickling anytime soon.”
The words hit like a cold splash, cutting through the haze for just a moment. His head shook frantically. “Don’t - no, stop-”
Her laugh was soft and delighted, her hand never leaving him. “Stop? Oh, come on. You were just starting to enjoy yourself.” She dragged her palm over him in a long, teasing pass, then cupped his balls through the cloth, rolling them gently before returning to stroke along his aching shaft. “Keep laughing, Cael. I’m going to tickle you through every twitch.”
He felt the frame shift, a feather at his hip sweeping in to catch the base of his cock, the subtle pressure impossible to ignore even through the fabric. His muscles tensed hard; every few seconds a tremor ran through him that had nothing to do with laughter.
“Look at you,” she said, tilting her head to take in the sight of him: stretched bare from the waist up, flushed, breathing fast, cock throbbing under her hand. “You’re going to make such a mess, Cael.”
“No - hah - Talli, I can’t-” His voice pitched up, and he tried to twist his hips away, but the restraints shifted, spreading his stance just enough to press him back into her grip.
Her strokes quickened by degrees, never losing that rhythm that made his thighs tense and his breath hitch. She alternated between sliding over his shaft and cupping the heavy swell beneath, her thumb occasionally dragging over the dampening fabric at his tip. The laughter spilling from him broke into ragged gasps, every ticklish jolt winding tighter around the growing pleasure.
“Just let it happen,” she whispered, her tone sweet and utterly merciless.
The mix was too much - the constant tickling circles at his underarms, the feathers scribbling mercilessly over his ribs and stomach, her hand grinding heat into the ache between his legs. His hips jerked once, twice, then locked as the climax ripped through him - laughter breaking into ragged yelps even as his cock pulsed helplessly against her hand, a hot, helpless spill soaking into his trousers. She didn’t stop stroking until the last twitch faded, until the fabric was clinging damp and warm against him.
That was when the frame seemed to sense its moment. Every feather redoubled its tickling, zeroing in mercilessly on the spots it had found most ticklish earlier. Post-orgasm sensitivity hit like a live wire - his laughter broke into high, breathless yelps, his body writhing uselessly in the grip of the device.
“Awww,” Talli cooed over the sound, her hand’s warmth still on his cheek as the plumes kept him jerking in place. “Still ticklish? Looks like this frame just loves tickling you more and more. You really are a great test subject.” She stepped back to watch him squirm, the machine’s endless plumes reducing him to a gasping, trembling mess in the frame.
Talli trailed her hand down his heaving stomach, then straightened with a wicked smile. “Lira’s going to love seeing her toy in action,” she said, already drifting toward the door while the feathers mercilessly tickled him on. “Don’t go anywhere, Cael. I’ll fetch her.”
The door creaked behind her, leaving him alone with the machine’s unhurried hum. Every plume kept circling, scribbling, tickling without pause, reducing his protests to broken laughter that filled the empty workshop.
