Sablesword
TMF Master
- Joined
- Jun 13, 2001
- Messages
- 801
- Points
- 18
Part 1 of a story being written in response to a request over in the TMF. It looks like it's going to be a 2 or 3 parter by the time it's finished.
Includes genital stimulation; fair warning if that stuff squicks you.
EDIT: Links to the rest of the story:
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5 (conclusion)
Princess Alisha's Ransom
by Sablesword
Part 1
The Sorceress-Princess Alisha walked warily as she gathered herbs of virtue in her father's forest. There were ogres in that forest, although not even ogres were stupid enough to confront her with her two guardsmen accompanying her. Not to mention Merci, her lady-in-waiting. But there were other monsters in the forest as well. Such as that tiger-lizard stalking around the tree toward her...
"Your Highness!" Merci cried. The two guardsmen nocked arrows. Alisha gestured for them to wait, and drew power into herself, speaking the weighty, sharp-edged Words used to cast spells. She rose into the air and, speaking one more Word, flicked a bit of power at the tiger-lizard.
It struck with a sound like a hammer hitting a block of wood. The beast recoiled. "Go away!" Alisha shouted at it. "I don't want to kill you today. Scat! Shoo!"
The tiger-lizard hissed, its eyes glittering. Alisha spoke more Words, gathering power in a larger sphere to hurl at the creature. It seemed to consider this, and then whirled about to depart as swiftly as it had come.
Alisha released the power, sinking back to the forest floor, landing on her clunky peasant shoes. True, within those shoes her feet were cushioned with the finest lambs-wool socks, but they weren't the shoes of a princess. Nor were the rest of her clothes particularly regal: A hooded gray cloak over a sleeveless white blouse and a skirt of plain green-brown cloth that reached just to her knees. Between her knees and ankles, her legs were bare, since her socks did not extend beyond the tops of her shoes. That exposed skin was pale, matching the fair skin of her hands and arms, and of her face. That face, at least, was beautiful enough to belong to a princess, with dark hair falling to between her shoulder blades, and almond eyes. It was the face of an oriental princess - naturally enough, given that her father was the oriental king of an oriental kingdom.
The princess finished gathering her herbs, and she and her followers returned to the town of Cherry Delving, sitting at the foot of the Palace of the Silver Hills. There she sent the lady Merci ahead to have a kettle heated, and dismissed her guard quench their thirst at the tavern they favored. Within the walls of the town would be safe enough, and she wished to walk by herself for a bit.
She came to a pony-cart, its bed covered with a blanket to protect goods purchased at the town market. "Good day, goodlady," the peasant at the reins called out to her.
"Good day, goodsir," Alisha answered. If she were in her royal finery, she'd be miffed at the common familiarity of his greeting, but in these clothes she didn't expect to be recognized. To him, she'd be just another young woman returning from gathering herbs.
As Alisha walked past the pony-cart, she did not see the huge arms of an ogre, reaching out from beneath the blanket. She only became aware of them when they grabbed her, lifting her up and back. One of the ogre's hands stuffed a wad of silk in her mouth, stifling her initial scream as well as blocking any spell she might cast. Then she felt the ogre bind her wrists behind her. She kicked out, and felt her shoes being plucked away, felt another pair of hands tying her ankles together. "Only the finest silks for her highness, even in captivity," she heard from the man who had been disguised as a peasant. Her sight was limited to the underside of the blanket, and her attempt to spit out the wad in her mouth was foiled by a second roll of silk set in her mouth and tied behind the back of her neck. She squirmed, but even the minimal resistance she could put up while bound hand and foot was cut short.
"You lie still, please," the ogre whispered, and Alisha foolishly shook her head, no. The ogre sighed, and tightened his grip to apply a brief shime-waza choke. Alisha's vision darkened for a moment, then returned as the chokehold relaxed. "You lie still, please," the ogre whispered again, "and no one hurt." Alisha nodded and held still.
She heard (and felt) the cart rumble over the cobblestones, and out the gate. No one challenged it. She heard the town-sounds of Cherry Delving fade away, as her minds eye saw the cart made its way down the cart-track she had followed. The dimness under the blanket grew slightly dimmer, as the cart passed into the forest. Alisha could hear the forest noises, behind the creak of the cartwheels and the plod of the pony's hooves. Birds sang, and small animals rustled through the leaves. "You can struggle now," the ogre told her, releasing his hold on her and moving out from beneath the blanket. Alisha, still under the blanket, tried struggling, but her wrists were tied, her ankles were tied, and she was gagged. She tried, but nothing she did could change any of those three facts.
The cart came to a halt. "Here we are," the man disguised as a peasant said. He removed the blanket covering Alisha, and grinned at her. "Welcome, You Highness. You may call me Chup, once you're ungagged. Are you thirsty, by any chance?"
Alisha wasn't very thirsty - yet - but she mewed and nodded anyway. To give her something to drink, they'd have to remove her gag.
"We'll take care of that, once we've made you safe to ungag. Maark?" This last was addressed to the ogre, who picked up Alisha and carried her into the outlaw lair. It was a half-cave, with a largish hut or smallish barn built out from it and carefully camouflaged. Inside were several ogre-sized pieces of camp furniture, along with several other ogres who exchanged nods with Maark. Alisha found herself set on her belly, on an ogre-sized cot that would make a nice-sized bed for a human woman. Even for a woman like Alisha, who at seven and a third handspans was considered tall by her family.
Maark's firm grip on Alisha's ankle foiled her attempt to roll away. "Not today, cute sorceress," the ogre said as he took the loose ends of Alisha's wrist- and ankle-ties and knotted them together, putting her into a hogtie. He then pulled her socks off. Not with the quick, efficient plucking that Chup had applied to her shoes, but slowly. Teasingly. Fingerwidth by fingerwidth, until her right foot was bare. Then, even more slowly, he removed her left sock as well.
Alisha wiggled her now-vulnerable feet and closed her eyes. Barefoot, she was even more helpless than before. Her socks would have provided at least a minimal protection against fallen twigs and leaves, but now she didn't even have that.
She knew better than to hope to recover her shoes, but she'd need something to protect her feet if she ever got a chance to run away. She could deal with a tramp through the forest, unlike many of the excessively tender young ladies of her father's court, but she'd always worn shoes and consequently her bare feet were tender. Nor could she steal foot-coverings from any of her captors. Her own feet were just the tiniest bit over a handspan long, while the ogre's boots were - she opened her eyes to glance up at Maark looming over her - much bigger.
"Tickle, tickle, cute little sorceress," Maark said. Alisha looked blankly at him for an instant, then bit down on her gag in an attempt to keep from giggling as his fingers ran lightly over her vulnerable soles. The fingers of his right hand, that is; his left hand continued to hold Alisha's ankles in a firm grip. But his right hand was enough to shoot unbearable tickle-sensations into her tender feet. Enough to make her squirm madly, and giggle into her gag. Enough to cause her to open and clench her toes, and to wiggle her feet in a useless effort to avoiding the gentle tickling touch. Enough to make her hands strain for the knots in the silken strips that held her captive, even though she knew that those knots were beyond the reach of even the pink-nail-tipped ends of her questing fingers.
The tickling went on and on, not intense, not fierce, just patient. Alisha could wiggle her feet, but the grip on her ankles was far beyond her power to break. She could only squirm and wiggle, and that wasn't enough to keep the ogre's thick fingers from running lightly over her vulnerable soles. Those fingers would make little circles over her insteps, then work up to the balls of her feet. Then they'd run over her toes before raking back to her heels, where they'd begin a set of circular and S-shaped patterns once again. Each time, the pattern would be a little different, so Alisha never knew just what tickling touch to expect next.
At last the tickling ended. The ogre removed Alisha's gag, and Chup held a waterskin for her. Alisha drank greedily. When she finished, she tried speaking a Word, knowing it was useless, knowing that the tickling she had just endured had temporarily suppressed her sorcerous powers. And so it proved: The Word came out as a mere word, esoteric, but without any power in it. Chup chuckled. "Come now, Your Highness. You didn't really think we were incompetent captors, did you?"
Alisha shrugged. "No, not really. But I had to try." Belated recognition came to her. "You're the Bandit Prince Chup. Aren't you."
Chup sketched a bow from his stool. "I am he. And you are the Sorceress-Princess Alisha, and my captive."
"Unless you get caught yourself."
Chup grinned. "True. But as a bandit prince I run that risk anyway."
Alisha had to agree. Nor could she think ill of the man: As a "bandit prince" Chup was a noble, of a sort, and it was no crime for one noble to take another captive for ransom. At least as long as the captor succeeded, that was, with payment of ransom being the usual mark of success. That meant that Alisha - Princess Alisha - had a duty to endure her captivity with as much regal grace as she could muster. No matter how aggravating it was to have her plans disrupted this way. "So," she asked brightly, "how much are you asking, for my ransom?"
"Forty thousand silvers of the South," came the answer. "Or four hundred pieces of Western gold. But forty thousand silvers sounds more impressive, don't you think?"
"It's... a lot of silver."
"Yes it is. Which is why your father has a full forty days to pay it, before I have you sold from the auction block in Ranchijammu."
"Lots of pretty ladies sold in Ranchijammu," Maark put in. Then the ogre switched to his own language. «But this one might even bring a full four hundred gold on the block. She is ticklish, as well as pretty.»
«Better to have the King's coin in hand, though,» Chup answered the ogre. Then to Alisha: "I'll have you untied and put in gilt chains, so you can sleep. Whatever happens you can look forward to forty interesting days."
The next morning Alisha yawned and stretched, and found her arms brought up short by the gilt chains and fetters on her wrists. She frowned briefly at them, then composed herself. Regal grace, she thought. She would maintain the regal grace of a princess even if her path led her to climb barefoot onto the auction block in Ranchijammu.
Alisha did have to admit that the gilt chains were much more pleasant to sleep in than that tight hogtie of the previous day. Even if stubborn metal and intricate locks were even more impossible to escape from than the silken cords and knots of yesterday's tie. She tried a Word, and again found it to be a mere powerless word. Her sorcery would return to her later that day, if her captors would allow it. Which of course they wouldn't. She munched on the simple breakfast they gave her, and wondered how they would tickle her this time. Put her in a hogtie again? They might, but she rather suspected that they'd try something new.
And so it proved. Most of the ogres left the hideout. "Hunting, or leading your father's men away from here," Chup explained. Maark remained behind, along with the bandit prince himself. "And now, Your Highness," Chup said as Maark unlocked the gilt shackles, "we must make sure you don't regain your sorcery today. Also, this will prepare you for the auction block in Ranchijammu, if your path should be fated to lead there. Leave your clothes here on the cot, if you please."
"My father will pay my ransom," Alisha said. But she obeyed the bandit prince's command. Nude and barefoot, she let herself be led out and tied between two trees. One silken cord bound her right wrist to the tree to her right, and a second tied her left wrist to the tree to her left. Each hand had a bit over a handspan worth of slack: By pulling as much as she could to the right she could just touch the tree there, and the same to her left.
Maark spilled out a sack on the grass before Alisha, and she found that she couldn't take her eyes from the things there: The feathers, the brushes, the blunt-tined wooden forks, the silken puffs on the ends of their wooden rods...
There were also a few more pieces of silken rope. Chup picked up the longest one. "I think you need a bit more," he grinned. Alisha squeaked as he ran the rope between her legs, tying the ends high to tree-limbs on either side so that she was forced up onto her toes.
"You're enjoying this," Alisha protested as Chup hobbled her ankles with a second length of silk rope. Maark pounded a stake into the ground, and Chup attached the hobble to it.
"You should enjoy this too," Chup answered.
"Huh," Alisha said. She did have to admit (if only to herself) that the taut rope between her legs was producing an... interesting sensation. One that became more... interesting if she moved. She made herself stand still. She saw Chup pick up a feather and stand before her, considering her. Behind her she heard Maark moving.
"Gag, or no gag," Chup mused.
Before Alisha could say anything, Maark answered "Gag," behind her. She felt a silken knot being gently forced into her mouth, felt the silken square being tied behind her neck.
"Mmmph!" she protested. And then "Mmmph!" in eye-widened surprise as she realized that her captors were going to tickle her while she was gagged.
She continued to protest through her gag as she watched the feather in Chup's hand wave slowly up and down as it moved closer and closer to her side. "Mmmph-hmp-hmp-hmp!" she squealed as the silken puffball in Maark's hand, behind her, brushed against her hip. Then the feather made contact, pressing its own set of soft, irresistible tickle-sensations into her helpless body, into her vulnerable skin.
Silk-puff and feather-tip marched around her, forcing her to giggle into her gag as they lightly stroked her hips and belly, the small of her back and along the outsides of her thighs. The fronts of her knees and the backs. She couldn't keep from squirming under that gentle onslaught, and the silken cord pressed tightly into her, between her legs, produced its own set of sensations.
That cord continued to force her on her toes, and the tickle-dance her two captors forced from her made it rub against her in the most maddening way. It was driving her crazy, but she couldn't keep herself from squirming and wiggling as Chup and Maark continued their quick, light strokes with their soft and delicate implements of torment. She wanted to laugh long and loud, but her gag held her giggles inside her, making her feel even more ticklish, even more sensitive to every touch and caress that her captors inflicted upon her.
Alisha felt her nipples harden as the feather tip ran between her breasts and beneath them, a slow meandering stroke down to her belly button. She felt the arousal growing within her as the silken puff teased her hips and rear, then ran down the back of her legs. She pranced, or tried to prance, in response to the tickling, even though doing so produced a maddening pressure from the taut cord strung between her, that tried to work her way inside her.
And even her attempts to prance were drawn up short by the hobbling of her ankles. The restraints confirmed her helplessness, and then Maark was brushing the insteps of her feet, sending shivering tickle-sensations rising up through her whole body. She wanted to scream with the pleasure of it, but she could only mew into her gag.
The orgasm took her. Waves of pleasure ran from the ropes holding her wrists, and from the ropes binding her ankles. The cord between her legs bit sweetly into her, keeping the orgasm from letting her go. Chup and Maark whipped it on with delicate tickles from feather and silk.
Alisha struggled as the tickling touches took her here, and there, and everywhere over her nude body. The more she struggled against her bonds, the greater her sense of helplessness grew. And the greater her helplessness, the deeper she sank into a sea of pleasure.
At last there came a time when Alisha could not struggle any more. When she could not endure any more. She felt her wrists being released, felt herself being lowered to lie on the grass. She gasped for air, and the gag was no longer there. A blanket warmed her, wrapping her in a comforting way that didn't tickle at all. She couldn't decide whether she was pleased or disappointed as she watched Chup and Maark carry her back to the familiar oversized cot, and fasten her in place once more with gilded fetters.
To be continued
Includes genital stimulation; fair warning if that stuff squicks you.
EDIT: Links to the rest of the story:
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5 (conclusion)
Princess Alisha's Ransom
by Sablesword
Part 1
The Sorceress-Princess Alisha walked warily as she gathered herbs of virtue in her father's forest. There were ogres in that forest, although not even ogres were stupid enough to confront her with her two guardsmen accompanying her. Not to mention Merci, her lady-in-waiting. But there were other monsters in the forest as well. Such as that tiger-lizard stalking around the tree toward her...
"Your Highness!" Merci cried. The two guardsmen nocked arrows. Alisha gestured for them to wait, and drew power into herself, speaking the weighty, sharp-edged Words used to cast spells. She rose into the air and, speaking one more Word, flicked a bit of power at the tiger-lizard.
It struck with a sound like a hammer hitting a block of wood. The beast recoiled. "Go away!" Alisha shouted at it. "I don't want to kill you today. Scat! Shoo!"
The tiger-lizard hissed, its eyes glittering. Alisha spoke more Words, gathering power in a larger sphere to hurl at the creature. It seemed to consider this, and then whirled about to depart as swiftly as it had come.
Alisha released the power, sinking back to the forest floor, landing on her clunky peasant shoes. True, within those shoes her feet were cushioned with the finest lambs-wool socks, but they weren't the shoes of a princess. Nor were the rest of her clothes particularly regal: A hooded gray cloak over a sleeveless white blouse and a skirt of plain green-brown cloth that reached just to her knees. Between her knees and ankles, her legs were bare, since her socks did not extend beyond the tops of her shoes. That exposed skin was pale, matching the fair skin of her hands and arms, and of her face. That face, at least, was beautiful enough to belong to a princess, with dark hair falling to between her shoulder blades, and almond eyes. It was the face of an oriental princess - naturally enough, given that her father was the oriental king of an oriental kingdom.
The princess finished gathering her herbs, and she and her followers returned to the town of Cherry Delving, sitting at the foot of the Palace of the Silver Hills. There she sent the lady Merci ahead to have a kettle heated, and dismissed her guard quench their thirst at the tavern they favored. Within the walls of the town would be safe enough, and she wished to walk by herself for a bit.
She came to a pony-cart, its bed covered with a blanket to protect goods purchased at the town market. "Good day, goodlady," the peasant at the reins called out to her.
"Good day, goodsir," Alisha answered. If she were in her royal finery, she'd be miffed at the common familiarity of his greeting, but in these clothes she didn't expect to be recognized. To him, she'd be just another young woman returning from gathering herbs.
As Alisha walked past the pony-cart, she did not see the huge arms of an ogre, reaching out from beneath the blanket. She only became aware of them when they grabbed her, lifting her up and back. One of the ogre's hands stuffed a wad of silk in her mouth, stifling her initial scream as well as blocking any spell she might cast. Then she felt the ogre bind her wrists behind her. She kicked out, and felt her shoes being plucked away, felt another pair of hands tying her ankles together. "Only the finest silks for her highness, even in captivity," she heard from the man who had been disguised as a peasant. Her sight was limited to the underside of the blanket, and her attempt to spit out the wad in her mouth was foiled by a second roll of silk set in her mouth and tied behind the back of her neck. She squirmed, but even the minimal resistance she could put up while bound hand and foot was cut short.
"You lie still, please," the ogre whispered, and Alisha foolishly shook her head, no. The ogre sighed, and tightened his grip to apply a brief shime-waza choke. Alisha's vision darkened for a moment, then returned as the chokehold relaxed. "You lie still, please," the ogre whispered again, "and no one hurt." Alisha nodded and held still.
She heard (and felt) the cart rumble over the cobblestones, and out the gate. No one challenged it. She heard the town-sounds of Cherry Delving fade away, as her minds eye saw the cart made its way down the cart-track she had followed. The dimness under the blanket grew slightly dimmer, as the cart passed into the forest. Alisha could hear the forest noises, behind the creak of the cartwheels and the plod of the pony's hooves. Birds sang, and small animals rustled through the leaves. "You can struggle now," the ogre told her, releasing his hold on her and moving out from beneath the blanket. Alisha, still under the blanket, tried struggling, but her wrists were tied, her ankles were tied, and she was gagged. She tried, but nothing she did could change any of those three facts.
The cart came to a halt. "Here we are," the man disguised as a peasant said. He removed the blanket covering Alisha, and grinned at her. "Welcome, You Highness. You may call me Chup, once you're ungagged. Are you thirsty, by any chance?"
Alisha wasn't very thirsty - yet - but she mewed and nodded anyway. To give her something to drink, they'd have to remove her gag.
"We'll take care of that, once we've made you safe to ungag. Maark?" This last was addressed to the ogre, who picked up Alisha and carried her into the outlaw lair. It was a half-cave, with a largish hut or smallish barn built out from it and carefully camouflaged. Inside were several ogre-sized pieces of camp furniture, along with several other ogres who exchanged nods with Maark. Alisha found herself set on her belly, on an ogre-sized cot that would make a nice-sized bed for a human woman. Even for a woman like Alisha, who at seven and a third handspans was considered tall by her family.
Maark's firm grip on Alisha's ankle foiled her attempt to roll away. "Not today, cute sorceress," the ogre said as he took the loose ends of Alisha's wrist- and ankle-ties and knotted them together, putting her into a hogtie. He then pulled her socks off. Not with the quick, efficient plucking that Chup had applied to her shoes, but slowly. Teasingly. Fingerwidth by fingerwidth, until her right foot was bare. Then, even more slowly, he removed her left sock as well.
Alisha wiggled her now-vulnerable feet and closed her eyes. Barefoot, she was even more helpless than before. Her socks would have provided at least a minimal protection against fallen twigs and leaves, but now she didn't even have that.
She knew better than to hope to recover her shoes, but she'd need something to protect her feet if she ever got a chance to run away. She could deal with a tramp through the forest, unlike many of the excessively tender young ladies of her father's court, but she'd always worn shoes and consequently her bare feet were tender. Nor could she steal foot-coverings from any of her captors. Her own feet were just the tiniest bit over a handspan long, while the ogre's boots were - she opened her eyes to glance up at Maark looming over her - much bigger.
"Tickle, tickle, cute little sorceress," Maark said. Alisha looked blankly at him for an instant, then bit down on her gag in an attempt to keep from giggling as his fingers ran lightly over her vulnerable soles. The fingers of his right hand, that is; his left hand continued to hold Alisha's ankles in a firm grip. But his right hand was enough to shoot unbearable tickle-sensations into her tender feet. Enough to make her squirm madly, and giggle into her gag. Enough to cause her to open and clench her toes, and to wiggle her feet in a useless effort to avoiding the gentle tickling touch. Enough to make her hands strain for the knots in the silken strips that held her captive, even though she knew that those knots were beyond the reach of even the pink-nail-tipped ends of her questing fingers.
The tickling went on and on, not intense, not fierce, just patient. Alisha could wiggle her feet, but the grip on her ankles was far beyond her power to break. She could only squirm and wiggle, and that wasn't enough to keep the ogre's thick fingers from running lightly over her vulnerable soles. Those fingers would make little circles over her insteps, then work up to the balls of her feet. Then they'd run over her toes before raking back to her heels, where they'd begin a set of circular and S-shaped patterns once again. Each time, the pattern would be a little different, so Alisha never knew just what tickling touch to expect next.
At last the tickling ended. The ogre removed Alisha's gag, and Chup held a waterskin for her. Alisha drank greedily. When she finished, she tried speaking a Word, knowing it was useless, knowing that the tickling she had just endured had temporarily suppressed her sorcerous powers. And so it proved: The Word came out as a mere word, esoteric, but without any power in it. Chup chuckled. "Come now, Your Highness. You didn't really think we were incompetent captors, did you?"
Alisha shrugged. "No, not really. But I had to try." Belated recognition came to her. "You're the Bandit Prince Chup. Aren't you."
Chup sketched a bow from his stool. "I am he. And you are the Sorceress-Princess Alisha, and my captive."
"Unless you get caught yourself."
Chup grinned. "True. But as a bandit prince I run that risk anyway."
Alisha had to agree. Nor could she think ill of the man: As a "bandit prince" Chup was a noble, of a sort, and it was no crime for one noble to take another captive for ransom. At least as long as the captor succeeded, that was, with payment of ransom being the usual mark of success. That meant that Alisha - Princess Alisha - had a duty to endure her captivity with as much regal grace as she could muster. No matter how aggravating it was to have her plans disrupted this way. "So," she asked brightly, "how much are you asking, for my ransom?"
"Forty thousand silvers of the South," came the answer. "Or four hundred pieces of Western gold. But forty thousand silvers sounds more impressive, don't you think?"
"It's... a lot of silver."
"Yes it is. Which is why your father has a full forty days to pay it, before I have you sold from the auction block in Ranchijammu."
"Lots of pretty ladies sold in Ranchijammu," Maark put in. Then the ogre switched to his own language. «But this one might even bring a full four hundred gold on the block. She is ticklish, as well as pretty.»
«Better to have the King's coin in hand, though,» Chup answered the ogre. Then to Alisha: "I'll have you untied and put in gilt chains, so you can sleep. Whatever happens you can look forward to forty interesting days."
#
The next morning Alisha yawned and stretched, and found her arms brought up short by the gilt chains and fetters on her wrists. She frowned briefly at them, then composed herself. Regal grace, she thought. She would maintain the regal grace of a princess even if her path led her to climb barefoot onto the auction block in Ranchijammu.
Alisha did have to admit that the gilt chains were much more pleasant to sleep in than that tight hogtie of the previous day. Even if stubborn metal and intricate locks were even more impossible to escape from than the silken cords and knots of yesterday's tie. She tried a Word, and again found it to be a mere powerless word. Her sorcery would return to her later that day, if her captors would allow it. Which of course they wouldn't. She munched on the simple breakfast they gave her, and wondered how they would tickle her this time. Put her in a hogtie again? They might, but she rather suspected that they'd try something new.
And so it proved. Most of the ogres left the hideout. "Hunting, or leading your father's men away from here," Chup explained. Maark remained behind, along with the bandit prince himself. "And now, Your Highness," Chup said as Maark unlocked the gilt shackles, "we must make sure you don't regain your sorcery today. Also, this will prepare you for the auction block in Ranchijammu, if your path should be fated to lead there. Leave your clothes here on the cot, if you please."
"My father will pay my ransom," Alisha said. But she obeyed the bandit prince's command. Nude and barefoot, she let herself be led out and tied between two trees. One silken cord bound her right wrist to the tree to her right, and a second tied her left wrist to the tree to her left. Each hand had a bit over a handspan worth of slack: By pulling as much as she could to the right she could just touch the tree there, and the same to her left.
Maark spilled out a sack on the grass before Alisha, and she found that she couldn't take her eyes from the things there: The feathers, the brushes, the blunt-tined wooden forks, the silken puffs on the ends of their wooden rods...
There were also a few more pieces of silken rope. Chup picked up the longest one. "I think you need a bit more," he grinned. Alisha squeaked as he ran the rope between her legs, tying the ends high to tree-limbs on either side so that she was forced up onto her toes.
"You're enjoying this," Alisha protested as Chup hobbled her ankles with a second length of silk rope. Maark pounded a stake into the ground, and Chup attached the hobble to it.
"You should enjoy this too," Chup answered.
"Huh," Alisha said. She did have to admit (if only to herself) that the taut rope between her legs was producing an... interesting sensation. One that became more... interesting if she moved. She made herself stand still. She saw Chup pick up a feather and stand before her, considering her. Behind her she heard Maark moving.
"Gag, or no gag," Chup mused.
Before Alisha could say anything, Maark answered "Gag," behind her. She felt a silken knot being gently forced into her mouth, felt the silken square being tied behind her neck.
"Mmmph!" she protested. And then "Mmmph!" in eye-widened surprise as she realized that her captors were going to tickle her while she was gagged.
She continued to protest through her gag as she watched the feather in Chup's hand wave slowly up and down as it moved closer and closer to her side. "Mmmph-hmp-hmp-hmp!" she squealed as the silken puffball in Maark's hand, behind her, brushed against her hip. Then the feather made contact, pressing its own set of soft, irresistible tickle-sensations into her helpless body, into her vulnerable skin.
Silk-puff and feather-tip marched around her, forcing her to giggle into her gag as they lightly stroked her hips and belly, the small of her back and along the outsides of her thighs. The fronts of her knees and the backs. She couldn't keep from squirming under that gentle onslaught, and the silken cord pressed tightly into her, between her legs, produced its own set of sensations.
That cord continued to force her on her toes, and the tickle-dance her two captors forced from her made it rub against her in the most maddening way. It was driving her crazy, but she couldn't keep herself from squirming and wiggling as Chup and Maark continued their quick, light strokes with their soft and delicate implements of torment. She wanted to laugh long and loud, but her gag held her giggles inside her, making her feel even more ticklish, even more sensitive to every touch and caress that her captors inflicted upon her.
Alisha felt her nipples harden as the feather tip ran between her breasts and beneath them, a slow meandering stroke down to her belly button. She felt the arousal growing within her as the silken puff teased her hips and rear, then ran down the back of her legs. She pranced, or tried to prance, in response to the tickling, even though doing so produced a maddening pressure from the taut cord strung between her, that tried to work her way inside her.
And even her attempts to prance were drawn up short by the hobbling of her ankles. The restraints confirmed her helplessness, and then Maark was brushing the insteps of her feet, sending shivering tickle-sensations rising up through her whole body. She wanted to scream with the pleasure of it, but she could only mew into her gag.
The orgasm took her. Waves of pleasure ran from the ropes holding her wrists, and from the ropes binding her ankles. The cord between her legs bit sweetly into her, keeping the orgasm from letting her go. Chup and Maark whipped it on with delicate tickles from feather and silk.
Alisha struggled as the tickling touches took her here, and there, and everywhere over her nude body. The more she struggled against her bonds, the greater her sense of helplessness grew. And the greater her helplessness, the deeper she sank into a sea of pleasure.
At last there came a time when Alisha could not struggle any more. When she could not endure any more. She felt her wrists being released, felt herself being lowered to lie on the grass. She gasped for air, and the gag was no longer there. A blanket warmed her, wrapping her in a comforting way that didn't tickle at all. She couldn't decide whether she was pleased or disappointed as she watched Chup and Maark carry her back to the familiar oversized cot, and fasten her in place once more with gilded fetters.
To be continued
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