Sablesword
TMF Master
- Joined
- Jun 13, 2001
- Messages
- 802
- Points
- 18
The centaur and centauress at the border post were not there to keep humans from crossing into the centaur Land. Instead, they were there to ensure that humans entering the Land received the tickling they were due.
Now the two watched a human delegation approach: Three men and two women.
“It’s the Two Shrews of Chorio,” Mylon-Anna commented.
“Is that who they are,” Orzon answered. “You hear more rumors than I do.”
Mylon-Anna looked at him, daring him to add gossipy females to his comment. Orzon declined to take the bait.
The two human women had the dark hair and dark eyes of humans who lived around the Inner Sea. Both were closer to thirty than twenty, and they might have as much as two years difference in their ages. No more than that, however. A rope linked them together, waist-to-waist, allowing them to stand just eight feet apart. Instead of their hands being tied behind them, they each wore a shrew-yoke. This form of wooden yoke held its captive’s wrists in front of her face, rather than to either side of her head.
Both women were gagged, which was also unusual.
The oldest man nodded to the centaurs, and Orzon returned the gesture. The two women stood right at the border, as far apart from each other as their waist-rope allowed. The big man behind them lowered the catch pole he carried, hooking the rope in the middle and pushing to force the women to cross the border. He was careful not to cross over into the centaur Land himself.
The two women didn’t work together to resist the push. Instead, each attempted to see the other forced across the boundary-line first. Orzon stepped forward and grabbed the connecting rope, pulling the two women further into the Land.
“Excellent sir, honorable sir, distinguished sir,” Orzon said, with a formal salute to each man in turn, “If I may ask: Who might these two women be, and what decision brings them here?”
The oldest man answered with equal formality. “They are named Jana and Eurypette of Chorio. Both have been ostracized by a vote of the citizens of Chorio, and the Dikasts of Chorio have further decreed that they be sent to the North.”
Like most of the human city-states south of the centaur Land, Chorio practiced ostracism, holding votes at irregular intervals to send unwanted persons into a year-long exile. Usually they were given a day to depart in whatever direction they wanted. Occasionally, however, they were forced to enter the centaur Land. And rarely, two persons were ostracized in a vote, instead of just one.
When the three human men had departed, Orzon, still holding the rope, asked Mylona, “Do you want to take these two to the Women’s Oak, or should I?”
“I’d rather you did. I think I can keep watch by myself for a bit.” Mylona’s head-tilt took in the bow and quiver on her back, and the bola hanging from her belt.
“Very good.” Orzon knew that Mylona should by rights have the eke-name ‘Keen-Eye’ or ‘Quick-Hand,’ instead of the one she’d gained from a youthful incident. He gave the rope held a tug, and led Jana and Eurypette deeper into the centaur Land.
The tickle-stocks awaited them.
Jana fumed as the centaur led them by the middle of the rope connecting her and Eurypette. It was all that young hussy’s fault! She had no business kicking up a fuss over that chicken. And that unspeakable Ker Meleager! When the pot-shards were counted, an equal number had her name and Eurypette’s, but he hadn’t declared the vote void. He instead called for them both to go into exile for a year. And the Dikasts had decreed that they be pushed into the centaur Land, for good measure.
Everyone knew about the tickling inflicted on humans in the centaur Land, and while Jana wasn’t looking forward to receiving it, she could at least tell herself that Eurypette would get just as much of the tickle-torment as she did.
Jana noticed how Orzon the centaur was losing his patience. That was Eurypette’s fault too, for being so difficult. Uselessly difficult; it would not do either of them a bit of good.
Eurypette held back her complaints. She would not let herself sound like a fool by trying to talk into her gag. Jana could make a fool of herself that way, but she wouldn’t.
That insufferable old harridan! It was her fault for trying to cheat her over that chicken. And to pile on the unfairness, the vote to ostracize had condemned both of them to exile in the centaur Land.
A spreading oak tree came into view. Eurypette recognized it, even though neither she nor Jana had seen it before. Like everyone else in Chorio, they’d been told about it by the few women who had seen it.
“This is our woman’s oak,” the centaur – Orzon – said. “The man’s tree here is a plane tree, not too far away. But that doesn’t concern us today. Besides” – Eurypette could hear the amusement in the centaur’s voice – “sending you two to the plane tree would be too much like an act of mercy.” He paused, as if waiting for them to comment. “They wouldn’t be quite sure about how to deal with a female flat-footer’s soles,” he went on. “Farris and Nakuris know how, though. Oh yes, they know how.”
Orzon’s initial politeness had worn away, and that was Jana’s fault too, for kicking up a useless fuss during the short walk here. That was just like her!
Under the oak, Eurypette could see two more centaurs. They must be the Farris and Nakuris that Orzon had named. She could hear wild laughter as well, the laughter of two women in two sets of stocks. There were empty stocks and posts as well, and outside the spread of the oak, well into the sunlight, she saw the gnomen of a sundial. Next to the gnomen stood a sign, with writing in the curlicue script that the centaurs used: Alja Kentaros mor kental velator velex bartaros mel Uru, nor Kentaros yonvel morkap i patalos. “If the Kentaros should ever fail to visit merciless tickle-torment on foreigners who enter the Land, then will the Kentaros suffer betrayal and ruination.”
Jana had also seen the sign quoting the Prophecy. Now she was facing away from it, sitting in one of the stocks under the spreading oak’s shade. And Eurypette, drat her, was sitting next to her, in the same set of stocks.
The two human women who had been receiving the centaur’s tickles stumbled off. It was Jana’s turn now. Jana and Eurypette’s turn. They were both still gagged and secured in their shrew-yokes, and their sandals had been removed before their ankles were trapped between the stock-boards.
Jana knew it was going to be horrible. She could only hope that it would be even more horrible for the hussy beside her.
The lighter centaur, Farris, removed Jana’s gag and held a ladle. “Drink,” he commanded.
Jana drank the water. What else could she do? Well, she could give this four-legged beast-man a piece of her mind. She managed to get no more than two words out when the centaur popped the knotted cloth back into her mouth and secured it again. It was cool and wet; Farris had soaked it with another ladle-full of water after removing it.
A glance to the side showed that the hussy Eurypette was gagged again as well. Good.
Water splashed over Jana’s feet. She felt a scrubbing brush being applied, on the far side of the stock-boards. She squealed into her gag. It tickled!
Eurypette made small noises into her gag as the scrubbing brush’s tickle-echos faded from her feet. “Now now,” Nakuris told her. “We haven’t even begun yet.”
Farris said, “A brief augury revealed that ignorance would be a mercy for you two. So, of course, you will be shown each tool in turn and told its name.”
“We haven’t even begun yet,” Nakuris repeated. “If you want to know what the scrubbing brush can do when it’s wielded to actually tickle, we might just show you.”
“But later,” Farris said. He held up a pair of feathers, one in each hand. A moment later, Nakuris did the same. “These are vos-hawk feathers. Most of us here in the Land believe they are the best feathers for tickling.”
“There are always contrarians,” Nakuris said. “Perhaps later you will be able to judge for yourselves.”
Eurypette watched the feathers drop out of sight, beyond the stock-boards. Then she felt their tips on her soles. Her helpless soles. The stocks held her feet side-by-side, with a thong tying her large toes together. That left her soles completely vulnerable to the tickle.
She squirmed and made more noises in her gag as she felt the light touch of the two feathers. She felt them run up and down both her soles and back and forth across them. It tickled! It tickled! Her hands opened and clenched, wrists trapped in the shrew-yoke, while her feet could not do anything but receive their tickling.
Eurypette squirmed under that teasing touch on her feet, unable to help herself. If she hadn’t been so well secured, she couldn’t have held still for it. But she was trapped in the stocks, and so she did have to hold still for it. She took a moment to wish that Jana was feeling her tickle as a torment, and then her attention was drawn again to the meandering feather tip on her left sole. And to the other vos-hawk feather tickle-teasing her right sole, running straight up and down over the bare skin.
“Tickle tickle tickle!” Farris said as he made his vos-hawk feather dance over Jana’s soles. Jana squealed into her gag, yet again, as her trapped feet received yet another tickle-assault.
Those bare feet were held a hand span apart by the stocks, with the little and large toes of each foot thronged to pegs. They could not escape whatever tickle Farris chose to inflict, and his feather-tickling was indeed an insistent and merciless one. Jana could not possibly have sat still for it if this stupid stock weren’t holding her in place. But that wasn’t the same as not being able to stand it.
Jana took a moment to wish that the hussy beside her was suffering unbearably from her feathering. Then Farris altered the tempo, making her aware of her feet more than everything else.
“Tickle tickle tickle!” Farris said.
The teasing feather-tips ran up and down both her bare soles. They zig-zagged across them. They circled and sought out every sensitive nerve in Jana’s feet as Farris tickled with a casual expertise, sending streams of tease into her soles and up her legs, forcing her to squirm and to make those giggling gag-noises.
Eurypette felt the tickle as Nakuris effortlessly kept the two vos-hawk feathers stroking and teasing her soles. He was making those feathers tickle: Tickle and tickle and tickle without end, forcing her to squirm and gag-giggle. The feathers made free with her toes and her arches, with the balls of her feet and her heels, tickle-teasing in a way that she would have said was impossible. They were only feathers; how could they do so much to her? And the gag made it impossible for her to beg for the tickling to stop.
Beside her, Jana was squirming and gag-giggling too. For a fierce moment Eurypette hoped that Jana was suffering twice the tickle-torment she was. Then, with a shock, Eurypette realized that her tickling wasn’t a torment. Not really, not exactly. It was just overwhelmingly there.
Jana closed her eyes as the teasing vos-hawk feathers continued to lap at her helpless feet. She didn’t know whether being limited to gag-giggles made things better or worse. She opened her eyes again; shutting them hadn’t made any difference.
“Tickle tickle tickle!” Farris said once more, and Jana felt a tickle-tickle-tickle in time with the words. The centaur really was being merciless in his tickling. Merciless, but not cruel. This feathering of her feet was almost seductive. No, not ‘almost’; it was seductive.
A pause allowed Jana to breathe deeply through her nose. She wished fiercely that Eurypette tickling was cruel. She was almost willing to accept a cruel tickle for herself, if the hussy got one too.
Then the vos-hawk feathers teased her toes. They tickled the pads of Jana’s toes and the spaces between, before meandering down her soles again toward her heels. She scrunched and gag-giggled, helpless under the tickling expertise of the centaur Farris.
“Can you two at least pretend to be nice to each other if we ungag you now?” Nakuris asked.
Eurypette made a rude noise in her gag, and heard Jana, beside her, make an even ruder one.
“I’ll take that as ‘no, we need another dose of tickling, first’ then.”
Farris put in, “At least one more dose.”
Nakuris held up a stick, something like an arrow but with a smoothly-rounded arrowhead, attached to the wooden shaft with a blob of wax. “This is a north-nymph arrow. Or a tickle arrow, depending on how one translates the barbarian name for it. We dab a little grease onto the polished stone, like this, and then we’re ready to apply the next dose of tickling.”
“Tickle tickle tickle!” Farris said. He had a tickle-arrow of his own, and Eurypette heard Jana squeal into her gag as he applied it to her bare soles.
Then Eurypette squealed herself, as she felt the cool and squirmy touch of the blunt arrowhead. It tickled as much as a vos-hawk feather but in a different way, and Nakuris wielded it with enthusiasm against Eurypette’s helpless feet.
The arrowhead twisted and meandered, applying its greasy tickle-touch. Eurypette felt it wander all over her soles, retracing the tickle-paths scouted out by the two feathers and finding new tickle-paths of its own. And Eurypette could not hold back her gag-giggles.
Jana heard Farris say, “Tickle tickle tickle!” as the centaur wielded the new implement. As he did so, she felt the greasy stone, first on her left sole and then on her right. It wasn’t the soft and insistent tickle of the vos-hawk feathers. It was slick and smooth, and it tickled just as much. At least as much: Jana was becoming more and more aware of how expert Farris was at tickling helpless human feet. His stroking twisting teases put Jana’s attention entirely on her soles. On her helpless soles. That were being tickled!
She squeaked and giggled into her gag, unable to help herself. She squirmed on the bench, her hands opening and closing above the shrew-yoke. She didn’t really see her hands, despite them being right in from of her face. She was too busy feeling the things being done to her feet. The tickling things! And her feet couldn’t move at all, as her soles got tickled. Tickled all over! By that magic north-nymph arrow!
Once or twice, Eurypette felt her soles being raked by the feathered vanes of the tickle-arrow. Most of the tickling, however, came from the slick, smooth-polished stone tip. She felt the stone tease both her large toes at once, tied together as they were, and then meander down her soles, back and forth, until its squirmy greasy path reached her heels. Then Nakuris would either repeat the stroke or apply a new and twisty one. Either choice would send another stream of tickle-tease into Eurypette’s feet. She couldn’t see them, behind the stock-boards, but she could feel what the centaur was doing to them.
Every so often the tickling would pause. Briefly. Just long enough to let Eurypette breathe in and out despite her gag. Just long enough to draw out the tickle session. The merciless tickle session. The tickles would pause, but they wouldn’t end until the centaurs chose to end them. Eurypette didn’t care about them ending. Not as long as that harridan beside her suffered.
For a moment, Eurypette imagined Jana trying to beg and not being able to. Muffled by the gag and laughing too hard to be able to speak. Then the daydream vanished as yet another twisty tickle-stroke on her paired soles demanded all of her attention. Eurypette gag-giggled yet again, spreading her fingers wide above the shrew-yoke.
Eurypette was finding that she liked it. She liked the teasing things Nakuris was doing to her bare soles. But she would bite her tongue off rather than admit it to the harridan Jana, sitting beside her.
A brief pause, “So it won’t end too quickly,” Jana heard Farris said. She heard Eurypette squeal into her gag, and briefly hoped the hussy was suffering from her tickle torment.
But only briefly. The touch of the blunt stone arrowhead returned, and now Jana squealed. It wasn’t a torment, but it was a tickle. A huge tickle!
Jana felt the quick, sharp tickle-strokes give way to a slow, meandering tickle-tease. That lazy tickle painted her soles, alternating between them, tickling and teasing them everywhere. It was a squirmy tickle, rather than a squealing one, and it demanded gag-giggle after gag-giggle.
The lazy tickle of the greased stone kept going, and kept going, and kept going. Jana felt it touch her toes and her heels, spiraling in her arches and over the balls of her feet. It returned to all the sensitive tickle-spots on her soles. Then Jana felt a quick flurry of tickle-strokes, sharp in contrast, but just as teasing. Following that flurry, the slow and lazy tickle returned. Again it was a lengthy tease, and Jana didn’t care how long it lasted. Nor was she disappointed when the slow meander over her soles was broken by other bursts of rapid tickle-strokes. They were different tickles, despite being applied by the same stone arrowhead, but they both were tickles. They both made Jana squirm and squeal and gag-giggle.
And Jana realized that she was enjoying her merciless tickling; merciless was not the same as cruel. She was enjoying the tickles. Even if, without the stocks, she couldn’t possibly have held still for them. Even if she would never admit to enjoying them to that hussy Eurypette.
At the sundial, the two centaurs looked at the shadow and considered the time.
“Not yet,” Nakuris said.
“Not yet,” Farris agreed, “but we should adjust things.”
“Exchange places?”
“No, just ungag them, and remove the shrew-yokes.”
Eurypette glared at Jana, determined not to say a thing until the harridan spoke first. The centaurs had removed their gags and shrew-yokes, and had tied their wrist behind them. They were still in the stocks, however, with their feet held helpless for the tickling yet to come. Tickling that was all Jana’s fault, and Eurypette hoped, yet again, that it would be a proper torment for the other woman.
So far, it hadn’t been too bad. In fact, Eurypette had found the tickling to be kind of fun. But it would be a shame if Jana felt the same way. The harridan deserved to suffer!
Jana looked straight ahead, lips clamped tight. She told herself to keep her hands still behind her, and she told herself not to look at Eurypette beside her. There was more tickling to come, and the hussy was entirely to blame for it.
So far the tickling had been exciting, in a good sort of way. Not that Jana would ever admit it, or at lest not where Eurypette could hear about it. In fact, she hoped the next part would be a true tickle-torture for them both. Or better yet a tickle-torture just for Eurypette. The hussy had it coming to her!
Eurypette felt water splash on her feet, just as it had at the beginning of the session. This time, however, she could see the scrubbing brush. Nakuris had set it on top of the stock-boards, and Farris had set another in front of Jana.
“You just thought these scrubbing burshes tickled,” the centaurs had told both the women. “But that was before the tickle session properly began. Now we’re going to show you what they can really do.”
Nakuris picked up his brush, and Eurypette saw it drop out of sight. Then she felt Nakuris apply it to her soles. To both soles at once; the stocks still held them side by side with her large toes thronged together. It scrubbed those helpless soles and it tickled! Both of them! At the same time!
Eurypette squeaked and giggled. Her giggles turned into laughter. She couldn’t keep from laughing as the scrubbing tickle soaked her feet. It didn’t tease, it roared. It felt like it covered every bit of both soles at once. Because it did. It covered them with tickle!
It covered those vulnerable soles with a good tickle, a wonderful tickle. For the moment it made Eurypette forget about the stupidity and nastiness of Jana. She could only think of the tickling of her feet. Of her soles! All over at once! And that roaring tickle went on and on and on…
Jana heard Farris say, “Now we’re going to show you what they can really do” – and then he made her feel what the scrubbing brush could really do. The stocks held her feet apart, which meant the brush couldn’t tickle both soles at once, but Farris could – and did – alternate rapidly between the two.
Scrub-scrub-scrub-scrub on Jana’s left sole. Scrub-scrub-scrub-scrub on her right sole. Scrub-scrub, scrub-scrub, scrub-scrub alternating between her two soles. And with each scrub Jana felt a mad tickle. A tickle that made her twist desperately. A tickle that make her squeal, or forced out a burst of mad laughter. A scrub that her feet could do nothing to avoid.
Now Jana felt the tickle-tempo vary. Scrub-scrub on her left sole. Scrub-scrub on her right sole. Scrub-scrub-scrub on each sole in turn, with pauses between each set. Pauses just long enough to make the next touch of the brush tickle just as much as before.
The new tempo continued. Jana’s laughter poured out, no longer blocked by a gag. She had a vague awareness that Farris was pacing her tickling. Pacing it mercilessly to draw it out. But she didn’t care. Not now.
“Tickle tickle tickle!” Farris said. He grinned at her. “Tickle tickle tickle!”
Jana laughed. She wasn’t aware of Eurypette laughing as well, undergoing her own tickle in the stocks beside her. Jana was only aware of Farris and his grin, of his “Tickle tickle tickle!” and most of all, of the way she was his helpless tickle-prisoner.
For a moment, Eurypette became aware of Jana laughing uncontrollably beside her. For a moment, she hoped the harridan was suffering as she deserved. Then she saw Nakuris grin silently at her yet again, and his touch drew all of her attention.
Nakuris applied the scrubbing brush with a masterly touch now, inflicting a tickling that was both delicate and overwhelming. He could tickle both soles at once, together and toe-tied as they were, and Eurypette felt him take full advantage of that. She laughed and giggled and giggled and laughed until tears started to roll down her face.
And still the stiff-bristled brush touched and danced behind the stock boards.
Tickle tickle tickle tickle!
Eurypette kept giggling and giggling at the touch of the stiff bristles. She couldn’t stop giggling. She could twist and she could squirm on this side of the stocks, but her imprisoned feet could do nothing about the tickling they were receiving. Nothing!
The tickle-scrub was here and there now, rather than the whole-sole experience Eurypette had felt as the start of the brush session. Nakuris grinned at her, as he wielded the scrubbing brush with surprising delicacy, and she felt it visiting each sensitive tickle-spot in turn.
It tickled everywhere it touched, and that tickling was driving Eurypette mad. Mad! She wanted to be driven mad, which was even madder. It felt so good, that sweet, tickling touch. Nakuris tickled her mercilessly, and she didn’t want him to stop.
Jana heard Eurypette squeal and giggle sitting next to her in the stocks. For a moment she wished that the hussy were elsewhere, and wished even more that she was suffering a true tickle torment. Then Jana’s own tickle torment demanded all of her attention.
Only it wasn’t a torment. Not really. Not at all, in fact, despite being more than even the tickle of the vos-hawk feathers at the start. Her feet had been surprisingly sensitive then, and now they were wildly tickle-sensitive.
“Tickle tickle tickle!” Farris said for the hundredth time.
“Hahahahahaha!” Jana answered, laughing so hard now that she wept.
Then Jana felt Farris change the way he wielded the scrubbing brush. It still felt rough, but at the same time surprisingly gentle. Instead of the entire sole, each time it visited a sole, the stiff bristles tickled here and there, brushing in a way that teased and teased and teeeaased. At this new touch Jana giggled instead of laughing. She giggled and giggled and giggled.
“Tickle tickle tickle!” Farris said, as he made Jana giggle giggle giggle.
The giggle-brushing continued. It went on and on and on. It tickled mercilessly, and it kept tickling mercilessly, and as it did Jana wanted more and more for the tickling to continue. She had become tickle-drunk, a thing she’d heard whispered descriptions of, back in Chorio. But she had never really believed it to be possible.
Now she did, and she didn’t want it to stop.
Eurypette sat on the ground now, released from the tickling stocks. She grinned foolishly as she fumbled at putting her sandals back on. The pass tokens Nakuris had given her sat on the ground beside her, and she reminded herself to be sure to pick them up.
She took a moment to wish yet again that Jana had suffered horribly from the just-completed tickling session, but she wasn’t able to put as much venom in the wish as the harridan deserved.
“Your pass tokens are good for a month,” Farris said, addressing them both. “You are expected to behave yourselves, however. If you don’t, we’ll have to drag you here for another dose to sweeten your dispositions.”
Now there was a thought. Eurypette began to consider ways that Jana might be maneuvered into misbehaving. It ought to be easy, given what a nasty person she was. She’d have to think more about it, once she could think straight. This tickle-session had been maddening. Delightfully maddening. Her foolish grin grew broader. It might even be worth it to return here herself, for the sake of giving that harridan a well-deserved tickle torment.
Jana sat on the ground on the other side of the stocks. She clutched her pass tokens, putting them away with exaggerated care. When she had done so she would don her sandals again. Slowly and carefully, given how tickle-drunk she was.
She hoped that Eurypette had experienced a real torment from her just-completed tickle-session. Or that she would experience a horrible hangover if she had become tickle-drunk too. The hussy deserved it – but Jana couldn’t put the proper heat into the thought. She was too tickle-drunk for that.
She heard Farris say, “Your pass tokens are good for a month.” He was addressing them both. “You are expected to behave yourselves, however. If you don’t, we’ll have to drag you here for another dose to sweeten your dispositions.”
Jana considered that. Ideas began bubbling up within her mind. There ought to be some way to get Eurypette sent back here. Of course the hussy would misbehave; the trick would be to have her get caught at it. Jana shook her head; she was too tickle-drunk to think straight right now. She would have to come up with a proper plan later.
Her drunken grin widened. She might even let herself be dragged back here as well, if doing so would get Eurypette properly tickle-tormented.
(end)
Now the two watched a human delegation approach: Three men and two women.
“It’s the Two Shrews of Chorio,” Mylon-Anna commented.
“Is that who they are,” Orzon answered. “You hear more rumors than I do.”
Mylon-Anna looked at him, daring him to add gossipy females to his comment. Orzon declined to take the bait.
The two human women had the dark hair and dark eyes of humans who lived around the Inner Sea. Both were closer to thirty than twenty, and they might have as much as two years difference in their ages. No more than that, however. A rope linked them together, waist-to-waist, allowing them to stand just eight feet apart. Instead of their hands being tied behind them, they each wore a shrew-yoke. This form of wooden yoke held its captive’s wrists in front of her face, rather than to either side of her head.
Both women were gagged, which was also unusual.
The oldest man nodded to the centaurs, and Orzon returned the gesture. The two women stood right at the border, as far apart from each other as their waist-rope allowed. The big man behind them lowered the catch pole he carried, hooking the rope in the middle and pushing to force the women to cross the border. He was careful not to cross over into the centaur Land himself.
The two women didn’t work together to resist the push. Instead, each attempted to see the other forced across the boundary-line first. Orzon stepped forward and grabbed the connecting rope, pulling the two women further into the Land.
“Excellent sir, honorable sir, distinguished sir,” Orzon said, with a formal salute to each man in turn, “If I may ask: Who might these two women be, and what decision brings them here?”
The oldest man answered with equal formality. “They are named Jana and Eurypette of Chorio. Both have been ostracized by a vote of the citizens of Chorio, and the Dikasts of Chorio have further decreed that they be sent to the North.”
Like most of the human city-states south of the centaur Land, Chorio practiced ostracism, holding votes at irregular intervals to send unwanted persons into a year-long exile. Usually they were given a day to depart in whatever direction they wanted. Occasionally, however, they were forced to enter the centaur Land. And rarely, two persons were ostracized in a vote, instead of just one.
When the three human men had departed, Orzon, still holding the rope, asked Mylona, “Do you want to take these two to the Women’s Oak, or should I?”
“I’d rather you did. I think I can keep watch by myself for a bit.” Mylona’s head-tilt took in the bow and quiver on her back, and the bola hanging from her belt.
“Very good.” Orzon knew that Mylona should by rights have the eke-name ‘Keen-Eye’ or ‘Quick-Hand,’ instead of the one she’d gained from a youthful incident. He gave the rope held a tug, and led Jana and Eurypette deeper into the centaur Land.
The tickle-stocks awaited them.
------------------=O+O+O=------------------
Jana fumed as the centaur led them by the middle of the rope connecting her and Eurypette. It was all that young hussy’s fault! She had no business kicking up a fuss over that chicken. And that unspeakable Ker Meleager! When the pot-shards were counted, an equal number had her name and Eurypette’s, but he hadn’t declared the vote void. He instead called for them both to go into exile for a year. And the Dikasts had decreed that they be pushed into the centaur Land, for good measure.
Everyone knew about the tickling inflicted on humans in the centaur Land, and while Jana wasn’t looking forward to receiving it, she could at least tell herself that Eurypette would get just as much of the tickle-torment as she did.
Jana noticed how Orzon the centaur was losing his patience. That was Eurypette’s fault too, for being so difficult. Uselessly difficult; it would not do either of them a bit of good.
------------------=O+O+O=------------------
Eurypette held back her complaints. She would not let herself sound like a fool by trying to talk into her gag. Jana could make a fool of herself that way, but she wouldn’t.
That insufferable old harridan! It was her fault for trying to cheat her over that chicken. And to pile on the unfairness, the vote to ostracize had condemned both of them to exile in the centaur Land.
A spreading oak tree came into view. Eurypette recognized it, even though neither she nor Jana had seen it before. Like everyone else in Chorio, they’d been told about it by the few women who had seen it.
“This is our woman’s oak,” the centaur – Orzon – said. “The man’s tree here is a plane tree, not too far away. But that doesn’t concern us today. Besides” – Eurypette could hear the amusement in the centaur’s voice – “sending you two to the plane tree would be too much like an act of mercy.” He paused, as if waiting for them to comment. “They wouldn’t be quite sure about how to deal with a female flat-footer’s soles,” he went on. “Farris and Nakuris know how, though. Oh yes, they know how.”
Orzon’s initial politeness had worn away, and that was Jana’s fault too, for kicking up a useless fuss during the short walk here. That was just like her!
Under the oak, Eurypette could see two more centaurs. They must be the Farris and Nakuris that Orzon had named. She could hear wild laughter as well, the laughter of two women in two sets of stocks. There were empty stocks and posts as well, and outside the spread of the oak, well into the sunlight, she saw the gnomen of a sundial. Next to the gnomen stood a sign, with writing in the curlicue script that the centaurs used: Alja Kentaros mor kental velator velex bartaros mel Uru, nor Kentaros yonvel morkap i patalos. “If the Kentaros should ever fail to visit merciless tickle-torment on foreigners who enter the Land, then will the Kentaros suffer betrayal and ruination.”
------------------=O+O+O=------------------
Jana had also seen the sign quoting the Prophecy. Now she was facing away from it, sitting in one of the stocks under the spreading oak’s shade. And Eurypette, drat her, was sitting next to her, in the same set of stocks.
The two human women who had been receiving the centaur’s tickles stumbled off. It was Jana’s turn now. Jana and Eurypette’s turn. They were both still gagged and secured in their shrew-yokes, and their sandals had been removed before their ankles were trapped between the stock-boards.
Jana knew it was going to be horrible. She could only hope that it would be even more horrible for the hussy beside her.
The lighter centaur, Farris, removed Jana’s gag and held a ladle. “Drink,” he commanded.
Jana drank the water. What else could she do? Well, she could give this four-legged beast-man a piece of her mind. She managed to get no more than two words out when the centaur popped the knotted cloth back into her mouth and secured it again. It was cool and wet; Farris had soaked it with another ladle-full of water after removing it.
A glance to the side showed that the hussy Eurypette was gagged again as well. Good.
Water splashed over Jana’s feet. She felt a scrubbing brush being applied, on the far side of the stock-boards. She squealed into her gag. It tickled!
------------------=O+O+O=------------------
Eurypette made small noises into her gag as the scrubbing brush’s tickle-echos faded from her feet. “Now now,” Nakuris told her. “We haven’t even begun yet.”
Farris said, “A brief augury revealed that ignorance would be a mercy for you two. So, of course, you will be shown each tool in turn and told its name.”
“We haven’t even begun yet,” Nakuris repeated. “If you want to know what the scrubbing brush can do when it’s wielded to actually tickle, we might just show you.”
“But later,” Farris said. He held up a pair of feathers, one in each hand. A moment later, Nakuris did the same. “These are vos-hawk feathers. Most of us here in the Land believe they are the best feathers for tickling.”
“There are always contrarians,” Nakuris said. “Perhaps later you will be able to judge for yourselves.”
Eurypette watched the feathers drop out of sight, beyond the stock-boards. Then she felt their tips on her soles. Her helpless soles. The stocks held her feet side-by-side, with a thong tying her large toes together. That left her soles completely vulnerable to the tickle.
She squirmed and made more noises in her gag as she felt the light touch of the two feathers. She felt them run up and down both her soles and back and forth across them. It tickled! It tickled! Her hands opened and clenched, wrists trapped in the shrew-yoke, while her feet could not do anything but receive their tickling.
Eurypette squirmed under that teasing touch on her feet, unable to help herself. If she hadn’t been so well secured, she couldn’t have held still for it. But she was trapped in the stocks, and so she did have to hold still for it. She took a moment to wish that Jana was feeling her tickle as a torment, and then her attention was drawn again to the meandering feather tip on her left sole. And to the other vos-hawk feather tickle-teasing her right sole, running straight up and down over the bare skin.
------------------=O+O+O=------------------
“Tickle tickle tickle!” Farris said as he made his vos-hawk feather dance over Jana’s soles. Jana squealed into her gag, yet again, as her trapped feet received yet another tickle-assault.
Those bare feet were held a hand span apart by the stocks, with the little and large toes of each foot thronged to pegs. They could not escape whatever tickle Farris chose to inflict, and his feather-tickling was indeed an insistent and merciless one. Jana could not possibly have sat still for it if this stupid stock weren’t holding her in place. But that wasn’t the same as not being able to stand it.
Jana took a moment to wish that the hussy beside her was suffering unbearably from her feathering. Then Farris altered the tempo, making her aware of her feet more than everything else.
“Tickle tickle tickle!” Farris said.
The teasing feather-tips ran up and down both her bare soles. They zig-zagged across them. They circled and sought out every sensitive nerve in Jana’s feet as Farris tickled with a casual expertise, sending streams of tease into her soles and up her legs, forcing her to squirm and to make those giggling gag-noises.
------------------=O+O+O=------------------
Eurypette felt the tickle as Nakuris effortlessly kept the two vos-hawk feathers stroking and teasing her soles. He was making those feathers tickle: Tickle and tickle and tickle without end, forcing her to squirm and gag-giggle. The feathers made free with her toes and her arches, with the balls of her feet and her heels, tickle-teasing in a way that she would have said was impossible. They were only feathers; how could they do so much to her? And the gag made it impossible for her to beg for the tickling to stop.
Beside her, Jana was squirming and gag-giggling too. For a fierce moment Eurypette hoped that Jana was suffering twice the tickle-torment she was. Then, with a shock, Eurypette realized that her tickling wasn’t a torment. Not really, not exactly. It was just overwhelmingly there.
------------------=O+O+O=------------------
Jana closed her eyes as the teasing vos-hawk feathers continued to lap at her helpless feet. She didn’t know whether being limited to gag-giggles made things better or worse. She opened her eyes again; shutting them hadn’t made any difference.
“Tickle tickle tickle!” Farris said once more, and Jana felt a tickle-tickle-tickle in time with the words. The centaur really was being merciless in his tickling. Merciless, but not cruel. This feathering of her feet was almost seductive. No, not ‘almost’; it was seductive.
A pause allowed Jana to breathe deeply through her nose. She wished fiercely that Eurypette tickling was cruel. She was almost willing to accept a cruel tickle for herself, if the hussy got one too.
Then the vos-hawk feathers teased her toes. They tickled the pads of Jana’s toes and the spaces between, before meandering down her soles again toward her heels. She scrunched and gag-giggled, helpless under the tickling expertise of the centaur Farris.
------------------=O+O+O=------------------
“Can you two at least pretend to be nice to each other if we ungag you now?” Nakuris asked.
Eurypette made a rude noise in her gag, and heard Jana, beside her, make an even ruder one.
“I’ll take that as ‘no, we need another dose of tickling, first’ then.”
Farris put in, “At least one more dose.”
Nakuris held up a stick, something like an arrow but with a smoothly-rounded arrowhead, attached to the wooden shaft with a blob of wax. “This is a north-nymph arrow. Or a tickle arrow, depending on how one translates the barbarian name for it. We dab a little grease onto the polished stone, like this, and then we’re ready to apply the next dose of tickling.”
“Tickle tickle tickle!” Farris said. He had a tickle-arrow of his own, and Eurypette heard Jana squeal into her gag as he applied it to her bare soles.
Then Eurypette squealed herself, as she felt the cool and squirmy touch of the blunt arrowhead. It tickled as much as a vos-hawk feather but in a different way, and Nakuris wielded it with enthusiasm against Eurypette’s helpless feet.
The arrowhead twisted and meandered, applying its greasy tickle-touch. Eurypette felt it wander all over her soles, retracing the tickle-paths scouted out by the two feathers and finding new tickle-paths of its own. And Eurypette could not hold back her gag-giggles.
------------------=O+O+O=------------------
Jana heard Farris say, “Tickle tickle tickle!” as the centaur wielded the new implement. As he did so, she felt the greasy stone, first on her left sole and then on her right. It wasn’t the soft and insistent tickle of the vos-hawk feathers. It was slick and smooth, and it tickled just as much. At least as much: Jana was becoming more and more aware of how expert Farris was at tickling helpless human feet. His stroking twisting teases put Jana’s attention entirely on her soles. On her helpless soles. That were being tickled!
She squeaked and giggled into her gag, unable to help herself. She squirmed on the bench, her hands opening and closing above the shrew-yoke. She didn’t really see her hands, despite them being right in from of her face. She was too busy feeling the things being done to her feet. The tickling things! And her feet couldn’t move at all, as her soles got tickled. Tickled all over! By that magic north-nymph arrow!
------------------=O+O+O=------------------
Once or twice, Eurypette felt her soles being raked by the feathered vanes of the tickle-arrow. Most of the tickling, however, came from the slick, smooth-polished stone tip. She felt the stone tease both her large toes at once, tied together as they were, and then meander down her soles, back and forth, until its squirmy greasy path reached her heels. Then Nakuris would either repeat the stroke or apply a new and twisty one. Either choice would send another stream of tickle-tease into Eurypette’s feet. She couldn’t see them, behind the stock-boards, but she could feel what the centaur was doing to them.
Every so often the tickling would pause. Briefly. Just long enough to let Eurypette breathe in and out despite her gag. Just long enough to draw out the tickle session. The merciless tickle session. The tickles would pause, but they wouldn’t end until the centaurs chose to end them. Eurypette didn’t care about them ending. Not as long as that harridan beside her suffered.
For a moment, Eurypette imagined Jana trying to beg and not being able to. Muffled by the gag and laughing too hard to be able to speak. Then the daydream vanished as yet another twisty tickle-stroke on her paired soles demanded all of her attention. Eurypette gag-giggled yet again, spreading her fingers wide above the shrew-yoke.
Eurypette was finding that she liked it. She liked the teasing things Nakuris was doing to her bare soles. But she would bite her tongue off rather than admit it to the harridan Jana, sitting beside her.
------------------=O+O+O=------------------
A brief pause, “So it won’t end too quickly,” Jana heard Farris said. She heard Eurypette squeal into her gag, and briefly hoped the hussy was suffering from her tickle torment.
But only briefly. The touch of the blunt stone arrowhead returned, and now Jana squealed. It wasn’t a torment, but it was a tickle. A huge tickle!
Jana felt the quick, sharp tickle-strokes give way to a slow, meandering tickle-tease. That lazy tickle painted her soles, alternating between them, tickling and teasing them everywhere. It was a squirmy tickle, rather than a squealing one, and it demanded gag-giggle after gag-giggle.
The lazy tickle of the greased stone kept going, and kept going, and kept going. Jana felt it touch her toes and her heels, spiraling in her arches and over the balls of her feet. It returned to all the sensitive tickle-spots on her soles. Then Jana felt a quick flurry of tickle-strokes, sharp in contrast, but just as teasing. Following that flurry, the slow and lazy tickle returned. Again it was a lengthy tease, and Jana didn’t care how long it lasted. Nor was she disappointed when the slow meander over her soles was broken by other bursts of rapid tickle-strokes. They were different tickles, despite being applied by the same stone arrowhead, but they both were tickles. They both made Jana squirm and squeal and gag-giggle.
And Jana realized that she was enjoying her merciless tickling; merciless was not the same as cruel. She was enjoying the tickles. Even if, without the stocks, she couldn’t possibly have held still for them. Even if she would never admit to enjoying them to that hussy Eurypette.
------------------=O+O+O=------------------
At the sundial, the two centaurs looked at the shadow and considered the time.
“Not yet,” Nakuris said.
“Not yet,” Farris agreed, “but we should adjust things.”
“Exchange places?”
“No, just ungag them, and remove the shrew-yokes.”
------------------=O+O+O=------------------
Eurypette glared at Jana, determined not to say a thing until the harridan spoke first. The centaurs had removed their gags and shrew-yokes, and had tied their wrist behind them. They were still in the stocks, however, with their feet held helpless for the tickling yet to come. Tickling that was all Jana’s fault, and Eurypette hoped, yet again, that it would be a proper torment for the other woman.
So far, it hadn’t been too bad. In fact, Eurypette had found the tickling to be kind of fun. But it would be a shame if Jana felt the same way. The harridan deserved to suffer!
------------------=O+O+O=------------------
Jana looked straight ahead, lips clamped tight. She told herself to keep her hands still behind her, and she told herself not to look at Eurypette beside her. There was more tickling to come, and the hussy was entirely to blame for it.
So far the tickling had been exciting, in a good sort of way. Not that Jana would ever admit it, or at lest not where Eurypette could hear about it. In fact, she hoped the next part would be a true tickle-torture for them both. Or better yet a tickle-torture just for Eurypette. The hussy had it coming to her!
------------------=O+O+O=------------------
Eurypette felt water splash on her feet, just as it had at the beginning of the session. This time, however, she could see the scrubbing brush. Nakuris had set it on top of the stock-boards, and Farris had set another in front of Jana.
“You just thought these scrubbing burshes tickled,” the centaurs had told both the women. “But that was before the tickle session properly began. Now we’re going to show you what they can really do.”
Nakuris picked up his brush, and Eurypette saw it drop out of sight. Then she felt Nakuris apply it to her soles. To both soles at once; the stocks still held them side by side with her large toes thronged together. It scrubbed those helpless soles and it tickled! Both of them! At the same time!
Eurypette squeaked and giggled. Her giggles turned into laughter. She couldn’t keep from laughing as the scrubbing tickle soaked her feet. It didn’t tease, it roared. It felt like it covered every bit of both soles at once. Because it did. It covered them with tickle!
It covered those vulnerable soles with a good tickle, a wonderful tickle. For the moment it made Eurypette forget about the stupidity and nastiness of Jana. She could only think of the tickling of her feet. Of her soles! All over at once! And that roaring tickle went on and on and on…
------------------=O+O+O=------------------
Jana heard Farris say, “Now we’re going to show you what they can really do” – and then he made her feel what the scrubbing brush could really do. The stocks held her feet apart, which meant the brush couldn’t tickle both soles at once, but Farris could – and did – alternate rapidly between the two.
Scrub-scrub-scrub-scrub on Jana’s left sole. Scrub-scrub-scrub-scrub on her right sole. Scrub-scrub, scrub-scrub, scrub-scrub alternating between her two soles. And with each scrub Jana felt a mad tickle. A tickle that made her twist desperately. A tickle that make her squeal, or forced out a burst of mad laughter. A scrub that her feet could do nothing to avoid.
Now Jana felt the tickle-tempo vary. Scrub-scrub on her left sole. Scrub-scrub on her right sole. Scrub-scrub-scrub on each sole in turn, with pauses between each set. Pauses just long enough to make the next touch of the brush tickle just as much as before.
The new tempo continued. Jana’s laughter poured out, no longer blocked by a gag. She had a vague awareness that Farris was pacing her tickling. Pacing it mercilessly to draw it out. But she didn’t care. Not now.
“Tickle tickle tickle!” Farris said. He grinned at her. “Tickle tickle tickle!”
Jana laughed. She wasn’t aware of Eurypette laughing as well, undergoing her own tickle in the stocks beside her. Jana was only aware of Farris and his grin, of his “Tickle tickle tickle!” and most of all, of the way she was his helpless tickle-prisoner.
------------------=O+O+O=------------------
For a moment, Eurypette became aware of Jana laughing uncontrollably beside her. For a moment, she hoped the harridan was suffering as she deserved. Then she saw Nakuris grin silently at her yet again, and his touch drew all of her attention.
Nakuris applied the scrubbing brush with a masterly touch now, inflicting a tickling that was both delicate and overwhelming. He could tickle both soles at once, together and toe-tied as they were, and Eurypette felt him take full advantage of that. She laughed and giggled and giggled and laughed until tears started to roll down her face.
And still the stiff-bristled brush touched and danced behind the stock boards.
Tickle tickle tickle tickle!
Eurypette kept giggling and giggling at the touch of the stiff bristles. She couldn’t stop giggling. She could twist and she could squirm on this side of the stocks, but her imprisoned feet could do nothing about the tickling they were receiving. Nothing!
The tickle-scrub was here and there now, rather than the whole-sole experience Eurypette had felt as the start of the brush session. Nakuris grinned at her, as he wielded the scrubbing brush with surprising delicacy, and she felt it visiting each sensitive tickle-spot in turn.
It tickled everywhere it touched, and that tickling was driving Eurypette mad. Mad! She wanted to be driven mad, which was even madder. It felt so good, that sweet, tickling touch. Nakuris tickled her mercilessly, and she didn’t want him to stop.
------------------=O+O+O=------------------
Jana heard Eurypette squeal and giggle sitting next to her in the stocks. For a moment she wished that the hussy were elsewhere, and wished even more that she was suffering a true tickle torment. Then Jana’s own tickle torment demanded all of her attention.
Only it wasn’t a torment. Not really. Not at all, in fact, despite being more than even the tickle of the vos-hawk feathers at the start. Her feet had been surprisingly sensitive then, and now they were wildly tickle-sensitive.
“Tickle tickle tickle!” Farris said for the hundredth time.
“Hahahahahaha!” Jana answered, laughing so hard now that she wept.
Then Jana felt Farris change the way he wielded the scrubbing brush. It still felt rough, but at the same time surprisingly gentle. Instead of the entire sole, each time it visited a sole, the stiff bristles tickled here and there, brushing in a way that teased and teased and teeeaased. At this new touch Jana giggled instead of laughing. She giggled and giggled and giggled.
“Tickle tickle tickle!” Farris said, as he made Jana giggle giggle giggle.
The giggle-brushing continued. It went on and on and on. It tickled mercilessly, and it kept tickling mercilessly, and as it did Jana wanted more and more for the tickling to continue. She had become tickle-drunk, a thing she’d heard whispered descriptions of, back in Chorio. But she had never really believed it to be possible.
Now she did, and she didn’t want it to stop.
------------------=O+O+O=------------------
Eurypette sat on the ground now, released from the tickling stocks. She grinned foolishly as she fumbled at putting her sandals back on. The pass tokens Nakuris had given her sat on the ground beside her, and she reminded herself to be sure to pick them up.
She took a moment to wish yet again that Jana had suffered horribly from the just-completed tickling session, but she wasn’t able to put as much venom in the wish as the harridan deserved.
“Your pass tokens are good for a month,” Farris said, addressing them both. “You are expected to behave yourselves, however. If you don’t, we’ll have to drag you here for another dose to sweeten your dispositions.”
Now there was a thought. Eurypette began to consider ways that Jana might be maneuvered into misbehaving. It ought to be easy, given what a nasty person she was. She’d have to think more about it, once she could think straight. This tickle-session had been maddening. Delightfully maddening. Her foolish grin grew broader. It might even be worth it to return here herself, for the sake of giving that harridan a well-deserved tickle torment.
------------------=O+O+O=------------------
Jana sat on the ground on the other side of the stocks. She clutched her pass tokens, putting them away with exaggerated care. When she had done so she would don her sandals again. Slowly and carefully, given how tickle-drunk she was.
She hoped that Eurypette had experienced a real torment from her just-completed tickle-session. Or that she would experience a horrible hangover if she had become tickle-drunk too. The hussy deserved it – but Jana couldn’t put the proper heat into the thought. She was too tickle-drunk for that.
She heard Farris say, “Your pass tokens are good for a month.” He was addressing them both. “You are expected to behave yourselves, however. If you don’t, we’ll have to drag you here for another dose to sweeten your dispositions.”
Jana considered that. Ideas began bubbling up within her mind. There ought to be some way to get Eurypette sent back here. Of course the hussy would misbehave; the trick would be to have her get caught at it. Jana shook her head; she was too tickle-drunk to think straight right now. She would have to come up with a proper plan later.
Her drunken grin widened. She might even let herself be dragged back here as well, if doing so would get Eurypette properly tickle-tormented.
(end)
