The Wolf and the Raven (M/F & MM/F)

[tklmysole]

Twenty-one-year-old Ainsley finds herself in an unfortunate position. Locked in stocks, the comely brunette is at the mercy of Khellar, the High Lord's Captain of the Court Guard. His interrogation methods are quite effective, especially for ticklish girls like her. Subjected to fingers, feathers and other devious tickle tools, can the sensitive young woman endure and convince the cruel tickler of her innocence?

Three Chapters
M/F & MM/F
Upper Body & Feet
Worship & Footjob

This is a continuation of The Princess and the Thief. However, it was written as a standalone and can be thoroughly enjoyed without prior knowledge of the story or characters. So, if you'd like to read an interrogation scene, or if you're in the mood for a non-con tickling story with a medieval theme, this one's for you.

Please note, this story is intended for an adult audience. It contains mature themes and sexual content. All characters are 18+

CHAPTER ONE
​

In the grey of predawn, four figures made their way through a fog-choked forest of silver birch. What was once a narrow, winding trail was now trackless turf; spongy moss helped absorb the sound of their footsteps upon exiting the tunnels beneath the castle, but the ground underneath was brittle and frosty, and Elyse’s slippers were not up to the challenge of walking such a distance. The large man, whose broad shoulder she was draped over, had graciously offered his assistance in their early morning trek back to camp.

The nineteen-year-old heir to Raven’s Reach had made her objections quite clear. Yet despite muffled protests and hollow threats of death and dismemberment, the brute of a man did not break stride.

The air turned to mist each time she exhaled. Although the sun had risen, the temperature did not, and the girl shivered as a gust of wind tore through the trees, rattling the sparse yet colourful canopy above. At some point, she asked, “Where are we going?” To which the reply was, “You will find out soon enough, be still.” Elyse, unable to heed the request, squirmed and wriggled defiantly, determined to free herself. The cord wrapped tightly around her wrists made that nearly impossible.

The overgrown path that snaked through the forest eventually opened up into a stony courtyard. The sky, once livid and roiling, had finally cleared. By the time they arrived, the sun’s rays were streaking through the trees, igniting leaves of russet, orange and gold. And far above a few thin clouds were painted with shades of pink and violet.

Elyse’s feet found earth at last when the large man set her down, removed the sack covering her head, and cut the cord securing her wrists.

“We are here,” he said in a rumbling baritone.

“I can see as much, you great lout,” said the princess, squinting as her pale blue eyes adjusted to the light. She immediately buttoned her cloak to reduce the wind’s bite as yet another gust ripped through the small camp. Still, with nothing more than a thin silken nightgown underneath, she was hardly dressed for the weather.

Her eyes flitted left and right, taking in her surroundings. The dwellings, if that’s what you could call them, were meagre at best. Five dome-like huts circled a smouldering campfire; no more than leather stretched over simple wooden frames. A larger, windowless structure sat against the tree line. This was built of rock, clad in turf, with a thatched roof.

The giant of a man laid a hand on her trembling shoulder, and Elyse flinched. “You are cold,” he said. “Come, stand next to the fire and be warm.” He walked two paces ahead, then turned and extended an arm, an olive branch if ever there was one.

The princess studied him for a moment. He had a handsome, thick black beard, inlaid with streaks of silver. His hair was loosely tied in crude braids that fell nearly to his waist; it, too, was black as coal, but his temples were slashed with grey. Beneath his buckskin jerkin and breeches he bore sun-darkened olive skin that marked southerners as outsiders in these cold lands.

“As detestable as this situation is,” said Elyse, “I’ll accept your offer. I fear I’m ill-prepared for this impromptu outing.”

“We are a friendly group, you will come to learn. You and Arlo are already acquainted, it seems. The red-haired woman is Reyna. She barks worse than she bites, I believe that is the expression.”

The princess’ gaze flicked to the centrally located fire pit where the aforementioned pair stood, chatting with another.

“I am indeed familiar with your thief.” She took a few steps forward to stand alongside him, adding, “But what do I call you?”

“My friends simply call me ‘big man’. A fitting title.”

“Really? That’s your name?”

“In the absence of other big men, it serves.”

Elyse sighed, then began walking toward the fire. On the way she glimpsed a weapon rack; a couple of fishing spears and nets, two rusted short swords and a shield that resembled a large pot lid. Something to keep in mind for later, perhaps. For now, that would be put on hold while focusing on more immediate problems.

“Sure, it’s possible,” Reyna was saying, “but you can’t expect us to—” Silence befell the trio as Elyse approached the stone fire pit, the large man following closely behind. The princess and the redhead exchanged uneasy glances, then Reyna looked to Arlo and said, “We’ll pick this up later.” She turned on her heel and made for a hut.

“Well,” said Elyse, addressing the rest of the group, “don’t let me intrude. I’m simply warming my fingers a moment.”

“Welcome,” said Arlo matter-of-factly. His stained cloak flapped in the breeze as he pulled his hood up over his head, concealing his face in shadow. Beside him stood a woman, who immediately thereafter greeted the newcomer.

“Oh, come now, Arlo,” she said. “It’s not every day our quaint campsite is graced by a member of the royal family.” Elyse forced a smile as the woman bowed graciously, then stepped forward to shake the princess’ hand.

The big man, too, bowed deeply yet incorrectly at the waist, saying, “I was not aware of your royal status, my Lady.”

“How’d you not know who she was?” asked Arlo incredulously. “Did the crown not give it away?”

“It is a circlet, my father wears the crown,” said Elyse, tilting her head and allowing the silver, gemstone-adorned accessory to catch the light of morning. “But I would not expect you to know the difference.”

“All the same, Princess. Apologies for the crude way you were brought to this place,” said the big man.

“She’s here, that’s all that matters,” said the woman. “And I’m glad some of us remembered our manners.” Her elbow found Arlo’s ribs as the thief let out a grunt. “My name is Hilda, by the way, and it’s our pleasure to welcome you into our humble home. I have to say, this is quite a pairing. How exactly did you two become acquainted?”

The thief said nothing, and the princess merely smiled. But this time it was genuine.

“The pleasure is mine, Hilda,” said Elyse. “But I fear I won’t be staying long.”

“No? Pity, I was just about to serve breakfast. Won’t you stay a while? You look hungry and cold, if you don’t mind me saying, m’lady.” Her tone was warm and matronly.

Elyse examined Hilda closely. She was a striking woman, nearer to fifty than forty, with a tumbling cascade of curly auburn hair, threaded with silver, and hazel eyes nestled in laugh lines. She wore a heavy leather overcoat, trimmed in fur, overtop a maroon-coloured tunic and grey trousers.

“A generous offer, but I must refuse,” said Elyse. “As was explained repeatedly during the journey here, I’m expected at court this morning. Presumably, my absence has already been noticed.”

“Nonsense. I must refuse your refusal, you’ll be staying. Boys, fetch the lovely young lady a seat.” She snapped her fingers, then added, “And a blanket, she’s positively frigid.”

Hilda took Elyse’s hands in her own and pulled her closer to the fire. Its radiating heat was readily accepted as the princess felt her body grow warmer.

A short time later, two stools - which resembled tree stumps in both appearance and comfort - were brought forward and placed for the women to sit near the crackling fire. An empty mug was then pressed into the shivering blonde girl’s hands and a woollen blanket was draped around her shoulders. Afterward, the men retreated in separate directions; the thief to the same hut Reyna had entered, the large man to stand guard near the pathway.

“Here,” said Hilda, producing a flask from beneath her coat. She poured three fingers of a fiery-coloured liquid into the mug. “Drink, it’ll warm you.”

Elyse swirled the amber liquid, a worried expression on her face.

“Fear not, it’s just some spiced mead. A ‘scald’, as it’s colloquially known. It’s not hot, mind you, just a silly name,” assured Hilda.

“It’s not the questionable liquor that troubles me.”

“What then? I’m sure your father, our High Lord, will excuse you for a few hours. And on return, you can speak of our courtesy, no?”

Elyse gave her a measured stare, then took a swig of the mead. It filled her mouth with a pleasant sensation that tingled on the tongue. It was followed by another swig, and another as she knocked back the rest of the drink. “Do not worry, father will know little of my whereabouts when I return to the Reach.”

Hilda smiled, crinkling the edges of her kind eyes. “Then all is well, my dear. But I must be direct, Princess. Arlo provided me with a summary of your earlier encounter, including your need for a thief and a missing ‘item’. But greater detail would be much appreciated.”

“As I explained to your thief, greater detail is not something I can provide at the moment.”

“Can’t, or won’t?” asked Hilda, pouring more spiced mead into the princess’ empty mug. “With respect, of course.”

Elyse eyed her cautiously before swallowing another mouthful of the ‘scald’. “If he told you what happened last night, why would I waste words repeating it?”

“It was a vague overview, at best. I’m certain he left out a few key points. Regardless, I’m sure he possesses the skill you seek; wit, dexterity and guile does a successful thief make. He is the very visage of those attributes.”

“I found him impossible to underestimate.”

“Come now. You chose him for a reason, did you not?”

Elyse nodded in confirmation. “Indeed. Scoundrels and crooks are coppers a dozen. Liars, robbers, and burglars, all easy to find. But a trustworthy thief, now that’s something else entirely.” She rapped her fingernails against the wooden mug while staring into the flame. “Then again, I’m having second thoughts after being abducted and dragged into the woods.”

“An oversight, m’lady.” Hilda’s voice was filled with regret.

“Nonetheless, I could use a cutpurse who’d willingly seek adventure and the riches that accompany it. The visage of dexterity, wit and guile, was it? I suppose we’ll find out.”

“A more honest crook you’ll not find. Though he’s a might hard on the head at times. Just ask Reyna.”

“Yes, he can be quite a handful,” conceded the blonde with a wicked smile. “And you needn’t continue your pitch, I’ve made my decision.” She set her empty mug on a nearby stone, then rose to her feet. “I thank you for the drink, Hilda. But my time here has ended.”

“There’s no rush. I’m sure you can put your feet up for a few minutes, can you not? Speaking of which, those slippers are nowhere near appropriate for the long trek back to the castle.”

The princess looked downward and wiggled her cold toes.

“As if traipsing barefoot through the woods isn’t poor enough of a decision, you’d simply freeze dressed as you are, my dear. Not to mention the bandit clans that frequent this area, looking for an easy mark. Or the fact that your unfamiliarity with these woodlands would turn you around in short order, leaving you lost amongst the trees.”

“Yes, well—”

“Besides,” interrupted Hilda, who stood to meet the princess’ eyeline, “I know a hungry girl when I see one. I’ll fetch us some food. It won’t be quite the feast you’re familiar with, but I can promise a tasty, piping hot meal. It’ll be—”

Elyse raised a hand to silence the woman, then replied, “Your hospitality has been appreciated, but I simply must return to the castle lest father worry.” As if on cue, the princess’ stomach expressed its dissatisfaction with her decision by way of an audible rumble.

“Well, seems we have our true answer, now don’t we?”

Elyse sighed once again, then sat back down, forestalling further argument.

* * *​

In the early morning hours, within a small circular room situated in the eastern tower of Raven’s Reach, a girl screamed.

“Now,” said the man. “Let's try this again, shall we?”

He was lean and middle-aged. A faded scar ran diagonally across his face, dividing one eyebrow and slicing through his nose, which had healed quite crookedly. He wore a shirt of ringmail overtop a boiled leather doublet and a sword rattled in its scabbard with each step he took. Though his fighting days were behind him now, he wielded utmost authority as the High Lord’s Captain of the Court Guard.

“No, p-please I’m tellin’ you all I know, you must believe me…” said the girl, chest heaving with each breath.

“Must I? You serve me rubbish and have the gall to call it gold? I don’t suffer liars.”

“No, it’s not like that, I swear! I just don’t remember, is all…”

“Which is it, girl? You didn’t see him, or you don’t remember? Were you my age I could believe it; a cloudy memory is to be expected. But you are a woman of twenty-one, so ‘I don’t remember’ isn’t going to cut it.” His rough voice had a bored intonation to it; the humourlessness of a superior dressing down a subordinate.

She was seated on a wooden chair, padded and comfortable. At least it would’ve been, had her arms not been pinned straight up in the air and her legs not been outstretched in front of her, feet obscured by some sort of board in which her ankles rested.

“Girl, if you’re going to lie at least have the decency to make it halfway believable. Otherwise, it’s simply insulting.”

“No, I’d never lie to you, sir. Never!”

Despite the room’s only window facing eastward, the rising sun provided scant light. Hence the multitude of candles placed strategically around the girl in the chair. They provided suitable illumination, for his purposes, and as he paced slowly around the room’s perimeter they gleamed off his mail; each ringlet glowing red as if pulled directly from the forge.

The captain massaged the bridge of his crooked nose and said, “Let me speak plain, Ainsley, was it?”

The girl bobbed her head quickly up and down. “Yes, sir, that’s right.”

“Your Lord has been slighted, Ainsley. This will not do. Thus, it falls to me to uncover details of the crime.”

“But I told you all I know, honest!”

He stopped near her feet, still concealed within her shoes, and placed a calloused hand on the wooden yoke of his makeshift stockade.

“Honesty is paramount, you understand. Nothing less will do. Your Lord has a certain fondness for punishing subjects who, let’s say, deem themselves clever. If an individual sought to deceive him, to make fool of him, I shudder to think of the retribution.”

She shifted anxiously in the seat. Her clothes were traditional serving attire; a loose-fitting sleeveless blouse, beige in colour and made of coarse linen. This was tucked into a skirt, dyed violet, which tied via drawstrings at the waist. She wore knee-high stockings and on her feet were a pair of leather shoes fastened with a single strap and buckle. Her dark auburn hair was tied up with a ribbon of undyed cloth.

“No, sir,” she said, shaking her head. “He’s good to us, I’d never think to do nothin’ like that.”

“Of course, of course. You don’t strike me as the type to plot devious machinations. But that’s why we’re here, isn’t it? To get to the truth of the matter.” He walked slowly to the opposite side of the room. “So, let’s have it one more time, yes? You’d been serving your Lord’s guests in the dining hall…”

“Yes, sir, that’s right. Roasted mutton sauced in honey and cloves. Sides were stuffed peppers, baked apples from the royal orchards, mashed sweet potatoes and buttered green beans. Oh, and diced carrots alongside lemon-zested asparagus with—”

“That’s fine.” He waved a hand as if swatting a fly. “I’m aware of the meal. Tell me where you were.”

“Um, well I’d just come back to fetch more wine for m’lord’s guests, that’s when I saw it.”

“It?”

“Yes, sir. Well, a person, I mean to say. A shadow, a cloaked figure that vanished quick as a blink.”

“Vanished into thin air, is that what you’d have me believe? An apparition, as it were. Do I look the type to believe in ghosts?” The captain opened the lid of a small wooden box sitting atop a desk and smiled to himself.

The girl began fidgeting as her eyes widened, for she had seen the box’s contents shortly after the guards led her to this place.

“No, please sir, you don’t have to—”

“Continue, if you would,” he instructed while selecting the most appropriate tool from the plethora of dreadful tickling implements within. There was an assortment of feathers in various shapes and sizes, small brushes with hair ranging from coarse to fine, two different forks - table and dessert - and even a wide paddle brush. For now, a narrow feather would serve.

“O-Okay, so I was in the kitchen, near the larder, that’s where I saw it. Him, I mean, definitely a man. But that’s all I saw, when I got a closer look there was nothin’ there. Nothin’ at all, sir.”

“Good, then. Now comes the all-important question, how did he enter the castle?” The captain shut the lid with a sudden snap and turned around, feather in hand.

He had the cold eyes of a hunter; a steady, measured stare that intimidated the poor girl to no end. Yet that little feather was what worried her most of all.

“No, sir Khellar, you don’t need to use that, please…”

“Oh? Perhaps you’d like a different tool?”

“No! Beggin’ your pardon, sir, I only meant—”

“I mean to expose truths, to separate them like wheat from chaff. And this is the quickest way to do so.” He took a few steps behind the chair and disappeared from her line of sight. “I’ll ask again, how did the thief enter this castle?”

“I-I don’t know, I swear!” She craned her neck, twisting in the seat, attempting to find him. Then she felt it: a feathery touch, trailing down her bare right arm.

“I have ways of making you talk.”

“I—neeheeheee… I don’t know anythin’…” giggled the defenceless girl.

“Perhaps,” said Khellar, sweeping his little feather down her left arm now. “But I’ll be the judge of that.”

Ainsley pulled with all her might, but it was futile. Her wrists were secured tightly with leather straps, which in turn were attached to a sturdy oak plank above her head.

“…eieeheheee…”

“I can do this all day, girl. But can you last as long?” His feather traced a line from her wrists, down over the elbow until finally caressing the bare, smooth hollow of her underarm.

“Nohohoo! Not there, n-not again—heiehehehee!”

“Yes, indeed. I know this particular spot is a bit sensitive.”

The captain dragged his feathery tickle tool ever so slowly up and down her right arm, then the left. Switching back and forth proved most effective, preventing her from becoming accustomed to the feeling, all while listening to her increasingly frantic laughter.

“What’s the matter, girlie?” he asked knowingly. “Hold on, oh no, this couldn’t possibly tickle, could it?”

“Yesss…heheehehe… lemme out, I hate it—nooohooo—eeieieheheee!”

“Do you care to know what I hate?” he asked, receiving naught but giggles in return. “Well, allow me to enlighten you. My distaste for falsehood should be apparent by now. And his highness has no place for trickery in his court. But what bothers me even more is the thought of a rat crawling through these halls.”

The feather, small though it may be, was perfectly suited for the task at hand. It caressed both of the trembling girl’s bare underarms, over and over, tickling her profoundly soft skin.

“And a rat in man’s clothes is worse by far.” His lips curled into a sneer while playfully feathering the giggly girl. “Vermin pretending to be human, it’s downright vile.”

Ainsley writhed and wriggled, but was truly trapped. Her wrists held fast within the leather bindings, no matter how hard she pulled and strained her muscles. Likewise, her ankles were stuck within rough-hewn boards, and despite repeated tugging and wrenching, its clamshell-like design - with one large hole to accommodate both slender ankles - would not give way.

“Pleeheease, d-don’t do this to meeheheee!”

She’d heard whispers of what happened to handmaidens and servants within these walls, but hadn’t seen it up close until now. This particular room was also unknown to her until the sun rose on what was otherwise another unassuming, late-autumn day. That is, until her armoured escort arrived. After travelling the serpentine stairway that coiled up the eastern tower, a wall sconce was flipped, revealing this small chamber and the wicked chair within.

Up and down his feather travelled, dusting the girl’s unprotected underarms as she shuddered and fought the tickly sensations coursing through her nubile body. Unable to escape the tickle torture, she could do little but helplessly squirm in place.

“I don’t—neeiehehehee—I d-don’t know this man, I swear it!

“No? Then how was he able to gain entrance to the keep? Through the postern gate, perhaps? If so, was it left intentionally unlocked?”

“I have n-no idea—eeeek!” The soft feather had begun tracing the contours of her right ear, then moved downward just enough to graze her neck. Its fluffy caress was insufferable; delicately stroking every inch of exposed flesh while the cruel man behind the chair continued his interrogation.

“Maybe he scuttled through a drainage pipe,” said Khellar. “A suitable method of entry for such a man.”

The captain was persistent in his feathering, despite the tremendously ticklish girl’s numerous assurances that she was unacquainted with the thief in question.

“Are you positive that you know nothing of this burglar? Choose your words carefully, girl.”

“Yesss!” she hissed through clenched teeth. “I’m tellin’ you I don’t know him at all!”

“Because should I discover your involvement afterward, well, I needn’t remind you of the consequences.”

Her inability to see him made the tickle torture somehow worse. Not knowing where the damned feather would strike next was beyond aggravating, and seemingly heightened her already painful sensitivity.

“I’m n-not—nieehehee—involved with him, honest!”

The feather-wielding captain returned once again to her astonishingly ticklish armpits. He grazed the soft down of his little feathered blade ever so lightly across her bare skin, stimulating countless nerve endings as further giggles were coaxed from her lips.

“Sir, I beg you—eiieheheee! Put an end to this madness!”

“Oh, come now. My little feather doesn’t tickle that badly, does it?”

“It d-does, truly—heeieheeee! I can’t handle it!”

“You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for.” Swipe after feathery swipe, the man was unmerciful in his teasing. “And you know nothing of madness, girl,” said the captain with a wolfish grin. “But I’d be happy to show you.”

“No! Please, make it stop!”

After feathering her underarms for what seemed like hours, the captain suddenly switched up his tickle tactic. Placing the quill on a nearby table, he elected to run a few fingers up and down her vulnerable arms instead.

Ainsley’s fists clenched tightly above her head, nails biting into her palms as she endured a multitude of rough fingertips scrabbling against her tender skin. Each breath was interrupted by yet another bout of adorable giggles and her cheeks had attained a rosy shade of pink as her heart rate climbed steadily higher.

“There, I put my feather away,” he said. “Is this not what you wanted?”

“Nohohoo! It’s not f-fair—nieeheee…”

“Fair, is it? I assure you, I’ve been more than fair. Now, should the Lord of Ravens get his hands on you…” Khellar’s hands dropped, gently grazing her bare underarms one more time before finally gripping either side of her ribcage. “That would be quite unfortunate indeed…”

“No, wait a minute…” she pleaded. “Let’s t-talk about this…” Ainsley could feel the captain’s warm breath in her ear as she struggled against the restraints.

“We’ve been talking. I’ve listened to you profess your innocence for over an hour now, but I’m still not convinced.”

“You can’t, y-you mustn’t… ” The girl shook nervously in her seat as she felt his hands on either side of her body. “I’m tellin’ the truth! I don’t know how he got in the castle, honest, and ticklin’ me won’t change that!”

But it was no use, as he’d already latched onto her sides with an unrelenting grip and squeezed deeply.

“NYEHAHAHAA!” bellowed the trapped girl. The thin fabric covering her supple skin offered little protection and Ainsley could do nothing but sit and take it.

“Poor thing,” he said while kneading his fingers into the serving girl’s ribs. “This is but a taste of true madness.”

Ragged breaths came sharp and fast between genuine pleas for mercy. “GYAAHAHAAA! S-STAHAHAHAP IT, P-PLEEHEEASE!” Ainsley implored him to stop, but her words were wasted on a man like Khellar. He sought only to torment, to abuse her extreme ticklishness for his own perverse pleasure.

Up and down did his skilled hands travel, sinking several fingers in the spaces between ribs as the girl’s chest heaved, her head whipping wildly back and forth, fighting a losing battle against overwhelming ticklish sensations.

“GOD, NOOHOHOO MORE—EIEIEHAHAHAHA!”

Khellar poked and prodded, pinching and groping as he saw fit. Extracting deep, hearty belly laughs from a girl so meek and mild was truly intoxicating. Whether or not she knew anything more was an afterthought by now, as he simply needed to push her limits.

“SIR—BWHAHAHAHA! S-SIR, I BEG YOU—NOHOHOO MOREE! I CAN’T B-BREATHEHEHEHEHE!”

Ignoring her appeal for clemency, the captain continued fondling her sensitive upper body as she flailed about in the chair. From just under her breasts to her narrow waist to right above her hipbones, the man let his fingers drift where they pleased. They clawed at her flat tummy, even probed around her belly button while whispering in her ear, “Tickle, tickle, tickle…” Eventually, her cackling and wailing turned to babbling nonsense, the words tumbling out in a tangle. So, with one final squeeze, the captain relented and allowed the poor thing a moment’s respite.

“Oh, my,” he said, reaching for the feather. “I dare say you were made to be tickled.” He then stepped out from behind the chair and back into Ainsley’s view.

The doe-eyed girl was sucking in oxygen as fast as possible. Her face was flushed and little beads of sweat clung to her forehead and nose as her head hung limply.

“As I said, that was merely a taste,” he continued, “of what might happen should your information, what little you have, be anything but reliable. Now, since you’ve been so forthcoming, you’ve earned a break.”

“Please, sir,” she squeaked, tentatively. The young woman held back tears as her lower lip quivered. “Please… I’m too ticklish, I can’t…” Her voice trailed. “I just can’t take anymore. I’m sorry, but I can’t help you…”

“Come now, do not diminish your role here today. We’re making strides in our investigation.” He placed a finger beneath her chin, raising her head so that she could meet his eye. “Your Lord thanks you for your ongoing cooperation.”

Khellar then walked back to the desk and reopened the small wooden box. Its contents were shifted around as Ainsley attempted to glimpse what he was looking for.

‘If only the High Lord were here,’ she thought, he’d put an end to this tickle-crazed man’s obsession with tormenting her. He would see that she was telling the truth and release her without delay.

“I hope you catch him,” she said earnestly. “Really, I do. But I told you everythin’. Just like you asked of me. I haven’t told a lie, you know that.”

“It has occurred to me,” he said with his back to the girl, “that you were not privy to last night’s goings-on. That, as you’ve insisted, you are innocent in this matter.”

“Yes! That’s exactly what I’ve been tryin’ to—”

He stalled her with a gesture that said there was more. “That is not to say, however, that we cannot jog your memory for further detail pertinent to the crime.” Khellar punctuated this statement by snapping the lid closed once more, then turned around and walked across the small candle-lit chamber to retrieve a short stool.

“I don’t know nothin’ else, why won’t you believe me?!” she sputtered while watching him place the little stool directly in front of her trapped feet. “No, no, no… just let me go…”

Upon taking a seat, the cold-eyed man stared overtop the board restraining her ankles. “Oh, come on. You didn’t really believe I’d release you before testing these feet, did you?” He rapped his fingernails against the leather soles of her shoes.

The aforementioned feet began swishing left and right as Ainsley desperately pulled her legs, trying valiantly to break free of the stocks. But it was just another forlorn escape attempt, serving only to broaden the captain’s fiendish grin.

“Now, I realize that you think this treatment is unnecessary,” he said, slowly unbuckling the girl’s left shoe while steadying it with his other hand. “But past experience says otherwise. Remarkably, that chair’s previous occupant had her foggy memories return after only minor persuasion.”

“This is unnecessary! Leave my shoes alone!” His grip was ironclad, and soon enough Ainsley’s footwear had been removed and set aside, leaving her in a pair of stockings.

“I must confess,” said Khellar, “I’ve laid eyes on our rat. So I do not require a description of his face. Rather, what I’d appreciate more than anything is any knowledge you have regarding who told him of the jewel.”

“I don’t know about any jewel! I told you a hundred times already! I’m meant to serve breakfast to m’lord and lady this mornin’. Please, let me go so I don’t get in trouble.”

“Do not fret, girl,” he replied. “Your position has been filled, so we have time yet. Now, to business. Rumour, gossip, hearsay; it surrounds us at all times, what have you heard?”

The bound brunette explained, in detail, what the rumour mill was producing. Servants watering down guests’ wine in order to sample a glass or two for themselves, handmaidens sneaking to the barracks at the midnight hour to visit a knight who was sweet on her. She rushed over some words and lingered on others, but always ensured she received a head nod from the captain after each story. The truth, she knew, would set her free. Eventually, he interrupted by running an index finger down the stocking-clad sole of her left foot.

“Mphhehee…” she giggled, curling her toes reflexively. “Wait, p-please, there’s more I can tell you...”

“I certainly hope so, for your sake. I’ve been gentle so far but that could change.” The older man repeated the move on her right foot, toes to heel, as his captive giggled against her will.

“D-Don’t—neheheee… just staahaaap it!”

“I’m listening…” he said while tickling her trapped feet. Each time he ran a finger down a foot she’d scrunch her toes, which would then spread wide on the return trip back up.

“Nieeheheee… it t-ticklesss… eiihiheheheee…”

Her feet were so isolated; the board blocked his hands from view, lending to the feeling of utter helplessness. For several long minutes, the captain explored her stocking-covered soles using only a few fingers, testing her sensitivity, as if it were ever in question. Ainsley eventually ran thin on gossip and was left snickering and chuckling in response to his curious fingers. Thankfully, he decided to ease up not long afterward, and she sighed relief.

“Am I free to go?” she asked hopefully.

“No, not just yet,” replied Khellar, after a moment of quiet consideration.

“But you have all the information you need from me, and then some!”

“I’ll make you a deal.”

A feral grin slid across his face, and Ainsley knew she wouldn’t like what he was about to propose. But after an extended moment of uncomfortable silence, she reluctantly agreed to hear his offer.

“Excellent,” he said. “Here’s what we’ll do, I’m going to tickle these feet of yours for two full minutes, alright? If you can endure, you’ll be free to go.” Without waiting for a response, he arose from the stool and obtained an hourglass from his desk, then sat back down. “It’s only two minutes, surely you can handle that, yes?”

“If I must.” She made a face that expressed her aversion to this particular type of challenge.

“Then it’s settled. Oh, did I mention that you cannot laugh and you must keep perfectly still?” The little hourglass was placed atop the board which secured her ankles.

“Wha—that’s absurd, I can’t move my feet at all?!”

“Well, I suppose I’ll allow some movement; twitches, quivering, perhaps even a tremble or two. Just do your best. But remember, no laughing, not one tee-hee. Got it?” His thumb and forefinger squeezed the big toe of her left foot. “Now, there’s just the matter of removing these…” Khellar pinched the fabric of her stocking and began to pull.

“Hang on a second, you didn’t say those needed to come off!” She protested this caveat as the fabric was slowly removed from her foot.

“Correct. But I don’t recall you asking, either.”

“No, no, no… pleeease leave them on…” pleaded Ainsley as the stocking was slowly stripped away.

“Afraid not, girlie.”

With minimal effort, the captain slipped the stocking through the hole and off her foot, then the other, leaving both utterly without protection. Ainsley blushed as the man leered at her newly-bared soles; they were creamy-white and appeared silky-soft, which would soon be verified as Khellar’s fingers twitched eagerly.

Her adorable, round little toes curled before he even touched her, causing a multitude of wrinkles to spread across both pale bare feet. The captain inclined his head, inching ever closer to her perfectly petite soles. They smelled faintly of lavender, no doubt she’d been sampling some of the High Lady’s creams and perfumes, which suited him just fine. All he required was one on either side of his face and all the world’s problems would cease to exist. But there was the matter of the challenge.

Regaining his composure, he said, “Now, I am not heartless.”

She disagreed, but saw wisdom in silence.

“So,” he continued, “I’m going to begin with my little feathery companion here.” He held the small feather aloft and waved it back and forth, a taunting gesture which caused her soles to scrunch apprehensively. He then grabbed the sand timer and said, “Are you ready, girl?”

Summoning her strength of will, she gave an approving nod. The hourglass was then flipped as the feather was lowered toward her vulnerable, terrified feet.

Its soft tip caressed the outer edge of her left sole, making its way downward. The foot’s owner stifled a giggle which nearly broke loose from her lips as the man traced his way around her heel, then up her wrinkled arch. When he reached her toes she flinched, but remained silent. The indignity of being forced to suffer through his ‘tickle challenge’ was humiliating, but if freedom was truly two minutes away then she had to prevail.

“Coochie, coochie, coo…” he teased. “Can you really last the full two minutes?”

“Yes, I can…” she said with great effort, making sure not to permit a single titter the chance to escape.

“We shall see, won’t we?”

The feather swept along her bubbly little toes; left foot, right foot, back and forth. Ainsley found it nearly impossible to focus on anything else, as her feet had long been her weak spot. Grains of sand succumbed to gravity more slowly than she would’ve liked, but willing them to hurry up didn’t seem to be especially effective. The captain’s verbal teasing didn’t help either, as each ‘coochie coo’ he uttered was multiplying her already extreme sensitivity.

“Having difficulty withholding your laughter?” he asked while feathering her hopelessly ticklish bare soles.

Ainsley spoke not a word, but an involuntary twitching of her left eye revealed the truth. The twenty-one-year-old’s tender feet were hostages, locked away without consent in this evil contraption. She wanted nothing more than to pull them straight through the hole, slip them into her shoes and run far away from this room. Alas, that was an impossibility until she passed his silly tickle test.

“Poor, ticklish little Ainsley. You’re doing well, I must admit, but what happens if I do this…” The feather was slipped between two trembling toes on her right foot and pulled through.

“Eeek! It’s n-nothin’… I hardly feel it…”

“I’m not so sure. That was nearly a giggle, and you look positively fit to explode.”

He wasn’t wrong; the serving girl’s cheeks had puffed out, her nostrils flared and her breathing had become rather fast.

“These feet of yours are simply delightful, I must say. So sensitive, so terribly ticklish. You must be enjoying this, yes? You’ve hardly said a word to the contrary.”

She wouldn’t take the bait, as unsealing her lips again would certainly unleash a torrent of laughter. Her toes, fearful of the feather, flared out in distress as he continued sawing the damn thing back and forth until it became frayed at the edges.

“Tickle, tickle...” he said as ten cute toes trembled beneath his little feathery friend. “Oh my, time sure is passing slowly, isn’t it?”

The delicate skin between her toes was highly sensitive and the feather’s downy touch infuriatingly light. One by one she felt it slide lazily from one toe to the next and once he’d flossed it between all ten he resumed feathering her soles; from her marshmallowy-soft heels to her wrinkled arches to every single toe stem. There was not a solitary inch of her feet that he hadn’t tickled.

“Hold it together,” instructed Khellar, “or this is going to get a lot worse for you.”

Her willpower, now greatly diminished, was surprisingly resolute. Pretending this didn’t bother her in the slightest, Ainsley held her head high while staring at the hourglass perched atop the stocks. Slightly more than half of the sand had fallen into the lower chamber - victory was within reach.

“Well, now. Your resolve is impressive.” His deep, raspy voice had a mocking undertone. “I have my work cut out for me, it seems. I just might have to adopt a new strategy.”

Her silent prayers of relief mingled with dread for what might come next.

Maneuvering his feather just below her toes, he began waving it side to side, as if painting, while his free hand spidered a few fingers on the milky-white arch of her other foot.

Once again he was met with silence, but the girl couldn’t keep the slightest hint of a smile from tugging at the corners of her lips. ‘Just stay calm,’ she thought. ‘Not long now.’

“Uh oh, is this how you meet your demise?”

The flustered girl released a series of frustrated, desperate squeaks, but nothing more. He wouldn’t have the satisfaction of seeing her break.

“It’s simply too much to handle, isn’t it? You’re on the precipice, I can see it. You just need a little push…”

A lone index finger trailed down her pale arch as every toe began to quiver. Meanwhile, he continued to swipe the tattered feather beneath all five toes of her other foot; these light, teasy tickles would eventually crack her defences, but Khellar wasn’t rushing, he was enamoured by two of the softest soles he’d had the pleasure of tickling for some time.

“Let’s see how you react to this…” he said, taking advantage of her vulnerable state as grains of sand tumbled slowly downward. Flipping the feather in his hand, the blunt quill was promptly used to poke and prod at the sole of her right foot.

The laughter held deep within was making enthusiastic enquiries about being set free, and her lips were on the verge of granting that request. Sensing this, Khellar further modified his technique.

Beginning with her pinky, the tickle-obsessed captain tapped each toe in sequence as the girl strained to keep it together. Tap-tap-tap, each passing second was punctuated by yet another poke as he made his way down the line, then began stroking his fingertips across her other sole once again.

“Something to say, girl?”

She shook her head, wisely electing to stay quiet. Still, this had to end soon; his fingertips felt like insects crawling across her wildly sensitive foot-bottoms, and that little quill was sending shockwaves through her entire body each time he jabbed a toe. Locked securely in the wicked chair, Ainsley had endured nearly two full minutes of detestable tickle torture, but a glance at the hourglass told her this was almost finished.

Khellar, too, noticed that his time had nearly elapsed; his little game must come to a close. “Your resilience has been nothing short of admirable,” he said, placing the feather atop the stocks near the timer. “You’ve hardly cracked a smile in response to my tickling, it seems you’ve bested my feather.”

Grinning triumphantly at the man sitting in front of her, Ainsley proudly proclaimed, “See, told you I could handle it!”

“Bravo, bravo,” he replied, smiling without the slightest hint of humour. “But you’re not out of the woods yet, girl.”

With mere seconds remaining, he reached within a pocket and produced a dessert fork; the silver-plated dining utensil gleamed in the candle’s flickering light as the barefoot girl looked on, horrified.

“No, sir, p-please don’t use that…” she begged, her voice cracking. “You said I won the challenge!”

“Incorrect. I said you held your own against my feather. But the odds were always stacked in my favour, I’m afraid, and father time has granted me a few remaining seconds to take the win.”

Ainsley’s entire demeanour suddenly changed. Her lower lip was between her teeth, heart hammering as she stared in abject terror at the fork clutched in his hand.

“Sir, I beseech you. Anythin’ but thaAHAHAHAAHAAAT!”

With an unforgiving grip, the guard captain had pinched her two big toes together and raked the fork down the length of her astoundingly sensitive right sole.

“PULEHEHEASE, NOT THE F-FORK—GYAHAHAHAA!”

“Oh, how sad. You were so close, yet so far. I guess our time together hasn’t come to an end quite yet.”

Whether or not she heard him over her banshee-like wailing was a mystery, but ultimately didn’t matter. The fork was cruelly stroked down each sole as laughter came pouring out in a flood.

“NIEHEHAHAHAA! I CAN’T TAHAHAHAHAKE IT!”

Garbled pleas for leniency went unheeded as Ainsley’s body racked the stocks, shaking it enough to knock the timer from its perch. It tumbled to the floor below until glass met oak with a crash, shattering instantly.

Khellar dropped his gaze momentarily to the shards of glass and sand, then let out a sigh. “Oh my,” he said, “you’ll pay for that.”

“I’m s-so sorry, I didn’t mean to—NOOHOHO, NOT MY FEEHEHEHEET, BWHAHAHAHAA!”

Pressing the fork’s tines just below her toes, Khellar dragged it down the pale, smooth sole of the hysterical girl’s left foot while forcing her big toes backward, drawing taut her ivory arches.

“NYEHAHAHAA! MERCY, M-MERCY! EIEAHAHAAA!”

Her pretty face contorted in ticklish anguish as both buttery-smooth soles surrendered to Khellar’s sadistic urges. She was now nothing more than a pawn for his amusement, a plaything to be abused under the guise of uncovering the truth or protecting the High Lord. In reality, his sick tickle fetish fuelled this seemingly endless barrage of cruelty.

“There is a lesson to be learned here, girl. About damaging other people’s property.” The fork was leaving faint red lines in its wake as the man scratched it up from heel to toes, relishing her increasingly deranged laughter.

“IT WAS AN ACCIDENT—EHEHAHAHAHAA!” The innocent girl’s eyes screwed tightly shut as her screeching echoed off the stony walls of the captain’s private tickle room.

“Be that as it may, you don’t seem very upset about it. Matter of fact, you look positively elated to have broken my little hourglass.”

“NOOHOHOOO—I’M SOOHOOORY—NEEHEHAHAHAA!”

“Really? Then why are you laughing?”

“LEMME GOOO—BWAHAAHAHAA! IT T-TICKLESSS, IT TICKLESS—NOOOHOHO MORE!” she roared, choking out a few words between fits of uncontrollable laughter.

It appeared that she’d be condemned to this nightmare from which escape seemed impossible. With an unhinged jaw, Ainsley belted out maniacal laughter as Khellar ruthlessly assaulted her outstandingly sensitive bare soles, apparently determined to tickle the girl into exhaustion. The older man’s current weapon of choice was terrifically effective; her little bare feet simply couldn’t withstand this type of ticklish torture much longer. Howling at the top of her lungs for minutes on end quickly took its toll and Ainsley’s breath finally left her, forcing her into a brief spell of soundless suffering. But after a few more minutes of fork-on-foot torture, the captain mercifully stopped.

“Breathe, girl, breathe,” he said, “you’ve earned another break.”

Her poor soles, once pale, had now been literally tickled pink. The girl’s head hung low as she attempted to regain composure, breathing deeply but erratically as Khellar looked on, delighted.

“No… more…” was all she could say.

“I’m sorry, did you just command me?” Khellar’s grin faded, and he plunged the fork into the top of the stocks where the sand timer had once been.

Ainsley, although startled, managed to maintain a bland expression as her heart slowly resumed its normal beat.

“Who do you think is in charge around here?” he growled.

“You are… sir…” she replied, weakly.

Then came laughter; harsh, gravelly laughter as the captain threw his head back. “Oh, my,” he said between guffaws, “I jest, girl, can you not tell?”

She lifted her head and stared at him with pleading eyes, wordlessly urging the man to stop in the hope he’d finally listen.

“Worry not,” he continued. “The tickling has ended, for now. In fact, I think you deserve a reward for the unwavering loyalty you’ve shown your Lord.”

“A reward?”

Ainsley wore a suspicious expression as she watched the guard captain staring, unblinking, at her immobilized bare feet.

“S-Sir?” she sputtered while rubbing one foot with the other to reduce any lingering tickly sensations.

“Relax, girl. Simply enjoy this, I know I will…”

Khellar closed his eyes and inclined his head toward the serving girl’s exquisitely soft soles.

CHAPTER TWO​

“You can’t expect us to pack up camp on a whim,” said Reyna. “This girl locked you in a dungeon, now you want to work for her? It’s absurd, you can’t actually trust her.”

“Trust?” replied Arlo. “No, certainly not. But that’s irrelevant, we’ve struck a bargain.”

“Have you? Tell me then, of this so-called bargain.”

The thief stared at the earthen floor of the hut, attempting to conjure just the right words.

“Oh, that’s right,” said the redhead, “you can’t. Because all she promised was a ‘mountain of gold’, am I wrong?”

“Well…”

“Oh, save it. You’re going to tell me that we’re in a good position, right? That we’ll name our price, nab this ‘item’ and live like kings? She can’t even tell you what you’re looking for, let alone where it is!”

Arlo nodded, electing to remain silent as he sensed she had more to add.

“And,” she said, confirming his suspicions, “what happens when her father finds out that we’ve abducted her? There won’t be an innkeeper in the north who’d dare harbour us, unless they’ve a fleeting attachment to their own head.”

Her freckled cheeks were flushed as she took a seat on a narrow cot covered by a threadbare quilt. Arlo wove his fingers tightly together and stared at them, as if they’d provide answers.

“Look,” he said after the prolonged silence had become too uncomfortable to bear, “I won’t stand here and lie to you. I don’t have all the details worked out yet.” Truthfully, the thought of any type of cooperative endeavour with the princess gave him more qualms than did the potential punishment for stolen riches. But these were the cards he’d been dealt. “I’m working on it, okay? We’re all in the same boat and I won’t let us sink.”

“I don’t need a goddamn boat metaphor, Arlo, I need you to promise me we’re gonna be okay.”

She fixed him with a sober stare. Her green eyes were always serious, but lovely. If he survived this conversation, he’d have to figure something out.

“I’m sorry,” continued Reyna, “I didn’t mean to snap at you like that. I’m just…”

“I know, Rey, I know.” Arlo took a seat on the cot and wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “Our goals are aligned, the princess and I, and it’s a well-paying job.”

“Potentially, but she’s not on board, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

“Give it some time. Hilda’s persuasive, you know that. They’re chatting as we speak.”

“Let’s assume Hilda succeeds in convincing the girl to help us, what then? Do you have a plan?”

“A plan…” said Arlo, thoughtfully stroking his chin. “No, not even remotely. But all my best schemes begin this way.” He poked a finger between her ribs, producing a girlish giggle.

“Your confidence heartens me, truly,” replied Reyna while batting his hand away.

Arlo stood, albeit slightly bent as the hut was rather small, and pulled his hood over his head. “I’m going to check in on them, see what’s being said.”

“To hell with that, Arlo.” Reyna rose from the cot and stood before him. “She wishes to leave anyway, so let’s be rid of her. But keep the circlet, it’s sure to be worth a few thousand in gold. Think of all that spending metal. We could have a new life, far from here, with full pockets and bellies.”

The thief seized her by the shoulders and mustered up a reassuring smile. “Reyna, we’re gonna be just fine. Besides, you know we can’t fence a piece like that. Let’s see where this takes us, yeah?”

She chewed on it a moment, then said, “Yeah, okay. Go talk to Hilda, see what she’s uncovered.”

* * *​

Ainsley’s fingers tingled, a side effect of having one’s arms pinned above one’s head for a prolonged period. Wiggling them provided suitable blood flow, but other matters required her immediate attention. At the moment, the stern Captain of the Court Guard was passionately sucking her toes, one by one, with no signs of stopping.

Precious few words had been exchanged since he’d begun worshipping her bare feet. It seemed rather silly, attempting to have a conversation with the man who strapped her in this cruel chair, the man who’d spent an inordinate amount of time tickling her beyond her limits. So the girl remained tight-lipped and allowed him to indulge, not that she had a choice.

She’d rather be anywhere else; scrubbing dishes and cutlery after the High Lord’s mid-afternoon feast. Hell, even emptying chamber pots was preferable to hours of unbearable tickling. ‘Still, it’s not that bad,’ thought Ainsley as Khellar plopped another of her toes into his mouth. Her eyes were fixed on the fork he’d plunged into the top of the stocks. She remembered what it felt like, how it devastated her intensely ticklish soles. She simply couldn’t endure that type of torture again. Barefoot and bound, she was at his mercy and thus required to obey.

After another few minutes, the captain raised his head and wiped some drool from his lips. “Well, girl,” he said, “are you enjoying your reward?”

“Yes, sir.” She was striving for an appreciative tone, but hadn’t entirely succeeded, so she added, “A great improvement over earlier, I hope you’re enjoyin’ yourself.”

“Indeed.” The man produced a small handkerchief and used it to dry her toes, returning it to his pocket thereafter. “Shall we continue?”

Ainsley threw him an inquisitive glance, then said, “No, I simply can’t, I—”

“It’s alright,” he interrupted, “be calm, you’ve earned this. I promise it won’t tickle, too much.”

Without further delay, the captain closed his eyes and pressed his face against the hapless girl’s lusciously soft soles - still a rosy shade of pink - and found them cool to the touch. He could feel her toes scrunch; a welcoming embrace which manifested a long, low moan that Khellar quickly attempted to conceal by clearing his throat. With a matching pair of bare feet pressed firmly against his face, time and responsibility slipped away, leaving captor and captive in relative silence once more.

Withdrawing himself, he inhaled deeply, savouring the aromatic richness of these seductively scented soles. But in an instant he’d returned, this time embedding his nose between the second and third toe of her right foot. As his head swept from left to right - ensuring appropriate attention was paid to all ten - she fanned her toes, almost as if she wanted his tongue to explore the spaces between. For now, each successive breath was held longer than the last as he enjoyed repeated lungfuls of her divine scent.

A few giggles were uttered from the young woman in the chair as rough stubble pricked and scraped her soles, though she, too, cleared her throat in a flimsy attempt to disguise it. Though it tickled somewhat, it was considerably more tolerable than the harrowing ordeal she’d just been through; her poor peds were haunted by tickly sensations yet to vanish.

The captain continued to gorge himself on the trapped bare feet before him; planting a gentle kiss on her heel - permitting his lips a moment to linger - then rubbing his nose against her arch before nestling it in between two toes once more.

“Neiiehehehe…” snickered the girl as coarse stubble continued to pester her undeniably sensitive bare soles.

As if retaliating from the tickles, Ainsley curled her little toes and snagged his nose. The captain, once gruff and fearsome, let out a raspy chuckle as he allowed her foot to direct him where desired. Left, then right, he was wholly content to follow along. Moreover, he longed to spend hours with these marvellously soft soles, his mind racing with possibilities. An all-too noticeable bulge had grown down below and it was aching for freedom, straining the limits of the stitching on his breeches. But patience is a virtue. When her toes unclenched he was free, so Khellar reclined and watched her slowly wiggle them back and forth. It was an invitation to return, to trace each wrinkle with his tongue. How could he deny such a request?

Seconds before cupping both heels in the palms of his rough hands, Khellar watched Ainsley’s toes scrunch anxiously, creating a pair of adorable foot-fists while awaiting his touch. Her wrinkly, dick-stiffening soles were intoxicating and the man was powerless to resist.

“…eiieheheee…” she squeaked, fighting the rising urge to laugh as the wide blade of his wet tongue began lapping at her left foot, followed by the right.

Minutes passed as he licked every square inch, occasionally spidering his fingertips across the tops of both feet in order to hear that wonderful giggle of hers. After wiping a bit of spit that had dribbled down his chin, Khellar gazed at the serving girl’s sopping-wet soles - glistening in the glow of warm candlelight - paying special attention to the thin gap between her wrinkled arches. He pictured them wrapped snugly around his fat cock, squeezing ever tighter as he thrust himself between, repeatedly pumping back and forth until he could hold back no longer.

Ainsley watched the older man staring intently at her naked feet. He was practically salivating; god only knew what was running through his twisted mind. Being the object of a man’s lustful gaze was nothing new, however, this was the first time her feet had been enjoyed in this fashion. It was certainly peculiar, to say the least, but not entirely unwelcome. Never before had a man paid such attention to them, it caused her thighs to quiver and a dull, intimate ache to swell between. This loss of control, this humiliation had given way to another feeling; only moments ago she wanted to escape, but now she wasn’t in a rush to go anywhere. It was paradoxical. But no sooner had the thought crossed her mind did the captain resume worshipping her soles with boundless enthusiasm.

“Mhmm—eiieheee—oh, sir…” she muttered as his tickly tongue worked its magic on her immaculate, soft bare soles.

“Enjoying yourself now, girl?”

Her red-cheeked silence was an answer unto itself.

He shook his head and tried to focus; numerous wrinkles had appeared once more and his attentive tongue was hellbent on counting each one.

“Mfhehee…no more, it t-tickless too much—eieiehehee…”

Khellar peeked overtop the stocks and watched her intently while his tongue relentlessly traced each wrinkle on those sweet little feet. Although she was asking him to stop, her eyes and curled toes told a much different story - she was enjoying this as much as he was. His sinister fantasy soon returned; Khellar pictured those heavenly bare feet gripping his stiff stalk, building pressure as he forcefully thrust in and out until finally busting his nut and coating her soles in warm seed. The twenty-one-year-old could drain his balls in mere minutes, and a footjob wasn’t out of the question. But for now, the captain elected to restrain himself. Besides, their privacy wouldn’t last forever.

He was hungry for more and the pretty brunette’s delectable toes were next on the menu. A true treat for the palate, they were eagerly devoured as he consumed each wiggly digit on display, feeling her shudder with fearful apprehension as his talented tongue coiled like a serpent around each one.

“N-Not my t-toess, not my toehehehehee…”

Cute, sporadic laughter bubbled to the surface while slowly and sensually sucking on each one, filling the otherwise silent room once again as all ten mouthwatering toes were meticulously tended to.

“Ohh…nieeheee…ohhhnn, pleeease…”

Ainsley’s cheeks were flushed as intermittent giggles gave way to subtle moans. A series of tingles shot up her spine, spreading like wildfire from the tips of her toes - which the older man was lovingly sucking on - to her overstimulated mind. ‘What did I do to deserve this?’ thought the flustered girl, finally enjoying the attention he was paying her feet. Her confused libido was revving up again, brought on by nefarious light touches and surprisingly erotic foot worship, causing a wetness to grow between her thighs. Pulling at her restraints, Ainsley cursed under her breath at the inability to tend to her aching pussy.

Unable to sate his appetite, his mouth engulfed those little toes one by one in an act of unabashed gluttony while drinking in her girlish giggles. One moment he’d been sucking the pinky toe of her right foot, plus its closest neighbour, the next he was exploring her wrinkly soles with the tip of his tongue. No matter what technique he applied, she seemed all too receptive, as proven by the ever-growing harmony of squeaks, titters and gently muted moans. His curious fingers, meanwhile, continued to explore; tracing and re-tracing each crease on the pristine, porcelain skin of her bare feet. It took the slightest touch to send her into a ticklish fit - little did she know what was coming.

“Nfffnnn…” she groaned, withholding yet another round of giggles. Her body jolted each time his lips enveloped a toe, gently nibbling the stems and passionately sucking each one in sequence. From her big toes to her pinkies, each time he plopped one into his waiting mouth she quivered, on edge, awaiting inevitable torment. Mercifully, he’d remained true to his word and rather than assail her with further inhuman tickle torture, he’d instead spent several long minutes greedily slurping on her spit-soaked toes.

By now, there were seldom few places his inquisitive tongue hadn’t slithered. From heel to toes, the captain had explored and tasted both of the servant’s beautiful bare soles. But those fuckable little feet were calling out to him and their magnetic pull could not be ignored. A glance at the sun’s position out the window provided the approximate hour. It wouldn’t be long now, and the captain knew he should quit while ahead, but his mouth outpaced his mind.

“We want the same thing, girl,” he said. “Wouldn’t you agree? I know you ache as I do.”

Another uneasy, short-lived silence befell the chamber as both captor and captive shifted in their respective seats. Stringy strands of spit hung like webs as the poor little thing splayed her toes. He was correct, she wanted—no, she needed this. Her womanhood was soaked with arousal and the feverishly horny girl couldn’t deny her true feelings any longer.

“Yes,” she said, with only a slight catch in her voice. She then motioned with her eyes to the leather strap securing her wrist. “My hand, could you—”

This time the interruption took the form of another warm, wet kiss upon the sole of each foot. It might’ve served as an apology, or perhaps a ‘thank you’. Regardless, it appeared that the man’s foot lust wasn’t quite satiated. Khellar rose from his seat, walked alongside the stocks and released the strap around her left wrist. Ainsley flexed her hand and the sensation returned rather quickly. Sweet, blessed relief. Had it come at last?

“Much obliged, sir.”

Khellar grunted in acknowledgment, then returned to her bare feet, a thumb hitched in his sword belt. As he stood before her she was reminded of the not-so-distant past, of the brutal tickling she’d just experienced. How had it come to this?

“Now,” said the man as he unbuckled his leather belt, “let us enjoy each other’s company to the fullest, shall we?” In one swift motion the man released his grip on the belt, it along with his sword clattered to the floor below, followed soon after by his breeches.

“Oh, my…” said the girl. The remark issued forth without prior thought, causing a crooked grin to creep across the captain’s face.

His leaky cock was standing at attention mere inches from the young woman’s two bare feet, throbbing something awful, precum pearling at the tip as it eagerly awaited the opportunity to bury itself between her supremely soft arches.

“I… I…” she stammered.

“I know,” replied Khellar, “look at what you’ve done to me.” He stroked its impressive length, then said, “Save your voice, girl, you might require it soon enough. Now, with your permission…”

Ainsley locked eyes with her once-cruel tickler, but no words need be spoken. Without hesitation, he plunged himself between her velvety soft soles.

“Ohhhnn, fuckk…” moaned the captain, a sentiment echoed by the girl in the stocks.

The crease between her ivory arches was slick, so the man began thrusting back and forth. Slow and deliberate at first, he gradually increased his pace as the girl allowed her free hand to drift south.

For the briefest of moments, Khellar thought he felt slight resistance, as if she was pushing against him. But he soon realized she’d begun matching his pace, as best she could given her position, flexing her feet to and fro. His hips began to rock in earnest as his strong hands clutched the board securing her ankles to steady himself. He exhaled, not realizing he’d been holding his breath, then focused his attention on her.

Ainsley’s eyes were closed and her left hand had made its way beneath her skirt, the violet fabric rising and falling as she rubbed her swollen clit. She was trying her best to help him along, not that he appeared to need it; the way his cock had hardened to steel at the mere touch of her soles was incredible.

Her arousal, once tepid, had grown into a fully-realized, unbridled lust. She was suddenly craving the attention he was so eager to pay her feet; it was a perverse pleasure, sparking something deep down, something hidden, that she never knew she wanted. Now it was all she could think about - pity it took hours of dreadful tickle torture to realize it. But that was all in the past. Her tired eyes suddenly shot open, studying the man in front of her.

“Ughh, goddamn…” said Khellar. He couldn’t help but utter those words, caring little and less whether she watched him. He was lost now in the splendour of it all.

She was squeezing him so tightly between her silken soles that he was afraid this might all end in a hurry. Because of this, he withdrew, only for a moment, to settle himself. Looking down, he watched carefully as those toes of hers scrunched up; were they afraid, or excited? He could see them twitching nervously, awaiting his next move. Time to show them some love. Rather than continuing to thrust madly, Khellar elected to rub his tender, overstimulated cockhead across all ten of her pretty little toes, finding it nearly as pleasurable. Back and forth, side to side, he could feel the row of digits curl while attempting to grab him. He wouldn’t let her; he was afraid of losing control entirely and this needed to last a bit longer.

Ainsley, for her part, fanned her toes outward, wanting him to enjoy each one. She thoroughly enjoyed being the root cause of his aching manhood. No longer ashamed of her hidden desires, the girl began to gyrate her hips in the chair, rocking them forward and back, knowing full well that she was also close to the edge.

“Ngghhh… keep going…” she said in a breathy whisper, not that he required any encouragement.

Still grinning like a fool, the guard captain began slapping his cock against her right foot, causing her to yelp in surprise. He wanted to keep her on her toes, so to speak, so next he decided to rub the underside of his fat knob against both big toes, using just enough pressure to stimulate that hyper-sensitive spot.

“Uhghhh…ohhh…” By now, words had failed him, but it hardly mattered. These sinfully soft soles were about to milk him dry.

Unable to control himself any longer, Khellar had to tickle those gorgeous little bare feet that he’d been using to pleasure himself.

“Ohhhnn… eiieiehehee!” Moans quickly turned into giggles as the girl felt his sneaky fingers back up to their old tricks. “Noohoo… that t-tickless…”

Those words caused his already painfully-swollen dick to ache. Time was running short and this carnal delight would soon end. It was time for the main event, but not before he scraped his thumbnail down the centre of her left sole, which caused her to nearly jump out of the chair.

“EIEEHAHAA!”

‘That’s it, girlie, laugh for me,’ is what he wanted to say, but he seemed incapable of stringing even a few simple words into a coherent sentence.

Her toes, now sticky with precum, danced as they were playfully teased and tickled. Like a spider, she felt them crawling around; there was no rhyme nor reason to their movements, but every touch sent waves of pleasure rippling through her petite body. In another time and place, this might’ve escalated to something more; she thought about feeling his astounding girth between her legs, thumping against her hips in a solid rhythm, steadily gaining speed as they pursued their mutual release. She was unable to completely swallow down a groan of pleasure at the notion of sharing a bed with the man.

But here, now, she’d make do with what she had. Ainsley’s hips rocked at an ever-increasing pace as she rubbed her smooth, shaved mound, now coated with liquid lust. This was going to end soon, she could feel it building with each shuddering breath she took. Ainsley knew what he wanted to hear and she was happy to provide it.

“…eieihehee… not my f-feet…eieheieieee… anywhere but there!”

This caused synapses to fire wildly in the captain’s brain, and his drooling dick responded appropriately. It found its way back to the thin gap between her pale, perfect soles, which in turn gripped his thick shaft so tightly that Khellar’s eyes rolled back in his head. Gliding in and out between those twenty-one-year-old feet while listening to her protest the ticklish sensations his fingers were inflicting was blissful. Every time his cockhead pierced the centre, the captain was treated to yet another surge of intense pleasure. Although a liberal coating of oil would’ve been the preferred lubricant, the slick layer of saliva still present served just fine. Feverishly thrusting like a man possessed, he continued making love to the restrained bare feet of his latest tickle toy, chasing a victory he knew he’d catch.

“Ohhhnn, fuckk… don’t stop, please…” moaned the girl.

By now, her sense of vulnerability was second only to her intense arousal, but both were vying for control. Feeling every inch of him slip between her soles was euphoric and she continued stroking his rigid cock as best she could, which wasn’t easy since her entire body was fatigued from the earlier tickle torture; her calves burned from muscle strain but she had to keep going, they were both so close.

Khellar’s bucking hips moved faster and faster, revelling in every giggly-moan as each stroke brought him closer to orgasm. Meanwhile, Ainsley squealed and cackled while her stocked feet were fucked and tickled.

Neither the girl nor the man could take much more.

As hellish as the tickling had been, it might’ve just been worth it, as it was all building to this monumental release. Sensations were heightened to an incredible level and her toe-curling climax was imminent. She had to finish him off, and vice versa, but found it nearly impossible to speak - each syllable melded into the next until the words were garbled and nonsensical.

But she had to try. With every ounce of strength and focus that she could muster, Ainsley spoke.

“T-Tickle me,” she instructed, “tickle my t-toes, please…”

Khellar’s cock was buried deep between the twin soles of his newest captive when he heard her request. His mind reeled as he pried apart two toes on her left foot and scraped a nail on the tender flesh between.

“NYEHAHAHAA!” she hollered.

Biting her lower lip, she arched her back. Her ecstasy was overwhelming as the girl was wracked by an intense orgasm; shockwaves coursed through her tiny frame, booming in her head like winter thunder on a wild wind. The captain immediately repeated this tickly technique between two toes on her right foot, prompting a similar response from his profoundly sensitive victim.

“GYAAHAHAAA—OHHHNNN—NIEIEHAHAHA!”

‘She’s come to love it; the tickling has turned into pure gratification for this one’, thought the man as his fingers explored the spaces between her cute little toes. He would never tire of her musical laughter. But there’d be time for that soon enough. For now, he had to let those stupendously-soft soles drain every drop of cum from his balls. Suddenly his tickly fingers stopped. Dexterity and fine motor function had deserted him, but every nerve ending was on high alert when he plunged the length of his throbbing prick between her trembling soles one final time.

“I’m g-going to—going to…” he mumbled.

“Cum for me…” she said, mixed with hoarse cries of desire, “cum for my feet…”

“Ugghhh, fuuckkkk…”

With mouth agape, the Captain of the Court Guard erupted. The long-awaited release sent a crackling pulse of pleasure coursing through his system. His balls tightened as a white-hot spurt of cum splattered against the comely brunette’s soles. Then another, and another as the man moaned in ecstasy while using one hand to steady himself against the stocks.

“Ohhnn—eeek!” squeaked the girl as the older man painted the bottoms of her bare feet with his seed.

Their voices rose together in unison; Ainsley had reached her peak while savouring every little hitched breath, every one of his sharp thrusts, every deep groan of satisfaction as her overworked feet stroked him from root to tip.

“Ohhhnnn…. f-fuckkk…” she cried in lustful, dizzying tones as her eyes rolled backward and lust flowed from between her quivering thighs. It was a rush of carnality; pleasure surged through Ainsley’s nubile body, tingling up her spine once again as the scarred man pumped his thick load across both of her trapped feet. The tired girl’s muscles twitched and spasmed, then suddenly relaxed.

Khellar’s cock pulsated, shooting several final ropes at her pale bare soles before the man slouched over the stocks in evident exhaustion.

* * *​

Elyse and Hilda had retreated to the windowless rock structure near the forest’s edge. A small fire in the central floor-hearth produced more acrid smoke than it did heat, roiling upward, encircling a small hole in the roof. A crooked shelf sat in one corner; it was nearly bare, save for a few cooking herbs, salted meat, cheese and pickled vegetables. Otherwise, the dwelling was sparsely furnished with a wooden table and chairs and a cot along one wall. All told it was a compact, tidy living space.

The pair sat together at the table, and Elyse found herself considerably more relaxed than when she’d first entered the camp hours ago.

“You know,” said Hilda, “I can fetch you a change of clothes. Reyna normally has a spare set, you appear to be of a similar size, I’m certain they’d fit nicely. They’d be clean and a smidge warmer than what you have on.”

“Thank you, but once again I must decline.”

“Suit yourself, my dear. I’m merely trying to make you at home. Now, this item you seek, what else can you tell me about it? If Arlo is to find it he’ll require more information.”

“I have no more, not at this time.”

“There’s always more, you just need to know where to look.”

“Precisely,” Elyse agreed. “That’s where your thief comes in. I will supply him with a map, he may do the rest.”

Hilda cocked an eyebrow. “Your father seeks the same item, am I correct?”

A gentle raising and lowering of the princess’ shoulders provided little insight.

“A man only wants for three things in this life,” she continued. “Coin, power and love. Which is it?”

“He’s Lord of the Northern Kingdoms, he wants for nothing, especially coin.”

“Ah, love it is then.”

“I’m afraid you don’t understand the whole situation.”

“Yes, well, what I lack in understanding I make up for in intuition. And right now, it tells me that you’re bound up in whatever comes next for Arlo and his friends.” She leaned backward and steepled her fingers beneath her chin. “It seems to me that assisting them in this quest would be in your best interest.”

The princess got to her feet, slid the chair in and offered a gesture of respect toward the older woman. “I’ve appreciated your company,” she said in a tone of voice that indicated she hadn’t, “but I must depart.” The dwindling flames spat a cinder as she walked toward the door.

“Go if you must. Just remember, leaves on a tree grow together, my dear. But when they fall, they fall alone.”

“Something to consider,” said Elyse, not bothering to look back. “But if your thief cannot handle this job then I’ll simply find another who can.” She reached for the handle, but it flung open.

Arlo stood in the doorway, cloak flapping in the breeze. “Hello, Princess. We have business to discuss.”

CHAPTER THREE​

The candlelit room in the eastern tower was small and cramped, and the only space with which to walk was in a circular fashion around the girl in the stocks. Only a handful of steps brought the captain back where he started. As he paced, the floorboards - now well-worn and splintered - creaked beneath his boots, which created a rhythmic thunking. Thunk-thunk-thunk he went, round and round, making Ainsley dizzy in the process. While walking, he tapped the desk, then the table, always swivelling his head toward the heavy oaken door, reinforced with iron joints and bands, each time he passed it by.

This day was a blur. The serving girl couldn’t determine the hour, as the window was not in her line of sight. Likewise, she couldn’t determine when the mess had been cleaned. She vaguely remembered another servant entering the small room, or was that just a tickle-induced hallucination? It was difficult to discern what was real and what was false anymore. At any rate, her bare feet - along with the floor - were clean as a whistle once more.

She and the captain had shared an intimate moment earlier, odd and devious as it may have been, it was still something that bound them together. But Ainsley thought it peculiar that the older man still hadn’t released her. She’d provided more than enough information to aid in the thief’s capture, so why was she still seated in this chair?

As if by way of mental connection, Khellar suddenly stopped alongside her. ‘This is it, at long last,’ thought the girl as the man reached toward her. Alas, instead of setting her free, Ainsley felt the familiar sensation of leather wrapped tightly around her wrist as the captain secured her free hand, snugging the strap even tighter than before.

“Sir? Are we not finished here this day?” The nervous confusion was clear in her tone.

“Our alone time is nearly at an end, but there is plenty of day left,” replied Khellar flatly. “Shall we pick up where we left off?”

“Where we—no, no please, sir. I thought this was over! I have nothin’ left to tell you!”

“Hmm, I’ve considered that. But in my experience, there is always more to learn.” He walked to the end of the stocks while leering at her feet once again. “I might just have to turn this up a notch to wring every last drop of truth from your lips.”

“No, p-please, you mustn’t!”

Khellar merely chuckled. “That sounds familiar.” His fingers crept toward her feet - now flailing wildly side to side - as the insatiable urge to tickle her senseless came back stronger than ever.

Her face was a mask of terror once more, dreading his tickly touch upon the supple soles of her bare feet. But mere seconds before contact was made, they were interrupted.

A stone-on-stone grinding noise reverberated off the walls of the small room. It was the outermost chamber door; a false wall designed to conceal this particular space. It opened with a lurching rumble, then the sound repeated until grinding to a halt once more. Both Ainsley and the captain ceased breathing and stared silently toward the wooden door. But only three heartbeats later, it creaked slowly open.

In the doorway stood a figure cloaked in shadow. But this individual’s identity was no mystery.

“What do we have here?” came a voice from the dark.

Khellar placed a hand over his heart and sank to one knee. “My Lord,” he said, “your mere presence humbles us.”

A heavy-featured man stepped into the light. He had a fringe of greyish hair around his balding pate. Dark semicircles cupped his eyes and his puffy cheeks were an unhealthy shade of red that came from a bottle. His clothing was excellently cut; form-tailored to his portly frame and ornamented with expensive subtlety rather than opulent flash. His doublet was thickly pleated, woven using the finest southern silks, dyed royal colours of ebony and violet. He wore a black velvet cloak lined with cloth of gold thrown back over one shoulder, and a few golden rings inlaid with precious gems decorated his stubby fingers.

“Rise, Captain,” he commanded. The fat man then took a few steps, shutting the door firmly behind him.

For a moment, there was silence. Ainsley patiently waited for the Lord of Ravens to acknowledge her, for his timely arrival surely meant salvation. Khellar, meanwhile, stood alongside the desk with a hand on the hilt of his blade, scowling.

“Well now,” spoke the High Lord at last, “have I interrupted?” His gaze dropped to the girl in the chair, who beamed back at him with wide-eyed warmth. “You poor creature, what in heaven’s name has Khellar been doing to you?”

“It’s so nice to see you, m’lord.” Her teary eyes flicked toward the sour-faced man standing nearby. She chose her words carefully. “I’m not sure how long I’ve been here. I’m so sorry I was unable to serve you this mornin’. As you can see, I’m a little tied up.” She forced an uneasy chuckle, attempting to lighten the mood.

“I would’ve arrived sooner, but the meeting of the Collective ran longer than anticipated.”

“That’s understandable, m’lord. You’re here now, that’s what counts. The Captain has been tick—” She paused, this was a delicate matter and Ainsley didn’t need any more trouble. “Ah, I mean to say that I was tryin’ my best to answer the Captain’s questions about the thief, your highness.”

“Is that so?” His head turned slowly to Khellar who nodded in agreement. “And what have you uncovered? What news of my missing daughter?”

Ainsley’s ears perked up. “Did you say missin’? What happened to the princess?”

“You mean to tell me that you are unaware?” replied the High Lord. His jowls jiggled as he shook his head, letting out a discontented sigh. “You can’t have gotten very far, Khellar. I’m glad I arrived. Tell me, Captain, has she been receptive to your line of questioning?”

“Just so, my Lord.”

“Most excellent.” A leering smile split his chubby face as his eyes fell upon her naked feet. “Show me.”

The captain inclined his head, then replied, “And what would his highness wish me to use?”

“I’ll leave it to your discretion.”

The panic-stricken girl was shaking like a leaf. “Allow me to aid in the search!” she pleaded. “Please, let me help you…”

“Oh, sweet child, you’re going to help me,” he replied as Khellar took up a familiar position directly behind the young woman.

“No, no, no… d-don’t let him, pleeease don’t let him do this to me again…”

“Do not be frightened,” he said in a soothing tone. “I thought you wanted to help?”

“I do! I swear it!” She twisted her head, attempting to see the attack coming. “But I can’t help you like this… don’t let him, please don’t let him…”

The fat man feigned ignorance. “Don’t let him do what?”

“Don’t let him tickle me, m’lord!” The helpless desperation was evident in her voice.

“Tickle you? Now there’s an idea…”

“No, wait—neeheeieiee…”

With feather-light strokes, Khellar’s index fingers gently grazed her perfectly smooth, taut underarms.

“…eieieeheee… n-not again…”

“Goodness, you are a sensitive little thing, aren’t you?”

“You have no idea, highness,” said Khellar. “Allow me to demonstrate.” He fluttered a couple of fingertips in her bare hollows, perpetuating a fit of adorable giggles from Ainsley. Then he did it again, and again, and within sixty seconds had added several more devilish fingers to the mix.

“Oh, yes,” said the High Lord, mostly to himself. “Yes, you’ll be of great help to me this day.”

Ainsley giggled out sweet little protests to the contrary. Then she felt the captain’s hands begin to travel south.

“M’lord, p-pleeheease make him stahahahap!”

She suddenly felt a myriad of rogue fingertips exploring her tender sides, her body tensing as they journeyed down from her breasts, across her ribcage to just above her hips. What came next was truly terrifying. The serving girl felt the captain pull at the drawstrings on her skirt.

“No, sir, don’t—”

But it was too late. Khellar slipped the knots free, allowing him to untuck her blouse. To her horror, she soon felt his fingers creeping up her bare sides, agonizingly slow, lightly tickling their way north again.

“Eieieehahaha!

Prodding between the giggly girl’s ribs was addictive, as each poke appeared to send a shiver through her tiny body. In an effort to hear each nuanced tone she was capable of producing, the captain used his thumb and index finger to rapidly pinch her sides.

“…neeieheheheee… t-tell him to cease this torture!”

It was an echo of the not-so-distant past, yet somehow decidedly different. This time, there was no fabric to muffle the tickly sensations administered by his fingers. Add to that the inclusion of another; a lordly man known for his kind heart and sound judgment. Yet there he stood, smiling coldly, the flickering candlelight casting an eerie glow across his round face. It was nearly too much for the ticklish girl to bear.

But somehow she must. Gritting her teeth, Ainsley was determined not to show weakness.

“Oh, how wonderful!” he exclaimed. “I love it when they try to hold back their laughter. What a fun game.”

“Believe me, my Lord. She may put up a fight but it doesn’t take much to break her. Observe…” To illustrate his point, Khellar drilled a finger between two of the girl’s ribs.

“…eieiehahaha!”

It was hopeless. Ainsley did not have the fortitude necessary to withhold her laughter. She was worn out and the captain knew it. She soon felt him scribbling his fingers across her bare sides once more, whilst the Lord of Ravens looked on.

“…eiehahaha—noohoho more t-ticklin’—ehehahahaha!”

The sweet sounds of the brunette’s cackling were music to Khellar’s ears; a symphony of laughter, melodies that could only come from someone battling such ticklish turmoil. As he ravaged her upper body, his interest in making her squirm was renewed given his newfound audience. Both of his rough hands ran freely across her bare midriff as his hyper-ticklish prisoner writhed pathetically in the stockade.

“Aww, is ticklish little Ainsley enjoying herself? Would you like your Lord to join in the fun?” he whispered into her ear.

“Nyahahaa! N-Nooo, no more, stahahahap! It tiiicklesss!”

“Of course it tickles, girlie. But as I’ve stated, it’s beneficial for the Northern Kingdom, and our missing princess.” He goosed her left side, provoking a shrill yelp from the girl. “What do you think, highness? Has she earned a break?”

Khellar shot a glance toward the High Lord, who signalled a negative.

“Oh, too bad. Playtime’s over, let’s get serious.” The moment had come to make her howl. Without further ado, Khellar feverishly clawed at her ribs, kneading up and down.

“NYEHAHAHAHAAA!” screamed the girl.

Her laugh was high-pitched and desperate. Ainsley thrashed as much as the restraints would allow, but she simply could not escape the fiendish tickler. Seconds felt like minutes as he pawed at her convulsing sides, mercilessly tickle torturing her as the plump man enthusiastically watched the show.

“GOD, NOOHOHO MORE—EIEIHAHAHAHAA!”

“God? I’m afraid he isn’t here at the moment, you might want to try back later.”

The captain’s cruel words hung in the air as the serving girl writhed under ceaseless ticklish torment via the hands of a sadist on a tickle-fuelled frenzy. When enough time had passed, and the High Lord was satisfied with what he saw, he raised a podgy arm.

“Enough!” he bellowed.

Khellar obeyed, and Ainsley drew in a grateful breath.

“Incredible, remarkable,” he continued calmly. “Young lady, how did I overlook you these last few years?” He stepped forward and took a seat upon the small stool, which groaned under his weight. “I’ll take it from here, Captain.”

“Yes, highness.” Khellar stepped away and leaned against the desk. “I’ll be here should you require assistance.”

The High Lord did not respond but gave a look that said interference wasn’t welcome.

Unfortunately for Ainsley, this ticklish dilemma wasn’t over yet. The girl was winded and her hopes for a saviour had all but evaporated. “M’lord,” she said in a hushed tone of voice, “this is a waste of your valuable time.” She was suddenly solemn and serious, looking overtop the stocks at him.

“Is that so?”

“Yes, m’lord. You know it’s true. If the princess is missin’, then we must begin the search at once. Ticklin’ me won’t bring her home.”

“Do you not think I have begun searching for my daughter? As we speak, a host of men comb the castle and its surrounding lands. She will be found, rest assured.”

“Then release me, if it pleases your highness—”

“What would please me at the moment is spending some quality time with these…” He reached toward her trapped feet, which began swishing back and forth immediately. “I wonder if they’re as sensitive as the rest of you…”

“The soles before you are quite feather-ticklish, my Lord,” said Khellar. “Might I provide you mine?”

“Heavens, no.” The High Lord wrinkled his nose at the tattered little feather sitting on the nearby desk. “I came prepared.”

He extended his right arm, pulled back the sleeve of his cloak and withdrew a long, jet-black raven’s feather. Smiling, he pulled his cloak-sleeve back down, set the feather atop the stocks and folded his hands on his lap.

Ainsley felt a pang of terror; a cold pressure in her chest which caused her heart to thump faster and faster. She eyed the feather, then the two men, all while trying to hide one foot behind the other.

“You are tense, aren’t you?” said the man seated before her. “How interesting, the mere thought of my feather against your bare soles sends you into a fit of panic.”

“I am your servant, always. A dutiful, loyal servant. I swear it!”

“I won’t deny that. But how am I to know that my mischievous daughter did not ask you to keep her secrets, hmm?” He lifted the feather and twirled it between thumb and forefinger. “Let’s be honest, it wouldn’t be the first time she’s snuck off in the middle of the night. Perhaps the thief amounts to nothing more than coincidence.”

“M’lord, p-please, I am not your daughter’s handmaiden. I do not know her whereabouts!” The frightened girl began pulling her legs again, trying to break free, as if this time it would make a difference.

“Do not worry, her handmaidens will be questioned too, thoroughly. But I’ve heard enough for now, let’s get these little piggies wiggling, shall we?”

Without further preamble, the long black feather inched toward her trembling bare feet.

“No, I can’t handle it again… not my f-feet, anywhere but there—eiieheheheee…”

The plume began licking at the sole of her right foot while Ainsley kicked feebly in a fruitless effort to make it stop. Khellar looked on in silence, an expression of smug satisfaction fixed to his face. Those splendid little feet had been used in every way imaginable, but he was eager to see what the High Lord had planned for them.

The teasy foot tickles had begun anew, and Ainsley could scarcely believe her luck - or lack thereof. Her soles, so soft and delicate, were no match for his feather. She could do little but wiggle them side to side, but like Khellar before him, the High Lord relished the brunette’s adorable giggles and wanted to hear more.

“Kitchy, kitchy, koo…” he teased. “What dreadfully ticklish feet you have. I’m curious, where might I find their weak spot? Here perhaps?” The feather caressed the arch of her left foot.

“…nooohehehe… get that thing away from meeheheee…”

“Hmm, no. Still immensely ticklish but not what I’m looking for. I know, let’s try this area…” The fluffy feather began gliding up toward five nervous toes, stopping just below as Ainsley drew sharp, deliberate breaths. “What’s wrong?”

“…eiieieee… not there… not my t-toesss… nieheheeehee…”

“Oh, sweet girl, you’re making this far too easy for me.”

The feather’s tip began exploring just below the giddy girl’s terrified toes. They curled over defensively each time he tickled her there, a sea of wrinkles appearing on those perfectly pale bare soles of hers.

“M’lord—eieehehee—noohohoo, no more of this!”

“You cannot be serious,” he replied, while dragging his feather between two toes on her left foot. “We’ve just begun, silly girl.”

His long feather moved on down the line; slipping it between two toes, pulling it through. Rinse, repeat. Every so often she’d curl them over and snag the black feather, which was quickly resolved via a thumbnail applied to the centre of her arch, promptly opening those tightly-knit toes.

“…heeieheee…why are you doin’ this—niieeheee—to meeheheee?”

Her question went ignored as the High Lord gleefully tickled her cute little feet. He flicked the feather’s tip up each toe stem, which twitched involuntarily, then traced it across each wrinkle, ensuring both feet received equal attention.

“Surely this is an improvement over your regular duties, wouldn’t you agree?” asked the High Lord, the corners of his mouth rising in a mocking twist.

“Noohohooo! I hate it—eeek!”

“If you sincerely detested it as much as you claim, then I’d have heard the truth by now. Isn’t that right, Captain?”

Khellar grunted in agreement, his cold eyes locked squarely on Ainsley’s bare soles, watching as the High Lord fell under their spell.

“Sirs, pleeheease believe meehehee! I’ve only ever—niieheheee—been truthful!”

The words were difficult to get out, what with the incessant, feather-induced tickle torture. She had to suppress her laughter, it was only ever going to encourage him. Shutting her eyes, Ainsley breathed deeply, letting her mind wander.

“Holding back your laughter, eh. This should be amusing, haven’t you tried it before?” asked the High Lord while methodically feathering her terrifically ticklish tootsies.

Ainsley spoke not a word.

“That’s it, fight it. But defiance and squirming will eventually yield to exhaustion.”

Ainsley was remarkably stone-faced, despite having her soles assailed relentlessly by the long, black feather.

“We can make a game of this, my dear. All I require is an hourglass. Captain, would you mind?”

“Regrettably, she broke it earlier in the day,” said Khellar.

“Oh, feisty are we?” His brow wrinkled with surprise. “Shame. But I know just how to tame a feisty little thing like yourself…” He gave the captain a knowing look, who acted without delay.

“What shall I use, highness?”

“Your imagination,” he replied while absentmindedly tickling the stocked bare feet before him.

Khellar opened a drawer within his desk, reached toward a roll of twine, then thought better of it. Instead, he turned around and walked alongside the girl in the stocks. Ainsley swallowed hard, unsure of what the captain might do.

“Your Lord has need of this, if you please,” he said, pulling at the narrow strip of cloth holding her hair in place.

She remained quiet as her auburn locks tumbled over both shoulders. The cloth strip was passed to the fat man on the stool, who snatched it eagerly.

“Wonderful!” he exclaimed, setting the feather on his lap. “This should do the trick.”

“No, j-just hold on a moment…” she said, striving to keep the panic from her voice.

“Hold still now, won’t you?”

But Ainsley could not abide that request, as she began switching her feet left and then right, attempting to evade him. She knew it was pointless to resist, but what else could she do?

“No! Please, not that! Don’t tie my toes, please don’t tie them up, m’lord!”

“My, quite talkative now, aren’t we?”

The girl soon felt the thin ribbon of cloth being threaded between the first and second toes of her right foot, shuddering as the High Lord began wrapping it around both big toes. Fidgeting didn’t seem to help, as within seconds they’d been bound. But it wasn’t just that they’d been wrapped tightly together. No, he’d seen fit to pull them backward, only slightly, just enough to render both soles taut. The man then tied off the loose end of cloth to a tiny eyelet, guaranteeing they remain stock-still.

“This is awful! I can’t move my feet at all anymore!”

“Nothing gets past you,” he said over a deep belly laugh. “This should teach you some lady-like behaviour.”

Khellar’s erection was raging once again as he observed the girl, now toe-tied, fight for freedom. But the thick wooden boards would never give way, the blackened iron hinges would never break, no matter how much she bucked and thrashed. A tinge of jealousy coursed through him as his mouth set into a scowl. ‘She was mine to play with,’ he thought. But the captain knew that wasn’t true, at least not anymore. Those young, soft soles now belonged to another man.

“P-Please, I’ll do anythin’, just don’t tickle my feet anymore!” said Ainsley, her voice scratchy from overuse.

“Anything but tell the truth, it seems.” The High Lord took a moment to admire his work. His ticklish servant’s big toes were perfectly tied, immobilizing those achingly flawless feet. She could no longer scrunch her soles - they’d been rendered nearly motionless. It appeared their owner was muttering to herself, as the feather-wielding Lord of the Reach remained indifferent to her pleas.

“Well then,” he said, “where were we? Ah, that’s right, you had been attempting to hold back your laughter. Now let’s see how you fare, yes?”

The wicked raven’s feather found her bare soles once again. Like moth to flame, it couldn’t resist. It adored her curves, licking at both taut arches, exploring the smooth contour of both heels. Eight cute little toes curled ever so slightly as their owner bit down hard on her tongue to contain her mounting laughter.

“Oh, come now,” said the High Lord, “give us a giggle, won’t you?”

Ainsley shook her head defiantly.

“Stubbornness,” he continued, “tut-tut, it doesn’t suit you, sweet girl.” He was waving his feather directly beneath her toes now. Surprisingly, the girl’s squirming and giggling did not resume straight away. “Come on, laugh for me! Tickle, tickle, tickle…”

Not a peep left her lips.

“Fine. But I know what will make you cackle…” He flipped the feather end for end, then rubbed his thumb over its blunt quill. “Yes, this is the answer to that obstinate attitude you’ve developed.”

A leaden feeling formed in the pit of her stomach. “No, p-please don’t… anythin’ but that…” whimpered the girl in the stocks.

He showed a wide arc of wine-stained teeth, then replied, “You asked for it…”

“No, wait a moment, just hold—EIEIEHAHAHAHA!”

Her will gave way as the tip of the feather’s blunt quill struck her left sole, dead centre, and travelled down to her heel. Ainsley’s breath was stolen as she belted out ear-piercing laughter mingled with strained pleas for mercy. From there, the High Lord ran it back up, from heel to toes, then repeated the move on her right foot.

“Oh my, that is effective.”

Unsympathetic to her plight, he began experimenting as the tragically ticklish serving girl used all her strength to curl her big toes. But try as she might, the ribbon held tight. Unable to move her feet even an inch, she was forced to laugh as the High Lord began to modify his tickly technique. Using a zigzagging motion, he dragged it from that sensitive area right below the toes to the outer edge of the sole, then back across her arch before finally arriving at her heel. This proved especially effective, plunging the breathless brunette into beautiful suffering.

“GYAHAHAHAHAA! WHY ARE YOU DOIN’ THIS TO MEEHEHEHAHAHA!” she asked through spasms of escalating laughter.

“Because I can, or because you deserve it. What difference does it make?”

Utilizing fluid, measured strokes, the High Lord tirelessly ran the spine of his feather across the entire length of both bare soles. He soon found himself drawing patterns, shapes, even numbers and symbols - whatever crossed his twisted mind. With a simple flick of the wrist, he was able to control exactly how much laughter he wanted, adjusting speed and direction as necessary to increase or decrease pitch.

“HELP, PLEEHEEASE SOMEONE HELP MEEHEHEE!”

“Scream all you want, no one is coming to your rescue.”

Her screeching cries for a saviour quickly dissolved back into peals of laughter. Multitudes of faint yet distinct pink lines soon crisscrossed the bottoms of her imprisoned feet as the man sketched, scrawled, scribbled and doodled, pretending his quill had been dipped into an inkwell and her oversensitive soles were sheaves of blank parchment. He drew lazy little circles on both pillowy-soft heels, spiralling up across those taut, creamy-white arches then took some time to probe below all ten tiny toes.

Khellar watched the tender-footed girl beg and squawk as the Lord of Ravens signed ownership of those hypnotizing soles, one stroke at a time. He couldn’t help but imagine the princess, the Lady Elyse, similarly trapped. The bratty blonde would despise this form of torture, but her little pampered feet deserved nothing less. Oh, how she would cry out for her father’s help, for his lordly protection, only to be denied time and time again. Her slender toes - forever painted pretty shades and decorated with a ring or two - would have to be individually tied, as he would require their complete cooperation. ‘That’s the optimal method of extracting information from the mouthy girl’, thought Khellar. Whether or not her father would allow it is another story. She’s always been off-limits, but that could change if the High Lord suspected foul play. There was no doubt the princess was up to something and a few hours in his stockade would reveal the truth.

“NYAHAHAAA!”

Ainsley’s shrieking pulled the captain from his daydream. The High Lord’s feather was racing around her decadently soft soles, skimming the surface one minute and applying just enough pressure to make her hit a high note that resonated within the small chamber.

“Oh, this is too fun,” he said with a hearty chuckle. “I could do this all day. You’re quickly becoming my new favourite.”

The girl tossed her head to one side and cackled, drawing in air between bursts of hoarse-sounding laughter as the long, black feather worked its magic on her severely ticklish soles. This wasn’t fair, it wasn’t right. How long did they plan to keep her here? Why wouldn’t they just listen? She didn’t know anything! She’d been propelled into ticklish misery by the one person who should’ve freed her ages ago.

“BWAAHAAAHAAA! YOU GOTTA STAHAHAHAAP IT! I CAHAHAAN’T TAAHAHAAKE ANYMORE!”

“We both know that’s a lie,” he said. “You’ve more fight in you yet, believe me.”

Ainsley’s shrill cries were testament to his unwavering passion for tickling her senseless. A short dash here, a long stroke there, occasionally autographing her soft, girly feet as she laughed helplessly in the stocks. It was endlessly entertaining. At one point, the word T I C K L I S H was written using large letters while alternating between each foot. But after writing on her soles for god knows how long, the High Lord unleashed another brief flurry of tickles before finally allowing the girl to rest.

“Goodness, you are peerless, truly.” He favoured her with another smile. It was one of triumph and horror, gaping from ear to ear.

“…pl-please, m’lord… release me… I know nothin’ more…”

“Perhaps. But I would be doing my lovely daughter a disservice by not exhausting all options and following every lead to its end, wouldn’t you agree?”

Ainsley said nothing. She couldn’t fathom more time spent in the clutches of these tickle-mad deviants. Her face was beet-red, huffing and puffing while glaring at the cold-hearted man on the stool.

“Why so glum?” he asked. “You are aiding me in my search and your information is valuable, so let us carry on.”

“…I didn’t… do anythin’…” said the bewildered brunette.

“That’s precisely the point, you didn’t. I’m told you’re our only witness. A firsthand look at our thief, yet you waited until the following morning before speaking up. One might consider that suspect.”

“…b-but, m’lord, the Captain saw his face! He told me so!”

“Are you questioning the competence of a commanding officer?”

It was useless. No matter what she said, they’d spin it against her. She was doomed to become his latest tickle slave.

“Come now,” he continued, “cheer up. Ah, I know how to put a smile on that pretty face. Oh, Captain…”

“My lord,” replied Khellar.

“I’ve had a change of heart, I wish for you to join us.”

“As you wish, highness.”

“Oh, and bring me something from that desk of yours. I know it’s full of goodies, something to help this young lady lift her spirits and perhaps loosen her tongue.”

“With pleasure.” The captain rummaged within a drawer until he found what he was looking for. Two items were handed over: a wide hairbrush and a small glass bottle of oil.

Ainsley’s throat was dry, she could barely croak out the words, “I don’t know anythin’ else, I sw—”

“Yes, you swear it, I’m aware.” The Lord of Ravens tucked the black feather back into his cloak-sleeve. “If you’ve truly nothing more to add, then consider this adequate punishment for dereliction of duty. Captain, feel free to start us off.”

“N-No… no, you can’t keep me here… you can’t keep ticklin’ me… pleeease…”

“We can do whatever we like,” said Khellar, slipping a calloused hand up her skirt and resting it on her bare right thigh. “But it’s alright, girlie. You’ll come to enjoy it, just like before.”

The weary girl trembled, fresh tears welling in her eyes. The tickly sensations on the soles of her feet hadn’t quite subsided when the captain began his next round of torment.

“I hate it, I hate it so much, you don’t understand…” she said between panicked gasps. “You don’t know what this is like for me, you don’t understaAAHAHAHAAND!”

“I understand plenty. I know how this must feel, and I love watching you squirm in that seat. Now sit there like a good girl and take it.”

His taunting words were drowned out by the sheer racket she was making. Several fingers kneaded into the flesh of her inner thigh, squeezing rapidly, as Ainsley’s mirthful cries for freedom fell on deaf ears.

“NYAHAHAA—STAAHAHAAP IT, NO MORE—IT TIIICKLESSS, I CAHAHAN’T TAKE IT—BWAHAAHAA!”

“You don’t have much of a choice,” he said while sinking his fingertips deep into her thighs. During this time his other hand made its way beneath her shirt, and those naughty fingers started crawling across her ribs, eventually making their way to her flat tummy. As they explored, his index finger began travelling in a widening spiral around her navel, prompting a particularly high-pitched squeal from his devastatingly ticklish victim. Meanwhile, the High Lord uncorked the bottle of oil with an audible pop, then dolloped some into one hand.

Ainsley soon felt the oily substance being smeared across her left foot followed closely by the right. She knew what was coming, dreaded it, but could do absolutely nothing to stop it.

“NYEHAHAHAAA! NOOHOHOO—GET OUTTA THERE!” she cried as both of Khellar’s hands made their way under her top, his fingers running rampant up and down her bare sides.

“This is your final opportunity,” said the Lord of the Reach. “Speak the truth now and withhold no detail, while breath still resides in your lungs. Where is my daughter?”

“GYAAHAHAAA!” I DON’T KNOW, HONESTLY!”

“I was hoping you’d say that.” The fat man squeezed the handle of his wide paddle brush, lowering it slowly to the twenty-one-year-old’s bare, oily soles.

“NOHOHOO, M’LORD—HEEIEHAHAHA—NOT THAT, N-NOT THE HAIRBRUSH!” She tried to brace herself, but couldn’t suppress the scream that tore out of her when the stiff-bristled brush finally made contact. “NYEHEHAHAHAAA!”

“Poor thing,” he said, cruelly stroking it up and down. “Your soles are mine now, and this is only the beginning.”

Hundreds of bristles skated across the bottoms of her well-oiled feet, pulsating as they flexed, overwhelming her fragile senses.

“STAAHAHAAP IT, STAAHAAAP TICKLIN’ MY FEEHEHEEET!” shouted the girl.

“No, I don’t think I will,” was the response.

Her reactions were chaotic, as no two brushstrokes would elicit the same response twice but each provoked a wide range of sounds from Ainsley. From deep, guttural screams to piercing shrieks, the excruciatingly ticklish serving girl was reduced to a babbling madwoman in short order.

“I think she likes it after all,” said Khellar, poking a few fingers into her ribs and vibrating them as she wheezed out another impassioned appeal, seeking humanity, which was denied by the two men. “Look how happy she is.”

“I wholeheartedly agree, Captain.” Her oily soles, toe-tied and perfectly immobilized, were now a lovely shade of pink from the thorough scrubbing they’d been receiving. “I do so love to see my subjects enjoying themselves.”

“NYEHAHAAAA! FUCK NOHOHOO, PLEEHEEASE STAHAAHAAP TICKLIN’ MEHEHEE!”

“Oh my, such foul language. That’s a punishable offence.”

The captain’s fingers skimmed the surface of her ticklish tummy, while the High Lord brushed the soles of her little bare feet until her screams had become high-pitched and wordless again. Tears rolled unbidden down red cheeks, leaving miniature water droplets on her sleeveless blouse as both men continued to pitilessly tickle torture the poor young woman.

After some time, the High Lord removed his dastardly brush from her soft pink soles, set it atop the stocks and signalled Khellar to pause as well.

“Captain,” he said, “it would appear our friend has nothing further to say. Nothing useful, anyway. Is that correct, sweet girl?”

Ainsley was a snivelling mess. Her hair was matted to her forehead and her head hung limp. She sat in the padded chair, arms still pinned overhead, slack-jawed and gasping for air while blinking tears from her tired eyes, muttering to herself about how ‘she was innocent’ and that ‘she knew nothing more’.

Excited by her broken spirit, he added, “Well then, what do you say we gag her?”

“As you wish, highness,” replied the captain with a wide, slack grin. Khellar then hastily retrieved a length of cloth from his desk. “This will do nicely.” He knotted the centre of the cloth strip into a ball, forced open her mouth and shoved it between her teeth. It was then wrapped around her head and tied tight.

“Wonderful, great work,” said the brush-wielding monster of a man. “I was tired of her lies and incoherent rambling. Shall we proceed?”

“My Lord, might I make a suggestion?”

“Yes, Captain, go ahead.”

“I would like to offer you a chance to tickle her upper body. Your skills and well-honed tickling techniques are wasted by focusing on her feet alone, and I believe you’d enjoy yourself. Perhaps we could switch places?”

The High Lord gave it a moment's thought, then replied, “Sound reasoning, why not? I should sample all this one has to offer.”

Ainsley released a series of muffled noises that sounded vaguely like some sort of protest as the two ticklers traded places.

Khellar felt right at home on the small stool, reunited with her bare feet at last. It wasn’t long ago that he was slobbering on her deliciously-suckable toes and fucking the tight gap between her arches. Seeing them restrained and oiled like this was nearly too much to bear and his cock throbbed once again at the thought of it. Speaking of oil, why not add some more? At that, he began drizzling the remainder of the bottle from top to bottom until the slick liquid dripped onto the oak floor below.

“There we are,” he said. “Ticklish girls like you need this, it’s what you were made for.” He picked up the hairbrush and waggled it back and forth, another taunting gesture which caused her to turn ghostly pale. “And precious little feet like these deserve nothing less. Are you ready, girl?”

Ainsley began to speak, her words escaping through the gag as nothing more than garbled nonsense, although her tone and the strained look on her face were clear enough.

“What’s that?” he asked. “Sorry, I’m not sure I understand.”

‘You’re nothin’ but animals’, is what she tried to say, followed by, ‘what kind of men tickle torture an innocent girl?!’ Unfortunately, it emerged as gibberish.

“That sounded like a ‘yes’ to me. Once again, your Lord thanks you for your ongoing cooperation.”

The Lord of Ravens, who’d been standing silently behind the stocks, extended his arms and wiggled his fingers in her periphery. “I simply can’t wait any longer, I want to feel her writhing body and hear those wonderful little squeaks and titters. Let’s begin!”

“MMHFF! GRMMHFF!”

How long must she suffer? Locked in stocks, deprived of her footwear and her dignity. Toe-tied, gagged and tickle tortured for hours on end by two—

Her silent pondering of gross injustices was cut short as the fat man began to grope her upper body.

“NNNMMFF! MMMRRFFF!”

“Kitchy, kitchy…” he cooed in her ear. “I’m going to tickle you like crazy and there’s nothing you can do about it…”

Her limbs convulsed as ten collective fingers explored her sweat-slicked skin, squirming as maddening ticklish sensations overtook her yet again. Her underarms and sides were particular points of interest for the High Lord, but he made certain to leave no area unattended for long. He even saw fit to blow a big, wet raspberry on her belly. This reduced the girl’s babbling to a near-silent whisper, as if the air had been sucked from her lungs.

“What’s so funny?” he asked while drilling a chubby finger between her ribs. “Does this tickle?” A few more digits skittered along her midriff as the ballistic brunette bit down hard on the gag, sucking in oxygen through flared nostrils.

“I believe I’ll join you, highness,” said Khellar as he applied the paddle brush to her irresistible, oily soles.

“MMMPHFFFF! “NNNMFRFFFF!”

Unintelligible syllables poured out in a rising pitch that bespoke hysteria as the captain gave the serving girl a sole-scrubbing to remember. Copious amounts of oil allowed the deadly brush to glide with ease, heightening her violent reactions to an entirely other level. And just when it appeared that she’d run out of air, they’d pause, graciously allowing the extraordinarily ticklish lass a moment to catch what little breath she could before continuing to attack her with reckless abandon as the symphony of laughter began anew.

“Tickle, tickle, tickle…” he said in a gravelly voice, chuckling along with the High Lord as he vigorously scrubbed his two most favourite bare soles in the entire castle.

Ainsley’s chest rose and fell in rapid succession as her head whipped wildly side to side. The girl sobbed while screaming muffled pleas for mercy into the gag. But her animated expressions served only to spur them on, seemingly seeking the limits of her sanity. And her laughter, now tinged with madness, would echo within the small chamber for hours to come.

* * *​

“What fun,” said the High Lord. “I’m so glad I stopped by. Alas, I must rejoin the Collective.” He stood and sauntered toward the door, glancing back over his shoulder. “Khellar, do check in with your men. See that they’ve conducted a thorough sweep of the castle grounds. The orchards and forest as well.”

“As you wish, highness. And what of the girl? What shall I do with her?”

Hours upon hours spent being ruthlessly gang-tickled had left its mark on the poor thing. Ainsley sat still and speechless, her tear-stained cheeks a testament to their cruelty.

“Whatever you like. I’ve gained all the satisfaction I’m likely to achieve with this one, for now, but you may yet glean something from spending a few more hours with her.” He snapped his fingers in dismissal. “But first, go and see what you can find out for me.”

“At once. And when I locate our dear princess, shall I question her?” Another feral grin crawled across his face.

“Very well. She must learn that her actions have consequences.”

Khellar turned to look at the girl in the stocks. “My men grow restless in times of peace, they could use a new plaything to occupy their time. I’ll send a few up to keep you company in my absence, so don’t go anywhere.”

The wooden chamber door closed behind them and Ainsley was left alone, for now. In the early evening hours, within the small circular room situated in the eastern tower of Raven’s Reach, a girl screamed, muffled by the gag.

* * *​

The adding and subtracting of sums carried on for longer than expected as the princess and the thief finally settled on a suitable deal, satisfying both parties. Arlo questioned why she haggled at all, since a ‘mountain of gold’ spoke of limitless wealth, which the crown could surely manage. Regardless, he agreed to the terms as presented, knowing they could be adjusted later on if it served his interests. The reward he negotiated also included partial payment upfront, more than enough to satisfy Reyna. Upon completion, they were joined by the big man and the redhead within the rock structure.

“It’s agreed, then,” said Arlo. “We leave at daybreak, take only what you can carry. We’ll stop by the stables on our way out of town, procure a couple of horses, then make for… uh, where was it again?”

A hush fell over the group as they waited for Elyse’s reply. She was staring out the door at the sinking bonfire-light of sunset.

“Hello? Still with us?”

A cold wind moved through the trees, bringing a crisp, earthy aroma and a whirlwind of colour above. With each gust, the leaves released a delicate, hushed sigh as dappled shadows danced on the forest floor.

“I will escort you back to the castle, my Lady.” said the big man. “You will be safe with me.” He looked at Arlo. “We will also leave at sunrise, then I will catch up with the rest of you.”

“You should take her tonight,” said Reyna. “Before they come looking.”

Like a miniature sail, a solitary leaf caught a current, tumbling through the air until finally landing at the blonde girl’s feet. She picked it up, studying its veins and hues.

“Regardless,” said Arlo, “I need to know where I’m headed.”

“East.” Elyse crumpled the leaf in her palm and turned around. “We seek an ancient one. Parchment and quill, if you please. I’ll draw a map. And you’re not stealing horses, we will purchase them.” She produced a small purse, jingling it pleasantly before tossing it toward Arlo.

The thief snatched it out of the air and said, “Where the hell were you hiding this? Wait, did you just say we?”

“Correct. I’ll be joining you.” She glanced toward Hilda, who nodded sagely.

The big man thumped a massive arm around her shoulders and squeezed. “This is great news!”

“Good to have you aboard, Princess,” said the thief. He then tossed the bag to Reyna. “Spending metal, as requested. Care to count it?”

Reyna gave a subtle nod, but her eyes widened when she opened the purse and viewed the gold coins within. It was quickly sealed and tucked into a pocket before turning to face Elyse. “If you’re tagging along then you better keep up. And you’ll need a change of clothes, I should have something for you. And for god’s sake, stash that circlet away somewhere. You’ll draw enough attention as it is.”

“What a fun time we will have!” boomed the big man as the princess tried to pry herself away from his grip.

The group began plotting a course eastward, making preparations for the long journey ahead. But in the tree line, as dusk settled and the sky was drained of colour, a wolf sat waiting.

TO BE CONTINUED…
​

Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this tickle-tale, why not check out another…

Beach Daze (MM/FF)
Wrap It Up (M/F)
Drive (M/F)
The Princess and the Thief (M/F & F/M)

 

[Monkey0604]

Love the story, love und series! A worthy follow up! Thrilled für another part!
Loved the dynamic between Arlo and Elyse in the first story the most so far. Really admire your style of writing!

 

[Anarcotic]

Hot as hell! Looking forward to the next chapter!

I think Ainsley can take another round and I think it would not hurt if she would be naked while she has the attention of the men from Khellar 😉

 

[purple2306]

Great story! The details and all your effort are appreciated

 

[tklmysole]

Love the story, love und series! A worthy follow up! Thrilled für another part!
Loved the dynamic between Arlo and Elyse in the first story the most so far. Really admire your style of writing!

Thanks! I appreciate the kind words, and thanks for taking the time to read it!

 

[tklmysole]

Hot as hell! Looking forward to the next chapter!

I think Ainsley can take another round and I think it would not hurt if she would be naked while she has the attention of the men from Khellar 😉

Thank you, I’m glad you enjoyed it 😜

 

[PrinceJ86]

Can't wait for thr update on Ainsley.