Tickle Slaves – Chapter 1, 2, and 3 (NSFW, FF/F, F/F, F/M, Non-Con, VERY cruel and sadistic)

[TickleSlaver]

Prologue​

In any other kind of story, Amelia would be the hero. Strong and noble, a woman dedicating her life to the Kingdom. Raised in barracks and nursed on only the finest creams. By the time of her womanhood, she was one of the land’s most formidable warriors. A king defender. A giant killer. A dragon slayer.

What a shame it is for her to find herself in this story instead.

There was a young man her age, a squire for one of the grizzled knights, with raven black hair and a smile like no other. His laughter could raise the dead, she assumed. His name was Devon, and Amelia came to believe that he was the one true love of her life. It was easy to see that, despite the attention of many noblewomen and heiresses, he thought the same of Amelia.

And then, one day, Devon went missing.

Amelia’s heart ached. It was as if she’d eaten a swarm of bees. She thanked the servant and retreated to the barracks. She ignored the burly men and women scattered around and lay in bed. By the time her head hit the pillow, she was almost at peace.

There had been a mistake. Surely, there had to be one. Devon was many things, but an outdoorsman he was not. He was hiding somewhere to escape his Master. He was snacking in the kitchen and had yet to leave. He was playing a joke. There were so many explanations that the idea of him running away almost brought her to giggles.

A week later, missing posters began going up in local taverns and inns. Whispers spread rumors about the missing squire, and Amelia heard them every time she went outside.

A month passed. Then two months. Then three. And through it all, there was never a sign of Devon. Not even a trace. He was here one day and gone the next.

Like magic.

But Amelia was resolved. He wasn’t just a cute boy or noble squire. He was made to be her love, and she was made to be his. She promised herself every night before bed that the next day, she would do everything in her power to find Devon and bring him home.

This is where our story begins.

This is where things really go wrong.

Chapter 1​

Nismos was a small town. Hours away from the castle where Amelia trained, studied, and slept. Far from the bustling markets, noisy city streets, and smell of horse poop. Nismos was a road with a series of decrepit buildings on either side, and a few houses built back in the woods.

One of those old buildings was a tavern. The door opened and heavy metal boots stepped inside. Men looked up, then looked back down. The figure walked to the bar and had a seat. Upon pulling back their hood, Amelia’s long blonde curls expanded all around her head. The bartender approached her.

“What are you craving?” the man asked with neutrality.

“Mead,” Amelia said, harsh yet plain.

He poured her a tankard and slammed it on the wooden counter. She drank it fast and wiped her lips. She then pulled out a roll of paper from her bag and smoothed it out on the sticky counter. “Do you recognize this man?”

The bartender examined the missing poster and the boy’s face on it. He was young, about the age of the girl, with dark waves for hair and a dimpled smile. The bartender shook his head.

“Sorry, miss.” He gave her a sad look. “Never seen one like him before.”

Amelia scowled, then placed her copper coins on the counter. She stood and surveyed the room. The only inhabitants were drunks and the lot. Amelia sighed and walked back to the door.

Back out in the gloomy sunshine, she surveyed the street. More inns and taverns. A local blacksmith. And a novelties shop. That last one was closest so she went there first.

Inside was a mess of cluttered tables and desks and chairs piled with papers. There was only one man, and he didn’t look too savory.

“Welcome in,” he said with a wicked smile. He was an older, cruel looking man. His smile didn’t dip until Amelia lowered her hood and showed him the poster.

“I’m looking for this man. Have you seen him?”

The man studied the face for a second too long. “Nope.” He leaned back and shook his head. “Never.”

“You lie.” Amelia’s gaze narrowed.

The man spat on the floor. “And what of it?” he asked, spitefully.

“I am a servant of the king. As far as you are concerned, I am your authority.”

The man studied her face. “Too young for that, aren’t you?”

“And what of it?” she asked with hard blue eyes.

He stroked his beard. “Aye, I’ve seen him. Suppose you know the law of this land?”

“Of what do you speak?” she asked without softening her piercing blue gaze.

A sudden outburst of laughter ended their dialogue. He gazed out the window and she did the same.

The next building over was an inn. Through one window they could see a man and woman. The woman was beating her fists against the much larger man’s chest as he grabbed and threw her onto the bed. Springs creaked as he climbed up onto the bed and on top of her. Faintly, Amelia could hear the voices.

“No!” the woman pleaded without any sort of dignity. “Please, no! I’m sorry, sire. Just please, anything but–”

And suddenly her words were cut off and replaced by the sounds of laughter. It was high pitched, closer to the squeals of pig slaughter than true merriment. Her head thrown back and her eyes closed tightly, the man dug his strong fingers into the girl’s blouse, digging directly into her rib cage. The woman pushed against his chest, but he simply grinned and pinned her wrists down.

“No,” she said, breathless. “No, sire, don’t.”

“Quiet bitch.” He got both wrists in one of his meaty hands and used his other to hover over her body. “I’m going to enjoy this.”

No further words said before his hand came down into the woman’s armpit. His fingers raked through the cloth and on her flesh. Again he did this and again. The woman cried out for mercy, so he dragged his fingers down her armpit and to her side which he pinched and squeezed.

“Tickling,” Amelia said, discomforted. She was in the silent minority, though she hoped it was actually a majority, who didn’t enjoy the act. She knew it to be used in mating rituals. It was used by bandits who caught those walking the woods alone. By torturers down in dungeons such as the castle where she ate, bathed, and slept. By most everyone in the land.

“Aye,” the man said. “I’m a collector of tickling scrolls, images, and magical items.” The man smiled at her, but it wasn’t joyful. “Yes, I’ve seen the man you seek. Question is, do you want to see him?”

“Yes, of course. What kind of foolish question is that?” she asked.

“Only asking to spare your young mind and soul.” He stood up and walked back into a room behind the counter and Amelia followed him. In the back room, he picked up a book from out of a chest, though calling it a book was generous as it was only a few pages long, bound in leather thicker than the contents between them.

“Take a look for yourself,” he said while handing the book to her.

Amelia looked inside. And almost instantly she felt sickly.

The book had no words but only pictures which were magically transcribed to move. Moving pictures. The first image was of a foot. But it was so much more than that.

Not much could be seen but the foot was lying on a wooden slab of sorts, so the owner was most likely on a wooden table. A thick metal cuff bolted to the wood was holding the poor foot down, keeping it trapped in place. Each and every one of the toes, from the biggest to the pinky toe, was ensnared in little leather ropes. Each rope was tied to little loops on the top of the metal cuff, ensuring that his toes could not move, and that his foot was taut and vulnerable. The foot twitched, but only in the most frantic and minimal of ways. Movement was a dream, not a reality.

The picture was so dark, and yet, on the foot she could see the flicker of a torch. This is because the foot was so caked in oils and scents and gods know what else. The flesh looked silky smooth yet looked red and raw. The kind of abuse that only shows itself after hours of torture.

And Amelia could hear the sounds. It was hardly human but much closer to a wet gurgling noise. And then she heard a voice. It was so faint she could hardly make it out. If it was high, deep, playful, or sincere she could not know. All she heard were the words.

“Are you alright, my dear?”

Amelia almost thought she could hear sobbing.

“Good,” the voice said. “You look so much more right this way.”

A hand entered the moving image. It was pale like milk or a ghost. The hand itself looked strong with veins, and yet the fingers were long and moved like the limbs of a spider. On almost every finger was a golden ring much gaudier than anything Amelia had ever dreamed of, most sparkling with diamonds or other gemstones. And the nails, the nails that then made Amelia’s eyes go huge, were chipped black.

The nail of the index finger poked the very top of the foot, and something like a gasp was heard.

“You know what time it is, my dear. Kitchi kitchi koo.”

The finger slid down the poor, immobile sole. It slowly glided across the ball of the foot, and the foot shivered but could not move, forced to withstand the cruel finger. If the owner of the hand knew of the foot’s suffering, they either did not see or did not care, as the nail left a line of dryness in the ocean of oil on the foot.

It slid down the arch and the leather cords vibrated. It reached the heel before turning around and even more slowly working its way back up the foot. There were more wet gurgles and what sounded like broken sobs, but the foot was trapped and the tickler did not stop. The finger moved up and down and up and down for so long that even Amelia’s feet, stuck in her hot leather boots, felt sympathy for the foot.

And then it stopped. The finger pulled back. The hand slapped down on the wooden board, the rings clacking against it, and the person laughed.

“You are so very ticklish. Did you know that?” The hand grabbed the foot and massaged it. The owner of the foot groaned and whimpered. “Did you ever dream that this would be your new life? I bet not, huh? This must be so scary for you.”

Amelia started to flip the page.

And then the hand used all of its nails to scribble over the ball and arch and heel and the owner of the foot let out the most pitiful squeal of panic and pain that Amelia had ever heard. The fingers cruelly spidered all across the foot, pausing only to let the one suffering think it was over, before starting all over again. The flesh grew even redder, and the noises Amelia heard sounded less human. The tickler was in no hurry. They lustfully scribbled their nails across the foot before stopping, placing their nails at the top of the foot, and slowly raking down the poor sole from top to bottom. Raking the ball and arch and heel, and then doing it again in such a way that there was no way the one being tickled was enjoying this even a little.

“Oh yes,” the tickler said. Amelia could hear the voice better now. A woman with a husky voice. She sounded like she was in the bedroom, like she might moan any second. “Yes, that’s right. Scream for me, pet. Or your little toes are getting it next.”

Amelia flipped the page. She couldn’t bear to watch anymore. And immediately she regretted such a decision.

The next page was of a long, stiff cock. The look of it made Amelia salivate. It was so pretty and looked so strong. She wanted to touch it, then flinched when something actually did touch it. The same hand, now revealing the wrist with the two thick golden bangles on the muscular wrist, reached for the cock. Slowly, the fingers curled around it, then lightly drummed against the skin. And then it got a tight hold and slid up and down. Up and down. Up and down. More grumbles and excited gasps and hot moans. The hand vanished and then returned with oil leaking off the fingertips and leaking down the palm. Again it began to pleasure the man, working up and down. The bangles clinked together, and the mighty rings shined brightly in the torchlight.

The hand kept going and going and stopped. Right as it looked as if the man would finish, the hand left once more. The hips of the man bucked, as if chasing his release.

But then he laid flat back down on the table and tried turning this way and that. Because the hand was back with a long, stiff looking goose feather.

“Do you know what comes next?” the woman asked.

The return of the gurgling noises.

The woman laughed and began to glide the feather against the cock. It tried to fall over so she used her other hand, revealing another heavy golden bangle and more golden rings, to hold it up and keep it steady. She dragged the soft feather against the tense flesh. She started at his balls, slowly worked up his shivering shaft, and then dragged it over the leaky head. Maddening screams echoed out of the book. The unbearable, ticklish itch caused his body to attempt rolling onto its side. But then she placed a firm hand on his stomach to hold him down and continued without bother, without caring about him or his misery, without pity or mercy or humanity.

Once again, Amelia could look no longer and flipped the page. What she saw next almost made her cry out in fury or fall over in terror.

On the page was Devon. His handsome, youthful face on full display. He was looking directly at Amelia from however long ago this had been. And yet, she couldn’t stand to see him. His neck was trapped by a wooden stock, preventing him from moving his head. Pulled over his head was a leather strap, and at the end was a pair of rubber hooks that were hooked into his nose, pulling his nostrils up to give him a piggish appearance. Even more grotesque was his mouth, similar straps around the side of his head and the hooks pulling on four corners of his mouth to hold it wide open, locked in an eternal scream. His gorgeous eyes were bloodshot and open wider than humanly possible.

Her heart broke as she heard the sounds again, pained wet gurgles, coming from him. Him looking away made her briefly wonder if somehow he could see her right back. But no, he was looking off to the side where Amelia could hear soft footsteps. Devon looked as if he was going to burst into tears as pale, strong, ringed hands with black nails stroked his cheeks.

“Shhhhhhh,” the woman said in response to his choked whimpers, “there there. My poor pet. We haven’t even started today and already you look so perfect. So happy to see me. Oh, my sweet boy, don’t you love me? Haven’t you loved feeling my hands? My feathers? Have you not enjoyed me lowering myself for you, literally? Letting you slip inside of me for your sweet release?”

Amelia didn’t realize how tight her grip on the book was. She was close to tearing it in half.

Devon sobbed again.

“Oh, you poor thing,” The woman laughed. Not a slow, soft chuckle, but a deep and wicked cackle.

The woman removed her hands. Then the right hand returned with another feather held between her fingers. This one was much longer, much stiffer. Her pinky was extended in a classy manner, akin to a noblewoman holding a glass of wine. It made her heavy gold pinky ring look exceedingly vain and cruel.

“Oh, you’re not going to enjoy this next part, I promise you that, pet.”

The woman placed the bottom of the feather below his nose, and with agonizing slowness, she dragged the feather across his pulled back nostrils. He retched and flinched as if he might sneeze. But he didn’t. She repeated the motion, gliding the feather right under his immobile nose. Devon shut his eyes and tried to shake his head, but it was useless. His face grew red, and his laughter turned sour. A few more times of this, and the woman pulled back...only to slowly lower the feather into his pried open mouth.

“Say ahhhhhh.”

Devon made strong noises of resistance, but they were preludes to further torture. The feather reached and softly tickled the back of his throat. Devon choked and gagged. Wet drool streamed from the corners of his mouth and pooled on the wooden stock around his neck.

The woman pulled back, letting the feather drag against his gums, his tongue, and his lips. She quickly dusted his lips with the feathers, making sure not to miss a single inch, and then dipped back into his mouth, where her feather and his tongue battled for dominance. The feather won nine times out of ten, poking and prodding and molesting his poor tongue.

Only once did the tongue push the feather back, and she punished him by dabbing the feather at the roof of his mouth. He unleashed an animalistic screech at the feeling and lifted his tongue, as if giving her permission to torture it again. Caring not, she continued to drag the barbs of the feather against the sensitive roof of his mouth, and she laughed. And she laughed and laughed and laughed.

“You look perfect, my sweet pet,” the woman said as she continued to torture his mouth. “This...is where you are meant to be. You exist. To suffer.”

Amelia slammed the book shut and threw it into a pile of garbage across the room. She turned to the shopkeeper. “What in the hell was that?”

“Hell,” the man said, simply. “Best I can describe it. I see many images and videos of tickle torture. But none...none like that. That is too much for my old bones. Too cruel and heartless. Listen, you’re better off forgetting about that boy. Otherwise, you might end up sharing his fate.”

The man hadn’t even finished speaking when Amelia was back outside. Damn the man. Damn that accursed, evil, vile, and wicked woman. She had to find Devon. Find her suffering love.

No matter the cost.

 

[Ladybella23]

This is brilliant cruelty truly love it!!

 

[TickleSlaver]

This is brilliant cruelty truly love it!!

Thank you so much! I plan on doing a few more parts. Only going to get more cruel from here.

 

[Marts]

That was really good! The only thing I'll say is it feels like this is set in the middle ages / fantasy? Sort of. But at the end you say "images and videos" like it's present day

 

[TickleSlaver]

That was really good! The only thing I'll say is it feels like this is set in the middle ages / fantasy? Sort of. But at the end you say "images and videos" like it's present day

intent was supposed to be images and videos in a magical sense. kinda like harry potter. can see how it might come across as confusing though. will refine that in the next few chapters. thank you

 

[TickleSlaver]

Chapter 2

Amelia stayed the night at Nismos in a local inn. She could hear laughter from the room beside hers, and she had bad dreams.

The next morning, Amelia had a clearer mind. She dressed in her black trousers, green shirt, green cloak, and brown leather boots, and went back to the shop. She paid the man for the accursed book full of her love’s torture, and paid him twice over for information.

The book at the shop had come in a collection of items related to tickling. The people who had dropped it off were travelling merchants who said they had come from the city of Mesis.

Amelia acquired a horse for a few coins of gold from a farmer and traveled west, towards the city. On her journey, Amelia routinely looked through the book warily. She did not enjoy it. But she thought maybe she would find a clue inside. Something that would reveal itself and make the location of Devon clear. But all she saw was her poor Devon being tickled for the cruel pleasure of the sadistic woman.

A few hours later, Amelia arrived. Mesis was a city of tall white stone buildings, marvelous fountains, and incredibly carved statues. The streets were walked by all sorts of creatures. Humans, elves, fairies, orcs, knights, all of them. Amelia was far from home, and she prayed to the gods that she was close to Devon.

Upon riding in, Amelia saw a woman outside of a market, trapped in a pair of stocks. No doubt she had been found guilty of some crime. This was her consequence, but her true punishment was the two mischievous girls who approached the trapped woman. Despite her protests, they removed her shoes and amused themselves by tickling the soles of her helpless feet. They smiled while waggling their fingers against her soles. The woman laughed and begged for them to stop. Nobody passing by gave any mind, unless of course they stopped to watch. Amelia looked away and rode onwards.

Amelia stopped at a number of tickle shops throughout the city. Eventually, she came to a dark and gloomy one. She tied her mighty steed outside and entered the shop. Everywhere she looked, she saw stocks, oils, feathers, brushes, tutorials on tickling, gags, blindfolds, sensitivity potions, itching powders, poems about persons broken by tickle torture, stories all about tickling.

Amelia went to the empty counter. She looked over her shoulder. There was a young woman dressed mostly in black perusing the aisles. A group of men were looking Amelia’s way. Two humans and two orcs. When she turned back to the counter, she was greeted by an older woman, an elf, with dark brown hair and light blue eyes.

“Welcome, sweetheart. What can I help you find that might tickle your fancy?” She giggled at her own little joke.

Amelia did not. She took the book out of her bag and showed it to the woman. After explaining what it was and where she found it, she calmly said, “I would like to know where exactly this book came from.”

The woman looked at the book and flipped through a few pages herself. “Oh my. This is quite something.”

“It engages you?” Amelia asked, judgmentally.

“I’m not quite sure I would say that. While I appreciate some of it, it’s definitely quite...” The woman trailed off while flipping through the pages. “It’s quite bleak. Who did you say you are again?”

“My name is Amelia. I am a knight serving under the King and Queen of the Land.”

The elf’s eyes got much wider. “A knight? Oh, I see. You’re one of those sent to threaten my business. You came to prove that I sold illegal tickling material!”

Suddenly, Amelia felt a hand grab her arm. It was one of the orcs! Behind him stood the other orc and the two humans. “It’s time to go,” he said.

Shortly after, three of the four were on the floor and bleeding but not dead, and Amelia had the last one, the first orc, bent over and was pinning his head against the counter. She again looked at the elf who looked afraid.

“Please do not make this more difficult than it has to be,” Amelia said, calmly. “Do you know where this book came from?”

“No!” she swore. “I don’t! I’ve never seen it before in my life!”

“Someone in this city has to know something. The book came from here.”

“Mesis is a big city! It could’ve come from any number of shops, or been traded here! There’s no promise that it’s originally from here!”

“What good are you then?” Amelia asked, disdainful.

She dropped the orc who slid to the floor. She crossed the store and left through the door, swearing under her breath. She wasn’t quite back to her horse when she heard someone behind her.

“Excuse me! Miss!”

Amelia turned and saw the young woman in black. She couldn’t have been much older than Amelia. Her skin was quite pale, and her eyes were very blue. She had raven colored hair that was covered by a pointy black hat with a green ribbon around it. She wore a coal colored button up dress that hung loosely around her figure, and a pair of black boots. The only thing that wasn’t black was her pair of glasses with golden rims.

“Yes?” Amelia asked. “Do you require assistance with something?”

“I’m sorry to bother you, but I heard what you were saying in there,” she said, breathless. “You have a book of some kind and you’re trying to figure out where it came from?”

“Yes, that’s right. And currently, nobody else knows where it came from either,” Amelia muttered.

“May I see it? Maybe I can help!”

“First things first. Who are you?”

“Huh? Oh, silly me. I’m Lillie. And I’m a mage!”

Amelia took a step back. “You’re a witch?”

Lillie rolled her eyes. “That’s kind of an offensive term. Mage or wizard is more acceptable.”

“Okay, Lillie. Before I hand it to you, how do you think you can help?” Amelia asked. She could picture this girl vanishing in a puff of smoke with the book in hand, never to be seen again.

“Easily! If I can take a peek at it, I might be able to use a spell to track where it came from.”

Amelia looked at the book held in her hand. She then looked at Lillie. Slowly, she handed it to the awaiting mage. Lillie took a look inside the book and seemed to grow even more pale.

“What’s the matter?” Amelia asked.

“Oh. Nothing. This is just very intense tickling.”

“Yes,” Amelia said, trying to sound calm. “Yes, it is.”

Lillie flipped through a few more pages. Then she shut the book and gave an apologetic smile. “I don’t think I can track this.”

Amelia wanted to scream. “But you just said you could track it!?”

“I said maybe!” Lillie said, now her turn to jump backwards. “But that’s before I saw that this was a magical book. That makes it a lot harder. Tracking something like this will be incredibly difficult. Is it worth that much to you?”

Amelia stood up very straight and somberly said, “It’s worth my life. The man in there. He’s my one true love. I would die to free him of the agony he’s being put through.”

Lillie’s eyes lit up. “Oh, I see. In that case...” She adjusted her hat and softly muttered to herself. “I’m not from the city, just visiting. I’m staying at an inn though. If you’d like, you could join me. I can talk to my Master through my crystal orb. She’s always trying to help me improve my magic. Maybe she can track it for you.”

Hearing that allowed Amelia to catch her breath. “Yes, that would be good. Thank you.”

Amelia mounted her horse, and Lillie got on behind her, wrapping her thin arms around Amelia’s muscular core. They rode through the streets and to the inn, which Lillie said was on the edge of town. Amelia wanted to hurry, but the horse could only go so fast through the busy city streets. How much suffering had Devon already gone through? Was he being tortured even at that very moment. Amelia could hardly stand to think about it. She had to get her mind off of it.

“Lillie,” she said, “what were you doing in that store? I heard that it sells more intense tickle torture supplies.”

Lillie giggled and said, “Why, that’s why I was there. I love all things tickling.”

“A witch who loves tickling?”

“A mage who loves tickling,” Lillie corrected. “Most of the stores I’ve visited here bore me. There’s nothing interesting in any of them.”

“Bore you? I fail to see how.”

“They’re all so vanilla. So bland. As if a few feathers and gags are enough to entertain me.”

“I see,” Amelia said, cautiously. “I’ve never been one for tickling myself.”

“What?!” Lillie cried. “It is the greatest thing in all the Land.”

“It is nice that you think so. I do not,” Amelia stated firmly.

“Have you ever experienced it yourself?”

Amelia did not answer her.

Amelia had come of age a few years back, and that is when she had begun training to be a knight. She clearly remembered being dressed in a brown sack cloth, and trapped in a pair of stocks. Except this one wasn’t for your neck and wrists, oh no. It was for your neck and ankles. Amelia’s head was sticking out of the stocks, stuck between either of her bare feet. She was nearly folded in half.

They’d told her and the other knights in training that this was about learning how to withstand torture. At that moment, she couldn’t see how it was anything more than cruelty.

Two female knights, dressed head to toe in shiny silver armor, with helmets that covered their faces, were sat in front of the stocks, using their gloved fingers to tickle the soles of Amelia’s feet.

“Nohohohohoho! Oh gohohohohohohods! Ohohohohahahahaha! Not there, please! Please not thahahahahahahahere!” Amelia’s tanned face was redder than a tomato, and her eyes were wider than she thought possible.

“I think the new blood’s feet are too ticklish for their own good,” one of the women said, scribbling her fingers across the arch of the trapped left foot.

“Aye,” the other said. She raked her fingers down Amelia’s right sole in quick, repetitive strokes. “Too soft. Too smooth. It’s like she wanted this.”

“I didn’t! I dohohohohon’t! Mercy, plehehehehehahahahahase!”

“Like hell. We all had to go through this. Every single one of us.” She grabbed Amelia’s toes and rubbed them between her fingers.

“Ah! No! No, not thahahahahahahahe toes! Anywhere but my tohohohohohohahahahahahas!” The sensation caused Amelia to squeal. Her hands tied behind her back were clawing and grabbing at nothing.

“Me too,” the other knight said, poking her finger against Amelia’s deep arch and sliding it back and forth, left and right, up and down. “You think we’re going to miss the chance to put someone else through this? We had to suffer, so you do too.”

Amelia couldn’t begin to understand the fairness of that. How someone could be so cruel just to feel powerful and make someone else feel small.

Amelia felt very small. She was trapped, defenseless, helpless, immobile, all of these things together already maddening enough. When tickling was added to the mix, Amelia thought she might very well lose both her dignity and her sanity. And there was nothing she could do about it, aside from laugh, scream, and shake her head from side to side, flinging her tears across the hay covered floor.

“But I cahahahahahan’t tahahahahahake it! Please, just give mehehehehehehe a short brehehehehehehahahahahahake!”

“Fuck you, no.”

“Absolutely not.”

“You still have another three hours of ‘training’.”

Amelia cried out, her blond curls stuck to her damp cheeks. She was seeing stars, and only stopped when one of the knights put her face in Amelia’s face.

“Which means we get three more hours of tickling these poor little feet,” she said, coldly. “Don’t act like you don’t love it.”

“Nohohohohohohahahahahaha! Stohohohohohahahahahp it!”

One knight said to the other, “Get the oil and the brushes. If she wants to act like this is torture, we’ll make it torture.”

Amelia glanced back at Lillie. “No. I’m not ticklish, and I have no desire to tickle.”

Lillie blew a raspberry. “Where’s the fun in that.”

“Are you ticklish, Lillie?”

“Oh, gods, am I! Almost all over my body! But don’t get me wrong, I hate being tickled. I much prefer to do the tickling.” She sighed dreamily. “There’s just something so amazing about it. The way a foot twitched when poked. The way a pair of eyes go wide at realizing they can’t protect their underarms. The clenching of muscles when you spider your fingers over a bare stomach. The nervous breathing as the soles are coated in a thick layer of oil.” The more she spoke, the more out of breath she sounded. The more excited she became. The less comfortable Amelia got.

“You tickle people often then?” Amelia asked, gently.

“Oh, yes! Here and there anyway.”

“And have you ever tickled someone against their will?”

“What? You mean tickle torture them without consent?”

“Yes,” Amelia said, “that’s right.”

“No. That would be wrong,” Lillie said with a sigh.

They reached the inn. Lillie’s room was up on the second floor. Once there, Lillie told Amelia to make herself comfortable while she talked to her Master. She sat in front of a small crystal orb that rested on top of a flat wooden table, rubbed it a few times, and suddenly, smoke appeared to form inside of it. Meanwhile, Amelia laid across the bed in the corner and rested her eyes. She truly hadn’t slept well the night before. Before she knew it, she was asleep.

When she awoke, it was because she was hearing Lillie talk.

“Mhm mhm mhm... Okay okay... Got it... Will do.”

“Lillie?” Amelia sat up. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and said, “How long was I asleep?”

“An hour or so. My Master and I have long talks.”

“What did he say?”

“That tracking your book is impossible. It has a hex put on it. Dark strong magic.”

Amelia felt sick to her stomach. It felt as if with every piece of hope she caught onto, it would inevitably be torn from her grasp.

“However, all hope is not lost,” Lillie said, brightly.

“Is that right?”

“My Master said that the magic used to bring the images to life and turn them into moving pictures can be looked through.”

“I’m unfamiliar with magic, Lillie. I am unsure what that means.”

“Basically, there’s a way for you to look through the photo and talk to this love of yours.”

Amelia jumped up. “I can talk to Devon?”

“Yes! All we need is something that belonged to him. And the book.”

Amelia reached into her bag and from it, she retrieved a quill. “He used this to write me poems,” Amelia said.

Lillie took it from her, grinning. “Perfect.”

The mage then opened the book. She placed the quill beside it. Then she spoke in a language that Amelia had never heard before, and which hurt to listen to. When finished, Lillie looked up and was smiling.

“Okay. Look into the book.”

“And I’ll be able to see and speak with Devon?” Amelia asked, hopeful.

“Yes.”

Amelia sat across from Lillie at the wooden table. She looked down into the book. At Devon, his face trapped by those rubber hooks, distorted. She continued to look until her head felt fuzzy. It felt as if her mind was being pulled somewhere. Taken away from her body. Towards Devon, if the gods willed it.

And then that sensation stopped. Amelia felt trapped. Everything was dark around her. She could see nor hear anything. Until a voice spoke.

“Who are you?” it asked. Amelia recognized it at once. It was the voice of the woman from the book. Devon’s tormentor.

“I am Amelia. I am a knight who serves this land. I am the love of the man who you are making suffer. Where are we? I can’t see anything.”

“Yes, that’s the idea. I don’t want you to see anything yet. That little witch girl tried to have you talk to my pet, yes?” the woman asked with a chuckle.

“How do you know about that?” Amelia asked, shocked.

“I know everything, my dear knight. I already know who you are. I know who my pet is.”

“Why are you doing this to him?” Amelia questioned.

“Do you want the truth? The honest truth?” the woman asked, her husky voice a near moan.

“Of course.”

“Fine.” The woman sighed. “I know who my pet was before he was my pet. I was watching him. Because I wanted him.”

“You knew Devon?”

“Not personally. I’d never spoken a word to him until I took him to be mine. He hadn’t laid eyes on me until it was already too late.”

“But you wanted him?” Amelia asked, confused.

“You have good taste. He’s very handsome. And oh so ticklish. You thought you could keep a treat as sweet as that all to yourself?” The woman laughed.

“Damn you! Enough of this! Why are you torturing him?”

“Why?” The woman sounded legitimately confused.

“Tell me the truth, bitch! Why do this to someone as innocent as my love?!”

“Have you considered that maybe it’s because he was innocent? There’s something just so tantalizing about ruining innocence, wouldn’t you agree? It’s almost as intoxicating as captivity. Knowing that I can trap him here forever. A young man with hopes and dreams and a whole life ahead of him. A wife to marry and kids to have. Maybe he could change the world. And I stole all of that for my own selfish desires. My dear knight, the honest truth is that I am currently raking my nails down the soles of your little boyfriend’s delicate bare feet, and listening to him weep and beg for just a drop of mercy, and I’m doing it for no other reason than because I want to and nobody can stop me.”

Amelia was speechless. She was cold. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

“He’s suffering so sweetly. When I get him between the toes, he calls your name. Oh gods, how often he has called your name, begging for you to come and save him. But you won’t. How does that make you feel, hm? Please, tell me. You will never see him again. But you will spend the rest of your life knowing that he is alive. And that he is experiencing more agony than any one person should ever have to live through. Simply because I want him to suffer, simply because I love torturing him. Was that the answer you wanted?”

Amelia sat up from the book screaming.

 

[TickleSlaver]

Chapter 3

There were dozens of “tickle houses” in Mesis. They were like brothels, except at tickle houses, sex was optional, but not unheard of. Instead, it was where people were tied down, held down, or fastened in some sort of bondage to then be tickled by the house’s patrons. It was a very common sort of businesses in most big cities across the land.

Amelia had never heard of such a thing before. All of this newfound knowledge came from Lillie, who of course knew everything there was to know about tickling. Maybe it was her naïve lifestyle, living inside a castle and living as a knight. Regardless, these tickle houses sounded like they might lead to Devon, even if they didn’t sound nearly as brutal as what she’d seen in the book, which she held with her still in her bag.

According to Lillie, the tickle house she wanted wasn’t the biggest, and it could not be the biggest. The biggest tickle house was the most commercial spot, the safe place to go. Amelia wanted the darker, underground place where people could get an unhealthier fix.

That place was Storm Cloud.

Amelia followed the instructions that Lillie had given her. She circled the city, and came upon something of a run down district. There were stocks in the street, plain as day. She saw very few guards, little in the way of any law enforcement. People sat on the porches of taverns, drinking into stupors. Those not drinking eyed Amelia. The stone ground which her steed traveled over became a dirt path. This was not a safe place to be.

Storm Cloud was the only building in the area that wasn’t teeny tiny. It was a two-floor brick structure that looked almost regal from the outside, its glass windows candle lit from the inside, and with tall archways and spires sticking up in the air. There were a number of horses and even a carriage parked outside by the stable connected to the building. Amelia fastened her horse here, and then went inside.

She was a little surprised as to how quiet it was. There was no visible bondage equipment. No feathers or torture supplies. There weren’t even any people. It was a simple room with wooden chairs and benches. Tapestry’s hung on the walls, and yes, they boasted feathers and feet and people in stages of undress, but it was all rather tame to be honest.

Amelia was looking at the artwork when a door in the back of the room opened. Out stepped a woman in sandals, with chestnut brown hair tied back in a braid, bright eyes that matched, and a blue silk gown that teased at her cleavage. She had crow’s feet around the eyes, and hints of silver in her hair, but neither detracted from what was a gorgeous woman who smiled at Amelia.

“Goodness! Aren’t you just a doll!” the woman said, her voice a pleasant and almost musical lilt. “Whatever might I do to help you?”

Amelia took a moment to remember who she was. She stood up straight and asked, “My name is Amelia. You are a worker at this place?”

The woman grinned. “Darling, I am the owner of this place. I built it into what it is today with my own flesh and blood! Thirty six years of making Storm Cloud into what it is today,” she said, proud.

Amelia nodded. “So I see. That’s quite an achievement.”

“Oh, darling, you don’t know the half of it. But I’m sure that’s not what you’ve come here for. Please, tell me my darling Amelia, however can I assist you?”

“I suppose I’m interested in whatever it is that happens here. I must admit, I’m ignorant to this part of the world. I hoped someone could educate me,” Amelia said, bashful.

The woman looked shocked. Then she looked absolutely delighted, almost feral. “My goodness, yes! Nothing would make me happier! A fresh face who knows nothing of tickling or its ways. Please, please follow me,” she said, emphatically. “I will have one of my servants take your things. Are you hungry? Thirsty? It’s no charge, I’m willing to do this for free, so certain I am that you’ll be back after today.”

Amelia followed the woman through the doorway, and into a small hallway made of fine stone. Two men stood on either side of it, looking directly ahead at each other. The woman snapped her fingers.

“Edward, take this fine young woman’s bags and keep it in our storage room.”

One of the men turned and offered his hands. Amelia was cautious, but desperate. She handed him her bag, and then followed the woman further down the hall. At the end, they entered through another door, and this one led to a much larger, grander hall lit by a crystal chandelier. There were plentiful doors and further hallways. The floor was covered in fine rugs made of real fur. The tables were stocked with snacks and wines. It looked almost like a royal hall from home.

“What am I to call you?” Amelia asked the woman.

“Oh, goodness! Where are my manners? My name is Kira, though most of the girls here simply refer to me as Mistress.”

“I see,” Amelia said, suspicious. “And tell me Kira, how does this place work?”

“Oh, I’d be happy too,” Kira said with a small grin.

Their first stop was through a door in the back of the hall. Inside were a group of men and women, young and old. They all sat at desks, and had been thumbing through papers before looking up.

“Continue,” Kira said simply, and they did so.

Amelia noted that the people looked over papers, marked some but not others, and sorted them into baskets on the floor.

“This is where we determine our workers,” Kira said.

“Workers?” Amelia asked, unsure.

“Oh yes. You see, Mesis is a big city. People can get work at a government office, or in a play or music. Some work as bakers or bankers. But so many of the girls here have never received a proper education. They cannot count, spell, or anything.”

“That’s sad,” Amelia noted, truthfully.

The woman made a face. “Quite the opposite, my precious Amelia. It’s fantastic for us! Those poor, foolish girls with nowhere to go, they need some way to pay the bills or keep their families fed. And Storm Cloud is more than happy to help!”

“You employ those who cannot be employed elsewhere?” Amelia asked. She hardly saw this as a bad thing. And yet, there was something sick about this place.

“Oh yes! Everyone prospers in our current way of life. We have girls from all over the city who hear about our high wages and would kill for a chance to work for us. Granted, none of them actually know what role they’ll be filling.”

“Is that right?”

“Indeed,” Kira said, licking her plump red lips. “You see, some will end up working for our legal and business team that you see before you, others will clean the floors and toilets. Others... Well, come and see.”

Kira led Amelia out of the room and back down the hall. The knight couldn’t help but be a little impressed by all of this. How much work went into something like tickling. It was only then that she realized that, not only had she not seen any tickling, but she also hadn’t heard any laughter. Aside from their footsteps, and the conversations of those they passed, she didn’t hear anything.

“Few people actually know what Storm Cloud is, you see. They think it a high class entertainment venue. Which isn’t wrong!” Kira noted with a laugh. “And we like to keep it that way. Our ‘entertainers’ are under contract to not say what it is that they do. And any girl who finds she isn’t cut out for this work is legally bound to keep her mouth shut, unless she wants Storm Cloud to crush her and her family with debts. Which, of course, they could pay off by working for Storm Cloud.”

Amelia took a moment to nervously reposition herself. This was all starting to seem very dark to her. All her life had been spent fighting, running, learning how to serve her Kingdom. Never had she seen parts of the land where such cunning was used to entrap. It was like she was an alien.

“And I assume that happens to a lot of girls?” Amelia asked.

“Oh, sure.” Kira waved an unbothered hand. “Quite a number are working here because the alternative is life in a cell. They’re slaves, for lack of a better word, but not for life. Well...most of them, anyway,” Kira added with a nasty smirk. “Speaking of, let’s go meet one, shall we?”

Their next stop was a bedroom. It was spare compared to the other rooms. No rugs, only a cold stone floor. The only lighting was a candle on the dresser. The bed looked like it would give out if anything larger than a mouse slept on it. And yet, a young elf girl sat on the side, facing the wall. Her pointy ears twitched as they entered, and her purple tinted skin looked dull and washed out in this lighting.

Also present were two orc women. They didn’t look afraid. In fact, they looked at Amelia with such disdain that the knight wished she had her sword handy. It might’ve not made a difference. Both women had dark green skin that looked hard as leather, and they were each two heads taller. Their muscles popped against the sleeveless silk tunics they wore on their bodies. Heavy gold popped on their thick fingers and chains around their necks. But then they turned to Kira and had nothing but respect in their dark eyes.

“Apologies for the interruption, ladies,” Kira said, friendly. “I was hoping that I and my friend Amelia here could sit and watch.”

“Of course, ma’am,” one of the orcs said with a nod. “We were almost finishing up in here.”

“You see, Amelia, this girl here was one of those who broke the law, and went blabbering to her friends about what went on here. I’m sure it made for a great story,” she said with a mean spirited chuckle, and the elf shut her eyes. “Her options were prison, or working here. And note that sometimes, when our numbers are down, we recruit from the prisons. Really, she was going to wind up working for us whether she liked it or not, one way or another.”

Amelia walked past Kira and knelt down to be eye level with the elf. She softly asked, “Do you truly not want to be here?”

Rune looked up, biting a trembling lip.

“What’s your name?” Amelia asked, softly.

She said, “Rune,” so quickly that Amelia almost didn’t hear.

An orc shoved Amelia back. “We’re working!” she barked.

“Amelia, please, try not to agitate my staff. This is all very official, I promise. We have the paperwork that’s been stamped by the authorities.”

“I see.”

One of the orcs pulled out a black piece of leather. Rune began to breathe faster and heavier. Then her eyes grew double their size as the leather was pulled up and over her head. One orc held the leather steady while the other zipped the back closed. Amelia felt sick looking at Rune now, her head enclosed in a black leather hood with no eye holes. No spot for a mouth. Only two minuscule holes for the nostrils. Her ears, her white hair, her everything was gone under that hood.

Amelia turned to Kira, who was already speaking.

“I know how inhumane this looks. But trust me, it’s for the best.”

“Can she breathe in there?!” Amelia asked.

“Of course! We don’t want any harm to befall her. She can’t see or hear, but she can breathe. And that’s all for the best, really, Amelia.”

“Can she speak?”

Kira shook her head, solemn. “Oh no. No, she can’t, even if she wanted to. She could try to scream, but the only sounds you and I would hear is the leather creasing.”

“What is the point of that hood then?”

“Come and see,” Kira said with a smile.

They followed Rune. Well, really, they followed the Orcs who lifted Rune by the arms and carried her down the hall. They took her to a mighty steel door. One of the orcs knocked twice. Then six times. Then five more. Only then did the door open. But there was nobody on the other side. At least, not that the disturbed Amelia could see.

The room on the other side of the steel door was once again royal and regal. There were fine wooden furnishings, it was well lit, bookshelves and tables added an air of living to the space. There were also chains.

The orcs took Rune’s wrists and locked them in iron cuffs connected to the chains. One of them then turned a wooden wheel connected to the wall. It turned a pulley system on the ceiling that lifted up on the chains. The orc turned and turned as Rune’s arms were lifted higher and high until her arms were stuck straight up in the air. Her ratty tunic, full of holes, exposed her stomach and sides, as well as her bare and soft looking underarms. Her head turned this way and that, but just as Kira said, she said nothing. Or rather, she said many of things, and nobody heard any of them.

The other orc finished cuffing a pair of weights to Rune’s ankles. When Rune then tried lifting her legs, she couldn’t. She couldn’t even tuck in her stomach. She was, for all intents and purposes, stuck straight as an arrow standing there.

“Go on,” Kira said, and she said it so softly that Amelia froze. “You can tickle her. Go ahead and try it out, darling.”

“What?” Amelia turned. “You want me to torture her?”

“Tickle. Torture. Tomato. Tomato,” Kira said with a chuckle. “You wanted to know about this part of the world, yes? Well, here is that part of the world. We have patrons from around the city who pay a year’s salary to do what you’re about to do. Go ahead and get those ribs. Might I suggest that you start on her armpits?”

Kira spoke with such enthusiasm. It was like she was a young girl telling another how to best pull the legs off a spider. Amelia could count every white tooth in her manic grin.

Did Amelia want to do this? She didn’t think so. She turned to Rune, and knew that she had to find Devon. She had to understand. She would do this, only because she had to.

It only took three steps to reach the elf. Amelia looked her up and down. She was so thin, looking so hungry. No wonder she tried this kind of work. Amelia counted the ribs under her purple tinted skin. Her underarms were paler, and when Amelia’s hand touched there, she felt how smooth it was. How soft. How warm. The mere touch caused Rune’s muscle to stiffen. To tickle there would cause her grief for sure. The kind of agony that Amelia remembered. To do so, to tickle her now in her helpless form would be nothing short of cruel.

And when Amelia looked up and looked at her face? All she saw was that blank black slate of nothing. No eyes full of fear. No nose pulling down air into fearful lungs. No mouth pleading for mercy. Nothing. This mask turned Rune–hell, it would turn anybody–into a faceless, nameless nothing. Just a helpless thing that didn’t need breaks or consent. All it was surely good for was being tickled and then tickled some more, and then tickled even more because who cared what this thing thought? What this thing was? It was just a nervous system that could feel fear, and that could be tickled to cause the thing suffering. Nothing else mattered.

Nothing at all.

Amelia leapt back, gasping. She understood. She understood far more than she wanted to. She turned to Kira.

“I can’t do it.”

Kira’s smile shrunk into a frown. She shrugged her shoulders, and just like that, she was smiling again.

“Shame,” she said. “Perhaps another show of my wares will change your mind. In the meantime, have her girls. You deserve it.”

Amelia felt her heart stop. She turned back around to see the orcs on either side of Rune. They both grinned. Their hands reached for the ignorant elf girl’s body. She couldn’t see them. She couldn’t hear them. And she couldn’t say anything as one of them grabbed the Rune’s hips and squeezed. The elf jolted, but the chains kept her from bucking or escaping the cruel orc girl’s fingers. The other girl raised her hands and wiggled her fingers at the poor elf’s vulnerable armpits. Even if the elf could see, she was hung by her wrists with no way to lower them. No way to defend herself. She lightly skittered her nails on the Rune’s so soft and tender underarms, and the result was instant. The purple skinned elf seemed to be having a seizure, her body vibrating and shivering. And yet, she did not move. Could not move.

All she could do was hang there like a piece of meat and feel the orc’s poke, prod, squeeze, and knead every inch of ticklish flesh.

The orc at the front had moved on to slowly raking her nails down Rune’s underarms. She started at the top and slowly pulled her nails down to her ribs. Then she did it again. And again. Each rake produced a long and soft scratching sound. Each rake caused Rune to shiver. The orc behind her hugged Rune close to her body with one arm, and used her opposing hand to grip her rib cage. She dragged her fingers up and down, rough fingers bumping over the thin girl’s ribs.

Rune hung there and suffered. The orcs, completely uncaring that this girl could feel all of this and had her own life and things she wanted, locked eyes with each other. They grinned.

Kira led Amelia out of the room.

“You see,” Kira said with a sympathetic tone, “tickling can be quite brutal under the right hands. Under the wrong hands, too. Few girls would choose to work here for any reason, no matter how much we offered, should they know the true terror they were in for.”

Amelia, feeling a nausea in her stomach, focused her green eyes now. “How can you do this to them?”

Kira looked back. “Easily. It’s all legal. And I make a lot of money to do it. I provide a service, darling.”

“Rune was suffering!”

“Who? Oh, you mean the elf? She’s been suffering her entire life. If anything, this is her true home. Trust me, Amelia, without this place, they’d find themselves somewhere far worse.”

They came upon yet another steel door. Kira knocked three times. Then seven times. Then six times. Then only once.

And then, the door opened. And Amelia saw it all.

There were dozens of stocks and other forms of bondage that she didn’t even know how to quantify. Girls with milky pale skin on their hands and knees, wrists and calves cuffed to the wooden platform they found themselves on. And yet, they stayed in their upright position thanks to the iron bars stretching to either side of the wooden frame, positioned right under the girl’s chest and hips. She wore one of those bags on her head.

Two girls, younger than Amelia even, walked past her in noblewoman dresses, their wavy hair prim and gossip spoken aloud. They approached the pale, bagged girl, and each took one of the plush seats on either side of her. The noblewomen then amused themselves by pinching the girl’s sides and hips, slapping her ass, and slowly dragging their long nails across the girl’s back.

A fairy the size of Amelia’s palm wore a bag on her head, and had her wings tied behind her back. One rich looking woman held her arms down, while another held down the legs. A third woman with dark skin and a cruel gleam in her eyes, hovered her hands over a tray of tools. Brushes, oils, pinwheels, and she eventually selected a long, stiff feather. She turned to the fairy and dragged the feather across the little creature’s body, starting at the leg, going up and over the groin, across the hips, over the stomach, gliding past the breasts, and then traveling up the arms. And then she restarted the process.

The entire room was full of these things. Was there laughter? Yes, but it was full of merriment. It was of young woman gossiping and gasping with each other. None of them broke into evil laughter. Few of them even paid much attention to whoever it was that they were tickling. They could’ve been at a spa.

“The masks,” Kira explained, “help our patrons feel more at ease. I’m sure that you would’ve tickled that elf girl back there if she didn’t have a name or a face to you.”

Amelia had no answer to that. She was horrified looking around the room. Those in hoods twitched, spasmed, and jolted as if hit by lightning. But none of them could truly move. None of them could speak or beg for help.

“Look over there,” Kira said lightly, pointing to the dark skinned woman.

She was dressed in a fine gown, wore heavy gold around her neck and wrists, and her long, dark hair was tied up in a neat bun with flowers. She said to her friends. “Oh, saw her back and forth. That’s always a laugh!” She held the feather out straight while her two friends holding the fairy’s arms and legs pulled her back and forth over the feather. It was like sawing a person in half, except the feather’s barbs only raked against the poor fairy’s stomach and bare chest.

“Look at her squirm!” one woman said.

“Yes, the fairy is my favorite. She just vibrates in the cutest way when you tickle her fast and hard. Oh! Hold her feet still next. I’m going to drag the feather across them so fast, she’ll be a wreck!”

“That is the daughter of a very rich bishop,” Kira explained. “She comes here twice a week with her friends. I’m sure that she would come less often if she could see the spit flying everywhere, or hear the mad cackling. But all she sees is a person who agreed, or otherwise has lost the right to agree, to be tied down and tormented for the good of her betters.”

Amelia couldn’t catch her breath. “So all the girls here who are tickling?”

“All just delightful young women like you. I’ve even had a few knights before! Are they sadists? Maybe. Or maybe they’re just rich young women looking for fun and a way to blow off some steam, and don’t mind if a few lower class losers have to suffer to provide them with such rich entertainment.”

Amelia didn’t say anything. How could she say anything. Her eyes slowly moved over to the far wall, and she could hardly believe what she saw.

There were sets of feet jutting out from the stone! It took her a moment to realize that there were actually wooden doors like coffins built into the stone wall. Each door had a pair of feet sticking out. Seated at each pair of feet was a girl or two. The same rich and powerful looking young woman sat at the feet, gleefully tickling them to their heart’s content. One pair of feet had one girl scribbling her nails on both. She spoke to her friend beside her, who was dragging a pair of pinwheels down a set of orc feet. Dozens of girls talking while tickling the bare, helpless feet of those without a voice.

One pair of feet seemed to belong to that of a giant. The feet were twice the size of a normal persons, and they were tan as soil. Each massive toe was tied back with thick cords to the silver loops built into the stone above the wooden door.

In front of the giant were two innocent looking young women. One was a prim and proper looking woman with fiery red hair. The other was an elf with white hair tied back in a ponytail. They didn’t laugh or giggle. They actually stood up quite straight and were discussing something as they tortured the large feet.

The redhead dumped a large dollop of some kind of lotion into her hand and messily smeared it onto the foot. She coated every inch of the sole with the oil, making sure to get between the toes, until it glistened in the torch light. She then retrieved two wide brushes with hundreds of stiff bristles. She turned to her friend and asked a question while scrubbing the massive foot. Her hands moved up and down in quick and repetitive motions.

Meanwhile, the elf used a comb to saw the soft webbing between the giant’s toes. She slowly pushed the comb in, softly pulled it out, and then did it again as fast as she could without giving the giant a second to breathe. With her other hand, she used her nails to randomly spider all around the taut sole of the giant.

And of course, neither girl heard the giant’s pain. Neither burdened themselves by seeing her face.

Amelia ran out of the room, gasping for air. She didn’t stop until she was back in the front room. She had to be somewhere near an escape. Kira took her time in following her. By the time she arrived, Amelia was almost able to breathe properly.

“I take it you don’t care for tickling, huh?” Kira said with a nasty little giggle.

“How can they be okay with that? How can you?! You know just how much they’re suffering! How could you ever condone this?”

Kira didn’t blink. “Easily. Their laughter makes me rich. I enjoy watching them squirm. It’s fun to watch the girls put the slaves through their paces. I sometimes stop and wonder just how badly it tickled.”

Amelia shook her head. “No. I can’t listen to this.”

“Listen or don’t, it makes no difference. Why did you come here then?”

“I’m looking for someone. His name is Devon.”

The woman’s face didn’t change at the sound of the name.

“He was taken. He’s being tickle tortured against his will. I must find him.”

“Darling, in this land, tickling rules all. You’re looking for something that you’ll never find. I’m sorry, but he could be anywhere. There are Storm Clouds in every city.”

Amelia couldn’t stand to hear more. She left Storm Cloud and went to the stable. She had to find Devon. She had to free him from his cursed fate. She had to find him. But where? She turned to the city. To the vast land beyond it. Where in the world could he possibly even be. Amelia felt sick. Her knees buckled. She’d find him, but how long would it take? Months? Years? Longer?

She fell to her knees and sobbed. Devon, her love, was out there somewhere. Suffering. And there was nothing she could do about it.

Slowly, Amelia sat up. She sniffled and wiped her face.

“I’ll find him. We’ve known each other for years. Since we were kids,” she told the part of herself saying it was hopeless. “He’s waiting for me. And he’d do the same for me. I’ll go and find him. And I’ll bring him home and make him something to eat. And I’ll run him a bath.” She rambled on, trying not to fall victim to despair. “I’ll find him.”

“Of course you will!”

Amelia turned around.

In the back of the stable, sitting in all black, was Lillie.

“What are you doing here, Lillie?” Amelia asked as she rose to her feet and wiped herself off. Lillie walked closer.

“I told you to come here. So I wanted to come see how it went!”

“Horrible. This place is evil.”

“Oh. Not a fan then.”

“And you are?”

“Of course!” Lillie giggled delighted. “It’s the best place in the city. No luck on finding your love?”

“No. But I know I can find him. I’ll keep looking. Even if it takes the rest of my life.” Amelia turned to Lillie, ready to say more, but stopped.

Lillie looked cold. But she was still smiling. “We figured you’d say that.”

“What?” Amelia asked as Lillie opened her closed fist to reveal some strange blue powder. And then she blew it into Amelia’s face. The dark got too bright. The light got very black. And the last thing Amelia saw before passing out was Lillie’s smile.

 

[lois333]

Great follow up ! Just read all the parts, pretty engaging so far. I'd just like a bit more description of the main characters to better visualize them but aside from that I don't have any more input.

Will wait for the next part 🙂