After Dinner Tickle

Elarra held her chin up to allow Master Tilborn to remove the leash from her collar.

“Another evening spent satisfying curiosity,” he said. “At least we got a good dinner out of it. Now put your sandals into the lockbox,” he added as he coiled the leash.

An unnecessary command: Elarra was already bending down to remove her sandals. Master Tilborn always made her wear them outside, to keep her feet uninjured and tender, and always made her remove them and go barefoot when indoors.

Master Tilborn didn’t bother about his footwear. He was a halfling and didn’t wear any. Elarra, despite being an inch shorter than her master, wasn’t a halfling. She was a goblin woman, green-skinned and long-eared. Which was why she wore a slave collar as well as a pair of sandals. Collared slavegirls were the only sort of goblins allowed in the Furfoot Counties. And even they were… not common, making Elarra someone that Master Tilborn’s neighbors wanted to take a closer look at.

The padlock snapped shut, locking the sandals away, and Elarra hurried inside. The summer of late-evening sunsets had past months ago, and the breeze was brisk and cool. The air inside the halfling-house was warmer, with an indoor scent of waxed wood and wool rugs.

Master Tilborn had already lit a lamp. “You were well behaved, this evening. Too well behaved,” he said, deadpan. “I can’t think of any excuse to punish you.”

“You don’t need an excuse to put me to the tickle, Master,” Elarra said.

“There is that,” Master Tilborn answered with a grin.

He pointed to the chaise lounge. Elarra stripped off her dress and reclined on it as her master stepped to the drawer containing a bundle of ropes. A few minutes later, he had Elarra tied in place. Her wrists were crossed and secured above her head, an open web held her body down, and her legs were tied apart. A pair of wooden dowels ran through strategically drilled holes at the lounge’s foot, providing anchors for the cords that bound her large toes.

Master Tilborn caressed Elarra’s goblin-sized ears with a soothing touch, not yet tickling her. His blunt-fingered hands ran down the green skin of her arms and over her nearly-nude body. Down her bare legs to massage her bare feet. Still not tickling – yet – but preparing her, while also indulging himself in his ownership of her. Elarra could feel that possessiveness in the way Master Tilborn’s hands touched her, even more than she could see it in his face. And she was content to have it so.

A fur-topped male foot hooked a stool closer, and Master Tilborn sat to begin a proper tickling. Elarra enjoyed being tickled. Like most young goblin women from under Cheetpinkiz Mountain she had taught herself to enjoy it. For most of them knew that they were fated for a slave collar, even if it was only a few who would end up being owned by halfling masters.

And Master Tilborn knew how to make it especially enjoyable. He started with his fingers, rather than with a feather or any other tickle-implement. The tips of his fingers lightly touched Elarra’s bare soles, pressing giggles into them. They touched everywhere: Heels and balls, arches and all ten toes. They touched and pressed giggles into her feet, giggles that squirmed through her body – and made her body squirm – until the giggles came out of her head.

The ropes held Elarra, comfortably but securely, keeping her from doing anything but squirm and giggle as her master applied the tickle touch to the green soles of her bare feet. Her feet could not protect each other, held apart as they were. They could not avoid Master Tilborn’s hands as he continued and continued and continued to apply the light, tapping, tickle-touch.

The tapping touch changed into quick strokes, soft and teasing. Master Tilborn stood, the better to apply a teasing tickle to Elarra’s legs. She could both see and feel the tickle-tease move slowly upward, starting with the tops of her feet and working its way over her calves and knees and thighs. Master Tilborn stepped forward, and under her helpless laughter Elarra could hear him hum a smiling tune. Smiling and humming as he teased the outsides of her hips and tickled her belly below her belly-button.

The masterful hands moved on. Elarra felt her entire bare belly getting the tickle, and that tickling felt like the center of the world. Nothing was more important than Master Tilborn’s wiggling fingers, and the tickle sensations sinking into her skin.

“I’m not having as much fun as you are,” Master Tilborn said. “Here, let’s see what we can do about that.” He paused his tickling, and bent to pick something off the floor. Something out of Elarra’s sight, from the place where Master Tilborn had dropped the extra ropes. But what he picked up wasn’t a rope. Instead it was a feather fan.

Master Tilborn waved the fan over Elarra’s face, letting her get a good look at it. It had half a dozen goose wing feathers set in a leather-wrapped wooden handle, and it tickled marvelously when Elarra’s master applied it to her tied arms.

Master Tilborn sang tunelessly as he brushed the feather fan rapidly down Elarra’s arms. “My love is green, and she belongs to me. She belongs to meee, and she is greeeen!” He continued his quick tickle-dusting working down the sides and legs of his tied and giggling slavegirl. “And what do you think now, Elarra?” he asked.

“Heeheehee I heehee I think I’m still heeheehee still having heehee more fun heehee than you Master! Heehee hahahaha! Eeeee!”

“Good. That’s good.”

Master Tilborn kept up the brisk tickling. Elarra saw him move to the foot of the chaise lounge, but he didn’t sit back down on the stool. Instead he stood and alternated between the tops of Elarra’s feet and the soles. Tops and soles, tops and soles, with each swift stroke covering the entire top or sole of the trapped and helpless foot. Of each foot in turn, for Master Tilborn alternated between Elarra’s bare right foot and her equally naked left foot as well.

It was a quick-stroked tickle, but not a strong one. It merely kept Elarra simmering, with frequent giggles and the occasional helpless squirm. Master Tilborn smiled at her, and sang, and kept it up. And kept it up. And kept it up as Elarra felt herself grow warmer and warmer.

Finally, disappointingly, the feathering of Elarra’s feet ended. Elarra pouted, and her master moved up to caress her green goblin-ears again as he searched her face.

“Yes,” he said at last. “I think you can still take on a little more.”

Elarra watched her master sit on his stool, reaching down for two more tickle-implements. Implements he deliberately did not show her.

They were a pair of stiff-bristled brushes, as Elarra learned when her master began to tickle-scrub her soles. They tickled immensely as they made her burst into laughter. They tickled wonderfully as they scrubbed up and down, and back and forth, seeking and finding every tickle-nerve in her soles. They tickled deliciously as Elarra struggled against the ropes. The ropes that held her helpless, helpless with delight when she found that she could not escape the sweet sweet tickling.

Elarra only became aware that her master had untied her large toes when he began to rub her feet. That massage didn’t tickle itself, but it did make Elarra aware of the tingling tickle-echos that bounced from her soles to the tips of her fingers, still tied above her head.

Master Tilborn now moved on top of her. Somehow, he had lost his pants and shirt. As his hardness sought and found her, he kiss her, first on the forehead and then many times further down.

(fin)