Sablesword
TMF Master
- Joined
- Jun 13, 2001
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This is a large "free sample" (the first third or so) from the latest story in my Centaur Tickling series. The complete story ("Nandi") is available at the Damsel Theater Token Site. ( http://www.damseltheater.com/galleries.php?id=Sablesword )
***
Nandi
Timon made some last adjustments to the summoning circle and moved back, taking care to erase his hoof-prints as he did so. Then he set himself to wait, standing some twenty paces away. The sorcerer Forgilgatman would be 'porting his apprentice to the centaur Land "sometime after dawn" according to his letter. But old Forgil was likely to oversleep.
The centaurs living near the borders of their Land were passingly familiar with 'flatfooters' - humans - and Timon knew more about them than most. He had actually lived in human lands for a time, as a young stallion, and had known Forgil there. Now he was a border guard, and the natural choice to meet Forgil's apprentice. Contrary to rumor, the centaurs (or at least those on border) didn't dislike flatfoot human visitors. However they did have a good reason for wanting to keep track of them.
The sun was well above the horizon when the air above the circle began to roil. The portal cracked open, and wisps of smoke - incense from hundreds of leagues away - leaked through. The portal opened wider, and a lithe, dusky-skinned woman stepped through, her feet a yard in the air above the ground. She looked down, and began to wave her arms in the complex pattern that formed a spell against falling. The portal closed, and the woman floated gently down.
Then, just as her feet touched the ground, red ribbons appeared out of the air around her. They tripped her, and she squealed in dismay as her sandals went flying. The ribbons then moved in like cheerful serpents, pulling away her green-and-yellow dress and tying her hand and foot, until she lay half-naked and completely helpless on the grass. Timon snorted with amusement and trotted forward.
Her skin was even darker than Timon had first realized: Almost the color of charcoal, except for the palms of her hands and the soles of her feet. Her teeth gleamed white in her round face as she smiled up at him. "Hello Sir, I'm Nandi. Master Forgilgatman's apprentice."
"Call me Timon." He smiled back at her, and nodded at her bonds. "Is this the problem old Forgil mentioned?"
She shrugged. "I'm afraid so. Master Forgil calls it 'the Curse of the Crimson Bands.' Whenever I cast a spell - like I did now, to keep from falling - they appear, and..." She shrugged again. "Master Forgil thinks it's because I keep overcasting my spells, and he says that you can help with that."
Timon nodded. He already knew about Nandi's problem from Forgil's letter, but he didn't mind watching her as she repeated the explanation. She was a pretty thing, with a merry glint in her dark eyes and tightly curled hair like black coral. Her feet - the peculiar flat feet of humans - stuck up in the air due to the way her ribbons had bound her wrists and ankles behind her.
"Master Forgil tried tickling me, to drain me enough so I could practice without overcasting. But I'm not very ticklish. That's why he sent me here. He says that centaurs are the most expert ticklers in the world."
"Some of us are," Timon said. "I'm not, particularly, but I'll be taking you to someone who is. Did Forgil tell you about the Prophesy?"
She squirmed, and managed to roll over onto her side. "Master Forgil explained it very clearly: 'Alja Kentaros mor kental velator velex bartaros mel Uru, nor Kentaros yonvel morkap i patalos' " she quoted "'If the Kentaros should ever fail to visit merciless torment on foreigners who enter the Land, then will the Kentaros suffer betrayal and ruination' So," she spoke the formal words: " 'I surrender myself to the law and custom of the Kentaros.' "
Timon's smile grew into a grin. "You seem more surrendered than most human maids." He bent down and picked her up, putting her over his shoulder. "I'm glad you understand," he said in a voice grown serious. "There's no malice involved, you know. But then, there needn't be malice in a betrayal, either."
"I know," Nandi said. "But I'm not very ticklish. I hope that won't be a problem."
Timon's grip was strong and solid as he carried Nandi slung over his shoulder. He could easily have overpowered her, Nandi realized, even if she hadn't been tied. However he also knew how to control his strength. His hands were irresistible, but not brutal, as they held her in place for the short trip.
It ended in a glade where another centaur waited, amid a variety of devices built to restrain humans. There were stocks made to imprison both single victims and groups, tables for holding down victims with their feet suck in the air, posts to which victims could be tied kneeling, and various other pieces of wooden furniture, including a 'witch's lover' - a fat log with straps to hold down the victim while her feet stuck out past the end. Nandi shivered with remembered fear and pain. Her village had tied her one of those, when her talent had first manifested.
"Ho, Kratos," Timon greeted the other centaur. "This is Nandi, the apprentice sorceress I told you about. She's just arrived, and needs to earn her pass tokens. But she says she's not very ticklish."
Kratos raised his eyebrows. "A challenge, eh? Now you stop looking at that log," he told her, pulling her attention away from the witch's lover. "It's over-rated. We'll use this one." He took her from Timon and knelt her on a fleece, belly against a fat post. "Now hold still." A steel knife cut the magic ribbons binding her, and they vanished into mist and nothingness. "Interesting," Kratos commented. "Now hug the post."
In a few moments, he had her bound in place, well secured with leather straps. The post Nandi hugged was polished smooth, neither warm nor cool, but with a pleasant woody smell that complement the well-worn leather straps. One strap bound her wrists on the far side of the post, and two more went around her waist and thighs, holding them in place. Behind her, Nandi felt Kratos fasten her ankles with another set of leather straps.
Timon, watching, asked, "You're not frightened, are you?"
"No." She smiled at him. "But Master Forgil already tried this sort of binding post, and it didn't work. I'm just not very ticklish."
"We'll see," Kratos said from behind her. "I think I know a few tricks he doesn't. Now, no spellcasting." He came around with leather thongs, tying her thumbs down to enforce this. "You have nice skin," he commented as he finished the knots. "I've never seen anyone with skin this dark before; not among us centaurs nor among you flatfooters."
"I've set the gnomen," Timon called from the nearby sundial. He picked up a bucket and walked back to Nandi, holding a dipper of water for her. "Drink," he ordered. "You'll be glad you did, in a bit." Nandi obediently drank. Kratos then took the bucket around and splashed the water over Nandi's feet. When he took a brush and began to scrub them, Nandi smiled involuntarily. The scrubbing didn't tickle, exactly, but it did make her soles feel unexpectedly vulnerable.
"That wasn't part of the real tickling," Kratos warned her as he set the bucket down and picked up another pair of leather throngs. "Timon, do you want to help me with this?" Timon took one of the thongs, and the two male centaurs each tied one of Nandi's large toes to pegs set in the side of the kneeling platform for that purpose. Now her feet were even more thoroughly helpless.
"And now..." Kratos said. Nandi felt his fingers brush over her soles, lightly. Lightly and smoothly over soles that suddenly seemed absurdly huge and sensitive. Nandi breathed in sharply as she felt the fingers suddenly wiggle. It tickled! It tickled enough to make her squirm, to make her start giggling. Nothing had done that before, not even when Master Forgil had cheated and attempted tickle-magic on her.
"I though you weren't ticklish," Kratos said as he methodically worked his fingers up and down her soles. Lightly. Gently. But without pause or letup.
"I... I'm... not," Nandi managed to get out between giggles. "I... wasn't. But... this..."
"It tickles, does it?" Kratos said smugly. He continued the tickling: The gentle, continuing touch that made Nandi giggle and squirm and pull at her bonds. It wasn't bad. In fact, it felt delightful. But it didn't stop. She couldn't escape. Her feet were held exposed and vulnerable to the tickling, with a perfect helplessness that made the tickling all the sweeter. It went on, and on, and on, and she sighed in regret when it finally ended.
But only briefly. Another touch, even softer, brushed her feet with delicious torment. "This is the wing-feather of a vos hawk," she heard Kratos say behind her, distant beyond her giggles. "It's especially effective, isn't it?" But of course Nandi couldn't answer. She could only laugh, rocking back and forth, pulling fiercely but futilely at the straps that held her in place, completely helpless, so that she could not possible escape that delicious tickling.
The feather traveled methodically over Nandi's soles, soles that now held her entire attention. It passed over her toes, the balls of her feet, her instep, her heels, and then started back again. Oh, it was wonderful. She could not have held still for it if she had a choice, but she had no choice. She was helpless, strapped to the post, her ankles and toes tied so that she could barely wiggle her feet, her wrists and thumbs bound so that she couldn't cast the slightest spell. She could only hug the pole to which she was bound as the giggles leaked out of her, impossible to hold back.
"Time," Timon called from the sundial, and the tickling at last came to an end. "Ho, so you're not ticklish, eh?" he asked as he helped Kratos release her.
"I didn't think I was," Nandi admitted. "I wasn't before." She sat on the grass with her feet tucked under her; as pleasant as the tickling was, she didn't want her soles exposed just now.
"Did it work?" Kratos asked. "Try casting a spell, see if you can."
Nandi took a deep breath and gestured in the air, drawing the mystic runes. A loose blade of grass rose up, turning and dancing in the air. Then the air curdled, and red ribbons came forth to wrap around Nandi, tying her hand and foot. She squirmed over to face the two centaurs. "It worked," she said. "Which means that it didn't work. I can still cast my spells, and they still invoke the curse of the crimson ribbons."
"That isn't suppose to happen," Timon said. "A good tickling always drains a mage's power for at least a day or two."
"We'll try again tomorrow," Kratos said, watching Nandi closely.
"All right." She smiled at him, white teeth flashing in a dark face. "I'd have to do it anyway, even if it did work. Master Forgil wanted me to practice casting while drained for at least a fortnight."
"No, no, no," Kratos said. "You're suppose to whimper, or maybe run screaming, after such a suggestion right when you've just been through a tickling. It's suppose to be unbearable."
"It was unbearable. But it wasn't bad." Nandi paused, and then added: "I liked it."
"Gift of the gods," Timon said. "Be thankful for the favor. I'll carry you this time, since your sandals were left at the portal. I want you to my sister, Egeria. She makes sandals, of all things. She says that since humans make horseshoes, she can make human shoes. And tomorrow we can try again."
***
(Here ends the free sample. For the complete story, go to http://www.damseltheater.com/galleries.php?id=Sablesword )
========
EDIT
The "Damsel Theater" has been closed for some time now, and "Nandi" is now available for free here on Tickle Theater: http://www.tickletheater.com/showthread.php?t=48475
***
Nandi
Timon made some last adjustments to the summoning circle and moved back, taking care to erase his hoof-prints as he did so. Then he set himself to wait, standing some twenty paces away. The sorcerer Forgilgatman would be 'porting his apprentice to the centaur Land "sometime after dawn" according to his letter. But old Forgil was likely to oversleep.
The centaurs living near the borders of their Land were passingly familiar with 'flatfooters' - humans - and Timon knew more about them than most. He had actually lived in human lands for a time, as a young stallion, and had known Forgil there. Now he was a border guard, and the natural choice to meet Forgil's apprentice. Contrary to rumor, the centaurs (or at least those on border) didn't dislike flatfoot human visitors. However they did have a good reason for wanting to keep track of them.
The sun was well above the horizon when the air above the circle began to roil. The portal cracked open, and wisps of smoke - incense from hundreds of leagues away - leaked through. The portal opened wider, and a lithe, dusky-skinned woman stepped through, her feet a yard in the air above the ground. She looked down, and began to wave her arms in the complex pattern that formed a spell against falling. The portal closed, and the woman floated gently down.
Then, just as her feet touched the ground, red ribbons appeared out of the air around her. They tripped her, and she squealed in dismay as her sandals went flying. The ribbons then moved in like cheerful serpents, pulling away her green-and-yellow dress and tying her hand and foot, until she lay half-naked and completely helpless on the grass. Timon snorted with amusement and trotted forward.
Her skin was even darker than Timon had first realized: Almost the color of charcoal, except for the palms of her hands and the soles of her feet. Her teeth gleamed white in her round face as she smiled up at him. "Hello Sir, I'm Nandi. Master Forgilgatman's apprentice."
"Call me Timon." He smiled back at her, and nodded at her bonds. "Is this the problem old Forgil mentioned?"
She shrugged. "I'm afraid so. Master Forgil calls it 'the Curse of the Crimson Bands.' Whenever I cast a spell - like I did now, to keep from falling - they appear, and..." She shrugged again. "Master Forgil thinks it's because I keep overcasting my spells, and he says that you can help with that."
Timon nodded. He already knew about Nandi's problem from Forgil's letter, but he didn't mind watching her as she repeated the explanation. She was a pretty thing, with a merry glint in her dark eyes and tightly curled hair like black coral. Her feet - the peculiar flat feet of humans - stuck up in the air due to the way her ribbons had bound her wrists and ankles behind her.
"Master Forgil tried tickling me, to drain me enough so I could practice without overcasting. But I'm not very ticklish. That's why he sent me here. He says that centaurs are the most expert ticklers in the world."
"Some of us are," Timon said. "I'm not, particularly, but I'll be taking you to someone who is. Did Forgil tell you about the Prophesy?"
She squirmed, and managed to roll over onto her side. "Master Forgil explained it very clearly: 'Alja Kentaros mor kental velator velex bartaros mel Uru, nor Kentaros yonvel morkap i patalos' " she quoted "'If the Kentaros should ever fail to visit merciless torment on foreigners who enter the Land, then will the Kentaros suffer betrayal and ruination' So," she spoke the formal words: " 'I surrender myself to the law and custom of the Kentaros.' "
Timon's smile grew into a grin. "You seem more surrendered than most human maids." He bent down and picked her up, putting her over his shoulder. "I'm glad you understand," he said in a voice grown serious. "There's no malice involved, you know. But then, there needn't be malice in a betrayal, either."
"I know," Nandi said. "But I'm not very ticklish. I hope that won't be a problem."
#
Timon's grip was strong and solid as he carried Nandi slung over his shoulder. He could easily have overpowered her, Nandi realized, even if she hadn't been tied. However he also knew how to control his strength. His hands were irresistible, but not brutal, as they held her in place for the short trip.
It ended in a glade where another centaur waited, amid a variety of devices built to restrain humans. There were stocks made to imprison both single victims and groups, tables for holding down victims with their feet suck in the air, posts to which victims could be tied kneeling, and various other pieces of wooden furniture, including a 'witch's lover' - a fat log with straps to hold down the victim while her feet stuck out past the end. Nandi shivered with remembered fear and pain. Her village had tied her one of those, when her talent had first manifested.
"Ho, Kratos," Timon greeted the other centaur. "This is Nandi, the apprentice sorceress I told you about. She's just arrived, and needs to earn her pass tokens. But she says she's not very ticklish."
Kratos raised his eyebrows. "A challenge, eh? Now you stop looking at that log," he told her, pulling her attention away from the witch's lover. "It's over-rated. We'll use this one." He took her from Timon and knelt her on a fleece, belly against a fat post. "Now hold still." A steel knife cut the magic ribbons binding her, and they vanished into mist and nothingness. "Interesting," Kratos commented. "Now hug the post."
In a few moments, he had her bound in place, well secured with leather straps. The post Nandi hugged was polished smooth, neither warm nor cool, but with a pleasant woody smell that complement the well-worn leather straps. One strap bound her wrists on the far side of the post, and two more went around her waist and thighs, holding them in place. Behind her, Nandi felt Kratos fasten her ankles with another set of leather straps.
Timon, watching, asked, "You're not frightened, are you?"
"No." She smiled at him. "But Master Forgil already tried this sort of binding post, and it didn't work. I'm just not very ticklish."
"We'll see," Kratos said from behind her. "I think I know a few tricks he doesn't. Now, no spellcasting." He came around with leather thongs, tying her thumbs down to enforce this. "You have nice skin," he commented as he finished the knots. "I've never seen anyone with skin this dark before; not among us centaurs nor among you flatfooters."
"I've set the gnomen," Timon called from the nearby sundial. He picked up a bucket and walked back to Nandi, holding a dipper of water for her. "Drink," he ordered. "You'll be glad you did, in a bit." Nandi obediently drank. Kratos then took the bucket around and splashed the water over Nandi's feet. When he took a brush and began to scrub them, Nandi smiled involuntarily. The scrubbing didn't tickle, exactly, but it did make her soles feel unexpectedly vulnerable.
"That wasn't part of the real tickling," Kratos warned her as he set the bucket down and picked up another pair of leather throngs. "Timon, do you want to help me with this?" Timon took one of the thongs, and the two male centaurs each tied one of Nandi's large toes to pegs set in the side of the kneeling platform for that purpose. Now her feet were even more thoroughly helpless.
"And now..." Kratos said. Nandi felt his fingers brush over her soles, lightly. Lightly and smoothly over soles that suddenly seemed absurdly huge and sensitive. Nandi breathed in sharply as she felt the fingers suddenly wiggle. It tickled! It tickled enough to make her squirm, to make her start giggling. Nothing had done that before, not even when Master Forgil had cheated and attempted tickle-magic on her.
"I though you weren't ticklish," Kratos said as he methodically worked his fingers up and down her soles. Lightly. Gently. But without pause or letup.
"I... I'm... not," Nandi managed to get out between giggles. "I... wasn't. But... this..."
"It tickles, does it?" Kratos said smugly. He continued the tickling: The gentle, continuing touch that made Nandi giggle and squirm and pull at her bonds. It wasn't bad. In fact, it felt delightful. But it didn't stop. She couldn't escape. Her feet were held exposed and vulnerable to the tickling, with a perfect helplessness that made the tickling all the sweeter. It went on, and on, and on, and she sighed in regret when it finally ended.
But only briefly. Another touch, even softer, brushed her feet with delicious torment. "This is the wing-feather of a vos hawk," she heard Kratos say behind her, distant beyond her giggles. "It's especially effective, isn't it?" But of course Nandi couldn't answer. She could only laugh, rocking back and forth, pulling fiercely but futilely at the straps that held her in place, completely helpless, so that she could not possible escape that delicious tickling.
The feather traveled methodically over Nandi's soles, soles that now held her entire attention. It passed over her toes, the balls of her feet, her instep, her heels, and then started back again. Oh, it was wonderful. She could not have held still for it if she had a choice, but she had no choice. She was helpless, strapped to the post, her ankles and toes tied so that she could barely wiggle her feet, her wrists and thumbs bound so that she couldn't cast the slightest spell. She could only hug the pole to which she was bound as the giggles leaked out of her, impossible to hold back.
"Time," Timon called from the sundial, and the tickling at last came to an end. "Ho, so you're not ticklish, eh?" he asked as he helped Kratos release her.
"I didn't think I was," Nandi admitted. "I wasn't before." She sat on the grass with her feet tucked under her; as pleasant as the tickling was, she didn't want her soles exposed just now.
"Did it work?" Kratos asked. "Try casting a spell, see if you can."
Nandi took a deep breath and gestured in the air, drawing the mystic runes. A loose blade of grass rose up, turning and dancing in the air. Then the air curdled, and red ribbons came forth to wrap around Nandi, tying her hand and foot. She squirmed over to face the two centaurs. "It worked," she said. "Which means that it didn't work. I can still cast my spells, and they still invoke the curse of the crimson ribbons."
"That isn't suppose to happen," Timon said. "A good tickling always drains a mage's power for at least a day or two."
"We'll try again tomorrow," Kratos said, watching Nandi closely.
"All right." She smiled at him, white teeth flashing in a dark face. "I'd have to do it anyway, even if it did work. Master Forgil wanted me to practice casting while drained for at least a fortnight."
"No, no, no," Kratos said. "You're suppose to whimper, or maybe run screaming, after such a suggestion right when you've just been through a tickling. It's suppose to be unbearable."
"It was unbearable. But it wasn't bad." Nandi paused, and then added: "I liked it."
"Gift of the gods," Timon said. "Be thankful for the favor. I'll carry you this time, since your sandals were left at the portal. I want you to my sister, Egeria. She makes sandals, of all things. She says that since humans make horseshoes, she can make human shoes. And tomorrow we can try again."
***
(Here ends the free sample. For the complete story, go to http://www.damseltheater.com/galleries.php?id=Sablesword )
========
EDIT
The "Damsel Theater" has been closed for some time now, and "Nandi" is now available for free here on Tickle Theater: http://www.tickletheater.com/showthread.php?t=48475
Last edited:
