“Enter the Realms”
Patricia hated being tickled.
It really wasn't the tickling itself that bothered her. It was uncomfortable and embarrassing enough for certain, but that she could somehow accept.
Her fiancé Tommy would tickle her senseless. He'd tickle her frequently in front of friends and family and strangers. Her ribs and belly were so ticklish that she could not help but laugh and giggle and grin foolishly despite herself at even the slightest suggestion of tickling.
Tommy liked to catch her by surprise. She could be speaking with some friends casually when she'd see smiles on the faces of her friends appear suddenly and without reason. Then she'd know. Too late of course. From the way she'd scream and laugh when Tommy dug his fingers into her sides, people would think she'd go straight through the roof.
What she hated the most was that everyone always assumed the ticklish person was having a ball. You see the smiling, hear the laughter, see everyone is having a good time... Who could be bitter and angry after tickling?
Certainly not Patricia. She would be breathless after Tommy would tickle torture her beyond her limits. After the deed, she would just lie there on the ground like a discarded rag doll staring blankly into space and trying to regain her composure.
She had tried to tickle back many times. Tommy was ticklish and she tried many a time to catch him off guard, but he was stronger, faster and ultimately just not as ticklish as she was.
Patricia wasn't ticklish all over her body. She could have her soles scrubbed during a pedicure and she wouldn't even flinch. Her legs and neck and underarms were also quite insensitive to tickling. But if you got to her ribs, she was a goner. A raspberry to the belly? Ultimate torture.
Tommy would not let up either. He'd tickle her at every opportunity and with total disregard to her feelings on the subject. Even while making love he'd poke and taunt her making her laugh against her will. She actually didn't mind the tickling during their vigorous lovemaking; it actually excited her sometimes.
She thought she might even come to enjoy it were it not for one minor detail.
She wanted in.
Tommy was a tickler in the strictest definition of the word. He would never let Patricia tie him down to the bed and tickle him silly no matter how much she begged him for a chance. Every time she suggested it, he'd tickle her to change the subject. He'd start with a poke to the ribs to which she would reluctantly let out a yelp. She'd then demand seriousness in a grave warning tone. To this he'd start tickling her just before she'd speak and feign that he did not understand what she was saying. And when Patricia seemed she would give up on the subject he'd give her a extra dose of what he called TLC. 'Tickle Loving Care'.
Patricia couldn't get far tickling anyone. Once they discovered her ticklish spots she was finished. She could not win a tickle fight even with a person half her size and weight.
She just could never play the part of the tickler the way she longed to.
That was what infuriated her most. She wanted more than anything to have that feeling of control and domination that every tickler who had ever tickled her out of her mind had enjoyed. The thrill of watching a person struggle and laugh at your every whim.
That was what she wanted most.
But she would have to settle for reality. She would marry Tommy soon. And the tickling would continue, with her always on the receiving end.
Tommy would make a good husband. In every other way he was the perfect man. He was handsome, he had a great career and he would make a great father one day.
Despite that, she still had a nagging feeling. She felt that something was missing in her life and that when she married, she would never have the chance to experience it.
She'd be a housewife, then a mom and then maybe one day a grandma.
She had envisioned a much more exciting life when she was a child. A life full of adventure and travel was what she wanted then.
But things didn't seem to work out as she expected.
Life went on and she grew up.
She would go ahead and do it though. But her one big regret would be never getting the chance to dish out as much tickling as she had endured during her life.
But what was she to do?
It was a lazy Sunday afternoon. She sat outside her parents' home under a blooming cherry tree where she had sat so many times before as a child dreaming of far off destinations and adventures galore.
The pink blossoms fell from the tree and made her sleepy.
Tommy would be by to pick her up in a hour or so.
She had just time enough for a nap.
She stretched her arms high above her head and yawned deeply. She then cast her long blond hair behind her shoulders and snuggled up against the tree trunk. Its bark was smooth and her back fit neatly into the curve of the trunk. She closed her ice blue eyes and relaxed. As slumber bore down upon her, she thought of tickling and revenge, and a quaint knowing smile appeared on her lips.
She dozed off dreaming of Tommy tied spread eagle to her bed with her eager nails prepared to tickle.
* * * * *
Patricia awoke with a splitting headache.
As the pain subsided she realized immediately that she was no longer at her parents' house. The blooming cherry tree was replaced by a huge thorny tree with lush green leaves keeping her in the shade of what seemed to be a terrible unforgiving sun.
She looked around and swore that somehow she had awoken in Africa. She could see plains of tall grass dotted with similar trees. The sky was blue and cloudless and the scents and aromas were totally alien to her.
It did not feel like she was dreaming. If she was, she was dreaming in color. She saw a thorny bush nearby and pricked her finger on it. Pain registered quite well. It was another piece of evidence that this was not a dream.
She was still wearing a white long sleeved cotton shirt with blue jeans and tennis shoes. They were the same clothes she had chosen since early in the morning. Nothing seemed to have changed on her person. It was her surroundings that had changed.
At the distance she saw the head of a cheetah appear among the tall grass and stare at her curiously. For a moment they exchanged gazes, each studying the other until suddenly the cheetah's eyes went wide and the big cat's head disappeared into the grass.
Patricia wondered what could have frightened the cheetah when suddenly a pair of burly and sinewy arms wrapped around her torso pressing her arms firmly to her sides.
"Look here, mates," the owner of the arms and her captor shouted. ''I founds myself a Tenderfoot. And a fresh one at that. Har, har, har....''
''I'll show you fresh!'' Patricia shouted driving her fist into her captor's groin. He yelped in pain and instantly released her. Had he tickled her instead of trying to grab her, she would be the one on the ground screaming.
She tried to see the face of her captor as she stood back and was shocked to see that it was not the head of a human who stared back at her with a face full of agony.
It was a rhinoceros's head that groaned. It had all the facial expressions of a human being but the horn and the skin color were that of a rhinoceros.
''On our way!'' shouted back several other voices as heavy footsteps issued from behind the thorny tree. Maybe half a dozen or more.
Patricia turned and ran through the tall grass as fast as she could. The greater the distance between her and these strange creatures, the better.
She ran as fast and as hard as she had ever run before. She was surprised at her speed and endurance. She even dared look behind her and realized that the group of figures behind her were not pursuing.
It was then that she encountered a pool of quicksand hidden by the tall grass. She tumbled in and she tried desperately to reach the solid edge.
She thought to cry for help, but the only help around was rhinoceros head and company.
She swore to herself softly and thought that this was certainly a really stupid way to go.
Dream or otherwise.
She slipped under the sand.
Then darkness washed over her.
* * * * *
She awoke on a small pile of straw and saw she was in a room. It was dusty mostly and seemed to be underground because there were not any windows. She was covered in dust and sand and she tried to dust herself off as best she could. Her white blouse was ruined and her jeans were torn. Her long blond hair was tangled and disheveled.
''You're welcome,'' a woman's deep voice said from further inside the large room.
Patricia turned and was shocked to see who had answered her. It was a strong and muscular woman dressed in a khaki colored bodysuit that made her practically invisible in the tall grass. She wore knee high leather boots and on her back she had strapped a pair of wooden fighting sticks.
What shocked her was the woman's head. It was that of a cheetah.
''Where I come from," the woman with the feline head said, ''we thank people for saving our lives. In fact, usually we are indebted for life. The sand traps aren't always manned. If I hadn't spotted you, you might have drowned to death.''
"Thank you,'' Patricia said. She was wary of this person. She noticed on her forehead a strange and complex rune that was etched into her skin. Now that she recalled it, she had seen the same strange mark on the rhinoceros headed man as well.
The feline woman was eating a roasted leg of some large bird and bit into it with gusto.
"You're free to have a bit,'' she said inviting Patricia to sit at a chair that was empty at the table. ''And wine to wash it down as well."
Patricia approached and sat down at the table.
She studied her rescuer closer and noticed that her face was essentially human with feline features such as fur and whiskers. The teeth that bit into the meat were sharp but human.
''What's you're name?" the feline asked. She washed the meat down with wine and studied Patricia closely.
''Patricia," she answered.
The feline nodded. ''Patrisa. I like that name.''
Patricia would have corrected but she did not get a chance. A goblet was placed before her and promptly filled with wine.
"Mine is Lynna,'' she said. ''I'm an Avenger of the Animus Realm.''
Patricia did not understand and she did not ask any questions just yet. She ate of the meat and drank of the wine and she felt much better.
''Where are we?'' Patricia asked. Her courage grew with the nourishment and she wanted to know what was going on.
"In another world. Connected to the sand traps, but essentially still part of the Realms.''
Patricia frowned. That was not really helpful.
Lynna saw the confusion on Patricia's face and decided to go more into detail.
"You're not in your world anymore," she explained. "You are now in the Realms and sooner or later someone would have found you and sold you off to some slave trader. You're lucky I found you."
''I suppose so," Patricia said cautiously. ''I guess you'll be letting me go then and helping me get back to my world.''
Lynna shook her head. "There's no way back. I'll take you back to Lord Xavis. You'll serve him and I will be rewarded. A Tenderfoot is a rare commodity these days. Especially a fresh one."
Patricia was frustrated. "Will you please explain what is going on?" she asked tersely.
''I don't like that tone," Lynna said as she wiped her fingers clean with a cloth napkin. Her tone of voice seemed to be angry but the smile on her face betrayed her and Patricia sensed that this was what she wanted all along.
Patricia stepped away.
"I know judo,'' Patricia warned. She assumed a defensive stance and hoped her years studying would make a difference.
They did not.
The feline shrugged and pulled free the fighting sticks from the harness on her back. The sticks whirled around in her fingers and danced to a silent rhythm that murmured softly that Patricia did not have a ghost of a chance.
Before Patricia could say anything, Lynna pointed a stick in her direction and spoke a phrase Patricia could not understand.
Sha kaet hist swonam mar!
The end of the wooden stick came to life. It grew like a tree branch and the branch reached for Patricia's wrist and wrapped tightly around it. Patricia pulled on it but it was held tight. She could not budge it. A second branch wrapped around her ankle and Lynna pulled hard on the end of the stick and Patricia tumbled to the ground like a sack of potatoes.
Lynna's fighting sticks manipulated Patricia until she was helpless on the ground held in a hogtied position with her arms held tightly behind her back and her and ankles pulled firmly against her buttocks.
"Ah, Patrisa," Lynna said. "I enjoy a Tenderfoot who struggles. I do hope you beg.''
''Let me go," Patricia demanded vehemently.
"Not until we've checked you out," Lynna said as she began to untie Patricia's tennis shoes. She pulled them off unceremoniously and then peeled off her socks leaving her feet bare and practically in Lynna's face.
''Here goes nothing," Lynna said expectantly drawing a nail up and down Patricia's sole. Patricia calmly flexed and wiggled her toes.
Lynna frowned and began to scratch the soles with more fingers.
Patricia knew that if she tickled her torso she was finished, but she relished for a brief moment the fact that she had the upper edge.
"I'm not ticklish, kitty cat,'' Patricia said taunting the feline with her unticklish toes.
Lynna began to lick and nibble on the toes with her hot tongue and sharp teeth but she got no ticklish reaction what so ever.
Patricia reluctantly found the stimulation very sensual and wished Tommy could have nibbled her toes with such skill.
Patricia felt Lynna's lips and whiskers at her ear. The feline spoke as she obviously tried her best to tickle Patricia's neck and ears. It was all to no avail.
"An unticklish Tenderfoot," Lynna said. Her discouragement was quite evident and she did not bother to hide it. "You won't be worth anything if you are not ticklish."
“Then you mind as well let me go and wait for someone who is ticklish,” Patricia said coolly.
"We'll see about that," Lynna said pulling Patricia on her side and unbuttoning her blouse in disappointment expecting pretty much the same reaction.
Patricia prayed that just this once she could conceal her ticklish nature. She concentrated with all her mind telling herself that her very life depended on her not being ticklish. If people could do feats of incredible strength or ignore terrible pain in the face of danger, surely she could resist being tickled just this once.
She was wrong. Lynna's fingernails only had to brush Patricia's tummy for her to break out in helpless and uncontrollable laughter.
''Ah, the Tenderfoot lies like a rug," Lynna said gleefully. She nuzzled her furry face on Patricia's side biting her flesh gently.
Patricia screamed. He laughter rang loud and hard and she smiled from ear to ear despite herself. Tommy had never even come close to this level of tickling. He was a poor aficionado compared to the professional and sensual Lynna.
"Mmmmm," Lynna purred. "I think someone is enjoying this."
Patricia was actually hating it more than ever. She's been held down and tickled, but never tied down. That and the sensual nature of the tickling was frustrating her more than she had ever been frustrated in her entire life.
Lynna paused for a moment and went back to nibbling Patricia's toes. Patricia could catch her breath but the sensual toe sucking was so distracting, she had to fight the impulse to moan in pleasure.
"I can't tickle you too hard or you might open your Third Eye," Lynna explained while biting on the toes gently. "You're worth ten times your weight in gems just because you are still a tickle virgin."
Patricia pursed her lips in determination. "I'll get you back for this,'' she promised even though she had no idea how she could reverse their roles.
"That's what they all say," Lynna said. "I frankly think it is a crime that you have such pretty feet and that they are not ticklish."
"You are so going to pay for this," Patricia insisted..
"I have an idea," Lynna said. She ignored Patricia and continued to nibble on her toes. "We can pretend your feet are ticklish."
"Ha, ha," Patricia mocked as she tried to look back at her tormentor. "Good enough?"
"I think I prefer something more authentic," Lynna said as she continued nibbling the toes and at the same time pressed her fingers into Patricia's sides. Patricia's body jerked violently, and wanton laughter flowed and roared like water from a flood gate.
Lynna purred again with total satisfaction.
"Maybe I'll keep you down here for myself," Lynna said thinking out loud. "I'd break you, you know. No matter how much you deny it, you know it is true. Sooner or later you'd be my little Manling tickle toy. You'd wait anxiously between my visits for the opportunity to be tickled. You would beg on hands and knees to be restrained and tickled."
"I'd rather die," Patricia vowed.
"You say that now," Lynna said. She poked at Patricia's deep belly button and marveled at how she seemed to jump at what might have been an electrical shock. Lynna laughed and looked at Patricia eye to eye. "You'll feel differently after I've explored every single ticklish spot on your body. I have yet to explore your shapely bosom, the small of your back and your hips. I'm so curious to discover all your ticklish spots, dear Patrisa."
"Curiosity killed the cat," a man's voice said from behind.
Lynna's facial expression froze and her eyes glazed over. She was frozen in place. As if she were some sort of mannequin. She was gently pulled off of Patricia and cast to one side where she remained in the awkward position.
The fighting sticks returned to their original forms and Patricia was free. Her body ached and she was exhausted.
The man who looked down on her had the head of a lion. He had a dark brown mane of hair and light blue eyes like the sky. He wore a heavy blue jacket over a white tunic and had a crimson red sash around his neck. He had strong and chiseled features and he seemed handsome in a strange way.
His left hand was of a blue crystal color and it seemed to be made of ice.
He smiled.
''Patrisa, is it?" he asked.
Before she could answer he touched her with blue crystal left hand on the cheek and she felt a cold chill run through her body. The hand had a paralyzing effect one her. She could no longer move, but all her senses were alert.
''We will talk later,'' he said. ''I am Cecil of the Cold Hand and you are now my captive. You will obey my will and sleep.''
Patricia stared into his deep blue mesmerizing eyes and found that indeed his will was hers and resistance was useless. She considered herself strong willed, but the suggestion to sleep was irresistible. She was tired from the tickling and a nap might do her goo, she reasoned to herself before falling instantly into a deep sound sleep.
* * * * *
Patricia awoke to the sound of wind flapping sails. She opened her eyes and discovered she was in the cabin of a ship. The gentle rocking of the vessel told her that she must be at sea. She looked out the round window of the cabin but she could only see fog outside.
She looked down at her clothes with disappointment. There were torn and tattered. She saw a pair of sailor breeches and a coarse white tunic set at the door of the cabin. She collected them and quickly changed. They were a bit big but they felt better than the clothes she had been wearing from home. She slipped her feet into a pair of soft leather boots left at the foot of the bed. She cheerfully discovered were just her size and quite comfortable. She brushed her long blond hair for a few minutes with a brush she found in a drawer and when she decided she was presentable, she left the cabin.
It was better to meet her fate head on than wait and let people like Lynna try to take advantage of her.
She could hear shouting and cheering from above deck and she decided that that was where she had to be.
She stepped out on deck and she gasped in surprise.
First she gasped at the fact that the ship was not sailing on water, but rather in the sky itself. She could see the ship surrounded below by clouds instead of water. The air was cold and thin, but fresh and crisp nonetheless.
Then she gasped at the events transpiring on the deck. There was a a whole host of characters on deck. Men and women, but not one of them human. She saw the man with the rhinoceros head she had punched in the groin. There was a woman with a hippopotamus head. There was a centaur and little people with pointy ears and strange dark eyes. There was a demonic creature with black wings and small horns on her forehead who watched her with amused eyes. They were maybe two dozen creatures on deck.
At the mast Lynna was tied with her arms above her head and on her tip toes. She struggled and shouted back at the jeering group of diverse creatures.
It was then that they noticed she had stepped on deck and all became silent.
"Welcome aboard, Patrisa,'' the man with the lion head greeted. "I am Cecil of the Cold Hand, Captain of the Last Laugh and your host. These brave men and women are known far and wide as the Free Spirits. We bow to no Lord or Lady and we belong to no single Realm. We tried to stop you from fleeing into the field. We knew it was booby trapped. We would have found you sooner, but Lynna is a clever Avenger and she keeps her safe houses well hidden."
The crew looked and they smiled warmly at Patricia.
"Lynna is an Avenger and Enforcer for Lord Xavis of the Animus," Cecil continued. "She's tickled many of our own and sent many a friend as a slave to suffer at the hands of Xavis. We will draw lots and the one with the shortest straw will have the privilege of tickle torturing Lynna.''
"Lord Xavis will torture you all to death!" Lynna shouted.
The crew jeered and protested and it took Cecil's commanding presence to calm everyone down.
"We're a democracy here on this ship," he declared. ''We divide the loot evenly among us with two in five parts going to maintain the ship and to restock provisions. Even the privilege of punishing our enemy is determined fairly and decided by fate."
Cecil nodded to the rhinoceros headed man who added another long straw to his hand and stepped forward to Patricia.
"Quentin, offer our guest an opportunity," Cecil ordered the rhinoceros headed man. "You may draw first, Tenderfoot."
Patricia had said nothing yet. She was still in a dazed state of confusion.
She mechanically stepped towards the man named Quentin and gingerly drew a straw. She realized it was a long straw and not a short one.
Lynna scoffed. "Did you think you could tickle me? Better luck next time, Tenderfoot!”
Patricia's lips pursed in frustrated anger at the taunting from who had tormented her. She felt her cheeks flush in anger and she broke the straw in two between her fingers.
When she realized what she had done an idea dawned upon her and she smiled. She held a piece of the straw up so all could see.
The crew looked among themselves and exchanged knowing and agreeing glances.
Captain Cecil himself nodded in approval and clapped his hands. The rest of the crew followed suit and they cheered.
"We have a winner," Quentin said with a wide grin on his rhinoceros head.
Patricia did not hesitate. She strode up to the surprised Lynna who shook her head in protest at the swift turn of events. Patricia dug her fingers into her tender rib cage and began to tickle with a vengeance.
"How do you like it?" Patricia asked angrily as she listened to Lynna burst out into laughter. She was not as ticklish as Patricia, so she'd just have to do a better job at the tickling.
Patricia remembered every time she had been tickled silly by Tommy and anyone else who discovered she was ticklish and decided it was okay to tickle her silly anywhere and anytime that pleased them. She was burning with vent up anger and she meant to make Lynna pay for each and every tickling episode she had suffered during her life.
Her fingers tickled hard and deliberately digging deeply into Lynna's flesh discovering new and different degrees of ticklishness. Patricia's tickling was not playful nor sensual. It was a no nonsense 'get the job done' kind of tickling.
"No more!" Lynna begged.
"I did not ask for mercy and I do not intend to give any," Patricia snarled as she increased her tickling intensity. She finally had someone to tickle who was not only ticklish, but also immobile and helpless. She was not about to spoil the opportunity.
Lynna was weakening but Patricia was not satisfied. She had to still explore the rest of her tickle spots. Patricia drew a dagger from one of the unsuspecting spectator's belt and she slashed at the ropes freeing Lynna.
Patricia did not fear her victim's retaliation. This time she had the edge and she would not let it go. She pulled Lynna to the ground and she pulled off her soft leather boots revealing a pair of small and pretty feet.
"How does it feel to be tickled out of your mind?" Patricia asked as her fingers played a symphony of provocative laughter on Lynna's soles. "How does it feel to be helpless and that no one cares about your protests? Sure, she's laughing, she MUST be having fun. Well, are you, Lynna? Are you having fun?"
Patricia continued tickling with a maddened fervor that seemed to come from years and years of frustration while being the helpless ticklish victim. All those years of bottled up desire to for once dominate and tickle savagely was suddenly free. There was a ticklish victim and Patricia had the advantage. She would not give it up again.
Lynna's laughter and turned to wild and terrified shrieks for mercy. Her body twisted and jerked madly under Patricia's fingers. Tears streamed down her face and her cries for mercy were more and more desperate. Finally she went silent, but even that did not distract Patricia from raking her fingers over her victim's reddened soles.
Cecil put a hand a her shoulder and she jerked violently as if awakening from a spell. Her ticklish victim was ticklish no more. She was not even awake for that matter. Even in unconsciousness, a mask of terror remained on her face.
Above her forehead, were the strange rune was etched on her forehead there was a glowing red gem.
Patricia looked around. Many among the crew looked at her with shocked and even fearful looks. Most were surprised and speechless at the ferocity of the ticking Patricia had administered.
One of them, a demonic female dressed in black body armor was amused and nodded in approval.
Cecil did not approve or disapprove. He simply picked the gem from the ground and studied it intently.
"The gem goes to the vault for safe keeping and you'll get your part when we divide the spoils, Patrisa," Cecil said. "However, for a job clearly well done, I'll see you are given Lynna's magical fighting sticks."
Patricia did not know what he was referring to about the red gem, but she accepted the sticks as Quentin placed them into her hands. They felt warm in her hands and she could feel some sort of unknown energy pulsating from within.
"Well, what do we do with Lord Xavis's lackey?" Cecil asked the crew. "We've taught her a lesson. She won't be bothering any of the Free Spirits or any Tenderfoot for a long time."
"Toss her over the side," the demonic female said coldly. "She's seen the ship, she can identify the crew. She's better off dead. That way you won't have to look back over your shoulder."
"You are a cold one, Danea," Cecil retorted. "Despite the heat of the Pit where you were spawned, your heart is as cold as my hand. Nay, to tickle and plunder yes. That is what the Free Spirits do. We wish to be feared and respected, not to be hunted down like dogs. What say you, Tenderfoot?"
Patricia looked down on Lynna's helpless form.
"You can't be feared if no one is alive to spread the word around," Patricia said trying to grasp all the events that were happening to her.
"Precisely!" Cecil shouted. "Let her crawl back to Xavis with tales of awe of the Free Spirits and the Terrible Tenderfoot. We will strike fear into his heart and that of all the lords and ladies of the Realms!"
"Tie her up, lads," Cecil commanded. "I want her ready to be deposited tied in a neat bundle at the very gate of the Palace of the Red Panther by dawn. Let all the Realms see what happens to those who try to enslave the Free Spirits!"
The crew cheered and everyone went upon their business.
"And what of me, Captain?" Patricia asked. "I thought it was all a dream, but something tells me it is much more than that. I have no idea what is going on around me. I'd really appreciate someone explaining it all to me."
"You're free to join us, or free to leave us," he said. "We are after all the Free Spirits and none are here unless it is of their own free will. If you stay, I'll explain as best I know what happened to you and teach you what you need to know to survive in the Realms."
"And what would you get in return?" Patricia asked. No one does anything for nothing; that held true in her world and she was quite sure in this world as well.
"That, Patrisa," Cecil said gesturing to Lynna who was being carried away, "was the best and most passionate tickling I've seen in years. Lacking in technique, lacking in focus, but full of vibrant and beautiful passion. If even a bit of that rubs off on my crew or myself, I'd consider any debt more than paid in full. You, Tenderfoot, will go very far."
Patricia nodded. He had said her name wrong again and she did not understand what he meant exactly by Tenderfoot. But he seemed very sincere and she felt very comfortable in his presence.
She did not know where she was but if she had to start anew she mind as well start with a new name. Patrisa it was then.
"I think I'll join you and your crew," she said. "I'll be a Free Spirit, if you'll have me."
She held a hand out to the lion headed Captain and he shook it graciously. His other cold hand touched her arm briefly.
She froze and looked deep into his mesmerizing sky blue eyes.
In a fraction of a second he peered into her soul and seemed to analyze her.
It was just a moment and then he released her. She was able to move again.
"Welcome to the Free Spirits, Patrisa," Cecil said smiling. “We greet each new member with our motto.
“Live well and die free, Tenderfoot.”
To be continued....
Next: Wrath of the Pink Dragon
Patricia hated being tickled.
It really wasn't the tickling itself that bothered her. It was uncomfortable and embarrassing enough for certain, but that she could somehow accept.
Her fiancé Tommy would tickle her senseless. He'd tickle her frequently in front of friends and family and strangers. Her ribs and belly were so ticklish that she could not help but laugh and giggle and grin foolishly despite herself at even the slightest suggestion of tickling.
Tommy liked to catch her by surprise. She could be speaking with some friends casually when she'd see smiles on the faces of her friends appear suddenly and without reason. Then she'd know. Too late of course. From the way she'd scream and laugh when Tommy dug his fingers into her sides, people would think she'd go straight through the roof.
What she hated the most was that everyone always assumed the ticklish person was having a ball. You see the smiling, hear the laughter, see everyone is having a good time... Who could be bitter and angry after tickling?
Certainly not Patricia. She would be breathless after Tommy would tickle torture her beyond her limits. After the deed, she would just lie there on the ground like a discarded rag doll staring blankly into space and trying to regain her composure.
She had tried to tickle back many times. Tommy was ticklish and she tried many a time to catch him off guard, but he was stronger, faster and ultimately just not as ticklish as she was.
Patricia wasn't ticklish all over her body. She could have her soles scrubbed during a pedicure and she wouldn't even flinch. Her legs and neck and underarms were also quite insensitive to tickling. But if you got to her ribs, she was a goner. A raspberry to the belly? Ultimate torture.
Tommy would not let up either. He'd tickle her at every opportunity and with total disregard to her feelings on the subject. Even while making love he'd poke and taunt her making her laugh against her will. She actually didn't mind the tickling during their vigorous lovemaking; it actually excited her sometimes.
She thought she might even come to enjoy it were it not for one minor detail.
She wanted in.
Tommy was a tickler in the strictest definition of the word. He would never let Patricia tie him down to the bed and tickle him silly no matter how much she begged him for a chance. Every time she suggested it, he'd tickle her to change the subject. He'd start with a poke to the ribs to which she would reluctantly let out a yelp. She'd then demand seriousness in a grave warning tone. To this he'd start tickling her just before she'd speak and feign that he did not understand what she was saying. And when Patricia seemed she would give up on the subject he'd give her a extra dose of what he called TLC. 'Tickle Loving Care'.
Patricia couldn't get far tickling anyone. Once they discovered her ticklish spots she was finished. She could not win a tickle fight even with a person half her size and weight.
She just could never play the part of the tickler the way she longed to.
That was what infuriated her most. She wanted more than anything to have that feeling of control and domination that every tickler who had ever tickled her out of her mind had enjoyed. The thrill of watching a person struggle and laugh at your every whim.
That was what she wanted most.
But she would have to settle for reality. She would marry Tommy soon. And the tickling would continue, with her always on the receiving end.
Tommy would make a good husband. In every other way he was the perfect man. He was handsome, he had a great career and he would make a great father one day.
Despite that, she still had a nagging feeling. She felt that something was missing in her life and that when she married, she would never have the chance to experience it.
She'd be a housewife, then a mom and then maybe one day a grandma.
She had envisioned a much more exciting life when she was a child. A life full of adventure and travel was what she wanted then.
But things didn't seem to work out as she expected.
Life went on and she grew up.
She would go ahead and do it though. But her one big regret would be never getting the chance to dish out as much tickling as she had endured during her life.
But what was she to do?
It was a lazy Sunday afternoon. She sat outside her parents' home under a blooming cherry tree where she had sat so many times before as a child dreaming of far off destinations and adventures galore.
The pink blossoms fell from the tree and made her sleepy.
Tommy would be by to pick her up in a hour or so.
She had just time enough for a nap.
She stretched her arms high above her head and yawned deeply. She then cast her long blond hair behind her shoulders and snuggled up against the tree trunk. Its bark was smooth and her back fit neatly into the curve of the trunk. She closed her ice blue eyes and relaxed. As slumber bore down upon her, she thought of tickling and revenge, and a quaint knowing smile appeared on her lips.
She dozed off dreaming of Tommy tied spread eagle to her bed with her eager nails prepared to tickle.
* * * * *
Patricia awoke with a splitting headache.
As the pain subsided she realized immediately that she was no longer at her parents' house. The blooming cherry tree was replaced by a huge thorny tree with lush green leaves keeping her in the shade of what seemed to be a terrible unforgiving sun.
She looked around and swore that somehow she had awoken in Africa. She could see plains of tall grass dotted with similar trees. The sky was blue and cloudless and the scents and aromas were totally alien to her.
It did not feel like she was dreaming. If she was, she was dreaming in color. She saw a thorny bush nearby and pricked her finger on it. Pain registered quite well. It was another piece of evidence that this was not a dream.
She was still wearing a white long sleeved cotton shirt with blue jeans and tennis shoes. They were the same clothes she had chosen since early in the morning. Nothing seemed to have changed on her person. It was her surroundings that had changed.
At the distance she saw the head of a cheetah appear among the tall grass and stare at her curiously. For a moment they exchanged gazes, each studying the other until suddenly the cheetah's eyes went wide and the big cat's head disappeared into the grass.
Patricia wondered what could have frightened the cheetah when suddenly a pair of burly and sinewy arms wrapped around her torso pressing her arms firmly to her sides.
"Look here, mates," the owner of the arms and her captor shouted. ''I founds myself a Tenderfoot. And a fresh one at that. Har, har, har....''
''I'll show you fresh!'' Patricia shouted driving her fist into her captor's groin. He yelped in pain and instantly released her. Had he tickled her instead of trying to grab her, she would be the one on the ground screaming.
She tried to see the face of her captor as she stood back and was shocked to see that it was not the head of a human who stared back at her with a face full of agony.
It was a rhinoceros's head that groaned. It had all the facial expressions of a human being but the horn and the skin color were that of a rhinoceros.
''On our way!'' shouted back several other voices as heavy footsteps issued from behind the thorny tree. Maybe half a dozen or more.
Patricia turned and ran through the tall grass as fast as she could. The greater the distance between her and these strange creatures, the better.
She ran as fast and as hard as she had ever run before. She was surprised at her speed and endurance. She even dared look behind her and realized that the group of figures behind her were not pursuing.
It was then that she encountered a pool of quicksand hidden by the tall grass. She tumbled in and she tried desperately to reach the solid edge.
She thought to cry for help, but the only help around was rhinoceros head and company.
She swore to herself softly and thought that this was certainly a really stupid way to go.
Dream or otherwise.
She slipped under the sand.
Then darkness washed over her.
* * * * *
She awoke on a small pile of straw and saw she was in a room. It was dusty mostly and seemed to be underground because there were not any windows. She was covered in dust and sand and she tried to dust herself off as best she could. Her white blouse was ruined and her jeans were torn. Her long blond hair was tangled and disheveled.
''You're welcome,'' a woman's deep voice said from further inside the large room.
Patricia turned and was shocked to see who had answered her. It was a strong and muscular woman dressed in a khaki colored bodysuit that made her practically invisible in the tall grass. She wore knee high leather boots and on her back she had strapped a pair of wooden fighting sticks.
What shocked her was the woman's head. It was that of a cheetah.
''Where I come from," the woman with the feline head said, ''we thank people for saving our lives. In fact, usually we are indebted for life. The sand traps aren't always manned. If I hadn't spotted you, you might have drowned to death.''
"Thank you,'' Patricia said. She was wary of this person. She noticed on her forehead a strange and complex rune that was etched into her skin. Now that she recalled it, she had seen the same strange mark on the rhinoceros headed man as well.
The feline woman was eating a roasted leg of some large bird and bit into it with gusto.
"You're free to have a bit,'' she said inviting Patricia to sit at a chair that was empty at the table. ''And wine to wash it down as well."
Patricia approached and sat down at the table.
She studied her rescuer closer and noticed that her face was essentially human with feline features such as fur and whiskers. The teeth that bit into the meat were sharp but human.
''What's you're name?" the feline asked. She washed the meat down with wine and studied Patricia closely.
''Patricia," she answered.
The feline nodded. ''Patrisa. I like that name.''
Patricia would have corrected but she did not get a chance. A goblet was placed before her and promptly filled with wine.
"Mine is Lynna,'' she said. ''I'm an Avenger of the Animus Realm.''
Patricia did not understand and she did not ask any questions just yet. She ate of the meat and drank of the wine and she felt much better.
''Where are we?'' Patricia asked. Her courage grew with the nourishment and she wanted to know what was going on.
"In another world. Connected to the sand traps, but essentially still part of the Realms.''
Patricia frowned. That was not really helpful.
Lynna saw the confusion on Patricia's face and decided to go more into detail.
"You're not in your world anymore," she explained. "You are now in the Realms and sooner or later someone would have found you and sold you off to some slave trader. You're lucky I found you."
''I suppose so," Patricia said cautiously. ''I guess you'll be letting me go then and helping me get back to my world.''
Lynna shook her head. "There's no way back. I'll take you back to Lord Xavis. You'll serve him and I will be rewarded. A Tenderfoot is a rare commodity these days. Especially a fresh one."
Patricia was frustrated. "Will you please explain what is going on?" she asked tersely.
''I don't like that tone," Lynna said as she wiped her fingers clean with a cloth napkin. Her tone of voice seemed to be angry but the smile on her face betrayed her and Patricia sensed that this was what she wanted all along.
Patricia stepped away.
"I know judo,'' Patricia warned. She assumed a defensive stance and hoped her years studying would make a difference.
They did not.
The feline shrugged and pulled free the fighting sticks from the harness on her back. The sticks whirled around in her fingers and danced to a silent rhythm that murmured softly that Patricia did not have a ghost of a chance.
Before Patricia could say anything, Lynna pointed a stick in her direction and spoke a phrase Patricia could not understand.
Sha kaet hist swonam mar!
The end of the wooden stick came to life. It grew like a tree branch and the branch reached for Patricia's wrist and wrapped tightly around it. Patricia pulled on it but it was held tight. She could not budge it. A second branch wrapped around her ankle and Lynna pulled hard on the end of the stick and Patricia tumbled to the ground like a sack of potatoes.
Lynna's fighting sticks manipulated Patricia until she was helpless on the ground held in a hogtied position with her arms held tightly behind her back and her and ankles pulled firmly against her buttocks.
"Ah, Patrisa," Lynna said. "I enjoy a Tenderfoot who struggles. I do hope you beg.''
''Let me go," Patricia demanded vehemently.
"Not until we've checked you out," Lynna said as she began to untie Patricia's tennis shoes. She pulled them off unceremoniously and then peeled off her socks leaving her feet bare and practically in Lynna's face.
''Here goes nothing," Lynna said expectantly drawing a nail up and down Patricia's sole. Patricia calmly flexed and wiggled her toes.
Lynna frowned and began to scratch the soles with more fingers.
Patricia knew that if she tickled her torso she was finished, but she relished for a brief moment the fact that she had the upper edge.
"I'm not ticklish, kitty cat,'' Patricia said taunting the feline with her unticklish toes.
Lynna began to lick and nibble on the toes with her hot tongue and sharp teeth but she got no ticklish reaction what so ever.
Patricia reluctantly found the stimulation very sensual and wished Tommy could have nibbled her toes with such skill.
Patricia felt Lynna's lips and whiskers at her ear. The feline spoke as she obviously tried her best to tickle Patricia's neck and ears. It was all to no avail.
"An unticklish Tenderfoot," Lynna said. Her discouragement was quite evident and she did not bother to hide it. "You won't be worth anything if you are not ticklish."
“Then you mind as well let me go and wait for someone who is ticklish,” Patricia said coolly.
"We'll see about that," Lynna said pulling Patricia on her side and unbuttoning her blouse in disappointment expecting pretty much the same reaction.
Patricia prayed that just this once she could conceal her ticklish nature. She concentrated with all her mind telling herself that her very life depended on her not being ticklish. If people could do feats of incredible strength or ignore terrible pain in the face of danger, surely she could resist being tickled just this once.
She was wrong. Lynna's fingernails only had to brush Patricia's tummy for her to break out in helpless and uncontrollable laughter.
''Ah, the Tenderfoot lies like a rug," Lynna said gleefully. She nuzzled her furry face on Patricia's side biting her flesh gently.
Patricia screamed. He laughter rang loud and hard and she smiled from ear to ear despite herself. Tommy had never even come close to this level of tickling. He was a poor aficionado compared to the professional and sensual Lynna.
"Mmmmm," Lynna purred. "I think someone is enjoying this."
Patricia was actually hating it more than ever. She's been held down and tickled, but never tied down. That and the sensual nature of the tickling was frustrating her more than she had ever been frustrated in her entire life.
Lynna paused for a moment and went back to nibbling Patricia's toes. Patricia could catch her breath but the sensual toe sucking was so distracting, she had to fight the impulse to moan in pleasure.
"I can't tickle you too hard or you might open your Third Eye," Lynna explained while biting on the toes gently. "You're worth ten times your weight in gems just because you are still a tickle virgin."
Patricia pursed her lips in determination. "I'll get you back for this,'' she promised even though she had no idea how she could reverse their roles.
"That's what they all say," Lynna said. "I frankly think it is a crime that you have such pretty feet and that they are not ticklish."
"You are so going to pay for this," Patricia insisted..
"I have an idea," Lynna said. She ignored Patricia and continued to nibble on her toes. "We can pretend your feet are ticklish."
"Ha, ha," Patricia mocked as she tried to look back at her tormentor. "Good enough?"
"I think I prefer something more authentic," Lynna said as she continued nibbling the toes and at the same time pressed her fingers into Patricia's sides. Patricia's body jerked violently, and wanton laughter flowed and roared like water from a flood gate.
Lynna purred again with total satisfaction.
"Maybe I'll keep you down here for myself," Lynna said thinking out loud. "I'd break you, you know. No matter how much you deny it, you know it is true. Sooner or later you'd be my little Manling tickle toy. You'd wait anxiously between my visits for the opportunity to be tickled. You would beg on hands and knees to be restrained and tickled."
"I'd rather die," Patricia vowed.
"You say that now," Lynna said. She poked at Patricia's deep belly button and marveled at how she seemed to jump at what might have been an electrical shock. Lynna laughed and looked at Patricia eye to eye. "You'll feel differently after I've explored every single ticklish spot on your body. I have yet to explore your shapely bosom, the small of your back and your hips. I'm so curious to discover all your ticklish spots, dear Patrisa."
"Curiosity killed the cat," a man's voice said from behind.
Lynna's facial expression froze and her eyes glazed over. She was frozen in place. As if she were some sort of mannequin. She was gently pulled off of Patricia and cast to one side where she remained in the awkward position.
The fighting sticks returned to their original forms and Patricia was free. Her body ached and she was exhausted.
The man who looked down on her had the head of a lion. He had a dark brown mane of hair and light blue eyes like the sky. He wore a heavy blue jacket over a white tunic and had a crimson red sash around his neck. He had strong and chiseled features and he seemed handsome in a strange way.
His left hand was of a blue crystal color and it seemed to be made of ice.
He smiled.
''Patrisa, is it?" he asked.
Before she could answer he touched her with blue crystal left hand on the cheek and she felt a cold chill run through her body. The hand had a paralyzing effect one her. She could no longer move, but all her senses were alert.
''We will talk later,'' he said. ''I am Cecil of the Cold Hand and you are now my captive. You will obey my will and sleep.''
Patricia stared into his deep blue mesmerizing eyes and found that indeed his will was hers and resistance was useless. She considered herself strong willed, but the suggestion to sleep was irresistible. She was tired from the tickling and a nap might do her goo, she reasoned to herself before falling instantly into a deep sound sleep.
* * * * *
Patricia awoke to the sound of wind flapping sails. She opened her eyes and discovered she was in the cabin of a ship. The gentle rocking of the vessel told her that she must be at sea. She looked out the round window of the cabin but she could only see fog outside.
She looked down at her clothes with disappointment. There were torn and tattered. She saw a pair of sailor breeches and a coarse white tunic set at the door of the cabin. She collected them and quickly changed. They were a bit big but they felt better than the clothes she had been wearing from home. She slipped her feet into a pair of soft leather boots left at the foot of the bed. She cheerfully discovered were just her size and quite comfortable. She brushed her long blond hair for a few minutes with a brush she found in a drawer and when she decided she was presentable, she left the cabin.
It was better to meet her fate head on than wait and let people like Lynna try to take advantage of her.
She could hear shouting and cheering from above deck and she decided that that was where she had to be.
She stepped out on deck and she gasped in surprise.
First she gasped at the fact that the ship was not sailing on water, but rather in the sky itself. She could see the ship surrounded below by clouds instead of water. The air was cold and thin, but fresh and crisp nonetheless.
Then she gasped at the events transpiring on the deck. There was a a whole host of characters on deck. Men and women, but not one of them human. She saw the man with the rhinoceros head she had punched in the groin. There was a woman with a hippopotamus head. There was a centaur and little people with pointy ears and strange dark eyes. There was a demonic creature with black wings and small horns on her forehead who watched her with amused eyes. They were maybe two dozen creatures on deck.
At the mast Lynna was tied with her arms above her head and on her tip toes. She struggled and shouted back at the jeering group of diverse creatures.
It was then that they noticed she had stepped on deck and all became silent.
"Welcome aboard, Patrisa,'' the man with the lion head greeted. "I am Cecil of the Cold Hand, Captain of the Last Laugh and your host. These brave men and women are known far and wide as the Free Spirits. We bow to no Lord or Lady and we belong to no single Realm. We tried to stop you from fleeing into the field. We knew it was booby trapped. We would have found you sooner, but Lynna is a clever Avenger and she keeps her safe houses well hidden."
The crew looked and they smiled warmly at Patricia.
"Lynna is an Avenger and Enforcer for Lord Xavis of the Animus," Cecil continued. "She's tickled many of our own and sent many a friend as a slave to suffer at the hands of Xavis. We will draw lots and the one with the shortest straw will have the privilege of tickle torturing Lynna.''
"Lord Xavis will torture you all to death!" Lynna shouted.
The crew jeered and protested and it took Cecil's commanding presence to calm everyone down.
"We're a democracy here on this ship," he declared. ''We divide the loot evenly among us with two in five parts going to maintain the ship and to restock provisions. Even the privilege of punishing our enemy is determined fairly and decided by fate."
Cecil nodded to the rhinoceros headed man who added another long straw to his hand and stepped forward to Patricia.
"Quentin, offer our guest an opportunity," Cecil ordered the rhinoceros headed man. "You may draw first, Tenderfoot."
Patricia had said nothing yet. She was still in a dazed state of confusion.
She mechanically stepped towards the man named Quentin and gingerly drew a straw. She realized it was a long straw and not a short one.
Lynna scoffed. "Did you think you could tickle me? Better luck next time, Tenderfoot!”
Patricia's lips pursed in frustrated anger at the taunting from who had tormented her. She felt her cheeks flush in anger and she broke the straw in two between her fingers.
When she realized what she had done an idea dawned upon her and she smiled. She held a piece of the straw up so all could see.
The crew looked among themselves and exchanged knowing and agreeing glances.
Captain Cecil himself nodded in approval and clapped his hands. The rest of the crew followed suit and they cheered.
"We have a winner," Quentin said with a wide grin on his rhinoceros head.
Patricia did not hesitate. She strode up to the surprised Lynna who shook her head in protest at the swift turn of events. Patricia dug her fingers into her tender rib cage and began to tickle with a vengeance.
"How do you like it?" Patricia asked angrily as she listened to Lynna burst out into laughter. She was not as ticklish as Patricia, so she'd just have to do a better job at the tickling.
Patricia remembered every time she had been tickled silly by Tommy and anyone else who discovered she was ticklish and decided it was okay to tickle her silly anywhere and anytime that pleased them. She was burning with vent up anger and she meant to make Lynna pay for each and every tickling episode she had suffered during her life.
Her fingers tickled hard and deliberately digging deeply into Lynna's flesh discovering new and different degrees of ticklishness. Patricia's tickling was not playful nor sensual. It was a no nonsense 'get the job done' kind of tickling.
"No more!" Lynna begged.
"I did not ask for mercy and I do not intend to give any," Patricia snarled as she increased her tickling intensity. She finally had someone to tickle who was not only ticklish, but also immobile and helpless. She was not about to spoil the opportunity.
Lynna was weakening but Patricia was not satisfied. She had to still explore the rest of her tickle spots. Patricia drew a dagger from one of the unsuspecting spectator's belt and she slashed at the ropes freeing Lynna.
Patricia did not fear her victim's retaliation. This time she had the edge and she would not let it go. She pulled Lynna to the ground and she pulled off her soft leather boots revealing a pair of small and pretty feet.
"How does it feel to be tickled out of your mind?" Patricia asked as her fingers played a symphony of provocative laughter on Lynna's soles. "How does it feel to be helpless and that no one cares about your protests? Sure, she's laughing, she MUST be having fun. Well, are you, Lynna? Are you having fun?"
Patricia continued tickling with a maddened fervor that seemed to come from years and years of frustration while being the helpless ticklish victim. All those years of bottled up desire to for once dominate and tickle savagely was suddenly free. There was a ticklish victim and Patricia had the advantage. She would not give it up again.
Lynna's laughter and turned to wild and terrified shrieks for mercy. Her body twisted and jerked madly under Patricia's fingers. Tears streamed down her face and her cries for mercy were more and more desperate. Finally she went silent, but even that did not distract Patricia from raking her fingers over her victim's reddened soles.
Cecil put a hand a her shoulder and she jerked violently as if awakening from a spell. Her ticklish victim was ticklish no more. She was not even awake for that matter. Even in unconsciousness, a mask of terror remained on her face.
Above her forehead, were the strange rune was etched on her forehead there was a glowing red gem.
Patricia looked around. Many among the crew looked at her with shocked and even fearful looks. Most were surprised and speechless at the ferocity of the ticking Patricia had administered.
One of them, a demonic female dressed in black body armor was amused and nodded in approval.
Cecil did not approve or disapprove. He simply picked the gem from the ground and studied it intently.
"The gem goes to the vault for safe keeping and you'll get your part when we divide the spoils, Patrisa," Cecil said. "However, for a job clearly well done, I'll see you are given Lynna's magical fighting sticks."
Patricia did not know what he was referring to about the red gem, but she accepted the sticks as Quentin placed them into her hands. They felt warm in her hands and she could feel some sort of unknown energy pulsating from within.
"Well, what do we do with Lord Xavis's lackey?" Cecil asked the crew. "We've taught her a lesson. She won't be bothering any of the Free Spirits or any Tenderfoot for a long time."
"Toss her over the side," the demonic female said coldly. "She's seen the ship, she can identify the crew. She's better off dead. That way you won't have to look back over your shoulder."
"You are a cold one, Danea," Cecil retorted. "Despite the heat of the Pit where you were spawned, your heart is as cold as my hand. Nay, to tickle and plunder yes. That is what the Free Spirits do. We wish to be feared and respected, not to be hunted down like dogs. What say you, Tenderfoot?"
Patricia looked down on Lynna's helpless form.
"You can't be feared if no one is alive to spread the word around," Patricia said trying to grasp all the events that were happening to her.
"Precisely!" Cecil shouted. "Let her crawl back to Xavis with tales of awe of the Free Spirits and the Terrible Tenderfoot. We will strike fear into his heart and that of all the lords and ladies of the Realms!"
"Tie her up, lads," Cecil commanded. "I want her ready to be deposited tied in a neat bundle at the very gate of the Palace of the Red Panther by dawn. Let all the Realms see what happens to those who try to enslave the Free Spirits!"
The crew cheered and everyone went upon their business.
"And what of me, Captain?" Patricia asked. "I thought it was all a dream, but something tells me it is much more than that. I have no idea what is going on around me. I'd really appreciate someone explaining it all to me."
"You're free to join us, or free to leave us," he said. "We are after all the Free Spirits and none are here unless it is of their own free will. If you stay, I'll explain as best I know what happened to you and teach you what you need to know to survive in the Realms."
"And what would you get in return?" Patricia asked. No one does anything for nothing; that held true in her world and she was quite sure in this world as well.
"That, Patrisa," Cecil said gesturing to Lynna who was being carried away, "was the best and most passionate tickling I've seen in years. Lacking in technique, lacking in focus, but full of vibrant and beautiful passion. If even a bit of that rubs off on my crew or myself, I'd consider any debt more than paid in full. You, Tenderfoot, will go very far."
Patricia nodded. He had said her name wrong again and she did not understand what he meant exactly by Tenderfoot. But he seemed very sincere and she felt very comfortable in his presence.
She did not know where she was but if she had to start anew she mind as well start with a new name. Patrisa it was then.
"I think I'll join you and your crew," she said. "I'll be a Free Spirit, if you'll have me."
She held a hand out to the lion headed Captain and he shook it graciously. His other cold hand touched her arm briefly.
She froze and looked deep into his mesmerizing sky blue eyes.
In a fraction of a second he peered into her soul and seemed to analyze her.
It was just a moment and then he released her. She was able to move again.
"Welcome to the Free Spirits, Patrisa," Cecil said smiling. “We greet each new member with our motto.
“Live well and die free, Tenderfoot.”
To be continued....
Next: Wrath of the Pink Dragon
