AcornaMordor
TMF Master
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((I'm a little bashful to be posting this story. It's the first I've ever written with the knowledge that I was trying to make fetish fiction. There had always seemed to be an annoying amount of tickle scenes in my earlier writings which I had always been to embarrassed to share with anyone and kept locked away on various disks and hidden files working on them compulsively without letting anyone see. I'm quite timid... please be kind. ^.^;😉)
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Daekar gazed out his window forlornly at the people scurrying about below. Lanterns were everywhere, banners and colorful silks draped roundabouts, people were frolicking and laughing, preparing a great feast. He sighed, though, and watched them with apprehension and fear. He turned to look at his guards at his door, two men he had known all his life and befriended at such a time. Men who had fought with him through wars and gave him council for the well being of his people. They were unsmiling which only added to Daekar's fear - these men were usually jovial and merry. And to add to it all, the king rarely kept his guards up during the night or bore them during the day to protect his 'royal bed chambers'. If he had something in his room that a thief needed so badly to go through all the trouble of sneaking through the castle for, then he needed it far worse than Daekar, and if a rogue tried to kill him during the night.. well, if Daekar couldn't protect himself, how could he expect to protect his kingdom? Daekar had always been a friend to these guards, so he thought, even if he was usually serious and unsmiling. One looked into Daekar's eyes and the young King could see the tears welling there in his dear companion's own light brown orbs for the hurt and betrayal his leige felt. Daekar tried to take a step forward to him, to talk to him, to try to understand why this rebellion was happening, but the other pulled out his sword and put it between the misty-eyed guard and the King.
"Forgive me, your Majesty, but we cannot allow you to approach us as of yet. And we will be forced to search your person for weapons when the time has come to leave here."
"But why, Erin, what have I done?" he questioned desperately to the other of whom he could only see his red bristled cheeks and the dark green eyes through the visor of his plumed helm. "They all seemed so... so Happy but last week. What could have happened? We have been at peace. There has been no plague, no war, no one has been killed in months. What did I do to lose their love so suddenly?"
The guards looked to one another, smirked, even the teary-eyed one as he sniffled and wiped his eyes on his gauntlets. Daekar looked back to his window, pacing nervously. In the center of the village was a pavilion where the sounds of hammers and chains came floating from the waving curtain walls to the nervous king's ears. He rubbed his chin, felt the bristles there. He sighed gently, moving to his dressing table and began to shave off the stubble and mustache fuzz, carefully brushing his short, light brown hair. If he would be dying today for unknown sins, he may as well be presentable before his exocutioner. It seemed a stranger stared back at him in the mirror, taunting him, mocking him. "You were young and foolish, Daekar," the man seemed to say, "and these people want aged wisdom and love like your father gave them. Not you, stumbling over your own tongue in the presence of a simple farmgirl and having drinking contests with your guards. They want someone mature, someone who -knows- how to guide them and isn't just playing it by ear." He sighed again, sat down on his table and began to weep.
The guards looked to one another, gently shook their heads.
Daekar was pacing again. He'd strewn his royal robes about the room, trying to decide the best way to die for his people, garments of silk and wool in hues of purple, blue, red, and green hung listlessly from chairs, tables, window sills, rumpled and piled on his bed. He was wearing only plain brown trousers now, bare-chested as he paced, arms folded across his chest, blue eyes dark and brooding, drumming his fingers pensively on his biceps. He sighed, came to a halt in his stride, turned to the guards, held his arms out. "Do you think they will accept me this way? Do you think it will be better for me to come half-dressed instead of in silken heraldry like an overgrown peacock?" He kicked aside a paricularly colorful garment studded with gems along with a heavily embroidered cloak, angry with them, angry with himself, though the garb had all been gifts and had not been bought in his own accord.
One guard looked to the other and softly chuckled. The other grinned, knocked down his companion's visor. "Hush, Erin. Our leige's demise is nothing to laugh about."
Daekar could have cried again. "Your liege..? Not your friend..?"
"Oh Daekar, calm yourself. It's highly unkingly to tremble so before a pair of guards you've known since childhood."
The king gave another sniffle, feeling desperate and wounded like a child shunned from his close circle of companions. "I renounce my leadership! I renounce everything! I just want to do what I can for my people!"
Erin looked to his companion, nodded. Daffyd, the other young man, strode towards Daekar, embraced him against his chill steel armor. "Calm, Daekar, my king. Save your nerves for your people. Why don't you rest while you wait? I will lie with you if you wish, as we did when we were children, as we did when your father died."
The young king squirmed loose of the hug. "How can I rest when there is rebellion outside my door? Within my very bed chambers? Rebellion for which there is no reason! Or at least none that anyone has bothered to let me know of!"
Erin leaned out the door, whispered to a paige who scurried off obediently. He grinned devilishly towards his companion. "'Tis nearly time. Daffyd, hold his wrists so I can check for weapons."
Daffyd grinned too. Daekar looked wonderingly from one to the other, took a tentative step back. Daffyd quickly grabbed Daekar's wrists, held them high over his head while Erin began to pat down the King's bare torso.
"There is no shirt, you fool, for me to wear a knife there!" The king cried, squirming.
"Perhaps it is the work of a mage?" Daffyd suggested playfully.
Erin grinned. "One must feel deeply to find weapons beneath a magic spell of concealment." His fingers probed Daekar's ribs and the sides of his stomach. The king gave a soft guffaw, writhing harder in the grip of his guard, his childhood friend. Erin laughed softly. "So our friend is still ticklish after all these years, eh?"
Daekar gave a little shameful nod, biting his lip, forcing his features into a statuesque scowl against the playful fingers of his guard. Erin and Daffyd grinned at one another devilishly, a secret passing wordlessly between the two. A length of silk was produced - one of his more nondescript robes he had tossed about - and used to tie his hands behind his back. Both guards quickly patted down his legs, squeezing his knees and trying to tease his bare heels but Daekar refused to be unfooted, keeping a stern visage, peering down at the two guards. They only grinned at him and Daffyd gave him another hug, almost reassuringly. The paige boy appeared once more and motioned for the guards to come, leading their King bare-chested, barefoot, and bound.
The cobblestones were swept and clean for the festivities soon to commence, the pavilion had been taken down to reveal an oddly shaped platform of wood. It was a simple platform with a pair of manacles set in the floor beside another platform that was lifted some three or four feet off the original platform, bearing what seemed to be stocks at one end of the planks. As the king looked upon it, he wondered if it was his exocution device, for next to it was a tall, hooded figure in black, arms folded, an ax resting by his foot. Daekar swallowed nervously, hesitated to take the next step, jarred forward by his guards. They led him onto the platform, the original only a simple step up from the ground, and turned Daekar to face the silent crowd of people.
The hooded figure intoned slowly, deeply, "King Daekar don Vierremont, you stand accused by your people."
"Accused of what?" He demanded, his cheeks flushing, tears welling in his eyes. He squirmed uselessly against his guards as they lifted him up, sitting him on the raised platform, locking his feet into the stocks, pulling him back. The platform was not very wide so his back bent over the side, curved to fit and hold his back without pain, and they manacled his hands to the floor, pulling his arms over his head, stretching him.
"My, my liege is limber!" the exocutioner cried out in a.. vaguely familiar voice. "You, King Daekar don Vierremont, are accused, by your subjects, of the following..."
Daekar clenched his eyes shut against his tears. The platform was turned so even upsidedown he faced his people.
"Accusation one: You work too hard."
Daekar opened a single eye. "What..?"
"Accusation two: You rarely, if ever, do anything for your own enjoyment without including the majority of the village populous."
His other eye opened slowly, blinking both rather incredulously. "What's going on?"
The exocustioner laughed, tossed his hood back to reveal a white painted face and a harlequin hat of bells. He grinned, his lips painted purple, his eyes surrounded with blue diamonds, and bowed to Daekar. "Accusation three! The king rarely smiles!"
"Killein! You silly jester! What is this?"
"Accusation four! The king NEVER laughs before his people!"
"Answer me, damn you!"
The heavy black robes came off, revealing a lithe, slender, mis-matched body and pointed shoes, bells on the end of his tunic and the toes of his slippers. He stepped up onto the platform and stood over the king's stomach, leaning back and sitting easily on his legs. "And Accusation five: The king had suffered and given too much to his people and has too much of their love for these horrible, horrible offenses to continue!" The jester leaned forward with a grin, peering into Daekar's face. "And your guards have told us your dirty little secret."
He swallowed nervously again. "What secret?"
"We are all aware, my liege, that you are unbearably ticklish."
Daekar became suddenly aware of a familiar pain in his chest and dryness of his throat. The same familiar panic he felt before he rode into a battle he was certain he would not ride out from. He cast a quick, wild-eyed glance around at his people, a crowd of grinning faces, then back to the jester. "You wouldn't."
He laughed. "'Tis my profession to make people smile, My King."
The commoners chuckled and snickered softly, decorated festively with flowers and bright clothes. Daekar gave a slight growl. "Erin, Daffyd, you're both going to pay for this."
Killein nodded enthusiasticly. "Of course! Of course! Betraying the crown, exploiting the king's secrets! Punishment most severe!" Both guards were brought forward, unarmored, removed of their tunics and gambesons so they were only clad in trousers and socks, looking a little startled as they were held captive by their Captains and Lieutenants. Killein giggled and rocked back, stick-like legs shooting out comedically into the air, folding back under him as he rolled forward again, clapping his hands. "Quickly now, quickly! These punishments must begin so the festival may be underway!" The startled, nervous guards were dragged to simple poles which had been erected in the platform to either side of the king, forced onto their knees, their hands manacled above their head, back facing the crowd as their feet were also put in the small stocks like the king's. Killein was dancing above the king now, delightedly waving a large feather over his head.
"Now! Who will be the first to come forth? How long will it take to break through this icy visage? You, little one? Or you, young lady? Oh come now, Come now! Surely you're not afraid! Aaaaahhh, Master Healer Dannsmen! Huzzah! Now our king will surely giggle and weep for mercy!" The king was certain he heard something evil in the voice of the jester.
Daekar tensed. Damnable healer knew everything about his body, had treated him since he was a boy falling out of trees and coming to him covered in chicken scratches, had suffered through his helpless childhood giggle fits during his examinations. Daekar groaned, eyes closing, awaiting the inevitable. The feather slipped under his shaven chin, tickling his neck and throat and the soft skin where he had cleaned off the bristles just moments before. Daekar twisted his head away, growling low in his throat, cautiously opening an eye to peer up at the grinning elderly healer. He had preserved well in his years, as broad-shouldered, straight-backed, and lean as any of his knights, only his deep laugh lines and white hair belied his age. "Well, well, young Daekar. What is it today, hmm?" he teased. "Chasing chickens out of the coups with those friends of yours again?" The crowd chuckled and the king gave a wan grin, forcing it down and biting back a chuckle as the feather descended on his ears. Dannsmen chuckled. "Stubborn one, eh?" He lay down the feather beside Daekar, looked to the grinning jester, nodded lightly. Both set their hands upon Daekar's taunt stomach, began to wiggle their fingers. Daekar held his breath, soft whimpers escaping his throat, eyes clenched tightly shut, struggling to keep his lips from curling as they were into a helpless grin, nose wrinkling slightly, soft giggles starting to escape him.
"Heheheheheh.. heheheh.. dahamnit, nohoho."
The jester pranced delightedly. "You heard his chuckles! Let the festivities begin, go enjoy yourselves or stay and help make your king laugh his royal head off!"
Erin and Daffyd suddenly broke out in twin squeals of helplessness on either side of the struggling Daekar. Young maidens were tickling their ribs and armpits and feet covered in the striped wool socks to prevent their armor leggings from chafing them. Both men were instantly laughing while the fingers of the girls danced over their exposed bodies, shirtless as the king was. Daekar was being more stubborn, had been finally coaxed into gentle chuckles while the jester chose a pretty maiden about Daekar's age to come forward but who only blushed and shied back into the crowd, giggling. Another childhood friend was coming forth now, the big, bulky form of the blacksmith, a few years older than the king, had been his mentor and teacher of the crude world while he and his companions were but young boys running around the workshop beating each other with horse tails which had been reserved for helmets of his father's armies. The blacksmith Cinnan was not at all abashed to come and grin over Daekar a moment before ducking to sit under the platform, not about to block the view of the squirming monarch, then reaching out and tickling his armpits. The young King jerked, spasmed, and started to guffaw loudly.
"Hahahahahahaha! D-dahahahhahahahaha! Damnit C-eeheeheeheehee Cinnan!"
"Well, Young Prince, those horse tails have gone missing yet again. Your and your friends wouldn't know where they vanished to now, would you, hmm?"
The jester was dancing about delightedly, trying to coax the girls to come forward. "My ladies, come! Please! And keep in mind that our sire is a bachelor and - forgive me for saying so, sire - a virgin!"
"GAAAH!" Daekar cried suddenly through his laughter, cheeks flushing brightly with embarrassment. "Killein! You're next in theeheeheeheeese things!! Ahahahahahahahahaha!"
"Come, ladies, give the king's cute little footsies a soft tickle. We have been reserving his best spots for you! Come, come!" A shy little maiden came forward, wringing her hands nervously, blushing as the jester led her to the helpless, quivering, giggling form of her king. Killein was asking questions loud enough so Daekar could hear him. "Now, my pretty lass, where do you want to tickle? Rumor has it that his navel is fair game and is the quick path to hysteria." He lofted his thickly painted eyebrows, grinning at the blushing girl. "Or his feet, perhaps? We hear his toes are also especially tender and look at them, just wiggling helplessly with no one to caress them. No pretty slender fingers to make them curl."
"Killeeeheeheeheein! I'm gohohohoing to kihihihihill yoohoohoo!"
"Nay, my lord, you'll be thanking me, thanking us all. Now my dear, which shall it be? Oh his tummy draws your eye, eh? My King, are you not especially prone on your belly button?"
"Nohohohohohoho! Dohohohon't you d-hare!"
Daekar gave a yelp like a dog trampled by a horse as he felt the small, smooth finger of the maiden enter into the deep well on his belly and start to wiggle. He writhed and jerked, screaming his laughter, tears rolling down - well, up! - his reddened cheeks into his hair, tossing his head about helplessly.
"AH GAAHAHAHAHAHAADS! STAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAP! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! HEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEE! GAHAHAHAHAHADS HEHEHEHEHELP MEEHEEHEEHEEHEE!"
The maid giggled softly, adding a second tiny finger, scribbling her nails around the outside ring of flesh on his belly. Daekar wept as he laughed, back arching off the platform, bucking off the jester that had been sitting on him much to the amusement of the crowd. Another group of maids, eyeing the king's stripped form as completely elligable, collected feathers from chickens and ran forth to start the torment upon the king's feet and toes, sawing the feathers back and forth through his long, slender pink digits, up and down in little zig-zags across his soles. Daekar shrieked, twisting helplessly, growing weak as the tears of mirth streamed from his eyes, his chest heaving in desperate gasps between his laughter, hands balled up into fists, struggling with his manacles. The jester leapt lightly back onto the table. "Halt! Halt! Give him rest!" He sat down on Daekar's legs again, chuckling, listening to the young king gasp and giggle, watching the desperate rise and fall of his chest. When his breathing steadied some, the jester leaned forward and lightly poked his chest, whispering to him. "You seem to be liking this, my Liege."
Daekar shook his head. "Nonono.. I.. I have.." he struggled to catch his breath still, giggling nervously, bashfully. "I have to pee."
Killein laughed. He clapped his hands, lacing his fingers together, giggling behind them. "I will make you a deal, Sire! We shall tickle you until you relieve yourself and then your punishment will be over, eh?"
Daekar groaned. "Oh please no, Killein. Please. You've already told them I'm virginal and now you're going to humiliate me further with making me wet my trousers? You jesters are the devil reincarnate."
Killein chuckled. "All right, Sire. But. We send you to be relieved and you come back and it's another tearful session with your belly button, eh?"
Daekar groaned again. "Oh please, Killein."
The jester grinned, leaned forward, teasing the king's navel with his long, purple nails. Daekar laughed and bucked, thrashing wildly. "Okay! Okay! I-I-Ihihihihihi'll do ihihihihit! PLEEHEEHEEHEEASE! KILLEEHEEHEEIN! STAHAHAHAHAP!"
Daekar was unshackled and half-carried to a small grouping of brushes in the healer's garden, propped up against a chuckling guard as he relieved himself. The guard, Captain Darrow, was of Daekar's father's army before he died and had trained Daekar when he was a child. "Perhaps I should have done this when you were younger, working on your endurance," he said, patting and brushing Daekar's hair fondly.
Daekar rubbed his aching ribs, then his cheeks, groaning softly. "Oh don't make me go back, please. I can't take much more."
"Just a little while longer, my King, and then you get to torment that devious jester. And," he chuckled gently, "with the news of your virginity, there are several maidens wishing to be strapped in your place and have you tickle them."
Daekar blushed again. "I can't believe Killein told them that."
"Tis to your credit, sire. It means you seek holy union with a woman before such intimacy and giving of your spirit."
"Oh pish posh. You know to all of them that it means I either can't 'rise to the occasion' or that I've never had a woman to give me the chance. By the by, how long have you all been planning this?"
"A couple weeks, my King. You are growing naive in your old age." He chuckled, nudging Daekar's aching ribs, causing him to yelp and flinch back.
He caught his breath again, gave a sigh. "I very much doubt Hell has much worse torments than this."
Captain Darrow only grinned, began to lead him back to the festival. "Just look how happy it's made them to see you laugh, my young Sire. Is this not worth it to make them happy?"
Daekar sighed once more, but smiled. He found it easy to smile now after screeching with helpless laughter for so long, even managed a chuckle. "Justsolong as this doesn't become an annual thing."
Captain Darrow helped him back onto the platform and strapped him down as he sighed and relaxed his back against the wood, curved to cradle his back instead of corners biting into his spine. Daekar gave a wan smirk to the captain before his face contorted with laughter - the maiden was the first to attack this time and she went at it with a vengence, scribbling her nails of one hand around his navel and up and down his firm stomach, fingers wiggling lightly inside the depression of his belly button.
Daekar writhed and laughed in his confinement, his squeals and shrieks nearly drowning out the Captain's chuckling voice in his own ear. "Nay, nay, not annual. Just monthly, Sire."
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Daekar gazed out his window forlornly at the people scurrying about below. Lanterns were everywhere, banners and colorful silks draped roundabouts, people were frolicking and laughing, preparing a great feast. He sighed, though, and watched them with apprehension and fear. He turned to look at his guards at his door, two men he had known all his life and befriended at such a time. Men who had fought with him through wars and gave him council for the well being of his people. They were unsmiling which only added to Daekar's fear - these men were usually jovial and merry. And to add to it all, the king rarely kept his guards up during the night or bore them during the day to protect his 'royal bed chambers'. If he had something in his room that a thief needed so badly to go through all the trouble of sneaking through the castle for, then he needed it far worse than Daekar, and if a rogue tried to kill him during the night.. well, if Daekar couldn't protect himself, how could he expect to protect his kingdom? Daekar had always been a friend to these guards, so he thought, even if he was usually serious and unsmiling. One looked into Daekar's eyes and the young King could see the tears welling there in his dear companion's own light brown orbs for the hurt and betrayal his leige felt. Daekar tried to take a step forward to him, to talk to him, to try to understand why this rebellion was happening, but the other pulled out his sword and put it between the misty-eyed guard and the King.
"Forgive me, your Majesty, but we cannot allow you to approach us as of yet. And we will be forced to search your person for weapons when the time has come to leave here."
"But why, Erin, what have I done?" he questioned desperately to the other of whom he could only see his red bristled cheeks and the dark green eyes through the visor of his plumed helm. "They all seemed so... so Happy but last week. What could have happened? We have been at peace. There has been no plague, no war, no one has been killed in months. What did I do to lose their love so suddenly?"
The guards looked to one another, smirked, even the teary-eyed one as he sniffled and wiped his eyes on his gauntlets. Daekar looked back to his window, pacing nervously. In the center of the village was a pavilion where the sounds of hammers and chains came floating from the waving curtain walls to the nervous king's ears. He rubbed his chin, felt the bristles there. He sighed gently, moving to his dressing table and began to shave off the stubble and mustache fuzz, carefully brushing his short, light brown hair. If he would be dying today for unknown sins, he may as well be presentable before his exocutioner. It seemed a stranger stared back at him in the mirror, taunting him, mocking him. "You were young and foolish, Daekar," the man seemed to say, "and these people want aged wisdom and love like your father gave them. Not you, stumbling over your own tongue in the presence of a simple farmgirl and having drinking contests with your guards. They want someone mature, someone who -knows- how to guide them and isn't just playing it by ear." He sighed again, sat down on his table and began to weep.
The guards looked to one another, gently shook their heads.
Daekar was pacing again. He'd strewn his royal robes about the room, trying to decide the best way to die for his people, garments of silk and wool in hues of purple, blue, red, and green hung listlessly from chairs, tables, window sills, rumpled and piled on his bed. He was wearing only plain brown trousers now, bare-chested as he paced, arms folded across his chest, blue eyes dark and brooding, drumming his fingers pensively on his biceps. He sighed, came to a halt in his stride, turned to the guards, held his arms out. "Do you think they will accept me this way? Do you think it will be better for me to come half-dressed instead of in silken heraldry like an overgrown peacock?" He kicked aside a paricularly colorful garment studded with gems along with a heavily embroidered cloak, angry with them, angry with himself, though the garb had all been gifts and had not been bought in his own accord.
One guard looked to the other and softly chuckled. The other grinned, knocked down his companion's visor. "Hush, Erin. Our leige's demise is nothing to laugh about."
Daekar could have cried again. "Your liege..? Not your friend..?"
"Oh Daekar, calm yourself. It's highly unkingly to tremble so before a pair of guards you've known since childhood."
The king gave another sniffle, feeling desperate and wounded like a child shunned from his close circle of companions. "I renounce my leadership! I renounce everything! I just want to do what I can for my people!"
Erin looked to his companion, nodded. Daffyd, the other young man, strode towards Daekar, embraced him against his chill steel armor. "Calm, Daekar, my king. Save your nerves for your people. Why don't you rest while you wait? I will lie with you if you wish, as we did when we were children, as we did when your father died."
The young king squirmed loose of the hug. "How can I rest when there is rebellion outside my door? Within my very bed chambers? Rebellion for which there is no reason! Or at least none that anyone has bothered to let me know of!"
Erin leaned out the door, whispered to a paige who scurried off obediently. He grinned devilishly towards his companion. "'Tis nearly time. Daffyd, hold his wrists so I can check for weapons."
Daffyd grinned too. Daekar looked wonderingly from one to the other, took a tentative step back. Daffyd quickly grabbed Daekar's wrists, held them high over his head while Erin began to pat down the King's bare torso.
"There is no shirt, you fool, for me to wear a knife there!" The king cried, squirming.
"Perhaps it is the work of a mage?" Daffyd suggested playfully.
Erin grinned. "One must feel deeply to find weapons beneath a magic spell of concealment." His fingers probed Daekar's ribs and the sides of his stomach. The king gave a soft guffaw, writhing harder in the grip of his guard, his childhood friend. Erin laughed softly. "So our friend is still ticklish after all these years, eh?"
Daekar gave a little shameful nod, biting his lip, forcing his features into a statuesque scowl against the playful fingers of his guard. Erin and Daffyd grinned at one another devilishly, a secret passing wordlessly between the two. A length of silk was produced - one of his more nondescript robes he had tossed about - and used to tie his hands behind his back. Both guards quickly patted down his legs, squeezing his knees and trying to tease his bare heels but Daekar refused to be unfooted, keeping a stern visage, peering down at the two guards. They only grinned at him and Daffyd gave him another hug, almost reassuringly. The paige boy appeared once more and motioned for the guards to come, leading their King bare-chested, barefoot, and bound.
The cobblestones were swept and clean for the festivities soon to commence, the pavilion had been taken down to reveal an oddly shaped platform of wood. It was a simple platform with a pair of manacles set in the floor beside another platform that was lifted some three or four feet off the original platform, bearing what seemed to be stocks at one end of the planks. As the king looked upon it, he wondered if it was his exocution device, for next to it was a tall, hooded figure in black, arms folded, an ax resting by his foot. Daekar swallowed nervously, hesitated to take the next step, jarred forward by his guards. They led him onto the platform, the original only a simple step up from the ground, and turned Daekar to face the silent crowd of people.
The hooded figure intoned slowly, deeply, "King Daekar don Vierremont, you stand accused by your people."
"Accused of what?" He demanded, his cheeks flushing, tears welling in his eyes. He squirmed uselessly against his guards as they lifted him up, sitting him on the raised platform, locking his feet into the stocks, pulling him back. The platform was not very wide so his back bent over the side, curved to fit and hold his back without pain, and they manacled his hands to the floor, pulling his arms over his head, stretching him.
"My, my liege is limber!" the exocutioner cried out in a.. vaguely familiar voice. "You, King Daekar don Vierremont, are accused, by your subjects, of the following..."
Daekar clenched his eyes shut against his tears. The platform was turned so even upsidedown he faced his people.
"Accusation one: You work too hard."
Daekar opened a single eye. "What..?"
"Accusation two: You rarely, if ever, do anything for your own enjoyment without including the majority of the village populous."
His other eye opened slowly, blinking both rather incredulously. "What's going on?"
The exocustioner laughed, tossed his hood back to reveal a white painted face and a harlequin hat of bells. He grinned, his lips painted purple, his eyes surrounded with blue diamonds, and bowed to Daekar. "Accusation three! The king rarely smiles!"
"Killein! You silly jester! What is this?"
"Accusation four! The king NEVER laughs before his people!"
"Answer me, damn you!"
The heavy black robes came off, revealing a lithe, slender, mis-matched body and pointed shoes, bells on the end of his tunic and the toes of his slippers. He stepped up onto the platform and stood over the king's stomach, leaning back and sitting easily on his legs. "And Accusation five: The king had suffered and given too much to his people and has too much of their love for these horrible, horrible offenses to continue!" The jester leaned forward with a grin, peering into Daekar's face. "And your guards have told us your dirty little secret."
He swallowed nervously again. "What secret?"
"We are all aware, my liege, that you are unbearably ticklish."
Daekar became suddenly aware of a familiar pain in his chest and dryness of his throat. The same familiar panic he felt before he rode into a battle he was certain he would not ride out from. He cast a quick, wild-eyed glance around at his people, a crowd of grinning faces, then back to the jester. "You wouldn't."
He laughed. "'Tis my profession to make people smile, My King."
The commoners chuckled and snickered softly, decorated festively with flowers and bright clothes. Daekar gave a slight growl. "Erin, Daffyd, you're both going to pay for this."
Killein nodded enthusiasticly. "Of course! Of course! Betraying the crown, exploiting the king's secrets! Punishment most severe!" Both guards were brought forward, unarmored, removed of their tunics and gambesons so they were only clad in trousers and socks, looking a little startled as they were held captive by their Captains and Lieutenants. Killein giggled and rocked back, stick-like legs shooting out comedically into the air, folding back under him as he rolled forward again, clapping his hands. "Quickly now, quickly! These punishments must begin so the festival may be underway!" The startled, nervous guards were dragged to simple poles which had been erected in the platform to either side of the king, forced onto their knees, their hands manacled above their head, back facing the crowd as their feet were also put in the small stocks like the king's. Killein was dancing above the king now, delightedly waving a large feather over his head.
"Now! Who will be the first to come forth? How long will it take to break through this icy visage? You, little one? Or you, young lady? Oh come now, Come now! Surely you're not afraid! Aaaaahhh, Master Healer Dannsmen! Huzzah! Now our king will surely giggle and weep for mercy!" The king was certain he heard something evil in the voice of the jester.
Daekar tensed. Damnable healer knew everything about his body, had treated him since he was a boy falling out of trees and coming to him covered in chicken scratches, had suffered through his helpless childhood giggle fits during his examinations. Daekar groaned, eyes closing, awaiting the inevitable. The feather slipped under his shaven chin, tickling his neck and throat and the soft skin where he had cleaned off the bristles just moments before. Daekar twisted his head away, growling low in his throat, cautiously opening an eye to peer up at the grinning elderly healer. He had preserved well in his years, as broad-shouldered, straight-backed, and lean as any of his knights, only his deep laugh lines and white hair belied his age. "Well, well, young Daekar. What is it today, hmm?" he teased. "Chasing chickens out of the coups with those friends of yours again?" The crowd chuckled and the king gave a wan grin, forcing it down and biting back a chuckle as the feather descended on his ears. Dannsmen chuckled. "Stubborn one, eh?" He lay down the feather beside Daekar, looked to the grinning jester, nodded lightly. Both set their hands upon Daekar's taunt stomach, began to wiggle their fingers. Daekar held his breath, soft whimpers escaping his throat, eyes clenched tightly shut, struggling to keep his lips from curling as they were into a helpless grin, nose wrinkling slightly, soft giggles starting to escape him.
"Heheheheheh.. heheheh.. dahamnit, nohoho."
The jester pranced delightedly. "You heard his chuckles! Let the festivities begin, go enjoy yourselves or stay and help make your king laugh his royal head off!"
Erin and Daffyd suddenly broke out in twin squeals of helplessness on either side of the struggling Daekar. Young maidens were tickling their ribs and armpits and feet covered in the striped wool socks to prevent their armor leggings from chafing them. Both men were instantly laughing while the fingers of the girls danced over their exposed bodies, shirtless as the king was. Daekar was being more stubborn, had been finally coaxed into gentle chuckles while the jester chose a pretty maiden about Daekar's age to come forward but who only blushed and shied back into the crowd, giggling. Another childhood friend was coming forth now, the big, bulky form of the blacksmith, a few years older than the king, had been his mentor and teacher of the crude world while he and his companions were but young boys running around the workshop beating each other with horse tails which had been reserved for helmets of his father's armies. The blacksmith Cinnan was not at all abashed to come and grin over Daekar a moment before ducking to sit under the platform, not about to block the view of the squirming monarch, then reaching out and tickling his armpits. The young King jerked, spasmed, and started to guffaw loudly.
"Hahahahahahaha! D-dahahahhahahahaha! Damnit C-eeheeheeheehee Cinnan!"
"Well, Young Prince, those horse tails have gone missing yet again. Your and your friends wouldn't know where they vanished to now, would you, hmm?"
The jester was dancing about delightedly, trying to coax the girls to come forward. "My ladies, come! Please! And keep in mind that our sire is a bachelor and - forgive me for saying so, sire - a virgin!"
"GAAAH!" Daekar cried suddenly through his laughter, cheeks flushing brightly with embarrassment. "Killein! You're next in theeheeheeheeese things!! Ahahahahahahahahaha!"
"Come, ladies, give the king's cute little footsies a soft tickle. We have been reserving his best spots for you! Come, come!" A shy little maiden came forward, wringing her hands nervously, blushing as the jester led her to the helpless, quivering, giggling form of her king. Killein was asking questions loud enough so Daekar could hear him. "Now, my pretty lass, where do you want to tickle? Rumor has it that his navel is fair game and is the quick path to hysteria." He lofted his thickly painted eyebrows, grinning at the blushing girl. "Or his feet, perhaps? We hear his toes are also especially tender and look at them, just wiggling helplessly with no one to caress them. No pretty slender fingers to make them curl."
"Killeeeheeheeheein! I'm gohohohoing to kihihihihill yoohoohoo!"
"Nay, my lord, you'll be thanking me, thanking us all. Now my dear, which shall it be? Oh his tummy draws your eye, eh? My King, are you not especially prone on your belly button?"
"Nohohohohohoho! Dohohohon't you d-hare!"
Daekar gave a yelp like a dog trampled by a horse as he felt the small, smooth finger of the maiden enter into the deep well on his belly and start to wiggle. He writhed and jerked, screaming his laughter, tears rolling down - well, up! - his reddened cheeks into his hair, tossing his head about helplessly.
"AH GAAHAHAHAHAHAADS! STAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAP! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! HEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEE! GAHAHAHAHAHADS HEHEHEHEHELP MEEHEEHEEHEEHEE!"
The maid giggled softly, adding a second tiny finger, scribbling her nails around the outside ring of flesh on his belly. Daekar wept as he laughed, back arching off the platform, bucking off the jester that had been sitting on him much to the amusement of the crowd. Another group of maids, eyeing the king's stripped form as completely elligable, collected feathers from chickens and ran forth to start the torment upon the king's feet and toes, sawing the feathers back and forth through his long, slender pink digits, up and down in little zig-zags across his soles. Daekar shrieked, twisting helplessly, growing weak as the tears of mirth streamed from his eyes, his chest heaving in desperate gasps between his laughter, hands balled up into fists, struggling with his manacles. The jester leapt lightly back onto the table. "Halt! Halt! Give him rest!" He sat down on Daekar's legs again, chuckling, listening to the young king gasp and giggle, watching the desperate rise and fall of his chest. When his breathing steadied some, the jester leaned forward and lightly poked his chest, whispering to him. "You seem to be liking this, my Liege."
Daekar shook his head. "Nonono.. I.. I have.." he struggled to catch his breath still, giggling nervously, bashfully. "I have to pee."
Killein laughed. He clapped his hands, lacing his fingers together, giggling behind them. "I will make you a deal, Sire! We shall tickle you until you relieve yourself and then your punishment will be over, eh?"
Daekar groaned. "Oh please no, Killein. Please. You've already told them I'm virginal and now you're going to humiliate me further with making me wet my trousers? You jesters are the devil reincarnate."
Killein chuckled. "All right, Sire. But. We send you to be relieved and you come back and it's another tearful session with your belly button, eh?"
Daekar groaned again. "Oh please, Killein."
The jester grinned, leaned forward, teasing the king's navel with his long, purple nails. Daekar laughed and bucked, thrashing wildly. "Okay! Okay! I-I-Ihihihihihi'll do ihihihihit! PLEEHEEHEEHEEASE! KILLEEHEEHEEIN! STAHAHAHAHAP!"
Daekar was unshackled and half-carried to a small grouping of brushes in the healer's garden, propped up against a chuckling guard as he relieved himself. The guard, Captain Darrow, was of Daekar's father's army before he died and had trained Daekar when he was a child. "Perhaps I should have done this when you were younger, working on your endurance," he said, patting and brushing Daekar's hair fondly.
Daekar rubbed his aching ribs, then his cheeks, groaning softly. "Oh don't make me go back, please. I can't take much more."
"Just a little while longer, my King, and then you get to torment that devious jester. And," he chuckled gently, "with the news of your virginity, there are several maidens wishing to be strapped in your place and have you tickle them."
Daekar blushed again. "I can't believe Killein told them that."
"Tis to your credit, sire. It means you seek holy union with a woman before such intimacy and giving of your spirit."
"Oh pish posh. You know to all of them that it means I either can't 'rise to the occasion' or that I've never had a woman to give me the chance. By the by, how long have you all been planning this?"
"A couple weeks, my King. You are growing naive in your old age." He chuckled, nudging Daekar's aching ribs, causing him to yelp and flinch back.
He caught his breath again, gave a sigh. "I very much doubt Hell has much worse torments than this."
Captain Darrow only grinned, began to lead him back to the festival. "Just look how happy it's made them to see you laugh, my young Sire. Is this not worth it to make them happy?"
Daekar sighed once more, but smiled. He found it easy to smile now after screeching with helpless laughter for so long, even managed a chuckle. "Justsolong as this doesn't become an annual thing."
Captain Darrow helped him back onto the platform and strapped him down as he sighed and relaxed his back against the wood, curved to cradle his back instead of corners biting into his spine. Daekar gave a wan smirk to the captain before his face contorted with laughter - the maiden was the first to attack this time and she went at it with a vengence, scribbling her nails of one hand around his navel and up and down his firm stomach, fingers wiggling lightly inside the depression of his belly button.
Daekar writhed and laughed in his confinement, his squeals and shrieks nearly drowning out the Captain's chuckling voice in his own ear. "Nay, nay, not annual. Just monthly, Sire."
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