Dave2112
Level of Cherry Feather
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- Apr 17, 2001
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(Winner: 2002 Golden Feather Award - Best Fiction Story)
A fitful sleep coupled with low-level anxiety were two things that a Torturer did not need. Torture, at its most effective, required much more than the average person realized. A good night’s rest, top physical performance and decades of experience culminated in what amounted to a human machine under the best of circumstances, and Jin was the best. This was why the previous night’s tossing and turning were so unlike the Master Torturer.
Jin threw his legs over the edge of his small but sufficient bed, pulled on a pair of the black hide pants of which he owned four and began to heat the water that would be his morning coffee. The fact that he even had coffee available was a testament to his relatively high station within the walls of La Vega. Supplies of most of life’s amenities were in high demand in general, but out here in the desert that swept from the shorelines of the Elay ruins to the banks of the Great Mispi River, the luxury of coffee was reserved for those who provided some great service to Lord Meron, settler and overseer of La Vega.
Perhaps in the Old World a torturer wouldn’t be considered a high station, but these days it ranked in the Inner Circle. With so few whole people and even fewer land-wide laws, the ability to bend a servant, enemy or spy to your own way of thinking was considered a high art. Any glow-sick wanderer could pick up a tree branch and beat the living crap out of another individual, but to make someone wish you’d beat them after a few hours was something else altogether. This was what separated torment from true Torture. And Jin was very adept at Torture.
So, he asked himself, why the restless sleep? It wasn’t the “Subject” he would be receiving today, he knew that. Yes, he’d had important figures under his hands before and knew what it was like to walk the thin line between Torture and Termination. The one being left in his special brand of care today would require a certain touch to be sure, but that’s not what bothered him.
It was the Apprentice. Why did he need to take on another, today of all days? Apparently this young man was very good, skilled at what he did, but still needed to refine his art. From what Jin had heard, the Torturer from Nork had passed on and this young man was acting as Head until his Mastership. He must be good, Jin told himself, as a place the size of Nork wouldn’t hand over the reins of discipline to just anyone. Maybe out in the Plains towns where men of profession were scarce, but not in Nork. And now this person was being sent across the Vast Waste, beyond the Mispi and all the way out to La Vega to finish his training under Jin. Not only would he have to Torture today’s delicate guest with the distraction of another person about, but whatever the Apprentice took back with him to Nork would reflect on his own talent and reputation. No pressure, eh?
Jin took time to prepare himself in the few hours before the arrival of the young man. He went over the papers given him by Lord Meron’s messengers concerning both him and the Subject of today’s work. First to the Subject…
Name: Irrelevant. Transgression: Refusal of Concubineship to Lord Meron. Hmmm, Jin thought, a female. Must be a spritely one to refuse a place within the Inner Circle with all of the protection the position would offer. As he read further, more to pass the time than to glean anything that he didn’t already know, he was taken aback at the actual incident that had led the young woman to be in his impending care. Assault on a City Lord, attempted escape, posession of a weapon and theft of said weapon. Now why would anyone go to those lengths to escape a life of safety? Servitude, yes…but safety nonetheless. Lord Meron wasn’t the nicest thing to look at, but who really was these days? Half the people were glow-sick, many of the rest underfed or developing any number of new unidentified maladies and the well-off tended to be obese from living off of the work of the Lesser Class. Add his obesity to the lack of really clean water and Lord Meron could be considered a less-than-desirable bed-mate. Jin read further and hovered his eyes over the words after the heading of “Sentence”…
…Markless Torture, 1 Day.
Perhaps this was why he was taking on a new Apprentice at this particular time. The craft of Torture required many skills. Most were common knowledge, but taken to heights of perfection by the Torturer class. There were a few skills and practices, however, that were secret rites known only to the Torturers themselves. Even City Lords would not ask the secrets of Markless Torture. To even inquire was punishable by death, to any and all save the Torturer class…and even then only under direct supervision by a Master. Those sentenced to Markless Torture were usually rendered silent to keep them from ever speaking of their ordeal. Lesser subjects usually had their tongues removed, more important ones were often subjected to the Silencing performed by one of Meron’s surgeons. Something about severing the vocal cords, but Jin knew little of this. It wouldn’t do to have former subjects running around telling others about their ordeal, as this would take away the mystery and fear of the procedure. All that the average person knew was that being sentenced to Markless Torture was something to avoid. Those that came back were forever changed and endlessly obedient. How it was accomplished was a mystery, a terrible mystery, one that Jin intended to keep secret.
As he lit the torches on the walls of the underground stone chamber, Jin reread the information given him regarding his new Apprentice. Son of Lord Kilton of New Rome, apprenticed under Farn of Nork until Farn’s recent death. Practicing Torturer of Nork and in need of instruction in the last art to complete his training…the Markless Torture.
So, Jin would have to instruct the young man while ultimately breaking the female subject to Lord Meron’s will. Or just punishing her, he didn’t know which. The reason she was being sent to him was none of his concern. He was to put her to the torture for the day, and that’s all he needed to know. The reason or the hoped-for outcome were someone else’s problem.
***********************************************************
Kile held the torch high and followed the meandering passageway, remembering the directions given him by Lord Meron’s assistant. They were simple: keep going downward until you can’t go any lower, then knock four times on the large wooden door. Say nothing until greeted by the Torturer. It seemed to Kile that he was descending lower than he should and was starting to think of turning around to see if he’d missed a passageway. However, his senses took over and he continued downward. What kind of Apprentice would he make if he couldn’t even follow simple directions? And he wasn’t just learning from any Torturer today…he was to learn the secret form from Jin of La Vega, considered by many to be the best. As the saying went; “When Jin tortures one, one stay tortured.”
The tall young man pulled his long black hair into a ponytail as he stood before the long-awaited door. It was a sign of respect to his Master, whose own hair would be flowing loose in the braids of Mastership. After the four loud knocks on the thick door went momentarily unanswered, Kile thought he might have the wrong place, but then how many iron-bound wooden doors could there be in a chamber dug 500 feet under the desert floor? After a few long moments, the door swung open and Jin stood before his new Apprentice. He was an imposing sight, even to the well-built six-footer that was Kile from Nork. Jin was a man of almost seven feet, his flowing brownish-red hair interspersed with long braids showing his station. The man’s chest was bare and reminded Kile of two slabs of rare meat nailed to a tree. The only clothing on the man was the pair of black leather pants that screamed at the seams as they fought to contain the massive individual.
“You are here,” Jin spoke in a tone far calmer than expected from a man of his fearsome size, “I trust your journey was uneventful if not pleasant?”
“Yes,” Kile replied as he entered the chamber and set down the bag containing his tools, “I had the pleasure of seeing the fabled Torn Mountains and crossing the Mispi at Sulphur Point, but at least there were no…unpleasantries.”
“Good, good…” Jin replied. Good for any roving bandits, he thought. Even though the young Apprentice traveled alone, he knew that anyone daring enough to try to overtake him would meet a swift end. Torturers were among the few classes that trained with weapons as a skill, and even an Apprentice could be more than a match for a band of plains-dwelling nomads.
“Would you like to inspect my tools, Master Jin?” Kile asked.
“Set them on the table in the corner, young Kile,” Jin answered offhandedly, “you won’t be needing them.”
Kile stood, momentarily startled. Was he not to learn the secrets of the Markless Torture today? What kind of torture required no tools or instruments?
“I see how you stand confused,” Jin replied to the unasked question, “fear not, Apprentice…all will be revealed. But before we start, I believe you have something to say?”
Ah yes, Kile thought, Jin was known for his adherence to the Codes of Craft. Kile had run the words over in his mind a thousand times on his journey over the broken lands of Merica and stood before the giant man to recite the Pact.
“I, Kile of Nork, Apprentice myself to Jin of La Vega in the Art of Torture. I accept his Rule and his Word and wish nothing but to learn from his expertise. I swear upon my life that the secrets of the Art shall remain secret. I further swear that I forfeit my own life should the Secrets ever escape my lips.”
“Very well,” Jin replied, “I accept you as Apprentice and will train you. I understand you are already quite well-versed, so perhaps we should begin right away.”
“Do we not have to secure the Subject first, Master Jin?” Kile asked.
“No,” Jin said quickly, “Once you are a Master, there are others to do that for you. No energy should be wasted on binding the Subject. You are to be a Torturer, not a Jailer. She is ready…”
Jin rapped his large knuckles on a small bronze plate that reverberated inside the stone chamber. The clang was answered by the opening of a door in the back of the room. Two men wearing Jailer’s markings wheeled in a small platform on wheels, covered in a thick cloth tarp. It was as if a fine piece of recovered art from the 22nd were being placed on display. The men said nothing, parked the item in the exact center of the room, bowed before Jin and then to Kile and left as soundlessly as they had entered.
“Our subject,” Jin began as he placed his hands on the tarp and began unfastening the clasps along the base of the platform, “is a female of early years, thought to be mid-twenties. Chosen to be a concubine and breeder to Lord Meron, she refused, sought escape and wounded two officials with a weapon of men, and a stolen one at that. She has been sentenced to Markless Torture until the sun sets. We will receive word when that time arrives from a messenger above. Let us meet our subject…”
Jin tore off the thick cloth as one would unveil a prized sculpture. One quick movement ended the mystery of the contents of their package. Kile stood back and took in the perfection of La Vega’s Jailer class. The young woman was strapped to an ingenious framework of thick wood. She was on her knees in the center of an A-Frame restraint, the quality much better than those in Nork. Her feet were behind her, ankles lashed tightly together. Her calves were on a slight incline, feet hanging over the rear edge of the device. The sizing was perfect, as if the device were crafted just for her. The top of her feet rested against the wood of the device as the thinnest leather straps held her toes in place against the unforgiving restraint. This arched her soles somewhat, robbing her of the ability to even wriggle her toes.
Her body was held tightly in place by the rest of the device. At the top of the wooden frame was an angled cross-piece where her elbows were strapped down. Her arms bent at the elbows and were pulled down, now pointing at the floor. The thin wrists were tied together with countless passes of thick rope and then tied to a steel loop in the back of the frame. This position arched her body a little and caused her ample chest to heave forward. Cross-pieces of wood were in position to strap her thighs to, and this was done with cruel precision. Straps were placed a few inched up her arms, over the biceps, to prevent any leverage there. The entire frame tilted back just enough to put the Subject’s body into a tight arch. There was no movement possible. The function of this device was clear; to provide maximum body access with absolute minimal movement. Even the young woman’s fingers were tied together with thin twine.
What really took Kile’s breath away for a moment was the headgear. He had no idea what features the girl had to offer, as they were hidden by a leather hood. Again, it was as if the Jailers had created the gear for this woman only. It was like a second skin. The hood clung tightly to her head and face, covering her eyes, her ears and her hair. A series of the tiniest rings were embedded around what used to be an opening for the mouth. That opening was now lashed shut, thin black cord looped through the tiny rings, effectively sewing her up into silence. Kile has seen hoods like this before, although not of this quality, and knew that the Subject’s mouth was filled with cloth, rubber or some other gagging material before the hood was sewn closed. The finality of her bondage was a strap around the forehead of the hood, which pinned the Subject’s head back to a cross-piece in the cruel framework.
He stared for a moment at what he could see of her. Even someone as cold and merciless as Kile was trained to be had no choice but to appreciate the rarity of the perfection before him. No wonder Lord Meron desired her for breeding. She bore no marks of glow-sickness, or any other malady for that matter. Her breasts were firm and high, accentuated by the restrictive position. The smooth lines of her ribs could be seen stretching against the creamy and perfect skin that encased them. Her flat belly was taut and firm, a slim waist resting above perfect hips, which also poked against the tightness of her bondage. Her trapped legs were long and slim, ending in those pinkish-colored feet so cruelly lashed back to the device which ensnared her body. At the other end, the perfection of the Subject’s ass would probably cause a gasp in lesser individuals. She was a vision of wonder among a land of broken and desperate people…a rarity of the highest order. Why her will was to be broken was now clear. She would be Lord Meron’s prized possesion and the envy of Lordship Harems from Elay to Deecee.
***********************************************************
The huge man that was La Vega’s Torturer walked around the framework, looking over the body of the female like a six-legged plainsbeast would stalk a herd of gazzelopes…
…looking for weaknesses.
Kile was experienced enough to know what the Master was doing, besides hunting for chinks in the proverbial armor. He was letting his presence be known to the Subject. Jin brushed just close enough to her body to let her know he was there. It was apparent in the subtle shifts of her body that she was well aware of the figure encircling her. Kile knew that this would raise the anticipation level of the Subject and would plant the seeds of fear that were the Torturer’s truest weapon. That fear would soon become panic, then terror. Without touching the victim, a good Torturer could cause damage far more insidious than any whip or poker could. Psychological damage. Once the victim was in a state of fear, the pain would be greater, the punishment more effective.
As Kile watched the massive man toy with his capture, his mind wandered. Now, this was a rarity indeed, as Kile was well in control of his emotions. He knew the cold detachment of the Craft and was already a Master at it. However, this Subject had him intrigued. The body, of course, was magnificent…rarer than clear water these days. Along this path Kile’s mind wandered, from her wriggling feet, toes gently pulling against the twine encircling them, to her delicate wrists, trapped and pinned in helpless supplication. He wondered what kind of face lay under the Torturer’s hood. Before he knew it, he had spoken a stray though aloud.
“What do you think she looks like, Master Jin?” he inquired.
“I thought I was getting a professional!” Jin boomed back at him, ceasing his study long enough to lock Kile in a gaze of cold steel, “I would have thought you’d know better!”
“My apologies, Master, for the insult to the Craft and the waste of your time.” Kile said as he lowered his gaze. Jin was right.
“Let me remind you Apprentice,” Jin said as he began to lightly caress the bound fingertips of the Subject, “that the Subject before you has no identity. She has no name, no features, no reason to exist except for Torture. Her face is covered for this very reason. She is not a person, she is a body, a palette on which we will paint a portrait of suffering. She is only even a “she” for reasons of anatomy related to our Craft. This is for our benefit, not the Subject’s.”
“Again, my apologies, please share your expertise with me.” Kile dutifully replied.
“Very well. I will introduce you to the Markless Torture. This information may only be spoken of to your own apprentice or another Master. The mystery surrounding its effectiveness is legendary. No one knows what could possibly instill such a deep level of obedience or cause such unspoken torment without leaving a mark on the body. Lords call for it, but even they are ignorant of its source. As I begin, notice how I stroke the body of the Subject with the lightest of strokes. Start here, at the fingertips and slowly travel down the anatomy. This heightens the tactile response, making the nerve endings more sensitive to stimulus.”
As Kile watched, he could see a slight response from their victim as Jin’s fingers worked their way down her arms. The Master’s strokes were causing no harm, but the slight wriggling of the Subject attested to some level of discomfort. As Jin stroked the soft skin where the arms met the torso, a few quicker flinches were observed. Jin stroked farther down her body, over her ribcage and down her waist. More gentle probing covered the girl’s stomach and ass, and finally Jin caressed the legs of the girl with a touch usually reserved for mating.
“Come,” Jin beckoned his Apprentice, “join me. Watch and follow. Listen and do.”
Kile approached the bound young woman (at least he thought she was young by the look of her skin, but this was a thought he had just learned to quickly banish). He touched the skin of her forearms as Jin began to speak.
“Yes, that’s good. Notice how she wriggles her body, already trying to escape. Listen to the low moans as her mind tries to grasp what is happening to her. Robbed of her senses, she can only feel. Sight, sound, speech and hearing are lost to her…there is only this.”
Soon both men were freely roaming the girl’s body with light caresses as the Subject took to moaning louder under the gagging hood.
“And now,” Jin said, “observe…”
As Kile slowed his stroking, Jin curved his fingers slightly, making loose claws. Kile noticed the man’s fingernails had been coaxed to grow somewhat beyond the tips. Those nails made a slow upward arc, resting over the skin of the girl’s armpits.
“With her sense of touch heightened, the cruelest thing would not be fire or lashes…but tickling.”
Kile shook his head for a moment to make sure he had heard correctly. Was this the Markless Torture? How could it be? Nothing as innocent as tickling could possibly break a will so thoroughly, could it? He refrained from voicing these opinions, however, as questioning the Master now would not be wise. Instead he watched and listened.
“This area gives the best first-response. The feeling of helplessness in the arms becomes distressful to the Subject as her arms are tickled. See how I stroke the length first and then slowly speed up? Again, this is a sense-heightening practice. You never want to start out too fast, as the Subject may either pass out too soon or become accustomed to the sensation.”
Kile watched fascinated as Jin tickled the wriggling young woman’s armpits, gaining ground on her senses and eliciting the first squeals from behind the black hood. His fingertips stroked up and down the smooth skin, often erupting into a flurry of movement that caused the Subject’s body to hitch. The sounds from the gag were starting to become recognizable as laughter.
“Here,” Jin ordered, “you try your hand as I move to the next level.”
Kile willingly obeyed and started to apprehensively tickle the bound victim’s underarms in the fashion he’d seen Jin use. As he got into the act, he felt surprisingly comfortable. He was beginning to see how this could be maddening. Up close now, he could see the muscles in the girl’s arms tighten and fight against the ropes and straps. Only a person suffering would seek such desperate escape. As Kile tickled and tickled the victim, he observed Jin’s next step.
The big man’s hands were clawed around the ribcage of the Subject. Each thick finger rested along a protruding rib. With an eye trained to notice the slightest movements of the anatomy, he could tell by Jin’s fingers that he was applying an ever-increasing amount of pressure. Then the fingers started to move. Slowly at first, the Master massaged the ribs, then stroked their lengths. More pressure and individual finger movement was added with each brief massage, each stroke of a rib. Soon, Jin was tickling the victims’ ribs full-force, causing what were once screams to filter through the leather hood wrapped around the girl’s head.
“MMMNNNPPHHH!!! MMMnnnHHMMnnnMMMM!!!!MMMRRGHH!!!MMPPHH!!”
“Does this bother you? Does it tickle? Do you wish--”
“No!” Jin barked quietly, “do not speak to the Subject. It is not necessary.”
“Can she hear us, Master?” Kile queried.
“Not very well. I meant that it was not necessary for you. Concentrate on the task at hand, you will be more effective. Your words are wasted.”
“Yes, Master.” Kile replied. He’d noted that Jin had spoken in a tone of teaching this time, rather than confrontation, and started to feel a true part of this experience. Jin was right, it was time to learn.
The Master Torturer of La Vega motioned his Apprentice to assume tickling the ribcage that he had moved away from. Kile grasped the smooth, hard ribs and began where Jin had started, rather than where he left off. He was experienced enough to know that lessening the torment, just to raise the level of discomfort again would prolong the suffering of the Subject in any form of Torture, even this unorthodox one. He stroked as he had watched the Master do, tickling her ever more with each passing moment. With more of her body to feel, Kile could sense the distress in his victim. Her thrashings were becoming more desperate as his tickling hit home. He moved around her back slightly and began to gently stroke the smooth skin there. This seemed to tickle her in a somewhat different way, as her laughter turned to muted giggles as her back was tickled.
Jin noticed this. Good, he thought, the boy is getting creative, thinking freely. Maybe he’ll work out after all.
Leaving the apprentice to his work, Jin eyed his next target, the Subject’s taut, flat stomach. He was a veteran of Markless Torture and knew this to be a particularly horrible spot when tormented properly. He traced small circles over the drum-tight flesh of the girl’s belly…up and down the sides, back and forth and over the genital area. His fingers flowed over each curve and hollow, each rise and dip with precision known only to his Order. After softening up his victim, he called for his Apprentice’s attention
“This area can be devastating to the Subject when tickled, and there are many ways to cause suffering. You can place your thumbs here, to each side of the navel, and your fingers here, around the back of the waist and slowly squeeze…”
Jin pinched the girl’s waist, at first slowly and then with quicker tickles. Soon he was tickling her quite rapidly and hard. The awful sounds emanating from her gagged mouth were almost pitiful to Kile.
Almost.
“Use your hands on that side while I tickle the other,” Jin ordered his Apprentice, “I want you to feel how this works.”
Kile complied and grasped the Subject’s waist with his left hand, clawed around the slimness of her belly.
“Can you feel the muscle hardening under the soft skin?” Jin asked rhetorically, “this is a paradox to the victim. When tickled, the involuntary response is to tighten these muscles. However, this increases the ticklishness of the Subject, thereby helping her to contribute to her own misery.”
Jin tickled furiously while watching both his Apprentice and the reactions of the Subject. Again, he was impressed by the sudden resourcefulness of the young man. Kile was pinching the girl’s side with one hand while fluttering light tickles over her taut belly with the other. A born multi-sensationist. Impressive. The two men treated the helplessly tied young woman to a cornicopia of torture as her stretched midriff was assaulted. She screamed into the gag, only to have dull thuds strike her muffled eardrums. She could hear little of her own pleas, left only to feel the cruel torments that four hands were inflicting upon her. Jin was now stroking the tender area above her genitals while Kile tickled her waist above the protruding hipbones. He was become quite good at digging in just so deep, and then backing off again for another flurry of wild tickling over the flat surface of her belly.
“MMMNNNPPHH!!!!! MMPPLLLZZZZ!!!!!MMMM…MMMRRRRR!!!!”
The middle of her body could move little, but with what room she had, she squirmed like a snake speared through. After what may have been minutes or may have been days, the men stopped. Unknown to the Subject, the large one spoke again.
“And now,” he said to Kile, “the final assault. Of this phase, at least. There is yet one part left untouched. You will assist me…as we have two helpless feet to torture.”
Kile obediently followed his Master to the back of the bondage frame. The Subject’s feet hung over the rear edge of the device, ankles lashed down with thick straps, toes tied back to a point slightly underneath the raised surface behind the frame. Her bare soles were pulled tight and facing him as he got on his knees. He moved to the left to give his Master room.
“Take one of these,” Jin said as he handed Kile the only instrument they would use today. A long, stiff feather. “Use the point of the quill at first, like this…”
Jin placed the tip of the quill at the base of the Subject’s right big toe and steadily drew it down the length of her foot. Kile followed suit, first drawing the sharp quill along the base of the tied toes, then descending over the ball, down the arch and over the heel. Once more, Jin was impressed with the young man’s initiative. Matching each other, Master and Apprentice drew the quills again and again over the helpless soles of the Subject. Tittering giggles could be heard escaping the gagging hood as the speed of the quills increased. Jin turned his feather around and let the soft point of the flexible feather touch the girl’s arch. Kile did the same. As one they tickled her bare feet with the feathers in a flurry of torment. They sought out every nerve ending, every weak spot. Over the heels with light scratches, along the soles with long tickling strokes, between the helpless toes with the tiniest of tickling agonies. All the while, the girl thrashed against her bonds, screamed into her gag, and suffered the fate of the Markless Torture.
“And now,” Jin addressed Kile, “Return to the body of the victim and let’s see what you’ve learned.”
Kile stood up, Jin taking over his duties with both feet with the ease of a Master, and faced the perfect body of the naked, bound woman. His fingers clawed as they slowly approached the soft skin of the tied girl. His mind went inside of hers, the sign of a true Torturer. He imagined her terror. No, he felt her terror. The apprehension, the anticipation. He knew that she felt a set of hands leave her body. He knew she was fretfully awaiting their return. As his flexing fingers closed in on her trapped form, he understood the power of this Form. It caused no damage to the body, leaving the girl in shape to return to the Lord. It did not soil the perfection of the female form, a rarer and rarer sight in these times. It would not do to mark the Subject, when her body was what the Lord truly wanted of her. And it left that sense of mystery that has become Legend. It was the infamous Markless Torture…
…and he now knew of it.
He showed his appreciation of his new station by putting into practice all that he had learned from the Master. As Jin tickled the Subject’s feet, Kile attacked her body with all of his skill. The clawed hands first stroked over her tight body, scratching and light scraping over her armpits, her breasts, her ribs and belly. Up and down her long flanks he stroked her every nerve. His fingers began wriggling as he tickled the length of her. One hand paused at her waist while the other furiously tickled her other side from hip to elbow in a continuing pattern. The hand on her waist started to slowly and deeply massage the muscles of the girl’s belly. He played her like an instrument. When it started to truly tickle, he felt the muscles tighten. It was then that he sprung into action, tickling her hard. He was merciless, digging in hard and tickling fast. Soon, both hands were engaged in the torture of the tied woman’s midriff as howls of muted and muffled horror sought to burst the fabric of her hood.
Jin was using the feather in one hand and his own fingers of the other to tickle the poor victim’s bare feet, their immobile soles helpless against the attack. Master and Apprentice moved as one, one terrible Machine, designed for Torture…
**********************************************
As the messenger arrived with the four knocks to announce the setting of the sun, both Torturers were admittedly tired. The Subject had lost consciousness on several occasions and had to be put through the torture from the beginning. Even the strong muscles of the Torturers had their limits. Kile felt as if he’d carried a brick in his grasp for a ten-mile walk. He could barely move his fingers. Jin was more adept, but still admitted to some discomfort. The real discomfort, however, belonged to the slumped form suspended by her bonds. The strap along her forehead was removed and the covering over her mouth unfastened. She was ordered not to speak, or face the Markless Torture until the rising of the next Sun. Other than her hitched breathing, she was silent.
“Do we remove her tongue, Master?” Kile asked.
“Not this one,” Jin replied, “Lord Meron has said he will keep her alone, away from the rest of the Harem. She will see no one but him…and us if need be.”
At that, the girl let out a gasp, but caught her shriek in her throat before it could sentence her to more of the horrible tickle-torture.
As her form was taken away to whatever fate Lord Meron had for her, Kile reflected on his day. He was now a Torturer. He had more to learn, but he knew the secret of Markless Torture. He could go anywhere in Merica and not only find work, but teach others as well.
But as he thought about this, the small part of his mind that once wondered what the girl looked like sprung back to life. Jin had said that the girl was arrogant, one of the reasons they all found their way to his chambers. No doubt that arrogance would betray the girl sometime soon. She would not like to be isolated in service to La Vega’s resident ruling slob, and was sure to perform some small transgression. Kile knew that these Lords actually made things up at times just to enjoy torturing their slaves, so the chances of this girl never returning to this Chamber were slim.
She’d be back.
He guessed that it couldn’t hurt to continue his Apprenticeship in La Vega for a while…
A fitful sleep coupled with low-level anxiety were two things that a Torturer did not need. Torture, at its most effective, required much more than the average person realized. A good night’s rest, top physical performance and decades of experience culminated in what amounted to a human machine under the best of circumstances, and Jin was the best. This was why the previous night’s tossing and turning were so unlike the Master Torturer.
Jin threw his legs over the edge of his small but sufficient bed, pulled on a pair of the black hide pants of which he owned four and began to heat the water that would be his morning coffee. The fact that he even had coffee available was a testament to his relatively high station within the walls of La Vega. Supplies of most of life’s amenities were in high demand in general, but out here in the desert that swept from the shorelines of the Elay ruins to the banks of the Great Mispi River, the luxury of coffee was reserved for those who provided some great service to Lord Meron, settler and overseer of La Vega.
Perhaps in the Old World a torturer wouldn’t be considered a high station, but these days it ranked in the Inner Circle. With so few whole people and even fewer land-wide laws, the ability to bend a servant, enemy or spy to your own way of thinking was considered a high art. Any glow-sick wanderer could pick up a tree branch and beat the living crap out of another individual, but to make someone wish you’d beat them after a few hours was something else altogether. This was what separated torment from true Torture. And Jin was very adept at Torture.
So, he asked himself, why the restless sleep? It wasn’t the “Subject” he would be receiving today, he knew that. Yes, he’d had important figures under his hands before and knew what it was like to walk the thin line between Torture and Termination. The one being left in his special brand of care today would require a certain touch to be sure, but that’s not what bothered him.
It was the Apprentice. Why did he need to take on another, today of all days? Apparently this young man was very good, skilled at what he did, but still needed to refine his art. From what Jin had heard, the Torturer from Nork had passed on and this young man was acting as Head until his Mastership. He must be good, Jin told himself, as a place the size of Nork wouldn’t hand over the reins of discipline to just anyone. Maybe out in the Plains towns where men of profession were scarce, but not in Nork. And now this person was being sent across the Vast Waste, beyond the Mispi and all the way out to La Vega to finish his training under Jin. Not only would he have to Torture today’s delicate guest with the distraction of another person about, but whatever the Apprentice took back with him to Nork would reflect on his own talent and reputation. No pressure, eh?
Jin took time to prepare himself in the few hours before the arrival of the young man. He went over the papers given him by Lord Meron’s messengers concerning both him and the Subject of today’s work. First to the Subject…
Name: Irrelevant. Transgression: Refusal of Concubineship to Lord Meron. Hmmm, Jin thought, a female. Must be a spritely one to refuse a place within the Inner Circle with all of the protection the position would offer. As he read further, more to pass the time than to glean anything that he didn’t already know, he was taken aback at the actual incident that had led the young woman to be in his impending care. Assault on a City Lord, attempted escape, posession of a weapon and theft of said weapon. Now why would anyone go to those lengths to escape a life of safety? Servitude, yes…but safety nonetheless. Lord Meron wasn’t the nicest thing to look at, but who really was these days? Half the people were glow-sick, many of the rest underfed or developing any number of new unidentified maladies and the well-off tended to be obese from living off of the work of the Lesser Class. Add his obesity to the lack of really clean water and Lord Meron could be considered a less-than-desirable bed-mate. Jin read further and hovered his eyes over the words after the heading of “Sentence”…
…Markless Torture, 1 Day.
Perhaps this was why he was taking on a new Apprentice at this particular time. The craft of Torture required many skills. Most were common knowledge, but taken to heights of perfection by the Torturer class. There were a few skills and practices, however, that were secret rites known only to the Torturers themselves. Even City Lords would not ask the secrets of Markless Torture. To even inquire was punishable by death, to any and all save the Torturer class…and even then only under direct supervision by a Master. Those sentenced to Markless Torture were usually rendered silent to keep them from ever speaking of their ordeal. Lesser subjects usually had their tongues removed, more important ones were often subjected to the Silencing performed by one of Meron’s surgeons. Something about severing the vocal cords, but Jin knew little of this. It wouldn’t do to have former subjects running around telling others about their ordeal, as this would take away the mystery and fear of the procedure. All that the average person knew was that being sentenced to Markless Torture was something to avoid. Those that came back were forever changed and endlessly obedient. How it was accomplished was a mystery, a terrible mystery, one that Jin intended to keep secret.
As he lit the torches on the walls of the underground stone chamber, Jin reread the information given him regarding his new Apprentice. Son of Lord Kilton of New Rome, apprenticed under Farn of Nork until Farn’s recent death. Practicing Torturer of Nork and in need of instruction in the last art to complete his training…the Markless Torture.
So, Jin would have to instruct the young man while ultimately breaking the female subject to Lord Meron’s will. Or just punishing her, he didn’t know which. The reason she was being sent to him was none of his concern. He was to put her to the torture for the day, and that’s all he needed to know. The reason or the hoped-for outcome were someone else’s problem.
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Kile held the torch high and followed the meandering passageway, remembering the directions given him by Lord Meron’s assistant. They were simple: keep going downward until you can’t go any lower, then knock four times on the large wooden door. Say nothing until greeted by the Torturer. It seemed to Kile that he was descending lower than he should and was starting to think of turning around to see if he’d missed a passageway. However, his senses took over and he continued downward. What kind of Apprentice would he make if he couldn’t even follow simple directions? And he wasn’t just learning from any Torturer today…he was to learn the secret form from Jin of La Vega, considered by many to be the best. As the saying went; “When Jin tortures one, one stay tortured.”
The tall young man pulled his long black hair into a ponytail as he stood before the long-awaited door. It was a sign of respect to his Master, whose own hair would be flowing loose in the braids of Mastership. After the four loud knocks on the thick door went momentarily unanswered, Kile thought he might have the wrong place, but then how many iron-bound wooden doors could there be in a chamber dug 500 feet under the desert floor? After a few long moments, the door swung open and Jin stood before his new Apprentice. He was an imposing sight, even to the well-built six-footer that was Kile from Nork. Jin was a man of almost seven feet, his flowing brownish-red hair interspersed with long braids showing his station. The man’s chest was bare and reminded Kile of two slabs of rare meat nailed to a tree. The only clothing on the man was the pair of black leather pants that screamed at the seams as they fought to contain the massive individual.
“You are here,” Jin spoke in a tone far calmer than expected from a man of his fearsome size, “I trust your journey was uneventful if not pleasant?”
“Yes,” Kile replied as he entered the chamber and set down the bag containing his tools, “I had the pleasure of seeing the fabled Torn Mountains and crossing the Mispi at Sulphur Point, but at least there were no…unpleasantries.”
“Good, good…” Jin replied. Good for any roving bandits, he thought. Even though the young Apprentice traveled alone, he knew that anyone daring enough to try to overtake him would meet a swift end. Torturers were among the few classes that trained with weapons as a skill, and even an Apprentice could be more than a match for a band of plains-dwelling nomads.
“Would you like to inspect my tools, Master Jin?” Kile asked.
“Set them on the table in the corner, young Kile,” Jin answered offhandedly, “you won’t be needing them.”
Kile stood, momentarily startled. Was he not to learn the secrets of the Markless Torture today? What kind of torture required no tools or instruments?
“I see how you stand confused,” Jin replied to the unasked question, “fear not, Apprentice…all will be revealed. But before we start, I believe you have something to say?”
Ah yes, Kile thought, Jin was known for his adherence to the Codes of Craft. Kile had run the words over in his mind a thousand times on his journey over the broken lands of Merica and stood before the giant man to recite the Pact.
“I, Kile of Nork, Apprentice myself to Jin of La Vega in the Art of Torture. I accept his Rule and his Word and wish nothing but to learn from his expertise. I swear upon my life that the secrets of the Art shall remain secret. I further swear that I forfeit my own life should the Secrets ever escape my lips.”
“Very well,” Jin replied, “I accept you as Apprentice and will train you. I understand you are already quite well-versed, so perhaps we should begin right away.”
“Do we not have to secure the Subject first, Master Jin?” Kile asked.
“No,” Jin said quickly, “Once you are a Master, there are others to do that for you. No energy should be wasted on binding the Subject. You are to be a Torturer, not a Jailer. She is ready…”
Jin rapped his large knuckles on a small bronze plate that reverberated inside the stone chamber. The clang was answered by the opening of a door in the back of the room. Two men wearing Jailer’s markings wheeled in a small platform on wheels, covered in a thick cloth tarp. It was as if a fine piece of recovered art from the 22nd were being placed on display. The men said nothing, parked the item in the exact center of the room, bowed before Jin and then to Kile and left as soundlessly as they had entered.
“Our subject,” Jin began as he placed his hands on the tarp and began unfastening the clasps along the base of the platform, “is a female of early years, thought to be mid-twenties. Chosen to be a concubine and breeder to Lord Meron, she refused, sought escape and wounded two officials with a weapon of men, and a stolen one at that. She has been sentenced to Markless Torture until the sun sets. We will receive word when that time arrives from a messenger above. Let us meet our subject…”
Jin tore off the thick cloth as one would unveil a prized sculpture. One quick movement ended the mystery of the contents of their package. Kile stood back and took in the perfection of La Vega’s Jailer class. The young woman was strapped to an ingenious framework of thick wood. She was on her knees in the center of an A-Frame restraint, the quality much better than those in Nork. Her feet were behind her, ankles lashed tightly together. Her calves were on a slight incline, feet hanging over the rear edge of the device. The sizing was perfect, as if the device were crafted just for her. The top of her feet rested against the wood of the device as the thinnest leather straps held her toes in place against the unforgiving restraint. This arched her soles somewhat, robbing her of the ability to even wriggle her toes.
Her body was held tightly in place by the rest of the device. At the top of the wooden frame was an angled cross-piece where her elbows were strapped down. Her arms bent at the elbows and were pulled down, now pointing at the floor. The thin wrists were tied together with countless passes of thick rope and then tied to a steel loop in the back of the frame. This position arched her body a little and caused her ample chest to heave forward. Cross-pieces of wood were in position to strap her thighs to, and this was done with cruel precision. Straps were placed a few inched up her arms, over the biceps, to prevent any leverage there. The entire frame tilted back just enough to put the Subject’s body into a tight arch. There was no movement possible. The function of this device was clear; to provide maximum body access with absolute minimal movement. Even the young woman’s fingers were tied together with thin twine.
What really took Kile’s breath away for a moment was the headgear. He had no idea what features the girl had to offer, as they were hidden by a leather hood. Again, it was as if the Jailers had created the gear for this woman only. It was like a second skin. The hood clung tightly to her head and face, covering her eyes, her ears and her hair. A series of the tiniest rings were embedded around what used to be an opening for the mouth. That opening was now lashed shut, thin black cord looped through the tiny rings, effectively sewing her up into silence. Kile has seen hoods like this before, although not of this quality, and knew that the Subject’s mouth was filled with cloth, rubber or some other gagging material before the hood was sewn closed. The finality of her bondage was a strap around the forehead of the hood, which pinned the Subject’s head back to a cross-piece in the cruel framework.
He stared for a moment at what he could see of her. Even someone as cold and merciless as Kile was trained to be had no choice but to appreciate the rarity of the perfection before him. No wonder Lord Meron desired her for breeding. She bore no marks of glow-sickness, or any other malady for that matter. Her breasts were firm and high, accentuated by the restrictive position. The smooth lines of her ribs could be seen stretching against the creamy and perfect skin that encased them. Her flat belly was taut and firm, a slim waist resting above perfect hips, which also poked against the tightness of her bondage. Her trapped legs were long and slim, ending in those pinkish-colored feet so cruelly lashed back to the device which ensnared her body. At the other end, the perfection of the Subject’s ass would probably cause a gasp in lesser individuals. She was a vision of wonder among a land of broken and desperate people…a rarity of the highest order. Why her will was to be broken was now clear. She would be Lord Meron’s prized possesion and the envy of Lordship Harems from Elay to Deecee.
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The huge man that was La Vega’s Torturer walked around the framework, looking over the body of the female like a six-legged plainsbeast would stalk a herd of gazzelopes…
…looking for weaknesses.
Kile was experienced enough to know what the Master was doing, besides hunting for chinks in the proverbial armor. He was letting his presence be known to the Subject. Jin brushed just close enough to her body to let her know he was there. It was apparent in the subtle shifts of her body that she was well aware of the figure encircling her. Kile knew that this would raise the anticipation level of the Subject and would plant the seeds of fear that were the Torturer’s truest weapon. That fear would soon become panic, then terror. Without touching the victim, a good Torturer could cause damage far more insidious than any whip or poker could. Psychological damage. Once the victim was in a state of fear, the pain would be greater, the punishment more effective.
As Kile watched the massive man toy with his capture, his mind wandered. Now, this was a rarity indeed, as Kile was well in control of his emotions. He knew the cold detachment of the Craft and was already a Master at it. However, this Subject had him intrigued. The body, of course, was magnificent…rarer than clear water these days. Along this path Kile’s mind wandered, from her wriggling feet, toes gently pulling against the twine encircling them, to her delicate wrists, trapped and pinned in helpless supplication. He wondered what kind of face lay under the Torturer’s hood. Before he knew it, he had spoken a stray though aloud.
“What do you think she looks like, Master Jin?” he inquired.
“I thought I was getting a professional!” Jin boomed back at him, ceasing his study long enough to lock Kile in a gaze of cold steel, “I would have thought you’d know better!”
“My apologies, Master, for the insult to the Craft and the waste of your time.” Kile said as he lowered his gaze. Jin was right.
“Let me remind you Apprentice,” Jin said as he began to lightly caress the bound fingertips of the Subject, “that the Subject before you has no identity. She has no name, no features, no reason to exist except for Torture. Her face is covered for this very reason. She is not a person, she is a body, a palette on which we will paint a portrait of suffering. She is only even a “she” for reasons of anatomy related to our Craft. This is for our benefit, not the Subject’s.”
“Again, my apologies, please share your expertise with me.” Kile dutifully replied.
“Very well. I will introduce you to the Markless Torture. This information may only be spoken of to your own apprentice or another Master. The mystery surrounding its effectiveness is legendary. No one knows what could possibly instill such a deep level of obedience or cause such unspoken torment without leaving a mark on the body. Lords call for it, but even they are ignorant of its source. As I begin, notice how I stroke the body of the Subject with the lightest of strokes. Start here, at the fingertips and slowly travel down the anatomy. This heightens the tactile response, making the nerve endings more sensitive to stimulus.”
As Kile watched, he could see a slight response from their victim as Jin’s fingers worked their way down her arms. The Master’s strokes were causing no harm, but the slight wriggling of the Subject attested to some level of discomfort. As Jin stroked the soft skin where the arms met the torso, a few quicker flinches were observed. Jin stroked farther down her body, over her ribcage and down her waist. More gentle probing covered the girl’s stomach and ass, and finally Jin caressed the legs of the girl with a touch usually reserved for mating.
“Come,” Jin beckoned his Apprentice, “join me. Watch and follow. Listen and do.”
Kile approached the bound young woman (at least he thought she was young by the look of her skin, but this was a thought he had just learned to quickly banish). He touched the skin of her forearms as Jin began to speak.
“Yes, that’s good. Notice how she wriggles her body, already trying to escape. Listen to the low moans as her mind tries to grasp what is happening to her. Robbed of her senses, she can only feel. Sight, sound, speech and hearing are lost to her…there is only this.”
Soon both men were freely roaming the girl’s body with light caresses as the Subject took to moaning louder under the gagging hood.
“And now,” Jin said, “observe…”
As Kile slowed his stroking, Jin curved his fingers slightly, making loose claws. Kile noticed the man’s fingernails had been coaxed to grow somewhat beyond the tips. Those nails made a slow upward arc, resting over the skin of the girl’s armpits.
“With her sense of touch heightened, the cruelest thing would not be fire or lashes…but tickling.”
Kile shook his head for a moment to make sure he had heard correctly. Was this the Markless Torture? How could it be? Nothing as innocent as tickling could possibly break a will so thoroughly, could it? He refrained from voicing these opinions, however, as questioning the Master now would not be wise. Instead he watched and listened.
“This area gives the best first-response. The feeling of helplessness in the arms becomes distressful to the Subject as her arms are tickled. See how I stroke the length first and then slowly speed up? Again, this is a sense-heightening practice. You never want to start out too fast, as the Subject may either pass out too soon or become accustomed to the sensation.”
Kile watched fascinated as Jin tickled the wriggling young woman’s armpits, gaining ground on her senses and eliciting the first squeals from behind the black hood. His fingertips stroked up and down the smooth skin, often erupting into a flurry of movement that caused the Subject’s body to hitch. The sounds from the gag were starting to become recognizable as laughter.
“Here,” Jin ordered, “you try your hand as I move to the next level.”
Kile willingly obeyed and started to apprehensively tickle the bound victim’s underarms in the fashion he’d seen Jin use. As he got into the act, he felt surprisingly comfortable. He was beginning to see how this could be maddening. Up close now, he could see the muscles in the girl’s arms tighten and fight against the ropes and straps. Only a person suffering would seek such desperate escape. As Kile tickled and tickled the victim, he observed Jin’s next step.
The big man’s hands were clawed around the ribcage of the Subject. Each thick finger rested along a protruding rib. With an eye trained to notice the slightest movements of the anatomy, he could tell by Jin’s fingers that he was applying an ever-increasing amount of pressure. Then the fingers started to move. Slowly at first, the Master massaged the ribs, then stroked their lengths. More pressure and individual finger movement was added with each brief massage, each stroke of a rib. Soon, Jin was tickling the victims’ ribs full-force, causing what were once screams to filter through the leather hood wrapped around the girl’s head.
“MMMNNNPPHHH!!! MMMnnnHHMMnnnMMMM!!!!MMMRRGHH!!!MMPPHH!!”
“Does this bother you? Does it tickle? Do you wish--”
“No!” Jin barked quietly, “do not speak to the Subject. It is not necessary.”
“Can she hear us, Master?” Kile queried.
“Not very well. I meant that it was not necessary for you. Concentrate on the task at hand, you will be more effective. Your words are wasted.”
“Yes, Master.” Kile replied. He’d noted that Jin had spoken in a tone of teaching this time, rather than confrontation, and started to feel a true part of this experience. Jin was right, it was time to learn.
The Master Torturer of La Vega motioned his Apprentice to assume tickling the ribcage that he had moved away from. Kile grasped the smooth, hard ribs and began where Jin had started, rather than where he left off. He was experienced enough to know that lessening the torment, just to raise the level of discomfort again would prolong the suffering of the Subject in any form of Torture, even this unorthodox one. He stroked as he had watched the Master do, tickling her ever more with each passing moment. With more of her body to feel, Kile could sense the distress in his victim. Her thrashings were becoming more desperate as his tickling hit home. He moved around her back slightly and began to gently stroke the smooth skin there. This seemed to tickle her in a somewhat different way, as her laughter turned to muted giggles as her back was tickled.
Jin noticed this. Good, he thought, the boy is getting creative, thinking freely. Maybe he’ll work out after all.
Leaving the apprentice to his work, Jin eyed his next target, the Subject’s taut, flat stomach. He was a veteran of Markless Torture and knew this to be a particularly horrible spot when tormented properly. He traced small circles over the drum-tight flesh of the girl’s belly…up and down the sides, back and forth and over the genital area. His fingers flowed over each curve and hollow, each rise and dip with precision known only to his Order. After softening up his victim, he called for his Apprentice’s attention
“This area can be devastating to the Subject when tickled, and there are many ways to cause suffering. You can place your thumbs here, to each side of the navel, and your fingers here, around the back of the waist and slowly squeeze…”
Jin pinched the girl’s waist, at first slowly and then with quicker tickles. Soon he was tickling her quite rapidly and hard. The awful sounds emanating from her gagged mouth were almost pitiful to Kile.
Almost.
“Use your hands on that side while I tickle the other,” Jin ordered his Apprentice, “I want you to feel how this works.”
Kile complied and grasped the Subject’s waist with his left hand, clawed around the slimness of her belly.
“Can you feel the muscle hardening under the soft skin?” Jin asked rhetorically, “this is a paradox to the victim. When tickled, the involuntary response is to tighten these muscles. However, this increases the ticklishness of the Subject, thereby helping her to contribute to her own misery.”
Jin tickled furiously while watching both his Apprentice and the reactions of the Subject. Again, he was impressed by the sudden resourcefulness of the young man. Kile was pinching the girl’s side with one hand while fluttering light tickles over her taut belly with the other. A born multi-sensationist. Impressive. The two men treated the helplessly tied young woman to a cornicopia of torture as her stretched midriff was assaulted. She screamed into the gag, only to have dull thuds strike her muffled eardrums. She could hear little of her own pleas, left only to feel the cruel torments that four hands were inflicting upon her. Jin was now stroking the tender area above her genitals while Kile tickled her waist above the protruding hipbones. He was become quite good at digging in just so deep, and then backing off again for another flurry of wild tickling over the flat surface of her belly.
“MMMNNNPPHH!!!!! MMPPLLLZZZZ!!!!!MMMM…MMMRRRRR!!!!”
The middle of her body could move little, but with what room she had, she squirmed like a snake speared through. After what may have been minutes or may have been days, the men stopped. Unknown to the Subject, the large one spoke again.
“And now,” he said to Kile, “the final assault. Of this phase, at least. There is yet one part left untouched. You will assist me…as we have two helpless feet to torture.”
Kile obediently followed his Master to the back of the bondage frame. The Subject’s feet hung over the rear edge of the device, ankles lashed down with thick straps, toes tied back to a point slightly underneath the raised surface behind the frame. Her bare soles were pulled tight and facing him as he got on his knees. He moved to the left to give his Master room.
“Take one of these,” Jin said as he handed Kile the only instrument they would use today. A long, stiff feather. “Use the point of the quill at first, like this…”
Jin placed the tip of the quill at the base of the Subject’s right big toe and steadily drew it down the length of her foot. Kile followed suit, first drawing the sharp quill along the base of the tied toes, then descending over the ball, down the arch and over the heel. Once more, Jin was impressed with the young man’s initiative. Matching each other, Master and Apprentice drew the quills again and again over the helpless soles of the Subject. Tittering giggles could be heard escaping the gagging hood as the speed of the quills increased. Jin turned his feather around and let the soft point of the flexible feather touch the girl’s arch. Kile did the same. As one they tickled her bare feet with the feathers in a flurry of torment. They sought out every nerve ending, every weak spot. Over the heels with light scratches, along the soles with long tickling strokes, between the helpless toes with the tiniest of tickling agonies. All the while, the girl thrashed against her bonds, screamed into her gag, and suffered the fate of the Markless Torture.
“And now,” Jin addressed Kile, “Return to the body of the victim and let’s see what you’ve learned.”
Kile stood up, Jin taking over his duties with both feet with the ease of a Master, and faced the perfect body of the naked, bound woman. His fingers clawed as they slowly approached the soft skin of the tied girl. His mind went inside of hers, the sign of a true Torturer. He imagined her terror. No, he felt her terror. The apprehension, the anticipation. He knew that she felt a set of hands leave her body. He knew she was fretfully awaiting their return. As his flexing fingers closed in on her trapped form, he understood the power of this Form. It caused no damage to the body, leaving the girl in shape to return to the Lord. It did not soil the perfection of the female form, a rarer and rarer sight in these times. It would not do to mark the Subject, when her body was what the Lord truly wanted of her. And it left that sense of mystery that has become Legend. It was the infamous Markless Torture…
…and he now knew of it.
He showed his appreciation of his new station by putting into practice all that he had learned from the Master. As Jin tickled the Subject’s feet, Kile attacked her body with all of his skill. The clawed hands first stroked over her tight body, scratching and light scraping over her armpits, her breasts, her ribs and belly. Up and down her long flanks he stroked her every nerve. His fingers began wriggling as he tickled the length of her. One hand paused at her waist while the other furiously tickled her other side from hip to elbow in a continuing pattern. The hand on her waist started to slowly and deeply massage the muscles of the girl’s belly. He played her like an instrument. When it started to truly tickle, he felt the muscles tighten. It was then that he sprung into action, tickling her hard. He was merciless, digging in hard and tickling fast. Soon, both hands were engaged in the torture of the tied woman’s midriff as howls of muted and muffled horror sought to burst the fabric of her hood.
Jin was using the feather in one hand and his own fingers of the other to tickle the poor victim’s bare feet, their immobile soles helpless against the attack. Master and Apprentice moved as one, one terrible Machine, designed for Torture…
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As the messenger arrived with the four knocks to announce the setting of the sun, both Torturers were admittedly tired. The Subject had lost consciousness on several occasions and had to be put through the torture from the beginning. Even the strong muscles of the Torturers had their limits. Kile felt as if he’d carried a brick in his grasp for a ten-mile walk. He could barely move his fingers. Jin was more adept, but still admitted to some discomfort. The real discomfort, however, belonged to the slumped form suspended by her bonds. The strap along her forehead was removed and the covering over her mouth unfastened. She was ordered not to speak, or face the Markless Torture until the rising of the next Sun. Other than her hitched breathing, she was silent.
“Do we remove her tongue, Master?” Kile asked.
“Not this one,” Jin replied, “Lord Meron has said he will keep her alone, away from the rest of the Harem. She will see no one but him…and us if need be.”
At that, the girl let out a gasp, but caught her shriek in her throat before it could sentence her to more of the horrible tickle-torture.
As her form was taken away to whatever fate Lord Meron had for her, Kile reflected on his day. He was now a Torturer. He had more to learn, but he knew the secret of Markless Torture. He could go anywhere in Merica and not only find work, but teach others as well.
But as he thought about this, the small part of his mind that once wondered what the girl looked like sprung back to life. Jin had said that the girl was arrogant, one of the reasons they all found their way to his chambers. No doubt that arrogance would betray the girl sometime soon. She would not like to be isolated in service to La Vega’s resident ruling slob, and was sure to perform some small transgression. Kile knew that these Lords actually made things up at times just to enjoy torturing their slaves, so the chances of this girl never returning to this Chamber were slim.
She’d be back.
He guessed that it couldn’t hurt to continue his Apprenticeship in La Vega for a while…
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