Eurypette

Eurypette lay belly-down on the wooden boards, knees bent, bare feet apart, ankles and toes held by the horizontal stocks. Her arms were extended past her head, wrists bound and hands holding a smooth river-pebble. That pebble would become a burden-stone, holding all the misery and weariness of the past week and more in the caravan. If the tickle-magic worked. Kalvet had told her that she would have to cry tears of laughter to make the tickle-magic work. Eurypette didn’t believe she could be tickled that much, forgetting that in her one previous session she had been tickled into tears.

The centauress Cora, Eurypette’s mentor and straw-boss in the caravan, had warned her that Kalvet was a trickster, a centaur who like to prank naive flatfooters newly arrived in the centaur Land. Flatfoot humans like Eurypette and that hussy Jana, who had been exiled together just over two weeks ago. Eurypette had joined the caravan to get as far from Jana as she could, and despite that the hussy had still thrown a curse at her. She thought she could feel it – the knew she could feel it – and now she would hurl a curse right back.

The night was lit by a half-moon, but Eurypette couldn’t see anything with her head down. She could smell the dried herbs burning in the brazier and she could hear Kalvet humming and moving about, making final preparations. Then she felt his fingers begin to tickle her helpless soles.

Eurypette giggled. Then she began to laugh uncontrollably as the finger-tickling sensations sank in to her soles. Soles held in place by the stocks so that they could not escape.

“Hmm hm mmmm hmmm hmmm hmmm!” Kalvet hummed.

“Hee hahahaha heehee hahahahahaha!” Eurypette answered.

Kalvet Littlebear’s ‘tickle magic’ might be a prank and a fraud, but he was truly an expert tickler. Most centaurs were. Not all of them, despite the stories, but most. And Kalvet was proving himself to be one of the centaur experts.

Eurypette felt his dancing fingers move up and down each of her soles in turn, and then up and down both of them together. And everywhere they touched, they tickled. Tickled and tickled and tickled, making her laugh and laugh and laugh. She squirmed, but her squirms were limited by the belt around her waist and the ropes that tied her wrists. And the stocks that kept her feet completely helpless. Completely vulnerable to the tickling.

And the tickles kept coming. Eurypette kept laughing as the tickles kept coming, and Kalvet kept humming. She could feel those dancing tickle-fingers all over her soles, running back and forth, and up and down from her heels to her toes and back again. Sometimes they’d run up and down her left sole, and then up and down her right. Sometimes they run back and forth across both soles at once. And sometimes that dancing finger-tickle would run up one sole while the other hand ran down the other. Tickling and tickling without pausing.

Then a pause came – followed by a sudden burst of vigorous finger-tickling. Eurypette squealed, and squirmed, and giggle-giggle-giggled. She heard Kalvet warn her, “Don’t drop the stone.”

“Heeheehee heeheeheee I heeheehee I won’t! Heeheehaha heeheehee!” Eurypette answered.

Fortunately the stone rested on the wooden boards supporting her. It would take particular bad luck for her to lose it.

Twice more the tickling paused. Twice more Eurypette felt the sudden burst of expert fingers on her helpless soles. It felt wonderful. It was too much and it felt wonderful. She couldn’t stand it, and she didn’t want it to stop. All that tickling sinking into her bare soles. Making her laugh and laugh and laugh.

A new and longer pause came. Eurypette sensed that her tickling wasn’t over. Or even half over. That was good. She didn’t want it to be over.

She felt something cool and wet dribbled on her helpless soles.

“It’s just water,” Kalvet said.

“Yes,” she answered.

Eurypette heard Kalvet begin to hum again. Then she felt the wooden spoon. It didn’t slap and sting her soles. That was not the centaur way. Even Eurypette knew that much. Instead, the outside of the bowl rubbed her wet soles, trapped and exposed in the horizontal stocks. She still couldn’t see anything, but she could feel it.

She could feel the smooth wood rub her bare foot-bottoms. For a moment she wondered where the tickle was, and then she knew. It was a soft and subtle tickle. Strange for it to come from hard wood. Yet there it was, and Kalvet was demonstrating his expertise in keeping the tickle so soft and subtle.

Every so often Eurypette would mew. Every so often she would squirm. And still that light, light tickle teased the soles of her feet. And it kept coming.

Once in a while she felt Kalvet use the edge of the spoon. That tickled more, and made her giggle. But it was still a soft and light tickle – and it was followed by a return to the even softer and more subtle tease of her soles. Once in a while Kalvet would warn her, “Don’t drop the stone.”

“Yes,” Eurypette would answer, squirming. And still that light, light tickling of her bare soles continued.

Eurypette found herself appreciating Kalvet’s expertise more and more. He just might be the fraud that Cora said he was, when it came to tickle-magic, but he was good with that spoon. Good enough to keep her aware of it, even as the tickles on her soles remained soft, and subtle, and everywhere.

She giggled, and giggled again as she felt three strokes on each of her soles in turn. Three strokes with the edge of the spoon. And then she heard it being set aside.

“Had enough, have you?” Kalvet asked.

“No,” Eurypette muttered into the wooden boards. “No,” she repeated, speaking up to be heard.

“That’s good, because we’re not finished yet. Do you know what a bullfeather is?”

“No,” Eurypette said for a third time.

“Well then, you are about to find out. It’s made of leather, and it feels like this.”

“HAHAHAHAHA!”

Eurypette couldn’t help it. It was no more than a touch of soft leather, yet it inflicted a monstrous tickle on her soles. A monstrous tickle that poured over every part of her soles. A monstrous tickle that her trapped and helpless soles could not escape. That Eurypette could not escape. She could squirm – she had to squirm – but she could not escape. She could laugh – and she had to laugh. Laugh and laugh and laugh. Because it tickled!

And as with the strangely soft wooden spoon, this strangely effective thing of leather kept tickling. This bullfeather rubbed and teased and twirled and tickled massively. Even more that Kalvet’s expert fingers had. It poured tickle-sensations into her soles like a waterfall. More and more tickle-sensations. Tickle-sensations that sank in and soaked her feet. The bullfeather’s tickling was tickling that tickled and tickled and tickled and tickled. All over her soles. Her ticklish soles, trapped in the horizontal stocks.

Eurypette didn’t know how Kalvet did it. She couldn’t understand how that simple soft leather could tickle so much. Or how it could keep tickling. She only knew that it did. It did tickle so much. It did keep tickling so much. On her soles. Which were completely helpless. And she didn’t want it to stop.

Madness! This was the tickle madness. Good. It would make the burden-stone and the curse she would sling at Jana all the more effective. But that didn’t seem so important right now. What was important – what drew all of Eurypette’s attention – was that her bare soles were being tickled!

Eurypette had to laugh. She had to squirm. She had to try to escape the tickling that she didn’t want to end. But while she could squirm, and while she had to laugh, she couldn’t escape. The centaurs knew very well how to keep their tickle-captives helpless. As Kalvet had made her helpless. So that he could tickle and tickle and tickle her. Tickle her bare feet! All over!

Kalvet spoke from somewhere beyond her feet. “A bullfeather doesn’t tickle at all, unless one has learned the knack of wielding it. Does this tickle?”

“HAHAHAHAHA!” Eurypette answered, as the tears of laughter came.

The tickling ended. Some time later, Eurypette realized that the tickling had ended. She was still lying on the wooden boards, clutching the burden-stone. But her ankles had been freed from the stocks, and her wrists had been untied.

She rose unsteadily to a sitting position, careful not to drop her precious burden-stone. Kalvet had just finished cleaning and putting away the apparatus of his tickle-magic. Now he looked at her, an eyebrow raised in inquiry.

Eurypette nodded and started to stand. She stopped when she realized that she was still barefoot. She would put on her sandals, first. After that, she would use the remains of the night to catch a bit of sleep. Then, in the morning, she would use her new burden-stone, hard won by way of Kalvet’s tickle-magic, to fling a curse on that hussy Jana.