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Not taking the bus had seemed like a good idea. It was a nice night. Dragon considered buying a cigar, and he hadn't had that urge in months. He was a little more watchful than the average guy walking home around midnight, but it had become second nature a long time ago. He turned onto 14th, because there was this incredibly hot woman in the building just past Hyde and one of these times she was going to be out on the porch, just having a smoke, when he came by...
Thinking about how the conversation might go, he felt a hand shove him from behind. He wheeled around.
A fist caught him in the gut. Not that hard, really, but it made him stagger back.
Gloved hands grabbed his left wrist and pulled it up behind him.
"Ow!"
Another hand punched him in the mouth. Again, it wasn't full-force. Leather hand, deflating a little as it made contact. His lip still hurt, though.

The glove backed off. There were four of 'em in sight - and others managed to catch his right arm.
Empty gloves.
One made a fist and tapped him just below the belly button.
"Aaaaaaow -"
Fingers clamped over his mouth.
Behind him, more fists got hold of his thumbs and started to bend them the wrong way. Dragon yelled uselessly and tried to scoot away.
The gloves spun him around and shoved.
An open hand slapped him. Hard. It flipped over and slapped him again. Strong fingers clamped around his arms and pulled him forward.
A fist punched his breastbone.
Another one grabbed his hair and pulled...
And he paused, in his thrashing around, when a car door opened. Driver's side. His thumbs were given another tug, two fists hit him in the face -
The gloves threw him in.

After a few more punches to the back of his head, he was too dizzy. The car was moving, and he was pulled up behind the wheel. A glove slammed him, real hard, against the car seat.
Handcuffs caught his wrists.
The hand gagging him let go - and slapped him. Two, three, four times.
"Stop!" he yelled, head lolling.
The radio turned on. Classic rock.
"Dragon. You're wanted in Carson City."
He looked around cautiously, expecting to get slugged again. "Wrong guy."
Easy laughter. He couldn't find the exact source... "Quarter-mil bond. You must've been a real good fixer. They want you bad."
So that was the scene they were playing, huh? He shook his head - and the hand pulled back on his hair again.
"Dammit! Ow! I'll play along. Just knock it off."
"You'll play along?"
A glove punched him between the pecs again.
"Asshole!"
And he saw something else come up. A pack of smokes.
"No thanks, I quit -"
Gloves slapped him. Taking turns. Not as hard, but it still hurt. One after the other. Maybe a dozen times.
"That's enough for now." A cigarette slid between his teeth.
Dragon hurried to lean forward when the lighter came up.

Then a pint of booze. He sighed, but had a few swallows. It helped with the pain.
"We're not gonna make the drive tonight," the voice said. "So there's a nice, private cell waiting."
He nodded, looking out the window for help. Anyone.
"No reason we can't have some fun. Punching bag."
Another fist slugged him on the arm. Good and hard.
"Enough," he whined. "I'm not even fighting."
A hand curled around his throat. "And you're not gonna. Glad to have a cigarette? Or should I just go ahead and gag you -"
"No," he interrupted, taking a drag. And another.
"Better."
The booze bottle sat on his thigh.

He watched the warehouse district come and go.
Shitty little house. Bars on the windows. No foot traffic, a big vacant plant on one side and an empty lot filled with trash on the other.
The car raced up, skidded to a stop and was shifted into reverse. It backed into a carport that had been enclosed.
His cigarette was taken, and the fingers clamped around his mouth again.
The door opened. He watched the butt get sprung into the gravel.
"Watch your head," the voice laughed.
Dragon braced himself. Thump - the gloves lifted him up to make sure he'd tap the roof as they pulled him out.
One punched his gut.
"317 Union Street," the voice said, as he was hustled around the front of the car. "Not that you're gonna be able to tell anybody."
The gag-glove let go - and slapped him.
"Right? Keep moving. C'mon in."

The front door had a security screen door, badly rusted. It flew open, and the inner door swung away. He tried to lurch to the side - but his hair was pulled hard, and the glove slapped him again. Others hustled him inside.
The windows were boarded-over. Dragon didn't have time to look around at the weird furniture. A glove caught him low in the back, and the others picked him up.
Threw him -
Onto a bed. Rolled him over immediately.
He watched the front door swing closed.
"Not a word," the voice said. "Feel like yelling?"
Slap.
"No -"
Slap.
"You sure?"
Slap.
"Yeah! Stop it. I'll be g-good."
Pause.
The bottle came to his mouth, "insisting" until he'd put away a couple shots.
A glove curled around his throat, squeezing - and then it relaxed. But it didn't leave.

Others wrestled his boots pulled off. Socks, jeans, jacket, shirt. Underwear.
They spread him out again.
Leather cuffs floated up. Thick, intimidating bondage - for the long haul.

Now he could thrash all he wanted.
The flashlight clicked on, showing him a ball-stretcher.
"Oh, please, dammit," he sighed. "No."
"Spoilsport."
He was forced to started another smoke.
A dull snap - and that distinctive green-yellow light grew. A glowstick, past his feet...
"You sure do like it rough," the voice said. A glove cuffed his head.
"Yeah," he admitted.
"So long as you lose. And end up royally stuck. You must've had a charmed life, Drag."
Fingers pinched his right nipple.
"OW! Yeah, sure, whatever. Just don't do... anything else."
The glove floated up a few inches. Laid out flat. Another one brought a bottle and squirted lube into its palm. The fingers started covering themselves with the grease, making him moan long and low.
"Such as?"
He closed his eyes, tugging hard on the smoke.

"Dragon. You better tell me. Or else I just might start breaking fingers."
The need to chuckle was almost overpowering, but he kept his teeth gritted - and shook his head.
Three more gloves came over his belly. Shining with lube.
A glove grabbed his chin. "Oh. Hold that thought." His cigarette was taken. It hung there as an invisible finger poked at his lip.
"OW ow ow," he complained.
"I know." Over to his left, something slid. Maybe a box. Then he got the cigarette back. "Finish this one."
"It's not... Oh." He sucked in. Watched it float away.
Plastic crinkled - and two little pillows cruised to his head. Squeezing, in the middle. Cold packs.
"Fat lip?" he asked.
"A little one. Not bad."
The white plastic pouch eased against his chin. His hair was pulled out of his eyes, and another one pressed gently on his forehead, over his right eye.

He pulled desperately at the restraints. Oh, wow, it wouldn't do that to him - and that was a really stupid thing to tell himself. Of course it would! Strapped down tight, and -
"A kinky way to make you go out of your mind. All... night... long."
He had to stop this from happening - and he knew he couldn't do a damn thing to stop it from happening. This dark, quiet room was where he was gonna utterly lose his mind. "This is... inhuman."
"You bet your ass it is."
Slippery fingers touched his soles.

"Oh nooooo -"
"Haven't seen you freak out like this in awhile," the voice said. "You're not really ticklish, are you? Huh? Tough-as-nails Dragon."
"Yuh-you're supposed to beat on me. Not this! Oh, shit, oh no, don't do th-"
"I mean, you're strapped down tight. Hidden away. If these fingers dig in, are you gonna seal your death warrant and show me just how unbearable it is for ya?"
He stifled giggles.
"Sadistic tickling?"
The fingers started trailing up and down.
"You don't wanna encourage this mean, magical bully to keep doing it. You better calm down. And don't you dare start to laugh now."
He arched and snapped desperately at the restraints. A lot of his attention was fixed on keeping his mouth closed, despite the low throb from his swollen lower lip...
The fingers made a few more teasing laps.
Dragon whined, swallowing the noise, breathing as hard as he could through his nose.
"Huh," the voice said.
The fingers left.

He collapsed, not daring to let his mouth relax for a few more breaths.
"Well, shit." The cold packs came back to his head. Nestling there. He watched a new cigarette approach slowly, massively relieved.
"How about... here?"
Fingers jumped into his armpits.
Dragon shrieked laughter and just kept barking it out, throwing his body this way and that.
The fingers explored. Merciless. They made him roar for about fifteen more seconds, and took a slow lap around the outer rim of each armpit.
He wound down, panting. Gloves were hanging around, not far from his sides, his gut -
"Yeeeeeeah. It's electrifying. Watching you lose it. Hey - I just found something even more fun than beating the shit out of you."
The captive wailed feverishly at the hands. One by one, they landed, feeling exactly as if they were worn by enthusiastic hands.
 

Another smoke was lit off the last one.
Dragon sucked in out of pure reflex. He was still too zoned out to move.
As he was exhaling smoke, the voice made a satisfied sound. "You wanna pass out, but I'm not letting that happen."
"You gotta knock it off," he begged. His voice was hoarse already. "I can't take this -"
"It's such a twisted way to make you suffer."
"At least scale it back."
Laughter. "Try again. Think bigger."
"Oh, nooooo."
"You never had a chance. Been too long, Drag. You can crash here for as long... as I like."
A finger touched his belly-button, threatening to move.
"That's pretty damn nice of me," the voice said, "because somebody got laid off this week. Thursday, I think. Right?"
"Aw, hell."
"You've got time to burn."
Dragon shuddered. "No I don't, I gotta find another job -"
"That's gonna be pretty damn hard to do. From here. I don't know, maybe you can use telepathy or something. When you can think at all."

"Please," he groaned.
"What happened the last time I worked you over for a good, long time? What was in your pockets when you woke up in the park?"
He smoked, looking embarrassed. "I get it."
"No, shitbag, you tell me. List it all."
"Shit. Uh... My wallet. Smokes. A wad of cash -"
"How much cash?"
"Three grand."
"Damn nice of me. And?"
"A key. Storage space."
"Where your stuff was waiting. So do you think maybe I'll cover my tracks just as well when the laughter finally, uh, pauses?"
Sigh. "Yeah."
"Yeah, Sir."
The finger moved a little.
"Sir, Sir, yessir, yessss-ssssir," he chuckled.
"I'm gonna tickle you into a puddle of goo. Levels you never, ever felt before. Then I'm gonna do it again, and again, a-"
"No, no, nuh huh huh huh..." He writhed, grinning real big.
"You think I'm exaggerating?"
"Whooh. Nnn-no, dammit, I think you're definitely not exaggerating. At all."
"You're toast," the voice growled. "Staying right in here. Suffering just right."
"I can't believe this," he raved. "Let me go, damn you. It's not fair. You can't strap a guy down like this and -"
"The hell I can't. You don't like it, get your ass up and leave. Or else I'm gonna find every ticklish spot. Lean on 'em all. And you're not gonna stop me."
 

Dragon kicked out smoke and watched the nearest glove.
"Nice, big feet," the voice growled. "So doomed."
"Stop it, please," he begged. His best efforts to pull or kick barely shifted his trapped soles at all.
"This really makes you come unhinged. Why didn't you tell me that y-"
"Nooooo, noooooo, nnmmmff!"
The glove had clamped over his mouth.
"Ssssssh," his torturer said. "I really wanna know. You're obviously... excited, here. Did you know how ticklish you are?"
After a long pause, he closed his eyes. Frowned. The answer was clear enough.
"Well. So we're both discovering something new tonight. How cool is that?"
Four gloves made contact with his soles - and his insteps, holding on tight.
Dragon yelled into the hand that gagged him. There was nothing else he could do...
Except laugh, and squeal, when the fingertips raked and massaged.
His body tried desperately to get off the mattress. The cuffs and straps were too much for him, though. He was going to remain laid out right there, with his sides and belly as vulnerable as they could be.
The glove gagging him pulled off.
Dragon shook with the force of crazed, frantic laughter.
 

"You look worn out," the captor said.
"Noooo," he sighed, voice completely shot.
"Can't believe how this gets to you. Tough guy. Want me to stop? Lay off the tickling?"
A quick smirk came across his face, and left just as soon as it appeared. He took another drag. The tickler wouldn't stop. Not for a long, time. He was desperate to get away from it, nothing was less likely than being cut loose now...
It was embarrassing to admit, but he wanted more.
Unbearable, getting more intense, and this mysterious force loved to work him over. He never felt so alive. How twisted was that? Encouraging this sadistic freak had to be wrong. Dangerous? "Oh. Please -"
Four gloves latched on, bulldozing his ribs as the cigarette was snatched away.
He arched, locking up - quivering - and then exploding with miserable roars...

Within five minutes he was too addled to laugh.
"I've really got your number now," the voice mocked him. "And I'm only getting started on you."
He found the ability to hoot a few times in protest. His sides and thighs were petted, kneaded, raked. Apparently his sensitivity was inexhaustible.
Leisurely fingers stuck it to him -
And another curled around his dick, pumping slowly. No hurry at all. Cruel... and phenomenal. Almost too good to be true.
Dragon couldn't stop his body from flopping around. He wailed laughter. One glove after another grabbed his attention, the rubbing and teasing - aw, he was unhinged.
The straps held him down just fine.

02-Dec-2012