by Letrah
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The Roman caravan moved slowly along the hills.
A supply cart, pulled by a team of oxen, led the caravan. Behind the cart walked a line of young men, women and children, hands bound behind their backs, new slaves on their way to Rome. The recent conquest was an easy one. The province was a small one, rich and lazy. Its military was easily defeated. Now the majority of the conquered people, the young, healthy ones, were being taken to Rome as new slaves. A different life than the pampered one they were use to. Included in this line of slaves was the ex-Prince of the kingdom, Darius. A young man of 20 whose life and plans of the future were drastically changed. Frustrated with defeat, angry at his current status, he had desperately been looking for a chance to escape. The moment arrived when the guards, patrolling the line of slaves, had become lax as they neared Rome.
During a break in the timing of the patrol, Darius made a dash from the line and attempted his escape by darting down the side of the hill. But the guards were not as inattentive as he had thought and shouts of “Escaping Slave” quickly rose up behind him. Spurred by fear, Darius tried to run faster, but the rough, downhill terrain was hard to navigate, especially with his hands tied behind his back. Tripping over a rough spot, Darius was unable to catch his balance and began tumbling down the hillside. To his horror, he realized he was rolling toward a wooden fence that marked the edge of a precipice. He was likely going to roll under the fence and off the cliff, plunging to his death.
Dizzy from the tumble, Darius lurched his body desperately at the last moment to catch his back against the fence, stopping his fall with a gasp as the wind was pushed out of him by the impact. He barely had a moment to breathe a sigh of relief when a horrible cracking sound came from the fence pole at his back. His impact cracked the pole and he felt himself fall backwards into empty space. With his hands still tied behind him, he was unable to catch himself. Instinctively, he brought his legs up and caught his feet against the remaining pieces of the fence pole. Darius found himself hanging backwards over the precipice, hands tied behind his back, bent at the knees, only stopped from plunging to his death by his feet flexed against the broken fence rod. So much for his grand escape plan.
“Well, well,” a voice from above him chuckled, “What do we find here, Adrian?”
“It looks like our missing slave got himself into a bit of trouble, more than merely an escape attempt, don’t you think, Polonius?”
“I’m NOT a slave,” shouted Darius angrily, despite his predicament. “I am Prince Darius of Caperden. If I hadn’t tripped I would have gotten free. So you’ve caught me. Come on, pull me up from here and take me back.”
“A bit pushy for a slave, don’t you think, Polonius?”
“Definitely, Adrian. I don’t think he understands the humor of his present situation.”
“I agree, my friend. But since the wheel of the cart broken and is being replaced, I guess we have the time to instruct him, don’t you agree?”
“Plenty of time. Let’s start”.
“What are you going to do? Just pull me up? What are you doing to my sandals?
Darius tried to pull himself to see what they were doing, but further cracking of the fence pole caused him to relax back once more. Above him, Polonius and Adrian had taken out their knives and were carefully severing the straps that held his sandals on his feet. First one, then the other sandal fell loose, so Darius now hung from the cracked fence pole by his bare feet, his toes arched back to hold his place on the pole and keep him from falling off the cliff.
“No, please! Don’t cut me!,” pleaded Darius.
“Cut you?” laughed Adrian. “We have no plans on cutting you.”
“Will you look at these feet,” Polonius remarked to his partner. “You can tell this was one pampered boy. Not a mark or a callous. He didn’t have to march in the Legion.”
“They definitely look tender,” Adrian agreed. “Tell me slave …. Are your feet ticklish?”
Darius felt himself go cold. They couldn’t be thinking of that. Not while he was in this position, would they? Darius was always very ticklish, but his royal standing always protected him. No one would ever dare to tickle him. Oh, his parents had when he was little. There had been a few accidentally tickles during wrestling matches and a few of the girls he spent time with had tickled him a little, but never long or in a situation he couldn’t get away from. He had always been fascinated with tickling. He had taken advantage of his position to tie up some of his personal guards and tickle them to near hysteria just to see what it would be like. He never wanted to experience it for himself.
“No! Please! Don’t do it,” pleaded Darius. “I’ll fall.”
“Oh, he must really be a ticklish one,” laughed Adrian. “He didn’t even try to hide it from us.”
“You won’t fall, slave,” laughed Polonius. “Just keep those toes from moving.”
“NO”, screamed Darius. “NOT MY TOES.”
Adrian laughed gleefully. “Oh those nice toes must really be a good spot. But don’t worry; we won’t go there … yet. We want this to take awhile.” With that, he slowly ran his finger in a line from Darius’ left heel up to the ball of his foot, smiling as he saw the foot quiver and struggle to hold its place.
Darius gritted his teeth as the ticklish sensation of that finger seemed to run through his whole body. “Concentrate”, he thought to himself. “It doesn’t tickle. Hold that foot steady. Don’t flex those toes.” Adrian reversed his course and dragged the finger slowly back down toward the heel. Polonius pointed to the toes as they spread wider as they struggled to keep from flexing.
“AARARRRAGGHHH….HHHAA HHA..ST…STTOOOPP” cried out Darius, shaking his head from side to side.
“Oh this slave is really ticklish,” Adrian said to his partner. “He won’t last long tickling with my finger.”
Darius gasped in relief as the ticklish finger stopped its journey down his left foot.
“We have time, my friend. I suggest we use these.” Darius was unable to see Polonius pass two large, soft feathers to Adrian, or see that he kept two feathers to use on his right foot, but he gasped as he felt the gentle stokes up and down his smooth, stretched soles.
Darius had not thought he would be feather-ticklish, but with his toes flexed back against the fence pole his soft soles were stretched taunt. The precarious position he was in, being forced to keep his feet still only by his own will power seemed to make him only more sensitive. They stroked the feathers up and down his soles and back and forth. They even teased the sides his feet, especially at the arches, as he feet seemed to quiver desperately when they did so.
Helplessly, Darius hung over the cliff, giggling and pleading with his tormenters to stop and pull him up, but they only keep at the feathering of his feet. It was a desperate spiral. The more Darius struggled to hold his feet to the pole, the more his toes spread out, pulling his soles tighter, making his feet even more ticklish. His feet quaked with the need to flex and escape the tickling, but Darius kept his concentration and held them still.
Darius struggled to take his mind off the tickling feathers, but his tormenters keep a running dialogue of their work.
“Aren’t these the softest feet you’ve seen in a long time, Adrian? My feathers just love gliding up and down this nice, soft arch.”
“Truly, so, Polonius. Even my young wife does not have such tender feet. She would be driven crazy with my tracing these feathers back and forth across the ball of her foot like I am doing here. That is a terribly ticklish spot for her.”
“Oh, not as ticklish as this tender arch, surely?” Polonius replied as he continued to twirl his feathers about the arch of Darius’ right foot.
“Oh definitely,” Adrian chuckled over Darius’ desperate pleading as he continued to dance his feathers back and forth over the ball of the left foot. “But look at those tender toes spread so wide as if they were begging us for a touch of the feather.”
“NO – NOOOO…,” screamed Darius. “I NEVER HOLD ON. PLEASE. I TICKLED A GUARD ONCE WHO WAS AS TICKLISH AS I, AND HE COULD NEVER HOLD HIS TOES BACK! PLEASE .. DON’T TOUCH MY TOES!”
Both of his tormentors stopped their feathering in surprise. “So … You have put others through this experience yourself. It seems even more justified that you are suffering now. Why should we leave your toes alone?”
“PL—PLEASE,” gasped Darius, terrified that they might feather his toes while he was in this position. “PLEASE DON’T TICKLE MY TOES.” Tears dropped from his eyes as he cried helplessly to his ticklers. “PLEASE LET ME UP. THE GUARD I TICKLED IS IN OUR CARAVAN. I’LL POINT HIM OUT TO YOU. TICKLE HIM. I’LL HELP YOU. HE’S REALLY TICKLISH. YOU CAN TICKLE HIM ALL YOU WANT. HIS TOES ARE HIS WORST SPOT, EVEN MORE THAN MINE. HE WOULD DO ANYTHING TO KEEP YOU FORM TICKLING HIS TOES. BUT I COULDN’T HOLD ONE. I BEG YOU. PLEASE. PULL ME UP.”
“Well listen to this spoiled little slave, Polonius. Despite all the torture we have been putting him through; he is all set to place someone else into this suffering. What are your thoughts?”
“I guess I am willing to promise not to use my feathers on his toes.”
“Really, Adrian?” his partner said in surprise.
“Oh, thank you” sighed Darius.
“I’ll just use my fingers” Adrian said as he scraped his fingers under the toes of both of Darius’ feet.
With a scream, Darius lasted only a second before his toes clenched, losing his grip on the pole. As he began to fall to his death, he passed out in fear, unaware when the rope the guards had tied about his legs tightened. Polonius and Adrian gazed down at the limp, swaying body.
“I guess he was right,” Adrian commented. “He couldn’t hold on if those toes were tickled.”
Polonius started pulled Darius’ body up by the rope and Adrian gave him a hand. “What do we do next?” he asked his partner.
“I bet you we can find that other ticklish slave without this one’s help.”
“It would be fun to do that,” replied Polonius. “And I’ll bet that we could work to see which of the two are really the most ticklish.”
“I agree, my friend,” Adrian grunted as he slung Darius’ limp body over his shoulder. “I will also tell you, I think we should take our wages for this campaign in the form of this slave and the other we find.”
“Now what do we want to do with slaves?” asked Polonius. “This tickling has been fun, but slaves are more of an expense than we can bear on our wages.”
Adrian smiled. “I don’t plan to keep them, Polonius. But I know a man who likes to tickle slaves and he would pay us big money for two terribly ticklish slaves. He tends to get .. overzealous… and is always looking for replacements.”
Polonius smiled. “A wonderful plan as always, my friend. Always why I journey with you. Let us find this next ticklish slave. “
TO BE CONTINUED, IF DESIRED …
