live love laugh die

Those hours passed in a comfy blur. As the edible kicked in, Laurel found herself more receptive than she'd normally be to whatever shit Jay was playing. She didn't even laugh when they introduced a song as "progressive trance trip-hop."

She drifted off a few times. Twice she jerked awake, inexplicably horny, to hear Sammy and Jay play-arguing about climbing harness fit. Eventually she tuned in enough to their conversation to realize they were meeting two more friends at the cabin.

"Wait," she said. "I thought they'd cancelled."

"Wow, you were out out," Sammy teased. She put her bare feet up on the dashboard and pushed her short blonde hair behind her ear. "We've been talking about this for like twenty minutes. Their schedule freed up last minute. I completely forgot to text you."

Sammy wore low-slung climbing pants, a sports bra, and a crop top. Laurel couldn't stop sneaking peeks now that she was awake.

"I love your outfit," Laurel said, possibly too loudly, to cover a way-too-obvious stare. "Very, like, butch tomb raider."

Sammy laughed. "Aw, you're sweet."

Laurel winced internally. She'd definitely been too forward.

"Anyway," Sammy continued, "Tim's driving Vivian up, they're about twenty minutes behind his."

It was hard to feel annoyed through this edible, but Laurel got close. The four of them--Sammy and Jay, Tim and Vivian--were all close, and all a little intimidating. They all had this kind of teasing, physical rapport that made her flustered in a way she didn't wholly understand. She might've said no to this trip if Tim and Vivian had agreed earlier.

Whatever, she said to herself. Busy week. People forget to text. No big deal.

Nevertheless, she found herself feeling itchy again as they pulled up to the cabin at the end of a dark driveway. It was cold up here, they were deep in the woods, but she pulled off her sweater the second she got out of the car.

"Dude, that edible was strong," she told Sammy as they all brought their bags in.

"I know, right?" Sammy winked. She looked practically anime-hot, her abs visible beneath an open ankle-length coat. "I'm sooooo ready for drinking games around the fire."

By the time Tim and Vivian got there, Laurel was already two drinks and another edible deep. She was on the couch with her bare feet curled beneath her.

"You guys didn't tell me," she said accusingly as Tim brought some weirdly-shaped gear bag in from the car, "That your house has rules!"

"You guys didn't tell her?" Tim said, mock-shocked. "Poor kid. I mean, rules are rules, but you should've warned her. What'd she do, pour her own drink?"

"So rude," Jay said, clucking their tongue. "And she drank before everyone had been served."

They were silly rules, but Laurel still felt embarrassed and small as they all teased her. She was tipsy, and they all knew each other--they'd clearly all come up here together before. She found herself a little desperate for them all to like her, to think she was cool.

Vivian was a plump woman with braided hair and boobs that Laurel had to force herself not to stare at. Her partner Tim was equally hot, broad, a little hairy, and older than the rest of them. Jay was thin and hot in a kind of mean way, the way where a compliment could make you feel small, but still hot--hot--

She shook her head. The edible was hitting strong, and quickly. "Nobody tells me anything," she said, embarrassed to find herself slurring. "Sorry--Sammy got me high already."

"Oh, she's so ahead of us!" Vivian said, bending down to chuck Laurel under the chin. "Are you a little faded, honey?"

This--see--this weird flirty tone they all took with each other. Was that normal?

"I'm not that bad," Laurel mumbled. They were all making her feel like she was a teenager stumbling into an adult party. "You guys just need to catch up with me."

"All right," Tim said, "But you should know another rule--the new visitor matches each drink, each hit, each dose." He was so tall. He bent next to Vivian and pulled Laurel's chin up to stare at him. "Think you can keep up?"

"Yes," she said, trying to sound like their equal. What was she supposed to say? She'd never had a group of friends that hugged, let alone touched in casual conversation. He was holding her chin in his hot hand.

Her clit throbbed and she almost squeaked as he let go and stepped back. "Let's get started," he said.

They all kind of swirled around her for the next fifteen or so minutes. Sometimes someone would pat her knee, or tuck her hair behind her ear, or do something annoying like make her take a shot with them. Tim would tickle her belly button every time she took a shot, and by the time Jay said "We're ready for her" from the next room, she was a giggly, cross-faded mess.

All these hot people kept joking with her and touching her. They were paying attention to her, and they were making her feel sooooo bubbly and nice. Every so often, she'd feel her pulse throb in her clit. She was needy. And a little silly. A little dumb. She found herself very surprised every time someone spoke to her or touched her.

Vivian and Jay led her to a weird X-shaped table with a bunch of velcro and clips lying on top of it.

"It's really so mean of Jay not to tell you, but we actually do have a little bit of a hazing ritual here," said Tim. As he spoke, Jay and Sammy helped a confused, slightly anxious Laurel onto her back on the massage table. Everybody started securing different straps and cuffs. Her sludgy mind realized far too late that they were securing her to the table.

"Wait," she managed to say. "What?" Her legs were spread and her feet had been cuffed to each lower corner of the X. Vivian was tightening straps at each of her thighs.

"It's not that big a deal," Tim said. "We're just going to tickle you for a couple of minutes. Everybody has to go through it."

She wanted to laugh it off and say that that was a weird rule, but Tim immediately started stroking her feet. She hadn't believed til then that he really would. It was so far-fetched.

"Well," said Jay, strapping her arms up over her head so that her armpits were stretched and vulnerable under her work blouse. "Not everybody, actually." They took a pair of scissors from Sammy and started cutting Laurel out of her clothes. "Just the ones we think might make good tickle sluts."

That got her out of her horny little stupor. "Excuse me, what the hell?"

"Aren't you going to try and fight us at all?"

She did sort of try to fight then. She rattled her arms, clipped into braces of stretchy black fabric. She managed some spastic leg movements, but straps at her thighs and calves kept her from bending her knees more than an inch or so. She thrashed weakly in frustration. She felt mousy and pathetic and naive. What an unbelievably stupid thing to have gotten herself into.

She hadn't tried to fight at all. She'd gone from sitting on the couch, a little embarrassed about being stoned, to stretched and bound in front of her friends. Jay waited for her feeble little struggle to die down, and then went back to cutting off her clothes.

She wasn't even saying no. How could she say no, now--now, after she'd let them tie her up, get her high, take her to an isolated cabin--now she was going make a fuss? Now she was going to fight?

Her shirt had fallen away in scraps. Tim moved up her body and brought his thumbs to her nipples, making ghostly, teasing circles. She could move her torso a little more than her legs, but she couldn't jerk herself more than a few inches away from his searching, teasing thumb.

"Okay, Laurel," said Tim as she panted beneath him. "If you can get through me petting your nipples for sixty seconds without making a sound, we'll take you off the table. That's not so hard, right? That's barely even tickling"

She didn't say anything. She was shy and embarrassed and afraid. As the next round of edibles they'd plied her with began hit, she found herself too shy to ask them basic questions. Questions like why the fuck is this happening right now, exactly? What do you think you're doing?

"Oh, come on," said Sammy. "Do you really think she's that kind of slut? That she'd be turned on this early?" Sammy bent down to hum in Laurel's ear. "Are you? Did you get a little squirmy and turned on just from us tying you up a little bit? Just from a little game?"

"She can last a minute," said Jay, who was almost done cutting away her slacks. "I mean, only an absolutely feral little slut would get turned on just from getting drugged and strapped down and having her nipples teased for a minute. Laurel, you're not a slut, are you?"

She lasted five seconds. It felt like Tim's rough thumbs on her nipples were strumming desperately needy nerves deep behind her clit. She cried out like a fucking virgin, like she'd never had anybody play with her at all.

"Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh," Jay cooed cruelly. They finished snipping off Laurel's last sock. "Oh, I was wrong. She's a sluttier little girl than I could have imagined."

Sammy reached between Laurel's legs to pull the hood back from her swollen achy clit. Laurel moaned again. Her exposed clit pulsed.

"Aw," said Sammy. "Look, look, her little clit is twitching. Good fucking call, Tim, she's perfect. She's so drippy." She ran her index finger lightly down Laurel's clit.

Laurel wailed. Her brain was so foggy. She was dazed and frightened and her clit felt so good and her wet slit wanted more. But all these big people around her were scaring her.

"She's gonna make some good sounds for us, isn't she?" said Vivian, grinning and dragging her fingernails up Laurel's rib cage, eliciting a shocked snort-laugh.

"Here's the deal, sweetie," said Sammy. She was still holding back the hood from Laurel's clit, and it felt like the air itself was chafing away Laurel's dignity from her sensitive little button. "I think you deserve to know what you're doing here."

Jay suddenly spidered their fingers under Laurel's armpits, and she squealed with shock and fear--and because what else was she supposed to do? These adults were tickling her. Like they were bullies and she was just some kid in their clutches. Her vulnerable clit throbbed.

Sammy kept talking as though Jay weren't trying to coax Laurel's sanity out from beneath her arms. "You're here so we can tickle you for the next seventy two hours. You can be as loud as you want--that's why we brought you up here. Nobody can hear you scream except us."

"And we like it," Tim said with a wink.

"We're not going to stop," Sammy said, stroking Laurel's clit again. "God, you're so wet, you little slut. We're not going to stop unless we--the four of us, not you--want a break. Vivian over there, she's a little newer to this, so we're going to coach her to be as mean as she can be to a needy little tickleslut like you. It's like training camp for her."

So, no climbing this weekend, Laurel thought, absurdly.

"Tim's a little nicer than me and Jay," Sammy went on. "He likes seeing ticklesluts cum. He wants you to enjoy yourself--a little. Enough that you're confused and scared about how good you feel while we're torturing you." Sammy's strokes on Laurel's clit sped up, and Laurel whined. "Yes, just like that. And Viv's still figuring out what she likes. Jay and I, though, we know already. We want to put you through hell."

And with that, all four of them descended. Vivian was now at Laurel's feet, and she scribbled over the soles with her long, sharp nails. She focused on the arches and the little gaps between Laurel's toes. Laurel couldn't even kick--every movement seemed to turn into a cramped shiver under Vivian's hands.

Tim stayed at Laurel's nipples, pinching and stroking them, but occasionally straying to cruelly tickle the swell of her tits above her ribs. Where his hands stopped, Jay's picked up, digging into her armpits and so that she shrieked.

Sammy, abandoning her clit for now, focused on her ribs and belly, which was so overwhelmingly awful that Laurel tried to focus on somewhere else--anywhere else that the torture was more bearable. Her feet, maybe? Was it better to be tickled on her feet than at her ribs? Or her tits--Tim was making her tits feel fucking incredible, most of the time, if he could just stick to her nipples. Or she could focus on the incredible growing need in her pussy, or--it was impossible. She was going insane. There were fingers and hands everywhere, it felt like they were under her skin, inescapable, eternal--

Everybody stopped.

"Okay, tickleslut," Jay said. Their voice was honey-sweet, which made Laurel shiver. "How long do you think that was?"

She tried to dredge up some frame of reference in the real world for what she'd just experienced. "Um. Twenty minutes?"

Jay grinned wildly, their expression practically carnivorous. "Perfect. It was two minutes. You're going to lose your mind."