The Enf Catcher

I was wearing a black dress with a black belt and a black bonnet with netting that came down over my face and black imitation roses on top. John and I slipped into the buffet tent.

"Gods," said John. "Abigail had a lot of family. I've never seen so many people at a funeral."

"Yes," I said, shifting from one foot to the other. "You have to admit, that atmosphere was a bit heavy."

"It was a funeral for a woman who died at the age of twenty-one, Megan."

"Yeah, but - you gotta admit, they were all laying it on a bit thick. The caterwauling, throwing themselves on the casket, bawling during the service. Have some dignity, I say."

John considered my statement. "I have to admit, I tried to say nice things to people when I saw them, but a lot of them looked terrible. Did you see her grandmother?"

I smirked. "Yeah, exactly! Makeup running everywhere. Couldn't understand a word she said because of how scratched her throat was."

"It was like someone grinding corn," John said, laughing. Then he got melancholy. "I do miss Abigail. She would have had something hilariously cruel to say. I wonder what she could possibly have suffered that took her out so quickly? One day she was fine, then she was just pale, and then... gone."

I felt bile at the back of my throat. "Oh John, what's wrong with you?! Why would you linger on such a horrible thing?!" I felt my rage overtaking me. "You morbid asshole! She was our friend, for gods' sake!" I descended into weeping.

"Hey! Hey! Shh shh shh," said John, taking me into a hug. "I'm sorry. You're right. I'm sorry." He held me as I sobbed into his chest. "Hey. Have you seen these terrible hors d'oeuvres?" I wiped my eyes and sniffed as I giggled.

"They're so dry and tasteless! Who ordered these?"

"I know, right?"

----

"Stand up, Megan."

I climbed off Sir's lap. My ass was red raw. I stared at the ground.

"Look at me, Megan."

I looked up at him. He was still sitting. His face was impassive. I didn't know how to interpret it. All I knew was that he frightened me. It was entirely possible that he was weighing up whether he could thrash me again.

"You stopped resisting me halfway through that. You laid there and took your spanks. That was good of you. For that, we're going to skip the part of your punishment where you were going to be run through a spanking train. The locals were going to line up, and you were going to run past them as they each spanked you once. As you have been good, this is unnecessary."

I hated how much my heart lifted. I don't

want

to be 'good'. I don't want to be naked and tied up and dragged around the country to be gawked at and then patted on the head and told I'm doing a really good job at it. I knew he was trying to make me feel good so I would associate obedience with it, and I loathed that it was working.

"I want you to say 'thank you, Sir'."

"Thank you, Sir." How quickly I said it!

"Come with me," he said. He started walking away, and I quickly chased after him so he wouldn't pull on my leash.

He led me through to the centre of town, where there was a large fire. A few people were dancing around it and a few others were cooking food off of it. For a brief moment, I thought I was about to be sacrificed on it. But no - he pulled me over to a large table near it.

"We're not going to run a spanking train on her?" Liltok seemed to appear out of nowhere.

"No," said Sir. "Megan has been good. So we're skipping to tickling her with rygars."

With what?! Was this some kind of torture device? Liltok looked over to me with glee. I felt a wave of gloom pass through me.

"Lie face-up on the table, Megan," said Sir as he undid my bindings. My butt was still red-raw, so I gasped with pain when I sat on the table. Sir grabbed my left wrist and, using rope, tied it to the left leg of the table. He then went around - right wrist to right leg, right ankle to other right leg, and so on.

I couldn't move. And even by my standards, I was exposed. I was pulled in four directions - the table was large enough that no part of my body was actually off it.

A lot of people had come around to watch.

I heard the sound of squeaking somewhere and couldn't figure out what it was. Sir pulled out a yellow liquid and a brush. He dipped the brush in the liquid and painted my armpit with it. I shrieked at how cold it was!

Was this rygars?

He painted me across the belly and I giggled and shook. He ran the brush across my neck, and it took all my willpower not to try and bend my neck - I knew that

not

fighting him would mean less punishment in the future. A laugh came out of me like a scoff from the way I was using my muscles in my neck and I felt tears in my eyes from the effort I was making.

"Good girl," muttered Sir. He then moved over to my feet and started brushing my soles. It was reduced to fits of giggles. Then he moved up a bit. I could feel each individual strand of the brush between my toes! It was more than I could bear!

"Please, Sir! Hahahaha! I can't take much more! Hahahaha!"

When he stopped, I knew it wasn't because I begged him to, it was because he was done. I caught my breath. Slowed my breathing. My eyes were wet, so I blinked away the tears.

He walked away, and I turned my head to see what he was doing. He was by a large box, and I could hear that's where the squeaking was coming from. He opened it and I saw him pull out a strange little furry creature.

It looked like a ball of fuzz until I saw the feet. It had two little black eyes and a long nose. Sir put it down on the table next to me, and it excitedly ran up to my armpit and starting licking.

I gasped. The thing's tongue was long and slimy, and each lick was incredibly gentle. It tickled! It was licking the liquid off my body and it tickled so much!

There was laughter coming from the crowd.

"Look at her shake!"

"Like a little baby, crying from a rygar lick!"

I shook so badly that I lifted my body off the table and slammed it back down, hurting my butt again. That was when Sir pulled out another of these 'rygars' and put it on the other side.

"Oh nooooooooo!" I cried out. I was sobbing. The second one licked at my belly. It was so sensitive! Each lick bringing forth gales of laughter! And I heard the barbarians laughing at me. "Why?! Why me?!"

"Because you murdered someone, Megan," said Sir.

I couldn't respond. I stared at him as my eyes filled with tears again. That's when I heard a small, quiet voice in the back of my head.

He's right. You're a bad girl.

I pushed it away as I descended into another fit of giggles.

----

Author's Note: I apologise for this taking so long to come out. I've decided that, from now on, I'm going to post a chapter every first and third Wednesday of the month. Obviously whenever it goes up is at the discretion of the site mods, but I'll do my best to be more frequent.