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The Curator strolled into their bedroom, wondering what Venus had in store for them. Their assistant and lover had left a cryptic message to stop by for some ‘fun’ after the latest planning was done, and after two hours plotting out a heist against a local billionaire collector, the Curator could use the time off.
The master of the Museum had claimed a massive room as part of the gang’s expansive headquarters, outfitted with a handful of stolen art pieces deemed too valuable to sell, along with a number of reproductions and forgeries that lined the walls between bookshelves and standing lamps. Normally, as one would expect, the bedroom also contained a bed.
Today it did not.
Today, the centre of the room was taken up not by a massive four-post bed, but by a three-foot tall stand on which was sitting an old-fashioned silver birdcage, unusual only in that it was large enough to hold a person if they crouched. And it was – specifically, Venus herself. The slender villainess was kneeling, feet sticking through the bars in the back of the cage and knees and breasts pressed against its front. She was wearing nothing but a silver collar with a bell hanging from it, a pair of matching silver cuffs for her wrists, attached to the collar so that her arms were bent at the elbow and up alongside her head, brushing the roof of the cage, and a large silver ball gag dotted with holes for ease of breathing. The silver offset her polished-golden skin, and her hair hung loose around her shoulders. She blinked languorously at her lover, tilting her head and offering a muffled “Hlloo!”
The Curator stepped forward. Tall and wiry, they were eye-to-eye with Venus despite her placement on the stand. They shrugged off the jacket of their suit, leaving themself in a white shirt and slacks, and smiled. “A private art showing, I see. How did you get yourself in there, I wonder?” The birdcage had a small door near its base, but while it would be large enough to fit an arm through, a human couldn’t pull it off.
“It wasn’t easy.” The voice came from the side of the room, and the Curator smiled crookedly as they turned to the third occupant. “I thought we’d scratch the ceiling for sure.”
Maquette was the final powered member of their organization. She was an athletic woman with short, black and blue-streaked hair and smooth, tanned skin, with slender hips and breasts all wrapped up in a sleek black catsuit and leather jacket. She gave the Curator a wink as she sashayed out from behind the curtains. “Heya, boss,” she said. “How’s it hanging?”
“Lil,” the Curator said with a nod. “Always good to see you. Where’s my bed?”
“On the nightstand,” Lil said with a gesture. “I needed the height from somewhere.” Lilian Lopez had the ability to make objects grow or shrink; originally a curse placed upon her to shrink what was valuable to her and grow what was trash, she’d managed to gain control of it and would happily cause a pebble to grow to massive size in order to shrink a Vermeer to slip into her pocket, then restore it when it was safely back at the Museum. “You want to play, or what?”
“Oh, very much. What’s the game?”
“Make the songbird sing,” Lil said with a smile. “Tickle and tease, forty-five minutes, no holds barred. If she gives in and cums, you can keep her in the cage with whatever punishments you like, all night. If she wins, we have to follow her instructions and please her until morning.”
“And who are you helping?”
“Oh, you. Definitely you. I want to play with this little bird so bad. But I know the rules, don’t worry.” The Curator was more than willing to have Venus play with others, but they had to be present for it.
“Well, then.” The Curator unbuttoned the top two buttons of their shirt, walking up to Venus. “I hope I didn’t keep you waiting long.”
Venus tried to wiggle her hand in a so-so gesture, but bound as she was, it just looked like a wiggle.
The Curator reached through the bars, cupping Venus’s chin with one hand. “Well, then,” they whispered sensually. “Let’s make up for lost time.”
As he spoke, Lilian slipped up behind Venus’s blind spot, extending her long, red-painted fingernails. She reached out, grabbing her prey’s left foot with one hand and bringing her nails raking lightly down the sole of Venus’s foot. The captive woman burst into laughter, her body shaking as she tried to cover the victimized foot with her free one. She couldn’t shake her head because the Curator was holding her stiff, looking deep into her eyes with that dangerously easy smile.
“That little tootsie should wait its turn,” Lilian laughed, running a single nail down Venus’s other foot. Venus shrieked and pulled away, giving Lilian a second pass on her left side. “Sing for me, songbird,” she crooned.
The Curator held Venus still as Lilian went back and forth, attacking whichever foot was trying to cover the other. After a few minutes, Venus’s laughter was starting to become strained, chest heaving and eyes watering with tears. Lilian took a step back, nodding to her boss. “Keep her busy for a few minutes, huh?”
The Curator let go of Venus’s chin and stroked her cheek, smile softening. “You sing beautifully,” they said. “I never get tired of hearing it.” Their hand slipped downwards, running lightly over Venus’s breasts, fingers running circles around her nipples and slipping in to massage the flesh around them. “You are truly beautiful.”
Venus moaned into her gag, drool dripping down onto her breasts, and the Curator caught it with their fingers before rubbing it gently into her skin. She shivered at their touch, trying to push her breasts closer towards them. In response, the Curator began to let their power slowly flow through their fingers, leaving trails of sensation in their wake.
Venus’s eyes grew heavy, and they moaned heavily into their gag as the Curator’s abilities took hold. The Curator had the power to manipulate time, to speed it up and slow it down, and their fingers were sending ripples of slow time through Venus’s body. Each gentle caress echoed slowly through Venus’s nerves, gradually overwhelming her as the Curator’s fingers moved to the next spot while leaving the previous one trapped remembering what had just occurred. It was as though dozens of hands were touching her, running over her sensitive skin, rubbing her nipple and tracing lines down her stomach. It was slow and deliberate, each touch precisely calculated to build on everything that had come before.
While Venus was lost in the blissful tease of the Curator’s work, Lilian was preparing for her next assault. Quietly, gently, she had looped a series of strings around each of her target’s toes, tying them off to rings underneath the cage. As the Curator kept Venus’s attention, Lilian pulled a pair of small, downy feathers out of a drawer and returned. With a touch, the strings around Venus’s toes abruptly constricted, shrinking to both pull all of her toes out from her feet and tighten around them, just enough to leave them fully spread and thrumming with pressure. Venus squeaked into her gag, eyes going wide as she felt her feet completely trapped.
“Phase two, honey,” Lilian sang, as she raised the now much larger feathers, walking around the cage to show them off to the captive. “I love these little soft feathers, but the problem with down is that it’s much too small to get a good tickle in.” As the Curator stepped back, she leaned in, running the feathers over Venus’s sensitive, engorged nipples. Venus shrieked into her gag, slamming backwards against the cage as she tried to shrink away from the sudden assault. The Curator’s powers were still holding her breasts, and each tickle felt like it was stretching into eternity as new ones were added, layer after layer, each one so light as to be almost nothing. Combined, they were maddening. Venus’s head twisted back and forth as she screamed laughter into her gag, doing her best to thrash in her cage. Her arms pulled on her collar, and she gasped for breath as her laughter grew.
After a solid ten minutes of tickling, and as Venus’s eyes began to roll back and her laughter began to turn to quiet gasps, the Curator nodded to their partner in crime. Handing the feathers off to the Curator, Lilian grinned and walked around behind Venus, out of sight. She watched as Venus’s heaving breaths began to subside, and the Curator took over with more light teasing. This time, their fingers drifted gently up and down Venus’s inner thighs, caressing and massaging as they approached, and then retreated from, her exposed nethers. Venus groaned with frustration, eyes half-lidded as she succumbed to the bliss. A part of her knew what was coming next, but the touches were so soft and warm that she couldn’t focus on the future.
Behind her, Lilian was pulling a new toy from the bedside table. This one was two large, wide rubber strips, each one imbedded with a dozen small ball bearings. She wrapped each strip around one of Venus’s feet, using a line of duct tape to hold them closed, and then shrank the bands slightly so that they would press tightly against Venus’s tender skin. Then she stepped back. Venus, lost in the pleasure of the Curator’s touch, barely noticed the pressure, until Lilian pulled out a remote. “You know,” she said conversationally, “they don’t make egg vibes small enough to do what I wanted… so I improvised.”
She tapped the button, and every tiny ball surged to life. Each of them was a powerful vibrator with its mechanisms shrunk down to take up a tiny part of Venus’s golden foot. Venus shrieked as two dozen tiny points of vibration suddenly assaulted her immobilized feet, ranging from the balls of her toes all the way through her sensitive arches. Her feet strained desperately to escape, but the ties Lilian had subjected her to held perfectly; the entire cage shuddered faintly, but Venus’s feet couldn’t do more that twitch under the assault. Her powers raged out, but that only made the situation worse, as the fabric and rubber bindings transformed to silver in a second, turning completely rigid and leaving her feet even less able to move.
While her feet were trapped, Venus’s body wasn’t. As she began to buck and try to pull away, the Curator quickly leaned in, clamping their hands around Venus’s side. Their fingers worked mercilessly, running up into her vulnerable armpits, holding her still and ravaging her with a second wave of ticklish torment at the same time. Venus’s laughter extended into a wordless howl, a high-pitched note that drew a grin from Lilian as she turned her attention to her victim’s bottom.
Lilian’s hands slipped through the bars of Venus’s cage, stoking her butt gently and then delivering a series of short, sharp slaps in rhythm with the pulsing of the vibrators. Each slap was accompanied by a choked moan, interrupted Venus’s laughter for a half-second before she fell back into her desperate pattern.
Eventually, the Curator caught Lilian’s eyes and nodded, and the villainess reached down and dialed the ticklish bullets down to their minimum level. Venus sagged in the cage, ravaged by laughter, barely conscious and only able to let out the occasional wheezing giggle. From behind, Lilian watched in some concern as the Curator gently caressed her, running a hand through her hair. “Did we overdo it, boss?” she asked. “She can’t beg to cum if she passes out.”
“Venus is tougher than that,” the Curator said. They cupped Venus’s chin once again, and leaned in to kiss her, running their tongue over her lips. After a moment Venus’s eyes fluttered open and she leaned in, mumbling into her gag. The Curator broke away. “Aren’t you, darling?”
“Bggtmmm…” Venus whispered, giggling faintly. “Nnsttpppbl…”
“It’s time for pleasure, before the last gasp,” the Curator said. Their hands drifted down again, moving back to Venus’s thighs and running slowly up them. “I assume you have another toy to unleash.”
“Didn’t think that I would need it, but yeah, I’ve got just the thing. Was going to save it for later.” Lilian shrugged, and pulled a small plug and a tube of lotion out of her drawer. She leaned in, easily sliding the plug up Venus’s behind and smiling faintly as the girl squeaked in response. “Think that’s a big deal? It gets bigger.”
As the Curator’s fingers moved closer and closer to Venus’s pussy, Lilian focused her power on the plug, causing it to slowly grow inside her. Venus’s eyes widened once again, and she squealed and tried to sit up abruptly. But the plug was now much too large to dislodge, filling her uncomfortably full as it pressed against her. It pulsed inside her as Lilian toyed with its size, a new sort of vibration the likes of which Venus could hardly imagine. As she did, Lilian also began to gently rub oil into Venus’s skin, until her butt, back, and sides shimmered in the light.
The Curator’s fingers were now curling around Venus’s clit, rubbing and pinching it lightly. Venus’s body, wildly overstimulated from the onslaught of ticklish torture that had befallen it, responded immediately, and her moans slowly increased as the Curator continued to play with her. “You want it, don’t you?” the Curator whispered. “Your body has been ravaged. Your mind is ours to play with. Don’t you want just that little bit more?’
“Nnnnn….” Drool was running freely down Venus’s cheeks, her entire body quivering as she submitted to the relentless onslaught. Lilian and the Curator were taking turns now, one of them assaulting her from one side as the other paused, and then reversing course each time she started to become used to the rhythm.
“One last push,” the Curator said. “You can have this pleasure, as much as you want. Or…” They met Lilian’s eyes, and nodded again.
All at once, both tormentors changed their tactics. The Curator’s hand came up with a thin quill, which danced across Venus’s inner thigh and curled around her clit, just as Lilian set the vibrators still pinned to her feet to their highest setting, then moved up to run her nails up and down Venus’s now even more sensitive sides. Venus’s voice went from a moan to a squeal to silence as she was buffeted by an overwhelming ticklish hell. And just to make it worse, the Curator was using their power again, slowing nerves so that they would send their message again and again even if there was no one there. It felt as though a dozen people were surrounding Venus, digging into every sensitive spot, subjecting every inch of her body to a torment that she couldn’t escape from. She wriggled, arms beating against the sides of the cage, but there was nowhere to escape.
“PLSSS!” she gasped out between peals of silent laughter. “PLSS!”
“You want the pleasure?” the Curator teased, running their quill around her sensitive nipples.
“YSSS!”
“Then pleasure you will have.” All at once, the tickling stopped. The vibrators went silent, and Lilian stepped back as the Curator kneeled, fingers going to work on Venus’s throbbing nethers. It only took a few moments; she was so overwhelmed from stimulation that she was ready to explode.
And when she did, the Curator focused all of their power. As Venus’s eyes rolled back and she screamed out a massive orgasm, the Curator froze time around her lower body, letting the orgasm roll through her again and again, blasting her with pleasure until there was nothing in her world but the joy of release.
And finally, just before Venus thought she would go insane, it was done. The pleasure ebbed away, the gentle feeling of release echoing through her, as she sagged in her bonds. Lilian had grown the cage, until it touched the roof, until the Curator could slip through the bars and pull their lover out, removing her bonds, holding her gently, and wiping sweat away from her skin. Venus blinked up at them as they carefully removed her gag. “Wow,” she murmured.
“You think that’s good, just wait until you see what we do to you next,” Lilian said with a grin, kneeling beside the pair. “You caved.”
“Did she?” the Curator asked mildly.
Lilian frowned at them, and then looked at the clock. It had been set to stop remotely, alongside the vibrators. And it was showing forty-six minutes. “There’s no way…” she started, and then looked back at the Curator with suddenly-narrowed eyes. “Did you mess with my time, too??”
The Curator shrugged. “When I asked what side you were on, you forgot to ask what side I was on. I wasn’t going to make it easy on her, but Venus gets what she wants.”
“Fucker.” Lilian laughed. “Well, a deal’s a deal. What are we going to do, Venus?”
“First, you’re putting the bed back. Then, we’re climbing on it, and you two are going to very elaborately apologize for all that mean ol’ tickling.” Venus grinned sleepily. “Depending on how you do, you’re either going to be sleeping with us, or bundled up under the bed for the night, listening to us curl up above you.”
“Game on,” Lilian said, running a hand through her hair. She picked up the small bed on the nightstand, letting it grow as the birdcage shrank. “I like my odds.”