Ticklish Tunes

"Stay still!" Saline sang.

He tried. He tried so hard to do as Saline said. But he was giggling louder and louder as torturous, exquisite pleasure filled his body. It was too much. He loved being tickled, but this... oh, fuck!

The feathers breezed along his sole and cock simultaneously, tickling his most sensitive skin. He squirmed and whimpered and laughed, staring up at the sirens with teary eyes. "S-stop!" he cried. "I c-can't—can't—oh—"

The sirens were panting for breath, clutching one another desperately. Their batlike ears were twitching like mad. They kissed passionately, messily, moaning hysterically.

They were climaxing, he realized with wide eyes and a rapid heart. He yelped and giggled as the feathers started grazing faster over his feet.

"P-please!" he whined. "I can't—heehee—oh, p-please!" His whole body was contorting in tormented pleasure. He... he loved being tickled, but...

"Squeal for us!" Palcea cooed, flicking her unbearably delicate feathers over his unbearably sensitive member. "Oh, yes, squeal!"

He found himself shrieking as Saline's feathers tickled over his feet. Why were they so tickless? Since when—

The thought was wiped away as their giggles once again filled his mind with glimmering bubbles. His mind was melting, gibbering, breaking down—

He came with a giggling scream, cum shooting out and spattering over himself and the rocks. The sirens were giggling like mad. Pleasure—wicked, torturous pleasure—sang through him.

His vision was immersed in light. Everything felt so familiar, so dreamlike. The feather kept stroking his cock, teasing out the last jets of cum as he bucked and whimpered and laughed.

His face was bright red. He couldn't breathe. Tears were streaming down his cheeks. And then the feathers stopped.

He blinked. A deep, ragged breath came in as the tails rose from his cock. The much-needed relief alone nearly crushed his mind.

"Enjoying yourself, boy?" Saline cooed up at him, licking her lips.

He let out a little whine.

"What's that?" Palcea beamed. "You want us to make it even better?"

He tried to speak, but his tongue was leaden. He could still barely breathe. He could only let out another whimpering whine.

And then the sirens descended, giggling, and started licking like kittens over his cock. They lapped up the cum as the feathers rose up and started tickling his arms like mad. And the pleasure torture—and his high-pitched laughter and whimpers—resumed.

Milan was in heaven. He loved being tickled. He felt so deliciously powerless, so intoxicatingly overstimulated.

He was also in fucking hell, and everything about this was awful. Why couldn't he refuse? Why did he agree with everything these gorgeous blonde temptresses told him? What was that beautiful humming in the background?

"This little sailor boy," Palcea exclaimed, straightening once more—Saline was clinging to her like a shaking leaf, clearly still in the midst of an overwhelming orgasm—"has the most delicious little giggles I've ever heard, doesn't he, honeycomb?"

"Y-yessss," Saline sighed. His cock throbbed at that tone of voice. "Such a... hee... good listener."

"Mm." Palcea smirked. "I just wanna keep him like this forever, don't you?"

"Ooooh..."

They were controlling him, Milan realized, a dazzled smile spreading across his empty-headed face. The music in the background... their voices, so pretty...

He loved it. He loved them.

But... were they making him love them?

And did he care?

He wriggled and giggled as their feathers touched all over his cock and balls. He was a mess. A ticklish, mindless, obedient mess. How could he ever resist this? Even if he wanted to...

And then he spotted his lute.

It floated just on the current, bobbing over the waves. He stared at it, wide-eyed. It had floated right to the edge of the ledge.

Unthinkingly, he reached down towards it.

"Ooh!" squealed Saline, pausing in her licks. "Does he want more on his cute, sensitive arms?"

"He's such a kinky little thing," Palcea purred.

His eyes widened. He managed to grab the lute from the water—just as the feathers reached his underarms and armpits and started to tease the highly ticklish areas.

He squeaked and nearly dropped the lute, arms flying back down to his sides—but the feathers tortured him anyways, now trapped beneath. There was nothing he could do to stop them from tickling his arms and sides, and he soon gave up, letting his arms go limp to give them full and terrible reign.

And they took advantage. He whimper-laughed with unrestrained glee, his mind a swirl of erotic delight.

His fingers were twitching and shaking, but he clutched the lute tightly. A strange sense of deja vu settled on him as his knuckles whitened around the instrument.

And, barely even thinking about it, he found himself strumming a chord.

His heart fluttered with recognition. Gathering his wits, Milan began to play. And he began to sing the first thing that popped into his head—a very stupid little love song from back home. His voice rang out, smooth and sweet, echoing in the canyon.

"The young man lay, with eyes honey-sweet

Beneath the apple tree

The young man said, 'O, my day would be complete

If I had some company.'"

The licking on his cock started to slow down. At the same time, to his intense relief—and regret—the tickling beneath his arms ebbed, and the feathery tails slipped away from his sides.

He managed to take in a weak, shuddering breath.

"Oh," he heard one of the pair whisper. "O-oh. Nnn... can't—"

"The tree looked down, with bitter-bark thoughts

And said to that young fool

'What am I, then, you ungrateful little sod

I, that shades and keeps you cool?'"

His voice rang out, clear as a bell. Saline let out a squeaky moan, visibly shivering—almost as if she was the one having feathers run along her body. Her large, fuzzy ears were twitching rapidly.

He felt her hot breath on his cock.

Slowly, she and Palcea started licking again, but their licks were small and uneven. They were entwined within each other's forms, stroking and pinching, as though just desperate to share the way they felt with the nearest hot body. Lust filled their formerly amused eyes—helpless, entranced lust.

They needed him to cum first, he realized, staring into those glassy golden eyes. Because if he came first, he would lose control. He would yield totally, cum his brains out, let them turn him into their horny, suggestible little ticklebimbo.

But the way their ears were twitching, they weren't going to last that long. He took a deep breath for the next stanza as his fingers danced over the strings—

And then, competing with his own voice, there rang out the sweet, silvery voice of an angel.

"The young man saw, for he was a keen-eyed sort

A handsome dryad up above

A fey from the Highest old fey court

And the sweet voice of a dove."

Their voices mingled, each in a separate key. He had to struggle to keep his tune straight.

But Carava's voice trickled into his mind, sweet and tempting. He whimpered, fighting to keep his voice strong. It would feel so good to give in... he already felt so blank and dizzy, listening to Carava's beautiful voice...

The little tongues below continued to tease him. Palcea and Saline were whining, mewling, desperately trying to keep him on the edge. Their efforts—and their beautiful whimpers—were enough to make his cock throb needily, and their eyes glinted with excitement.

His heart fluttered as he stared into those clever, greedy eyes.

Milan had to regain control. His mind crackled and hummed along with the tune, but enough of his touch memory alone was enough to keep his fingers sliding over the strings, and he tried to speed up the song to match a frantic, pace.

"The man said, 'O, good sir, I didn't mean a thing.

My words were poorly-spoke.

For if I had seen you, and heard your sweet voice ring

I would not have... told such jokes.'"

F-fuck. He couldn't remember all the lyrics. He moaned, bucking slightly, as the tongues tickled and teased his needy, sensitive member. The giggles were starting to rise in him again.

But Carava was stumbling, too. Her voice couldn't fill him with that sweet, staticky comfort anymore, not when she was so horny herself. He heard wet sounds, and saw from the corner of his eye that she had thrust two fingers into her cunt.

He redoubled his efforts, heart pounding. No matter what, Milan was going home tonight!

"And the dryad's heart (a knotted, twisted thing)

Eased and loosened at these words

And he jumped down with a spritely fairy spring

And the man found his heart stirred."

On the third line, Carava collapsed to the ground. He could see her stroking her clit, pinching her nipples, eyes wide and overwhelmed as her ears quivered. Her voice rang out high-pitched and desperate now.

Milan hesitated, lost in the sight, lost in her aroused tone of voice.

He fought to keep his senses, fought to keep the tune going. Carava's singing was still powerful, and he still felt it prodding at him, pouring into the weakest points of his mind and turning them to her side. He swallowed, feeling Palcea's and Saline's slow, trickling pleasure continuing at his pulsating member.

Beside him, he saw Pallasii emerging from the water. The mermaid's eyes were dull and dazed. She was trembling with arousal from the music all around her, but she looked at him with clear concern. "Can you... keep it up?" she hissed.

He nodded weakly. Palcea and Saline were barely licking him, now. What they gave were tiny, kittenish laps—torturous in how brief they were, but not nearly enough to break him over the edge. They were panting, moaning, stroking each other, almost grasping at each other in their eagerness. He stared in amazement as these two once-powerful sirens seemed to melt before his eyes into needy, gasping puppets to their own lust.

He took in a last shuddering breath, rallying all his will for one last stanza. Pallasii rested a hand on his shoulder, steadying him for the final 'blow'.

"And the two climbed up into that tree so tall

And they found a..."

He felt a soft hand touch his cheek. Pallasii smiled down at him.

He blinked up at her, momentarily speechless.

Then she seized him in a sloppy, devouring kiss like no other.

"MMMM!"" He struggled desperately, but the mermaid gripped him tightly, moaning and laughing as her tongue slid into his mouth, as she nibbled and sucked at his lower lip, tickled fingers along his bare chest. "MMMMM!"

His fingers slipped off the strings.

There was a pause.

And then he heard musical giggling, and his mind exploded in bright blue and gold bubbles. Blissful haze filled him up completely until he was totally entranced—totally submissive once mmore to the sirens' sweet voices.

The next thing he knew, Carava was singing again, wordless and alien, beautiful. His mind started to melt as the tongues started tickling over his sensitive cock in earnest, and he squirmed and moaned into the mermaid's wet kiss as their feathers tickled his sides and underarms mercilessly.

His cock was throbbing. His mind was oozing out his cock, and all he could do was...

obey.

Oh. Oh, that felt so good. He moaned and giggled, bucking against the sirens' tongues. Obey. He loved obeying.

"Pallasii!" he heard Palcea sing, giving his cock a sweet little kiss. "Get off him! We want to hear our little featherbrain squeal!"

"Yes, Mistress," Pallasii mumbled, rising up and leaving him breathless beneath. The mermaid smiled vapidly down at him as she crawled away.

Her smile widened as Carava's tail descended upon her.

"Good tickletease!" Palcea cooed, as the mermaid started to writhe and twitch, eyes wide, drooling once more in needy, paralyzed bliss. "You've been such a good tickletease today, too!"

"Yes," the mermaid moaned. "A-alwaaaays..."

Palcea and Saline turned back to their red-faced plaything, batting their eyelashes. "So, featherbrain," teased Palcea, kissing him again on his sensitive cock tip, "are we ready to be a good boy?"

Her words sank into his mind like soothing mist after all the stress. The betrayal of Pallasii barely registered with him. He just stared down at her, stared into those bright, gleaming eyes, biting his lip. "I... I, um..."

They grinned and descended back down on his cock again, licking with unbearably lightness and speed—not enough to bring him to orgasm alright, but enough to drive him mad with ticklish pleasure. The fluffy, feathery tails returned to his arms, wickedly teasing him no matter how hard he tried to cover himself. There was always some area of sensitive skin for them to toy with.

He let out a squeal, writhing and wriggling helplessly. He was a suggestible, squirmy, horny mess beneath their touches. "Yes!" he cried. "Y-yes, I—heehee—I'll be good! I'll be good!" He bucked and screamed as he started to cum. His mind went white-hot. "I'll be good, Mistress!"

"Yes, you will," said Carava sweetly, her song ending at last. Palcea's and Saline's tongues worked wickedly over his sensitized tip. The tails brushed teasingly down his sides, and he thrashed in futile reflex, desperate to avoid the exquisite attentions and yet desperate for them to continue.

His pleasure surged through him like a burst damn, and there was no saving him now. He didn't want to be saved. He giggled and cried out in intoxicated delight, a mindfucked puppet for his Mistress's cruel touches and delicious voices. Saline and Palcea were giggling like mad as tears streamed down his face.

He almost couldn't breathe. He was laughing too hard, cumming too hard. He couldn't stop cumming. Palcea and Saline were collapsing against one another in the throes of orgasm, kissing and moaning, clutching each other like lifelines, but he knew he couldn't possibly muster the will anymore to think of that as any sort of opportunity. He was just proud he had made Palcea and Saline happy with him.

Their little featherbrain wasn't going anywhere.

So he just lay back, and let the insidious, corrupted pleasure slowly turn his mind into fuzzy, happy mush.

His vision was immersed in a brilliant, warm glow as their squeals and taunts and coos sank deep into his mind. He was lost in the glow, lost in pliant bliss.

As he lay in the giggly, whimpering afterglow of his third orgasm, he felt Carava wrap her arms around his shoulders. He was almost blind with over-stimulation, and so all he could do was giggle and squirm as those wicked tails probed over his whole body, keeping him nice and brainless for the sirens' pleasure.

He barely noticed as he was lifted into the air and carried up, up, up. His spirit was already in the clouds. He just weakly tried and failed to keep the tails from reaching his newly-exposed ass and back.

"Come on, toy," Carava chirped, kissing the back of his neck as she clutched him to her chest. "It's time for your favorite part."

Favorite part. He went limp, moaning, whimpering, as the tickles continued their endless torment. He was already about to cum again as they took him to the mouth of a deep cave.

This was his favorite part. Every time they took him to this place, broke him, fucked him, this was his favorite part. This was the part where they made sure he remembered to take this current the next time he needed to return from his 'fishing expedition'. This was the part where they truly made him their sweet, hypnotized featherbrain.

"Oh, my darlings!" Carava sang. "Guess what we found!"

As they entered the dark cave, a musical chorus of gleeful squeals from within sent him into his fourth orgasm, and his cock started to spurt as the tails descended upon it, soon joined by a host of slick, delicate tongues.

The siren colony would enjoy their toy tonight.

THE END?

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Thanks for reading! This was a request for my Bonus Pairings series. If you want to make your own requests for faceoffs between fey, monster girls, hypnotists, and/or hapless mortals like Milan, feel free to leave a comment or send me some feedback. Have a great night!