Story: The Blackmane Archives m/f
KokO
by Nightjar
While she was unconscious, I took the opportunity to examine my opponent.
She was good; very good, I had to admit and she had led me a merry chase
before Lady Luck intervened. I turned from my musings back to the problem
at hand. She was no older than 25 and her body was lithe and supple.
Earlier that night, at the Embassy Ball, I had noted that she moved with
the languorous grace of a cat. The effect was enhanced by both the black
evening dress she wore, and those deep, green eyes of hers. The evening
dress hugged her body and accentuated her form. I sighed and wished
things could have turned out differently. I ruefully shook my head. There
was no room in our game for regrets. Regrets got you killed.
I gently stripped her of her clothes and placed her limp body upon the
tilted, padded X-frame. As I removed her shoes, I noted her shapely
ankles and the delicate beauty of her feet. That is not to say that I did
not realise that were she awake, those lovely extensions would be used to
deadly effect. It was just that I appreciated the way they suited her
body. Some women, I have noticed, tend to have such bony feet and ankles
that I rather thought they were ugly terminations on otherwise exquisite
bodies. However, the lady in my presence had such slender, yet well-
fleshed and proportioned feet that it bore more than just a passing
glance. I fastened the soft, fur-lined leather cuffs around her wrists
and ankles and she was then well-secured to the frame. I was rather
precise about this - often amateurs tighten the cuffs so much that they
cut off circulation until all feeling is lost in these delicate
extremities. On the other hand, to leave the restraints too loose shows
a certain sloppiness of attitude and allows chafing and bruising damage
when the subject struggles in the cuffs. With the same care as I had
taken with the cuffs, I firmly cinched the strap about her slender waist,
in order to prevent more violent struggles of her torso than would be
good for her body. The strap was well designed and provided confinement
without covering too much skin.
I carefully draped her evening dress over the sofa in the corner of my
lab. The complex was a sufficiently habitable and secluded place; well
hidden from prying eyes and it was fitted with the best equipment the
government could buy. But then again, they had every reason to meet my
requests. I got the results and they didn't need to clean up after my
information recovery operations - unlike others who seemed more brutal
and rudimentary in their methods of information extraction.
I studied her again at length. She had a beautiful, almost angelic face
surrounded by lustrous, shoulder length auburn hair. A slight smile
played around the corners of her mouth, as if she dreamt of something
pleasant. A glance at my watch told me that she would awaken soon and
that serenity would disappear from her face as soon as she was aware of
her surroundings. I found that I somewhat regretted that.
-----------------------------------ooo-----------------------------------
I have noticed that they always seem to struggle when they first awaken
and discover the restraints. It must be human nature. I waited for her
struggles to subside before I spoke since it is to no avail to reason
with someone when they are stricken with panic or anger.
"Good evening, Ms. Debrincat. I must apologise for removing your
clothing and placing you in a somewhat less than comfortable position. Of
course, I'm sure that we can do away with this awkward arrangement once
you tell me where your friends have stored the vial containing that
certain biological hazard."
"I will not tell you, 'Blackmane', no matter what you do to me!" she spat
at me.
"I see you know my nickname," I remarked casually.
"Yes! I was warned that I may be captured by the best! You think we are
fools!"
"It's flattering that you should think that I am the best. But there are
others far better - I am considered to be too gentle. And as for thinking
you a fool? I have never underestimated you or your organisation. But
that is neither here nor there. We seem to have strayed from the original
discussion ... Will you tell me what I want to know?"
"I will never tell you, despite the pain that you inflict on my body or
the indignities that you will force upon me," she resolutely told me
although I sensed some doubt and fear behind her bravado.
"I suppose we had better start then," I sighed, "but you are wrong. I
would never hurt you."
"Liar! These restraints are proof of your intent!", she cried even yet
struggling against the bonds.
"I do intend to get the information from you. But I do not lie. I will
not hurt you," I said quietly.
I walked across the room and picked up a tray. From her vantage point,
she could not see what was on the tray and it made her fearful. I walked
behind her and put the tray on the trolley stand, again in such a way
that she could not discern the contents of the tray. She had gone quiet
now, perhaps preparing herself for whatever would come next. I rummaged
about the tray, more so to build up the suspense, rather than for any
real reason.
"What are you going to do to me?" she grated, her curiosity getting the
better of her.
I walked back into view, holding two soft, wide, sable brushes in my
hands.
She gasped and her green eyes went wide. "No!" she cried, struggling
with a strength borne of desperation, fighting against the frame that
held her immobile.
I walked to stand in front of her and twirled the brushes even as I
brought them down to her unprotected sides. With what little movement
afforded by the strap around her waist, she sought to evade the soft
caresses of the brushes. With a certain amount of skill I toyed with her,
chasing her torso first one way with one brush then the other way with
its partner, and only making brief contact with her skin. Throughout
this, she clamped her mouth firmly shut, as if this could contain her
involuntary laughter. Sweat beaded lightly on her forehead from her
exertions.
Now was the time, I decided to myself. I lowered both brushes and
gently stroked her sides, trailing the implements from the swell of her
hips to the armpits and back again. Goosebumps rose up on her skin with
the kiss of the soft hair against her skin. She tried to contain herself.
She shut her eyes tightly and held her breath. She shook her head from
side to side and pulled against the wrist cuffs. But it was no use. After
less than a minute of this unwanted stroking, giggles bubbled from her
lips. It was such a sweet sound. Believe me when I tell you, I have heard
the laughter of many women that hurt the ears ... but that is another
story. A minute later, her giggles had escalated to laughter and after
six minutes of continued torment, her hysteria had grown until she was
gasping and laughing, all the while pleading with me.
"Noooo!! Heeeee!!!! Please stop! Haaaa haaaa!!! I can't stand it!" she
howled.
"Why? Am I hurting you?" I asked, feigning surprise and concern even as I
continued to stroke her sides with the brushes.
"Yessss!! Hahahahaaaa! I can't breathe!! Stop!! Heehehehe!!" she laughed
and screamed at me.
"All you need to do is tell me where the vial is and then I will stop. I
don't think that is too great a request - do you?" I asked in a
reasonable tone of voice.
With that I increased the tempo of the tickling and for several minutes
any response she might have made was overwhelmed by her own laughter. At
last I relented and again asked, "Are you ready to tell me about the
vial?"
Somehow her anger, perhaps with herself, managed to overcome her body's
ticklish response. Her eyes fairly blazed.
"You will never hear it from my lips!" she cried defiantly at me.
"Never is a long time," I replied even as I put aside one of the
brushes.
I drew up my chair to her left side and manipulated the controls
situated on the armrest. The hydraulic system grumbled as it lowered the
X-frame and tilted it into a horizontal position so that I could, while
seated, comfortably reach most regions of her upper body. I manoeuvred
the tray around so I could better select my instruments for the next
round of tickling. I then paused deliberately, giving her a chance to
contemplate her decision. She chewed nervously at her lip, her body
tensed for the moment of contact. I watched intently until she began to
relax and at the moment her eyes fluttered open, I dusted the brush in
the smooth hollow of her armpit. She emitted a startled yelp of
surprise, and began to tug furiously at the cuff pinning her arm.
Slowly and methodically, I explored every inch of the smooth skin of her
armpit while she giggled and thrashed as best she could. I found
after some experimentation, that the most effective way to tickle
her armpit was in a swirling motion. She threw her head from side to
side, and screamed and laughed, her breasts heaving as she struggled to
get her breath. For two full minutes I continued with this torment and
then withdrew the brush to give her a chance to recover. I spoke no
words, and she was too breathless yet to defy me with speech. No sooner
had her breathing calmed again, than I lazily trailed the brush up and
down the soft skin of her stomach and then made it pirouette on her
navel.
"Stop!!! Hahaha!! Please!!! No more!!! Heehehe!!" she shrieked as she
tried to flatten herself against the frame to avoid the brush.
As I skated the bristly tip around the rim of her navel, acting as if I
was absent-mindedly doodling and unaware of its effect, I spoke to the
girl over her anguished laughter.
"Kirsten, if you tell me where the vial is, I can stop this."
"Go to Heeeeeee!!! Ahhhh!!" she screamed, her imprecation interrupted as
I increased the speed of rotations of the brush around the dimple in her
midsection.
"Nice girls don't say those kinds of things," I admonished, although I
doubted that she was paying me much attention at that stage.
For ten minutes, I worked the brush across the flawless skin of her
stomach, using her screams as a guide to locate the most ticklish parts.
Finally, when it seemed that her body was numb against the effects of the
brush, I tossed it aside with its partner.
"I have beaten you! Admit it!" Kirsten challenged me, even as she
continued to giggle from the previous torments.
"I admire your spirit, Ms. Debrincat. However, I am not quite ready to
retire from the game. Now if you'll permit me ... " I said as I held up
some loops of cotton and glanced meaningfully at her bare feet.
"Tickling my feet. That old trick?" she scoffed. "What makes you think
you'll have any more success with that?"
"Just call it a hunch," I murmured as I snared her wiggling big toe with
a loop and wound the loose ends of the string around an eyelet affixed to
the limb of the frame.
In quick succession, I secured her other big toe and her two little toes.
I stepped back to admire my handiwork. Her feet were now slightly arched
backward and the toes splayed. I was satisfied that her feet would be
unable to move more than a fraction of an inch, no matter how much
tickling I inflicted upon them. I moved briskly to the tray and pondered
thoughtfully over the remaining items. Kirsten looked on as well with a
faint wariness about her eyes. I discarded the feather boa immediately. I
had never found it particularly effective, and my preference was for
pinpoint attacks on specific areas. The duster was another useful
preliminary tickling tool but it was difficult to wield with finesse.
Like the boa, it spread the sensation over too wide an area. I chose
instead, the pair of raven's feathers and proceeded back to the far end
of the frame.
As I lowered the feathertips to her helpless soles, she half-whispered
"Ple.." and faltered midway through her plea.
I looked at her and enquired, "Yes, Ms. Debrincat?"
She swallowed and stuck her chin out in defiance. "Nothing! Do your
worst!"
I quickly looked down to hide my smile and whispered, "That's my girl."
In a strange way I guess I was proud of her. But it wasn't getting me
any closer to the answers I needed. I dragged the tip up and down her
right sole to start with and it was as if an electric shock had run
through her body. She giggled and squealed madly as I continued to
vertically stroke her sole. I then started on her left foot and her
pleadings became more urgent. I ran the feathers in slow circles over her
soft arches in such a way that brought forth a torrent of laughter,
interspersed with incoherent pleadings. However, there seemed to be
something that she had feared and I was sure that my use of the feathers
to date hadn't touched upon that fear as yet. Running on instinct, I took
both feathers and began to drag them between her toes. If it hadn't been
for her restraints, I'm sure that Kirsten would have launched herself
into orbit. Her eyes nearly started from her head. The toes themselves
trembled from the tickling, her calves twitching against the ankle cuffs.
Her hands clawed at the air, as she sought to escape the feathers.
"Please!!!!! Hahaha!! I can't take that!!! Ahhh!!!! Sto-ho-op!!", she
cried as tears streamed from her eyes.
The soles of her feet had turned pink from the tickling and still I
continued to saw the feathers against the delicate webbing between her
toes and against the toes themselves.
"Can't stand the tickling!! Heeehehe! No more!! Hahahahaa!! No! Please!
N-n-not between the toe-hohoho-s!!!", was all she could manage to gasp
out between her spasms of laughter.
I stopped. "Are you ready to talk about the vial?" I asked again.
Again she shook her head, though more hesitantly than before.
"I guess I'll just have to increase the intensity," I mused, more to
myself than to my prisoner.
I returned to the control panel and tapped in some new instructions.
Panels in the floor slid open and two robotic arms, one on either side
of the frame rose up from the cavity beneath the floor. Ringed cylinders
covered with soft fur protruded from both arms and their intended use was
not lost upon Kirsten. She struggled with her wrist cuffs, tugging at one
and then the other, in the vain hope that she might deny access to her
ticklish sides. As before, the restraints held. In time, she realised the
futility of this although she still fought against her bonds. But now she
began to yell her anger at me.
"You ... you beast! I hate you! And when I am free, I will have my
revenge!" she shouted at me.
And then she proceeded to describe the nature of my begetting and my
sexual preferences in somewhat graphic detail. I was surprised by the
completeness of the phrases that she used.
"I really don't approve of your language, you know," I continued in a
conversational tone. "You have such a sweet voice that it almost
offends my sensibilities when you utter such obscenities. And to hear the
hate you bear me ... life is too short for hate. I much prefer to see
your smile and to listen to your laughter."
While she struggled and cursed, I programmed the arms for operation. The
cylinder rotations were set for random speed changes, which I found to be
most effective for tickling. I then set the placement of the cylinders
such that they rotated within the curved hollows of her armpits. The
proximity sensing devices ensured that the cylinders remained
sufficiently far away from the skin to achieve their purpose.
As the furry tormentors reached their targets, Kirsten yelped and giggled
even as she sought to find words to vent her anger at me. She drew in her
breath, sputtered and began to giggle again. I watched with admiration
as she shut her eyes tight and shook her head, as if disagreeing with the
twirling ticklers. Unmindful of her movements, the furry cylinders
continued to scrape her underarms. As the moments ticked by, her giggling
became louder and grew in momentum until it was unrestrained laughter.
When it seemed as if she could laugh no harder, I returned to caressing
her insanely ticklish toes with the feathers. Fresh gales of laughter,
now tinged with hysteria, seized her under the combined onslaught of fur
and feathers. Her limbs jerked uselessly, in reaction to the tickling
she was receiving. Tears streamed from her eyes and she clutched
sporadically at the air with her fingers.
"Plea ... haahaha!! .. please! Ahh! Hahaha!! ... Don't tickle .. heehehe
meeee .... hahehehaha!!! any more!! .. Ahh! Haahaha!! I'm going ..
hehehe!!! ma-aa-d! Hahahahhh!!" she shrieked through her laughter.
I paid her no heed, since by now I suspected she would only release her
secret once I had completely broken her and not before. I was sure that
her surrender would be soon. After a further five minutes of this
combined tickling, her laughter became more breathy and I was sure that
there were sighs and moans intermingled with the giggles. I glanced up
the column of her body and took note of the swollen stiffness of her
nipples. They were flushed with colour, and were quite a pretty sight to
behold. Her hips alternately thrust away from and dropped back onto the
padded frame in the small movement allowed by the waist strap and her
eyes were shut in concentration. However else I may have felt, I realised
that her state of sexual excitement would provide a means of obtaining
the information I sought.
I activated a set of devices I had recently developed - specifically
designed to torment the feet. Like the other two arms currently in use,
these arms had rotating cylinders, though of smaller radius and the arms
were located at the base of the frame, rather than at the sides. The
cylinders were also different; they were covered with fine, soft hair
bristles instead of fur. Unlike the other arms, these ones each had five
short, sets of soft bristles and in between these; four long feathery
fingers - a combination designed to tickle the space between the toes and
the toes themselves.
Kirsten had noticed I had stopped feathering her toes, although the soft
hollows of her armpits continued to be tortured. She raised her head to
see what I was up to. However, the very the parts of her body that were
to be tickled obscured the devices from her sight.
"You have failed! ... Heheheee! You will never ... ahhh!! ... get the
information! Hahaha! ... Now .. mmmmmf!! .. let me go," she half-moaned,
half-giggled at me.
"Maybe you are right," I agreed lightly. "You have been a worthy
opponent."
Without the extra tickling of her feet, it seemed as though her arousal
had subsided; her nipples were now soft again. She slumped back against
the frame, laughing weakly as her armpits continued to be tickled. While
her guard was down, I activated the foot-tickling devices.
"Then again, maybe you are wrong," I mildly added to my earlier comment.
The two arms locked into position and the various parts began to move.
The cylinders whirled to life and oscillated up and down the soles of
her feet. The whirling again randomly changed speed like those of the
other cylinders - by trial and error, I had discovered that the speeds
of these cylinders were quite different to those required for tickling
the sides and armpits.
As the cylinders began to turn, the fingers on the arms twirled in half
rotations, turning first clockwise and then anticlockwise. At the same
time, the fingers also moved in and out in a sawing motion. The tendrils
appeared to suckle on the tender skin between her toes. The bristles
stroked her toes in a vertical line, starting from top of her toes,
moving down to the base and then retracing their path back to the top.
At the first touch of these foot ticklers, Kirsten's eyes flew open.
With renewed energy she struggled on the frame, while trying to stifle
the new waves of laughter that bubbled from her lips. But she could not
deny the relentless attacks on her feet. She was now laughing wildly and
tossing her head as she strained to jerk her feet away from the wispy,
maddening touches. The mechanical arms continued their set tasks,
wringing every drop of mirth from her body. But soon the laughter gave
way again to moans, stronger this time and again caused by that other,
more primal urge. Her nipples swelled into full, pink buds, as if to
invite a lover's touch. Even as she laughed, she ground her hips
slightly, and balled her fists in frustration.
I wheeled my chair over to her right side and deactivated that tickling
arm. After the arm had sunk out of sight and the floor panel had slid
back into position, I moved closer to her. At that range, I could smell
the delicious musky fragrance of her arousal mixed with the perfume she
had worn, but I could not allow for distractions.
"Ohhh! ... Not good enough to tickle my ... hahaha! .. feet unaided ...
Hmmmf!," she gritted through her teeth at me.
"My dear, although I would be willing to lavish feathery caresses upon
your lovely feet, I am ever a servant to my duty," I sighed forlornly.
"And," I continued, "duty instructs me that my place is here by your
side."
She continued to moan, although she watched me warily through heavy
lidded eyes.
"You seem to be distracted," I observed. "Here let me switch these off
for you so you can concentrate for a bit."
I punched in the shutdown codes, although I left the devices in place -
the significance of this fact was well understood by Kirsten.
"Do you know that the most ticklish places on the body can also be
the most erogenous. Do you suppose this is true in your case?" I asked,
for all the world sounding as if this were the subject of normal
conversation while I tapped a raven's feather against my cheek.
The effect on her was electric. The shock was so great that her remaining
soft giggles and moans ceased at that instant, banished as she realised
what her new torture would be.
"You wouldn't," she gasped. "You can't! Please!!"
The pleading look in her beautiful green eyes almost made me stop from
carrying out my intentions. But I knew the importance of the information
she was witholding.
"Oh, you are so kind to volunteer," I said, answering as though she had
submitted to have this theory tested upon her body.
"Now where should I start?" I thought aloud for Kirsten's benefit.
I had already made up my mind before I spoke. Her full, firm breasts were
to be the first subjects of the feather's soft caresses.
"I think the appropriate place to start would be with your enticingly
pretty breasts," I suggested.
Without further preamble, I commenced to trace the feather about the
circumference of her right breast, following its lovely curve and
lingering on the underside, wringing soft squeals and moans from her
lips. I continued then my tracing, covering every bit of skin. Kirsten
giggled helplessly while pleading for me to stop. I ignored her but
slowed the movement of my hand, gradually spiralling the tip inwards
toward her nipple. When I reached the limits of the limits of the
aureole, I more carefully covered the surface of that skin, using only
the finest tip of the feather, yet carefully avoiding contact with the
nipple. Her giggles turned to deep sighs, her lips slightly parted. As I
carefully guided the feather toward the centre of her breast, the nipple
once again became stiff. I quickly looped a nipple snare around its base
- it's a rubber loop set upon an eight inch shaft, modelled on the snares
used to handle snakes, although much smaller - and tightened it to trap
the nipple but not sufficient so as to cause pain. At that, she lifted up
her head to observe what I was about to do to her captured nipple. Held
in that manner, I knew that any sensation the nipple was subjected to
would be so much more intense. Without hesitation, I slowly and evenly
drew the whole length of feather lightly across the pink nubbin of flesh.
Kirsten immediately stiffened, and gasped at the touch. At the completion
of the stroke she dropped her head back upon the leather padding of the
frame, her body shuddering from the pleasure of that caress. I repeated
the stroking, although at intervals that varied so that it frustrated as
much as it aroused. For variety, I released the nipple and proceeded to
ravage her left breast using the same technique. By the end of it,
Kirsten was moaning wordlessly, her lips upturned, inviting a kiss. I
thought about it but knew that if I did, I would never find out where the
vial was.
Instead, I turned my attention to the soft folds of skin between
Kirsten's legs. She immediately guessed my intentions as well, and began
to plead with me.
"No!!! Please don't tickle me there! I can't stand it!! I'll die!!!" she
cried in panic.
"Hush now, Ms. Debrincat," I said gently, "You won't die. I think you
actually enjoy the tickling."
I spoke no further so that I could better concentrate on the best means
of tickling Kirsten close to an orgasm but without inducing it. I
examined the soft curls that covered a thin strip at the edges where the
her labia met. I looked up to study the reaction on her face when the
feather devoured her ticklish skin. She had tightly screwed up her eyes
and nervously chewed upon her lower lip. I dropped the tip of the quill
to that soft and fleshy region and began to lightly saw the feather
against the bare skin. A squeal of laughter mingled with a moan escaped
from her pursed lips. I was surprised by her wild struggles. She wiggled
her hips in an attempt to inch away from the whispering caresses of the
implement of her torture. But the restraints held her fast.
With great care, I began to work over the exterior folds of skin, sliding
the quill closer to the edges of the lips with every stroke. Under the
stimulation of the feather, her labia began to swell and pout, turning a
faint pink. I continued to tease the edges of the lips, only now I used
the tip to precision, and by this subtle titillation, her clitoris began
to push aside the flesh that trapped it. I continued for long moments to
tantalise the skin but I carefully avoided that rosy bud of flesh. With
her state of arousal, the slightest touch would trigger her orgasm. I
knew she was close to it. Her hips involuntarily jerked upward, trying
desperately to press the feather against her clitoris. I lightened the
touch and now it only made fleeting contact with her skin.
"Ohhhh!!! Please!!! Make me come! Ummmff!! Don't stop now!!" she moaned.
"You seem so tense, my dear Ms. Debrincat," I said in a consoling manner.
"I think that you need to relax. Perhaps you need a good tickling. Would
you like that?"
"Please! I can't bear the agony! Ohhhh!" she moaned again.
"Of course I'll do this for you," I said as I winked at her, taking her
confused moanings to be an agreement.
I hit the start sequence and the machines sprang to life again. Kirsten's
arousal had made her skin even more sensitive than it was before. Her
laughter echoed off the walls, as she struggled in futility against her
restraints. The laughter too had changed, and seemed to emanate deep
within her. Even as she sought escape from the tickling, her hips
continued to buck against the waist strap. Her nipples grew even more
turgid and she tossed her head from side to side, as if in the throes of
passion. Within a minute her laughter became soundless, and I chose that
moment to resume my tickling of her labia. I dragged the feather along
the length of one lip before switching my attention to its partner,
noting that the slit opened wider with each pass. With each careful
stroke of the feather, her moaning increased in frequency and pitch.
Picking up the rhythm of her moans, I increased the tempo of the
tickling to match. For five minutes we continued to accelerate towards
her climax. Suddenly, her body tightened up and she tried to arch her
slender back off the frame, despite the waist strap. Her fists were
tightly balled up.
"Yess!!! Ohhhh!! Hehehee!! I'm going to come!!! Ahhhahaha!! Yess!!
Ohhhh!" she moaned, no longer aware of her surroundings.
I was ready for that very moment. A single keystroke shut down the
machines and I lifted the feather away from her fevered body. She
strained against her bonds, and buckled her knees inwards, in some way
trying to rub her inflamed clit. But her spreadeagled position gave her
no means to trigger an orgasm. At last she collapsed back upon the frame.
"I was sooo close!!! Please!!! Don't stop!!! Please!!! I need to come!"
she sobbed at me in frustration.
I moved to stand beside her head, and leant down to her ear. "If you tell
me where the vial is, I will bring you to a climax like you have never
experienced. But I can only do that after you give me the information,"
I whispered to her, sincerely hoping that she would finally tell.
"It's .. it's being kept in the ... penthouse suite of ... Deckard
Corporation building. There are ... are eight men ... guarding it.
Please. That's all I know," she wept brokenly.
"Thank you, Kirsten," I murmured in her ear.
-----------------------------------ooo-----------------------------------
After relaying the details to field operations and having a quick clean
up, I returned to Kirsten.
She watched me fearfully as I re-entered the room, a towel draped over my
arm.
I frowned. "You didn't lie to me, did you Ms. Debrincat?"
"N-No."
"Then what are you afraid of?"
"A-are you going to kill me now?"
I gently put my hand against her cheek and wiped away the sweat on her
face with the towel.
"Of course not. However, I do have a duty to perform as I remember," I
said in a matter-of-fact tone of voice. "And you are looking far too
serious."
With that, I started the machines again. As before, her body responded to
the tickling administered by the devices. Her body shook with laughter
and her breasts rose and fell rapidly.
"Sto-hohoho-op!!! Hahahahaa!! I take it baaa .. hahaha .. ack!!!
Heeheheehehe! No more tickling! Hahahahh! Ahhh!!" she sputtered between
gales of laughter.
"But we're just getting started, my dear," I pointed out.
With the nipple snare, I immobilised her right nipple. Taking the feather
in my right hand, I proceeded to ravage the sensitive flesh with the soft
fronds. Over and over again, I dragged the length of the quill across the
top of the captured flesh. She grew breathless as small waves of pleasure
ran through her body.
"Mmmm!!! Oh God! Hahaha!! Don't stop! Oooo!!" she panted even as she
laughed under the tickle torture inflicted on her feet and left armpit.
I reluctantly stopped and freed her nipple. I had one more surprise for
Kirsten as I punched in another code sequence. Another arm emerged from
the floor, near the centre of the X-frame, positioned between Kirsten's
legs. Mounted on the end of this arm was a tiny rotating cylinder,
studded with fine fingers composed entirely of soft, springy rubber. A
pair of rubber guards protected either side of the cylinder.
"What are you doing?", she gasped.
I raised my finger to my lips and whispered, "I wouldn't want to spoil
the surprise for you."
I set the position of the arm and its motion. The arm moved into its
programmed position, the guards pushing aside the folds of skin and
exposing her clitoris. I made some adjustments and then executed the
program. The cylinder began to spin and also vibrate causing the rubbery
fingers to dance about, lashing her nubbin of sensitive flesh. As the
spidery fingers caressed and tickled her clitoris, Kirsten reached a new
level of hysteria. She squealed madly and tried to buck her hips,
desperate to escape the new tickling sensation. Laughter ripped from her
throat until she was nearly hoarse.
"Toooo much!! Heheheheee!! I can't ... hahahaha!! .. take much more!
Hehehehee! I'm go-hohoho-oing ma-ahaha-mad!! Oooooo!!! I'm so close!!
Hahahaha!! Ohhh!! I'm going to come!! Ahhhhh!! Hahaha!!!" she babbled.
Her hands clenched and unclenched as her hips began to make small
thrusting motions, albeit restrained by the strap across her waist. I
leant over her face and imprisoned her lips against mine. Her eyes went
wide, as the laughter built up inside her, with no means of escape. And
then she started coming. I felt her body shudder again and again as she
passionately returned the kiss. Without releasing her lips I reached over
and deactivated the machines with a single key press. She continued to
kiss me in the long moments that followed.
The silence was broken by the trill of my communications device. I
went to the next room, flipped open the communicator and answered. It was
just field operations reporting that they had retrieved the vial. Their
sense of timing was, as usual, impeccable and also most inconvenient. I
had considered making issue of this, but knew it would be futile. I would
have made more headway, talking to a wall and at least walls had the
good sense to listen. In the end I just shrugged my shoulders.
-----------------------------------ooo-----------------------------------
I went back into the other room. Kirsten was drowsing, although I
was puzzled as to how she could be comfortable like that. Shaking my head
in wonder, I unlaced her toes, and released the other restraints. I
retrieved the towel and wiped the sweat from her body. Then I gathered
her up in my arms and carried her to the guest quarters, where I tucked
her into bed. As I turned to leave, she murmured in a voice filled with
sleep, "I love you."
I gently brushed her hair from her face, and put a finger against her
lips.
"Hush, now. Sleep well and tomorrow we shall talk again," I whispered.
I quietly left the room and shut the door behind me.