Part 39
Samus was left kneeling in position, waiting. The worst part was knowing what was coming; she'd been caught off guard yesterday, in her first session, but now she knew what they had planned, and that made the wait torture in and of itself.
There were many advantages to the treatment she'd been given, the things that had enhanced her strength and constitution. It had given her an advantage time after time. He could have imagined that it could also make her more ticklish? What's more, who could have imagined that would matter? But here, at Crossroads Facility, it was a weakness they were cruelly exploiting. The many hours of yesterday's session had passed so slowly it seemed as if she'd entered some kind of wormhole, trapped in a perpetual state of laughing and begging. But it had ended, and she'd slept, and now it was all happening again.
Waiting... that was down-right sadistic.
And there was nothing she could do to resist it. The restraints were simple, when you got down to it. She was kneeling on a padded surface with cuffs around her ankles. There were also cuffs around her wrists, holding them together and attached to a cable that had been straightened, pulling her straight up so she was in a taut kneeling position. And with this, most every part of her exposed skin was vulnerable. She tested the limits of the restraints, but like yesterday they were too strong even for her. Someone had explained they'd been made for someone even stronger than she was, which only raised even more questions for Samus. But they were for another time. For now she was stuck with nothing but the grim, waiting, the worst part of it all.
There was a hissing sound, and Samus' body turned into one huge goose pimple. Then again, she thought, the actual experience wasn't all that great either. She tensed, knowing what was about to happen, and despite everything completely powerless to stop it. When the touch came, she ground her teeth and heaved hard, but it accomplished nothing.
It was her feet; that's where they'd started. Little feathery touches all around her soles, and Samus unable to pull away. She scrunched her toes; they hadn't tied her toes in place like hey had the day before, so she had that small bit of room to resist, but it only took a bit of the edge off. The stroking tips played along the lines of her sole and hit whatever exposed areas on the toes there were, and even that was soon enough to cause her to start laughing. When they spread out and began going towards the helpless areas of her heels and instep, she screwed her eyes shut and knew it was going to be another very long day.
Samus shrieked when the next spot was hit. She was so focused on the foot attack she'd never seen it coming, and that made it so much worse. Her underarms, completely exposed in this position, had no way of escaping. She twisted her torso a little, but stroking tendrils explored her helpless hollows no matter what she did, and it wasn't long before she was red-faced from the laughter. She tried to yank her arms down again with a brief surge of strength, but it did nothing, and after that it was as if all the strength had been sucked from her body and she was left dangling there, like a ticklish marionette. She could feel the tears running down her cheeks and the heat radiating off her skin, but that was a barely noticeable background as they stroked horribly and mercilessly over her poor armpits. She tried a feeble twist every now and then, but it wound up making it worse, and as firmer wiggling tips entered, she knew that's what she was in for: worse. It would never be the worst, just a series of downward steps, each one pushing her just past her limit, and when she'd finally become able to bear it in some small way, pushing again. This was played out as more of the firmer tendrils moved into her armpits, prodding and wriggling her flesh. The feathers slowly slid down, dancing along her jiggling breasts. At the same time, the same thing was happening to her feet - firm tendrils were prodding all about her soles and worming their way in between her toes. The feathers, having done their job of warming her up, now slid up and began drawing along the backs of her thighs. Samus screamed with laughter and tried fighting again briefly, but she didn't have a prayer, and like before the brief push left her completely exhausted and barely able to laugh under the overwhelming tickling. Samus tried to fight it internally. She'd been in worst scrapes; as bad as the tickling was, people had done worse to her over the years. But what made this so hard was that it seemed to not only torment her, but sap her will at the same time. She felt embarrassed that this was happening to her, and that gave the experience an edge of discomfort that seemed to make it worse. She was so frustrated with her body for being so weak.
"NO!" Samus shouted when she felt the grip, all other thoughts suddenly emptied from her head. "GET AWAY FROM THERE!" She tried to clench, but something had her toes and were gently but unstoppably puling them back. The tickling grew worse as her sole stretched out and the tendrils were able to skitter across them unimpeded. "HAHAHA! GET AWAY FROM MY FEEE-HEHEHAHAHAHA!!!" Instead, a second set of pincers -or whatever they were- took the next toe and stretched it out too. Then a spinning brush of some kind was inserted in the gap between them, and she was left shrieking with laughter. After a few seconds, overcome by the intensity, Samus was begging for it to stop. Begging... as if she could ever be driven to that under lesser circumstances. But she was just too ticklish, too vulnerable... No matter how strong she was, she was helpless to resist even this basic attack, and unable to find a way to suck it up. Then back to her armpits. The tendrils, apparently, were no longer enough, because hand-like claws were gradually taking their place. They scratched and danced across her armpits while Samus' lolling head lay propped against one of her raised arms, silent laughter pouring from her mouth. They ran up onto her biceps and down to the shoulder blade. Samus actually felt like she was being shocked by the touches, the tickling was so intense. They were scratching in little circles around her hollows and offering little pinches that drove her to hysterics.
With less tendrils needed where they'd been, the reinforcements continued their advance across Samus' quivering body. Her breasts were trembling under the laughter and ticklish influence as they feathered about her sensitive spots, teasing her nipples and stroking her sides. The firmer tendrils were prodding her ribs now, occasionally scooting forward to tickle her breasts or up to catch her armpits. And the tracing feathers had gone north to her buttocks as the firm tendrils stroked her thighs. The feathers slid daintily over her cheeks and along her curves while Samus did a subconscious dance to try to avoid them. Of course, she was no more successful than she was anywhere else, and as a few feathers started running down her crack and circling her cheeks, she thought this time they'd gone too far, that no one could take this much. Not when you're this ticklish could someone subject your body to this much without just overwhelming them and destroying them. Samus laughed, but beneath the laugh was the certainty that she was going to literally be tickled to death.
The hours passed, and the tickling instruments continued their gradual advancement across her flesh until they met in the middle, and Samus was being tickled head to toe. It was grueling, it was torture, but despite it all, she'd been wrong. She hadn't died. The only casualty had been her pride, and her insistence on resisting. She wasn't aware of it, but Ms. Danoob was watching every moment, and noting her progress with approval.
--------------------------------------------------------------
Ms. Danoob was sitting in her office when Starbuck walked in. She didn't bother looking up from her screen. "Samus is doing quite well, don't you think?"
"I haven't been paying attention," Starbuck said. "It's not my job."
"I suppose it isn't," Ms. Danoob said. "I think this is going to be a very worthwhile investment."
Starbuck swallowed. "I hope it was worth the risk."
"I wouldn't have done it if she hadn't been," Ms. Danoob said. "Don't worry."
"'Don't worry?'" Starbuck said, aghast. "Have you seen Mara lately? She's like a caged tiger... a caged hungry tiger."
"But her anger is reserved for those that have Seven," Ms. Danoob said, still not looking up. "As it should be."
Starbuck swallowed. "And if she knew what we'd been planning-"
"But she doesn't," Ms. Danoob said, turning to her with a stern look. "And she had better not, Kara."
Starbuck shook her head nervously. "Sometimes I get the feeling she knows... she knows that you wanted Seven to get caught."
Ms. Danoob slowly rose to her feet. "What an awful thing to say, Kara. I would never want that to happen."
"You told me to stun Mara during the fight-"
"I did no such thing," Ms. Danoob said firmly. "I don't know where you get these ideas from, but they're very dangerous; you should really just keep them to yourself."
Starbuck glared at her, refusing to be cowed. "I'll do your dirty work, ma'am, but I won't play these games."
Ms. Danoob closed the distance to her, and even though Starbuck could probably kill her bare handed she still had an aura of menace about her. "You work for me," she said coldly. "You do what I say, when I say it, in the manner I dictate, or you get nothing, you understand? If not, then we'll see how well your people fare running from the Cylons."
Starbuck swallowed. "I suppose it was lucky Lara shot Mara before I had to... made the whole point moot."
"Yes, if I'd given you such an order, which I didn't." She returned to her desk. "You spent quite a lot of time just talking to Mara... you didn't get cold feet, did you Kara?"
"For what, ma'am?" Starbuck asked. "I thought you didn't give me any order."
Ms. Danoob glared at her. "Don't let me keep you," she rumbled, and Starbuck turned and strode out, leaving her to examine the readout of Samus' treatment. The new process was working even better than she'd expected. Yes... even if they did reprogram Seven, it would be worth it, and with this technology, Ms. Danoob could probably program her right back.
Samus was left kneeling in position, waiting. The worst part was knowing what was coming; she'd been caught off guard yesterday, in her first session, but now she knew what they had planned, and that made the wait torture in and of itself.
There were many advantages to the treatment she'd been given, the things that had enhanced her strength and constitution. It had given her an advantage time after time. He could have imagined that it could also make her more ticklish? What's more, who could have imagined that would matter? But here, at Crossroads Facility, it was a weakness they were cruelly exploiting. The many hours of yesterday's session had passed so slowly it seemed as if she'd entered some kind of wormhole, trapped in a perpetual state of laughing and begging. But it had ended, and she'd slept, and now it was all happening again.
Waiting... that was down-right sadistic.
And there was nothing she could do to resist it. The restraints were simple, when you got down to it. She was kneeling on a padded surface with cuffs around her ankles. There were also cuffs around her wrists, holding them together and attached to a cable that had been straightened, pulling her straight up so she was in a taut kneeling position. And with this, most every part of her exposed skin was vulnerable. She tested the limits of the restraints, but like yesterday they were too strong even for her. Someone had explained they'd been made for someone even stronger than she was, which only raised even more questions for Samus. But they were for another time. For now she was stuck with nothing but the grim, waiting, the worst part of it all.
There was a hissing sound, and Samus' body turned into one huge goose pimple. Then again, she thought, the actual experience wasn't all that great either. She tensed, knowing what was about to happen, and despite everything completely powerless to stop it. When the touch came, she ground her teeth and heaved hard, but it accomplished nothing.
It was her feet; that's where they'd started. Little feathery touches all around her soles, and Samus unable to pull away. She scrunched her toes; they hadn't tied her toes in place like hey had the day before, so she had that small bit of room to resist, but it only took a bit of the edge off. The stroking tips played along the lines of her sole and hit whatever exposed areas on the toes there were, and even that was soon enough to cause her to start laughing. When they spread out and began going towards the helpless areas of her heels and instep, she screwed her eyes shut and knew it was going to be another very long day.
Samus shrieked when the next spot was hit. She was so focused on the foot attack she'd never seen it coming, and that made it so much worse. Her underarms, completely exposed in this position, had no way of escaping. She twisted her torso a little, but stroking tendrils explored her helpless hollows no matter what she did, and it wasn't long before she was red-faced from the laughter. She tried to yank her arms down again with a brief surge of strength, but it did nothing, and after that it was as if all the strength had been sucked from her body and she was left dangling there, like a ticklish marionette. She could feel the tears running down her cheeks and the heat radiating off her skin, but that was a barely noticeable background as they stroked horribly and mercilessly over her poor armpits. She tried a feeble twist every now and then, but it wound up making it worse, and as firmer wiggling tips entered, she knew that's what she was in for: worse. It would never be the worst, just a series of downward steps, each one pushing her just past her limit, and when she'd finally become able to bear it in some small way, pushing again. This was played out as more of the firmer tendrils moved into her armpits, prodding and wriggling her flesh. The feathers slowly slid down, dancing along her jiggling breasts. At the same time, the same thing was happening to her feet - firm tendrils were prodding all about her soles and worming their way in between her toes. The feathers, having done their job of warming her up, now slid up and began drawing along the backs of her thighs. Samus screamed with laughter and tried fighting again briefly, but she didn't have a prayer, and like before the brief push left her completely exhausted and barely able to laugh under the overwhelming tickling. Samus tried to fight it internally. She'd been in worst scrapes; as bad as the tickling was, people had done worse to her over the years. But what made this so hard was that it seemed to not only torment her, but sap her will at the same time. She felt embarrassed that this was happening to her, and that gave the experience an edge of discomfort that seemed to make it worse. She was so frustrated with her body for being so weak.
"NO!" Samus shouted when she felt the grip, all other thoughts suddenly emptied from her head. "GET AWAY FROM THERE!" She tried to clench, but something had her toes and were gently but unstoppably puling them back. The tickling grew worse as her sole stretched out and the tendrils were able to skitter across them unimpeded. "HAHAHA! GET AWAY FROM MY FEEE-HEHEHAHAHAHA!!!" Instead, a second set of pincers -or whatever they were- took the next toe and stretched it out too. Then a spinning brush of some kind was inserted in the gap between them, and she was left shrieking with laughter. After a few seconds, overcome by the intensity, Samus was begging for it to stop. Begging... as if she could ever be driven to that under lesser circumstances. But she was just too ticklish, too vulnerable... No matter how strong she was, she was helpless to resist even this basic attack, and unable to find a way to suck it up. Then back to her armpits. The tendrils, apparently, were no longer enough, because hand-like claws were gradually taking their place. They scratched and danced across her armpits while Samus' lolling head lay propped against one of her raised arms, silent laughter pouring from her mouth. They ran up onto her biceps and down to the shoulder blade. Samus actually felt like she was being shocked by the touches, the tickling was so intense. They were scratching in little circles around her hollows and offering little pinches that drove her to hysterics.
With less tendrils needed where they'd been, the reinforcements continued their advance across Samus' quivering body. Her breasts were trembling under the laughter and ticklish influence as they feathered about her sensitive spots, teasing her nipples and stroking her sides. The firmer tendrils were prodding her ribs now, occasionally scooting forward to tickle her breasts or up to catch her armpits. And the tracing feathers had gone north to her buttocks as the firm tendrils stroked her thighs. The feathers slid daintily over her cheeks and along her curves while Samus did a subconscious dance to try to avoid them. Of course, she was no more successful than she was anywhere else, and as a few feathers started running down her crack and circling her cheeks, she thought this time they'd gone too far, that no one could take this much. Not when you're this ticklish could someone subject your body to this much without just overwhelming them and destroying them. Samus laughed, but beneath the laugh was the certainty that she was going to literally be tickled to death.
The hours passed, and the tickling instruments continued their gradual advancement across her flesh until they met in the middle, and Samus was being tickled head to toe. It was grueling, it was torture, but despite it all, she'd been wrong. She hadn't died. The only casualty had been her pride, and her insistence on resisting. She wasn't aware of it, but Ms. Danoob was watching every moment, and noting her progress with approval.
--------------------------------------------------------------
Ms. Danoob was sitting in her office when Starbuck walked in. She didn't bother looking up from her screen. "Samus is doing quite well, don't you think?"
"I haven't been paying attention," Starbuck said. "It's not my job."
"I suppose it isn't," Ms. Danoob said. "I think this is going to be a very worthwhile investment."
Starbuck swallowed. "I hope it was worth the risk."
"I wouldn't have done it if she hadn't been," Ms. Danoob said. "Don't worry."
"'Don't worry?'" Starbuck said, aghast. "Have you seen Mara lately? She's like a caged tiger... a caged hungry tiger."
"But her anger is reserved for those that have Seven," Ms. Danoob said, still not looking up. "As it should be."
Starbuck swallowed. "And if she knew what we'd been planning-"
"But she doesn't," Ms. Danoob said, turning to her with a stern look. "And she had better not, Kara."
Starbuck shook her head nervously. "Sometimes I get the feeling she knows... she knows that you wanted Seven to get caught."
Ms. Danoob slowly rose to her feet. "What an awful thing to say, Kara. I would never want that to happen."
"You told me to stun Mara during the fight-"
"I did no such thing," Ms. Danoob said firmly. "I don't know where you get these ideas from, but they're very dangerous; you should really just keep them to yourself."
Starbuck glared at her, refusing to be cowed. "I'll do your dirty work, ma'am, but I won't play these games."
Ms. Danoob closed the distance to her, and even though Starbuck could probably kill her bare handed she still had an aura of menace about her. "You work for me," she said coldly. "You do what I say, when I say it, in the manner I dictate, or you get nothing, you understand? If not, then we'll see how well your people fare running from the Cylons."
Starbuck swallowed. "I suppose it was lucky Lara shot Mara before I had to... made the whole point moot."
"Yes, if I'd given you such an order, which I didn't." She returned to her desk. "You spent quite a lot of time just talking to Mara... you didn't get cold feet, did you Kara?"
"For what, ma'am?" Starbuck asked. "I thought you didn't give me any order."
Ms. Danoob glared at her. "Don't let me keep you," she rumbled, and Starbuck turned and strode out, leaving her to examine the readout of Samus' treatment. The new process was working even better than she'd expected. Yes... even if they did reprogram Seven, it would be worth it, and with this technology, Ms. Danoob could probably program her right back.
