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Agent T and Sector 3 : Part 2 (F/f, middle body)

C.K. Storyteller

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Greetings. I am a storyteller.

When we last left our heroes, Agent T (aka Taylor) had finished her first round of torture of beautiful redhead prisoner Sara.

Well, on second thought, let's just revisit it, shall we?

---


After another five or ten minutes, the torture stopped. The prisoner, teary eyed and gasping for air, hung limply from the shackles. Taylor cupped her face in her hands and made eye contact.

"Name?"

"Sara," the prisoner whispered.

"Thank you." Taylor released the shackles, catching Sara as she collapsed into her arms. She carried her to the table, laying her down gently. Sara did not struggle, but kept her eyes locked on Taylor's every movement.

"What happens now?" asked Sara, eyeing Taylor carefully.

"Now I go get you a drink," said Taylor, smiling. "Then I'll come back and you can tell me what you're doing here."

Sara sat up slowly, but Taylor could tell she had recovered quickly. She looked ready to strike again.

"We'll see."

Taylor was shocked, but quickly recovered and grinned.

"If you want to play some more, that's just fine with me."

She pressed the button on the shackles, leaving Sara locked to the bed, then used the code to dissolve the Fourth Wall.

---

Well now, we all should be up to speed. Without further ado, let us continue the tale...

---

Taylor filled up two glasses of water from the security office, deep in thought regarding her prisoner. This was a strange one, possibly the most confusing client she'd ever worked with.

What was it about Sara that made her so difficult? She certainly was ticklish enough, at least for the limited time they had spent together. She had tried to resist, albeit briefly. No, there was something else, it had to be...

Taylor stopped, glancing at her own reflection in the window looking out at the cells.

"It couldn't be," she thought. "No way. . .Could it?"

Taylor paced back and forth, pondering.

---

Now, as previously mentioned, Taylor had been tickling people for as long as she could remember. Due to this, it goes without saying that there had been some retribution. In many instances, quite a lot more than "some." Taylor didn't mind, in fact, she rather enjoyed it. Sure, she put up a tough front, acting like it bothered her, or that she was tough enough to handle it, but deep down, she melted anytime someone's fingertips slid across her stomach, or caressed her feet.

It was this feeling, this love of being tickled, that made her such an effective interrogator. Taylor subscribed to the theory that one could not understand something until they had experienced it themselves. To that end, she had had her limits pushed on more than one occassion.

But that's another story...

---

Taylor came to her senses. She was still pacing, holding the water cups.

That had to be it, the feeling deep in her gut.

Sara was enjoying herself. Maybe not to the extent Taylor would have were their positions switched, but enough to be in total control of the situation.

"She wanted me to know her name," Taylor thought. "She wouldn't have cracked that easily if she didn't."

A strange rush of adrenaline surged through Taylor's body.

Sara wanted to play...

Sara had no idea what she had just gotten herself into.

---

Taylor marched down the corridor at a near run, stopping only to punch the code in to dissolve the Fourth Wall. She pressed the button for the shackles and handed the cup of water to Sara, who nodded thanks and downed it at once.

"Alright, now that we had our fun, time to spill," Taylor said, setting her bag down and turning to face her victim.

Sara, still toying with the cup, smiled in that annoying yet tantalizing way.

"Can't. I drank all the water. If you get me more, I could spill it."

Taylor was not amused.

"Why are you here? This is not a normal interrogation. There is something that I'm missing, and I need to find out what it is."

Sara smiled again, setting the cup down and rising to her feet.

"I'm sure there's lots your missing, being cooped up here on this island. Don't you ever miss the outside world?"

Taylor smiled back, one of those tight-lipped smiles that doesn't really show happiness.

"Last I checked, I'm asking the questions. Besides, sit back down. You've been through a lot."

Sara laughed to herself, walking around.

"Not too bad. I've had worse."

"Is that a hint?"

"Not at all," Sara replied, though her eyes did flicker over the metal squares in the wall that had held her firm not ten minutes ago. She returned to the table, propping herself up with her arms while stretching her legs out. "You can ask your questions, though I can't promise to answer them all."

"That's fine," said Taylor, pressing the button once more. Sara's wrist and ankle shackles held firm to the table once more, leaving Sara in a very vulnerable position.

"I was told I didn't need to ask questions."

Sara's eyes widened, struggling to escape, even though she knew it futile.

"Of course you're going to ask me questions, that's what this is!"

Taylor smiled, this time a geniune smile. Her eyes sparkled with sadistic glee.

"This was an interrogation, that's true. But, you've been giving me attitude. I get that enough from the people I work for. So now this is a Stress Release session, at least for me."

Taylor pulled her chair to the side of the table, sitting eye level with Sara's exposed torso. Sara's arms twitched, locked to the table behind her back.

"Do you expect me to beg?"

Taylor laughed, moving her fingers to Sara's toned stomach.

"No, Mrs. Bond, I expect you to laugh!"

(Corny, I know. My half-hearted apologies)

---

Taylor's expert fingers went to work immediately, running up and down Sara's tummy. Sara sucked in her stomach, but did not fight off the laughter as she had done the first time. She began giggling, shaking from side to side, not that it did much good.

Taylor continued her exploration, moving from her lower ribcage down to her navel and back again. She found a particular spot on the ab muscles just above Sara's bellybutton that made her shriek, and focused most of her attention there. Sara's giggles turned into outright laughter, and her struggling increased.

"Now, what have we said about trying to get away?" Taylor smiled wickedly, moving back to Sara's upper ribcage, which had caused hysterics the first time. This time was no different.

"The more you struggle, the worse this will be. I haven't even gone into my bag yet."

Sara seemed to listen, and the struggling decreased. Taylor used this as an opportunity to go back to those muscles above Sara's navel. Sara threw her head back in laughter, but to her credit, did not move all that much.

After a few minutes, Taylor stopped.

Sara was red-faced and panting, but did not look totally destroyed, as she had when she was bolted to the wall. After a few deep breaths, she glared at Taylor.

"Stress released yet, Agent T?"

"Hardly. Just getting started. This is a rough job, with a pain in the neck boss. Maybe in a couple hours, I'll be ready for a snack."

Sara grimaced. "I'm sure you're just as much a pain in the neck to your boss as your boss is to you. You don't strike me as being...How shall I put this...jovial?"

Taylor laughed.

"If you recall, I was quite polite and friendly when we first met. But, you're right, I guess I'm not jovial." She reached into her bag and pulled out a knife.

Sara's eyes nearly popped out of her head.

"Hey now, it was just a joke. No need to get hostile."

Taylor grinned, placing the knife on the waistband of Sara's pants.

"I don't think this is hostile."

With two swift flicks of the blade, Taylor had rendered the pants Sara had been wearing to pieces. This left Sara in her unmentionables.

(Oops, I mentioned them.)

"You're right, it wasn't hostile. It was just rude."

"You'll forgive me, I'm sure," Taylor replied, putting the knife away. "Very nice selection. You must have had those on when you were brought in here, because those are obviously not prison issue."

Sara looked down. "True. Find it hard to come by black lace out here?"

"Luckily, I have my own private collection. Anyway, this wasn't to start a discussion."

Taylor placed her hands on Sara's freshly bared thighs and began squeezing. A delightful shriek filled the room, along with the most fervent bucking and jerking yet. Obviously, Taylor had struck gold.

Sara's eyes were squeezed shut, mouth open in a mixture of shrieks and howls of laughter. She shook her head back and forth, straining to break free, but only managed to bend her knees slightly.

Taylor's hands moved from waist to knee, kneading and squeezing. Sometimes soft, sometimes hard. The entire time, she studied Sara's face.

"This is the best part," she thought to herself. "We'll see how much she likes it once I've kept this up for a while."

Once Sara's hysterical laughter had quieted slightly, Taylor slid her fingernails under Sara's knees, letting loose a fresh cacophany of mirth. Sara had laughed herself hoarse, eclipsing into bursts of silent laughter, only to shriek anew when Taylor lifted a knee with one hand to torture more effectively with the other.

Time passed. Neither knew how long. Eventually, Taylor stopped, more for her own benefit than her victim's. She released the shackles enough for Sara to collapse onto the table fully, then reattached her once more.

Neither spoke for a minute or so. Sara couldn't have if she had tried, and Taylor was too busy plotting her next move. She rummaged through her bag, removed some implements that she hid from Sara's view, and sat patiently, awaiting her captive's recovery.

Sara gradually composed herself, lifting her head slightly to glance at Taylor.

"Is it gone?"

"My stress? I suppose so. You make quite a good tool for releasing it."

Sara glared. "Did you just call me a tool?"

They both laughed.

"So, Sara. Can we resume our conversation? I believe I made my point."

Sara pulled herself up to a sitting position, legs still outstretched, leaning against the wall behind her.

"You did indeed. Will I have to answer more questions?"

"I should say so."

Sara paused, biting her lower lip. She then looked into Taylor's eyes and smiled.

"I might not want to answer."

Taylor returned the smile, finger resting on the shackle button.

"I was hoping you'd say that."

She pressed the button, and both women's eyes turned to Sara's helplessly exposed feet.

---

How's that for letdown? :)

In Part 3: Taylor engages in what might be some of the most intense foot tickling ever written about. And I don't think Sara will mind that much.
 
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