munchausen
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Catalina Kane "DLC" i: Looking for Answers (adult, F/F. M/F, Footjob)
Hello everyone,
Since the publication of the MTJ illustrated e-novel Catalina Kane and the Tournament of the Tiger, I've been planning to put out a couple of follow-up stories that further explore the characters and universe of the novel -- kind of like free post-release "downloadable content" for the original work, for the gamers out there. Anyway, here's the first of them, in which Cat lays quite a bit on the line to learn more about the mysterious crystals and how they work. It lacks, of course, the gorgeous art by FTKL and BZTickler that graced Tournament of the Tiger, but I hope you dig it anyway! Look for more soon!
If this is new to you, and you like it, you might check out Catalina Kane and the Tournament of the Tiger, available from MTJ publishing!
Link: http://mtjpub.com/mtj07_iteminfo.php?item_id=23
Cat Kane DLC I: Looking for Answers
by Munchausen
Prologue: E-mail from Dr. Adriana Zidane to Catalina Kane
Cat –
I’m so sorry it’s taken me as long as it has to get back to you, but as you know, you got hold of a lot of information! Combing through it and figuring out how it reconciles with what we already knew (or thought we knew) has been a tremendous task, but a rewarding and vitally important one. Anyway, in working through things like this, I tend to create little FAQ-style information sheets to help me get everything clear in my mind. I’ve done something similar for you, below, combining basic information with answers to some specific questions I know you’d like to have answered regarding your recent experiences on the Isle of Sardonica.
This stuff is so crazy, but it’s fascinating, and I don’t think I’m going too far when I say that it could change the world! Anyway, have a look, and let me know if you have more questions. When your schedule permits, I’d love to have a chance to run a few tests in the lab – but only if you’re comfortable with them.
Pax Vobiscum,
Annie
Dr. Adriana Zidane
Chief Science Officer
Delta Branch, Black Arrow
I. Who’s behind all this?
The answer to that is complicated. At the root of it all is the Meade Group, a mysterious, multinational entity that engages in scientific research, mining, philanthropy, weapons development, and at least a dozen other pursuits all around the world (and, I believe, beyond).
It is impossible to trace the origins of the Meade Group with any real certainty, but their history appears to date back, in one form or another, to a shadowy guild in medieval Europe, founded by a bizarre and mercurial figure named Hieronymous Meade. H.M. was rumored to be a powerful magician, but also something of a fool, and an incorrigible horn dog, as the few apocryphal writings we have of his attest. Here’s the weird thing – there appears to have been a man named Hieronymous Meade at the helm of the Meade Group at all times, from its inception to the present. We don’t know whether it’s been passed along from father to son, or whether it’s a pseudonym adopted by the current head, or, hell, if old Hieronymous I has simply found a way to cheat death for all these centuries. You know we’ve seen stranger stuff in Black Arrow.
From time to time, writings that seem to be his will emerge – sometimes memoirs, sometimes interviews with women, always related in some key way to the topics of tickling and, usually, sexuality. It isn’t clear to what extent these interviews represent genuine scientific inquiry, and to what extent they merely indulge his lustful desires, but as you’ll see below, there’s some genuine significance – perhaps tremendous significance – to all this tickling business.
The Meade Group, though, has so many branches, divisions, subdivisions, and subsidiaries that the left hand may very well not know what the right hand is doing, or even that the right hand exists. There appears to be a schism between factions in the Group – some, representing what we believe to be the mainstream, supporting peaceful, philanthropic pursuits in line with most of the Group’s public initiatives, and others, supporting a militaristic application of the incredible phenomena Meade has discovered.
II. What have they discovered?
Okay, here’s where it gets weird(er). The Meade Group has discovered, at some point in their history – perhaps the original discovery led to their inception – an energy source of tremendous, perhaps even limitless potential, housed in crystals. As far as we know, nobody knows about this but them, and now us, but you know how difficult it is to ascertain who knows what. We don’t know much about this for sure – a rambling, nearly incoherent tract purporting to be written by Meade in 1629 tells of an extra-dimensional world, created by a sorceress of tremendous ability, powered by this energy source that she created in an attempt to maintain a world of peace, happiness, and joy. I don’t know about all that, but I do know that Meade has managed to either transport some of it here, or to find crystals in this world that have somehow traversed the dimensional barrier. Anyway, they somehow have a stockpile of quite a lot of these crystals, and have been researching applications for them as well as ways to synthesize and reproduce them for common use. This energy, and the understanding of it, appears to be at the center of a great deal of what Meade does.
III. What do we know about this energy?
Not much, to be honest, but it looks like it could potentially be the Holy Grail we’ve been looking for: clean, renewable, limitless, and nearly infinite in its applications. It can be used to power machinery of all kinds, but most intriguing to me (and to you, I’m sure, given what you’ve been through) are its biological implications. It seems that this energy can be interfaced directly with the human body, enhancing strength, speed, endurance, resistance to toxins and disease, you name it. Tiger Xian Ling is a living example of experimentation in this area, and you experienced it yourself in the final round of the tournament.
Now, here are a couple of interesting facts about this form of energy:
a. It seems to come from laughter. One of the characteristics of this energy form that actually seems to lend some credence to the idea that some Pollyanna sorceress created this stuff to power a world of sunshine and lollypops is that the crystals somehow absorb laughter and transduce it to energy. We’re talking about whole cities being powered by joy and happiness, Cat. From what I’ve seen, it’s a real possibility.
b. It’s somehow tied in to essential femininity. Apparently, the sorceress didn’t buy that gender is a social construction, or question its binary nature. She seems to have been more a “sugar and spice and all things nice” kind of thinker when it came to gender. Anyway, in its biological applications, this energy seems to work only with the physiognomy of women. If a man put on Tiger’s necklace, for example, it would have no effect. If a woman – the right woman – put it on, though, then boom – instant superwoman.
IV. What did Tiger want?
Tiger seems to have been part of the faction within Meade that’s interested in finding military applications for this energy source. The tournament was, on one level, an experiment to test her performance, augmented by the crystal medallion, against some of the most elite female fighters in the world.
You guys weren’t just chosen for combat ability, though. It looks like all of you fit a specific set of characteristics as optimal candidates for augmentation, yourselves. You, though, seem to be in a category all your own, Cat. Something about you is special, setting you apart from all the others. To the scientists working with Tiger, if not to Tiger herself, the opportunity to observe and monitor you was the most important element of the whole endeavor.
I have to confess, though, that I still haven’t discovered why.
And now, I’ll address a few of your personal questions in light of all this:
1. What’s with the sex stuff?
As you know, one of the reasons you were able to defeat Tiger in her augmented state was that she was overcome by arousal as she tickled you. Also, you reported, with admirable candor, a powerful spike in your own sexual appetite and arousal after your use of the crystal. Here’s what that’s all about.
Apparently, part of the feminine-geared nature of this energy includes an affinity with female arousal. I don’t know if it has something to do with fertility or is merely a side effect, but when this energy is operating, it tends to feed the female libido. Usually, at normal levels, the effect is negligible. Driving a car powered by it, you’d never notice anything. If you were standing at the center of a massive machine running on it, you might feel the slightest tingle.
Anyway, this aspect of the energy is unlikely to have any consequences in ordinary use, except in the subtlest way. The kind of energy that you and Tiger were producing, though, was simply off the charts. While she felt little more than a twinge as the others were tickled silly, something about your physiology meant that your laughter sent her into overdrive. And when you tickled her, and drew on her augmented mega-energy, the crystal supercharged your sex-drive, as well.
I don’t know, yet, what about you made your energy so potent. I’m hoping we can find some answers in the lab.
2. What’s up with the tickling?
Okay, here’s the thing. As altruistic as this sorceress was trying to be in creating a form of energy that runs off of happiness and joy, she failed to take into account how fundamentally crappy human beings can be. In other words, Tiger and her ilk eventually -- inevitably – look for a way to use the energy as a weapon. Throughout the tournament, she was powered by laughter energy – every time one of the combatants was tickled into submission, Tiger soaked up every bit of that ambient laughter energy and converted it into physical power.
As she is aware, though – and now, acutely so, given the way you defeated her – energy channeled and used in that way is a two way street. When a normal person laughs, it only depletes his or her energy in the way that any strenuous physical activity would. Someone like Tiger, though, powered by absorbed mirth energy, can be made to release that energy through laughing herself. Basically, if her energy gauge fills up when she tickles other people, it empties out when she’s made to laugh.
In this sense, for a project aimed at creating superhuman warriors powered by mirth energy, tickling becomes much more potentially important than you might initially imagine. Sure, she can take down a dozen marines, but if tickling her tootsies makes her weak as a kitten, then that’s a real weakness.
3. Why were we all ticklish, and why were our feet our universal weak spot?
I had thought this might be coincidence until I saw the project notes. This is interesting stuff.
Apparently, the crystals that are present in our dimension somehow resonate with the ley lines in the earth, feeding on and feeding into electromagnetic and geothermal energies in ways even Mead doesn’t yet fully understand. Only certain women are particularly suited to augmentation – their physiologies are particularly amenable and receptive to this sort of energy. These women, it seems, have a number of physical traits in common, but one of the most pronounced is a marked sensitivity of the feet, which apparently denotes a particular affinity for the ley lines. Usually, they’re pretty sensitive everywhere, but the feet will inevitably be sensitive, and, it seems, also quite ticklish.
This is important information if we end up dealing with any of these enhanced operatives in the future. Ironically, the very traits that make them suitable candidates for augmentation also insure that they’ll have a weakness that can be exploited to drain their energy.
4. Why were all the participants beautiful?
I’ve been able to find a couple of reasons why it was basically a tournament of hotties. First off, Hieronymous Meade himself appeared to take an active interest in the tournament, and as I said, he’s a horndog. It looks like he personally vetoed a few candidates – tough fighters, in league with the other contestants in terms of ability – because they didn’t meet his standards.
That’s not all, though. In my informal, unscientific review of the dossiers of potential candidates, it seems that they skew overwhelmingly in the direction of being really attractive. I don’t know why this is – maybe another instance of the “sunshine and lollypops” origins of this form of energy. Who knows?
5. What do they want with me, and what’s next?
The 64 thousand dollar questions. I’m sorry, sweetie – I just don’t know. We do know that they’ve been watching you closely for a long time, and that you were the single most important part of all this to them. We know that you produce, naturally, somehow, far more mirth energy than does a normal person. I doubt they’ll just leave you alone, unfortunately, but whether they’ll try to snatch you up or offer you a job, I can’t even speculate. I’m afraid only time will tell. I can assure you, though, that Black Arrow will have your back, no matter what happens.
Have faith, love, and be strong!
One month after the events on the Isle of Sardonica…
Catalina Kane was not often taken aback. As an agent of Black Arrow, she had been in some of the world’s most dangerous hot spots, pursuing, infiltrating, and bringing down some of the most dangerous criminal organizations, terrorist groups, and rogue agents the world had ever known. At the tender age of 27, she had been instrumental in actions that had quite possibly saved the world from nuclear destruction on two separate occasions. She had swallowed her fear and plunged into countless life-threatening situations, emerging triumphant each time through her courage, intellect, and fighting skills. When Black Arrow called, she seldom, if ever, hesitated.
The latest request of Dr. Adriana Zidane, chief scientist of her branch of Black Arrow, had her good and flustered.
“Seriously, Annie? You honestly want me to…do that? Here?” Cat felt a blush rising in her cheeks.
Annie smiled gently, her expression apologetic. “I know. Believe me. You know me well enough to know I wouldn’t ask unless I felt it was genuinely important.” Annie, as her friends called her, spoke with a slight cockney accent – a holdover from her London youth. An exotic beauty whose mother was British and father Moroccan, she had light coffee colored skin, large, dark eyes that seemed to sparkle when she spoke, and a broad, welcoming, slightly devilish smile that showcased perfectly white teeth. A small beauty mark decorated the corner of her delicate-lipped mouth, and today, whimsically, she wore her long, straight, lustrous black hair in two ponytails that rose up from the sides of her head in a way that reminded Cat of bunny ears. Though she was only around Cat’s age, she was a world-class scientist, her abilities transcending a particular specialty to instead synthesize any number of disciplines into a holistic understanding of reality that boggled Cat’s very capable mind. She was also two other things, the combination of which made Cat consider a request she might otherwise have rejected out of hand: an impeccable professional, and a dear, trusted friend.
Annie smiled brightly. “Hey, just think of yourself as a bloke at a fertility clinic. No shame there, right? All for the greater good.”
Cat sighed. It was after hours, and while Black Arrow never truly shut down, the science wing was deserted except for the two of them. “Explain to me one more time what this will accomplish.”
Annie dove in, sensing that Cat’s resistance was weakening. “Okay. You brought us this thingamajigger, right? This amulet? And we’ve been – I’ve been – figuring out all sorts of interesting things by studying it, most of which we’ve already talked about. The one thing we haven’t been able to figure out, though, is the sexual dimension of all this. There unquestionably is one – your energy overloaded Tiger’s, um, circuits to such an extent that her response may very well have enabled your victory. You yourself reported a, um, heightened eroticization in the aftermath of the fight. But how that connection works, and what it means for and about the bioenergy, is something we don’t yet understand, and, Cat, we have to understand it.”
Cat nodded, her face grim.
“Now, we know that you and these crystals, this energy, are somehow super-sympatico. That’s part of how you overwhelmed Tiger, and why when you wore the amulet you became Wonder Woman, right? So, you’re an ideal test subject for this. Maybe the best in the world. If we can track your levels of bioenergy while you wear the amulet as you experience progressive arousal and ultimately orgasm or orgasms, it may unlock the final door in the way of our understanding this stuff fully.”
Cat winced, knowing her friend was right. Annie pressed her case.
“Look, Cat. I’ll lock this door. I’ll illuminate the ‘dangerous research in progress’ sign. You can use the bed in the sick bay – fresh, soft, impeccably clean linens, total privacy, and of course I promise I won’t peek. I’ll even have my ipod on – Sonic Youth, really loud – so I won’t overhear…anything. All I’ll have are readouts, numbers, and ratings. But they’ll be so important, Cat. Honestly.”
Cat tossed her thick, shiny ebon mane of hair and blew out her breath. “All right. I’ll do it. For Black Arrow, and for you. And, I guess, for me, since there seems to be something weird and unique about me that we don’t get yet, anyway. But, Annie – please – I know I don’t have to ask, but please – keep this as quiet as possible. If, say, Jimmy Wing ever caught wind of this…”
Annie rolled her eyes. “I get it. All this will be for my eyes only, and will only be shared if absolutely necessary, and never with anyone who does not have a clear and pressing need to know. I promise you.”
“All right, then. No time like the present, I suppose,” Cat said, reasserting her cool professionalism even in the face of the seemingly resoundingly unprofessional thing she was about to do.
“Hold up just a moment. We need to do a couple of things to prepare. First, if you don’t mind, can you strip down to your bra and panties?”
Annie’s professional tone, perfected over a few years as a practicing physician before she devoted herself completely to research, made the request less uncomfortable than it might have been. Cat, who was dressed in the black boots, fatigues, and sleeveless t-shirt that constituted casual Black Arrow field dress, quickly and expeditiously undressed, pulling off her boots and socks, slipping off her pants, pulling the t-shirt over her head. Soon, she stood barefoot on the cool floor of the lab, wearing only a pair of brief black panties and a sports bra.
“Oooh, sports bra,” Annie said, with a tsk. “I think we may have to lose that, as well.”
Grumbling slightly inside, though she knew Annie was only doing what she had to, Cat doffed the sports bra, as well. Her magnificent, full, firm bare breasts bounced free. Annie’s eyes widened ever so slightly for an instant, but she managed to hide her reaction from Cat.
“Right. Let’s get these attached, then.” Annie quickly attached a series of small, disc-shaped stickers, each no larger than the nail on Cat’s little finger, to various spots on Cat’s body – the back of her neck, between her breasts, just below her navel, under her arms, and on the soles of her feet. At times, her touch made Cat flinch, and when she placed them in the last three locations, Cat couldn’t help but giggle slightly. The amulet sparkled slightly.
“Good. Those will give me all the data I need through the whole…process, and they should be unobtrusive enough that they won’t interfere with, um, anything. And now this,” she said, placing the amulet around Cat’s neck. Cat shrank from it a bit, not crazy about the idea of putting this thing that had transformed her so dramatically on again. Once it was on, though, an inexplicably good feeling seemed to flow from it throughout her body, as if it belonged there, as if she had been missing this thing for her entire life and had never known it.
“Okay,” Annie said. “Here’s the other, um, tricky bit. To get the data I need, the crystal needs at least a moderate charge. It needn’t be, and won’t be, anywhere close to what you experienced before, when it was hypercharged with your own energy as well as that of the other contestants over the course of the tournament. But it does need a little nudge to get the bioenergy coursing through your system.”
Cat raised one eyebrow. “And how shall we go about doing that?”
Annie sighed. “Damn it. If this weren’t such a sensitive bit of business, I’d have a recruit in here for this in a second. But, that’s not an option available to us, is it? All right. As you know, this energy comes from laughter, and in particular from female laughter, and we both know the most efficient way to, er, harvest it. I’m asking a lot from you, Cat, so I reckon the least I can do is pony up some chuckles.”
Looking around once more for reassurance that no-one was around to see (which, of course, they weren’t, due to the precautions she had already taken), Dr. Adriana “Annie” Zidane slipped out of her flats and propped her slender, long-toed bare feet on a lab table. “All right, Cat. Have at them.”
Cat raised the eyebrow again. “Tickle you? You’re sure?”
“If you don’t mind. It’s the simplest way to get that thing up and running, and I don’t mind taking one for the team. You may need to pin them, though – it’s been a while since I’ve had me feet tickled, but from what I recall, I tend to go a bit mental.” She wiggled her bare toes in a brisk little motion.
“Okay then,” Cat said, smiling a bit now. “I’ve had a bit of practice, so I should be rather good at this.”
As Cat reached her long, agile fingers toward the scientist’s soft, smooth soles, Annie’s professionalism quickly showed cracks. Her face took on a wincing grimace, her fists clenched at her sides, and her toes curled tight, crinkling the bottoms of her feet fetchingly. Cat hesitated. “Are you sure you’re sure?”
“If I can ask you to do what I’ve asked you to do, I can take a few moments of torture. Just quit killing me with anticipation and get to it,” Annie said, her voice tight.
Cat grinned and began to gently spider-walk her fingertips up and down Annie’s vulnerable soles. Instantly, Annie’s body jumped and writhed in her chair, a high stream of giggles bursting from her as she yanked her feet back off the table. The amulet flared softly, and Cat felt a slight throb go through her muscles.
“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” Annie said. “I told you I’m a bit of a freak. I just can’t help it. You’ll have to hold them down, I’m afraid, or this will take all night.”
Cat dutifully gathered Annie’s ankles under her arm, standing with her back to the cringing, barefoot scientist. She tried to ignore the sensation when Annie’s nervously fidgeting toes brushed her bare nipple. “Close your eyes and think of England,” Cat said wryly.
Annie snorted. “Right. At least then I’d be getting a rogeringEEEEEEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!”
Cat, sure of her grip, had removed the proverbial kid gloves, and was going to town on her friend’s soft, wrinkly bare soles with five wiggly, tickly fingers with dramatic results. Annie jerked and pulled with surprising strength – the doctor clearly worked out enough that her body was not only trim and cute, but also fairly powerful for a 5’4”, 110 pound woman. The tugging rapidly weakened, though, as Cat tickled her feet, wrenching peals of giggles, cackles, and guffaws from her with each devastating stroke of her fingertips. Her small feet fought cutely, her toes wiggling and curling, her soles struggling to turn inward to shield each other like a pair of praying hands, but never enough to protect them from Cat’s tickling touch.
All the while she tickled, Cat felt a subtle, but palpable flow of energy coursing through her. In a matter of moments, she felt, well, pumped, as if she had just finished a good, strong workout. The feeling only increased from there, gradually but surely enhancing her strength. Annie bounced, giggled, and hooted, her little feet flexing desperately, as Cat tickled her mad.
After about half a minute of wild, body-wracking laughter, Annie managed to call out, “Thahahat’s enohohough!!”
Cat swiftly complied, releasing Annie’s feet and stepping away. She felt the slightest tinge of regret as the flow of power, so to speak, was cut off.
“Whoo,” Annie said, briskly rubbing her feet together. “Forgot how much I hated that. Anyway, the amulet is primed now,” she said, pushing her feet back into her shoes and zipping in her wheeled desk chair over to a nearby monitor. “Any time you’re ready, we…um, you…can begin.”
Cat took a deep breath. Somehow, tickling Annie into hysterics had made what she was about to do – masturbate, at work, for research purposes – seem a little less mortifying. She padded barefoot across the lab, naked except for her black panties, and paused at the door to the small private room. “Can I close the door?” she asked, her voice small.
“Absolutely. Remember – all anyone is going to see are numerical readouts on a screen.”
“Okay. Here goes nothing,” Cat said. She walked inside and shut the door behind her.
The room was small and, surprisingly, rather cozy. The soft carpet was a nice change underfoot from the hard, cold floor of the lab, and a few small abstract paintings in cool, soothing colors made the walls a bit less institutionally bland. A small stereo sat on a side table next to the clean, crisp, white bed that was, save for a chair, the room’s only real furniture. Cat thought about the stereo for a minute, then decided against it – mood music would somehow make this feel that much more embarrassing. A small bathroom adjoined it, with a shower and a big, fluffy towel that Annie had thoughtfully provided.
Cat adjusted the digital thermostat one degree warmer, and heard the soft whir of the climate control system as it complied with her request. She lay down on the bed, her long, dark hair fanning out all around her beautiful face. She swallowed and stared intently at the blank ceiling. She considered a moment, then reached over and clicked off the light. While no virgin, Cat was a modest girl at heart.
In the dark, feeling the soft sheets against her bare skin, she felt a bit better – not quite as if she were in her own bed, but at least not so alien. It’s just a hotel room, she told herself. You’ve done it in hotel rooms before.
Closing her eyes, she began softly, almost absently teasing her nipples, which quickly stiffened in response. Unable, under the circumstances, to begin conjuring a serviceable fantasy, she began, consciously, to remember…
She’s eighteen years old, in her bedroom. He had crept in through her window after her parents were asleep – a risky move, to be sure, given their line of work, but so, so worth it. She remembers bits of him vividly – dark eyes, long, black, curly hair, shoulders surprisingly muscular for a sensitive, poetic type. It’s the first time she has ever shown herself to anyone, as she bares her breasts to the beautiful boy. He touches her and she melts.They kiss hungrily – they’ve wanted each other so badly, for so long. He struggles out of his pants, his member so hard it looks alien. She rides his leg, his thigh scissored between hers, and she knows she is soaking him through her panties. She takes hold of him, stroking, and almost immediately he’s spurting, groaning, his face like a suffering angel’s, and that look on his face sends her over the edge as well, coming hard, deeper and stronger than her private explorations would have made her believe possible, gasping, almost crying, as he buries his face in her breasts…
Cat gasped at the clarity and power of the memory. The gentle, tentative circling of her nipples was now communicating powerfully with the warm, tingling nexus between her thighs; she was getting wet. Taking a deep breath, she snaked her hand down over her lithe, toned belly, slipping under the waistband of her dampening panties, and embraced another, more recent memory.
She sits opposite Aaron Dawes; the two of them have just completed a successful assignment in Paris, and have fallen deeply, passionately in love (and lust). Their relationship draws fire and passion from its competitive edge – rarely has either met someone who comes close to being his or her match, particularly when that person was not an agent tasked with killing them. They sit in a great ballroom, at a diplomatic gala in one of the great hotels of Paris; tuxedoed men and women in sumptuous evening gowns dance to a Glen Miller-style orchestra; the room is all golden light, spotless white tablecloths, bubbling champagne.
They are posing as a newlywed couple, he an international financier, she his gorgeous wife. She wears a low cut black dress and stiletto pumps; he, an open-necked shirt with a sportcoat and white linen pants. She remembers the popping of corks, the clinking of glasses, the sounds of the jazz orchestra, the way his eyes sparkled, that smile of his that was equal parts amusement, affection, and lust.
Spurred on by champagne, she slips one bare foot from her pump and, under cover of the tablecloth, begins to knead his crotch gently but insistently with her toes. He starts , his cool momentarily disrupted, then gives her a look that says, “naughty girl.” She gives him look of mock innocence, raising one eyebrow as if to say “who, me?”. She persists, working him with her toes, as his cock quickly swells to full erection. His look of amusement begins to waver as his eyes cloud with pleasure. She shifts her approach, massaging his swollen member with the bottom of her foot; his eyes close for a moment and he lets out a little groan. Beneath his soft, thin pants, she feels the heat of him pulsing beneath her sensitive sole. A waiter comes to the table; he manages, for the most part, to keep his voice from trembling as he sends him away. She savors his pleasure and his discomfort in equal parts; she is becoming wetter by the second, but she is assured a degree of privacy in her arousal that he is most definitely not. Had he been called upon to rise at that moment, he would have treated onlookers to quite a dramatic sight!
The devilish, competitive side of her takes over. There is no professional danger, here – nothing that could compromise their cover as enthusiastic newlyweds. The only potential consequence would be personal embarrassment. She wants to see how he will deal with a situation that will challenge that air of supreme confidence and competence. She also, of course, wants to make this sexy, confident man come as hard as she can. She continues her massage, stroking him with her foot insistently, his linen pants and the silk boxers beneath creating a smooth, soft sheath that only enhances the sensations her surprisingly skilled toes are giving him. His face becomes flushed; his breathing haggard. He gives her a look that is almost pleading, exasperation and desperation mingling in his expression. At last, he holds his napkin to his face and shudders, his cock jumping beneath her toes; she presses down firmly, milking spurt after spurt of hot come from his pulsing member. She feels it, warm and slippery, against her bare sole, and quivers, almost coming herself as he trembles with ecstatic surrender.
When he has finished and recovered for a moment, he looks across the table at her, an expression of amused outrage on his face. She gives him an arch, wicked, bratty little smile, as if to say, “what are you going to do now, superspy? Walk back to your room with a giant splotch on those flattering linen pants of yours? What will people say?” She smirks, outward cool hiding the shivering state of arousal she is in.
He gives a mock scowl, then grins. Deliberately, looking her in the eye the entire time, he pours himself a glass of champagne – filling the crystal flute to its very brim. Suddenly, he grabs her ankle – her foot is still resting in his lap – and begins briskly tickling her soft, sensitive bare sole. Wildly ticklish under the best of circumstances, and hypersensitized by champagne and sexual excitement, she loses all control, squealing and giggling loudly enough to be heard over the orchestra’s staid strains and drawing amused looks from across the ballroom. Her leg jerks spasmodically, upending –with a bit of help from Agent Dawes – the table, and fortuitously spilling the newly-poured glass all over his already-sodden lap, effectively camouflaging any sign of what had transpired moments before.
Surprised and thrilled by his outrageous resourcefulness, Cat can’t stop laughing, even after the tickling stops. He rises, set the table aright, and lifts her right out of her chair, laying her over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry. He picks up her discarded shoe and makes his way toward the exit, as the gathered merrymakers laugh and toast them. On the way out, he hands the waiter entirely too much money, explaining that the lady “has had a bit too much champagne.” Trumped, she cheerfully plays along until they reach their suite, where he tosses her on the bed, and proceeds to ravish her…
Cat moaned aloud as she came, a small but shuddery orgasm that curled her toes as her fingertips skillfully circled her clit. As the wave of orgasm crested and receded, she gasped, slowing the rhythm of her movements and riding the ebb and flow of her pleasure. This was how it generally went with her – she would come quickly, a relatively shallow climax that primed the pump for a deeper, more satisfying orgasm to follow. Through the haze of her arousal, she thought it a bit strange that her recollection had focused so thoroughly on the earlier part of that evening, as deliciously arousing as it was, rather than on the hours of epic sex that had followed. In fact, the moment that had really set her on the path of no return was recollecting the wild shock of that tickle. Even now, her soles tingled at the memory of how she felt, the tables turned (and overturned) as she rather than he became the butt of the situational joke. Odd that remembering the tickle should turn her on so powerfully…
Her arousal began to build again. She rolled on to her stomach, rising up on her knees, cheek against the pillow, her fingers delving into the dripping cleft between her thighs, and began to fantasize…
__________________________________________________ _________________________________
Outside the small room, in the big, empty lab, Dr. Annie Zidane was restless. Part of her was focused on work as usual, watching the fluctuations and readouts on the screens, jotting down the occasional note, going about the business of scientific research. Part of her, though – an uncharacteristically insistent part, as she was typically the embodiment of self-control – was undeniably, powerfully aroused. Annie was straight, but had that margin of flexibility more common in women than in men that allowed her to find the erotic in the intensely feminine. Catalina Kane was an unquestionably magnificent creature, and the idea of her in the next room, writhing on the bed in the throes of self-induced ecstasy, definitely made Annie come over all tingly. She had slipped out of her shoes, propping her bare feet on the desk in front of her, and let down her long, dark hair from its ponytails. She went into a bit of a daze, her hand straying, almost unconsciously, between her thighs…
She snapped out of it, a spike of shame making her cheeks hot. “You’re in your laboratory, you oversexed tart,” she growled at herself. She clamped her thighs together, which probably did more harm than good, and forced herself back into professionalism.
Once she moved beyond scolding herself, the more analytical part of her mind took over. Could the presence of the crystal, responding to and resonating with Cat’s pleasure, be nudging her, Annie, into a more powerful erotic response than she might normally have? Something to explore, she thought, scribbling furiously in her notebook and wishing the warmth in her groin would go away.
Meanwhile, Cat found herself swept up in a fantasy entirely inconsistent with her usual erotic imaginings. Generally, when she masturbated, her thoughts were rather conventional – remembering encounters past, spinning scenarios of trysts with dangerous, handsome men devoted to satisfying her every desire. Now, though, as her hand worked vigorously between her thighs, her imagination conjured an entirely different kind of scene, and instead of the jumble of erotic sense-imagery that usually swirled in her mind, it was remarkably clear, like a particularly cinematic dream…
She was bound to a bed in a palatial bedroom, spread-eagled on her back, silken ties at each ankle and wrist. She was naked, chest heaving, waiting with dread and excitement to see what would become of her. The door swept open, and Agent Dawes was there, naked as well, his chiseled body kissed by the soft glow of candlelight. She tried to speak but could only moan as he approached her bound, helpless body.
When he touched her, though, it was not the erotic caress she might have expected. As he sat astride her, smiling down into her flushed face, he began to tickle her! His fingers wiggled in her smooth, shaven armpits, dug teasingly into her ribs, worked her writhing, muscular belly as she screamed in helpless laughter. He tickled her breasts, her nipples, adjusting touches that would ordinarily make her gasp with pleasure ever so slightly so that she squealed and giggled. He tickled her neck, her thighs, her hips, working his way down, inexorably, to the cripplingly ticklish soles of her writhing, flexing bare feet. She closed her eyes and howled, wracked with laughter that was torturous but also intensely arousing – a sensation she would never have associated with tickling before. It was only after he had teased her body into a state of near-madness that, at last, he plunged into her, burying his hardness deep in her hot wetness, bringing her to an earth-shaking orgasm that made her scream…
This time, Cat cried out as she came, one hand circling her clit as the fingers of the other plunged inside her, every muscle trembling, toes curling tight. The first climax had been the opening act; this sensual earthquake was the thundering encore that threatened to bring the house down. She rode the pulsing waves of the orgasm, prolonging it, savoring it even as it overwhelmed her, and as it reached its breathless peak, she suddenly had a vivid, incongruous recollection of Tiger Xian Ling’s face, twisted in desperate laughter, streaked with tears, as Cat mercilessly tickled her bare, writhing feet.
Cat lay there, stunned, panting, for several minutes. God, it had felt so good – but what were those thoughts all about? Why would she remember, so vividly, tickling Tiger Xian Ling, right as she was coming? She touched the amulet between her breasts, where it lay among the droplets of sweat from her exertion. It felt light and cold, inert.
Cat pulled the sensors from her body and showered, relishing the feel of the hot water pounding against her skin, toweled off, and dressed, putting on the fatigues, t-shirt, socks, and boots she had worn before. The only exception was the sodden panties, which she folded and stuck in the bottom of her shoulder bag. She smoothed her wet hair over her shoulders and emerged from the little room.
Annie sitting back with her bare feet still propped on her desk, looked up at her and smiled. “Thank you, Cat. I know that wasn’t the most comfortable thing in the world for you to do.”
Cat smiled, but found her attention drawn, inexorably, to the soft, buttery soles of Annie’s feet. A sharp memory of tickling them struck her, and while the act hadn’t seemed remotely sexual at the time, it gave her a little quivery feeling now.
She shook her head as if shooing away a fly and yanked the amulet from her neck, trying to seem casual as she tossed it onto Annie’s desk. Immediately, the erotic feelings lost their intensity, and Annie’s feet, while certainly cute, were just feet, and not the tempting tickle targets they had been a moment before. Cat felt a little rush of relief.
“Everything okay? Anything unusual you feel comfortable reporting?” Annie asked. “I don’t mean to pry any more than I already have, but if there’s anything…”
“Nothing really,” said Cat. “Everything, um, worked just fine. There was something strange, though, about…” she blushed, hesitating.
Annie sat forward, interested. “Strange? Can you talk about it?”
Cat sat down and sighed. Why not? She and Annie had a pretty close bond, now, and this might be important. “When I was…doing it,” she said, struggling to find non-mortifying words, “not right away, but after I had…had one…I started thinking about some kind of strange things.”
“Strange?”
“Yeah. I mean, they were fantasies, certainly, and they were, um, hot, for the most part, but they were nothing like what I would, ah, usually think about. It was like I wasn’t even in control of what I was imagining.”
“Can you give me any details that won’t make you want to hide in the closet until I leave?”
“Well, the most important thing was that they all seemed to center on tickling. Like, at first, it kind of blended seamlessly into what I would normally think about, but by the end, it was all about tickling. I even had this really sharp vision of tickling Tiger at the, um, very end.”
Annie pursed her lips, as if searching for the right words. “Not to be awful for asking, but I assume that’s not something that would have struck you as arousing before?”
“No. Not at all. Even as I was getting off to it, part of me was thinking, ‘well, this is weird.’”
“Thank you, Cat. This has been tremendously helpful. It tells me that the crystal itself may have some psychological influence on the bearer, which is an incredibly important thing to know.
“I can’t thank you enough for this, Cat. I really can’t. I owe you – god knows what, but I owe you,” Annie said, giving Cat a hug. Cat patted her back, then held her shoulders and looked into her eyes.
“Remember. Not a word of this gets anywhere close to Jimmy Wing.”
“May lightning strike me if it does,” Annie said, and the two shared a comforting, tension-breaking laugh.
The two women went their separate ways. Cat returned home to her apartment, where she fell onto the bed and almost immediately asleep. Annie stayed another hour or so, reviewing data and notes, running some calculations, and assessing data. At last, she returned to her house, where she had a bite to eat, watched a bit of television, and eventually convinced herself that her decision to take out her vibrator was an impulsive whim rather than something part of her had been looking forward to all evening.
Hello everyone,
Since the publication of the MTJ illustrated e-novel Catalina Kane and the Tournament of the Tiger, I've been planning to put out a couple of follow-up stories that further explore the characters and universe of the novel -- kind of like free post-release "downloadable content" for the original work, for the gamers out there. Anyway, here's the first of them, in which Cat lays quite a bit on the line to learn more about the mysterious crystals and how they work. It lacks, of course, the gorgeous art by FTKL and BZTickler that graced Tournament of the Tiger, but I hope you dig it anyway! Look for more soon!
If this is new to you, and you like it, you might check out Catalina Kane and the Tournament of the Tiger, available from MTJ publishing!
Link: http://mtjpub.com/mtj07_iteminfo.php?item_id=23
Cat Kane DLC I: Looking for Answers
by Munchausen
Prologue: E-mail from Dr. Adriana Zidane to Catalina Kane
Cat –
I’m so sorry it’s taken me as long as it has to get back to you, but as you know, you got hold of a lot of information! Combing through it and figuring out how it reconciles with what we already knew (or thought we knew) has been a tremendous task, but a rewarding and vitally important one. Anyway, in working through things like this, I tend to create little FAQ-style information sheets to help me get everything clear in my mind. I’ve done something similar for you, below, combining basic information with answers to some specific questions I know you’d like to have answered regarding your recent experiences on the Isle of Sardonica.
This stuff is so crazy, but it’s fascinating, and I don’t think I’m going too far when I say that it could change the world! Anyway, have a look, and let me know if you have more questions. When your schedule permits, I’d love to have a chance to run a few tests in the lab – but only if you’re comfortable with them.
Pax Vobiscum,
Annie
Dr. Adriana Zidane
Chief Science Officer
Delta Branch, Black Arrow
I. Who’s behind all this?
The answer to that is complicated. At the root of it all is the Meade Group, a mysterious, multinational entity that engages in scientific research, mining, philanthropy, weapons development, and at least a dozen other pursuits all around the world (and, I believe, beyond).
It is impossible to trace the origins of the Meade Group with any real certainty, but their history appears to date back, in one form or another, to a shadowy guild in medieval Europe, founded by a bizarre and mercurial figure named Hieronymous Meade. H.M. was rumored to be a powerful magician, but also something of a fool, and an incorrigible horn dog, as the few apocryphal writings we have of his attest. Here’s the weird thing – there appears to have been a man named Hieronymous Meade at the helm of the Meade Group at all times, from its inception to the present. We don’t know whether it’s been passed along from father to son, or whether it’s a pseudonym adopted by the current head, or, hell, if old Hieronymous I has simply found a way to cheat death for all these centuries. You know we’ve seen stranger stuff in Black Arrow.
From time to time, writings that seem to be his will emerge – sometimes memoirs, sometimes interviews with women, always related in some key way to the topics of tickling and, usually, sexuality. It isn’t clear to what extent these interviews represent genuine scientific inquiry, and to what extent they merely indulge his lustful desires, but as you’ll see below, there’s some genuine significance – perhaps tremendous significance – to all this tickling business.
The Meade Group, though, has so many branches, divisions, subdivisions, and subsidiaries that the left hand may very well not know what the right hand is doing, or even that the right hand exists. There appears to be a schism between factions in the Group – some, representing what we believe to be the mainstream, supporting peaceful, philanthropic pursuits in line with most of the Group’s public initiatives, and others, supporting a militaristic application of the incredible phenomena Meade has discovered.
II. What have they discovered?
Okay, here’s where it gets weird(er). The Meade Group has discovered, at some point in their history – perhaps the original discovery led to their inception – an energy source of tremendous, perhaps even limitless potential, housed in crystals. As far as we know, nobody knows about this but them, and now us, but you know how difficult it is to ascertain who knows what. We don’t know much about this for sure – a rambling, nearly incoherent tract purporting to be written by Meade in 1629 tells of an extra-dimensional world, created by a sorceress of tremendous ability, powered by this energy source that she created in an attempt to maintain a world of peace, happiness, and joy. I don’t know about all that, but I do know that Meade has managed to either transport some of it here, or to find crystals in this world that have somehow traversed the dimensional barrier. Anyway, they somehow have a stockpile of quite a lot of these crystals, and have been researching applications for them as well as ways to synthesize and reproduce them for common use. This energy, and the understanding of it, appears to be at the center of a great deal of what Meade does.
III. What do we know about this energy?
Not much, to be honest, but it looks like it could potentially be the Holy Grail we’ve been looking for: clean, renewable, limitless, and nearly infinite in its applications. It can be used to power machinery of all kinds, but most intriguing to me (and to you, I’m sure, given what you’ve been through) are its biological implications. It seems that this energy can be interfaced directly with the human body, enhancing strength, speed, endurance, resistance to toxins and disease, you name it. Tiger Xian Ling is a living example of experimentation in this area, and you experienced it yourself in the final round of the tournament.
Now, here are a couple of interesting facts about this form of energy:
a. It seems to come from laughter. One of the characteristics of this energy form that actually seems to lend some credence to the idea that some Pollyanna sorceress created this stuff to power a world of sunshine and lollypops is that the crystals somehow absorb laughter and transduce it to energy. We’re talking about whole cities being powered by joy and happiness, Cat. From what I’ve seen, it’s a real possibility.
b. It’s somehow tied in to essential femininity. Apparently, the sorceress didn’t buy that gender is a social construction, or question its binary nature. She seems to have been more a “sugar and spice and all things nice” kind of thinker when it came to gender. Anyway, in its biological applications, this energy seems to work only with the physiognomy of women. If a man put on Tiger’s necklace, for example, it would have no effect. If a woman – the right woman – put it on, though, then boom – instant superwoman.
IV. What did Tiger want?
Tiger seems to have been part of the faction within Meade that’s interested in finding military applications for this energy source. The tournament was, on one level, an experiment to test her performance, augmented by the crystal medallion, against some of the most elite female fighters in the world.
You guys weren’t just chosen for combat ability, though. It looks like all of you fit a specific set of characteristics as optimal candidates for augmentation, yourselves. You, though, seem to be in a category all your own, Cat. Something about you is special, setting you apart from all the others. To the scientists working with Tiger, if not to Tiger herself, the opportunity to observe and monitor you was the most important element of the whole endeavor.
I have to confess, though, that I still haven’t discovered why.
And now, I’ll address a few of your personal questions in light of all this:
1. What’s with the sex stuff?
As you know, one of the reasons you were able to defeat Tiger in her augmented state was that she was overcome by arousal as she tickled you. Also, you reported, with admirable candor, a powerful spike in your own sexual appetite and arousal after your use of the crystal. Here’s what that’s all about.
Apparently, part of the feminine-geared nature of this energy includes an affinity with female arousal. I don’t know if it has something to do with fertility or is merely a side effect, but when this energy is operating, it tends to feed the female libido. Usually, at normal levels, the effect is negligible. Driving a car powered by it, you’d never notice anything. If you were standing at the center of a massive machine running on it, you might feel the slightest tingle.
Anyway, this aspect of the energy is unlikely to have any consequences in ordinary use, except in the subtlest way. The kind of energy that you and Tiger were producing, though, was simply off the charts. While she felt little more than a twinge as the others were tickled silly, something about your physiology meant that your laughter sent her into overdrive. And when you tickled her, and drew on her augmented mega-energy, the crystal supercharged your sex-drive, as well.
I don’t know, yet, what about you made your energy so potent. I’m hoping we can find some answers in the lab.
2. What’s up with the tickling?
Okay, here’s the thing. As altruistic as this sorceress was trying to be in creating a form of energy that runs off of happiness and joy, she failed to take into account how fundamentally crappy human beings can be. In other words, Tiger and her ilk eventually -- inevitably – look for a way to use the energy as a weapon. Throughout the tournament, she was powered by laughter energy – every time one of the combatants was tickled into submission, Tiger soaked up every bit of that ambient laughter energy and converted it into physical power.
As she is aware, though – and now, acutely so, given the way you defeated her – energy channeled and used in that way is a two way street. When a normal person laughs, it only depletes his or her energy in the way that any strenuous physical activity would. Someone like Tiger, though, powered by absorbed mirth energy, can be made to release that energy through laughing herself. Basically, if her energy gauge fills up when she tickles other people, it empties out when she’s made to laugh.
In this sense, for a project aimed at creating superhuman warriors powered by mirth energy, tickling becomes much more potentially important than you might initially imagine. Sure, she can take down a dozen marines, but if tickling her tootsies makes her weak as a kitten, then that’s a real weakness.
3. Why were we all ticklish, and why were our feet our universal weak spot?
I had thought this might be coincidence until I saw the project notes. This is interesting stuff.
Apparently, the crystals that are present in our dimension somehow resonate with the ley lines in the earth, feeding on and feeding into electromagnetic and geothermal energies in ways even Mead doesn’t yet fully understand. Only certain women are particularly suited to augmentation – their physiologies are particularly amenable and receptive to this sort of energy. These women, it seems, have a number of physical traits in common, but one of the most pronounced is a marked sensitivity of the feet, which apparently denotes a particular affinity for the ley lines. Usually, they’re pretty sensitive everywhere, but the feet will inevitably be sensitive, and, it seems, also quite ticklish.
This is important information if we end up dealing with any of these enhanced operatives in the future. Ironically, the very traits that make them suitable candidates for augmentation also insure that they’ll have a weakness that can be exploited to drain their energy.
4. Why were all the participants beautiful?
I’ve been able to find a couple of reasons why it was basically a tournament of hotties. First off, Hieronymous Meade himself appeared to take an active interest in the tournament, and as I said, he’s a horndog. It looks like he personally vetoed a few candidates – tough fighters, in league with the other contestants in terms of ability – because they didn’t meet his standards.
That’s not all, though. In my informal, unscientific review of the dossiers of potential candidates, it seems that they skew overwhelmingly in the direction of being really attractive. I don’t know why this is – maybe another instance of the “sunshine and lollypops” origins of this form of energy. Who knows?
5. What do they want with me, and what’s next?
The 64 thousand dollar questions. I’m sorry, sweetie – I just don’t know. We do know that they’ve been watching you closely for a long time, and that you were the single most important part of all this to them. We know that you produce, naturally, somehow, far more mirth energy than does a normal person. I doubt they’ll just leave you alone, unfortunately, but whether they’ll try to snatch you up or offer you a job, I can’t even speculate. I’m afraid only time will tell. I can assure you, though, that Black Arrow will have your back, no matter what happens.
Have faith, love, and be strong!
One month after the events on the Isle of Sardonica…
Catalina Kane was not often taken aback. As an agent of Black Arrow, she had been in some of the world’s most dangerous hot spots, pursuing, infiltrating, and bringing down some of the most dangerous criminal organizations, terrorist groups, and rogue agents the world had ever known. At the tender age of 27, she had been instrumental in actions that had quite possibly saved the world from nuclear destruction on two separate occasions. She had swallowed her fear and plunged into countless life-threatening situations, emerging triumphant each time through her courage, intellect, and fighting skills. When Black Arrow called, she seldom, if ever, hesitated.
The latest request of Dr. Adriana Zidane, chief scientist of her branch of Black Arrow, had her good and flustered.
“Seriously, Annie? You honestly want me to…do that? Here?” Cat felt a blush rising in her cheeks.
Annie smiled gently, her expression apologetic. “I know. Believe me. You know me well enough to know I wouldn’t ask unless I felt it was genuinely important.” Annie, as her friends called her, spoke with a slight cockney accent – a holdover from her London youth. An exotic beauty whose mother was British and father Moroccan, she had light coffee colored skin, large, dark eyes that seemed to sparkle when she spoke, and a broad, welcoming, slightly devilish smile that showcased perfectly white teeth. A small beauty mark decorated the corner of her delicate-lipped mouth, and today, whimsically, she wore her long, straight, lustrous black hair in two ponytails that rose up from the sides of her head in a way that reminded Cat of bunny ears. Though she was only around Cat’s age, she was a world-class scientist, her abilities transcending a particular specialty to instead synthesize any number of disciplines into a holistic understanding of reality that boggled Cat’s very capable mind. She was also two other things, the combination of which made Cat consider a request she might otherwise have rejected out of hand: an impeccable professional, and a dear, trusted friend.
Annie smiled brightly. “Hey, just think of yourself as a bloke at a fertility clinic. No shame there, right? All for the greater good.”
Cat sighed. It was after hours, and while Black Arrow never truly shut down, the science wing was deserted except for the two of them. “Explain to me one more time what this will accomplish.”
Annie dove in, sensing that Cat’s resistance was weakening. “Okay. You brought us this thingamajigger, right? This amulet? And we’ve been – I’ve been – figuring out all sorts of interesting things by studying it, most of which we’ve already talked about. The one thing we haven’t been able to figure out, though, is the sexual dimension of all this. There unquestionably is one – your energy overloaded Tiger’s, um, circuits to such an extent that her response may very well have enabled your victory. You yourself reported a, um, heightened eroticization in the aftermath of the fight. But how that connection works, and what it means for and about the bioenergy, is something we don’t yet understand, and, Cat, we have to understand it.”
Cat nodded, her face grim.
“Now, we know that you and these crystals, this energy, are somehow super-sympatico. That’s part of how you overwhelmed Tiger, and why when you wore the amulet you became Wonder Woman, right? So, you’re an ideal test subject for this. Maybe the best in the world. If we can track your levels of bioenergy while you wear the amulet as you experience progressive arousal and ultimately orgasm or orgasms, it may unlock the final door in the way of our understanding this stuff fully.”
Cat winced, knowing her friend was right. Annie pressed her case.
“Look, Cat. I’ll lock this door. I’ll illuminate the ‘dangerous research in progress’ sign. You can use the bed in the sick bay – fresh, soft, impeccably clean linens, total privacy, and of course I promise I won’t peek. I’ll even have my ipod on – Sonic Youth, really loud – so I won’t overhear…anything. All I’ll have are readouts, numbers, and ratings. But they’ll be so important, Cat. Honestly.”
Cat tossed her thick, shiny ebon mane of hair and blew out her breath. “All right. I’ll do it. For Black Arrow, and for you. And, I guess, for me, since there seems to be something weird and unique about me that we don’t get yet, anyway. But, Annie – please – I know I don’t have to ask, but please – keep this as quiet as possible. If, say, Jimmy Wing ever caught wind of this…”
Annie rolled her eyes. “I get it. All this will be for my eyes only, and will only be shared if absolutely necessary, and never with anyone who does not have a clear and pressing need to know. I promise you.”
“All right, then. No time like the present, I suppose,” Cat said, reasserting her cool professionalism even in the face of the seemingly resoundingly unprofessional thing she was about to do.
“Hold up just a moment. We need to do a couple of things to prepare. First, if you don’t mind, can you strip down to your bra and panties?”
Annie’s professional tone, perfected over a few years as a practicing physician before she devoted herself completely to research, made the request less uncomfortable than it might have been. Cat, who was dressed in the black boots, fatigues, and sleeveless t-shirt that constituted casual Black Arrow field dress, quickly and expeditiously undressed, pulling off her boots and socks, slipping off her pants, pulling the t-shirt over her head. Soon, she stood barefoot on the cool floor of the lab, wearing only a pair of brief black panties and a sports bra.
“Oooh, sports bra,” Annie said, with a tsk. “I think we may have to lose that, as well.”
Grumbling slightly inside, though she knew Annie was only doing what she had to, Cat doffed the sports bra, as well. Her magnificent, full, firm bare breasts bounced free. Annie’s eyes widened ever so slightly for an instant, but she managed to hide her reaction from Cat.
“Right. Let’s get these attached, then.” Annie quickly attached a series of small, disc-shaped stickers, each no larger than the nail on Cat’s little finger, to various spots on Cat’s body – the back of her neck, between her breasts, just below her navel, under her arms, and on the soles of her feet. At times, her touch made Cat flinch, and when she placed them in the last three locations, Cat couldn’t help but giggle slightly. The amulet sparkled slightly.
“Good. Those will give me all the data I need through the whole…process, and they should be unobtrusive enough that they won’t interfere with, um, anything. And now this,” she said, placing the amulet around Cat’s neck. Cat shrank from it a bit, not crazy about the idea of putting this thing that had transformed her so dramatically on again. Once it was on, though, an inexplicably good feeling seemed to flow from it throughout her body, as if it belonged there, as if she had been missing this thing for her entire life and had never known it.
“Okay,” Annie said. “Here’s the other, um, tricky bit. To get the data I need, the crystal needs at least a moderate charge. It needn’t be, and won’t be, anywhere close to what you experienced before, when it was hypercharged with your own energy as well as that of the other contestants over the course of the tournament. But it does need a little nudge to get the bioenergy coursing through your system.”
Cat raised one eyebrow. “And how shall we go about doing that?”
Annie sighed. “Damn it. If this weren’t such a sensitive bit of business, I’d have a recruit in here for this in a second. But, that’s not an option available to us, is it? All right. As you know, this energy comes from laughter, and in particular from female laughter, and we both know the most efficient way to, er, harvest it. I’m asking a lot from you, Cat, so I reckon the least I can do is pony up some chuckles.”
Looking around once more for reassurance that no-one was around to see (which, of course, they weren’t, due to the precautions she had already taken), Dr. Adriana “Annie” Zidane slipped out of her flats and propped her slender, long-toed bare feet on a lab table. “All right, Cat. Have at them.”
Cat raised the eyebrow again. “Tickle you? You’re sure?”
“If you don’t mind. It’s the simplest way to get that thing up and running, and I don’t mind taking one for the team. You may need to pin them, though – it’s been a while since I’ve had me feet tickled, but from what I recall, I tend to go a bit mental.” She wiggled her bare toes in a brisk little motion.
“Okay then,” Cat said, smiling a bit now. “I’ve had a bit of practice, so I should be rather good at this.”
As Cat reached her long, agile fingers toward the scientist’s soft, smooth soles, Annie’s professionalism quickly showed cracks. Her face took on a wincing grimace, her fists clenched at her sides, and her toes curled tight, crinkling the bottoms of her feet fetchingly. Cat hesitated. “Are you sure you’re sure?”
“If I can ask you to do what I’ve asked you to do, I can take a few moments of torture. Just quit killing me with anticipation and get to it,” Annie said, her voice tight.
Cat grinned and began to gently spider-walk her fingertips up and down Annie’s vulnerable soles. Instantly, Annie’s body jumped and writhed in her chair, a high stream of giggles bursting from her as she yanked her feet back off the table. The amulet flared softly, and Cat felt a slight throb go through her muscles.
“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” Annie said. “I told you I’m a bit of a freak. I just can’t help it. You’ll have to hold them down, I’m afraid, or this will take all night.”
Cat dutifully gathered Annie’s ankles under her arm, standing with her back to the cringing, barefoot scientist. She tried to ignore the sensation when Annie’s nervously fidgeting toes brushed her bare nipple. “Close your eyes and think of England,” Cat said wryly.
Annie snorted. “Right. At least then I’d be getting a rogeringEEEEEEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!”
Cat, sure of her grip, had removed the proverbial kid gloves, and was going to town on her friend’s soft, wrinkly bare soles with five wiggly, tickly fingers with dramatic results. Annie jerked and pulled with surprising strength – the doctor clearly worked out enough that her body was not only trim and cute, but also fairly powerful for a 5’4”, 110 pound woman. The tugging rapidly weakened, though, as Cat tickled her feet, wrenching peals of giggles, cackles, and guffaws from her with each devastating stroke of her fingertips. Her small feet fought cutely, her toes wiggling and curling, her soles struggling to turn inward to shield each other like a pair of praying hands, but never enough to protect them from Cat’s tickling touch.
All the while she tickled, Cat felt a subtle, but palpable flow of energy coursing through her. In a matter of moments, she felt, well, pumped, as if she had just finished a good, strong workout. The feeling only increased from there, gradually but surely enhancing her strength. Annie bounced, giggled, and hooted, her little feet flexing desperately, as Cat tickled her mad.
After about half a minute of wild, body-wracking laughter, Annie managed to call out, “Thahahat’s enohohough!!”
Cat swiftly complied, releasing Annie’s feet and stepping away. She felt the slightest tinge of regret as the flow of power, so to speak, was cut off.
“Whoo,” Annie said, briskly rubbing her feet together. “Forgot how much I hated that. Anyway, the amulet is primed now,” she said, pushing her feet back into her shoes and zipping in her wheeled desk chair over to a nearby monitor. “Any time you’re ready, we…um, you…can begin.”
Cat took a deep breath. Somehow, tickling Annie into hysterics had made what she was about to do – masturbate, at work, for research purposes – seem a little less mortifying. She padded barefoot across the lab, naked except for her black panties, and paused at the door to the small private room. “Can I close the door?” she asked, her voice small.
“Absolutely. Remember – all anyone is going to see are numerical readouts on a screen.”
“Okay. Here goes nothing,” Cat said. She walked inside and shut the door behind her.
The room was small and, surprisingly, rather cozy. The soft carpet was a nice change underfoot from the hard, cold floor of the lab, and a few small abstract paintings in cool, soothing colors made the walls a bit less institutionally bland. A small stereo sat on a side table next to the clean, crisp, white bed that was, save for a chair, the room’s only real furniture. Cat thought about the stereo for a minute, then decided against it – mood music would somehow make this feel that much more embarrassing. A small bathroom adjoined it, with a shower and a big, fluffy towel that Annie had thoughtfully provided.
Cat adjusted the digital thermostat one degree warmer, and heard the soft whir of the climate control system as it complied with her request. She lay down on the bed, her long, dark hair fanning out all around her beautiful face. She swallowed and stared intently at the blank ceiling. She considered a moment, then reached over and clicked off the light. While no virgin, Cat was a modest girl at heart.
In the dark, feeling the soft sheets against her bare skin, she felt a bit better – not quite as if she were in her own bed, but at least not so alien. It’s just a hotel room, she told herself. You’ve done it in hotel rooms before.
Closing her eyes, she began softly, almost absently teasing her nipples, which quickly stiffened in response. Unable, under the circumstances, to begin conjuring a serviceable fantasy, she began, consciously, to remember…
She’s eighteen years old, in her bedroom. He had crept in through her window after her parents were asleep – a risky move, to be sure, given their line of work, but so, so worth it. She remembers bits of him vividly – dark eyes, long, black, curly hair, shoulders surprisingly muscular for a sensitive, poetic type. It’s the first time she has ever shown herself to anyone, as she bares her breasts to the beautiful boy. He touches her and she melts.They kiss hungrily – they’ve wanted each other so badly, for so long. He struggles out of his pants, his member so hard it looks alien. She rides his leg, his thigh scissored between hers, and she knows she is soaking him through her panties. She takes hold of him, stroking, and almost immediately he’s spurting, groaning, his face like a suffering angel’s, and that look on his face sends her over the edge as well, coming hard, deeper and stronger than her private explorations would have made her believe possible, gasping, almost crying, as he buries his face in her breasts…
Cat gasped at the clarity and power of the memory. The gentle, tentative circling of her nipples was now communicating powerfully with the warm, tingling nexus between her thighs; she was getting wet. Taking a deep breath, she snaked her hand down over her lithe, toned belly, slipping under the waistband of her dampening panties, and embraced another, more recent memory.
She sits opposite Aaron Dawes; the two of them have just completed a successful assignment in Paris, and have fallen deeply, passionately in love (and lust). Their relationship draws fire and passion from its competitive edge – rarely has either met someone who comes close to being his or her match, particularly when that person was not an agent tasked with killing them. They sit in a great ballroom, at a diplomatic gala in one of the great hotels of Paris; tuxedoed men and women in sumptuous evening gowns dance to a Glen Miller-style orchestra; the room is all golden light, spotless white tablecloths, bubbling champagne.
They are posing as a newlywed couple, he an international financier, she his gorgeous wife. She wears a low cut black dress and stiletto pumps; he, an open-necked shirt with a sportcoat and white linen pants. She remembers the popping of corks, the clinking of glasses, the sounds of the jazz orchestra, the way his eyes sparkled, that smile of his that was equal parts amusement, affection, and lust.
Spurred on by champagne, she slips one bare foot from her pump and, under cover of the tablecloth, begins to knead his crotch gently but insistently with her toes. He starts , his cool momentarily disrupted, then gives her a look that says, “naughty girl.” She gives him look of mock innocence, raising one eyebrow as if to say “who, me?”. She persists, working him with her toes, as his cock quickly swells to full erection. His look of amusement begins to waver as his eyes cloud with pleasure. She shifts her approach, massaging his swollen member with the bottom of her foot; his eyes close for a moment and he lets out a little groan. Beneath his soft, thin pants, she feels the heat of him pulsing beneath her sensitive sole. A waiter comes to the table; he manages, for the most part, to keep his voice from trembling as he sends him away. She savors his pleasure and his discomfort in equal parts; she is becoming wetter by the second, but she is assured a degree of privacy in her arousal that he is most definitely not. Had he been called upon to rise at that moment, he would have treated onlookers to quite a dramatic sight!
The devilish, competitive side of her takes over. There is no professional danger, here – nothing that could compromise their cover as enthusiastic newlyweds. The only potential consequence would be personal embarrassment. She wants to see how he will deal with a situation that will challenge that air of supreme confidence and competence. She also, of course, wants to make this sexy, confident man come as hard as she can. She continues her massage, stroking him with her foot insistently, his linen pants and the silk boxers beneath creating a smooth, soft sheath that only enhances the sensations her surprisingly skilled toes are giving him. His face becomes flushed; his breathing haggard. He gives her a look that is almost pleading, exasperation and desperation mingling in his expression. At last, he holds his napkin to his face and shudders, his cock jumping beneath her toes; she presses down firmly, milking spurt after spurt of hot come from his pulsing member. She feels it, warm and slippery, against her bare sole, and quivers, almost coming herself as he trembles with ecstatic surrender.
When he has finished and recovered for a moment, he looks across the table at her, an expression of amused outrage on his face. She gives him an arch, wicked, bratty little smile, as if to say, “what are you going to do now, superspy? Walk back to your room with a giant splotch on those flattering linen pants of yours? What will people say?” She smirks, outward cool hiding the shivering state of arousal she is in.
He gives a mock scowl, then grins. Deliberately, looking her in the eye the entire time, he pours himself a glass of champagne – filling the crystal flute to its very brim. Suddenly, he grabs her ankle – her foot is still resting in his lap – and begins briskly tickling her soft, sensitive bare sole. Wildly ticklish under the best of circumstances, and hypersensitized by champagne and sexual excitement, she loses all control, squealing and giggling loudly enough to be heard over the orchestra’s staid strains and drawing amused looks from across the ballroom. Her leg jerks spasmodically, upending –with a bit of help from Agent Dawes – the table, and fortuitously spilling the newly-poured glass all over his already-sodden lap, effectively camouflaging any sign of what had transpired moments before.
Surprised and thrilled by his outrageous resourcefulness, Cat can’t stop laughing, even after the tickling stops. He rises, set the table aright, and lifts her right out of her chair, laying her over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry. He picks up her discarded shoe and makes his way toward the exit, as the gathered merrymakers laugh and toast them. On the way out, he hands the waiter entirely too much money, explaining that the lady “has had a bit too much champagne.” Trumped, she cheerfully plays along until they reach their suite, where he tosses her on the bed, and proceeds to ravish her…
Cat moaned aloud as she came, a small but shuddery orgasm that curled her toes as her fingertips skillfully circled her clit. As the wave of orgasm crested and receded, she gasped, slowing the rhythm of her movements and riding the ebb and flow of her pleasure. This was how it generally went with her – she would come quickly, a relatively shallow climax that primed the pump for a deeper, more satisfying orgasm to follow. Through the haze of her arousal, she thought it a bit strange that her recollection had focused so thoroughly on the earlier part of that evening, as deliciously arousing as it was, rather than on the hours of epic sex that had followed. In fact, the moment that had really set her on the path of no return was recollecting the wild shock of that tickle. Even now, her soles tingled at the memory of how she felt, the tables turned (and overturned) as she rather than he became the butt of the situational joke. Odd that remembering the tickle should turn her on so powerfully…
Her arousal began to build again. She rolled on to her stomach, rising up on her knees, cheek against the pillow, her fingers delving into the dripping cleft between her thighs, and began to fantasize…
__________________________________________________ _________________________________
Outside the small room, in the big, empty lab, Dr. Annie Zidane was restless. Part of her was focused on work as usual, watching the fluctuations and readouts on the screens, jotting down the occasional note, going about the business of scientific research. Part of her, though – an uncharacteristically insistent part, as she was typically the embodiment of self-control – was undeniably, powerfully aroused. Annie was straight, but had that margin of flexibility more common in women than in men that allowed her to find the erotic in the intensely feminine. Catalina Kane was an unquestionably magnificent creature, and the idea of her in the next room, writhing on the bed in the throes of self-induced ecstasy, definitely made Annie come over all tingly. She had slipped out of her shoes, propping her bare feet on the desk in front of her, and let down her long, dark hair from its ponytails. She went into a bit of a daze, her hand straying, almost unconsciously, between her thighs…
She snapped out of it, a spike of shame making her cheeks hot. “You’re in your laboratory, you oversexed tart,” she growled at herself. She clamped her thighs together, which probably did more harm than good, and forced herself back into professionalism.
Once she moved beyond scolding herself, the more analytical part of her mind took over. Could the presence of the crystal, responding to and resonating with Cat’s pleasure, be nudging her, Annie, into a more powerful erotic response than she might normally have? Something to explore, she thought, scribbling furiously in her notebook and wishing the warmth in her groin would go away.
Meanwhile, Cat found herself swept up in a fantasy entirely inconsistent with her usual erotic imaginings. Generally, when she masturbated, her thoughts were rather conventional – remembering encounters past, spinning scenarios of trysts with dangerous, handsome men devoted to satisfying her every desire. Now, though, as her hand worked vigorously between her thighs, her imagination conjured an entirely different kind of scene, and instead of the jumble of erotic sense-imagery that usually swirled in her mind, it was remarkably clear, like a particularly cinematic dream…
She was bound to a bed in a palatial bedroom, spread-eagled on her back, silken ties at each ankle and wrist. She was naked, chest heaving, waiting with dread and excitement to see what would become of her. The door swept open, and Agent Dawes was there, naked as well, his chiseled body kissed by the soft glow of candlelight. She tried to speak but could only moan as he approached her bound, helpless body.
When he touched her, though, it was not the erotic caress she might have expected. As he sat astride her, smiling down into her flushed face, he began to tickle her! His fingers wiggled in her smooth, shaven armpits, dug teasingly into her ribs, worked her writhing, muscular belly as she screamed in helpless laughter. He tickled her breasts, her nipples, adjusting touches that would ordinarily make her gasp with pleasure ever so slightly so that she squealed and giggled. He tickled her neck, her thighs, her hips, working his way down, inexorably, to the cripplingly ticklish soles of her writhing, flexing bare feet. She closed her eyes and howled, wracked with laughter that was torturous but also intensely arousing – a sensation she would never have associated with tickling before. It was only after he had teased her body into a state of near-madness that, at last, he plunged into her, burying his hardness deep in her hot wetness, bringing her to an earth-shaking orgasm that made her scream…
This time, Cat cried out as she came, one hand circling her clit as the fingers of the other plunged inside her, every muscle trembling, toes curling tight. The first climax had been the opening act; this sensual earthquake was the thundering encore that threatened to bring the house down. She rode the pulsing waves of the orgasm, prolonging it, savoring it even as it overwhelmed her, and as it reached its breathless peak, she suddenly had a vivid, incongruous recollection of Tiger Xian Ling’s face, twisted in desperate laughter, streaked with tears, as Cat mercilessly tickled her bare, writhing feet.
Cat lay there, stunned, panting, for several minutes. God, it had felt so good – but what were those thoughts all about? Why would she remember, so vividly, tickling Tiger Xian Ling, right as she was coming? She touched the amulet between her breasts, where it lay among the droplets of sweat from her exertion. It felt light and cold, inert.
Cat pulled the sensors from her body and showered, relishing the feel of the hot water pounding against her skin, toweled off, and dressed, putting on the fatigues, t-shirt, socks, and boots she had worn before. The only exception was the sodden panties, which she folded and stuck in the bottom of her shoulder bag. She smoothed her wet hair over her shoulders and emerged from the little room.
Annie sitting back with her bare feet still propped on her desk, looked up at her and smiled. “Thank you, Cat. I know that wasn’t the most comfortable thing in the world for you to do.”
Cat smiled, but found her attention drawn, inexorably, to the soft, buttery soles of Annie’s feet. A sharp memory of tickling them struck her, and while the act hadn’t seemed remotely sexual at the time, it gave her a little quivery feeling now.
She shook her head as if shooing away a fly and yanked the amulet from her neck, trying to seem casual as she tossed it onto Annie’s desk. Immediately, the erotic feelings lost their intensity, and Annie’s feet, while certainly cute, were just feet, and not the tempting tickle targets they had been a moment before. Cat felt a little rush of relief.
“Everything okay? Anything unusual you feel comfortable reporting?” Annie asked. “I don’t mean to pry any more than I already have, but if there’s anything…”
“Nothing really,” said Cat. “Everything, um, worked just fine. There was something strange, though, about…” she blushed, hesitating.
Annie sat forward, interested. “Strange? Can you talk about it?”
Cat sat down and sighed. Why not? She and Annie had a pretty close bond, now, and this might be important. “When I was…doing it,” she said, struggling to find non-mortifying words, “not right away, but after I had…had one…I started thinking about some kind of strange things.”
“Strange?”
“Yeah. I mean, they were fantasies, certainly, and they were, um, hot, for the most part, but they were nothing like what I would, ah, usually think about. It was like I wasn’t even in control of what I was imagining.”
“Can you give me any details that won’t make you want to hide in the closet until I leave?”
“Well, the most important thing was that they all seemed to center on tickling. Like, at first, it kind of blended seamlessly into what I would normally think about, but by the end, it was all about tickling. I even had this really sharp vision of tickling Tiger at the, um, very end.”
Annie pursed her lips, as if searching for the right words. “Not to be awful for asking, but I assume that’s not something that would have struck you as arousing before?”
“No. Not at all. Even as I was getting off to it, part of me was thinking, ‘well, this is weird.’”
“Thank you, Cat. This has been tremendously helpful. It tells me that the crystal itself may have some psychological influence on the bearer, which is an incredibly important thing to know.
“I can’t thank you enough for this, Cat. I really can’t. I owe you – god knows what, but I owe you,” Annie said, giving Cat a hug. Cat patted her back, then held her shoulders and looked into her eyes.
“Remember. Not a word of this gets anywhere close to Jimmy Wing.”
“May lightning strike me if it does,” Annie said, and the two shared a comforting, tension-breaking laugh.
The two women went their separate ways. Cat returned home to her apartment, where she fell onto the bed and almost immediately asleep. Annie stayed another hour or so, reviewing data and notes, running some calculations, and assessing data. At last, she returned to her house, where she had a bite to eat, watched a bit of television, and eventually convinced herself that her decision to take out her vibrator was an impulsive whim rather than something part of her had been looking forward to all evening.
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