oneortheother
TMF Expert
- Joined
- Sep 16, 2008
- Messages
- 375
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- 18
Draconians:
I hate those damned Solaris, but they have one thing right. The flames of conflict are a delicious one indeed. They plant their seeds, and we burn their fields to the ground, and the cycle goes on. Every now and then we capture one of those ‘intellectuals’ and show them that their rationality and logic is powerless when you have a claw raking up and down your soles, but I digress – you’re here for tales of valour and battle, yes?
Stories of bloody glory await you.
---
The Timaeus Empire:
Who doesn’t love a plucky underdog? The empire aren’t the strongest, they aren’t the bravest, and they sure as fuck aren’t the smartest. But what they are good for is persistence – you can beat them once, but sure as the sun rises, they will be back to battle again.
How can you not admire that?
Captain Comet watched the battleground from her fortified perch, her arms crossed as she surveyed the situation. Wave after wave of Timaeus troops were throwing themselves against her Paxim defences, and wave after wave of them were being thrown back.
It was like watching a brown trickle of sand being buffeted by the wind, as she watched the Timaeus soldiers crash against their electrical defences again and again. Doubtlessly, they had been ordered by their Empress to take this fort, no matter the cost, Comet though, internally shaking her head. Their Empress had not won any victories during her reign that were worth bragging about, unless one included winning an all-expenses paid trip to Amiens’s royal dungeons for a private session at the hands of the council due to repeated violation of international treaties. The Paxim were at least democratic in their elections of leaders, though Comet would have to admit that her people did not always make the most well-informed choices – their last commander had been elected less on the strength of her sword-arm and more on the sparkle of her nails, though to be fair, they had looked fabulous.
These brutes did not look like they had any appreciation for art and beauty, Comet sneered, as she took a glance at her shimmering orange nails and stared down at the crimson and bronze rabble below. The Timaeus were humanoid in shape, but they lacked the Paxim’s grace and elegance. Their forearms and shins were covered in bronze scales which made them look like they were wearing copper chainmail armour. The scales did not extend to the soles of their feet and under their arms however, and Comet could see from the display below that that Timaeus toes were probably as ticklish as Paxim appendages. Their roughspun crop tops were brown , along with crimson cloaks which bore their Empress’s sigil, though why they would want to be associated with that brainless warmonger was beyond her.
Perhaps Comet was being too hard on them – their territory had tripled since the Empress had taken over with her expansionist policies, but they had initially owned such little territory that even that did not seem like a great accomplishment, especially since their tactics had simply been to spread out over unclaimed land like ants and swarmed over unprotected areas till they took over through sheer numbers.
For the first time, Comet felt a quiver a fear as she glanced back down at the battlements. She wasn’t underestimating her foe, was she? Sandal-clad Timaeus troops were charging headlong into a forcefield with crude tickle-spears, which sent them hurtling back while Paxim snipers gunned them from the high ground, although some of the Timaeus had patchwork shields which absorbed the blasts harmlessly. Several Timaeus women were giggling on the floor, the skin along their stomach and soles flushed red from repeated critical hits to ticklish spots from the shooters.
Comet saw the Timaeus’s resolve breaking, and sensing an opportunity, she called out to her troops on the ground. “Pursue! Let’s finish them here or we’ll fight this battle again every day!” She was taking no chances with the infamous Timaeus persistence.
She saw the remnants of the Timaeus army flee back, with her Paxim gunners hopping off their perches to continue their barrage of tickle-blasts. She hopped down to lead the assult herself, a tickle-pistol in hand.
But what happened next caught her completely off-guard.
A hail of spears greeted her Paxim girls as they left the safety of their defences. Comet barely missed a spear that whizzed over her head like, well, a comet. The Timaeus had a reserve lurking just out of sight! The spears jolted against the Paxim armour, and many of the girls dropped their guns or missed their shots. To make matters worse, the Timaeus which the Captain had decided were neutralized were suddenly picking themselves up the floor and charging at the backs of the Paxim troops, catching them in a textbook pincer manoeuvre. Comet blasted a smirking Timaeus trooper charging towards her in the chest, but a hand grasping her ankle made her next shot go way off.
“For the Empress!” the Timaeus soldier said, and damn, she was a pretty one too, with her honey-coloured eyes and a shock of short, curly, chestnut brown hair. Damn them all, Comet thought darkly, as the soldier wrenched at Comet’s boot, making the Captain tumble to the floor in a mess of limbs. The pistol went spinning away, as Comet landed on her back, the breath knocked out of her. She could see chaos and pandemonium as she lay on her back as her girls were overwhelmed.
Comet’s best shooter, a redhead named Mars, was trying to aim with her sniper rifle as a Timaeus girl hopped on her back and was tickling her feverishly under the arms.
The most fashionable fighter on the Paxim squad, a raven-haired girl named Libra, had a Timaeus seated on each limp, as a squad of their reserve took to tickling every spot on her body. Libra’s high-pitched squeals as they peeled off her armour and began planting raspberries on her toned, pale stomach rung out plangently even over the din of battle.
The Paxim captain twisted left and right to help her comrades, but the Timaeus trooper straddling her had no intention of making it easy for her, as she slipped slender fingers with bronze nails under Comet’s tunic to tease her ribs. Comet squealed and tossed her head from side to side, realizing too late that she was getting dust into her flaming-orange hair to add salt into her wounds.
She heard a familiar shriek as she saw, Virgo, her right-hand was pounding her manicured fists against the hard, unforgiving floor as a pair of Timaeus legionnaires sat on her legs and began pulling off her high boots to get at her nyloned soles. Comet had tickled Virgo’s purple-painted toes enough times to know that she had to save her friend before she went mad from the tickles. Comet twisted even harder, but the fingers questing along her stomach stopped her from making any kind of progress. How could they have lost to the Timaeus Empire? How? It didn’t make any sense…
The Timaeus girl seemed to recognize the frantic confusion in Comet’s orange-eyes, and grinned a smug smile as she leaned in to whisper in the Paxim’s ear.
“Want to know how we came up with this plan? Tell me your worst ticklish spots and maybe I’ll tell you…”
Comet’s howls of laughter joined the other Paxims as she felt a finger delve into her belly-button. She hated to admit it, but it seemed like the Timaeus had already found them.
Oh, you better believe our pawprints are all over this one. We were really quite the matchmaker… we set the Timaeus Empire up with their own Julius Gaius Caesar….
O-O-O
The Hattori:
A lone wolf who stalks the night for prey and plunder is dangerous… but when the wolf joins the pack, they become deadly. And we set this wolf to be the alpha of the largest pack in the galaxy… it is your move, Solaris.
Legate Laetitia bent her knee at the foot of the great throne. Timaeus pride made her resent bowing to anyone but her Empress, but if her knee was the price of the alliance with these strange but capable creatures, then so be it. At least she was not being asked to do more than that…
The Timaeus Empire’s new tactical advisor lounged comfortable in the throne she had requested. It had been built to her own tailored-specifications, and the shape of it made Laetitia queasy. It was large and black, with soft brown leather and intricate symbols carved into the metal, but what caught the eye were the armrests.
On each armrest, there were a set of cushioned ankle holds where a pair of soles could fit snugly, within easy grasp of those seated in the throne. The throne has essentially had a built-in stockade for one’s personal amusement. It was a vile contraption, Laetitia thought, as she bowed her head and glimpsed the two lying on the floor on mats who had been ‘volunteered’ for the stocks. One was a Paxim with pink-hair, whom Laetitia had no sympathy for – such was the spoils of war. But on the other armrest was a Timaeus trooper, who had the unfortunate reputation of astonishing sensitivity along her soles, which made her very popular with other soldiers who enjoyed lees with ticklish feet, and those who wanted to ‘persuade’ her for favours. Both of them were flopping about in plain sight as their toe-tied tootsies were tormented, though both had been gagged so they would no disrupt the proceedings. The Legate watched the pasty-white soles of the Paxim and the bronzed brown soles of her comrade dance their ticklish dance as the seated figure lazily tickled them through gloved hands as she sat up to address Laetitia (finally).
“Rise. What do you have to report, Legate?” the Hattori said in a bored tone, her voice muffled by the queer masks all Hattori did to obscure their faces. Laetitia had often wondered what they were hiding under their painted masks and loose, ornate robes.
“Your strategy worked perfectly. We broke the Paxim formation and are hunting down the stragglers now,” Laetitia said, as she tried to peer through the depths of the black eyes of the mask.
“Of course it did. The Paxim always were more concerned with their clothes than good tactical sense,” the Hattori said, redoubling her attacks on the pedicured Paxim soles on her right. The Pink-haired girl let loose a shriek that was even audible through the gag as her soles were under attack from both feet, striking under and in-between those bright pink-painted toes. “First rule of battle, and perhaps life as well – if something looks too good to be true, chances are, it’s a trap.”
Laetitia nodded benignly, as she resisted the urge to stick a finger in her ear and rummage about for earwax to show how bored she was of this preaching. Her people might not have the best reputation when it came to tactics, she admitted, but she was not about to blindly trust the advice of this Hattori stranger just because she had fluked her way into one victory. But Laetitia had her orders, and she would carry them through. Perhaps the Empress would renege on their agreement, and Laetitia would be the one sitting in the chair as she discovered what Hattori soles looked like and how ticklish they were.
“I can see distrust in your eyes, Legate,” the Hattori said, as she shifted her fingers to torment the Timaeus soles on her left, which was as naked a threat as Laetitia could think of. She had to choose her words carefully… Laetitia might be fierce and strong for a Timaeus, but she had no doubt the Empress viewed her as expendable. She was of average-height, and with her short sandy-brown hair and tanned skin, the only thing that truly distinguished her was her improvisational skills in combat. She had been court-martialed several times for her not following what she perceived as suicidal orders, and being sent to the disciplinary courts had not been fun. Just the thought of being sent there again made her sandal-clad feet twitch. They had sentenced her to a public humiliation penance the first time, and she had been tickled by every citizen of the city, and she could still recall all the forks, brushes and other utensils they had applied to every inch of her bronzed, ticklish body.
“I am only concerned for what is best for the Empress,” Laetitia said diplomatically, her eyes downcast as she watched the ticklish Timaeus girl laugh – her name was Abelia, Laetitia suddenly recalled.
“So in other words, you do not trust me,” the Hattori said, standing up, and for a second, Laetitia thought the mysterious woman was going to attack her, but she simply threw her head back and laughed. “Good to know you Timaeus aren’t all trusting fools. There may be hope for your people yet. Come, walk with me,” she beckoned.
Laetitia followed the hooded, masked woman apprehensively, taking note of how with each step of the Hattori, she was perfectly balanced on the balls of her feet so her soft-soled shoes made nary a sound on the floor. Laetitia remembered the Hattori were as elusive and stealthy as ninjas, and wondered if she was walking to a cell in the dungeons. She put a hand on the hilt of her tickle-dagger as she walked.
“You seem less spineless than your sisters-in-arms,” the Hattori said, and Laetitia assumed the comment was supposed to be flattery.
If I wasn’t less spineless, I would tackle you to the ground, rip that mask off, and tickle you silly, damn the consequences. Laetitia badly wanted to say that, but she bit down on the retort and gave a non-committal grunt instead.
The Hattori laughed. “I know what you’re thinking,” she said, as she turned around to glance at the Timaeus Legate. “You reek of suspicion and hostility. You want to know why I’m here, and why your Empress trusts me.”
“And your name too,” Laetitia blurted, and Laetitia laughed again.
“My people do not use names the same way most races do. We all take objects that reflect our duties as our names, and each object can only be used by one. My name is ‘Beacon’ because I shine the light of wisdom and understanding everywhere I go. Just because so many of us are mercenaries does not mean we lack of a poetic side,” she paused. “I can give your answers, but you can never forget what you’ve learned. Do you want to know? You will never see your Empress in the same light again.”
Laetitia chewed her lip, and nodded, knowing that she would kick herself for turning down this opportunity. If this woman was really a threat to the Empress, Laetitia would be in a good position to eliminate her too…
“Follow me,” Beacon said, and Laetitia followed, a palm on the hilt of her tickle-dagger as she walked.
O-O-O
Laetitia’s mouth hung open as she watched the video monitor; she was too speechless for words. They were in a large viewing chamber with a large video screen which was currently broadcasting the Empress’s private antics in super-high definition, and despite the resolution of the video, Laetitia simply could not believe what she was seeing. This had to be a fake!
“Oh, it’s real. The Empress commissioned us to buy those machines herself – the Timaeus don’t want to be seen buying bots from the Faen. They have their reputation to worry about,” Beacon snickered.
Laetitia could only gap at the video that was playing on the screen, blessedly on mute.
The mighty, regal Empress of the Timaeus Empire, with her curled copper locks, diamond tiara and immaculate make-up looked far from royal and leader-like. She was strapped in some giant white-metallic frame that had her eagle-spread and upside-down. The queer metallic device held her vertically, with her arms and legs engulfed by suction-like holes around her knees and elbows, which held her tightly to the contraption.
A myriad of ghastly electric tickle-devices sprouted from the device, and Laetitia was ambivalent as she half-wanted to tear her eyes from the sight of her beloved Empress being tickled, but at the same time she was captivated by the tears of laughter and roars of mirth coming from that pulchritudinous, royal face. The Empress was wearing nothing but her royal lingerie, and the sight alone was considered treasonous, but Laetitia could not look away as she saw remorseless robotic fingers wiggle into the Empress’s underarms, held firm by the suction-like grip. The fingers retracted after a while, and Laetitia gasped as three little brushes, the size of basting brushes, dusted every inch of those perfect hairless armpits. If the Empress found the brushes more unbearable, she did not show it, as she simply laughed and laughed, a giddy grin plastered on her face.
Laetitia tore her eyes away from the Empress’s red-face, to peer down at the rest of the device. A triplet of tiny wiggling feathers was dancing along the royal collarbones as the Empress tossed her head from side-to-side, sending her bronze curls flying to and fro. A pair of electric massagers was vibbing the Empress’s ribs and sides, and a pair of stiff, varnished feathers rotated in shortly after. The same treatment was mirrored on the Empress’s bronzed thighs, though in reverse, so when massagers vibrated and stimulated ticklish flesh on her ribcage, feathers licked at her inner thighs, and vice-versa. The Empress had a jewel in her pierced navel, an another feather questing around it, and Laetitia found the sight of the Empress’s spasming and jiggling stomach disturbingly alluring. The Empress’s knees were bent back, so her feet were hidden from view, which Laetitia found disappointing, though her inner patriot was yelling at her for being so callous for wanting to see every spot on the Empress tickled. Closer inspection of the device yielded more questions than answers.
The device was clearly intended to provoke gales of ticklish torment, but the whole device just did not add up… Laetitia had spent more than enough time in them to know that, her tummy queasy just from the sight of so many devilish tickle implements. Something about the design of the machine looked off. There were plump cushions and soft padding around the back and shoulders of the device, which made it clear that it was no typical tickle torture device designed for dungeon use, but that just made it even more confusing. There were a pair of monitors in front of the Empress’s visage, but it wasn’t till the camera panned round that it became apparent what was on them.
The Empress’s flawless royal soles were on display on them, a pair of perfect bare bronzed feet with paler soles and long sensitive-looking toes finished with a gorgeous deep crimson and gold varnish, the colours of the Timaeus Empire. Also, on the second toes of both foot, the Empress wore jewelled toe rings.
“They were as sensitive as they looked,” Beacon said, noticing where Laetitia was glancing, and the Legate could not think of anything so say as she watched the royal soles dance.
Tiny metal clamps gripped the big toes and the little toes and spread them out, so each foot was taut and immobile, as a swarm of ticklish pests tormented every inch of those radiant soles. Laetitia watched in horror as a pair of brushes buffed at those reddened royal heels, while a quintuplet of smaller brushes, around the size of toothbrushes buzzed about the Empress’s quivering digits.
The Empress’s eyes were glued to the monitor as she watched her soles getting ravaged by those brushes, yet she never once seemed to mouth the word “stop”. If anything, she seemed to enjoy the tickling the longer it went on, and Laetitia saw the word “more” appear on her perfect, lush lips more than once. The grin that blossomed on the Empress’s face when the brushes were replaced by a pair of combs was the happiest smile in the universe. Something in Laetitia’s mind snapped at the sight of the swoony smile, and Laetitia drew her tickle-dagger and pointed it at Beacon’s throat.
“What the fuck was that?” she said, the dagger at Beacon’s collarbones.
“Language,” Beacon smiled, then answered properly. “Your Empress isn’t perfect – she’s as perverted as the rest of us.”
Laetitia felt such a rush of indignant patriotic fury that she slashed her dagger without even thinking.
Beacon snickered. “I warned you.”
“Explain this! Now!”
“Your Empress enjoys the sense of domination. She is a true submissive at heart. It’s unfortunate that she rules this Empire of yours, because she knows she can never show her true side to anyone – who would dare tickle the Empress? So she commissioned a machine who did the job for her. She presented this video to us as a sign of good faith.”
“Good faith?”
“A sign she would not betray us. Blackmail material, really,” Beacon said, as she watched the screen where robotic fingers were currently scratching the Empress’s regal soles with long, sharp, artificial ceramic fingernails. “She gave us a few other videos too. Want to see them?”
“No!” Laetitia said, not knowing if her heart could see her Empress being, being… demeaned like this! Laetitia said no, but her eyes were drawn to the screen as if they were magnetized. Liberal quantities of babyoil were smeared across the pampered royal soles, as the long, sharp hands slide easily across the slick surfaces as if she were wearing nylon stockings of the highest quality.
The fingers weaved across the soles like a pianist coaxing the sweetest symphony from the ivories, as they hit every spot she targeted even with the poor bare feet twisting, writhing, and jerking around in desperation, curling their toes as best they could despite the toe bondage.
And no part of the tortured royal soles were spared – Laetitia could only watch as the fingers varied from figure-8's, to jiggling all over the bottoms of my feet, to running them side-to-side to hard, to spreading them out four wide and raking up and down the slick oily soles, constantly changing intensities of light, hard, fast and slow to stimulate the ticklish nerve sensors in every which way possible.
“I’ve seen enough,” Laetitia repeated, as her fists quaked and she knew what she must do.
O-O-O
The painted grin on Beacon’s mask seem to widen as Laetitia charged at her. The Hattori was nimbler than she looked under those loose robes, and she neatly sidestepped Laetitia’s charge. A growling Laetitia charged again, but this time Beacon stuck out a foot, so the lumbering Timaeus Legate went sprawling across the floor.
Beacon straddled Laetitia quickly from behind, binding the Timaeus’s left arm behind the back, and using her whole body’s weight to push down Laetitia’s left leg till it bent at the knee. Quickly taking advantage of her foe being pinned, the left sandal was whisked away as Beacon’s gloved hands began exploring the expanse of the bronzed Timaeus sole. Laetitia’s right arm was free, and she made swipes at Laetitia from behind, but they were mostly ineffectual with the assault on her bare left sole.
“You’re upset,” Beacon said matter of factly, as Laetitia pounded her fist into the ground as she snorted with laughter. “This should help you get your mind straight.”
Laetitia’s boyish laughter suddenly went up an octave as a long, snake-like tongue suddenly retracted from the Hattori’s mask and lapped against her sole for a moment.
“Oh, you like the tongue, do you?” Laetitia heard Beacon say, and she could hear the mirth in her voice. Laetitia was not an owl, so she could not turn her head 360 degrees to see the tongue, but she could definitely feel it as it slithered through her plump brown toes. After weaving between the gap between her big toe and her second toe for what felt like an hour, the tongue zipped up to trace along Laetitia’s bare neck and along her earlobes, with her short hair giving the Hattori plenty of exposed bronze flesh to explore, all the while the hand at Laetitia’s foot never ceased its movements.
Beacon grinned beneath her mask, then gently tugged the mask down to her neck. The mouth that hid behind the Hattor’s mask moved, and with the tender touch of a lover, began to nuzzle the back of Laetitia’s neck and along her ears, planting kisses all over the sensitive flesh that had already been teased by her tongue.
The moan that escaped Laetitia’s throat as Beacon’s cool lips kissed her ear was not missed byt the observant Hattori, and she did not fail to notice how Laetitia’s Timaeus toes would toes curl with pleasure at each moan.
“Don’t you worry… I’ll show you why your Empress enjoyed this so much…”
I hate those damned Solaris, but they have one thing right. The flames of conflict are a delicious one indeed. They plant their seeds, and we burn their fields to the ground, and the cycle goes on. Every now and then we capture one of those ‘intellectuals’ and show them that their rationality and logic is powerless when you have a claw raking up and down your soles, but I digress – you’re here for tales of valour and battle, yes?
Stories of bloody glory await you.
---
The Timaeus Empire:
Who doesn’t love a plucky underdog? The empire aren’t the strongest, they aren’t the bravest, and they sure as fuck aren’t the smartest. But what they are good for is persistence – you can beat them once, but sure as the sun rises, they will be back to battle again.
How can you not admire that?
Captain Comet watched the battleground from her fortified perch, her arms crossed as she surveyed the situation. Wave after wave of Timaeus troops were throwing themselves against her Paxim defences, and wave after wave of them were being thrown back.
It was like watching a brown trickle of sand being buffeted by the wind, as she watched the Timaeus soldiers crash against their electrical defences again and again. Doubtlessly, they had been ordered by their Empress to take this fort, no matter the cost, Comet though, internally shaking her head. Their Empress had not won any victories during her reign that were worth bragging about, unless one included winning an all-expenses paid trip to Amiens’s royal dungeons for a private session at the hands of the council due to repeated violation of international treaties. The Paxim were at least democratic in their elections of leaders, though Comet would have to admit that her people did not always make the most well-informed choices – their last commander had been elected less on the strength of her sword-arm and more on the sparkle of her nails, though to be fair, they had looked fabulous.
These brutes did not look like they had any appreciation for art and beauty, Comet sneered, as she took a glance at her shimmering orange nails and stared down at the crimson and bronze rabble below. The Timaeus were humanoid in shape, but they lacked the Paxim’s grace and elegance. Their forearms and shins were covered in bronze scales which made them look like they were wearing copper chainmail armour. The scales did not extend to the soles of their feet and under their arms however, and Comet could see from the display below that that Timaeus toes were probably as ticklish as Paxim appendages. Their roughspun crop tops were brown , along with crimson cloaks which bore their Empress’s sigil, though why they would want to be associated with that brainless warmonger was beyond her.
Perhaps Comet was being too hard on them – their territory had tripled since the Empress had taken over with her expansionist policies, but they had initially owned such little territory that even that did not seem like a great accomplishment, especially since their tactics had simply been to spread out over unclaimed land like ants and swarmed over unprotected areas till they took over through sheer numbers.
For the first time, Comet felt a quiver a fear as she glanced back down at the battlements. She wasn’t underestimating her foe, was she? Sandal-clad Timaeus troops were charging headlong into a forcefield with crude tickle-spears, which sent them hurtling back while Paxim snipers gunned them from the high ground, although some of the Timaeus had patchwork shields which absorbed the blasts harmlessly. Several Timaeus women were giggling on the floor, the skin along their stomach and soles flushed red from repeated critical hits to ticklish spots from the shooters.
Comet saw the Timaeus’s resolve breaking, and sensing an opportunity, she called out to her troops on the ground. “Pursue! Let’s finish them here or we’ll fight this battle again every day!” She was taking no chances with the infamous Timaeus persistence.
She saw the remnants of the Timaeus army flee back, with her Paxim gunners hopping off their perches to continue their barrage of tickle-blasts. She hopped down to lead the assult herself, a tickle-pistol in hand.
But what happened next caught her completely off-guard.
A hail of spears greeted her Paxim girls as they left the safety of their defences. Comet barely missed a spear that whizzed over her head like, well, a comet. The Timaeus had a reserve lurking just out of sight! The spears jolted against the Paxim armour, and many of the girls dropped their guns or missed their shots. To make matters worse, the Timaeus which the Captain had decided were neutralized were suddenly picking themselves up the floor and charging at the backs of the Paxim troops, catching them in a textbook pincer manoeuvre. Comet blasted a smirking Timaeus trooper charging towards her in the chest, but a hand grasping her ankle made her next shot go way off.
“For the Empress!” the Timaeus soldier said, and damn, she was a pretty one too, with her honey-coloured eyes and a shock of short, curly, chestnut brown hair. Damn them all, Comet thought darkly, as the soldier wrenched at Comet’s boot, making the Captain tumble to the floor in a mess of limbs. The pistol went spinning away, as Comet landed on her back, the breath knocked out of her. She could see chaos and pandemonium as she lay on her back as her girls were overwhelmed.
Comet’s best shooter, a redhead named Mars, was trying to aim with her sniper rifle as a Timaeus girl hopped on her back and was tickling her feverishly under the arms.
The most fashionable fighter on the Paxim squad, a raven-haired girl named Libra, had a Timaeus seated on each limp, as a squad of their reserve took to tickling every spot on her body. Libra’s high-pitched squeals as they peeled off her armour and began planting raspberries on her toned, pale stomach rung out plangently even over the din of battle.
The Paxim captain twisted left and right to help her comrades, but the Timaeus trooper straddling her had no intention of making it easy for her, as she slipped slender fingers with bronze nails under Comet’s tunic to tease her ribs. Comet squealed and tossed her head from side to side, realizing too late that she was getting dust into her flaming-orange hair to add salt into her wounds.
She heard a familiar shriek as she saw, Virgo, her right-hand was pounding her manicured fists against the hard, unforgiving floor as a pair of Timaeus legionnaires sat on her legs and began pulling off her high boots to get at her nyloned soles. Comet had tickled Virgo’s purple-painted toes enough times to know that she had to save her friend before she went mad from the tickles. Comet twisted even harder, but the fingers questing along her stomach stopped her from making any kind of progress. How could they have lost to the Timaeus Empire? How? It didn’t make any sense…
The Timaeus girl seemed to recognize the frantic confusion in Comet’s orange-eyes, and grinned a smug smile as she leaned in to whisper in the Paxim’s ear.
“Want to know how we came up with this plan? Tell me your worst ticklish spots and maybe I’ll tell you…”
Comet’s howls of laughter joined the other Paxims as she felt a finger delve into her belly-button. She hated to admit it, but it seemed like the Timaeus had already found them.
Oh, you better believe our pawprints are all over this one. We were really quite the matchmaker… we set the Timaeus Empire up with their own Julius Gaius Caesar….
O-O-O
The Hattori:
A lone wolf who stalks the night for prey and plunder is dangerous… but when the wolf joins the pack, they become deadly. And we set this wolf to be the alpha of the largest pack in the galaxy… it is your move, Solaris.
Legate Laetitia bent her knee at the foot of the great throne. Timaeus pride made her resent bowing to anyone but her Empress, but if her knee was the price of the alliance with these strange but capable creatures, then so be it. At least she was not being asked to do more than that…
The Timaeus Empire’s new tactical advisor lounged comfortable in the throne she had requested. It had been built to her own tailored-specifications, and the shape of it made Laetitia queasy. It was large and black, with soft brown leather and intricate symbols carved into the metal, but what caught the eye were the armrests.
On each armrest, there were a set of cushioned ankle holds where a pair of soles could fit snugly, within easy grasp of those seated in the throne. The throne has essentially had a built-in stockade for one’s personal amusement. It was a vile contraption, Laetitia thought, as she bowed her head and glimpsed the two lying on the floor on mats who had been ‘volunteered’ for the stocks. One was a Paxim with pink-hair, whom Laetitia had no sympathy for – such was the spoils of war. But on the other armrest was a Timaeus trooper, who had the unfortunate reputation of astonishing sensitivity along her soles, which made her very popular with other soldiers who enjoyed lees with ticklish feet, and those who wanted to ‘persuade’ her for favours. Both of them were flopping about in plain sight as their toe-tied tootsies were tormented, though both had been gagged so they would no disrupt the proceedings. The Legate watched the pasty-white soles of the Paxim and the bronzed brown soles of her comrade dance their ticklish dance as the seated figure lazily tickled them through gloved hands as she sat up to address Laetitia (finally).
“Rise. What do you have to report, Legate?” the Hattori said in a bored tone, her voice muffled by the queer masks all Hattori did to obscure their faces. Laetitia had often wondered what they were hiding under their painted masks and loose, ornate robes.
“Your strategy worked perfectly. We broke the Paxim formation and are hunting down the stragglers now,” Laetitia said, as she tried to peer through the depths of the black eyes of the mask.
“Of course it did. The Paxim always were more concerned with their clothes than good tactical sense,” the Hattori said, redoubling her attacks on the pedicured Paxim soles on her right. The Pink-haired girl let loose a shriek that was even audible through the gag as her soles were under attack from both feet, striking under and in-between those bright pink-painted toes. “First rule of battle, and perhaps life as well – if something looks too good to be true, chances are, it’s a trap.”
Laetitia nodded benignly, as she resisted the urge to stick a finger in her ear and rummage about for earwax to show how bored she was of this preaching. Her people might not have the best reputation when it came to tactics, she admitted, but she was not about to blindly trust the advice of this Hattori stranger just because she had fluked her way into one victory. But Laetitia had her orders, and she would carry them through. Perhaps the Empress would renege on their agreement, and Laetitia would be the one sitting in the chair as she discovered what Hattori soles looked like and how ticklish they were.
“I can see distrust in your eyes, Legate,” the Hattori said, as she shifted her fingers to torment the Timaeus soles on her left, which was as naked a threat as Laetitia could think of. She had to choose her words carefully… Laetitia might be fierce and strong for a Timaeus, but she had no doubt the Empress viewed her as expendable. She was of average-height, and with her short sandy-brown hair and tanned skin, the only thing that truly distinguished her was her improvisational skills in combat. She had been court-martialed several times for her not following what she perceived as suicidal orders, and being sent to the disciplinary courts had not been fun. Just the thought of being sent there again made her sandal-clad feet twitch. They had sentenced her to a public humiliation penance the first time, and she had been tickled by every citizen of the city, and she could still recall all the forks, brushes and other utensils they had applied to every inch of her bronzed, ticklish body.
“I am only concerned for what is best for the Empress,” Laetitia said diplomatically, her eyes downcast as she watched the ticklish Timaeus girl laugh – her name was Abelia, Laetitia suddenly recalled.
“So in other words, you do not trust me,” the Hattori said, standing up, and for a second, Laetitia thought the mysterious woman was going to attack her, but she simply threw her head back and laughed. “Good to know you Timaeus aren’t all trusting fools. There may be hope for your people yet. Come, walk with me,” she beckoned.
Laetitia followed the hooded, masked woman apprehensively, taking note of how with each step of the Hattori, she was perfectly balanced on the balls of her feet so her soft-soled shoes made nary a sound on the floor. Laetitia remembered the Hattori were as elusive and stealthy as ninjas, and wondered if she was walking to a cell in the dungeons. She put a hand on the hilt of her tickle-dagger as she walked.
“You seem less spineless than your sisters-in-arms,” the Hattori said, and Laetitia assumed the comment was supposed to be flattery.
If I wasn’t less spineless, I would tackle you to the ground, rip that mask off, and tickle you silly, damn the consequences. Laetitia badly wanted to say that, but she bit down on the retort and gave a non-committal grunt instead.
The Hattori laughed. “I know what you’re thinking,” she said, as she turned around to glance at the Timaeus Legate. “You reek of suspicion and hostility. You want to know why I’m here, and why your Empress trusts me.”
“And your name too,” Laetitia blurted, and Laetitia laughed again.
“My people do not use names the same way most races do. We all take objects that reflect our duties as our names, and each object can only be used by one. My name is ‘Beacon’ because I shine the light of wisdom and understanding everywhere I go. Just because so many of us are mercenaries does not mean we lack of a poetic side,” she paused. “I can give your answers, but you can never forget what you’ve learned. Do you want to know? You will never see your Empress in the same light again.”
Laetitia chewed her lip, and nodded, knowing that she would kick herself for turning down this opportunity. If this woman was really a threat to the Empress, Laetitia would be in a good position to eliminate her too…
“Follow me,” Beacon said, and Laetitia followed, a palm on the hilt of her tickle-dagger as she walked.
O-O-O
Laetitia’s mouth hung open as she watched the video monitor; she was too speechless for words. They were in a large viewing chamber with a large video screen which was currently broadcasting the Empress’s private antics in super-high definition, and despite the resolution of the video, Laetitia simply could not believe what she was seeing. This had to be a fake!
“Oh, it’s real. The Empress commissioned us to buy those machines herself – the Timaeus don’t want to be seen buying bots from the Faen. They have their reputation to worry about,” Beacon snickered.
Laetitia could only gap at the video that was playing on the screen, blessedly on mute.
The mighty, regal Empress of the Timaeus Empire, with her curled copper locks, diamond tiara and immaculate make-up looked far from royal and leader-like. She was strapped in some giant white-metallic frame that had her eagle-spread and upside-down. The queer metallic device held her vertically, with her arms and legs engulfed by suction-like holes around her knees and elbows, which held her tightly to the contraption.
A myriad of ghastly electric tickle-devices sprouted from the device, and Laetitia was ambivalent as she half-wanted to tear her eyes from the sight of her beloved Empress being tickled, but at the same time she was captivated by the tears of laughter and roars of mirth coming from that pulchritudinous, royal face. The Empress was wearing nothing but her royal lingerie, and the sight alone was considered treasonous, but Laetitia could not look away as she saw remorseless robotic fingers wiggle into the Empress’s underarms, held firm by the suction-like grip. The fingers retracted after a while, and Laetitia gasped as three little brushes, the size of basting brushes, dusted every inch of those perfect hairless armpits. If the Empress found the brushes more unbearable, she did not show it, as she simply laughed and laughed, a giddy grin plastered on her face.
Laetitia tore her eyes away from the Empress’s red-face, to peer down at the rest of the device. A triplet of tiny wiggling feathers was dancing along the royal collarbones as the Empress tossed her head from side-to-side, sending her bronze curls flying to and fro. A pair of electric massagers was vibbing the Empress’s ribs and sides, and a pair of stiff, varnished feathers rotated in shortly after. The same treatment was mirrored on the Empress’s bronzed thighs, though in reverse, so when massagers vibrated and stimulated ticklish flesh on her ribcage, feathers licked at her inner thighs, and vice-versa. The Empress had a jewel in her pierced navel, an another feather questing around it, and Laetitia found the sight of the Empress’s spasming and jiggling stomach disturbingly alluring. The Empress’s knees were bent back, so her feet were hidden from view, which Laetitia found disappointing, though her inner patriot was yelling at her for being so callous for wanting to see every spot on the Empress tickled. Closer inspection of the device yielded more questions than answers.
The device was clearly intended to provoke gales of ticklish torment, but the whole device just did not add up… Laetitia had spent more than enough time in them to know that, her tummy queasy just from the sight of so many devilish tickle implements. Something about the design of the machine looked off. There were plump cushions and soft padding around the back and shoulders of the device, which made it clear that it was no typical tickle torture device designed for dungeon use, but that just made it even more confusing. There were a pair of monitors in front of the Empress’s visage, but it wasn’t till the camera panned round that it became apparent what was on them.
The Empress’s flawless royal soles were on display on them, a pair of perfect bare bronzed feet with paler soles and long sensitive-looking toes finished with a gorgeous deep crimson and gold varnish, the colours of the Timaeus Empire. Also, on the second toes of both foot, the Empress wore jewelled toe rings.
“They were as sensitive as they looked,” Beacon said, noticing where Laetitia was glancing, and the Legate could not think of anything so say as she watched the royal soles dance.
Tiny metal clamps gripped the big toes and the little toes and spread them out, so each foot was taut and immobile, as a swarm of ticklish pests tormented every inch of those radiant soles. Laetitia watched in horror as a pair of brushes buffed at those reddened royal heels, while a quintuplet of smaller brushes, around the size of toothbrushes buzzed about the Empress’s quivering digits.
The Empress’s eyes were glued to the monitor as she watched her soles getting ravaged by those brushes, yet she never once seemed to mouth the word “stop”. If anything, she seemed to enjoy the tickling the longer it went on, and Laetitia saw the word “more” appear on her perfect, lush lips more than once. The grin that blossomed on the Empress’s face when the brushes were replaced by a pair of combs was the happiest smile in the universe. Something in Laetitia’s mind snapped at the sight of the swoony smile, and Laetitia drew her tickle-dagger and pointed it at Beacon’s throat.
“What the fuck was that?” she said, the dagger at Beacon’s collarbones.
“Language,” Beacon smiled, then answered properly. “Your Empress isn’t perfect – she’s as perverted as the rest of us.”
Laetitia felt such a rush of indignant patriotic fury that she slashed her dagger without even thinking.
Beacon snickered. “I warned you.”
“Explain this! Now!”
“Your Empress enjoys the sense of domination. She is a true submissive at heart. It’s unfortunate that she rules this Empire of yours, because she knows she can never show her true side to anyone – who would dare tickle the Empress? So she commissioned a machine who did the job for her. She presented this video to us as a sign of good faith.”
“Good faith?”
“A sign she would not betray us. Blackmail material, really,” Beacon said, as she watched the screen where robotic fingers were currently scratching the Empress’s regal soles with long, sharp, artificial ceramic fingernails. “She gave us a few other videos too. Want to see them?”
“No!” Laetitia said, not knowing if her heart could see her Empress being, being… demeaned like this! Laetitia said no, but her eyes were drawn to the screen as if they were magnetized. Liberal quantities of babyoil were smeared across the pampered royal soles, as the long, sharp hands slide easily across the slick surfaces as if she were wearing nylon stockings of the highest quality.
The fingers weaved across the soles like a pianist coaxing the sweetest symphony from the ivories, as they hit every spot she targeted even with the poor bare feet twisting, writhing, and jerking around in desperation, curling their toes as best they could despite the toe bondage.
And no part of the tortured royal soles were spared – Laetitia could only watch as the fingers varied from figure-8's, to jiggling all over the bottoms of my feet, to running them side-to-side to hard, to spreading them out four wide and raking up and down the slick oily soles, constantly changing intensities of light, hard, fast and slow to stimulate the ticklish nerve sensors in every which way possible.
“I’ve seen enough,” Laetitia repeated, as her fists quaked and she knew what she must do.
O-O-O
The painted grin on Beacon’s mask seem to widen as Laetitia charged at her. The Hattori was nimbler than she looked under those loose robes, and she neatly sidestepped Laetitia’s charge. A growling Laetitia charged again, but this time Beacon stuck out a foot, so the lumbering Timaeus Legate went sprawling across the floor.
Beacon straddled Laetitia quickly from behind, binding the Timaeus’s left arm behind the back, and using her whole body’s weight to push down Laetitia’s left leg till it bent at the knee. Quickly taking advantage of her foe being pinned, the left sandal was whisked away as Beacon’s gloved hands began exploring the expanse of the bronzed Timaeus sole. Laetitia’s right arm was free, and she made swipes at Laetitia from behind, but they were mostly ineffectual with the assault on her bare left sole.
“You’re upset,” Beacon said matter of factly, as Laetitia pounded her fist into the ground as she snorted with laughter. “This should help you get your mind straight.”
Laetitia’s boyish laughter suddenly went up an octave as a long, snake-like tongue suddenly retracted from the Hattori’s mask and lapped against her sole for a moment.
“Oh, you like the tongue, do you?” Laetitia heard Beacon say, and she could hear the mirth in her voice. Laetitia was not an owl, so she could not turn her head 360 degrees to see the tongue, but she could definitely feel it as it slithered through her plump brown toes. After weaving between the gap between her big toe and her second toe for what felt like an hour, the tongue zipped up to trace along Laetitia’s bare neck and along her earlobes, with her short hair giving the Hattori plenty of exposed bronze flesh to explore, all the while the hand at Laetitia’s foot never ceased its movements.
Beacon grinned beneath her mask, then gently tugged the mask down to her neck. The mouth that hid behind the Hattor’s mask moved, and with the tender touch of a lover, began to nuzzle the back of Laetitia’s neck and along her ears, planting kisses all over the sensitive flesh that had already been teased by her tongue.
The moan that escaped Laetitia’s throat as Beacon’s cool lips kissed her ear was not missed byt the observant Hattori, and she did not fail to notice how Laetitia’s Timaeus toes would toes curl with pleasure at each moan.
“Don’t you worry… I’ll show you why your Empress enjoyed this so much…”
