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oneortheother
09-06-2016, 08:29 PM
Star Wars TK: Grayce Vasma

(This takes place at an indeterminate time during the Clone Wars.)

O-O-O

Bounty Hunter Grayce Vasma couldn’t help but admire herself in the full-body mirror in her private hideout. She strutted and posed, watching as her toned abdominals tightened and relaxed. The model turned bounty hunter had never quite been able to put aside the vanity that was an occupational hazard of her previous profession.

She pirouetted, admiring her attractively-muscular body from all angles. There was no clone trooper alive who could possibly make this armour look as good as it did right now, she thought to herself, a conceited smile on her face. She struck a pose with her blaster, marvelling at the way the light caught her spotless white armour. The armour was military-issue, with the exception of the armour at the torso being cut off to expose several inches of bare stomach. The loss of protection was worth the sheer style factor in Grayce’s book, every day of the week. She ran a gloved hand through her honey-blonde locks. It was a crime to look this good, surely, she thought, awfully pleased with herself for coming up with such witty wordplay.

Grayce chanced a glance at the timepiece in the room, and groaned loudly at what she saw. Where had all the time gone? She was now late for a meeting with her Hutt boss, and Jarba did not like to be kept waiting. The idea of being her own boss, and being self-employed, was one of the reasons Grayce had been intrigued by the bounty hunting discipline, but as the months went by and her credits dried up, she realized she might have to demean herself and reluctantly be an underling again. Sighing at the idea of seeing that hideous green slug of a boss, she gave herself one last appraisal, polished her boots, took a quick shower, and she was out the door, quick as a flash.

Jarba had said he had quite the job for her.

---

“Grayce Vasma… why must you always vex me so…” Jarba grumbled in Huttese, as the modulator in Grayce’s earpiece provided a translation, not that Grayce necessarily would have needed one to work out the Hutt was displeased.

“Oh, come on, Jarba… there’s no need for all this!” Grayce said, ashamed of the whining mewl that her voice had become. She had been working with this Hutt for half a year now, and it seemed like the Hutt found an excuse once every few weeks to put her through this over some imagined slight. So what if she had been a teeny tiny bit late to their meeting!

“I want to believe that, Vasma, but it seems this is necessary to keep you in line,” the Hutt said, shaking his massive great head. “Your behaviour is always vastly improved after one of our discipline sessions.”

“That’s bullshit!” Grayce shouted.

The Hutt laughed, as she had just proven his point. “Pretty human females should not use such foul language,” he said, nodding to his cronies, a Trandoshan and a Bith in grubby mercenary garb. They had both done this many a time, so they needed no further instruction as they strapped her struggling to one of the Hutt’s dancing poles in his grand hall.

Grayce put up a token fight, more for her pride than in the hope of escaping, as the Hutt’s henchman bound her wrists to a notch at the top of the pole. She groaned. It was bad enough the fate that was about to befall her, but why did Jarba have to do this in public? Grayce had a reputation to maintain!

“How long?” Grayce said, as they strapped her in, her blue eyes resigned to her fate.

Jarba stroked his ugly great wrinkled chin. “Twice as long as the time you kept me waiting shall teach you to be more punctual in future,” he decided, chuckling his horrible, throaty Hutt laugh again.

“That’s not fair!” wailed Grayce, but it was already too late, as she saw the familiar blue feathers rear up to greet her. An electronic mass of tendrils, tentacles and feathers, designed to tease and torment female flesh, as was this particular Hutt’s perversion. She tried to resist at first, like she always did, but the feathers dancing over her exposed stomach quickly sent her twisting and writhing with laughter. Jarba had given her a good deal the first time Grayce had dealt with him while wearing the midriff exposing armour, but even the power of her sexy stomach had not been enough to placate him today, it seemed. He must be in a bad mood or something.

To her left and right there were scantily-clad Twilek girls, doing the same ticklish tummy dance as she was, as the ghostly tendrils slid up and down sensitive skin. All she could do was laugh and dance as her belly was teased by these feathers. She let loose a squeak as a feather darted into her belly-button, her squeal so high-pitched half the room, full of smugglers and other bounty hunters turned to her, with hungry, lustful looks in their eyes as they watched her gyrate under the touches of the tendrils.

Grayce almost didn’t mind this part, basking in the glow of all this desire. It had been one of the things she had enjoyed about being a model, after all. If only she weren’t so damn ticklish.

After Jarba had finished with his perverse enjoyments, Grayce found herself hastily expelled from the compound, with her next mission glistening on her lips. Wow, they weren’t joking when they said they had quite the bounty for her. It seemed someone had finally realized just how talented Grayce was as a bounty hunter; she had finally gotten to the big leagues by landing a bounty on none other than Padme Amidala. And it wasn’t just the senator on her plate, but a two for one – young Jedi Ahsoka Tano was also requested to be captured, alive.

Grayce had always known she was the best in the business, even though she had only technically been in the business for such a short time, but it was nice that the rest of the underworld was finally starting to pay attention too. They would not have assigned this to her if they did not think she was capable! I mean, it’s not like some desperate fool would pay every bounty hunter to hound the same quarry or anything! That would be madness! Oh no, it was clear that Grayce was special, and had been chosen specially for this task, Grayce thought to herself, as she strolled to where the intel she had been given said the senator and her Jedi bodyguard would be.

And sure enough, after only a few minutes the infamous pair arrived down the designated street. Grayce breathed a sigh of relief, as she had ended up a few minutes late due to the unforeseen fact that she had chipped a nail, and was almost worried she might have missed her big break. The red-skinned Jedi and the well-dressed Senator were being hounded by a trio of expensive droids, though even to Grayce’s untrained eye, it was clear they were not on the same side. The fact the droids were firing at them rather gave it away.

What a happy coincidence! Grayce thought, as she watched the three droids chivvy the pair in a corner, with the Jedi’s green blade a flurry of movement as it deflected blasts left and right.

“Surrender, Jedi,” came the cold, iron voice of the droid’s vocabulator. “You cannot prevail against u–”

The droid found itself unable to complete its sentence, as a nearby dumpster flew off the floor and reduced its body to a flat pulp, like a flyswatter.

The other two droids scattered, but were promptly dismantled by a flurry of lightning green streaks.

As pieces of battle droids fell to the floor, Grayce thought this a fitting time to make her triumphant entrance.

“You’re mine, Jedi!” Grayce yelled, pouting her lush, full lips forward. She pulled out her blaster

Ahsoka brought up her shimmering emerald-green lightsaber to deflect the blasts, but to her surprise, the scorching blasts were not even close – they bounced harmlessly off the floor in front of the Jedi and Senator.

“Bloody sights must be off,” grumbled Grayce, as she gave the blaster a thump, the way one might, in a fit of frustration, tap a misbehaving electrical appliance.

“You sure about that, bounty hunter?” Senator Amidala said, her arms crossed in a symbol of defiance. “You won’t be the first mercenary we’ve sent packing today!”

“Don’t worry, Senator,” the young Jedi said, raising a gloved hand. “I’ve got this.”

Grayce could only let out a squeak as she felt like the fickle forces of gravity were playing tricks on her, and she fell back, flying into the wall. Her blaster fell from her limp hand and clattered noisily to the floor. She found herself curling into a ball, nursing her poor back.

“Well, I guess that takes care of that,” Ahsoka Tano said, with a cocky sniff.

“Ugh,” Grayce grunted, as she slowly got to her feet. The bounty hunting business had proven to be a lot more active than she had expected. She had figured the arrogant Jedi and the prissy Senator would surrender in awe of her obvious brilliance, which would have been the civilized thing to do, but it seemed she would have to do things the hard way.

She picked up her blaster from the floor, gave the malfunctioning device a thwack, and took aim at a nearby wall. The floor in front of the wall suddenly sizzled with superheated energy. “Argh! Useless, useless, thing!” Grayce threw the broken blaster down on the floor hard. It somehow bounced off at a funny angle and collided with her shin, making Grayce hop up and down on one foot, cursing and snarling.

“Let’s do this old school then,” she sighed, as she reached into her pouch and pulled out a little stun baton. Now where had her wily foes escaped to?

---

“Back again for more?” Ahsoka Tano said, a playful smile on her slightly dishevelled face.

“You know it,” Grayce retorted, though her snappy comeback sounded better in her head. She jabbed the stun baton towards the pair in what she intended to be a threatening manner.

“A good bounty hunter knows when to quit, or they don’t stay in the business long,” Senator Amidala said, with her arms crossed sternly. The wreckage of a dozen droids littered their feet, oil and electrical fluid soaking their boots, but Grayce wasn’t about to let some measly, unimportant thing like the remains of unsuccessful bounty hunters stop her from achieving the destiny she knew she was owed. “I really don’t think this profession is for you, miss,” the senator said, with an arched eyebrow.

“Oh, and why would I want to quit?” Grayce replied, taking a few flourishing swings with her baton to try and intimidate them.

“Well, for a start, your stun baton is off,” Ahsoka Tano said coolly, shaking her head.

“Is it?” Grayce said, pressing the palm of her hand against the electrical tip of her weapon. As electricity surged through her body, too late did she realize she had been suckered. Who would have thought the Jedi would be this crafty! The forum groups on the HoloNets always said Jedi were gullible, honest, and naïve fools!

As Grayce twitched and began to fall to the floor, the image of the Jedi and Senator laughing at her burning away in her mind, she had a pure moment of brilliance. It was one of those moments where everything just clicked into place; one of those ultimate moments that are a culmination of luck, talent, and ingenuity. As Grayce fell to the floor, she tossed the stun baton towards the puddle of oil, and grinned as the shocked, surprised cries of the Jedi and Senator filled the air.

I bet they didn’t see that one coming.

O-O-O

With her two captives unconscious, Grayce finally had a moment to properly take in their appearances. The Senator had her lush, chestnut-brown tresses tied back in a functional ponytail, and with her tan riding boots and brown overalls combined with a red vest, she looked more like a well-dressed high-class lady enjoying a trip on a hike than one of the most powerful members of the Senate. The Jedi looked no better. Up close, her unappealing skinny, lanky frame was even more apparent, combined with that garish orange skin colour. Grayce knew she shouldn’t expect such a tacky, gormless species as the Togruta to know any better, but the red and brown colour scheme combined with orange skin the Jedi had going on was simply an appalling crime against fashion.

To her good fortune, Senator Amidala and the Jedi – Ahsoka, Grayce seemed to recall her name being, had failed in their pathetic escape attempt near one of Grayce’s old flames. After a bit of wheedling, flirting, and half-promises, Grayce found herself in his spare bedroom, with the knocked-out Jedi and Senator slumbering on the floor.

Quickly getting to work lest they wake up, she bound them with ropes her ex had left lying around (he had always had a kinky side, that one, though Grayce had never been one to complain about such scruples). As the Jedi began to moan and stir while Grayce was putting on the final touches, Grayce suddenly recalled the neural disruptor Jarbo had given her, and cursing under her breath for not doing this sooner, quickly slipped it around the Jedi’s neck, sighing in relief as it clicked on.

“Urgh…” groaned Senator Amidala, attempting to sit up but finding she was bound tight by the ropes. A thick coil of rope around her forearms secured her to a chair, and another thick coil around her ankles secured her legs to a stool. The Senator’s bright brown eyes darted to her unconscious Jedi companion, and then to Grayce.

“What do you want?” she said, in a voice that brook no fear. Grayce had to hand it to the Senator. She was one cool customer. It was a senatorial voice, a calm voice of negotiation.

“That’s a good question…” Grayce said, a finger on her chin. She had never really considered the question, the same way she had never really considered what she would do upon her capture of the duo. She had always assumed it would happen, of course, but she hadn’t exactly planned out what she would do when it happened… she had always been more of a make it up as you go along sort of person.

“How much are you being paid?” the senator asked, testing her bonds. “Whatever it is, we can pay more.”

“Credits?” Grayce repeated. She didn’t even remember how much she was being paid for this. She had gotten so wrapped up with everything that little tidbits of information like that flew over her head.

“You must want something,” Senator Amidala said, with an exasperated sigh. “Let’s be civilized and talk this out.”

Now that Grayce thought about it, there was something she did want… she remembered the condescending, patronizing look the Jedi had given her. She remembered the mockery. Her back was still sore from when the Jedi had pushed her back using one of her Force tricks.

What did Grayce really want?

“I know what I want…” Grayce said slowly. The Senator almost looked happy at that, till Grayce began pulling off the high, tan boots to get at the ticklish soles underneath.

Then Amidala just looked shocked.

“W-what are you doing!” Senator Amidala said, fighting even harder in her bonds as she seemed to sense what was happening.

“There’s this thing Jarba the hutt, my boss, would do to me sometimes,” Grayce said, grunting as she unstrapped and tugged off Amidala’s right boot, revealing a slender, pale, nyloned foot underneath. “He would strap me up to a pole in his club, and make me dance for him.”

Amidala let out a little squeak as her second boot plopped free. “Can you guess how?” Grayce asked, her fingers positioned directly underneath the pair of squirming, senator feet.

“They tickled you,” Amidala said, in a quiet voice that was full of certainty.

“Aren’t you smart!” Grayce said, her speech peppered with chuckles. Amidala soon did the same, as Grayce’s gloved hands began exploring the vulnerable, nylon-clad soles. She stroked an exploratory finger down the arch of the Senator's right foot, and then the left, marvelling at how this motion was enough to crack the senator's frown into a ticklish smirk.

“Gahahaha, nohohohoho!” the senator wailed, wiggling her feet right and left, but Grayce tracked the feet with laser-like precision, making sure her fingers never broke contact for a second.

“I know what it feels like, Senator,” Grayce said, as her finges scratched deeper, right at the very centre of the sole, under the balls of the feet. “I wouldn’t dance for Jarba, so he would tickle me all over till I would. Feathers on my stomach, brushes on my nylon feet… it was unbearable.”

Amidala shook her head wildly from side to side, as if denying the sensations that were swarming her body, but Grayce was far from finished. “I would be just like you now!” Grayce laughed, spidering her fingers along the sides of Amidala’s scrunching, spasming soles.

“Jarba hated my scowl… he would always burble about how I should smile more… that disgusting Hutt,” Grayce shook her head, tickling even harder as if Amidala’s wild laughter were bullets she could fire at the smug Hutt boss of hers. “But I must say, Senator, you look a lot prettier now that you’re smiling!” Grayce said with a giggle, as she then switched to tickling each of Amidala's pedicured, pretty toes, pinching them and scraping her fingernails along the top of them. The senator would give an unsenatorial yelp with each pinch and bounce up and down as she tried to evade the tickling touches on her sensitive digits.

“Though I must confess… I’m starting to see the appeal!” Grayce tittered, as she started to flick her fingernails across Amidala's tender toes, tickling each one with a careful flick of a fingernail. Grayce had always been curious about tickling, what with being on the relieving end of it so often, but this was her first time to be fully in control, and she liked it.

“Nohohoho! Nahahaha!” were all the words distinguished, dignified Padme Amidala could say, as her immaculately done hair became more ragged and dishevelled by the ticklish moment. “Ahahahasoka! Hehehelp me! You’re my only hohohohope!”

“Oh, your Jedi friend?” Grayce started sliding her fingers under Amidala’s toes, and in between them, rummaging ruthlessly all over the sensitive flesh within. “She’ll get her turn soon enough, don’t you worry… say… where do you think she’s ticklish?”

O-O-O

Stirred by her friend’s pleas, Ahsoka’s eyes slowly began to flutter open, her Jedi training rapidly filtering the body-numbing sensations of the bounty hunter’s trickery from her system. As Ahsoka’s bright blue eyes opened, they were exposed to the sight of the dishevelled Senator. Senator Amidala certainly looked the worse for wear, with watery make-up running down her sweat-streaked face. Her tidy chestnut-brown hair had also become a wild mess, as if she had been wading through a cyclone. To complete this strange picture, a rough gag had been shoved in her dainty mouth.

Clearly, the poor Senator had undergone some kind of horrific, unspeakable trauma. With a noble, righteous fury burning away in her chest, Ahsoka’s body sprang to action! ...or she would have, if she hadn’t discovered the firm bonds shackling her to some heavy plastisteel chair.

“Gah!” she grunted, heaving her whole body forward, but only succeeding in moving the chair an inch. ”Are you okay, Senator Amidala?”

With the gag in her mouth, Amidala was in no condition to answer, and Ahsoka mentally berated herself for asking such a redundant question.

“Ah, so our Jedi friend has awakened from her nap,” said a haughty voice, dripping with superciliousness. “About time you woke up,” said the joke of a bounty hunter they had encountered earlier, now looking significantly less of a joke. “Amidala and I had to… entertain ourselves while we were waiting,” she said, flashing Ahsoka a knowing smile.

“You’ll pay for this,” Ahsoka hissed, clenching her fist and urging The Force to come forth and wipe that slimy smile off this bounty hunter’s face.

The bounty hunter put her hands on her womanly hips and waited, her head tilted. She smiled. “Well? I’m waiting…”

After focusing for a few more moments without immediate effect, Ahsoka stopped and gasped, realizing she was closer to giving herself an aneurysm than do anything helpful.

“Wha-what?” was all she could say.

“Neural disruptor,” the bounty hunter said, with a maddeningly wide grin. “Oh, I really thought you Jedi were smarter than this.”

“We are!” Ahsoka snarled, thrashing at her bonds, but only succeeding in making her wrists and ankles sore. Or at least sorer.

“Now you asked me a question, so it’s only fair that you answer mine.”

“Let us go, you stupid nerf-herder!”

“Now, now!” the bounty hunter put a hand to her mouth as if shocked. “There’s no need for such language. The Senator was never this crude, even when I tickled her toes pink.”

The last sentence sent alarms ringing through Ahsoka’s mind, but she had little time to mull it over as the woman hovered over Ahsoka’s nylon-clad soles with a toothbrush in hand.

O-O-O

“My goodness,” Grayce said, clapping her hands to her face for dramatic effect. “Your feet got all dirty and sweaty from all your running around!” Grayce shook her head, right in front of Jedi. “Dear me, whatever will the Senator think of you?” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

The grim Togruta Jedi just glared at her, from over the tips of those nylon-covered toes. “Don’t you worry, I’ll wash right through the material, no problem…” Grayce had a feeling the Jedi would be every bit as ticklish as that pampered and powdered royal.

“This is your last chance to beg me for mercy…” Grayce offered, feeling magnanimous, yet the foolhardy Jedi just grit her teeth and stared, defiance in those big blue eyes of hers.

The façade of toughness was quickly shattered as a pail of soapy water appeared in front of the orange soles. Grayce laughed at the blossoming fear the Jedi’s eyes. She dipped the toothbrush in the soapy water and shrugged, swirling it around, clicking it against the metal sides.

It was clear that the Jedi had been surprised by how much it would tickle. Grayce shook her head, almost sorry for the girl as the Jedi shrieked and bucked, foot thrashing wildly when the soapy toothbrush bristles scraped against her dirty soles. After being remiss on one of her debts, Grayce had once been hauled out into the streets, with all the passerbys given free rein to ‘clean’ her soles in order to pay her debts, with the Hutts charging money for each person who wanted a shot at the mighty bounty hunter’s sensitive soles. There had been many people jealous of her in that neighbourhood, so they took a particular malevolent glee in scrubbing her pretty pink feet till they were spotless.

Yet it seemed the Jedi might be even more responsive to the brush than Grayce had ever been. That was almost funny, Grayce thoughts, as she meandered down to scrub at Ahsoka’s heel. With the nylons in the way, the cleaning was just pretence, but who was Grayce to complain, as her brush moved up to stroke across the ball of her foot. She knew intimately how maddening it felt to be tickled there, with every tiny, little prickle sliding down the side of the arch…

More than once, Grayce caught the Torgruta glancing at the bound-up Senator. “Your friend can’t save you,” Grayce said, with a chuckle, her fingers still tickling as she spoke. “The odds would be astronomical of some spoiled brat like her working her way through those binds!”

Deciding to give the Jedi something more to think about, Grayce glanced down at those at the Jedi’s juicy, orange toes, still clad in those stockings. Mesmerized, Grayce slowly brushed the trembling big toe, then across the tip, weaving to the sides, lapping along the pads, before delving under the fleshy underside. Grayce was keenly focused on her task. And why not? Her target couldn't even move, after all. The screeches of Ahsoka’s loud, loud laughter bounced across the small room, an eerie sort of soundtrack as she began to work in between Ahsoka’s toes, delighting as the music began to rise, feeling like quite the conductor… only the laughter suddenly stopped.

Grayce turned to scratch her head, but found she could not move.

“Never tell me the odds,” came the cool voice of Senator Padme Amidala, and as Grayce toppled to the floor, she saw the blaster in the Senator’s dainty hand…