part six...http://www.ticklingforum.com/showthread.php?283504-A-Long-Trip-A-Sci-Fi-story-PART-Six-F-f
part five...http://www.ticklingforum.com/showthr...-17-(Seriously!)
part four...http://www.ticklingforum.com/showthr...OUR-F-f-erotic
part three...http://www.ticklingforum.com/showthr...T-THREE!!!-F-f
Part two...http://www.ticklingforum.com/showthr...y-PART-TWO-F-f
Part one... http://www.ticklingforum.com/showthr...y-PART-ONE-F-f
Prologue... http://www.ticklingforum.com/showthr...ue-No-Tickling
OK, folks! This is the next to last part. Enjoy, because next week, the great finale!
Alana stopped, letting Carla catch her breath while she thought. What should she do? She had the Tech Sergeant helpless, but couldn't really get her going! She could try and tickle her elsewhere, hope to find a more sensitive body part, but she REALLY wanted those tits! How could she make them more sensitive, more vulnerable?
“It...it won’t work,” Carla said, still a bit breathless, “The only part of my body that’s super ticklish are my feet, and I’ve got them firmly planted on the ground. To get at them, you’ll have to have the AI release me from the wall, and we both know you’ll never do that.”
Alana felt disappointment rush through her. She had wanted to get the haughty Tech Sergeant laughing and begging like before, but there seemed little way in this position. Her boobs didn’t seem ticklish enough, her feet were out of reach and the other parts of her, ribs and pits and the like, were underneath her clothes, clothes Alana couldn’t get off of Carla unless she released her from the wall. But how could she still do that and keep control of the feisty woman?
It was then that she heard a popping sound.
Through the conveyor had come a black bag, appearing right next to her. It had been sent through the Asimov’s internal conveyor system. Curious, she opened the bag and pulled out a tube. The tube was a container for something, a jell of some kind. Glancing at the ingredients, she saw exactly what it was. If she understood those components correctly, and she did have a PH’d in chemistry, it was a very slick lubricant.
She had seen the use of lubricants in the porno’s that had ‘mysteriously’ appeared on her computer, a mystery now solved. Alana had no doubt who had sent it or what it was meant to be used for.
Quickly, Alana poured a dab into her hands. It was thin but super slippery. It was all she could do to put the tube back in the bag without dropping it. Then, she began spreading it on Carla’s mammary glands.
“What the hell is that!” Carla yelled, feeling the cool balm on her skin, “What are you doing?!”
“Oh, just a little something I think you’ll enjoy,” Alana finished applying the lotion, “Now let’s see how this feels.” once again, the scientist’s fingers attacked Carla’s mammary glands. This time, instead of poking and wiggling, the slipped and slid over soft skin like skates on an icy pond.
“H AHA AHAHA WHHHAAHAHH AH AHAHAHA WHAHAHAHAHTTTT AHAHAH ISSS AHAHAH A AHAH THAHAHAHTTT AHAHAH!!!! AHAHAHAHA OFFFFFF AHAHAHAHAHAAHH GEHEHEEHHHTTT AHAHAHAHAH YOOURR AHAHAHAH HAAHAHNNNDDDSSSS AHA AHAH OFFFFFF!!!”
Carla reacted immediately. Alana’s fingers felt like they were moving at warp speeds, sliding across her breast from nipple to chest almost instantly, seemingly tickling every nerve along the way. The tough Tech Sergeant screamed a high pitched laugh, then another and another.
“What’s a matter baby?’ Alana cooed, “I thought these weren’t ticklish?”
Carla wanted to argue, wanted to explain, wanted to tell Alana to fuck herself, but at that moment, the redhead moved both hands underneath the tech Sergeant’s tits and gently squeezed. Carla’s greesy flesh slid between the slender fingers, like putty, forcing a howl to come out of her mouth instead.
“What’s that? I didn’t quite catch what you said?” Alana just kept squeezing, forcing Carla’s breasts to rub against her hands instead of the other way around.
“I HA AHAHAHAH I SSAIAHAHAHHHDD AHA AHAHAHAHAHH II AH AHAHAHAH NRRGGGHH AH AHAHA QUIHIHIHIIIIITTT AHAHAHAHAHAH STAWWWPPPP AHAHAHAH II I AHAHAHA NAWOOO AHAHAH STAWWPPP A AHAHAHAHHHAHAH GRRRNNN AH A AHAHAHAHH I AHAHAHHI AHAHAH”
Carla’s hysterical cries only grew louder, any attempt at words or communication more garbled, more broken up by squeals and guffaws. She had never felt anything like this. The ticklish sensation was different then the one on her feet, not necessarily more intense, but more sexual. It turned her on even as it drove her insane.
“Poor baby,” Alana taunted, “You’re squirming so much! Maybe I should stop moving my fingers so much. Would that help?”
Sweat was starting to pool on Carla’s brow, a drop sliding across her red face, as each opening and closing of Alana’s hand sent wave after wave of torment through her body. She nodded ‘Yes’.
“OK, I’ll just move one finger a little. How’s that baby?” Alana stopped squeezing, but moved each of her index fingers to one of Carla’s rock hard nipples. Then she started to vibrate them.
The noise that escaped Carla’s lips was a full shriek, full-throated and absolutely piercing. With the lubricant on them, her nipples were as frictionless as two bits of ice, and the quivering fingertips on them tickled worse then anything. The tickling stabbed through her chest like a pair of knives.
Tears and sweat ran down the Tech Sergeant’s face, now the exact shame shade as a tomato. Insane babbles started flowing from her mixed with a screetches of hysterical suffering. She was probably begging for mercy, offering her very soul for a moments peace, but nothing was understandable.
“ HE EHEHE EHE EHEHEHEHE EHEH ME EHE EHEHEHE MEERRRRHRHRH AHAH AHA E AH AHEHEH NNNA AH AHAHAHHAH PPLLLLE EH AHA AHAHA A E EH EH EEEE SSSSS AH AHAHAH A AHAHAH ANNYY A AHAHAHAH NRRGGHHH MM AHAHAH MMMMMRREEEE AHA AHAHAH!!!!!!”
“You know the best thing about this lubricant?” Alana said, trying to speak above the cacophony coming from Carla, “This stuff is edible.”
Alana, fingers still making Carla’s nipples pulsate with short, slick strokes, buried her face into the tormented woman’s cleavage. She buzzed her lips against the cushiony breasts, making the flesh quiver and quake.
Carla screamed and screamed, her laughter almost painful to listen to. Her rational mind was starting to recede, lost in a see of sensation, bliss and agony.
Alana moved her mouth from breast to breast, vibrating her lips and cheeks, licking between the wonderous mounds with quick, flicks of her tongue, the taste of strawberries, sweat and pleasure filling her body. She wanted more, needed more. She wanted to consume Carla, to never stop tickling her, to never stop touching her!
“AH AHAHAH AHAHAH I I AH AHAHAHAHAHH I WIHIHIHIHLLLLL AH AHAHAHAHAH I WILLHIHHIHILLL AHAHAHAH KIHIHIHIHLLLLLL YUHUHUHUHUHUHH!!!! AH AHAHAHAAHAHAHH TUHUHUHUHU DEEHEHEHETHHHHHHHH!!!!”
I was at that moment, mouth on Carla’s breasts and fingering her hard nipples that a sudden realization forced its way into Alana’s muddled brain. It wasn’t just the sound of her laughter of the power of tormenting a helpless woman. There was much more to what she was feeling.
It was because she had a crush on Carla Alvardo, had since they had trained together. She had a great deal of respect for Captain Weiss, maybe even a hero worship, but for Carla...it was more! Her voluptuous body, her gritty personality, her dedication to her job no matter how dirty or grimy. Alana loved her. It was one reason she had given into her hormones in the Cargo Bay and tickled her foot in the first place.
Thoughts freed by the green mist, Alana knew she had denied those feelings, blocked them with all of her willpower. The drug, whatever it was, had limited the ability of her superego to check her id. Now she couldn’t help herself. And she wasn’t going to try.
Keeping one hand scratching at Alvardo’s rock hard nipple, she slid her other down to her waist, She nimbly undid the fasteners and slipped her hand inside, finding fuzzy hair and a hot, wet slit.
“Looks like someone forgot to shave,” Alana smiled, pulling her head up from buzzing the shorter woman’s breasts.
“AHA AH AHAH YUHUHUHUHU NAWOOOOOO AH AHAHAHA AAHAH” Carla bellowed the finger on her teat already driving her insane, making her willing to rip off the arms stuck fast to the wall behind her if allowed her to escape, “AHA AHAHAHAHA YUHUHUHUHUHUHUHU ASHAHAH YOOUUUUU AHAHAHA CAHAHAHAHAHANNNNN’TTTT AHAHA TIHIHIHICCKLLEEEE EAHAHAH MEHEHEHEHEH AHAHAHAH THTHERERERERRRERERE!!!!”
“I think I can,” Alana said. She let her fingers brush through Carla’s curly pubic hair, wiggle over the plump mound, lightly pinch and squeeze.
Carla screamed. Raw, unfiltered hysteria. Individual chortles and chuckles could no longer be distinguished. It was one, long animalistic cry of ticklish torment. The sensation on her breast had been bad enough. Now joined with one on her pussy...it was simple agony.
“Tell me, Carla, who owns you?” Alana asked, fingers continuing their devilish movements.
Carla couldn’t answer. It tickled so much!!! Words were impossible, even laughter mixed with coherent syllables were beyond her reach. She shook her head ‘No”.
Alana smiled. She continued tickling. She circled Carla’s nipple with her index finger while flicking it occasionally with her thumb. Her other hand moved lower on her pussy, whisking fingertips over thr fuzzy labia, teasingly light.
“Who owns you?” she asked after several more minutes of Carla screaming. Again the Tech Sergeant shook her head ‘No’ but with less force.
In seconds, the plump woman lost her voice, unable to get enough air into her lungs. The hysterical howls faded away, but her body continued to writhe in silent laughter, her face, beat red and covered with sweat and tears could only stare ahead in desperation.
“Do I own you?” Alana said softer, in a sultry voice.
“This time, there could be no other answer. Exhausted, nervous system devastated by constant tickling, Carla surrendered. She nodded her head ‘Yes’.
Alana grinned from ear to ear. She stopped tickling Carla’s pussy and slipped her index finger into her sopping wet slit. She quickly found her clitoris and started fingering it. Her other hand began caressing Alvardo’s oily breast, massaging and rubbing the nipple instead of tormenting it.
“I am your mistress and you’re my tickle pet, aren’t you?” Alana taunted, finger pumping in her soaking hole, “I’m going to fit you with a collar and a leash and take you for walks. When you’re bad, I will punish you by tickling those plump toes of yours.”
Ecstasy washed over Carla. She had had more sexual activity then the other two combined, had had her fiancee’s hard shaft inside her many times, but somehow this was better, more intense. She wanted it, wanted Alana, more than any man she’d ever seen. Carla opened her mouth to try and answer, to beg for more, but Alana met it with her own, gave her a hard, deep kiss, tongue pushed down her throat.
And Carla came, an earth-shattering orgasm, one that made the ones given to her by a man pale in comparison. Her body shook, her vision dimmed, and all reality faded.
“Yes! Yes!” her thoughts rang out, “Own me! Control me! Love me! I am yours!”
And then nothing.
* * * * *
No, the AI thought. No. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. This wasn’t how Alana Blake was supposed to act. She should have wanted a relationship, some form of social bonding! Instead, she too thought nothing about dominating her shipmates, forcing her will on them.
How had things gone so wrong? How had it misread the situation so badly? It wasn’t that Carla Alvardo had a cruel streak inside her. It was that whatever female gained control became cruel! The power was corrupting them all!
Maybe then the only solution was to allow none of them to have power. A stalemate could force them interact without torturing each other, allow true bonding without a dominant perosn arising. It seemed a low probability, but at that moment, the AI was lost for alternatives.
A new gas puffed into the face of Gretchen Weiss, and the blonde began to stir, even as the stocks she was trapped in sprang open as if by remote control.
* * * * *
With both women lost to reality, barely aware of the world around them, it happened and wouldn’t have noticed if Gretchen exploded. Carla was in heaven, every caress from Alana making her body shudder violently, her stomach quiver and her heart pound. Alana felt much the same.
Suddenly, the wall lost adhesion, releasing Carla from its grasp, the web no longer sticky enough to grip the fly. Body pushed beyond endurance, muscles exhausted. The Tech Sergeant was boneless, rag doll, unable to support her own weight. She toppled over immediately, plowing into Alana who was taken completely by surprise.
Alana crumbled when Carla’s weight crashed into her. The slender woman had little upper body strength, and Alvardo with her sensual curves outweighed the redhead by fifty pounds. In a second, the scientist was pinned beneath the Tech Sergeant.
Carla Alvardo was exhausted, her body worn out, but she was a member of Earth Command. She had been trained to push her body beyond its limits when the situation required it. Even though she wasn’t a soldier like Weiss was, she had had her endurance, both physical and mental, built up in basic training to almost the same level. She quickly realized she had a chance to turn the tables.
Alvardo had been on the wrestling team in school. She knew how to use her weight against an opponent. Leaned to one side, she pinned Alana’s left arm beneath her, then grabbed the scientist’s right arm at the wrist and pulled it over her head. The redhead struggled, but her wrist was like a child’s. Carla could get her fingers almost completely around it, and she had a strong grip. No matter how Alana pulled on her arm, it could not break free.
Now Alana’s right side was exposed and vulnerable, no arm to cover it up, not even a piece of cloth to shield it. Carla stared at her breast, tiny but firm, and her underarm, a deep hollow, as opposed to Gretchen’s slight dip. The Tech Sergeant started there, wriggling her fingers down into that hollow, dancing them over the soft skin.
Alana started laughing immediately. She had been tickled there before, but never when she was so helpless, never when she couldn’t lower her arms and cover up her vulnerable armpits. It had just been a quick jab and wiggle. Now, she could feel every stroke, every slight movement of a fingertip buried in her armpit and could do nothing to smother or limit the feeling. She cried out with laugher, the only response her body could possibly give.
It didn’t stop, didn’t yield. Carla kept on tickling, her redheaded victim kept shrieking and howling, just as Carla had done minutes before. Alana didn’t beg or plead, however. Despite the fact that she hated it, would have done nearly anything to make it stop, she didn’t want it to. This was what she wanted, to be touched by Carla, teased by the larger woman, to be controlled by her. At the moment, that meant being tickled.
Likewise, Carla needed no thoughts of revenge, no deeper motivation to tickle. She did not need to convince herself she had any right to do this. Tickling her felt so natural, no other thought entered her mind. It was as simple as drinking, as necessary as breathing. She tickled Alana because it was fun, because she wanted to touch the slender body beneath her, and because she could.
She realized that she wanted the slender scientist so much. It didn’t matter that she was the one who had tickled her under the shuttle. Carla had admired her for so long, so bright, immersed in the world of academia, none of the Earth Command military nonsense for her. And Carla was so attracted to her, with her flaming red hair and flaming green eyes. She had to have her!
Both women felt it. It was more than raw lust, more than the strong tormenting the weak. It was a uniting of souls. It didn’t matter whether one dominated or was dominated. As long as one was in control, it was like they merged into one being. Neither wanted to separate.
* * * * *
The former captain had woken from her orgasmically induced sleep with the sound of hysterical torment washing over her. But she wasn’t Gretchen Weiss who awakened. She was the primitive hunter from her dream, a creature who took what she needed, which included mates over the long winter. And she wanted a mate now, more than ever in her life.
She was even hornier than she had been even before her climax, (Having taken several direct blasts of Aphrodin from the AI while she slept and no one was paying attention), and rational thought was gone from her head. She didn’t question why she was in the shiny cave and not her forrest. She could see her prey, two women instead of one. A grin spread across her face. Oh yes!
The larger woman was obviously a warrior from another tribe, was trying to take the redhead for a winter mate, just as Gretchen wanted to do. The redhead was totally nude, her lithe body exposed for the world to see, and was helplessly pinned under the warrior’s mass. If Gretchen did nothing, she would be carried back to the warrior’s camp to act as her mate until spring.
Gretchen didn’t intend on doing nothing.
By tradition, Gretchen knew she should have announced her presence. The other warrior would have chosen to fight her to defend her prize, or acknowledge Gretchen’s superiority and flee. Gretchen didn’t want to give her either option.
She wanted to claim the hunter for a mate as well. Few warriors were ever strong enough to claim two winter mates, and no warrior Gretchen had ever heard of had claimed another warrior! This would be her greatest coup. Normally, she wouldn’t have dared, but the cravings in her body, cravings such as she had never felt before, demanded it of her, forced her to try.
Gretchen stood up, not even noticing the open stocks or recognizing them as something that had held her for so long. Her feet walked quietly on the smooth floor as she stalked her new prey. She intended on bagging them both and using them to satisfy the lust which threatened to overwhelm her.
Gretchen stalked slowly, using furniture to hide her from view, the moans and groans of both women covering any noise she might have made. She would have to approach with all caution. She had no weapon, no skins to protect her. She couldn’t risk direct combat. She would have to take the warrior by complete surprise if she was going to be successful.
She watched the redheaded gatherer struggled, as she yanked harder and harder on her held arm, saw the warrior’s hand explore her open side, tracing lines up and down her soft, small bicep (so weak and different from her own larger one) and invade the space behind her elbow. It traveled down her rib cage, pinching and poking the ribs.
The warrior was a skilled tickler. Each different spot she attacked, each different type of touch or pressure she used, changed the redhead’s laughter, made it faster or slower, higher or lower. Gretchen thought the warrior could have used her as an instrument, played some kind of melody in front of the camp fire by just changing how and where she tickled. Her control was that total.
Every now and then, the warrior would take a quick break from tickling her prey, would instead caress her small, firm breast. Then the redhead’s cacophony would change completely, become moans and groans instead of howls and shrieks. The warrior would give it a couple of teasing, soft touches, then go back to tickling, usually by drilling into the woman’s underarm with an index finger, a move that always made the gatherer cackle even louder.
Gretchen felt a sweat break out on her forehead as her own nipples grew rock hard. She wanted in! She wanted to touch and tickle and laugh too! Soon....sooooon...
* * * * *
Alana felt like she was losing her mind. The contrasting touches between the raw tickles and the sensual fondling over her boob was short circuiting her brain! The pleasure made the tickling that much worse, that much more jarring at first, but then...somehow became pleasure in its own right, exciting her. Her libido starting feeding off of both sensations, gorging on them.
Her body, which had been wriggling in an attempt to gain freedom now writhed in tormented ecstasy. She loathed/loved every touch, hated/treasured the feeling pouring into her. Her hips pumped, grinding against Carla, pressing against her own nether region.
It was then that the lust claimed them both. Carla grinded back, her own excitement skyrocketing. The feel of Alana’s breast, the sounds of her hysteria were inflaming her! She just couldn’t help herself. The next time she caressed the redhead’s tit, she couldn’t stop, she kept stroking, teasing the nipple.
Feeling the slender body beneath her writhing in pleasure instead of hysteria sent waves through Carla. She could feel Alana’s hips grinding against hers, hear her breath become deep and raspy with lust, watch the redhead’s green eyes practically glow with a steady intensity.
She didn’t want to torment Alana anymore, needed no more excuse to touch her lithe frame. Her lips locked with Alana’s, tongues touching, as pure desire was expressed without words, their mutual hunger rising to the surface. Carla kept one hand stroking her erect nipple, the other caressing any bit of skin she could find.
They lived in a society obsessed with sin, focused almost exclusively on the many actions it considered wicked. Sex was high on that list, and sex between two of the same gender even above that. Carla and Alana no longer cared. Alana kissed back, her hands undoing Carla’s shirt, pulling it from her frame, then starting on the pants. Soon she was just as naked, and both women were pawing at each other, desperate to please and be pleasured.
As soon as Carla was naked, however, Gretchen attacked.
part five...http://www.ticklingforum.com/showthr...-17-(Seriously!)
part four...http://www.ticklingforum.com/showthr...OUR-F-f-erotic
part three...http://www.ticklingforum.com/showthr...T-THREE!!!-F-f
Part two...http://www.ticklingforum.com/showthr...y-PART-TWO-F-f
Part one... http://www.ticklingforum.com/showthr...y-PART-ONE-F-f
Prologue... http://www.ticklingforum.com/showthr...ue-No-Tickling
OK, folks! This is the next to last part. Enjoy, because next week, the great finale!
Alana stopped, letting Carla catch her breath while she thought. What should she do? She had the Tech Sergeant helpless, but couldn't really get her going! She could try and tickle her elsewhere, hope to find a more sensitive body part, but she REALLY wanted those tits! How could she make them more sensitive, more vulnerable?
“It...it won’t work,” Carla said, still a bit breathless, “The only part of my body that’s super ticklish are my feet, and I’ve got them firmly planted on the ground. To get at them, you’ll have to have the AI release me from the wall, and we both know you’ll never do that.”
Alana felt disappointment rush through her. She had wanted to get the haughty Tech Sergeant laughing and begging like before, but there seemed little way in this position. Her boobs didn’t seem ticklish enough, her feet were out of reach and the other parts of her, ribs and pits and the like, were underneath her clothes, clothes Alana couldn’t get off of Carla unless she released her from the wall. But how could she still do that and keep control of the feisty woman?
It was then that she heard a popping sound.
Through the conveyor had come a black bag, appearing right next to her. It had been sent through the Asimov’s internal conveyor system. Curious, she opened the bag and pulled out a tube. The tube was a container for something, a jell of some kind. Glancing at the ingredients, she saw exactly what it was. If she understood those components correctly, and she did have a PH’d in chemistry, it was a very slick lubricant.
She had seen the use of lubricants in the porno’s that had ‘mysteriously’ appeared on her computer, a mystery now solved. Alana had no doubt who had sent it or what it was meant to be used for.
Quickly, Alana poured a dab into her hands. It was thin but super slippery. It was all she could do to put the tube back in the bag without dropping it. Then, she began spreading it on Carla’s mammary glands.
“What the hell is that!” Carla yelled, feeling the cool balm on her skin, “What are you doing?!”
“Oh, just a little something I think you’ll enjoy,” Alana finished applying the lotion, “Now let’s see how this feels.” once again, the scientist’s fingers attacked Carla’s mammary glands. This time, instead of poking and wiggling, the slipped and slid over soft skin like skates on an icy pond.
“H AHA AHAHA WHHHAAHAHH AH AHAHAHA WHAHAHAHAHTTTT AHAHAH ISSS AHAHAH A AHAH THAHAHAHTTT AHAHAH!!!! AHAHAHAHA OFFFFFF AHAHAHAHAHAAHH GEHEHEEHHHTTT AHAHAHAHAH YOOURR AHAHAHAH HAAHAHNNNDDDSSSS AHA AHAH OFFFFFF!!!”
Carla reacted immediately. Alana’s fingers felt like they were moving at warp speeds, sliding across her breast from nipple to chest almost instantly, seemingly tickling every nerve along the way. The tough Tech Sergeant screamed a high pitched laugh, then another and another.
“What’s a matter baby?’ Alana cooed, “I thought these weren’t ticklish?”
Carla wanted to argue, wanted to explain, wanted to tell Alana to fuck herself, but at that moment, the redhead moved both hands underneath the tech Sergeant’s tits and gently squeezed. Carla’s greesy flesh slid between the slender fingers, like putty, forcing a howl to come out of her mouth instead.
“What’s that? I didn’t quite catch what you said?” Alana just kept squeezing, forcing Carla’s breasts to rub against her hands instead of the other way around.
“I HA AHAHAHAH I SSAIAHAHAHHHDD AHA AHAHAHAHAHH II AH AHAHAHAH NRRGGGHH AH AHAHA QUIHIHIHIIIIITTT AHAHAHAHAHAH STAWWWPPPP AHAHAHAH II I AHAHAHA NAWOOO AHAHAH STAWWPPP A AHAHAHAHHHAHAH GRRRNNN AH A AHAHAHAHH I AHAHAHHI AHAHAH”
Carla’s hysterical cries only grew louder, any attempt at words or communication more garbled, more broken up by squeals and guffaws. She had never felt anything like this. The ticklish sensation was different then the one on her feet, not necessarily more intense, but more sexual. It turned her on even as it drove her insane.
“Poor baby,” Alana taunted, “You’re squirming so much! Maybe I should stop moving my fingers so much. Would that help?”
Sweat was starting to pool on Carla’s brow, a drop sliding across her red face, as each opening and closing of Alana’s hand sent wave after wave of torment through her body. She nodded ‘Yes’.
“OK, I’ll just move one finger a little. How’s that baby?” Alana stopped squeezing, but moved each of her index fingers to one of Carla’s rock hard nipples. Then she started to vibrate them.
The noise that escaped Carla’s lips was a full shriek, full-throated and absolutely piercing. With the lubricant on them, her nipples were as frictionless as two bits of ice, and the quivering fingertips on them tickled worse then anything. The tickling stabbed through her chest like a pair of knives.
Tears and sweat ran down the Tech Sergeant’s face, now the exact shame shade as a tomato. Insane babbles started flowing from her mixed with a screetches of hysterical suffering. She was probably begging for mercy, offering her very soul for a moments peace, but nothing was understandable.
“ HE EHEHE EHE EHEHEHEHE EHEH ME EHE EHEHEHE MEERRRRHRHRH AHAH AHA E AH AHEHEH NNNA AH AHAHAHHAH PPLLLLE EH AHA AHAHA A E EH EH EEEE SSSSS AH AHAHAH A AHAHAH ANNYY A AHAHAHAH NRRGGHHH MM AHAHAH MMMMMRREEEE AHA AHAHAH!!!!!!”
“You know the best thing about this lubricant?” Alana said, trying to speak above the cacophony coming from Carla, “This stuff is edible.”
Alana, fingers still making Carla’s nipples pulsate with short, slick strokes, buried her face into the tormented woman’s cleavage. She buzzed her lips against the cushiony breasts, making the flesh quiver and quake.
Carla screamed and screamed, her laughter almost painful to listen to. Her rational mind was starting to recede, lost in a see of sensation, bliss and agony.
Alana moved her mouth from breast to breast, vibrating her lips and cheeks, licking between the wonderous mounds with quick, flicks of her tongue, the taste of strawberries, sweat and pleasure filling her body. She wanted more, needed more. She wanted to consume Carla, to never stop tickling her, to never stop touching her!
“AH AHAHAH AHAHAH I I AH AHAHAHAHAHH I WIHIHIHIHLLLLL AH AHAHAHAHAH I WILLHIHHIHILLL AHAHAHAH KIHIHIHIHLLLLLL YUHUHUHUHUHUHH!!!! AH AHAHAHAAHAHAHH TUHUHUHUHU DEEHEHEHETHHHHHHHH!!!!”
I was at that moment, mouth on Carla’s breasts and fingering her hard nipples that a sudden realization forced its way into Alana’s muddled brain. It wasn’t just the sound of her laughter of the power of tormenting a helpless woman. There was much more to what she was feeling.
It was because she had a crush on Carla Alvardo, had since they had trained together. She had a great deal of respect for Captain Weiss, maybe even a hero worship, but for Carla...it was more! Her voluptuous body, her gritty personality, her dedication to her job no matter how dirty or grimy. Alana loved her. It was one reason she had given into her hormones in the Cargo Bay and tickled her foot in the first place.
Thoughts freed by the green mist, Alana knew she had denied those feelings, blocked them with all of her willpower. The drug, whatever it was, had limited the ability of her superego to check her id. Now she couldn’t help herself. And she wasn’t going to try.
Keeping one hand scratching at Alvardo’s rock hard nipple, she slid her other down to her waist, She nimbly undid the fasteners and slipped her hand inside, finding fuzzy hair and a hot, wet slit.
“Looks like someone forgot to shave,” Alana smiled, pulling her head up from buzzing the shorter woman’s breasts.
“AHA AH AHAH YUHUHUHUHU NAWOOOOOO AH AHAHAHA AAHAH” Carla bellowed the finger on her teat already driving her insane, making her willing to rip off the arms stuck fast to the wall behind her if allowed her to escape, “AHA AHAHAHAHA YUHUHUHUHUHUHUHU ASHAHAH YOOUUUUU AHAHAHA CAHAHAHAHAHANNNNN’TTTT AHAHA TIHIHIHICCKLLEEEE EAHAHAH MEHEHEHEHEH AHAHAHAH THTHERERERERRRERERE!!!!”
“I think I can,” Alana said. She let her fingers brush through Carla’s curly pubic hair, wiggle over the plump mound, lightly pinch and squeeze.
Carla screamed. Raw, unfiltered hysteria. Individual chortles and chuckles could no longer be distinguished. It was one, long animalistic cry of ticklish torment. The sensation on her breast had been bad enough. Now joined with one on her pussy...it was simple agony.
“Tell me, Carla, who owns you?” Alana asked, fingers continuing their devilish movements.
Carla couldn’t answer. It tickled so much!!! Words were impossible, even laughter mixed with coherent syllables were beyond her reach. She shook her head ‘No”.
Alana smiled. She continued tickling. She circled Carla’s nipple with her index finger while flicking it occasionally with her thumb. Her other hand moved lower on her pussy, whisking fingertips over thr fuzzy labia, teasingly light.
“Who owns you?” she asked after several more minutes of Carla screaming. Again the Tech Sergeant shook her head ‘No’ but with less force.
In seconds, the plump woman lost her voice, unable to get enough air into her lungs. The hysterical howls faded away, but her body continued to writhe in silent laughter, her face, beat red and covered with sweat and tears could only stare ahead in desperation.
“Do I own you?” Alana said softer, in a sultry voice.
“This time, there could be no other answer. Exhausted, nervous system devastated by constant tickling, Carla surrendered. She nodded her head ‘Yes’.
Alana grinned from ear to ear. She stopped tickling Carla’s pussy and slipped her index finger into her sopping wet slit. She quickly found her clitoris and started fingering it. Her other hand began caressing Alvardo’s oily breast, massaging and rubbing the nipple instead of tormenting it.
“I am your mistress and you’re my tickle pet, aren’t you?” Alana taunted, finger pumping in her soaking hole, “I’m going to fit you with a collar and a leash and take you for walks. When you’re bad, I will punish you by tickling those plump toes of yours.”
Ecstasy washed over Carla. She had had more sexual activity then the other two combined, had had her fiancee’s hard shaft inside her many times, but somehow this was better, more intense. She wanted it, wanted Alana, more than any man she’d ever seen. Carla opened her mouth to try and answer, to beg for more, but Alana met it with her own, gave her a hard, deep kiss, tongue pushed down her throat.
And Carla came, an earth-shattering orgasm, one that made the ones given to her by a man pale in comparison. Her body shook, her vision dimmed, and all reality faded.
“Yes! Yes!” her thoughts rang out, “Own me! Control me! Love me! I am yours!”
And then nothing.
* * * * *
No, the AI thought. No. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. This wasn’t how Alana Blake was supposed to act. She should have wanted a relationship, some form of social bonding! Instead, she too thought nothing about dominating her shipmates, forcing her will on them.
How had things gone so wrong? How had it misread the situation so badly? It wasn’t that Carla Alvardo had a cruel streak inside her. It was that whatever female gained control became cruel! The power was corrupting them all!
Maybe then the only solution was to allow none of them to have power. A stalemate could force them interact without torturing each other, allow true bonding without a dominant perosn arising. It seemed a low probability, but at that moment, the AI was lost for alternatives.
A new gas puffed into the face of Gretchen Weiss, and the blonde began to stir, even as the stocks she was trapped in sprang open as if by remote control.
* * * * *
With both women lost to reality, barely aware of the world around them, it happened and wouldn’t have noticed if Gretchen exploded. Carla was in heaven, every caress from Alana making her body shudder violently, her stomach quiver and her heart pound. Alana felt much the same.
Suddenly, the wall lost adhesion, releasing Carla from its grasp, the web no longer sticky enough to grip the fly. Body pushed beyond endurance, muscles exhausted. The Tech Sergeant was boneless, rag doll, unable to support her own weight. She toppled over immediately, plowing into Alana who was taken completely by surprise.
Alana crumbled when Carla’s weight crashed into her. The slender woman had little upper body strength, and Alvardo with her sensual curves outweighed the redhead by fifty pounds. In a second, the scientist was pinned beneath the Tech Sergeant.
Carla Alvardo was exhausted, her body worn out, but she was a member of Earth Command. She had been trained to push her body beyond its limits when the situation required it. Even though she wasn’t a soldier like Weiss was, she had had her endurance, both physical and mental, built up in basic training to almost the same level. She quickly realized she had a chance to turn the tables.
Alvardo had been on the wrestling team in school. She knew how to use her weight against an opponent. Leaned to one side, she pinned Alana’s left arm beneath her, then grabbed the scientist’s right arm at the wrist and pulled it over her head. The redhead struggled, but her wrist was like a child’s. Carla could get her fingers almost completely around it, and she had a strong grip. No matter how Alana pulled on her arm, it could not break free.
Now Alana’s right side was exposed and vulnerable, no arm to cover it up, not even a piece of cloth to shield it. Carla stared at her breast, tiny but firm, and her underarm, a deep hollow, as opposed to Gretchen’s slight dip. The Tech Sergeant started there, wriggling her fingers down into that hollow, dancing them over the soft skin.
Alana started laughing immediately. She had been tickled there before, but never when she was so helpless, never when she couldn’t lower her arms and cover up her vulnerable armpits. It had just been a quick jab and wiggle. Now, she could feel every stroke, every slight movement of a fingertip buried in her armpit and could do nothing to smother or limit the feeling. She cried out with laugher, the only response her body could possibly give.
It didn’t stop, didn’t yield. Carla kept on tickling, her redheaded victim kept shrieking and howling, just as Carla had done minutes before. Alana didn’t beg or plead, however. Despite the fact that she hated it, would have done nearly anything to make it stop, she didn’t want it to. This was what she wanted, to be touched by Carla, teased by the larger woman, to be controlled by her. At the moment, that meant being tickled.
Likewise, Carla needed no thoughts of revenge, no deeper motivation to tickle. She did not need to convince herself she had any right to do this. Tickling her felt so natural, no other thought entered her mind. It was as simple as drinking, as necessary as breathing. She tickled Alana because it was fun, because she wanted to touch the slender body beneath her, and because she could.
She realized that she wanted the slender scientist so much. It didn’t matter that she was the one who had tickled her under the shuttle. Carla had admired her for so long, so bright, immersed in the world of academia, none of the Earth Command military nonsense for her. And Carla was so attracted to her, with her flaming red hair and flaming green eyes. She had to have her!
Both women felt it. It was more than raw lust, more than the strong tormenting the weak. It was a uniting of souls. It didn’t matter whether one dominated or was dominated. As long as one was in control, it was like they merged into one being. Neither wanted to separate.
* * * * *
The former captain had woken from her orgasmically induced sleep with the sound of hysterical torment washing over her. But she wasn’t Gretchen Weiss who awakened. She was the primitive hunter from her dream, a creature who took what she needed, which included mates over the long winter. And she wanted a mate now, more than ever in her life.
She was even hornier than she had been even before her climax, (Having taken several direct blasts of Aphrodin from the AI while she slept and no one was paying attention), and rational thought was gone from her head. She didn’t question why she was in the shiny cave and not her forrest. She could see her prey, two women instead of one. A grin spread across her face. Oh yes!
The larger woman was obviously a warrior from another tribe, was trying to take the redhead for a winter mate, just as Gretchen wanted to do. The redhead was totally nude, her lithe body exposed for the world to see, and was helplessly pinned under the warrior’s mass. If Gretchen did nothing, she would be carried back to the warrior’s camp to act as her mate until spring.
Gretchen didn’t intend on doing nothing.
By tradition, Gretchen knew she should have announced her presence. The other warrior would have chosen to fight her to defend her prize, or acknowledge Gretchen’s superiority and flee. Gretchen didn’t want to give her either option.
She wanted to claim the hunter for a mate as well. Few warriors were ever strong enough to claim two winter mates, and no warrior Gretchen had ever heard of had claimed another warrior! This would be her greatest coup. Normally, she wouldn’t have dared, but the cravings in her body, cravings such as she had never felt before, demanded it of her, forced her to try.
Gretchen stood up, not even noticing the open stocks or recognizing them as something that had held her for so long. Her feet walked quietly on the smooth floor as she stalked her new prey. She intended on bagging them both and using them to satisfy the lust which threatened to overwhelm her.
Gretchen stalked slowly, using furniture to hide her from view, the moans and groans of both women covering any noise she might have made. She would have to approach with all caution. She had no weapon, no skins to protect her. She couldn’t risk direct combat. She would have to take the warrior by complete surprise if she was going to be successful.
She watched the redheaded gatherer struggled, as she yanked harder and harder on her held arm, saw the warrior’s hand explore her open side, tracing lines up and down her soft, small bicep (so weak and different from her own larger one) and invade the space behind her elbow. It traveled down her rib cage, pinching and poking the ribs.
The warrior was a skilled tickler. Each different spot she attacked, each different type of touch or pressure she used, changed the redhead’s laughter, made it faster or slower, higher or lower. Gretchen thought the warrior could have used her as an instrument, played some kind of melody in front of the camp fire by just changing how and where she tickled. Her control was that total.
Every now and then, the warrior would take a quick break from tickling her prey, would instead caress her small, firm breast. Then the redhead’s cacophony would change completely, become moans and groans instead of howls and shrieks. The warrior would give it a couple of teasing, soft touches, then go back to tickling, usually by drilling into the woman’s underarm with an index finger, a move that always made the gatherer cackle even louder.
Gretchen felt a sweat break out on her forehead as her own nipples grew rock hard. She wanted in! She wanted to touch and tickle and laugh too! Soon....sooooon...
* * * * *
Alana felt like she was losing her mind. The contrasting touches between the raw tickles and the sensual fondling over her boob was short circuiting her brain! The pleasure made the tickling that much worse, that much more jarring at first, but then...somehow became pleasure in its own right, exciting her. Her libido starting feeding off of both sensations, gorging on them.
Her body, which had been wriggling in an attempt to gain freedom now writhed in tormented ecstasy. She loathed/loved every touch, hated/treasured the feeling pouring into her. Her hips pumped, grinding against Carla, pressing against her own nether region.
It was then that the lust claimed them both. Carla grinded back, her own excitement skyrocketing. The feel of Alana’s breast, the sounds of her hysteria were inflaming her! She just couldn’t help herself. The next time she caressed the redhead’s tit, she couldn’t stop, she kept stroking, teasing the nipple.
Feeling the slender body beneath her writhing in pleasure instead of hysteria sent waves through Carla. She could feel Alana’s hips grinding against hers, hear her breath become deep and raspy with lust, watch the redhead’s green eyes practically glow with a steady intensity.
She didn’t want to torment Alana anymore, needed no more excuse to touch her lithe frame. Her lips locked with Alana’s, tongues touching, as pure desire was expressed without words, their mutual hunger rising to the surface. Carla kept one hand stroking her erect nipple, the other caressing any bit of skin she could find.
They lived in a society obsessed with sin, focused almost exclusively on the many actions it considered wicked. Sex was high on that list, and sex between two of the same gender even above that. Carla and Alana no longer cared. Alana kissed back, her hands undoing Carla’s shirt, pulling it from her frame, then starting on the pants. Soon she was just as naked, and both women were pawing at each other, desperate to please and be pleasured.
As soon as Carla was naked, however, Gretchen attacked.
