oneortheother
TMF Expert
- Joined
- Sep 16, 2008
- Messages
- 375
- Points
- 18
A Black Widow's Revenge
“You’re not mad at us for our little mistake, right?” Captain Marvel’s slim, pretty face was crinkled with concern as she untied Black Widow from the stockade bondage. “We just wanted to be sure.”
“Course I’m not mad,” Black Widow, also known as Natasha Romanoff, said, groaning as she rubbed the lingering sensations from her bare, oily feet. “You just wanted to be safe, right? That’s why you had me tickle tortured for hours. I’m lucky that you caught the spy, or you would have tickled me for weeks more.”
“Uh, yeah,” Spiderwoman said with a nervous cough.
“Well, what’s done is done, and I suggest we move on,” Natasha said, pushing a lock of red hair out of her face. “Important security measures will be needed, and I hope I have your full support.”
Captain Marvel and Spiderwoman exchanged a look. “Um, sure! Of course you do.”
Black Widow’s smile was thin. “Splendid.”
She wondered if they still felt quite so supportive of her idea now that they knew precisely what it entailed. After the mistaken identity crisis, Natasha had decided it would be prudent and suitable for each member of the team to go through a daily interrogation session to ensure that there was no doubt that they were not enemies. Having designed this new system from scratch, she had decided that Carol Danvers and Jessica Drew, also known as Captain Marvel and Spiderwoman would be the first ones on the list of suspected disloyal personnel.
Alphabetically, Captain Marvel was first, and Natasha was looking forward to doing her duty, especially since the blonde hero had continually emphasised that during Natasha’s own interrogation.
“What’s going on?” Carol said as Natasha steered her from the training facility to the interrogation chamber. “Aren’t we doing some new exercise this morning?”
“Oh, we are,” Natasha said, trying to hide her grin. “Come on, you don’t wanna miss it.” She wouldn’t want the other woman to grow leery till she was strapped tightly into that interrogation chair that nullified power.
“You’re joking me!” Captain Marvel said, her jaw gaping when she walked into the interrogation room and saw that looming metal bondage apparatus. Black Widow had seen fit to upgrade it for the events to come. Its heavy metal stocks for the ankles were now complete with sturdy metal clamps for the big toes to keep prisoners in place even if they had long, strong toes like Carol. The shackles that kept the arms stretched to the side that also been enhanced to nullify powers and resist those even with superhuman strength.
“Security is of the utmost importance, especially as the Skrull War continues to rage with no sign of stopping.”
“Listen, I get that you’re still angry at me for what Jessica and I did to you last time, but come on!”
“I am being nothing but professional,” Natasha said in a voice that was as cold as a Siberian winter. “This has nothing to do with last time. Now, are you going to get in, or are we gonna have a problem here?”
Captain Marvel’s hands flexed with radioactive power, and her face tensed in frustration. But just when Black Widow thought it might come to blows, all the fight seemed to go out of the blonde superheroine. Her shoulders slumped in defeat.
“If I get in that chair, when will I get out?” she asked in a quiet voice. “Not weeks, please.”
You’ll probably be tickle tortured for longer than that when it’s all said and done, Natasha thoughts but most certainly did not say. “I’m a busy woman—I can’t spend much more than an hour with you during this morning session. I’ve got several people on my list that I need to ensure have not been replaced by Skrull menaces.”
“Let me guess—Spiderwoman’s on that list after me?” Jessica sighed and walked over to the chair. “Be nice, please?” She unzipped her boots and climbed in, which left her feet in only a pair of short black nylon socks that ended around the ankles. Black Widow yanked those off as well, though she kept them close at hand for a certain ploy she had planned for the finale.
“We’ll see,” Natasha said, hiding the grin as she quickly strapped the tall, toned woman into the chair so that there could be no changing of her mind. The tight latex of Captain Marvel’s red and blue costume meant it would be harder to get at the bare flesh around the stomach of the armpits, but Black Widow hoped the feet would make up for it. Even at a glance, the superheroine’s feet looked super-ticklish. They were long and slender, with wrinkly, soft-looking arches. Carol’s toes were done a playful red colour that seemed to suggest a recent pedicure. It was evident that the blonde found a fair amount to spend on personal grooming. With any luck, she would be much more ticklish than even Natasha was.
Black Widow finished binding the big toes to with the thin metal shackles and stepped back to retrieve her tools, rubbing her hands together in anticipatory glee.
“I hope you don’t mind, but I’m going to get straight into it,” Natasha said, procuring a thick black blindfold and showing it to Captain Marvel.
The blonde heroine groaned. “Come on, is that really necessary?”
“You bet it is.” Natasha put it over the other woman’s clear blue eyes. Without the sense of vision helping out, one’s body would forcibly rely more on the other sensory receptors, and Black Widow was all too happy with that. The sense of touch working in overdrive would do wonders on the overall efficacy of tickle torture.
The next step was slapping a bit of oil on those slender, silky-looking soles. She squirted oil from the bottle and began smearing them across the pale feet. Carol gasped and giggled a bit as the cool liquid splashed across her tootsies and Natasha rubbed it in with a firm, diligent hand. The redheaded Avenger knew to coat every spot on those soles with the sensitising agent, from the sides and spots between the toes to the heels.
“Let’s get straight into it, shall we?” Black Widow said, reaching for a large hairbrush with plastic tines on each bristle. Carol only got about half a second to steady herself before her left heel was hit with a ferce, quick brushing.
“Wahahahaha! Nohohohoho!” The chair creaked and groaned so much that for a moment, Natasha feared the blonde superheroine might rip her way free. But the moment only lasted a few seconds before the tensing woman slumped back in her chair, spluttering with laughter.
“What’s wrong? We’ve just started!” Natasha grinned and started to work the hairbrush a bit higher, stroking and probing along the base of the heel and into the many wrinkles of the arch. The oil was working wicked wonders as the brutal brushes of that hairbrush skated across that slick and slippery sole with ease. Black Widow had been planning her revenge for quite a well, and although there was a lot of data to suggest that a gradual increase in torment was effective, Natasha was not in a particularly merciful mood, and she had not wanted to start with something as light as her short fingernails. In her mind, it made far more sense to start with a hard, heavy hit straight from the onset and work out how to sustain it later. Besides, they only had about an hour, and Natasha had a toolbox full of utensils to work with.
Carol was screeching and squealing, her feet quivering and twisting as best as they could. The steel toe shackle around her big toes kept them immobile for the most part, but her red-painted digits were still free to flex and curl a little bit, especially the toes that were not tied directly to the chair. When Natasha continued to work her way up the sole, whipping around the fleshy ball of the foot with swiping, slashing movements, she wasn’t sure she liked those long digits being able to move at all, though the sight of those angry red toes flexing and curling like a frantic SOS did fill her with a certain amount of victorious vigour.
When Black Widow decided it was time that big, somewhat cumbersome hairbrush had a go at manoeuvring around those immaculate toes, she grabbed those scrunched-up, uncooperative toes, yanked them back, and channelled her inner chambermaid as she gripped the hairbrush and scrubbed hard. The varnished toes fought to escape, but Natasha’s grip was sure as steel, and she did not relent until the hairbrush had made a bona fide earnest effort at slipping those terribly bristly bristles into every crevice around those desperate digits. The perky pads of those long toes took the brunt of the torment, though Black Widow was sure to cycle her tool of ticklish destruction to make sure the toe stems, tips, sides, and the bases received a fair amount of attention as well, though it wasn’t always necessarily all that ways to explore those spots as thoroughly and meticulously as she would have liked on account of how big the brush head was. Regardless, Natasha had a good grand go at it, taking solace in the fact that the bristles would probably hit a sensitive spot even if it was less than super accurate. In addition, there would be time to use more precise tools later.
The sound of those plastic tines working against the rapidly-reddening skin intermingled with Captain Marvel’s wild laughter to create the most beautiful of symphonies, though Black Widow’s sharp ears did note that the mirth did not quite consistently reach the same heights in terms of pitch and volume as when the arches had been under quite extreme duress.
She stroked her chin as she diligently went about testing her hypothesis, brushing away at the toes, then the wrinkly high arches, toes again, arches again, a half-second swipe here, a ten second onslaught there, right foot, left foot, again and again to fully determine if she were right or wrong.
“It seems your arches are most sensitive than your toes,” Black Widow told the seated superheroine, whose blonde hair was starting to become quite dishevelled from all her tossing and thrashing. “At least when it comes to using the hairbrush with oil, though that being said, I am curious if that’s because your soles can’t stand the brush or if the hairbrush is just inefficient at tickling your toes. I suppose we still have thirty minutes to find out.”
“Th-thirty minutes?” Carol fell back in her chair, so her blindfolded face was looking up at the ceiling as if in search for some kind of divine salvation. “No way…”
“Don’t sound so distraught,” Natasha said, shaking her head. “You guys kept me in here for hours, remember? And you’re only being tickle by one, albeit expert, individual. You’ve got it easy, Carol, honestly. Speaking of which, I think your impromptu break is over.”
Black Widow returned the hairbrush back to her arsenal of tickle weaponry and retrieved the bottle of oil once more. A fair amount of the clear substance had come off during the relentless, ruthless brushing, and the last thing she wanted was for Carol’s sensitivity to be alleviated. Using the same sharp eye for detail as before, she squirted a judicious quantity onto the palms of her hands and set to rubbing them into Captain Marvel’s white, wrinkly soles. She made sure give the toes doused in the stuff again, since the next tool she had in mind would prove quite adept at sifting between those long digits to really uncover the small, secret, sensationally sensitive spots hidden around the toe webbing and in between those painted-red toes.
“Here it comes,” Natasha said, reaching for a pair of electric toothbrushes and clicking them on. The buzzing gave Carol about a second’s suspenseful tension before the new items hit her pink soles. They hit the same spot on both soles, the very centres of both arches, and Captain Marvel immediately unleashed a fresh spurt of spluttering giggles. The blonde woman shook her head from side to side as if to deny the new humming, vibrating sensations that must have been crawling over her soles, and then she went straight back to laughing her head off as the electric toothbrushes made slow circuits of the grooves of her arches. The beauty of those gadgets was due to the innate rotatory quality they had, they required little wrist or arm movement to be effective in uncorking laughter from their hapless victim. They made a welcome contrast to the more draining hairbrushes. It was imminently enjoyable how so much laughter could be won with such a light, effortless movement.
However, it wasn’t all easy with the new tool. It was a good thing Natasha was so ambidextrous, or it might have been a bit of trouble using a pair of these devices, especially since Carol was not being helpful and staying still during the whole time. Not to mention the actual surface area covered by those toothbrushes, even two of them used in unison, was minor in comparison to the hairbrush. Yet that being said, two of those toothbrushes circling that absolute middle of the arch on both feet provided almost the same amount of laughter as the hairbrush, at least according to Natasha’s observations, which was very insightful indeed.
“I see you’re enjoying the toothbrush,” Black Widow said, grinning while Captain Marvel wailed and howled with frenetic laughter. “I hope your toes like the touch of them too.”
Having achieved a baseline for the sensitivity of those pale, freshly pedicured soles, it was now to solve the mystery behind those ruby-red toes. Had it really been that they were simply less receptive to tickling than those wrinkly, wrinkly arches? Or had it been because of the tool in question.
Natasha soon got her answer as soon as she steered both electric toothbrushes to the toes of the right foot to probe all over them. She’d target one or two of those pampered toes at a time, whizzing her diabolical tools all over the slender pads, soft bases, and wiggly tips. Because of the limitations of the toe bondage, it was much easier to focus on one foot at a time so that she could adjust her technique accordingly to whatever pathetic countermeasure Captain Marvel tried to muster, such as scrunching her toes, jerking them to the side away, flexing them back, or etc.
“You like it when I go in there, don't you?” Black Widow said as she toyed with the toes. “You do! I can see from your smile.”
Within ten minutes of raucous, roaring laughter, Carol’s feet, even those long, energetic toes, were too tired to even twitch. The electric toothbrushes had done an admirable job tickling the heck out of those digits, though it seemed in conclusion, those high, pink arches really were the most fun spot after all, regardless of the torturous tool used.
“Awww, the time sure flew away at supersonic speed, didn’t it?” Black Widow said, wiping a lock of red hair from her face.
“Agree… to disagree,” Captain Marvel huffed. “Is it over?”
“Kind of,” Natasha said, bending down to pick up the black nylon socks that had been discarded earlier. She removed the toe shackles and slipped them back onto Carol’s feet, which were a fair bit warmer and pinker than they had been initially.
“Wha-what are you doing? Are we done? It’s been an hour! You’re letting me go, aren’t you?”
“Actually, all I said is I would be with you for an hour, not that this would take that long. What good interrogation ends so soon?”
Captain Marvel was in the middle of spluttering out a furious, impassionate protest to her treatment when Black Widow reached for the electric toothbrushes. But instead of applying them judiciously to the socked soles before her, she slipped the tool through the hem of the sock so the toothbrush was trapped inside, between the ticklish sole and the nylon sock. Thankfully, Carol’s feet were long and large enough for the electric toothbrush to fit comfortable, as such a thing wouldn’t have been possible with feet as small as Natasha’s, for instance. After making sure the electric toothbrushes were turned on and the buzzing head was situated near the arches, she gave the wiggling feet a parting scribble and stepped away.
“Have fun! I’ll come check in on you later.” Natasha grinned and waved a cheery farewell as bursting laughter echoed throughout the room once more.
As Black Widow left Captain Marvel to writhe and wriggle in ticklish agony, the auburn-haired avenger went over to Interrogation Room 2, where another lovely victim was already primed and prepared for her. Next on her list was ‘questionably loyal personnel’ was, of course, Spiderwoman, also known as Jessica Drew. The spindly, black-haired woman’s face was scrunched up in confusion as she tested her bonds.
“What kind of training is this?” she demanded. “I can’t do anything while I’m tied up here!”
“There’s something you can do. You can tell me if you’re a Skrull.”
“Uh, I’m not.”
“That’s good. This wouldn’t be nearly as satisfying if you were one.” Black Widow slowly walked her way down to her the dark-haired girl’s feet were stocked and waiting. This stockade was a bit more similar to the one Natasha herself had been bound in a while back, and there were stretchy toe-ties that went around every toe to keep the sole firmly in place.
All in all, the black-haired heroine’s feet were quite the contrast from her partner-in-tickling. Where Captain Marvel’s feet had been long, shapely, and pale (at least until the scrubbing had turned them pinker, in any case), Spiderwoman’s feet were dainty and diminutive. They were almost as small as Natasha’s own dainty feet. Jessica’s feet also featured chubby, petite toes that were petite and painted a glossy black. Black Widow devoutly wished that those small feet shared one essential consistency with Captain Marvel’s, however: extreme, mind-melting ticklishness.
“Let’s dig in, shall we?” Natasha said, after adding a blindfold and the usual slathering of baby oil to the equation, just to ensure all of Spiderwoman’s nerve receptors were firing at full capacity. The weapon of choice she decided to wield was a pair of forks of roughly the same size—only one was shiny steel while the other was wood.
The contrast with the tools made Natasha always feel as if she were fighting with a pair of swords of different sizes, as they both were used so differently.
The metal fork had sharper tines, and each stroke down Jessica’s quivering, shivering soles left straight pink lines their trail, despite the lubricating effect of all that baby oil. Ploughing up and down the high arches was fairly effective, but what quickly proved to work best of all was when that steel utensil poked and prodded around the toes as if the black-painted digits were tasty morsels to be sampled.
The wooden fork was quite a different tale, as although the slightly roughened prongs it possessed gave it enough point to tickle, it wasn’t quite good as scratching the tender flesh of the toes with prickly, pointed attacks. It most certainly more than made up for it on the arches, however, where a slow, unhurried, firm up and down motion worked malevolent wonders.
Another noteworthy aspect of the wooden fork was that it required less restraint to use. With the metal fork, one always need to be wary of pressing in too hard, lest the metal points really hurt the skin, but you didn’t have to worry about that so much with the blunt edges of the wooden one. You were free to apply more pressure and scratch more deeply, which worked especially well on Spiderwoman’s soft arches.
“Your left foot really likes the forks, doesn’t it?” Natasha said, shifting her attention and using both forks to double-team the foot in question.
“It dahahahahaasn’t!” Jessica screamed several hearty denials, but Black Widow knew her intuitions were spot-on. It hadn’t taken long to work out all of the superheroine’s fun spots. In a curious case of asymmetry, Jessica’s left foot harbourer a much denser network of nerve clusters than her right. The petite toes were deliciously sensitive spot on both feet, but the low arch on the left foot must have been twice as receptive on the left. Natasha wondered if that was due to some kind of imbalance in the black-haired girl’s gait or just something random. She’d noticed that many individuals seem to be more ticklish on their left foot, though usually the disparity wasn’t quite so apparent here. She’d have to inquire and do more research later.
“I think that’s enough with the forks for now.” Natasha put her cooking-utensils-turned-torture-tools away while Spiderwoman gulped down air. Her long black hair was pasted across her moist forehead, and her red and white mask was askew from all her frantic movements. “You really ought not to beg so much. You’re worse than Carol! Guess those little feet of yours are mighty ticklish, huh?”
Jessica didn’t say anything, which Natasha took to mean was acquiescence.
“Let’s continue with the lesson then, shall we?” Black Widow said.
“Wha-what lesson?”
“The ticklish one you’re learning now—that you shouldn’t mess with me. Now, what tool am I in the mood for right now…” Natasha reached into her jacket pocket and pulling out a ballpoint pen. “You know, it’s always a good habit to keep a pen on you at all times. They always come in handy. Aside from the obvious writing function, they make a decent makeshift dagger. But I guess you’ve worked out the function I have in mind.”
Black Widow clicked the pen and went to scrawling its rounded metal tip along the small white soles that were before her. The point scribbled furiously at the base of her arch, shading around that sloping, wrinkly surface, and Spiderwoman's high-pitched laughter filled the room. The pale, pasty white skin of the soles was soon getting blemished by the blue ink of the pen. Sometimes, when Natasha brushed the cool tip of that writing implement on a particularly delicate spot, like the ones around the wrinkles of the arch or around the toes, she was content to shade the area, as if she were filling in some colouring book. But other times, she was content to race the pen all over the place with looping cursive handwriting, making sure to exaggerate every flourish and stroke as she drew pictures, shapes, and words. It seemed deliciously fitting to draw little spiders scampering along Spiderwoman’s small soles. Another beautifully instructive aspect of the pen was that it clearly indicated which spots had and had not been mined for the maximum amount of mirth. After a few minutes of scribbling, the redheaded avenger took note of all the alabaster skin on the sides and the tops of the foot that had yet to get a mark on them, and she took to skating the pen all over those spots with squiggles and elaborate signatures. And this virgin flesh proved to be almost as ticklish as Spiderwoman’s pedicured toes, which Black Widow was pleased to observe she had almost got entirely blue on account of her diligent penmanship.
“Don’t worry, I intend to bust out a sponge and some scrub brushes to clean all this ink off for you later,” Natasha said, though the black-haired girl seemed to be laughing too hard to take much note of her ‘kindness’. “I wouldn’t want to be considerate and leave your feet so filthy. But till then… you don’t mind if I write a little essay on the great cosmic law of retribution. Don’t move too much! If you mess my manifesto, I’ll have to wash your feet and start all over again…”
“You’re not mad at us for our little mistake, right?” Captain Marvel’s slim, pretty face was crinkled with concern as she untied Black Widow from the stockade bondage. “We just wanted to be sure.”
“Course I’m not mad,” Black Widow, also known as Natasha Romanoff, said, groaning as she rubbed the lingering sensations from her bare, oily feet. “You just wanted to be safe, right? That’s why you had me tickle tortured for hours. I’m lucky that you caught the spy, or you would have tickled me for weeks more.”
“Uh, yeah,” Spiderwoman said with a nervous cough.
“Well, what’s done is done, and I suggest we move on,” Natasha said, pushing a lock of red hair out of her face. “Important security measures will be needed, and I hope I have your full support.”
Captain Marvel and Spiderwoman exchanged a look. “Um, sure! Of course you do.”
Black Widow’s smile was thin. “Splendid.”
She wondered if they still felt quite so supportive of her idea now that they knew precisely what it entailed. After the mistaken identity crisis, Natasha had decided it would be prudent and suitable for each member of the team to go through a daily interrogation session to ensure that there was no doubt that they were not enemies. Having designed this new system from scratch, she had decided that Carol Danvers and Jessica Drew, also known as Captain Marvel and Spiderwoman would be the first ones on the list of suspected disloyal personnel.
Alphabetically, Captain Marvel was first, and Natasha was looking forward to doing her duty, especially since the blonde hero had continually emphasised that during Natasha’s own interrogation.
“What’s going on?” Carol said as Natasha steered her from the training facility to the interrogation chamber. “Aren’t we doing some new exercise this morning?”
“Oh, we are,” Natasha said, trying to hide her grin. “Come on, you don’t wanna miss it.” She wouldn’t want the other woman to grow leery till she was strapped tightly into that interrogation chair that nullified power.
“You’re joking me!” Captain Marvel said, her jaw gaping when she walked into the interrogation room and saw that looming metal bondage apparatus. Black Widow had seen fit to upgrade it for the events to come. Its heavy metal stocks for the ankles were now complete with sturdy metal clamps for the big toes to keep prisoners in place even if they had long, strong toes like Carol. The shackles that kept the arms stretched to the side that also been enhanced to nullify powers and resist those even with superhuman strength.
“Security is of the utmost importance, especially as the Skrull War continues to rage with no sign of stopping.”
“Listen, I get that you’re still angry at me for what Jessica and I did to you last time, but come on!”
“I am being nothing but professional,” Natasha said in a voice that was as cold as a Siberian winter. “This has nothing to do with last time. Now, are you going to get in, or are we gonna have a problem here?”
Captain Marvel’s hands flexed with radioactive power, and her face tensed in frustration. But just when Black Widow thought it might come to blows, all the fight seemed to go out of the blonde superheroine. Her shoulders slumped in defeat.
“If I get in that chair, when will I get out?” she asked in a quiet voice. “Not weeks, please.”
You’ll probably be tickle tortured for longer than that when it’s all said and done, Natasha thoughts but most certainly did not say. “I’m a busy woman—I can’t spend much more than an hour with you during this morning session. I’ve got several people on my list that I need to ensure have not been replaced by Skrull menaces.”
“Let me guess—Spiderwoman’s on that list after me?” Jessica sighed and walked over to the chair. “Be nice, please?” She unzipped her boots and climbed in, which left her feet in only a pair of short black nylon socks that ended around the ankles. Black Widow yanked those off as well, though she kept them close at hand for a certain ploy she had planned for the finale.
“We’ll see,” Natasha said, hiding the grin as she quickly strapped the tall, toned woman into the chair so that there could be no changing of her mind. The tight latex of Captain Marvel’s red and blue costume meant it would be harder to get at the bare flesh around the stomach of the armpits, but Black Widow hoped the feet would make up for it. Even at a glance, the superheroine’s feet looked super-ticklish. They were long and slender, with wrinkly, soft-looking arches. Carol’s toes were done a playful red colour that seemed to suggest a recent pedicure. It was evident that the blonde found a fair amount to spend on personal grooming. With any luck, she would be much more ticklish than even Natasha was.
Black Widow finished binding the big toes to with the thin metal shackles and stepped back to retrieve her tools, rubbing her hands together in anticipatory glee.
“I hope you don’t mind, but I’m going to get straight into it,” Natasha said, procuring a thick black blindfold and showing it to Captain Marvel.
The blonde heroine groaned. “Come on, is that really necessary?”
“You bet it is.” Natasha put it over the other woman’s clear blue eyes. Without the sense of vision helping out, one’s body would forcibly rely more on the other sensory receptors, and Black Widow was all too happy with that. The sense of touch working in overdrive would do wonders on the overall efficacy of tickle torture.
The next step was slapping a bit of oil on those slender, silky-looking soles. She squirted oil from the bottle and began smearing them across the pale feet. Carol gasped and giggled a bit as the cool liquid splashed across her tootsies and Natasha rubbed it in with a firm, diligent hand. The redheaded Avenger knew to coat every spot on those soles with the sensitising agent, from the sides and spots between the toes to the heels.
“Let’s get straight into it, shall we?” Black Widow said, reaching for a large hairbrush with plastic tines on each bristle. Carol only got about half a second to steady herself before her left heel was hit with a ferce, quick brushing.
“Wahahahaha! Nohohohoho!” The chair creaked and groaned so much that for a moment, Natasha feared the blonde superheroine might rip her way free. But the moment only lasted a few seconds before the tensing woman slumped back in her chair, spluttering with laughter.
“What’s wrong? We’ve just started!” Natasha grinned and started to work the hairbrush a bit higher, stroking and probing along the base of the heel and into the many wrinkles of the arch. The oil was working wicked wonders as the brutal brushes of that hairbrush skated across that slick and slippery sole with ease. Black Widow had been planning her revenge for quite a well, and although there was a lot of data to suggest that a gradual increase in torment was effective, Natasha was not in a particularly merciful mood, and she had not wanted to start with something as light as her short fingernails. In her mind, it made far more sense to start with a hard, heavy hit straight from the onset and work out how to sustain it later. Besides, they only had about an hour, and Natasha had a toolbox full of utensils to work with.
Carol was screeching and squealing, her feet quivering and twisting as best as they could. The steel toe shackle around her big toes kept them immobile for the most part, but her red-painted digits were still free to flex and curl a little bit, especially the toes that were not tied directly to the chair. When Natasha continued to work her way up the sole, whipping around the fleshy ball of the foot with swiping, slashing movements, she wasn’t sure she liked those long digits being able to move at all, though the sight of those angry red toes flexing and curling like a frantic SOS did fill her with a certain amount of victorious vigour.
When Black Widow decided it was time that big, somewhat cumbersome hairbrush had a go at manoeuvring around those immaculate toes, she grabbed those scrunched-up, uncooperative toes, yanked them back, and channelled her inner chambermaid as she gripped the hairbrush and scrubbed hard. The varnished toes fought to escape, but Natasha’s grip was sure as steel, and she did not relent until the hairbrush had made a bona fide earnest effort at slipping those terribly bristly bristles into every crevice around those desperate digits. The perky pads of those long toes took the brunt of the torment, though Black Widow was sure to cycle her tool of ticklish destruction to make sure the toe stems, tips, sides, and the bases received a fair amount of attention as well, though it wasn’t always necessarily all that ways to explore those spots as thoroughly and meticulously as she would have liked on account of how big the brush head was. Regardless, Natasha had a good grand go at it, taking solace in the fact that the bristles would probably hit a sensitive spot even if it was less than super accurate. In addition, there would be time to use more precise tools later.
The sound of those plastic tines working against the rapidly-reddening skin intermingled with Captain Marvel’s wild laughter to create the most beautiful of symphonies, though Black Widow’s sharp ears did note that the mirth did not quite consistently reach the same heights in terms of pitch and volume as when the arches had been under quite extreme duress.
She stroked her chin as she diligently went about testing her hypothesis, brushing away at the toes, then the wrinkly high arches, toes again, arches again, a half-second swipe here, a ten second onslaught there, right foot, left foot, again and again to fully determine if she were right or wrong.
“It seems your arches are most sensitive than your toes,” Black Widow told the seated superheroine, whose blonde hair was starting to become quite dishevelled from all her tossing and thrashing. “At least when it comes to using the hairbrush with oil, though that being said, I am curious if that’s because your soles can’t stand the brush or if the hairbrush is just inefficient at tickling your toes. I suppose we still have thirty minutes to find out.”
“Th-thirty minutes?” Carol fell back in her chair, so her blindfolded face was looking up at the ceiling as if in search for some kind of divine salvation. “No way…”
“Don’t sound so distraught,” Natasha said, shaking her head. “You guys kept me in here for hours, remember? And you’re only being tickle by one, albeit expert, individual. You’ve got it easy, Carol, honestly. Speaking of which, I think your impromptu break is over.”
Black Widow returned the hairbrush back to her arsenal of tickle weaponry and retrieved the bottle of oil once more. A fair amount of the clear substance had come off during the relentless, ruthless brushing, and the last thing she wanted was for Carol’s sensitivity to be alleviated. Using the same sharp eye for detail as before, she squirted a judicious quantity onto the palms of her hands and set to rubbing them into Captain Marvel’s white, wrinkly soles. She made sure give the toes doused in the stuff again, since the next tool she had in mind would prove quite adept at sifting between those long digits to really uncover the small, secret, sensationally sensitive spots hidden around the toe webbing and in between those painted-red toes.
“Here it comes,” Natasha said, reaching for a pair of electric toothbrushes and clicking them on. The buzzing gave Carol about a second’s suspenseful tension before the new items hit her pink soles. They hit the same spot on both soles, the very centres of both arches, and Captain Marvel immediately unleashed a fresh spurt of spluttering giggles. The blonde woman shook her head from side to side as if to deny the new humming, vibrating sensations that must have been crawling over her soles, and then she went straight back to laughing her head off as the electric toothbrushes made slow circuits of the grooves of her arches. The beauty of those gadgets was due to the innate rotatory quality they had, they required little wrist or arm movement to be effective in uncorking laughter from their hapless victim. They made a welcome contrast to the more draining hairbrushes. It was imminently enjoyable how so much laughter could be won with such a light, effortless movement.
However, it wasn’t all easy with the new tool. It was a good thing Natasha was so ambidextrous, or it might have been a bit of trouble using a pair of these devices, especially since Carol was not being helpful and staying still during the whole time. Not to mention the actual surface area covered by those toothbrushes, even two of them used in unison, was minor in comparison to the hairbrush. Yet that being said, two of those toothbrushes circling that absolute middle of the arch on both feet provided almost the same amount of laughter as the hairbrush, at least according to Natasha’s observations, which was very insightful indeed.
“I see you’re enjoying the toothbrush,” Black Widow said, grinning while Captain Marvel wailed and howled with frenetic laughter. “I hope your toes like the touch of them too.”
Having achieved a baseline for the sensitivity of those pale, freshly pedicured soles, it was now to solve the mystery behind those ruby-red toes. Had it really been that they were simply less receptive to tickling than those wrinkly, wrinkly arches? Or had it been because of the tool in question.
Natasha soon got her answer as soon as she steered both electric toothbrushes to the toes of the right foot to probe all over them. She’d target one or two of those pampered toes at a time, whizzing her diabolical tools all over the slender pads, soft bases, and wiggly tips. Because of the limitations of the toe bondage, it was much easier to focus on one foot at a time so that she could adjust her technique accordingly to whatever pathetic countermeasure Captain Marvel tried to muster, such as scrunching her toes, jerking them to the side away, flexing them back, or etc.
“You like it when I go in there, don't you?” Black Widow said as she toyed with the toes. “You do! I can see from your smile.”
Within ten minutes of raucous, roaring laughter, Carol’s feet, even those long, energetic toes, were too tired to even twitch. The electric toothbrushes had done an admirable job tickling the heck out of those digits, though it seemed in conclusion, those high, pink arches really were the most fun spot after all, regardless of the torturous tool used.
“Awww, the time sure flew away at supersonic speed, didn’t it?” Black Widow said, wiping a lock of red hair from her face.
“Agree… to disagree,” Captain Marvel huffed. “Is it over?”
“Kind of,” Natasha said, bending down to pick up the black nylon socks that had been discarded earlier. She removed the toe shackles and slipped them back onto Carol’s feet, which were a fair bit warmer and pinker than they had been initially.
“Wha-what are you doing? Are we done? It’s been an hour! You’re letting me go, aren’t you?”
“Actually, all I said is I would be with you for an hour, not that this would take that long. What good interrogation ends so soon?”
Captain Marvel was in the middle of spluttering out a furious, impassionate protest to her treatment when Black Widow reached for the electric toothbrushes. But instead of applying them judiciously to the socked soles before her, she slipped the tool through the hem of the sock so the toothbrush was trapped inside, between the ticklish sole and the nylon sock. Thankfully, Carol’s feet were long and large enough for the electric toothbrush to fit comfortable, as such a thing wouldn’t have been possible with feet as small as Natasha’s, for instance. After making sure the electric toothbrushes were turned on and the buzzing head was situated near the arches, she gave the wiggling feet a parting scribble and stepped away.
“Have fun! I’ll come check in on you later.” Natasha grinned and waved a cheery farewell as bursting laughter echoed throughout the room once more.
As Black Widow left Captain Marvel to writhe and wriggle in ticklish agony, the auburn-haired avenger went over to Interrogation Room 2, where another lovely victim was already primed and prepared for her. Next on her list was ‘questionably loyal personnel’ was, of course, Spiderwoman, also known as Jessica Drew. The spindly, black-haired woman’s face was scrunched up in confusion as she tested her bonds.
“What kind of training is this?” she demanded. “I can’t do anything while I’m tied up here!”
“There’s something you can do. You can tell me if you’re a Skrull.”
“Uh, I’m not.”
“That’s good. This wouldn’t be nearly as satisfying if you were one.” Black Widow slowly walked her way down to her the dark-haired girl’s feet were stocked and waiting. This stockade was a bit more similar to the one Natasha herself had been bound in a while back, and there were stretchy toe-ties that went around every toe to keep the sole firmly in place.
All in all, the black-haired heroine’s feet were quite the contrast from her partner-in-tickling. Where Captain Marvel’s feet had been long, shapely, and pale (at least until the scrubbing had turned them pinker, in any case), Spiderwoman’s feet were dainty and diminutive. They were almost as small as Natasha’s own dainty feet. Jessica’s feet also featured chubby, petite toes that were petite and painted a glossy black. Black Widow devoutly wished that those small feet shared one essential consistency with Captain Marvel’s, however: extreme, mind-melting ticklishness.
“Let’s dig in, shall we?” Natasha said, after adding a blindfold and the usual slathering of baby oil to the equation, just to ensure all of Spiderwoman’s nerve receptors were firing at full capacity. The weapon of choice she decided to wield was a pair of forks of roughly the same size—only one was shiny steel while the other was wood.
The contrast with the tools made Natasha always feel as if she were fighting with a pair of swords of different sizes, as they both were used so differently.
The metal fork had sharper tines, and each stroke down Jessica’s quivering, shivering soles left straight pink lines their trail, despite the lubricating effect of all that baby oil. Ploughing up and down the high arches was fairly effective, but what quickly proved to work best of all was when that steel utensil poked and prodded around the toes as if the black-painted digits were tasty morsels to be sampled.
The wooden fork was quite a different tale, as although the slightly roughened prongs it possessed gave it enough point to tickle, it wasn’t quite good as scratching the tender flesh of the toes with prickly, pointed attacks. It most certainly more than made up for it on the arches, however, where a slow, unhurried, firm up and down motion worked malevolent wonders.
Another noteworthy aspect of the wooden fork was that it required less restraint to use. With the metal fork, one always need to be wary of pressing in too hard, lest the metal points really hurt the skin, but you didn’t have to worry about that so much with the blunt edges of the wooden one. You were free to apply more pressure and scratch more deeply, which worked especially well on Spiderwoman’s soft arches.
“Your left foot really likes the forks, doesn’t it?” Natasha said, shifting her attention and using both forks to double-team the foot in question.
“It dahahahahaasn’t!” Jessica screamed several hearty denials, but Black Widow knew her intuitions were spot-on. It hadn’t taken long to work out all of the superheroine’s fun spots. In a curious case of asymmetry, Jessica’s left foot harbourer a much denser network of nerve clusters than her right. The petite toes were deliciously sensitive spot on both feet, but the low arch on the left foot must have been twice as receptive on the left. Natasha wondered if that was due to some kind of imbalance in the black-haired girl’s gait or just something random. She’d noticed that many individuals seem to be more ticklish on their left foot, though usually the disparity wasn’t quite so apparent here. She’d have to inquire and do more research later.
“I think that’s enough with the forks for now.” Natasha put her cooking-utensils-turned-torture-tools away while Spiderwoman gulped down air. Her long black hair was pasted across her moist forehead, and her red and white mask was askew from all her frantic movements. “You really ought not to beg so much. You’re worse than Carol! Guess those little feet of yours are mighty ticklish, huh?”
Jessica didn’t say anything, which Natasha took to mean was acquiescence.
“Let’s continue with the lesson then, shall we?” Black Widow said.
“Wha-what lesson?”
“The ticklish one you’re learning now—that you shouldn’t mess with me. Now, what tool am I in the mood for right now…” Natasha reached into her jacket pocket and pulling out a ballpoint pen. “You know, it’s always a good habit to keep a pen on you at all times. They always come in handy. Aside from the obvious writing function, they make a decent makeshift dagger. But I guess you’ve worked out the function I have in mind.”
Black Widow clicked the pen and went to scrawling its rounded metal tip along the small white soles that were before her. The point scribbled furiously at the base of her arch, shading around that sloping, wrinkly surface, and Spiderwoman's high-pitched laughter filled the room. The pale, pasty white skin of the soles was soon getting blemished by the blue ink of the pen. Sometimes, when Natasha brushed the cool tip of that writing implement on a particularly delicate spot, like the ones around the wrinkles of the arch or around the toes, she was content to shade the area, as if she were filling in some colouring book. But other times, she was content to race the pen all over the place with looping cursive handwriting, making sure to exaggerate every flourish and stroke as she drew pictures, shapes, and words. It seemed deliciously fitting to draw little spiders scampering along Spiderwoman’s small soles. Another beautifully instructive aspect of the pen was that it clearly indicated which spots had and had not been mined for the maximum amount of mirth. After a few minutes of scribbling, the redheaded avenger took note of all the alabaster skin on the sides and the tops of the foot that had yet to get a mark on them, and she took to skating the pen all over those spots with squiggles and elaborate signatures. And this virgin flesh proved to be almost as ticklish as Spiderwoman’s pedicured toes, which Black Widow was pleased to observe she had almost got entirely blue on account of her diligent penmanship.
“Don’t worry, I intend to bust out a sponge and some scrub brushes to clean all this ink off for you later,” Natasha said, though the black-haired girl seemed to be laughing too hard to take much note of her ‘kindness’. “I wouldn’t want to be considerate and leave your feet so filthy. But till then… you don’t mind if I write a little essay on the great cosmic law of retribution. Don’t move too much! If you mess my manifesto, I’ll have to wash your feet and start all over again…”
