Here's part four. Let me know what you think of it for a part five.
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GI JOE Tickling Story Part Four "A Ticklish Agenda"
Hawk and Psyche-Out listened to Scarlett’s debriefing in a private room. They had already debriefed the rest of the members of the mission and only Scarlett was missing.
“I was being tickle tortured by the Baroness when Jinx took her by surprise,” Scarlett explained near the end of the debriefing. She was a little embarrassed by the tickling part. “A Cobra took Jinx by surprise and I used that opportunity to get free and knock out both the Cobra trooper and the Baroness. I took the Baroness’s weapon and shot my way out with Jinx over my shoulder. That’s when I met with Snake-eyes and the rest of the team.”
“What was the purpose of the tickle torture?” Hawk asked.
“Interrogation,” Scarlett replied. “But they didn’t get spit from me. Codename and serial number only.”
“I’m glad they didn’t,” Hawk said. “Psyche-out, what is the doctor’s prognosis?”
“I’d like to have a couple private sessions each week,” he said “to try to help you cope with some of the trauma related with enemy captivity and torture.”
“Certainly,” Scarlett replied.
“Then I think we are finished here,” Hawk said. “You’re dismissed.”
“Thank you, Hawk,” Scarlett said with a salute as she exited.
Alone in the room, Hawk was the first to break the silence.
“I don’t like this,” he said shaking his head. “Cobra’s mission was to intentionally capture Joes. They could have taken them to Cobra Island and we’d have assault the whole damned island to rescue them. The raid on Sierra Gordo was just too clean. It doesn’t make sense.”
“Scarlett is clean as far a traditional brainwashing goes,” Psyche-Out said. “But there are parts of her story that don’t wash. I’ve secretly monitored all the members of the strike team with an experimental polygraph ray. They all passed with flying colors except for Scarlett. The capture and the torture part pretty much check, but she is lying about the escape part.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?” Hawk asked.
“Because it is not a traditional polygraph,” he replied. “The readings say that she is lying, but that she is convinced she is telling the truth.”
“Doesn’t that amount to brainwashing?” Hawk asked.
“Yes,” Psyche-out replied, “but she doesn’t show any of the symptoms of a typical brainwash. So it’s all very unclear. I think you should maybe keep her on the sideline for a while until I’m sure of what happened to her.”
There was a knock on the door.
”Come in,” Hawk said.
“Hawk, it’s me, Jinx,” the ninja said as she stepped in.
“What can we do for you?” the general asked.
“It’s about Scarlett, sir,” she said. “I think something happened on Sierra Gordo that changed her.”
“How do you know this?” Hawk asked while giving Psyche-Out a meaningful glance.
“I have what my ninja clan calls ‘The Eye that Pierces’,” she explained. “I guess you could call it a sixth sense or just a rather accurate hunch. I can see that there is some manner of deception in Scarlett.”
“That reinforces my theory, Hawk,” Psyche-Out said. “I think you should even quarantine her for security purposes.”
Hawk thought for a moment.
“That’s what Cobra would expect,” Hawk said placing both hands on the table. “In war, battles are not won by doing what is expected.”
* * * * *
The Baroness was in her quarters on Cobra Island sipping a glass of wine and watching a sunset from the balcony while she recovered from her last successful, but certainly trying mission. The last details were so foggy that she might have imagined that the tickling was a dream if it had not been for her exhausted muscles that spoke clearly of intense tickle torture.
The last time she had felt like this was after an initiation ceremony at her college in Switzerland. She had been tied down barefoot in her pajamas to a bed, ball gagged and tickled for hours on end. Until that day she had not realized she could be so ticklish. The girls of the sorority discovered she was more ticklish than she could have ever imagined. The ball gag prevented her from laughing, so all she could release were terrified muffled screams. Her ticklish body was extensively explored by every member of the sorority using fingernails, feathers, toothbrushes, ice and number of other tools. She passed out on several occasions, especially with underarm tickling, but was quickly revived for bout after bout of gang tickling that drove her senses wild.
She had been accepted to the sorority and she spent almost a month recovering from the ordeal. When new members were initiated, the Baroness insisted in being the one to conduct the ceremony. She enjoyed and savored every moment of it.
The tickling she had endured at the hands of the ninja was terrible but in a secret hidden part of her being, she enjoyed being helpless and being tortured. It was a fantasy she had been denied for a very long time.
Jinx would suffer her revenge, the Baroness though as she sipped her glass of wine. With Scarlett providing intelligence she would just wait until another mission exposed the ninja to recapture her and make sure that this time there was no feigning death.
Destro walked out behind her interrupting her thoughts for a moment.
“Beautiful,” he said referring to the sun set, but she knew that he also referred to her.
“Very much so,” the Baroness replied. Her thoughts however were elsewhere.
“Destro,” she said suddenly. “If I asked you for anything, anything at all, would you give it to me without a thought?”
“In a second, my dear,” he replied sincerely through the expressionless face mask.
“Sweep me off my feet,” she begged. “Take me away and make me your prisoner. Tickle me until the sun rises. Let me beg you for mercy and then deny me any respite.”
Destro pulled off his mask and placed it on table so she could see his face that he rarely showed. He smiled. It was a smile of love and caring.
”I do not share your passion for tickling,” he said as he drew near and lifted her off her feet with ease. “But we of the Destro family know how to care for our loves. This I promise you, my dear: before the sun rises, I will have tickled you like you have never been tickled before.”
The Baroness smiled back and hugged her love as he led her back to the bedroom.
* * * * *
“Colonel Sharif,” Hawk said as an image of the Middle East dictator appeared on the screen in a briefing room deep in the Pit. “He’s recently regained the upper hand in the civil war to control the Emirate. This is of course is in no small part due to Cobra’s weapons aid and financing.
“He has categorically denied such participation with terrorist groups of any kind and has dared anyone to prove that such direct links exist despite the fact that death squads roam his country freely with weapons and equipment financed by Cobra.
“We’ve butt heads with Sharif and his Guardians of Paradise before and in the past we have succeeded in finding evidence that does compromise the Colonel. However, since that incident, Sharif has taken to having his meetings in a sealed complex with electronic jammers operating around the clock to eliminate any possibility of electronic surveillance. His servants in the palace are all deaf and mute as an extra precaution. So effectively there is almost no way to get a mole in or plant a bug.
“There is a weak point. Sharif likes young and beautiful Caucasian dancers. He has a fancy for Eastern European women and hires them through a modeling agency he contracts through Moscow. He keeps them around for entertainment making sure they don’t speak Arabic or English so they can’t overhear his conversations and then rotates them out with a nice hefty paycheck for their troubles. The CIA has inserted agents from time to time, but they invariably disappear and do not emerge from the complex. The girls that do return from the three month tenure never say anything of any use and are evasive at best. The fact he continues to use the same agency despite that the CIA has inserted agents says he is pretty confident in his ability to weed out spies.
“We need intelligence and we need it now. We are inserting our own agent to gather information that can prove that there is a real cooperation between Sharif and the Cobra sponsored death squads. No excuses. Pinning Sharif to Cobra can raise the international pressure on Sharif and even force him out of power and reinstate the Emir.
“Lady Jaye,” Hawk called as he turned to her. “You’re fluent in Russian, proficient in Arabic. I’m sending you undercover to be selected and get into that complex and dig up dirt on Sharif. It won’t be easy, but I’ve chosen the best for this mission.
“Cover Girl,” he continued to the left. “In your civilian life you once lived in the world of glamour and modeling. I need you to get Lady Jaye in a zone so she shocks, awes and gets a first class ticket from Moscow to the Emirate. After that you’ll be part of the extraction force as support.
“Chuckles,” he said turning to the next soldier who sat in his chair with his loud Hawaiian shirt. “You are a deep cover expert. You’ll support Lady Jaye for infiltration and the join Cover Girl for managing extraction.
“Stalker,” he said turning to the last person in the room. “You speak Arabic; you also know Sharif and the Emirate intimately. You’ll be in charge of the extraction force and the mission in general. It’s your call when to scrub the mission and when and if to extract.
“You’re all on your own out there. The US government will deny having sent you on this mission and you’ll be discharged before shipping out.”
“When has it been any different with this outfit?” Stalker asked shrugging.
”Never,” Hawk replied. “But it’s not for us to complain. We’re soldiers and we’re the best of the finest America has to offer. We get the job done and we make it look easy. Now get out there and make me proud.”
* * * * * *
Lady Jaye walked from one side of the hotel room to the other with a heavy book balanced on her head, a green facial plastered over her face and long fingernails painted bright red on her fingertips.
“I’d trade all this for a submachine gun, camouflage face paint and calloused hands in a heartbeat,” she said as she walked back and forth in a bathrobe and a pair of black high heels.
Cover Girl smiled as she corrected Lady Jaye’s posture. They had been in a Moscow hotel for three days now and every second was being spent on preparing Lady Jaye to become a supermodel.
“You’re body is very athletic,” Cover Girl mentioned watching her sinewy legs and shapely arms, “but there are models of the athletic type. And what we lack in looks we will make up with attitude.”
“Why’d you give up all of this?” Lady Jaye asked as she continued to stride from side to side. “You seem to miss it.”
“Too superficial,” she replied following behind Lady Jaye. “It’s a tough business and you’re always on your own. In the Army you are always part of something and you’re always out there supporting other teammates and getting supported.”
She tickled Lady Jaye on the side gently from behind and Lady Jaye jerked to one side and yelped sharply as the book tumbled to the ground.
“Hey!” Lady Jaye protested as she bent over to pick up the book. “What was that for?”
“You must stay focused and never act awkwardly. No matter what.”
“But I’m ticklish,” Lady Jaye rebuked.
“It doesn’t matter,” Cover Girl said taking the book from Lady Jaye’s hands and placing it on her head. “Take your best shot.”
Cover Girl took several balanced steps and Lady Jaye tickled her from behind. Cover Girl was noticeably ticklish on her sides. Probably more than Lady Jaye, but instead of dropping the book, she laughed and swung away gracefully evading the tickling fingers and maintaining the book on her head.
“See?” she said. “It’s just a matter of going with the flow. The worst you can do is look awkward. The best models take the worst of situations and bend them to their advantage. That shows confidence. In this business it is not she who looks the best who makes it, but rather she who believes she looks the best and convinces those around her that she is absolutely right.”
A knock on the door interrupted their session.
“Can I come in?” Chuckles called.
“Come on in,” Lady Jaye said.
Chuckled entered and saw Lady Jaye with the facemask. “Scary,” he remarked with a smile. He wasn’t wearing his typical Hawaiian shirt. He was dressed casually in some dark trousers with a brown sweater.
“I’ve got your super spy goodies here,” he said emptying a satchel onto a table in the hotel room. It all appeared to be make-up material.
“Powder case,” he said holding the small pink object to see. “Mirror doubles for camera and screen with a hidden microphone and speakers. It can also be used to act as a microphone. The jammer used in Sharif’s complex will probably cancel its effectiveness, but there are probably areas in the complex that are not jammed. This is your lifeline to us and your extraction. The powder itself is harmless. Press a hidden button in the pad and it will secrete a catalyst that with the powder can act as chloroform.
“Nail polish,” he said holding up a vial of a deep red polish. “There is polish inside with a retractable brush. It has a false bottom and the mechanism has a 9mm bullet inside. Press the bottom with the right pressure and you have a single silenced shot. A little messy and hardly the kind of firepower you’d like, but getting a weapon past airports and Sharif’s security is difficult.
“Toothpaste,” he said holding up a tube. “The front will issue toothpaste. Cut the back open and you have 3 ounces of C-4 plastic explosives. Harmless unless you plug in these two earrings.” He held up the pair of simple earrings so they could see. “You’ve got 2 minutes after you set it.
“Dental floss,” he said holding up the small package. “Strong as steel cable. It will hold 300 pounds of weight no problem.
“Bobby pins double as lock picks,” he said continuing. “Lip stick as a small concussion grenade, one stiletto heel that has a retractable blade and another with a homing device, the classic ring with secret compartment for drugging bad guy’s drinks and another classic: x-ray sunglasses.”
“I’m impressed,” Lady Jaye said rummaging through the spy toys.
“Well it’s the best there is out there,” he replied. “So at least you go into the lion’s den well equipped. Well, better get dressed and packed. Stalker will be here in an hour and he wants to see his little princess ready to go.”
* * * * *
“I don’t like it,” the tall bald man said in Russian. “Too risky.”
“You worry too much,” the young blond girl replied in English with a thick Russian accent.
The pair was just leaving a hotel in Moscow and was about to hail a taxi.
“This is a mission better left for KBG types,” the older man muttered back in Russian. “You’re not in your element.”
“And what would that be?” the woman asked in Russian laughing.
“Rough terrain, a sniper rifle in your hand, an enemy who lies unsuspecting,” he said evenly and coolly.
The woman laughed again playfully. “Don’t you know that it’s every girl’s dream to be a model and dress to act the part of the princess? Even if this princess prefers gun powder to facial powder.”
“I’ll wait for you at Sharif’s complex, princess,” the man said with a smile as he opened the door for her. “I’ll storm the complex myself if I must, so make sure you don’t run into trouble.”
“I won’t,” she said planting a friendly kiss on the old man’s cheek as she stepped into the taxi and closed the door.
As the vehicle drove away, the older man lit a cigarette and thought he’d be more comfortable facing a whole squadron of enemies alone than doing this undercover work.
“The sacrifices we make for the Motherland…” he whispered as he exhaled through his nose.
* * * * * *
Lady Jaye’s cover name was Svetlana Ivanov.
When she arrived at the modeling agency, there were more than 50 applicants already waiting. Only six were to be selected, so she really had her work cut out for her.
Before even having their credentials and résumés and portfolios checked, they were all ushered in and sent one by one for a medical exam. They all changed into a hospital robes and were ushered one by one into a doctor’s office.
The doctor took the height, weight, temperature and blood pressure of each applicant.
He was a young handsome doctor and smiled as he asked Lady Jaye to open wide so he might continue his examination. He had her sit on a medical table and he checked her heartbeat with a stethoscope.
”You seem like a healthy young lady,” the doctor said writing down information onto a chart. He pulled free a small tendon hammer and gently hit Lady Jaye’s knee watching with approval as her reflex made the leg jump and send the slipper off to the floor.
“Whoops! Sorry,” Lady Jaye apologized in perfect Russian. The doctor laughed and picked up the slipper.
”Perfectly normal reflex,” he said as he approached to place the slipper back on Lady Jaye’s foot. He gently stroked the sole of Lady Jaye’s bare foot and she gasped in surprise and jumped nervously where she was sitting.
”Plantar reflex,” he explained playfully with a smile. “But I detect more than just a normal reflex. Are you very ticklish?”
“Terribly, I’m afraid,” Lady Jaye replied blushing slightly. “All over. I hope that isn’t an impediment for the job.”
The doctor laughed. “Not at all,” he replied as he wrote down some notes and stamped her file with a huge red “APPROVED” notice.
* * * * *
By the time the medical exam was over only twenty candidates were still competing. Lady Jaye wondered what the decisive factor was which they were using to reject those applicants they found less fit.
They were handed jumpsuits and tennis shoes and they were sent to and aerobics instructor who pushed the through two full hours of heavy aerobics. Most of the girls were exhausted after the grueling test. Those who could not last the entire class were quietly escorted out. Lady Jaye barely broke a sweat although she tried to act a little tired so they wouldn’t wonder why she had the constitution of someone who been to boot camp.
It was a very strange selection process. Nothing like what Cover Girl had prepared her for. No photo shoots, no interviews and no bathing suits. The twenty candidates had been reduced to only ten.
The final selection was made by the owner of the modeling agency, Madame Monique.
She was a middle aged woman. She had raven black hair pulled back in a bun and her perfect white skin on her perfectly chiseled face spoke of a beauty that must have been stunning in her youth. She was obviously a former model and she had an air that spoke of a prestigious past.
“You’ve been chosen to form part of a select group of models who are to be sent to the Middle East to entertain Colonel Sharif,” she explained in Russian with a faint French accent. “You are not prostitutes or bimbos. This is serious work which is probably better paid than anything most of you can expect for the rest of your careers.”
She took a puff of smoke from her cigarette.
“Our client likes pretty Russian girls,” she continued eying the young women from head to toe. “He enjoys watching them perform traditional Middle East dances and has his other odd preferences as well. That does not mean that you engage in any kind of behavior unfit for a lady. We are not a sleazy brothel and I will not tolerate any conduct that suggests so. You will be under my strict supervision and you will be in constant training and preparation. There will be no contact with the outside world for three months. You will also sign a confidentiality agreement.”
She held up a heavy contract of perhaps twenty pages. “If you violate this agreement in any way, trust me, a lawyer will the last person that will contact you on violations to the contract. This is serious business and those who do not adhere to the rules tend to disappear under mysterious circumstances.
“Those of you who wish to pull out at this moment may do so.”
Three girls took a step back and Madame Monique indicated that they might leave.
“Better like this,” Madame Monique said taking another puff of her cigarette. “Still, there is one too many of you here, unfortunately. I only need six girls. You are all beautiful girls with impressive portfolios. We’ll have to make a competition to decide.”
Madame Monique led them to the aerobics room where there was a pull up bar.
“Grab on to the bar, all of you,” she ordered. The seven young woman jumped and grasped the bar suspending their bodies in the air.
Madame Monique stood in front of the first woman who was next to Lady Jaye. She was a young blonde woman who was also somewhat athletic. She stared out into space in deep concentration.
“Alina Petrov,” Madame Monique said as she slipped a hand under her sweat shirt while she took another puff of her cigarette. “Are you ticklish?”
“Nyet!” Alina replied coolly despite becoming noticeably more nervous.
“Liar,” Madame Monique replied. Alina turned beet red and screamed out in laughter as Madame Monique gently kneaded her belly with her fingernails. She moved slowly towards her ribs and the girl could no longer resist. She tumbled to the ground.
“Svetlana Ivanov,” Madame Monique said as she moved over to Lady Jaye. She slipped her hand under her sweat shirt. Lady Jaye could feel the cold fingers and she fought to keep her composure.
“Are you ticklish, Svetlana?” she asked.
”Da,” Lady Jaye replied in Russian. “But I can resist.”
“Another liar,” Madame Monique said. She went straight for Lady Jaye’s ribs and gave her a swift tickle there. Lady Jaye tried to follow Cover Girl’s advice, but there was no way she could remain graceful under such an assault. She flung from side to side and laughed in terror as the tickling seemed to grow in intensity as she progressed. Wanting apparently to finish quickly, Madame Monique placed the cigarette in her mouth and used a pair of hands on her ribs.
Lady Jaye exploded in laughter and swung from side to side like a maniac. She laughed so hard she didn’t know exactly when or how she had released the bar.
Madame Monique went to the other girls. They put up a little more resistance than Lady Jaye and she was very disappointed. The tickling attacks also seemed to be more half hearted but it was hard to say when being on the receiving end seemed much more intense. The last girl holding on to the bar was somehow able to endure the onslaught much to Lady Jaye’s dismay.
“Very well,” Madame Monique said as the last girl dropped from the bar with a big smile. Lady Jaye felt that she herself was the one who had released quickest. It was going to be really embarrassing if she spoiled the mission because she was ticklish.
Madame Monique lit another cigarette and pointed to the girl who had endured the tickling successfully. “You. The one who is not ticklish. Go.”
The girl was surprised and was about to protest when two large men escorted her to the exit.
”Very well, girls, here tomorrow 6AM,” Madame Monique said. “One carry on suitcase for personal items, your passport and your ticklish selves. You need nothing more.”
Lady Jaye smiled and cheered with the girls next to her.
As they prepared to leave, she took out her powder case and as she took some pictures with the secret camera while she powdered her nose and looked at herself in the mirror.
Satisfied, she whispered into the communicator: “We’re in, Joes.”
* * * * *
“They’re in,” Hawk said receiving communication from Stalker. “Excellent. Proceed to safe houses under the covers we’ve prepared. Scarlett will coordinate the rest of the op from the Pit.”
”Are you sure you want me to jump in to all of this so soon after the fiasco of the last mission?” Scarlett asked.
“I trust you completely,” Hawk said handing the entire file over to Scarlett. “Get those safe houses and weapon stashes moving with our contacts in the Emirate. I want this op up and running ASAP!”
“Understood, Hawk,” she said as she picked up the dossier on the mission.
* * * * *
Later that day, Scarlett was walking back to the barracks when she got a phone call on her cell phone.
“Hello,” she said as she answered.
“Yes, I’m looking for Bill Broca,” said the person on the other end.
At the word ‘Broca’ Scarlett froze.
“You have the wrong number,” she replied and hung up.
She immediately left the Pit and drove into town to a nearby mall. It was strange that she would leave base, but her rank got her past the guards.
She walked into a clothing shop, picked out a dress and strode to a dressing booth to try it on.
Ten minutes later, she left the store without a purchase and decided to return to base.
* * * * *
Lady Jaye arrived at Sharif’s complex the next day. They were escorted to the facility in a dark van with no windows. Once inside the complex they were ordered to immediately get a good night’s sleep.
The next day started at 5AM and the program read like it was right out of boot camp. They ran 10 miles on an indoor track followed by swimming and then an hour of aerobics.
Most of the girls could barely eat their breakfast after the torturous session.
Lady Jaye still held out better than the rest and she really had to pace herself so she didn’t appear too competent. Still, there was no way to avoid coming in first place always. Alina, the blonde girl who was tickled next to Lady Jaye on the pull up bar, always finished in a close second.
The following days were used for practicing belly dancing in traditional costumes. This was a bit awkward, but she quickly got the hang of it and after a couple days she was even enjoying it.
One day, while watching a other girl audition, Alina approached and sat next to her. Lady Jaye avoided contact with most of the girls. She tried to be friendly, but also detached.
“Your Russian accent is not that of a native,” Alina said quietly. “You also have too much stamina to be a model. What are you? CIA? MOSSAD? GI JOE?”
Lady Jaye grimaced. “What is wrong with how I speak?” she asked in what she thought was perfect Russian.
“Russian is not my native language either,” Alina confessed. “I am originally from Czechoslovakia. I notice those small details.”
“KGB?” Lady Jaye asked in a whisper.
“I asked you first,” Alina said smiling.
“GI JOE,” Lady Jaye whispered. “Lady Jaye.”
“Daina,” the blond woman replied. “October Guard.”
“What does your government want here?” Lady Jaye asked.
“Svetlana!” Madame Monique shouted. “Come here this instant!”
Lady Jaye stood up and approached the infuriated taskmaster/model manager.
“Girls,” Madame Monique said calling all the girls around her. “Even though Svetlana has excelled in her performance, it does not mean I will tolerate anything short of perfect discipline. Svetlana will help me demonstrate the final part of our program and she will experience the correct and the incorrect manner in which to perform.”
Lady Jaye was confused and watched dumbstruck as a divan with restraining cuffs at the head and foot was presented by two very tall deaf and mute eunuchs.
Lady Jaye instinctively took a step back.
“Lay down on the divan,” Madame Monique commanded.
The two eunuchs stood behind her suggesting that escape was not an option.
Lady Jaye wondered if her cover was blown and if this was just part of a trick to get her quietly without a struggle.
She decided she had no choice in the matter and lay down on the divan. The eunuchs quickly fastened her to the cuffs of the divan. She felt helpless and prayed that her cover was still intact.
“Colonel Sharif has a passion for the laughter of beautiful young woman,” Madame Monique explained as she watched the women’s eyes grow wide in surprise.
“Don’t look at me like that,” Madame Monique said. “I’ve been in this business for thirty years. This is a tame passion compared to others I have seen or you will see during your careers.
“You have been selected based on your beauty, but also based on your stamina and ticklishness,” she explained. “Colonel Sharif pays for a certain type of laughter. A genuine, hearty laughter. No faking can simulate it.”
Madame Monique dug her fingers into Lady Jaye’s bare midriff and she instantly exploded into laughter. She struggled and tried to resist, but the tickling was too intense. She pulled on the restraints but they were heavy and solid. She gasped for breath and began to scream and pant heavily.
”This is the way to make someone wet their pants,” Madame Monique explained disgusted. “She screams and pulls violently on her restraints. How long can a girl endure such punishment?”
”Not long,” Lady Jaye replied as she continued to pant for breath.
“I’m still mad at you,” Madame Monique remarked as she dug her fingernails into Lady Jaye’s underarms.
Lady Jaye began to laugh again, but this time the tickling was gentler, more timed. Madame Monique skillfully played her like a musical instrument as she studied every reaction and skillfully tuned her like one would tune a fine instrument.
Lady Jaye pulled less desperately on the restraints, and even though she continued to laugh quite involuntarily, she believed she could probably endure the tickling for some time.
Her slippers were removed and Madame Monique took to her pretty bare feet. The first few moments, she shouted as the soles were touched and pulled at the restraints, but the woman’s fingers soon found the right combination of stroking her arches and scratching her toes that sent her into a steady, sustainable laughter.
After ten minutes, Madame Monique finished her assault and turned to the five girls who were watching.
“Do you see?” she asked the girls who watched in amazement. “It is just a matter of understanding the tickle physiology of your ticklee.”
Lady Jaye was hoping that this was the end of the course, but Madame Monique did not move to release her.
“Svetlana has volunteered to be our ticklee for the rest of the day,” she said. “I realize that at the beginning you will not get the exact desired effect, but of all of you Svetlana has the greatest endurance. I’m certain she will endure the rest of the class.
“Alina,” she called for Daina. “You will start. If you do not do a good job, we will have two volunteers.”
Daina approached Lady Jaye and seemed visibly uncomfortable.
She looked at Lady Jaye and silently made out the words: “I’m sorry.”
She then took to tickling Lady Jaye’s belly with her sharp nails scratching gently but causing powerful ticklish spasms that Lady Jaye could not resist.
She exploded into laughter.
* * * * *
“Colonel Sharif,” said Cobra Commander to Destro in the war room as they received the intelligence sent by their spy. “He is a valuable ally. We cannot allow them to destabilize a country we fought so hard to destabilize in the first place. Who do we have in that emirate right now?”
”Zartan and his Dreadnoks,” Destro replied. “Probably Zarana and Zandar as well. Those siblings are never far from each other. They are training and funding death squads to eliminate opposition so Sharif doesn’t have to get his hands dirty. We want him to buy legitimate arms from Cobra, but he needs to get his country under control first. The GI JOE team will try to incriminate the colonel before the international community with some kind of evidence they expect to find.”
“Alert Zartan,” Cobra Commander replied. “Give him the details of the mission. The Dreadnoks are skilled at throwing monkey wrenches into carefully laid out plans. I’m sure they can throw one into the Joes’ plans.”
* * * * *
By the end of the class, Lady Jaye was being gang tickled. Each bare foot was being tickled by a model, while another took care to her torso and another to her underarms. The last model was Daina who was assigned to tickle her ears and neck. Lady Jaye and the rest of the models discovered that this was her most vulnerable spot and only a small amount of stimulation was required.
This was discovered after a long period of trial and error and Lady Jaye had become a screaming banshee as consequence. They had really worn her down. No amount of running or swimming could compare.
The class ended after four hours and her body was drenched in sweat and her hair was a mess. She was released, but she could not move. She was simply too tired.
“Alina, let her rest then take her to her room,” Madame Monique commanded. “The rest of you, to sleep. Tomorrow you will all feel Svelana’s vengeance, so be rested.”
They all left the room and Daina was left alone with her American counterpart.
“Now we have a chance,” Daina whispered. “We can snoop a little around the complex.”
Her words fell on deaf ears. Lady Jaye was snoring gently.
“Well, I’m glad it was you who was tickled and not me,” Daina confessed as she lifted Lady Jaye from the divan and carried her exhausted body over her shoulder.
“I think I will drop you off at your room and then I will do a little snooping.”
* * * * *
“It’s been almost a week and no contact,” Chuckles said from a hotel room of the Sahara Palace were members of the international press usually stayed in the Emirate. The hotel was walking distance from Sharif’s complex.
“Hold tight,” Stalker said flipping through a magazine. “She’ll come through.”
”I just wish we knew if she was okay,” Cover Girl said looking out the window of the seventh story of the Sahara Palace at the complex.
They had arrived under the cover of international reporters. They dressed the part and had the equipment to support it such as computers, recorders and cameras. Beside that they were fully stocked with 9mm submachine guns and grenades.
In five minutes they needed to be ready to make an extraction.
The problem was extraction could be requested at any moment. So as the hours went by the enemy was not Cobra, but rather boredom.
“Lady Jaye is the best we’ve got,” Stalker said harshly. “She’ll contact us when she can. So get ready for a long haul you two, because I have no intention of scrubbing this mission until we get Lady Jaye out of there.”
“I know, Stalker,” Cover Girl replied stretching. “I want to take a walk, stretch my legs.”
“Five minutes,” Stalker said. “Don’t leave the floor, don’t talk to anyone. Then you hustle back. Remember, we’ve got five minutes to move when the call comes.”
“Got it,” Cover Girl replied.
She stepped out of the hotel room and while the hallway was hardly fresh air, she was just glad to get out of the room where they had been cooped up for so long. She walked down the corridor and saw a woman in a black burqua walking towards her.
Cover Girl tried not to stare, but she felt uncomfortable watching a woman who was forced by her culture and beliefs to wear clothes that covered every aspect of her femininity. It was harder still for her to understand since she had once been a model and her body was always a permanent form of expression. To be denied that form of expression must be horrible, she thought.
“Good afternoon,” she said politely with a smile as they passed each other.
“Good afternoon,” was the reply.
Funny, she thought, that as an Australian or British accent. She turned to look back at the woman when a chloroform soaked cloth was shoved into her face. She tried to struggle but after the first breath her arms and legs just wouldn’t respond correctly.
She could see that it was the very woman in the black burqua who had passed her just a moment ago.
”That’s right,” the woman said with her decidedly Australian accent, “Take a deep breath. That’s a good girl…”
As Cover Girl faded to unconsciousness, she felt strong arms slip under arms and legs and lift her into the air.
“Just a sec, boys,” she heard the woman say faintly as she held the cloth firmly over her nose and mouth. “She’s almost out.”
All went black.
* * * * * *
“Har! These Joes won’t know wot hit ‘em,” Ripper said as he and the other Dreadnoks watched Zarana make her transformation in another room of the Sahara Palace.
Zarana quickly dressed in Cover Girl’s clothes and she put on the wig she had prepared and carefully worked on the makeup necessary to literally become Cover Girl.
It took her all of ten minutes.
“Zartan would do it in ten seconds,” she muttered to herself. “Still ten minutes ain’t so shabby.”
“Wot do we do with Miss GI JOE, here?” Torch asked looking down on the unconscious Joe they had deposited in a laundry cart. Ripper, Torch and Buzzer wore robes over their usual clothes and covered their faces with a traditional shemagh. At a distance they had an Arabic air to them.
“Get her out of here in the laundry bin,” she said in Cover Girl’s voice as she tossed the black burqua over the unconscious Joe. “Cover her with sheets and take her down the service elevator. Get her to the safe house and keep an eye on her. Make sure she doesn’t slip through your fingers.”
“We’ll open a six of grape soda and wait fer your orders,” Buzzer said as they wheeled the bin towards the exit. “We might even save a can for you.”
“Don’t bother,” she said with a smile. “If all goes well, I’ll be sipping Yo Jo Cola with those Joes while I decide when to send them both home in body bags!”
To be continued…
---------------------------------
GI JOE Tickling Story Part Four "A Ticklish Agenda"
Hawk and Psyche-Out listened to Scarlett’s debriefing in a private room. They had already debriefed the rest of the members of the mission and only Scarlett was missing.
“I was being tickle tortured by the Baroness when Jinx took her by surprise,” Scarlett explained near the end of the debriefing. She was a little embarrassed by the tickling part. “A Cobra took Jinx by surprise and I used that opportunity to get free and knock out both the Cobra trooper and the Baroness. I took the Baroness’s weapon and shot my way out with Jinx over my shoulder. That’s when I met with Snake-eyes and the rest of the team.”
“What was the purpose of the tickle torture?” Hawk asked.
“Interrogation,” Scarlett replied. “But they didn’t get spit from me. Codename and serial number only.”
“I’m glad they didn’t,” Hawk said. “Psyche-out, what is the doctor’s prognosis?”
“I’d like to have a couple private sessions each week,” he said “to try to help you cope with some of the trauma related with enemy captivity and torture.”
“Certainly,” Scarlett replied.
“Then I think we are finished here,” Hawk said. “You’re dismissed.”
“Thank you, Hawk,” Scarlett said with a salute as she exited.
Alone in the room, Hawk was the first to break the silence.
“I don’t like this,” he said shaking his head. “Cobra’s mission was to intentionally capture Joes. They could have taken them to Cobra Island and we’d have assault the whole damned island to rescue them. The raid on Sierra Gordo was just too clean. It doesn’t make sense.”
“Scarlett is clean as far a traditional brainwashing goes,” Psyche-Out said. “But there are parts of her story that don’t wash. I’ve secretly monitored all the members of the strike team with an experimental polygraph ray. They all passed with flying colors except for Scarlett. The capture and the torture part pretty much check, but she is lying about the escape part.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?” Hawk asked.
“Because it is not a traditional polygraph,” he replied. “The readings say that she is lying, but that she is convinced she is telling the truth.”
“Doesn’t that amount to brainwashing?” Hawk asked.
“Yes,” Psyche-out replied, “but she doesn’t show any of the symptoms of a typical brainwash. So it’s all very unclear. I think you should maybe keep her on the sideline for a while until I’m sure of what happened to her.”
There was a knock on the door.
”Come in,” Hawk said.
“Hawk, it’s me, Jinx,” the ninja said as she stepped in.
“What can we do for you?” the general asked.
“It’s about Scarlett, sir,” she said. “I think something happened on Sierra Gordo that changed her.”
“How do you know this?” Hawk asked while giving Psyche-Out a meaningful glance.
“I have what my ninja clan calls ‘The Eye that Pierces’,” she explained. “I guess you could call it a sixth sense or just a rather accurate hunch. I can see that there is some manner of deception in Scarlett.”
“That reinforces my theory, Hawk,” Psyche-Out said. “I think you should even quarantine her for security purposes.”
Hawk thought for a moment.
“That’s what Cobra would expect,” Hawk said placing both hands on the table. “In war, battles are not won by doing what is expected.”
* * * * *
The Baroness was in her quarters on Cobra Island sipping a glass of wine and watching a sunset from the balcony while she recovered from her last successful, but certainly trying mission. The last details were so foggy that she might have imagined that the tickling was a dream if it had not been for her exhausted muscles that spoke clearly of intense tickle torture.
The last time she had felt like this was after an initiation ceremony at her college in Switzerland. She had been tied down barefoot in her pajamas to a bed, ball gagged and tickled for hours on end. Until that day she had not realized she could be so ticklish. The girls of the sorority discovered she was more ticklish than she could have ever imagined. The ball gag prevented her from laughing, so all she could release were terrified muffled screams. Her ticklish body was extensively explored by every member of the sorority using fingernails, feathers, toothbrushes, ice and number of other tools. She passed out on several occasions, especially with underarm tickling, but was quickly revived for bout after bout of gang tickling that drove her senses wild.
She had been accepted to the sorority and she spent almost a month recovering from the ordeal. When new members were initiated, the Baroness insisted in being the one to conduct the ceremony. She enjoyed and savored every moment of it.
The tickling she had endured at the hands of the ninja was terrible but in a secret hidden part of her being, she enjoyed being helpless and being tortured. It was a fantasy she had been denied for a very long time.
Jinx would suffer her revenge, the Baroness though as she sipped her glass of wine. With Scarlett providing intelligence she would just wait until another mission exposed the ninja to recapture her and make sure that this time there was no feigning death.
Destro walked out behind her interrupting her thoughts for a moment.
“Beautiful,” he said referring to the sun set, but she knew that he also referred to her.
“Very much so,” the Baroness replied. Her thoughts however were elsewhere.
“Destro,” she said suddenly. “If I asked you for anything, anything at all, would you give it to me without a thought?”
“In a second, my dear,” he replied sincerely through the expressionless face mask.
“Sweep me off my feet,” she begged. “Take me away and make me your prisoner. Tickle me until the sun rises. Let me beg you for mercy and then deny me any respite.”
Destro pulled off his mask and placed it on table so she could see his face that he rarely showed. He smiled. It was a smile of love and caring.
”I do not share your passion for tickling,” he said as he drew near and lifted her off her feet with ease. “But we of the Destro family know how to care for our loves. This I promise you, my dear: before the sun rises, I will have tickled you like you have never been tickled before.”
The Baroness smiled back and hugged her love as he led her back to the bedroom.
* * * * *
“Colonel Sharif,” Hawk said as an image of the Middle East dictator appeared on the screen in a briefing room deep in the Pit. “He’s recently regained the upper hand in the civil war to control the Emirate. This is of course is in no small part due to Cobra’s weapons aid and financing.
“He has categorically denied such participation with terrorist groups of any kind and has dared anyone to prove that such direct links exist despite the fact that death squads roam his country freely with weapons and equipment financed by Cobra.
“We’ve butt heads with Sharif and his Guardians of Paradise before and in the past we have succeeded in finding evidence that does compromise the Colonel. However, since that incident, Sharif has taken to having his meetings in a sealed complex with electronic jammers operating around the clock to eliminate any possibility of electronic surveillance. His servants in the palace are all deaf and mute as an extra precaution. So effectively there is almost no way to get a mole in or plant a bug.
“There is a weak point. Sharif likes young and beautiful Caucasian dancers. He has a fancy for Eastern European women and hires them through a modeling agency he contracts through Moscow. He keeps them around for entertainment making sure they don’t speak Arabic or English so they can’t overhear his conversations and then rotates them out with a nice hefty paycheck for their troubles. The CIA has inserted agents from time to time, but they invariably disappear and do not emerge from the complex. The girls that do return from the three month tenure never say anything of any use and are evasive at best. The fact he continues to use the same agency despite that the CIA has inserted agents says he is pretty confident in his ability to weed out spies.
“We need intelligence and we need it now. We are inserting our own agent to gather information that can prove that there is a real cooperation between Sharif and the Cobra sponsored death squads. No excuses. Pinning Sharif to Cobra can raise the international pressure on Sharif and even force him out of power and reinstate the Emir.
“Lady Jaye,” Hawk called as he turned to her. “You’re fluent in Russian, proficient in Arabic. I’m sending you undercover to be selected and get into that complex and dig up dirt on Sharif. It won’t be easy, but I’ve chosen the best for this mission.
“Cover Girl,” he continued to the left. “In your civilian life you once lived in the world of glamour and modeling. I need you to get Lady Jaye in a zone so she shocks, awes and gets a first class ticket from Moscow to the Emirate. After that you’ll be part of the extraction force as support.
“Chuckles,” he said turning to the next soldier who sat in his chair with his loud Hawaiian shirt. “You are a deep cover expert. You’ll support Lady Jaye for infiltration and the join Cover Girl for managing extraction.
“Stalker,” he said turning to the last person in the room. “You speak Arabic; you also know Sharif and the Emirate intimately. You’ll be in charge of the extraction force and the mission in general. It’s your call when to scrub the mission and when and if to extract.
“You’re all on your own out there. The US government will deny having sent you on this mission and you’ll be discharged before shipping out.”
“When has it been any different with this outfit?” Stalker asked shrugging.
”Never,” Hawk replied. “But it’s not for us to complain. We’re soldiers and we’re the best of the finest America has to offer. We get the job done and we make it look easy. Now get out there and make me proud.”
* * * * * *
Lady Jaye walked from one side of the hotel room to the other with a heavy book balanced on her head, a green facial plastered over her face and long fingernails painted bright red on her fingertips.
“I’d trade all this for a submachine gun, camouflage face paint and calloused hands in a heartbeat,” she said as she walked back and forth in a bathrobe and a pair of black high heels.
Cover Girl smiled as she corrected Lady Jaye’s posture. They had been in a Moscow hotel for three days now and every second was being spent on preparing Lady Jaye to become a supermodel.
“You’re body is very athletic,” Cover Girl mentioned watching her sinewy legs and shapely arms, “but there are models of the athletic type. And what we lack in looks we will make up with attitude.”
“Why’d you give up all of this?” Lady Jaye asked as she continued to stride from side to side. “You seem to miss it.”
“Too superficial,” she replied following behind Lady Jaye. “It’s a tough business and you’re always on your own. In the Army you are always part of something and you’re always out there supporting other teammates and getting supported.”
She tickled Lady Jaye on the side gently from behind and Lady Jaye jerked to one side and yelped sharply as the book tumbled to the ground.
“Hey!” Lady Jaye protested as she bent over to pick up the book. “What was that for?”
“You must stay focused and never act awkwardly. No matter what.”
“But I’m ticklish,” Lady Jaye rebuked.
“It doesn’t matter,” Cover Girl said taking the book from Lady Jaye’s hands and placing it on her head. “Take your best shot.”
Cover Girl took several balanced steps and Lady Jaye tickled her from behind. Cover Girl was noticeably ticklish on her sides. Probably more than Lady Jaye, but instead of dropping the book, she laughed and swung away gracefully evading the tickling fingers and maintaining the book on her head.
“See?” she said. “It’s just a matter of going with the flow. The worst you can do is look awkward. The best models take the worst of situations and bend them to their advantage. That shows confidence. In this business it is not she who looks the best who makes it, but rather she who believes she looks the best and convinces those around her that she is absolutely right.”
A knock on the door interrupted their session.
“Can I come in?” Chuckles called.
“Come on in,” Lady Jaye said.
Chuckled entered and saw Lady Jaye with the facemask. “Scary,” he remarked with a smile. He wasn’t wearing his typical Hawaiian shirt. He was dressed casually in some dark trousers with a brown sweater.
“I’ve got your super spy goodies here,” he said emptying a satchel onto a table in the hotel room. It all appeared to be make-up material.
“Powder case,” he said holding the small pink object to see. “Mirror doubles for camera and screen with a hidden microphone and speakers. It can also be used to act as a microphone. The jammer used in Sharif’s complex will probably cancel its effectiveness, but there are probably areas in the complex that are not jammed. This is your lifeline to us and your extraction. The powder itself is harmless. Press a hidden button in the pad and it will secrete a catalyst that with the powder can act as chloroform.
“Nail polish,” he said holding up a vial of a deep red polish. “There is polish inside with a retractable brush. It has a false bottom and the mechanism has a 9mm bullet inside. Press the bottom with the right pressure and you have a single silenced shot. A little messy and hardly the kind of firepower you’d like, but getting a weapon past airports and Sharif’s security is difficult.
“Toothpaste,” he said holding up a tube. “The front will issue toothpaste. Cut the back open and you have 3 ounces of C-4 plastic explosives. Harmless unless you plug in these two earrings.” He held up the pair of simple earrings so they could see. “You’ve got 2 minutes after you set it.
“Dental floss,” he said holding up the small package. “Strong as steel cable. It will hold 300 pounds of weight no problem.
“Bobby pins double as lock picks,” he said continuing. “Lip stick as a small concussion grenade, one stiletto heel that has a retractable blade and another with a homing device, the classic ring with secret compartment for drugging bad guy’s drinks and another classic: x-ray sunglasses.”
“I’m impressed,” Lady Jaye said rummaging through the spy toys.
“Well it’s the best there is out there,” he replied. “So at least you go into the lion’s den well equipped. Well, better get dressed and packed. Stalker will be here in an hour and he wants to see his little princess ready to go.”
* * * * *
“I don’t like it,” the tall bald man said in Russian. “Too risky.”
“You worry too much,” the young blond girl replied in English with a thick Russian accent.
The pair was just leaving a hotel in Moscow and was about to hail a taxi.
“This is a mission better left for KBG types,” the older man muttered back in Russian. “You’re not in your element.”
“And what would that be?” the woman asked in Russian laughing.
“Rough terrain, a sniper rifle in your hand, an enemy who lies unsuspecting,” he said evenly and coolly.
The woman laughed again playfully. “Don’t you know that it’s every girl’s dream to be a model and dress to act the part of the princess? Even if this princess prefers gun powder to facial powder.”
“I’ll wait for you at Sharif’s complex, princess,” the man said with a smile as he opened the door for her. “I’ll storm the complex myself if I must, so make sure you don’t run into trouble.”
“I won’t,” she said planting a friendly kiss on the old man’s cheek as she stepped into the taxi and closed the door.
As the vehicle drove away, the older man lit a cigarette and thought he’d be more comfortable facing a whole squadron of enemies alone than doing this undercover work.
“The sacrifices we make for the Motherland…” he whispered as he exhaled through his nose.
* * * * * *
Lady Jaye’s cover name was Svetlana Ivanov.
When she arrived at the modeling agency, there were more than 50 applicants already waiting. Only six were to be selected, so she really had her work cut out for her.
Before even having their credentials and résumés and portfolios checked, they were all ushered in and sent one by one for a medical exam. They all changed into a hospital robes and were ushered one by one into a doctor’s office.
The doctor took the height, weight, temperature and blood pressure of each applicant.
He was a young handsome doctor and smiled as he asked Lady Jaye to open wide so he might continue his examination. He had her sit on a medical table and he checked her heartbeat with a stethoscope.
”You seem like a healthy young lady,” the doctor said writing down information onto a chart. He pulled free a small tendon hammer and gently hit Lady Jaye’s knee watching with approval as her reflex made the leg jump and send the slipper off to the floor.
“Whoops! Sorry,” Lady Jaye apologized in perfect Russian. The doctor laughed and picked up the slipper.
”Perfectly normal reflex,” he said as he approached to place the slipper back on Lady Jaye’s foot. He gently stroked the sole of Lady Jaye’s bare foot and she gasped in surprise and jumped nervously where she was sitting.
”Plantar reflex,” he explained playfully with a smile. “But I detect more than just a normal reflex. Are you very ticklish?”
“Terribly, I’m afraid,” Lady Jaye replied blushing slightly. “All over. I hope that isn’t an impediment for the job.”
The doctor laughed. “Not at all,” he replied as he wrote down some notes and stamped her file with a huge red “APPROVED” notice.
* * * * *
By the time the medical exam was over only twenty candidates were still competing. Lady Jaye wondered what the decisive factor was which they were using to reject those applicants they found less fit.
They were handed jumpsuits and tennis shoes and they were sent to and aerobics instructor who pushed the through two full hours of heavy aerobics. Most of the girls were exhausted after the grueling test. Those who could not last the entire class were quietly escorted out. Lady Jaye barely broke a sweat although she tried to act a little tired so they wouldn’t wonder why she had the constitution of someone who been to boot camp.
It was a very strange selection process. Nothing like what Cover Girl had prepared her for. No photo shoots, no interviews and no bathing suits. The twenty candidates had been reduced to only ten.
The final selection was made by the owner of the modeling agency, Madame Monique.
She was a middle aged woman. She had raven black hair pulled back in a bun and her perfect white skin on her perfectly chiseled face spoke of a beauty that must have been stunning in her youth. She was obviously a former model and she had an air that spoke of a prestigious past.
“You’ve been chosen to form part of a select group of models who are to be sent to the Middle East to entertain Colonel Sharif,” she explained in Russian with a faint French accent. “You are not prostitutes or bimbos. This is serious work which is probably better paid than anything most of you can expect for the rest of your careers.”
She took a puff of smoke from her cigarette.
“Our client likes pretty Russian girls,” she continued eying the young women from head to toe. “He enjoys watching them perform traditional Middle East dances and has his other odd preferences as well. That does not mean that you engage in any kind of behavior unfit for a lady. We are not a sleazy brothel and I will not tolerate any conduct that suggests so. You will be under my strict supervision and you will be in constant training and preparation. There will be no contact with the outside world for three months. You will also sign a confidentiality agreement.”
She held up a heavy contract of perhaps twenty pages. “If you violate this agreement in any way, trust me, a lawyer will the last person that will contact you on violations to the contract. This is serious business and those who do not adhere to the rules tend to disappear under mysterious circumstances.
“Those of you who wish to pull out at this moment may do so.”
Three girls took a step back and Madame Monique indicated that they might leave.
“Better like this,” Madame Monique said taking another puff of her cigarette. “Still, there is one too many of you here, unfortunately. I only need six girls. You are all beautiful girls with impressive portfolios. We’ll have to make a competition to decide.”
Madame Monique led them to the aerobics room where there was a pull up bar.
“Grab on to the bar, all of you,” she ordered. The seven young woman jumped and grasped the bar suspending their bodies in the air.
Madame Monique stood in front of the first woman who was next to Lady Jaye. She was a young blonde woman who was also somewhat athletic. She stared out into space in deep concentration.
“Alina Petrov,” Madame Monique said as she slipped a hand under her sweat shirt while she took another puff of her cigarette. “Are you ticklish?”
“Nyet!” Alina replied coolly despite becoming noticeably more nervous.
“Liar,” Madame Monique replied. Alina turned beet red and screamed out in laughter as Madame Monique gently kneaded her belly with her fingernails. She moved slowly towards her ribs and the girl could no longer resist. She tumbled to the ground.
“Svetlana Ivanov,” Madame Monique said as she moved over to Lady Jaye. She slipped her hand under her sweat shirt. Lady Jaye could feel the cold fingers and she fought to keep her composure.
“Are you ticklish, Svetlana?” she asked.
”Da,” Lady Jaye replied in Russian. “But I can resist.”
“Another liar,” Madame Monique said. She went straight for Lady Jaye’s ribs and gave her a swift tickle there. Lady Jaye tried to follow Cover Girl’s advice, but there was no way she could remain graceful under such an assault. She flung from side to side and laughed in terror as the tickling seemed to grow in intensity as she progressed. Wanting apparently to finish quickly, Madame Monique placed the cigarette in her mouth and used a pair of hands on her ribs.
Lady Jaye exploded in laughter and swung from side to side like a maniac. She laughed so hard she didn’t know exactly when or how she had released the bar.
Madame Monique went to the other girls. They put up a little more resistance than Lady Jaye and she was very disappointed. The tickling attacks also seemed to be more half hearted but it was hard to say when being on the receiving end seemed much more intense. The last girl holding on to the bar was somehow able to endure the onslaught much to Lady Jaye’s dismay.
“Very well,” Madame Monique said as the last girl dropped from the bar with a big smile. Lady Jaye felt that she herself was the one who had released quickest. It was going to be really embarrassing if she spoiled the mission because she was ticklish.
Madame Monique lit another cigarette and pointed to the girl who had endured the tickling successfully. “You. The one who is not ticklish. Go.”
The girl was surprised and was about to protest when two large men escorted her to the exit.
”Very well, girls, here tomorrow 6AM,” Madame Monique said. “One carry on suitcase for personal items, your passport and your ticklish selves. You need nothing more.”
Lady Jaye smiled and cheered with the girls next to her.
As they prepared to leave, she took out her powder case and as she took some pictures with the secret camera while she powdered her nose and looked at herself in the mirror.
Satisfied, she whispered into the communicator: “We’re in, Joes.”
* * * * *
“They’re in,” Hawk said receiving communication from Stalker. “Excellent. Proceed to safe houses under the covers we’ve prepared. Scarlett will coordinate the rest of the op from the Pit.”
”Are you sure you want me to jump in to all of this so soon after the fiasco of the last mission?” Scarlett asked.
“I trust you completely,” Hawk said handing the entire file over to Scarlett. “Get those safe houses and weapon stashes moving with our contacts in the Emirate. I want this op up and running ASAP!”
“Understood, Hawk,” she said as she picked up the dossier on the mission.
* * * * *
Later that day, Scarlett was walking back to the barracks when she got a phone call on her cell phone.
“Hello,” she said as she answered.
“Yes, I’m looking for Bill Broca,” said the person on the other end.
At the word ‘Broca’ Scarlett froze.
“You have the wrong number,” she replied and hung up.
She immediately left the Pit and drove into town to a nearby mall. It was strange that she would leave base, but her rank got her past the guards.
She walked into a clothing shop, picked out a dress and strode to a dressing booth to try it on.
Ten minutes later, she left the store without a purchase and decided to return to base.
* * * * *
Lady Jaye arrived at Sharif’s complex the next day. They were escorted to the facility in a dark van with no windows. Once inside the complex they were ordered to immediately get a good night’s sleep.
The next day started at 5AM and the program read like it was right out of boot camp. They ran 10 miles on an indoor track followed by swimming and then an hour of aerobics.
Most of the girls could barely eat their breakfast after the torturous session.
Lady Jaye still held out better than the rest and she really had to pace herself so she didn’t appear too competent. Still, there was no way to avoid coming in first place always. Alina, the blonde girl who was tickled next to Lady Jaye on the pull up bar, always finished in a close second.
The following days were used for practicing belly dancing in traditional costumes. This was a bit awkward, but she quickly got the hang of it and after a couple days she was even enjoying it.
One day, while watching a other girl audition, Alina approached and sat next to her. Lady Jaye avoided contact with most of the girls. She tried to be friendly, but also detached.
“Your Russian accent is not that of a native,” Alina said quietly. “You also have too much stamina to be a model. What are you? CIA? MOSSAD? GI JOE?”
Lady Jaye grimaced. “What is wrong with how I speak?” she asked in what she thought was perfect Russian.
“Russian is not my native language either,” Alina confessed. “I am originally from Czechoslovakia. I notice those small details.”
“KGB?” Lady Jaye asked in a whisper.
“I asked you first,” Alina said smiling.
“GI JOE,” Lady Jaye whispered. “Lady Jaye.”
“Daina,” the blond woman replied. “October Guard.”
“What does your government want here?” Lady Jaye asked.
“Svetlana!” Madame Monique shouted. “Come here this instant!”
Lady Jaye stood up and approached the infuriated taskmaster/model manager.
“Girls,” Madame Monique said calling all the girls around her. “Even though Svetlana has excelled in her performance, it does not mean I will tolerate anything short of perfect discipline. Svetlana will help me demonstrate the final part of our program and she will experience the correct and the incorrect manner in which to perform.”
Lady Jaye was confused and watched dumbstruck as a divan with restraining cuffs at the head and foot was presented by two very tall deaf and mute eunuchs.
Lady Jaye instinctively took a step back.
“Lay down on the divan,” Madame Monique commanded.
The two eunuchs stood behind her suggesting that escape was not an option.
Lady Jaye wondered if her cover was blown and if this was just part of a trick to get her quietly without a struggle.
She decided she had no choice in the matter and lay down on the divan. The eunuchs quickly fastened her to the cuffs of the divan. She felt helpless and prayed that her cover was still intact.
“Colonel Sharif has a passion for the laughter of beautiful young woman,” Madame Monique explained as she watched the women’s eyes grow wide in surprise.
“Don’t look at me like that,” Madame Monique said. “I’ve been in this business for thirty years. This is a tame passion compared to others I have seen or you will see during your careers.
“You have been selected based on your beauty, but also based on your stamina and ticklishness,” she explained. “Colonel Sharif pays for a certain type of laughter. A genuine, hearty laughter. No faking can simulate it.”
Madame Monique dug her fingers into Lady Jaye’s bare midriff and she instantly exploded into laughter. She struggled and tried to resist, but the tickling was too intense. She pulled on the restraints but they were heavy and solid. She gasped for breath and began to scream and pant heavily.
”This is the way to make someone wet their pants,” Madame Monique explained disgusted. “She screams and pulls violently on her restraints. How long can a girl endure such punishment?”
”Not long,” Lady Jaye replied as she continued to pant for breath.
“I’m still mad at you,” Madame Monique remarked as she dug her fingernails into Lady Jaye’s underarms.
Lady Jaye began to laugh again, but this time the tickling was gentler, more timed. Madame Monique skillfully played her like a musical instrument as she studied every reaction and skillfully tuned her like one would tune a fine instrument.
Lady Jaye pulled less desperately on the restraints, and even though she continued to laugh quite involuntarily, she believed she could probably endure the tickling for some time.
Her slippers were removed and Madame Monique took to her pretty bare feet. The first few moments, she shouted as the soles were touched and pulled at the restraints, but the woman’s fingers soon found the right combination of stroking her arches and scratching her toes that sent her into a steady, sustainable laughter.
After ten minutes, Madame Monique finished her assault and turned to the five girls who were watching.
“Do you see?” she asked the girls who watched in amazement. “It is just a matter of understanding the tickle physiology of your ticklee.”
Lady Jaye was hoping that this was the end of the course, but Madame Monique did not move to release her.
“Svetlana has volunteered to be our ticklee for the rest of the day,” she said. “I realize that at the beginning you will not get the exact desired effect, but of all of you Svetlana has the greatest endurance. I’m certain she will endure the rest of the class.
“Alina,” she called for Daina. “You will start. If you do not do a good job, we will have two volunteers.”
Daina approached Lady Jaye and seemed visibly uncomfortable.
She looked at Lady Jaye and silently made out the words: “I’m sorry.”
She then took to tickling Lady Jaye’s belly with her sharp nails scratching gently but causing powerful ticklish spasms that Lady Jaye could not resist.
She exploded into laughter.
* * * * *
“Colonel Sharif,” said Cobra Commander to Destro in the war room as they received the intelligence sent by their spy. “He is a valuable ally. We cannot allow them to destabilize a country we fought so hard to destabilize in the first place. Who do we have in that emirate right now?”
”Zartan and his Dreadnoks,” Destro replied. “Probably Zarana and Zandar as well. Those siblings are never far from each other. They are training and funding death squads to eliminate opposition so Sharif doesn’t have to get his hands dirty. We want him to buy legitimate arms from Cobra, but he needs to get his country under control first. The GI JOE team will try to incriminate the colonel before the international community with some kind of evidence they expect to find.”
“Alert Zartan,” Cobra Commander replied. “Give him the details of the mission. The Dreadnoks are skilled at throwing monkey wrenches into carefully laid out plans. I’m sure they can throw one into the Joes’ plans.”
* * * * *
By the end of the class, Lady Jaye was being gang tickled. Each bare foot was being tickled by a model, while another took care to her torso and another to her underarms. The last model was Daina who was assigned to tickle her ears and neck. Lady Jaye and the rest of the models discovered that this was her most vulnerable spot and only a small amount of stimulation was required.
This was discovered after a long period of trial and error and Lady Jaye had become a screaming banshee as consequence. They had really worn her down. No amount of running or swimming could compare.
The class ended after four hours and her body was drenched in sweat and her hair was a mess. She was released, but she could not move. She was simply too tired.
“Alina, let her rest then take her to her room,” Madame Monique commanded. “The rest of you, to sleep. Tomorrow you will all feel Svelana’s vengeance, so be rested.”
They all left the room and Daina was left alone with her American counterpart.
“Now we have a chance,” Daina whispered. “We can snoop a little around the complex.”
Her words fell on deaf ears. Lady Jaye was snoring gently.
“Well, I’m glad it was you who was tickled and not me,” Daina confessed as she lifted Lady Jaye from the divan and carried her exhausted body over her shoulder.
“I think I will drop you off at your room and then I will do a little snooping.”
* * * * *
“It’s been almost a week and no contact,” Chuckles said from a hotel room of the Sahara Palace were members of the international press usually stayed in the Emirate. The hotel was walking distance from Sharif’s complex.
“Hold tight,” Stalker said flipping through a magazine. “She’ll come through.”
”I just wish we knew if she was okay,” Cover Girl said looking out the window of the seventh story of the Sahara Palace at the complex.
They had arrived under the cover of international reporters. They dressed the part and had the equipment to support it such as computers, recorders and cameras. Beside that they were fully stocked with 9mm submachine guns and grenades.
In five minutes they needed to be ready to make an extraction.
The problem was extraction could be requested at any moment. So as the hours went by the enemy was not Cobra, but rather boredom.
“Lady Jaye is the best we’ve got,” Stalker said harshly. “She’ll contact us when she can. So get ready for a long haul you two, because I have no intention of scrubbing this mission until we get Lady Jaye out of there.”
“I know, Stalker,” Cover Girl replied stretching. “I want to take a walk, stretch my legs.”
“Five minutes,” Stalker said. “Don’t leave the floor, don’t talk to anyone. Then you hustle back. Remember, we’ve got five minutes to move when the call comes.”
“Got it,” Cover Girl replied.
She stepped out of the hotel room and while the hallway was hardly fresh air, she was just glad to get out of the room where they had been cooped up for so long. She walked down the corridor and saw a woman in a black burqua walking towards her.
Cover Girl tried not to stare, but she felt uncomfortable watching a woman who was forced by her culture and beliefs to wear clothes that covered every aspect of her femininity. It was harder still for her to understand since she had once been a model and her body was always a permanent form of expression. To be denied that form of expression must be horrible, she thought.
“Good afternoon,” she said politely with a smile as they passed each other.
“Good afternoon,” was the reply.
Funny, she thought, that as an Australian or British accent. She turned to look back at the woman when a chloroform soaked cloth was shoved into her face. She tried to struggle but after the first breath her arms and legs just wouldn’t respond correctly.
She could see that it was the very woman in the black burqua who had passed her just a moment ago.
”That’s right,” the woman said with her decidedly Australian accent, “Take a deep breath. That’s a good girl…”
As Cover Girl faded to unconsciousness, she felt strong arms slip under arms and legs and lift her into the air.
“Just a sec, boys,” she heard the woman say faintly as she held the cloth firmly over her nose and mouth. “She’s almost out.”
All went black.
* * * * * *
“Har! These Joes won’t know wot hit ‘em,” Ripper said as he and the other Dreadnoks watched Zarana make her transformation in another room of the Sahara Palace.
Zarana quickly dressed in Cover Girl’s clothes and she put on the wig she had prepared and carefully worked on the makeup necessary to literally become Cover Girl.
It took her all of ten minutes.
“Zartan would do it in ten seconds,” she muttered to herself. “Still ten minutes ain’t so shabby.”
“Wot do we do with Miss GI JOE, here?” Torch asked looking down on the unconscious Joe they had deposited in a laundry cart. Ripper, Torch and Buzzer wore robes over their usual clothes and covered their faces with a traditional shemagh. At a distance they had an Arabic air to them.
“Get her out of here in the laundry bin,” she said in Cover Girl’s voice as she tossed the black burqua over the unconscious Joe. “Cover her with sheets and take her down the service elevator. Get her to the safe house and keep an eye on her. Make sure she doesn’t slip through your fingers.”
“We’ll open a six of grape soda and wait fer your orders,” Buzzer said as they wheeled the bin towards the exit. “We might even save a can for you.”
“Don’t bother,” she said with a smile. “If all goes well, I’ll be sipping Yo Jo Cola with those Joes while I decide when to send them both home in body bags!”
To be continued…
