Sablesword
06-15-2006, 01:40 AM
Hyperticklish Part 3
by Sablesword
Cecilia ate luncheon at the Captain's table. This was no special distinction, however, since the Merryweather had only one table in its mess.
Breakfast that morning had been brought on a tray by May Bonner, who had asked her "Are you a morning or an evening person?"
Cecilia had answered immediately. "I'm definitely an evening person."
"Alright then, luncheon will be at one PM ship time - we don't use military time here on the Merryweather. And you'll have until then to recover from last night's initiation. You can blame Frank and Ming for that," she added. "They let the cans run low, knowing you'd be here to refill them." And then the other woman had departed, leaving Cecilia locked in her cabin until Ming MacArthur arrived to escort her to the galley.
All five of the pirate crew were at the lunch, answering the little questions that had somehow been overlooked in Princess Cecilia's tutoring. "Who is keeping watch?" Cecilia asked.
"Diana," Captain Manning answered her. "The ship's computer. The Model Regs call for at least one crewmember to always be awake, but the Merryweather is too small to need someone always on watch."
"Sir Frank and I are night-owls," Dame Ming said. "We get up at the crack of noon and go to bed in the wee hours. Sir Kurt and Dame May - " The first mate snorted at the title. " - are disgusting morning people, so they get up in the wee hours and go to bed early. And our Captain is the ship's cat."
Cecilia looked a question.
"I'm awake at noon and midnight," Captain Manning explained. "And then catnap in the morning and evening. You said that you were an evening person, Your Highness, so you'll slot easily into," the Captain grinned at the title, "Dame Ming's position - afternoon and evening shifts."
At this point, a voice spoke, its feminine tone engineered to mark it as computer-originated. "Captain, Diana here. I've detected sensor anomalies. I'm declaring Yellow Alert." A yellow light began to flash overhead. Kurt and May Bonner rose from their chairs.
"We're on it," Sir Kurt said, and he and his wife left the galley. The yellow light stopped flashing.
"Nothing to worry about," Captain Manning soothed. "Diana just wants her virtual hand held. Sir and Dame Bonner," another flash of smile at the titles, "have her set to overreact slightly."
Cecilia took the hint and smoothed the worry from her face. She turned to Dame Ming. Like the princess, the Power Specialist was dressed today in harem pants and tunic. And barefoot, a contrast to the spacer-alls and deckshoes of the other crewmembers. Unlike the captive princess, however, her clothing was multicolored pastels rather than solid prisoner-orange, and her ankle was not tethered to her chair.
"Dame Ming," Princess Cecilia asked, "Why are you called a 'power specialist' rather than a 'catalyst specialist'?"
"Tradition," Ming answered. "Before the development of Catalyst systems, a ship's power reactor needed a lot of babying, so a power specialist crewmember had to watch over them all the time. It still works that way in the big ships without a Catalyst Room," she added, waving her fork to indicate those other ships Out There. "So the first ticklees in the first Catalyst Rooms were Power Specialists transferred from engineering. The old title somehow stuck, rather than a new one being invented."
"The new title would have been 'tickle slave,' " Frank put in. "Somehow those well-paid, high-status power-room specialists didn't want to use it."
"I'm a 'tickle slave' on the Merryweather, however," Princess Cecilia said. "Am I not?"
"That's right," Captain Manning grinned - very cat-like, Cecilia thought. "That's how you're listed in the ship's database. It will save no end of trouble when we reach Torbago. A friend of mine, Captain Hook, once made the mistake of listing her captive princess as a 'Power Specialist' rather than as a 'Tickle Slave.' So when she reached Torbago, she -" He was interrupted by a chime. "Galley," he said into the air. "Captain here. What is it?"
"Captain? Bridge," May's voice came from the air. "We've just passed through a squall - and there's a storm coming. I'm sending to your remote, but I recommend that we rig two chairs of live mirth."
The Captain frowned, and pulled out his remote. "What do the cans look like?"
"Captain? Engineering," Kurt's voice broke in. "That first squall was a young storm by itself, and it drained our cans more than I like. I'm sending my own link to your remote, but I concur with the Bridge's recommendation. We should both get Dame Ming and Her Highness to the Catalyst room."
Captain Manning frowned some more at his remote. "Agreed," he said at last. "Dame May, you stay on the bridge. I'll be in the Catalyst Room. Out." He looked up and gave his catlike grin again, only slightly crooked. "It looks like I'm a liar. We do have something to worry about." He held up his thumb and forefinger, close together. "Only a little something, though. Dame Ming, it looks like you're not getting your vacation after all." He rapped the table and stood. "To the Catalyst Room, everyone."
Ming and Frank hurried out. Captain Manning took time to bind Princess Cecilia's wrists behind her and to put her in an ankle-leash. The crew of the Merryweather might joke about being pirates, Cecilia thought, but they seemed to take securing their captive seriously enough. Since her capture, she had always been in bonds of one sort or another, or else locked in her cabin.
The Captain also insisted that she stop at the head on the way to the Catalyst Room. Princess Cecilia took what seemed to her like an embarrassingly long time, but Captain Manning waved away her attempt to apologize. "Never turn down a chance when going on duty," he told her. "I'm sure Dame Ming didn't."
With the various delays, Cecilia heard Dame Ming laughing uproariously even before she entered the Catalyst Room. On entering the room, she saw her squirming in the right-most couch; wrists and ankles held in place by the familiar energy stocks. Her tunic had been removed, revealing a bikini-bra of some sheer material, and two tickle-bots busily buffed her feet. Her soles wrinkled as her toes clenched and unclenched, but could not escape the spinning wooly stimulation. Then one of the 'bots rose up and forward and extended white-gloved mechanical fingers to delicately tease the skin in and around her belly button.
Sir Frank sat at the workstation watching with a huge smile plastered on his face. "General Announcement, Catalyst Room," he said into the comm system. "We have live mirth." He glanced over at the Captain, who nodded, his hand on Cecilia's shoulder. "And we will have two chairs, shortly," he added.
The Captain lay Princess Cecilia in the center couch, not hurrying, but not wasting any time. The energy stocks fastened their soft and unbreakable grip on her ankles. Her tunic was removed, and she blushed - unlike Dame Ming, she did not wear a bra underneath. Now her wrists were pinned by the second pair of stocks, over her head. Two ticklebots moved into position. The one floating over her belly deployed its dozen devices but did not touch her - yet. The one floating before the helpless soles of her feet began to apply light, flicking strokes, varying the location with each touch: Left foot, right foot, instep, at the base of the toes...
Princess Cecilia exploded. The situation had already wound her tight with excitement and anticipation, and she had expected the ticklebots to dig in heartily into her sensitive flesh. To administer a tickling similar to that being inflicted on Dame Ming, who writhed and howled with a vigor to match that of the artificial fingers that now vigorously tickled her sides and her soles. But the 'bot attending to Cecilia's feet had a different program. It's flicking touches sent bolts of tickle-sensation all the way up her legs. Cecilia bucked wildly, arching her body, giving a continuous squeal that peaked with each touch. Then, out of breath, she lay back and gasped for air, only to stiffen and squeak as the semi-regular strokes continued. She eyed the wiggling appendages of the second 'bot, fearing and hoping that they would soon come into play as well.
At last, they did. They began a light flickering dance over her nude upper body, similar to that of the first 'bot. But then her feet were suddenly subjected to a tickle-touch by a dozen implements that covered every square centimeter of bare skin. Flexing and clenching her toes brought no relief from the remorseless tickling. Tears of mirth started leaking from Cecilia's eyes as she laughed.
The belly 'bot then changed to a slow lazy tickle-caress, while the foot 'bot went inactive and fell away. Blinking, Princess Cecilia saw Captain Manning walk over to her. "M-manual heeheehee calibration?" she managed to gasp.
"No." He gave another of his cat-smiles. "Captain's privilege." His fingers danced over her soles, forcing more musical laughter from her as human intuition replaced robotic relentlessness in the tickle-stimulation of her feet.
The Captain's technique passed quickly between soft and firm and back again. Cecilia felt fingers wiggling up and down her feet, from her toes to her heels in an unpredictable pattern. They never paused, never concentrated on any one spot. Cecilia felt them move over and past the most sensitively ticklish spots, giving each of them a brief flare rather than intense treatment - and leaving them extra sensitive when they returned.
At length Captain Manning halted, and the belly-bot drew away. Cecilia gasped for breath. In the next couch, Dame Ming still giggled and squirmed under the tickling touch of the two 'bots stimulating her. The laughter they produced reminded Cecilia that her own respite was only a temporary thing.
Captain Manning took over the station chair, allowing Sir Frank to give his personal attention to Dame Ming. He selected a feather-bundle tipped with downy feathers and applied it with confident expertise to Ming's exposed soles. Ming howled. Cecilia watched wide-eyed as the other woman dissolved into shrieks of laughter. The Princess knew Sir Frank to be an expert tickler, but she still could not understand just how such a soft and gentle touch could produce such extreme results.
Then she found out.
Dame Ming was given her own rest period, and Sir Frank turned his attention to Princess Cecilia. Specifically, to her nude soles - which suddenly had all of Cecilia's attention as well. The feather's kiss, when it came, was exquisitely soft, wonderfully gentle - and it tickled diabolically. Cecilia strained as hard as she could against the energy bonds, laughing wildly, suddenly desperate to escape. Not that escape was possible, of course. The forces holding her in place could not be overcome even if she were ten times stronger. And so she had no choice but to endure the unendurable tickling of her helpless feet.
At last the feathering came to an end; another short rest break before the tickle-bots came into play once more. Their firm, inexorable mechanical tickling kept Cecilia asquirm and giggling until the energy bonds released her at the end of the watch.
Princess Cecilia, lying limp and sweat-soaked on the couch wondered muzzily how Dame Ming could possibly stand up and stagger over to fetch herself a bottle of electrolytes. The other woman had been tickled as much as she had, although certainly not more than she had. Cecilia could still feel the pleasure-surges echoing under her skin, and, more faintly, the crackle of agony. Even in this aftermath, she maintained the properly regal ten to one ratio of ecstasy to torment.
Pride drove Princess Cecilia to swing her legs over and sit up on the edge of the couch. She let Captain Manning pull her tunic back on, then placed her wrists behind her back for binding. The Captain raised an eyebrow at that, but stepped back to use his remote, fastening her wrists to the restraint belt. He then traded the remote for a bottle and made her drink down an entire liter of electrolyte before carrying her back to her cabin. He poured her into her bunk with a command to rest until her next shift.
End of part 3
by Sablesword
Cecilia ate luncheon at the Captain's table. This was no special distinction, however, since the Merryweather had only one table in its mess.
Breakfast that morning had been brought on a tray by May Bonner, who had asked her "Are you a morning or an evening person?"
Cecilia had answered immediately. "I'm definitely an evening person."
"Alright then, luncheon will be at one PM ship time - we don't use military time here on the Merryweather. And you'll have until then to recover from last night's initiation. You can blame Frank and Ming for that," she added. "They let the cans run low, knowing you'd be here to refill them." And then the other woman had departed, leaving Cecilia locked in her cabin until Ming MacArthur arrived to escort her to the galley.
All five of the pirate crew were at the lunch, answering the little questions that had somehow been overlooked in Princess Cecilia's tutoring. "Who is keeping watch?" Cecilia asked.
"Diana," Captain Manning answered her. "The ship's computer. The Model Regs call for at least one crewmember to always be awake, but the Merryweather is too small to need someone always on watch."
"Sir Frank and I are night-owls," Dame Ming said. "We get up at the crack of noon and go to bed in the wee hours. Sir Kurt and Dame May - " The first mate snorted at the title. " - are disgusting morning people, so they get up in the wee hours and go to bed early. And our Captain is the ship's cat."
Cecilia looked a question.
"I'm awake at noon and midnight," Captain Manning explained. "And then catnap in the morning and evening. You said that you were an evening person, Your Highness, so you'll slot easily into," the Captain grinned at the title, "Dame Ming's position - afternoon and evening shifts."
At this point, a voice spoke, its feminine tone engineered to mark it as computer-originated. "Captain, Diana here. I've detected sensor anomalies. I'm declaring Yellow Alert." A yellow light began to flash overhead. Kurt and May Bonner rose from their chairs.
"We're on it," Sir Kurt said, and he and his wife left the galley. The yellow light stopped flashing.
"Nothing to worry about," Captain Manning soothed. "Diana just wants her virtual hand held. Sir and Dame Bonner," another flash of smile at the titles, "have her set to overreact slightly."
Cecilia took the hint and smoothed the worry from her face. She turned to Dame Ming. Like the princess, the Power Specialist was dressed today in harem pants and tunic. And barefoot, a contrast to the spacer-alls and deckshoes of the other crewmembers. Unlike the captive princess, however, her clothing was multicolored pastels rather than solid prisoner-orange, and her ankle was not tethered to her chair.
"Dame Ming," Princess Cecilia asked, "Why are you called a 'power specialist' rather than a 'catalyst specialist'?"
"Tradition," Ming answered. "Before the development of Catalyst systems, a ship's power reactor needed a lot of babying, so a power specialist crewmember had to watch over them all the time. It still works that way in the big ships without a Catalyst Room," she added, waving her fork to indicate those other ships Out There. "So the first ticklees in the first Catalyst Rooms were Power Specialists transferred from engineering. The old title somehow stuck, rather than a new one being invented."
"The new title would have been 'tickle slave,' " Frank put in. "Somehow those well-paid, high-status power-room specialists didn't want to use it."
"I'm a 'tickle slave' on the Merryweather, however," Princess Cecilia said. "Am I not?"
"That's right," Captain Manning grinned - very cat-like, Cecilia thought. "That's how you're listed in the ship's database. It will save no end of trouble when we reach Torbago. A friend of mine, Captain Hook, once made the mistake of listing her captive princess as a 'Power Specialist' rather than as a 'Tickle Slave.' So when she reached Torbago, she -" He was interrupted by a chime. "Galley," he said into the air. "Captain here. What is it?"
"Captain? Bridge," May's voice came from the air. "We've just passed through a squall - and there's a storm coming. I'm sending to your remote, but I recommend that we rig two chairs of live mirth."
The Captain frowned, and pulled out his remote. "What do the cans look like?"
"Captain? Engineering," Kurt's voice broke in. "That first squall was a young storm by itself, and it drained our cans more than I like. I'm sending my own link to your remote, but I concur with the Bridge's recommendation. We should both get Dame Ming and Her Highness to the Catalyst room."
Captain Manning frowned some more at his remote. "Agreed," he said at last. "Dame May, you stay on the bridge. I'll be in the Catalyst Room. Out." He looked up and gave his catlike grin again, only slightly crooked. "It looks like I'm a liar. We do have something to worry about." He held up his thumb and forefinger, close together. "Only a little something, though. Dame Ming, it looks like you're not getting your vacation after all." He rapped the table and stood. "To the Catalyst Room, everyone."
Ming and Frank hurried out. Captain Manning took time to bind Princess Cecilia's wrists behind her and to put her in an ankle-leash. The crew of the Merryweather might joke about being pirates, Cecilia thought, but they seemed to take securing their captive seriously enough. Since her capture, she had always been in bonds of one sort or another, or else locked in her cabin.
The Captain also insisted that she stop at the head on the way to the Catalyst Room. Princess Cecilia took what seemed to her like an embarrassingly long time, but Captain Manning waved away her attempt to apologize. "Never turn down a chance when going on duty," he told her. "I'm sure Dame Ming didn't."
With the various delays, Cecilia heard Dame Ming laughing uproariously even before she entered the Catalyst Room. On entering the room, she saw her squirming in the right-most couch; wrists and ankles held in place by the familiar energy stocks. Her tunic had been removed, revealing a bikini-bra of some sheer material, and two tickle-bots busily buffed her feet. Her soles wrinkled as her toes clenched and unclenched, but could not escape the spinning wooly stimulation. Then one of the 'bots rose up and forward and extended white-gloved mechanical fingers to delicately tease the skin in and around her belly button.
Sir Frank sat at the workstation watching with a huge smile plastered on his face. "General Announcement, Catalyst Room," he said into the comm system. "We have live mirth." He glanced over at the Captain, who nodded, his hand on Cecilia's shoulder. "And we will have two chairs, shortly," he added.
The Captain lay Princess Cecilia in the center couch, not hurrying, but not wasting any time. The energy stocks fastened their soft and unbreakable grip on her ankles. Her tunic was removed, and she blushed - unlike Dame Ming, she did not wear a bra underneath. Now her wrists were pinned by the second pair of stocks, over her head. Two ticklebots moved into position. The one floating over her belly deployed its dozen devices but did not touch her - yet. The one floating before the helpless soles of her feet began to apply light, flicking strokes, varying the location with each touch: Left foot, right foot, instep, at the base of the toes...
Princess Cecilia exploded. The situation had already wound her tight with excitement and anticipation, and she had expected the ticklebots to dig in heartily into her sensitive flesh. To administer a tickling similar to that being inflicted on Dame Ming, who writhed and howled with a vigor to match that of the artificial fingers that now vigorously tickled her sides and her soles. But the 'bot attending to Cecilia's feet had a different program. It's flicking touches sent bolts of tickle-sensation all the way up her legs. Cecilia bucked wildly, arching her body, giving a continuous squeal that peaked with each touch. Then, out of breath, she lay back and gasped for air, only to stiffen and squeak as the semi-regular strokes continued. She eyed the wiggling appendages of the second 'bot, fearing and hoping that they would soon come into play as well.
At last, they did. They began a light flickering dance over her nude upper body, similar to that of the first 'bot. But then her feet were suddenly subjected to a tickle-touch by a dozen implements that covered every square centimeter of bare skin. Flexing and clenching her toes brought no relief from the remorseless tickling. Tears of mirth started leaking from Cecilia's eyes as she laughed.
The belly 'bot then changed to a slow lazy tickle-caress, while the foot 'bot went inactive and fell away. Blinking, Princess Cecilia saw Captain Manning walk over to her. "M-manual heeheehee calibration?" she managed to gasp.
"No." He gave another of his cat-smiles. "Captain's privilege." His fingers danced over her soles, forcing more musical laughter from her as human intuition replaced robotic relentlessness in the tickle-stimulation of her feet.
The Captain's technique passed quickly between soft and firm and back again. Cecilia felt fingers wiggling up and down her feet, from her toes to her heels in an unpredictable pattern. They never paused, never concentrated on any one spot. Cecilia felt them move over and past the most sensitively ticklish spots, giving each of them a brief flare rather than intense treatment - and leaving them extra sensitive when they returned.
At length Captain Manning halted, and the belly-bot drew away. Cecilia gasped for breath. In the next couch, Dame Ming still giggled and squirmed under the tickling touch of the two 'bots stimulating her. The laughter they produced reminded Cecilia that her own respite was only a temporary thing.
Captain Manning took over the station chair, allowing Sir Frank to give his personal attention to Dame Ming. He selected a feather-bundle tipped with downy feathers and applied it with confident expertise to Ming's exposed soles. Ming howled. Cecilia watched wide-eyed as the other woman dissolved into shrieks of laughter. The Princess knew Sir Frank to be an expert tickler, but she still could not understand just how such a soft and gentle touch could produce such extreme results.
Then she found out.
Dame Ming was given her own rest period, and Sir Frank turned his attention to Princess Cecilia. Specifically, to her nude soles - which suddenly had all of Cecilia's attention as well. The feather's kiss, when it came, was exquisitely soft, wonderfully gentle - and it tickled diabolically. Cecilia strained as hard as she could against the energy bonds, laughing wildly, suddenly desperate to escape. Not that escape was possible, of course. The forces holding her in place could not be overcome even if she were ten times stronger. And so she had no choice but to endure the unendurable tickling of her helpless feet.
At last the feathering came to an end; another short rest break before the tickle-bots came into play once more. Their firm, inexorable mechanical tickling kept Cecilia asquirm and giggling until the energy bonds released her at the end of the watch.
Princess Cecilia, lying limp and sweat-soaked on the couch wondered muzzily how Dame Ming could possibly stand up and stagger over to fetch herself a bottle of electrolytes. The other woman had been tickled as much as she had, although certainly not more than she had. Cecilia could still feel the pleasure-surges echoing under her skin, and, more faintly, the crackle of agony. Even in this aftermath, she maintained the properly regal ten to one ratio of ecstasy to torment.
Pride drove Princess Cecilia to swing her legs over and sit up on the edge of the couch. She let Captain Manning pull her tunic back on, then placed her wrists behind her back for binding. The Captain raised an eyebrow at that, but stepped back to use his remote, fastening her wrists to the restraint belt. He then traded the remote for a bottle and made her drink down an entire liter of electrolyte before carrying her back to her cabin. He poured her into her bunk with a command to rest until her next shift.
End of part 3