PeterVincentTGVK
1st Level Red Feather
- Joined
- Jun 25, 2007
- Messages
- 1,065
- Points
- 38
Hello! This is something that I have been debating for a while now whether to post it or not but I have finally decided to. After the warm reception to my dual story, http://www.ticklingforum.com/showthread.php?328256-Number-7-F-M-(Lee-s-Perspective) and http://www.ticklingforum.com/showthread.php?328474-Number-7-F-M-(Ler-s-Perspective), I collaborated with Suikoden on this story in which his character Samantha Storm, and Jenni end up at the mercy of 7 after their apprehension of Stan the Stone in http://www.ticklingforum.com/showthread.php?327097-Jenni-The-Clown-No-Stone-Unturned-FF-M. Suikoden wrote the first half and I wrote the second half with very little back and forth to see in part, how well we understood each other's characters and I am incredibly happy with how it came out. Enjoy!
"Sir, we have a problem."
Control looked at the duty Ops Officer fidgeting in the doorway. Gestured to the chair in front of his desk. "Don't keep me in suspense."
The Ops Officer sat down. "One of the contractors on SABLE DAWN missed his check in window."
"How long?" Control was already planning contingencies.
"An hour, tops. Uh it seems he might have been taken by another agency." The Ops Officer struggled to meet Control's stare.
"Seems?" Control's voice was flat. The cold fury was unmistakable.
"HUMINT asset from Section Seven. Samantha Storm."
Control sat back in his chair. "Fuck."
The Ops Officer blanched. He'd never heard Control curse before.
"Containment options? We can't have our so-called brethren learning about SABLE DAWN."
"The contractor has limited exposure. He's one of the Eastern Europeans. Stanislas something. Polish, ex-GROM."
"Stan the Stone," Control muttered. "How does a HUMINT asset from Section Seven take down one of our doorkickers." He silenced the Ops Officer with a chop of his hand. "Rhetorical."
"Storm had help it seems. Someone new, someone unknown to us."
Control nodded. He pictured the pieces on the board in his mind, worked the problem. His first course of action was to protect SABLE DAWN. Disappearing one of Section Seven's assets would invite blowback and if that bitch Lydia Fox ever traced it back to him she'd turn Wyatt and his pack of wolves loose and things would get terminal in a hurry. No, he'd need a different strategy this time.
"What direct action assets do we have for deployment?"
"ECHO team is training at the mines. You want a kinetic solution?"
"No, rendition protocols. The contractor is expendable but I want the HUMINT asset and whoever is working with her."
"ECHO has experience in this. I can get them spun up in," he looked at his watch, "two hours."
Control steepled his fingers. "Good. Get it done."
"Sir." He hurried out of the room.
Control reached for the secure phone on his desk and hit speed dial. He heard a series of clicks and then a ring tone. The phone was answered immediately.
"Yes?"
"Thirteen, package on the way. This is real world, not an exercise."
"Understood. SIX and ELEVEN are onsite. Shall I alert housekeeping?"
"Not yet," Control said, he wondered if the stories about Samantha Storm were true. " And stand SIX and ELEVEN down. I want SEVEN on this."
"Very good, Sir."
Control hung up. He was beginning to feel better about all this.
"Samantha and Jen-NI, on a secret MISH-un. Catching the bad guys and winning the day..." Jenni did a little dance in the passenger seat as Samantha drove. "What do you think Sam? That could be our theme song."
"Don't get cocky, Jenni," Samantha said, eyes flicking from rearview to side mirrors as she slipped the Audi through a gap between a Prius and a delivery van.
Jenni was almost bouncing up and down in her seat. "Sorry, Sam, I'm just kinda hyper after all that. Wow, that guy was a real bad one, huh? He wasn't ready for us though."
"Uh-huh," Samantha muttered.
"And I never thought I'd see you do something like that," Jenni said with a sly grin, miming a pumping action with her right hand. "Girlfriend has some skills." She licked her fingertip, touched it to Samantha's cheek and made a sizzling noise.
Samantha jerked her head away. "Cut it out. Jeez Jenni, did you eat a lot of candy today? You need some warm milk and a nap."
"Aw c'mon spoilsport. Surely you're off the clock now. You handed over the scary Russian guy to your equally scary friends. Although that guy with the Southern accent and the dark eyes was yummy."
"If you only knew. He gives the boogey man nightmares." Samantha said. She thought back to a time when she'd been caught out in the open, outnumbered and outgunned. Then that soft Southern accent, unnaturally calm, crackled through her earpiece. "Eight hundred yards out Sam, ready to reduce." That was Jarod. She knew he was out there behind his rifle scope, taking the first pressure out of his trigger.
"How about this?" Jenni said, interrupting her thoughts. "The night is still young, I know this cool bar near here. One celebratory drink before you drop me home, which, by the way, I massively appreciate."
After a beat Samantha said, "What kind of bar?"
Jenni beamed, she knew she had her now. "Not some crazy club. It's cool, kinda intimate. Chilled crowd, good music. Cute guys." She let the last bit hang.
"Jenni," Samantha sighed.
"Live a little, Samantha. One drink. Two gorgeous gals out on the town, who knows what kinda trouble get could get into?"
"One drink." Samantha said. "OK, where is this place."
"Awesome sauce! You're gonna love it." Jenni clapped. "OK, take the next left."
The eight operators of ECHO team, seven men and one woman were tracking the cellphone signal of the target. They were riding in a large panel bearing the name of a backstopped construction company. The interior was tricked out with the latest surveillance gear and they had two bleeding edge drones on loiter.
As the team checked their personal gear, their leader, working name Steven, pulled up the target packets. Steven looked more like a high school teacher than a dark side operator which was why the targets rarely saw him coming.
"OK, listen in. We are taking two targets. Non-lethal, rendition protocols. Straight snatch and grab, dose them up and hand them off."
Images of Samantha and Jenni appeared on a 24 inch monitor.
"Shit, I know the one on the left." An operator named Dean said. "She's a player."
"Yeah," Steven said. "HUMINT, a good one. One of Wyatt's so treat her as a hard target."
"What about the other one?" This from the only woman on the team, a Belgian with straight blonde collar length hair and sharp cheekbones whose working name was Brigitte.
Steven frowned, "Unknown so let's assume the worst and hope for the best. Two hard targets and we have to take them together."
"This is bullshit, boss." Dean said. "They pulled us out of training for this with zero notice and since when do we roll on friendlies on CONUS?"
Steven fixed him with a look, the genial high school teacher evaporated revealing a shark underneath. "It's the mission, soldier. Are we going to have a problem?"
The other operators went quiet, watchful.
"No problem, boss. Good to go."
Another operator, a guy named Louie from New Orleans threw a Snickers bar at Dean. "Eat that chairborne. You're no fun when you're hungry."
That broke the tension.
Steven continued the briefing. "They're mobile right now. We don't have the vehicles to intercept them in transit so we wait until they stop moving, get eyes on and take the initiative."
"Thin, boss. What are you thinking? We on the clock here?" Louie said
"It's done before dawn which doesn't give us a lot of time. We'll have to ditch subtlety for expediency."
"Hey diddle diddle, right up the middle?" Louie said.
"Worked before," Steven shrugged.
"Oh fuck me," Brigitte. shook her head. "You always have to be John Wayne about everything."
"Fuck John Wayne. This is Clint Eastwood." Said Nico, the Italian stallion of the team.
"Stow that, we're five mikes out." Steven said. "This is a capture mission, not a kill mission."
After that the mood in the van was all business. ECHO team were nothing if not consummate professionals.
Jenni grabbed Samantha by the hand and happily pulled her through the crowd to the bar. It was busy but not totally packed.
Samantha sighed to herself. One drink. That was all. She casually let her eyes cover the bar picking out pockets of people - couples, parties, groups of guys and groups of girls hoping to make a connection. Some sort of synthwave was playing as the lighting rig played blue and magenta hues over the crowd.
"Hey Rick!" Jenni said, catching the eye of a bartender.
"Jenni! Been a few weeks. Usual?"
"Yup, whiskey sour for me and vodka rocks for my gal pal here."
Samantha smiled at that. "Good guess."
"Comin' up."
Another guy slid up to the bar next to Samantha. He gently bumped her with her shoulder. "Oh hey, sorry."
She turned to see a guy in a V-neck-shirt with a man bun and a neat beard. She smiled and nodded and turned back towards Jenni. She wasn't in the mood right now.
The guy didn't get the message. "Vodka rocks? The Lord loves a woman who likes a real drink."
"Collecting for the church?" Samantha said without looking at him.
He leaned closer. "Nope. I like your style though. You look great."
Samantha half-turned towards him. "Look, I'm sure you're sweet but I'm not in the mood."
He ran a hand down to the small of her back. "Not yet perhaps, but give me a chance and perhaps I can change that." He was going for smoldering.
Samantha looked him in the eye now and let him see her game face. "You're going to want to move that hand real quick and find somewhere else to stand."
He raised both his hands. "Sheesh, just tryna be friendly." He drifted back to his friends who immediately started giving him shit for striking out.
"Jeez, Sam, he was kinda cute. Nice ass anyway." Jenni said looking over Samantha's shoulder.
"He probably designs apps and came here on a motor scooter." Samantha said taking her drink.
They clinked glasses.
"Oh now check out the hunk who just walked in," Jenni said nudging Samantha.
Samantha flicked her eyes towards the entrance and saw a tall, muscular guy with long dark hair and a beard. His bearing said military. He paused to check out the bar before stepping in fully.
"Shark in the water." Samantha thought to herself. "Takes one to know one."
She turned back to the bar and followed his reflection as he glided through the crowd. She scanned the reflection and saw a couple standing by a pillar. An athletic guy with a crew cut and a slender blonde. They were talking to each other but scanning over each other's shoulders.
Samantha's situational awareness kicked into high gear. There was a team here. She took a breath and slowly scanned the room as Jenni chattered in her ear.
She picked up a fourth guy pretending to look at his phone. He turned his head and she caught the flash of an earpiece. The tall dark-haired guy was now at the end of the bar, flanking them.
Shit! The team was here for them. Samantha slammed her glass down and grabbed Jenni by the wrist.
"Ow! Sam, what the hell?"
"Jenni, is there a back way out?"
"Yeah, past the restrooms, but..."
Samantha cut through the crowd and moved towards the rear exit. She could feel the four players converging on them. She barged through the crowd and caught a glimpse of a guy peeling towards them, one hand touching his ear.
She turned to Jenni and began talking, "Oh my God, and then he said he wanted to take us both back to his place where he has this sunken bath."
The guy was closing. Three steps, two steps, one step. Samantha spun towards him and slammed her forearm into his throat. He gagged and dropped a black plastic tube. Samantha powered her knee into his groin.
She heard gasps behind her.
"Samantha!" Jenni screamed.
She propelled them both through the rear door and into the night. "This is serious, Jenni, I need to get us out of here."
Their egress was cut short as a middle aged guy stepped out of the shadows, levelled a pistol at Samantha and fired. There was a soft crack and Samantha dropped to one knee."
"No!" Jenni dropped and grabbed Samantha by the shoulders and looked as Samantha groaned, pulling a small barbed dart from her stomach.
"What the hell?" Jenni said. There was another soft crack and she felt a sting in the shoulder. She looked to see a similar dart protruding from her shoulder.
Samantha was growling with exertion and trying to get to her feet.
"Give it up. There's enough juice there to put down a man twice your size." The gunman said. He looked at them dispassionately.
"Who are you?" Samantha muttered. She heard rushing feet behind them. Then she and Jenni were seized by the arms and hurried towards a dark van that had appeared behind the gunman. She screamed at her muscles to respond but they refused.
As the tunnel of her vision grew smaller she saw the van's side door open and she and Jenni were deposited inside, not ungently.
Her phone was pulled from her pocket and she saw it dropped into a Faraday bag along with Jenni's. One of them men said, "I'll get these to tech.
Her leather jacket was wrenched down her arms and then she was rolled onto her back. The blonde straddled her.
"Who?" Samantha managed to whisper. She could feel her vision going fuzzy and was powerless to resist as the woman unbuttoned her shirt. Next to her Jenni was being coldly and efficiently stripped.
"Someone wants to talk to you." The blonde said as she unbuckled Samantha's belt and unzipped her jeans.
This is bad, Samantha thought to herself.
And then she lost her struggle against the drug and darkness engulfed her.
Today must be important. I rarely get a day off. Professional torturer isn’t an occupation that comes with many perks that one might associate with a typical job. You don’t get paid time off or raises. To the best of my knowledge, there is no such thing as a tickler’s union.
13 didn’t say much on the phone. The secured line didn’t mean a thing to her. She hated giving details on work matters over the phone. I guess I can’t blame her. All I knew was that two females had been captured. I was given no details on one of them, but was told that the other was a person of extreme interest. I wasn’t sure what that meant, but I didn’t really need to know. It was my job to be impartial. To treat each interrogation with a degree of dispassion and calm. The less I knew about my subjects, the easier it is for me to examine… and break them.
I stop in my office first, gathering up a few toys. I always like to have at least five various tools to assist me in Phase 2 of the interrogations, but seeing as how I was going to be asked to process two subjects at the same time, I just stuff the pockets of my lab coat with random objects, which I then throw on as my phone goes off. A text message.
They are ready for me.
I enter Room 237 and see the two women naked and bound to adjoining tickle tables with only a couple of feet for me to move between them. The moment I walk in, I see that the one to my right has shaken her head and now has a good deal of her hair in her face. She has a somewhat fit and athletic form and the blatant attempt that she has made to cover her face has me intrigued. She could very well be the subject of “extreme interest” that I had been told about.
The one on my left is still. Her body is certainly more… developed. The girl who is evidently trying to hide her face had long black hair, whereas the one on the left is more or a brunette. Jesus, just looking at her I find myself feeling a little bit of breast envy. I train my focus back to the task at hand, approaching the two bound women. The brown haired one looks up over at me and waves both of her hands frantically.
“How do you do and shake hands.” She was singing. Why was she singing? “State your name and business.”
“Knock it off.” The more athletic one commanded. “The less you say to this woman, the better.”
“Oh come on, Sammie. You mean that I-”
“Don’t call me by my name!” The black haired girl gets loud. She really doesn’t want me to know who she… wait. ‘Sammie’?
It can’t be.
I walk up to her and gently swipe the hair away from her face. I can’t believe it.
“Samantha Storm.” I whisper to myself. She looks up to me. She knows that I know who she is.
Every interrogator in the country knows who Samantha Storm is. Her escapades are just as well documented as her weakness: She is deathly ticklish.
This is going to be a treat. I am tempted to say something to her. To express in some way what an honor it will be to examine her.
“Looks to me like she already knows who you are, Sammie.” The other subject says.
“Yeah, no that’s terrific.” Storm responds cynically.
“This is going to be very simple.” I hear 13 address the room over the speakers. “The first one of you to talk gets to go free. The other will be kept in captivity for as long as we see fit.” 13 clearly means to pit the two prisoners against each other. It’s a novel idea if you ask me. It means that I only have to break one of them. I am incredibly tempted to not even touch the other woman, but 13 would be furious if I broke protocol. Still, I can at least start with Agent Storm.
“We won’t talk.” Samantha’s top heavy partner bravely claims.
“Number 7…” 13 utters. “You can begin.”
Gladly. I sit in the stool facing Samantha’s beautiful soles. They appear quite creamy for a woman of action. Starting at her heels with my signature fingernail strokes already has her scrunching her toes. I look up to see that she is able to keep a serious expression on her face but I doubt that will last long. I am going to break down the big bad spy until she is little more than a giggling child.
I move up to her insteps and she tries to jerk her feet away. I don’t think so. I notice Samantha’s friend is watching with a look of interest at my techniques. Perhaps she is thinking of what it will feel like when I get to her. I hope she is, anyway. I move to the soles and tickle just under the balls of her feet. Ah… now she has entered the trembling stage.
The trembling stage is a phenomenon that I find is merely a direct result of the subject trying to hide their ticklishness. At the same time, it is a conundrum. They are refusing to laugh outright. But the fact that they are shaking is the product of the giggles erupting inside of them. I can’t hear the laughter… but I can see it. And of course, once one reaches the trembling stage, it is usually only a few moments before…
“Hehehehahahaha…”
“Come on, Sammie. Keep it together.” The brunette encourages. I see that Samantha is able to suck up her giggles for a few seconds but soon cracks again when I tickle her toes with my fingernails. Her feet are ticklish to be sure, but I don’t see any real opportunity there. I decide to move on.
As is my routine, I tickle up the legs. To my disappointment, there isn’t much of a reaction until I get to the tops of her upper thighs. She is squirming and adorably trying to control the volume of her giggles. I guess she figures that if she can laugh quietly, it will make me think that she isn’t as ticklish as I might hope.
I know better than that, though.
Something else gets my attention. She is aroused. I look between Samantha’s legs and see that her labia is slightly swollen. Those nerves are begging for attention. I touch softly between her legs. She snickers. It tickles. But not so much that I would call it a danger zone. Even her perineum, a common tickle spot on men and women alike, only brings a moderate response. Still, she is definitely on the slick side by the time I am done.
I recall the stories I had heard about Storm. If I recall, her upper body is supposed to be full of treasures.
It’s tummy time.
My patented tickle touch on her lower belly breaks her right away. I thought it would. She tries to twitch from side to side, but I won’t let her escape my nails.
“Hahahahahahahahaha!:
“Do you have anything to say?” I hear 13 ask over the intercom.
“Kiss my Aahahahassss!” Samantha yells before collapsing into more giggles when I get near her bellybutton. A simple poke and wiggle in that sweet little hole gives me the best reaction yet. That’s where the treasure is. I’m sure of it. Inching up her ribs, she is red in the face by now. I feel Tickler’s Bliss starting to overtake me. My more sadistic side wants to truly break Samantha. To humiliate her and make her admit that she’s just a giggling little girl.
“You’re ticklish.” I tell her as I touch and worm my fingers in her exposed underarms. I turn to her bosomy friend. “You will be too.” The brunette gasps as I look her in the eye. I see that her nipples are hard. A fetishist, perhaps? I tickle Samantha’s chest and neck as her laughing begins to grow softer. The bellybutton is the gold mine. That is irrefutable. Phase 1 for Samantha is complete. Now let’s see about her partner.
“Do either of you have anything to say about the whereabouts of Stanislov?” 13 asked. Both women obviously know what she is talking about.
“No.” Samantha says defiantly.
“Um… no.” Her friend isn’t so convincing. She is scared of me. Good. I can use that to my advantage. I give her a threatening smirk and wiggle my fingers softly in the air as I move towards the foot of her table “Hehehe… no…” She is already giggling.
“Control yourself.” Samantha ordered her. But the brunette wasn’t paying attention to her. She was fixated on watching me. Watching my fingers move closer and closer to her feet. I started tickling… and she kept giggling.
Every so often, a subject is so ticklish that they laugh or squirm no matter where they are touched. This can be a mixed blessing. Sometimes, this makes it harder to detect where the real sweet spots are. At the same time, they are a sure thing. They will break sooner than others. I climb up the soles to the very middles of her feet and she becomes hysterical. Have I struck oil already? Sure, a lot of people are the most ticklish on their feet, and this woman has dropped more than a few clues. Her watching me tickle Samantha’s soles earlier with such interest… her anxiety when I approached her…
When I get to her toes, she doesn’t react as strongly, but she still can’t stop laughing. It’s only when I begin to climb her legs that she calms down enough to somewhat catch her breath. She was still quite a wiggler though.
The knees were relatively unresponsive to the light touch. I might have tried squeezing them, but Phase 1 must only consist of light tickles for it to be properly effective. Moving up the thighs and her happy face returns. The inner thighs have her ecstatic and when I get between her legs, I feel how wet she is. More so than Samantha was. Definitely a fetishist. She is turned on by tickling. I can only imagine that she is purely a*lee, though I could easily be wrong. I tickle her perineum and she gives the response that I had been hoping for from Samantha. Oh well, to each their own.
The belly proves sensitive. I have read many studies in ticklishness and while the feet are always the go to, I have rarely met a subject who didn’t have a ticklish belly. I feel it doesn’t get the praise it deserves. Her bellybutton causes a yelp but nothing like the reaction I had received from Storm. Oh, well. It looks like after Phase 1, I will be returning to her feet for Phase 2. Those soles have some real magic in them. I doubt that I’ll find a more ticklish…
What’s this?
I raise my fingers towards her chest and hear the faintest of squeaks. Could it be that these fleshy soccer balls have something to say?
I start at the sides of the breasts where they meet the ribs and she cracks like an egg. Interesting. Typically, at least in my experience, the smaller breasts are the most ticklish. I had heard of cases where larger busts were unbearably sensitive but had only once or twice encountered that phenomenon myself. I use the spiral technique, drawing my fluttering nails around and around, further and further inward towards the nipples, like knights scaling a tower with steps that wrap around it until they reach the apex. She is all giggles until I reach the nipples. Then… well… even I am surprised by the effort that she puts into trying to twist away from me.
Damn.
I finish Phase 1 in her underarms, which makes her bounce a little, and her neck, which makes her scrunch her neck and snicker.
Phase 1. Complete. I stand between them and wait further instructions.
“Phase 1 is finished.” I hear 13 once again. “Nobody has ever made it through Phase 2. This is your chance, ladies. We know that you were both involved in the apprehension of Stanislov. Let us know where he is, and you will be released. The first one to talk goes free”. When the brunette hears the offer again, she looks a little more afraid. It hits me like a hammer: She is no spy. She might have met Samantha through some random circumstances and has no idea what the answer is. A civilian wouldn’t know the names of different agents and buildings. But Samantha would. The brunette is likely terrified that only Samantha has the goods.
This will be delightful.
Neither woman would respond.
“Very well. Number 7, begin Phase 2.”
I go to Samantha first. I want her friend to see just how cruel I can be.
“What’s your name, bitch?” Samantha addresses me outright, and quite rudely if I am to be honest.
“You’re ticklish.” I respond.
“Fine. Whatever. Hi, I’m ticklish. Nice to meet you. And your name is?”
“You’re…” I reach into my left lab pocket and retrieve a mechanical pencil, clicking it three times to push out the slender graphite. “...ticklish.”
I see fear enter her for the first time. It’s absolutely captivating. I pull up the stool to the table on Samantha’s left side, so that her partner can see what I am going to do. I place my hand comfortably on Samantha’s tummy, holding her still.
She knows what is coming. I watch her brace herself.
I put the business end of the pencil in her bellybutton, softly flicking it about.
.
“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!” She loses it just as I knew she would. She is beside herself. I feel Tickler’s Bliss threatening to overtake me again. I poke the knot and stroke it with the skill of a surgeon, sending bolts of ticklishness through her at an unforgiving pace.
“Ready to talk?” 13 asks.
“NOOOOOHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”
It is my pleasure to administer a hearty raspberry to Agent Storm before I attack her navel with the pencil again. There are tears in her eyes. She is short of breath. She will break soon. I trace the wrinkles of the knot and up my game by grabbing at her sides occasionally with my free hand
The subject loses consciousness.
Crap.
Well, I will give Samantha this: She is a tough cookie. I wait a few minutes before reviving her with smelling salts. To say that this is disheartening is an understatement. Once a subject will fight the tickle all the way to the loss of consciousness, they will likely do it again. Storm is a lost cause.
“That the best you can do?” She pants and laughs at me. “I guess I’m just not ticklish enough for you. Or maybe you just really suck at it.”
Okay, Samantha. You handle your torture well. I will give you that.
Let’s see how well you handle the torture of others.
I turn to the brunette.
“You’re ticklish.” I tell her.
“Um, Sammie…”
“Just take it, Jenni.” Storm commands. “No breaking. No giving in. She can’t kill you.”
Samantha is right. I can’t kill either of them. I don’t have permission, nor would it be given to me. But I can make her wish that she was dead. I lock eyes with the brunette, apparently named Jenni, and I pull out a simple, everyday, Dollar store plastic comb.
“I don’t like this, Sammie.” Jenni is panicking. Wonderful.
“Just breathe, Jenni. You have dealt out far worse than this bitch will ever be able to give.”
Once I put my hand on Jenni’s right breast, steadying it, she is really scared.
“Sammie, just tell her!”
“I CAN’T”
I begin.
Back in grade school. There was always the child who kind of kept to themselves. During class, they were probably very attentive and productive. But during recess, they kind of kept to themselves. There was a little boy who was like that when I was little. Instead of playing kickball or jumping on the swings, he would do something very peculiar: He would go to the flagpole, hum random songs that were on the radio at the time, as is he was remembering what might have been playing during the car ride to the school that morning, and he would put his hand on the flagpole and just walk around it. He wouldn’t grab the pole. Instead, he would just let his palm feel the metal run against his skin and he slowly walked around it again and again.
Essentially, this was the plan.
I laid the comb on its side, and ran it in circles around the turgid bud, allowing the bristles to drag around the sides of the erect, pink pebble.
“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!” Jenni went ballistic.
“You’re ticklish…”
“SAAAAAAAAAAMMMMMIEEE!”
“I turned him over to my people.” Samantha knew that her partner wouldn’t make it. In my opinion, she did the right thing. I would do it for any friend of mine.
“Thank you.” 13 acknowledged over the speakers. “You two are lucky that I’m a woman of my word. One of you spoke first. That person can go. The other, well, you are just fortunate. We don’t need you for anything. There is no point in holding someone who clearly can’t tell us anything. You will both be released separately within the next two days. Pray that you are never brought here again.”
"Sir, we have a problem."
Control looked at the duty Ops Officer fidgeting in the doorway. Gestured to the chair in front of his desk. "Don't keep me in suspense."
The Ops Officer sat down. "One of the contractors on SABLE DAWN missed his check in window."
"How long?" Control was already planning contingencies.
"An hour, tops. Uh it seems he might have been taken by another agency." The Ops Officer struggled to meet Control's stare.
"Seems?" Control's voice was flat. The cold fury was unmistakable.
"HUMINT asset from Section Seven. Samantha Storm."
Control sat back in his chair. "Fuck."
The Ops Officer blanched. He'd never heard Control curse before.
"Containment options? We can't have our so-called brethren learning about SABLE DAWN."
"The contractor has limited exposure. He's one of the Eastern Europeans. Stanislas something. Polish, ex-GROM."
"Stan the Stone," Control muttered. "How does a HUMINT asset from Section Seven take down one of our doorkickers." He silenced the Ops Officer with a chop of his hand. "Rhetorical."
"Storm had help it seems. Someone new, someone unknown to us."
Control nodded. He pictured the pieces on the board in his mind, worked the problem. His first course of action was to protect SABLE DAWN. Disappearing one of Section Seven's assets would invite blowback and if that bitch Lydia Fox ever traced it back to him she'd turn Wyatt and his pack of wolves loose and things would get terminal in a hurry. No, he'd need a different strategy this time.
"What direct action assets do we have for deployment?"
"ECHO team is training at the mines. You want a kinetic solution?"
"No, rendition protocols. The contractor is expendable but I want the HUMINT asset and whoever is working with her."
"ECHO has experience in this. I can get them spun up in," he looked at his watch, "two hours."
Control steepled his fingers. "Good. Get it done."
"Sir." He hurried out of the room.
Control reached for the secure phone on his desk and hit speed dial. He heard a series of clicks and then a ring tone. The phone was answered immediately.
"Yes?"
"Thirteen, package on the way. This is real world, not an exercise."
"Understood. SIX and ELEVEN are onsite. Shall I alert housekeeping?"
"Not yet," Control said, he wondered if the stories about Samantha Storm were true. " And stand SIX and ELEVEN down. I want SEVEN on this."
"Very good, Sir."
Control hung up. He was beginning to feel better about all this.
"Samantha and Jen-NI, on a secret MISH-un. Catching the bad guys and winning the day..." Jenni did a little dance in the passenger seat as Samantha drove. "What do you think Sam? That could be our theme song."
"Don't get cocky, Jenni," Samantha said, eyes flicking from rearview to side mirrors as she slipped the Audi through a gap between a Prius and a delivery van.
Jenni was almost bouncing up and down in her seat. "Sorry, Sam, I'm just kinda hyper after all that. Wow, that guy was a real bad one, huh? He wasn't ready for us though."
"Uh-huh," Samantha muttered.
"And I never thought I'd see you do something like that," Jenni said with a sly grin, miming a pumping action with her right hand. "Girlfriend has some skills." She licked her fingertip, touched it to Samantha's cheek and made a sizzling noise.
Samantha jerked her head away. "Cut it out. Jeez Jenni, did you eat a lot of candy today? You need some warm milk and a nap."
"Aw c'mon spoilsport. Surely you're off the clock now. You handed over the scary Russian guy to your equally scary friends. Although that guy with the Southern accent and the dark eyes was yummy."
"If you only knew. He gives the boogey man nightmares." Samantha said. She thought back to a time when she'd been caught out in the open, outnumbered and outgunned. Then that soft Southern accent, unnaturally calm, crackled through her earpiece. "Eight hundred yards out Sam, ready to reduce." That was Jarod. She knew he was out there behind his rifle scope, taking the first pressure out of his trigger.
"How about this?" Jenni said, interrupting her thoughts. "The night is still young, I know this cool bar near here. One celebratory drink before you drop me home, which, by the way, I massively appreciate."
After a beat Samantha said, "What kind of bar?"
Jenni beamed, she knew she had her now. "Not some crazy club. It's cool, kinda intimate. Chilled crowd, good music. Cute guys." She let the last bit hang.
"Jenni," Samantha sighed.
"Live a little, Samantha. One drink. Two gorgeous gals out on the town, who knows what kinda trouble get could get into?"
"One drink." Samantha said. "OK, where is this place."
"Awesome sauce! You're gonna love it." Jenni clapped. "OK, take the next left."
The eight operators of ECHO team, seven men and one woman were tracking the cellphone signal of the target. They were riding in a large panel bearing the name of a backstopped construction company. The interior was tricked out with the latest surveillance gear and they had two bleeding edge drones on loiter.
As the team checked their personal gear, their leader, working name Steven, pulled up the target packets. Steven looked more like a high school teacher than a dark side operator which was why the targets rarely saw him coming.
"OK, listen in. We are taking two targets. Non-lethal, rendition protocols. Straight snatch and grab, dose them up and hand them off."
Images of Samantha and Jenni appeared on a 24 inch monitor.
"Shit, I know the one on the left." An operator named Dean said. "She's a player."
"Yeah," Steven said. "HUMINT, a good one. One of Wyatt's so treat her as a hard target."
"What about the other one?" This from the only woman on the team, a Belgian with straight blonde collar length hair and sharp cheekbones whose working name was Brigitte.
Steven frowned, "Unknown so let's assume the worst and hope for the best. Two hard targets and we have to take them together."
"This is bullshit, boss." Dean said. "They pulled us out of training for this with zero notice and since when do we roll on friendlies on CONUS?"
Steven fixed him with a look, the genial high school teacher evaporated revealing a shark underneath. "It's the mission, soldier. Are we going to have a problem?"
The other operators went quiet, watchful.
"No problem, boss. Good to go."
Another operator, a guy named Louie from New Orleans threw a Snickers bar at Dean. "Eat that chairborne. You're no fun when you're hungry."
That broke the tension.
Steven continued the briefing. "They're mobile right now. We don't have the vehicles to intercept them in transit so we wait until they stop moving, get eyes on and take the initiative."
"Thin, boss. What are you thinking? We on the clock here?" Louie said
"It's done before dawn which doesn't give us a lot of time. We'll have to ditch subtlety for expediency."
"Hey diddle diddle, right up the middle?" Louie said.
"Worked before," Steven shrugged.
"Oh fuck me," Brigitte. shook her head. "You always have to be John Wayne about everything."
"Fuck John Wayne. This is Clint Eastwood." Said Nico, the Italian stallion of the team.
"Stow that, we're five mikes out." Steven said. "This is a capture mission, not a kill mission."
After that the mood in the van was all business. ECHO team were nothing if not consummate professionals.
Jenni grabbed Samantha by the hand and happily pulled her through the crowd to the bar. It was busy but not totally packed.
Samantha sighed to herself. One drink. That was all. She casually let her eyes cover the bar picking out pockets of people - couples, parties, groups of guys and groups of girls hoping to make a connection. Some sort of synthwave was playing as the lighting rig played blue and magenta hues over the crowd.
"Hey Rick!" Jenni said, catching the eye of a bartender.
"Jenni! Been a few weeks. Usual?"
"Yup, whiskey sour for me and vodka rocks for my gal pal here."
Samantha smiled at that. "Good guess."
"Comin' up."
Another guy slid up to the bar next to Samantha. He gently bumped her with her shoulder. "Oh hey, sorry."
She turned to see a guy in a V-neck-shirt with a man bun and a neat beard. She smiled and nodded and turned back towards Jenni. She wasn't in the mood right now.
The guy didn't get the message. "Vodka rocks? The Lord loves a woman who likes a real drink."
"Collecting for the church?" Samantha said without looking at him.
He leaned closer. "Nope. I like your style though. You look great."
Samantha half-turned towards him. "Look, I'm sure you're sweet but I'm not in the mood."
He ran a hand down to the small of her back. "Not yet perhaps, but give me a chance and perhaps I can change that." He was going for smoldering.
Samantha looked him in the eye now and let him see her game face. "You're going to want to move that hand real quick and find somewhere else to stand."
He raised both his hands. "Sheesh, just tryna be friendly." He drifted back to his friends who immediately started giving him shit for striking out.
"Jeez, Sam, he was kinda cute. Nice ass anyway." Jenni said looking over Samantha's shoulder.
"He probably designs apps and came here on a motor scooter." Samantha said taking her drink.
They clinked glasses.
"Oh now check out the hunk who just walked in," Jenni said nudging Samantha.
Samantha flicked her eyes towards the entrance and saw a tall, muscular guy with long dark hair and a beard. His bearing said military. He paused to check out the bar before stepping in fully.
"Shark in the water." Samantha thought to herself. "Takes one to know one."
She turned back to the bar and followed his reflection as he glided through the crowd. She scanned the reflection and saw a couple standing by a pillar. An athletic guy with a crew cut and a slender blonde. They were talking to each other but scanning over each other's shoulders.
Samantha's situational awareness kicked into high gear. There was a team here. She took a breath and slowly scanned the room as Jenni chattered in her ear.
She picked up a fourth guy pretending to look at his phone. He turned his head and she caught the flash of an earpiece. The tall dark-haired guy was now at the end of the bar, flanking them.
Shit! The team was here for them. Samantha slammed her glass down and grabbed Jenni by the wrist.
"Ow! Sam, what the hell?"
"Jenni, is there a back way out?"
"Yeah, past the restrooms, but..."
Samantha cut through the crowd and moved towards the rear exit. She could feel the four players converging on them. She barged through the crowd and caught a glimpse of a guy peeling towards them, one hand touching his ear.
She turned to Jenni and began talking, "Oh my God, and then he said he wanted to take us both back to his place where he has this sunken bath."
The guy was closing. Three steps, two steps, one step. Samantha spun towards him and slammed her forearm into his throat. He gagged and dropped a black plastic tube. Samantha powered her knee into his groin.
She heard gasps behind her.
"Samantha!" Jenni screamed.
She propelled them both through the rear door and into the night. "This is serious, Jenni, I need to get us out of here."
Their egress was cut short as a middle aged guy stepped out of the shadows, levelled a pistol at Samantha and fired. There was a soft crack and Samantha dropped to one knee."
"No!" Jenni dropped and grabbed Samantha by the shoulders and looked as Samantha groaned, pulling a small barbed dart from her stomach.
"What the hell?" Jenni said. There was another soft crack and she felt a sting in the shoulder. She looked to see a similar dart protruding from her shoulder.
Samantha was growling with exertion and trying to get to her feet.
"Give it up. There's enough juice there to put down a man twice your size." The gunman said. He looked at them dispassionately.
"Who are you?" Samantha muttered. She heard rushing feet behind them. Then she and Jenni were seized by the arms and hurried towards a dark van that had appeared behind the gunman. She screamed at her muscles to respond but they refused.
As the tunnel of her vision grew smaller she saw the van's side door open and she and Jenni were deposited inside, not ungently.
Her phone was pulled from her pocket and she saw it dropped into a Faraday bag along with Jenni's. One of them men said, "I'll get these to tech.
Her leather jacket was wrenched down her arms and then she was rolled onto her back. The blonde straddled her.
"Who?" Samantha managed to whisper. She could feel her vision going fuzzy and was powerless to resist as the woman unbuttoned her shirt. Next to her Jenni was being coldly and efficiently stripped.
"Someone wants to talk to you." The blonde said as she unbuckled Samantha's belt and unzipped her jeans.
This is bad, Samantha thought to herself.
And then she lost her struggle against the drug and darkness engulfed her.
Today must be important. I rarely get a day off. Professional torturer isn’t an occupation that comes with many perks that one might associate with a typical job. You don’t get paid time off or raises. To the best of my knowledge, there is no such thing as a tickler’s union.
13 didn’t say much on the phone. The secured line didn’t mean a thing to her. She hated giving details on work matters over the phone. I guess I can’t blame her. All I knew was that two females had been captured. I was given no details on one of them, but was told that the other was a person of extreme interest. I wasn’t sure what that meant, but I didn’t really need to know. It was my job to be impartial. To treat each interrogation with a degree of dispassion and calm. The less I knew about my subjects, the easier it is for me to examine… and break them.
I stop in my office first, gathering up a few toys. I always like to have at least five various tools to assist me in Phase 2 of the interrogations, but seeing as how I was going to be asked to process two subjects at the same time, I just stuff the pockets of my lab coat with random objects, which I then throw on as my phone goes off. A text message.
They are ready for me.
I enter Room 237 and see the two women naked and bound to adjoining tickle tables with only a couple of feet for me to move between them. The moment I walk in, I see that the one to my right has shaken her head and now has a good deal of her hair in her face. She has a somewhat fit and athletic form and the blatant attempt that she has made to cover her face has me intrigued. She could very well be the subject of “extreme interest” that I had been told about.
The one on my left is still. Her body is certainly more… developed. The girl who is evidently trying to hide her face had long black hair, whereas the one on the left is more or a brunette. Jesus, just looking at her I find myself feeling a little bit of breast envy. I train my focus back to the task at hand, approaching the two bound women. The brown haired one looks up over at me and waves both of her hands frantically.
“How do you do and shake hands.” She was singing. Why was she singing? “State your name and business.”
“Knock it off.” The more athletic one commanded. “The less you say to this woman, the better.”
“Oh come on, Sammie. You mean that I-”
“Don’t call me by my name!” The black haired girl gets loud. She really doesn’t want me to know who she… wait. ‘Sammie’?
It can’t be.
I walk up to her and gently swipe the hair away from her face. I can’t believe it.
“Samantha Storm.” I whisper to myself. She looks up to me. She knows that I know who she is.
Every interrogator in the country knows who Samantha Storm is. Her escapades are just as well documented as her weakness: She is deathly ticklish.
This is going to be a treat. I am tempted to say something to her. To express in some way what an honor it will be to examine her.
“Looks to me like she already knows who you are, Sammie.” The other subject says.
“Yeah, no that’s terrific.” Storm responds cynically.
“This is going to be very simple.” I hear 13 address the room over the speakers. “The first one of you to talk gets to go free. The other will be kept in captivity for as long as we see fit.” 13 clearly means to pit the two prisoners against each other. It’s a novel idea if you ask me. It means that I only have to break one of them. I am incredibly tempted to not even touch the other woman, but 13 would be furious if I broke protocol. Still, I can at least start with Agent Storm.
“We won’t talk.” Samantha’s top heavy partner bravely claims.
“Number 7…” 13 utters. “You can begin.”
Gladly. I sit in the stool facing Samantha’s beautiful soles. They appear quite creamy for a woman of action. Starting at her heels with my signature fingernail strokes already has her scrunching her toes. I look up to see that she is able to keep a serious expression on her face but I doubt that will last long. I am going to break down the big bad spy until she is little more than a giggling child.
I move up to her insteps and she tries to jerk her feet away. I don’t think so. I notice Samantha’s friend is watching with a look of interest at my techniques. Perhaps she is thinking of what it will feel like when I get to her. I hope she is, anyway. I move to the soles and tickle just under the balls of her feet. Ah… now she has entered the trembling stage.
The trembling stage is a phenomenon that I find is merely a direct result of the subject trying to hide their ticklishness. At the same time, it is a conundrum. They are refusing to laugh outright. But the fact that they are shaking is the product of the giggles erupting inside of them. I can’t hear the laughter… but I can see it. And of course, once one reaches the trembling stage, it is usually only a few moments before…
“Hehehehahahaha…”
“Come on, Sammie. Keep it together.” The brunette encourages. I see that Samantha is able to suck up her giggles for a few seconds but soon cracks again when I tickle her toes with my fingernails. Her feet are ticklish to be sure, but I don’t see any real opportunity there. I decide to move on.
As is my routine, I tickle up the legs. To my disappointment, there isn’t much of a reaction until I get to the tops of her upper thighs. She is squirming and adorably trying to control the volume of her giggles. I guess she figures that if she can laugh quietly, it will make me think that she isn’t as ticklish as I might hope.
I know better than that, though.
Something else gets my attention. She is aroused. I look between Samantha’s legs and see that her labia is slightly swollen. Those nerves are begging for attention. I touch softly between her legs. She snickers. It tickles. But not so much that I would call it a danger zone. Even her perineum, a common tickle spot on men and women alike, only brings a moderate response. Still, she is definitely on the slick side by the time I am done.
I recall the stories I had heard about Storm. If I recall, her upper body is supposed to be full of treasures.
It’s tummy time.
My patented tickle touch on her lower belly breaks her right away. I thought it would. She tries to twitch from side to side, but I won’t let her escape my nails.
“Hahahahahahahahaha!:
“Do you have anything to say?” I hear 13 ask over the intercom.
“Kiss my Aahahahassss!” Samantha yells before collapsing into more giggles when I get near her bellybutton. A simple poke and wiggle in that sweet little hole gives me the best reaction yet. That’s where the treasure is. I’m sure of it. Inching up her ribs, she is red in the face by now. I feel Tickler’s Bliss starting to overtake me. My more sadistic side wants to truly break Samantha. To humiliate her and make her admit that she’s just a giggling little girl.
“You’re ticklish.” I tell her as I touch and worm my fingers in her exposed underarms. I turn to her bosomy friend. “You will be too.” The brunette gasps as I look her in the eye. I see that her nipples are hard. A fetishist, perhaps? I tickle Samantha’s chest and neck as her laughing begins to grow softer. The bellybutton is the gold mine. That is irrefutable. Phase 1 for Samantha is complete. Now let’s see about her partner.
“Do either of you have anything to say about the whereabouts of Stanislov?” 13 asked. Both women obviously know what she is talking about.
“No.” Samantha says defiantly.
“Um… no.” Her friend isn’t so convincing. She is scared of me. Good. I can use that to my advantage. I give her a threatening smirk and wiggle my fingers softly in the air as I move towards the foot of her table “Hehehe… no…” She is already giggling.
“Control yourself.” Samantha ordered her. But the brunette wasn’t paying attention to her. She was fixated on watching me. Watching my fingers move closer and closer to her feet. I started tickling… and she kept giggling.
Every so often, a subject is so ticklish that they laugh or squirm no matter where they are touched. This can be a mixed blessing. Sometimes, this makes it harder to detect where the real sweet spots are. At the same time, they are a sure thing. They will break sooner than others. I climb up the soles to the very middles of her feet and she becomes hysterical. Have I struck oil already? Sure, a lot of people are the most ticklish on their feet, and this woman has dropped more than a few clues. Her watching me tickle Samantha’s soles earlier with such interest… her anxiety when I approached her…
When I get to her toes, she doesn’t react as strongly, but she still can’t stop laughing. It’s only when I begin to climb her legs that she calms down enough to somewhat catch her breath. She was still quite a wiggler though.
The knees were relatively unresponsive to the light touch. I might have tried squeezing them, but Phase 1 must only consist of light tickles for it to be properly effective. Moving up the thighs and her happy face returns. The inner thighs have her ecstatic and when I get between her legs, I feel how wet she is. More so than Samantha was. Definitely a fetishist. She is turned on by tickling. I can only imagine that she is purely a*lee, though I could easily be wrong. I tickle her perineum and she gives the response that I had been hoping for from Samantha. Oh well, to each their own.
The belly proves sensitive. I have read many studies in ticklishness and while the feet are always the go to, I have rarely met a subject who didn’t have a ticklish belly. I feel it doesn’t get the praise it deserves. Her bellybutton causes a yelp but nothing like the reaction I had received from Storm. Oh, well. It looks like after Phase 1, I will be returning to her feet for Phase 2. Those soles have some real magic in them. I doubt that I’ll find a more ticklish…
What’s this?
I raise my fingers towards her chest and hear the faintest of squeaks. Could it be that these fleshy soccer balls have something to say?
I start at the sides of the breasts where they meet the ribs and she cracks like an egg. Interesting. Typically, at least in my experience, the smaller breasts are the most ticklish. I had heard of cases where larger busts were unbearably sensitive but had only once or twice encountered that phenomenon myself. I use the spiral technique, drawing my fluttering nails around and around, further and further inward towards the nipples, like knights scaling a tower with steps that wrap around it until they reach the apex. She is all giggles until I reach the nipples. Then… well… even I am surprised by the effort that she puts into trying to twist away from me.
Damn.
I finish Phase 1 in her underarms, which makes her bounce a little, and her neck, which makes her scrunch her neck and snicker.
Phase 1. Complete. I stand between them and wait further instructions.
“Phase 1 is finished.” I hear 13 once again. “Nobody has ever made it through Phase 2. This is your chance, ladies. We know that you were both involved in the apprehension of Stanislov. Let us know where he is, and you will be released. The first one to talk goes free”. When the brunette hears the offer again, she looks a little more afraid. It hits me like a hammer: She is no spy. She might have met Samantha through some random circumstances and has no idea what the answer is. A civilian wouldn’t know the names of different agents and buildings. But Samantha would. The brunette is likely terrified that only Samantha has the goods.
This will be delightful.
Neither woman would respond.
“Very well. Number 7, begin Phase 2.”
I go to Samantha first. I want her friend to see just how cruel I can be.
“What’s your name, bitch?” Samantha addresses me outright, and quite rudely if I am to be honest.
“You’re ticklish.” I respond.
“Fine. Whatever. Hi, I’m ticklish. Nice to meet you. And your name is?”
“You’re…” I reach into my left lab pocket and retrieve a mechanical pencil, clicking it three times to push out the slender graphite. “...ticklish.”
I see fear enter her for the first time. It’s absolutely captivating. I pull up the stool to the table on Samantha’s left side, so that her partner can see what I am going to do. I place my hand comfortably on Samantha’s tummy, holding her still.
She knows what is coming. I watch her brace herself.
I put the business end of the pencil in her bellybutton, softly flicking it about.
.
“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!” She loses it just as I knew she would. She is beside herself. I feel Tickler’s Bliss threatening to overtake me again. I poke the knot and stroke it with the skill of a surgeon, sending bolts of ticklishness through her at an unforgiving pace.
“Ready to talk?” 13 asks.
“NOOOOOHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”
It is my pleasure to administer a hearty raspberry to Agent Storm before I attack her navel with the pencil again. There are tears in her eyes. She is short of breath. She will break soon. I trace the wrinkles of the knot and up my game by grabbing at her sides occasionally with my free hand
The subject loses consciousness.
Crap.
Well, I will give Samantha this: She is a tough cookie. I wait a few minutes before reviving her with smelling salts. To say that this is disheartening is an understatement. Once a subject will fight the tickle all the way to the loss of consciousness, they will likely do it again. Storm is a lost cause.
“That the best you can do?” She pants and laughs at me. “I guess I’m just not ticklish enough for you. Or maybe you just really suck at it.”
Okay, Samantha. You handle your torture well. I will give you that.
Let’s see how well you handle the torture of others.
I turn to the brunette.
“You’re ticklish.” I tell her.
“Um, Sammie…”
“Just take it, Jenni.” Storm commands. “No breaking. No giving in. She can’t kill you.”
Samantha is right. I can’t kill either of them. I don’t have permission, nor would it be given to me. But I can make her wish that she was dead. I lock eyes with the brunette, apparently named Jenni, and I pull out a simple, everyday, Dollar store plastic comb.
“I don’t like this, Sammie.” Jenni is panicking. Wonderful.
“Just breathe, Jenni. You have dealt out far worse than this bitch will ever be able to give.”
Once I put my hand on Jenni’s right breast, steadying it, she is really scared.
“Sammie, just tell her!”
“I CAN’T”
I begin.
Back in grade school. There was always the child who kind of kept to themselves. During class, they were probably very attentive and productive. But during recess, they kind of kept to themselves. There was a little boy who was like that when I was little. Instead of playing kickball or jumping on the swings, he would do something very peculiar: He would go to the flagpole, hum random songs that were on the radio at the time, as is he was remembering what might have been playing during the car ride to the school that morning, and he would put his hand on the flagpole and just walk around it. He wouldn’t grab the pole. Instead, he would just let his palm feel the metal run against his skin and he slowly walked around it again and again.
Essentially, this was the plan.
I laid the comb on its side, and ran it in circles around the turgid bud, allowing the bristles to drag around the sides of the erect, pink pebble.
“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!” Jenni went ballistic.
“You’re ticklish…”
“SAAAAAAAAAAMMMMMIEEE!”
“I turned him over to my people.” Samantha knew that her partner wouldn’t make it. In my opinion, she did the right thing. I would do it for any friend of mine.
“Thank you.” 13 acknowledged over the speakers. “You two are lucky that I’m a woman of my word. One of you spoke first. That person can go. The other, well, you are just fortunate. We don’t need you for anything. There is no point in holding someone who clearly can’t tell us anything. You will both be released separately within the next two days. Pray that you are never brought here again.”
Thank both you and Suikoden for writing it.
