The Reservoir Key (f/f, fantasy, 6 chapters)

[Kunzite]

The Reservoir Key

Chapter 1: The Client

The sun was beginning to set over the city skyline, casting a deep orange light into the Perfect Touch spa that made Samantha yearn to go home. But even on a slow day such as this, her professional duties as a pedicurist kept her here. With no customers to attend to and no appointments for the rest of the day, she busied herself with menial cleaning and organization. To keep her eyes off the painfully slow progress of the clock, Samantha cast her gaze to the sidewalk outside, and that was when she saw the woman.

She easily one of the tallest women Samantha had ever seen. At six and a half feet, she towered over the other men and women on the city street outside. Wearing a business suit that was tailored for a woman considerably smaller than herself, she looked even more out of place, like a gangster squeezed into respectable clothing. Perhaps the impression was intentional.

Samantha was surprised when the woman turned a sharp right at her door and entered the Perfect Touch Spa. It appears we have a customer, thought Samantha wearily as the bell signaling the door’s opening rang. At half an hour until closing she was the only pedicurist working, so this client would be hers. As she summoned a smile and greeted this new customer she was struck by her impressive figure, even more at close range. With rippling muscles over every inch of her body, she looked more like a professional wrestler than a gangster. Her blonde hair was tied back in a ponytail, a bizarre contrast to her business clothes. She wore no jewelry: only a grey pinstripe suit nearly straining at the buttons. Samantha smirked at the eighties-style shoulder pads, until she realized those were her actual shoulders.

“This is a foot spa, I understand?” asked her visitor in a deep voice. Her accent was oddly unplaceable. “I would like…treatment.”

“Treatment?” asked Samantha. “Are you suffering from a specific ailment? I’m trained in pedicure and a variety of foot massage techniques, to deal with muscles aches, stress, damaged skin…”

“Yes, damaged skin,” said the woman, as though this was as good an answer as she could expect. “Can you help me with that?”

“Certainly,” said Samantha. “Please, come in and have a seat. The wait shouldn’t be long.” She gestured around the empty room as she attempted her mild joke. The woman did not smile. “Please, take off your shoes.”

For the first time, the atmosphere went from formal to decidedly cold. The muscular woman, dwarfing the chair she was sitting in, eyed Samantha with distinct suspicion. She clearly realized the request was a reasonable one, and yet she was hesitant. Samantha noticed she shoes she wore were not fashionable heels, nor were they sensible work flats. The woman wore what almost looked like black combat boots, kept in place around the ankles with leather straps and buckles. An odd fashion choice, Samantha thought, but then there was much that was odd about this client.

“Would you like me to help you with your shoes?” Samantha asked.

“No.” The woman held up a hand, insistent to stop her. “I…I will do it myself.” The woman exhaled, as though she were steeling herself for an ordeal, and then undid the straps keeping her boots in place. Sliding them off her feet, she let them fall on the ground beside the spa chair. Judging from the sound they made when they impacted the tile floor, Samantha would have needed to use both hands to lift a single one.

She then turned her beautician’s eye towards her client’s soles. After her talk of skin restoration, she wasn’t sure what to expect: unhealthy dry skin of some sort, burns perhaps. But she certainly wasn’t expecting what she saw.

The woman’s soles were as close to perfect as Samantha had ever seen. Soft, pink skin without a single blemish, they were perfectly moisturized and looked as if they had been expertly taken care of. If Samantha had been asked, she would have guessed her client had just come from another pedicure. What on earth could be “damaged” about her skin? She surveyed them for several seconds, and there was a lot of area to survey: her long, shapely feet were about a size 12-13 with elongated toes.

“It would help if I knew what exactly was…wrong,” said Samantha, with mild professional embarrassment that she had to ask.

“My skin has become damaged. Repair it,” ordered the woman unhelpfully. No more stalling for time, Samantha thought. Maybe she suffered some sort of UV damage to her skin? At this time of year beachgoers were likely to lay too long in the sun. Not the best explanation, but it would have to do. There wasn’t much she could do except alleviate the pain. She reached over towards her table for a foot towel and put one hand gently on the top of the woman’s foot.

Samantha was nearly knocked backwards as the woman’s entire body shook violently. Had that touch hurt her, Samantha wondered worriedly? Her professional credibility was plummeting fast, she thought with a gulp. The woman in the chair was unmistakably upset, but her expression showed something more. She almost seemed to be smiling. It was a long and awkward moment before Samantha put the pieces together. Apparently her client was ticklish.

“I…I’m sorry,” Samantha apologized, trying to placate this dangerous-looking client. She hadn’t even touched the soles: that level of ticklishness was something she had rarely seen even in her line of work. Her training had taught her how to deliver pedicures to even the most ticklish women, but this was going to be a challenge of a new magnitude. She had her tools in hand but was almost afraid to start again. Sooner of later she would have to touch those huge soles, and she didn’t know if her skill would be enough for the delicacy required. The fact that this woman looked as though she could tear her in half did nothing to calm her fears.

“Are you…ready to begin?” asked Samantha, stalling more for her own sake than her client’s.

“Yes. Yes, just get it over with. Do what you need to,” the woman answered brusquely. She was clearly embarrassed, but not giving up.

Samantha steeled herself, holding her file like an explosives expert using pliers to cut wires on a ticking bomb. She placed a hand on the top of the right foot again, and she felt the woman fight back the instinct to thrash. Slowly, she touched the woman’s soles with the file.

Again, the result was too fast for Samantha to register: she only found herself reeling from a blow, and suddenly her file was on the floor at the opposite end of the room. It took her a moment to recover from the daze and realize what happened: she had been kicked in the forehead. The echo of her client’s high-pitched squeal still rang in her ears, and she now saw the woman glowering down at her with anger and resentment.

“You clumsy fool!” she bellowed. “I didn’t come in here to be so poorly handled! You said you could heal me!”

“I apologize, please, calm down…” Samantha stuttered, with one hand on her forehead where she had been kicked. It still ached: she was certain the blow would leave a bruise. What was she expected to do?

“Why have you wasted my time?” the muscular woman thundered from her chair, distinctly threatening. “Are you incompetent or merely a liar?”

Either it was the long day weighing on Samantha’s shoulders, or the throbbing of the bruise on her forehead, or simply the indignity of being berated for failing at an impossible task. Whatever the reason, Samantha felt her last shred of patience disappear. A shiver of resignation ran through her body as she shed the vestiges of her professional courtesy. Muscles or no, she was going to give this woman exactly what she asked for.

With the speed of determination, Samantha reached over to the pedicure chair and flipped a switch. Immediately, padded cuffs sprung out from the bottom, wrapping around the woman’s ankles. She immediately began tugging at them, but even her impressive strength was not enough to break the metal.

“What is the meaning of this?” the woman demanded, her eyes cold with fury.

“This is a provision we have for some of our more ticklish guests,” answered Samantha. The euphoria of new-found confidence rushed through her and renewed her energy. “You wanted a pedicure? Well, you’re going to get one.”

“Release me this instant!” shouted the woman, with such strength that the possibility of her breaking the bonds suddenly seemed real. Luckily, they seemed to be holding. “When I get out of here, there won’t be enough left of you to fit in a handbag!”

“Then we’d better be sure you use that energy on something more productive,” Samantha answered, amazingly feeling as brave as she sounded. She kneeled in front of the chair and produced from her coat pocket a small soft-bristled makeup brush.

That was the first time she saw unbridled fear in the woman’s eyes. Her toes curled tightly and her eyes opened wide, unblinkingly staring at the tool. “You…you keep that away from me!” she warned. A trickle of sweat ran down her forehead.

“I think before we start you need some experience having those feet touched, dear,” said Samantha. “Now if I were you I’d brace myself, because this is really going to tickle.”

There was no fight for composure, no slow release of giggles. The moment those bristles touched the woman’s vast, sensitive soles the spa was filled with howling peals of unrestrained laughter. Her toes danced madly as the brush swept across those ticklish soles: going from heel to toe and back again, wreaking havoc with every inch.

“HAAAAHAHAHAHAHA!! STAAHAHAHAHAHAPPP!!” screamed the woman, already rendered helpless. She thrashed and turned in her chair, but the ankle cuffs kept her feet firmly in place as Samantha’s brush taught them a well-deserved lesson. Samantha didn’t even have to search out sensitive spots: every bit of her soles were so maddeningly ticklish that Samantha might have felt sorry for her. But now, every new burst of laughter that erupted was music to her ears.

“Oh, we’re not stopping any time soon,” taunted Samantha. “These big ticklish feet are going to see a lot of attention in the next few hours, that I can promise you.” She twirled the brush over the woman’s high arches, and barely noticed when her flailing arms knocked the beautician’s cart clear across the room. “We’re going to stay here and have a nice, long laugh.”

“HAHAHAHAHAHA!! I’LL KILL YOUUUHOHOHOHOHOHO!!” the woman choked out between bursts of helpless laughter. Her face was red and her fierce eyes shed rivers of tears. Her ponytail whipped back and forth as she threw her head about, but the assault on her ticklish feet continued.

“What was that? Koochie koochie koo!” Samantha mocked, using the brush to dust beneath her toes. “If you can still threaten me, I think we have to get serious.” And with that, she cast the brush aside and sank all ten of her perfectly manicured fingernails into the soft flesh of the woman’s soles.

Samantha would not have believed the laughter could get any more intense, but as her nails touched those ticklish soles the laughter nearly doubled in volume. Blinded by tears, the woman could no longer talk, babbling ticklish nonsense as Samantha’s unyielding fingernails raked across those long, tender expanses. The mirrors shook in their frames from the sheer force of her screams. It seemed the woman was tapping new wells of energy, only to laugh it all away.

Samantha was lost in her work, scratching the balls of her feet and feeling the smooth perfection of those arches with her own fingers. The laughter was all-consuming: it was all Samantha could hear, and all she could think about was provoking more of it. Touching, prodding, and coaxing new spots, the woman was reduced to a mindless mess. The buttons of her suit jacket had burst open, and her shirt was tearing as her magnificent muscles struggled to save her from death by tickling. But her poor, abused feet stayed directly in harm’s way.

“PLEEHEHEHEHEHEASE!!! I GIVE UP!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!” screamed the huge woman, all of her resistance gone. But her pleas for mercy went unheeded.

Samantha continued her merciless work, aware that it was getting much warmer in the room. At first, she barely thought about it, but suddenly she felt a searing burst of heat. There was a loud clack, as of a hard object hitting the tile floor. Samantha had no difficulty seeing what it was: it was some sort of ivory globe, fallen out of the woman’s pocket as she writhed in ticklish agony. This was the source of the heat in the room, and it was getting warmer. It pulsed with a strange, red glow that seemed to be getting brighter. Suddenly Samantha became worried.

“What is th—“ she began.

But she never finished. A burst of blinding red light enveloped the room, blanking out everything. Samantha had no time to even move before darkness enveloped her.

 

[Kunzite]

Chapter 2: Arrival

Samantha’s first thought was that she had fallen asleep in a tanning bed. Harsh light and heat beat down on her from behind her closed eyes. She rolled over uncomfortably, trying to shield herself but the heat was inescapable. It was then that she became aware that the ground was uneven and grassy beneath her, as though she were outdoors. Slowly, she opened her eyes.

She was lying at the edge of a lush tropical jungle: a vast wall of foliage towering above her. Lush green leaves, tangled vines, and a dazzling array of fruits in all imaginable colors formed a view so vivid it was almost blinding. Samantha shut her eyes again. She breathed deeply. It was all a dream, she told herself. I’m not really in a jungle. I’m going to open my eyes, and I’ll be back at the spa.

Samantha opened her eyes for the second time. Stubbornly, the impossible jungle was still there. She stared at it for a moment and then slowly sat up in a haze of weary confusion.

There was no denying it: it was a real jungle. Thoughts of being in an arboretum or a large-scale theme garden were soon dismissed. From her vantage point atop a small grassy hill, she could see the treetops go on for miles. From time to time birds broke through the canopy of trees, fluttering around before alighting back down again elsewhere. The heady perfume of fragrant blossoms wafted through the humid air. Above her, a fierce tropical sun shone down, nothing like she could ever expect at home. “So,” she said without really believing it, “it stands to reason I’m not home.”

“So where am I?” was the next logical question. For that, Samantha had no answer. Had she been drugged and shipped off to some Pacific island? Never mind the why, how could that have even happened? She had barely been out for an hour, let alone however many days such a trip would have taken. There should have been some indication if that were true…

As Samantha looked around her for clues, her eyes fell on a tiny object next to her in the grass, no bigger than a tennis ball. It was the ivory globe she had seen fall out of the towering woman’s pocket. This time there was no red glow to it, however. Samantha reached down to pick it up. It was cool to the touch, and lighter than she would have expected. All across its surface were detailed carvings: serpentine patterns that looped over each other in impossibly complicated knots. It seemed to have a depth that was impossible for its size, layers upon layers regressing into infinity. She stared at it, holding it firmly in her hand. Whatever it was, it was her only link to where she had come from, and it might explain why she was here.

Looking at the sphere gave Samantha an inexplicable sense of vertigo. With effort, she averted her eyes from it and tried to steady herself. Leaning against a gray, rubbery tree behind her, Samantha gazed off into the treetops, which seemed to extend on forever. The tree was pleasantly warm to the touch, and she was tempted to lie down against it. She was just about to do so when she felt something move. It was more localized than an earthquake, she thought. Suddenly, with a dull emptiness in the pit of her stomach, that it was the tree that moved. Except it wasn’t a tree: Samantha noticed three large claws at the base. Slowly, she looked up.

The pterodactyl looked back down at her.

She could have run, she could have thrown herself off the hill and ran for the safety of the trees as though her life depended on it. But Samantha stood frozen in place, locking eyes with this enormous winged beast as tall as a building. It stood on the top of the hill like a giant canary on a perch, looking down at her in silence. She had never been so terrified in her entire life: the fear was stifling, she felt like she was being smothered by something insubstantial until she could not breathe. Her muscles refused to move: she could only stand next to this enormous, prehistoric animal and stare in the face of certain death. The pterodactyl, on the other hand, looked distinctly unconcerned. It lifted up an automobile-sized claw and nonchalantly picked its teeth.

So this is how it ends, she thought. Eaten by a dinosaur. The words sounded almost humorous in a macabre way.

And then, suddenly, chaos erupted. The beast emitted an air-shattering shriek of pain and rage, spreading its vast wings until they blotted out the sun. Its claws dug huge chunks out of the ground as it turned around, and Samantha saw an arrow buried in one of its wings. Then from nowhere, a second and third struck the creature, driving it into a frenzy horrible to behold. It began flapping its wings, hovering above the hill, and the force of the gale it produced knocked Samantha off her feet and sent her tumbling down the hill. Around her, she saw figures emerge from hiding spots in the grass. Now spears and javelins were hurled at the creature: some hitting, others knocked aside by the beast’s claws like bothersome insects. Now Samantha had no difficulty running. She did not stop to look at her benefactors, she only ran as fast as she could for the jungle where she might hide.

Once inside the trees, Samantha did not dare to slow her pace. She ran as fast as she could, tearing past branches and through low-hanging vines. There was no path to follow, but getting lost never occurred to her. She only thought to run. It seemed like an eternity before she even dared to look over her shoulder to see if she had escaped the battle. Trying to make out any movement behind her, Samantha unexpectedly bumped into something.

Coming to a stop, she looked in front of her. She had crashed into a woman. But there was nothing either comforting or familiar about seeing another person in this wilderness. The woman was at least a head taller than her, and had the rippling muscular build of a jungle huntress or an Amazon. With powerful arms, broad shoulders, and legs like tree trunks, she still had a distinctly feminine body shape: slender at the waist and extremely top-heavy. She was doing very little to disguise either fact: she wore a bikini which barely concealed an enormous pair of breasts and a shapely ass. It looked like a leopard print, except with shades of deep crimson and orange. Somehow, Samantha knew it was made out of actual cat fur. With her long black hair tied in a braid down to her waist and decorated with carved charms and fetishes, she looked frighteningly feral, like something out of a dream.

Then Samantha heart the sound of beating wings in the distance, and she remembered what she had been running from. Whatever this woman looked like, maybe she could help. Samantha opened her mouth to say something, but she never got the chance. The Amazon growled and struck Samantha with a club, knocking her backwards against a tree. The wind was knocked out of her as she crumpled to the ground, and looked up to see the jungle woman towering over her, an angry and predatory look on her face. She held her club purposefully. This was clearly no friend.

The Amazon held her club above her head, preparing for another strike. Samantha tried to shield herself with her hands, but she knew that it would do no good. Had she escaped from the beast on the hill only to meet her end here? If only she could do something, to somehow fight back…

She had barely finished her thought when suddenly the canopy of trees above them broke open and sunlight flooded down, overcast in an instant by a shadow that Samantha recognized immediately. The pterodactyl from the hill descended into the jungle, still furious and shrieking with rage. It flew erratically, obviously in pain, crashing into trees and splintering them like matchsticks. It swooped down on them, narrowly missing Samantha but heading directly for the Amazon. She tried to leap out of the way, but she was half a second too slow: the edge of the beast’s wing hit her squarely in the chest, and the force of the blow knocked her through the air with a sickening thud. She crashed against a tree trunk, and Samantha heard a springing sound. A concealed trap, hidden in the leaves on the jungle floor, sprang up and lassoed the Amazon’s wrists together, lifting her a foot off the ground with her hands above her head! With her ankles similarly bound, she dangled helplessly from the tree as the pterodactyl flew by the two women off into the distance and disappeared.

Slowly, Samantha got to her feet. She was breathing hard, but far from being tired, she was exhilarated. She looked at the towering figure in front of her, rendered helpless by an act of unbelievable luck. Her muscles strained to break the ropes holding her, but they had to be stronger than steel cords: they didn’t give in the slightest. The Amazon glared down at her with unmitigated rage. But no…not quite. There was something else in her eyes, and it took Samantha a moment to place it. Could it be fear?

The jungle woman growled something in an unfamiliar tongue. It was unmistakably threatening.

Samantha tried her hardest not to take the threat, whatever it was, to heart. Her stomach still ached where the Amazon had clubbed her. “Let’s focus on what I want.” She punctuated the word “I” with a poke to the stomach. The effect was immediate. She saw the woman’s body tense up all over as a shiver ran through her. Her teeth were suddenly gritted, and that look of anxiety in her face grew. She said nothing, and Samantha sized her up quizzically. Then, out of curiosity, she pressed her finger gently into the Amazon’s firm, flat stomach a second time.

This time there was no mistaking the expression, the squirming, the self-conscious loss of dignity. Samantha arched an eyebrow. “Could it be that you’re…ticklish?” It seemed too good to be true. She held a finger close to the Amazon’s stomach: instinctively she sucked it inward. But a moment later Samantha was tracing her fingernail in small, slow circles around the woman’s belly button. She was right: that fearsome countenance was broadening into a forced grin. A grin that concealed rage, but the woman was helpless to act on it.

Samantha began walking her fingers up the woman’s sides, and amazingly each step she took was venturing into more sensitive territory. The Amazon’s desperate smile finally broke as stifled snickering escaped through clenched teeth, her entire body shaking as Samantha’s slender fingers pressed into the firm musculature. For all Samantha’s own attempts at exercise, this body put hers to shame, and yet it came with a terrible weakness. Her good fortune was amazing: the question was no longer about her own survival, but what she could get out of this new advantage.

“I’d imagine you’re ready to answer questions now?” asked Samantha. She could afford to be smug.

The woman hissed something in her strange language again. Samantha wondered if she could even understand her.

“Even if you can’t understand me, you’d be surprised how a ticklish body can speed up the learning process.” Samantha squeezed the Amazon’s sides, kneading the pronounced muscles, and the woman’s eyes widened. Her lips sealed shut, trembling with the rest of her body as she choked back the laughter. Her skin was amazingly soft, another virtue Samantha could only wonder at. But now it turned pink beneath her finger-presses, testing the Amazon’s self-control to the limit.

“Tickle tickle! Had enough yet?” Samantha asked, genuinely enjoying herself. The Amazon’s eyes were shut tightly as she tried to defend against the sensations, but it was a losing battle. A tear trickled slowly down her cheek and her massive chest shook with restrained laughter. They had to be E cups at least, and Samantha was impressed that her bra was able to support them. Another mystery to add to the list.

“Not bad. Now let’s see you resist this,” said Samantha with a smile. She reached up and pressed her fingertips into the smooth hollows of the Amazon’s underarms. Immediately the woman’s eyes flew open: the battle was lost.

“AAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! NOT THEEHEHEHEHERRE!!” she howled, to Samantha’s great surprise.

“So you do speak my language. Now there’s some good news for both of us.” Samantha’s fingers danced across the pliant flesh, digging into the softest regions whose touch reduced this proud huntress to hysterics. Her wild laughter echoed through the jungle, causing leaves to rustle as the wild screams frightened birds from their perches. Her breasts bounced uncontrollably as she writhed and twisted her upper body, but Samantha’s fingers never stopped their pleasurable work for a moment.

“STAAAHAHAHAHAHAPPP!! STAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAPPP!!” the Amazon pleaded. And to her obvious surprise, it did stop. Samantha withdrew her fingers, and after a moment of unmitigated relief the Amazon’s face flooded with fury and resentment. She said nothing but her gaze bore into Samantha with the intensity of a woman who wished looks could kill.

“Now that we can have a civilized conversation, why don’t you start by telling me where we are?” Samantha asked, all fear of her adversary dispelled.

“I don’t have to tell you anyth—AAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!” Samantha’s fingernails were back in her underarms in a flash, tickling without mercy. Her skin was hopelessly soft, the perfect targets for such delicate punishment. She kept the woman in the throes of laughter for about five minutes until she felt that her point had been made.

“Now, I think I asked where we were,” repeated Samantha as the Amazon panted and gasped for breath.

The woman looked like she was weighing her options. “The Reservoir!” she hissed at last. Not the answer Samantha was looking for, but it was a start.

“What kind of Reservoir? I don’t see any water?” asked Samantha.

“I—I don’t know! It’s called the Reservoir!” the Amazon spat out, hatred burning in her eyes.

Samantha gave a mock sigh. “You do like doing things the hard way, don’t you love?” Her fingers reached out towards those defenseless underarms, and the Amazon’s muscular frame trembled with fear and anticipation.

But that was as far as Samantha got. Suddenly a rustling and a breaking of branches came from the jungle behind her, shattering Samantha’s illusion of invulnerability. Of course there were other Amazons in the jungle, probably looking for their lost comrade. And if they found her being tickled, they were not likely to be kindly disposed to the tickler.

Samantha’s fears were confirmed when two other Amazons stepped into the clearing, dressed identically to the one tied up. Their eyes darted from Samantha, to the bound Amazon, and back to Samantha. Samantha needed no help reading the writing on the wall. She turned and ran.

Looking over her shoulder, she saw one of the two start cutting the ropes that held her friend, while the other Amazon ran after Samantha in hot pursuit. She had been a fool, she rebuked herself as she tore through the underbrush away from her pursuer. She could have taken this time to get away, but instead she wasted it tickling that woman. And if they caught her, they didn’t look like they’d settle for just a tickle session of their own.

Samantha had no idea which way she was going, but every second she heard the Amazon behind her get closer. She couldn’t outrun her; her only hope was to lose her somehow. She ran through the thickest foliage she could find, pushing her way through a thick clump of hanging vines. They were a deep forest green with purple streaks, like no plant she had ever seen. As she moved through them, she felt her skin crawl as the vines began to move! They wrapped themselves around her, sliding over her skin like a nest of serpents. She felt uncomfortably like she was being felt all over by a hundred errant fingers, and even though they barely slowed her progress, she felt a wave of relief when she passed through them.

A second later, Samantha heard a deafening high-pitched squeal behind her. She looked over her shoulder, and in spite of her self-preservation instincts, she stopped running. The Amazon had leapt into the tangle of vines after her, but she had not had such an easy time as Samantha. She stood suspended above the jungle floor in the center of the vine cluster, laughing at the top of her lungs! The vines slithered over her exposed skin, squeezing her ribs and sliding their pointed tips over her stomach and underarms. More of them wrapped around her legs: some touching behind her knees, and many more collecting to press against the soles of her bare feet.

It occurred to Samantha that while she had found the experience unpleasant, the Amazon was many orders of magnitude more ticklish then she was. What had been mere touching for her was unbearable tickle torture for this jungle woman. The vines seemed to seek out every ticklish spot on her body, and she had too many to count. Her enormous chest shook with thundering laughter as she howled and cursed in an unknown language. Her feet danced in mid-air, but everywhere they went there were dozens of vines waiting to tickle the tender surfaces, stroking her arches and sliding in between her toes. Her long blonde hair was disheveled as she threw her head around in hysterics. Samantha smiled. She had to fight the urge to sit down and watch the show.

“Looks like I do have an advantage on you girls after all,” she said smiling, her words drowned out by the Amazon’s loud throaty laughter. “I guess I’m not the only one who should have been more careful.”

Samantha blew a kiss to the captive Amazon and turned to leave. As she walked through the jungle, behind her the sounds of desperate ticklish laughter slowly blended into the background noises of the wilderness.

 

[Kunzite]

Chapter 3: Companion

It was nearly an hour before Samantha felt it safe to assume she was not being followed. With the adrenaline of terror subsiding, a great weariness took its place. Samantha realized that she extremely hungry and thirsty. She had no idea which fruits hanging from the trees were edible, but there was a small stream running alongside her. She knelt beside it and cupped her hands in the water, taking draught after draught for almost a minute.

Samantha sat on a nearby flat rock cushioned with pale blue moss and weighed her options. She was now irredeemably lost, although no more so than when she had woken up on the hill. She had no idea how to get home, and the only people who might be able to help her had demonstrated that they were not predisposed to do so. So far her only options seemed to be to continue wandering blindly or to seek out these Amazon women and hope they would show her charity. Neither was especially appealing.

There wasn’t much to get her bearings by around here. The jungle all looked pretty much the same to her, and there was no indication of any form of civilization in any particular direction. The background noise sounded the same from every side: the rustling of leaves, the chattering of small animals, and the hooting calls of tropical birds.

Something made her stop. That last sound she heard was definitely not a bird. Even from a distance, the pitch and cadence told Samantha what was making the noise: a person. In other circumstances, she might wonder what possessed a person to make such animalistic noises. In light of recent events, however, she had no difficulty guessing. It was laughter.

Following the sound of the laughter was not difficult, and it became louder with every clump of foliage Samantha pushed her way through. At last, she came to a small dusty clearing, which contained the source she had been seeking. From her hiding place in a clump of bushes, Samantha could see two occupants of the clearing. One was an Amazon, lying tied up on the ground. The other was undoubtedly a saber-toothed tiger.

The woman lay on her stomach with her legs bound together with vines at least a dozen times. Her wrists were lashed together behind her head, and vines tied to stakes in the ground kept her anchored where she lay. Her bare upturned soles were flushed bright red from extensive tickle torture. Although they looked clean, they emitted a strong smell of honey that Samantha could smell from yards away. Samantha could only see the back of her head, its long golden blonde hair disheveled from thrashing. In front of the woman, nail marks in the dusty ground showed where she had madly clawed in the throes of hysteria.

The tiger, standing behind her, was the cause. Despite its fearsome fangs, it did not attack the Amazon. Rather, it leaned over her bare soles, placidly licking the surfaces as though it were a kitten partaking of a saucer of milk. Its long, rough tongue slid over the ticklish soles, driving the Amazon into the throes of madness. Her throat was raw with prolonged laughter, but still she howled and begged for mercy. But her torturer was deaf to her pleas, calmly licking the honey-scented surfaces and oblivious of the woman’s plummet into insanity.

Even though she had every reason to, Samantha strangely took no satisfaction in this spectacle. The Amazon’s desperate laughter betrayed her weakening strength, and the torture was not about to abate. Her soles were simply too ticklish to withstand this treatment for much longer: eventually she would be tickled to death. Samantha may have had cause to wish such an ignominious death on the women who had tried to kill her, but this Amazon at least had done nothing to her. Against her better judgment, she felt compelled to save this woman’s life.

Of course, she realized, that involves fighting off a saber-tooted tiger. Perhaps this plan was not entirely well thought out. Samantha pondered the situation as she put her hands in the pockets of her white spa technician’s jacket. It was dusty and torn in several places when she had run through the jungle, but largely intact. Inside her pocket, her hand brushed against her pedicurist’s kit: a small case containing brushes, pumice stones, and other tools of her trade. Nothing that would help her now, though.

Suddenly, she felt something else in her pocket. It was a small glass bottle, filled with aromatherapy oil. She had been using it earlier today for her massage clients: this one had the strong smell of brown sugar and vanilla. As she fingered the bottle, an idea began to form in her head. The tiger was clearly licking the woman’s soles because of the strong smell they emitted: there was no actual food to be had. Perhaps if fighting the beast was impossible, misdirection might work. It was worth a try.

Samantha took the bottle out of her pocket, and hurled it into the clearing. It struck a tree, and there was a great explosion of glass as droplets of the aromatherapy oil flew in every direction. The entire clearing carried the strong smell of brown sugar and vanilla, and it seemed to be spreading on the wind. The saber-toothed tiger sniffed and looked up from the Amazon’s feet and sniffed. With the smell of honey completely drowned out, he seemed to be losing interest. He meandered curiously over the point of the bottle’s impact, and not finding an immediate source, sauntered off into the jungle in search of whatever it was that smelled so interesting.

Samantha stepped cautiously into the clearing. Its remaining occupant might well be as dangerous as the tiger. However, the Amazon did not appear to be in a state to threaten anyone. She appeared only half-conscious after her ordeal: there was an unfocused look in her eyes and she still continued to laugh softly, almost inaudibly, at nothing. Samantha wondered if she was too late to help her. But regardless, she used her metal file to saw through the vines holding her. At least she was free.

For a long moment, neither one of them moved. Finally, the Amazon’s head began to lift slowly. “Please…no more…” she whispered.

“It’s all right. You’re OK now,” said Samantha. She reached out a hand to help the Amazon to her feet, but she refused it, trying to stand by herself. The Amazon managed to lift herself an inch off the ground before her nerveless muscles gave way and she fell back to the ground, as weak as a newborn calf.

It was nearly half an hour before the Amazon had enough strength to return to her former self. Samantha helped the process by fetching her water from a nearby spring, carried in a hollowed gourd that she pressed to the woman’s lips to make her drink. Slowly she gathered the strength to stand up, and after three collapses, she stayed on her feet long enough to lean against a nearby tree trunk for support. Samantha watched her progress in hopeful silence.

Unexpectedly, the Amazon was the first to speak.

“You saved my life.” The declaration was so straightforward that Samantha had no answer.

The Amazon continued. “My name is Rhea. My debt to you cannot easily be repaid, but if there is anything I can do for you, please ask.”

This was a turn of events Samantha was unprepared for, and for a moment she was caught off guard. She looked at her new benefactor and was aware for the first time how strong she probably was. Like the other women of her kind, she stood tall enough to look down at Samantha when she spoke. Her only clothing was a tiger-skin bikini, striped gold and silver with an almost imperceptible shimmering as the light hit it. Despite her enormous chest, she was more slender and toned than the Amazons Samantha had seen so far, giving more the impression of a long-distance runner instead of a bodybuilder. She had a head of black silky hair which tumbled down to her waist, although at the moment it was ill-kempt and dusty from her ordeal. One thing was clear, however: she was a powerful ally to have.

“Where am I?” Samantha asked at last. It seemed insufficient to cover everything Samantha did not understand, but it was a start.

Rhea looked her over for a moment. “I understand,” she said. “You are not from this world, are you? You are from one of the adjoining worlds, brought here by the power of the Reservoir. Yes, this is rare, but you are not the first.” She gestured all around her. “Names mean little, but we call this place Edgewater.”

One name, however, did mean something to Samantha. “You said the Reservoir?” she asked. “I heard that before. What is that?”

“It is difficult to explain,” answered Rhea. “But the Reservoir is not a physical place. It is the center of the power that is the heart of Edgewater, a wellspring of the energy that pervades all life. It is from the Reservoir that the streams of life’s energy flow out to all corners of the land, infusing everything with its nourishing touch. And here, at the heart and source of the Reservoir’s power, it is stronger than anywhere else. So strong, in fact, that it can affect us in unknown ways, or even be harnessed. It is no accident that the power brought you here, of all places. Whatever caused you to come through the gate between worlds, it is from the Reservoir that this power must have come.”

Samantha reached into her pocket and produced the ivory globe that she had found next to her when she awoke. “Actually, I think this had something to do with that.”

Rhea’s smile immediately vanished. “Where did you get that?” she asked with sudden distrust. “Did Atropa give it to you? Are you sworn to her? Answer me!” Already Rhea’s strength was returning at a frightening rate. Samantha stepped back as the Amazon advanced accusingly on her. What had she done?

“I don’t know!” Samantha blurted out. “I took it from a spa client! She dropped it, and when I picked it up there was a flash of light, and the next thing I knew I woke up here! Please, I don’t know anything else!”

To Samantha’s relief, this answer seemed to pacify her imposing acquaintance. Rhea stopped walking forwards and hung her head slightly. “Yes, forgive me. I should have known that Atropa would never part with it willingly. If you now possess it, and if you claim to have used it, it must be against her will. And that makes you a friend of mine.”

“Who is this Atropa?” asked Samantha.

“She is dangerous, and she seeks power,” answered Rhea. “She uncovers secrets that were not meant to be known, and that Key is her means of doing so.”

“Key?” asked Samantha.

“The Reservoir Key, the object you hold in your hand.” Rhea looked down at the ivory globe, with its inscrutable patterns. “It draws its power from the Reservoir, and the doors it opens are doors between worlds. This is undoubtedly what brought you here, and if you are ever to return, this is what will open the way for you.”

“So where is the door back to my world?” asked Samantha.

“That, I do not know,” answered Rhea. Samantha felt her heart drop. “However,” continued the Amazon as Samantha felt a resurgence of hope, “there is one who would know.”

“Who? Where is he?” asked Samantha impatiently.

“His name is Dural, and his knowledge extends back as far as the powers of the Reservoir have been with us. He lives in the high cliffs of the Spire, west of here. If anyone knows how to return you to your own world, it will be him.”

Samantha looked in the direction that Rhea pointed. As she positioned herself to see beyond the trees, she could make out what looked like cliffs in the distance. “Can you tell me how to get there?” she asked.

Rhea nodded. “I can, but I will do better. Edgewater is dangerous for those who do not know its ways, and I owe you much. I will take you there, if you like.”

Samantha did not have to accept, or to thank her: Rhea saw it in her eyes. She smiled, and the two of them began walking west through the jungle. Her newfound friend walked calmly at her side, leaving Samantha to ponder the strange events of the day so far.

* * * * *

The two of them traveled west for most of the day. Samantha was perpetually surprised by new discoveries as she went. Vines and leaves would look inert until she ventured too close to them, and they would swat at her reflexively. They passed something which looked like a patch of small, crimson-and-yellow shrubs, until suddenly she saw them rustle and they became a flock of short, rotund birds flying away. Everything was full of life: exciting and disarming at the same time. Rhea passed by each of these with little interest: doubtless it was all familiar to her, although she did notice Samantha’s interest with some amusement.

Of even greater interest to Samantha, the jungle held food. Ripe fruits of every shape and color hung from the trees, and Rhea instructed her as to the choicest pickings. She sampled melons that cracked open effortlessly and tasted of smooth, fresh milk. Other times she picked tiny grapes that dissolved in her mouth, leaving behind a honey-flavored mist. Around each new corner was something different and unique, no two fruits being quite alike.

Rhea covered ground quickly and effortlessly, and Samantha had to keep up a brisk pace to keep up with her. From time to time Rhea would suggest a break, when the two of them would sit down on soft grass or a mossy patch of ground. Samantha noticed that although Rhea would sit, she never looked fatigued and even showed signs of nervous energy. The breaks were probably for her own benefit, Samantha realized. Not that she wasn’t grateful. Samantha would catch her breath while Rhea arranged her hair or filed her chipped nails down to equal length with a rough stone. After watching this several times, Samantha finally asked her companion about her captivity.

“So, I see there’s a…theme…to this fighting,” Samantha began, fumbling for diplomacy and failing visibly.

“You wouldn’t be familiar with it, would you?” Rhea asked, fortunately not offended. “We get few enough outsiders around here.” Rhea sat back, making herself comfortable to tell a story. As she stretched out her legs, Samantha could see the soles of her feet: soft, pristine, and completely untouched by her hours of walking barefoot.

“The Amazons of Edgewater have always been ticklish,” she began. “The air that pervades the land is saturated with the powers of the Reservoir, and this can have a profound effect over time. Its powers have made us stronger, faster, and more agile. But along with these gifts comes a price, a weakness that we must overcome. And for ages, we have learned to fight this weakness with strength of will.”

Rhea then frowned. “But as of recently, the balance has been upset. The Reservoir Key, lost for centuries, was unearthed by accident by the one who should never have had access to its power. With its help, Atropa takes more and more of the Reservoir’s powers for herself. As she siphons off the power, its effect on all of us grows unstable. Our ticklishness grows by the day. Now our mightiest warriors become helpless with laughter if their bodies are barely touched. New infighting breaks out between us constantly as one Amazon tries to take advantage of another’s ticklishness. Tickle torture, one universally shunned, has become the tactic of choice for those who would steal power.

“And there is no one who thirsts for power more than Atropa. She kidnaps our most feared huntresses and commits them to unimaginable nightmares of tickling. They say her power gives her an unrivaled insight into the weak spots of any opponent. If an Amazon’s feet ever fall under her fingertips, she can control them completely. The only choice then is pledge loyalty to Atropa, or go mad from the unending tickling.” Samantha noticed that Rhea unconsciously crossed her feet as she talked, covering one sole with another.

“Once a pledge is given, Atropa’s power can bind an Amazon to her will. And so her power grows as more are forced to serve her. Those who resist face a slow fate of unimaginable torment and laughter. Soon, she will be unstoppable.

“And yet there is a limit to her power, and ironically, it is a limit of her own making. For she too is an Amazon, and the growing effects of the imbalance she causes affect her too. Atropa herself is as unbearably ticklish as the rest of us, perhaps even more so. With the power of the Key, she may have it within her grasp to grant this greatest wish. She scours the worlds adjoining Edgewater, searching for a cure for her ticklishness.”

“Is that what she was doing in my world?” Samantha asked. She remembered Atropa in her ill-fitting suit, a poor attempt at blending in, searching for…how did she put it? Treatment? Had she hoped to find a cure?

“She knows well that so long as she can be tickled into submission so easily, her hold in power is tenuous at best,” continued Rhea. “The key was her best hope to overcome that. Or at least, until she met you.”

“Until she met me?” echoed Samantha, uncomprehending. “What did I do?”

Rhea smirked. “You tell me. But unless I miss my guess, you gave her a tickling she won’t soon forget.”

Samantha herself smiled at the memory of those helpless feet shackled to the spa chair, insanely sensitive beyond anything she had ever seen. “Good guess,” she said.

Rhea nodded. “You did what none of us here had been able to do: you humbled Atropa at her own game. And what’s more, you entirely defeated her. She was tickled so badly that she was willing to submit to your will: it was so unbearable that she lost herself. She was willing to do anythingto make it stop. And in those moments, she lost the dominance that was the essence of her control of the Key. You were the victor, and the Key chose you.”

“It chose me?” asked Samantha.

“Whether or not you knew it, it did. Your will was strong when hers was weak, and you became the new mistress of the Key. And that is why the Key is with you now: you can use it, and she cannot.”

“And if she can’t use the Key, Atropa can’t continue searching for a cure to her ticklishness,” said Samantha, finally understanding.

“Exactly.” Rhea said. “And so long as she has a weakness, she can be fought. That is why it is so important for you to return home, and take the Key with you forever.”

“And that’s why you’re helping me?” asked Samantha.

Rhea smiled with a warmth that made her suddenly feel sorry for her self-concern. “That is part of it, yes. But you saved my life, and I don’t intend to forget that. So long as I am with you, I will repay that debt in every way I can, and that includes making sure you return to your own home safely.”

The long shadows of evening stretched across the ground as the sun met the horizon. The raucous sounds of the jungle in the daytime had muted to a lull as animals finished their daily routines and lay down to sleep. A sense of tranquility spread over the area, and for perhaps the first time since she had arrived, Samantha felt a deep-rooted sense of security. She let it sweep over her, and for a few moments the jungle around her had the calm feeling of familiarity, like a second home rediscovered.

Rhea sat down on the grass-covered ground, stretching out her bare legs and wiggling her toes with a mild contented yawn. “Night will be upon us soon,” she said. “The Spire is less than a day’s journey from here. We should reach it by tomorrow afternoon. But for now, let us sleep.”

Samantha sat on the ground beside her, laying back and looking at the darkening sky. The climate was perfect: shelter would almost have been an unwelcome intrusion. She thought about the next morning, and as her eyes grew heavier the dull chatter of jungle noise in the distance lulled her to sleep within minutes.

 

[Kunzite]

Chapter 4: Ambush

The next morning might have indeed been good for traveling. Unfortunately, Samantha never got the opportunity to find out. It was just after sunrise when she awoke, with the warmth of the morning light stirring her to slowly open her eyes to the open sky above. She yawned contentedly and stood up to stretch.

Or rather, she tried to. In a moment of panic, she found that she was tied to the ground. During the night, someone had completely tied her down with vines, secured with stakes pounded into the dirt. Her arms were at her sides and she could move her neck, but her body was completely immobile.

And then Samantha saw something that made her blood run cold. Towering above her was a massive figure who looked down at her with a mixture of triumph and contempt. She knew who it was in a second: it was her muscular client from the spa. Now, however, she was not dressed in her ill-fitting pinstripe suit. She wore a short, low-cut robe of a jet black material, fastened at the waist by a silver chain. With the robe open from her neck to her waist, her massive breasts were visibly unsupported by a bra. She wore a series of bracelets carved from some strange fusion of ebony and silver, and a black carved fetish held her blonde hair back in its ponytail. Her large bare feet supported what was undoubtedly the massive frame of an Amazon.

“Atropa?” Samantha ventured, afraid of the answer.

“I see you have been instructed in some important facts,” confirmed Atropa with a wicked smile. “Not that it will do you any good. You and I have some unfinished business, and I intend to pay you back.”

Samantha looked up in panic and despair. Rhea was nowhere to be seen: it was only her against the most feared warlord of the Amazons.

“Oh, don’t worry about the cost of that pedicure,” retorted Samantha bravely despite a growing sense of dread. “Professional courtesy won’t let me charge a client that I tickled until she cried.”

Atropa sneered with contempt, raising both her arms in the air as the bracelets adorning them jingled softly. She pointed both of her open palms at Samantha, and for an instant there was a glitter of red light. Then suddenly, Samantha’s entire body felt as though it was made of lead. She was weighed down against the ground, growing heavier by the moment. She tried desperately to wiggle in her bonds, to turn her head, to do anything, but the more she strained the heavier her body became. She felt her throat constricting, and she began to gasp in panic, drawing quicker and shallower breaths until she felt she could not breathe. She could only stare upwards at the gloating figure of Atropa, who watched with grim amusement until she finally lowered her palms, and the crushing weight was gone.

“I could snap you in two like a twig,” cautioned Atropa as Samantha caught her breath. “But I have a far more…entertaining fate in store for you, my dear. And one that will make you rue the day you crossed me.” Atropa gestured at another Amazon beside her, almost as tall as herself. Her companion held a single white feather between her thumb and forefinger.

“I feel the time has come for you to become better acquainted with the time-honored methods of Amazonian torture,” said Atropa with a leer. “Let’s see how you enjoy this.”

Samantha began to feel a measure of composure return to her. The Amazon clearly thought her to be as ticklish as she was. If she could fake a response, she might be able to string them along. Finally, a stroke of good luck, she thought as the feather moved towards her bare feet.

In an instant, Samantha’s world was turned upside-down. That first kiss of the feather on her bare feet tickled worse than anything she had ever experienced before. The one stroke across her feet had made every nerve in her body cry out for help and flooded her mind with sensations she had never known. She looked with new-found fear at the feather being twirled in front of her unprotected feet. Somehow she was ticklish now: Amazon ticklish. And she was about to be feathered without mercy.

“Surprised?” leered Atropa with obvious pleasure. “That’s what it feels like when our feet are tickled. Pure torture, isn’t it? Adriana, give our prisoner another taste.”

The feather-wielding Amazon smiled, and began stroking Samantha’s soles with the feather tip. She was right: it was pure torture, of a kind Samantha had never experienced. As the gently plume moved softly up and down, Samantha felt she was being driven insane. She howled with laughter so fierce it frightened her and tears blurred her eyes. She would have done anything to stop that terrible feather, but it kept stroking her defenseless soles. In the small part of her mind that still clung to consciousness, Samantha prayed to be saved from this unbearable torment.

And finally, it stopped. Samantha’s sides ached from her furious laughter and her feet, perversely, felt more sensitive than ever. She looked up with tear-stained eyes at her captor, and between gasps for breath, she managed to ask, “But…how?”

“You should know the answer to that,” said Atropa, reveling in her power over Samantha. “I heard your friend explain it to you. It’s a force in the air itself: it pervades everything. Those who come here are initially unaffected, but a night of exposure is all it requires to affect you. We followed you until now, now that you share our greatest weakness. And you will come to know it well.”

“Please, what do you want from me?” asked Samantha, fighting back the panic. Maybe if she could keep her talking she could stall for time. Samantha was no even looking ahead to plans of escape: only to the immediate and all-consuming need to keep her feet from being feathered again.

Atropa’s smile broadened, and she revealed a small object in the palm of her hand. Samantha recognized it immediately: it was the ivory globe. The Amazon clasped her fingers over it in a second, holding it like an immeasurably valuable prize. “This is what you and I have to discuss. When you took it from me, you also took something extremely valuable along with it. And I need that back.” She looked at Samantha with a cruel and purposeful eye. “But first, we have unfinished business. I plan to give you back a taste of what you did to me when we first met.” She turned to the other Amazon. “Adriana, show her what it means to have the most ticklish feet in Edgewater.”

Adriana smiled wickedly, and brandished her terrible tool. Samantha watched breathlessly as it came closer to her bare feet, and with her last moment of clarity she prayed for the strength to survive.

* * * * *

Whether it was minutes or hours, Samantha had no idea. Time lost all meaning as the feather danced across her helpless soles, and all thoughts were driven from her mind except for how ticklish she was. This chaos of tears and laughter became the only existence she knew.

Adriana was a skilled tickler, and in her hands the feather was a tool of unimaginable torture. She found the most sensitive spots on Samantha’s feet, exploiting them with cruel precision until Samantha felt sure that she would laugh herself to death. But whenever she was on the cusp of passing out, the tickling would always stop. Maddeningly, Adriana knew exactly when to allow her to breathe to keep her conscious. And she knew exactly how long she needed to let her victim rest before plunging her back into the depths of ticklish hell.

Sometimes, however, Samantha would be granted a longer rest. Atropa was out searching the surrounding area, and Samantha realized it must be for Rhea. She had not seen her companion since last night, and she must have evaded capture. On occasion Atropa would exchange curt words with Adriana in their native language, but Samantha was able to tell that the search was not going well. She was unspeakably glad of that: her only hope seemed to be in awaiting rescue.

“Now, where were we?” said Adriana with a thin smile, turning back to Samantha.

“You’re wasting your time,” said Samantha, wishing she felt the bravado she was trying to display. “I won’t give in to you.”

Adriana said nothing but merely smiled, shaking her head in a mocking gesture that seemed to say she was missing the point altogether. And then her attention turned back to the feather, and with its soft touch on her feet Samantha’s hopes and plans were lost in an endless ocean of laughter.

Samantha lost track of the time as her feet were subjected to unending abuse. Through tear-blurred eyes she could see the morning sunrise turn to midday, but the breaks between tickling were always just short enough that the passage of time seemed to slip beyond her grasp. She could feel burning heat radiating from her soles, set on fire by the masterful strokes of the feather assaulting them. Hours of laughter passed her by until Samantha was sure it would never end.

And then finally, a break came that was longer than the others. Slowly, speech began to return to her laughter-parched throat, and her eyes regained their vision. She found herself looking up not at the torturer Adriana, but at Atropa herself.

“Enjoying yourself?” asked Atropa with a malicious grin, looming over Samantha like the specter of death.

“I won’t…give up…yet…” gasped Samantha, impressed with herself as she said the words. She would not have imagined she possessed the resolve to stay defiant after the most ticklish ordeal of her life. But far from being offput, Atropa’s grin widened further.

“Of course you won’t,” Atropa said simply. “Did you think that was what we were doing with you? Did you think I would allow you to give in to Adriana, and transfer the powers of the key to her? What you experienced was merely a taste of your future.” Samantha felt her heart fall into the pit of her stomach. How could tickling await her that was worse than what she had survived?

Atropa seemed to read her thoughts. “Amazon feet may be feather-ticklish, my dear, but you haven’t truly experienced our curse until a set of well-manicured nails is unleashed on your tender tootsies.” She bared her fingernails for effect, unpainted but perfectly filed and rounded into slightly curved talons. It was an unusual contrast, this feral woman with a professional French manicure in the middle of the jungle, but the only effect it had on Samantha was fear. Immediately she pictured those nails raking up and down her unprotected soles, and the thought made her blood run cold.

“Of course,” said Atropa with grin intact, “You could always save yourself and give in to me now. That just might save you from being tickled to death.” She punctuated with word “might” with particular relish.

Samantha was more tempted than she had ever been in her life. If there was even a chance of escaping foot-tickling at the hands of this mistress of torture, shouldn’t she leap at it? If she missed it, the next thing she would feel would be those long nails on her tender soles, abusing them in ways she could only imagine. She squirmed helplessly while Atropa teased her, bringing her fingernails within a hair’s breadth of her bare feet, causing them to pull back until the muscles in her ankles were burning.

Then something in Samantha pushed back with a fervor even she could not have foreseen. “I’m not afraid, you bitch,” she shot back, and to her astonishment she actually believed it. “You can’t break me. Do your worst.”

Even Atropa seemed momentarily impressed, although she tried to hide it. “My worst is far more than you could possibly imagine,” she said, baring her fingernails once more. “Foolish, ticklish girl. I look forward to hearing your laughter.”

And then those nails drew slowly closer to Samantha’s feet. She gritted her teeth and shut her eyes tightly, knowing that at any moment her world was about to be undone by merciless tickling. The waiting seemed to last forever, but after an interminable second, there was a shout.

Except it did not come from Samantha. Samantha opened her eyes in surprise, to see Atropa on her feet pointing towards the trees. “It’s her! It’s Rhea!” Atropa shouted, and Adriana leapt to her feet. For one moment there was boundless joy in Samantha’s heart: Rhea was coming to rescue her! But just as quickly it was dashed: Rhea had been found out, her element of surprise lost. Now it was two against one. Never mind rescuing her, Rhea would be lucky if she escaped Samantha’s fate as well. Samantha would not have thought it possible, but her situation was even more hopeless now than ever. She longed with all her heart to do something to help Rhea, but her bonds would not give an inch.

“Guard the prisoner!” barked Atropa as she chased off in Rhea’s direction. Out of the corner of her eye, Samantha could barely make out the rustling of leaves and a flash of long, muscular legs running off into the underbrush. Only a second later Atropa’s huge frame had burst through the foliage after her, her short robe fluttering in the wind as she ran. The next moment both were gone, but Samantha could still hear the sounds of hot pursuit from where she lay.

Adriana, for her part, watched her mistress go before she turned back to Samantha. Ever taciturn, she said nothing, but her lustful grin betrayed her intentions: Samantha’s feet were begging for some personal attention. She looked for a moment as though she was about to produce her feather, but then thought better of it. Making a show of her own well-manicured nails, she sauntered closer to Samantha’s body, licking her lips. Samantha felt herself begin to tremble with fearful anticipation.

Suddenly, there was a burst of noise from the trees! Samantha and Adriana turned at once, and there was Rhea, sprinting out into the clearing with no sign of anyone pursuing her. Adriana shouted with rage, clenching her fists as she ran towards her audacious opponent. On her end, it looked as if Rhea was winding up for a punch, but she was much too far away. Rhea swung her arm forwards into empty air, as though she were pitching an invisible baseball. For a moment it seemed like the jungle itself held its breath: there was no noise at all except for Adriana’s bare footfalls, somehow unnatural against the backdrop of nature’s silence. And then, Adriana opened her mouth and howled with laughter.

From her vantage point on the ground, Samantha could see Adriana covering her stomach, as though some invisible force were tickling her tummy. Her eyes were wide open, both in shock and ticklish reflex, as her hands moved all over her stomach trying to cover herself from her invisible tickler. But just as soon as she covered one spot, another one was open to attack. The tickling slipped up her chest to her breasts, bringing her laughter to a new pitch. They were each much more than a handful, but she clutched them protectively as they shook and jiggled in her hands. But even as her hands tried to cover the massive expanses of her boobs, the tickling force slipped deftly into her underarms, and she shrieked as her arms went protectively to her sides. Down it went to her ass, down her thighs and behind her knees, always one step ahead as the Amazon twisted her lithe body in a bizarre ticklish dance. When it passed over her feet, Adriana could remain standing no longer: she fell to the ground, trying to cover her bare soles. She rolled and flopped in the dirt like a fish out of water, laughing maniacally as her bare arms and legs flailed in the air. Samantha looked on wordlessly in amazement.

“Are you all right?” asked a familiar voice. Samantha’s heart leapt to see Rhea standing above her, cutting the vines that held her down. In a moment, both of the two companions were on their feet again, side by side.

“What did you do to her?” asked Samantha, staring at the agonized Amazon. Adriana was already out of breath from her wild contortions, but the tickling showed no signs of abating, and her laughter was as loud as ever.

“Atropa is not the only one who can harness the powers of the Reservoir,” said Rhea with a smile. “All Amazons have some degree of control over it. Atropa would have us all be fearful of it so that the power can be hers alone, like the Key. But those with respect for the land can call for its aid in times of need.”

“The Key!” shouted Samantha, suddenly remembering the prize stolen from her by Atropa. “Did you get it back?”

Rhea shook her head. “The illusion I caused Atropa to chase after will not fool her for long. Any minute she may discover her folly, and when she does she will return here. I suggest we leave before that happens.”

Samantha certainly could not argue with that. They turned their backs on Adriana, still howling with laughter as she thrashed in the dirt, oblivious to anything except her own ticklish torment. Rhea led the way as they slipped into the jungle, leading Samantha by the wrist as she made haste to escape. For several minutes they ran through the jungle without stopping, until finally Rhea apparently felt that they had eluded their enemies.

“That was quite a trick,” said Samantha admiringly, still able to hear the echoes of Adriana’s laughter off in the distance.

“You may yet learn it,” said Rhea with a smile.

“I’ll probably need it if I’m going to get the Key back,” said Samantha, less than optimistic. “I’m glad we escaped, but won’t we have to find Atropa again to get the Key back from her?”

“You forget one important thing,” said Rhea.

“And that is?” Samantha hoped it was good news.

“They Key is not hers. She never tickled you into surrender, and so you never yielded authority of it back to her. She may hold the Key, but its powers belong to you. And so long as that is true, you will not need to find her. She will find you.”

Hardly good news, thought Samantha as they continued their journey west. But still, Rhea had promised they would find help at the end of their journey, in the Spire. As long as there was another day, there was hope.

 

[Kunzite]

Chapter 5: Dural

The black shadowy heights of the Spire towered above them, an immense shelf of craggy rock that seemed to stretch up into the black stormclouds above them and beyond. There was plant life here, but it was sparse and gray, growing in thin patches in the sandy soil. No animals lived here: the only sounds were their own footsteps and the occasional clatter of stones come loose and falling down the rock face. In front of them was the cave mouth that led deep into the Spire and up to its peak.

However, something lived here: the bones and skulls of animals were strewn in several piles by the cave entrance, picked clean and weathered. Samantha hoped they all belonged to animals.

“Dural’s doing,” said Rhea as she noticed Samantha eyeing the bones. “He keeps them here as a warning to trespassers. He does not generally enjoy company.” This made Samantha feel scarcely better.

“Will he want to see us?” asked Samantha.

“No,” answered Rhea truthfully. “But our options are limited.”

It was cold comfort to Samantha as she followed Rhea into the cave mouth. The ground inside was rough and gravelly, and she walked gingerly over it, still shoeless from her last encounter. The tiny rounded pebbles pressed into the soft flesh of her soles, and more than once she almost lost her balance as she was prodded in a soft spot. She envied Rhea’s long, confident strides, and was duly reprimanded by the fact that Rhea was even more sensitive than she was. Even still, the cave was becoming very dark, and Samantha began to wonder how Rhea planned to proceed. Samantha was just beginning to wish she had brought a flashlight, when they turned the corner and unexpectedly walked into the light.

They entered a vast cavern, as high as a multi-story building. It was bathed in the soft white hue of moonlight, but there was no moon overhead. The cavern ceiling was carpeted in a thick glowing lichen, emitting enough light to see as well as she could on any cloudless night. The cavern was filled with all manner of plant life that Samantha had never seen before: verdant leaves the shape of diamonds hanging still in the windless air, spiral-trunked trees growing in the rocky soil. All were illuminated in black and white, growing alongside the path that led upwards and out of sight.

“I never imagined something like this was in here,” said Samantha in awe.

“It is peaceful,” agreed Rhea as they walked along the moonlit path. “But Dural cares little for peace. He makes his home atop the peaks of the Spire, and rarely comes down here. I’m afraid we will have to go to him.”

“But do we even have a reason to see him anymore?” asked Samantha, getting something off her chest that had been bothering her for a while. “I mean, I lost the Key. Even if this Dural could tell me where to find the gate back home, how does that help me?”

Samantha felt Rhea’s hand on her shoulder. It was a warm and reassuring gesture, and inexplicably her touch made Samantha feel that perhaps things were not so bad after all.

“You are too hard on yourself,” said Rhea with sisterly concern. “The loss was not your fault. Far from it, you stood up to an ordeal that would have defeated many more experienced than you, and you did it with courage and strength. The fact that we are here is a victory, a triumph against the odds that you made possible.”

Samantha looked up at her companion. “Thanks. I appreciate it, Rhea.”

“I speak only the truth,” said Rhea, smiling. “But you will need the courage and resourcefulness you have displayed so far, for the loss of the Key means one thing to us.”

“What’s that?” asked Samantha, afraid she wouldn’t like the answer.

“Atropa has the Key, but what she wants is you,” replied Rhea. “With her control of the Reservoir’s powers, she can find the gates between worlds at will. She knows where the gate to your world is, and she knows that we will be heading towards it. So she will wait there for us to come to her.”

“You mean we’ll be walking into a trap?” asked Samantha.

“It is the only way,” answered Rhea. “But time and time again she underestimates you. Her arrogance will be her undoing. We will go to the gate, but it will be her who is trapped.”

Samantha wished she could feel the conviction that Rhea seemed to have behind her words. But as she walked through the moonlit cavern the only thing which struck her was how little she knew of this strange world, and how bad she had been at foreseeing danger. It seemed only a series of accidents had propelled her here, rather than any kind of courage or resilience. Even though she kept her eyes open, it was as though she could not see what she had to in order to survive in this world. The two of them passed by another strange plant unlike anything she had ever seen in her world: a tall bush that was a mass of long, tangled leaves each an inch thick and twenty feet long. They swayed gently in the breeze, causing the bush to rustle gently.

Except there wasn’t any breeze in this cavern. Samantha saw it at the last moment, just as Rhea was walking past the bush: she saw the leaves move by themselves! “Look out!” she cried to Rhea, but it was too late. One of the leaves darted towards the passing Amazon, wrapping itself around her ankles like a tendril! Samantha dove for it and grabbed the leaf in her two fists, trying to tear it apart and sever the cord binding Rhea, but it was as strong as steel. A moment later, Samantha shrieked as another leap wrapped itself around her ankles in a powerful vise-like grip.

“What is this?” Samantha cried out as the two of them were effortlessly lifted off the ground by the bush, left to dangle upside-down by their ankles.

“I don’t know! I’ve never seen anything like this before!” Rhea sounded genuinely frightened. But then she looked up, and she saw something above their bound ankles that made their situation even more terrifying. Above each of their bare feet there was poised the tip of another leaf, gently descending on them both.

“Rhea!” shouted Samantha, “Don’t tell me it’s going to—“

Samantha never had the chance to finish her sentence. The tips of the leaves touched their bare feet, and both of the women simultaneously exploded into laughter. The touch of the leaf was firm and maddeningly soft at the same time, pressing against their bare soles like a finger in a soft, fur glove. Soon more leaves joined the two, until each of the dangling women faced a dozen or more leaves probing their defenseless feet.

“HAHAHAHAHAHA!! LET ME DOHOHOHOHOHOWWWN!!” screamed Samantha to the bush, as though it could hear her. Her words were almost drowned out by Rhea’s laughter, facing a concentrated assault on her own hyper-ticklish feet. The two women swung like pendulums as they writhed and squirmed, their hanging arms clawing at the empty air. Samantha could see the bush in front of her, upside-down through tear-blurred eyes as more of its leaves came to tickle their fill of her poor size sevens.

But as bad as she was, Rhea was even worse. A lifetime of exposure to the air of this strange world had raised her ticklishness to a level that nightmares were made of. Rhea could not even form words through her insane babbling laughter, and her howls and shrieks echoing through the cavern sounded barely human. Even though she looked directly at Samantha, her eyes were empty of recognition: they were blinded by ticklish torment beyond comprehension.

“RHEA!! I’LL SAHAHAHAVE YOU!! WOOHOOHOOHOOHOOHOO!!” Samantha could barely think straight under this merciless arboreal tickler, but she knew everything was up to her. If only her feet weren’t so ticklish! She desperately wanted to fight back, but every time she felt control within her grasp, the plant discovered a new soft spot that sent her back into shrieking hysterics.

But she had to try! Something deep within her took control of her quivering muscles, almost reduced to jelly. She lifted herself up slowly, her concentration fighting against waves of laughter that threatened to overcome her every torturous second. She saw the leaf holding her ankles: as strong as it was, she had to reach it, she had to try…

But her cruel tickler sensed her intentions. As though to mock her, another leaf slipped underneath her shirt, and began tickling her belly button. As she felt it, she cried with the unfairness of it all, but this two-pronged tickling attack was too much for her body to resist. With a final howl her strength left her, and she swung back towards the ground, lost in helpless laughter.

But with the momentum of that swing, Samantha felt something slip out of her jacket pocket. She was just conscious enough to realize that it was her pedicurist’s kit, flying in a low arc until it struck a rock nearby. Just as it did so, there was a sound of shattering glass, and a great cloud of white powder spread from the impact point. Her talcum powder, she realized. Samantha surprised herself with the lucidity of her thoughts. How could she even tell what it was when the tickling consumed every last corner of her mind? But as she asked that question she realized its answer: the tickling had slowed! The plant no longer touched and stroked her bare feet with the relish it once did. Now it was drawing back its leaves, jerking spasmodically. What was it doing?

A second later, there was a thundering sound that took Samantha a moment to place. A sneeze! An enormous sneeze issued from the plant as the cloud of white powder enveloped it, and just as quickly, Samantha and Rhea were flying upwards through the air. Now right-side up and free of the plant, for a single glorious instant Samantha saw the vast expanse of the cavern below her: miles of rocks and soil, trees and grass and water, all of it forming a miniature world tucked away in this cavern of perpetual moonlight.

A moment later, Samantha and Rhea lay on the ground. Except it was not the same ground where they had been seconds ago, Samantha realized as she unsteadily got to her feet. The plant had shot them nearly a mile in the air, onto a small outcropping of rock that overlooked the entire cavern. Behind them, there was a tunnel sloping upwards, and from the end of it came a cool, crisp breeze and a faint glimmer of sunshine.

“Rhea! Wake up! Are you all right?” Samantha shook her friend excitedly, practically in disbelief of their good fortune.

Rhea slowly opened her eyes, looking back at her with a distant, unfocused gaze. “Where…where are we?” she asked weakly.

“We’re OK,” Samantha assured her. “We escaped. There’s an exit right over here, let’s get you outside to some fresh air.”

Rhea got unsteadily to her feet, and Samantha supported her friend on her shoulder. Together they walked very slowly, Samantha being sure to give Rhea time to recover from her ordeal. It was fifteen minutes before they walked the short distance to the cave leading outside the Spire. As they stepped back out into sunlight Samantha had to squint as her eyes adjusted, but it seemed to have a restorative effect on Rhea, who began taking short steps by herself.

As Samantha let her friend stand on her own two feet, she looked around their new surroundings. The plant had propelled them higher than she had thought: from where they stood they had a bird’s eye view of miles of jungle in every direction. The rocky path they stood upon wound higher still, but they had covered in minutes distance that would have taken hours.

Perhaps it was the exhilaration of the discovery, or merely the adrenaline of their escape wearing off, but Samantha suddenly felt light-headed. The tickling had taken its toll on her as well, she realized. For several minutes she leaned against the rock wall behind her, gazing off into the distance, until at last she heard Rhea speak.

“And twice I owe my life to you,” she said.

“I don’t think I can take credit for this,” said Samantha, and she meant it. “I mean, we were fantastically lucky. Even discounting that sneeze, it’s a minor miracle the fall didn’t kill us.” She realized how true it was for the first time as she said it.

“Was it?” smiled Rhea enigmatically.

“What do you mean?” asked Samantha.

“Here in Edgewater, where the power of the Reservoir infuses all of our lives, there is rarely such a thing as luck. Those with the confidence and power to shape their own destinies often find that in times of need, there is little they cannot accomplish. Perhaps our fortuitous flight was not mere coincidence.”

“You mean, it gave me the power to fly?” asked Samantha, still unconvinced.

“Not quite,” said Rhea with a patient smile. “The powers of the land give their help in more subtle ways than that. But it is likely that, had you not believed you could escape, your bottle might not have broken when it did, or else we might not have been thrown in that exact direction. But of course, we can never be certain.”

Samantha started to ask another question but found she could not even express what she did not understand about this. “So why was that plant tickling us?” asked Samantha, feeling that at least this question was more concrete.

“I saw the ground next to the plant,” answered Rhea. “There were spears.”

“What does that mean?” asked Samantha, confused.

“It means their former owners fell prey to a fate we escaped, thanks to you,” said Rhea. “Edgewater has many carnivorous plants, and this was likely one of them. But in the land of Amazons, not all hunters need use violence. This plant most likely subdued its prey by tickling them to death.”

Samantha felt a shiver go through her. “And the owners of those spears?” she asked.

Rhea nodded. “Helpless laughter was probably the last experience they ever had.”

Samantha shook her head. “After all we went through, I can’t imagine a worse way to go.”

Samantha barely had time to appreciate how prophetic her statement was. Walking several steps ahead of the still-recovering Rhea, Samantha turned a corner, and stopped face-to-face in front of the last thing in the world she wanted to see.

Perched on the ground in front of her was the pterodactyl. It was the pterodactyl, undoubtedly the same one she had encountered when she first arrived here, with a barely perceptible scar where the arrows had struck its wing. All of the fear of her first encounter came flooding back to her as she stood rooted in place with unblinking eyes, afraid to move a muscle. Samantha would have given anything to be able to run, but it held her in its thrall, helpless to save her own life. It stared back at her, and then slowly it opened its mouth, a gaping maw of teeth bordering the immense pitch-black cavern of its gullet.

Time stood still, and Samantha lost all awareness of her surroundings, only conscious of the one thing before her.

“Don’t I know you?” asked the pterodactyl.

Samantha stood stock-still. Her mouth hung open as she stared.

“Yes, yes, I’m sure of it now,” continued the beast. “You didn’t even bother to say hello, from what I recall. With poor manners like that, it’s a wonder I decided to save you from those attackers. Don’t you think you at least owe me thanks for that?”

Samantha’s mouth remained open. She managed to nod once.

The creature arched an eyebrow. “Well, I suppose that’s something.”

“You…can talk,” Samantha declared weakly.

“I was beginning to wonder if you could,” answered the pterodactyl. “Not that I mind. There’s something to say for women being seen and not heard.” It looked over Samantha with an appraising eye, and she could almost swear that it had a look of approval.

“There’s always something for you to say about women,” came Rhea’s voice from behind Samantha. “I see you haven’t lost your sense of delicacy, Dural.”

“Dural?” asked Samantha, breaking eye contact with the creature for the first time as she spun around to look at Rhea. “This is Dural? The one we came to see?”

“What did you expect?” scoffed the pterodactyl. “A human?”

Samantha didn’t know what to say. “Yes?” It was more a question than an answer.

“Not too bright, are you?” asked the pterodactyl. “Just as well. You certainly are an attractive young lady, if I do say so. Very shapely. I do like that in a woman.” It was perhaps the most bizarre compliment Samantha had ever received.

“Well, to what do I owe this social visit?” asked Dural brusquely after giving Samantha the once-over. “No, let me guess. You want something.”

“We only want you to listen,” said Rhea pacifyingly.

“To listen to a request of some sort,” grumbled Dural. “Do not mistake my tolerance for interest in whatever petty troubles you may have. The affairs of humans are no interest of mine.”

“Come, Dural, we both know you have…interests in some of us,” said Rhea.

A malicious glint shone in Dural’s enormous eyes. “Indeed I do,” he said, forming a wicked smile with his hundreds of teeth. “Listening to you is certainly not one, but on a related note, dinner has not yet materialized this evening.” Suddenly his attitude of weary cordiality was gone as the thought of food crossed his mind.

“Stay back, Samantha,” Rhea cautioned, sounding much less worried than Samantha suddenly was.

“And where is she going to go?” asked Dural, now extending his wings as he walked towards both of them. His claws tore chunks out of the hard rocky ground as he stepped forwards. “A word of advice too late, my beauty: it’s not often I get to enjoy a dish like yourself, and once I want something I am not easily dissuaded.” He opened his mouth and gave forth a screeching sound like metal against slate that must have been a self-indulgent laugh.

Samantha looked up at the massive beast baring its teeth, certain that this would be the last thing she ever saw. A terrified voice in her head screamed to run, but she knew it would be futile: the pterodactyl would be on her in a second, there was nowhere to hide. But then, from out of the mists of despair, she heard Rhea’s voice calling.

“Dural!” cried Rhea. Reflexively, both Samantha turned to look at her. She was sure Rhea held some powerful spell, some use of the Reservoir’s power that would save them both from certain death at the jaws of this monster. What she saw, however, left her utterly confused. Rhea jumped straight up into the air.

Rhea’s legs were powerful, and propelled her several feet off the ground. Her enormous E-cups, despite being supported by a bra, lagged half a second behind as she rose and fell. As her feet hit the ground Rhea jumped upwards again, and then again, with her massive breasts bouncing and jiggling in a hypnotic rhythm. Every movement shook the firm round globes a little further out of their cups, until it seemed they would burst free altogether. And then, just as it seemed her bra was seconds away from giving up its losing struggle, Rhea stopped.

Samantha looked for the first time at Dural. He had forgotten entirely about her, and stood fixed in place staring at Rhea. “No, why did you stop?” he asked with such disappointment in his voice that Samantha almost felt sorry for him. “Do that some more.”

“If you listen to us, I’ll consider it,” said Rhea with a knowing smile.

“All right, all right,” he said, throwing up his wings in what was apparently a defeated shrug. He turned to Samantha with a cocked eye and a thoughtful smile, and it took her a moment to realize he was sizing up her chest now. She quickly turned away.

Rhea related the story of Samantha’s journey so far, being sure to add enough unnecessary movements to keep Dural interested. She stretched, readjusted her bra, and bent over to touch her toes as though she were merely limbering up at various points in the story. Fortunately, Dural appeared to be listening to what she was saying, also.

“Atropa, hmm?” he asked when the story was finished. “She’s quite pleasant to look at, but she’s always intent on ruining my fun. She has this idea she can capture me.” He spat contemptuously, scattering a pile of rocks with the force of the gale. “It’s getting to where I can’t even, ah, take in the sights without her lot attacking me.”

“Which sights would those be?” asked Rhea with a raised eyebrow.

“Oh, you know, nature, and…such things…” Dural trailed off for a moment before bringing himself back to attention. “But what business is this of mine? I don’t see how this is my problem.”

“Actually, we heard you might know where the location of the way back to my home is,” said Samantha.

“Hmm?” asked Dural, turning to face her again. He looked her over several times. “Yes, yes I think I know where Atropa got you from. I rather wish she’d bring more like you, in fact.” He chuckled. “Between you and me, the women around here have certain nice features to them. Nice, round features you can watch while they run.” He coughed unsubtly. “But they’re all so muscular! I do wish we had more slender beauties like yourself.”

“Is that all you think about?” Samantha asked in spite of herself.

“No, in fact you already know what a gourmet I am.” Dural smiled, showing all of his teeth.

“Do you know the way to her home or not?” asked Rhea.

“Of course I do!” Dural did his best to look offended. He pointed a claw off towards the horizon. “Do you see that mountain over there? At the very top of it, that’s where the gate to your world opens. I’ve flown by it many a time.”

Samantha strained her eyes to see the mountain, barely visible through a shroud of mist. It looked at least a week’s journey away, and then there was the matter of getting to the top once they were there.

“We need your help, Dural,” interjected Rhea. “Even if we could climb that mountain ourselves, Atropa’s forces will be combing the jungle for us, and she knows we’ll be headed towards the gate. We would be lucky to make it to the foot of the mountain without being captured. That is, unless we had you to take us there.”

“Take you there?” asked Dural, offended. “You mean, ride me? Like a common beast of burden?” He drew himself up to his full height and glared at them, and Samantha was suddenly very uncomfortable.

“Oh, stop pretending you don’t miss having pretty girls ride you, you old lecher,” said Rhea with a smile.

“Hmmph! Someone’s got a high opinion of themselves!” retorted Dural, turning his back on her. Then he turned to Samantha. “But in your case, I’d have to say she’s on to something. I’m sure a lovely girl like you would be delighted to go for a ride, wouldn’t you?”

“Of course,” Samantha lied.

Dural leaned towards the ground and extended his wings. “Climb on, then, if you like. It’s only a short flight for me. And I suppose I can pick up something to eat on the way back.” Samantha hesitated, but stepped onto his back, straddling one of the ridges that ran down his spine. Rhea calmly followed a second later, as though she had done it may times before.

“Mmmm, yes, that’s it. A little to the left,” mumbled Dural. “To make sure you don’t fall off,” he added a second later, aware of Samantha glaring at him.

“Is this really safe?” Samantha asked Rhea.

“It helps not to think about it,” said Rhea, still looking calmly unconcerned.

“That’s gratitude for you,” grumbled Dural from below. With the beating of huge, leathery wings, Dural and his two passengers began to rise off the ground. As they rose further into the air and the Spire grew smaller below them, the mountaintop that was their destination shone like a beacon in the distance. Amazingly, Samantha was not afraid at all. The chill air whipped past them as they glided along at fantastic speed, with the jungle below them in a breathtaking panorama of every color imaginable. Samantha even got comfortable as she took in the sights from the back of the pterodactyl. It was not the strangest thing that had happened to her in the last few days.

 

[Kunzite]

Chapter 6: Confrontation

If it was even possible, the mountaintop that held the gate appeared even less hospitable than the Spire had looked to Samantha. The barren and blasted landscape held nothing but rocks with no signs of even the smallest life. The skies above them were dark gray, punctuated with flashes of lightning. As they came in for a landing, Samantha felt a shiver that had nothing to do with the fact that Atropa was also here, waiting for them.

“Well, here you are, ladies,” said Dural once on the ground as Samantha and Rhea dismounted. “Just up that path you’ll find a plateau at the peak of the mountain. The gate opens right there.”

“Aren’t you coming with us?” asked Samantha. “Atropa will be there! She knows we’ll be coming to the gate! We need your help!”

“Help?” Dural laughed out loud as Samantha glared at him. “The whole reason I came all this way was so I could stay at a distance and watch you lovely ladies fight it out. That’s the sort of entertainment I don’t see every day. And you want me to ruin it by interfering?” He laughed again.

“We’re grateful for the help, Dural,” said Rhea simply.

“I’m sure you are,” said Dural, beginning to take flight again. “Once it’s all over I can come back and pick you up, if you like. Just try to make it a good show. You know, it wouldn’t hurt you to tear some clothing, while you’re at it.” Chuckling to himself, he flew off into the distance.

“Bastard,” said Samantha as she watched him go.

It was only a minute’s walk up the well-worn path to the plateau Dural had described. It spread out before them: a perfectly flat and round circular plain bordered with jutting towers of rock, a lonely arena awaiting its combatants. Their bare footsteps fell silently on the hard, lifeless ground, moving forward without a word. Samantha felt neither brave nor frightened, only resigned to the finality of what was undoubtedly going to happen. Although she saw no one else, she listened for the words that she knew she would hear.

“You were both fools to come here.”

There was no cover that she could have been hiding behind, but there was now a third person on the plateau. Atropa stood in the center of the circle, arms akimbo and staring at them with unmitigated hatred. The cold wind that blew atop the mountain rustled her short black robe, exposing her long muscular legs which stood planted like tree trunks. Against the harsh backdrop of thundering black clouds, her figure was as striking as it was deadly.

“You should not have come,” Atropa reiterated, “but I knew you would. Now, finally, there will be no more running. You will return to me what is mine.”

Samantha looked at Rhea, who returned Atropa’s gaze unflinchingly. It occurred to her that if either of them had a plan, now was the time to implement it. But for what seemed like an eternity, none of them moved.

Samantha never saw who made the first move. In a blur of action, Rhea was running towards Atropa, covering ground with blinding speed. But just as quickly Atropa’s stance had changed: one leg jutted forwards and her hands were in front of her, glowing with a hellish red light. Samantha had seen it before: it was the same light she had seen when Atropa had taken her prisoner and channeled her powers. Samantha tried to cry out, but there was no time. She found herself flying towards Rhea, trying to push her out of the way, but Rhea was running headlong into the light, too fast to reach in time…

Samantha’s hands impacted Rhea one second too late. The dark red glow produced a flash, and suddenly there was a shaft of red light flying towards both of them, with no time to dodge. It struck Samantha and Rhea both in midair. Samantha felt a racking spasm of pain, and both of their bodies flew in different directions, striking the ground with a dull thud as Atropa crowed in triumph.

Samantha lay on her back, feeling as though she had been hit by a locomotive. She could barely lift her head to see Atropa advancing on Rhea’s fallen body. Rhea tried to stand, but she had absorbed even more of the blast than Samantha. There was no way she could stand up in time to defend herself. Standing triumphant over her fallen enemy, Atropa summoned her powers once again. At close range with no one to save her, Rhea would not survive the next blast.

Samantha looked on in horror. She didn’t know what to do, and yet as she got to her feet she realized that she did. Almost of its own accord, her body rushed towards Atropa from behind, acting entirely on instinct with unwavering conviction. She approached Atropa, whose hands now glowed red with the destructive power that would be unleashed upon her friend and companion. Samantha had no magic, but just as she was one step away she realized she did not need it, she had never needed it. Atropa’s arms raised high to channel the awesome power they were about to summon, and just as they did so, Samantha’s fingers plunged into Atropa’s underarms and tickled.

“AAAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! STAAHAHAHAHAHAPPP!!!” the Amazon screamed instantly as she felt the assault from behind. Samantha’s fingers slipped into the sleeves of Atropa’s robe, gently digging their nails into her soft skin. Suddenly Atropa’s confident stance became weakened as she shook with laughter, and yet her arms remained above her head, channeling that red glow as if they were tied there. This left her underarms wide open and defenseless for Samantha’s tickling.

“HAHAHAHAHA!! YOU DOHOHOHOHON”T KNOW WHAHAHAHAHAT YOU”RE DOOOHOOING!!” laughed Atropa, her slinky robe already beginning to fall from her shoulders.

“If you don’t like it, that’s good enough for me!” cried Samantha, blood pounding as her fingers explored more of Atropa’s ticklish upper body. She reached in front to the Amazon’s jiggling, braless melons, each with erect nipples and as ticklish as Samantha could have wished for. One hand for each was woefully inadequate, even two would barely have been enough. But Samantha’s strokes and caresses brought tears to Atropa’s eyes as she struggled to finish her spell. Already the powers she was commanding were growing unstable, her attention diverted from channeling arcane powers to her madly ticklish tits.

“STAHAHAHAHAHAHAP!! NOT THE BREASTS!!” Atropa begged. Her knees were beginning to buckle, but she still held her arms over her head in the hopes of salvaging her control over the power she was summoning. But with no free hands to fight off Samantha’s tickling fingers, it was a hopeless battle. Her boobs were too ticklish, her laughter too overwhelming, to remain standing. With a final howl of laughter and fury, Atropa’s legs gave way beneath her and she fell to the ground, slipping out of her robe which remained supported in Samantha’s hands. Clad only in a slender pair of black panther-skin panties, Atropa fell to her knees and her glowing red hands impacted the ground as she landed.

The moment the red glow made contact with the rocky soil, there was a flash of crimson light that illuminated the entire mountaintop blood-red for a single instant. Suddenly, there was an infernal grating, the sound of tons of rock scraping against itself, and the ground trembled beneath them with a terrifying fury. The ground cracked open where Atropa’s hands had touched it, and a vast crevasse split open like the gaping maw of some ravenous beast. Rhea leapt to her feet and dashed to push Samantha out of its way, both of them leaping to one side of the resulting chasm it left behind. Atropa’s discarded robe fell from Samantha’s hands, fluttering into the chasm until it was lost in the darkness below. On the other side of it, Atropa stood again, raising her fists to the heavens and roaring with blackest rage.

“I will tear you both apart with my bare hands!” she swore, bloody vengeance in her enraged eyes. “I will show you both suffering you have never conceived of!” Again her arms rose up to channel the vile red power, but this time Samantha was too far away to do anything. A shaft of red light blasted from her open palms, impacting the ground in front of Samantha and Rhea in an explosion of rocks and gravel. Both of them were thrown separate ways, with Samantha falling beside the plateau’s edge. Over the edge there was no ground in sight: the pebbles which rolled off the edge plummeted down silently into the blackness before disappearing.

Rhea rolled as she landed from the blast, and in one fluid motion was running towards Samantha to save her. But Atropa’s powers were too fast for her. In a flash of light Atropa disappeared from her position across the chasm, appearing directly in front of Rhea with a glowing palm outstretched. Rhea saw her too late to stop, and ran directly into Atropa’s hand. In another instant, Rhea was flying backwards over the ground, impacting a wall of rock full-speed. Like a rag doll being tossed aside, her body convulsed and went limp on the ground.

“Rhea!” cried Samantha, scrambling to her feet to see if her friend was harmed. To her horror, she saw Rhea’s chest motionless: she took no breath. Samantha waited for her friend to show some sign of life, but she lay as still as a statue. Samantha ran panicked to her friend, oblivious to the danger, but she was not fast enough. In another flash of light, Atropa stood in front of Samantha, her lips curled back in fury over her sharp, feral teeth.

“Save your pity for yourself!” hissed Atropa, advancing on her like a hunter on its prey. Atropa towered above her and was undeniably frightening: even with the cliff behind her Samantha took steps backwards away from this colossus of a foe. But Atropa’s robe was gone, she wore only a pair of panties now. Almost all of her ticklish flesh was on display, especially her hyper-sensitive breasts which bobbed as she took long strides forwards. If only Samantha could get her fingers into one of those ticklish weak points…there were so many to choose from, but she would only get one chance. With the cliff behind her, there was no more retreat. Her eyes met those of her advancing enemy for a split second. With a shout, Samantha leapt forwards with outstretched fingers, reaching for those exposed breasts.

She nearly made it. But even with the element of surprise Atropa’s reflexes trumped her own. The Amazon caught her wrists in midair, and flung her aside with only a single arm. Samantha struck the ground face-down, skidding several feet across the rocks in a cloud of dust.

She rolled over to see Atropa’s towering form looming over her like the specter of death. Even without her robe she was terrifying to behold: every bulging muscle spoke to the intense strength her body commanded. She stood over Samantha’s body with eyes darkened by hatred, feeling no mercy. Her rage was palpable, like an intense force emanating from her that pinned Samantha down with its intensity. Her entire body glowed with the red light of her power, a ravenous furnace that cried out for vengeance.

And she held something in her hand. Even through her fear Samantha recognized it in a second: it was the Reservoir Key.

“I see you recognize it,” snarled Atropa, fearless in her contempt. “But even after you stole its powers from me, it is mine by right. What you have taken from me, I will force you to give back!”

Ironically, is was Atropa’s words that triggered Samantha’s epiphany. Atropa demanded ownership of the Key because she did not have it. The hand holding it did not matter, it belonged to Samantha, and it had ever since it had chosen her. She looked up at the Key: despite the power emanating from Atropa, the Key itself was cold and white. Its powers were untapped because its rightful owner had not chosen to unlock them. And that rightful owner was herself.

A calm conviction washed over Samantha, and she felt as if she stood outside her own body, watching herself act with detachment. She no longer feared harm because no harm could befall her. She got to her feet and stood before Atropa, unafraid.

“So be it!” Atropa laughed mirthlessly. “Run headlong into your own demise!” The red glow bathing Atropa’s body focused in front of her into a nexus of hatred, waiting to be channeled.

Then Samantha summoned the powers of the Reservoir Key.

Atropa screamed as a pulse of white light emanated from the sphere, searing her hand and causing her to drop it. But it did not fall. The Key hovered in midair, directly between the two women, and its glow became brighter and more intense. Atropa shielded her eyes from the light, but Samantha looked directly at it, centering her focus on it. Atropa screamed and emptied her powers into the light, but the crimson bolt dissipated without effect. Now the entire mountaintop was bathed in the pure white light of the Reservoir Key, and Samantha could feel its healing effects. Her bruises were gone, and Rhea stood up, completely unharmed.

For the first time, there was fear in Atropa’s eyes. She backed away from the light like a cornered animal, throwing up her hands and shielding herself with a wall of red light. But somehow Samantha knew what to do. Like flexing a muscle she didn’t know she had, she commanded the power of the Key. Streams of light flew from the sphere like ribbons, shooting towards the retreating figure of Atropa and shattering her shield like glass. Atropa cried out as the first stream touched her, wrapping around her midsection and anchoring her in place. Terrified now, she tried to summon her powers to break the bondage, but the power would not come. Now more streams of light careened towards her, wrapping around her chest, her arms and legs, like a hundred shining bandages of pure energy. They wrapped her up with her legs together and her arms at her sides, completely enveloping her from her shoulders down to her ankles. Samantha controlled the reams of light like marionette strings, feeling as each one wrapped itself around Atropa. And then, once she was completely mummified except for her head and her feet, Samantha lightly jerked the strings, pulling Atropa off her feet onto her back.

Atropa thrashed and struggled to break free, but those mighty muscles that could bend steel were helpless against the bondage of the Key. She lay helpless on the ground with her bare feet peeking out from the bottom of her wrappings. Samantha and Rhea both stood over her now, the two companions understanding each others’ thoughts without having to say anything. They kneeled down at the trapped Amazon’s feet, and suddenly the full realization of her situation dawned in Atropa’s eyes. She tried to move her feet out of danger, but they were too tightly bound to even cover one sole with another.

“Don’t…don’t you dare…” cautioned Atropa, but the fury in her voice was gone. She was frightened. Her soft, pink feet curled in anticipation.

“Ready, Rhea?” grinned Samantha. “Let’s share a little love.”

The two of them bent down and synchronously kissed the soles of Atropa’s wriggling feet: soft, full lips in contact with the even softer flesh that only an Amazon could possess. They planted their kisses in the center of her shapely high arches, extending their tongues to press into the tender surfaces and sliding them in random, glistening patterns. Two pink tongues licked her oversize feet, exploring them intimately until they found another weak spot, which the women’s lips would seal over with another long affectionate kiss.

The wildly dancing toes received just as much amorous attention: tongues wrapped around each of them like boa constrictors, applying gentle pressure as they slithered in the tender crevasses between each toe. Each woman savored the intoxicating taste, with one hand cradling a heel while the other lovingly stroked the moistened surfaces of the unimaginably ticklish soles.

Samantha had never heard a woman laugh the way Atropa was laughing now. Wide-eyed with desperation, she emptied her lungs in long, primal howls that went unbroken for seconds at a time. The endless assault under fingers, lips, and tongues held her at the brink of insanity, her powerful chest shaking with silent laughter. Endless tears flowed from her eyes, dampening cheeks that were purple with lack of air. Rhea and Samantha looked at her and than at each other, and as if they knew each others’ thoughts they stopped their ministrations for a single second. It was long enough for Atropa to gasp in an enormous breath of air and fuel the desperate words,

“PLEASE!!! I GIVE UP!!!”

The words hung in the air, echoing through the cold mountain air, and for a moment it seemed that time had stopped. All was silence atop the mountain except for the words frozen on her lips for that interminable second.

And then, in the core of her mind, Samantha felt the last veil of the Key fall away. Everything was open to her. She reached into the deepest recesses of the Key and moved the world.

Slowly at first, and then more quickly, the mountaintop moved past them. The three of them there were the only things that had substance: the land, the sky, everything else was an ethereal image that flew past them like a film in fast forward. Faster now, the world went by at blinding speed as they stood there: the centers of the universe which bent to Samantha’s will. The horizon grew closer now, and towards them came an enormous portal of blinding white light. Samantha did not need to look at it to know where it led, she could feel it unquestionably. It came closer now until it was all they could see, and then, in a flash of light, the mountaintop was gone.
* * * * *

Samantha knew where they were before the glare even faded from her eyes. The smells and the feel of the air welcomed her home like a close friend. Everything was exactly as she had left it in the Perfect Touch Spa, the beginning and end of her journey. She looked around and gave a deep-seated sigh of contentment.

“Interesting,” remarked Rhea by her side. “So this is where you come from.”

Samantha looked at her loyal friend, still dressed in her anachronistic Amazon bikini: a welcome visitor to this modern world they were back in at last. Behind Rhea was the white portal they had come through: now smaller and less blinding, but still a path back to Edgewater. Samantha held the Reservoir Key in her hand and effortlessly moved the portal from one end of the spa to another. She closed it and opened it a moment later. She would never have guessed it was so easy.

“But now, we have a final piece of business,” said Rhea.

“Do you have to leave?” asked Samantha. “I can open a portal at any time. After all you’ve done for me, we can’t just part ways, can we?”

Rhea smiled her warm, sisterly smile. “I had intended on it. After all, there seem to be many strange things here I would like to learn about.” Rhea picked up a blow dryer and turned it over quizzically in her hand, feeling the cord and looking down the barrel as she tried to divine the purpose of this strange artifact. “But I was referring to something else.”

Rhea pointed behind Samantha, who turned to look. There in the same spa chair she had once occupied before lay Atropa. She was still bound from shoulder to ankle in wrappings. Without their blinding glow, they almost looked like ordinary cloth unless closely observed, when they sparkled ever so slightly with the magic of the Reservoir Key. Atropa stirred, half-conscious, with her trapped feet wriggling reflexively in the aftershocks of her tickling ordeal. Samantha grinned.

“You indicated her feet are as ticklish as ever in this world, did you not?” asked Rhea lasciviously.

“I can’t think of a better way to celebrate our welcome-home party,” answered Samantha.

The sun set slowly on the horizon as the long night fell over the city. Through the night until the earliest sunbeams announced the coming of dawn, the walls of the Perfect Touch Spa shook with the sounds of hysterical laughter.