IrvingKrebb
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by Irving Krebb based on an idea by Suikoden (Illustrations will follow.)
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Cloak and Feather: Haul Off and Kiss Me
It occurred to her, as she readied herself to ring the doorbell, that he was responsible for two of the most extreme tickle torture experiences she'd ever been subjected to. That despite her vast intellect, specialized training, and years of experience, he had gotten the best of her. Twice. For weeks she'd been trying to figure out how he did it. She finally decided that maybe he couldn't be figured. Some things, she knew, were beyond traditional figuring. So, after a few, short rounds of fighting off the internal objections, she moved to ring the bell. But the door, seeming to sense her presence, swung open on it's own. Behind it, was one Irving Krebb. He was smiling his evil little smile; his eyes were shining with one eye-brow raised in a look of feigned surprise at finding the beautiful Samantha Storm standing beautifully on his doorstep.
"Hello" he said, looking in her in the eyes and then quickly over her shoulder, to see if she was alone.
"Hello, Mr. Krebb."
"Irving, please, call me Irving. Or, Irv'"
"May I come in Mr. Krebb?" she said, dryly.
"Of course, please..."
He opened the door wider, stepped to the side and motioned for her to come in. Samantha took a few cautious steps, looked around, and then turned to face him. He was looking more than a little amused.
"Sit down" he said, "what can I do for you?"
"I'm not staying. You have something that belongs to me."
"I do? What is it?"
"My bag, give it to me."
"Oh, right, I did find a bag...yes...hold on a minute and I'll get it."
He left the room still smiling his funny little smile. Samantha followed him with her eyes until he was gone and then looked around. The room was large, wooden, and antique looking. There were paintings on the walls, a huge bookshelf overflowing with books, and more books piled on top of every available horizontal surface. There were odd little things: little statues, boxes, toys(?), everywhere; in one corner of the room there was a grubby looking suit of armor holding a huge pike. There was a big fireplace on one side and a little bar with two stools on the other. The furniture looked old, so did the rug and the lamps...everything looked old. The place was a study in clutter, but sort of warm and comfortable too. She forgot herself for a moment and nearly sat down.
He returned with the bag.
"This it?" he said, still smiling.
"Yes, thank you." Samantha said, walking quickly towards the bag dangling from Krebb's outstretched arm. As she reached for it, he snatched it away, and in one, quick, fluid movement, aided by Samantha's forward momentum, he leaned forward and kissed her square on the lips. Samantha was shocked and for a minute, dazed. he stood in front of her beaming. She swung at him intending to punch his lights out but with Kung -Fu reflexes he dodged the blow and instead wrapped his arm around her waist, pulled her close and kissed her again, harder this time, while firmly groping her ass.
"If this doesn't work" he thought, "she's going to murder me."
A few seconds later he released her and took a step back, ready to be violently assaulted. But Samantha just stood there looking a little dazed.
"What the fuck..." she said, weakly. "What the...why did..." She stepped towards the couch to steady herself. Krebb watched, delighted. He looked as if any moment he would burst out clapping. Samantha felt dizzy, she sat down heavily on the couch, watching him watching her like she was a science project.
“What did you do?” she said, finally.
Krebb clasped his hands in front of him and glided slowly towards Samantha. He looked down at her, tilted his head, smiled and said, “It worked!”
Her head was spinning, her body was like jelly and her thoughts were muddy and incomprehensible. She looked up at him and she had a remembered feeling of fear creep up her jellied spine. He reached into his pocket and before he even took it out, she knew. A single thought managed to push it's way to the front and she knew it was the salve.
“Fantastic stuff,” he said, “I wasn't sure it going to work...but I guess it did. How're ya feelin'?”
“Dead.” Samantha said.
“Oh, you're not going to die, it's temporary, right? I mean, you should know, right? It came from your bag, so...”
“You're dead.” Samantha growled, trying to move her body into some version of a defensive posture.
“You say that now,” he smiled, “but wait a few minutes, I think you'll change your mind.”
She knew he was right. The stuff he dosed her with, with that kiss, worked first to immobilize its victim by targeting the nervous system; it relaxed the muscles and flooded the brain with a soothing, chemical cocktail. But after that, the mind became pliable, extremely vulnerable to the power of suggestion. Chemical sedation followed by chemical driven compliance, what a thing, she thought.
He waited and watched as the powerful toxin worked it's magic. Samantha's limbs were starting to recover; she stretched a sleepy stretch and rubbed her eyes. He got up and sat down again, cautiously, on the other end of the couch. He reached down and picked up one of Samantha's legs and gently placed her foot in his lap.
Her brain fired off a protest but it got lost somewhere and was replaced by a goofy smile and a barely stifled giggle.
“What are you doing?” she cooed.
“You know you just 'cooed.'” he said.
The sound she made did not escape her, and somewhere deep down she raged but didn't notice.
Krebb, without looking, went about untying the laces on her boot. His eyes never left her eyes; he watched for any sign of resistance but found only the goofy smile still hanging. He removed the boot, the sock, and carefully adjusted Samantha's little bare foot in his lap. He allowed himself a moment to admire his (and I suppose, God's?) handiwork, and went back to staring into her eyes, this time, with a sly little grin.
Samantha suddenly felt a jolt run from the sole of her foot to her nether regions. It was followed by another, and then a fluttering sensation slowly moving up and down the sole of her foot. She giggled and twitched but, to both their surprise, did not pull away. Krebb raised an eyebrow and brushed the tops of her toes with his fingertips. Samantha looked at him with half-closed lids and smiled.
(Now is the time, he thought, she'll kill me for sure but...maybe...and, yeah, why not?)
He was impressed. This was magic lip salve, and he made a mental note to ask his buddy, who was good with chemicals, if he could reproduce it. Samantha was relaxed and complicit in his gentle attention to her foot, and she seemed to be enjoying herself. He lifted her other leg, removed her other boot, and marveled at the two beautifully crafted little feet. She had high, high arches...lovely and sensitive and crammed full of nerve clusters which ran to places no one but Samantha knew for sure. But Krebb was now prepared to find out where they ran, up the leg, for sure, but maybe towards...
Another bit of very light fluttering up the sole and Samantha reacted with a slight gasp. A soft, yet firm, up and down stroking caused her to close her eyes and bite her bottom lip. What a move! He thought, sexy! Things were getting good.
He teased and played with her adorable little feet a little while, drawing from Samantha giggles and moans as he traced patterns on her soles. Once he felt he'd worked her up good and hot, he ventured a cavalier move. Still looking into her soft, dark eyes, he brought one shapely foot to his lips and kissed it, gently. He nuzzled and licked and kissed. Samantha gripped the couch cushions and struggled to keep herself still. Her head thrown back, she moaned and cooed as the sensations coursed up her legs and into...
It happened very fast. One minute he was holding her foot, watching as Samantha writhed in fetishistic fantasy, and the next, she was on top of him, straddling him, and her lips were locked firmly on his own. He was thinking that things were going pretty well, and he slid his hand up the side of her shirt to get the feel of her skin on his fingertips. She was warm and soft and perfect, and not a bad kisser either.
Samantha was reacting on pure impulse, her rational mind paralyzed by the magical salve. When it was time to breathe she looked him in the eyes and knew she should hit him, hard, in the head, but couldn't, she was lost in the moment. For what seemed like forever they made out high-school-style on the couch, all groping and heavy-petting. That's why he forgot about the time.
The one thing Krebb wasn't exactly sure of was how long the drug would stay potent. That's why he kept a leg length away from Samantha and watched her reactions carefully whilst he played. He would see it in her eyes if she was coming out of it, of that he was sure, but he wasn't prepared for how quickly she could leap on top of him while still under the spell. Pretty quickly, it turned out. And while they were going at it like a couple of horny kids, the clock was ticking. An hour passed by without him noticing. What he did notice, however, was being thrown across the room.
The drug wore off about fifteen-minutes prior, and though she wouldn't admit it, Samantha was having fun. To her mind, though, revenge can be much more fun. When the moment seemed right, she grabbed the front of his shirt, fell back, slid her feet under his chest, and flipped him clear across the room and into the wall. He landed upside down with a flat, thud, and watched an inverted Samantha Storm coming in for round two.
Before he could think of something clever to say, she hoisted him up and delivered a straight right to his forehead. The blow made his eyes cross, and he staggered back to the wall. She came again, this time with a kick, which he managed to dodge. He bounced himself off the wall and tried to get behind her, but she was too fast. An elbow, then a fist, reminded him who was now in control. Another kick, this time high and to the jaw, sent him sprawling on the floor, out cold.
Samantha was walking over to revive him (because kicking the shit out of someone is much more fun when they're awake,) when he suddenly spun around and pointed something at her which sent a tiny dart deep into her left leg thigh.
“You shot me?!” Samantha said, surprised and horrified.
“Dart gun...” he coughed, “you were asking for it.”
He slowly got to his feet, spit a fat glob of blood on the wood floor, and showed Samantha the gun. Samantha plucked the little dart from her leg and realized, when her leg no longer moved, she'd been dosed again.
“Goddammit!” She yelled, “You bastard! You...”
“Hang on a second, lady, you asked for it, one minute you wanna kiss me, next you wanna kill me.”
He grabbed a chair and dragged it behind Samantha, who was spinning on one paralyzed leg to keep him in front of her.
“Relax,” he said, “you're gonna go limp in a minute, so sit down. My back hurts, thanks to you, and I'd rather not have to pick you up off the floor.” Samantha sat down. He grabbed another chair and set it down in front of her. “You want a drink?”
“No, I don't want a drink.” she said.
“Well, I'm having a drink...and maybe some fucking morphine, hang on.”
Krebb limped over to the bar. He fixed himself a stiff vodka-tonic and popped two little white pills in his mouth and gulped. “Better,” he said, and limped back over to Samantha and lowered himself painfully into the chair. He pulled a white handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the blood from his mouth and grimaced when he felt the large lump erupting from his forehead.
“Jesus...” he grunted, lighting a cigarette. “I'm all lumped up. What brought that on, I thought we were having a good time.”
“You drugged me!” Samantha shouted.
“Yeah, so what.” She opened her mouth to speak but he cut her off with a gesture and said, “Look, the business you're in...you're carrying around powerful, psycho-active drugs disguised as an innocent tube of lip salve...not to mention the tiny weapons I found in there...and that other thing, whatever it was...what I'm saying is, you're not an innocent victim. Christ, you paid me to torture the red-head, which I would probably feel bad about if I had a conscious...don't you think you might have a little Karma coming your way? Besides, you came here on your own, I didn't invite you, for all I know you came to kill me."
“So you molested me in self-defense?” she growled.
“Something like that...yes.”
He was smiling again. Samantha wanted desperately to put his lights out for good, but she couldn't move. The poison had spread from her leg to the rest of her. She was paralyzed. Krebb stood up and tossed his cigarette into the fireplace. He cracked his knuckles, his neck, and stretched himself. Then he leaned in close to Samantha's ear and whispered:
“Thing is, that drug doesn't make you feel anything differently...it just makes it okay to feel it.”
Still pretty turned on, despite the savage beating, he kissed and nuzzled Samantha's shapely neck, which exploded in goosebumps and glowed a warm reddish glow. Then he started undressing her.
Samantha decided not to object. She was pretty sure it would be useless to try. Krebb had proven to be a man who couldn't be threatened, bribed, or reasoned with once he got an idea into his huge head. His little speech made it clear that he'd already rationalized whatever it was he was about to do. And strangely, she felt he had a point. This line of work is dangerous.
He started with the buttons on her shirt, one at a time, carefully pulling the fabric back with little tugs as he worked his way down. He removed her shirt and stepped back to admire his work.
“Jesus, you are something, aren't you?” he said. Samantha's upper lip went stiff.
“I apologize about all this,” he said, “but, you know, I have this strange predilection...this weird urge that needs to be satisfied now and again, or...well, anyway...”
Samantha thought he sounded a little like Columbo. He sounded sincere, he sounded like he really was sorry about what he was doing...and was doing it, in some ways, despite himself. Not that it mattered, but that's what she thought.
He continued by releasing the buckle on her belt and theatrically yanking it from around her waist and wielding it like a whip.
“Rawhide!” he yelled, and then smiled to himself in a self-satisfied way.
It took him a minute to get her pants off; he grunted a bit as he went about the awkward business but finally got them off her, leaving her sitting there decked in just black bra and matching panties, which sported a little black, ribbony bow. Again, he stepped back to admire his work.
"I'm not a religious man," he said, "but you might be proof of a benevolent creator."
"And you're shit at undressing a woman. First time?"
The speed in which the insult was delivered caught him off guard, and Samantha noticed. "I'll be right back” he said, and then left the room. He came back dragging a big steamer trunk behind him and set it down in front of her. “Now,” he said, clapping his hands together, “Let's have some fun!”
He stood with his back to her and lifted the lid of the trunk. Samantha couldn't see what he was doing but she was justifiably nervous. He might pull out something really nasty to use on her, something ugly and painful, her mind was racing with awful possibilities. Finally, he stood up and said, “We'll start, maybe, with THIS!” Samantha would have flinched if she could move, but all she managed was a nervous fluttering of the eyes. When Krebb turned to face her she realized it was worse than she thought. He stood there smiling, holding a goddamned cheer leader outfit.
“What do you think?” he said, holding the little costume in front of her, gauging whether it would fit or not, regarding her like some hellish tailor. “You don't like it..okay, no problem, no problem...something else then, let's see.”
He dove back into the trunk and began tossing things over his shoulders, muttering to himself, like a maniac, “no, no...maybe, no...ah ha!” He pulled a long, black, slinky little number over his arm and presented it to her looking like Tim fucking Gunn. “This, this is the one!”
“No,” Samantha said flatly, “you're not putting that on me.”
“Oh, come on, it's perfect, it's you!”
“No.”
Krebb tossed the dress back into the trunk and sat down again and lit another cigarette. “You know,” he said as he exhaled, “this would be a hell of a lot more fun if you'd just loosen up a little.” He looked sad, like a wounded duck.
“Listen,” she said, “let's stop fucking around. We both know what's gonna happen. You're going to tie me up and you're going to tickle me – I know it, you know it, and maybe I deserve it...” she sighed, “So I'm going to help you out.”
Krebb raised an eyebrow and leaned toward Samantha, he knew she was up to something, but he didn't know what.
“I'm going to make this real good for you, so listen closely. Are you listening?”
“I'm listening.”
“I have a love/hate thing with tickling...because I can't control it. I can handle pain, I can block pain, but I can't help being ticklish, if you tickle me, I'm helpless."
A bit of drool escaped Krebb's lower lip.
"When you tie me up, make sure you stretch me out tight, not like last time, last time you left me a little loose, I had too much wiggle room, you have to tie me down so I can't move an inch, OK?”
“Yeah...”
“Start with my feet, the soles of my feet, with that broad tipped feather you have, but be very gentle, barely touching, very light...that drives me insane.”
“Okay...” Krebb's tone was obviously questioning her motives, but he was beginning to feel that southern plasma flow, into the south of his pants, so he continued to listen.
“A light touch works better than all that rough wriggling of your fingers; use the feather and if you have to touch, touch lightly, very, very lightly, up and down the curve of my arch, pull it in between my toes, slowly..."
Krebb's eyes grew wide, his blood was heating up, he leaned closer, slowly allowing himself to be captivated. Samantha was being captivating. She continued:
“Drag your fingertips lightly up my legs – my knees are very sensitive, don't linger there, flutter and move on, otherwise it's agony, alright? You don't strike me as the purely sadistic type, am I right?”
“Ah, yeah, right...hmm...”
“My hips, bad spot, gentle pressure and I go nuts, but keep moving, keep me guessing, move to my stomach.”
“Your stomach, sure, of course...”
“My stomach is very, very ticklish, but again, move lightly, dancing fingertips; go up the curves of my sides, my sides are especially ticklish...very soft...little, gentle squeezes, up the sides and to my ribs. There is a spot at the top of my ribcage...if you find that spot, I...let's just say, I hope you don't find that spot. Are you going to blindfold me?”
“What?” The question caught him off guard.
“Are you going to blindfold me? If not, you better keep me guessing. You should probably blindfold me.”
“Uh...sure, okay, blindfold...”
"If you're going to tickle me, tickle me right."
Krebb was getting increasingly aroused by Samantha's instructions. He couldn't see how this was going to help her situation. He was fidgeting, beginning to writhe in his chair, his pants were becoming very tight. Samantha, watching his reaction, smiled a smile that nearly caused his heart to explode. He was on the edge of his seat and teetering.
“Keep moving, keep your fingertips moving, across my breasts...take this bra off me, and the panties, do it right.”
“Well, if a thing's worth doing...”
“Across my nipples, you'll know you're doing it right, they'll be rock hard. Use the feather. Across my collar bone, gently under my arms – don't dig your fingers in, just stroke, be patient, you'll have what you want.”
“Have what I want...yeah.”
“Make sure you're paying attention, listening to my reactions, I'll be helpless, vulnerable, sweating; don't be mean, but be merciless...”
“Merciless.”
“Tickle my feet...”
“Feet.”
“Tickle my sides...”
“Sides.”
“Tickle my ribs, tickle my legs, tickle my stomach, don't stop...”
"Yeah..."
"Tease me, tickle me till I'm soaking wet and screaming for it!"
“Screaming! Yes! Jesus!”
Krebb leaped from his chair and stood awkwardly in front of Samantha, pointing at her from below. He staggered a little, his face was flushed; he was sweating.
“I, uh, I need a minute,” he said, and walked to the bar and pounded down a shot of brown liquor, Samantha could hear him softly cursing himself and saw him looking down at the small stain spreading across the front of his trousers.
“Take your time,” she said, “take all the time you need.” She smiled and noticed she was able to wiggle her little finger...not much, but enough.
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Cloak and Feather: Haul Off and Kiss Me
It occurred to her, as she readied herself to ring the doorbell, that he was responsible for two of the most extreme tickle torture experiences she'd ever been subjected to. That despite her vast intellect, specialized training, and years of experience, he had gotten the best of her. Twice. For weeks she'd been trying to figure out how he did it. She finally decided that maybe he couldn't be figured. Some things, she knew, were beyond traditional figuring. So, after a few, short rounds of fighting off the internal objections, she moved to ring the bell. But the door, seeming to sense her presence, swung open on it's own. Behind it, was one Irving Krebb. He was smiling his evil little smile; his eyes were shining with one eye-brow raised in a look of feigned surprise at finding the beautiful Samantha Storm standing beautifully on his doorstep.
"Hello" he said, looking in her in the eyes and then quickly over her shoulder, to see if she was alone.
"Hello, Mr. Krebb."
"Irving, please, call me Irving. Or, Irv'"
"May I come in Mr. Krebb?" she said, dryly.
"Of course, please..."
He opened the door wider, stepped to the side and motioned for her to come in. Samantha took a few cautious steps, looked around, and then turned to face him. He was looking more than a little amused.
"Sit down" he said, "what can I do for you?"
"I'm not staying. You have something that belongs to me."
"I do? What is it?"
"My bag, give it to me."
"Oh, right, I did find a bag...yes...hold on a minute and I'll get it."
He left the room still smiling his funny little smile. Samantha followed him with her eyes until he was gone and then looked around. The room was large, wooden, and antique looking. There were paintings on the walls, a huge bookshelf overflowing with books, and more books piled on top of every available horizontal surface. There were odd little things: little statues, boxes, toys(?), everywhere; in one corner of the room there was a grubby looking suit of armor holding a huge pike. There was a big fireplace on one side and a little bar with two stools on the other. The furniture looked old, so did the rug and the lamps...everything looked old. The place was a study in clutter, but sort of warm and comfortable too. She forgot herself for a moment and nearly sat down.
He returned with the bag.
"This it?" he said, still smiling.
"Yes, thank you." Samantha said, walking quickly towards the bag dangling from Krebb's outstretched arm. As she reached for it, he snatched it away, and in one, quick, fluid movement, aided by Samantha's forward momentum, he leaned forward and kissed her square on the lips. Samantha was shocked and for a minute, dazed. he stood in front of her beaming. She swung at him intending to punch his lights out but with Kung -Fu reflexes he dodged the blow and instead wrapped his arm around her waist, pulled her close and kissed her again, harder this time, while firmly groping her ass.
"If this doesn't work" he thought, "she's going to murder me."
A few seconds later he released her and took a step back, ready to be violently assaulted. But Samantha just stood there looking a little dazed.
"What the fuck..." she said, weakly. "What the...why did..." She stepped towards the couch to steady herself. Krebb watched, delighted. He looked as if any moment he would burst out clapping. Samantha felt dizzy, she sat down heavily on the couch, watching him watching her like she was a science project.
“What did you do?” she said, finally.
Krebb clasped his hands in front of him and glided slowly towards Samantha. He looked down at her, tilted his head, smiled and said, “It worked!”
Her head was spinning, her body was like jelly and her thoughts were muddy and incomprehensible. She looked up at him and she had a remembered feeling of fear creep up her jellied spine. He reached into his pocket and before he even took it out, she knew. A single thought managed to push it's way to the front and she knew it was the salve.
“Fantastic stuff,” he said, “I wasn't sure it going to work...but I guess it did. How're ya feelin'?”
“Dead.” Samantha said.
“Oh, you're not going to die, it's temporary, right? I mean, you should know, right? It came from your bag, so...”
“You're dead.” Samantha growled, trying to move her body into some version of a defensive posture.
“You say that now,” he smiled, “but wait a few minutes, I think you'll change your mind.”
She knew he was right. The stuff he dosed her with, with that kiss, worked first to immobilize its victim by targeting the nervous system; it relaxed the muscles and flooded the brain with a soothing, chemical cocktail. But after that, the mind became pliable, extremely vulnerable to the power of suggestion. Chemical sedation followed by chemical driven compliance, what a thing, she thought.
He waited and watched as the powerful toxin worked it's magic. Samantha's limbs were starting to recover; she stretched a sleepy stretch and rubbed her eyes. He got up and sat down again, cautiously, on the other end of the couch. He reached down and picked up one of Samantha's legs and gently placed her foot in his lap.
Her brain fired off a protest but it got lost somewhere and was replaced by a goofy smile and a barely stifled giggle.
“What are you doing?” she cooed.
“You know you just 'cooed.'” he said.
The sound she made did not escape her, and somewhere deep down she raged but didn't notice.
Krebb, without looking, went about untying the laces on her boot. His eyes never left her eyes; he watched for any sign of resistance but found only the goofy smile still hanging. He removed the boot, the sock, and carefully adjusted Samantha's little bare foot in his lap. He allowed himself a moment to admire his (and I suppose, God's?) handiwork, and went back to staring into her eyes, this time, with a sly little grin.
Samantha suddenly felt a jolt run from the sole of her foot to her nether regions. It was followed by another, and then a fluttering sensation slowly moving up and down the sole of her foot. She giggled and twitched but, to both their surprise, did not pull away. Krebb raised an eyebrow and brushed the tops of her toes with his fingertips. Samantha looked at him with half-closed lids and smiled.
(Now is the time, he thought, she'll kill me for sure but...maybe...and, yeah, why not?)
He was impressed. This was magic lip salve, and he made a mental note to ask his buddy, who was good with chemicals, if he could reproduce it. Samantha was relaxed and complicit in his gentle attention to her foot, and she seemed to be enjoying herself. He lifted her other leg, removed her other boot, and marveled at the two beautifully crafted little feet. She had high, high arches...lovely and sensitive and crammed full of nerve clusters which ran to places no one but Samantha knew for sure. But Krebb was now prepared to find out where they ran, up the leg, for sure, but maybe towards...
Another bit of very light fluttering up the sole and Samantha reacted with a slight gasp. A soft, yet firm, up and down stroking caused her to close her eyes and bite her bottom lip. What a move! He thought, sexy! Things were getting good.
He teased and played with her adorable little feet a little while, drawing from Samantha giggles and moans as he traced patterns on her soles. Once he felt he'd worked her up good and hot, he ventured a cavalier move. Still looking into her soft, dark eyes, he brought one shapely foot to his lips and kissed it, gently. He nuzzled and licked and kissed. Samantha gripped the couch cushions and struggled to keep herself still. Her head thrown back, she moaned and cooed as the sensations coursed up her legs and into...
It happened very fast. One minute he was holding her foot, watching as Samantha writhed in fetishistic fantasy, and the next, she was on top of him, straddling him, and her lips were locked firmly on his own. He was thinking that things were going pretty well, and he slid his hand up the side of her shirt to get the feel of her skin on his fingertips. She was warm and soft and perfect, and not a bad kisser either.
Samantha was reacting on pure impulse, her rational mind paralyzed by the magical salve. When it was time to breathe she looked him in the eyes and knew she should hit him, hard, in the head, but couldn't, she was lost in the moment. For what seemed like forever they made out high-school-style on the couch, all groping and heavy-petting. That's why he forgot about the time.
The one thing Krebb wasn't exactly sure of was how long the drug would stay potent. That's why he kept a leg length away from Samantha and watched her reactions carefully whilst he played. He would see it in her eyes if she was coming out of it, of that he was sure, but he wasn't prepared for how quickly she could leap on top of him while still under the spell. Pretty quickly, it turned out. And while they were going at it like a couple of horny kids, the clock was ticking. An hour passed by without him noticing. What he did notice, however, was being thrown across the room.
The drug wore off about fifteen-minutes prior, and though she wouldn't admit it, Samantha was having fun. To her mind, though, revenge can be much more fun. When the moment seemed right, she grabbed the front of his shirt, fell back, slid her feet under his chest, and flipped him clear across the room and into the wall. He landed upside down with a flat, thud, and watched an inverted Samantha Storm coming in for round two.
Before he could think of something clever to say, she hoisted him up and delivered a straight right to his forehead. The blow made his eyes cross, and he staggered back to the wall. She came again, this time with a kick, which he managed to dodge. He bounced himself off the wall and tried to get behind her, but she was too fast. An elbow, then a fist, reminded him who was now in control. Another kick, this time high and to the jaw, sent him sprawling on the floor, out cold.
Samantha was walking over to revive him (because kicking the shit out of someone is much more fun when they're awake,) when he suddenly spun around and pointed something at her which sent a tiny dart deep into her left leg thigh.
“You shot me?!” Samantha said, surprised and horrified.
“Dart gun...” he coughed, “you were asking for it.”
He slowly got to his feet, spit a fat glob of blood on the wood floor, and showed Samantha the gun. Samantha plucked the little dart from her leg and realized, when her leg no longer moved, she'd been dosed again.
“Goddammit!” She yelled, “You bastard! You...”
“Hang on a second, lady, you asked for it, one minute you wanna kiss me, next you wanna kill me.”
He grabbed a chair and dragged it behind Samantha, who was spinning on one paralyzed leg to keep him in front of her.
“Relax,” he said, “you're gonna go limp in a minute, so sit down. My back hurts, thanks to you, and I'd rather not have to pick you up off the floor.” Samantha sat down. He grabbed another chair and set it down in front of her. “You want a drink?”
“No, I don't want a drink.” she said.
“Well, I'm having a drink...and maybe some fucking morphine, hang on.”
Krebb limped over to the bar. He fixed himself a stiff vodka-tonic and popped two little white pills in his mouth and gulped. “Better,” he said, and limped back over to Samantha and lowered himself painfully into the chair. He pulled a white handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the blood from his mouth and grimaced when he felt the large lump erupting from his forehead.
“Jesus...” he grunted, lighting a cigarette. “I'm all lumped up. What brought that on, I thought we were having a good time.”
“You drugged me!” Samantha shouted.
“Yeah, so what.” She opened her mouth to speak but he cut her off with a gesture and said, “Look, the business you're in...you're carrying around powerful, psycho-active drugs disguised as an innocent tube of lip salve...not to mention the tiny weapons I found in there...and that other thing, whatever it was...what I'm saying is, you're not an innocent victim. Christ, you paid me to torture the red-head, which I would probably feel bad about if I had a conscious...don't you think you might have a little Karma coming your way? Besides, you came here on your own, I didn't invite you, for all I know you came to kill me."
“So you molested me in self-defense?” she growled.
“Something like that...yes.”
He was smiling again. Samantha wanted desperately to put his lights out for good, but she couldn't move. The poison had spread from her leg to the rest of her. She was paralyzed. Krebb stood up and tossed his cigarette into the fireplace. He cracked his knuckles, his neck, and stretched himself. Then he leaned in close to Samantha's ear and whispered:
“Thing is, that drug doesn't make you feel anything differently...it just makes it okay to feel it.”
Still pretty turned on, despite the savage beating, he kissed and nuzzled Samantha's shapely neck, which exploded in goosebumps and glowed a warm reddish glow. Then he started undressing her.
Samantha decided not to object. She was pretty sure it would be useless to try. Krebb had proven to be a man who couldn't be threatened, bribed, or reasoned with once he got an idea into his huge head. His little speech made it clear that he'd already rationalized whatever it was he was about to do. And strangely, she felt he had a point. This line of work is dangerous.
He started with the buttons on her shirt, one at a time, carefully pulling the fabric back with little tugs as he worked his way down. He removed her shirt and stepped back to admire his work.
“Jesus, you are something, aren't you?” he said. Samantha's upper lip went stiff.
“I apologize about all this,” he said, “but, you know, I have this strange predilection...this weird urge that needs to be satisfied now and again, or...well, anyway...”
Samantha thought he sounded a little like Columbo. He sounded sincere, he sounded like he really was sorry about what he was doing...and was doing it, in some ways, despite himself. Not that it mattered, but that's what she thought.
He continued by releasing the buckle on her belt and theatrically yanking it from around her waist and wielding it like a whip.
“Rawhide!” he yelled, and then smiled to himself in a self-satisfied way.
It took him a minute to get her pants off; he grunted a bit as he went about the awkward business but finally got them off her, leaving her sitting there decked in just black bra and matching panties, which sported a little black, ribbony bow. Again, he stepped back to admire his work.
"I'm not a religious man," he said, "but you might be proof of a benevolent creator."
"And you're shit at undressing a woman. First time?"
The speed in which the insult was delivered caught him off guard, and Samantha noticed. "I'll be right back” he said, and then left the room. He came back dragging a big steamer trunk behind him and set it down in front of her. “Now,” he said, clapping his hands together, “Let's have some fun!”
He stood with his back to her and lifted the lid of the trunk. Samantha couldn't see what he was doing but she was justifiably nervous. He might pull out something really nasty to use on her, something ugly and painful, her mind was racing with awful possibilities. Finally, he stood up and said, “We'll start, maybe, with THIS!” Samantha would have flinched if she could move, but all she managed was a nervous fluttering of the eyes. When Krebb turned to face her she realized it was worse than she thought. He stood there smiling, holding a goddamned cheer leader outfit.
“What do you think?” he said, holding the little costume in front of her, gauging whether it would fit or not, regarding her like some hellish tailor. “You don't like it..okay, no problem, no problem...something else then, let's see.”
He dove back into the trunk and began tossing things over his shoulders, muttering to himself, like a maniac, “no, no...maybe, no...ah ha!” He pulled a long, black, slinky little number over his arm and presented it to her looking like Tim fucking Gunn. “This, this is the one!”
“No,” Samantha said flatly, “you're not putting that on me.”
“Oh, come on, it's perfect, it's you!”
“No.”
Krebb tossed the dress back into the trunk and sat down again and lit another cigarette. “You know,” he said as he exhaled, “this would be a hell of a lot more fun if you'd just loosen up a little.” He looked sad, like a wounded duck.
“Listen,” she said, “let's stop fucking around. We both know what's gonna happen. You're going to tie me up and you're going to tickle me – I know it, you know it, and maybe I deserve it...” she sighed, “So I'm going to help you out.”
Krebb raised an eyebrow and leaned toward Samantha, he knew she was up to something, but he didn't know what.
“I'm going to make this real good for you, so listen closely. Are you listening?”
“I'm listening.”
“I have a love/hate thing with tickling...because I can't control it. I can handle pain, I can block pain, but I can't help being ticklish, if you tickle me, I'm helpless."
A bit of drool escaped Krebb's lower lip.
"When you tie me up, make sure you stretch me out tight, not like last time, last time you left me a little loose, I had too much wiggle room, you have to tie me down so I can't move an inch, OK?”
“Yeah...”
“Start with my feet, the soles of my feet, with that broad tipped feather you have, but be very gentle, barely touching, very light...that drives me insane.”
“Okay...” Krebb's tone was obviously questioning her motives, but he was beginning to feel that southern plasma flow, into the south of his pants, so he continued to listen.
“A light touch works better than all that rough wriggling of your fingers; use the feather and if you have to touch, touch lightly, very, very lightly, up and down the curve of my arch, pull it in between my toes, slowly..."
Krebb's eyes grew wide, his blood was heating up, he leaned closer, slowly allowing himself to be captivated. Samantha was being captivating. She continued:
“Drag your fingertips lightly up my legs – my knees are very sensitive, don't linger there, flutter and move on, otherwise it's agony, alright? You don't strike me as the purely sadistic type, am I right?”
“Ah, yeah, right...hmm...”
“My hips, bad spot, gentle pressure and I go nuts, but keep moving, keep me guessing, move to my stomach.”
“Your stomach, sure, of course...”
“My stomach is very, very ticklish, but again, move lightly, dancing fingertips; go up the curves of my sides, my sides are especially ticklish...very soft...little, gentle squeezes, up the sides and to my ribs. There is a spot at the top of my ribcage...if you find that spot, I...let's just say, I hope you don't find that spot. Are you going to blindfold me?”
“What?” The question caught him off guard.
“Are you going to blindfold me? If not, you better keep me guessing. You should probably blindfold me.”
“Uh...sure, okay, blindfold...”
"If you're going to tickle me, tickle me right."
Krebb was getting increasingly aroused by Samantha's instructions. He couldn't see how this was going to help her situation. He was fidgeting, beginning to writhe in his chair, his pants were becoming very tight. Samantha, watching his reaction, smiled a smile that nearly caused his heart to explode. He was on the edge of his seat and teetering.
“Keep moving, keep your fingertips moving, across my breasts...take this bra off me, and the panties, do it right.”
“Well, if a thing's worth doing...”
“Across my nipples, you'll know you're doing it right, they'll be rock hard. Use the feather. Across my collar bone, gently under my arms – don't dig your fingers in, just stroke, be patient, you'll have what you want.”
“Have what I want...yeah.”
“Make sure you're paying attention, listening to my reactions, I'll be helpless, vulnerable, sweating; don't be mean, but be merciless...”
“Merciless.”
“Tickle my feet...”
“Feet.”
“Tickle my sides...”
“Sides.”
“Tickle my ribs, tickle my legs, tickle my stomach, don't stop...”
"Yeah..."
"Tease me, tickle me till I'm soaking wet and screaming for it!"
“Screaming! Yes! Jesus!”
Krebb leaped from his chair and stood awkwardly in front of Samantha, pointing at her from below. He staggered a little, his face was flushed; he was sweating.
“I, uh, I need a minute,” he said, and walked to the bar and pounded down a shot of brown liquor, Samantha could hear him softly cursing himself and saw him looking down at the small stain spreading across the front of his trousers.
“Take your time,” she said, “take all the time you need.” She smiled and noticed she was able to wiggle her little finger...not much, but enough.
