I finally found it again!
Shell (*/F, f/f, tickle torture, non-con with eventual con, tickling to orgasm, sexual content.)
A tickling story that is based in the future where a Spaceship Captain (Human, Female) has her ship taken over and is interrogated by a enemy Faction for a very rare and expensive mineral (or something)
"Captain, a fleet of friendlies off the port seems to be giving us a proper send off. Should we hail?"
Glancing up from her newly planned co-ordinates, Captain Shell found herself smiling slightly. She set aside the holo pad and stepped onto the captain's mount, gripping the steering helm and preparing to set the vidscreen into play.
"Of course-" She was ready to verbally signal the camera into action-
Until the ships sent a hot white beam of light towards theirs, slicing into the hull with a sound unholy.
"Oh shit-"
Normally Shell would give her Commanding Officer a drubbing down for using language like that on board, but at this point it seemed pretty valid. She cursed too, reaching over to push the younger on-deck officers under their command stations for cover. The ship rocked with the internal explosions that accompanied a direct hit to the hull and melting of the internal structure.
"Not friendlies! I repeat, not friendlies! Enemy ships under cloak to deceive us- who the hell are these guys?!" Her Commanding officer was already using her skills to try and track the enemy fleet, but the power grid of the ship was frying at a dangerous rate.
"Fire back on their combat systems to disable their weapons- We can't afford any more hits like this, we're using a -peace- ship for this mission-"
Unfortunately, it was too late. The enemy ships' blast hit the front of Shell's ship with dangerous precision, and a spidery crack started to spread along the front viewer.
"Get to the escape pods!" Shell rolled from the command stations to try and set up a shield, hoping to seal the break and stop the oxygen from leaking from their ship and letting the vaccum of space in. Their attackers had something else in mind, however.
Another hard beam of light boomed from the alien ships, and the front viewer shattered, threatening to pull them all out into the deadly blackness of the universe.
Instead of pulling in a breath for herself, Shell continued to stretch forward, hoping to at least be able to engage a new shield around her crew- but before she could even graze the button another beam of light slid from the menacing ships.
This one was red, seemingly a sort of tractor beam, encompassing her crew and keeping them frozen in space. Apparently, it kept them without needing to breathe-
But it also kept them trapped.
A powerful blast of psychic energy boomed through Shell's body, her mind whirling in pain as it tried to comprehend the force pushing through it. Finally, she adjusted, and her mind began to accept the flurry of pain for the force of mental communication.
<< WE COME IN SEEK OF THE HYDRION. YOU KNOW OF IT'S HIDDEN LOCATION ON THE PLANET BELOW. WE HAVE BEEN MONITORING.>>
Though she couldn't move or speak, her own mental blast of disgust for their captors was answer enough.
<<YOU WILL TELL US. YOU WILL COME WITH US. YOUR LIFE, OR THEIRS, CAPTAIN.>>
In a flash her crew was contorting in pain around her, soundlessly screaming and sobbing in the confines of the red beams. She tried to keep herself from crying out to them, but it was impossible. Her crew was her family, and she owed them her life as much as they did her.
"I'll go with you." She thought, only to watch in horror as her crew were teleported away before her very eyes.
<<THEY ARE SAFE.>>
This didn't calm her. In fact, it enraged her. She believed them about as much as she could move at the moment.
She might go with them- but she'd never tell them what they wanted.
<<YOU WILL.>>
The thought hit her with such force that she gasped for air that she didn't have, and found herself slipping into the grip of unconsciousness, as inky black as space.
--
When she woke she was in a white room, groggy and pained by the brightness around her. A quick flex of her muscles told her that not only was she bound, she was nude.
It was at this point that she allowed herself to curse like a Sailor.
<<AMUSING. NOT AT ALL HELPFUL FOR YOUR RELEASE.>>
"I've been interrogated by the most dangerous races across the galaxy. If you think you can get something from me, you're wrong."
<<WE HAVE WAYS. THE HYDRION IS IMPORTANT TO OUR RACE. THE PLANET BELOW SQUANDERS IT, USING IT TO BATHE AND FEED THEIR YOUNG.>>
Shell strained against the alien cuffs against her, snarling and wishing she could see where the voice was coming from. She wanted to know who to cripple when the time came.
"Yeah? And what would -you- be using it for?"
<<FACTORIES. ASSEMBLY. FUEL. PROGRESS.>>
"You disgust me!"
<<SHARED FEELINGS WILL UNDOUBTEDLY MAKE THE RELATIONSHIP OF INTERROGATOR AND CAPTIVE MORE DYNAMIC>>
Shell snorted, and that was the only sound she managed to make before the alien machinery around her snapped to life. The glowing white metal around her began to click into place, strange tentacles sliding from it's inner workings and holding her jaw tightly into place. Forcing her mouth open, filling it with a rubbery tentacle and forcing her to clamp down on it. The section of tentacle turned liquid when her teeth pressed into it, and then solidified slightly- effectively keeping her mouth glued to the surface.
"Mnhf!"
As she tried desperately to wrench her mouth free before it could solidify completely, the strange machine continued to whir. Her confined ankles were pulled apart, along with her wrists, and soon she was spread eagle enough that her muscles twinged.
Her fingers were forced to fan, and thin metal tentacles threaded between her toes.
Closing her eyes tightly, Shell started to force herself into a meditative state, knowing that she would be able to block herself off from all pain until she died and took the planet's secret with her, or figured out a way to escape.
<<THE HUMAN NERVOUS SYSTEM IS A FASCINATING SUBJECT.>>
She had to concentrate despite the heavy thoughts beaming into her brains.
<< WE, AS A RACE, HAVE LONG BEEN INTERESTED IN YOUR WEAK BODY'S ABILITY TO PERCEIVE STIMULI.>>
Taking in a deep breath, Shell started her breathing stanzas-
Or she would have, if not for the soft touch sliding along her stomach.
"Mnh-" It wasn't painful, and for a moment she was convinced that the aliens were screwing with her. In a moment it would stop and they'd start in with knives or sharp probes- but no- just the light touch, gently running along her stomach. "mh-hhm-!"
<< IS YOUR SKIN SENSITIVE? DO YOU DERIVE PLEASURE FROM TOUCH?>>
Her eyes flew open and she came face to face with a long glowing plume. It curled and wiggled when she looked at it, and soon more of them slid close to her body, stemming from the long metal tentacles that came from the machine.
They seemed to feed off of her astonishment, understanding her reactions and relishing them.
They could taste her fear.
Slowly one of the plumes began to stroke along her slide, lightly, lightly tickling up to her armpit.
Inside, she was already starting to panic. This wasn't pain- there were no techniques to block input like this- there had been no training to-
"MMM!!!!" It was excruciating to let out noises like that, and as she worked not to writhe in her bonds she was also struggling to keep herself absolutely silent.
The soft plumes of the alien tendrils began to tease along the hollow of her armpits, stroking up smooth skin and torturing the soft flesh. Tiny circles became large sweeps and soon her body was trembling with the effort of staying silent.
Little beads of sweat began to drip down her body, only inviting the torturous plumes to follow them with a sort of perverse glee.
Soon she had plumes tracing her hips, plumes teasing down her spine, plumes lightly fluttering along her ribs-
She was going to go insane.
<<TELL US WHERE THE HYDRION IS, CAPTAIN. WE WILL TURN PAIN INTO PLEASURE.>>
She pulled in a breath to curse the disgusting beings and found it expended as hysterical laughter into her gag. Her body arched and jolted as the plumes found their way to her arches, deviously sliding their tips from her heels to the pads of her feet.
Even more plumes slid from the machine, sensing the beginning of her loss, threading between her stretched toes and wriggling, wriggling, wriggling-
"NHHHH! Mmh-ahahmhh!" Her head whipped back and she screamed into the gag as the feathers worked in tandem, giggling helplessly as the ones torturing her smooth hips began to flutter in a maddening figure eight.
Stop stop stop-
<<TELL US.>>
Time began to become as torturous as the feathers gliding over her body- soon she became unable to understand how long she'd been in the white room. She lost track of her own laughter, lost track of her own voice, even lost track of her own reasons. The only reason she stayed silent was because of her own fierce conviction.
There were feathers all over her body now, and she was starting to lose her mind. The soft plumes tracing up and down her perineum and tickling her puckered hole were driving her hips back and forth back and forth, forcing tears to slide down her cheeks, and silent hysterical laughter to tumble from her lips.
<< IT HAS BEEN DAYS. WE GROW IMPATIENT.>>
Days. A thin thread of hope slid through her where there'd been none before. She'd survived days- she would be able to survive eons. She forced herself again to stop reacting, closed her eyes tight and tried to stop the tears dripping down her naked form.
<<YOU ARE AS STUBBORN AS THE OTHERS FROM YOUR RACE.>>
Slowly she felt her legs being opened a bit more- inch by inch. Fear fluttered inside her and she tried again to squirm away, to break her bonds and be free.
<<YOU HAVE FORCED OUR HAND.>>
The feathers homed in.
The first touch was electric, lightly skimming along her outer labia and sending sharp pulses of ticklish torture to her very core. Soon there were thousands of feathers torturing her most intimate place, their tips teasing and fluttering against sensitive flesh.
Her body bucked and her lips contorted into a howl of laughter, and only then did the alien gag in her mouth slide free. Her laughter echoed madly in the white room, and with it came babbles of desperation as her hips bucked.
"Stop! Stop! God not there please-!" It tickled too much, threatened to break her completely, and she shrieked as she felt her folds being parted. A helpless moan escaped her as the feathers began to move as one, circling her mound and never touching her clit. "Oh- *nhh* fuck- *fu-ha-ha-huck-*"
Her breath was starting to become shallow, and she felt her cheeks burn as she listened to herself moaning over and over. Her hips disobeyed her years of resistance training and started to buck to the alien devices, begging for the release that her mind and mouth wouldn't permit her to ask for.
<<TELL US. TIME GROWS SHORT, AS DOES OUR PATIENCE.>>
"Ah-*ah*-*Ahhh*-" She sobbed as the feathers brought her just short of orgasm and then danced away, only to repeat the process again. Soon the feathers set in with a routine- they would tease her close to climax and then tickle her everywhere but her clit.
Feathers would stroke along her inner thighs, tease along the ball of her foot, flicker happily between her toes and count her ribs one by one- but they would never touch the place she desperately wanted them to touch.
<<TELL US.>>
The feathers stopped. Poised- just- the entire fleet of them, their tendrils fluttering just seconds away from tickling her clit and sending her into a climax so heavenly that she might snap with or without it.
She heard herself sob, and begged herself to not give in for the last time.
"F-fuck you-" She gasped, and waited for hell to set in again.
Instead- nothing. After a moment of nervous terror, Shell managed to force herself to open her eyes and look at the machines.
Nothing moved, everything was still.
She waited for a deafening boom of thought, but everything was silent.
For a few seconds she panted, telling herself not to try and buck forward to the feathers.
"Did you give up!?"
"Not without a fight, Captain. Luckily, we gave them one." Her commanding officer's voice was honestly the most beautiful thing she'd ever heard in her life.
"NHm- Denby- thank god. Get me out of here."
The white of the room began to dim, and suddenly she could see planes of smooth glass. Behind it was Commander Denby, the woman's gloves stained with purple blood, a dead being twitching on the floor beside her. One of it's tentacles was still wrapped around the control switch, and Denby frowned as she flicked it aside.
"The planet is safe, Captain. They made the mistake of teleporting us to the surface, where our new allies were more than happy to give us the means to kick these guys straight to hell." After a moment, Denby cleared her throat and licked her lips. "..Ah.. Permission to speak candidly, Captain?"
"Mmh."
"You look like you could use a hand." With a little hesitation, Denby moved to sit at the edge of the control panel that the alien had been seated in. "Or maybe.. ah.. a tentacle?"
For a moment, Shell thought about protocol. Then she thought about how the planet was safe, and how the aliens were under control. She thought about the weeks she'd been kept on edge, and the weeks she'd wished her knuckles could be as stained with purple as Denby's were.
"Sure. What the hell."
Chewing at a slight smile, Denby flicked the machine into life and the feathers whirred towards her. In Denby's hands the feathers were soft and sweet, and soon they were teasing and fucking Shell into an orgasm so hard that she saw stars while still being confined in the white space of the ship.
The feathers circled her clit and fluttered against it, causing her to gasp out Denby's name.
When the machine released her, she found herself falling into Denby's arm, tugging the Commanding officer down to press their lips together hard.
After a moment, Shell let her feet hit the ground. She unbuttoned Denby's long coat and gently pulled it away from the Officer's body, sliding it over her own and snapping the uniform closed.
"Come on." Shell growled. "My fists aren't nearly purple enough."
-
