Howdy, readers!
You can find the first three parts of this one here, and I'd strongly recommend reading them first (the fourth part assumes a lot of background.)
Part 1: https://www.ticklingforum.com/showthread.php?335831-Andromeda-part-1-(fff-f-non-con)
Part 2: https://www.ticklingforum.com/showthread.php?335855-Andromeda-part-2-(fff-f-non-con)
Part 3: https://www.ticklingforum.com/showthread.php?337702-Andromeda-part-3-(f-f-ff-f)
Read, enjoy, and leave a comment! Then leave a comment on someone else's story too!
KI
Andromeda part 4 (fff/f)
by
Kid Indy
Katie Jones woke with a start. Her muscles were sore, and she remembered before too long that they were worn out with laughing. She was alone on the bed where she slept, and she looked around to take in the room one more time.
There was the flying-V. There was the recliner. There was the standing frame. All three of them had been her home for Andromeda’s torture, and she quickly spotted Zoe and Casi asleep on cots across the room. Where was the third?
A low chuckle over her shoulder answered that question quickly enough. Zoe was a sadist, and Casi was a pervert, but Gina’s detachment was perhaps the scariest in this crew–when she went to work, Katie couldn’t tell what was coming next–she might press her into yet another mind-altering post-orgasmic tickling. She might let her suffer as she traced lines with one fingernail. There was just no way to tell. But the youngest of the Andromeda trio, by their telling, was among the three the only one awake with Katie in the room.
Katie had been naked in front of these young women for days now, and her nakedness was never far from her captors’ attention–they didn’t always touch her where lovers touch, but they were always watching for what kinds of tickling would turn her on and make her body wish for a lover. And often they did touch her just so.
Katie was no prude–after her divorce she had dated off and on and never thought twice about pursuing a man who looked like he might be good in the bedroom–but these girls were something else, seemingly able to flip a switch in her body that had slowly transformed the way that she watched Casi’s insatiable mouth and Zoe’s evil smile… and Gina’s ever-probing eyes.
When they weren’t tickling her, the three had been humane. She always had food to eat and bottled water to drink. They had brought her a couple changes of shirts and even let her shower over the course of three days and three nights, and they did let her rest between sessions. But she was never alone. Even now, in the middle of the night, a familiar voice addressed her.
“You should get some sleep, Katie. You’re not done yet.”
“Am I going to be relocated like Traci Carter was? You don’t have to keep me here any longer–I’ll just move to Cincinnati.”
Casi stirred in her cot. Gina dropped her voice to a whisper. “Put some shorts and some flip-flops on, and I’ll put my boots on, and we’ll go outside and talk.” Katie noted the tactical awareness here: she likely couldn’t outrun the younger woman in a fair race, and with this kind of advantage–boots versus flops– the young Andromeda agent seemed perfectly confident that Katie wouldn’t get far enough to give anyone warning. But she did relish the possibility of wearing pants and underwear again, so she took Gina up on the offer, put on a pair of panties that the Andromeda crew had bought her, slipped on some gym shorts and pink flip-flops, and followed Gina through the back door.
They emerged onto a screened-in porch where the air was cool but not cold enough that Katie minded. Must have warmed up quite a bit since she got picked up. Gina took a seat in a wooden rocker and stayed facing her prisoner. Katie looked around for the first time at the place where she had been tortured for four days. (Or was it five? Time was hard to keep in these conditions.) In the moonlight all she could see was trees and swampy pools of water in every direction. The gravel road where the van had been coming and going was the only feature that broke up the scene. She really was in the middle of nowhere.
She asked Gina the natural question that occurred to her. “How long until the police are going to find us in this place?” She never even looked at Gina.
“They didn’t really start looking until the conference ended yesterday–their resources were all dedicated to security for the politicians. We’re on a countdown now, but we still have time for some more fun.”
“What do you want from me, then?”
Gina crossed her legs and smiled a closed-lip smile. “Our clients pay us both for the tickling and for the discretion, Katie. You’ll find out when they decide you find out.”
“Is all of this orchestrated by the American Firearms Coalition?”
Gina sat silent.
“Does Andromeda always work for right-wing groups this way?”
To this one Gina did respond. “We work for anyone with the money, Katie.”
Katie pressed the question. “Then who’s writing the checks to hold me here?”
Gina did not move in her rocking chair. “I wouldn’t wake the other girls, Katie. They’re sleepy, but they’ll wake up if they think you’re ready for another round.”
Katie’s fists clenched. “When am I going to find out?”
“I haven’t been with Andromeda long, Katie, but my very first outing with Gina and Casi wasn’t for any conservative group at all.”
Gina watched as Katie took the bait. She really could not resist a story. “Who was it?”
“What’s it worth to you?”
“Gina, I don’t know what you want from me. You and Casi and Zoe have been tickling me three times a day for five days now. You know you can take anything you want out of me at this point.” She glanced over at Gina, whose eyes, unblinking, captured her gaze.
“Yes, we can take. But I want you to give. I know that you offered yourself to Zoe for an extra session so you could hear her story. Now I want mine.”
Katie, who had been naked in front of Gina for almost a week, suddenly became ashamed. How did she know? Why did she care whether she knew? But Gina could tell that Katie was ashamed. “Yes. I want your feet in my lap, and I want them now.”
“But we’ll wake up Casi and Zoe!”
“No, you’ll wake up Casi and Zoe. But that’s your choice too, right?”
Katie gritted her teeth. This was what made Gina so mean: the mind games. But, Katie reasoned to herself, these girls, these Andromeda girls were going to tickle her anyway. She really wasn’t losing anything. She slipped off her flip-flops, pulled another rocking chair over facing Gina’s, and sat in it. “Start telling the story first, and then you get my foot.”
“I could wake them up now.” Katie, who had been tickled more in less than a week than most people could imagine being tickled in more than a year, slowly extended her leg and put her long foot in Gina’s lap. Katie felt fingertips that were now familiar start to trace lines from the base of her toes over the ball of her foot and down onto her sole. The redhead grinned in the moonlight. “Which of us tickles the best, Katie?”
Katie winced as she tried to steady her voice. “You do, Gina.”
Gina suddenly accelerated her fingers’ movements. Katie bit her lower lip and tried to stifle a moan. “I’ll bet you said the same to Zoe, didn’t you?” Still biting her lip, Katie closed her eyes and shook her head from side to side vigorously. Gina slowed down again. “Ooh, you’re going to make this last as long as you can, aren’t you?” Katie just glared. “Alright, then. I’ll tell you the story.” Gina’s fingers never stopped drifting slowly along Katie’s skin. Katie could feel herself getting aroused–they really had reprogrammed something in her. Katie made herself a half-hearted resolution that she’d find herself a one-night stand, one who didn’t tickle, if she ever got herself out of this place.
“It was the job right before Traci Carter, and I hadn't been with Casi and Zoe for long. It was another K-Street firm, but this one wasn’t health care like Carter–it was solar and wind power.” Katie allowed herself a small giggle as Gina’s fingers moved to a circular pattern as she talked about windmills. “Now most of the time political groups will hire Andromeda to get things done by snatching up women in the opposition’s camp. But this time it was a Democrat targeting a Democrat. Do you remember William Banksman, Katie?”
Gina’s fingers stopped for a moment, and Katie felt the gratitude in her belly for letting her talk without fighting the giggles. “Yeah, U.S. Congressman. He left to lobby for Planned Parenthood just before the 2006 midterms.”
“He didn’t just leave, Katie. The party bigwigs got rid of him to avoid a sex scandal.”
“No, I remember the big Planned Parenthood press conferences where Banksman basically handed the baton to Jim Thomas and said that the cause of women’s rights was going to be how he finished his public career.”
Gina grinned. “Almost as if someone staged it to cover up something just below the surface, right?”
“No…”
“What, did you think this was the one time someone actually left Congress to spend more time with his kids?”
“I covered that story, Gina. I was a young reporter.”
“And you didn’t get the whole story. No big deal, Katie. You realize that it’s only on occasion that the newspapers get below the surface, right?”
“I don’t believe you.”
With that Gina started scrabbling cruelly at Katie’s soles with her fingernails. Katie, who had completely lost focus on trying to stay quiet, screamed at the sudden tickling, and she pulled in vain as Gina’s strong fingers wrapped around her ankle and the fingernails kept doing their work. Katie let out a laugh at the top of her lungs, and Gina’s fingers would not let that one be the last. Katie, writhing in her chair and unrestrained, tipped the chair sideways, and the wooden rocker struck the house’s siding with a thump. Gina followed her down to the ground, grabbed Katie’s calves in a grip something like a headlock, and kept following Katie’s feet with her merciless fingertips.
Katie saw a light turn on inside the house and let out a groan of despair.
Zoe and Casi were on their way.
The door to the porch opened, and Casi, her hair disheveled, stood over Katie and Gina. “What are you two doing up this early?”
Gina stopped tickling but did not release her grip. Zoe appeared next to Casi in the doorway. Gina answered, “Katie wanted to know the story of Bill Banksman.”
Zoe yawned. “At three in the morning?”
Gina stood up and made sure Katie was between her and the other Andromeda girls. “Come on, Zoe. You two got your private session without me when I took her phone into town. Can’t the rookie have a little fun too?”
Zoe’s grin seemed to light up the dark porch. “I like that story, Gina. Let’s all three tell her about that one, and then Casi and I can go to another room and sleep a little while you and Katie have your fun.”
Katie, meanwhile, was making her way back to a standing position. A momentary, wild thought crossed her mind as she looked through the porch’s screen into the woods, and Casi caught her eye. “Come on, Katie. You know you’re not getting away. And you know we’re not going to hurt you–we’ve got everything you have to offer us, and we haven’t injured you in the days since. Come inside, and hear this story.” She ran a finger down Katie’s shoulder, and it drew a shudder. “It’s a good one!”
Resigned, Katie walked inside with the three Andromeda girls, and they led her to the four-post bed. Katie took off the shorts and the panties at the girls’ command and lay down on the bed. They fastened her as they had done before, and she lay on her back, spread eagle, and they put a pillow under her head again. Once more she resented the emotions of gratitude that were trying to creep in. “Alright. So are you going to tell me the story first or tickle me first? Wait. Don’t get into the triangle. You’re not really chasing the jolt, are you?”
Gina, who was taking her place on the spotter’s stool, smiled. “Listen to you, Katie! You’re becoming a regular expert on these things! Girls, give our expert a good starter, won’t you?” And with that, Casi and Zoe started in like they hadn’t missed a beat. Casi, who never seemed to get enough of Katie’s feet, pinched at her toes and turned on the bubbling giggle that made her so hot, and Zoe started with broad, electric sweeps with her fingernails across Katie’s sole. The combination of Casi’s small tickles and Zoe’s big tickles had more than once shot Katie into maddened cackles, and this time it didn’t take long to get her there again. Sleep-deprived and tortured by such expert hands, Katie wanted more than anything in the world to keep herself from getting wet, but she could feel the impulses start to rise in spite of her will. The one-night stand in her imagination, maybe a progressive lobby’s associate director of communications, in his thirties and looking for a lady who’s hot and intelligent, was now tickling her feet in her fantasy, and she began to beg for the tickling to stop, to get her mind back.
Gina tapped on Zoe’s shoulder, and Zoe ascended to the stool. Gina signaled to Casi not to start yet and started back into the story. “You’ve been around Washington longer than we have, so you know that midterm elections are bad for whoever’s in the White House. 2006 was set to be a year that the blues took back Congress with authority. But the party bosses knew that they still had a monkey on their back and a stained blue dress that was on everybody’s mind.”
“Who was Banksman having an affair with? It wasn’t an intern, was it?”
Zoe, now on the chair, jumped in on the storytelling. “Not an intern, a staffer, and it wasn’t an affair like presidents have affairs.”
Casi heard the opening and had to jump in. “Presidents who have affairs are boring. This Congressman was interesting!”
Katie interrupted. ‘Wait. 2006? You three would have been barely teenagers, even if you were that! How did you know about all this?”
Gina looked back at Zoe. “She doesn’t seem to want to let us tell our story, does she?”
Zoe’s grin brought Katie instantly to terror. “No, she doesn’t. Entertain her, ladies!”
“No! I’ll let you–” but Katie would never tell them what she would let them do; her lungs stopped forming words and let out a scream as Gina, who had found a jolt while watching Zoe, scratched at the ridge where the ball of Katie’s foot became her sole. Casi scrabbled fingertips against the skin of Katie’s other sole, and Katie, who had only slept a very few hours, was already delirious with ticklish agony. She felt Casi’s other hand brush against her inner thigh and start to work its way up her leg, and she had no response: too ticklish even to detach herself and resign herself to fate, she felt ten fingers on her soles and two teasing her inner thigh, and she could only laugh and moan in response. Casi’s fingers rubbed, rubbed, rubbed, and she felt a spasm in her lower abdomen. She had no idea how long they had tickled before she climaxed.
“Casi! You know we’re only supposed to be on her feet right now!” Katie could recognize Zoe’s voice, playing at scolding but bouncing with its own laughter as she watched the reporter’s torment. The tickling stopped as Gina and Casi both relented. Katie was panting from the torture and awaiting the post-orgasm tickling, knowing it was going to be worse and knowing, days in, that she was never going to be ready for it.
“We know about things because the agency lets us know. We read for class, Katie!” Gina was back in storytelling mode, and Katie felt her nerves waiting for the next onslaught as she listened. “So as I was saying, in 2006 the DNC was looking at a big win and was already looking forward to putting Hillary Clinton on the throne in 2008.”
“Nobody saw Barack coming, Katie.” Katie looked up from Gina to see Zoe grinning.
Gina took back over: “But they didn’t want her to start her presidential run with another DNC pervert eating up all the airwaves.” Katie wanted badly to pose a follow-up question but saw Casi licking her lips and decided otherwise. Gina continued. “Banksman hadn’t hit the national news yet, but rumors in the beltway were that he had a long history of cornering his interns and young women staffers and tickling them.”
Now Katie couldn’t help herself. “There’s no way that’s true! I would have known about that!”
Gina stopped her story and gave a sidelong glance to Casi. “Casi, are you up for a midnight snack?”
“No! No midnight snacks!” But Casi was already snacking–her grip on Katie’s ankle and the middle of her foot tightened, and that terrible tongue made its way between Katie’s toes. With her nerve endings already on fire from the first orgasm (she had started thinking in terms of the first, second, and subsequent during her captivity), Casi’s ravenous appetite and her expert technique drew a scream out of Katie’s mouth, and Gina accompanied the sensuous, intimate tickling that only Casi could dole out with precise, minimalist strokes across the diagonal of her sole, then scrabbling scratches on her heel, each tickle creating intense, targeted sensations as Katie’s toes on the other foot already built towards the second climax. “No! No!” The chant had become almost a ritual; Katie knew as much as the Andromeda girls did that nothing was going to stop until the tormentors decided that time had come. This time Casi’s fingers did not arrive, and Katie knew that was another kind of torture entirely. She knew what would happen next, but knowing did not stop its happening: her hips began to buck, looking for something to rub against, finding nothing but thin air, and her abdomen tightened as Casi’s tongue found its way along each of her toes. And as she waited for a release that was not to be even as Gina’s fingertips made her buttocks contract with each intense, electric swipe of her fingernail.
Katie’s imaginary young lawyer now sat in a corner, pleasuring himself while he watched Gina and Casi tickle her captive feet.
Katie let out something like a squeak and something like a moan just before Gina once again tapped Casi on the shoulder. Casi’s mouth disengaged, and she licked her lips, clearly waiting for another chance. Zoe, however, tapped her on the shoulder. Casi returned to the spotter’s stool, sulking.
This time Zoe took over the story. “You have to remember that these girls know how the game is played–the ones who the dirty old men remember best end up getting the promotions and the networking and the professional advantages. All the girls who came in and out of Banksman’s office knew it, and they giggled when he grabbed their sides, and they squealed when he squeezed their knees, and they didn’t tell tales, and they got to stay on and enjoy all the connections that come from being connected to a senior US Congressman. And if they became his favorites and stayed late and let him tickle their feet until he got off, those girls ended up well-placed in lobbying firms and legislative staffs and state political parties, and unlike a lot of girls in Washington, they never actually had to have sex with the dirty old man in question.”
Casi smiled from her perch. “But one of them wanted more. That was Angie Hamilton.”
Zoe returned the grin over her shoulder. “And Angie Hamilton knew exactly what to do next.”
Katie’s best judgment stood no chance. “What? You mean Congresswoman Angela Hamilton? The Angela Hamilton?” Zoe dragged a finger down Katie’s sole, making her muffle a giggle, but this time she fought through it: “There’s no way Angela Hamilton was some pervert Congressman’s tickle-toy. She was re-elected three times! She was my generation’s brightest star!”
Casi sensed that she might have a chance to tell some of the story now. “And she got there by being Banksman’s favorite tickle-girl for two years, but when she felt the winds changing, she went straight to the Clinton campaign with stories of Banksman the politician-pervert. The Clinton people knew that they wanted to feature Bill in the 2008 campaign, so they couldn’t remind the public about DNC scandals. So they offered Hamilton a two-year position as a high-level staffer for the Department of Energy, and then in 2008 they’d run her on a national Clinton girl-power campaign as Congresswoman in a neighboring safe district so she wouldn’t unseat Jim Thomas. Banksman would retire before the 2006 midterm election and get wealthy lobbying for the abortion industry, and in 2008 Clinton would ride into the White House with Hamilton at her side in Congress.”
Katie could scarcely process all of this. “But Clinton didn’t win the nomination.”
Casi answered. “That’s right, honey, she didn’t. But Hamilton was dynamite in her district–blew through the primaries–and the national party knew well enough to stay in her corner and back her for a big win. Obama could see a win when one was handed to him, and he kept the Banksman story quiet and appeared at Hamilton rallies. And so Banksman started making money, and Hamilton rode the blue wave back to the Capitol, and that’s where she stayed for eight years, until she bowed out with Obama and left the Capitol for K Street.”
“Wait. Where do you three come in?”
Gina was ready to take over the story. “Angie’s years on the Energy and Commerce Committee gave her insider connections that every energy lobby in Washington wanted, so she took on her own big-dollar job with a wind-and-solar lobbying group. She met with Congressmen and Senators, and the companies that manufacture windmills and solar-energy facilities got government contracts. And not one of them minded when the pretty former Congresswoman visited–they never sent staffers to those meetings! All was right in the Angie Hamilton world. But dirty old men don’t forget naughty, ticklish girls.”
“Wait, what did Planned Parenthood have to gain from taking out a clean-energy lobbyist?”
Zoe looked over at Gina. “I think that’s enough questions for now, don’t you?”
“No! I just don’t understand–” What Katie didn’t understand nobody would find out for several minutes–Zoe pulled back Katie’s toes and tickled the stretched skin of her sole while Gina scratched long, light, terrible lines along Katie’s other foot. Katie knew immediately that Zoe had found a good jolt–this was tickling her intensely, and she laughed loudly, her abdominal muscles sore as Zoe found spot after spot that sent Katie’s hips writhing on the mattress. With this duo Katie knew that no relief was coming between her legs–they were going to make her squirm and squeal and giggle and moan without ever moving their touch higher than their ankles, and unless Katie could muster the willpower simply to force a climax out of her own hips (she couldn't), they were going to tickle her until she begged for them to touch her, and her begging was only going to make them tickle her feet more intently. Her only hope was that Casi’s own arousal would get the best of her, and that turned out to be the safe bet. Casi tagged Gina out, then fell upon Katie’s toes with her lips again while one of her hands crept, spider-like, up the inside of Katie’s thigh until Katie’s closed-eyes vision washed over, replacing the dark of her eyelids with something like a wave of bright light, then leaving Katie’s lips parted, breathing in and out through the letter O above her chin. There was number two.
Gina leaned down from her stool and waited until Katie opened her eyes before she began speaking again. “The nice thing about lobbyists, Katie, is that they don’t get security details the way that elected officials do. So we figured out that Angie–she was about forty by this time–would go to the office from her apartment by Metro, then go back during the week. No real opportunity there. These Washington types can be real bores that way. But we got intel that her new husband was going to San Francisco one weekend for a climate science speaking gig, so that’s when we knew she would likely be out and roaming.”
Zoe took over. “And she wasn’t going to keep things safe, either. You remember that neighborhood where we met the first time, Katie? Just a few blocks from that club we found her seeing one of the aging rock and roll bands from her Congressional-staffer days at a bar. We had to hang back in that crowd–hardly anyone younger than thirty, so we stood out. But Angie never spotted us–she was too busy talking with old acquaintances and old fans and other old connections. We waited until the band’s set was over and followed her. Middle-aged people who came up from the staffer ranks all have the same habit–they want to go back and see the old apartment buildings where they used to live. And sure enough, she took off on foot to where the staffers live.
We sent Gina to make the first approach–she’s the youngest, and she’s white, so she didn’t set off any alarms for Angie.”
Gina stepped into character with her naive-intern voice. “‘Can you help me find the blue line? I’m supposed to meet some people at the National Mall!’ I’m telling you, Katie, you middle-aged chicks can’t help yourselves when you get a chance to be the expert in local navigation. She took me straight towards the closest Metro station, but she never got there.”
Casi jumped in. “Once they stepped onto one of the streets that didn’t have as many lights, we moved in with the van. Fast approach, screeching stop, all the things that make people freeze up every time. We tasered her and zip-tied her wrists and put the bag over her head and had her in the van in seven seconds flat, and before she knew it we were headed out into the eastern Virginia swamps.”
“But what did Planned Parenthood have to gain?”
Casi laughed out loud. “Girls, I think she’s just begging for another tickling now.” She leered at Katie. “Here’s the funny thing, Katie–no guy you ever date, the rest of your life, is going to give you multiple orgasms every calendar day!” The three girls laughed riotously, and Katie blushed in spite of herself. “Just wait for the story, Katie! We got her out of the suburbs as quickly as we could on the back roads, and we headed out into the back country for the house where we were to take her. We got her out of the car, into the house, and down into the basement, just like normal. And before we took the bag off, we told her that we had to take off her shoes and her pants. I think we told her it was security or something like that.” The girls laughed again.
Zoe had started to run a finger up and down Katie’s sole absent-mindedly as she picked up the story. “We left her panties on her, though. And we took her down to the ground and put her in our modified dentist chair and strapped her ankles in, and then we took the bag off. Then we cut her wrist ties and put her in the padded armrest cuffs so she wouldn’t hurt herself.”
Gina took over again. “So there she is, feet in the open air, unable to move, strapped to the dentist’s chair, and whose voice does she hear?”
This time it was Zoe’s turn, imitating an old man’s rasp. “Angie Hamilton! How long has it been?”
“Wait, he was there watching all of this?” Katie felt herself turning red again, remembering her vision of her imaginary one-night-stand.
Gina was ready for that question. “All of it, Katie. Every single moment.”
Casi and Zoe and Gina continued the story, each more excited the other, and when their excitement overwhelmed them, they had Katie’s ticklish feet at their disposal. Some time later, when Katie collected her thoughts and remembered and wrote Angie’s chapter into her book about Andromeda and their influence on American politics, the chapter went something like this.
* * * * * * *
Angie Hamilton was living the life that ambitious girls dream about–by thirty she had been elected U.S. Representative. After three terms she went to work as an advocate for clean energy, and in that line of work she had married a climate scientist and settled into the suburbs of Washington, D.C.
But in her early forties, her life before fame caught up with her.
Andromeda got their hands on her and on her feet, not to move policy or to secure intelligence but as an elaborate act of revenge.
Years before, as a Congressional staffer, Hamilton had blown the whistle on William Banksman for sexual harrassment. Banksman went into lobbying, James Thomas rose to claim the vacant seat, and Hamilton found herself as part of the Obama Revolution in the northeast. But Banksman had never stopped blaming Hamilton for removing him from power. So upon his retirement, he called in a few final favors, arranged to move to a non-extradition country, and set Andromeda in motion.
When the night came, he arrived at the designated safe house to find Hamilton blindfolded, strapped to a modified dentist’s chair, with bare legs and bare feet, extending her legs forward. The Andromeda girls–Casi and Zoe and Gina, the same crew that I first interviewed and then later abducted me–were at the ready, waiting for the sign to take their positions.
“Angie Hamilton! How long has it been?”
The voice had aged, but Hamilton knew whose it was before she could turn around in the chair and look. “Banksman! Let me out of here right now!”
“No need to be in a hurry, Angie! You remember the good old days, right?”
Hamilton began to pull at her bonds, but the Andromeda girls had earned their reputation. The cuffs were not going anywhere. “Don’t you dare touch me, you dirty old bastard! I’m going to have you arrested! You’re going to spend the rest of your filthy life in prison for kidnapping!”
Banksman chuckled at her threats. “No, Angie, when we’re done here tonight, I’m getting on a plane to a non-extradition country, and I’m going to spend the years I have left among the living finding girls who’d rather have their feet tickled than do what all the sex-tourists want to do to them. But that’s later, Angie. Right now, though, I’m here for revenge. But I’m not allowed to touch you myself.”
“They’ll find you, Banksman. You’re not going to get away with this! Now let me go before you make me your enemy for the days you have left. If you so much as touch my feet I’ll hunt you down, no matter what country you go to.”
“Alas, Angie, I already told you I’m not allowed to touch your feet tonight, and to be honest, I might be even more sad that I can’t touch the girls who brought you here!” Zoe and Gina rolled their eyes at the dirty old man; Casi smoldered at him and licked her lips. “But since you were perfectly happy to use those ticklish feet to gain my favor all those years ago, then hand me over to Clinton’s people to end my career, I wanted to let some real pros loose on them before I leave America forever.”
“You ended your own career by being a pervert, Banksman. Don’t blame me for that!”
“You know that’s not true, Angie. You laughed for me because you loved it, and every time you came to my office with those silk stalkings on, you made your Congressman’s heart glad. I could have made you happy a hundred more times, and your career would have flown just as high. You were the one who decided that we weren’t going places together, that you’d ruin my marriage and get me thrown out of Congress and destroy my life! Part of me wishes I could come over there and tickle your feet myself, but that’s not in the contract tonight.”
“Contract?”
“The girls who brought you here, Angie, are operatives of Andromeda, a secret agency with interests that strongly align with my own. They’re going to leave here with money that the U.S. Congress provided–I thought that would be poetic justice–and they’re going to do what nobody else in the world can do as well!”
“What in the world are you talking about?”
“Andromeda operatives are the best ticklers in the world. They’re here on Planned Parenthood funding to extract my revenge on you, a kind of thank-you from the lobby to me. I’m here to have a few more laughs before I leave the country. And seeing the ticklish girl who used my affections to advance her own ambition, who demoted me from the United States Congress to defending sting videos, reduced herself to a puddle is going to be my big farewell to America!”
“There’s no such thing as professional ticklers, Banksman. And when I’m out of here, you’re going to a federal prison for the rest of your worthless life!”
“We’ve been over this already. Girls, do your thing!” He gestured to the Andromeda girls, and they moved into position.
Angie Hamilton had always prided herself on being the one calling the shots. Even when she was behind closed doors years before, a young woman with an older, more powerful man, she could always tell herself that she was letting herself be ticklish, letting herself giggle, that all of it was a trap she was setting for an old man and his vices. But here, restrained and unable to fight back three women young enough to be her friends’ daughters, Hamilton came face-to-face with a lie she had been telling herself for years. Angie Hamilton, the powerful Washington lobbyist, not the giggling girl she played for the Congressman all those years ago, had agonizingly ticklish feet, and these girls were the best in the world at exploiting middle-aged women’s ticklish feet.
When Zoe started scratching at her sole and Casi pinching the stems of her toes, Angie tried to growl at them, to show a sign that their attempts would not make her laugh, that she had always chosen to laugh, that it was all her plan.
That lasted about ten seconds.
From her sinuses as much as her mouth a sound emerged from Angie like the gasp of someone who had dropped a glass of wine and watched the glass shatter, and once she heard herself, she was as good as done. Zoe and Casi kept tickling her exquisite soles and within a minute had her laughing with abandon, Zoe’s attention fixed on the middle of her sole and the paths that her long fingernails took from one side of her foot to the other, always finding a crossing-point that made one of the most powerful women in America squeal as her skin betrayed her. Meanwhile Casi had found gold where the ball of Angie’s foot met the instep–that spot, as Casi rubbed her skin, made Angie’s eyes shut as she tried to threaten, tried to keep silence, tried to do anything but laugh desperately at the tickling touches. She tried in vain–the two women knew what they were doing, and Angie’s hair thrashed as she shook her head, enraged at the futility of trying to maintain dignity, even bluster, in the face of this torture.
One of the few silver linings was that Angie was laughing so hard that she did not hear Banksman’s zipper descending.
Gina had found Casi’s jolt, and the redhead tagged her more seasoned partner out. The two switched spots, and Gina began scratching with a fingernail at that same spot, the frontomost spot of Angie’s instep. Angie humiliated herself as she shouted “No!” for the first time, and Casi, now taking the spotter’s position, licked her top teeth as she watched Zoe’s work on Angie’s foot and waited for her turn to get back in on this exquisite, powerful woman.
“Whatever he’s paying you, I’ll pay more–just stop!”
Casi laughed from the spotter’s stool. “Not how it works, baby. You’re in for a full tickling session. When we’re done, maybe you look us up and we take you on as a client. But nobody pays us to stop tickling. And nobody tells us when to stop tickling. There’s no way you’re getting out of this, Angie. We’re going to tickle you as much as we want, and there’s not a thing in the world you can do to stop us!”
The hopelessness of the moment, to Angie’s horror, seemed to make her feet even more ticklish, and now she was imagining what else these sadists would do even as they kept tickling her feet and she kept laughing, a private show for the old pervert Banksman. In the corner Banksman had already shot himself into oblivion, but the tickling persisted–there was a contact on the line, after all.
Gina moved from the instep to the heel, and Zoe made her way up to the toes, scratching in between them and making Angie scream at every pass between. Casi could not take any more watching; she tagged Zoe back to the spotter’s stool and sat on the shorter stool in front of Angie’s defenseless foot. With a practiced, smooth speed she lowered her head to her toes, and because Angie’s eyes were still closed, she felt Casi’s warm, wet lips close around her toe before she saw what was happening.
“NO! You can’t do that!”
Now it was Zoe’s turn to laugh as she watched this woman, whom she had seen on television as a girl, suddenly fall into the whirling waters between ticklish laughter and pleasured moans. Zoe had to respect what Casi was capable of–there was no denying that she was a pervert (but then again, how much room does a professional tickler have to judge?), but nobody would deny either that she had a magnetic power to turn her own libido into overwhelming arousal for all kinds of women. Angie’s back arched in the chair as Casi’s tongue began to roam between her toes, but the most desperate pleas started when Casi’s hand, free because she was working Angie’s foot with her mouth, touched Angie’s silk panties.
“STOP! Stop! Stop! Don’t do this to me!”
Gina and Casi working as a team were terrible to Andromeda’s marks this way–Gina could sustain a mark’s laughter almost indefinitely with her precise fingertips, and Gina’s ravenous sexual appetite was unstoppable when she wanted to bring a woman to climax. Zoe watched in admiration and anticipation as Angie’s back arched again, her lips parted in a grand moan, and her legs lost tension with the explosion that Casi had brought on without even touching beneath that shimmering silk. Zoe, who knew as well as any Andromeda agent that the skin took a minute or two to supercharge after an orgasm, settled back on her stool and looked back at Banksman, who had already spent himself but nonetheless ogled the four women in his own stupor. She smirked her contempt and glanced to her own right just in time to see Casi’s tongue disengage from Angie’s third toe.
Angie panted, her head leaned back, her eyes shut. Shame at being exploited again for the sadistic pleasure of the man who wrote her ticket into the world of political power contended with the sheer pleasure of what had just happened, and Angie’s body could not decide whether to let her indignant mind have a vote or not. Zoe tagged Gina out as the three girls waited for their next opportunity to restart the torment, and as soon as she could make a case that the window was open she began to trace a single fingernail in a figure-eight on Angie’s sole. The powerful woman’s eyes flew open, and she pulled at her wrist-restraints. “No! You already got what you want! Just let me go!”
Zoe’s grin cut through the safehouse’s darkened air. “We’ve got some of what we want, Angie, but not nearly as much as we want!”
“What is that? What are you doing to my foot?”
“Just tickling, Angie. But so much more. Now that Casi has gotten you off, you’re about to join a very select secret society. Not many women have been tickled by professionals, and even fewer know what it’s like to get a professional tickling right after you climax!”
“No.. stop… I didn’t…”
Gina started to pinch lightly at Angie’s long toes. Casi sing-songed at her as her partners tickled. “Yes you di-i-i-i-i-i-i-d!” Angie screeched as the two expert torturers started tickling full-speed. Her skin was in agony, and she felt her shoulders and bottom push off of the chair. Casi continued her game-playing, adding to the mental torment. “Admit that you got off, Angie, and we’ll take a break from your feet!”
Angie squealed as Zoe scratched across her sole. “Yes! You made me orgasm! You made me orgasm!”
Gina’s fingertips played along the edge of Angie’s heel. “No, not good enough. You have to say you got off!”
Angie, remembering the tickling that got her into her position of influence years ago, could not even imagine a moment when she had been as ticklish as she was right now. “I got off! I got off!”
Casi, from the spotter’s stool, laughed as she watched her friends work. Gina continued to tickle her heel and said, “Now tell us how naughty you are!”
At this point Angie Hamilton, former United States Congresswoman, would have done anything to keep those demon-fingers away from her feet. She cackled in laughter, unable to form words, yet somehow willed herself to scream, “I’m a naughty girl! I’m a naughty girl!”
Casi tapped Gina on the shoulder, and Gina obediently retreated to the spotter’s stool. Zoe stopped her own assault, letting Angie recover her breath. Her chest heaved as her head leaned back against the headrest. Casi placed one of her fingertips on the ball of Angie’s foot, and Angie’s head popped up. “I think you have been a naughy girl, Angie. Now we’re going to need you to beg.”
“No, please, I can’t take any more. I don’t know what you did to me, but I can’t take it!”
“You need to beg Zoe and me to tickle your feet.”
“No, please! I’m going to die here!”
Casi’s fingertip started to descend, slowly. Angie let out a high moan. “We won’t start tickling if you really beg well.”
“Please, I’m tired! Just let me go!” Casi’s fingers scrabbled at the base of Angie’s big toe, the jolt-spot that she’d seen Gina discover. Angie squealed and started to giggle. “I don’t want you to tickle me any more!” Now Zoe’s fingernails began to scratch at her heel, and Angie’s laughter overwhelmed her. Through her own bubbling laughter she screamed, “Please tickle my feet!”
The fingers stopped.
Gina resumed the mental torment. “Tell us exactly where you want us to tickle you, the spots that make you more ticklish than anything in the world.”
“Please don’t make me do this!” Zoe resumed her attack. Angie’s desperate giggle once again filled the air. “My toes! Tickle my toes!”
Gina’s eyes were ice. “Does it make you crazy when we tickle your toes?”
“Yes!”
“Do you think you might climax again if we tickle them?”
“Yes! Please don’t!”
Another scratch along the base of her toes from Gina. Angie half-laughed and half-sobbed. “No, Angie, you have to beg us to tickle them, not to stop!”
“Please tickle my toes!”
“Until you climax?”
“Yes!”
“And then tickle you some more?”
“Yes!”
“You want that?”
“I want it?”
“Are you a naughty girl because you want us to tickle your toes?”
Angie’s mind and will reeled as she imagined more of what had sent her over the edge. “Yes! I’m naughty!”
“I think you are naughty, Angie. And here’s what we’re going to do to a naughty girl: Casi is going to try to let you get off again, but while she’s doing that, Zoe and I are going to tickle those naughty, ticklish toes of yours. We’re not going to stop until the naughty girl gets off again, but you’re going to be so ticklish that you’re going to have to work for it. So get ready, naughty girl. The real tickling is about to start!”
Casi departed from her tickling spot and took a position at Angie’s side as Gina descended from the spotter’s bench. Zoe, with all of their practiced precision, began to tickle Angie Hamilton’s toes. Gina scrabbled at the stems of the other foot’s toes. Banksman couldn’t take the intensity of the fantasy–he had fallen asleep without even zipping his pants again. The room filled with the desperate screams of a once-powerful woman whose once-great reach couldn’t protect the sensitive, tortured skin of her long, delicious toes. Gina’s hand slipped up underneath Angie’s shirt, making her abdomen spasm with light belly-tickles, before descending to begin working Angie into another orgasm.
Angie had been honest in her moment of trial: her long, glorious toes were as ticklish as any of the girls could have hoped, and as Casi massaged under the Congresswoman’s panties, two of the best feet-ticklers in the world made Angela Hamilton’s feet so gloriously ticklish that time stood still, the mounting and overwhelming sexual pleasure unable to break through the signal-interference of her traitorous toes. William Banksman awakened to see the height of his revenge, little Angie, at the height of her public prominence, begging in her anguish, conquered by her body’s impossible and warring desires. Though his aging body regretted it for days after, once again he indulged himself in the slight and in the sound of his grand triumph.
Angie Hamilton, by the time the Andromeda girls were done with her, had stopped begging, stopped threatening, stopped using words at all. Her screams and her laughter were all that the cruel girls left to her, and when she lost consciousness, not even her memories extended beyond the stems of her toes.
By morning Banksman was landing in a non-extradition country in Southeast Asia, ready to start spending the spoils of his career after Congress on the ticklish bodies all around, and Angie Hamilton was deposited unceremoniously a block from her house. She walked quickly, trying to avoid any of her neighbors’ spotting her.
* * * * * * *
The story had taken more than an hour for the Andromeda girls to tell–they couldn’t get very far in their beloved story of tickle torture without Katie’s interruptions (and her feet) inciting them to torment the reporter further. When they had finished, the sun had just begun to illuminate the sky, and Casi and Zoe went to another room to go to sleep. Gina led Katie back out onto the back porch.
“Alright, Katie. This time I won’t wake the girls–I want you to myself.” She set herself down in one of the front-porch chairs and gestured to the other chair.
Katie was not going to try to run at this point, but she crossed her arms and set her well-tickled feet solidly so that she squared up in front of the young torturer. “You’ve already told me the story of Angie Hamilton. What else do you have to offer?”
“The story of Katie Jones.”
“I’m not going for that–you three have told me over and over I don’t get to know who had me grabbed.”
Gina smiled without opening her mouth. “We said you don’t get to ask. Now I’m offering.”
“What’s the catch this time?”
“Same as it’s always been, Katie. Your feet for my story.”
“So more foot-tickling? I don’t believe you.”
“And you have to let yourself enjoy it.”
Katie turned her eyes towards the ground. “You three have pushed me over the edge four times this morning alone. You know how to do that.”
“No, we know how to make you climax when you don’t want to. This time I want you to want it.”
Punk-rock guitars played in the back of Katie’s mind. “And what if I fake it?”
Gina locked eyes with the reporter. “Don’t you think I’d know that at this point?”
Katie did not so much decide to pull a chair over as she felt her arms and legs move to move the chair. Some part of her wanted to preserve this last, remote corner of her dignity. But the story always called louder than anything else, and Katie’s foot slipped into Gina’s lap as Katie leaned back in the patio chair and closed her eyes. “Alright, Gina. Tickle my foot.”
Warm fingers circled her ankle, and Gina inhaled sharply, waiting for the other hand to engage. Gina’s voice was different, though–it invited Katie rather than menacing her. “Let yourself feel it this time, Katie.” And when Katie felt fingertips on her sole, it was different–Katie wasn’t pulling against restraints or steeling herself against the sensations, and Gina’s touch didn’t make her want to scream in protest or moan against her will but giggle the way that her ex-husband made her giggle all those years ago, when he was just the cute guy at the Washington party. The hands still knew her feet–Gina could have driven her to desperation at any minute, and Katie harbored no illusions to the contrary–but this time they moved slowly, not torturing but playing. Katie was no longer examining herself and her emotions objectively. She simply loved the gentle attention of this woman’s hands on her ticklish sole.
Katie’s hands covered her mouth, and she felt herself blushing as she laughed, keeping her voice down so that she wouldn’t wake Zoe and Casi but not knowing, moment to moment, whether she did so to avoid the torture that surely would follow or whether she kept quiet so that she could keep living in this private moment with Gina. The young Andromeda agent’s finger traced a wandering, serpentine path down Katie’s sole once more, and Katie found herself loving it, wanting this woman who knew her body so well to touch her more, and now not even caring about the faint voices in the back of her mind warning her about Stockholm Syndrome or coming traps. All that her body wanted–and her mind was all but completely following her skin’s lead–was to live in this moment as long as she could.
Then the tickling stopped, and Katie’s eyes flew open. She looked up to see Gina’s eyes, and she could not see any of the cruelty any more, just a face that was completely responsive to Katie’s pleasures. “What, Katie, don’t you want to hear the story now?”
Katie’s blood ran cold–had she forgotten why she submitted to this indignity in the first place?
“Don’t worry, I won’t stop if you don’t want me to. But let’s get more comfortable, hmm?” Katie’s mind was still a cloud as Gina picked up her own chair and moved it alongside Katie’s and guided Katie’s calves into her lap. Gina’s other hand, the one that had been holding her ankle in place before, began to stroke Katie’s soles, and Katie’s eyes closed again. She melted into a luxurious giggle and let go all of the week’s attempts to keep from laughing. Gina’s other hand, the one that had been tickling Katie’s foot before, started tracing lines inside of Katie’s thighs as the other tickled her soles, and Katie moaned, not against her will as the three had made her do so many times before but the way that she might moan if a boyfriend had his hand between her legs. “Feels good, doesn’t it?”
Katie nodded and giggled and inhaled as she felt a climax building.
Gina’s hands did not stop their perpetual motion as she kept talking. “So do you want to hear why we scooped you up?”
Only half-attentively, Katie answered, “Sure, Gina. When did the AFC hire you?”
“It wasn’t the AFC, sweetheart.”
Katie’s eyes flew open. She realized that the sudden alertness had pulled her out of her ecstasy, and she suddenly hated Gina in ways that she didn’t know she was capable. But the story called, and now she couldn’t even enjoy the death of her dignity. She grabbed Gina’s wrist and stopped the tickling touches. “Who hired you if it wasn’t the AFC?”
Gina’s eyes glowed with sadistic joy. “You’re going to have to make me talk, Katie.” Keeping one hand on Katie’s ankle, she scooted her seat around to face Katie, then slid her own small foot out of her boot. Gina lowered one of Katie’s feet to the ground but kept her other firmly in her grasp, and Katie felt Gina’s small foot come to rest on her lap. Each woman held the other’s foot. “Do you think you can tickle me until I talk?”
Katie’s mind was a boiling cauldron of lust and revenge and exhaustion and confusion. “Who hired you?”
Gina kept a firm grip on Katie’s ankle and kept her own foot on Katie’s lap. “I’m not going to tell you, Katie. What are you going to do about that?”
Katie did not deliberate about what to do next. Her hands took over, one grasping Gina’s ankle and the other lighting into her sole with four fingers. Gina squealed loudly and let her laughter sail into the air, and Katie’s instincts took over. Her often-tickled feet taught her fingers what to do, and her eyes locked with Gina’s as she kept up the attack that she had learned at Gina’s own merciless hands. Gina’s laughter was the song of every god of vengeance that Katie’s atheist mind could still conjure, and one of Gina’s hands reached out towards Katie’s eyes, gesturing for mercy like a professional-wrestler heel might do.
The heel… Katie scrabbled her fingernails, with four extra days’ growth, on Gina’s heel and exulted as Gina’s laughter rose in pitch. Now Gina’s single hand was waving back and forth, flagging down a rescue vehicle. Her laughter sailed through the early-morning air, welcoming the rising sun and stirring the churning chaos of Katie’s body and spirit.
Katie kept tickling, and Gina kept laughing, but slowly, deliberately, exquisitely, Gina’s free hand slowly made its way down to her lap. Katie kept tickling and tried to pull her own foot away, but suddenly the importance of Gina’s one-hand gestures landed in Katie’s awareness with the gravity of impending doom.
Gina’s other hand still had Katie’s ankle.
When Gina began once more to tickle, the sensation of ticklish nerves stroked and rubbed was no less intense than it had been any of the dozen times that Gina had tickled Katie, torturing her in her helplessness, making laughter into an instrument of cruelty and raising desires that Katie had only feared all the way back in that Washington bar. But now Katie had her own foot to tickle, and her drive for revenge and her sense of powerlessness and the sound of Gina’s wonderful laughter and the sudden sound of the door opening behind her all poured into Katie’s body, into her foot, into the nerves in her sole, and Gina’s fingers suddenly had a magnetic power that Katie had never experienced before, never from a husband nor from a boyfriend nor from her own imagination. Body and soul, memory and ticklish skin focused so much energy into the bottom of her foot that Gina’s fingers, as they touched and stroked and scratched at Katie, and as Katie tickled Gina with a frenzy born of something beyond desperation, Katie’s laughter combined with a sound that Katie would never be able to describe, even as she could never forget what it sounded like coming out of her own throat. The reporter, who thought she had experienced the world before that roadside abduction just days before, felt her body go limp in the chair, and Casi and Zoe had to work together to keep her from hitting the floor fast enough to injure herself.
As she felt herself carried back into the house, Gina’s eyes were the last thing that her mind’s eye saw on the backs of her closed eyelids before the Andromeda girls lay her down on the mattress and Katie slipped into unconsciousness.
* * * * * * *
“Wakie, wakie, Katie!”
Casi’s voice.
Katie woke up and saw that her clothes, the ones she was wearing the night that the Andromeda girls pulled her from her rented car, hanging on a doorknob.
“It’s time for you to go back to town, Katie. The world is waiting to hear from you!”
Katie’s muscles were sore like no new workout routine had ever made her sore. “Where’s Gina?”
“Don’t you worry about that, Katie. You’ve been in the headlines for five days now, and you’re about to make your triumphal return!”
“What do you mean? Do I have to move out of Washington?”
Casi shook her head in the negative. “In fact, we’re going to give you what you need to turn this into the news story that wins you a Pulitzer this time. Come on. Zoe’s waiting with the van.”
Katie got up and got dressed. Everything that the girls had damaged in the process of getting her nearly naked had been replaced, and all of her clothes were freshly laundered. Gina was nowhere to be seen.
When they went out to the van, Casi rode in the back with Katie, putting a bag over her head so that she couldn’t find her way back to the safe-house. Katie could feel Zoe taking a serpentine, back-tracking route to wherever they were going, and eventually she gave up on counting the turns. After what seemed like an hour’s ride, the van stopped, and Casi took the bag off of Katie’s head. Casi opened the sliding door and let Katie step out.
The Andromeda girl handed Katie a heavy-laden mailing envelope. “Your phone is in there, but the battery is dead. And as for the papers, they’re copies, but they’ll be enough for you to find out who put you onto our trail.”
Katie’s wrath against Gina rose up again. “You mean you were going to give me this the whole time?”
Casi grinned and licked her upper teeth. “Of course, sweetie. What, did someone tell you something else?” Katie fumed silently. “You’ve been headline news for the last four days, Katie. The people you’re going to find have turned the American Firearms Coalition and any politician affiliated with them into national bad guys. And your leaked reporting has ended a bunch of political careers. When you walk about a mile and a half that way” –Casi gestured with her finger– “and stop in at that police station, you’re going to be a hero to all of the Democrat voters that used to hate you for your Traci Carter story. And then you can thank us once the material in that file gets you that Pulitzer!”
Zoe leaned forward to shout out the window. “Maybe we’ll see you again, Katie–don’t get too comfortable!”
With that Zoe gunned the gas, and the van spun to face away from town. Katie watched them speed down the highway for about half a mile, then turn off a side road. She knew that the license number she just memorized would be changed by the time she made it to the police station, but she memorized it anyway. She began to walk towards the police station.
You can find the first three parts of this one here, and I'd strongly recommend reading them first (the fourth part assumes a lot of background.)
Part 1: https://www.ticklingforum.com/showthread.php?335831-Andromeda-part-1-(fff-f-non-con)
Part 2: https://www.ticklingforum.com/showthread.php?335855-Andromeda-part-2-(fff-f-non-con)
Part 3: https://www.ticklingforum.com/showthread.php?337702-Andromeda-part-3-(f-f-ff-f)
Read, enjoy, and leave a comment! Then leave a comment on someone else's story too!
KI
Andromeda part 4 (fff/f)
by
Kid Indy
Katie Jones woke with a start. Her muscles were sore, and she remembered before too long that they were worn out with laughing. She was alone on the bed where she slept, and she looked around to take in the room one more time.
There was the flying-V. There was the recliner. There was the standing frame. All three of them had been her home for Andromeda’s torture, and she quickly spotted Zoe and Casi asleep on cots across the room. Where was the third?
A low chuckle over her shoulder answered that question quickly enough. Zoe was a sadist, and Casi was a pervert, but Gina’s detachment was perhaps the scariest in this crew–when she went to work, Katie couldn’t tell what was coming next–she might press her into yet another mind-altering post-orgasmic tickling. She might let her suffer as she traced lines with one fingernail. There was just no way to tell. But the youngest of the Andromeda trio, by their telling, was among the three the only one awake with Katie in the room.
Katie had been naked in front of these young women for days now, and her nakedness was never far from her captors’ attention–they didn’t always touch her where lovers touch, but they were always watching for what kinds of tickling would turn her on and make her body wish for a lover. And often they did touch her just so.
Katie was no prude–after her divorce she had dated off and on and never thought twice about pursuing a man who looked like he might be good in the bedroom–but these girls were something else, seemingly able to flip a switch in her body that had slowly transformed the way that she watched Casi’s insatiable mouth and Zoe’s evil smile… and Gina’s ever-probing eyes.
When they weren’t tickling her, the three had been humane. She always had food to eat and bottled water to drink. They had brought her a couple changes of shirts and even let her shower over the course of three days and three nights, and they did let her rest between sessions. But she was never alone. Even now, in the middle of the night, a familiar voice addressed her.
“You should get some sleep, Katie. You’re not done yet.”
“Am I going to be relocated like Traci Carter was? You don’t have to keep me here any longer–I’ll just move to Cincinnati.”
Casi stirred in her cot. Gina dropped her voice to a whisper. “Put some shorts and some flip-flops on, and I’ll put my boots on, and we’ll go outside and talk.” Katie noted the tactical awareness here: she likely couldn’t outrun the younger woman in a fair race, and with this kind of advantage–boots versus flops– the young Andromeda agent seemed perfectly confident that Katie wouldn’t get far enough to give anyone warning. But she did relish the possibility of wearing pants and underwear again, so she took Gina up on the offer, put on a pair of panties that the Andromeda crew had bought her, slipped on some gym shorts and pink flip-flops, and followed Gina through the back door.
They emerged onto a screened-in porch where the air was cool but not cold enough that Katie minded. Must have warmed up quite a bit since she got picked up. Gina took a seat in a wooden rocker and stayed facing her prisoner. Katie looked around for the first time at the place where she had been tortured for four days. (Or was it five? Time was hard to keep in these conditions.) In the moonlight all she could see was trees and swampy pools of water in every direction. The gravel road where the van had been coming and going was the only feature that broke up the scene. She really was in the middle of nowhere.
She asked Gina the natural question that occurred to her. “How long until the police are going to find us in this place?” She never even looked at Gina.
“They didn’t really start looking until the conference ended yesterday–their resources were all dedicated to security for the politicians. We’re on a countdown now, but we still have time for some more fun.”
“What do you want from me, then?”
Gina crossed her legs and smiled a closed-lip smile. “Our clients pay us both for the tickling and for the discretion, Katie. You’ll find out when they decide you find out.”
“Is all of this orchestrated by the American Firearms Coalition?”
Gina sat silent.
“Does Andromeda always work for right-wing groups this way?”
To this one Gina did respond. “We work for anyone with the money, Katie.”
Katie pressed the question. “Then who’s writing the checks to hold me here?”
Gina did not move in her rocking chair. “I wouldn’t wake the other girls, Katie. They’re sleepy, but they’ll wake up if they think you’re ready for another round.”
Katie’s fists clenched. “When am I going to find out?”
“I haven’t been with Andromeda long, Katie, but my very first outing with Gina and Casi wasn’t for any conservative group at all.”
Gina watched as Katie took the bait. She really could not resist a story. “Who was it?”
“What’s it worth to you?”
“Gina, I don’t know what you want from me. You and Casi and Zoe have been tickling me three times a day for five days now. You know you can take anything you want out of me at this point.” She glanced over at Gina, whose eyes, unblinking, captured her gaze.
“Yes, we can take. But I want you to give. I know that you offered yourself to Zoe for an extra session so you could hear her story. Now I want mine.”
Katie, who had been naked in front of Gina for almost a week, suddenly became ashamed. How did she know? Why did she care whether she knew? But Gina could tell that Katie was ashamed. “Yes. I want your feet in my lap, and I want them now.”
“But we’ll wake up Casi and Zoe!”
“No, you’ll wake up Casi and Zoe. But that’s your choice too, right?”
Katie gritted her teeth. This was what made Gina so mean: the mind games. But, Katie reasoned to herself, these girls, these Andromeda girls were going to tickle her anyway. She really wasn’t losing anything. She slipped off her flip-flops, pulled another rocking chair over facing Gina’s, and sat in it. “Start telling the story first, and then you get my foot.”
“I could wake them up now.” Katie, who had been tickled more in less than a week than most people could imagine being tickled in more than a year, slowly extended her leg and put her long foot in Gina’s lap. Katie felt fingertips that were now familiar start to trace lines from the base of her toes over the ball of her foot and down onto her sole. The redhead grinned in the moonlight. “Which of us tickles the best, Katie?”
Katie winced as she tried to steady her voice. “You do, Gina.”
Gina suddenly accelerated her fingers’ movements. Katie bit her lower lip and tried to stifle a moan. “I’ll bet you said the same to Zoe, didn’t you?” Still biting her lip, Katie closed her eyes and shook her head from side to side vigorously. Gina slowed down again. “Ooh, you’re going to make this last as long as you can, aren’t you?” Katie just glared. “Alright, then. I’ll tell you the story.” Gina’s fingers never stopped drifting slowly along Katie’s skin. Katie could feel herself getting aroused–they really had reprogrammed something in her. Katie made herself a half-hearted resolution that she’d find herself a one-night stand, one who didn’t tickle, if she ever got herself out of this place.
“It was the job right before Traci Carter, and I hadn't been with Casi and Zoe for long. It was another K-Street firm, but this one wasn’t health care like Carter–it was solar and wind power.” Katie allowed herself a small giggle as Gina’s fingers moved to a circular pattern as she talked about windmills. “Now most of the time political groups will hire Andromeda to get things done by snatching up women in the opposition’s camp. But this time it was a Democrat targeting a Democrat. Do you remember William Banksman, Katie?”
Gina’s fingers stopped for a moment, and Katie felt the gratitude in her belly for letting her talk without fighting the giggles. “Yeah, U.S. Congressman. He left to lobby for Planned Parenthood just before the 2006 midterms.”
“He didn’t just leave, Katie. The party bigwigs got rid of him to avoid a sex scandal.”
“No, I remember the big Planned Parenthood press conferences where Banksman basically handed the baton to Jim Thomas and said that the cause of women’s rights was going to be how he finished his public career.”
Gina grinned. “Almost as if someone staged it to cover up something just below the surface, right?”
“No…”
“What, did you think this was the one time someone actually left Congress to spend more time with his kids?”
“I covered that story, Gina. I was a young reporter.”
“And you didn’t get the whole story. No big deal, Katie. You realize that it’s only on occasion that the newspapers get below the surface, right?”
“I don’t believe you.”
With that Gina started scrabbling cruelly at Katie’s soles with her fingernails. Katie, who had completely lost focus on trying to stay quiet, screamed at the sudden tickling, and she pulled in vain as Gina’s strong fingers wrapped around her ankle and the fingernails kept doing their work. Katie let out a laugh at the top of her lungs, and Gina’s fingers would not let that one be the last. Katie, writhing in her chair and unrestrained, tipped the chair sideways, and the wooden rocker struck the house’s siding with a thump. Gina followed her down to the ground, grabbed Katie’s calves in a grip something like a headlock, and kept following Katie’s feet with her merciless fingertips.
Katie saw a light turn on inside the house and let out a groan of despair.
Zoe and Casi were on their way.
The door to the porch opened, and Casi, her hair disheveled, stood over Katie and Gina. “What are you two doing up this early?”
Gina stopped tickling but did not release her grip. Zoe appeared next to Casi in the doorway. Gina answered, “Katie wanted to know the story of Bill Banksman.”
Zoe yawned. “At three in the morning?”
Gina stood up and made sure Katie was between her and the other Andromeda girls. “Come on, Zoe. You two got your private session without me when I took her phone into town. Can’t the rookie have a little fun too?”
Zoe’s grin seemed to light up the dark porch. “I like that story, Gina. Let’s all three tell her about that one, and then Casi and I can go to another room and sleep a little while you and Katie have your fun.”
Katie, meanwhile, was making her way back to a standing position. A momentary, wild thought crossed her mind as she looked through the porch’s screen into the woods, and Casi caught her eye. “Come on, Katie. You know you’re not getting away. And you know we’re not going to hurt you–we’ve got everything you have to offer us, and we haven’t injured you in the days since. Come inside, and hear this story.” She ran a finger down Katie’s shoulder, and it drew a shudder. “It’s a good one!”
Resigned, Katie walked inside with the three Andromeda girls, and they led her to the four-post bed. Katie took off the shorts and the panties at the girls’ command and lay down on the bed. They fastened her as they had done before, and she lay on her back, spread eagle, and they put a pillow under her head again. Once more she resented the emotions of gratitude that were trying to creep in. “Alright. So are you going to tell me the story first or tickle me first? Wait. Don’t get into the triangle. You’re not really chasing the jolt, are you?”
Gina, who was taking her place on the spotter’s stool, smiled. “Listen to you, Katie! You’re becoming a regular expert on these things! Girls, give our expert a good starter, won’t you?” And with that, Casi and Zoe started in like they hadn’t missed a beat. Casi, who never seemed to get enough of Katie’s feet, pinched at her toes and turned on the bubbling giggle that made her so hot, and Zoe started with broad, electric sweeps with her fingernails across Katie’s sole. The combination of Casi’s small tickles and Zoe’s big tickles had more than once shot Katie into maddened cackles, and this time it didn’t take long to get her there again. Sleep-deprived and tortured by such expert hands, Katie wanted more than anything in the world to keep herself from getting wet, but she could feel the impulses start to rise in spite of her will. The one-night stand in her imagination, maybe a progressive lobby’s associate director of communications, in his thirties and looking for a lady who’s hot and intelligent, was now tickling her feet in her fantasy, and she began to beg for the tickling to stop, to get her mind back.
Gina tapped on Zoe’s shoulder, and Zoe ascended to the stool. Gina signaled to Casi not to start yet and started back into the story. “You’ve been around Washington longer than we have, so you know that midterm elections are bad for whoever’s in the White House. 2006 was set to be a year that the blues took back Congress with authority. But the party bosses knew that they still had a monkey on their back and a stained blue dress that was on everybody’s mind.”
“Who was Banksman having an affair with? It wasn’t an intern, was it?”
Zoe, now on the chair, jumped in on the storytelling. “Not an intern, a staffer, and it wasn’t an affair like presidents have affairs.”
Casi heard the opening and had to jump in. “Presidents who have affairs are boring. This Congressman was interesting!”
Katie interrupted. ‘Wait. 2006? You three would have been barely teenagers, even if you were that! How did you know about all this?”
Gina looked back at Zoe. “She doesn’t seem to want to let us tell our story, does she?”
Zoe’s grin brought Katie instantly to terror. “No, she doesn’t. Entertain her, ladies!”
“No! I’ll let you–” but Katie would never tell them what she would let them do; her lungs stopped forming words and let out a scream as Gina, who had found a jolt while watching Zoe, scratched at the ridge where the ball of Katie’s foot became her sole. Casi scrabbled fingertips against the skin of Katie’s other sole, and Katie, who had only slept a very few hours, was already delirious with ticklish agony. She felt Casi’s other hand brush against her inner thigh and start to work its way up her leg, and she had no response: too ticklish even to detach herself and resign herself to fate, she felt ten fingers on her soles and two teasing her inner thigh, and she could only laugh and moan in response. Casi’s fingers rubbed, rubbed, rubbed, and she felt a spasm in her lower abdomen. She had no idea how long they had tickled before she climaxed.
“Casi! You know we’re only supposed to be on her feet right now!” Katie could recognize Zoe’s voice, playing at scolding but bouncing with its own laughter as she watched the reporter’s torment. The tickling stopped as Gina and Casi both relented. Katie was panting from the torture and awaiting the post-orgasm tickling, knowing it was going to be worse and knowing, days in, that she was never going to be ready for it.
“We know about things because the agency lets us know. We read for class, Katie!” Gina was back in storytelling mode, and Katie felt her nerves waiting for the next onslaught as she listened. “So as I was saying, in 2006 the DNC was looking at a big win and was already looking forward to putting Hillary Clinton on the throne in 2008.”
“Nobody saw Barack coming, Katie.” Katie looked up from Gina to see Zoe grinning.
Gina took back over: “But they didn’t want her to start her presidential run with another DNC pervert eating up all the airwaves.” Katie wanted badly to pose a follow-up question but saw Casi licking her lips and decided otherwise. Gina continued. “Banksman hadn’t hit the national news yet, but rumors in the beltway were that he had a long history of cornering his interns and young women staffers and tickling them.”
Now Katie couldn’t help herself. “There’s no way that’s true! I would have known about that!”
Gina stopped her story and gave a sidelong glance to Casi. “Casi, are you up for a midnight snack?”
“No! No midnight snacks!” But Casi was already snacking–her grip on Katie’s ankle and the middle of her foot tightened, and that terrible tongue made its way between Katie’s toes. With her nerve endings already on fire from the first orgasm (she had started thinking in terms of the first, second, and subsequent during her captivity), Casi’s ravenous appetite and her expert technique drew a scream out of Katie’s mouth, and Gina accompanied the sensuous, intimate tickling that only Casi could dole out with precise, minimalist strokes across the diagonal of her sole, then scrabbling scratches on her heel, each tickle creating intense, targeted sensations as Katie’s toes on the other foot already built towards the second climax. “No! No!” The chant had become almost a ritual; Katie knew as much as the Andromeda girls did that nothing was going to stop until the tormentors decided that time had come. This time Casi’s fingers did not arrive, and Katie knew that was another kind of torture entirely. She knew what would happen next, but knowing did not stop its happening: her hips began to buck, looking for something to rub against, finding nothing but thin air, and her abdomen tightened as Casi’s tongue found its way along each of her toes. And as she waited for a release that was not to be even as Gina’s fingertips made her buttocks contract with each intense, electric swipe of her fingernail.
Katie’s imaginary young lawyer now sat in a corner, pleasuring himself while he watched Gina and Casi tickle her captive feet.
Katie let out something like a squeak and something like a moan just before Gina once again tapped Casi on the shoulder. Casi’s mouth disengaged, and she licked her lips, clearly waiting for another chance. Zoe, however, tapped her on the shoulder. Casi returned to the spotter’s stool, sulking.
This time Zoe took over the story. “You have to remember that these girls know how the game is played–the ones who the dirty old men remember best end up getting the promotions and the networking and the professional advantages. All the girls who came in and out of Banksman’s office knew it, and they giggled when he grabbed their sides, and they squealed when he squeezed their knees, and they didn’t tell tales, and they got to stay on and enjoy all the connections that come from being connected to a senior US Congressman. And if they became his favorites and stayed late and let him tickle their feet until he got off, those girls ended up well-placed in lobbying firms and legislative staffs and state political parties, and unlike a lot of girls in Washington, they never actually had to have sex with the dirty old man in question.”
Casi smiled from her perch. “But one of them wanted more. That was Angie Hamilton.”
Zoe returned the grin over her shoulder. “And Angie Hamilton knew exactly what to do next.”
Katie’s best judgment stood no chance. “What? You mean Congresswoman Angela Hamilton? The Angela Hamilton?” Zoe dragged a finger down Katie’s sole, making her muffle a giggle, but this time she fought through it: “There’s no way Angela Hamilton was some pervert Congressman’s tickle-toy. She was re-elected three times! She was my generation’s brightest star!”
Casi sensed that she might have a chance to tell some of the story now. “And she got there by being Banksman’s favorite tickle-girl for two years, but when she felt the winds changing, she went straight to the Clinton campaign with stories of Banksman the politician-pervert. The Clinton people knew that they wanted to feature Bill in the 2008 campaign, so they couldn’t remind the public about DNC scandals. So they offered Hamilton a two-year position as a high-level staffer for the Department of Energy, and then in 2008 they’d run her on a national Clinton girl-power campaign as Congresswoman in a neighboring safe district so she wouldn’t unseat Jim Thomas. Banksman would retire before the 2006 midterm election and get wealthy lobbying for the abortion industry, and in 2008 Clinton would ride into the White House with Hamilton at her side in Congress.”
Katie could scarcely process all of this. “But Clinton didn’t win the nomination.”
Casi answered. “That’s right, honey, she didn’t. But Hamilton was dynamite in her district–blew through the primaries–and the national party knew well enough to stay in her corner and back her for a big win. Obama could see a win when one was handed to him, and he kept the Banksman story quiet and appeared at Hamilton rallies. And so Banksman started making money, and Hamilton rode the blue wave back to the Capitol, and that’s where she stayed for eight years, until she bowed out with Obama and left the Capitol for K Street.”
“Wait. Where do you three come in?”
Gina was ready to take over the story. “Angie’s years on the Energy and Commerce Committee gave her insider connections that every energy lobby in Washington wanted, so she took on her own big-dollar job with a wind-and-solar lobbying group. She met with Congressmen and Senators, and the companies that manufacture windmills and solar-energy facilities got government contracts. And not one of them minded when the pretty former Congresswoman visited–they never sent staffers to those meetings! All was right in the Angie Hamilton world. But dirty old men don’t forget naughty, ticklish girls.”
“Wait, what did Planned Parenthood have to gain from taking out a clean-energy lobbyist?”
Zoe looked over at Gina. “I think that’s enough questions for now, don’t you?”
“No! I just don’t understand–” What Katie didn’t understand nobody would find out for several minutes–Zoe pulled back Katie’s toes and tickled the stretched skin of her sole while Gina scratched long, light, terrible lines along Katie’s other foot. Katie knew immediately that Zoe had found a good jolt–this was tickling her intensely, and she laughed loudly, her abdominal muscles sore as Zoe found spot after spot that sent Katie’s hips writhing on the mattress. With this duo Katie knew that no relief was coming between her legs–they were going to make her squirm and squeal and giggle and moan without ever moving their touch higher than their ankles, and unless Katie could muster the willpower simply to force a climax out of her own hips (she couldn't), they were going to tickle her until she begged for them to touch her, and her begging was only going to make them tickle her feet more intently. Her only hope was that Casi’s own arousal would get the best of her, and that turned out to be the safe bet. Casi tagged Gina out, then fell upon Katie’s toes with her lips again while one of her hands crept, spider-like, up the inside of Katie’s thigh until Katie’s closed-eyes vision washed over, replacing the dark of her eyelids with something like a wave of bright light, then leaving Katie’s lips parted, breathing in and out through the letter O above her chin. There was number two.
Gina leaned down from her stool and waited until Katie opened her eyes before she began speaking again. “The nice thing about lobbyists, Katie, is that they don’t get security details the way that elected officials do. So we figured out that Angie–she was about forty by this time–would go to the office from her apartment by Metro, then go back during the week. No real opportunity there. These Washington types can be real bores that way. But we got intel that her new husband was going to San Francisco one weekend for a climate science speaking gig, so that’s when we knew she would likely be out and roaming.”
Zoe took over. “And she wasn’t going to keep things safe, either. You remember that neighborhood where we met the first time, Katie? Just a few blocks from that club we found her seeing one of the aging rock and roll bands from her Congressional-staffer days at a bar. We had to hang back in that crowd–hardly anyone younger than thirty, so we stood out. But Angie never spotted us–she was too busy talking with old acquaintances and old fans and other old connections. We waited until the band’s set was over and followed her. Middle-aged people who came up from the staffer ranks all have the same habit–they want to go back and see the old apartment buildings where they used to live. And sure enough, she took off on foot to where the staffers live.
We sent Gina to make the first approach–she’s the youngest, and she’s white, so she didn’t set off any alarms for Angie.”
Gina stepped into character with her naive-intern voice. “‘Can you help me find the blue line? I’m supposed to meet some people at the National Mall!’ I’m telling you, Katie, you middle-aged chicks can’t help yourselves when you get a chance to be the expert in local navigation. She took me straight towards the closest Metro station, but she never got there.”
Casi jumped in. “Once they stepped onto one of the streets that didn’t have as many lights, we moved in with the van. Fast approach, screeching stop, all the things that make people freeze up every time. We tasered her and zip-tied her wrists and put the bag over her head and had her in the van in seven seconds flat, and before she knew it we were headed out into the eastern Virginia swamps.”
“But what did Planned Parenthood have to gain?”
Casi laughed out loud. “Girls, I think she’s just begging for another tickling now.” She leered at Katie. “Here’s the funny thing, Katie–no guy you ever date, the rest of your life, is going to give you multiple orgasms every calendar day!” The three girls laughed riotously, and Katie blushed in spite of herself. “Just wait for the story, Katie! We got her out of the suburbs as quickly as we could on the back roads, and we headed out into the back country for the house where we were to take her. We got her out of the car, into the house, and down into the basement, just like normal. And before we took the bag off, we told her that we had to take off her shoes and her pants. I think we told her it was security or something like that.” The girls laughed again.
Zoe had started to run a finger up and down Katie’s sole absent-mindedly as she picked up the story. “We left her panties on her, though. And we took her down to the ground and put her in our modified dentist chair and strapped her ankles in, and then we took the bag off. Then we cut her wrist ties and put her in the padded armrest cuffs so she wouldn’t hurt herself.”
Gina took over again. “So there she is, feet in the open air, unable to move, strapped to the dentist’s chair, and whose voice does she hear?”
This time it was Zoe’s turn, imitating an old man’s rasp. “Angie Hamilton! How long has it been?”
“Wait, he was there watching all of this?” Katie felt herself turning red again, remembering her vision of her imaginary one-night-stand.
Gina was ready for that question. “All of it, Katie. Every single moment.”
Casi and Zoe and Gina continued the story, each more excited the other, and when their excitement overwhelmed them, they had Katie’s ticklish feet at their disposal. Some time later, when Katie collected her thoughts and remembered and wrote Angie’s chapter into her book about Andromeda and their influence on American politics, the chapter went something like this.
* * * * * * *
Angie Hamilton was living the life that ambitious girls dream about–by thirty she had been elected U.S. Representative. After three terms she went to work as an advocate for clean energy, and in that line of work she had married a climate scientist and settled into the suburbs of Washington, D.C.
But in her early forties, her life before fame caught up with her.
Andromeda got their hands on her and on her feet, not to move policy or to secure intelligence but as an elaborate act of revenge.
Years before, as a Congressional staffer, Hamilton had blown the whistle on William Banksman for sexual harrassment. Banksman went into lobbying, James Thomas rose to claim the vacant seat, and Hamilton found herself as part of the Obama Revolution in the northeast. But Banksman had never stopped blaming Hamilton for removing him from power. So upon his retirement, he called in a few final favors, arranged to move to a non-extradition country, and set Andromeda in motion.
When the night came, he arrived at the designated safe house to find Hamilton blindfolded, strapped to a modified dentist’s chair, with bare legs and bare feet, extending her legs forward. The Andromeda girls–Casi and Zoe and Gina, the same crew that I first interviewed and then later abducted me–were at the ready, waiting for the sign to take their positions.
“Angie Hamilton! How long has it been?”
The voice had aged, but Hamilton knew whose it was before she could turn around in the chair and look. “Banksman! Let me out of here right now!”
“No need to be in a hurry, Angie! You remember the good old days, right?”
Hamilton began to pull at her bonds, but the Andromeda girls had earned their reputation. The cuffs were not going anywhere. “Don’t you dare touch me, you dirty old bastard! I’m going to have you arrested! You’re going to spend the rest of your filthy life in prison for kidnapping!”
Banksman chuckled at her threats. “No, Angie, when we’re done here tonight, I’m getting on a plane to a non-extradition country, and I’m going to spend the years I have left among the living finding girls who’d rather have their feet tickled than do what all the sex-tourists want to do to them. But that’s later, Angie. Right now, though, I’m here for revenge. But I’m not allowed to touch you myself.”
“They’ll find you, Banksman. You’re not going to get away with this! Now let me go before you make me your enemy for the days you have left. If you so much as touch my feet I’ll hunt you down, no matter what country you go to.”
“Alas, Angie, I already told you I’m not allowed to touch your feet tonight, and to be honest, I might be even more sad that I can’t touch the girls who brought you here!” Zoe and Gina rolled their eyes at the dirty old man; Casi smoldered at him and licked her lips. “But since you were perfectly happy to use those ticklish feet to gain my favor all those years ago, then hand me over to Clinton’s people to end my career, I wanted to let some real pros loose on them before I leave America forever.”
“You ended your own career by being a pervert, Banksman. Don’t blame me for that!”
“You know that’s not true, Angie. You laughed for me because you loved it, and every time you came to my office with those silk stalkings on, you made your Congressman’s heart glad. I could have made you happy a hundred more times, and your career would have flown just as high. You were the one who decided that we weren’t going places together, that you’d ruin my marriage and get me thrown out of Congress and destroy my life! Part of me wishes I could come over there and tickle your feet myself, but that’s not in the contract tonight.”
“Contract?”
“The girls who brought you here, Angie, are operatives of Andromeda, a secret agency with interests that strongly align with my own. They’re going to leave here with money that the U.S. Congress provided–I thought that would be poetic justice–and they’re going to do what nobody else in the world can do as well!”
“What in the world are you talking about?”
“Andromeda operatives are the best ticklers in the world. They’re here on Planned Parenthood funding to extract my revenge on you, a kind of thank-you from the lobby to me. I’m here to have a few more laughs before I leave the country. And seeing the ticklish girl who used my affections to advance her own ambition, who demoted me from the United States Congress to defending sting videos, reduced herself to a puddle is going to be my big farewell to America!”
“There’s no such thing as professional ticklers, Banksman. And when I’m out of here, you’re going to a federal prison for the rest of your worthless life!”
“We’ve been over this already. Girls, do your thing!” He gestured to the Andromeda girls, and they moved into position.
Angie Hamilton had always prided herself on being the one calling the shots. Even when she was behind closed doors years before, a young woman with an older, more powerful man, she could always tell herself that she was letting herself be ticklish, letting herself giggle, that all of it was a trap she was setting for an old man and his vices. But here, restrained and unable to fight back three women young enough to be her friends’ daughters, Hamilton came face-to-face with a lie she had been telling herself for years. Angie Hamilton, the powerful Washington lobbyist, not the giggling girl she played for the Congressman all those years ago, had agonizingly ticklish feet, and these girls were the best in the world at exploiting middle-aged women’s ticklish feet.
When Zoe started scratching at her sole and Casi pinching the stems of her toes, Angie tried to growl at them, to show a sign that their attempts would not make her laugh, that she had always chosen to laugh, that it was all her plan.
That lasted about ten seconds.
From her sinuses as much as her mouth a sound emerged from Angie like the gasp of someone who had dropped a glass of wine and watched the glass shatter, and once she heard herself, she was as good as done. Zoe and Casi kept tickling her exquisite soles and within a minute had her laughing with abandon, Zoe’s attention fixed on the middle of her sole and the paths that her long fingernails took from one side of her foot to the other, always finding a crossing-point that made one of the most powerful women in America squeal as her skin betrayed her. Meanwhile Casi had found gold where the ball of Angie’s foot met the instep–that spot, as Casi rubbed her skin, made Angie’s eyes shut as she tried to threaten, tried to keep silence, tried to do anything but laugh desperately at the tickling touches. She tried in vain–the two women knew what they were doing, and Angie’s hair thrashed as she shook her head, enraged at the futility of trying to maintain dignity, even bluster, in the face of this torture.
One of the few silver linings was that Angie was laughing so hard that she did not hear Banksman’s zipper descending.
Gina had found Casi’s jolt, and the redhead tagged her more seasoned partner out. The two switched spots, and Gina began scratching with a fingernail at that same spot, the frontomost spot of Angie’s instep. Angie humiliated herself as she shouted “No!” for the first time, and Casi, now taking the spotter’s position, licked her top teeth as she watched Zoe’s work on Angie’s foot and waited for her turn to get back in on this exquisite, powerful woman.
“Whatever he’s paying you, I’ll pay more–just stop!”
Casi laughed from the spotter’s stool. “Not how it works, baby. You’re in for a full tickling session. When we’re done, maybe you look us up and we take you on as a client. But nobody pays us to stop tickling. And nobody tells us when to stop tickling. There’s no way you’re getting out of this, Angie. We’re going to tickle you as much as we want, and there’s not a thing in the world you can do to stop us!”
The hopelessness of the moment, to Angie’s horror, seemed to make her feet even more ticklish, and now she was imagining what else these sadists would do even as they kept tickling her feet and she kept laughing, a private show for the old pervert Banksman. In the corner Banksman had already shot himself into oblivion, but the tickling persisted–there was a contact on the line, after all.
Gina moved from the instep to the heel, and Zoe made her way up to the toes, scratching in between them and making Angie scream at every pass between. Casi could not take any more watching; she tagged Zoe back to the spotter’s stool and sat on the shorter stool in front of Angie’s defenseless foot. With a practiced, smooth speed she lowered her head to her toes, and because Angie’s eyes were still closed, she felt Casi’s warm, wet lips close around her toe before she saw what was happening.
“NO! You can’t do that!”
Now it was Zoe’s turn to laugh as she watched this woman, whom she had seen on television as a girl, suddenly fall into the whirling waters between ticklish laughter and pleasured moans. Zoe had to respect what Casi was capable of–there was no denying that she was a pervert (but then again, how much room does a professional tickler have to judge?), but nobody would deny either that she had a magnetic power to turn her own libido into overwhelming arousal for all kinds of women. Angie’s back arched in the chair as Casi’s tongue began to roam between her toes, but the most desperate pleas started when Casi’s hand, free because she was working Angie’s foot with her mouth, touched Angie’s silk panties.
“STOP! Stop! Stop! Don’t do this to me!”
Gina and Casi working as a team were terrible to Andromeda’s marks this way–Gina could sustain a mark’s laughter almost indefinitely with her precise fingertips, and Gina’s ravenous sexual appetite was unstoppable when she wanted to bring a woman to climax. Zoe watched in admiration and anticipation as Angie’s back arched again, her lips parted in a grand moan, and her legs lost tension with the explosion that Casi had brought on without even touching beneath that shimmering silk. Zoe, who knew as well as any Andromeda agent that the skin took a minute or two to supercharge after an orgasm, settled back on her stool and looked back at Banksman, who had already spent himself but nonetheless ogled the four women in his own stupor. She smirked her contempt and glanced to her own right just in time to see Casi’s tongue disengage from Angie’s third toe.
Angie panted, her head leaned back, her eyes shut. Shame at being exploited again for the sadistic pleasure of the man who wrote her ticket into the world of political power contended with the sheer pleasure of what had just happened, and Angie’s body could not decide whether to let her indignant mind have a vote or not. Zoe tagged Gina out as the three girls waited for their next opportunity to restart the torment, and as soon as she could make a case that the window was open she began to trace a single fingernail in a figure-eight on Angie’s sole. The powerful woman’s eyes flew open, and she pulled at her wrist-restraints. “No! You already got what you want! Just let me go!”
Zoe’s grin cut through the safehouse’s darkened air. “We’ve got some of what we want, Angie, but not nearly as much as we want!”
“What is that? What are you doing to my foot?”
“Just tickling, Angie. But so much more. Now that Casi has gotten you off, you’re about to join a very select secret society. Not many women have been tickled by professionals, and even fewer know what it’s like to get a professional tickling right after you climax!”
“No.. stop… I didn’t…”
Gina started to pinch lightly at Angie’s long toes. Casi sing-songed at her as her partners tickled. “Yes you di-i-i-i-i-i-i-d!” Angie screeched as the two expert torturers started tickling full-speed. Her skin was in agony, and she felt her shoulders and bottom push off of the chair. Casi continued her game-playing, adding to the mental torment. “Admit that you got off, Angie, and we’ll take a break from your feet!”
Angie squealed as Zoe scratched across her sole. “Yes! You made me orgasm! You made me orgasm!”
Gina’s fingertips played along the edge of Angie’s heel. “No, not good enough. You have to say you got off!”
Angie, remembering the tickling that got her into her position of influence years ago, could not even imagine a moment when she had been as ticklish as she was right now. “I got off! I got off!”
Casi, from the spotter’s stool, laughed as she watched her friends work. Gina continued to tickle her heel and said, “Now tell us how naughty you are!”
At this point Angie Hamilton, former United States Congresswoman, would have done anything to keep those demon-fingers away from her feet. She cackled in laughter, unable to form words, yet somehow willed herself to scream, “I’m a naughty girl! I’m a naughty girl!”
Casi tapped Gina on the shoulder, and Gina obediently retreated to the spotter’s stool. Zoe stopped her own assault, letting Angie recover her breath. Her chest heaved as her head leaned back against the headrest. Casi placed one of her fingertips on the ball of Angie’s foot, and Angie’s head popped up. “I think you have been a naughy girl, Angie. Now we’re going to need you to beg.”
“No, please, I can’t take any more. I don’t know what you did to me, but I can’t take it!”
“You need to beg Zoe and me to tickle your feet.”
“No, please! I’m going to die here!”
Casi’s fingertip started to descend, slowly. Angie let out a high moan. “We won’t start tickling if you really beg well.”
“Please, I’m tired! Just let me go!” Casi’s fingers scrabbled at the base of Angie’s big toe, the jolt-spot that she’d seen Gina discover. Angie squealed and started to giggle. “I don’t want you to tickle me any more!” Now Zoe’s fingernails began to scratch at her heel, and Angie’s laughter overwhelmed her. Through her own bubbling laughter she screamed, “Please tickle my feet!”
The fingers stopped.
Gina resumed the mental torment. “Tell us exactly where you want us to tickle you, the spots that make you more ticklish than anything in the world.”
“Please don’t make me do this!” Zoe resumed her attack. Angie’s desperate giggle once again filled the air. “My toes! Tickle my toes!”
Gina’s eyes were ice. “Does it make you crazy when we tickle your toes?”
“Yes!”
“Do you think you might climax again if we tickle them?”
“Yes! Please don’t!”
Another scratch along the base of her toes from Gina. Angie half-laughed and half-sobbed. “No, Angie, you have to beg us to tickle them, not to stop!”
“Please tickle my toes!”
“Until you climax?”
“Yes!”
“And then tickle you some more?”
“Yes!”
“You want that?”
“I want it?”
“Are you a naughty girl because you want us to tickle your toes?”
Angie’s mind and will reeled as she imagined more of what had sent her over the edge. “Yes! I’m naughty!”
“I think you are naughty, Angie. And here’s what we’re going to do to a naughty girl: Casi is going to try to let you get off again, but while she’s doing that, Zoe and I are going to tickle those naughty, ticklish toes of yours. We’re not going to stop until the naughty girl gets off again, but you’re going to be so ticklish that you’re going to have to work for it. So get ready, naughty girl. The real tickling is about to start!”
Casi departed from her tickling spot and took a position at Angie’s side as Gina descended from the spotter’s bench. Zoe, with all of their practiced precision, began to tickle Angie Hamilton’s toes. Gina scrabbled at the stems of the other foot’s toes. Banksman couldn’t take the intensity of the fantasy–he had fallen asleep without even zipping his pants again. The room filled with the desperate screams of a once-powerful woman whose once-great reach couldn’t protect the sensitive, tortured skin of her long, delicious toes. Gina’s hand slipped up underneath Angie’s shirt, making her abdomen spasm with light belly-tickles, before descending to begin working Angie into another orgasm.
Angie had been honest in her moment of trial: her long, glorious toes were as ticklish as any of the girls could have hoped, and as Casi massaged under the Congresswoman’s panties, two of the best feet-ticklers in the world made Angela Hamilton’s feet so gloriously ticklish that time stood still, the mounting and overwhelming sexual pleasure unable to break through the signal-interference of her traitorous toes. William Banksman awakened to see the height of his revenge, little Angie, at the height of her public prominence, begging in her anguish, conquered by her body’s impossible and warring desires. Though his aging body regretted it for days after, once again he indulged himself in the slight and in the sound of his grand triumph.
Angie Hamilton, by the time the Andromeda girls were done with her, had stopped begging, stopped threatening, stopped using words at all. Her screams and her laughter were all that the cruel girls left to her, and when she lost consciousness, not even her memories extended beyond the stems of her toes.
By morning Banksman was landing in a non-extradition country in Southeast Asia, ready to start spending the spoils of his career after Congress on the ticklish bodies all around, and Angie Hamilton was deposited unceremoniously a block from her house. She walked quickly, trying to avoid any of her neighbors’ spotting her.
* * * * * * *
The story had taken more than an hour for the Andromeda girls to tell–they couldn’t get very far in their beloved story of tickle torture without Katie’s interruptions (and her feet) inciting them to torment the reporter further. When they had finished, the sun had just begun to illuminate the sky, and Casi and Zoe went to another room to go to sleep. Gina led Katie back out onto the back porch.
“Alright, Katie. This time I won’t wake the girls–I want you to myself.” She set herself down in one of the front-porch chairs and gestured to the other chair.
Katie was not going to try to run at this point, but she crossed her arms and set her well-tickled feet solidly so that she squared up in front of the young torturer. “You’ve already told me the story of Angie Hamilton. What else do you have to offer?”
“The story of Katie Jones.”
“I’m not going for that–you three have told me over and over I don’t get to know who had me grabbed.”
Gina smiled without opening her mouth. “We said you don’t get to ask. Now I’m offering.”
“What’s the catch this time?”
“Same as it’s always been, Katie. Your feet for my story.”
“So more foot-tickling? I don’t believe you.”
“And you have to let yourself enjoy it.”
Katie turned her eyes towards the ground. “You three have pushed me over the edge four times this morning alone. You know how to do that.”
“No, we know how to make you climax when you don’t want to. This time I want you to want it.”
Punk-rock guitars played in the back of Katie’s mind. “And what if I fake it?”
Gina locked eyes with the reporter. “Don’t you think I’d know that at this point?”
Katie did not so much decide to pull a chair over as she felt her arms and legs move to move the chair. Some part of her wanted to preserve this last, remote corner of her dignity. But the story always called louder than anything else, and Katie’s foot slipped into Gina’s lap as Katie leaned back in the patio chair and closed her eyes. “Alright, Gina. Tickle my foot.”
Warm fingers circled her ankle, and Gina inhaled sharply, waiting for the other hand to engage. Gina’s voice was different, though–it invited Katie rather than menacing her. “Let yourself feel it this time, Katie.” And when Katie felt fingertips on her sole, it was different–Katie wasn’t pulling against restraints or steeling herself against the sensations, and Gina’s touch didn’t make her want to scream in protest or moan against her will but giggle the way that her ex-husband made her giggle all those years ago, when he was just the cute guy at the Washington party. The hands still knew her feet–Gina could have driven her to desperation at any minute, and Katie harbored no illusions to the contrary–but this time they moved slowly, not torturing but playing. Katie was no longer examining herself and her emotions objectively. She simply loved the gentle attention of this woman’s hands on her ticklish sole.
Katie’s hands covered her mouth, and she felt herself blushing as she laughed, keeping her voice down so that she wouldn’t wake Zoe and Casi but not knowing, moment to moment, whether she did so to avoid the torture that surely would follow or whether she kept quiet so that she could keep living in this private moment with Gina. The young Andromeda agent’s finger traced a wandering, serpentine path down Katie’s sole once more, and Katie found herself loving it, wanting this woman who knew her body so well to touch her more, and now not even caring about the faint voices in the back of her mind warning her about Stockholm Syndrome or coming traps. All that her body wanted–and her mind was all but completely following her skin’s lead–was to live in this moment as long as she could.
Then the tickling stopped, and Katie’s eyes flew open. She looked up to see Gina’s eyes, and she could not see any of the cruelty any more, just a face that was completely responsive to Katie’s pleasures. “What, Katie, don’t you want to hear the story now?”
Katie’s blood ran cold–had she forgotten why she submitted to this indignity in the first place?
“Don’t worry, I won’t stop if you don’t want me to. But let’s get more comfortable, hmm?” Katie’s mind was still a cloud as Gina picked up her own chair and moved it alongside Katie’s and guided Katie’s calves into her lap. Gina’s other hand, the one that had been holding her ankle in place before, began to stroke Katie’s soles, and Katie’s eyes closed again. She melted into a luxurious giggle and let go all of the week’s attempts to keep from laughing. Gina’s other hand, the one that had been tickling Katie’s foot before, started tracing lines inside of Katie’s thighs as the other tickled her soles, and Katie moaned, not against her will as the three had made her do so many times before but the way that she might moan if a boyfriend had his hand between her legs. “Feels good, doesn’t it?”
Katie nodded and giggled and inhaled as she felt a climax building.
Gina’s hands did not stop their perpetual motion as she kept talking. “So do you want to hear why we scooped you up?”
Only half-attentively, Katie answered, “Sure, Gina. When did the AFC hire you?”
“It wasn’t the AFC, sweetheart.”
Katie’s eyes flew open. She realized that the sudden alertness had pulled her out of her ecstasy, and she suddenly hated Gina in ways that she didn’t know she was capable. But the story called, and now she couldn’t even enjoy the death of her dignity. She grabbed Gina’s wrist and stopped the tickling touches. “Who hired you if it wasn’t the AFC?”
Gina’s eyes glowed with sadistic joy. “You’re going to have to make me talk, Katie.” Keeping one hand on Katie’s ankle, she scooted her seat around to face Katie, then slid her own small foot out of her boot. Gina lowered one of Katie’s feet to the ground but kept her other firmly in her grasp, and Katie felt Gina’s small foot come to rest on her lap. Each woman held the other’s foot. “Do you think you can tickle me until I talk?”
Katie’s mind was a boiling cauldron of lust and revenge and exhaustion and confusion. “Who hired you?”
Gina kept a firm grip on Katie’s ankle and kept her own foot on Katie’s lap. “I’m not going to tell you, Katie. What are you going to do about that?”
Katie did not deliberate about what to do next. Her hands took over, one grasping Gina’s ankle and the other lighting into her sole with four fingers. Gina squealed loudly and let her laughter sail into the air, and Katie’s instincts took over. Her often-tickled feet taught her fingers what to do, and her eyes locked with Gina’s as she kept up the attack that she had learned at Gina’s own merciless hands. Gina’s laughter was the song of every god of vengeance that Katie’s atheist mind could still conjure, and one of Gina’s hands reached out towards Katie’s eyes, gesturing for mercy like a professional-wrestler heel might do.
The heel… Katie scrabbled her fingernails, with four extra days’ growth, on Gina’s heel and exulted as Gina’s laughter rose in pitch. Now Gina’s single hand was waving back and forth, flagging down a rescue vehicle. Her laughter sailed through the early-morning air, welcoming the rising sun and stirring the churning chaos of Katie’s body and spirit.
Katie kept tickling, and Gina kept laughing, but slowly, deliberately, exquisitely, Gina’s free hand slowly made its way down to her lap. Katie kept tickling and tried to pull her own foot away, but suddenly the importance of Gina’s one-hand gestures landed in Katie’s awareness with the gravity of impending doom.
Gina’s other hand still had Katie’s ankle.
When Gina began once more to tickle, the sensation of ticklish nerves stroked and rubbed was no less intense than it had been any of the dozen times that Gina had tickled Katie, torturing her in her helplessness, making laughter into an instrument of cruelty and raising desires that Katie had only feared all the way back in that Washington bar. But now Katie had her own foot to tickle, and her drive for revenge and her sense of powerlessness and the sound of Gina’s wonderful laughter and the sudden sound of the door opening behind her all poured into Katie’s body, into her foot, into the nerves in her sole, and Gina’s fingers suddenly had a magnetic power that Katie had never experienced before, never from a husband nor from a boyfriend nor from her own imagination. Body and soul, memory and ticklish skin focused so much energy into the bottom of her foot that Gina’s fingers, as they touched and stroked and scratched at Katie, and as Katie tickled Gina with a frenzy born of something beyond desperation, Katie’s laughter combined with a sound that Katie would never be able to describe, even as she could never forget what it sounded like coming out of her own throat. The reporter, who thought she had experienced the world before that roadside abduction just days before, felt her body go limp in the chair, and Casi and Zoe had to work together to keep her from hitting the floor fast enough to injure herself.
As she felt herself carried back into the house, Gina’s eyes were the last thing that her mind’s eye saw on the backs of her closed eyelids before the Andromeda girls lay her down on the mattress and Katie slipped into unconsciousness.
* * * * * * *
“Wakie, wakie, Katie!”
Casi’s voice.
Katie woke up and saw that her clothes, the ones she was wearing the night that the Andromeda girls pulled her from her rented car, hanging on a doorknob.
“It’s time for you to go back to town, Katie. The world is waiting to hear from you!”
Katie’s muscles were sore like no new workout routine had ever made her sore. “Where’s Gina?”
“Don’t you worry about that, Katie. You’ve been in the headlines for five days now, and you’re about to make your triumphal return!”
“What do you mean? Do I have to move out of Washington?”
Casi shook her head in the negative. “In fact, we’re going to give you what you need to turn this into the news story that wins you a Pulitzer this time. Come on. Zoe’s waiting with the van.”
Katie got up and got dressed. Everything that the girls had damaged in the process of getting her nearly naked had been replaced, and all of her clothes were freshly laundered. Gina was nowhere to be seen.
When they went out to the van, Casi rode in the back with Katie, putting a bag over her head so that she couldn’t find her way back to the safe-house. Katie could feel Zoe taking a serpentine, back-tracking route to wherever they were going, and eventually she gave up on counting the turns. After what seemed like an hour’s ride, the van stopped, and Casi took the bag off of Katie’s head. Casi opened the sliding door and let Katie step out.
The Andromeda girl handed Katie a heavy-laden mailing envelope. “Your phone is in there, but the battery is dead. And as for the papers, they’re copies, but they’ll be enough for you to find out who put you onto our trail.”
Katie’s wrath against Gina rose up again. “You mean you were going to give me this the whole time?”
Casi grinned and licked her upper teeth. “Of course, sweetie. What, did someone tell you something else?” Katie fumed silently. “You’ve been headline news for the last four days, Katie. The people you’re going to find have turned the American Firearms Coalition and any politician affiliated with them into national bad guys. And your leaked reporting has ended a bunch of political careers. When you walk about a mile and a half that way” –Casi gestured with her finger– “and stop in at that police station, you’re going to be a hero to all of the Democrat voters that used to hate you for your Traci Carter story. And then you can thank us once the material in that file gets you that Pulitzer!”
Zoe leaned forward to shout out the window. “Maybe we’ll see you again, Katie–don’t get too comfortable!”
With that Zoe gunned the gas, and the van spun to face away from town. Katie watched them speed down the highway for about half a mile, then turn off a side road. She knew that the license number she just memorized would be changed by the time she made it to the police station, but she memorized it anyway. She began to walk towards the police station.
