Dude'sonfire
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What torture will be like... Pt 5! (/F)
Hey guys and gals. This ones been a while coming, but it turned out not to be the ending after all :happy: heh. Just a heads up, it has a couple scenes where's there more that just tickling, pain wise i mean. It's not extreme or prolonged, but just letting you know. Anyhoo, enjoy...
Amy sat huddled in her cold, dim cell, tired, sore, naked and alone. She had lost track of how much time had past since the rebels had captured her. Weeks, months… She didn’t know. She traced a finger along the slightly damp wall, grim, hopeless eyes following its movements. She would never get out of here. In her mind, the ProTesters had won the war, the empire was surely going to die, and she would be forgotten, left to degrade as a remnant of what history would call as a cruel, brutal regime. She trembled in anger. Soon, now that the ProTesters were in power, torture would be done with pain again, men would send theirs sons off to war again, everything would go back to the way it was. And they would call her cruel. They would denounce her as cruel.
She heard the heavy lock mechanism clank loudly on her door. She squeezed her eyes shut and moved her lips in some silent prayer, though it was to a force which she was now convinced didn’t exist and which she knew couldn’t help her.
A wiry man in a white lab coat, looking nervously about himself, quickly entered and closed the door behind him. He had greasy hair, sunken eyes, and that sandpapery skin which spoke of a lifetime of cheap razors and too much dust. He showed a girlish grin as he looked at her naked and cowering in the corner. He walked over to her, muttering reassurances in a nervous, nasal voice.
“It’s ok dear. You know I would never neglect your care…” He leaned down and stoked the pale skin of her shoulder. “How could I hurt someone so soft…”
She knew what would happen, but she did it anyway. She turned her head, and from amidst her prison-worn hair came a globule of spit that struck the man just to the left of his nose. With a growl of rage he detached a short club from his belt and forcefully brought it down upon her shoulder, repeatedly, until she cried out in pain. He kept going. Once she was laid out on the floor, weeping and clawing at the moist concrete, he put the club away with a stern expression.
“Now dear, you know better than that.” He wiped the spit away. “Now let me see you properly…”
At first, the rebels hadn’t treated her badly; they had been satisfied that she had told them all she knew fairly early, and had kept her in a reasonable, clean, over-ground cell. Then this man had found her. From the first moment he had seen her she had literally felt the tainted desire flowing off from him in waves. He had made up repeated lies about her: that she had been having sex with other female prisoners, that she had been selling narcotics within the facility, that she had been in escape attempts dining room brawls with the guards which she had actually been careful to avoid. All her desperate denials and pleas to the wardens of the place had been squashed by the fact that this man obviously held a fair bit of sway among them. Once, she had actually broken down in the head warden’s office, begging him to believe her, but no one was willing to back up her case.
It had all been to get her down here, into solitary, away from the guards and the cameras. After he had accomplished that, he began to tickle her and beat her and torture her until he had an aching, throbbing erection, then he would have her, repeatedly some times, until he was satisfied. He was not an incredibly strong man; she could have beaten him in a fight, perhaps, but he carried that club, and a powerful tazer. And he could, of course, should he wish it, send her back to the androids to be interrogated all over again. She couldn’t hit him back. That was for sure.
He took her feet softly, and said to her, “You know the procedure my dear, don’t you?”
She did. He would tickle her feet continuously, and if she laughed once, he would press his tazer against them and show no mercy. The muscles in her foot were so damaged because of it that she found it painful just to stand up.
He started. She gritted her teeth together and swallowed, her body shaking as he began scratching his fingernails lightly across her toes. She hadn’t been allowed out to walk in the time she’d been down here, and as such, the bottoms on her feet were unused and fragile, this being compounded by the electric shocks and beatings.
She let out a squeak.
“Ah ah ah,” the man said, reaching for his belt.
“No! Please!” She wondered at the fact that she still cared.
“… One more chance.”
He began again. This time he worked up and down both feet with both hands, a light, rapid fluttering, bending his fingers then straightening them again quickly, as he all but hovered over her nerves.
Amy almost chocked. It was horrible. He was so proficient at it that he could have kept her in hell for hours, never losing any of the twisted magic of his touch. She gaped, and arched her back slightly, writhing in silence as his digits carved acid into her feet.
She made another noise: not a laugh, but a thin, whisper quiet, strained out moan. But anything more than breath counted. He shook his head, and brought out his tazer.
“No! No, no no no please, please I didn’t mean to…”
Her pressed it against her sole and pressed the switch. Every muscle in her foot instantly felt like it was about to snap, as though she had the most painful cramp of her life and it was only getting worse and worse. She screamed and bucked, clawing at the wall, her face a mask of pain. Her feet were locked tightly under the man’s arm. He switched to the other foot. She clamped her jaw together so hard her teeth hurt, and she felt like everything below her knee was about to shatter and fall off.
Finally he stopped.
She sobbed and quivered, saying, in a weak voice, “Why do you keep doing this to me?”
A look of what could have been genuine sympathy came into his eyes. “I’ve always had a… bit of a fetish for this kind of thing. It’s… hard to deny it for long.” He shrugged.
“…You’re sick.”
“What did you say?” he replied angrily. “What did you just say?!” He pulled the club from his belt.
She cringed, and wept, knowing what was coming.
“What did you just say to me?!” The man was in a rage it seemed. He turned her onto her stomach and began clubbing her ribs from the side. He kept going and going, and at one point it just became too much for her and she made the mistake of trying to guard herself with her hand. He took the hand, pinned it against the floor, and struck it with the club so hard that she actually felt a snap. Her scream was piercing, and though it made him wince, it also made him hot with arousal.
“Part two my dear,” he said, he voice unsteady with enthusiasm.
She knew she had to do it. In a weak, wavering fashion, she moved her arms so that they were lying straight above her head, trying her best all the while to fight the searing pain in her hand.
The instant and sudden touch of those light, fluttery fingers in her armpits sent racing shocks through all of her, and she couldn’t help but cry out and squirm underneath him as he held her down. She was allowed to do those in this part however. If she pulled her arms down an inch towards her body, or if she begged him to stop, then he would start beating her again.
Her armpits quivered at the touch, a touch that produced a teasing, torturous, terrible tickling, that never ceased to twist and tweeze her senses. They were her worst spot; the memory of the androids lubricated fingers squirming around inside her cups, endlessly, mercilessly, made the present tickling all the more effective and horrible. She squealed and chocked out laughter, the pain in her hand and feet somehow making the tickling worse, and her fear and weeks of torment making her more susceptible to the agony of it.
It just wouldn’t stop! She wished… No, she didn’t want it to. If he stopped, he would do something worse… But he had to stop! / No! / Yes, he had to! She wanted so badly just to break the rule and bring her arms down; she would regret it afterwards certainly, but she just had to make the tickling stop. Her arms trembled with the strain, and she cackled unwillingly as his fingers kept dancing exquisitely on her skin. Too much! Too much!
Just then, out of nowhere, a huge tremor shook the building. The man stopped suddenly, and Amy fell silent.
Another one. Bits of the walls crumbled, and the whole room shook.
There was a deep, tense moment of quiet.
The third blast came, and bits of wall were thrown everywhere. The sound of it rang in their ears like a gong.
Amy frowned amongst the rubble as she felt something unusual brushing against her naked skin, something soft, cold… Fresh Air! The last impact had left a gaping hole in the side of her cell, though the glare of sunlight blinded her when she tried to look out of it. She didn’t need to look however; the sound was all she needed.
Running footsteps. Guns. Barked orders.
Androids.
At first she panicked, unable to face to the androids torment again, but then she stopped and thought… They’re attacking the Rebellion! She shook her head; she wouldn’t let herself get her hopes up. Maybe she could escape on her own. She had to try. She stood up, but her feet screamed in pain and she crumpled back onto the floor of the cell. Convinced that the androids would see her as an enemy in any case, and clearly in no position to get away or protect herself, she curled up, and renewed her despair.
A squad of androids filed in through the wall’s wound, and one of them towered over her, scanning her with the devices behind its black visor. Her fear was beyond words.
“Amy 2067 of the IIRA?” it asked in that deep, bland, yet intensely intimidating voice.
“Yes,” she replied meekly.
He picked her up immediately and with absurd ease, and carried her outside. After a short ride on his shoulder, she was placed onto a soft medical bed and loaded onto a transport of some kind. During the brief journey her eyes had begun to adjust, and she had seen glimpses of battle all around her: missiles crashing into buildings with roaring blasts, androids and rebellion soldiers engaged in fire fights throughout the streets, woman and children running for their lives. As the doors of her transport closed, her last sight of the chaos was of the building which the rebellion had captured losing its integral support, and crashing down upon itself like a can being crushed in slow motion, all to the accompaniment of its deep rumbling, and screams.
Then she was aware of a needle entering her left forearm. Within moments she felt herself becoming lost in the liquid, painless embrace of gorgeous unconsciousness. It was bliss. She gave herself up to it.
Amy’s eyes fluttered open, and she was briefly aware of people working around her busily, talking hurriedly and attaching things to her body. Then they closed again. Not time to wake up yet. Not yet.
She was woken by the sound of soft music, a piece with a gentle acoustic guitar and a soothing, melodious female voice. It was beautiful. She rubbed her eyes as she sat up, then she yawned and gave her arms a stretch. When her eyes adjusted to the golden sunlight pouring in through the open window, which accommodated a warm breeze, she saw green plants dotted around the white room, some with colourful flowers. Her lips were chaffed; she was incredibly thirsty. Twisting her head, she tried to see if anyone was there while she tensed her legs and stretched her toes.
Her toes! There was no pain! They must have rebuilt her muscles. A huge smile spread across her face. But that didn’t change the fact that she was thirsty. Even as she had that thought, a pretty, blonde, white toothed young nurse hopped over to her bedside and smiled welcomingly. She had eyes the size of plates, and they glittered a friendly sky blue.
“Good morning Amy!” she said chirpily, in a subtle Scottish accent. “I’m Mona, your nurse! You’ve been out for a good long while; you must be hungry! Can I get you anything?”
The smile seemed to grow on Amy’s face, and stayed there stubbornly, as though held up by stables. “Just water please.”
“Oh ok. But when you get hungry dear, do say; it’s very important that you eat.” She went to a water dispenser and quickly fetched Amy a tall glass of the exquisitely cold thirst quenching liquid. “Here you go.”
Amy gulped it down with relish, and sighed afterwards. “Thank you so much.”
“Oh no, no problem. Anything else you’d like? There’s a TV in the wall, if you want to watch something.”
“Could you… tell me what’s been happening? With the war I mean?”
“Oh!” Mona laughed gleefully. “That silly thing. Still going, as always. The ProTesters were being kind of optimistic to think it would be over so soon… Though maybe it would have been better if it had been. Anything’s better than world war… I don’t really like to judge these things too deeply though. I’ll help whoever needs it.” She smiled again.
“How did we turn it around?”
“Oh the general discovered some huge technological secret while being held captive. I don’t what it was exactly… I don’t pay too close attention to these things, not really I’m afraid. Do you want me to go get you a movie? They have a huge collection down in the library.”
“What’s the general’s name?”
“Oh why it’s general 6069 of course. She’s taken over leadership of the campaign.”
“What’s her first name?”
“Em… I think it was Sandy, or Sally…”
“Sandra? Sandra 6069?!”
“Oh yes, Sandra that’s it… Is something wrong?”
Amy just stared into space for a moment, her brain cogs turning furiously. “No, no,” she said finally, giving Mona a polite smile. “I’m actually feeling quite hungry now. Now that I’m not as thirsty.”
“Well good! Let me get you a menu!”
Amy ate with enthusiasm to say the least, and afterwards watched a comedy with Mona, who seemed to be her own exclusive nurse, and who giggled copious amounts. Not only that, she actually seemed to find it all genuinely funny. Her laugh was like quiet chimes in a breeze.
At one point in the movie, there was a brief tickle scene where the two women who were in love hoarsed around on a bed, one with their fingers rummaging inside the others sweater. Amy felt a line of ice descend her spine.
“My god,” said Mona with a giggle, who was sitting in a chair next to Amy’s bed, “you look like a ghost who died because she saw another one. You must be extremely ticklish if this rattles you so much.”
Poor Mona; she had no clue. For all she knew tickle torture facilities were actually just myths.
Mona smiled kindly. “I bet you have a great laugh.” She tried to poke Amy in the ribs, but Amy jerked back instinctively with a gasp, a terrified memory in her eyes.
“Please don’t,” Amy said seriously.
“Oh, ok. Yes someone people really do hate it… Do you want me to tell you a secret?”
“What?”
“I love being tickled. I think it’s bliss.”
Amy raised an eyebrow. I’ll be sure to book you in with an interrogation droid when I get back, she thought sceptically.
“Heehee, you don’t believe me do you?”
“Well…”
“Here.” She slipped off her sandals – the weather had been gorgeously warm lately – and plopped her little feet on Amy’s lap. “Go ahead.”
Amy was extremely tempted, for reasons she couldn’t fathom. She gave one a little prod, causing Mona to yelp quietly, and Amy instantly drew back her hand, not wanting the woman to suffer.
“No no, on you go.”
Reluctantly, Amy began scratching her fingernails very lightly across the balls of Mona’s feet.
“Oh god that’s heaven,” cooed Mona, before breaking into a round of giggles. She squirmed in her chair a little bit, but made no attempt to pull her feet away, except for the odd reactionary twitch. Amy grew in confidence, and began that light scratching all the way up and town Mona’s feet. Mona grinned and scrunched up her face in reaction, one of her knees involuntarily pulling away from Amy’s hand, but her mind returning it into place just as quickly.
Amy tickled her like this for the rest of the movie, finding it surprisingly enjoyable yet intensely bizarre. She loved hearing Mona laugh and look like she was having fun, but the idea of the sensations occasionally made her queasy. At one stage she had actually became quite eager, attacking the soles with more gusto.
“No no, that’s to much!” Mona had cried, having burst into laughter.
Amy had gasped and immediately stopped, an embarrassed expression forming on her face.
Mona looked at her in surprise. “You’re not actually supposed to stop when I say that!” she said with a giggle. “Please, keep going. This is heavenly. You’re great at it.”
Amy had kept going, and had tickled her more vigorously again, though this time she didn’t stop. She watched as Mona clawed at the arm rests of her chair and as she bounced up and down and squealed, and listened to her as she laughed hysterically and yelped out protests, yet never actually tried to pull her feet away. Then she returned to a light touch, stoking Mona’s toes gently with her fingernails, causing the nurse to coo with delight.
“When will I be fit enough to go back?” asked Amy casually, after the movie was over.
Mona, still giggling a bit, gave her an odd look. “Back? …Why? You’re time in captivity was more than long enough to get you out of any term of service.”
“I understand that, but even so… There’s someone I need to see.”
“Oh… well I don’t know. But… are you sure you want to go back? You don’t have to worry; whoever wins the war, it won’t reach us here.”
That was one question she hadn’t thought of.
Mona laughed, reading her expression perfectly. “A whole bunch of injured and recovered POW’s were flown in here from France. You’re in Britain! The war has never been here, and it has no reason to ever come here. You don’t have to go back in. You can stay here and be happy.” She held Amy’s hand with a smile and gave it a squeeze. “Anyway, you’re probably start to get tired soon. It’s best you try and get more rest. You don’t have to make any decisions for a while, in any case.” Mona got up and shuffled off to make a phone call.
Amy nodded, and took a deep breath. That was true. She lay down, and rested her head on the pillow. She didn’t have to worry about it for a while…
“What?!” screamed Sandra. “That woman is a ProTester leader! I want her placed in MDT until her brain is mush, and then she’ll tell us everything.”
Vicky gave her a measuring look. “Well our stay in that pit certainly hasn’t humbled you very much.”
“This isn’t about humility! I am winning this war for us; there are certain measures I have to take. That’s why I’m a leader.” There was a large scar above her right eye now. Her stance was rigid and full of authority.
“Listen, you’re being ridiculous! Look at this woman! She’s already a pile of rags. For all you know they made it so that she doesn’t know anything.”
“Are you willing to risk it? I am not. Androids, MDT, now. Thirty hours.”
The two androids nodded, and lifted the poor heap of a woman by her underarms and hauled her away. They took her down a corridor, down a flight of stairs and into a guarded room with a door as thick as a pig’s body. Inside the room was a vertical X frame, metal restraints positioned all over it. When the woman saw it her eyes went wide, and her breaths quickened in horror. She even made a hopeless attempt to resist and escape the androids grip, continuing to fight even until they had locked both wrists and ankle into the binding straps of the machine. They then strapped her body and limbs down so tightly that she was held motionless. She still tried to struggle, and cried out, thrashing her head from side to side, trying to bite the androids, trying to pull against the terribly strong restraints, but it was all ridiculous of course. They inserted a tube into her arm, which was now held almost completely static, which would inject into her nutrients and stimulants for as long as she was in the unit. Her eyes were then blindfolded and her ears plugged, while the strong, steel like hands of the androids held her head in place. A gag was placed in her mouth then covered, though there were holes for air.
The androids left and closed the monster of a door, leaving the woman in a void of utter sensory depravation. For a while she was just left there hanging in her timeless jail, not being able to see or hear or move or speak.
Thirty hours. She would make it. She would hold on that long. She would make herself do it, no matter what. All she had to do was stay sane.
Suddenly, with no warning from any of her other senses, she felt an ever so slight electric buzzing at the top of her right inner thigh. In one way it wasn’t intense at all, being such a light sensation, but in another way, it made her want to scream. Then it was gone. It had left as fast as it had come. Her breathing quickened. It was starting.
The buzzing returned, though this time it didn’t stop. Whatever device was inflicting it upon her began moving up and down ever so slightly, which tickled her so much she thought her hip joint might actually spasm out of place. Another one began its electric vibration up and down the underside of her left buttock, causing her to squeal into her gag and her muscles to quiver. Soon others began to tickle her all over her naked skin; one buzzed over and around a nipple, which was unbearable, one over her stomach and navel, and, of course, her feet were soon left virtually never unattended by the unseen, unheard torturing devices. She flung her head from side to side, tried to pull on the restraints, tried to scream through her gag, though there was no one in the room to even see or hear her.
And in that device she remained. Thirty hours.
Amy stepped off of the small aeroplane, and coughed as she inhaled the dusty air for the first time in a good long while. She had finally been able to return to Paris, now that Feminist forces had retaken it. The landscape around the airstrip was as stark a contrast as there could be to the green fields and gentle hills of England; dust was everywhere, chunks of rubble in a plethora of sizes lay in mounds dotted about the place, charred remnants of fires caught her eye, and many of the still standing buildings were severely damaged and unstable. So little of the great city had been left untouched by the war.
An android quickly ushered her into the base next to the airstrip, where she was directed to a waiting room to sit and anticipate her reunion with Sandra. It was so exciting, to be brought back together with a friend, who she had been through so much with and who she had thought lost forever.
The speaker box called out her name and number. She stood up and bit her lip, then nervously advanced though a couple halls and doorways, directed by an android. The door to Sandra’s office came up, and with effort she opened it and walked inside.
The General was busying herself furiously over papers and maps, then looked up at the new visitor. Amy beamed a smile at her.
“Ah, 2067. I’m glad you decided to return, I need more people that I can trust on this campaign.”
Amy’s smile diminished a little bit.
“I’ll post you somewhere in South Africa I think, That region is still being hotly contested. As for your allocation of forces…”
“Sandra,” Amy interrupted, “aren’t… aren’t you glad to see me?”
Sandra gave her a stern glance. “Of course I am. Your input will be most valuable to me. But I have work to do and I can’t spend time reminiscing. I hope you understand.”
Amy felt her stomach being twisted into a cruel knot, but she sucked it up and nodded. “But what do you plan to do? I heard while in Britain that you just keep pushing them and pushing them… Should we not negotiate something? Come to a compromise? These people don’t just believe their fighting for men, they believe they’re fighting for the future of humanity as a race. You can’t kill a cause like that. It will take years and years to break them completely.”
“No it won’t,” Sandra immediately retorted. “I’m just forcing them into the position where I can pull check mate.”
“How will you do that?”
“While in captivity I found out why the androids in Prison 01 had gone haywire,” she said while resuming her work. “I plan to squash them into a few key places, and then turn their own legions against them. And they will have no way to stop it.”
“What did you find out?”
“The location of Prison 01 was coincidentally constructed in the mountains very close to some large, undiscovered mineral deposits. The magnetism inherent in these deposits had warped the Androids’ electronics over time. We’re going to arm some specific, subtle EMP signal bombs when we have the rebels in position, and watch them crumble from the inside.”
Amy frowned. “How on earth did you find that out?”
“You remember those little amusement venues in certain mountain ranges, where metal balls would seem to roll up hill, and rooms would appear squint and the like? Well that’s because they were constructed on top of deposits similar to the one I’m talking about. I noticed while being led through part of the facility that the hallway seemed to change angle slightly, and that the androids would often do bizarre things. That’s when I began to figure it out.”
Amy sat down in a chair, and rested her chin on her hands. “So how did that let you escape?”
Sandra stopped for a moment and looked at her. “I’m afraid I really don’t have time for this. I’ll send you details of your orders later, but I really have to work.”
“Just tell me how you got out. Please.”
Sandra looked at her a moment longer, then sighed. “It had nothing to do with me. The androids just eventually became unpredictable and, eventually, inoperable. No grand escape plan here. Now please, let me get on with things.”
Amy, after a moment’s hesitation, reluctantly stood and left the room. There was a horrible, almost hunger like emptiness in her gut resulting from Sandra’s distance and coldness. She didn’t really care about winning the war; she had mainly come back to see her friend again. Her life tasted bitter at that moment. She should have taken Mona’s advice. In fact, she was going to. What an idiot she had been, coming out here again, for something she wasn’t sure if she even believed in anymore. She was going back.
Hey guys and gals. This ones been a while coming, but it turned out not to be the ending after all :happy: heh. Just a heads up, it has a couple scenes where's there more that just tickling, pain wise i mean. It's not extreme or prolonged, but just letting you know. Anyhoo, enjoy...
Amy sat huddled in her cold, dim cell, tired, sore, naked and alone. She had lost track of how much time had past since the rebels had captured her. Weeks, months… She didn’t know. She traced a finger along the slightly damp wall, grim, hopeless eyes following its movements. She would never get out of here. In her mind, the ProTesters had won the war, the empire was surely going to die, and she would be forgotten, left to degrade as a remnant of what history would call as a cruel, brutal regime. She trembled in anger. Soon, now that the ProTesters were in power, torture would be done with pain again, men would send theirs sons off to war again, everything would go back to the way it was. And they would call her cruel. They would denounce her as cruel.
She heard the heavy lock mechanism clank loudly on her door. She squeezed her eyes shut and moved her lips in some silent prayer, though it was to a force which she was now convinced didn’t exist and which she knew couldn’t help her.
A wiry man in a white lab coat, looking nervously about himself, quickly entered and closed the door behind him. He had greasy hair, sunken eyes, and that sandpapery skin which spoke of a lifetime of cheap razors and too much dust. He showed a girlish grin as he looked at her naked and cowering in the corner. He walked over to her, muttering reassurances in a nervous, nasal voice.
“It’s ok dear. You know I would never neglect your care…” He leaned down and stoked the pale skin of her shoulder. “How could I hurt someone so soft…”
She knew what would happen, but she did it anyway. She turned her head, and from amidst her prison-worn hair came a globule of spit that struck the man just to the left of his nose. With a growl of rage he detached a short club from his belt and forcefully brought it down upon her shoulder, repeatedly, until she cried out in pain. He kept going. Once she was laid out on the floor, weeping and clawing at the moist concrete, he put the club away with a stern expression.
“Now dear, you know better than that.” He wiped the spit away. “Now let me see you properly…”
At first, the rebels hadn’t treated her badly; they had been satisfied that she had told them all she knew fairly early, and had kept her in a reasonable, clean, over-ground cell. Then this man had found her. From the first moment he had seen her she had literally felt the tainted desire flowing off from him in waves. He had made up repeated lies about her: that she had been having sex with other female prisoners, that she had been selling narcotics within the facility, that she had been in escape attempts dining room brawls with the guards which she had actually been careful to avoid. All her desperate denials and pleas to the wardens of the place had been squashed by the fact that this man obviously held a fair bit of sway among them. Once, she had actually broken down in the head warden’s office, begging him to believe her, but no one was willing to back up her case.
It had all been to get her down here, into solitary, away from the guards and the cameras. After he had accomplished that, he began to tickle her and beat her and torture her until he had an aching, throbbing erection, then he would have her, repeatedly some times, until he was satisfied. He was not an incredibly strong man; she could have beaten him in a fight, perhaps, but he carried that club, and a powerful tazer. And he could, of course, should he wish it, send her back to the androids to be interrogated all over again. She couldn’t hit him back. That was for sure.
He took her feet softly, and said to her, “You know the procedure my dear, don’t you?”
She did. He would tickle her feet continuously, and if she laughed once, he would press his tazer against them and show no mercy. The muscles in her foot were so damaged because of it that she found it painful just to stand up.
He started. She gritted her teeth together and swallowed, her body shaking as he began scratching his fingernails lightly across her toes. She hadn’t been allowed out to walk in the time she’d been down here, and as such, the bottoms on her feet were unused and fragile, this being compounded by the electric shocks and beatings.
She let out a squeak.
“Ah ah ah,” the man said, reaching for his belt.
“No! Please!” She wondered at the fact that she still cared.
“… One more chance.”
He began again. This time he worked up and down both feet with both hands, a light, rapid fluttering, bending his fingers then straightening them again quickly, as he all but hovered over her nerves.
Amy almost chocked. It was horrible. He was so proficient at it that he could have kept her in hell for hours, never losing any of the twisted magic of his touch. She gaped, and arched her back slightly, writhing in silence as his digits carved acid into her feet.
She made another noise: not a laugh, but a thin, whisper quiet, strained out moan. But anything more than breath counted. He shook his head, and brought out his tazer.
“No! No, no no no please, please I didn’t mean to…”
Her pressed it against her sole and pressed the switch. Every muscle in her foot instantly felt like it was about to snap, as though she had the most painful cramp of her life and it was only getting worse and worse. She screamed and bucked, clawing at the wall, her face a mask of pain. Her feet were locked tightly under the man’s arm. He switched to the other foot. She clamped her jaw together so hard her teeth hurt, and she felt like everything below her knee was about to shatter and fall off.
Finally he stopped.
She sobbed and quivered, saying, in a weak voice, “Why do you keep doing this to me?”
A look of what could have been genuine sympathy came into his eyes. “I’ve always had a… bit of a fetish for this kind of thing. It’s… hard to deny it for long.” He shrugged.
“…You’re sick.”
“What did you say?” he replied angrily. “What did you just say?!” He pulled the club from his belt.
She cringed, and wept, knowing what was coming.
“What did you just say to me?!” The man was in a rage it seemed. He turned her onto her stomach and began clubbing her ribs from the side. He kept going and going, and at one point it just became too much for her and she made the mistake of trying to guard herself with her hand. He took the hand, pinned it against the floor, and struck it with the club so hard that she actually felt a snap. Her scream was piercing, and though it made him wince, it also made him hot with arousal.
“Part two my dear,” he said, he voice unsteady with enthusiasm.
She knew she had to do it. In a weak, wavering fashion, she moved her arms so that they were lying straight above her head, trying her best all the while to fight the searing pain in her hand.
The instant and sudden touch of those light, fluttery fingers in her armpits sent racing shocks through all of her, and she couldn’t help but cry out and squirm underneath him as he held her down. She was allowed to do those in this part however. If she pulled her arms down an inch towards her body, or if she begged him to stop, then he would start beating her again.
Her armpits quivered at the touch, a touch that produced a teasing, torturous, terrible tickling, that never ceased to twist and tweeze her senses. They were her worst spot; the memory of the androids lubricated fingers squirming around inside her cups, endlessly, mercilessly, made the present tickling all the more effective and horrible. She squealed and chocked out laughter, the pain in her hand and feet somehow making the tickling worse, and her fear and weeks of torment making her more susceptible to the agony of it.
It just wouldn’t stop! She wished… No, she didn’t want it to. If he stopped, he would do something worse… But he had to stop! / No! / Yes, he had to! She wanted so badly just to break the rule and bring her arms down; she would regret it afterwards certainly, but she just had to make the tickling stop. Her arms trembled with the strain, and she cackled unwillingly as his fingers kept dancing exquisitely on her skin. Too much! Too much!
Just then, out of nowhere, a huge tremor shook the building. The man stopped suddenly, and Amy fell silent.
Another one. Bits of the walls crumbled, and the whole room shook.
There was a deep, tense moment of quiet.
The third blast came, and bits of wall were thrown everywhere. The sound of it rang in their ears like a gong.
Amy frowned amongst the rubble as she felt something unusual brushing against her naked skin, something soft, cold… Fresh Air! The last impact had left a gaping hole in the side of her cell, though the glare of sunlight blinded her when she tried to look out of it. She didn’t need to look however; the sound was all she needed.
Running footsteps. Guns. Barked orders.
Androids.
At first she panicked, unable to face to the androids torment again, but then she stopped and thought… They’re attacking the Rebellion! She shook her head; she wouldn’t let herself get her hopes up. Maybe she could escape on her own. She had to try. She stood up, but her feet screamed in pain and she crumpled back onto the floor of the cell. Convinced that the androids would see her as an enemy in any case, and clearly in no position to get away or protect herself, she curled up, and renewed her despair.
A squad of androids filed in through the wall’s wound, and one of them towered over her, scanning her with the devices behind its black visor. Her fear was beyond words.
“Amy 2067 of the IIRA?” it asked in that deep, bland, yet intensely intimidating voice.
“Yes,” she replied meekly.
He picked her up immediately and with absurd ease, and carried her outside. After a short ride on his shoulder, she was placed onto a soft medical bed and loaded onto a transport of some kind. During the brief journey her eyes had begun to adjust, and she had seen glimpses of battle all around her: missiles crashing into buildings with roaring blasts, androids and rebellion soldiers engaged in fire fights throughout the streets, woman and children running for their lives. As the doors of her transport closed, her last sight of the chaos was of the building which the rebellion had captured losing its integral support, and crashing down upon itself like a can being crushed in slow motion, all to the accompaniment of its deep rumbling, and screams.
Then she was aware of a needle entering her left forearm. Within moments she felt herself becoming lost in the liquid, painless embrace of gorgeous unconsciousness. It was bliss. She gave herself up to it.
Amy’s eyes fluttered open, and she was briefly aware of people working around her busily, talking hurriedly and attaching things to her body. Then they closed again. Not time to wake up yet. Not yet.
She was woken by the sound of soft music, a piece with a gentle acoustic guitar and a soothing, melodious female voice. It was beautiful. She rubbed her eyes as she sat up, then she yawned and gave her arms a stretch. When her eyes adjusted to the golden sunlight pouring in through the open window, which accommodated a warm breeze, she saw green plants dotted around the white room, some with colourful flowers. Her lips were chaffed; she was incredibly thirsty. Twisting her head, she tried to see if anyone was there while she tensed her legs and stretched her toes.
Her toes! There was no pain! They must have rebuilt her muscles. A huge smile spread across her face. But that didn’t change the fact that she was thirsty. Even as she had that thought, a pretty, blonde, white toothed young nurse hopped over to her bedside and smiled welcomingly. She had eyes the size of plates, and they glittered a friendly sky blue.
“Good morning Amy!” she said chirpily, in a subtle Scottish accent. “I’m Mona, your nurse! You’ve been out for a good long while; you must be hungry! Can I get you anything?”
The smile seemed to grow on Amy’s face, and stayed there stubbornly, as though held up by stables. “Just water please.”
“Oh ok. But when you get hungry dear, do say; it’s very important that you eat.” She went to a water dispenser and quickly fetched Amy a tall glass of the exquisitely cold thirst quenching liquid. “Here you go.”
Amy gulped it down with relish, and sighed afterwards. “Thank you so much.”
“Oh no, no problem. Anything else you’d like? There’s a TV in the wall, if you want to watch something.”
“Could you… tell me what’s been happening? With the war I mean?”
“Oh!” Mona laughed gleefully. “That silly thing. Still going, as always. The ProTesters were being kind of optimistic to think it would be over so soon… Though maybe it would have been better if it had been. Anything’s better than world war… I don’t really like to judge these things too deeply though. I’ll help whoever needs it.” She smiled again.
“How did we turn it around?”
“Oh the general discovered some huge technological secret while being held captive. I don’t what it was exactly… I don’t pay too close attention to these things, not really I’m afraid. Do you want me to go get you a movie? They have a huge collection down in the library.”
“What’s the general’s name?”
“Oh why it’s general 6069 of course. She’s taken over leadership of the campaign.”
“What’s her first name?”
“Em… I think it was Sandy, or Sally…”
“Sandra? Sandra 6069?!”
“Oh yes, Sandra that’s it… Is something wrong?”
Amy just stared into space for a moment, her brain cogs turning furiously. “No, no,” she said finally, giving Mona a polite smile. “I’m actually feeling quite hungry now. Now that I’m not as thirsty.”
“Well good! Let me get you a menu!”
Amy ate with enthusiasm to say the least, and afterwards watched a comedy with Mona, who seemed to be her own exclusive nurse, and who giggled copious amounts. Not only that, she actually seemed to find it all genuinely funny. Her laugh was like quiet chimes in a breeze.
At one point in the movie, there was a brief tickle scene where the two women who were in love hoarsed around on a bed, one with their fingers rummaging inside the others sweater. Amy felt a line of ice descend her spine.
“My god,” said Mona with a giggle, who was sitting in a chair next to Amy’s bed, “you look like a ghost who died because she saw another one. You must be extremely ticklish if this rattles you so much.”
Poor Mona; she had no clue. For all she knew tickle torture facilities were actually just myths.
Mona smiled kindly. “I bet you have a great laugh.” She tried to poke Amy in the ribs, but Amy jerked back instinctively with a gasp, a terrified memory in her eyes.
“Please don’t,” Amy said seriously.
“Oh, ok. Yes someone people really do hate it… Do you want me to tell you a secret?”
“What?”
“I love being tickled. I think it’s bliss.”
Amy raised an eyebrow. I’ll be sure to book you in with an interrogation droid when I get back, she thought sceptically.
“Heehee, you don’t believe me do you?”
“Well…”
“Here.” She slipped off her sandals – the weather had been gorgeously warm lately – and plopped her little feet on Amy’s lap. “Go ahead.”
Amy was extremely tempted, for reasons she couldn’t fathom. She gave one a little prod, causing Mona to yelp quietly, and Amy instantly drew back her hand, not wanting the woman to suffer.
“No no, on you go.”
Reluctantly, Amy began scratching her fingernails very lightly across the balls of Mona’s feet.
“Oh god that’s heaven,” cooed Mona, before breaking into a round of giggles. She squirmed in her chair a little bit, but made no attempt to pull her feet away, except for the odd reactionary twitch. Amy grew in confidence, and began that light scratching all the way up and town Mona’s feet. Mona grinned and scrunched up her face in reaction, one of her knees involuntarily pulling away from Amy’s hand, but her mind returning it into place just as quickly.
Amy tickled her like this for the rest of the movie, finding it surprisingly enjoyable yet intensely bizarre. She loved hearing Mona laugh and look like she was having fun, but the idea of the sensations occasionally made her queasy. At one stage she had actually became quite eager, attacking the soles with more gusto.
“No no, that’s to much!” Mona had cried, having burst into laughter.
Amy had gasped and immediately stopped, an embarrassed expression forming on her face.
Mona looked at her in surprise. “You’re not actually supposed to stop when I say that!” she said with a giggle. “Please, keep going. This is heavenly. You’re great at it.”
Amy had kept going, and had tickled her more vigorously again, though this time she didn’t stop. She watched as Mona clawed at the arm rests of her chair and as she bounced up and down and squealed, and listened to her as she laughed hysterically and yelped out protests, yet never actually tried to pull her feet away. Then she returned to a light touch, stoking Mona’s toes gently with her fingernails, causing the nurse to coo with delight.
“When will I be fit enough to go back?” asked Amy casually, after the movie was over.
Mona, still giggling a bit, gave her an odd look. “Back? …Why? You’re time in captivity was more than long enough to get you out of any term of service.”
“I understand that, but even so… There’s someone I need to see.”
“Oh… well I don’t know. But… are you sure you want to go back? You don’t have to worry; whoever wins the war, it won’t reach us here.”
That was one question she hadn’t thought of.
Mona laughed, reading her expression perfectly. “A whole bunch of injured and recovered POW’s were flown in here from France. You’re in Britain! The war has never been here, and it has no reason to ever come here. You don’t have to go back in. You can stay here and be happy.” She held Amy’s hand with a smile and gave it a squeeze. “Anyway, you’re probably start to get tired soon. It’s best you try and get more rest. You don’t have to make any decisions for a while, in any case.” Mona got up and shuffled off to make a phone call.
Amy nodded, and took a deep breath. That was true. She lay down, and rested her head on the pillow. She didn’t have to worry about it for a while…
“What?!” screamed Sandra. “That woman is a ProTester leader! I want her placed in MDT until her brain is mush, and then she’ll tell us everything.”
Vicky gave her a measuring look. “Well our stay in that pit certainly hasn’t humbled you very much.”
“This isn’t about humility! I am winning this war for us; there are certain measures I have to take. That’s why I’m a leader.” There was a large scar above her right eye now. Her stance was rigid and full of authority.
“Listen, you’re being ridiculous! Look at this woman! She’s already a pile of rags. For all you know they made it so that she doesn’t know anything.”
“Are you willing to risk it? I am not. Androids, MDT, now. Thirty hours.”
The two androids nodded, and lifted the poor heap of a woman by her underarms and hauled her away. They took her down a corridor, down a flight of stairs and into a guarded room with a door as thick as a pig’s body. Inside the room was a vertical X frame, metal restraints positioned all over it. When the woman saw it her eyes went wide, and her breaths quickened in horror. She even made a hopeless attempt to resist and escape the androids grip, continuing to fight even until they had locked both wrists and ankle into the binding straps of the machine. They then strapped her body and limbs down so tightly that she was held motionless. She still tried to struggle, and cried out, thrashing her head from side to side, trying to bite the androids, trying to pull against the terribly strong restraints, but it was all ridiculous of course. They inserted a tube into her arm, which was now held almost completely static, which would inject into her nutrients and stimulants for as long as she was in the unit. Her eyes were then blindfolded and her ears plugged, while the strong, steel like hands of the androids held her head in place. A gag was placed in her mouth then covered, though there were holes for air.
The androids left and closed the monster of a door, leaving the woman in a void of utter sensory depravation. For a while she was just left there hanging in her timeless jail, not being able to see or hear or move or speak.
Thirty hours. She would make it. She would hold on that long. She would make herself do it, no matter what. All she had to do was stay sane.
Suddenly, with no warning from any of her other senses, she felt an ever so slight electric buzzing at the top of her right inner thigh. In one way it wasn’t intense at all, being such a light sensation, but in another way, it made her want to scream. Then it was gone. It had left as fast as it had come. Her breathing quickened. It was starting.
The buzzing returned, though this time it didn’t stop. Whatever device was inflicting it upon her began moving up and down ever so slightly, which tickled her so much she thought her hip joint might actually spasm out of place. Another one began its electric vibration up and down the underside of her left buttock, causing her to squeal into her gag and her muscles to quiver. Soon others began to tickle her all over her naked skin; one buzzed over and around a nipple, which was unbearable, one over her stomach and navel, and, of course, her feet were soon left virtually never unattended by the unseen, unheard torturing devices. She flung her head from side to side, tried to pull on the restraints, tried to scream through her gag, though there was no one in the room to even see or hear her.
And in that device she remained. Thirty hours.
Amy stepped off of the small aeroplane, and coughed as she inhaled the dusty air for the first time in a good long while. She had finally been able to return to Paris, now that Feminist forces had retaken it. The landscape around the airstrip was as stark a contrast as there could be to the green fields and gentle hills of England; dust was everywhere, chunks of rubble in a plethora of sizes lay in mounds dotted about the place, charred remnants of fires caught her eye, and many of the still standing buildings were severely damaged and unstable. So little of the great city had been left untouched by the war.
An android quickly ushered her into the base next to the airstrip, where she was directed to a waiting room to sit and anticipate her reunion with Sandra. It was so exciting, to be brought back together with a friend, who she had been through so much with and who she had thought lost forever.
The speaker box called out her name and number. She stood up and bit her lip, then nervously advanced though a couple halls and doorways, directed by an android. The door to Sandra’s office came up, and with effort she opened it and walked inside.
The General was busying herself furiously over papers and maps, then looked up at the new visitor. Amy beamed a smile at her.
“Ah, 2067. I’m glad you decided to return, I need more people that I can trust on this campaign.”
Amy’s smile diminished a little bit.
“I’ll post you somewhere in South Africa I think, That region is still being hotly contested. As for your allocation of forces…”
“Sandra,” Amy interrupted, “aren’t… aren’t you glad to see me?”
Sandra gave her a stern glance. “Of course I am. Your input will be most valuable to me. But I have work to do and I can’t spend time reminiscing. I hope you understand.”
Amy felt her stomach being twisted into a cruel knot, but she sucked it up and nodded. “But what do you plan to do? I heard while in Britain that you just keep pushing them and pushing them… Should we not negotiate something? Come to a compromise? These people don’t just believe their fighting for men, they believe they’re fighting for the future of humanity as a race. You can’t kill a cause like that. It will take years and years to break them completely.”
“No it won’t,” Sandra immediately retorted. “I’m just forcing them into the position where I can pull check mate.”
“How will you do that?”
“While in captivity I found out why the androids in Prison 01 had gone haywire,” she said while resuming her work. “I plan to squash them into a few key places, and then turn their own legions against them. And they will have no way to stop it.”
“What did you find out?”
“The location of Prison 01 was coincidentally constructed in the mountains very close to some large, undiscovered mineral deposits. The magnetism inherent in these deposits had warped the Androids’ electronics over time. We’re going to arm some specific, subtle EMP signal bombs when we have the rebels in position, and watch them crumble from the inside.”
Amy frowned. “How on earth did you find that out?”
“You remember those little amusement venues in certain mountain ranges, where metal balls would seem to roll up hill, and rooms would appear squint and the like? Well that’s because they were constructed on top of deposits similar to the one I’m talking about. I noticed while being led through part of the facility that the hallway seemed to change angle slightly, and that the androids would often do bizarre things. That’s when I began to figure it out.”
Amy sat down in a chair, and rested her chin on her hands. “So how did that let you escape?”
Sandra stopped for a moment and looked at her. “I’m afraid I really don’t have time for this. I’ll send you details of your orders later, but I really have to work.”
“Just tell me how you got out. Please.”
Sandra looked at her a moment longer, then sighed. “It had nothing to do with me. The androids just eventually became unpredictable and, eventually, inoperable. No grand escape plan here. Now please, let me get on with things.”
Amy, after a moment’s hesitation, reluctantly stood and left the room. There was a horrible, almost hunger like emptiness in her gut resulting from Sandra’s distance and coldness. She didn’t really care about winning the war; she had mainly come back to see her friend again. Her life tasted bitter at that moment. She should have taken Mona’s advice. In fact, she was going to. What an idiot she had been, coming out here again, for something she wasn’t sure if she even believed in anymore. She was going back.
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