echolocation34
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The Terran battleships docked one after another as the hangar gates closed. Titanic steel pistons hissed as the massive war ships folded their wings. Outside, more ships hurtled back and forth in the galactic star map of the night sky, clawing it with tails of bright fire.
“My father used to bring me here,” Gamora said, rolling the amber in her glass. “He used to say that bounty hunting was the lowest of the low. Killing and capturing for no better reason than money.”
The barkeep, a huge alien with a metal arm encrusted with pink cybernetics, gave a whumpf from all five nostrils. “What was your father, a saint?”
“He likes to think of himself as one.” The green skinned hunter cracked a thin smile. “But we all have our small fantasies.”
“Hey! Hey!” Bounty hunters and rogues snarled angrily as the pale skinned Terran enforcers muscled their way through the crowd. Clad in matching gray plates, they filed as neat as real soldiers from their over-expensive war ships.
Probably think of themselves as real soldiers, Gamora mused, watching their bluster of weapons. Here on Tama, bluster was everything. There was no law, no order, no ethics; a complete sinkhole where morality went to die. And for the last three months while she hid from her father, it’d been her home. So Gamora crossed one knee of the other, folded her arms, and watched the Terran enforcers make fools of themselves.
“Um...you should get out of here, little lady,” muttered the barkeep. “Not that I care, but those assholes have been picking a fight with everyone. They think they're the new rulers of this planet, with their laws and ships and matching tidy-whities.”
“Rules on Tama,” Gamora tested the foreign words on her tongue. “Who’d want to colonize this hellhole?”
“It’s bounty hunting they want a monopoly on. Been taking all the jobs.”
“And no one’s put a stop to them?”
A massive concussion shook the bar, sifting dust down from the ceiling. Cocking his blaster, the Terran Enforcer stepped through the hole, a huge grin plastered over his face. “Get us something good, bartender.” He mimed blasting another charge. “We caught ourselves the fucking jackpot!”
Cheers rang outside even as the bar’s residents sighed, dipped their rakish hats lower, hunched their shoulders, and brooded in darker corners, as the barkeep looked at Gamora and then nodded to the smoking hole as if to say ‘that’s why’.
“So they have big guns,” Gamora tipped her second drink to her lips. And absolutely no aim.
The old her would have got up and left. Packed her things, slipped into her battered Star-runner and took off to the next galaxy. If anyone tried to stop her...well...Thanos was universally feared but for the past six years she’d been the one spreading that fear across the seven realms.
It’d be so easy. There's always be bounty hunting somewhere. No love lost.
And yet something felt different this time.
“Hey! You there!” The same Terran was back. He cuddled next to her and flashed a big smile. “Are you waiting for your boyfriend?”
Gamora caught his hand right before it stroked her hair. One twist, one shove, and the Terran was on his knees, gasping, his stool rolling aside, a shaft of bone jutting out of his elbow. Sweat poured off his face as he stumbled and kicked feebly.
“I’m single,” Gamora answered, finishing her drink slowly with the other hand. “Why?” She twisted his arm further, inciting pathetic whimpers. “You interested?”
He went for the gun - of course he did - and Gamora kicked it without looking. She pivoted her grasp, tangled her fingers in his hair, and touched her knife to his bare throat. She stared at the rest of the bar. “Not a move if you want your friend to keep his voice box.”
Across the room, every Terran blaster was trained on her as a dozen pale skinned soldiers fanned hesitantly closer. At her words, they froze.
The green skinned assassin swept her gaze across their ranks. “You call yourselves bounty hunters? You can’t do anything without outnumbering the enemy like ants. It’d be hilarious if it wasn’t so insulting to the business.” She shoved her hostage forward, gave him a kick in the ribs. “Get your asses off Tama. You don’t belong here.”
They gaped at her.
“Well?” Gamora stepped forward. Her thumbs tickled the double swords crossed behind her hips. “Are we going to stand around here all day?” She now stood in the center of their circle, surrounded. “Or are we going to fight?”
And just when the huntress felt like she was doing something good, something right, a sudden pain ripped between her shoulder blades. The sharp tang of ozone assaulted her nose. Shit! Gamora strained her shoulders, forced herself, gasping with exertion, to turn around.
“You were wrong,” muttered the barkeep. He limbered his metal arm back into its holstered form, bright with electrical discharge. “It’s not that they have big guns.” He shrugged. “It’s big pockets.”
Gamora let out a soundless scream as she was tossed over one Terran’s shoulder like a sack of potatoes. She felt her wrists cuffed behind her. All of her training, all of her deadly skill was useless as her body fought to recover from the five hundred volts arcing through her blood.
“Hey..hey.” A pathetic, wheedling voice brought Gamora to her senses.
Her eyes snapped open. Assessed the situation. She was laid out on a metal table, her arms, legs, waist, and neck strapped by belts. Whoever had captured her had taken the liberty to strip her of her weapons and most of her clothes. The green skinned bounty hunter wore only her pants, and black tank top, exposing her bare arms. Even the laces on her boots had been removed although the boots themselves stayed thankfully on her feet. Being a hunter who’d traversed innumerable landscapes, Gamora had always felt a twinge of vulnerability at being unshod. As such, her booted feet dangled heavily off the edge of the table by her ankles, free to kick but not much else.
“Hey...you awake?”
She couldn’t see who the speaker was. The strap on her neck dug into her as she struggled.
“Hey...are you-”
“Yes, I am awake,” she snapped.
“OK cool.” The voice paused. “What’s your name?”
Gamora stiffened. “I’m not telling you that.”
“Well hey we’re in this together. I’ll tell you mine. I’m Starlord.”
Gamora blinked. “Your name is not Starlord.”
“What’s wrong with Starlord?” He sounded genuinely hurt.
“That is the most brainless title I have ever heard of. Are you the owner of a star?” she hissed.
“Technically no.”
“Then it doesn’t make sense.”
“Well what does your name mean?”
Gamora opened her mouth. And then closed it. Heat rushed up her neck as she tried to think of something to say. Unfortunately for her, she’d spent the last ten years carving bodies, not honing wit. “Can you just shut up? We’re about to be tortured.”
“Unless your name is Star-lady, and you’re just, like, really embarrassed right now.”
I’m tied up and helpless and next to an idiot. If this was some sort of Terran torture, it was kind of effective.
The door slid open. A tall Terran woman in robes flanked by two Terran guards stepped in. Her white wispy hair floated over a bag of wrinkles and two piercing blue eyes. “Ah our two trouble prisoners,” she smiled. “Who the Galactus are you two bad eggs? We don’t have a single file on either of you, not even your names.”
“I don’t have a name,” hissed Gamora just as her companion belted, “Call me Starlord!”
“Lies clearly.” The old Terran tapped a dusty nail on the lip of Gamora’s boot. “You have a very impressive bounty record my dear. Some call you the most dangerous woman in the universe. I’m sure your enemies have less flattering titles.”
She turned around. “And no one would be dumb enough to call themselves Starlord.”
“What are you going to do with us?” Gamora asked.
“Whatever I want, my dear. But I’d prefer not to do anything. I’d prefer we all get along and tell each other what we want to know like...where that relic you found happens to be.”
Starlord chuckled. “I’ll tell you what granny, you can stab me all you want but I’m never telling you about the infinity stones.”
What? Gamora felt her throat tighten. Did she hear that right?
“How about this. The two of you are bounty hunters no? I’d prefer not to get my hands any dirtier than they already are.” The old woman crackled. “What better reason does a bounty hunter need to turn on each other? Starlord, if you can make our ice queen here talk, I’ll give you your freedom. Not like I actually believe in the infinity stones. Ha! Fairy tales!”
“Are you sure about this?” asked one of the guards.
“He’s harmless,” the crone waved. “And I don’t want to work today. Report it to J’son Himself for all I care.” She waved a claw at Gamora. “And look how beautiful this one is! If he fails, I say we just sell her at the next brothel we pass. Too risky to kill someone who might have connections.”
“Well this awkward.” Somehow Starlord looked exactly how Gamora had imagined he’d look. A goofy Terran face atop a broad frame, with clumsy looking fingers and a dopey smile. This man is a bounty hunter? “So...I guess I have to torture you.”
She turned her head aside. “Don’t embarrass yourself.”
“I’ll have you know.” Starlord cracked his knuckles. “I’m pretty dangerous myself.”
The intercom buzzed to life. The two of them winced as laughter rocketed down from the ceiling, the old crone’s mixed with her guards too.
“OK!” The pudgy Terran threw up his hands. “I’m sick of everyone treating me like a joke. Starlord is a good name! And I have a cool helmet. And...and a gun.”
Gamora grinned. “A gun.”
“That’s it. Fine. My name is Peter Quill.” He glared at her. “And you are going to have the torture of a life time.”
“Are you going to make me laugh to death?”
“Not. A. Bad. Idea.” He moved to her legs, grabbed the toes and heels of her boots. “I noticed you winced when the old woman touched your feet.”
“What? Hey!” Gamora struggled, not believing it, as Peter wrestled her boots off. He set them aside, her bare feet dangling off the table. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“On Earth, we have a way of punishing naughty girls.” He gave each of her green soles a light stroke. “And you, ‘most dangerous woman in the universe’, have been very naughty.”
Gamora clenched her teeth, tried not to flinch away. “Do not touch my feet. I swear I will kill you.”
For a bounty hunter, Gamora’s feet were surprisingly long and athletic-looking, with slender, slightly bony, toes. The deep green of her skin faded to a paler soft looking green at her soles, which contrasted nicely with her dark leather pants.
“Don’t do it,” ordered the assassin. “Don’t you dare.”
“What? This?” Quill swiped his finger again across the length of Gamora’s sole, sending bolts of ticklish sensation up her leg. This time, she recoiled, curling her toes. “Wow...you are really ticklish aren’t you?”
“Shut it!”
“What kind of bounty hunter is ticklish? You don’t even have calluses.” The abominable Terran began gently scratching two fingers on the center of each foot, making Gamora sputter and gasp, waving her trapped hands.
“This is adorable,” announced Quill. “I wish I had my camera.”
“Aaaargh!” Gamora growled through clenched teeth. It was really hard to stay intimidating.
“Here comes the little piggy.” He dragged his finger diagonally across her sole, leaving a pale line. Gamora gasped, horror settling in as she felt him grab her little toe.
“No no no no no stop!”
“This little piggy went to the market.” He started teasing the underside of her pinky toe, wiggling his fingernail into the soft delicate skin at the base of her toe. A wanton screech of laughter rocketed out of Gamora as she buckled on the table.
“This little piggy stayed home.” He played with her next toe, rendering the warrior in a fit of giggles as her sensitive webbing between both toes was explored and teased.
“This little piggy had roast beef.” Quill scratched under her middle toe causing her to sputter and giggle, her foot flapping up and down uselessly.
“This little piggy had none.” Quill leaned forward and licked the bottom of her index toe up all the way to the pad of the toe. The touch of his hot slimy wet tongue on her dry bare foot made Gamora scream, pounding the table.
“And this little piggy went wee wee wee all the way home.” Now he enveloped her big toe inside his mouth, sucking greedily. Gamora howled, fighting for release. This only made it worse, as her toe began scraping and wiggling inside the hot wet chamber of his mouth. Quill popped the rest of her long slender into his mouth too for good measure, and when he said, ‘wee wee wee’ he raked his fingers up and down Gamora’s helpless sole, making her scream even louder as she thrashed her trapped digits all around in Quill’s mouth.
For the Terran, he was loving it. Despite her personality, he found her toes delicious, savoring the plush pads and the hard backs of her nails and the length of each toe too. He squirmed his tongue between her toes, bullying them apart so he could wedge his tongue into the soft webbing between her toes. He'd also drag his tongue horizontally, tasting each toe. After a few minutes, he finally gave her a break and popped the toes back out, tied by a few strings of saliva.
“I...hate...you” Gamora moaned, staring at the ceiling. Quill noted her other foot, still dry, was curled up protectively like a flower, the sole a sea of wrinkles. The assassin’s face was flushed to the roots of her red hair.
“Are you...crying?” He asked, stifling a laugh.
Gamora shot him a glare. “No. I am not.”
“So you won’t cry if I play this little piggy on your other foot.”
A squeal burst from the huntress’ mouth at the sudden prospect. She jerked both feet away as Peter burst out laughing. “Looks like the tough bounty hunter has ticklish digits. Don’t worry I won’t tell.” He knelt down and pretended to drag his fingers up and down the length of her soles. “But only if you let me test them out!”
With one foot coated in saliva, Peter's fingers did twice the damage. Gamora's tough exterior cracked after just ten minutes. Begging between barks of laughter, the assassin finally told Quill her name. She glared at him as he danced across the room, chanting it.
How could I be so ticklish? Gamora slumped on the table, breathing heavily, as she stared at the ceiling. Her hair had become sweaty and now clung to her face, obscuring some of the ceiling pipes. Nonetheless, she could feel the reverberation across the table as Quill suddenly threw his weight on it, now leaning forward.
She closed her eyes, wincing, as his cold fingers grabbed each side of her waist.
“OK Gamora. Now tell me, what were you doing on Tama? We can do this the easy way or the hard way.”
“Please just no more tickles-EEK!” She flew to the left as Peter gave her right side a big squeeze.
“Come on Gamora, work with me here.” She couldn’t see his face, but was the bumbling idiot chuckling right now? Asshole! The condescending tone in his plea would have infuriated her more if the hands jabbing her sides weren’t already filling her head with mindless ticklish shrieking.
“Oh wow, you are a squirmer,” Peter commented, watching her flat green stomach flail about, jerking upwards as far as the restraints would allow. While the prisoner’s torso was carefully pinned in one place, the effects of his tickling had travelled to the other free parts of her body. Her heels banged against the metal table edge, her long green fingers curled up in helpless fists and her head thrashed about, mouth wide open in laughter, hair flying.
“A real squirmer. Y’know when I was three, my aunt used to come over and tickle me before I went to bed. All it did was tire me out and make me all sleepy. I guess people react differently.”
“I HAHAHA DON”T CARE AAHAHAHA JUST STOOP!” Gamora couldn’t believe he was telling stories about his aunt while she was suffering like this.
“Well you gotta tell me why you were on Tama, dummy!” Peter spread his hands like she was missing the obvious point. “Come on it’s not like I enjoy making a fellow bounty hunter suffer.”
“SH-SHUT UP AHAHA!”
“On that note, maybe you should reconsider bounty hunting,” teased Quill sympathetically. Then he leaned down, pursing his lips, and said in a baby voice. “Given you’re so tickwish after all. Isn’t that right?”
Gamora let out a frustrated, wordless snarl that articulated her helplessness as she felt his fingers trail down her bare leg down to her feet again. The green skinned woman flexed her foot away but Peter just grabbed her foot, fingers sinking into her sole
.
“Oh looks like I’ve caught some tickwish toes. I wonder who they belong to?” He whispered in a conspiratorial tone. “Let’s find out.”
Her foot in his hand, he began to wriggle his fingers into her trapped sole while playing with her stomach with his other hand. The table shook and rattled audibly as Gamora screamed, fighting an impossible battle to escape.
“Woah there!” Trying to tickle and hold her squirming foot with just one hand proved too difficult. After digging his fingers into her soft arch a few more times, Peter retracted his hand, wincing at the pain in his wrist. He shook his head; torturing was hard work, even for an intergalactic legend like Star-lord. Needing an easier target, he began kneading her ribs just under her armpits.
“NO! NO! NO! HAHAHAHAH!”
Gamora’s restrained body was still immobile although from the pitch in her laughter, the upper ribs were clearly a sore spot. Like her stomach, each ridge was glistening with sweat so maybe that made it worse.
The truth was, with his fingers looming over her ticklish armpits and ribs, Gamora also got a faceful of her dopey tormentor, the one making her lose her composure, her pride, inches from her own face. Being forced to laugh and beg incoherently while Peter’s stupid smile filled her vision made the tickling a hundred times worse for the seasoned bounty hunter.
“Just tell me Gamora. Tell me what I need to know. I could tickle you all day.”
“I HATE YOUUAHAHAHAHA!”
“What was that?” Peter dug harder into her armpits.
“NOOOAHA!” Gamora howled, desperately trying to close her arms. “I”M SORRY I DIDN”T MEAN IT HAHAHAHA!”
“Oh someone’s getting punished now!” His fingers returned with vigor, now exploring the stretched length of her half-naked torso, even teasing the pronounced lines of her hip bones that vanished into her pants. For once, Gamora’s long and athletic midsection worked against her, providing a whole canvas of ticklish nerves for Peter to work on. When her struggles became muted, he’d move down to her feet again, racing his fingers over her arches and under her toes, until like an engine starting back up, Gamora began laughing again.
After thirty minutes, Gamora slammed her head back onto the table, her hair covering her whole face. Fragile, helpless giggles expelled from her lips as Peter’s fingers brushed the hair aside, revealing her features again. She was breathing raggedly, and began to cough a bit.
“Maybe we need a break,” said Quill. He sat back up, wiped his forehead. “Phew, what a work out.”
Gamora sucked big lungfuls of air. She felt dizzy with exhaustion, her soles tingling with phantom tickles.
“I would not want to be the idiot tickling you without those restraints,” laughed Peter shaking his head. “That was crazy.”
“The next person who touches me,” panted Gamora. “Will die.” With sweat dripping over her face, she brushed it away with the back of her hand. Soreness reverberated across the muscles in her arm after being tied down for so long.
“Yeah…” chuckled Peter, turning around.
He stared at her freed arm.
She stared at it. Then at the broken restraint swinging off the edge of the table.
Two seconds later, Peter’s face was pressed against the steel floor, his arm screaming in pain behind him, and the warm sole of Gamora’s foot pressed over his skull, her weight pinning him down.
“Wait! Wait!”
“I’m going to break you,” Gamora said. “And it is going to be really really cathartic.”
“I’m on your side!” A second later, the doors blew open, expelling hot black smoke. The impact threw Gamora across the room, her back hitting the wall. She staggered up on her bare feet, shakily, as what appeared to be a massive tree stepped into the room carrying four Terrans in its arms. Riding atop its shoulder, was a pet raccoon.
“I was buying time,” coughed Peter, dusting himself up. “Look, no one has less love for authorities than me. I could care less why you were on Tama or what you want to be called.” He winced as alarms blared across the compound. “Um, want to come along?”
I want to bury my fist in your face. But getting caught would probably be a death sentence from the Terrans. Gamora hopped on one foot as she shoved her bare feet into her boots. “Fine. But first chance I get, I’m leaving.”
“Sounds good.” agreed Quill. “Honestly, I bet we’ll never see each other again.”
“My father used to bring me here,” Gamora said, rolling the amber in her glass. “He used to say that bounty hunting was the lowest of the low. Killing and capturing for no better reason than money.”
The barkeep, a huge alien with a metal arm encrusted with pink cybernetics, gave a whumpf from all five nostrils. “What was your father, a saint?”
“He likes to think of himself as one.” The green skinned hunter cracked a thin smile. “But we all have our small fantasies.”
“Hey! Hey!” Bounty hunters and rogues snarled angrily as the pale skinned Terran enforcers muscled their way through the crowd. Clad in matching gray plates, they filed as neat as real soldiers from their over-expensive war ships.
Probably think of themselves as real soldiers, Gamora mused, watching their bluster of weapons. Here on Tama, bluster was everything. There was no law, no order, no ethics; a complete sinkhole where morality went to die. And for the last three months while she hid from her father, it’d been her home. So Gamora crossed one knee of the other, folded her arms, and watched the Terran enforcers make fools of themselves.
“Um...you should get out of here, little lady,” muttered the barkeep. “Not that I care, but those assholes have been picking a fight with everyone. They think they're the new rulers of this planet, with their laws and ships and matching tidy-whities.”
“Rules on Tama,” Gamora tested the foreign words on her tongue. “Who’d want to colonize this hellhole?”
“It’s bounty hunting they want a monopoly on. Been taking all the jobs.”
“And no one’s put a stop to them?”
A massive concussion shook the bar, sifting dust down from the ceiling. Cocking his blaster, the Terran Enforcer stepped through the hole, a huge grin plastered over his face. “Get us something good, bartender.” He mimed blasting another charge. “We caught ourselves the fucking jackpot!”
Cheers rang outside even as the bar’s residents sighed, dipped their rakish hats lower, hunched their shoulders, and brooded in darker corners, as the barkeep looked at Gamora and then nodded to the smoking hole as if to say ‘that’s why’.
“So they have big guns,” Gamora tipped her second drink to her lips. And absolutely no aim.
The old her would have got up and left. Packed her things, slipped into her battered Star-runner and took off to the next galaxy. If anyone tried to stop her...well...Thanos was universally feared but for the past six years she’d been the one spreading that fear across the seven realms.
It’d be so easy. There's always be bounty hunting somewhere. No love lost.
And yet something felt different this time.
“Hey! You there!” The same Terran was back. He cuddled next to her and flashed a big smile. “Are you waiting for your boyfriend?”
Gamora caught his hand right before it stroked her hair. One twist, one shove, and the Terran was on his knees, gasping, his stool rolling aside, a shaft of bone jutting out of his elbow. Sweat poured off his face as he stumbled and kicked feebly.
“I’m single,” Gamora answered, finishing her drink slowly with the other hand. “Why?” She twisted his arm further, inciting pathetic whimpers. “You interested?”
He went for the gun - of course he did - and Gamora kicked it without looking. She pivoted her grasp, tangled her fingers in his hair, and touched her knife to his bare throat. She stared at the rest of the bar. “Not a move if you want your friend to keep his voice box.”
Across the room, every Terran blaster was trained on her as a dozen pale skinned soldiers fanned hesitantly closer. At her words, they froze.
The green skinned assassin swept her gaze across their ranks. “You call yourselves bounty hunters? You can’t do anything without outnumbering the enemy like ants. It’d be hilarious if it wasn’t so insulting to the business.” She shoved her hostage forward, gave him a kick in the ribs. “Get your asses off Tama. You don’t belong here.”
They gaped at her.
“Well?” Gamora stepped forward. Her thumbs tickled the double swords crossed behind her hips. “Are we going to stand around here all day?” She now stood in the center of their circle, surrounded. “Or are we going to fight?”
And just when the huntress felt like she was doing something good, something right, a sudden pain ripped between her shoulder blades. The sharp tang of ozone assaulted her nose. Shit! Gamora strained her shoulders, forced herself, gasping with exertion, to turn around.
“You were wrong,” muttered the barkeep. He limbered his metal arm back into its holstered form, bright with electrical discharge. “It’s not that they have big guns.” He shrugged. “It’s big pockets.”
Gamora let out a soundless scream as she was tossed over one Terran’s shoulder like a sack of potatoes. She felt her wrists cuffed behind her. All of her training, all of her deadly skill was useless as her body fought to recover from the five hundred volts arcing through her blood.
“Hey..hey.” A pathetic, wheedling voice brought Gamora to her senses.
Her eyes snapped open. Assessed the situation. She was laid out on a metal table, her arms, legs, waist, and neck strapped by belts. Whoever had captured her had taken the liberty to strip her of her weapons and most of her clothes. The green skinned bounty hunter wore only her pants, and black tank top, exposing her bare arms. Even the laces on her boots had been removed although the boots themselves stayed thankfully on her feet. Being a hunter who’d traversed innumerable landscapes, Gamora had always felt a twinge of vulnerability at being unshod. As such, her booted feet dangled heavily off the edge of the table by her ankles, free to kick but not much else.
“Hey...you awake?”
She couldn’t see who the speaker was. The strap on her neck dug into her as she struggled.
“Hey...are you-”
“Yes, I am awake,” she snapped.
“OK cool.” The voice paused. “What’s your name?”
Gamora stiffened. “I’m not telling you that.”
“Well hey we’re in this together. I’ll tell you mine. I’m Starlord.”
Gamora blinked. “Your name is not Starlord.”
“What’s wrong with Starlord?” He sounded genuinely hurt.
“That is the most brainless title I have ever heard of. Are you the owner of a star?” she hissed.
“Technically no.”
“Then it doesn’t make sense.”
“Well what does your name mean?”
Gamora opened her mouth. And then closed it. Heat rushed up her neck as she tried to think of something to say. Unfortunately for her, she’d spent the last ten years carving bodies, not honing wit. “Can you just shut up? We’re about to be tortured.”
“Unless your name is Star-lady, and you’re just, like, really embarrassed right now.”
I’m tied up and helpless and next to an idiot. If this was some sort of Terran torture, it was kind of effective.
The door slid open. A tall Terran woman in robes flanked by two Terran guards stepped in. Her white wispy hair floated over a bag of wrinkles and two piercing blue eyes. “Ah our two trouble prisoners,” she smiled. “Who the Galactus are you two bad eggs? We don’t have a single file on either of you, not even your names.”
“I don’t have a name,” hissed Gamora just as her companion belted, “Call me Starlord!”
“Lies clearly.” The old Terran tapped a dusty nail on the lip of Gamora’s boot. “You have a very impressive bounty record my dear. Some call you the most dangerous woman in the universe. I’m sure your enemies have less flattering titles.”
She turned around. “And no one would be dumb enough to call themselves Starlord.”
“What are you going to do with us?” Gamora asked.
“Whatever I want, my dear. But I’d prefer not to do anything. I’d prefer we all get along and tell each other what we want to know like...where that relic you found happens to be.”
Starlord chuckled. “I’ll tell you what granny, you can stab me all you want but I’m never telling you about the infinity stones.”
What? Gamora felt her throat tighten. Did she hear that right?
“How about this. The two of you are bounty hunters no? I’d prefer not to get my hands any dirtier than they already are.” The old woman crackled. “What better reason does a bounty hunter need to turn on each other? Starlord, if you can make our ice queen here talk, I’ll give you your freedom. Not like I actually believe in the infinity stones. Ha! Fairy tales!”
“Are you sure about this?” asked one of the guards.
“He’s harmless,” the crone waved. “And I don’t want to work today. Report it to J’son Himself for all I care.” She waved a claw at Gamora. “And look how beautiful this one is! If he fails, I say we just sell her at the next brothel we pass. Too risky to kill someone who might have connections.”
“Well this awkward.” Somehow Starlord looked exactly how Gamora had imagined he’d look. A goofy Terran face atop a broad frame, with clumsy looking fingers and a dopey smile. This man is a bounty hunter? “So...I guess I have to torture you.”
She turned her head aside. “Don’t embarrass yourself.”
“I’ll have you know.” Starlord cracked his knuckles. “I’m pretty dangerous myself.”
The intercom buzzed to life. The two of them winced as laughter rocketed down from the ceiling, the old crone’s mixed with her guards too.
“OK!” The pudgy Terran threw up his hands. “I’m sick of everyone treating me like a joke. Starlord is a good name! And I have a cool helmet. And...and a gun.”
Gamora grinned. “A gun.”
“That’s it. Fine. My name is Peter Quill.” He glared at her. “And you are going to have the torture of a life time.”
“Are you going to make me laugh to death?”
“Not. A. Bad. Idea.” He moved to her legs, grabbed the toes and heels of her boots. “I noticed you winced when the old woman touched your feet.”
“What? Hey!” Gamora struggled, not believing it, as Peter wrestled her boots off. He set them aside, her bare feet dangling off the table. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“On Earth, we have a way of punishing naughty girls.” He gave each of her green soles a light stroke. “And you, ‘most dangerous woman in the universe’, have been very naughty.”
Gamora clenched her teeth, tried not to flinch away. “Do not touch my feet. I swear I will kill you.”
For a bounty hunter, Gamora’s feet were surprisingly long and athletic-looking, with slender, slightly bony, toes. The deep green of her skin faded to a paler soft looking green at her soles, which contrasted nicely with her dark leather pants.
“Don’t do it,” ordered the assassin. “Don’t you dare.”
“What? This?” Quill swiped his finger again across the length of Gamora’s sole, sending bolts of ticklish sensation up her leg. This time, she recoiled, curling her toes. “Wow...you are really ticklish aren’t you?”
“Shut it!”
“What kind of bounty hunter is ticklish? You don’t even have calluses.” The abominable Terran began gently scratching two fingers on the center of each foot, making Gamora sputter and gasp, waving her trapped hands.
“This is adorable,” announced Quill. “I wish I had my camera.”
“Aaaargh!” Gamora growled through clenched teeth. It was really hard to stay intimidating.
“Here comes the little piggy.” He dragged his finger diagonally across her sole, leaving a pale line. Gamora gasped, horror settling in as she felt him grab her little toe.
“No no no no no stop!”
“This little piggy went to the market.” He started teasing the underside of her pinky toe, wiggling his fingernail into the soft delicate skin at the base of her toe. A wanton screech of laughter rocketed out of Gamora as she buckled on the table.
“This little piggy stayed home.” He played with her next toe, rendering the warrior in a fit of giggles as her sensitive webbing between both toes was explored and teased.
“This little piggy had roast beef.” Quill scratched under her middle toe causing her to sputter and giggle, her foot flapping up and down uselessly.
“This little piggy had none.” Quill leaned forward and licked the bottom of her index toe up all the way to the pad of the toe. The touch of his hot slimy wet tongue on her dry bare foot made Gamora scream, pounding the table.
“And this little piggy went wee wee wee all the way home.” Now he enveloped her big toe inside his mouth, sucking greedily. Gamora howled, fighting for release. This only made it worse, as her toe began scraping and wiggling inside the hot wet chamber of his mouth. Quill popped the rest of her long slender into his mouth too for good measure, and when he said, ‘wee wee wee’ he raked his fingers up and down Gamora’s helpless sole, making her scream even louder as she thrashed her trapped digits all around in Quill’s mouth.
For the Terran, he was loving it. Despite her personality, he found her toes delicious, savoring the plush pads and the hard backs of her nails and the length of each toe too. He squirmed his tongue between her toes, bullying them apart so he could wedge his tongue into the soft webbing between her toes. He'd also drag his tongue horizontally, tasting each toe. After a few minutes, he finally gave her a break and popped the toes back out, tied by a few strings of saliva.
“I...hate...you” Gamora moaned, staring at the ceiling. Quill noted her other foot, still dry, was curled up protectively like a flower, the sole a sea of wrinkles. The assassin’s face was flushed to the roots of her red hair.
“Are you...crying?” He asked, stifling a laugh.
Gamora shot him a glare. “No. I am not.”
“So you won’t cry if I play this little piggy on your other foot.”
A squeal burst from the huntress’ mouth at the sudden prospect. She jerked both feet away as Peter burst out laughing. “Looks like the tough bounty hunter has ticklish digits. Don’t worry I won’t tell.” He knelt down and pretended to drag his fingers up and down the length of her soles. “But only if you let me test them out!”
With one foot coated in saliva, Peter's fingers did twice the damage. Gamora's tough exterior cracked after just ten minutes. Begging between barks of laughter, the assassin finally told Quill her name. She glared at him as he danced across the room, chanting it.
How could I be so ticklish? Gamora slumped on the table, breathing heavily, as she stared at the ceiling. Her hair had become sweaty and now clung to her face, obscuring some of the ceiling pipes. Nonetheless, she could feel the reverberation across the table as Quill suddenly threw his weight on it, now leaning forward.
She closed her eyes, wincing, as his cold fingers grabbed each side of her waist.
“OK Gamora. Now tell me, what were you doing on Tama? We can do this the easy way or the hard way.”
“Please just no more tickles-EEK!” She flew to the left as Peter gave her right side a big squeeze.
“Come on Gamora, work with me here.” She couldn’t see his face, but was the bumbling idiot chuckling right now? Asshole! The condescending tone in his plea would have infuriated her more if the hands jabbing her sides weren’t already filling her head with mindless ticklish shrieking.
“Oh wow, you are a squirmer,” Peter commented, watching her flat green stomach flail about, jerking upwards as far as the restraints would allow. While the prisoner’s torso was carefully pinned in one place, the effects of his tickling had travelled to the other free parts of her body. Her heels banged against the metal table edge, her long green fingers curled up in helpless fists and her head thrashed about, mouth wide open in laughter, hair flying.
“A real squirmer. Y’know when I was three, my aunt used to come over and tickle me before I went to bed. All it did was tire me out and make me all sleepy. I guess people react differently.”
“I HAHAHA DON”T CARE AAHAHAHA JUST STOOP!” Gamora couldn’t believe he was telling stories about his aunt while she was suffering like this.
“Well you gotta tell me why you were on Tama, dummy!” Peter spread his hands like she was missing the obvious point. “Come on it’s not like I enjoy making a fellow bounty hunter suffer.”
“SH-SHUT UP AHAHA!”
“On that note, maybe you should reconsider bounty hunting,” teased Quill sympathetically. Then he leaned down, pursing his lips, and said in a baby voice. “Given you’re so tickwish after all. Isn’t that right?”
Gamora let out a frustrated, wordless snarl that articulated her helplessness as she felt his fingers trail down her bare leg down to her feet again. The green skinned woman flexed her foot away but Peter just grabbed her foot, fingers sinking into her sole
.
“Oh looks like I’ve caught some tickwish toes. I wonder who they belong to?” He whispered in a conspiratorial tone. “Let’s find out.”
Her foot in his hand, he began to wriggle his fingers into her trapped sole while playing with her stomach with his other hand. The table shook and rattled audibly as Gamora screamed, fighting an impossible battle to escape.
“Woah there!” Trying to tickle and hold her squirming foot with just one hand proved too difficult. After digging his fingers into her soft arch a few more times, Peter retracted his hand, wincing at the pain in his wrist. He shook his head; torturing was hard work, even for an intergalactic legend like Star-lord. Needing an easier target, he began kneading her ribs just under her armpits.
“NO! NO! NO! HAHAHAHAH!”
Gamora’s restrained body was still immobile although from the pitch in her laughter, the upper ribs were clearly a sore spot. Like her stomach, each ridge was glistening with sweat so maybe that made it worse.
The truth was, with his fingers looming over her ticklish armpits and ribs, Gamora also got a faceful of her dopey tormentor, the one making her lose her composure, her pride, inches from her own face. Being forced to laugh and beg incoherently while Peter’s stupid smile filled her vision made the tickling a hundred times worse for the seasoned bounty hunter.
“Just tell me Gamora. Tell me what I need to know. I could tickle you all day.”
“I HATE YOUUAHAHAHAHA!”
“What was that?” Peter dug harder into her armpits.
“NOOOAHA!” Gamora howled, desperately trying to close her arms. “I”M SORRY I DIDN”T MEAN IT HAHAHAHA!”
“Oh someone’s getting punished now!” His fingers returned with vigor, now exploring the stretched length of her half-naked torso, even teasing the pronounced lines of her hip bones that vanished into her pants. For once, Gamora’s long and athletic midsection worked against her, providing a whole canvas of ticklish nerves for Peter to work on. When her struggles became muted, he’d move down to her feet again, racing his fingers over her arches and under her toes, until like an engine starting back up, Gamora began laughing again.
After thirty minutes, Gamora slammed her head back onto the table, her hair covering her whole face. Fragile, helpless giggles expelled from her lips as Peter’s fingers brushed the hair aside, revealing her features again. She was breathing raggedly, and began to cough a bit.
“Maybe we need a break,” said Quill. He sat back up, wiped his forehead. “Phew, what a work out.”
Gamora sucked big lungfuls of air. She felt dizzy with exhaustion, her soles tingling with phantom tickles.
“I would not want to be the idiot tickling you without those restraints,” laughed Peter shaking his head. “That was crazy.”
“The next person who touches me,” panted Gamora. “Will die.” With sweat dripping over her face, she brushed it away with the back of her hand. Soreness reverberated across the muscles in her arm after being tied down for so long.
“Yeah…” chuckled Peter, turning around.
He stared at her freed arm.
She stared at it. Then at the broken restraint swinging off the edge of the table.
Two seconds later, Peter’s face was pressed against the steel floor, his arm screaming in pain behind him, and the warm sole of Gamora’s foot pressed over his skull, her weight pinning him down.
“Wait! Wait!”
“I’m going to break you,” Gamora said. “And it is going to be really really cathartic.”
“I’m on your side!” A second later, the doors blew open, expelling hot black smoke. The impact threw Gamora across the room, her back hitting the wall. She staggered up on her bare feet, shakily, as what appeared to be a massive tree stepped into the room carrying four Terrans in its arms. Riding atop its shoulder, was a pet raccoon.
“I was buying time,” coughed Peter, dusting himself up. “Look, no one has less love for authorities than me. I could care less why you were on Tama or what you want to be called.” He winced as alarms blared across the compound. “Um, want to come along?”
I want to bury my fist in your face. But getting caught would probably be a death sentence from the Terrans. Gamora hopped on one foot as she shoved her bare feet into her boots. “Fine. But first chance I get, I’m leaving.”
“Sounds good.” agreed Quill. “Honestly, I bet we’ll never see each other again.”
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