World of Laughter, World of Tears
by Kimberly Drake
"Captain's log, stardate 52341.8. The Enterprise is in orbit around Alpha
Draconis VII, here to investigate the disappearance of the Federation
survey vessel Kukulkan six weeks ago. The Kukulkan was on a routine
mapping and contact mission, and no cause for the ship's disappearance has
yet been found. I am sending down an away team to investigate what appears
to be wreckage on the surface."
Commander Riker, Lieutenant Worf, Counselor Troi, and Doctor Crusher
materialized in a shower of golden energy on the surface of the planet. It
was Class M in all respects-- an oxygen/nitrogen atmosphere, about 15
degrees temperature, and gravity within a few points of Earth Normal. All
in all, the planet could have been described as idyllic. There were a
number of plant species around the beam-down point, all of which were
closely analogous to Earth types. The buzzing of insects and the chirping
of small mammals could be heard in the distance.
The away team had beamed down in a small clearing about a quarter of a
kilometer from the suspected crash site. Riker immediately produced a
tricord-er and began to scan the area for signs of higher life-forms. Worf
immediately drew a phaser and scanned the trees for signs of hostile
life-forms. "This way," said Riker, nodding roughly northward.
The trek through the light wood was pleasant enough, even if their
mission was far from a pleasant one. They reached the site within a few
minutes, and it was immediately apparant. A long burned trench scared the
landscape, ending in a twisted mass of metal roughly recognizble as a
Federation survey vessel, roughly big enough for four people. "I'm not
sensing anything," said Troi. All four of them began to fan out around
the wreckage, searching for any clues... or bodies. They found no bodies.
What they did find was the ship's log, an emergency back-up which Worf
found after only a few minutes' searching. All of them were grateful that
Dr. Crusher's services weren't needed. That meant that at least some of
the crew had survived the crash. But where could they be?
"Commander," said Worf, pointing to the ground. "Look here! Footprints."
The rest of the away team came over to the Klingon security chief, and
Riker commented, "Humanoid. But these were made by no Federation-issue
boot. Natives?"
Troi spoke up. "Our records indicate that this planet is inhabited by
humanoids, at a quite barbaric level of culture. Approximately class D on
Richter's Scale. That's about all we know about them; the Kukulkan was the
first ship to do a detailed survey of this planet."
"Okay," said Riker. "I think it's likely that the crew was taken by the
natives, either by force or by their own volition. Worf, where's the
nearest settlement?"
"Approximately one kilometer to the North, sir. And the footprints lead
in that direction," replied the massive Klingon.
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From: TrekRev@cybernetics.net (Tied&Tickled)
Newsgroups: alt.sex.fetish.startrek
Subject: New Story: World Of Laughter P2/7
Date: Sun, 22 Jan 1995 14:33:36 +1000
Organization: cybernetx
Lines: 75
Distribution: world of XTrek
Message-ID: <TrekRev.48.003C332E@cybernetics.net>
NNTP-Posting-Host: mrgdrench3.cybernetics.net
Keywords: Tickled
X-Newsreader: Trumpet for Windows [Version 1.0 Rev B]
Hello fellow crewmen... uh ... I mean crewpersons!!! I found this story on a
little newsgroup called alt.sex.fetish.tickle. Thought you might enjoy it!
RED ALERT!! RED ALERT!! This story contains scenes of explicit tickling! If
this is prohibited by your Prime Directive... read no further:
Subject: World of laugter 2
Date: 21 Jan 1995 14:11:05 -0500
The away team had reached a bluff overlooking a small primitive village.
Smoke from cooking fires could be seen trailing up into the yellow sky,
and the people looked quite humanoid. They were dressed in skins and rough
cloth, as far as the away team could tell.
"What do you make of it, Worf?"
"Nothing we cannot handle, Commander," replied the Klingon. He looked at
his tricorder. "There is some sort of interference that is making an exact
reading impossible, but it is likely that the crew of the Kukulkan is
here."
"Source of the interference?"
"The underlying bedrock contains a sizeable quantity of Livirium. It is
interfering with the functioning of our tricorders, and will do the same
to the ship's sensors."
"All right. Worf, you and I will scout ahead, go to the edge of the
village. Deanna, I want you and Dr. Crusher to wait here. We won't be
long." Worf and Riker left into the trees.
They reached the edge of the village unopposed, and everything seemed
peaceful enough. Riker went back to were Crusher and Troi were... And
stopped cold. They were gone. He tapped his communicator. "Worf, get over
here now!"
Within seconds, the Klingon was beside Riker. Both were staring down at
the ground. Signs of a struggle were obvious, and the only indication that
the women had been there at all were their two shining communicators
glistening in the loam. Riker picked them up, the only way they could have
found Troi and Crusher. He tapped his own communicator.
"Enterprise. Two to beam up."
Their capture had been swift and efficient. Right after Worf and Riker
had left them, Troi and Crusher had been set upon by four of the natives.
With blinding quickness, their phasers and tricorders had been taken, and
their communicators removed. Despite their struggles, both members of the
away team were spirited down the other side of the bluff and into one of
the rude huts. There, their hands were tied behind their backs with
leather thongs and their ankles were similarly bound. A single guard
remained behind.
Soon after their arrival in the village, an attractive woman of middle
years entered the hut, motioning for the guard to leave. She was tall,
with blonde hair, dressed in the same animal skins that the other
villagers had been wearing. She carried herself with an obvious air of
command.
"E'cho v'rontak porondo vessla?" the woman said. Without their
communicators, and the instant access to the ship's Universal Translator,
they were totally unable to understand her. The woman repeated the phrase,
but got the same blank stares. With frustration evident, she called for
the guard and pointed at Troi. She smiled evilly, and said "Pontu. Pontu
era e'cha trondith o menta." The guard nodded grimly and hefted Troi over
his shoulder.
Without any outward signs, Troi reached out with her mind, tried to read
the state of the blonde woman's emotions. She found a remarkably
well-ordered mind. There were strong currents of duty, protectiveness, and
apprehension; all of which were normal for primitives confronting aliens.
But Troi also sensed an overwhelming aura of maliciousness from the woman;
she meant them no good, and there was no mistaking that.
"Recommendations?" said Picard. The command staff had been assembled in
the Observation Lounge as soon as news of Troi's and Crusher's abduction
was received. "We could go in with a full security detail. The natives'
weaponry is no match for ours," commented Worf.
"And risk the natives killing their captives in the ensuing battle. No. I
won't risk the lives of my people, or the lives of the crew of the
Kukulkan."
"Perhaps a more stealthy approach is warranted," suggested Data, the
android helmsman. "A discreet search could be accomplished by an away
team, as long as they were sufficiently cautious. A visual inspection will
be necessary, because of the ineffectiveness of our sensors."
"Make it so," said Picard. The meeting broke up, with Riker, Data, and
Worf heading for the bridge turbolift.
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From: TrekRev@cybernetics.net (Tied&Tickled)
Newsgroups: alt.sex.fetish.startrek
Subject: New Story: World Of Laughter P3/7
Date: Sun, 22 Jan 1995 14:35:14 +1000
Organization: cybernetx
Lines: 71
Message-ID: <TrekRev.49.003DAEF0@cybernetics.net>
NNTP-Posting-Host: mrgdrench3.cybernetics.net
Keywords: Tickled
X-Newsreader: Trumpet for Windows [Version 1.0 Rev B]
Hello fellow crewmen... uh ... I mean crewpersons!!! I found this story on a
little newsgroup called alt.sex.fetish.tickle. Thought you might enjoy it!
RED ALERT!! RED ALERT!! This story contains scenes of explicit tickling! If
this is prohibited by your Prime Directive... read no further:
Subject: World of laughter 3
Troi's treatment was none too gentle, and she was hardly surprised. She
was led into a hut which seemed to be shunned by the other villagers and
her clothes were roughly stripped from her. Within the hut there seemed to
be various crude mechanical devices whose ultimate uses were totally
obvious. This could be nothing else but the village torture chamber.
Troi was set down on a long table, her wrists clamped within iron clamps
attached to the head of the table, ablove her head. The guard locked her
ankles in similar clamps at the other end. Troi was securely fastened and
quite helpless.
"E'chi trondith?" Asked the blonde woman. The guard had left the hut.
"I don't understand you!" Said Troi in frustration. "I don't know what
you want!"
The blonde woman let out a sigh. She walked across the hut to the foot of
the table. "Ursh pendro e'chi trondith," she said, the evil smile once
again playing across her face. Troi probed her mind and found
anticipation, that same overpowering malice, and... a touch of... lust?
Troi could see the woman's eyes scanning her naked form, bound spread
eagle on the table. Yes, there was definitely an undertone of desire to
her thoughts.
"If you give me back my communicator, we could speak to one another!"
pleaded Troi. Of course, she knew there was no use; without the
translator, she could not get her communicator. And without the
communicator, she could not use the translator. By now, the woman was
ignoring her, intently studying something on the wall of the hut. She
turned around, and in her hand was a long frond, with dense leaves. It
seemed almost featherlike in its softness. Gently, almost delicately, the
woman brushed the edges of the frond against the sole of Troi's small
foot. What was this? thought Troi. She flinched, and her toes curled
reflexively at the sensation on her sole. The woman stroked her other foot
with the featherlike frond, and Deanna's reaction was similar. She tried
to pull her foot away, but it was no use; the iron bands held her tight.
Since she had been a little girl, Troi had been quite ticklish. It was a
fact her playmates had caught on to early and taken advantage of at every
opportunity.
She sensed satisfaction from the woman. "E'chae trondith," the blonde
said, nodding her head knowingly. Troi was still confused. But soon
everything was made clear. Her captor began to wiggle the edge of the
frond against the soles of her feet, causing the most maddening, ticklish
sensations she'd ever felt. And with her feet held so securely by the iron
bands, there was no way for her to escape! She flexed her toes in
frustration.
On and on the blonde went, and the tickling torture continued. The frond
was flicked against her soles, heels, and toes, and it was all Troi could
do to keep from laughing out loud. A tear formed in her eye, and it
silently rolled down her cheek. When the featherlike frond was dragged
between her toes, however, it was too much for her.
The laughter bubbled up from within her, and, once released, it would
never be contained. The tickling continued, and she began laughing
uncontrollably. "Hehehehehehe!!! No more!!! Plehehehehehese!" she begged.
But the blonde went on, satisfaction evident in her thoughts.
She began to use her fingertips, rather than the frond, to continue the
tickling, but it was no relief to Troi. The woman's fingertips glided over
Troi's soles, from her heels to her toes, and everywhere in between.
"E'chae trondith!" shouted the woman in glee. Troi could do nothing but
continue her convulsive laughter.
Soon, however, the object of the blonde's attentions moved from Troi's
feet. She once more held the frond in her hand, and began stroking the
half-Betazoid's stomach with the supple tendrils. Immediately Deanna,
already exhausted from the tickling of her feet, began to laugh
uncontrolably. The very tip of the frond was flicked gently against her
skin at the very verge of her bellybutton, and it was like all the
torments of hell rolled into one. Deanna's stomach began to hurt from
laughing so much
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From: TrekRev@cybernetics.net (Tied&Tickled)
Newsgroups: alt.sex.fetish.startrek
Subject: New Story: World Of Laughter P4/7
Date: Sun, 22 Jan 1995 14:38:45 +1000
Organization: cybernetx
Lines: 73
Message-ID: <TrekRev.50.0040E819@cybernetics.net>
NNTP-Posting-Host: mrgdrench3.cybernetics.net
Keywords: Tickled
X-Newsreader: Trumpet for Windows [Version 1.0 Rev B]
Here we go again!!!
Remember this is NOT my story and all standard disclaimers apply.
Subject: World of Laughter 4
The woman kept up the torture, combining the tickling on Troi's stomach
with fingertips grazing her soles, resulting in the utmost agony for the
ship's counselor.
Then, however, the tickling gently, slowly, stopped. Deanna could sense
that the emotions of malice were being overwhelmed by those of lust. Troi
could feel the blonde's mouth surrounding her big toe, the hot, wet tounge
dancing around the pad of the toe like a Regulan eel-bird. The woman went
to each of her toes in turn, sucking, rhasping, using the tip of her
tounge to gently tickle Troi's toes. Troi realized that it was more than a
little exciting in a sexual way-- the feel of the hot, wet tounge on her
sensitive flesh, the knowledge that she was completely helpless to prevent
it. And, she realized, the tickle torture she had previously endured had
only hightened her sensitivity sexually. She was quite wanting at that
point.
Just as abruptly as they had been captured, the sensations stopped. Troi
looked closely at the blonde. She was perspiring profusely, breathing in
short pants, glaring at Troi with what she knew was a mixture of contempt
and nearly uncontrolable desire. She moved towards the table on which Troi
was secured with a look of feral desire on her face.
The second landing party consisted of Riker, Worf, and Data. They crept
silently into the village, night having fallen some hours ago. The light
from nuerous cooking fires and torches illuminated the village, and the
many shadows hid them from view.
They moved towards the nearest large hut, realizing that, since the vast
majority of the huts were of the same size, those would probably be the
living quarters for the village inhabitants. Data went first, and peered
through the doorway. Before him was a communal workshop of some kind, but
it was what was being made that caused him alarm. "Phasers, sir," he told
Riker soon thereafter. They are making unmistakeable copies of Federation
phasers." "How is that possible, with this level of technology? Could
they be merely replicas?" Asked Worf.
"Negative. I was able to positively identify both a Federation crystal
alignment chamber and an Andorian coil impact mold. Such implements would
not be necessary to merely emulate the exterior characteristics of a
phaser, and are beyond this planet's current level of technology. I
believe we are faced with the inescapable conclusion that some exterior
force is at work here." The android looked expectantly at Riker.
"I am forced to agree with you, Mr. Data." Riker tapped his communicator.
"Riker to Enterprise. Three to beam up."
The night had passed without Crusher seeing anything of Troi. She had no
idea where Troi might have been taken, or what might have happened to her.
Crusher had tried not to sleep, tried to be alert for any opportunity to
escape. But the guards were changed every few hours, and there was no
chance. By morning Crusher had slept for a few hours, despite her wishes.
Her wrists and ankles felt numb, the tight leather cords digging into her
flesh. But she counted herself lucky; she didn't even know if Deanna Troi
was alive. At the first hint of morning, a guard entered the hut and
carried her outside. The morning was still chill, but bearable. She
noticed that the village seemed to be rousing itself in this hour or so
before the day's light. The fires were started once more, and the scents
of cooking reached her nose, reminding her how hungry she was. The guard
carried her, without seeming effort, to a small bowl-shaped depression at
the center of the village. Some sort of wooden contraption was evidently
in permanent place there, and it was towards it that her guard steadily
walked. Reaching it, Crusher noticed that it consisted of a bench of some
sort, next to a vertical board with two circular holes cut in it. The
guard sat her down on the bench and untied her ankles. With a sigh of
relief she rotated her feet, trying to regain the lost circulation in her
ankles. Crusher, still somewhat dazed from the whole experience, hardly
noticed as the guard took hold of her legs and swung her around. It was
only then that she noticed the vertical board opened up. The guard set her
ankles in the circular holes and closed the wooden topbar down. It was
only after he began tying the length of leather cord around the end that
Crusher noticed that she could not move her feet. It was some sort of
primitive stocks. And, since her hands were still tied behind her back,
there was no way for her to free herself!
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From: TrekRev@cybernetics.net (Tied&Tickled)
Newsgroups: alt.sex.fetish.startrek
Subject: New Story: World Of Laughter P5/7
Date: Sun, 22 Jan 1995 14:40:43 +1000
Organization: cybernetx
Lines: 77
Message-ID: <TrekRev.51.0042B750@cybernetics.net>
NNTP-Posting-Host: mrgdrench3.cybernetics.net
Keywords: Tickled
X-Newsreader: Trumpet for Windows [Version 1.0 Rev B]
Here we go again!!!
Remember this is NOT my story and all standard disclaimers apply.
Tim
Subject: World of Laughter 5
The guard, satisfied that Crusher was secure in the stocks, proceeded to
yank off her boots. Her long and slender feet stuck out of the wooden
frame. Crusher was left barefoot and helpless in the stocks, her hands
tied behind her. The guard left.
The first person who happened along was a small girl, hardly more than
six or seven years old. She had scraggly blonde hair that fell about her
shoulders, and her face was smudged with dirt. Crusher tried to smile,
gain some sort of trust from her. To her immense relief, the child smiled
back at her, and then spoke. "E'chi trondith?" the child asked. Crusher,
having no idea what she said, merely kept smiling. The young girl then
reached towards Beverly's left foot, and traced a line with her index
finger down the length of the doctor's sole. Dr. Crusher let out a
startled gasp and started to giggle, despite herself. This apparently
delighted the child, who proceeded to wiggle her fingers against Beverly's
helpless soles. The doctor started to laugh out loud, unable to help
herself. She began to beg the girl to stop, even though she knew it was
useless without her communicator.
"Heheheheheh!!!! P-please stop! No more!!! Hahahahah!" But it was no
use. The small girl continued to tickle her trapped feet, brushing her
small fingers from Crusher's soft heels to the tips of her toes, treating
it as if it were some sort of game. Crusher was in agony, her helpless
laughter filling the air. She barely managed to gulp down enough air in
between bouts of convulsive laughter. As the tickling torture went on,
Crusher began to notice something beyond the haze of the torment she
experienced. A certain heat within her, a fire that was being fed with
every stroke against her soles... The tickling, though she would have done
anything to make it stop, was making her incredibly aroused! It was thus
doubly maddening-- the incessant stimulation of her soles and the
unfulfilled agony between her legs.
Eventually, the girl seemed to tire of her sport with the doctor's feet.
She ran away, laughing and waving at Crusher, whom she left exhausted.
Tracks of tears streamed down her cheeks from the forced laughter. Having
regained both her breath and her composure, Crusher noticed that the
village had come to life, with its many inhabitants going about their
daily business, largely ignoring her. Occasionally, one would stare at
her, or whispers would be spoken between two people as they passed. As if
she could understand what they said in the first place!
Riker, Data, and Worf had beamed down once more, and this time they had
much better luck in finding their missing comrades. At least, they found
one of them. Skulking around between several of the rude huts, they heard
the unmistakable sound of Dr. Crusher's voice, laughing. That struck them
all as highly odd, and they went over as stealthily as they could to
investigate. They managed to reach a place of concealment in a pile of old
barrels, from which they had a clear view of the doctor. She was sitting
on a bench, her hands tied behind her back, and her feet locked into
stocks of some kind. Two of the natives were in front of her, stroking the
soles of her feet with some kind of soft leaf frond. Each native girl had
taken a foot, and were apparently engaged in some kind of contest. First
one of them would brush the frond against Beverly's foot, forcing a steady
stream of laughter from her. Then that one would stop and the other would
take over, tickling Crusher's other foot. The two of them alternated like
that for some time, and Crusher was nearly beyond reason. All she could do
was laugh helplessly, incapable of even moving her feet. The native girls
who were torturing the doctor in this way were two of a kind; both wide
and plump, with long brown hair and dressed in the same animal skins they
all seemed to wear. Once in a while, one would decline to use the frond
and would take to tickling Crusher with her fingertips, which would cause
yet another eruption of laughter from the exhausted doctor.
"Is there nothing we can do?" asked Worf, frustrated. "They are torturing
her!"
"I know," replied Riker. "But we have to wait until she's left alone. If
we can get just a few seconds alone with her, we can beam out of here."
"But what of Counselor Troi, Commander?" asked Data. "We'll have to come
back for her, Data. I don't like it any more than you, but now that we've
found Dr. Crusher, we can't take the chance of losing her again." The
android nodded, satisfied with the reasoning.
At length, the two native girls wandered off to do their chores, their
game completed. Crusher still shook from the residual sensations, and was
gasping to recover her breath. Riker looked around, and none of the
villagers seemed to be looking in the doctor's general direction. "Now,"
he said.
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From: TrekRev@cybernetics.net (Tied&Tickled)
Newsgroups: alt.sex.fetish.startrek
Subject: New Story: World Of Laughter P6/7
Date: Sun, 22 Jan 1995 14:44:17 +1000
Organization: cybernetx
Lines: 59
Message-ID: <TrekRev.52.0045F78E@cybernetics.net>
NNTP-Posting-Host: mrgdrench3.cybernetics.net
X-Newsreader: Trumpet for Windows [Version 1.0 Rev B]
Well?? Are you enjoying so far??? Tickled Pink??? or is that Pickled Tink?
Still NOT my story. Still standard disclaimers apply
Tim
Subject: World of Laughter 6
by Kimberly Drake
The three rushed across the short expanse of open field that lay between
them and the doctor, and finally reached her. "Thank goddness!" she said
once they had made it to her. "I don't think I could have taken any more!"
Data snapped the leather strap holding the stocks closed, and they freed
Crusher's feet. She stood up hesitantly. "Do you have any idea where
Deanna is?" asked Riker hurredly. He was looking around to make sure the
villagers didn't notice the escape.
"No," replied Crusher. "She was taken last night, and I haven't seen her
since."
"Damn," said Riker as he tapped his communicator. "Riker to Enterprise.
Four to beam up."
"Everything fits," Riker was saying in the briefing room. "The phasers
were being produced with modern methods and materials, and I can't believe
it was an accident that the village just happened to be located on top of
a Livirium deposit. Someone is definitely at work here from off-world."
"Agreed," said the Captain in his deep baritone voice. "But who? And
why?" Data spoke up. "Unknown sir. But I believe I may have a way of
piercing the natural sensor interference and pinpointing the location of
the Kukulkan's crew, as well as that of Counselor Troi."
"Make it so, Mr. Data," replied the Captain, standing to return to the
Bridge. "And quickly. Based on Dr. Crusher's experiences, there is no
telling what could be happening to them down there."
Troi had spent the day chained to a stake in the same building in which
she had been tortured-- and pleasured-- the night before. She was still
without clothing, but at least she had been fed, and that raised her
spirits. She knew that the Enterprise would never abandon the search for
her, but she also knew how hard it would be to both rescue her and stay
within the boundaries of the Prime Directive. They couldn't just march
through the place with a squad of Worf's security people.
Around nightfall, a guard (Troi couldn't tell if it was the same one she
had seen before-- the previous night was all a blur to her) unchained her
ankle and led her out of the hut. The night was chill against her bare
skin, and she began to shiver. Soon, however, she was led to a large
fire. There, she saw a long bench with another board perpendicular to it.
The second board had holes cut into it at regular intervals. Across from
her she saw two other women. They were barefoot and their clothing was
badly torn, but there was no mistaking what they were wearing. Starfleet
uniforms!
"You're from the Kukulkan?" asked Troi, as they were led over to the
stocks.
Both women looked startled. One was tall and blonde, and wore the
insignia of a Lieutennant. The other was about the same height as Troi,
and was black. Her uniform was torn off where her rank would have been
displayed. "Yes," said the black woman. "Are you Starfleet, too?"
Troi realized that she was totally naked, and blushed, seeking to cover
herself in any way. "Yes, Counselor Deanna Troi, from the starship
Enterprise. We were here to rescue you, but it seems that I'm the one who
needs to be rescued," she added ironically. "We found the wreckage of
your ship. What happened?"
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From: TrekRev@cybernetics.net (Tied&Tickled)
Newsgroups: alt.sex.fetish.startrek
Subject: New Story: World Of Laughter P7/7 Final Chapter
Date: Sun, 22 Jan 1995 14:47:44 +1000
Organization: cybernetx
Lines: 77
Message-ID: <TrekRev.53.004920D7@cybernetics.net>
NNTP-Posting-Host: mrgdrench3.cybernetics.net
X-Newsreader: Trumpet for Windows [Version 1.0 Rev B]
And last but not least the final chapter!! Hope ya liked it.
Still Not my story. Apply all applicable disclaimers and whatever else is
necessary.
Tim:["""
Subject: World of Laughter 7
by Kimberly Drake
They could not continue, as they were seated at the bench. All three
women found their feet being placed in the holes, their ankles secured in
the stocks. Their hands were then tied behind their backs. They then, all
three of them, were bound in the stocks, right next to one another. They
were no more than a foot apart from each other.
Troi had a good idea of what was about to happen, and was dreading it.
She saw the blonde woman from the night before, and could sense more lust
within her. That made Troi blush once more. The blonde native made a short
speech to the assembled villagers, who cheered and clapped as three young
native girls, each about fifteen years old, stepped forward, one in front
of each of the prisoners. "E'chi trondith?" each native asked her
respective prisoner. When no answers were forthcoming, each grinned at
the others and the crowd cheered once more. "They've tortured us like
this every night for the last six weeks," the blonde said hastily to
Troi. "I'll go mad if I have to go through it agahehehehehehehehehen!!!!"
She began to laugh as the raven-haired native in front of her began to
wiggle her fingertips across her captive's soles.
The black woman was whimpering, obviously trying to hold in her laughter.
But it was a useless gesture. She wiggled and crossed her toes, trying to
delay what was inevitable. Within minutes, the merciless stroking of her
soles had tears streaming down her cheeks and her laughing out loud.
Troi held out the longest, enduring the maddening caresses, trying to
fight back the laughter that welled up within her. But then, just as it
had done before, it was being tickled between her toes that opened the
floodgates. She began to giggle uncontrollably, and then the giggles
turned into outright uncontrolled laughter. She heard the helpless
laughter of the other women, and was joining in wholeheartedly. Every
stroke of the young girl's fingertips against the soles of her trapped
feet increased the maddening torments she felt. At one point, the girl
would gently glide her fingers slowly up and down the arches of her feet,
and then would suddenly shift to rapidly wiggling them against her toes.
The other woman had been right-- it was maddening! Vainly, she tried to
wiggle her feet, cross her toes, anything to escape the torturing touch
of the native girl. But it was no use. She was obviously an expert at
what she was doing, and none of Troi's desperate tricks slowed the pace
of the tickling one bit.
The torture continued for what felt like hours, without any respite. But
then, suddenly, Troi felt a rush of hope. She began to feel the familiar
tingling sensation that preceded transportation! She began to see the
characteristic blue sparkle around her body, and the bodies of the other
Federation captives, and then she was suddenly sitting on the floor of
the transporter chamber. Reflexively, she curled up in a ball and began
to sob with relief. The two other captives were there with her, and
joined her in her emotional release. Riker was there, and put a blanket
around Troi, covering her nakedness, and hugged her gently. "You're
home," he said. "It's over."
Picard was filling the Counselor in on what exactly had happened.
"Shortly after Commander Riker and the away team returned to the ship the
last time, we picked up an alien vessel entering the system. She didn't
respond to our hails, but we were able to positively identify her as an
Orion ship. It seems that the Orions have been selling high-technology
weapons to the natives here in exchange for their minerals."
"What of the rest of the Kukulkan's crew?" asked Crusher, also standing
on the bridge, cleaned up and recovered from her ordeal on the planet.
"According to Commander Hardy's report, the other two crewmen were killed
on impact. It seems they encountered another Orion vessel, which opened
fire and caused them to crash. The Federation is lodging a formal protest
against Orion and there are going to be reparations made, rest assured."
"Reparations," repeated Troi.
"Deanna," said Picard, with great feeling in his voice, "if there were
any way I could undo what happened to you and Dr. Crusher on that
planet..."
"I understand, Captain," said Troi. But, remembering the wild, blonde
woman, with her sensations that were both horrible torture and wildest
pleasure, she wasn't sure if she would want to have it undone.
Although they didn't realize it, Troi and Crusher were thinking the same
thing.