Prologue
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Part 6
Seven of Nine watched from hiding as the Borg Queen approached the device. Seven had tickle-tortured the Queen on it many times before, but now instead she had a victim there, some red-haired woman. “Our preliminary scans indicate you will be an ideal specimen.”
“Please,” the woman pleaded, “I don’t belong here!”
“Your pleas are irrelevant,” the Queen said neutrally. “We require your cooperation in our study of the humanoid phenomenon known as tickling.”
The woman’s eyes bugged out. “Oh no! Not that! Please no, I’m too ticklish!”
“The attribute of being ‘too ticklish’ is what makes you such an ideal candidate,” the Queen said.
“Please, no!” she begged.
“Cease your protests, they are futile.” The Queen walked over to the equipment and began entering some commands; insidious devices began emerging. The woman pleaded pitiably, but there was no way she would escape the inevitable.
The ceiling opened over the table and a hideous round piece of equipment dropped out, and the woman screamed at the sight of it. Probes and feathers descended from it, and she repeated said “no” in the hopes that it could somehow stop what was about to happen. But it was only a machine, with no independent will, and even if it did, machines felt no empathy. So they snaked towards her, and she almost immediately began screaming with laughter. The tickling was quick and heavy and without mercy. Probes squeezed her ribs and thighs, while others dug into her tummy. More clawed at her underarms, and others poked her flanks. Feathers stroked the bottoms of her feet and swirled inside her navel. And the red-haired girl closed her eyes and roared with unrestrained laughter. “WAHAHAHAHA!!! NO! STOP!!! BWAHAHAHAHA! DON’T TICKLE ME!!! DON’T TICKLE MEEEE-HEHEHEHE!!!”
Time passed, and there was no change. The Queen merely stood there, observing, with neither malice nor enjoyment, but merely to catalogue. And the poor woman could only writhe and plead and laugh, and oh my did she laugh. Long and hard, filled with pleas and curses, helpless as the machine continued to tease and tickle every vulnerable spot from head to toe. After a while it even started feathering her neck and ears, and probes teased her collarbones. Spots with a good response received even more attention, and she began begging for the ticking to end, or if not, to at least be limited, that this was beyond what she could endure. But mercy is irrelevant.
Seven hesitated, in conflict. She should not interfere; it wasn’t her affair. And compounding the issue was the fact that the sight of the red-haired woman being tickled was... stimulating. Yet at the same time, her pitiful cries and desperation moved Seven... she couldn’t allow this poor woman to suffer this way. She slipped a short ways away, entered some commands into a Borg data interface, and watched. Sure enough, the message was properly distributed, and the Queen terminated the session and left. They’d see through the deception quickly, but it was sufficient time for what Seven had in mind. “Are you damaged?” she asked the woman as she began to remove the restraints.
“Just tickled out of my skin, but I’m fine.”
“We must hurry; I was only able to provide a temporary distraction.”
“You’re rescuing me?” The woman looked at Seven with adoration. “Oh, thank you!”
Seven looked uncertainly back, even more conflicted than before. “You are welcome,” she said. “Come here; I will transport us to safety.” The woman grabbed onto Seven, and it was... enjoyable. Seven activated the transporter and they re-appeared in a building on the ravaged world below, but safe from the elements and hopefully from the Borg. “We have adequate provisions,” she assured her companion.
The woman didn’t let go. “You saved me,” she said with disbelief. “You’re so- so wonderful!” Seven was shocked when the woman kissed her on the lips, and even more shocked that it felt so incredible. She felt control of herself slipping, and she had no idea of how much time elapsed before their lips parted. “Thank you,” the woman said, rubbing her face next to Seven’s. “How can I ever repay you?”
“Reparations are not required,” Seven said.
“Oh, but I want to do something,” the woman said. “Let me rub your back for you.”
“That’s not necessary,” Seven said, but the woman had already turned her and begun massaging her shoulders; Seven was surprised by how relaxing it was.
“How’s that?” the woman asked.
“It is... desirable,” Seven said, closing her eyes.
The woman led Seven over to a couch and the two sat down, the rubbing never stopping. After a few minutes she slid her hands under the uniform fabric; skin on skin was even better. Another few minutes, and she began undoing the top of Seven’s uniform; Seven didn’t resist. The woman rubbed all over her shoulders and back and Seven just closed her eyes and relished the massage.
And then her eyes snapped open. She felt the woman’s hands reaching around and holding Seven’s breasts, kneading them as well. Seven closed her eyes again and moaned; she knew theoretically that those glands were there for the purposes of pleasure, but had no idea just what a skilled pair of hands could do with them. The woman squeezed and rubbed Seven’s full breasts while the Borg surrendered to her human nature and leaned into her, yearning for more, hoping the sensation would never stop. Eventually one of the hands did, but it slid down Seven’s body and in between her legs, and Seven let out another long moan. This she also knew from a theoretical standpoint, but the touch was more intense and exhilarating than anything she’d ever imagined. She was groaning rapidly between the hand on her breast and the one between her legs, and she felt the hot breath of the woman behind her on her neck, and for a time it was as if she ceased to be a corporeal creature and was instead merely a mind wrapped in pure joy. And then her body returned as an explosion of pleasure rippled through her being and left her panting in the arms of the red-haired woman.
The woman squeezed Seven in a strong embrace. “Did you like that?” Seven could only nod, she didn’t have the strength to speak. “I’m glad... I love making you feel good, Seven,” she said, and began kissing her neck, and Seven sighed with happiness.
--------------------------------------------------------------
Mara Jade was resting, though she couldn’t sleep. She was watching the girl she rescued lie there, turning occasionally. Her silhouette was... intoxicating. She curved... such beautiful curves. Every shape was perfect, her hips, her legs, her behind, her waist, her chest, it spoke to parts of Mara she’d never expected she had. Something about the sight of her stirred things in Mara. She wanted to take her into her arms and promise to always protect her from anything, to tell her that there would never again be fear or pain, only warmth and safety and... compassion.
Mara looked at the girl, and felt a little of what was there before, but with something else. She looked at her, and she felt desire, but she also felt... close. When she called her “my hero,” it had stirred things in Mara’s tummy. It was nonsensical, and yet, she couldn’t take her eyes off her, couldn’t help but wish she could feel her lips upon hers, to delicately fondle those ample breasts, to feel her body pressed against hers until their pleasure took on a tangible form.
The girl turned over, and Mara stiffened. She smiled at Mara. “You’re beautiful,” she commented, coming over. “May I give you a kiss?” Mara breathed heavily, hesitantly, but then nodded.
But then the unexpected happened. Mara realized that she wasn’t wearing any clothes, and the blond girl wasn’t interested in her mouth. Instead she was kissing Mara’s inner thighs, teasingly heading towards her womanhood. Mara was about to say something when she felt her hot breath there, only to follow it up with a gentle blowing on her clitoris; both sent shivers through Mara’s body. She touched Mara delicately with her fingers, and any thoughts of protests instantly evaporated. She was kissing her, carefully but firmly, stimulating her incredibly. Her tongue was drawn slowly up the entire length of her womanhood, and Mara shuddered. Normally she might describe the tongue as exploring her, but that would be inaccurate; this woman moved like all the exploration had been finished years ago, and now knew by heart every spot to touch and how to touch it, and Mara laid back and moaned with pleasure as she did things to her that were so wonderful it would demean it by referring to it with a mere word.
After it was done, the woman slid up and laid beside her, embracing her where she lay and smiling at her. It was a pretty smile, a smile that said she was happy just by looking at Mara, and Mara found herself feeling the same. Whoever she was... Mara hoped she’d never go away.
The two slept, and then morning came, and she was still there, still smiling at Mara. Mara smirked back as she looked her up and down. “Like what you see?” the blond asked.
Mara let out a small laugh. “Yes,” she admitted.
The blond nuzzled up to her. “You were watching me get tickled.” She let the implication hang there a moment. “You liked it.”
Mara hesitated now. “Yes,” she finally admitted. “You’re... very beautiful. Seeing you laugh was... was arousing.”
The blond smiled at her all the same. “It’s okay. I kind of like it too, it was just that bitch was pushing me too far.” She thought a moment, then slid back and put her foot in front of Mara. “Go ahead,” she said warmly.
Mara looked at the foot, then at her. “Are you sure?”
The blond giggled. “Yes,” she said. “You’re my hero; the least I can do is let you tickle my feet... provided you don’t overdue it.”
Mara took hold of the ankle and looked at the foot. She could feel the girl stiffen in anticipation, but when Mara looked at her she nodded her consent. Mara drew a fingernail down the sole, and the girl gasped. Back up, and she did so again. Faster, and she was giggling... and it was such a beautiful sound. She tickled a little more rapidly, and the giggles turned to chuckles, and they in turn became laughter, and all stirred things inside Mara, each sound giving her a little bit more joy than the last. But she kept the tickling controlled; this was a gift, and she wouldn’t abuse it. Besides that, the thought of seeing this girl crying again would be too much to bear, and to imagine herself as the cause would break her own heart. She tickled her foot and relished it, and looking into the eyes of the girl, she saw it was the same. The laughs and smiles may be involuntary reactions, but that didn’t mean they weren’t still genuine, weren’t still how she felt. Mara tickled her foot, and it felt to her as intimate and joyous as making love.
Mara stopped, put the foot down, and pulled her close. “Are you a dream?” she asked finally. The girl said nothing, and Mara closed her eyes. “Because I don’t want to wake up if you won’t be there.”
The blond hugged her tightly. “I am... something of a dream. I’m... a vision of the future.” She looked into Mara’s eyes, and the Emperor’s Hand felt tears form at the sight of them. “I’ll be waiting for you,” she promised. “When the time is right, you’ll find me. Flesh and blood, I swear it Mara.” She put Mara’s hand over her own heart, and said one last thing-
And then Mara Jade opened her eyes, and found herself in bed, alone. And Mara -who had killed countless people without batting an eye- began crying, as the final words seemed to echo in her mind. “I swear it on my love for you.”
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Part 6
Seven of Nine watched from hiding as the Borg Queen approached the device. Seven had tickle-tortured the Queen on it many times before, but now instead she had a victim there, some red-haired woman. “Our preliminary scans indicate you will be an ideal specimen.”
“Please,” the woman pleaded, “I don’t belong here!”
“Your pleas are irrelevant,” the Queen said neutrally. “We require your cooperation in our study of the humanoid phenomenon known as tickling.”
The woman’s eyes bugged out. “Oh no! Not that! Please no, I’m too ticklish!”
“The attribute of being ‘too ticklish’ is what makes you such an ideal candidate,” the Queen said.
“Please, no!” she begged.
“Cease your protests, they are futile.” The Queen walked over to the equipment and began entering some commands; insidious devices began emerging. The woman pleaded pitiably, but there was no way she would escape the inevitable.
The ceiling opened over the table and a hideous round piece of equipment dropped out, and the woman screamed at the sight of it. Probes and feathers descended from it, and she repeated said “no” in the hopes that it could somehow stop what was about to happen. But it was only a machine, with no independent will, and even if it did, machines felt no empathy. So they snaked towards her, and she almost immediately began screaming with laughter. The tickling was quick and heavy and without mercy. Probes squeezed her ribs and thighs, while others dug into her tummy. More clawed at her underarms, and others poked her flanks. Feathers stroked the bottoms of her feet and swirled inside her navel. And the red-haired girl closed her eyes and roared with unrestrained laughter. “WAHAHAHAHA!!! NO! STOP!!! BWAHAHAHAHA! DON’T TICKLE ME!!! DON’T TICKLE MEEEE-HEHEHEHE!!!”
Time passed, and there was no change. The Queen merely stood there, observing, with neither malice nor enjoyment, but merely to catalogue. And the poor woman could only writhe and plead and laugh, and oh my did she laugh. Long and hard, filled with pleas and curses, helpless as the machine continued to tease and tickle every vulnerable spot from head to toe. After a while it even started feathering her neck and ears, and probes teased her collarbones. Spots with a good response received even more attention, and she began begging for the ticking to end, or if not, to at least be limited, that this was beyond what she could endure. But mercy is irrelevant.
Seven hesitated, in conflict. She should not interfere; it wasn’t her affair. And compounding the issue was the fact that the sight of the red-haired woman being tickled was... stimulating. Yet at the same time, her pitiful cries and desperation moved Seven... she couldn’t allow this poor woman to suffer this way. She slipped a short ways away, entered some commands into a Borg data interface, and watched. Sure enough, the message was properly distributed, and the Queen terminated the session and left. They’d see through the deception quickly, but it was sufficient time for what Seven had in mind. “Are you damaged?” she asked the woman as she began to remove the restraints.
“Just tickled out of my skin, but I’m fine.”
“We must hurry; I was only able to provide a temporary distraction.”
“You’re rescuing me?” The woman looked at Seven with adoration. “Oh, thank you!”
Seven looked uncertainly back, even more conflicted than before. “You are welcome,” she said. “Come here; I will transport us to safety.” The woman grabbed onto Seven, and it was... enjoyable. Seven activated the transporter and they re-appeared in a building on the ravaged world below, but safe from the elements and hopefully from the Borg. “We have adequate provisions,” she assured her companion.
The woman didn’t let go. “You saved me,” she said with disbelief. “You’re so- so wonderful!” Seven was shocked when the woman kissed her on the lips, and even more shocked that it felt so incredible. She felt control of herself slipping, and she had no idea of how much time elapsed before their lips parted. “Thank you,” the woman said, rubbing her face next to Seven’s. “How can I ever repay you?”
“Reparations are not required,” Seven said.
“Oh, but I want to do something,” the woman said. “Let me rub your back for you.”
“That’s not necessary,” Seven said, but the woman had already turned her and begun massaging her shoulders; Seven was surprised by how relaxing it was.
“How’s that?” the woman asked.
“It is... desirable,” Seven said, closing her eyes.
The woman led Seven over to a couch and the two sat down, the rubbing never stopping. After a few minutes she slid her hands under the uniform fabric; skin on skin was even better. Another few minutes, and she began undoing the top of Seven’s uniform; Seven didn’t resist. The woman rubbed all over her shoulders and back and Seven just closed her eyes and relished the massage.
And then her eyes snapped open. She felt the woman’s hands reaching around and holding Seven’s breasts, kneading them as well. Seven closed her eyes again and moaned; she knew theoretically that those glands were there for the purposes of pleasure, but had no idea just what a skilled pair of hands could do with them. The woman squeezed and rubbed Seven’s full breasts while the Borg surrendered to her human nature and leaned into her, yearning for more, hoping the sensation would never stop. Eventually one of the hands did, but it slid down Seven’s body and in between her legs, and Seven let out another long moan. This she also knew from a theoretical standpoint, but the touch was more intense and exhilarating than anything she’d ever imagined. She was groaning rapidly between the hand on her breast and the one between her legs, and she felt the hot breath of the woman behind her on her neck, and for a time it was as if she ceased to be a corporeal creature and was instead merely a mind wrapped in pure joy. And then her body returned as an explosion of pleasure rippled through her being and left her panting in the arms of the red-haired woman.
The woman squeezed Seven in a strong embrace. “Did you like that?” Seven could only nod, she didn’t have the strength to speak. “I’m glad... I love making you feel good, Seven,” she said, and began kissing her neck, and Seven sighed with happiness.
--------------------------------------------------------------
Mara Jade was resting, though she couldn’t sleep. She was watching the girl she rescued lie there, turning occasionally. Her silhouette was... intoxicating. She curved... such beautiful curves. Every shape was perfect, her hips, her legs, her behind, her waist, her chest, it spoke to parts of Mara she’d never expected she had. Something about the sight of her stirred things in Mara. She wanted to take her into her arms and promise to always protect her from anything, to tell her that there would never again be fear or pain, only warmth and safety and... compassion.
Mara looked at the girl, and felt a little of what was there before, but with something else. She looked at her, and she felt desire, but she also felt... close. When she called her “my hero,” it had stirred things in Mara’s tummy. It was nonsensical, and yet, she couldn’t take her eyes off her, couldn’t help but wish she could feel her lips upon hers, to delicately fondle those ample breasts, to feel her body pressed against hers until their pleasure took on a tangible form.
The girl turned over, and Mara stiffened. She smiled at Mara. “You’re beautiful,” she commented, coming over. “May I give you a kiss?” Mara breathed heavily, hesitantly, but then nodded.
But then the unexpected happened. Mara realized that she wasn’t wearing any clothes, and the blond girl wasn’t interested in her mouth. Instead she was kissing Mara’s inner thighs, teasingly heading towards her womanhood. Mara was about to say something when she felt her hot breath there, only to follow it up with a gentle blowing on her clitoris; both sent shivers through Mara’s body. She touched Mara delicately with her fingers, and any thoughts of protests instantly evaporated. She was kissing her, carefully but firmly, stimulating her incredibly. Her tongue was drawn slowly up the entire length of her womanhood, and Mara shuddered. Normally she might describe the tongue as exploring her, but that would be inaccurate; this woman moved like all the exploration had been finished years ago, and now knew by heart every spot to touch and how to touch it, and Mara laid back and moaned with pleasure as she did things to her that were so wonderful it would demean it by referring to it with a mere word.
After it was done, the woman slid up and laid beside her, embracing her where she lay and smiling at her. It was a pretty smile, a smile that said she was happy just by looking at Mara, and Mara found herself feeling the same. Whoever she was... Mara hoped she’d never go away.
The two slept, and then morning came, and she was still there, still smiling at Mara. Mara smirked back as she looked her up and down. “Like what you see?” the blond asked.
Mara let out a small laugh. “Yes,” she admitted.
The blond nuzzled up to her. “You were watching me get tickled.” She let the implication hang there a moment. “You liked it.”
Mara hesitated now. “Yes,” she finally admitted. “You’re... very beautiful. Seeing you laugh was... was arousing.”
The blond smiled at her all the same. “It’s okay. I kind of like it too, it was just that bitch was pushing me too far.” She thought a moment, then slid back and put her foot in front of Mara. “Go ahead,” she said warmly.
Mara looked at the foot, then at her. “Are you sure?”
The blond giggled. “Yes,” she said. “You’re my hero; the least I can do is let you tickle my feet... provided you don’t overdue it.”
Mara took hold of the ankle and looked at the foot. She could feel the girl stiffen in anticipation, but when Mara looked at her she nodded her consent. Mara drew a fingernail down the sole, and the girl gasped. Back up, and she did so again. Faster, and she was giggling... and it was such a beautiful sound. She tickled a little more rapidly, and the giggles turned to chuckles, and they in turn became laughter, and all stirred things inside Mara, each sound giving her a little bit more joy than the last. But she kept the tickling controlled; this was a gift, and she wouldn’t abuse it. Besides that, the thought of seeing this girl crying again would be too much to bear, and to imagine herself as the cause would break her own heart. She tickled her foot and relished it, and looking into the eyes of the girl, she saw it was the same. The laughs and smiles may be involuntary reactions, but that didn’t mean they weren’t still genuine, weren’t still how she felt. Mara tickled her foot, and it felt to her as intimate and joyous as making love.
Mara stopped, put the foot down, and pulled her close. “Are you a dream?” she asked finally. The girl said nothing, and Mara closed her eyes. “Because I don’t want to wake up if you won’t be there.”
The blond hugged her tightly. “I am... something of a dream. I’m... a vision of the future.” She looked into Mara’s eyes, and the Emperor’s Hand felt tears form at the sight of them. “I’ll be waiting for you,” she promised. “When the time is right, you’ll find me. Flesh and blood, I swear it Mara.” She put Mara’s hand over her own heart, and said one last thing-
And then Mara Jade opened her eyes, and found herself in bed, alone. And Mara -who had killed countless people without batting an eye- began crying, as the final words seemed to echo in her mind. “I swear it on my love for you.”
