tarr2k1
TMF Regular
- Joined
- Dec 30, 2002
- Messages
- 257
- Points
- 0
Part 44
Lara did not blend in well. She was a very unique combination of hard and soft - she could walk into a biker bar and arm wrestle any person in the place, yet she also had curves that, well, usually could only be properly described in pulp detective novels. Still, they had done their best, and at the moment Lara was dressed as an unassuming maintenance worker in a baggy uniform. Even in the high-tech realm of the Terran Empire there was need for actual human beings to run checks on all the machinery and robots, so it allowed Lara to poke about unobserved.
She'd found the building that Seven had been traced to; fortunately, it was a civilian dwelling, not a military or otherwise secure place. Still, there was quite a bit of security, and Lara was hard-pressed to get inside to scope out the interior. The place was practically a self-contained gated community, complete with their own security force to deal with trouble. And, of course, their target was in the most prestigious and secure part of the building. Lara just hoped that Seven would appreciate all the trouble she was going through for that stupid Borg cow.
--------------------------------------------------------------
Seven had spent the night in her room, alone. He may have been very open about what he and Seven had done, but when it was all done he shared his bed with Grace and left Seven in the servant quarters. Which, of course, was how it should be, she knew. Grace may be a robot, but she was Ronald's wife, his partner for life. Seven was there to add a little spice, do some other minor tasks, and in return she knew her master would provide all her physical and emotional needs. Still, she had to admit a twinge of jealousy as he and Grace kissed before his departure. It was ironic that Seven of all people would feel that way, and towards a machine!
After he had left, Grace turned to Seven. There was still no sign of hostility despite the fact that her husband had done several things with and to Seven most wives would call a divorce lawyer about. Instead she gave Seven a warm smile and took her hand, leading her back into her servant quarters. "Ronald gave me some instructions on what should be done with you,” Grace explained. "Take a seat.
Seven was surprised as the floor opened and a pair of stocks and a bench emerged. Knowing what was probably coming, Seven slipped off her shoes and took a seat, putting her feet into place. The stocks sealed themselves, and for added measure, grabbed hold of her toes and held them in a tight, immobile grip. "I'm supposed to test and see how well you react to certain stimuli," Grace explained, taking a seat in front of Seven's helpless feet. Seven nodded and waited, steeling herself for the experience. Grace reached out her delicate fingers and began lightly scratching with her nails across Seven's instep. Seven was almost immediately offering light laughter, but that soon deepened as the tickling intensified. Grace was scratching a bit more than she had been, and was going up and down the instep more. Grace stopped for a moment. "Interesting," she said. She went back to it, and Seven was quickly laughing very hard as Grace started working over even more of her stretched-out soles. "It's an interesting phenomenon; pleasure, pain, those I understand, but the way this prompts laughter, makes you struggle... it's very hard to understand. It's something no one has ever managed to program into an electronic brain."
"You can't be tickled?" Seven asked during the break in the session.
"No. It's quite surprising, but the other mysteries were far easier than this. For example, touch: I can feel the same way as you can; when Ronald makes love to me, everything I say, every moan and whispered word is genuine. But this is something I can't experience." It was odd the way she looked, as if this human weakness was the holy grail for her. Or maybe Seven was finally seeing the tiny bits of resentment Grace had. Seven was here because she could provide one thing that Grace couldn't that Ronald enjoyed. Maybe, just maybe, he would decide that it was enough that he'd elevate Seven to taking her place. It was a horrible thing to think, of course, but Seven couldn't help it. Logically, she was the better choice -- she could do everything Grace could do and more. And Grace, being a machine at heart, had to know this. And yet, there was nothing she could do about it, because if that was Ronald's choice then it fell to her to make him happy, even if it meant being replaced. Seven knew how it worked, knew that Grace loved him, even though her heart was as genuine as the Tin Woodsman's, but that it's first choice would always be whatever made him the happiest. It wasn't because of gender - her male counterparts were under the same position with their human wives, and were just as frequently replaced. But that did nothing to make it less worrisome.
"I would help you if I could," Seven said, and meant it. Grace was kind to her, all things considered, and it would be something that'd make Ronald happy too. Having two tickle-victims would certainly spice up things.
"I'm afraid this isn't something I could ever learn," Grace said diplomatically. "I'll just have to get used to you and your horribly ticklish body." And with that she began scratching furiously on Seven's soles, until she was shrieking with laughter. Her scurrying nails ran up and down, from heel through the instep to ball and back again. After a little while, to Seven's surprise, she began adding little teases to the tickle torture. "Cootchie cootchie coo," Grace sang. "Cootchie cootchie. My, what a ticklish servant. I couldn't have imagined Ronald could find someone so ticklish in all the universe. Cootchie cootchie." Seven laughed hard shaking her head while squeezing her hands into fists to try to endure. Grace was learning very quickly, and Seven was yanking hard on the stocks to try to get away from her wriggling fingers.
"How are the toes?" Grace asked, deftly running up the soles and scratching along the base of the toes while Seven squealed. "Are they ticklish as well?" Her fingers danced and Seven clenched and unclenched her hands, laughing hysterically. "Oh yes, they are. Is there any place the poor servant isn't ticklish?" Her nails ran along the toes again and again while Seven could only laugh helplessly.
Well, not helplessly. She could reach out at any time and yank Grace's hands away. But the idea of doing that was so completely alien that it never crossed her mind. Ironic in a way that an intellect as expansive as hers could no longer pick up on so simple of a thought, but after all that had happened there were boundaries in her mind now. It was her job, her duty, her very purpose, to do whatever she was told to do, and to be happy for the privilege. So, if Ronald's robot wife wanted to tickle her until she passed out from exhaustion, then that's what would happen. Seven could no more disobey than she could make water run uphill.
Eventually, Seven was released, and Grace helped her to her feet. "How do you feel?" Grace asked.
"Fine, ma'am," Seven said.
"Just fine?"
Seven looked into her beautiful, dark features. "I don't understand the question, ma'am." Before anything further could be said, Grace tenderly kissed her lips. Instinctively, Seven closed her eyes and returned it. It was very familiar. Grace took Seven to the latter's bed, and they made love for a time. It was different than it had been the day before, and there was a bit of melancholy to it for Seven for some reason she couldn't understand, but still, it was a wonderful experience overall.
"Ronald told me that tickling was often an aphrodisiac for some women," Grace explained. “I see it is in your case."
"So will the three of us be working together from now on?" Seven asked, uncertain how to phrase the question, for the entire concept was beyond her experience.
"Sometimes," Grace said with a smile. "Now, get dressed, we're heading downtown to tend to some errands; you will assist me."
"Yes, ma'am," Seven said, and dutifully got dressed. Her attire outside the home was far more tasteful, but she was still required to wear a collar to indicate her status, to avoid any confusion or - impossible though it was for Seven to imagine - any attempt to run off. The collar did nothing, it just had a tracker inside and couldn't be removed without the authorization code. It was quite harmless and relatively discrete, but Seven did resent it slightly, if only because it was a tactile symbol of mistrust.
As the two left the suite Seven fell in step just a small ways behind Grace, as was to be expected. She avoided making eye contact with others, as she'd been taught... but still, there were some things she couldn't help but notice, like the face of the woman inspecting the windows. Seven watched as they approached, her mind processing so quickly that it seemed that they were merely crawling up the hall. Seven knew that face... knew that person. Lara Croft... from Crossroads. The memories had not been locked away, she'd just refused to allow herself to dwell upon them. But at the sight of her the memories of who they were presented themselves. She was Seven's teammate. Was she here to help?
Seven remembered her... the fiendish look as she had tickled Seven's helpless body. The glare that had challenged Seven, saying that for all her Borg enhancements Lara was still superior to her. The way she locked Seven up in the binders by tricking her. The way she'd nearly shot an unarmed man. No, Lara was not a nice person... she wasn't here for Seven's well-being, she was here to destroy her only chance at happiness!
To everyone's shock, Seven went from demure servant to super-agent in the blink of an eye. She grabbed Lara before the latter could react, caught the blaster pistol as Lara tried to bring it up, and yanked it from her grip. Lara elbowed her in the face, so Seven tossed her hard into the opposite wall, grabbing her as she rebounded off, and pinned her to the floor. The entire affair had taken less than three seconds.
"What's going on?" Grace demanded.
"This woman is a spy," Seven said.
"Idiot!" Lara like a steam kettle. "I'm here to help you!"
Seven spun her back over and pinned her down on the floor, staring into her eyes. "When have you ever helped me?" Seven demanded.
Lara looked into her eyes, and she knew that Seven couldn't be reasoned with. She just waited as the security bots arrived to take her into custody, wondering what could have done that to Seven... and what she herself would be in store for here.
Lara did not blend in well. She was a very unique combination of hard and soft - she could walk into a biker bar and arm wrestle any person in the place, yet she also had curves that, well, usually could only be properly described in pulp detective novels. Still, they had done their best, and at the moment Lara was dressed as an unassuming maintenance worker in a baggy uniform. Even in the high-tech realm of the Terran Empire there was need for actual human beings to run checks on all the machinery and robots, so it allowed Lara to poke about unobserved.
She'd found the building that Seven had been traced to; fortunately, it was a civilian dwelling, not a military or otherwise secure place. Still, there was quite a bit of security, and Lara was hard-pressed to get inside to scope out the interior. The place was practically a self-contained gated community, complete with their own security force to deal with trouble. And, of course, their target was in the most prestigious and secure part of the building. Lara just hoped that Seven would appreciate all the trouble she was going through for that stupid Borg cow.
--------------------------------------------------------------
Seven had spent the night in her room, alone. He may have been very open about what he and Seven had done, but when it was all done he shared his bed with Grace and left Seven in the servant quarters. Which, of course, was how it should be, she knew. Grace may be a robot, but she was Ronald's wife, his partner for life. Seven was there to add a little spice, do some other minor tasks, and in return she knew her master would provide all her physical and emotional needs. Still, she had to admit a twinge of jealousy as he and Grace kissed before his departure. It was ironic that Seven of all people would feel that way, and towards a machine!
After he had left, Grace turned to Seven. There was still no sign of hostility despite the fact that her husband had done several things with and to Seven most wives would call a divorce lawyer about. Instead she gave Seven a warm smile and took her hand, leading her back into her servant quarters. "Ronald gave me some instructions on what should be done with you,” Grace explained. "Take a seat.
Seven was surprised as the floor opened and a pair of stocks and a bench emerged. Knowing what was probably coming, Seven slipped off her shoes and took a seat, putting her feet into place. The stocks sealed themselves, and for added measure, grabbed hold of her toes and held them in a tight, immobile grip. "I'm supposed to test and see how well you react to certain stimuli," Grace explained, taking a seat in front of Seven's helpless feet. Seven nodded and waited, steeling herself for the experience. Grace reached out her delicate fingers and began lightly scratching with her nails across Seven's instep. Seven was almost immediately offering light laughter, but that soon deepened as the tickling intensified. Grace was scratching a bit more than she had been, and was going up and down the instep more. Grace stopped for a moment. "Interesting," she said. She went back to it, and Seven was quickly laughing very hard as Grace started working over even more of her stretched-out soles. "It's an interesting phenomenon; pleasure, pain, those I understand, but the way this prompts laughter, makes you struggle... it's very hard to understand. It's something no one has ever managed to program into an electronic brain."
"You can't be tickled?" Seven asked during the break in the session.
"No. It's quite surprising, but the other mysteries were far easier than this. For example, touch: I can feel the same way as you can; when Ronald makes love to me, everything I say, every moan and whispered word is genuine. But this is something I can't experience." It was odd the way she looked, as if this human weakness was the holy grail for her. Or maybe Seven was finally seeing the tiny bits of resentment Grace had. Seven was here because she could provide one thing that Grace couldn't that Ronald enjoyed. Maybe, just maybe, he would decide that it was enough that he'd elevate Seven to taking her place. It was a horrible thing to think, of course, but Seven couldn't help it. Logically, she was the better choice -- she could do everything Grace could do and more. And Grace, being a machine at heart, had to know this. And yet, there was nothing she could do about it, because if that was Ronald's choice then it fell to her to make him happy, even if it meant being replaced. Seven knew how it worked, knew that Grace loved him, even though her heart was as genuine as the Tin Woodsman's, but that it's first choice would always be whatever made him the happiest. It wasn't because of gender - her male counterparts were under the same position with their human wives, and were just as frequently replaced. But that did nothing to make it less worrisome.
"I would help you if I could," Seven said, and meant it. Grace was kind to her, all things considered, and it would be something that'd make Ronald happy too. Having two tickle-victims would certainly spice up things.
"I'm afraid this isn't something I could ever learn," Grace said diplomatically. "I'll just have to get used to you and your horribly ticklish body." And with that she began scratching furiously on Seven's soles, until she was shrieking with laughter. Her scurrying nails ran up and down, from heel through the instep to ball and back again. After a little while, to Seven's surprise, she began adding little teases to the tickle torture. "Cootchie cootchie coo," Grace sang. "Cootchie cootchie. My, what a ticklish servant. I couldn't have imagined Ronald could find someone so ticklish in all the universe. Cootchie cootchie." Seven laughed hard shaking her head while squeezing her hands into fists to try to endure. Grace was learning very quickly, and Seven was yanking hard on the stocks to try to get away from her wriggling fingers.
"How are the toes?" Grace asked, deftly running up the soles and scratching along the base of the toes while Seven squealed. "Are they ticklish as well?" Her fingers danced and Seven clenched and unclenched her hands, laughing hysterically. "Oh yes, they are. Is there any place the poor servant isn't ticklish?" Her nails ran along the toes again and again while Seven could only laugh helplessly.
Well, not helplessly. She could reach out at any time and yank Grace's hands away. But the idea of doing that was so completely alien that it never crossed her mind. Ironic in a way that an intellect as expansive as hers could no longer pick up on so simple of a thought, but after all that had happened there were boundaries in her mind now. It was her job, her duty, her very purpose, to do whatever she was told to do, and to be happy for the privilege. So, if Ronald's robot wife wanted to tickle her until she passed out from exhaustion, then that's what would happen. Seven could no more disobey than she could make water run uphill.
Eventually, Seven was released, and Grace helped her to her feet. "How do you feel?" Grace asked.
"Fine, ma'am," Seven said.
"Just fine?"
Seven looked into her beautiful, dark features. "I don't understand the question, ma'am." Before anything further could be said, Grace tenderly kissed her lips. Instinctively, Seven closed her eyes and returned it. It was very familiar. Grace took Seven to the latter's bed, and they made love for a time. It was different than it had been the day before, and there was a bit of melancholy to it for Seven for some reason she couldn't understand, but still, it was a wonderful experience overall.
"Ronald told me that tickling was often an aphrodisiac for some women," Grace explained. “I see it is in your case."
"So will the three of us be working together from now on?" Seven asked, uncertain how to phrase the question, for the entire concept was beyond her experience.
"Sometimes," Grace said with a smile. "Now, get dressed, we're heading downtown to tend to some errands; you will assist me."
"Yes, ma'am," Seven said, and dutifully got dressed. Her attire outside the home was far more tasteful, but she was still required to wear a collar to indicate her status, to avoid any confusion or - impossible though it was for Seven to imagine - any attempt to run off. The collar did nothing, it just had a tracker inside and couldn't be removed without the authorization code. It was quite harmless and relatively discrete, but Seven did resent it slightly, if only because it was a tactile symbol of mistrust.
As the two left the suite Seven fell in step just a small ways behind Grace, as was to be expected. She avoided making eye contact with others, as she'd been taught... but still, there were some things she couldn't help but notice, like the face of the woman inspecting the windows. Seven watched as they approached, her mind processing so quickly that it seemed that they were merely crawling up the hall. Seven knew that face... knew that person. Lara Croft... from Crossroads. The memories had not been locked away, she'd just refused to allow herself to dwell upon them. But at the sight of her the memories of who they were presented themselves. She was Seven's teammate. Was she here to help?
Seven remembered her... the fiendish look as she had tickled Seven's helpless body. The glare that had challenged Seven, saying that for all her Borg enhancements Lara was still superior to her. The way she locked Seven up in the binders by tricking her. The way she'd nearly shot an unarmed man. No, Lara was not a nice person... she wasn't here for Seven's well-being, she was here to destroy her only chance at happiness!
To everyone's shock, Seven went from demure servant to super-agent in the blink of an eye. She grabbed Lara before the latter could react, caught the blaster pistol as Lara tried to bring it up, and yanked it from her grip. Lara elbowed her in the face, so Seven tossed her hard into the opposite wall, grabbing her as she rebounded off, and pinned her to the floor. The entire affair had taken less than three seconds.
"What's going on?" Grace demanded.
"This woman is a spy," Seven said.
"Idiot!" Lara like a steam kettle. "I'm here to help you!"
Seven spun her back over and pinned her down on the floor, staring into her eyes. "When have you ever helped me?" Seven demanded.
Lara looked into her eyes, and she knew that Seven couldn't be reasoned with. She just waited as the security bots arrived to take her into custody, wondering what could have done that to Seven... and what she herself would be in store for here.
