Sablesword
TMF Master
- Joined
- Jun 13, 2001
- Messages
- 787
- Points
- 18
This story is in response to a request by Mangipiedi. I hope he enjoys being a purple-skinned six-fingered alien :cyclopes:
Serena
by Sablesword
“This one self-labels as ‘Serena,’ so we have tagged her as Serina A95B37,” the horned dyronian merchant said.
Ler Mangiapiedi looked over the female lying on the restraint couch. She looked back at him, curiosity on her features. Her dark hair made a pleasing contrast with her pale skin. Her facial features were not unpleasant either, although they marked her as belonging to an obviously barbarian species. A unitard covered her torso, leaving her limbs uncovered, and restraint cuffs held her wrists. These could slide freely along a cable that ran over her waist, from one side of the couch to the other.
Her bare feet were more strictly restrained, ankles crossed and locked in a variable-stock. Her legs, after all, were by far the strongest of her four limbs.
“Does she speak Symbolic, Excellent Merchant?” Mangiapiedi asked.
“No, Ler Mangiapiedi,” the dyronian answered. “Or only a few words.” He turned to the woman. “Tickle?” he suggested.
“Tickle!” Serina answered, following with a spate of gibberish, ending with another “tickle” and a final unidentifiable word.
“Her species - ‘human’ - is new on the market," the dyronian explained. “They have a complex organic language - or possibly more than one - and we haven’t yet developed a template for them. However,” he added, “her species also combines a high capacity for pleasure with a high degree of emotional fire. Many of them actually enjoy struggling.”
“Hmm,” Mangiapiedi responded. “Actually I was interested in a velite, if you have one available.”
“I do, but I think you’ll find this one much more interesting. These ‘humans’ combine the ticklishness of velites with the passion of forumites. It you could open your implants, I will demonstrate.” The merchant sent a command through his own implants, and a tickle field snapped into place about Serena’s feet.
“Ah!” Serena gasped as the colorful tendrils of semi-solid force began to caress the soles of her feet. “Ha…haha…hahahahehe…” She squirmed and giggled as the tickle field sought out and stimulated all the sensitive portions of her feet with irresistible gentleness. It tickled the pads of her toes, and between them, her insteps, and the balls of her feet and the heels as well. No matter how she wiggled, she could not escape. She could move her hands along the restraining cable, but the cable would not let her reach her feet. Her ankles were clamped in place, perfectly immobile. Her feet could wiggle, and could make futile efforts to protect each other, but no matter what Serena did, she could not escape the soft and relentless touch of the tickle field’s tendrils. She could only squirm and laugh.
Mangiapiedi grinned as he watched this performance, sharing Serena’s pleasure through his implant. He, like the dyronian merchant, belonged to one of the senior races of the Spiral Compact. Decadent races, whose members could no longer feel natural pleasure, but only pleasure received through their implants, pleasure broadcast by or recorded from members of the more ‘barbaric’ species. And so members of these barbarian species were kept as pleasure slaves; pampered, indulged – and tickled – to provide the pleasure that their masters could not otherwise feel.
The spherical tickle-field around Serena’s feet snapped off just as suddenly as it had snapped on, and Serena lay back, gasping for breath. Mangiapiedi smoothed the grin from his face and said, “You were correct, Excellent Merchant. That was most interesting. I believe, however, that she would benefit from a more organic touch. If I may?”
The merchant gestured permission, and Mangiapiedi sat, a gravionic chair materializing beneath him. Serena spoke rapidly to him: “[Something something] tickle! [Something something] tickle [something]!”
“Yes, little barbarian, you are to be tickled some more,” Mangiapiedi answered. A purple-skinned hand took the large toe on her left foot, and the six fingers of his other hand began to gently stroke the sole.
“Hahaha...” Serena laughed, “Tickles! [Something] tickles! Heeheeheehee... Ayeee!” Serena suddenly screamed as Mangiapiedi made a sudden tickle-attack, scrubbing with his fingers. Then he fell back to his earlier, gentler tickling, as Serena laughed and squirmed and giggled.
At last Mangiapiedi stopped. He looked up to see the dyronian merchant wearing the smug expression of one who has closed a deal. “Very well then, Excellent Merchant,” he said, making a gesture of resignation. “Let us retire to you office to discuss payments.”
“Certainly, Ler Mangiapiedi,” the merchant answered. “I regret we will not be able to deliver this Serena for some days yet. As I mentioned, we still need to develop a template for her species. And I assume you would prefer that she spoke Symbolic before you took possession of her.”
Mangiapiedi gestured an affirmative. “However, if I might make a recording?” he asked.
“Certainly, Ler Mangiapiedi.”
It took only seconds to prepare to record, plus a few more as Mangiapiedi reprogrammed the tickle field. It snapped back into place around Serena’s feet. “Heeheeheehee,” she giggled. The two non-humans turned to leave. “[Something something something]!” she shouted after them, but they ignored her. “Ah hahaheeheehee! [Something] tickles!”
Left alone, Serena squirmed and struggled, pulling hard against the cord holding her wrists. Uselessly. More laughter poured from her, and her eyes bulged as she realized that the tendrils of the tickle-field were waxing in vigor...
Serena
by Sablesword
“This one self-labels as ‘Serena,’ so we have tagged her as Serina A95B37,” the horned dyronian merchant said.
Ler Mangiapiedi looked over the female lying on the restraint couch. She looked back at him, curiosity on her features. Her dark hair made a pleasing contrast with her pale skin. Her facial features were not unpleasant either, although they marked her as belonging to an obviously barbarian species. A unitard covered her torso, leaving her limbs uncovered, and restraint cuffs held her wrists. These could slide freely along a cable that ran over her waist, from one side of the couch to the other.
Her bare feet were more strictly restrained, ankles crossed and locked in a variable-stock. Her legs, after all, were by far the strongest of her four limbs.
“Does she speak Symbolic, Excellent Merchant?” Mangiapiedi asked.
“No, Ler Mangiapiedi,” the dyronian answered. “Or only a few words.” He turned to the woman. “Tickle?” he suggested.
“Tickle!” Serina answered, following with a spate of gibberish, ending with another “tickle” and a final unidentifiable word.
“Her species - ‘human’ - is new on the market," the dyronian explained. “They have a complex organic language - or possibly more than one - and we haven’t yet developed a template for them. However,” he added, “her species also combines a high capacity for pleasure with a high degree of emotional fire. Many of them actually enjoy struggling.”
“Hmm,” Mangiapiedi responded. “Actually I was interested in a velite, if you have one available.”
“I do, but I think you’ll find this one much more interesting. These ‘humans’ combine the ticklishness of velites with the passion of forumites. It you could open your implants, I will demonstrate.” The merchant sent a command through his own implants, and a tickle field snapped into place about Serena’s feet.
“Ah!” Serena gasped as the colorful tendrils of semi-solid force began to caress the soles of her feet. “Ha…haha…hahahahehe…” She squirmed and giggled as the tickle field sought out and stimulated all the sensitive portions of her feet with irresistible gentleness. It tickled the pads of her toes, and between them, her insteps, and the balls of her feet and the heels as well. No matter how she wiggled, she could not escape. She could move her hands along the restraining cable, but the cable would not let her reach her feet. Her ankles were clamped in place, perfectly immobile. Her feet could wiggle, and could make futile efforts to protect each other, but no matter what Serena did, she could not escape the soft and relentless touch of the tickle field’s tendrils. She could only squirm and laugh.
Mangiapiedi grinned as he watched this performance, sharing Serena’s pleasure through his implant. He, like the dyronian merchant, belonged to one of the senior races of the Spiral Compact. Decadent races, whose members could no longer feel natural pleasure, but only pleasure received through their implants, pleasure broadcast by or recorded from members of the more ‘barbaric’ species. And so members of these barbarian species were kept as pleasure slaves; pampered, indulged – and tickled – to provide the pleasure that their masters could not otherwise feel.
The spherical tickle-field around Serena’s feet snapped off just as suddenly as it had snapped on, and Serena lay back, gasping for breath. Mangiapiedi smoothed the grin from his face and said, “You were correct, Excellent Merchant. That was most interesting. I believe, however, that she would benefit from a more organic touch. If I may?”
The merchant gestured permission, and Mangiapiedi sat, a gravionic chair materializing beneath him. Serena spoke rapidly to him: “[Something something] tickle! [Something something] tickle [something]!”
“Yes, little barbarian, you are to be tickled some more,” Mangiapiedi answered. A purple-skinned hand took the large toe on her left foot, and the six fingers of his other hand began to gently stroke the sole.
“Hahaha...” Serena laughed, “Tickles! [Something] tickles! Heeheeheehee... Ayeee!” Serena suddenly screamed as Mangiapiedi made a sudden tickle-attack, scrubbing with his fingers. Then he fell back to his earlier, gentler tickling, as Serena laughed and squirmed and giggled.
At last Mangiapiedi stopped. He looked up to see the dyronian merchant wearing the smug expression of one who has closed a deal. “Very well then, Excellent Merchant,” he said, making a gesture of resignation. “Let us retire to you office to discuss payments.”
“Certainly, Ler Mangiapiedi,” the merchant answered. “I regret we will not be able to deliver this Serena for some days yet. As I mentioned, we still need to develop a template for her species. And I assume you would prefer that she spoke Symbolic before you took possession of her.”
Mangiapiedi gestured an affirmative. “However, if I might make a recording?” he asked.
“Certainly, Ler Mangiapiedi.”
It took only seconds to prepare to record, plus a few more as Mangiapiedi reprogrammed the tickle field. It snapped back into place around Serena’s feet. “Heeheeheehee,” she giggled. The two non-humans turned to leave. “[Something something something]!” she shouted after them, but they ignored her. “Ah hahaheeheehee! [Something] tickles!”
Left alone, Serena squirmed and struggled, pulling hard against the cord holding her wrists. Uselessly. More laughter poured from her, and her eyes bulged as she realized that the tendrils of the tickle-field were waxing in vigor...
