A More Cheerful Melody

“Ye-MerAAAAW! Sputter.“

Muttering dark words, M’rerallie Clan Chumf finished her shower. Six minutes later, she stepped into the sleeping cabin of Lieutenant Max Anders. He looked her up and down, one hundred and fifty-two centimeters of saturated, dripping feline wrapped in a towel.

“You did that on purpose,” she accused her captor.

“Of course I did, Melody. When I start a shower, I set it to ‘soak’ for my skin.” Max held up a hand, displaying his bare human arm. “When you shower, you need to remember to set to ‘mist’ again.”

“Hmmph.”

“You’ll feel more cheerful after breakfast,” Max promised.

“I suppose.” Melody started forward, only to be stopped by Max’s pointing finger. She nodded and turned aside to put on the slave-thimbles. They fitted over her hands, preventing her claws from extending. She was, after all, mirlivima until the next prisoner exchange, and the proprieties had to be observed.

It didn’t really matter that Max was human and Melody was narnow. A dozen or more species had members on both sides of the divide, humans and narnow among them. It mattered more that Max was male and Melody female. But what mattered the most was that Max piloted a scout ship for the Commonwealth, while Melody flew a starfighter for the Sagittarian pirates. Max had forced that starfighter into stasis during their last encounter, just when she was certain of making him into her captive. It had happened twice before, after all.

But not this time. Melody held up her arms to let Max check the locks. He nodded satisfaction and rose to help her finish drying off.

“Feeling better?” Max asked. They sat before the remains of breakfast, in the mess compartment of Tender 94. The scout pilots were off duty while the next jump was calculated, and a number of them sat scattered about, along with a sprinkling of mirlivima they had captured during the last patrol.

“Maybe,” Melody admitted. “Not really.” She had exchanged the towel for a bright and ornamental costume that showed plenty of fur. It also left her barefoot - and aware of it. Normally she wore boots. In fact, her feet had been declawed when she was a kitten, to allow her to wear boots like a civilized person. But mirlivima were commonly kept barefoot, both in the Commonwealth and among the Sagittarians. In fact, a number of Commonwealth scouts were barefoot even now. Not here in Tender 94, but on board certain pirate ships - the ones that had been successful during the latest engagement. Within a few weeks those scouts would be traded for the pirates being held here in Tender 94, and the game would go on.

In the meantime… “At least I’m dry, now,” Melody said.

“You,” Max said. “You need some cheering up.”

“No I don’t,” came the quick answer.

“Yes you do. You’re going to get it, too,” Max told her. “Finished with breakfast? Let’s go, then.”

Melody still wore the slave-thimbles as she sprawled face-up on the cot in Max’s sleeping cabin. But now more restraints had been added. Memory-leather straps held down her arms, legs, and tail, with her bare feet kept well apart so that neither foot could protect the other. Blunt human fingers ran through her mane and her fur as Max made a last, unnecessary check. Melody felt his hands massage her tail in a way that did not quite tickle. That would come later.

“Ready?” Max asked as he sat down just beyond the foot of the cot.

“I hate this,” Melody told him. But she could barely hold down the quivers that ran through her at the exciting prospect of being tickled.

“Of course you do,” Max agreed with her lie. “Go ahead and snarl, and get it out of your system.”

Melody snarled, pulling fiercely - and futilely - at the straps holding her in place. The snarl had barely ended before the giggles began. Max was running experienced fingers up and down her bare right sole. Up and down, from heel to toes, providing tickle-coverage to every bit of helpless sole. Not a vigorous tickle, but a continuous one, soft and unrelenting.

And now Melody felt Max’s other hand, tickling her other foot. He tickled both her feet at once, making her giggle and squirm. Clever fingers wiggling all over her soles, bathing them with tickle-sensations that soaked right in. It felt wonderful. Melody hated to admit how much she enjoyed being tickled, but Max knew. And it felt wonderful.

The tempo slowed, no longer forcing Melody to wiggle and giggle, but backing down to where she was just on the edge of doing so. Melody could now feel each individual tip of Max’s fingers. He alternated now between her feet, and she could feel one finger run down the outer edge of her sole, two more down the center, a fourth near the outer edge, and the thumb teasing her arch. Five fingers traced a straight path, gently down her left foot, from the base of her toes to the base of her heel. Then down her right foot. Then down her left foot again, tracing the same path as before. Left sole and right sole, again and again, unhurried. Soft and slow, provoking only the occasional happy whimper, keeping her just before the point where she had to squirm, to pull uselessly against the leather bonds that held her.

On and on the light tease continued, a delicious tease, a tease that felt soooo good. Max could keep it up for a long, long time, Melody knew. Longer than she could. Soon, very soon, his light, slow touch would make her thrash and struggle, not because it tickled, but because it didn’t tickle enough. Because she would want more. Melody shut her eyes as she felt that point approach, as she felt his blunt human fingertips continue their slow caress of her bare soles. But then she was aware of both his hands on her right foot. She opened her eyes again to see Max grinning at her. She grinned back, a vague memory floating through her about how grinning was originally a human expression, before it had become a sign of universal amusement. Then grin and memory both fled, as the giggles started bubbling up again.

Melody felt Max’s fingers move more quickly. They abandoned their previous straight-line caress to meander as they ran from toes to heel. Each blunt fingertip excited new nerve endings on her bare right sole, and gave old ones a more vigorous tickle. At the same time, Max’s other hand held the top of her foot, digging gently into the fur there to tickle-tease the delicate skin beneath. Melody squirmed and giggled, her naked foot bound by the ankle to the bed, and trapped between two tickling hands.

Giggling and giggling, Melody was aware of the tickle focus moving to her toes. To her soft and clawless toes, helpless to resist. She felt Max’s fingers all around them, tickling along them and between them, sending lines of tickle-tease running up her right leg. She was aware of her toes, as Max focused on them, even as he made an occasional tickle-foray over the rest of her foot. Looking down toward the end of the bed, Melody could see her left foot, bare and trapped, waiting its turn, and she could see Max, bent over her right foot. But she couldn’t see her right foot. She could only feel the deliciously impossible things that Max was doing to it.

The tickling continued, producing more and more giggles. Melody sensed Max’s fingers moving back to cover her entire right foot, bathing the sole in tickles, bathing the top in tickles, bathing the toes in tickles, bathing it all in tickles. Her left foot, isolated and helpless, twisted in its bond. Her hands opened and closed, with the slave-thimbles keeping her claws from extending. The straps continued to hold her arms and legs perfectly. And she could not help but produce happy whimpers and giggles, given the way her right foot felt encased in tickles, and yet utterly naked and helpless, both at the same time.

The tickling paused. Melody watched as Max shifted over to her left foot, taking his time. “Are you cheered up now?” he asked.

Melody considered the question. “No,” she answered at last. It wasn’t the same as admitting that she wanted more tickles, after all.

Max gave her a knowing look. “Well then,” he said, “We’ll just have to keep trying.” With that he launched a tickle-attack on her left foot. A most wonderful attack; He knew all her tickle secrets, blast it!

It was almost the same as the two-handed tickle of her right foot. Almost. The same meandering strokes down the bare sole, from the base of the toes to the base of the heel. The same gentle digging under the fur on the top of her foot. The same tease of her toes, all around and all along them. But this time her right foot echoed the things happening to her left. It was definitely her bare left foot getting tickled this time. Getting tickled all over! But her right foot tingled in sympathy, still remembering the things Max had done to it. So Melody found herself amusingly aware of both her feet. Of what Max’s skillful fingertips had done to her bare right foot, as well as what they were now doing to her left.

On and on Melody felt the tickles encase her left foot. Max was giving it the same attention that he’d already given her right. He teased and tickled her toes, and tickled and teased them some more. He bathed her foot in tickle-sensations, scrubbing oh-so-gently at each and every nerve ending. He made her giggle and giggle, as now her right foot twisted in its bond, isolated and helpless. As the straps continued to hold her arms and legs perfectly, despite her struggles against them. As she opened and closed her hands, the slave-thimbles still keeping her claws from extending. As she wiggled and giggled, squirming and whimpering. It felt wonderful.

The tickling paused for a second time. Melody saw Max stand and step aside. She swallowed a pang. It couldn’t be over yet. She wasn’t ready for it to be over! Nor was it. From somewhere, Max produced a comb and began to attend to her fur.

There were ways to use a comb that were blissfully soothing. There were ways that would excite her. And there were ways that tickled. Max knew all three, and he inflicted the third on Melody, tickle-combing her arms and legs, her bare midriff, and her tail. He was careful to avoid the areas covered with cloth, but red costume she wore covered less than a traditional dancing orqury. In fact, it covered only slightly more than the ancient, skimpy, Terran bikini, and that left plenty of exposed fur for a giggle-inducing combing.

Down Melody’s arms, from her shoulders to her hands. Down her legs, from her hips to her feet. Down her sides, and across her belly, Max wielded the tickle-comb. Melody knew that he would save her tail for last. And so he did. He combed every centimeter of her tail, gently, teasingly, over and over. Her helpless tail, with its own strap holding it just as helpless as the rest of her. She couldn’t to a thing about that tail-tickling, except to giggle and squirm while struggling uselessly against her bonds.

Once more the tickling paused. Melody closed her eyes. Her entire body tingled as she waited for whatever awful, wonderful thing Max had in mind to do next. And waited. And waited. She opened her eyes to see Max standing at the foot of the cot, holding up his comb.

“Coochie-coochie-coo!” Max said. Melody’s eyes widened. He was going to tickle her feet with the comb. He was going to tickle her bare feet. With the comb!

He tickled her feet.

This was not the soft and teasing tickle of before. Not the light tickle that provoked only squirming and giggles. This was a vigorous tickling that raked Melody’s soles, alternating rapidly between her right and left foot. A wild tickling that ran up and down and back and forth, with an occasional comb of the fur on the tops of her feet. A tickle-attack that poured sensations into her soles, that flooded her with tickle, that forced deep-bellied laughter to fountain out. Rapid strokes on her feet, on both her feet, drenching her like a river. A tickle-flood that made her focus everything on her feet. On her bare feet. That were being tickled. That were being tickled! Melody struggled madly, barely aware of doing so, unable to do anything about Max tickling her feet. Tickling and tickling and tickling them. Making her laugh and laugh and laugh. And it felt wonderful.

Melody lay on the cot, pleasantly limp, no longer bound. She could smell the human-scent of Max, could feel him as he cuddled her. It was a familiar, blissful cuddle that matched her limpness perfectly.

“Are you all cheered up, now?” Max asked her, softly.

“Um-hmm,” Melody purred.