Mirabelle's Tickle

“I beg the tickle, master!”

“Later, Miri,” Captain Rob answered. The burr in his accent went poorly with his appearance and his last name: Robert Nonomura, currently captain of the freighter Jovan Folly, and formerly a Lieutenant of the Federation fleet. He didn’t advertise that last. Earthers were welcome out in the Rhombus, but Federation officers weren’t. Especially here on Lorelei Station.

Mirabelle Twenty-Four-Thirty-Six pouted, but she also obeyed. Her bare blue feet made no sound on the padded decksole as she heeled her owner. Lorelei Station had a strict ‘zero-shoe’ policy for items of female merchandise, and maintained its walking surfaces with that in mind. Cleaning ‘bots (which actually replenished the anti-dirt nanites rather than removing dirt themselves) were a constant sight, here.

Despite her blue skin, and white hair that reached down to half-conceal the silvery ID collar around her neck, Miri wasn’t an Azurite. She lacked the antenna-horns. She wasn’t a Yumyum either, but the few times she’d been mistaken for a Yumyum had been funny, rather than annoying. Of course, both female Yumyums and Azurites were more common here than Crayolite clones. But still, how could anyone see her hair, and mistake it for the fat twin head-tails of a Yumyum?

Master Rob slowed down, looking at the display of his comm and muttering interesting Earther words. The crew of the Folly had taken a freight shuttle to the station, leaving the ship in a cheap outer orbit rather than an expensive docking bay. This, however, meant they needed to catch a shuttle back to the parking orbit, and it seemed that the ancient curses of snafu and murphy had cropped up.

“I need to find a keyport,” Master Rob announced. “This squawkport isn’t letting me through.” He eyed a security point, one of many along the corridor wall. Half of them held barefoot females, variously restrained, but this one was free. Miri gave her owner a piteous look, not daring to speak. He looked back, and Miri waited for the gesture that would command her to sit and be secured. Then she saw the twinkle in his eyes. “Very well, Miri.” He pointed at the double doors that she had been trying hard not to look at.

“Thank you, master!” Miri tried not to sound or look too excited as she led the way toward the entrance of ‘Toq’s Tickle Room.’ The doors slid apart, revealing a second set that opened after the first had closed, forming a sound-lock. Inside, the air was warmer, better ventilated, and filled with shrieks of laughter; feminine laughter, from several different species.

A monitor ‘droid acknowledged their presence as they made their way to an unoccupied stock-station. Master Rob slid a credit-chit in the traditional manner, punched in commands, and stepped back as the station opened up like a rubbersteel flower. Miri dropped into it. She didn’t need to strip, as she was already scantily-clad, in a halter top and miniskirt of orange shimmer-cloth. The station folded back again, trapping Miri much more thoroughly than a security point would have. Master Rob stroked her hair. “I’ll come for you, or send for you, when this snafu is fixed,” he told her as he left.

The stock-station was one of several, facing a mirrored wall. Miri could see herself reflected in the wall, comfortable but helpless. She could see the soles of her bare feet beyond the ankle-stocks, toes grasped firmly by the toe-grips. She could see the tickle-toaster sitting below her vulnerable feet. She watched as the mechanical arms unfolded, tipped with brushes and shiny round prongs of metal. She felt them as they lightly touched her sensitive arches. A soft touch that made her squirm, just slightly. A quick, repeated touch, with just enough variation to keep up the tease. Soft and light, sometimes on both feet at once, and sometimes switching between her left and right sole.

On and on the tickle-tease continued. The implement tips stroked the hearts of her arches, steady and unceasing. Not vigorously, not enough to make her laugh, but just enough to keep her wiggling. On and on, as Miri watched them in the mirror-wall and felt the touch she could not avoid.

More arms reach up out of the tickle-toaster. Suddenly they applied a fresh tickle-attack, raking across the balls of Miri’s feet, and base of her heels. Raking with a fierce tickle that made her squeal gleefully. She couldn’t do anything to avoid those arms reaching up to tickle her feet. She could only watch them, and feel them work, and laugh and laugh and laugh. Her helpless soles were being tickled and tickled, and it felt wonderful.

The extra arms withdrew, and the tickle-toaster returned to the previous slow tease. A soft and gentle touch on Miri’s arches, with just enough spice to make her squirm. A steady, continuous touch, with just enough vigor to keep it from being relaxing, with just enough variation to keep Miri aware of just how deliciously helpless she was. On and on the metal arms applied their slow, wiggling touch, as Miri watched, and as she waited for the next sudden tickle-attack.

To Miri’s left, a gold-brown-skinned human was laughing wildly, as spinning wheels buffed her soles. To Miri’s right, a skinny green-skinned woman made squeaky noises, as her tickle-toaster pursued its pleasant assault on her pale green soles. Then all three tickle-toasters began to chime. “Me-me-me-me-me-me-me-me-me!” Miri felt the light touch leave her arches, and saw the arms, in the mirror, withdraw on all three tickle-toasters.

The chiming stopped. The metal arms re-emerged, now tipped with short-bristled brushes. “Oh, no!” the human said. Then all three women burst into laughter as the scrubbing began. The green slave’s giggles were a little higher pitched, and the human’s a little deeper, but Miri only noticed this with a fraction of her mind. The bulk of her attention was on the sight of the tickle-brushes swarming over her trapped and helpless feet, and on the prickle-tickle feeling sinking into them.

The tickling sent waves of excitement running up Miri’s legs, even as it seemed to drain all the energy from her. It felt wonderful, as it made her squirm and laugh. She struggled, unable to keep herself from the attempt to escape, even as she knew how deeply disappointed she’d be if she ever succeeded. But she didn’t succeed. She couldn’t succeed. The stock-station held her perfectly; her feet were completely vulnerable. She could not escape the tickling.

And it didn’t stop. On and on the tickle-scrubbing continued. It teased every nerve ending in every square centimeter of Miri’s soles. Teasing and tickling, and then tickling and teasing. Not too fast, but steady and remorseless. On and on. Miri willed for it to continue, even as she giggled and struggled. She knew that soon enough this scrubbing would leave her ‘tickled out,’ at least temporarily, but she wanted to hold that moment off. She wanted this delicious, exciting tickle to continue, to go on and on.

Miri sagged when the brushes withdrew. Her feet tingled. “Oh yes,” she heard the human woman whisper. “Oh yes, oh yes!” A monitor ‘droid came to wipe the sweat from her face, and to give her water to drink from a bulb. She saw the toaster spray a liquid on her feet, one that soothed and cooled and didn’t tickle at all.

The stock-station to Miri’s left released the human woman, and she stood, leaning against her master. But Miri still remained secured. She exchanged looks with the green slave. This was only a pause, more tickling was coming. On her other side, a lavender-complexioned Yumyum waited as the ‘droid sonoflushed the stock-station. The lavender woman then sat down, assisted by her master, and the stocks automatically moved to secure her. Then the tickling began once more.

Not a foot tickling, this time. Metal tentacle-arms reached out from all three stock-stations to tease sides and bellies, arms and legs. The thin fabric of Miri’s top offered no hindrance to the wiggling rubbersteel claws, and all three slave-women had bare arms and legs, as well as bare feet. The squirming and giggles resumed.

Miri recognized the tickle-pattern. Her master had used it on her before. She knew what was to come, and she knew she couldn’t resist it. In fact, knowing what was to come only served to make her more sensitive. It only made the tickling even more irresistible. In both senses of the word. She couldn’t keep from fighting to avoid it, even though she knew that she couldn’t possibly escape. But she also wanted it. Oh yes, she wanted it! It felt sweet, so sweet, with her futile struggles actually making it sweeter.

Rubbersteel fingers gently attacked arms and legs and sides and belly for long bouts tickling, and then paused for an equally long recovery period. Only to return and apply another layer of sweet sweet tickle. And the audience made it even sweeter. The first bout attacked all three women at once, but then the three stations fell out of sync. Miri and the green woman got to watch, during a recovery break, as the new slaves’ head-tails were teased. The violet woman smiled at Miri when the bout ended, and then it was Miri’s turn to giggle as her own stock-station sent the tentacles to her own sides and belly once more. Round and round the tickling went, a pattern designed for a long long session of wiggles and giggles. Nor did any of the women seem ready for it to end; Miri certainly wasn’t.

Of course it did have to end at last. The tentacles withdrew for a final time. Miri felt a pang of disappointment – but then, in the mirrored wall, she saw the lights blinking on the tickle-toasters. Metal arms rose out of them once more, this time tipped with soft tickle-implements: Feathers, and broad brushes with long silken bristles. They arrayed themselves for a gentle, friendly attack, and the giggles poured out again.

Miri felt the silken touch all over her feet. On both her feet at once, the tops as well as the soles. Over her insteps and arches, her heels and the balls of her feet. Over her toes: the pads, the shafts, and the sensitive places between them. A soft and gentle touch, but one that did not soothe. Instead, it tickled!

Tickle tickle tickle. All over her feet. Both her feet. Trapped and helpless in the stocks, unable to avoid the ticking. Tickle tickle tickle. Miri knew she was tickle-drunk, and she didn’t care. In fact, this was the best part. Tickle tickle tickle. It seemed like she was feeling the tickles of her neighbors, as well as her own. The green feet of the slave woman to her right, the violet feet of the female to her left, and her own blue feet were all getting tickled. And all three of them were feeling every bit of that tickle. Tickle tickle tickle. By tickling her feet, they were tickling Miri’s whole body. By tickling her soles, they were tickling her soul. And it felt wonderful. Miri wanted to tell everyone how good it felt.

“Heeheehee haha heeheehee heeheeheeeee!” she laughed.

Limp and blissful, Miri leaned against her owner as he helped her down the corridor. Master Rob had finally arranged for a shuttle to take them back to the Folly. “Leaving you at a security point would have been much simpler,” he muttered into her ear. His burr came more strongly than usual; a result from his own fatigue due to dealing with the snafu. “I hope this was worth it.”

“Oh yes, master,” Miri whispered back. When the Folly was on her way and Master Rob had time to spend in his cabin, Miri would show him her appreciation to the very best of her ability. And then maybe Master Rob would let her do this again, the next time they visited Lorelei Station. Oh yes.

Mirabelle’s Tickle