553 lines
32 KiB
Plaintext
553 lines
32 KiB
Plaintext
World of Laughter, World of Tears
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by Kimberly Drake
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"Captain's log, stardate 52341.8. The Enterprise is in orbit around Alpha
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Draconis VII, here to investigate the disappearance of the Federation
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survey vessel Kukulkan six weeks ago. The Kukulkan was on a routine
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mapping and contact mission, and no cause for the ship's disappearance has
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yet been found. I am sending down an away team to investigate what appears
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to be wreckage on the surface."
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Commander Riker, Lieutenant Worf, Counselor Troi, and Doctor Crusher
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materialized in a shower of golden energy on the surface of the planet. It
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was Class M in all respects-- an oxygen/nitrogen atmosphere, about 15
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degrees temperature, and gravity within a few points of Earth Normal. All
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in all, the planet could have been described as idyllic. There were a
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number of plant species around the beam-down point, all of which were
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closely analogous to Earth types. The buzzing of insects and the chirping
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of small mammals could be heard in the distance.
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The away team had beamed down in a small clearing about a quarter of a
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kilometer from the suspected crash site. Riker immediately produced a
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tricord-er and began to scan the area for signs of higher life-forms. Worf
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immediately drew a phaser and scanned the trees for signs of hostile
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life-forms. "This way," said Riker, nodding roughly northward.
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The trek through the light wood was pleasant enough, even if their
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mission was far from a pleasant one. They reached the site within a few
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minutes, and it was immediately apparant. A long burned trench scared the
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landscape, ending in a twisted mass of metal roughly recognizble as a
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Federation survey vessel, roughly big enough for four people. "I'm not
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sensing anything," said Troi. All four of them began to fan out around
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the wreckage, searching for any clues... or bodies. They found no bodies.
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What they did find was the ship's log, an emergency back-up which Worf
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found after only a few minutes' searching. All of them were grateful that
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Dr. Crusher's services weren't needed. That meant that at least some of
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the crew had survived the crash. But where could they be?
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"Commander," said Worf, pointing to the ground. "Look here! Footprints."
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The rest of the away team came over to the Klingon security chief, and
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Riker commented, "Humanoid. But these were made by no Federation-issue
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boot. Natives?"
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Troi spoke up. "Our records indicate that this planet is inhabited by
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humanoids, at a quite barbaric level of culture. Approximately class D on
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Richter's Scale. That's about all we know about them; the Kukulkan was the
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first ship to do a detailed survey of this planet."
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"Okay," said Riker. "I think it's likely that the crew was taken by the
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natives, either by force or by their own volition. Worf, where's the
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nearest settlement?"
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"Approximately one kilometer to the North, sir. And the footprints lead
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in that direction," replied the massive Klingon.
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From: TrekRev@cybernetics.net (Tied&Tickled)
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.fetish.startrek
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Subject: New Story: World Of Laughter P2/7
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Date: Sun, 22 Jan 1995 14:33:36 +1000
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Organization: cybernetx
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Lines: 75
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Distribution: world of XTrek
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Message-ID: <TrekRev.48.003C332E@cybernetics.net>
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NNTP-Posting-Host: mrgdrench3.cybernetics.net
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Keywords: Tickled
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X-Newsreader: Trumpet for Windows [Version 1.0 Rev B]
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Hello fellow crewmen... uh ... I mean crewpersons!!! I found this story on a
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little newsgroup called alt.sex.fetish.tickle. Thought you might enjoy it!
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RED ALERT!! RED ALERT!! This story contains scenes of explicit tickling! If
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this is prohibited by your Prime Directive... read no further:
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Subject: World of laugter 2
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Date: 21 Jan 1995 14:11:05 -0500
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The away team had reached a bluff overlooking a small primitive village.
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Smoke from cooking fires could be seen trailing up into the yellow sky,
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and the people looked quite humanoid. They were dressed in skins and rough
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cloth, as far as the away team could tell.
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"What do you make of it, Worf?"
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"Nothing we cannot handle, Commander," replied the Klingon. He looked at
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his tricorder. "There is some sort of interference that is making an exact
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reading impossible, but it is likely that the crew of the Kukulkan is
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here."
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"Source of the interference?"
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"The underlying bedrock contains a sizeable quantity of Livirium. It is
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interfering with the functioning of our tricorders, and will do the same
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to the ship's sensors."
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"All right. Worf, you and I will scout ahead, go to the edge of the
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village. Deanna, I want you and Dr. Crusher to wait here. We won't be
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long." Worf and Riker left into the trees.
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They reached the edge of the village unopposed, and everything seemed
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peaceful enough. Riker went back to were Crusher and Troi were... And
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stopped cold. They were gone. He tapped his communicator. "Worf, get over
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here now!"
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Within seconds, the Klingon was beside Riker. Both were staring down at
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the ground. Signs of a struggle were obvious, and the only indication that
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the women had been there at all were their two shining communicators
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glistening in the loam. Riker picked them up, the only way they could have
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found Troi and Crusher. He tapped his own communicator.
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"Enterprise. Two to beam up."
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Their capture had been swift and efficient. Right after Worf and Riker
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had left them, Troi and Crusher had been set upon by four of the natives.
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With blinding quickness, their phasers and tricorders had been taken, and
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their communicators removed. Despite their struggles, both members of the
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away team were spirited down the other side of the bluff and into one of
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the rude huts. There, their hands were tied behind their backs with
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leather thongs and their ankles were similarly bound. A single guard
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remained behind.
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Soon after their arrival in the village, an attractive woman of middle
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years entered the hut, motioning for the guard to leave. She was tall,
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with blonde hair, dressed in the same animal skins that the other
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villagers had been wearing. She carried herself with an obvious air of
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command.
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"E'cho v'rontak porondo vessla?" the woman said. Without their
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communicators, and the instant access to the ship's Universal Translator,
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they were totally unable to understand her. The woman repeated the phrase,
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but got the same blank stares. With frustration evident, she called for
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the guard and pointed at Troi. She smiled evilly, and said "Pontu. Pontu
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era e'cha trondith o menta." The guard nodded grimly and hefted Troi over
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his shoulder.
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Without any outward signs, Troi reached out with her mind, tried to read
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the state of the blonde woman's emotions. She found a remarkably
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well-ordered mind. There were strong currents of duty, protectiveness, and
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apprehension; all of which were normal for primitives confronting aliens.
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But Troi also sensed an overwhelming aura of maliciousness from the woman;
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she meant them no good, and there was no mistaking that.
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"Recommendations?" said Picard. The command staff had been assembled in
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the Observation Lounge as soon as news of Troi's and Crusher's abduction
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was received. "We could go in with a full security detail. The natives'
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weaponry is no match for ours," commented Worf.
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"And risk the natives killing their captives in the ensuing battle. No. I
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won't risk the lives of my people, or the lives of the crew of the
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Kukulkan."
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"Perhaps a more stealthy approach is warranted," suggested Data, the
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android helmsman. "A discreet search could be accomplished by an away
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team, as long as they were sufficiently cautious. A visual inspection will
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be necessary, because of the ineffectiveness of our sensors."
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"Make it so," said Picard. The meeting broke up, with Riker, Data, and
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Worf heading for the bridge turbolift.
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Path: news2.delphi.com!news.delphi.com!news2.near.net!howland.reston.ans.net!swiss.ans.net!jabba.cybernetics.net!mrgdrench3.cybernetics.net!TrekRev
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From: TrekRev@cybernetics.net (Tied&Tickled)
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.fetish.startrek
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Subject: New Story: World Of Laughter P3/7
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Date: Sun, 22 Jan 1995 14:35:14 +1000
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Organization: cybernetx
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Lines: 71
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Message-ID: <TrekRev.49.003DAEF0@cybernetics.net>
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NNTP-Posting-Host: mrgdrench3.cybernetics.net
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Keywords: Tickled
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X-Newsreader: Trumpet for Windows [Version 1.0 Rev B]
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Hello fellow crewmen... uh ... I mean crewpersons!!! I found this story on a
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little newsgroup called alt.sex.fetish.tickle. Thought you might enjoy it!
|
|
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RED ALERT!! RED ALERT!! This story contains scenes of explicit tickling! If
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this is prohibited by your Prime Directive... read no further:
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Subject: World of laughter 3
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Troi's treatment was none too gentle, and she was hardly surprised. She
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was led into a hut which seemed to be shunned by the other villagers and
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her clothes were roughly stripped from her. Within the hut there seemed to
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be various crude mechanical devices whose ultimate uses were totally
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obvious. This could be nothing else but the village torture chamber.
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Troi was set down on a long table, her wrists clamped within iron clamps
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attached to the head of the table, ablove her head. The guard locked her
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ankles in similar clamps at the other end. Troi was securely fastened and
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quite helpless.
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"E'chi trondith?" Asked the blonde woman. The guard had left the hut.
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"I don't understand you!" Said Troi in frustration. "I don't know what
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you want!"
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The blonde woman let out a sigh. She walked across the hut to the foot of
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the table. "Ursh pendro e'chi trondith," she said, the evil smile once
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again playing across her face. Troi probed her mind and found
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anticipation, that same overpowering malice, and... a touch of... lust?
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Troi could see the woman's eyes scanning her naked form, bound spread
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eagle on the table. Yes, there was definitely an undertone of desire to
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her thoughts.
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"If you give me back my communicator, we could speak to one another!"
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pleaded Troi. Of course, she knew there was no use; without the
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translator, she could not get her communicator. And without the
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communicator, she could not use the translator. By now, the woman was
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ignoring her, intently studying something on the wall of the hut. She
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turned around, and in her hand was a long frond, with dense leaves. It
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seemed almost featherlike in its softness. Gently, almost delicately, the
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woman brushed the edges of the frond against the sole of Troi's small
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foot. What was this? thought Troi. She flinched, and her toes curled
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reflexively at the sensation on her sole. The woman stroked her other foot
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with the featherlike frond, and Deanna's reaction was similar. She tried
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to pull her foot away, but it was no use; the iron bands held her tight.
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Since she had been a little girl, Troi had been quite ticklish. It was a
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fact her playmates had caught on to early and taken advantage of at every
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opportunity.
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She sensed satisfaction from the woman. "E'chae trondith," the blonde
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said, nodding her head knowingly. Troi was still confused. But soon
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everything was made clear. Her captor began to wiggle the edge of the
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frond against the soles of her feet, causing the most maddening, ticklish
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sensations she'd ever felt. And with her feet held so securely by the iron
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bands, there was no way for her to escape! She flexed her toes in
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frustration.
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On and on the blonde went, and the tickling torture continued. The frond
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was flicked against her soles, heels, and toes, and it was all Troi could
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do to keep from laughing out loud. A tear formed in her eye, and it
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silently rolled down her cheek. When the featherlike frond was dragged
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between her toes, however, it was too much for her.
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The laughter bubbled up from within her, and, once released, it would
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never be contained. The tickling continued, and she began laughing
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uncontrollably. "Hehehehehehe!!! No more!!! Plehehehehehese!" she begged.
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But the blonde went on, satisfaction evident in her thoughts.
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She began to use her fingertips, rather than the frond, to continue the
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tickling, but it was no relief to Troi. The woman's fingertips glided over
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Troi's soles, from her heels to her toes, and everywhere in between.
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"E'chae trondith!" shouted the woman in glee. Troi could do nothing but
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continue her convulsive laughter.
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Soon, however, the object of the blonde's attentions moved from Troi's
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feet. She once more held the frond in her hand, and began stroking the
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half-Betazoid's stomach with the supple tendrils. Immediately Deanna,
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already exhausted from the tickling of her feet, began to laugh
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uncontrolably. The very tip of the frond was flicked gently against her
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skin at the very verge of her bellybutton, and it was like all the
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torments of hell rolled into one. Deanna's stomach began to hurt from
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laughing so much
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Path: news2.delphi.com!news.delphi.com!news2.near.net!howland.reston.ans.net!spool.mu.edu!uwm.edu!news.alpha.net!solaris.cc.vt.edu!swiss.ans.net!jabba.cybernetics.net!mrgdrench3.cybernetics.net!TrekRev
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From: TrekRev@cybernetics.net (Tied&Tickled)
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.fetish.startrek
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Subject: New Story: World Of Laughter P4/7
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Date: Sun, 22 Jan 1995 14:38:45 +1000
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Organization: cybernetx
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Lines: 73
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Message-ID: <TrekRev.50.0040E819@cybernetics.net>
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NNTP-Posting-Host: mrgdrench3.cybernetics.net
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Keywords: Tickled
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X-Newsreader: Trumpet for Windows [Version 1.0 Rev B]
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Here we go again!!!
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Remember this is NOT my story and all standard disclaimers apply.
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Subject: World of Laughter 4
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The woman kept up the torture, combining the tickling on Troi's stomach
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with fingertips grazing her soles, resulting in the utmost agony for the
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ship's counselor.
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Then, however, the tickling gently, slowly, stopped. Deanna could sense
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that the emotions of malice were being overwhelmed by those of lust. Troi
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could feel the blonde's mouth surrounding her big toe, the hot, wet tounge
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dancing around the pad of the toe like a Regulan eel-bird. The woman went
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to each of her toes in turn, sucking, rhasping, using the tip of her
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tounge to gently tickle Troi's toes. Troi realized that it was more than a
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little exciting in a sexual way-- the feel of the hot, wet tounge on her
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sensitive flesh, the knowledge that she was completely helpless to prevent
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it. And, she realized, the tickle torture she had previously endured had
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only hightened her sensitivity sexually. She was quite wanting at that
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point.
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Just as abruptly as they had been captured, the sensations stopped. Troi
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looked closely at the blonde. She was perspiring profusely, breathing in
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short pants, glaring at Troi with what she knew was a mixture of contempt
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and nearly uncontrolable desire. She moved towards the table on which Troi
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was secured with a look of feral desire on her face.
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The second landing party consisted of Riker, Worf, and Data. They crept
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silently into the village, night having fallen some hours ago. The light
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from nuerous cooking fires and torches illuminated the village, and the
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many shadows hid them from view.
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They moved towards the nearest large hut, realizing that, since the vast
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majority of the huts were of the same size, those would probably be the
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living quarters for the village inhabitants. Data went first, and peered
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through the doorway. Before him was a communal workshop of some kind, but
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it was what was being made that caused him alarm. "Phasers, sir," he told
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Riker soon thereafter. They are making unmistakeable copies of Federation
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phasers." "How is that possible, with this level of technology? Could
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they be merely replicas?" Asked Worf.
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"Negative. I was able to positively identify both a Federation crystal
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alignment chamber and an Andorian coil impact mold. Such implements would
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not be necessary to merely emulate the exterior characteristics of a
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phaser, and are beyond this planet's current level of technology. I
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believe we are faced with the inescapable conclusion that some exterior
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force is at work here." The android looked expectantly at Riker.
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"I am forced to agree with you, Mr. Data." Riker tapped his communicator.
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"Riker to Enterprise. Three to beam up."
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The night had passed without Crusher seeing anything of Troi. She had no
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idea where Troi might have been taken, or what might have happened to her.
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Crusher had tried not to sleep, tried to be alert for any opportunity to
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escape. But the guards were changed every few hours, and there was no
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chance. By morning Crusher had slept for a few hours, despite her wishes.
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Her wrists and ankles felt numb, the tight leather cords digging into her
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flesh. But she counted herself lucky; she didn't even know if Deanna Troi
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was alive. At the first hint of morning, a guard entered the hut and
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carried her outside. The morning was still chill, but bearable. She
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noticed that the village seemed to be rousing itself in this hour or so
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before the day's light. The fires were started once more, and the scents
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of cooking reached her nose, reminding her how hungry she was. The guard
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carried her, without seeming effort, to a small bowl-shaped depression at
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the center of the village. Some sort of wooden contraption was evidently
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in permanent place there, and it was towards it that her guard steadily
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walked. Reaching it, Crusher noticed that it consisted of a bench of some
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sort, next to a vertical board with two circular holes cut in it. The
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guard sat her down on the bench and untied her ankles. With a sigh of
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relief she rotated her feet, trying to regain the lost circulation in her
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ankles. Crusher, still somewhat dazed from the whole experience, hardly
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noticed as the guard took hold of her legs and swung her around. It was
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only then that she noticed the vertical board opened up. The guard set her
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ankles in the circular holes and closed the wooden topbar down. It was
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only after he began tying the length of leather cord around the end that
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Crusher noticed that she could not move her feet. It was some sort of
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primitive stocks. And, since her hands were still tied behind her back,
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there was no way for her to free herself!
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Path: news2.delphi.com!news.delphi.com!news2.near.net!howland.reston.ans.net!spool.mu.edu!uwm.edu!news.alpha.net!solaris.cc.vt.edu!swiss.ans.net!jabba.cybernetics.net!mrgdrench3.cybernetics.net!TrekRev
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From: TrekRev@cybernetics.net (Tied&Tickled)
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.fetish.startrek
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Subject: New Story: World Of Laughter P5/7
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Date: Sun, 22 Jan 1995 14:40:43 +1000
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Organization: cybernetx
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Lines: 77
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Message-ID: <TrekRev.51.0042B750@cybernetics.net>
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NNTP-Posting-Host: mrgdrench3.cybernetics.net
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Keywords: Tickled
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X-Newsreader: Trumpet for Windows [Version 1.0 Rev B]
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Here we go again!!!
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Remember this is NOT my story and all standard disclaimers apply.
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Tim
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Subject: World of Laughter 5
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The guard, satisfied that Crusher was secure in the stocks, proceeded to
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yank off her boots. Her long and slender feet stuck out of the wooden
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frame. Crusher was left barefoot and helpless in the stocks, her hands
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tied behind her. The guard left.
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The first person who happened along was a small girl, hardly more than
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six or seven years old. She had scraggly blonde hair that fell about her
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shoulders, and her face was smudged with dirt. Crusher tried to smile,
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gain some sort of trust from her. To her immense relief, the child smiled
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back at her, and then spoke. "E'chi trondith?" the child asked. Crusher,
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having no idea what she said, merely kept smiling. The young girl then
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reached towards Beverly's left foot, and traced a line with her index
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finger down the length of the doctor's sole. Dr. Crusher let out a
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startled gasp and started to giggle, despite herself. This apparently
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delighted the child, who proceeded to wiggle her fingers against Beverly's
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helpless soles. The doctor started to laugh out loud, unable to help
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herself. She began to beg the girl to stop, even though she knew it was
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useless without her communicator.
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"Heheheheheh!!!! P-please stop! No more!!! Hahahahah!" But it was no
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use. The small girl continued to tickle her trapped feet, brushing her
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small fingers from Crusher's soft heels to the tips of her toes, treating
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it as if it were some sort of game. Crusher was in agony, her helpless
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laughter filling the air. She barely managed to gulp down enough air in
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between bouts of convulsive laughter. As the tickling torture went on,
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Crusher began to notice something beyond the haze of the torment she
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experienced. A certain heat within her, a fire that was being fed with
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every stroke against her soles... The tickling, though she would have done
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anything to make it stop, was making her incredibly aroused! It was thus
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doubly maddening-- the incessant stimulation of her soles and the
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unfulfilled agony between her legs.
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Eventually, the girl seemed to tire of her sport with the doctor's feet.
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She ran away, laughing and waving at Crusher, whom she left exhausted.
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Tracks of tears streamed down her cheeks from the forced laughter. Having
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regained both her breath and her composure, Crusher noticed that the
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village had come to life, with its many inhabitants going about their
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daily business, largely ignoring her. Occasionally, one would stare at
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her, or whispers would be spoken between two people as they passed. As if
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she could understand what they said in the first place!
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Riker, Data, and Worf had beamed down once more, and this time they had
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much better luck in finding their missing comrades. At least, they found
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one of them. Skulking around between several of the rude huts, they heard
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the unmistakable sound of Dr. Crusher's voice, laughing. That struck them
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all as highly odd, and they went over as stealthily as they could to
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investigate. They managed to reach a place of concealment in a pile of old
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barrels, from which they had a clear view of the doctor. She was sitting
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on a bench, her hands tied behind her back, and her feet locked into
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stocks of some kind. Two of the natives were in front of her, stroking the
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soles of her feet with some kind of soft leaf frond. Each native girl had
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taken a foot, and were apparently engaged in some kind of contest. First
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one of them would brush the frond against Beverly's foot, forcing a steady
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stream of laughter from her. Then that one would stop and the other would
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take over, tickling Crusher's other foot. The two of them alternated like
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that for some time, and Crusher was nearly beyond reason. All she could do
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was laugh helplessly, incapable of even moving her feet. The native girls
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who were torturing the doctor in this way were two of a kind; both wide
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and plump, with long brown hair and dressed in the same animal skins they
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all seemed to wear. Once in a while, one would decline to use the frond
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and would take to tickling Crusher with her fingertips, which would cause
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yet another eruption of laughter from the exhausted doctor.
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"Is there nothing we can do?" asked Worf, frustrated. "They are torturing
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her!"
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"I know," replied Riker. "But we have to wait until she's left alone. If
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we can get just a few seconds alone with her, we can beam out of here."
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"But what of Counselor Troi, Commander?" asked Data. "We'll have to come
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back for her, Data. I don't like it any more than you, but now that we've
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found Dr. Crusher, we can't take the chance of losing her again." The
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android nodded, satisfied with the reasoning.
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At length, the two native girls wandered off to do their chores, their
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game completed. Crusher still shook from the residual sensations, and was
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gasping to recover her breath. Riker looked around, and none of the
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villagers seemed to be looking in the doctor's general direction. "Now,"
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he said.
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Path: news2.delphi.com!news.delphi.com!news2.near.net!howland.reston.ans.net!spool.mu.edu!uwm.edu!news.alpha.net!solaris.cc.vt.edu!swiss.ans.net!jabba.cybernetics.net!mrgdrench3.cybernetics.net!TrekRev
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From: TrekRev@cybernetics.net (Tied&Tickled)
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.fetish.startrek
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Subject: New Story: World Of Laughter P6/7
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Date: Sun, 22 Jan 1995 14:44:17 +1000
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Organization: cybernetx
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Lines: 59
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Message-ID: <TrekRev.52.0045F78E@cybernetics.net>
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NNTP-Posting-Host: mrgdrench3.cybernetics.net
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X-Newsreader: Trumpet for Windows [Version 1.0 Rev B]
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Well?? Are you enjoying so far??? Tickled Pink??? or is that Pickled Tink?
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Still NOT my story. Still standard disclaimers apply
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Tim
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Subject: World of Laughter 6
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by Kimberly Drake
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The three rushed across the short expanse of open field that lay between
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them and the doctor, and finally reached her. "Thank goddness!" she said
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once they had made it to her. "I don't think I could have taken any more!"
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Data snapped the leather strap holding the stocks closed, and they freed
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Crusher's feet. She stood up hesitantly. "Do you have any idea where
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Deanna is?" asked Riker hurredly. He was looking around to make sure the
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villagers didn't notice the escape.
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"No," replied Crusher. "She was taken last night, and I haven't seen her
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since."
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"Damn," said Riker as he tapped his communicator. "Riker to Enterprise.
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Four to beam up."
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"Everything fits," Riker was saying in the briefing room. "The phasers
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were being produced with modern methods and materials, and I can't believe
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it was an accident that the village just happened to be located on top of
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a Livirium deposit. Someone is definitely at work here from off-world."
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"Agreed," said the Captain in his deep baritone voice. "But who? And
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why?" Data spoke up. "Unknown sir. But I believe I may have a way of
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piercing the natural sensor interference and pinpointing the location of
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the Kukulkan's crew, as well as that of Counselor Troi."
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"Make it so, Mr. Data," replied the Captain, standing to return to the
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Bridge. "And quickly. Based on Dr. Crusher's experiences, there is no
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telling what could be happening to them down there."
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Troi had spent the day chained to a stake in the same building in which
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she had been tortured-- and pleasured-- the night before. She was still
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without clothing, but at least she had been fed, and that raised her
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spirits. She knew that the Enterprise would never abandon the search for
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her, but she also knew how hard it would be to both rescue her and stay
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within the boundaries of the Prime Directive. They couldn't just march
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through the place with a squad of Worf's security people.
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Around nightfall, a guard (Troi couldn't tell if it was the same one she
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had seen before-- the previous night was all a blur to her) unchained her
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ankle and led her out of the hut. The night was chill against her bare
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skin, and she began to shiver. Soon, however, she was led to a large
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fire. There, she saw a long bench with another board perpendicular to it.
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The second board had holes cut into it at regular intervals. Across from
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her she saw two other women. They were barefoot and their clothing was
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badly torn, but there was no mistaking what they were wearing. Starfleet
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uniforms!
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"You're from the Kukulkan?" asked Troi, as they were led over to the
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stocks.
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Both women looked startled. One was tall and blonde, and wore the
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insignia of a Lieutennant. The other was about the same height as Troi,
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and was black. Her uniform was torn off where her rank would have been
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displayed. "Yes," said the black woman. "Are you Starfleet, too?"
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Troi realized that she was totally naked, and blushed, seeking to cover
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herself in any way. "Yes, Counselor Deanna Troi, from the starship
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Enterprise. We were here to rescue you, but it seems that I'm the one who
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needs to be rescued," she added ironically. "We found the wreckage of
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your ship. What happened?"
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Path: news2.delphi.com!news.delphi.com!news2.near.net!howland.reston.ans.net!spool.mu.edu!uwm.edu!news.alpha.net!solaris.cc.vt.edu!swiss.ans.net!jabba.cybernetics.net!mrgdrench3.cybernetics.net!TrekRev
|
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From: TrekRev@cybernetics.net (Tied&Tickled)
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|
Newsgroups: alt.sex.fetish.startrek
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|
Subject: New Story: World Of Laughter P7/7 Final Chapter
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|
Date: Sun, 22 Jan 1995 14:47:44 +1000
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|
Organization: cybernetx
|
|
Lines: 77
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|
Message-ID: <TrekRev.53.004920D7@cybernetics.net>
|
|
NNTP-Posting-Host: mrgdrench3.cybernetics.net
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|
X-Newsreader: Trumpet for Windows [Version 1.0 Rev B]
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|
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And last but not least the final chapter!! Hope ya liked it.
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Still Not my story. Apply all applicable disclaimers and whatever else is
|
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necessary.
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|
Tim:["""
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|
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Subject: World of Laughter 7
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by Kimberly Drake
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They could not continue, as they were seated at the bench. All three
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women found their feet being placed in the holes, their ankles secured in
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the stocks. Their hands were then tied behind their backs. They then, all
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three of them, were bound in the stocks, right next to one another. They
|
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were no more than a foot apart from each other.
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|
Troi had a good idea of what was about to happen, and was dreading it.
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|
She saw the blonde woman from the night before, and could sense more lust
|
|
within her. That made Troi blush once more. The blonde native made a short
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|
speech to the assembled villagers, who cheered and clapped as three young
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native girls, each about fifteen years old, stepped forward, one in front
|
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of each of the prisoners. "E'chi trondith?" each native asked her
|
|
respective prisoner. When no answers were forthcoming, each grinned at
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the others and the crowd cheered once more. "They've tortured us like
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this every night for the last six weeks," the blonde said hastily to
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Troi. "I'll go mad if I have to go through it agahehehehehehehehehen!!!!"
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She began to laugh as the raven-haired native in front of her began to
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wiggle her fingertips across her captive's soles.
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The black woman was whimpering, obviously trying to hold in her laughter.
|
|
But it was a useless gesture. She wiggled and crossed her toes, trying to
|
|
delay what was inevitable. Within minutes, the merciless stroking of her
|
|
soles had tears streaming down her cheeks and her laughing out loud.
|
|
Troi held out the longest, enduring the maddening caresses, trying to
|
|
fight back the laughter that welled up within her. But then, just as it
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|
had done before, it was being tickled between her toes that opened the
|
|
floodgates. She began to giggle uncontrollably, and then the giggles
|
|
turned into outright uncontrolled laughter. She heard the helpless
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|
laughter of the other women, and was joining in wholeheartedly. Every
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|
stroke of the young girl's fingertips against the soles of her trapped
|
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feet increased the maddening torments she felt. At one point, the girl
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|
would gently glide her fingers slowly up and down the arches of her feet,
|
|
and then would suddenly shift to rapidly wiggling them against her toes.
|
|
The other woman had been right-- it was maddening! Vainly, she tried to
|
|
wiggle her feet, cross her toes, anything to escape the torturing touch
|
|
of the native girl. But it was no use. She was obviously an expert at
|
|
what she was doing, and none of Troi's desperate tricks slowed the pace
|
|
of the tickling one bit.
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|
The torture continued for what felt like hours, without any respite. But
|
|
then, suddenly, Troi felt a rush of hope. She began to feel the familiar
|
|
tingling sensation that preceded transportation! She began to see the
|
|
characteristic blue sparkle around her body, and the bodies of the other
|
|
Federation captives, and then she was suddenly sitting on the floor of
|
|
the transporter chamber. Reflexively, she curled up in a ball and began
|
|
to sob with relief. The two other captives were there with her, and
|
|
joined her in her emotional release. Riker was there, and put a blanket
|
|
around Troi, covering her nakedness, and hugged her gently. "You're
|
|
home," he said. "It's over."
|
|
|
|
Picard was filling the Counselor in on what exactly had happened.
|
|
"Shortly after Commander Riker and the away team returned to the ship the
|
|
last time, we picked up an alien vessel entering the system. She didn't
|
|
respond to our hails, but we were able to positively identify her as an
|
|
Orion ship. It seems that the Orions have been selling high-technology
|
|
weapons to the natives here in exchange for their minerals."
|
|
"What of the rest of the Kukulkan's crew?" asked Crusher, also standing
|
|
on the bridge, cleaned up and recovered from her ordeal on the planet.
|
|
"According to Commander Hardy's report, the other two crewmen were killed
|
|
on impact. It seems they encountered another Orion vessel, which opened
|
|
fire and caused them to crash. The Federation is lodging a formal protest
|
|
against Orion and there are going to be reparations made, rest assured."
|
|
"Reparations," repeated Troi.
|
|
"Deanna," said Picard, with great feeling in his voice, "if there were
|
|
any way I could undo what happened to you and Dr. Crusher on that
|
|
planet..."
|
|
"I understand, Captain," said Troi. But, remembering the wild, blonde
|
|
woman, with her sensations that were both horrible torture and wildest
|
|
pleasure, she wasn't sure if she would want to have it undone.
|
|
Although they didn't realize it, Troi and Crusher were thinking the same
|
|
thing.
|