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