Agent Amazon Pt. 02

The bag was finally pulled off Sierra's head in some fully concrete room somewhere. She had been tied to a chair with multiple lengths of thick rope and her wrists where even secured with handcuffs. Whoever was keeping her here seemed to know who they were dealing with. More unusually, her legs had been tied to the table in front of her just as heavily with another pair of handcuffs around her ankles. She could tell on her bare, sweat-covered skin that this building was air conditioned, making a striking contrast to the hours of sweltering heat she'd been though. For several minutes, Sierra simply sat alone. She figured they were leaving her to sweat (figuratively, she couldn't get any sweatier in the literal sense). Eventually, Sierra heard footsteps approaching. A woman entered the room, with mid-brown hair tied in a ponytail, wearing a white turtleneck and black gloves, jeans and stiletto-heeled boots. Sierra winced at the thought of having those things on her feet. The woman's lips were decorated with perfectly red lipstick and a nasty smile.

"So," she began, "a little spy. Though "little" is the wrong word." She approached the table, running one hand along it.

"It's funny. My employers hired me to investigate a series of thefts and do you know what the most common description I received was? A tall ebony woman with white hair and giant bare feet." Her eyes travelled down Sierra's body and settled on her blackened soles. Some instinct made Sierra clench her toes defensively.

"So what's the deal?" Sierra's "host" asked. "Can't find any shoes that fit?" Sierra said nothing.

"Not in a talking mood? Do you have a name at least?" Sierra still gave no reply.

"Well, I think I'll just call you Miss Bigfoot for now. Not an insult, mind, it just seems appropriate. So, as I was saying, if my reports are correct you've run over midday desert sands, busted old military bases and snowy mountain retreats on these feet. That does interest me, as disgusting as they are to look at at the moment." Sierra did give a bit of emotion at that: a mocking shrug. The woman approached a table covered by a sheet and began to rummage around on it.

"Even if you don't want to answer my questions, I can still learn things about you." She turned back to Sierra with a scalpel in hand. Seating herself in front of Sierra's feet, she started to run the blade along her soles. Sierra's reaction was not what one would expect: she began to giggle out loud, curling and wiggling her toes uncontrollably.

"Ticklish are we?" the woman asked. She made cris-crosses over Sierra's soles, cutting lines into the grime but drawing no blood. Using the flat of the blade, she scraped some dirt away from Sierra's arches and scribbled the scalpel over them, only leaving little white streaks that quickly faded. For good measure she also drew the blade between Sierra's toes. All of it sent Sierra into hysterics but did no damage.

"Now that is interesting. Not only are you probably the world's most ticklish barefooter, you're also most likely the only person who could be tickled by a knife." Her eyes flashed with self-satisfaction.

"I'm going to guess you're some sort of super soldier. What I'm looking at is some sort of biological armor. But thanks to that, the soles of your feet never get rough or calloused no matter how often you're barefoot or what you walk on. Correct? Have I come across a weakness, an Achilles' Heel if you will?" She chuckled at her own obvious joke.

Joke's on you, Sierra thought, I like getting my feet tickled!

"Still, I don't think I'm going to get very far tickling you," the woman continued. "Besides, you've doubtlessly been trained against whatever horrible things I could think of. No, the real way to get what you want from someone... is to torture someone else." She briefly left the room and Sierra's worst fears were realised when she returned with two men who shoved Spider into the chair. Sierra gasped.

"Ah," the woman remarked before dismissing the goons. "Finally got to you, eh? I thought you might know this one. The poor thing's suffering from exposure, dehydration... I'm afraid the men I work with require cruder methods than me." She proceeded to put a heat lamp on the table and shine it mostly over Spider, though also catching Sierra's feet in the beam. "Not that crude methods can't be useful if they're applied a little more creatively." For Sierra, the heat was only a little uncomfortable. Spider was a different story.

"She's really suffering isn't she?" Their captor remarked. "I suppose I can give her some relief." She produced a water bottle, opened it and brought it over to the table.

"Oops," she said as she drizzled the water over Sierra's feet. Chills ran down Sierra's back as she felt the water trickle between her toes and down her soles. Spider looked up at them weakly.

"If you want a drink, that's the only place you're going to get it," said the torturer. Sierra watched in amazement as Spider's tongue hung out, she brought it up to Sierra's jet black soles, and started to lick. The first thing Sierra did was gasp again. The second was start laughing again. Her feet had been tickled by lots of things, but a tongue wasn't one of them and she was shocked by how effective it was. As Sierra thrashed her head around, getting her hair loose and hanging around her face, she was still partly in disbelief about what was happening. Spider was lapping up water mixed with sweat, dust, tar and old oil stains that Sierra had been stepping in for hours, at least, and it wasn't slowing her down a bit. She pushed around the ground-in dirt, turning into a coating of black mud. She licked up Sierra's soles like they were oversized ice cream bars, lapped around her heels to make sure no bit of moisture ran off and eventually even stared sucking her toes. Sierra laughed her head off through it all, though she was becoming aware that it was getting warm in her shorts...

"You're enjoying this," the torturer's bemused voice cut through the laughter like an ice-cold knife. Spider froze, pulling back a moment later as Sierra's breath slowed back down. They locked eyes and Sierra saw Spider looking at her with utter horror before she lowered her head in shame. The interrogator rested her hand on Spider's shoulder.

"Well well," she began, her mocking demeanor returned, "looks like I found out more than I bargained for. I wondered if this was even the first time you'd done something like this, but judging by that complete self-loathing on your face i'd say I just stumbled on a deep dark secret." She turned to address Sierra, grabbing her pinkie toe and twiddling it "this little piggy" style.

"Have you been accidentally teasing your little girlfriend with your big bare feet this whole time?" Sierra glared at her silently. The woman turned back to Spider.

"Well at this point, why not keep going? This is what you wanted all along, isn't it?" Getting no response, she grabbed Spider's hair and dragged her face in front of Sierra's feet. "I SAID, they're right there. You might as well take the opportunity." Now frustration was visible on her face. Returning to the table, she got out something much bigger... a high-powered industrial hand drill with a huge drillbit attached. She turned it on a cinderblock propping up the table and ground a hole through the top. Sierra scrunched her toes again and tilted her feet as far in the opposite direction as she could. The interrogator turned back to her hostages, brandishing the drill.

"Lick her feet now or I'll put this though them," she told Spider. Spider looked up at Sierra apologetically, tears welling in her eyes now, and returned to licking. Sierra immediately burst out laughing again. Spider caressed Sierra's soles with her tongue and her dry, cracked lips, covering every inch of skin, again and again, driving her tongue between Sierra's perfectly spaced toes. It tickled more than Sierra had ever felt. But even as the tickling filled her whole mind, Sierra knew that really, she liked it. The real torture was the humiliation being forced on Spider. For hours it went on, until Spider was so exhausted she could hardly raise her head.

"That'll do for now," said the torturer. She had Spider taken away and then addressed Sierra alone.

"This will go on as long as you both keep silent," she said. "And if your friend there becomes uncooperative again, I have other ways to encourage her." She pulled the sheet off the little table, revealing various sharp and intrusive instruments.

"And don't think I can't do any more to you. I saw how afraid you were of my drill. If I get bored I might decide to see how tough your freak feet really are against it, or a cattle prod, or some hot irons, or pruning shears..." Then with that, she packed up her things and left Sierra alone.

Sierra sat trying to work her wrist out of her bindings. The cuffs made it impossible to simply slip her hands free. She knew she'd have to break them. Gritting her teeth, she stretched her hand across until she was able to force her fingers under the cuff on her other wrist. Then she strained against the metal, ignoring it biting into her skin until she was past the point it should have drawn blood from an ordinary person, and something inside the cuff cracked. Slipping off the cuff, Sierra patiently began wiggling her wrist past each loop of rope, loosening her bindings a little at a time. Finally one hand was free and Sierra quickly got to work on the other one, then her legs. Within minutes Sierra's bare feet were treading the rough concrete floor. Her equipment had naturally been stripped after she was captured, including her lock picks. She turned back to the chair and table and began smashing them on the ground. Before long the door began to open and Sierra stood beside it. As soon as the guard entered, Sierra grabbed his machine gun, forcing it downward, kneed him in the stomach and then the head as he doubled over. She took his gun and keys, locking him in the room. Sierra marvelled at the carelessness of the place. Only one unprepared guard and no surveillance. She silently padded down the corridor with the sub machine gun raised. She usually avoided killing, but this was a desperate situation. Close by was a set of cells with barred walls. Sierra had clearly been kept tied up in the interrogation room for safety, for all the good it had done. There was only one guard at the cells. He scrambled to his feet and fumbled for his pistol when he saw her.

"Drop it," Sierra told him, brandishing her machine gun. He tossed the pistol at her feet, which she picked up with her toes before transferring it to her off hand and tucking it in her belt. Looking past the man, she saw Spider behind the bars, slumped on a bed.

"Open that door," she ordered, and when he did she smacked him in the back of the head, dragged him into the cell and swapped him with Spider, locking him inside.

"Spider! Can you hear me?"

"Yes," she croaked.

"Thank goodness!" Sierra said, pulling her in for a hug. Even in her weakened state, Spider was aware of her face being pressed into Sierra's breasts.

"Can you walk? Here." Sierra supported Spider on her shoulder, one-handing the sub machine gun as they crept along the halls.

"Oh, shit!" The interrogator had rounded the corner, stopping short when she saw them. Training the gun on her, Sierra gently set Spider down and stepped forward, her huge foot smacking on the floor menacingly. The interrogator put her hands up.

"Hey, look-" Before she could finish, Sierra leapt forward and kicked her square in the chest, knocking her onto her back and leaving a black footprint on her white top. Then she turned her foot sideways and planted it on the woman's throat. Gasping for air, she grabbed Sierra's foot in a vain attempt to push it off. It tickled a little, but Sierra was in no mood to laugh.

"Now," she said, "I don't care about what you did to me, but my fiend here? You humiliated her, you demeaned her, and that's something I can't forgive."

"I'm... sorry..." the interrogator choked out.

"Somehow, I don't think you are," said Sierra. She lifted her foot and axe kicked down on the interrogator's chest. "Maybe now you are." She was left coughing and struggling to breathe. At the moment, Sierra didn't care if she survived or not. She carried Spider outside where alarms began to sound. Sierra made the decision to drop the machine gun, then hoisted Spider over both shoulders and carried her away into the jungle.

Fortunately, Spider was only dehydrated and had no serious injuries. Sierra hid out with her in a new safe house while she recovered. Sierra used a laptop to report in and then stepped out to let Spider rest. A little drizzle had started coming down, and the rain-slicked roads were soothing under her feet, relieving some of the stress from what had happened. She looked down at her feet as she walked, thinking about what Spider had done and what the torturer had said. She'd heard of a foot fetish before, vaguely, but had Spider really wanted to lick the grime off her soles? She leaned in an archway and examined the sole of one foot. She sort of liked the way the dirt brought out the shape of her soles, looking basically like a cartoon footprint, but it was hard to imagine someone wanting to put their mouth on it. It was likely, she decided, that Spider was just so half-delirious and desperate for water that she'd put up with licking up sweaty mud off a woman's feet. Still though, as Sierra thought back to Spider's tongue running up her soles, she felt the warm tingling in her crotch again. But then she thought of the humiliation and disgust on Spider's face. Was it really disgust actually? Maybe it was more like guilt. Guilt at licking and tickling her feet while she was helpless and, maybe, enjoying when it was supposed to be degrading?

Sierra stared down at her feet again as she thought. It was pretty obvious that Spider had requested to be partnered with her, and that was after she'd completed her assessment mission barefoot. Spider had reviewed that exercise and given recommendations to Cypher; it suddenly dawned on Sierra that Spider might have been the one to suggest she not wear shoes. Now that she thought of it, there had been times where Spider might have been staring at her feet.

Sierra sighed. She'd have to talk about with Spider eventually, but Spider didn't need any more stress right now. It would have to wait. Sierra walked back to the apartment, crossing some grass to give her feet some stimulation and help calm her down. As the wet blades of grass tickled her soles, Sierra suddenly had a vision that it was Spider's hair sliding between her toes instead.

You need to get that out of your head, she thought. What if Spider really is disgusted by your feet and then you throw that on her?

Or, it occurred to her, maybe Spider really was into her feet but had been so traumatized by the forced foot worshipping session that she couldn't deal with it? As she climbed the rough stone steps to the apartment, Sierra realized that she had no idea what to do. She wiped her feet on the doormat, gritting her teeth from the tickling, and as she stepped inside and felt and heard her soles pit-pat on the cheap linoleum floor, she decided she'd just have to try and be subtle and see if she could pick up anything from Spider's body language. She crept into the room where she'd left Spider. She wasn't there. Fear shot through Sierra's body. On tiptoe, spreading her toes out to minimise the noise, she searched the apartment.

"Spider?" she whispered. "Spider?" Sierra was about to look for signs of forced entry when she noticed the laptop was on. Kneeling in front of it, she read the message left up.

Amazon,

I've prepared this for you. Submit it to Cypher and you'll never have to worry about seeing me again. I worry that you might feel some blame for what happened back there, so don't. You were amazing. Everything that went wrong was my fault and I'm sorry. I let down our organization and I especially let you down. There's much more I want to say to you but I don't want to make things even worse. So I'll just say that whoever your new partner is, I hope that they treat you with the respect you deserve. Goodbye.

Spider.

Beneath the message was a form requesting a partner transfer. The blood drained from Sierra's face. She dashed back out of the apartment, her feet splashing on the wet ground and in muddy puddles. The rain was much heavier now, soaking her hair and clothes and running down her bare skin. She looked around, trying to figure out the most likely route for Spider to take. She ran from street to street, until finally she saw someone walking away with a coat and skullcap. She looked around -- it was Spider -- and took off running. But Sierra was on her in an instant and dragged her into an alley.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" she shouted.

"I'm getting out of your life," Spider replied.

"You are not."

"Come on," Spider threw her hands up. "You really want to keep working with me after what happened? What I... did to you?"

"So what?" Sierra said sternly. "You're coming back with me and that's the end of it."

"No," Spider shook her head. "You're better off without me." She tried to push past Sierra but Sierra had set her hands on her shoulders and wasn't budging.

"Look," she said, "the way I see it we can either keep standing here having a cliched argument in the rain, or we can at least go inside and dry off." Spider sighed and let Sierra take her by the arm.

"Okay, let's address the elephant in the room," Sierra said, plonking her freshly washed feet onto the coffee table. "Or elephants, as the case my be," she added, wiggling her toes. Spider sighed, closing her eyes.

"I know there's no easy way to talk about this, so I'll just ask outright," Sierra went on. "You like feet?"

"Yes," Spider choked out.

"Mine in particular?" asked Sierra.

"Yes."

"And you've felt this way since you first met me?"

"Yes!" Spider cried. She buried her face in her hands. Sierra looked back at her feet thoughtfully.

"At least things are cleared up. I was wondering if you hated the sight of my feet, actually."

"How much simpler things would be if that were true!" Spider shouted. She turned to look Sierra in the eye. "Sierra, you have the most beautiful feet in the world."

"Oh," Sierra laughed. "Sorry, I'm not laughing at you. I just never expected to receive a complement like that. So... what is it exactly you like about my feet? The size?" Spider nodded.

"There's something about women who go barefoot that does something to me. Especially women who are bigger than me. That sense of strength, toughness... and with what you do with your feet, it's just amazing."

"You mean when I make those kicks and grab things with my toes and all that?" Sierra asked. Spider nodded again. "But what about when they get all dirty?"

"I like them even better when they're dirty," Spider blurted out.

Oh well, I'm past the point of no return anyway, she thought.

"That one's harder to explain. I guess it adds extra emphasis to the fact you're barefoot, it brings out the shape of your soles..." she tried to think of more words to explain, but Sierra was nodding, satisfied.

"And tickling?"

"Oh yes, I love tickling," Spider let some more enthusiasm slip into her voice. "A bigger and stronger woman who's still ticklish makes a wonderful kind of duality. It's like, you're strong but still feminine. Does that make sense?"

"Yes, I think it does," Sierra replied, her face burning.

"That's why I have to leave," Spider was solemn again. "There's fraternization standards to think about alone, not even getting into how I..."

"What? Licked my feet? That was crueller to you than me. I mean, I wish I'd found out how you feel differently, but when you were being forced by that horrible woman, while you were dehydrated and barely in a state to think clearly..."