TickleYeti
Verified
- Joined
- Jun 6, 2018
- Messages
- 594
- Points
- 18
You lay, sprawled out, excruciatingly helpless. You can feel the warm press of the leather padding locked around your ankles and wrists. The silken smoothness of the blindfold pressing around your eyes, elevating the other sensations: the cozy feel of the blankets underneath your body, supporting you, but also pushing your body upwards, and preventing any sort of downward movement. You'd worn the red tonight, knowing he liked it, and knowing all of the spots it exposed.
In the absence of sight, your other senses ached to answer the question in your mind, "Where was he? Where is he going to tickle first?" Absently you flex your toes, feeling the elastic bands pulling them back, and preventing you from scrunching your feet up. Your ears seeming to strain, you listen for the slightest clue, a brushing of a step on the carpeted floor, an exhaled breath from an eager tickle predator whose prey is helpless before him, yet all you can hear is the leather straps over your upper arm, and hips straining and creaking slightly with each of your own nervous breaths.
Absent the sounds to give you the information you need, you hope for clues through your sense of smell, but its no use, the smell of vanilla and cherry aromatics drift through the breeze of the ceiling fan, cloaking anything else, yet relaxing you.
All that's left is the sense that would soon betray you, touch, the mechanism that would soon carry signals of ticklish agony to your brain, telling it to move something, anything to earn a reprieve from the storm of hysterics that would soon began to unravel your awareness of anything but the laughter inducing touches, it was going to happen any moment, but why hadn't it started, what was he waiting for? You feel goosebumps travel across your body in waves as you can all but imagine his scrutinizing gaze sweeping over you, analyzing, planning, preparing. The wave of goosebumps travel from your feet up your legs and across your hips, tummy and sides, up through to your exposed underarms and up through your hands. As the goosebumps prickle across your scalp, you release an involuntary gasp, the faintest hitch of breath, but in the deafening silence, might well have been a shout.
Certain you'd attracted the tickle monster, your brain made you shrink up to hide your tickle spots, achieving just a creaking of leather as you fail to move even an inch. A thrill of anticipation set your tummy fluttering, you were truly helpless and at his mercy, your last view of his stormy blue eyes, twinkling with the promise of a night to remember as he slipped the blindfold over your eyes.
Nothing, silence, anticipation. Wait! You feel a gentle breeze of his passage, it drifts over your right side and tummy, caressing the bare skin with a promise of tickles to come, the goosebumps scatter over your body again, your heart pounding, your mind certain that your ticklish trial was going to begin... Still nothing, then, the faintest whisper of a touch, brushing a stray hair to the side, its end tickling slightly as it fell to the left, down your neck and shoulder.
"Are you ready?" His voice, at once soft and demanding ensuring your comfort, but promising that your laughter would be drawn forth from every square inch of ticklish flesh; shattered the silence.
In the absence of sight, your other senses ached to answer the question in your mind, "Where was he? Where is he going to tickle first?" Absently you flex your toes, feeling the elastic bands pulling them back, and preventing you from scrunching your feet up. Your ears seeming to strain, you listen for the slightest clue, a brushing of a step on the carpeted floor, an exhaled breath from an eager tickle predator whose prey is helpless before him, yet all you can hear is the leather straps over your upper arm, and hips straining and creaking slightly with each of your own nervous breaths.
Absent the sounds to give you the information you need, you hope for clues through your sense of smell, but its no use, the smell of vanilla and cherry aromatics drift through the breeze of the ceiling fan, cloaking anything else, yet relaxing you.
All that's left is the sense that would soon betray you, touch, the mechanism that would soon carry signals of ticklish agony to your brain, telling it to move something, anything to earn a reprieve from the storm of hysterics that would soon began to unravel your awareness of anything but the laughter inducing touches, it was going to happen any moment, but why hadn't it started, what was he waiting for? You feel goosebumps travel across your body in waves as you can all but imagine his scrutinizing gaze sweeping over you, analyzing, planning, preparing. The wave of goosebumps travel from your feet up your legs and across your hips, tummy and sides, up through to your exposed underarms and up through your hands. As the goosebumps prickle across your scalp, you release an involuntary gasp, the faintest hitch of breath, but in the deafening silence, might well have been a shout.
Certain you'd attracted the tickle monster, your brain made you shrink up to hide your tickle spots, achieving just a creaking of leather as you fail to move even an inch. A thrill of anticipation set your tummy fluttering, you were truly helpless and at his mercy, your last view of his stormy blue eyes, twinkling with the promise of a night to remember as he slipped the blindfold over your eyes.
Nothing, silence, anticipation. Wait! You feel a gentle breeze of his passage, it drifts over your right side and tummy, caressing the bare skin with a promise of tickles to come, the goosebumps scatter over your body again, your heart pounding, your mind certain that your ticklish trial was going to begin... Still nothing, then, the faintest whisper of a touch, brushing a stray hair to the side, its end tickling slightly as it fell to the left, down your neck and shoulder.
"Are you ready?" His voice, at once soft and demanding ensuring your comfort, but promising that your laughter would be drawn forth from every square inch of ticklish flesh; shattered the silence.