Dave2112
Level of Cherry Feather
- Joined
- Apr 17, 2001
- Messages
- 10,294
- Points
- 0
Looking back, I’m still not sure what caused me to walk through the front door of the place called “The Razor”. I’m not exactly what you’d call the Goth type, and The Razor was known for it’s Friday and Saturday night raves. It seemed that you could walk around in this city for three days without ever seeing a member of the darkly-clad community, but come to the Razor on one of those nights and it was like walking into the movie “Blade”. I’m a pretty open-minded person, never judging someone based on dress alone, but even I was in for a shock as the black-painted glass doors parted, beckoning me to join in. Perhaps it was boredom, perhaps a need to experience something I wasn’t familiar with, but whatever it was…I’ve yet to regret taking the chance.
To be fair, the Goth contingent in the place was less judgmental than I thought they’d be. I was dressed in my jeans and a leather jacket, far from the whitish make-up and pierced body parts that filled most of the room. I only got a few side looks as I found a seat at the neon-lit bar, as if I was already sniffed out and posed no threat. In fact, the more I looked around, the less self conscious I felt. I wasn’t the only one that wasn’t dressed like the majority, and it didn’t seem like these others were being left out of the festivities. As I would many times this night, I learned a few things about the community that I’d eschewed for so long. They seemed to be open, fun-loving people, at least in here on this particular Saturday evening. Of course, there were a few of the dour types in the booths, rarely looking up from their drinks. But doesn’t every bar have this group?
It was into my fourth drink when I first saw her. A song I didn’t recognize was blasting out of the sound system, and she was moving seductively to the beat. The music was hard, but steady. Not the hammer-down, break-neck speed I’d heard before, but a rhythmic pulsation that this girl seemed to absorb. Her hair, bleached white and cut in a bob, had a single black streak over her forehead and framed a face that was an enigma. The demonic look of the black eye-shadow, curved upward to accentuate the slight angle of her eyes, was a strong counterpoint to the angelic frame of her features. She was small, perhaps five feet tall, but seemed to command attention. Her clothing was of course somewhat vampiric, but flowing in a way that conveyed the image of a dark angel more than anything evil. Shimmering black and violet scarves made up most of the outfit, covering the skin exposed by the black biker shorts and lacy bra-like top. I wasn’t particularly into the black boots as footwear, but for some reason it seemed to work with this girl.
The way she was moving drew me in more than the way she looked, though. Others were head-banging or generally hopping around, but she was alone in the middle of the floor, undulating to the music, reaching her arms over her head. It was almost like watching a falling angel reaching for heaven. Maybe it was the alcohol or maybe it was the way I was being sucked into this world, but I wound up doing something that I usually don’t.
I walked out onto the dance floor.
She caught my eye quickly and I returned the gaze. To be honest, I wasn’t sure if she was with someone, and given my position as somewhat of an outsider here, I had no wish to face down a towering vampire and his friends over some girl. However, the closer I circled toward her, the more she sauntered in my direction. It was like some unspoken game to see who would make the first move. Turned out it was me. As the music quickened its dark pulse, I found myself mimicking her movements, giving myself over to what I was feeling. Her dark eyes met mine and bored into my brain. She never dropped her gaze during the entire dance, yet we didn’t touch. We teased, coming close then moving away as the beat pounded away. As the song ended, a rush of black-clad bodies moved off the floor, and my alabaster and obsidian angel was swept away in the throng. I headed back to the bar and ordered another Jack Daniels. Her image burned onto my retinas every time the strobe light flashed, I sipped my drink and looked around.
It was when my gaze returned to the bar in front of me that I saw her again. Sitting next to me. When she slipped into the seat I didn’t know, but there she was.
“Hello,” she said, “I like the way you dance.”
“Thank you,” I replied, trying my best to sound aloof, “Same here.”
“I’m Ariel.” She said, extending her hand.
“Dave.” I said, taking her small hand and kissing the back of it.
I was half expecting her to react with disdain to the overture, but she smiled instead.
“First time here?” She asked.
“Yes,” I replied, “Although I take it that you’re a regular. I have to admit, I’m surprised.”
“By what?” Ariel asked.
“Well, first off, I was half-expecting to be asked to leave over a dress-code violation or something…”
Ariel broke my train of thought with a giggle in response to my lame joke. Her laugh was in such opposition to her look that it really took me aback for a moment. It was sweet and light, holding the promise of a fun girl under her outward appearance.
“You’re funny,” she said, “I like to laugh. You don’t get much of that around here usually. These guys can be way too serious at times.”
“Hmmm…” I said, not wanting to say anything that might offend her lifestyle. But the way she said she liked to laugh caught me off guard. My extra-curricular activities played out in my mind, but I had no intention of skirting this issue, not here, and not with her. I doubted very much that she was into anything that didn’t involve whips or wax, so I let it go.
Turned out I didn’t need to let it go for long.
“Oooooh, I like these,” she said, running a finger over my only adornment. As a smoker, I keep a roach clip with a few tan and black feathers clipped to the bottom edge of my jacket. The way she was slipping them through her pale fingers was causing my breath to come in short gasps. Was it possible that I’d found a like mind in this of all places?
“Yeah,” I said, “Comes in handy from time to time.”
“Oh, does it now?” she winked.
I couldn’t believe it. I made the comment as kind of a safe test. Hey, I could always say I was talking about pot. But I didn’t feel that she was thinking that. Our eyes locked for a moment, and we finished the evening together.
We danced again, this time touching. My arms around her waist as she moved to the music was something I’ll never forget. The feel of her, the smell of her, even her look was driving me crazy. But it was a detached crazy, like fate or something. Here we were, one Goth chick and one old hippie throwback moving together as if we were the only ones in the room.
When 3 AM rolled around, I was prepared to be brought back to reality. She’d say she had to go, and I’d thank her for a good evening and that would be that. To my surprise, however, she was bolder than I’d thought.
“Are you busy right now?” she asked.
“Not particularly, but I could be persuaded to busy myself…” No time for playing coy now, I thought.
“Well, if you’ve got nowhere to be, I’ve got a little weed at my place if you’d like to come over.”
After thinking about it for seventeen nanoseconds, I followed her out the door.
She turned the key to the door of her apartment and I entered a different world. The whole place was lit with neon. The art on the wall glowed in response to the blacklights, and she had sculptures of people in erotic poses on several shelves. She did have pot, so at least it wasn’t all an act or something, and we wound up killing a couple bowls. I’m not new to weed or anything, but between that and the look of the place, the indefinable attraction I was having toward Ariel and the overall feel of a very strange evening, I felt as if something in me were starting to change. I mean, it’s not like I’d never gone home with someone before, but Ariel was generally “not my type”, and I found myself without my usual sense of wit.
I was about to say something smooth when she surprised me by putting her arms over my shoulders and kissing me. The warmth of her mouth was in stark contrast to the cold look of her, as if life had burst through the veil of death she portrayed. My hands drifted over her small body as she led me through the place and into what had to be her bedroom. Without breaking lip contact, she leaned back on her bed, pulling me with her. As often happens in situations like these, our clothing seemed to find other places to be than on our bodies. It was when the black and violet scarves started coming off that things took a decidedly unusual turn.
“I want you to tie me up.”
That was it. No build up, no need to steer her in the right direction. Of course, I’d been looking at those scarves all night and imagining how nice they would be wrapped around her limbs, but this took me somewhat by surprise. Well, I thought, she DID seem to be an adventurous girl, and the whole Goth culture was steeped in Bondage and Dominance themes. I had my pride, though, and didn’t want to seem like this was brand-new to me, either.
“I was hoping you’d ask that,” I said as I gathered up the scarves and laid them about the bed. Black sheets, did I mention that? But you probably already figured that one out, didn’t you? As I tied her to the bed, we shared knowing glances and I wasn’t sure which of us was becoming more excited. I tried to play it cool, you know…the coldly dominant type, but I had a feeling she saw through all that. For Ariel’s part, she wasn’t playing at anything. She liked to be tied, and it certainly showed.
After the several minutes it took to restrain her effectively, I stood back and took in the vision that was Ariel. As a change from my usual method, I’d tied her across the bed, rather than the standard “headboard to footpost” style. Her knees and elbows bent over the sides of the single bed, the scarves trapping her ankles against the frame underneath and her wrists together and tied similarly, her body arched upward tightly. The pillows that I’d placed under the small of her back helped with this.
She was certainly a sight. I’d tied many women before, but there was something different about Ariel. For some reason, she was in as much control as I was. Stripped of her clothing, other than the thin black collar that we agreed to leave on, she was far more perfect than I would have imagined at first glance. Her skin was pale, but not disturbingly so. It fit her. Her breasts were small, but the globes of flesh were perky and pointing at the ceiling. Her ribs were pressed against the alabaster skin and her thin belly pulled tight. I could almost see the individual fine hairs, as if her skin were a rubber sheet pulled over the mouth of a glass. The body jewelry she had was not as distractive as I would have thought, and they added to her allure and the sense of an alien encounter. There were two tiny balls of silver on either side of her pierced nipples, and a small ring in her stretched navel. You could have bounced a quarter off of just about any part of her body.
But bouncing currency was the last thing on my mind.
I usually took some time to see if there was any way to get a new friend “into” my particular form of play, but that didn’t seem necessary with Ariel. Her comment about my roach clip was still branded into my frontal lobe, and I took on my patented “mischievous grin.” I took the item in my hand and twirled it around playfully. I sat down on the bed next to her.
“Remember this?” I asked, “You seemed to have a fascination with it earlier.”
“Haven’t you smoked enough?” she said slyly. I couldn’t believe it! With no help from me, she was playing right along. I had no way of knowing this, but I just felt it. There was some unspoken connection here, and I wasn’t about to waste it. If she could play, so could I.
“Oh, I wasn’t thinking of smoking anything, Ariel,” I said with another flash of the grin, “I was thinking of using it for…other purposes.”
“Yeah? And what would they be?” She was starting to mock-struggle, playing the victim either for her benefit or mine.
“Well, it looks like your not going anywhere,” I said as I played the soft feathers a few inches over her tight body, “so I thought I’d see if you Goth chicks are as tough as you seem…”
“What are you gonna do?” she asked, even the feigned fear hitting me deeply.
“You wouldn’t happen to be….ticklish, would you?” There. The dam was burst, the cat was out of the bag.
Ok, it was a thin bag to begin with, but you get the jist.
“Oh, you wouldn’t? Not like this, please?” Ariel begged, writhing against her bonds. I’d never been with anyone who played along so well without the prerequisite “set-up” before, and my mind was whirling at the possibilities. It was as if neither of us were willing to break out of the role, seeing how far we could push the other.
“You mean a tough chick like you would be bothered if I did….this?” I said as I dropped the feathers onto her breasts. The tips of the feathers played between the tiny balls of her piercings, even the tiny path causing a reaction in Ariel.
“Hee Hee….oh shhhhit….” she giggled as she squinted her eyes. I knew from experience that this couldn’t possible tickle her all that much, but the goosebumps on her skin told me I might have been wrong. In any case, the erotic connotations of the scene weren’t lost on me. Besides, I did need to “warm her up”, so to speak.
“Oh, is this bothering you?” I teased as I played the feathers around in ever widening circles over her breasts, the whiteness of her skin in sharp contrast to the tan feathers that were stroking her. Sliding down the sides of her breasts, I hit a little pay-dirt that I didn’t expect quite this soon.
“OH HEEHEEHEEE……MMMMMNNNN….” she giggled and moaned as the feathers stroked the smooth skin up and down. I was resisting the urge to go right for greener pastures, but watching the reactions of this dark angel, I knew I wouldn’t hold out long.
Slowly, and with a stern look into Ariel’s eyes (returned in kind, of course) I let the feathers drift toward the smooth skin under her stretched arms. They were so inviting, no fight possible against the tight bondage and the confining position. Her armpits were mine to do with as I pleased, and what pleased me at the moment was to tickle them. I used the length of the feathers to stroke from the sides of her breasts to the start of her biceps, up and down, with much purpose and little mercy. Her face scrunched up, and for a moment, I saw the little girl that had become the strange but fascinating woman.
“NO NOT THERE!!!!….PLEEEAAAASSSSE??….OHHAAHAAHAHEEEHEHEHAAA!!!….PLEASESTOPPLEASE????”
“Now why would I do a thing like that, my pet?” I asked, keeping a cool face, but feeling the muscles around my mouth involuntarily pulling into a smile.
“I-I’M….HEEHEHEHEEEE…NOTYOURPET!!!!!….LEMMEGO!!!!!….STOP IT!!!…..HEEHEEHAAHAAHAHAAAHAA!!!!”
“You are now,” I said, fully aware that she was playing and not serious. She wanted to be helpless, and I wanted to control her. A pretty spiffy combination if you ask me. But since you didn’t, I guess I’ll get on with it.
I kept one feather playing the ticklish tune under her left arm and used my left hand to gently grasp the piercing of her right nipple. Very slowly and easily, I pulled side-to-side and up a little. The different sensations must have been having quite an impact, as her laughter took on a tone of erotic pleasure.
“HaahaaHaaahaa…Ooooooohhh….MMMmmmm….HAHAHAHHA!!!…H-Harder!….”
Ok, so I had a firebrand on my hands. I could deal.
Pulling a bit harder, I switched from the feather to my fingers under her helpless arm. The feel of her skin was like polished silk. Knowing that the lightest of touches was driving her crazy, I took great pleasure in quickening the pace and upping the stakes a bit. The fingernails of my hand scraped along her bare armpit, slow then fast, keeping Ariel off balance. The stimulation of her right nipple was added to by me licking her other one. To be honest, I’d never been with anyone with pierced nipples before, and the feeling was only adding to the oddity of our meeting.
“HAAHAHAAHAA!!!!, PLEASESTOPPLEEEAAASEEE!!!!…OHGOD…OHGAAAWWWDDDD!!!!….ITTICKLESITTICKLES!!!”
“If you think that tickles…..try this.” I said as pulled up and poised my wriggling fingers over both armpits. I could see the muscles uselessly tighten against the bonds as the realization of what I was going to do hit home. Seeing a girl like her beg was having a deeper impact on me than I ever thought possible.
“No PLEASE!?!?!…Don’t, don’t…I’ll do anything, I promise! Don’t tickle me, please?” She begged.
“But Ariel,” I said with a grin, “I don’t want you to do anything…well, except scream that is…”
I dropped my hands into those inviting armpits and all thoughts of slow torment left me. My fingers scrabbled mercilessly over the tender skin as Ariel lost any control she might have had.
“AAAIIIGGHHH!!!!….PLEASEPLEASEPLEASESTOOOOOOOOOOOOOPPPPP!!!!….HAAHAAHAAHAAAHAAHAAHHEEEHAAAA….(GASSSSSP)….OHNONONONONOOOOO!!!!!!”
In a zone now, I started bringing my hands lower and lower, finally feeling the tightness of her ribcage under my fingers. Starting a slow squeezing massage, I saw something on her face that I wasn’t quite sure what to make of. Ariel was flustered for sure, and her laughter was no act, but there was something else there, too. She was enjoying it, at least on some level. Might as well give her something to enjoy, I thought. I looked her in the eye as the slow tickling picked up speed and pressure.
“Like this?” I asked.
“OHHEEHEHEEE…….NOPLEASE…NOTLIKETHAT!!!!…NOHAAHAHAHAAAAA!”
All at once, I dug in. Each of my fingers was either on an individual rib, or between two of them. The skin between the ribs was pliable, and I wasn’t sure which was having more of an effect. Either way, Ariel was in hysterics.
“AAAIIGGGHHHH!!!!….HAAHAAHAAAHAHAAHHAHAAAA!!!!…(GASSSSSPP)….N-NOOOO!!!….P-P-PLL…AAAAHHAHAAAA…PLEASE!!!!!!!!”
My knuckles locked, my fingertips almost vibrating, I tickled her like it was the first time. Maybe in a way it was. The feel of the skin, the sight of her trying desperately to pull away only made me tickle her more. I started, stopped and started again. I gave a quick hard tickle, then two, then three. All at once, I renewed the relentless tickle-torture of Ariel’s tight and helpless ribcage. I was in another world and realized that well over ten minutes had gone by since I started tickling this one place on her lovely body. Giving her a chance to breathe, I sat back and once again took up a spot beside her. She was hitching and trying to catch her breath. Ripples flowed across her belly, and the make-up on her eyes was starting to streak. Rather than find this at all unattractive, I found it strangely exhilarating. It was like having control over something previously uncontrollable. Ariel was different, to be sure, but she was my kind of different.
I picked up the feathers again and hovered them over her tight stomach.
“Oh Ariel,” I sang lightly, “did you think you were finished?” I continued to sway the feathers back and forth, like some twisted take on the Pit and Pendulum theme. But instead of the fair maiden under the cold blade, it was the Gothic angel under the cruel feather. The image alone was driving me out of my mind. Her reaction didn’t help matters.
“Oh, p-please don’t! Not that! I c-can’t take it, I swear! Anything but that!” Ariel wriggled seductively against the scarves that pinned her down, her belly writhing sexily. Lower and lower the feathers dropped until the tip of one touched the steel ball over her deep navel. The other feather started making slow circles at a halfway point between her navel and side.
“HeeHeeeeee……OhshitohSHIT!!!!….N-Nomorepleeheeeheeeessse!” she giggled as the feathers stimulated her nerve endings.
“No more?” I replied with feigned shock, “now what kind of captor would I be if I didn’t tickle that luscious belly more?”
“A n-nice one? HeeeHeeeeeHeeeeeeee…..” she replied. I don’t know how Ariel managed this, but she pulled off a sly wink. Of course, this just set me to work.
I stroked both feathers up and down her flanks, from armpits to hips. Abandoning the feathers after a few minutes, sensing she was getting used to it, I straddled her hips. Placing a single stiff finger on either side of her navel, perhaps a few inches away, I pressed in until I felt the muscle underneath the alabaster skin. I drew my fingers up the length of her belly and back down. This slow, even tickling was getting to her. Her eyes squinting and her teeth gritting, she was trying her best to resist laughing. Part of her game, I supposed, so I played along.
“Oh, not gonna laugh, huh?” I teased while my fingers started to wriggle a little, adding vibration to the strokes, “I don’t think you’re gonna hold out long.”
“MMMNNNPPPHHHH…….RRRRGGGHHHH!!!!” Ariel was almost gagging herself, which gave me an idea, but I decided to save it a bit.
“If you laugh, I own you, understand?” I said as I upped the stakes, “If you laugh, I can take you anyway I want. That’s the rule…”
I ran my fingers down her belly and stopped at her navel. Looking her in the eye, I let my hands drift over that smooth expanse of white skin and approach the curve of her waist. Using a single finger on either side, I scratched the surface of the flesh, tickling her sides lightly, slowly adding speed.
“Tickle Tickle Tickle….” I teased, hoping that the verbal taunting would add to her dilemma. It had another unexpected effect on me. Taunting her in such a childish manner was playing counterpoint to her overall look and demeanor, adding another paradox into this enigma that was a night with Ariel.
“N-NO!…MMMNNN…..N-Not….g-gonna…..” she hissed.
“Oh come on,” I taunted as more of my fingers joined in the frantic tickling of Ariel’s sides, “Kitchie-kitchie….you wanna laugh, you know it….Tickletickletickle….”
My hands went from her sides to the surface of her flat stomach and back again. She was rippling and hitching, trying like hell to maintain some composure, but I could see that it wouldn’t be long before she broke. I used every trick I had. Slow, hard strokes. Light feathery touches. Racing fingertips. Up and down her sides and around her belly.
“This has got to tickle like hell,” I teased, playing the sympathetic observer, “I don’t know how much longer you can hold out, all tied up like that and tickled….and tickled….and tickled….” I punctuated each “tickle” with a harder stroke that threatened to overtake her resistance. It finally did, as the dam broke and her sweet, hysterical, helpless laughter filled the room. Her head arched back as the screams belted out.
“MMMnnnppphh……MMMMMNNN….HHAHAHAHAAAA….STOPITPLLLEEEAAASEEEE!!….HAAHAAHAAAAAAA…AAAIIGGGHHHEEEEEEE……..HAAHAAHAHAHAHAAAAAA!!!”
“Oh, you went and did it now, didn’t you?” I said as I backed off of her and grabbed the remaining two scarves.
“Wh-what are you going to do?” she asked, her mouth fearful, but her eyes full of excitement.
“Just what we agreed, my dear…any way I want, remember?”
“Yes,” she replied, closing her eyes, “I remember.”
Moving in close to her face, I kissed her deeply and she kissed back with passion. I tied the first scarf around her head, covering her eyes. The second, I tied a thick knot in and pressed it into her mouth, tying the rest around her head. Standing back, removing what little of my own clothing remained, I was in awe of her captured beauty. Bound, blindfolded and gagged, Ariel still had as much control over me as I had over her. Resisting the urge to have sex with her had taken a bit of a toll over the last hour or so, and there was no turning back now.
Climbing on top of my Gothic beauty, I found the warmth of life under the charade of death. Stroking in and out brought a series of rhythmic moans from her.
But I wasn’t finished yet.
I told her that it would be anyway I wanted it, and I knew she agreed. She probably expected it, just didn’t know when. I played on this helplessness by supporting myself with one hand while tracing the tip of my finger down her body, tickling her lightly.
“Mmmnnnppphh……Mmmmgghhh….” she moaned as a few muffled giggles escaped the gag.
Sliding a little to one side so as to somewhat free up both hands, I gave in to the urge to torment her. Sliding in and out of her body, watching small beads of sweat form on her chest, both of my hands found targets and showed no mercy. One hands squeezed her tender side while the other fluttered around her armpit, occasionally taking a poke at her ribs. Ariel was biting down on the gag, her screams of tortured pleasure music to my ears.
“MMMNNNPPHHH!!!!….MmmmHmmmMmmmHmmm!!!…MMMRRGGHH!!!”
Joined as we were, in body and mind, base physical reactions took over and I tickled her hard and fast one final time, tormenting every ticklish spot I’d found. Her body quaked as the first orgasm rocked her violently. If not for the scarves that tied her down, I may have been scraping Goth-soup off the ceiling later. Not that my reaction was much different. Holding out as long as I could, I could feel her reaching for another.
As my tickling hands left her sides and wrapped around her small frame, we came together like Yin and Yang in some orgasmic cosmos.
Catching my breath, I pulled off the blindfold and gag. Looking into her eyes, no words were needed. A deep kiss, then I untied her. We laid together for a while, smoked another bowl and eventually fell asleep.
I never saw Ariel again. I remembered leaving the next morning, but after I’d gotten home, everything seemed lost in a fog. It was dark the night she brought me home, and my attention was more on Ariel than on where we were headed. I never could seem to find her place. I stopped by The Razor a few times after that, but she was nowhere to be seen. Asking about her only brought a shrug of the shoulders from most, and a response along the lines of “they all look like that” from others when I described her. Even her name didn’t seem to ring any bells.
I knew I didn’t dream her, but I wondered if she was what I thought she was. I resigned myself to not seeing her again, and went on with my life, a fond but strange evening forever lodged in my brain. I’d looked in a reverse mirror of sorts, and perhaps I was just sucked in. Rather than pine away, which was something I don’t think Ariel would have wanted, I wrapped myself around my memory and stored it on a shelf, dusting it off and holding it close from time to time.
But to this day, I can’t walk by a Goth club without at least peeking inside.
To be fair, the Goth contingent in the place was less judgmental than I thought they’d be. I was dressed in my jeans and a leather jacket, far from the whitish make-up and pierced body parts that filled most of the room. I only got a few side looks as I found a seat at the neon-lit bar, as if I was already sniffed out and posed no threat. In fact, the more I looked around, the less self conscious I felt. I wasn’t the only one that wasn’t dressed like the majority, and it didn’t seem like these others were being left out of the festivities. As I would many times this night, I learned a few things about the community that I’d eschewed for so long. They seemed to be open, fun-loving people, at least in here on this particular Saturday evening. Of course, there were a few of the dour types in the booths, rarely looking up from their drinks. But doesn’t every bar have this group?
It was into my fourth drink when I first saw her. A song I didn’t recognize was blasting out of the sound system, and she was moving seductively to the beat. The music was hard, but steady. Not the hammer-down, break-neck speed I’d heard before, but a rhythmic pulsation that this girl seemed to absorb. Her hair, bleached white and cut in a bob, had a single black streak over her forehead and framed a face that was an enigma. The demonic look of the black eye-shadow, curved upward to accentuate the slight angle of her eyes, was a strong counterpoint to the angelic frame of her features. She was small, perhaps five feet tall, but seemed to command attention. Her clothing was of course somewhat vampiric, but flowing in a way that conveyed the image of a dark angel more than anything evil. Shimmering black and violet scarves made up most of the outfit, covering the skin exposed by the black biker shorts and lacy bra-like top. I wasn’t particularly into the black boots as footwear, but for some reason it seemed to work with this girl.
The way she was moving drew me in more than the way she looked, though. Others were head-banging or generally hopping around, but she was alone in the middle of the floor, undulating to the music, reaching her arms over her head. It was almost like watching a falling angel reaching for heaven. Maybe it was the alcohol or maybe it was the way I was being sucked into this world, but I wound up doing something that I usually don’t.
I walked out onto the dance floor.
She caught my eye quickly and I returned the gaze. To be honest, I wasn’t sure if she was with someone, and given my position as somewhat of an outsider here, I had no wish to face down a towering vampire and his friends over some girl. However, the closer I circled toward her, the more she sauntered in my direction. It was like some unspoken game to see who would make the first move. Turned out it was me. As the music quickened its dark pulse, I found myself mimicking her movements, giving myself over to what I was feeling. Her dark eyes met mine and bored into my brain. She never dropped her gaze during the entire dance, yet we didn’t touch. We teased, coming close then moving away as the beat pounded away. As the song ended, a rush of black-clad bodies moved off the floor, and my alabaster and obsidian angel was swept away in the throng. I headed back to the bar and ordered another Jack Daniels. Her image burned onto my retinas every time the strobe light flashed, I sipped my drink and looked around.
It was when my gaze returned to the bar in front of me that I saw her again. Sitting next to me. When she slipped into the seat I didn’t know, but there she was.
“Hello,” she said, “I like the way you dance.”
“Thank you,” I replied, trying my best to sound aloof, “Same here.”
“I’m Ariel.” She said, extending her hand.
“Dave.” I said, taking her small hand and kissing the back of it.
I was half expecting her to react with disdain to the overture, but she smiled instead.
“First time here?” She asked.
“Yes,” I replied, “Although I take it that you’re a regular. I have to admit, I’m surprised.”
“By what?” Ariel asked.
“Well, first off, I was half-expecting to be asked to leave over a dress-code violation or something…”
Ariel broke my train of thought with a giggle in response to my lame joke. Her laugh was in such opposition to her look that it really took me aback for a moment. It was sweet and light, holding the promise of a fun girl under her outward appearance.
“You’re funny,” she said, “I like to laugh. You don’t get much of that around here usually. These guys can be way too serious at times.”
“Hmmm…” I said, not wanting to say anything that might offend her lifestyle. But the way she said she liked to laugh caught me off guard. My extra-curricular activities played out in my mind, but I had no intention of skirting this issue, not here, and not with her. I doubted very much that she was into anything that didn’t involve whips or wax, so I let it go.
Turned out I didn’t need to let it go for long.
“Oooooh, I like these,” she said, running a finger over my only adornment. As a smoker, I keep a roach clip with a few tan and black feathers clipped to the bottom edge of my jacket. The way she was slipping them through her pale fingers was causing my breath to come in short gasps. Was it possible that I’d found a like mind in this of all places?
“Yeah,” I said, “Comes in handy from time to time.”
“Oh, does it now?” she winked.
I couldn’t believe it. I made the comment as kind of a safe test. Hey, I could always say I was talking about pot. But I didn’t feel that she was thinking that. Our eyes locked for a moment, and we finished the evening together.
We danced again, this time touching. My arms around her waist as she moved to the music was something I’ll never forget. The feel of her, the smell of her, even her look was driving me crazy. But it was a detached crazy, like fate or something. Here we were, one Goth chick and one old hippie throwback moving together as if we were the only ones in the room.
When 3 AM rolled around, I was prepared to be brought back to reality. She’d say she had to go, and I’d thank her for a good evening and that would be that. To my surprise, however, she was bolder than I’d thought.
“Are you busy right now?” she asked.
“Not particularly, but I could be persuaded to busy myself…” No time for playing coy now, I thought.
“Well, if you’ve got nowhere to be, I’ve got a little weed at my place if you’d like to come over.”
After thinking about it for seventeen nanoseconds, I followed her out the door.
She turned the key to the door of her apartment and I entered a different world. The whole place was lit with neon. The art on the wall glowed in response to the blacklights, and she had sculptures of people in erotic poses on several shelves. She did have pot, so at least it wasn’t all an act or something, and we wound up killing a couple bowls. I’m not new to weed or anything, but between that and the look of the place, the indefinable attraction I was having toward Ariel and the overall feel of a very strange evening, I felt as if something in me were starting to change. I mean, it’s not like I’d never gone home with someone before, but Ariel was generally “not my type”, and I found myself without my usual sense of wit.
I was about to say something smooth when she surprised me by putting her arms over my shoulders and kissing me. The warmth of her mouth was in stark contrast to the cold look of her, as if life had burst through the veil of death she portrayed. My hands drifted over her small body as she led me through the place and into what had to be her bedroom. Without breaking lip contact, she leaned back on her bed, pulling me with her. As often happens in situations like these, our clothing seemed to find other places to be than on our bodies. It was when the black and violet scarves started coming off that things took a decidedly unusual turn.
“I want you to tie me up.”
That was it. No build up, no need to steer her in the right direction. Of course, I’d been looking at those scarves all night and imagining how nice they would be wrapped around her limbs, but this took me somewhat by surprise. Well, I thought, she DID seem to be an adventurous girl, and the whole Goth culture was steeped in Bondage and Dominance themes. I had my pride, though, and didn’t want to seem like this was brand-new to me, either.
“I was hoping you’d ask that,” I said as I gathered up the scarves and laid them about the bed. Black sheets, did I mention that? But you probably already figured that one out, didn’t you? As I tied her to the bed, we shared knowing glances and I wasn’t sure which of us was becoming more excited. I tried to play it cool, you know…the coldly dominant type, but I had a feeling she saw through all that. For Ariel’s part, she wasn’t playing at anything. She liked to be tied, and it certainly showed.
After the several minutes it took to restrain her effectively, I stood back and took in the vision that was Ariel. As a change from my usual method, I’d tied her across the bed, rather than the standard “headboard to footpost” style. Her knees and elbows bent over the sides of the single bed, the scarves trapping her ankles against the frame underneath and her wrists together and tied similarly, her body arched upward tightly. The pillows that I’d placed under the small of her back helped with this.
She was certainly a sight. I’d tied many women before, but there was something different about Ariel. For some reason, she was in as much control as I was. Stripped of her clothing, other than the thin black collar that we agreed to leave on, she was far more perfect than I would have imagined at first glance. Her skin was pale, but not disturbingly so. It fit her. Her breasts were small, but the globes of flesh were perky and pointing at the ceiling. Her ribs were pressed against the alabaster skin and her thin belly pulled tight. I could almost see the individual fine hairs, as if her skin were a rubber sheet pulled over the mouth of a glass. The body jewelry she had was not as distractive as I would have thought, and they added to her allure and the sense of an alien encounter. There were two tiny balls of silver on either side of her pierced nipples, and a small ring in her stretched navel. You could have bounced a quarter off of just about any part of her body.
But bouncing currency was the last thing on my mind.
I usually took some time to see if there was any way to get a new friend “into” my particular form of play, but that didn’t seem necessary with Ariel. Her comment about my roach clip was still branded into my frontal lobe, and I took on my patented “mischievous grin.” I took the item in my hand and twirled it around playfully. I sat down on the bed next to her.
“Remember this?” I asked, “You seemed to have a fascination with it earlier.”
“Haven’t you smoked enough?” she said slyly. I couldn’t believe it! With no help from me, she was playing right along. I had no way of knowing this, but I just felt it. There was some unspoken connection here, and I wasn’t about to waste it. If she could play, so could I.
“Oh, I wasn’t thinking of smoking anything, Ariel,” I said with another flash of the grin, “I was thinking of using it for…other purposes.”
“Yeah? And what would they be?” She was starting to mock-struggle, playing the victim either for her benefit or mine.
“Well, it looks like your not going anywhere,” I said as I played the soft feathers a few inches over her tight body, “so I thought I’d see if you Goth chicks are as tough as you seem…”
“What are you gonna do?” she asked, even the feigned fear hitting me deeply.
“You wouldn’t happen to be….ticklish, would you?” There. The dam was burst, the cat was out of the bag.
Ok, it was a thin bag to begin with, but you get the jist.
“Oh, you wouldn’t? Not like this, please?” Ariel begged, writhing against her bonds. I’d never been with anyone who played along so well without the prerequisite “set-up” before, and my mind was whirling at the possibilities. It was as if neither of us were willing to break out of the role, seeing how far we could push the other.
“You mean a tough chick like you would be bothered if I did….this?” I said as I dropped the feathers onto her breasts. The tips of the feathers played between the tiny balls of her piercings, even the tiny path causing a reaction in Ariel.
“Hee Hee….oh shhhhit….” she giggled as she squinted her eyes. I knew from experience that this couldn’t possible tickle her all that much, but the goosebumps on her skin told me I might have been wrong. In any case, the erotic connotations of the scene weren’t lost on me. Besides, I did need to “warm her up”, so to speak.
“Oh, is this bothering you?” I teased as I played the feathers around in ever widening circles over her breasts, the whiteness of her skin in sharp contrast to the tan feathers that were stroking her. Sliding down the sides of her breasts, I hit a little pay-dirt that I didn’t expect quite this soon.
“OH HEEHEEHEEE……MMMMMNNNN….” she giggled and moaned as the feathers stroked the smooth skin up and down. I was resisting the urge to go right for greener pastures, but watching the reactions of this dark angel, I knew I wouldn’t hold out long.
Slowly, and with a stern look into Ariel’s eyes (returned in kind, of course) I let the feathers drift toward the smooth skin under her stretched arms. They were so inviting, no fight possible against the tight bondage and the confining position. Her armpits were mine to do with as I pleased, and what pleased me at the moment was to tickle them. I used the length of the feathers to stroke from the sides of her breasts to the start of her biceps, up and down, with much purpose and little mercy. Her face scrunched up, and for a moment, I saw the little girl that had become the strange but fascinating woman.
“NO NOT THERE!!!!….PLEEEAAAASSSSE??….OHHAAHAAHAHEEEHEHEHAAA!!!….PLEASESTOPPLEASE????”
“Now why would I do a thing like that, my pet?” I asked, keeping a cool face, but feeling the muscles around my mouth involuntarily pulling into a smile.
“I-I’M….HEEHEHEHEEEE…NOTYOURPET!!!!!….LEMMEGO!!!!!….STOP IT!!!…..HEEHEEHAAHAAHAHAAAHAA!!!!”
“You are now,” I said, fully aware that she was playing and not serious. She wanted to be helpless, and I wanted to control her. A pretty spiffy combination if you ask me. But since you didn’t, I guess I’ll get on with it.
I kept one feather playing the ticklish tune under her left arm and used my left hand to gently grasp the piercing of her right nipple. Very slowly and easily, I pulled side-to-side and up a little. The different sensations must have been having quite an impact, as her laughter took on a tone of erotic pleasure.
“HaahaaHaaahaa…Ooooooohhh….MMMmmmm….HAHAHAHHA!!!…H-Harder!….”
Ok, so I had a firebrand on my hands. I could deal.
Pulling a bit harder, I switched from the feather to my fingers under her helpless arm. The feel of her skin was like polished silk. Knowing that the lightest of touches was driving her crazy, I took great pleasure in quickening the pace and upping the stakes a bit. The fingernails of my hand scraped along her bare armpit, slow then fast, keeping Ariel off balance. The stimulation of her right nipple was added to by me licking her other one. To be honest, I’d never been with anyone with pierced nipples before, and the feeling was only adding to the oddity of our meeting.
“HAAHAHAAHAA!!!!, PLEASESTOPPLEEEAAASEEE!!!!…OHGOD…OHGAAAWWWDDDD!!!!….ITTICKLESITTICKLES!!!”
“If you think that tickles…..try this.” I said as pulled up and poised my wriggling fingers over both armpits. I could see the muscles uselessly tighten against the bonds as the realization of what I was going to do hit home. Seeing a girl like her beg was having a deeper impact on me than I ever thought possible.
“No PLEASE!?!?!…Don’t, don’t…I’ll do anything, I promise! Don’t tickle me, please?” She begged.
“But Ariel,” I said with a grin, “I don’t want you to do anything…well, except scream that is…”
I dropped my hands into those inviting armpits and all thoughts of slow torment left me. My fingers scrabbled mercilessly over the tender skin as Ariel lost any control she might have had.
“AAAIIIGGHHH!!!!….PLEASEPLEASEPLEASESTOOOOOOOOOOOOOPPPPP!!!!….HAAHAAHAAHAAAHAAHAAHHEEEHAAAA….(GASSSSSP)….OHNONONONONOOOOO!!!!!!”
In a zone now, I started bringing my hands lower and lower, finally feeling the tightness of her ribcage under my fingers. Starting a slow squeezing massage, I saw something on her face that I wasn’t quite sure what to make of. Ariel was flustered for sure, and her laughter was no act, but there was something else there, too. She was enjoying it, at least on some level. Might as well give her something to enjoy, I thought. I looked her in the eye as the slow tickling picked up speed and pressure.
“Like this?” I asked.
“OHHEEHEHEEE…….NOPLEASE…NOTLIKETHAT!!!!…NOHAAHAHAHAAAAA!”
All at once, I dug in. Each of my fingers was either on an individual rib, or between two of them. The skin between the ribs was pliable, and I wasn’t sure which was having more of an effect. Either way, Ariel was in hysterics.
“AAAIIGGGHHHH!!!!….HAAHAAHAAAHAHAAHHAHAAAA!!!!…(GASSSSSPP)….N-NOOOO!!!….P-P-PLL…AAAAHHAHAAAA…PLEASE!!!!!!!!”
My knuckles locked, my fingertips almost vibrating, I tickled her like it was the first time. Maybe in a way it was. The feel of the skin, the sight of her trying desperately to pull away only made me tickle her more. I started, stopped and started again. I gave a quick hard tickle, then two, then three. All at once, I renewed the relentless tickle-torture of Ariel’s tight and helpless ribcage. I was in another world and realized that well over ten minutes had gone by since I started tickling this one place on her lovely body. Giving her a chance to breathe, I sat back and once again took up a spot beside her. She was hitching and trying to catch her breath. Ripples flowed across her belly, and the make-up on her eyes was starting to streak. Rather than find this at all unattractive, I found it strangely exhilarating. It was like having control over something previously uncontrollable. Ariel was different, to be sure, but she was my kind of different.
I picked up the feathers again and hovered them over her tight stomach.
“Oh Ariel,” I sang lightly, “did you think you were finished?” I continued to sway the feathers back and forth, like some twisted take on the Pit and Pendulum theme. But instead of the fair maiden under the cold blade, it was the Gothic angel under the cruel feather. The image alone was driving me out of my mind. Her reaction didn’t help matters.
“Oh, p-please don’t! Not that! I c-can’t take it, I swear! Anything but that!” Ariel wriggled seductively against the scarves that pinned her down, her belly writhing sexily. Lower and lower the feathers dropped until the tip of one touched the steel ball over her deep navel. The other feather started making slow circles at a halfway point between her navel and side.
“HeeHeeeeee……OhshitohSHIT!!!!….N-Nomorepleeheeeheeeessse!” she giggled as the feathers stimulated her nerve endings.
“No more?” I replied with feigned shock, “now what kind of captor would I be if I didn’t tickle that luscious belly more?”
“A n-nice one? HeeeHeeeeeHeeeeeeee…..” she replied. I don’t know how Ariel managed this, but she pulled off a sly wink. Of course, this just set me to work.
I stroked both feathers up and down her flanks, from armpits to hips. Abandoning the feathers after a few minutes, sensing she was getting used to it, I straddled her hips. Placing a single stiff finger on either side of her navel, perhaps a few inches away, I pressed in until I felt the muscle underneath the alabaster skin. I drew my fingers up the length of her belly and back down. This slow, even tickling was getting to her. Her eyes squinting and her teeth gritting, she was trying her best to resist laughing. Part of her game, I supposed, so I played along.
“Oh, not gonna laugh, huh?” I teased while my fingers started to wriggle a little, adding vibration to the strokes, “I don’t think you’re gonna hold out long.”
“MMMNNNPPPHHHH…….RRRRGGGHHHH!!!!” Ariel was almost gagging herself, which gave me an idea, but I decided to save it a bit.
“If you laugh, I own you, understand?” I said as I upped the stakes, “If you laugh, I can take you anyway I want. That’s the rule…”
I ran my fingers down her belly and stopped at her navel. Looking her in the eye, I let my hands drift over that smooth expanse of white skin and approach the curve of her waist. Using a single finger on either side, I scratched the surface of the flesh, tickling her sides lightly, slowly adding speed.
“Tickle Tickle Tickle….” I teased, hoping that the verbal taunting would add to her dilemma. It had another unexpected effect on me. Taunting her in such a childish manner was playing counterpoint to her overall look and demeanor, adding another paradox into this enigma that was a night with Ariel.
“N-NO!…MMMNNN…..N-Not….g-gonna…..” she hissed.
“Oh come on,” I taunted as more of my fingers joined in the frantic tickling of Ariel’s sides, “Kitchie-kitchie….you wanna laugh, you know it….Tickletickletickle….”
My hands went from her sides to the surface of her flat stomach and back again. She was rippling and hitching, trying like hell to maintain some composure, but I could see that it wouldn’t be long before she broke. I used every trick I had. Slow, hard strokes. Light feathery touches. Racing fingertips. Up and down her sides and around her belly.
“This has got to tickle like hell,” I teased, playing the sympathetic observer, “I don’t know how much longer you can hold out, all tied up like that and tickled….and tickled….and tickled….” I punctuated each “tickle” with a harder stroke that threatened to overtake her resistance. It finally did, as the dam broke and her sweet, hysterical, helpless laughter filled the room. Her head arched back as the screams belted out.
“MMMnnnppphh……MMMMMNNN….HHAHAHAHAAAA….STOPITPLLLEEEAAASEEEE!!….HAAHAAHAAAAAAA…AAAIIGGGHHHEEEEEEE……..HAAHAAHAHAHAHAAAAAA!!!”
“Oh, you went and did it now, didn’t you?” I said as I backed off of her and grabbed the remaining two scarves.
“Wh-what are you going to do?” she asked, her mouth fearful, but her eyes full of excitement.
“Just what we agreed, my dear…any way I want, remember?”
“Yes,” she replied, closing her eyes, “I remember.”
Moving in close to her face, I kissed her deeply and she kissed back with passion. I tied the first scarf around her head, covering her eyes. The second, I tied a thick knot in and pressed it into her mouth, tying the rest around her head. Standing back, removing what little of my own clothing remained, I was in awe of her captured beauty. Bound, blindfolded and gagged, Ariel still had as much control over me as I had over her. Resisting the urge to have sex with her had taken a bit of a toll over the last hour or so, and there was no turning back now.
Climbing on top of my Gothic beauty, I found the warmth of life under the charade of death. Stroking in and out brought a series of rhythmic moans from her.
But I wasn’t finished yet.
I told her that it would be anyway I wanted it, and I knew she agreed. She probably expected it, just didn’t know when. I played on this helplessness by supporting myself with one hand while tracing the tip of my finger down her body, tickling her lightly.
“Mmmnnnppphh……Mmmmgghhh….” she moaned as a few muffled giggles escaped the gag.
Sliding a little to one side so as to somewhat free up both hands, I gave in to the urge to torment her. Sliding in and out of her body, watching small beads of sweat form on her chest, both of my hands found targets and showed no mercy. One hands squeezed her tender side while the other fluttered around her armpit, occasionally taking a poke at her ribs. Ariel was biting down on the gag, her screams of tortured pleasure music to my ears.
“MMMNNNPPHHH!!!!….MmmmHmmmMmmmHmmm!!!…MMMRRGGHH!!!”
Joined as we were, in body and mind, base physical reactions took over and I tickled her hard and fast one final time, tormenting every ticklish spot I’d found. Her body quaked as the first orgasm rocked her violently. If not for the scarves that tied her down, I may have been scraping Goth-soup off the ceiling later. Not that my reaction was much different. Holding out as long as I could, I could feel her reaching for another.
As my tickling hands left her sides and wrapped around her small frame, we came together like Yin and Yang in some orgasmic cosmos.
Catching my breath, I pulled off the blindfold and gag. Looking into her eyes, no words were needed. A deep kiss, then I untied her. We laid together for a while, smoked another bowl and eventually fell asleep.
I never saw Ariel again. I remembered leaving the next morning, but after I’d gotten home, everything seemed lost in a fog. It was dark the night she brought me home, and my attention was more on Ariel than on where we were headed. I never could seem to find her place. I stopped by The Razor a few times after that, but she was nowhere to be seen. Asking about her only brought a shrug of the shoulders from most, and a response along the lines of “they all look like that” from others when I described her. Even her name didn’t seem to ring any bells.
I knew I didn’t dream her, but I wondered if she was what I thought she was. I resigned myself to not seeing her again, and went on with my life, a fond but strange evening forever lodged in my brain. I’d looked in a reverse mirror of sorts, and perhaps I was just sucked in. Rather than pine away, which was something I don’t think Ariel would have wanted, I wrapped myself around my memory and stored it on a shelf, dusting it off and holding it close from time to time.
But to this day, I can’t walk by a Goth club without at least peeking inside.
