Hello Everyone! So I've got yet another story to offer up for the community's enjoyment featuring two young lovers and their desires. I apologize that it is a little long, but I was particularly passionate about this one. I look forward to any and all comments, negative or positive, I just really want to hear from you all. Thanks in advance.
Lazy summer days surround me, melding together into one sun baked, and clear skied euphoric memory. Blades of grass swaying from a steady wind make up a sea of green as far as the eye can see. Yet amidst such natural wonders I elect to spend my day inside, staring at a blank word document and a blinking cruiser begging to be an integral part of my next masterpiece. But half a dozen virtual distractions keep tugging me away from the task at hand as my focus wavers and I struggle to string my thoughts into something comprehensible. Hypnotized by social media, precious minutes turn to hours as the day melts away and slips through my fingers.
This house is still and silent with only sudden scarce creaks, an indication of its age, to remind you you’re not deaf. My thoughts are as scattered as the mess that makes up my room. And although things may seem out of place, they’re right where I need them to be, a perfect imperfection.
A short list of recommended videos runs across my web browser and I’m about to dismiss them all, when an intriguing thumbnail catches my attention. Investing interest I open the video and after a short mandatory advertisement I’m witness to a most bizarre image.
A beautiful young blonde no older than twenty-five lays partially clothed, tied to a bedframe. She’s scanning the room to the limits of her confinement when her eyes grow wide as a young chiseled man comes into the shot holding a feather. She begs and pleads for him to untie her, even going so far as to offer up sexual favors, but his devotion outlasts her persistence. Taking advantage of her vulnerability he grazes the feather over every inch of her exposed skin. She reacts with simultaneous sporadic laughter and spastic fits that see her twitch and wiggle. Entranced I can’t look away as he abandons the feather and takes to using his fingers for a more personal touch. Something rouses within me the longer the video continues as I try desperately to imagine myself in her position. But every descriptive word seems to fall short of what I’m witnessing and the longer I watch the more obsessed I become.
The video comes to an abrupt end as the sound of a slamming door indicates my parents are home from their shopping trip in the city. Hastily clearing any evidence of my browsing history I return to my blank page and begin to type gibberish, keeping a perplexed look on my face.
There’s a subtle knock on my door before my father peeks in and twists his head my way, “Mind helping us with the groceries Sonnet?” He says with a smile.
“But daddy I have this report due in two days and my professor doesn’t accept late work!” I fib.
His smile fades as he scratches his black and grey beard and locks eyes with me, “Then you should have started your assignment sooner young lady. Now you get out here and help us. It won’t take but a minute or two.”
Taking an exaggerated exhale I flip down my laptop and stagger to my feet. Sitting too long with my legs crossed puts them to sleep so my first initial steps towards the kitchen are a struggle. The second I step outside I’m reminded of the summer’s unforgiving heat as it starts to roast my ghastly white skin.
One might assume we were stalking up for world war three the way our family minivan was laden with such a heavy assortment of groceries. The supermarket being only a couple of miles away was one of the things I missed most about living in the city. “The sticks” as our area is referred to by city folk has nothing around it for miles but lush green grass in the summer and mountains of snow in the winter. Even the college I attended took two hours to get to so most mornings I was up before the crack of dawn to ensure a parking space.
After only two heavy hauls of provisions that threaten the integrity of the thin plastic bags they’re in, a trickle of sweat runs down my backside tickling my skin. “How come mom only has to put them away hu?” I question.
“It’s HER kitchen and she likes to keep things organized.” He explains with a reassuring nod.
“I’m organized!” I say taking offense.
My father lets out a low chuckle, “Right. And your room looks like a Better Homes and Gardens magazine spread.”
Between playful banter we manage to pile every single grocery bag onto our slick and shiny marble counter top in no time. My mother being such the multitasker continues to rack soup cans in the cupboard while heating a pot of water. “So what’s your report about sweetie?” She asks lowering the flame on the burner till it’s but a small flicker.
The answer is on the tip of my tongue. It’s been there since I first came down the stairs, “The founding fathers.” I blurt.
“And how long does it have to be?” She continues.
“Three thousand words.” I sigh so deeply you can almost hear my heart sink.
My mother must have caught this because her face melts with sympathy, “Then we’d better not keep you darling. Go on. I’ll call you down when dinner is served.”
My treachery works masterfully, but I keep a long face until I’m halfway up the stairs. It’s common place to see me help with dinner preparations, but not today, not after what I’d just seen, and I was hungry for more.
I lock the door to my room, slip on a pair of headphones and seclude myself from the outside world. The laptop beckons and I don’t hesitate to flip it open. My fingers glide over the keyboard punching letters into the search engine. “Female tickling.”
Seconds after I hit the return key hundreds of websites pop up. I scroll carefully, navigating around pornography as much as possible. After a couple of eye straining minutes I discover a forum dedicated to the tickle fetish. To my surprise hundreds of thousands of people flock to this forum to share pictures, videos, stories and even to seek out people in their area. With no hesitation I register for free and begin my descend into the world of tickling.
My lack of enthusiasm at the dinner table is not lost on my mother and father as they watch me casually play with the peas on my plate.
“Something wrong Sonnet?” My mother asks, nudging my father to join her in the interrogation of their daughter.
“No.” I reply, with a nonchalant shake of my head.
“Are you sure?” My father asks through a forkful of chicken. “Is that essay giving you trouble?”
I nod my head in conjunction with his words affirming his assumption, “I’m really behind on it and I have a serious case of writer’s block.”
My mother takes a quick glance at her husband before returning her eyes to me, “Colin why don’t you help her? Surely your experience as a news columnist could be of some use.”
My father smiles brightly, “I’d be happy to…”
I shake my head in disapproval, “Umm, thanks guys, but I’m in college now. I really think this is something I should take care of on my own.” I say glumly. “May I be excused?”
My parents exchange glances, “Sure honey, and don’t you worry about cleaning up.” My father states.
Again my conniving ways prevail and I dash towards my room as if there’s not a moment to spare. Tiny titillating sensations rouse with every beat of my heart as I lock the door to my room and flip open my laptop.
Images of scantily clad women bound in various forms of bondage infiltrate my eyes. Their shrieks of laughter resonating in my ears is as heavenly as a four string quartet. Hair raising emotions stir within me as I’m captivated in an inexplicable hold. The more I watch the more my extremities become aroused. Unhinging my belt I slip my right hand down my pants and graze my vagina with smooth gradual strokes.
A loud knock on the door breaks my concentration and sends me crashing from my bed to the floor. I scatter to hide my secret and adjust my pants smearing the stench on my fingertips across my behind. “Coming!” I say in a chipper tone.
I open the door allowing only an inch of space between me and my uninvited guest, “How goes the report?” My father asks.
Despite fumbling for words I manage to string together something quick, “It’s coming along real smooth daddy.”
He tries to nudge open the door a little more but I resist him, “Daddy I’m not wearing a shirt.” I lie again.
He flashes a confused look before backing off, “Well… um if you need any help…”
“I know, I know, you’re right here. Thanks dad.” I say through grit teeth.
“Next time you should think twice before taking courses in the summer.” His voice trails as he retreats downstairs.
I lock the door and slouch back into my bed. Long gone is the scintillating arousal, replaced solely by the gravity of my deceit weighing on my conscious. It’s then that I discover embracing this newfound desire would come at a price. A lump forms in my throat as my imagination conjures images of my parents possibly stressed out over my well-being. Never had I had a harder time switching off my laptop. Once it’s off I slip out of my pants and crawl into bed letting the cool crisp sheets cocoon my body. The images ingrained in my mind clash against the slow and steady slumber that had become so routine making it a struggle just to fall asleep.
Morning comes in the form of an unrelenting phone alarm that blares from the side of my bed. Heavy eyes make finding my phone more of an audible thing and at five A.M being the only one awake I scramble to find it.
After a quick shower I slip into a pair of high waist jean shorts and a loosely fitted translucent teal green button down. I run my fingers through my pixie cut dirty blonde hair swiping it to the side. At nineteen I can still get away with minimal makeup on my pale round face so I limit myself to light pink lip gloss and a touch of blush.
The drive to school is a quiet and somber affair with the stereo in my rust stained jalopy non-existent. Fortunately I have the occasional rhythmic thumping of the street markers grazing my tires to remind me I still have ears.
After a quick cup of coffee and a butter rich blueberry muffin courtesy of the college cafeteria I’m off to class. Droves of other youthful bright eyed hopefuls clutter the halls making it impossible to get by unscathed and it’s in the midst of the mayhem that I spot my girlfriend Padma.
“Hey beautiful!” She says wrapping her arms around me.
I can’t get a word in before her lips have me showered in kisses. My eyes scan the crowd to a pair of beer gut unshaven hooligans wide eyed in surprise as if they’d never seen a lesbian couple embrace before.
“Mmm… Is that blueberry muffin I taste?” Padma asks licking her lips of my residue.
“Uh-hu!” I nod happily.
“And you didn’t save me any?” She says squishing my stomach.
The images of yesterday’s web browsing bonanza resurface as loud fits of giggles escape me and I jerk away from her grasp.
“Come on; let’s get to class silly goose!” She says placing her arm around me.
I lean my head against her shoulder as we walk stride for stride to an American History course. Upon arrival it’s announced our professor would be taking it easy, allowing PBS on DVD to do the teaching today. It’s my luck because now I get to casually cuddle with Padma after the lights go out and the film is started.
As we play with each other’s hands inside my backpack my mind reverts to the first time we met and how I was taken by her caramel colored skin, deep brown eyes and the cute little red dot adorned on her forehead. I later found that out be known as a Bindi. As fate would have it our stars aligned and as much as it outraged our parents we stood our ground determined to defy. As our love for one another flourished and grew so did Padma’s waistline, something we came to refer to as comfort pounds. On lazy summer nights under a blanket of stars I’d often use her soft supple stomach as my own personal pillow. And while I wish I could have packed on some pounds along with her, my fast metabolism denied me the pleasure.
“I love you.” I whisper softly in her ear.
The class is over way too soon as our professor flicks back on the blinding lights and dismisses us for the day. A nearby student dreaming in his own drool has to be shaken back to consciousness by his fellow peers making Padma snicker with delight as we exit the class together.
“There’s something I want to show you.” I announce.
Padma raises her eyebrows in interest, “Okay?”
After what seems like an eternity we reach the campus lounge. It’s booming with activity, but we manage to find an empty sofa. Padma’s skin tight jeans make her belly bulge as she sits down next to me, something I’ve come to ogle over time.
My heart begins to beat just a little faster as I boot up my laptop. Having been so open with her in our relationship it hadn’t dawned on me how she might take my new newfound pleasure. It’s too late to turn back now as her complete attention is focused on my eleven inch display. “Is it a Vine?” She asks knowing my obsession for social media.
“Nope, now watch this.” I say handing her the device.
Her face is like stone yet I keep a steady watch for any and all reactions. Granting me a casual glance, her warm smile reminiscent of the first time we kissed melts my insecurities. After a few minutes she collapses the laptop and hands it back to me. “So what was that exactly?” She asks with a grin.
“Tickling.” I say plainly.
She rolls her eyes, “I know that, but what does it have to do with us?” She questions with a raised brow.
“I want you to do that to me.” I say confidently.
There’s a small look of concern on her face as she lets my words sink in, “You want to…try that kinky shit?”
I nod slowly, slightly bothered by her tone of voice, “We’ve been together for almost nine months. We’ve written many chapters in the story that is our relationship. I’m ready to write another chapter.”
Her smile returns as my words harmonize in her head, “I love you too much to say no. Kinky little girl.”
We embrace one last time before going our separate ways for the day. As close knit as we are, our degree plans don’t completely intertwine.
Meticulous planning goes into deceiving our parents as per our true intentions. Once my last class comes to a close I call my mother and inform her of my intent to spend the night at Padma’s. And while my request is on a whim, the trust I’d so carefully constructed throughout the years was strong enough that she didn’t hesitate to say yes. Having instructed Padma to do the same I now only waited for a conformation via text message. Our parents only ever spoke the day we came out of hiding, after that, conversations between them had become relatively non-existent. There’s a strong vibration from the console of my car, “My parents think I’m sleeping over lol!” Read her text.
Hotel reservations were easy to come by on a Monday night, not to mention quite cheap. I’m the first to arrive at the motel so I sit patiently in the lobby waiting for Padma to show. The stale scent of coffee fills the air as I help myself to a stack of old magazines. Halfway into reading outdated tabloids about how Bruce Jenner no longer wants to be a man; the unmistakable aroma of sparkling mandarin captivates my sense of smell.
“Sonnet!” Padma says with smile.
“What’s in the bag?” I ask inquisitively.
“All in good time my love.” She says mischievously. “Is our “suite” ready?” She giggles.
“One bed, one bath. Twenty four hours.” I say presenting the key card.
My heart rate elevates as we inch closer to the room with every step. By the time we’re at the door it’s practically beating out of my chest, and it takes two hands to steady my fidgeting before I can insert the key card into the slot. Here I was right beside a girl I’d known for almost a year, yet under the circumstances it felt as if we were discovering each other all over again.
Cold air escapes the room as I open the door to various shades of grey. A bed with sheets white as snow sits in the center of the room and just looking at it sends shivers down my backside knowing I’ll soon be strapped to it. Padma sets her bag down on the floor and pulls from it a bottle of red wine. “Ta da!” She says with enthusiasm. “I thought this might, spruce up the night.”
“Padma! You’re nineteen. How did you get that?” I question.
“I promised a wino outside the liquor store I’d call him if he bought it for me.” She giggles sheepishly. “And look… Lunchables!!” She squeals unveiling the kid sized snack.
“Very gourmet.” I chuckle.
Deep intellectual conversation spins into babbles and jargon as more wine empties from the bottle and enters into our systems. Not accustomed to consuming alcohol we limit our consumption to two glasses before corking the bottle. “It’s time.” She whispers softly as if the secret of what we’re about to do might carry past the room to our parents fifty miles away.
I nod in compliance, smile and stand to my unsteady feet. The buzz, accumulated by twelve ounces of beverage has me lightheaded as I collapse onto the bed. At the very least, my nerves have settled and my heart has returned to the sure and steady pulse it was used to.
“Let’s try these on for size shall we?” Padma says pulling from her bag a set of fluffy pink restraints, one for the arms and one for the legs.
Alcoholically assisted I let down my defenses and limber my ligaments letting Padma have her way with my hands and feet. Faster than I can blink I’m spread like an x across the mattress with my arms and legs secured tightly at each corner of the bedframe.
“They’re not too tight are they?” She questions.
I shake my head, “No, they’re fine.”
“Good. I don’t want to cut off the circulation.” She says tapping my chest. “Now if you’ll kindly wait here, I have something special I’d like to wear.”
“As if I have a choice?” I shrug.
She escapes into the restroom toting her bag leaving me alone with my thoughts. It’s then I wish I’d thought of putting together an extra sexy ensemble, but my teal green top and jean shorts will have to do. For an inexpensive hotel the bed is relatively comfortable and if Padma didn't hurry she might come in to find me fast asleep.
As if we have a telepathic connection she emerges from the bathroom draped to the nines in a traditional royal blue belly dancing dress. Almost every inch of fabric is adorned with tiny gold trinkets that jingle with every step she takes towards the bed. “What do you think?” She asks twirling around.
“I love it.” I squeal happily. Half the reason I’d fallen so hard for her was my infatuation with her ethnicity. And now that she’s covered head to toe embraced in her culture it only strengthens my resolve. “I love my little belly dancer.”
Her bare belly bulges beyond her belt line as she straddles my hips and leans into me. With delicate hands she unfastens each button of my top till every inch of my pale white body is exposed. Her deep brown eyes devour the image that is me before taking a thick soft bristled paint brush to my left underarm. A light prickling sensation irritates my skin causing me to tense every bone in my body. We’ve only just begun, but already I’m taking deep breaths in anticipation that the worst is yet to come.
“Oh my god Sonnet, I’m barely touching you.” Padma teases.
Light sensual strokes excite my skin as she runs the brush up and down my arms. Suppressed giggles swelling up inside of me beg to come out every time she circles my tender hollows.
“Cootchie-cootchie coo!” Padma’s babyish babbles make us both snicker and she buries her head in my chest out of pure embarrassment. The strands of her long black hair excite my nerves as they crash into my skin.
Regaining her focus she continues on her quest to unveil the most sensitive areas on my upper body; dripping the brush down my left side like a painter meticulously adding color to their canvas, “Where are you ticklish?” She ponders aloud.
“That’s my job to know and yours to find out.” I lift my head and smile.
“Oh it’s going to be like that is it?” She taunts playfully, dropping the brush to the floor.
She takes to a more personal touch as her frivolous fingers ravage my rib cage making me jump and reducing me to helpless hysterics. “WHOO-WHO-WHO-HEE-HEE-HEE! OH GOD HERE WE GO!”
“Ah-ha, so it’s the fingers that do the most damage eh?” She says excitedly.
Nothing in my wildest fantasies could have ever measured up to this feeling of helplessness; as every inbred instinct in my brain is urging me to defend myself yet I cannot comply. Her hands are stronger than I’ve ever felt them as she massages her thumbs into each individual rib ascendingly. “Don’t you give me that look!” She says alluding to the distraught expression on my face, “You asked for this…remember?”
My only response is a subtle head nod amidst stifled laughter as the sensations that engulf my mind are far too powerful for my thought process to overcome.
Her stubby digits ease up to my underarms where they nestle securely in the comforts of my milky white hollows, “Tickle, tickle my little Sonnet!” She says scratching my skin profusely.
“OH GOD NO-HO-HO-AH-HA-HA-HA! DAMIT THAT TICKLES-S-SEE-HEE-HEE-HEE!” I cry.
“That is the general idea my love.” Padma says giggling at the obviousness of my response.
“YOU DON’T SAY?!” I reply with equal wit.
“You dare sass me little girl?!” She says, shooting me a mischievous grin.
Our playful banter fuels her fingers to run rambunctiously up and down my arms igniting every one of my nerve endings along the way.
My arms flail instinctively to the limits of my restraints as I attempt desperately to evade her attacks. “Say what you will about my pansy looking cuffs, you’re not going anywhere.” She says taking a sadistic tone.
I shut my eyes as she tauntingly wiggles her fingers mere inches above my elbows. Every muscle in my body contracts as I prepare myself for the side splitting sensations that are about to ensue. I’m caught unawares as her fingers dig, not into my arms, but onto my soft flat stomach. “WHA-HA-HA-HA! OH GOD-DA-HA-HA-HA! YOU TRICKED MEE-HEE-HEE-HEE!”
Despite her size it takes all her weight to keep me from bucking her off the bed; such exuberant display of force the likes of which I never knew existed in me.
The hair raising antics of soft gentle touches on the surface of my skin surprisingly calm any irritable sensations and I’m graciously given a chance to compose myself. “Whew…”
“Tired already? Seems you may have underestimated my skills as a tickler.” She teases, keeping her fingers in a smooth rhythmic circular motion on my belly.
“Perhaps… I underestimated… MY ticklishness.” I manage to sputter between breaths.
“That’s just like you Sonnet, never giving me any…credit!” She says thrusting her thumbs into my pelvis.
“WHEE-HEE-HEE-HEE! OH GOD NO! PADMA PLEE-HEE-HEE-ASE!” I scream.
She grins with glee making light of my childish demeanor. Her pearly white teeth only add to an already ridiculously fabulous smile and as much as she is my tormentor, she’s also the love of my life.
“Poor little Sonnet. And here I thought you WANTED to be tickled.” She bickers.
Her explorations of my lower abdominals lead her to find a sweet spot right underneath my navel which she immediately exploits. “Oh wow, what’s this? Is this like…like a tickle button?” She says thrusting her index finger deep into my flesh.
“I TH-THINK SO-HO-HO-HO-WHOO-HOO-HOO! NOT THERE PADMA! NOT THE-EEE-HEE-HEE-HEE-EAR-RA-HA-HA-HA!” I ramble.
Respecting my desires she pulls away from my belly only to turn around and face my Converse incased feet. “You wouldn’t.” I say barely above a wheeze.
“How could you possibly expect me not to?” She says, reading my thoughts again.
“Maybe I… I bit off more than I can chew.” I say as my will begins to crumble.
“No, no. You won’t get off that easy.” Padma insists pulling at my laces.
Accepting the gravity of my situation I lie still in an attempt to regenerate before another wave of tickles. My shoes are slipped off my feet leaving only a pair of pink silk socks between her merciless fingers and my ultra-sensitive soles. “Padma?! Padma?! Padma!”
“That’s my name don’t wear it out darling.” She says with eloquence. “Now about these feet, these soft… silky… smooth feet.” She ogles peeling off my socks.
My feet come to life in livid twitches as long slick nails freshly manicured slowly trace every wrinkle of my creamy white bottoms, “PADMA-AH-HA-HA-HA-HA! NOT MY FEE-HEE-HEE-HEE-HEET!”
Her light traces evolve into heavy handed strokes along my inner arches causing me to inadvertently bang my head against the bed. My priceless reactions have Padma in stitches as she turns her attention to my toes, “Gosh Sonnet I’m only using one finger!” She teases.
“IT STILL TICKLES!” I reply through grit teeth.
Quick casual scratches along the delicacies that are my toes send shockwaves up my legs and I reflexively scrunch my soles in an effort to subdue the sensations.
As she peels back my foot her warm breath along the tips of my toes catches me off guard. No sooner do I lift my head to sneak a peek at the proceedings that my foot is halfway in her mouth. Her pearly whites go to work nibbling at my toes like decadent hors d’oeuvres, “WHAT-TA-HA-HA! CANNIBAL-LA-HA-HA- HEEEE! SOMEBODY HELP-PA-HA-HA-HA! SHE’S EATING MEE-HEE-HEE-HEE!” I cry.
“You’re so delicious my Sonnet.” Padma says seductively.
I ponder my response as I lie flustered and short of breath, “Haven’t you had enough to eat today?” I say it almost reluctantly, for as the words leave my lips Padma’s eyes grow wide with rage.
“Are you calling me…fat?” She says taking offense.
I can tell her anger is fabricated as she pounces the bed with a smile so wide you could store a banana in it. “No, no, no!” I playfully rebuttal.
“How dare you call me fat?” She says thrusting her fingers deep into my thighs.
I spring off the bed like a heart patient being defibrillated, “WHA-HA-HA-HA! FOO-HOO-HOO-AH-HA-HA! FORGIVE ME PADMA-AH-HA-HA!”
My thighs ripple as she sinks her fingers into the depths of my flesh, “Did you forget you were at my mercy?” She asks seductively slinking up my body.
My every instinct is telling me to roll off the bed as I wrestle with my restraints in an effort to get free. Wet raspberries make me squeal and jump with involuntary delight as Padma presses her lips on my belly planting them wherever she sees fit.
I feel my nipples grow erect as she inches closer and closer to my bra encased breasts. Lying down they’re practically non-existent, mosquito bites compared to Padma’s glorious mounds. At one point in my life I’d felt them shamefully small, but over time Padma’s love for every inch of my body made me less and less self-conscious about the issue. Taking off my bra she playfully fondles my perky breasts in the palms of her hands before treating them to tickles under the tender spots below, “YIKEES-SEE-HEE-HEE-HEE! NO-NO-NOO-WAH-HA-HA-HA!”
“Your titties are ticklish too?” Padma says with disbelief.
In truth it had also caught me by surprise. I’d been tickled most everywhere on my body as a youth, by aunts, uncles and mom and dad, but never there. Never in a sacred place.
Her warm wet saliva sends a cold chill down my spine as she suckles my nipples with her soft pouty lips. I unclench my fists and arch my back submissively submitting to the will of my Padma. “OH GOD-DA-HA-HA-HA! YOU’RE TONGUE TICKLES-SSS-SEE-HEE-HEE-HEE!”
She circles my breasts with her tongue lapping them up like an ice cream cone melting in the summer heat. “You’re so beautiful… when you smile.” She says between licks.
Sliding from my breasts to my beltline Padma takes to slowly and erotically unbuttoning my shorts. With one strong tug she pulls them down unveiling a pair of white cotton briefs, a signature undergarment of mine. “What have we here?” She says wide eyed in wonder.
“Uncharted territory.” I utter softly.
Even Padma, my dearest love has never seen me so vulnerable and so viciously exposed and I can tell it stirs her so as she struggles to string words together. Instead of speaking she takes action using her fingers as instruments of torment to trickle and trace the outlines of my tiny vagina.
The scintillating sensations send goosebumps down my thighs and I can’t help but snicker as her hands abrasively explore every crevice of my crotch, “MMM-HMM-HMM-HMM! OH GOD-DA-HA-HA! PADMA PLEEE-HEE-HEE-HEASE BE GENTLE!”
“Seems to me like you’re enjoying this.” She whispers sexually.
“HMM-MMM-MAH-HA-HA! OH-HO-HO! GOODNESS NO-HO-HO!” I cry, riding a rollercoaster of emotion ranging from pleasure to torment then back again.
A two fingered massage ensues as her fingers slow to a crawl and embrace my throbbing clitoris. “You like THIS don’t you?” She scoffs at me.
I whimper in agreement relaxing every strained muscle in my body.
“You can relax my little Sonnet. Let me pleasure you now.”
Her words, sweet relief, rush over me like a slowly careening fountain of water as time and space become long lost concepts. Driven by desires of the flesh I reflexively thrust my pelvis to the ceiling fully surrendering myself.
“Easy my little Sonnet.” Padma comforts.
Cold air excites my extremities as she peels away my panties leaving me completely exposed. My skin crawls as she runs her index finger down my patch of pubes and back onto my clitoris.
Years in the practice of masturbation and I had never felt what I’m feeling now. How could Padma’s two fingers arouse such spellbinding sensations that mine could not? The thought ran through my head for a minute before the answer became clear…love.
“Feels good doesn’t it?” She inquires.
My moans are all she needs to hear to get the answer to her question as my mental capacity to respond lays buried under a sea of feelings and emotions.
With one hand she manipulates my vagina stipulating every moan, groan and pelvic thrust. With the other, she rakes my shaggy hair caressing my scalp with her fingernails. Chest to chest our lips touch as she showers my sweaty face with warm kisses. I’m on pins and needles as she speeds up the octaves and vigorously massages my clitoris sensing I’m on the edge of orgasm.
She couldn’t be more right as a mind numbing, hair raising surge of climactic energy courses and immerses itself throughout my entire body forcing me into adverse volatile spasms. Warm intensely pleasurable waves follow as all the built up tension in my genitals disperse like a carbonated drink being opened for the first time.
I don’t even realize she’s un-cuffed my arms as they’re all but spent of energy, flaccid as perfectly cooked noodles. Padma’s pleasant sun kissed skin is the first thing I see as I open my eyes in awestruck wonder. And as she stares down at me with glowing radiance it’s easy to see why I fell in love with her.
“How’s my little Sonnet?” She asks stroking my hair.
“Tired, a little sore, but very…loved.” I respond.
My legs feel like unsteady stilts as I stagger to the bathroom to clean myself up. The cold bathroom tiles feel glorious on my warm soles as I brave my naked reflection. Red blotches on my ribs are the only indications maleficence. As I dab a warm wet cloth over my vaginal area my thoughts revert to Padma and how much I’d enjoy giving her a taste of tickle torment, but as much as she loved me I knew in my heart she’d never agree.
By the time I’m finished with myself Padma’s already exchanged the sheets and is lying comfortably on the bed watching syndications on late night television. Her vision never reverts even as I slip back into my teal green top. It’s then that I remember the half empty bottle of wine.
“Say Padma, care for some more of that red wine?” I ask nonchalantly.
“Mmm, I guess I could go for one more glass.” She snickers with adolescent mischievousness.
Her blue belly dancing dress jingles to life as the shiny trinkets that adorn it clash against one another and she props herself up for a drink. I purposefully fill her glass to the top and discretely request her favorite Italian cuisine courtesy of an app on my smartphone. I curl up beside her and pretend to take interest in what she’s watching when in fact I’m more interested in seeing her consume the wine.
“You aren’t drinking any?” She says slightly zoned out on the television.
I reach for my glass and splash but a fraction of what she’s already consumed into my cup, “I am so.” I say, taking small rationed sips.
As one show ends and another seemingly slides into its place there’s a knock at the door that startles Padma out of her indulgent intake of television, “Oh my god it’s my parents!” She shrieks. “They know! Oh god they’re going to kill me!” She says to stunned to move a muscle.
I can’t help but laugh at the sight of her frightened face, “Ha! Relax love I just ordered us some food.”
She lets out a deep sigh and collapses on her back in sweet relief, “Oh god.”
Twenty two dollars is a small price to pay in the grand scheme of things and I gladly fork over the money in exchange for two brown paper sacks. As I close the door behind me the alluring aroma of freshly baked bread and piping hot pasta begins to fills the room.
I’m taken aback by Padma’s comment, “Isn’t it a little late for food?”
“It’s just a midnight snack. I got your favorite! Creamy… chicken… alfredo.” I say unveiling the goods.
My words act as kryptonite crumbling her willpower with wrecking ball like destruction, “Mmm… Maybe just a few bites.” She says with a shrug, “YOLO!”
A few bites turns into half the bowl before she realizes how much she’s eaten as I fiddle with my plate barely denting my portion, “Oh god I’m a pig!” She says disgusted with herself.
“Padma don’t say that. You were just hungry from tickling me, that’s all.” I counter.
“Perhaps you’re right. Tickling you did work up a bit of an appetite.” She says.
“See? I told you.”
“Yeah well I’m full now.” She says waddling to the trash and disposing of her leftovers.
I watch happily as my unwitting victim waddles back onto the bed, props herself against a stack of pillows and eases into a food coma.
Between the pasta, breadsticks and wine her body has to process it’s only a matter of time before my beloved pays a visit to dreamland.
Futilely fighting to stay awake Padma bats her heavy eyes. Her head must feel like it’s falling off her shoulders as she struggles to keep it upright. Minutes later she succumbs to slumber lying completely unconscious with her arms wrapped loosely around her protruding belly.
“Hey Padma?” I say tiptoeing over to her. “Padma? Paaaadmaaa…” I continue to clown. “Look Padma, cheesecake!” I kid.
She responds with a subtle snore that I take as a sign that she’s truly incapacitated. I could likely pluck a hair off her eyebrow and not get so much as a twitch were I really that cruel.
It strains every muscle in my body to maneuver my beloved and stretch her face down across the bed. After tightly securing her to the bed frame I stand back and marvel at my handiwork.
Beit sympathy stricken or deviously orchestrated I decide to wait till morning to extract my revenge. By that time she’ll have had a full night’s rest, be rejuvenated and more sensitive than she otherwise would be with no glucose running through her system. I lie on the floor with just a pillow and a sheet and stare at the ceiling counting tiles till the same fate of sleep falls upon me.
The soft glow of the sun peaks through thin window shades illuminating what would otherwise be a pitch black room. And it’s a thin ray of light shown directly in my eye that sees me rouse before Padma.
Slight body aches course through me as I rise to my feet a firm reminder of what transpired the night before. My phone, which is constantly being misplaced, is surprisingly right beside me. Tapping the screen I realize there are still four hours before the scheduled check out which is more than enough time for vengeance.
A small damp blotch of dribble resides by her gaping mouth as Padma continues to sleep soundly; and I almost feel guilty to have to wake her from such a tranquil state. I keep my voice tender and low like a mother ushering her child awake for the first day of school, “Padma.”
I gently stroke her jet black hair and call her name until she begins to stir, “Morning sunshine.” I say tenderly.
She blinks open her eyes, sees my face and grins happily, “Morning.” She responds.
Trying to reach out to me her smile fades as she comes to the realization her hands have been enchained. “Sonnet? What’s going on?” She asks drearily still shaking off slumber.
“Oh well I’d say you’re tied up.” I say in a conniving tone.
“Brilliant deduction Sherlock but WHY am I tied up?” She whips back.
“Oh, just a little something I like to call turning the tables.”
“Oh God no! Sonnet no!” Padma says with growing eyes, “This was never part of the plan! I NEVER agreed to this!”
I wave my finger in her face, “You didn’t think after what you did to me last night I was going to let you off scot free did you?”
“But you wanted to be tickled!” Padma counters.
“I did and I have. Now it’s your turn to suffer the same.”
“Come now Sonnet, you don’t want to do this. I’m… I’m not even ticklish.” She blurts as I position myself at her feet.
“Then you have nothing to be afraid of.” I say gliding a single finger up her left sole.
I watch her foot twitch involuntarily a surefire sign of her skin’s sensitivity. “S-stop that!” She says sternly, suppressing a snicker.
“What? This?” I say sarcastically as I continue to softly stroke up and down her arch.
“Ye-he-hes! That!” She says.
Why? Because it…tickles?” I say speeding up the strokes.
“N-no-ho! I… I told yooo-hoo, I’m… not… ticklish!” She bubbles.
Her foot continues to twitch as my index finger remains glued to her arch administering quick continual scratches. My ears perk up as the sounds of fleeting giggles sporadically escape my Padma’s mouth, “I thought you said you weren’t ticklish Paaaadma?” I say with false disbelief.
The faster I stroke my finger the harder it is for her to respond as she tries desperately to bottle up the laughter, “I’M… not-TA-HA T-T-TICKLISHEEEE!”
“Hmm… seems to me like somebody’s lying?” I taunt putting the rest of my fingers to work.
With five fingers now simultaneously stroking every inch of her sole Padma’s resiliency starts to diminish, “WHA-HA! No, nope! NOT-TAA! TICKLEE-HEE-HEE-HEE! OH GOD NO HO-HO!” And just like that, her defenses come crashing down. “SONNET PLEE-HEE-HEE-HEE-ASE! SHIT-TA-HA-HA-HA!” She screams.
“Liar, liar pants on fire!” I taunt.
The smoothness of her sole is reminiscent of a fresh satin sheet as my fingernails slide in circular motion around the ball of her foot. The bed rocks as she fights her restraints to no end, “WHAT THE FU-UH-HA-HA-HA! SONNET PLEASE! BEEE-HEE-HEE SENSIBLE! WHOAH-HA-HA-HA! SHEE-HEE-HEE!”
Her voice strains to be heard, perhaps by a neighboring tenant or a curious passerby. In any case her loud bellows echo in my ears, a joyful noise to rival even the sweetest of sounds. “Tickle, tickle my little belly dancer!” I say happily.
“OOH WHY-YEE-HEE-HEE! AH-HA-HA-HA!” Her jovial voice is muffled as she buries her face into the bed.
“Let’s not forget about these cute little toesies.” I say striking her big toe.
“OH GOD!” Padma shouts in involuntary glee.
I zip a single finger across her toes making them scrunch like an armadillo balling up for protection, “Tickles doesn’t it?” I tease.
“YEEES-SEE-HEE-HEE-HEE! PLEASE STOP! OH GOD NO! SONNET WHY-YA-HA-HA-HA!”
Forcefully spreading her toes apart I scour between them running my nail along their baby soft insides. And as I fill my indulgence of feet so too does Padma fill her lungs with oxygen as she gasps heavily under duress.
Every inch of her voluptuous body beckons to be explored as I abandon her foot and take to the side of the bed, “Deep breaths darling. Deep breaths.” I instruct.
Terrified eyes stare back at me as I casually approach her armpits, “Sonnet no! Sonnet I said NO-HO-HO-WHOA-HA-HA!”
She melts like butter on a hot stove as my fingers sporadically dance along the silky smooth skin of her freshly shaved underarms. A warm fuzzy feeling soothes my insides as I watch her tug aimlessly at her bounds in an effort to protect herself. “Gee, I think you’re right about these furry pink cuffs. You aren’t going anywhere.”
“OH YOU SUCK KA-HA-HA-HA-HA! I DIDN’T SIGN UP FOR THIS DAMIT-TA-HA-HA-HA!” She babbles.
Her soft plushy arms feel like freshly baked baguettes as I lividly sink my fingers deeper into her flesh forcing a grin to form on her face, “SHIT! SHIT-TA-HA-HA! SONNET PLEEE-HEE-HEE-EASE!”
Reverting back to light touches I turn my attention to the intricate designs of her costume and begin to trace them, “Are you okay?” I say with concern.
Wheezing for air Padma nods her head offering up an honest answer, “Yes.”
“Good, then we can continue.” I say unzipping her top.
“WAIT NO!” She cries.
I straddle her ass and remove her garment. No visible bone structure nor mountains of muscle, just plush tenderness makes up her soft supple back as it sits completely exposed. The tiny hairs on her neck stand at attention as my nails carelessly careen down her fleshy folds and she bucks like a bronco when I give a sudden thrust to her rib cage. “WAI-HEY-HEY-HA-HA-HA! SONNET NO-HO-HO-HO!” She bursts in laughter.
“Oh I’m sorry does that tickle?” I tease my victim.
“YEEESSS-SA-HA-HA-HA! PLEE-HEE-HEE-ASE HAVE MERCY-YEE-HEE-HEE!”
“Mercy? You showed ME no mercy!” I say plunging my thumbs into her ribs. “Sucks being ticklish huh my little belly dancer?”
With one finger at each side I control every volatile spasm and the strain in her voice makes it abundantly clear my torturous techniques are testing her limits. “SHIT-SHEET-TA-AH-HA-HA-HA! PLEASE STOP! PLEASE STOOO-HOO-HOO-HOOP!”
“Please stop! Please stop!” I say mockingly.
I glide my hands down her tender sides raking her skin with my nails and I can feel it crawl with goosebumps the second I rest my grip on her luscious love handles.
“Sonnet no! Come now you’ve had your fun!” She pleads in search of sympathy.
Sliding my hands under her bulging belly I kneed it like dough pressing my fingers deep into her core. It shakes like Jell-O as my fingers wiggle wildly with intense vivacity, “OH MY GOOOOOD-DA-HA-HA-HA-HA! NOT THE FAT! NOT THE FAAA-HA-HA-HAT-TA-HA-HA!”
“You’re not fat darling.” I say reassuringly. “You’re juuuust right.”
I feel around her stomach till I find its epicenter, “NOT MY BELLY BUTTON!” She cries in anguish.
“Aw, why not? Does my little belly dancer have a ticklish button?” I tease.
She shutters in anticipation as my finger grazes her navel’s perimeter. I savor the moment listening intently on her heavy breathing as her body desperately tries to keep up with my pace. With no verbal cue I thrust my index finger deep into her belly button wiggling it like a worm looking for a place to find solace.
“WHA-AH-HA-HA-HA! SONNET PLEE-HEE-HEE-HEE-ASE! SHIT! NOT THERE!” She shrieks.
Her butt thrusts me in the air sending me off the side of the bed, “Whoa there Padma.” I say smacking her rear. “I may be wrong, but I think your ass is trying to tell me something.”
Padma’s poor conditioning has her panting like a dog on a hot summer day, “Yes… it’s saying…stop!” She sputters.
“No, no.” I shake my head in disapproval. “I think it’s saying, “tickle meee!” That’s what I think.”
Padma lets out a whimper as I viciously peel away her skirt, “Sonnet please…”
“A THONG Miss Padma? What ever possessed you to assume this was acceptable attire?” I reprimand. “Now I’m sorry, but this butt floss of an undergarment… is simply impermissible. You should be ashamed.” I say struggling to keep a straight face.
“Sorry MOM!” Padma frowns.
Her witty comment drives me over the edge as I burst out in cackles, “Oh, smart mouth huh? You know what I love to do to smart mouths?” I say smacking her left cheek.
Terror stricken eyes strain to look back at me as she turns her head around, “Sonnet I’m sorry! Sonnet no! Sonnet pleeease!”
Her feeble protests only kindle my desires and the look of distress on her face puts a smile on mine. Her caramel colored butt cheeks begin to jiggle at the first sign of contact as she jerks her body away from my hand. “Where do you think you’re going?” I say straddling her thighs.
Keeping her legs suppressed under my weight I go to work on the plump round rump before my fingers, “Tickle, tickle my little belly dancer!”
My long fingernails scribble circles in and around her cheeks causing them to clench together tightly as glorious giggles flow from her mouth, “WHA-HA-HA-HA! WHY?! OOO-HOO-HOO! SHIT! SONNET PLE-HEE-HEE-ASE!”
With my tiny hands stretched to their limits I squeeze and massage the globs of fatty flesh that make up her posterior, “NOOO-HO-HO! PLEEE-HEE-HEE-EASE! LEAVE MY BOOTY BEE-HEE-HEE-HEE-AH-HA-HA!” She begs.
“Oh then perhaps you’d prefer it if I worked these thighs?!” I suggest.
She jumps with ecstasy as tantalizing finger strokes between her thighs send unbearable sensations up her body. It’s all she can do to keep them clenched, but my wiry fingers refuse to be denied and despite her efforts I’m still able to wriggle my way in, “What’s the matter love? Too ticklish?”
Her fists various shades of red bang against the bed in fits of aggravation. The sheets once crisp and pristine are now wrinkled and partially sweat stained as her body impulsively thrashes above them, “OH THAT TICKLES-EEE-HEE-HEE-HEE! GET AWAAAY-YAY-HA-HA-HA! STOP THAT-TA-HA-HA!”
“Stop?! Aren’t you having fun? You must be considering you’ve been giggling the entire time.”
“NOOO! NOT FUN-HEY-HEE-HEE-HEE! OH GOD NO I’M GONNA PEE-HEE-HEE!” She moans in pain.
“Hmm… all that WINE coming back to haunt you?” I tease lightly tracing the creases of her rear.
Her eyes grow wide as she pieces yesterday’s events together, “YOU! You made me drink ALL that wine!”
As my nails continuously doodle figure eights on her ass cheeks I ponder my options, “I made you drink nothing. You drank willingly if I recall.”
Padma shakes her head, “Sonnet please… you can’t make me pee.” She says through broken vocals.
Deafened by lust her words glide over me not sending so much as a shiver down my spine. Thoughtless, I thrust my thumbs in between her thighs, “NO-NO-NO-HO-HO!”
“Yes, yes, yes!” I banter back.
Aggression fuels her thunderous thighs as violent claps make them jiggle profusely, “WHOO-WHOO-HOO-AH-HA-HA-HA! SONNET… IF YOU LOVE MEEE-HEE-HEE-HEE!”
“Perhaps you’d prefer THIS?” I say rubbing her pulsating clitoris.
Her body livid as the sea during a hellacious thunderstorm slowly transitions into a tranquilized calm serenity, as excruciating torture turns into unfathomable pleasure. Slowly titillating her plush vagina with fragile fingers I focus on every inch of her crotch to insure complete stimulation.
“Mmm… Sonnet YES! OOH! OOH! MMM!” She moans happily.
Energy seems to transfer from my fingertips to her vaginal walls as they puff up blossoming like a flower on a midsummer’s day. Her sorry excuse of an undergarment does her no favors as her genitals lay completely exposed. “Is this better my little belly dancer?” I whisper erotically.
Padma’s moans grow louder the more I play with her pussy resonating beyond the confinement of our hotel room. Vaginal juices secrete onto my fingers making for a slick and slimy situation. “Oh you’re a naughty one my little belly dancer.” I say fondling her clitoris in harmony.
Every tiny hair on her back stands erect as I intensify my strokes and thrusts. Her every joint, locked in tense anticipation. She bites down
on her lip and grabs a fistful of white sheet right before her tender flesh ripples with tiny tremors.
Warm fluids flow freely from her vagina in vagrant spurts saturating my hand and tainting the sheets. She arches her back as the last of the orgasmic pleasure exits her body. She retires with one final moan before sinking back into the comfort of the bed.
Her body hasn’t looked this relaxed since her starch induced slumber; still I’m cautious as I stroke a few stray locks of sweaty hair away from her face, “Padma?” I whisper. “Are you still mad at me?”
Her smile seems genuine as we lock eyes, “Just a little. I wasn’t too happy waking up in chains. Speaking of which…”
Taking her cue I un-cuff her wrists and legs. Red rings mark her skin where restraints once resided. She slowly turns on her back and lets out a long exasperated sign, “Ugh I’m so fat.” She says rubbing her belly.
“What this?” I say tenderly poking her navel.
“Oh-ho no you don’t!” She says tying my hands in her grip. “It’s a different game when you’re victim isn’t tied up and outweighs you by twenty pounds!” She says shifting herself atop of me.
In a skimpy blue thong, her only article of clothing, she showers me with light tickles along my neck. It’s almost impossible to fixate my eyes on a certain spot as I’m consumed by her charismatic smile and the lush round breasts dangling from her chest.
“I wish we could freeze this moment in time.” I speak softly.
“I know love, but we can’t. It’s almost check out and unless you have another hundred dollars to fork over…” Padma says snapping us back to reality.
“I know, I know.” I huff reminded that the last of my hard earned money had gone towards our dinner.
As Padma excuses herself to clean up I sit on the bed staring blankly at the walls and the secrets they carry; wondering how many other sexual transgressions came before us. My thoughts are broken as Padma comes out of the restroom dripping from her bath.
“Well I’m all set.” She says putting on her boots.
“The memories of this place will forever be ingrained in my head.” I say cupping her hand in mine.
“Ditto.” She replies swinging my arm.
We take one last look together before closing the door behind us inking yet another chapter in the story of our lives.
Bound by Love
I don’t believe in the term indescribable. Writers can’t afford to. For if something truly is indescribable, what do I exist for? What is the purpose of me putting pen to paper, my fingers to a keyboard if I can’t fluently express my thoughts, my feelings and the power of a moment?Lazy summer days surround me, melding together into one sun baked, and clear skied euphoric memory. Blades of grass swaying from a steady wind make up a sea of green as far as the eye can see. Yet amidst such natural wonders I elect to spend my day inside, staring at a blank word document and a blinking cruiser begging to be an integral part of my next masterpiece. But half a dozen virtual distractions keep tugging me away from the task at hand as my focus wavers and I struggle to string my thoughts into something comprehensible. Hypnotized by social media, precious minutes turn to hours as the day melts away and slips through my fingers.
This house is still and silent with only sudden scarce creaks, an indication of its age, to remind you you’re not deaf. My thoughts are as scattered as the mess that makes up my room. And although things may seem out of place, they’re right where I need them to be, a perfect imperfection.
A short list of recommended videos runs across my web browser and I’m about to dismiss them all, when an intriguing thumbnail catches my attention. Investing interest I open the video and after a short mandatory advertisement I’m witness to a most bizarre image.
A beautiful young blonde no older than twenty-five lays partially clothed, tied to a bedframe. She’s scanning the room to the limits of her confinement when her eyes grow wide as a young chiseled man comes into the shot holding a feather. She begs and pleads for him to untie her, even going so far as to offer up sexual favors, but his devotion outlasts her persistence. Taking advantage of her vulnerability he grazes the feather over every inch of her exposed skin. She reacts with simultaneous sporadic laughter and spastic fits that see her twitch and wiggle. Entranced I can’t look away as he abandons the feather and takes to using his fingers for a more personal touch. Something rouses within me the longer the video continues as I try desperately to imagine myself in her position. But every descriptive word seems to fall short of what I’m witnessing and the longer I watch the more obsessed I become.
The video comes to an abrupt end as the sound of a slamming door indicates my parents are home from their shopping trip in the city. Hastily clearing any evidence of my browsing history I return to my blank page and begin to type gibberish, keeping a perplexed look on my face.
There’s a subtle knock on my door before my father peeks in and twists his head my way, “Mind helping us with the groceries Sonnet?” He says with a smile.
“But daddy I have this report due in two days and my professor doesn’t accept late work!” I fib.
His smile fades as he scratches his black and grey beard and locks eyes with me, “Then you should have started your assignment sooner young lady. Now you get out here and help us. It won’t take but a minute or two.”
Taking an exaggerated exhale I flip down my laptop and stagger to my feet. Sitting too long with my legs crossed puts them to sleep so my first initial steps towards the kitchen are a struggle. The second I step outside I’m reminded of the summer’s unforgiving heat as it starts to roast my ghastly white skin.
One might assume we were stalking up for world war three the way our family minivan was laden with such a heavy assortment of groceries. The supermarket being only a couple of miles away was one of the things I missed most about living in the city. “The sticks” as our area is referred to by city folk has nothing around it for miles but lush green grass in the summer and mountains of snow in the winter. Even the college I attended took two hours to get to so most mornings I was up before the crack of dawn to ensure a parking space.
After only two heavy hauls of provisions that threaten the integrity of the thin plastic bags they’re in, a trickle of sweat runs down my backside tickling my skin. “How come mom only has to put them away hu?” I question.
“It’s HER kitchen and she likes to keep things organized.” He explains with a reassuring nod.
“I’m organized!” I say taking offense.
My father lets out a low chuckle, “Right. And your room looks like a Better Homes and Gardens magazine spread.”
Between playful banter we manage to pile every single grocery bag onto our slick and shiny marble counter top in no time. My mother being such the multitasker continues to rack soup cans in the cupboard while heating a pot of water. “So what’s your report about sweetie?” She asks lowering the flame on the burner till it’s but a small flicker.
The answer is on the tip of my tongue. It’s been there since I first came down the stairs, “The founding fathers.” I blurt.
“And how long does it have to be?” She continues.
“Three thousand words.” I sigh so deeply you can almost hear my heart sink.
My mother must have caught this because her face melts with sympathy, “Then we’d better not keep you darling. Go on. I’ll call you down when dinner is served.”
My treachery works masterfully, but I keep a long face until I’m halfway up the stairs. It’s common place to see me help with dinner preparations, but not today, not after what I’d just seen, and I was hungry for more.
I lock the door to my room, slip on a pair of headphones and seclude myself from the outside world. The laptop beckons and I don’t hesitate to flip it open. My fingers glide over the keyboard punching letters into the search engine. “Female tickling.”
Seconds after I hit the return key hundreds of websites pop up. I scroll carefully, navigating around pornography as much as possible. After a couple of eye straining minutes I discover a forum dedicated to the tickle fetish. To my surprise hundreds of thousands of people flock to this forum to share pictures, videos, stories and even to seek out people in their area. With no hesitation I register for free and begin my descend into the world of tickling.
***
My lack of enthusiasm at the dinner table is not lost on my mother and father as they watch me casually play with the peas on my plate.
“Something wrong Sonnet?” My mother asks, nudging my father to join her in the interrogation of their daughter.
“No.” I reply, with a nonchalant shake of my head.
“Are you sure?” My father asks through a forkful of chicken. “Is that essay giving you trouble?”
I nod my head in conjunction with his words affirming his assumption, “I’m really behind on it and I have a serious case of writer’s block.”
My mother takes a quick glance at her husband before returning her eyes to me, “Colin why don’t you help her? Surely your experience as a news columnist could be of some use.”
My father smiles brightly, “I’d be happy to…”
I shake my head in disapproval, “Umm, thanks guys, but I’m in college now. I really think this is something I should take care of on my own.” I say glumly. “May I be excused?”
My parents exchange glances, “Sure honey, and don’t you worry about cleaning up.” My father states.
Again my conniving ways prevail and I dash towards my room as if there’s not a moment to spare. Tiny titillating sensations rouse with every beat of my heart as I lock the door to my room and flip open my laptop.
Images of scantily clad women bound in various forms of bondage infiltrate my eyes. Their shrieks of laughter resonating in my ears is as heavenly as a four string quartet. Hair raising emotions stir within me as I’m captivated in an inexplicable hold. The more I watch the more my extremities become aroused. Unhinging my belt I slip my right hand down my pants and graze my vagina with smooth gradual strokes.
A loud knock on the door breaks my concentration and sends me crashing from my bed to the floor. I scatter to hide my secret and adjust my pants smearing the stench on my fingertips across my behind. “Coming!” I say in a chipper tone.
I open the door allowing only an inch of space between me and my uninvited guest, “How goes the report?” My father asks.
Despite fumbling for words I manage to string together something quick, “It’s coming along real smooth daddy.”
He tries to nudge open the door a little more but I resist him, “Daddy I’m not wearing a shirt.” I lie again.
He flashes a confused look before backing off, “Well… um if you need any help…”
“I know, I know, you’re right here. Thanks dad.” I say through grit teeth.
“Next time you should think twice before taking courses in the summer.” His voice trails as he retreats downstairs.
I lock the door and slouch back into my bed. Long gone is the scintillating arousal, replaced solely by the gravity of my deceit weighing on my conscious. It’s then that I discover embracing this newfound desire would come at a price. A lump forms in my throat as my imagination conjures images of my parents possibly stressed out over my well-being. Never had I had a harder time switching off my laptop. Once it’s off I slip out of my pants and crawl into bed letting the cool crisp sheets cocoon my body. The images ingrained in my mind clash against the slow and steady slumber that had become so routine making it a struggle just to fall asleep.
***
Morning comes in the form of an unrelenting phone alarm that blares from the side of my bed. Heavy eyes make finding my phone more of an audible thing and at five A.M being the only one awake I scramble to find it.
After a quick shower I slip into a pair of high waist jean shorts and a loosely fitted translucent teal green button down. I run my fingers through my pixie cut dirty blonde hair swiping it to the side. At nineteen I can still get away with minimal makeup on my pale round face so I limit myself to light pink lip gloss and a touch of blush.
The drive to school is a quiet and somber affair with the stereo in my rust stained jalopy non-existent. Fortunately I have the occasional rhythmic thumping of the street markers grazing my tires to remind me I still have ears.
After a quick cup of coffee and a butter rich blueberry muffin courtesy of the college cafeteria I’m off to class. Droves of other youthful bright eyed hopefuls clutter the halls making it impossible to get by unscathed and it’s in the midst of the mayhem that I spot my girlfriend Padma.
“Hey beautiful!” She says wrapping her arms around me.
I can’t get a word in before her lips have me showered in kisses. My eyes scan the crowd to a pair of beer gut unshaven hooligans wide eyed in surprise as if they’d never seen a lesbian couple embrace before.
“Mmm… Is that blueberry muffin I taste?” Padma asks licking her lips of my residue.
“Uh-hu!” I nod happily.
“And you didn’t save me any?” She says squishing my stomach.
The images of yesterday’s web browsing bonanza resurface as loud fits of giggles escape me and I jerk away from her grasp.
“Come on; let’s get to class silly goose!” She says placing her arm around me.
I lean my head against her shoulder as we walk stride for stride to an American History course. Upon arrival it’s announced our professor would be taking it easy, allowing PBS on DVD to do the teaching today. It’s my luck because now I get to casually cuddle with Padma after the lights go out and the film is started.
As we play with each other’s hands inside my backpack my mind reverts to the first time we met and how I was taken by her caramel colored skin, deep brown eyes and the cute little red dot adorned on her forehead. I later found that out be known as a Bindi. As fate would have it our stars aligned and as much as it outraged our parents we stood our ground determined to defy. As our love for one another flourished and grew so did Padma’s waistline, something we came to refer to as comfort pounds. On lazy summer nights under a blanket of stars I’d often use her soft supple stomach as my own personal pillow. And while I wish I could have packed on some pounds along with her, my fast metabolism denied me the pleasure.
“I love you.” I whisper softly in her ear.
The class is over way too soon as our professor flicks back on the blinding lights and dismisses us for the day. A nearby student dreaming in his own drool has to be shaken back to consciousness by his fellow peers making Padma snicker with delight as we exit the class together.
“There’s something I want to show you.” I announce.
Padma raises her eyebrows in interest, “Okay?”
After what seems like an eternity we reach the campus lounge. It’s booming with activity, but we manage to find an empty sofa. Padma’s skin tight jeans make her belly bulge as she sits down next to me, something I’ve come to ogle over time.
My heart begins to beat just a little faster as I boot up my laptop. Having been so open with her in our relationship it hadn’t dawned on me how she might take my new newfound pleasure. It’s too late to turn back now as her complete attention is focused on my eleven inch display. “Is it a Vine?” She asks knowing my obsession for social media.
“Nope, now watch this.” I say handing her the device.
Her face is like stone yet I keep a steady watch for any and all reactions. Granting me a casual glance, her warm smile reminiscent of the first time we kissed melts my insecurities. After a few minutes she collapses the laptop and hands it back to me. “So what was that exactly?” She asks with a grin.
“Tickling.” I say plainly.
She rolls her eyes, “I know that, but what does it have to do with us?” She questions with a raised brow.
“I want you to do that to me.” I say confidently.
There’s a small look of concern on her face as she lets my words sink in, “You want to…try that kinky shit?”
I nod slowly, slightly bothered by her tone of voice, “We’ve been together for almost nine months. We’ve written many chapters in the story that is our relationship. I’m ready to write another chapter.”
Her smile returns as my words harmonize in her head, “I love you too much to say no. Kinky little girl.”
We embrace one last time before going our separate ways for the day. As close knit as we are, our degree plans don’t completely intertwine.
***
Meticulous planning goes into deceiving our parents as per our true intentions. Once my last class comes to a close I call my mother and inform her of my intent to spend the night at Padma’s. And while my request is on a whim, the trust I’d so carefully constructed throughout the years was strong enough that she didn’t hesitate to say yes. Having instructed Padma to do the same I now only waited for a conformation via text message. Our parents only ever spoke the day we came out of hiding, after that, conversations between them had become relatively non-existent. There’s a strong vibration from the console of my car, “My parents think I’m sleeping over lol!” Read her text.
Hotel reservations were easy to come by on a Monday night, not to mention quite cheap. I’m the first to arrive at the motel so I sit patiently in the lobby waiting for Padma to show. The stale scent of coffee fills the air as I help myself to a stack of old magazines. Halfway into reading outdated tabloids about how Bruce Jenner no longer wants to be a man; the unmistakable aroma of sparkling mandarin captivates my sense of smell.
“Sonnet!” Padma says with smile.
“What’s in the bag?” I ask inquisitively.
“All in good time my love.” She says mischievously. “Is our “suite” ready?” She giggles.
“One bed, one bath. Twenty four hours.” I say presenting the key card.
My heart rate elevates as we inch closer to the room with every step. By the time we’re at the door it’s practically beating out of my chest, and it takes two hands to steady my fidgeting before I can insert the key card into the slot. Here I was right beside a girl I’d known for almost a year, yet under the circumstances it felt as if we were discovering each other all over again.
Cold air escapes the room as I open the door to various shades of grey. A bed with sheets white as snow sits in the center of the room and just looking at it sends shivers down my backside knowing I’ll soon be strapped to it. Padma sets her bag down on the floor and pulls from it a bottle of red wine. “Ta da!” She says with enthusiasm. “I thought this might, spruce up the night.”
“Padma! You’re nineteen. How did you get that?” I question.
“I promised a wino outside the liquor store I’d call him if he bought it for me.” She giggles sheepishly. “And look… Lunchables!!” She squeals unveiling the kid sized snack.
“Very gourmet.” I chuckle.
Deep intellectual conversation spins into babbles and jargon as more wine empties from the bottle and enters into our systems. Not accustomed to consuming alcohol we limit our consumption to two glasses before corking the bottle. “It’s time.” She whispers softly as if the secret of what we’re about to do might carry past the room to our parents fifty miles away.
I nod in compliance, smile and stand to my unsteady feet. The buzz, accumulated by twelve ounces of beverage has me lightheaded as I collapse onto the bed. At the very least, my nerves have settled and my heart has returned to the sure and steady pulse it was used to.
“Let’s try these on for size shall we?” Padma says pulling from her bag a set of fluffy pink restraints, one for the arms and one for the legs.
Alcoholically assisted I let down my defenses and limber my ligaments letting Padma have her way with my hands and feet. Faster than I can blink I’m spread like an x across the mattress with my arms and legs secured tightly at each corner of the bedframe.
“They’re not too tight are they?” She questions.
I shake my head, “No, they’re fine.”
“Good. I don’t want to cut off the circulation.” She says tapping my chest. “Now if you’ll kindly wait here, I have something special I’d like to wear.”
“As if I have a choice?” I shrug.
She escapes into the restroom toting her bag leaving me alone with my thoughts. It’s then I wish I’d thought of putting together an extra sexy ensemble, but my teal green top and jean shorts will have to do. For an inexpensive hotel the bed is relatively comfortable and if Padma didn't hurry she might come in to find me fast asleep.
As if we have a telepathic connection she emerges from the bathroom draped to the nines in a traditional royal blue belly dancing dress. Almost every inch of fabric is adorned with tiny gold trinkets that jingle with every step she takes towards the bed. “What do you think?” She asks twirling around.
“I love it.” I squeal happily. Half the reason I’d fallen so hard for her was my infatuation with her ethnicity. And now that she’s covered head to toe embraced in her culture it only strengthens my resolve. “I love my little belly dancer.”
Her bare belly bulges beyond her belt line as she straddles my hips and leans into me. With delicate hands she unfastens each button of my top till every inch of my pale white body is exposed. Her deep brown eyes devour the image that is me before taking a thick soft bristled paint brush to my left underarm. A light prickling sensation irritates my skin causing me to tense every bone in my body. We’ve only just begun, but already I’m taking deep breaths in anticipation that the worst is yet to come.
“Oh my god Sonnet, I’m barely touching you.” Padma teases.
Light sensual strokes excite my skin as she runs the brush up and down my arms. Suppressed giggles swelling up inside of me beg to come out every time she circles my tender hollows.
“Cootchie-cootchie coo!” Padma’s babyish babbles make us both snicker and she buries her head in my chest out of pure embarrassment. The strands of her long black hair excite my nerves as they crash into my skin.
Regaining her focus she continues on her quest to unveil the most sensitive areas on my upper body; dripping the brush down my left side like a painter meticulously adding color to their canvas, “Where are you ticklish?” She ponders aloud.
“That’s my job to know and yours to find out.” I lift my head and smile.
“Oh it’s going to be like that is it?” She taunts playfully, dropping the brush to the floor.
She takes to a more personal touch as her frivolous fingers ravage my rib cage making me jump and reducing me to helpless hysterics. “WHOO-WHO-WHO-HEE-HEE-HEE! OH GOD HERE WE GO!”
“Ah-ha, so it’s the fingers that do the most damage eh?” She says excitedly.
Nothing in my wildest fantasies could have ever measured up to this feeling of helplessness; as every inbred instinct in my brain is urging me to defend myself yet I cannot comply. Her hands are stronger than I’ve ever felt them as she massages her thumbs into each individual rib ascendingly. “Don’t you give me that look!” She says alluding to the distraught expression on my face, “You asked for this…remember?”
My only response is a subtle head nod amidst stifled laughter as the sensations that engulf my mind are far too powerful for my thought process to overcome.
Her stubby digits ease up to my underarms where they nestle securely in the comforts of my milky white hollows, “Tickle, tickle my little Sonnet!” She says scratching my skin profusely.
“OH GOD NO-HO-HO-AH-HA-HA-HA! DAMIT THAT TICKLES-S-SEE-HEE-HEE-HEE!” I cry.
“That is the general idea my love.” Padma says giggling at the obviousness of my response.
“YOU DON’T SAY?!” I reply with equal wit.
“You dare sass me little girl?!” She says, shooting me a mischievous grin.
Our playful banter fuels her fingers to run rambunctiously up and down my arms igniting every one of my nerve endings along the way.
My arms flail instinctively to the limits of my restraints as I attempt desperately to evade her attacks. “Say what you will about my pansy looking cuffs, you’re not going anywhere.” She says taking a sadistic tone.
I shut my eyes as she tauntingly wiggles her fingers mere inches above my elbows. Every muscle in my body contracts as I prepare myself for the side splitting sensations that are about to ensue. I’m caught unawares as her fingers dig, not into my arms, but onto my soft flat stomach. “WHA-HA-HA-HA! OH GOD-DA-HA-HA-HA! YOU TRICKED MEE-HEE-HEE-HEE!”
Despite her size it takes all her weight to keep me from bucking her off the bed; such exuberant display of force the likes of which I never knew existed in me.
The hair raising antics of soft gentle touches on the surface of my skin surprisingly calm any irritable sensations and I’m graciously given a chance to compose myself. “Whew…”
“Tired already? Seems you may have underestimated my skills as a tickler.” She teases, keeping her fingers in a smooth rhythmic circular motion on my belly.
“Perhaps… I underestimated… MY ticklishness.” I manage to sputter between breaths.
“That’s just like you Sonnet, never giving me any…credit!” She says thrusting her thumbs into my pelvis.
“WHEE-HEE-HEE-HEE! OH GOD NO! PADMA PLEE-HEE-HEE-ASE!” I scream.
She grins with glee making light of my childish demeanor. Her pearly white teeth only add to an already ridiculously fabulous smile and as much as she is my tormentor, she’s also the love of my life.
“Poor little Sonnet. And here I thought you WANTED to be tickled.” She bickers.
Her explorations of my lower abdominals lead her to find a sweet spot right underneath my navel which she immediately exploits. “Oh wow, what’s this? Is this like…like a tickle button?” She says thrusting her index finger deep into my flesh.
“I TH-THINK SO-HO-HO-HO-WHOO-HOO-HOO! NOT THERE PADMA! NOT THE-EEE-HEE-HEE-HEE-EAR-RA-HA-HA-HA!” I ramble.
Respecting my desires she pulls away from my belly only to turn around and face my Converse incased feet. “You wouldn’t.” I say barely above a wheeze.
“How could you possibly expect me not to?” She says, reading my thoughts again.
“Maybe I… I bit off more than I can chew.” I say as my will begins to crumble.
“No, no. You won’t get off that easy.” Padma insists pulling at my laces.
Accepting the gravity of my situation I lie still in an attempt to regenerate before another wave of tickles. My shoes are slipped off my feet leaving only a pair of pink silk socks between her merciless fingers and my ultra-sensitive soles. “Padma?! Padma?! Padma!”
“That’s my name don’t wear it out darling.” She says with eloquence. “Now about these feet, these soft… silky… smooth feet.” She ogles peeling off my socks.
My feet come to life in livid twitches as long slick nails freshly manicured slowly trace every wrinkle of my creamy white bottoms, “PADMA-AH-HA-HA-HA-HA! NOT MY FEE-HEE-HEE-HEE-HEET!”
Her light traces evolve into heavy handed strokes along my inner arches causing me to inadvertently bang my head against the bed. My priceless reactions have Padma in stitches as she turns her attention to my toes, “Gosh Sonnet I’m only using one finger!” She teases.
“IT STILL TICKLES!” I reply through grit teeth.
Quick casual scratches along the delicacies that are my toes send shockwaves up my legs and I reflexively scrunch my soles in an effort to subdue the sensations.
As she peels back my foot her warm breath along the tips of my toes catches me off guard. No sooner do I lift my head to sneak a peek at the proceedings that my foot is halfway in her mouth. Her pearly whites go to work nibbling at my toes like decadent hors d’oeuvres, “WHAT-TA-HA-HA! CANNIBAL-LA-HA-HA- HEEEE! SOMEBODY HELP-PA-HA-HA-HA! SHE’S EATING MEE-HEE-HEE-HEE!” I cry.
“You’re so delicious my Sonnet.” Padma says seductively.
I ponder my response as I lie flustered and short of breath, “Haven’t you had enough to eat today?” I say it almost reluctantly, for as the words leave my lips Padma’s eyes grow wide with rage.
“Are you calling me…fat?” She says taking offense.
I can tell her anger is fabricated as she pounces the bed with a smile so wide you could store a banana in it. “No, no, no!” I playfully rebuttal.
“How dare you call me fat?” She says thrusting her fingers deep into my thighs.
I spring off the bed like a heart patient being defibrillated, “WHA-HA-HA-HA! FOO-HOO-HOO-AH-HA-HA! FORGIVE ME PADMA-AH-HA-HA!”
My thighs ripple as she sinks her fingers into the depths of my flesh, “Did you forget you were at my mercy?” She asks seductively slinking up my body.
My every instinct is telling me to roll off the bed as I wrestle with my restraints in an effort to get free. Wet raspberries make me squeal and jump with involuntary delight as Padma presses her lips on my belly planting them wherever she sees fit.
I feel my nipples grow erect as she inches closer and closer to my bra encased breasts. Lying down they’re practically non-existent, mosquito bites compared to Padma’s glorious mounds. At one point in my life I’d felt them shamefully small, but over time Padma’s love for every inch of my body made me less and less self-conscious about the issue. Taking off my bra she playfully fondles my perky breasts in the palms of her hands before treating them to tickles under the tender spots below, “YIKEES-SEE-HEE-HEE-HEE! NO-NO-NOO-WAH-HA-HA-HA!”
“Your titties are ticklish too?” Padma says with disbelief.
In truth it had also caught me by surprise. I’d been tickled most everywhere on my body as a youth, by aunts, uncles and mom and dad, but never there. Never in a sacred place.
Her warm wet saliva sends a cold chill down my spine as she suckles my nipples with her soft pouty lips. I unclench my fists and arch my back submissively submitting to the will of my Padma. “OH GOD-DA-HA-HA-HA! YOU’RE TONGUE TICKLES-SSS-SEE-HEE-HEE-HEE!”
She circles my breasts with her tongue lapping them up like an ice cream cone melting in the summer heat. “You’re so beautiful… when you smile.” She says between licks.
Sliding from my breasts to my beltline Padma takes to slowly and erotically unbuttoning my shorts. With one strong tug she pulls them down unveiling a pair of white cotton briefs, a signature undergarment of mine. “What have we here?” She says wide eyed in wonder.
“Uncharted territory.” I utter softly.
Even Padma, my dearest love has never seen me so vulnerable and so viciously exposed and I can tell it stirs her so as she struggles to string words together. Instead of speaking she takes action using her fingers as instruments of torment to trickle and trace the outlines of my tiny vagina.
The scintillating sensations send goosebumps down my thighs and I can’t help but snicker as her hands abrasively explore every crevice of my crotch, “MMM-HMM-HMM-HMM! OH GOD-DA-HA-HA! PADMA PLEEE-HEE-HEE-HEASE BE GENTLE!”
“Seems to me like you’re enjoying this.” She whispers sexually.
“HMM-MMM-MAH-HA-HA! OH-HO-HO! GOODNESS NO-HO-HO!” I cry, riding a rollercoaster of emotion ranging from pleasure to torment then back again.
A two fingered massage ensues as her fingers slow to a crawl and embrace my throbbing clitoris. “You like THIS don’t you?” She scoffs at me.
I whimper in agreement relaxing every strained muscle in my body.
“You can relax my little Sonnet. Let me pleasure you now.”
Her words, sweet relief, rush over me like a slowly careening fountain of water as time and space become long lost concepts. Driven by desires of the flesh I reflexively thrust my pelvis to the ceiling fully surrendering myself.
“Easy my little Sonnet.” Padma comforts.
Cold air excites my extremities as she peels away my panties leaving me completely exposed. My skin crawls as she runs her index finger down my patch of pubes and back onto my clitoris.
Years in the practice of masturbation and I had never felt what I’m feeling now. How could Padma’s two fingers arouse such spellbinding sensations that mine could not? The thought ran through my head for a minute before the answer became clear…love.
“Feels good doesn’t it?” She inquires.
My moans are all she needs to hear to get the answer to her question as my mental capacity to respond lays buried under a sea of feelings and emotions.
With one hand she manipulates my vagina stipulating every moan, groan and pelvic thrust. With the other, she rakes my shaggy hair caressing my scalp with her fingernails. Chest to chest our lips touch as she showers my sweaty face with warm kisses. I’m on pins and needles as she speeds up the octaves and vigorously massages my clitoris sensing I’m on the edge of orgasm.
She couldn’t be more right as a mind numbing, hair raising surge of climactic energy courses and immerses itself throughout my entire body forcing me into adverse volatile spasms. Warm intensely pleasurable waves follow as all the built up tension in my genitals disperse like a carbonated drink being opened for the first time.
I don’t even realize she’s un-cuffed my arms as they’re all but spent of energy, flaccid as perfectly cooked noodles. Padma’s pleasant sun kissed skin is the first thing I see as I open my eyes in awestruck wonder. And as she stares down at me with glowing radiance it’s easy to see why I fell in love with her.
“How’s my little Sonnet?” She asks stroking my hair.
“Tired, a little sore, but very…loved.” I respond.
My legs feel like unsteady stilts as I stagger to the bathroom to clean myself up. The cold bathroom tiles feel glorious on my warm soles as I brave my naked reflection. Red blotches on my ribs are the only indications maleficence. As I dab a warm wet cloth over my vaginal area my thoughts revert to Padma and how much I’d enjoy giving her a taste of tickle torment, but as much as she loved me I knew in my heart she’d never agree.
By the time I’m finished with myself Padma’s already exchanged the sheets and is lying comfortably on the bed watching syndications on late night television. Her vision never reverts even as I slip back into my teal green top. It’s then that I remember the half empty bottle of wine.
“Say Padma, care for some more of that red wine?” I ask nonchalantly.
“Mmm, I guess I could go for one more glass.” She snickers with adolescent mischievousness.
Her blue belly dancing dress jingles to life as the shiny trinkets that adorn it clash against one another and she props herself up for a drink. I purposefully fill her glass to the top and discretely request her favorite Italian cuisine courtesy of an app on my smartphone. I curl up beside her and pretend to take interest in what she’s watching when in fact I’m more interested in seeing her consume the wine.
“You aren’t drinking any?” She says slightly zoned out on the television.
I reach for my glass and splash but a fraction of what she’s already consumed into my cup, “I am so.” I say, taking small rationed sips.
As one show ends and another seemingly slides into its place there’s a knock at the door that startles Padma out of her indulgent intake of television, “Oh my god it’s my parents!” She shrieks. “They know! Oh god they’re going to kill me!” She says to stunned to move a muscle.
I can’t help but laugh at the sight of her frightened face, “Ha! Relax love I just ordered us some food.”
She lets out a deep sigh and collapses on her back in sweet relief, “Oh god.”
Twenty two dollars is a small price to pay in the grand scheme of things and I gladly fork over the money in exchange for two brown paper sacks. As I close the door behind me the alluring aroma of freshly baked bread and piping hot pasta begins to fills the room.
I’m taken aback by Padma’s comment, “Isn’t it a little late for food?”
“It’s just a midnight snack. I got your favorite! Creamy… chicken… alfredo.” I say unveiling the goods.
My words act as kryptonite crumbling her willpower with wrecking ball like destruction, “Mmm… Maybe just a few bites.” She says with a shrug, “YOLO!”
A few bites turns into half the bowl before she realizes how much she’s eaten as I fiddle with my plate barely denting my portion, “Oh god I’m a pig!” She says disgusted with herself.
“Padma don’t say that. You were just hungry from tickling me, that’s all.” I counter.
“Perhaps you’re right. Tickling you did work up a bit of an appetite.” She says.
“See? I told you.”
“Yeah well I’m full now.” She says waddling to the trash and disposing of her leftovers.
I watch happily as my unwitting victim waddles back onto the bed, props herself against a stack of pillows and eases into a food coma.
Between the pasta, breadsticks and wine her body has to process it’s only a matter of time before my beloved pays a visit to dreamland.
Futilely fighting to stay awake Padma bats her heavy eyes. Her head must feel like it’s falling off her shoulders as she struggles to keep it upright. Minutes later she succumbs to slumber lying completely unconscious with her arms wrapped loosely around her protruding belly.
“Hey Padma?” I say tiptoeing over to her. “Padma? Paaaadmaaa…” I continue to clown. “Look Padma, cheesecake!” I kid.
She responds with a subtle snore that I take as a sign that she’s truly incapacitated. I could likely pluck a hair off her eyebrow and not get so much as a twitch were I really that cruel.
It strains every muscle in my body to maneuver my beloved and stretch her face down across the bed. After tightly securing her to the bed frame I stand back and marvel at my handiwork.
Beit sympathy stricken or deviously orchestrated I decide to wait till morning to extract my revenge. By that time she’ll have had a full night’s rest, be rejuvenated and more sensitive than she otherwise would be with no glucose running through her system. I lie on the floor with just a pillow and a sheet and stare at the ceiling counting tiles till the same fate of sleep falls upon me.
***
The soft glow of the sun peaks through thin window shades illuminating what would otherwise be a pitch black room. And it’s a thin ray of light shown directly in my eye that sees me rouse before Padma.
Slight body aches course through me as I rise to my feet a firm reminder of what transpired the night before. My phone, which is constantly being misplaced, is surprisingly right beside me. Tapping the screen I realize there are still four hours before the scheduled check out which is more than enough time for vengeance.
A small damp blotch of dribble resides by her gaping mouth as Padma continues to sleep soundly; and I almost feel guilty to have to wake her from such a tranquil state. I keep my voice tender and low like a mother ushering her child awake for the first day of school, “Padma.”
I gently stroke her jet black hair and call her name until she begins to stir, “Morning sunshine.” I say tenderly.
She blinks open her eyes, sees my face and grins happily, “Morning.” She responds.
Trying to reach out to me her smile fades as she comes to the realization her hands have been enchained. “Sonnet? What’s going on?” She asks drearily still shaking off slumber.
“Oh well I’d say you’re tied up.” I say in a conniving tone.
“Brilliant deduction Sherlock but WHY am I tied up?” She whips back.
“Oh, just a little something I like to call turning the tables.”
“Oh God no! Sonnet no!” Padma says with growing eyes, “This was never part of the plan! I NEVER agreed to this!”
I wave my finger in her face, “You didn’t think after what you did to me last night I was going to let you off scot free did you?”
“But you wanted to be tickled!” Padma counters.
“I did and I have. Now it’s your turn to suffer the same.”
“Come now Sonnet, you don’t want to do this. I’m… I’m not even ticklish.” She blurts as I position myself at her feet.
“Then you have nothing to be afraid of.” I say gliding a single finger up her left sole.
I watch her foot twitch involuntarily a surefire sign of her skin’s sensitivity. “S-stop that!” She says sternly, suppressing a snicker.
“What? This?” I say sarcastically as I continue to softly stroke up and down her arch.
“Ye-he-hes! That!” She says.
Why? Because it…tickles?” I say speeding up the strokes.
“N-no-ho! I… I told yooo-hoo, I’m… not… ticklish!” She bubbles.
Her foot continues to twitch as my index finger remains glued to her arch administering quick continual scratches. My ears perk up as the sounds of fleeting giggles sporadically escape my Padma’s mouth, “I thought you said you weren’t ticklish Paaaadma?” I say with false disbelief.
The faster I stroke my finger the harder it is for her to respond as she tries desperately to bottle up the laughter, “I’M… not-TA-HA T-T-TICKLISHEEEE!”
“Hmm… seems to me like somebody’s lying?” I taunt putting the rest of my fingers to work.
With five fingers now simultaneously stroking every inch of her sole Padma’s resiliency starts to diminish, “WHA-HA! No, nope! NOT-TAA! TICKLEE-HEE-HEE-HEE! OH GOD NO HO-HO!” And just like that, her defenses come crashing down. “SONNET PLEE-HEE-HEE-HEE-ASE! SHIT-TA-HA-HA-HA!” She screams.
“Liar, liar pants on fire!” I taunt.
The smoothness of her sole is reminiscent of a fresh satin sheet as my fingernails slide in circular motion around the ball of her foot. The bed rocks as she fights her restraints to no end, “WHAT THE FU-UH-HA-HA-HA! SONNET PLEASE! BEEE-HEE-HEE SENSIBLE! WHOAH-HA-HA-HA! SHEE-HEE-HEE!”
Her voice strains to be heard, perhaps by a neighboring tenant or a curious passerby. In any case her loud bellows echo in my ears, a joyful noise to rival even the sweetest of sounds. “Tickle, tickle my little belly dancer!” I say happily.
“OOH WHY-YEE-HEE-HEE! AH-HA-HA-HA!” Her jovial voice is muffled as she buries her face into the bed.
“Let’s not forget about these cute little toesies.” I say striking her big toe.
“OH GOD!” Padma shouts in involuntary glee.
I zip a single finger across her toes making them scrunch like an armadillo balling up for protection, “Tickles doesn’t it?” I tease.
“YEEES-SEE-HEE-HEE-HEE! PLEASE STOP! OH GOD NO! SONNET WHY-YA-HA-HA-HA!”
Forcefully spreading her toes apart I scour between them running my nail along their baby soft insides. And as I fill my indulgence of feet so too does Padma fill her lungs with oxygen as she gasps heavily under duress.
Every inch of her voluptuous body beckons to be explored as I abandon her foot and take to the side of the bed, “Deep breaths darling. Deep breaths.” I instruct.
Terrified eyes stare back at me as I casually approach her armpits, “Sonnet no! Sonnet I said NO-HO-HO-WHOA-HA-HA!”
She melts like butter on a hot stove as my fingers sporadically dance along the silky smooth skin of her freshly shaved underarms. A warm fuzzy feeling soothes my insides as I watch her tug aimlessly at her bounds in an effort to protect herself. “Gee, I think you’re right about these furry pink cuffs. You aren’t going anywhere.”
“OH YOU SUCK KA-HA-HA-HA-HA! I DIDN’T SIGN UP FOR THIS DAMIT-TA-HA-HA-HA!” She babbles.
Her soft plushy arms feel like freshly baked baguettes as I lividly sink my fingers deeper into her flesh forcing a grin to form on her face, “SHIT! SHIT-TA-HA-HA! SONNET PLEEE-HEE-HEE-EASE!”
Reverting back to light touches I turn my attention to the intricate designs of her costume and begin to trace them, “Are you okay?” I say with concern.
Wheezing for air Padma nods her head offering up an honest answer, “Yes.”
“Good, then we can continue.” I say unzipping her top.
“WAIT NO!” She cries.
I straddle her ass and remove her garment. No visible bone structure nor mountains of muscle, just plush tenderness makes up her soft supple back as it sits completely exposed. The tiny hairs on her neck stand at attention as my nails carelessly careen down her fleshy folds and she bucks like a bronco when I give a sudden thrust to her rib cage. “WAI-HEY-HEY-HA-HA-HA! SONNET NO-HO-HO-HO!” She bursts in laughter.
“Oh I’m sorry does that tickle?” I tease my victim.
“YEEESSS-SA-HA-HA-HA! PLEE-HEE-HEE-ASE HAVE MERCY-YEE-HEE-HEE!”
“Mercy? You showed ME no mercy!” I say plunging my thumbs into her ribs. “Sucks being ticklish huh my little belly dancer?”
With one finger at each side I control every volatile spasm and the strain in her voice makes it abundantly clear my torturous techniques are testing her limits. “SHIT-SHEET-TA-AH-HA-HA-HA! PLEASE STOP! PLEASE STOOO-HOO-HOO-HOOP!”
“Please stop! Please stop!” I say mockingly.
I glide my hands down her tender sides raking her skin with my nails and I can feel it crawl with goosebumps the second I rest my grip on her luscious love handles.
“Sonnet no! Come now you’ve had your fun!” She pleads in search of sympathy.
Sliding my hands under her bulging belly I kneed it like dough pressing my fingers deep into her core. It shakes like Jell-O as my fingers wiggle wildly with intense vivacity, “OH MY GOOOOOD-DA-HA-HA-HA-HA! NOT THE FAT! NOT THE FAAA-HA-HA-HAT-TA-HA-HA!”
“You’re not fat darling.” I say reassuringly. “You’re juuuust right.”
I feel around her stomach till I find its epicenter, “NOT MY BELLY BUTTON!” She cries in anguish.
“Aw, why not? Does my little belly dancer have a ticklish button?” I tease.
She shutters in anticipation as my finger grazes her navel’s perimeter. I savor the moment listening intently on her heavy breathing as her body desperately tries to keep up with my pace. With no verbal cue I thrust my index finger deep into her belly button wiggling it like a worm looking for a place to find solace.
“WHA-AH-HA-HA-HA! SONNET PLEE-HEE-HEE-HEE-ASE! SHIT! NOT THERE!” She shrieks.
Her butt thrusts me in the air sending me off the side of the bed, “Whoa there Padma.” I say smacking her rear. “I may be wrong, but I think your ass is trying to tell me something.”
Padma’s poor conditioning has her panting like a dog on a hot summer day, “Yes… it’s saying…stop!” She sputters.
“No, no.” I shake my head in disapproval. “I think it’s saying, “tickle meee!” That’s what I think.”
Padma lets out a whimper as I viciously peel away her skirt, “Sonnet please…”
“A THONG Miss Padma? What ever possessed you to assume this was acceptable attire?” I reprimand. “Now I’m sorry, but this butt floss of an undergarment… is simply impermissible. You should be ashamed.” I say struggling to keep a straight face.
“Sorry MOM!” Padma frowns.
Her witty comment drives me over the edge as I burst out in cackles, “Oh, smart mouth huh? You know what I love to do to smart mouths?” I say smacking her left cheek.
Terror stricken eyes strain to look back at me as she turns her head around, “Sonnet I’m sorry! Sonnet no! Sonnet pleeease!”
Her feeble protests only kindle my desires and the look of distress on her face puts a smile on mine. Her caramel colored butt cheeks begin to jiggle at the first sign of contact as she jerks her body away from my hand. “Where do you think you’re going?” I say straddling her thighs.
Keeping her legs suppressed under my weight I go to work on the plump round rump before my fingers, “Tickle, tickle my little belly dancer!”
My long fingernails scribble circles in and around her cheeks causing them to clench together tightly as glorious giggles flow from her mouth, “WHA-HA-HA-HA! WHY?! OOO-HOO-HOO! SHIT! SONNET PLE-HEE-HEE-ASE!”
With my tiny hands stretched to their limits I squeeze and massage the globs of fatty flesh that make up her posterior, “NOOO-HO-HO! PLEEE-HEE-HEE-EASE! LEAVE MY BOOTY BEE-HEE-HEE-HEE-AH-HA-HA!” She begs.
“Oh then perhaps you’d prefer it if I worked these thighs?!” I suggest.
She jumps with ecstasy as tantalizing finger strokes between her thighs send unbearable sensations up her body. It’s all she can do to keep them clenched, but my wiry fingers refuse to be denied and despite her efforts I’m still able to wriggle my way in, “What’s the matter love? Too ticklish?”
Her fists various shades of red bang against the bed in fits of aggravation. The sheets once crisp and pristine are now wrinkled and partially sweat stained as her body impulsively thrashes above them, “OH THAT TICKLES-EEE-HEE-HEE-HEE! GET AWAAAY-YAY-HA-HA-HA! STOP THAT-TA-HA-HA!”
“Stop?! Aren’t you having fun? You must be considering you’ve been giggling the entire time.”
“NOOO! NOT FUN-HEY-HEE-HEE-HEE! OH GOD NO I’M GONNA PEE-HEE-HEE!” She moans in pain.
“Hmm… all that WINE coming back to haunt you?” I tease lightly tracing the creases of her rear.
Her eyes grow wide as she pieces yesterday’s events together, “YOU! You made me drink ALL that wine!”
As my nails continuously doodle figure eights on her ass cheeks I ponder my options, “I made you drink nothing. You drank willingly if I recall.”
Padma shakes her head, “Sonnet please… you can’t make me pee.” She says through broken vocals.
Deafened by lust her words glide over me not sending so much as a shiver down my spine. Thoughtless, I thrust my thumbs in between her thighs, “NO-NO-NO-HO-HO!”
“Yes, yes, yes!” I banter back.
Aggression fuels her thunderous thighs as violent claps make them jiggle profusely, “WHOO-WHOO-HOO-AH-HA-HA-HA! SONNET… IF YOU LOVE MEEE-HEE-HEE-HEE!”
“Perhaps you’d prefer THIS?” I say rubbing her pulsating clitoris.
Her body livid as the sea during a hellacious thunderstorm slowly transitions into a tranquilized calm serenity, as excruciating torture turns into unfathomable pleasure. Slowly titillating her plush vagina with fragile fingers I focus on every inch of her crotch to insure complete stimulation.
“Mmm… Sonnet YES! OOH! OOH! MMM!” She moans happily.
Energy seems to transfer from my fingertips to her vaginal walls as they puff up blossoming like a flower on a midsummer’s day. Her sorry excuse of an undergarment does her no favors as her genitals lay completely exposed. “Is this better my little belly dancer?” I whisper erotically.
Padma’s moans grow louder the more I play with her pussy resonating beyond the confinement of our hotel room. Vaginal juices secrete onto my fingers making for a slick and slimy situation. “Oh you’re a naughty one my little belly dancer.” I say fondling her clitoris in harmony.
Every tiny hair on her back stands erect as I intensify my strokes and thrusts. Her every joint, locked in tense anticipation. She bites down
on her lip and grabs a fistful of white sheet right before her tender flesh ripples with tiny tremors.
Warm fluids flow freely from her vagina in vagrant spurts saturating my hand and tainting the sheets. She arches her back as the last of the orgasmic pleasure exits her body. She retires with one final moan before sinking back into the comfort of the bed.
Her body hasn’t looked this relaxed since her starch induced slumber; still I’m cautious as I stroke a few stray locks of sweaty hair away from her face, “Padma?” I whisper. “Are you still mad at me?”
Her smile seems genuine as we lock eyes, “Just a little. I wasn’t too happy waking up in chains. Speaking of which…”
Taking her cue I un-cuff her wrists and legs. Red rings mark her skin where restraints once resided. She slowly turns on her back and lets out a long exasperated sign, “Ugh I’m so fat.” She says rubbing her belly.
“What this?” I say tenderly poking her navel.
“Oh-ho no you don’t!” She says tying my hands in her grip. “It’s a different game when you’re victim isn’t tied up and outweighs you by twenty pounds!” She says shifting herself atop of me.
In a skimpy blue thong, her only article of clothing, she showers me with light tickles along my neck. It’s almost impossible to fixate my eyes on a certain spot as I’m consumed by her charismatic smile and the lush round breasts dangling from her chest.
“I wish we could freeze this moment in time.” I speak softly.
“I know love, but we can’t. It’s almost check out and unless you have another hundred dollars to fork over…” Padma says snapping us back to reality.
“I know, I know.” I huff reminded that the last of my hard earned money had gone towards our dinner.
As Padma excuses herself to clean up I sit on the bed staring blankly at the walls and the secrets they carry; wondering how many other sexual transgressions came before us. My thoughts are broken as Padma comes out of the restroom dripping from her bath.
“Well I’m all set.” She says putting on her boots.
“The memories of this place will forever be ingrained in my head.” I say cupping her hand in mine.
“Ditto.” She replies swinging my arm.
We take one last look together before closing the door behind us inking yet another chapter in the story of our lives.
