Morning Angel
TMF Expert
- Joined
- May 10, 2003
- Messages
- 339
- Points
- 0
Hey guys, let me know what you think so far, ok.
Laugh for me, Precious
He stood over me as I lay on the bondage table. For someone so talkative online he was strangely silent as he began to tie me up. Yes, I had agreed to come here and submit to an hour-long tickle session and yes, I told myself that I was just as excited about this as he was, but now, with arms outstretched above me and legs spread far apart, I had to ask myself if this was really what I wanted, if it would truly make me happy. I had never been tickle-tortured before. I hadn’t been tickled at all in years. All I knew were vague desires and abstract fantasies, half-forgotten memories of a pleasant touch. Would I really enjoy being tickled? Would he respect me if I didn’t? And the reverse: would he respect me if I enjoyed it too much and began to get aroused? This was supposed to be innocent play... we had never discussed any feelings we might have for each other. So many questions, and despite my fears, I needed answers.
I had walked into the dungeon room terrified, believing that the only way I could go through with this was to assume control of the situation. Crack jokes, do a tongue-in-cheek seductive dance as I stripped for him, hide at all costs the fact that during the 6 months of online conversations leading up to this encounter I had come to feel a bond with him. While he wordlessly finished securing the bonds I tried frantically to secure my emotions: “This is casual,” I told myself. “Like a one-night stand. Tomorrow he will be looking for someone else to tickle, and I don’t care. He probably has a new ticklee every week. I could have the same thing.” But I didn’t. I didn’t have a line of ticklers waiting for me, although I knew I was sassy and attractive enough to get at least a few. I only wanted his hands on me. These thoughts are insane, I thought as he positioned his hands above my hips, this is play. Jealousy and possessiveness have no place here. We’re in a rented room in a freakin' dungeon, for crying out loud, a place of business.
Before I could worry about what I would feel once his hands touched my ticklish body, they were upon me. I had just enough time to see his devilish grin and the gleam in his eyes before reflexively throwing my head back and screaming with laughter. The bastard hadn’t even started slowly, he had put all of his effort into that first tickle attack, and I didn’t know if my hips would ever recover. All my rationalizations left me and I laughed and laughed. “God-dahahahahaha...da-ha-ha-haamn... hehehehahahaha... you-hoooaaahahahaha.”
He chuckled, a deep sexy laughter that intensified the feelings I already could not deny. I struggled like crazy, swinging my body from side to side with the little room I had to move. I hated this maddening feeling, the torturous itch that I couldn’t scratch. But I also loved it. The thrill I felt knowing that his fingers were seeking out every spot we had discussed, using every technique he knew confirmed it: I adored being tickled. The fact that he adored tickling was blatant. Encouraged by my initial reaction, he moved his head closer to mine and slowly walked his hands up to my ribs where he began using light, feathery tickles that produced an endless stream of giggles from me. He leaned over and whispered in my ear, “I’ve got you now. I rather like that giggle of yours. Let’s hear some more of it.” The whispering itself, his warm breath on my ear and neck, tickled me, just like he knew it would, and my giggles increased in pitch, becoming the giggles of a little girl. “That’s it, giggle for me ticklish girl, my precious giggling girl. Your laughter fuels me. Laugh for me, precious.”
I could feel my passion growing, but just the same I knew I was holding back. I had to maintain whatever pride I could. Though I couldn’t stop him from affecting the nerves in my body, I couldn’t let him affect my soul.
To be continued...
Laugh for me, Precious
He stood over me as I lay on the bondage table. For someone so talkative online he was strangely silent as he began to tie me up. Yes, I had agreed to come here and submit to an hour-long tickle session and yes, I told myself that I was just as excited about this as he was, but now, with arms outstretched above me and legs spread far apart, I had to ask myself if this was really what I wanted, if it would truly make me happy. I had never been tickle-tortured before. I hadn’t been tickled at all in years. All I knew were vague desires and abstract fantasies, half-forgotten memories of a pleasant touch. Would I really enjoy being tickled? Would he respect me if I didn’t? And the reverse: would he respect me if I enjoyed it too much and began to get aroused? This was supposed to be innocent play... we had never discussed any feelings we might have for each other. So many questions, and despite my fears, I needed answers.
I had walked into the dungeon room terrified, believing that the only way I could go through with this was to assume control of the situation. Crack jokes, do a tongue-in-cheek seductive dance as I stripped for him, hide at all costs the fact that during the 6 months of online conversations leading up to this encounter I had come to feel a bond with him. While he wordlessly finished securing the bonds I tried frantically to secure my emotions: “This is casual,” I told myself. “Like a one-night stand. Tomorrow he will be looking for someone else to tickle, and I don’t care. He probably has a new ticklee every week. I could have the same thing.” But I didn’t. I didn’t have a line of ticklers waiting for me, although I knew I was sassy and attractive enough to get at least a few. I only wanted his hands on me. These thoughts are insane, I thought as he positioned his hands above my hips, this is play. Jealousy and possessiveness have no place here. We’re in a rented room in a freakin' dungeon, for crying out loud, a place of business.
Before I could worry about what I would feel once his hands touched my ticklish body, they were upon me. I had just enough time to see his devilish grin and the gleam in his eyes before reflexively throwing my head back and screaming with laughter. The bastard hadn’t even started slowly, he had put all of his effort into that first tickle attack, and I didn’t know if my hips would ever recover. All my rationalizations left me and I laughed and laughed. “God-dahahahahaha...da-ha-ha-haamn... hehehehahahaha... you-hoooaaahahahaha.”
He chuckled, a deep sexy laughter that intensified the feelings I already could not deny. I struggled like crazy, swinging my body from side to side with the little room I had to move. I hated this maddening feeling, the torturous itch that I couldn’t scratch. But I also loved it. The thrill I felt knowing that his fingers were seeking out every spot we had discussed, using every technique he knew confirmed it: I adored being tickled. The fact that he adored tickling was blatant. Encouraged by my initial reaction, he moved his head closer to mine and slowly walked his hands up to my ribs where he began using light, feathery tickles that produced an endless stream of giggles from me. He leaned over and whispered in my ear, “I’ve got you now. I rather like that giggle of yours. Let’s hear some more of it.” The whispering itself, his warm breath on my ear and neck, tickled me, just like he knew it would, and my giggles increased in pitch, becoming the giggles of a little girl. “That’s it, giggle for me ticklish girl, my precious giggling girl. Your laughter fuels me. Laugh for me, precious.”
I could feel my passion growing, but just the same I knew I was holding back. I had to maintain whatever pride I could. Though I couldn’t stop him from affecting the nerves in my body, I couldn’t let him affect my soul.
To be continued...
