It is 6:30 the evening of Wednesday, August 16, 2006, as I arrive for my appointment with New York City’s enchanting Mistress Regan. Despite my years as a hardcore tickler of women, today I am to be Regan’s tickle sub for the entire hour session.
Since the winter of 2005 Mistress Regan and I have communicated through private e-mail as well as another web site, as we have several interests in common. Face to face at last, Regan greets me with a hug. While it is our first contact, her embrace feels like that of an old friend.
Recently f/m tickling has come to intrigue me. One reason I choose Mistress Regan as my tormentor is she’s a fellow admitted tickling enthusiast. Another reason is Regan 🙁 isn’t ticklish, and my inability to retaliate fascinates me. This is to be my first dungeon visit where I am not the dominant or switch tickler.
Mistress Regan also stands apart because she does not participate in role-play, something in which the other wonderful mistresses I’ve seen engaged. Without a sketch for Regan, I enter the session ready to submit to her whim.
Nor does Mistress Regan offer
nudity - no thong, no bra/panties, no topless. As the action commences, the one wearing just a thong is 
me. I stand before a fully dressed Regan, whose clothing puts her that much more in control. We are the same height but in her domme shoes, Ms. Regan looks down at me.
Not that I can complain how this fair-skinned beauty
looks in her snug black leather skirt, black stockings and a form-fitting top that sports Mistress Regan’s incredibly sexy 
cleavage.
To my surprise, Mistress Regan shows me a list of my ticklish areas from an e-mail I had sent so long ago I forgot. Howcool that she remembered. As any tickler knows, vulnerability and reaction can vary, so Regan announces she wants to get a read on my “energy level.” She has me stand with my back to her. Ms. Regan’s fingers glide about my flesh, lightly, pleasurably tickling me.
I keep thinking of a warning Mistress Regan gave me more than once as we arranged this encounter: “I haven't gotten to tickle anyone in forever, so look out!”
Mistress Regan has me kneel on an ankle-high bench. Once again Regan tickles me from behind, but this time I understand why she warned me. Between the light touches, my tickler mistress’s hands deliver several
devastating tickles on either side of my pelvis, upper ribs and, unexpectedly, my upper chest. I cringe, caving like a landslide in reaction, laughing loudly as Regan chides me about failing to hold still.
With Mistress Reagan’s feet within reach, I notice she has removed her shoes. As if to underscore what she’s putting me through, I vainly try to tickle her stocking feet and knees.
“Not gonna work,” Mistress Regan replies with triumph and without ticklishness.
What will work is doing so on
me as Mistress Regan has me rest on my back on the bondage table. Once again, Regan does the unexpected as she does not restrain me while continuing her mix of light and heavy tickles. Like a rock oldies act knowing which songs will get the concert crowd going, Ms. Regan keeps returning to the pressure points of my upper chest, upper ribs and pelvis, getting the best reactions. I laugh aloud and hard, jolting as if Regan were electrocuting me!
During one such deep tickle, I respond as if the bondage bed were folding me into a “V” shape. Mistress Regan laughingly scolds me, calling me a “big baby.”
“I’m not big,” I say.
As Mistress Regan reaches over me to tickle my flesh here and there, I vainly try to tickle her ribs.
“Not gonna work,” Mistress Regan reminds me, triumph in her voice and no ticklishness in her ribs.
Finally, Mistress Regan directs my limbs to the bondage table cuffs at my ankles and wrists. After cuffing my ankles in place, it interests me to see Regan cuffing my wrists at waist level, not overhead. This gives me room to writhe and does not leave me as vulnerable as I could be, my arms still mostly at my sides. We are well into our time together as Mistress Regan is cuffing me down, something I expected her to do when we started. I can say the same of Regan’s tickling style, as she is patient. Ms. Regan measures her torture of me, in no rush to administer the severe tickles nor too eager to make me writhe about for long when she digs in those tickling fingers.
Mistress Regan’s varied tickle torture keeps me on edge, wondering what she will do to me next. This reminds me of the why a woman spends hours reading a Harlequin novel while a man spends an average of twelve minutes viewing an adult movie. Ms. Regan embraces the whole encounter, light teasing to heavy tickling, not just the pay-off of vigorously tickling me to the point where where I all but elevate from the torture table.
After spending a few more minutes
tickling me, Mistress Regan stops for a drink of water. Bottled water in hand, Regan offers me some and I accept. Instead of pointing the bottle towards my mouth, Ms. Regan pours some water in her mouth but does not swallow it, instead positioning her face over mine. I open up and Regan releases the water into my mouth.
I do not remember the last time I had such a refreshing beverage.
Resuming the tickle torture, Mistress Regan stands behind my head, first tickling my ribs and then reaching down to tickle my pelvis. Regan tells me by tickling the pressure points of my chest and so on, she is getting to particularly pressure-sensitive lymph nodes. Ms. Regan explains such tickle torture helps my lymphs circulate better. But when you’re writhing and laughing as much as I am, the only thing you know you’re doing better is perspiring!
Just when I think Mistress Regan has settled into a tickle torture routine, she lifts my right leg. Tickling me just where the leg and buttock meet, Regan gets me rocking left and right as I laugh!
Mistress Regan unveils a pair of surgical gloves and some cotton balls. To deep-tickle me without scratching, she inserts the cotton balls into the gloves’ fingertips before making me writhe in ticklish reaction.
But that’s not all Mistress Regan does with her fingers, something I learn after she removes the gloves. As if we are communicating more than I, for one, realize, Mistress Regan takes a break from tickling me and sticks her thumb in my mouth. I gladly nurse on it and the other fingers she proceeds to insert, one at a time.
Maybe Mistress Regan’s fingers need invigoration from all the tickles they are administering. Regan shows no sign of tiring, though, as goes back to work on tickle torturing me. Lest there be any doubt of Regan’s tickle enthusiasm, her
gleefully sadistic smile tells me I will wear out before she does!
Standing next to my bound, helpless body, Mistress Regan tickles my upper ribs, making me involuntarily sit up – as much as I can with my wrists cuffed to either side of the table. Our heads clunk and I profusely apologize. But a tickler such as Ms. Regan knows unintentional head butts, kicks, etc. are part of the territory.
As I thrash about from Mistress Regan’s tickling, she calls me a “big chicken.”
“I’m not big,” I say.
A little later my head hits Mistress Regan’s lip as she tickles my midsection. With humor, she wonders if it will swell!
Next time Mistress Regan has to restrain me more securely! And there will be a next time. Regan has appeared less harsh than other ticklers but I believe she is saving her most laugh-thirsty tickles for my return visit, something she knows I will request before I realize it. Ms. Regan has played me well this evening.
Winding down the tickle torture, Mistress Regan again has me taste her elegant fingers. I tell her I would like to do the same to her toes.
Freeing me, Mistress Regan regally sits on the spanking bench as I kneel at her
feet. Allowing me to remove her black stockings, she lifts her foot to my mouth. I suck each toe, then do the same to her other foot. Licking and nibbling her soles and sucking her toes more, I ask Ms. Regan if we can rest on the bondage bed together so I can worship more than one foot at a time. She consents.
I carry Mistress Regan to the table. As if I have to embarrass myself at least once in a session with a beautiful dominatrix, as I place the lovely Regan on the bondage bed I lose my footing, dropping her the final inch of the descent. Graciously, she lets it slide, and permits my mouth to continue adoring her bare feet.
Finally, Mistress Regan
plays me one last way. As I kiss and suck her feet, I find my mouth moving up Regan’s fair-skinned, sumptuously soft legs. Smiling at me flirtatiously, Regan lets me continue even though both of us know this ain’t going where a middle-aged loser would want to take a young beauty such as Ms. Regan. The session wraps in delightful tease and denial as Regan’s smile invites me to come closer, only to have her tickling fingers keep me on the other side of the line.
As we part, Mistress Regan bids me farewell with another
touching embrace. It took too long for us to meet and won't be too soon when I am at her mercy again.
Since the winter of 2005 Mistress Regan and I have communicated through private e-mail as well as another web site, as we have several interests in common. Face to face at last, Regan greets me with a hug. While it is our first contact, her embrace feels like that of an old friend.
Recently f/m tickling has come to intrigue me. One reason I choose Mistress Regan as my tormentor is she’s a fellow admitted tickling enthusiast. Another reason is Regan 🙁 isn’t ticklish, and my inability to retaliate fascinates me. This is to be my first dungeon visit where I am not the dominant or switch tickler.
Mistress Regan also stands apart because she does not participate in role-play, something in which the other wonderful mistresses I’ve seen engaged. Without a sketch for Regan, I enter the session ready to submit to her whim.
Nor does Mistress Regan offer
nudity - no thong, no bra/panties, no topless. As the action commences, the one wearing just a thong is me. I stand before a fully dressed Regan, whose clothing puts her that much more in control. We are the same height but in her domme shoes, Ms. Regan looks down at me.Not that I can complain how this fair-skinned beauty
looks in her snug black leather skirt, black stockings and a form-fitting top that sports Mistress Regan’s incredibly sexy cleavage. To my surprise, Mistress Regan shows me a list of my ticklish areas from an e-mail I had sent so long ago I forgot. Howcool that she remembered. As any tickler knows, vulnerability and reaction can vary, so Regan announces she wants to get a read on my “energy level.” She has me stand with my back to her. Ms. Regan’s fingers glide about my flesh, lightly, pleasurably tickling me.
I keep thinking of a warning Mistress Regan gave me more than once as we arranged this encounter: “I haven't gotten to tickle anyone in forever, so look out!”
Mistress Regan has me kneel on an ankle-high bench. Once again Regan tickles me from behind, but this time I understand why she warned me. Between the light touches, my tickler mistress’s hands deliver several
devastating tickles on either side of my pelvis, upper ribs and, unexpectedly, my upper chest. I cringe, caving like a landslide in reaction, laughing loudly as Regan chides me about failing to hold still. With Mistress Reagan’s feet within reach, I notice she has removed her shoes. As if to underscore what she’s putting me through, I vainly try to tickle her stocking feet and knees.
“Not gonna work,” Mistress Regan replies with triumph and without ticklishness.
What will work is doing so on
me as Mistress Regan has me rest on my back on the bondage table. Once again, Regan does the unexpected as she does not restrain me while continuing her mix of light and heavy tickles. Like a rock oldies act knowing which songs will get the concert crowd going, Ms. Regan keeps returning to the pressure points of my upper chest, upper ribs and pelvis, getting the best reactions. I laugh aloud and hard, jolting as if Regan were electrocuting me!During one such deep tickle, I respond as if the bondage bed were folding me into a “V” shape. Mistress Regan laughingly scolds me, calling me a “big baby.”
“I’m not big,” I say.
As Mistress Regan reaches over me to tickle my flesh here and there, I vainly try to tickle her ribs.
“Not gonna work,” Mistress Regan reminds me, triumph in her voice and no ticklishness in her ribs.
Finally, Mistress Regan directs my limbs to the bondage table cuffs at my ankles and wrists. After cuffing my ankles in place, it interests me to see Regan cuffing my wrists at waist level, not overhead. This gives me room to writhe and does not leave me as vulnerable as I could be, my arms still mostly at my sides. We are well into our time together as Mistress Regan is cuffing me down, something I expected her to do when we started. I can say the same of Regan’s tickling style, as she is patient. Ms. Regan measures her torture of me, in no rush to administer the severe tickles nor too eager to make me writhe about for long when she digs in those tickling fingers.
Mistress Regan’s varied tickle torture keeps me on edge, wondering what she will do to me next. This reminds me of the why a woman spends hours reading a Harlequin novel while a man spends an average of twelve minutes viewing an adult movie. Ms. Regan embraces the whole encounter, light teasing to heavy tickling, not just the pay-off of vigorously tickling me to the point where where I all but elevate from the torture table.
After spending a few more minutes
tickling me, Mistress Regan stops for a drink of water. Bottled water in hand, Regan offers me some and I accept. Instead of pointing the bottle towards my mouth, Ms. Regan pours some water in her mouth but does not swallow it, instead positioning her face over mine. I open up and Regan releases the water into my mouth.I do not remember the last time I had such a refreshing beverage.
Resuming the tickle torture, Mistress Regan stands behind my head, first tickling my ribs and then reaching down to tickle my pelvis. Regan tells me by tickling the pressure points of my chest and so on, she is getting to particularly pressure-sensitive lymph nodes. Ms. Regan explains such tickle torture helps my lymphs circulate better. But when you’re writhing and laughing as much as I am, the only thing you know you’re doing better is perspiring!
Just when I think Mistress Regan has settled into a tickle torture routine, she lifts my right leg. Tickling me just where the leg and buttock meet, Regan gets me rocking left and right as I laugh!
Mistress Regan unveils a pair of surgical gloves and some cotton balls. To deep-tickle me without scratching, she inserts the cotton balls into the gloves’ fingertips before making me writhe in ticklish reaction.
But that’s not all Mistress Regan does with her fingers, something I learn after she removes the gloves. As if we are communicating more than I, for one, realize, Mistress Regan takes a break from tickling me and sticks her thumb in my mouth. I gladly nurse on it and the other fingers she proceeds to insert, one at a time.
Maybe Mistress Regan’s fingers need invigoration from all the tickles they are administering. Regan shows no sign of tiring, though, as goes back to work on tickle torturing me. Lest there be any doubt of Regan’s tickle enthusiasm, her
gleefully sadistic smile tells me I will wear out before she does!Standing next to my bound, helpless body, Mistress Regan tickles my upper ribs, making me involuntarily sit up – as much as I can with my wrists cuffed to either side of the table. Our heads clunk and I profusely apologize. But a tickler such as Ms. Regan knows unintentional head butts, kicks, etc. are part of the territory.
As I thrash about from Mistress Regan’s tickling, she calls me a “big chicken.”
“I’m not big,” I say.
A little later my head hits Mistress Regan’s lip as she tickles my midsection. With humor, she wonders if it will swell!
Next time Mistress Regan has to restrain me more securely! And there will be a next time. Regan has appeared less harsh than other ticklers but I believe she is saving her most laugh-thirsty tickles for my return visit, something she knows I will request before I realize it. Ms. Regan has played me well this evening.
Winding down the tickle torture, Mistress Regan again has me taste her elegant fingers. I tell her I would like to do the same to her toes.
Freeing me, Mistress Regan regally sits on the spanking bench as I kneel at her
feet. Allowing me to remove her black stockings, she lifts her foot to my mouth. I suck each toe, then do the same to her other foot. Licking and nibbling her soles and sucking her toes more, I ask Ms. Regan if we can rest on the bondage bed together so I can worship more than one foot at a time. She consents.I carry Mistress Regan to the table. As if I have to embarrass myself at least once in a session with a beautiful dominatrix, as I place the lovely Regan on the bondage bed I lose my footing, dropping her the final inch of the descent. Graciously, she lets it slide, and permits my mouth to continue adoring her bare feet.
Finally, Mistress Regan
plays me one last way. As I kiss and suck her feet, I find my mouth moving up Regan’s fair-skinned, sumptuously soft legs. Smiling at me flirtatiously, Regan lets me continue even though both of us know this ain’t going where a middle-aged loser would want to take a young beauty such as Ms. Regan. The session wraps in delightful tease and denial as Regan’s smile invites me to come closer, only to have her tickling fingers keep me on the other side of the line. As we part, Mistress Regan bids me farewell with another
touching embrace. It took too long for us to meet and won't be too soon when I am at her mercy again.
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