Happy Christmas everyone, and here’s my attempt at a present for all of you. What follows is a (fictional) tale of the first national UK tickle gathering and, I hope, stands up as a decent story as well as providing some suitably provocative tickling action 😉 For those that are interested, the bulk of the characters aren’t making their first appearance here but have been introduced in other tales over the last six months or so. There’s a version of this tale available from the library section of my web site (see sig) or by clicking
here (PDF File, ~1mb) that’s just over 300 pages and 1Mb that has all the back stories included along with a timeline of where everything fits.
Just quickly, I want to say a huge thank you to everyone for making me (and I’m sure many, many others) feel right at home here, here’s to a damn fine 2004. Oh, and a huge thank you to MorningAngel for the kind threats to get this written 😀 and to tommytkl for slogging through a rough draft and providing invaluable advice on where I screwed up.
*********
The rain lashed against the windows of my car as I peered out into the gathering dusk, the windscreen wipers fighting a loosing battle against the seemingly endless torrent of water that poured from the heavens. Wishing for the hundredth time that day I’d swallowed my pride and bought something with a navigation system I finally made out the beckoning neon sign of the hotel up ahead. Even with the advance warning I almost missed the turn and the back of the people carrier twitched nervously as I hauled it round onto the narrow drive.
The hotel itself was, well, unusual to say the least. The main reception and facilities where held in a modern, upmarket building while the rooms themselves were in a separate building set slightly further back. Adding to the uniqueness of the place was the fact the second building was an old Georgian mansion, enough space for almost a hundred rooms with en-suite and quite a popular place during the summer for upper-middle class families to use as their base from which to explore the Welsh countryside.
Of course, that was in summer, in the heart of winter things were a little different. Aside from the occasional booking to a company for ‘team building events’ and a busy season over the Christmas holidays the hotel was almost dead from October onwards. Not that I was complaining as it had given us a unique opportunity that I’d been looking forward to for months, the first national tickle meet in the UK for years was coming to town.
Actually, judging by the number of cars already parked up, the first national tickle meet had come to town already and from a quick count it looked like it was going to be a pretty damn good turnout. Ever since we’d started putting the tickling scene back together almost a year ago we’d been building up to this, and it looked like it was going to be as good as we had hoped. Not that any of that really mattered at the moment, as my immediate priority was to get the equipment I had loaded in the boot out and in place in record time to make up for my late arrival.
Reversing up to the front door of the hotel proper I grabbed a waterproof jacket from the passenger seat and stepped out into the driving rain. There was a gentle splash and a quick glance down showed almost half an inch of water lapping around my boots as I sploshed my way over to the hotel entrance. As I got within a few yards the door swung open and a group of a dozen people swarmed out, all dressed for the weather and eager to help. They swept past me in a tide, most I recognised, a couple I didn’t and then one in particular caught my eye. God she was gorgeous, every time I met her it was like I was seeing her for the first time, and true to form I pretty much stood and stared for a few seconds as my brain tripped out. Still, we’d been through this so many times by now Mary knew it wasn’t anything to worry about, and in fact she’d rather come to enjoy the attention.
Once she was sure I’d recovered enough to at least try and speak she dashed out and grabbed me in a hug that threatened to send me right back into my coma, a spell she quickly broke when a hand slipped up under my coat and t-shirt to goose my ribs. A quick snort of laughter escaped my lips and she backed off, grinning, as she knew she’d just fired the first shot in our inevitable war that’d last the whole weekend. Sighing with longing, squashing down the impulse to give chase and retaliate, I turned back and helped with the unloading. With so many hands pitching in we had everything out in less than two minutes and I quickly parked up in a more official spot and headed inside.
The hotel was, surprisingly enough, quite tastefully decorated. They’d kept a lot of the original architecture and gone for a simple cream as the predominant colour, which leant an air of calm refinement to the place. Everywhere you looked it seemed like there were people milling about, dozens at least, maybe hundreds though that could have been my imagination getting carried away. For now though I couldn’t have much to do with them, there was too much else to do and my mingling time was practically non-existent thanks to my late arrival. Still, I thought as I headed for my room, there’d be time for that later, providing I was still breathing after what I knew was coming up.
The room itself was quite large, hell, everything was large in this place and with the entire hotel booked out just for our little convention we weren’t short on rooms. Two double beds, a sofa against the window and a large desk against one wall, the bathroom off to the right as you walked through the door and even a small breakfast bar at the far end. A glance in the mirror showed the results of five hours travelling and I threw my kit bag onto the spare bed and headed for the shower.
As the hot water flowed over my rather stiff body I thought about what I’d agreed to and, for the first time ever, felt a touch of nerves at what was to come. The general idea of this particular gathering was to provide somewhere that everyone could relax, chat and share in our mutual affection for this wonderful pastime. As part of that we had decided to copy an idea from the American meetings and put on several ‘demonstrations’ of proper tickling technique, both for education purposes and, more importantly, as a good ice breaker. Perhaps unsurprisingly there’d been reluctance amongst the attendees to volunteer for these demonstrations, something I could well understand. After all it was one thing to be tickled in front of six or so people as all our other local gatherings had been up to this point, something altogether different to put yourself in that position in front of a hundred or more. And so, to get the ball rolling I’d agreed to put myself forward as the opening act.
Now this wasn’t the first time I’d done so, in fact of the six other meets I’d been to I’d volunteered at four of them and had actually enjoyed the experience. For me it was a way to push my own boundaries, always finding out a little more about what I could or couldn’t take and those doing the tickling had always been sure to back off when I needed them to. This time however, it was going to be a little different, and it was that, rather than the scale of the event that had put the butterflies in my stomach.
The rules this time were simple, no time limit. Before it had always been a set time and if I held out, so much the better. Now though I’d put myself in a position where I’d have to break sooner or later. In all honest, that didn’t worry me overly much, I’d ‘gone long’ before and survived with nothing more than sore ribs for a few days and was looking forward to the challenge. What did worry me though was what the grand high poobah of the meet had mentioned in passing a few days earlier when we’d been hashing out the last little details. Something about a ‘special guest’ coming in for the demonstration that I knew on-line, and on-line only. I think it was the chuckle in his voice as he said it that set off the warning bells, and I’d spent a couple of sleepless nights wondering about who it was going to be, knowing that against some of the more…inventive members of the TMF I’d be reduced to a screaming, hysterical mess in about ten seconds flat.
All those thoughts I put to the back of my mind as I stepped from the bathroom and finished drying off. Pulling on a pair of black briefs, cycle shorts and jeans I turned and glanced in the mirror, pulling my game face on as I stared. My usually open personality sank down and was replaced with a far harder mask that, on occasion, has actually surprised me with how much it changes my normal expressions and mannerisms. Satisfied I grabbed a black t-shirt, pulled it on over my head and turned to the door, waiting patiently. I didn’t have to wait long.
The knock was quiet, polite but with the full force of destiny behind it. I stepped into the corridor and followed the two men that were waiting there down the hall to the conference room. Designed to hold two hundred suited and booted office workers, it easily accommodated almost a hundred tickle fans, even with the various bondage equipment that decorated the edges of the room. A glance over the faces looking towards me as I entered, still under escort, showed about a fifty / fifty split between those I knew and those I didn’t, not bad under the circumstances. We’d decided to play this almost as a piece of theatre, really start things off with a bang so to speak and I pulled every scrap of arrogance I could out of my rather limited acting repertoire as I walked casually towards the raised stage in the centre of the room.
There, waiting for me surrounded by a sea of people, was a simple enough setup, but one to strike fear into the heart of any ‘lee. A large, sturdy pair of stocks at one end of a metal frame that rose about six foot off the floor, it’s heavy construction hinting to it’s previous life as a multi gym. From the back of the frame a long metal rod extended with a set of padded restraints attached to one end, and several thick straps hung from the frame itself. It looked evil somehow, its purpose clearly to prevent any kind of escape and expose its victim to whatever devious punishments their tormenter could dream up.
Not a word was said as I stepped up to the stage, turning to stand next to the device and stare out over the crowd, controlling my rising excitement and nerves as best I could. That calm façade wavered and almost collapsed as Mary stepped from the crowd, walked up to the stage and without a word pulled the t-shirt up over my head and the jeans down from my waist, leaving me only the cycling shorts and briefs for modesty, everything else exposed. She carefully folded the items she’d removed and set them aside, then guided me into the middle of the contraption and started to secure me.
The straps looped around my thighs, calves and back; effectively acting as a suspension harness and supporting my weight easily while, unlike a bench, giving full access to both sides of my body. My ankles slipped into the stocks and the wood dropped into place with a rather permanent sounding click as the lock was snapped shut. Finally my arms went back to the pole, wrists securely locked into position, pulling my arms above my head, stretched out but in a fairly comfortable manner in a position I could maintain for hours if necessary. Then, the final touch, a blindfold slipped over my eyes and buckled behind my head, perfectly placed to block any view whatsoever of what was to come.
As I hung there, waiting for the inevitable, I heard the poobah himself take on announcing duties, putting on his best ‘big fight announcer’ voice for the occasion.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to the first annual TickleFest UK! Now as you all know, we’re here to have some fun this weekend, and we hope you’ll all enjoy your time here. We’re delighted to see such a turnout, especially considering it’s been less than a year since our first local meeting.”
He paused for a second, switching gears slightly before continuing.
“As you’re probably aware, this man..” a pause as I assume he waved in my general direction “has issued a challenge to anyone that thinks they can break him in less than thirty minutes.” That was news to me, and I swallowed, wishing suddenly that I’d not let him write his own script for this. “We’ve had a lot of volunteers to prove him wrong, but in the end we went for one very special young lady who’s only just arrived here in the UK, though she’s been part of this community almost from day one.” Oh no, he couldn’t mean…
“So let’s give her a big round of applause, and of course, one soon to be broken victim, all the way from Canada…” I stopped listening, I didn’t need to hear the name to know what was about to happen and just for a moment I was truly scared. For months on the UK forums we’d been playing a little verbal game, her promising revenge every time I came up with a smart-arse interpretation of one of her postings. Not that I’d mind such revenge of course, but this wasn’t quite the circumstance I’d envisaged it happening in.
Straining my senses I caught the sound of light footfalls approaching me, a slight disturbance in the air as someone lent over me and waved a hand in front of my eyes to make sure I couldn’t see, a warm rush against my already sensitive skin as she breathed in my ear, whispering words meant only for me.
“Nice to see you at last my dear, I told you you’d regret your ways didn’t I?” The voice was everything I could ever have hoped for in a tickler, rich, breathy, playful but with enough menace behind it to send a shiver down the spine. At that moment I found myself torn, excitement at what was about to happen tempered with a growing sense of fear, the mix heady, intoxicating as I could do nothing but wait.
Seconds seemed to stretch into hours as I braced for the first touch against my flesh, every sound in the room magnified a hundred times, the audience going silent in anticipation, every eye drawn to the spectacle laid on for them. The sense of occasion was everything we’d planned it to be, a great gathering of tension not just for those directly involved but also for all those present. For my part, I now had some idea what being a sacrifice in ancient Rome would have been like, the eager anticipation of a crowd for acts that would, under other circumstances, be considered inhumane to say the least. And still I waited, no hint of movement to show me where she was, no sound to lock on to as the entire room settled into a great cacophony of silence.
Then the touch came, and it was devastating. Something long and soft dragging over my arches, up my soles, through my toes and back again. The feather, for surely that’s what it was, caught me totally off guard and a burst of laughter was pulled from me before I could do anything to prevent it. Desperately I grabbed at my self-control, pulling it in tight as I fought for balance, for calm, knowing that if I was to have any chance of surviving this I had to hold my physical reactions at bay for as long as possible.
The feather danced again, still caressing my bare feet, over and over again in a pattern that, to my great relief quickly became predictable. With an effort I stilled my body, forced my mind to relax and accept the ticklish sensations as just that, another sensation to be controlled. My breathing slowed from the staccato riff it had been beating and settled back to normal, and I could almost feel the surprise pouring from both the audience and my tickler. One last swipe against my soles and the feather vanished for a second, only to reappear at my calves, travelling slowly upwards over my legs. Against my calves it was bearable, but that was only going to be the warm up. With the exception of my feet most of my more ticklish areas are between knees and chest, and from the deliberate touch of that feather she had every intention of testing them all.
Sure enough, with the dreadful inevitability of the rising tide the feather flowed up my body. Around my knees, swirling in the hollow behind them until I thought I’d go insane from trying to hold on to my control. Then the long, slow, torturous climb up my thighs, the only saving grace the bicycle shorts that at least prevented the feather from touching the upper thighs, I didn’t know then if I could take that, even after such a brief period of time. Up to my hips and stomach it moved, and as the minutes dragged slowly by I started to realise the truly devilish nature of this woman, her touch intended not to break but to tyre, to wear down and to explore. Every seemingly random touch was telling her more about my body and its reactions than I probably knew myself, and by the time she reached my arms I was gasping for air between clenched teeth, eyes screwed tight behind the blindfold as I tried to retreat into myself, only to find that path blocked by the rising laughter that now bubbled just under the surface.
here (PDF File, ~1mb) that’s just over 300 pages and 1Mb that has all the back stories included along with a timeline of where everything fits.
Just quickly, I want to say a huge thank you to everyone for making me (and I’m sure many, many others) feel right at home here, here’s to a damn fine 2004. Oh, and a huge thank you to MorningAngel for the kind threats to get this written 😀 and to tommytkl for slogging through a rough draft and providing invaluable advice on where I screwed up.
*********
The rain lashed against the windows of my car as I peered out into the gathering dusk, the windscreen wipers fighting a loosing battle against the seemingly endless torrent of water that poured from the heavens. Wishing for the hundredth time that day I’d swallowed my pride and bought something with a navigation system I finally made out the beckoning neon sign of the hotel up ahead. Even with the advance warning I almost missed the turn and the back of the people carrier twitched nervously as I hauled it round onto the narrow drive.
The hotel itself was, well, unusual to say the least. The main reception and facilities where held in a modern, upmarket building while the rooms themselves were in a separate building set slightly further back. Adding to the uniqueness of the place was the fact the second building was an old Georgian mansion, enough space for almost a hundred rooms with en-suite and quite a popular place during the summer for upper-middle class families to use as their base from which to explore the Welsh countryside.
Of course, that was in summer, in the heart of winter things were a little different. Aside from the occasional booking to a company for ‘team building events’ and a busy season over the Christmas holidays the hotel was almost dead from October onwards. Not that I was complaining as it had given us a unique opportunity that I’d been looking forward to for months, the first national tickle meet in the UK for years was coming to town.
Actually, judging by the number of cars already parked up, the first national tickle meet had come to town already and from a quick count it looked like it was going to be a pretty damn good turnout. Ever since we’d started putting the tickling scene back together almost a year ago we’d been building up to this, and it looked like it was going to be as good as we had hoped. Not that any of that really mattered at the moment, as my immediate priority was to get the equipment I had loaded in the boot out and in place in record time to make up for my late arrival.
Reversing up to the front door of the hotel proper I grabbed a waterproof jacket from the passenger seat and stepped out into the driving rain. There was a gentle splash and a quick glance down showed almost half an inch of water lapping around my boots as I sploshed my way over to the hotel entrance. As I got within a few yards the door swung open and a group of a dozen people swarmed out, all dressed for the weather and eager to help. They swept past me in a tide, most I recognised, a couple I didn’t and then one in particular caught my eye. God she was gorgeous, every time I met her it was like I was seeing her for the first time, and true to form I pretty much stood and stared for a few seconds as my brain tripped out. Still, we’d been through this so many times by now Mary knew it wasn’t anything to worry about, and in fact she’d rather come to enjoy the attention.
Once she was sure I’d recovered enough to at least try and speak she dashed out and grabbed me in a hug that threatened to send me right back into my coma, a spell she quickly broke when a hand slipped up under my coat and t-shirt to goose my ribs. A quick snort of laughter escaped my lips and she backed off, grinning, as she knew she’d just fired the first shot in our inevitable war that’d last the whole weekend. Sighing with longing, squashing down the impulse to give chase and retaliate, I turned back and helped with the unloading. With so many hands pitching in we had everything out in less than two minutes and I quickly parked up in a more official spot and headed inside.
The hotel was, surprisingly enough, quite tastefully decorated. They’d kept a lot of the original architecture and gone for a simple cream as the predominant colour, which leant an air of calm refinement to the place. Everywhere you looked it seemed like there were people milling about, dozens at least, maybe hundreds though that could have been my imagination getting carried away. For now though I couldn’t have much to do with them, there was too much else to do and my mingling time was practically non-existent thanks to my late arrival. Still, I thought as I headed for my room, there’d be time for that later, providing I was still breathing after what I knew was coming up.
The room itself was quite large, hell, everything was large in this place and with the entire hotel booked out just for our little convention we weren’t short on rooms. Two double beds, a sofa against the window and a large desk against one wall, the bathroom off to the right as you walked through the door and even a small breakfast bar at the far end. A glance in the mirror showed the results of five hours travelling and I threw my kit bag onto the spare bed and headed for the shower.
As the hot water flowed over my rather stiff body I thought about what I’d agreed to and, for the first time ever, felt a touch of nerves at what was to come. The general idea of this particular gathering was to provide somewhere that everyone could relax, chat and share in our mutual affection for this wonderful pastime. As part of that we had decided to copy an idea from the American meetings and put on several ‘demonstrations’ of proper tickling technique, both for education purposes and, more importantly, as a good ice breaker. Perhaps unsurprisingly there’d been reluctance amongst the attendees to volunteer for these demonstrations, something I could well understand. After all it was one thing to be tickled in front of six or so people as all our other local gatherings had been up to this point, something altogether different to put yourself in that position in front of a hundred or more. And so, to get the ball rolling I’d agreed to put myself forward as the opening act.
Now this wasn’t the first time I’d done so, in fact of the six other meets I’d been to I’d volunteered at four of them and had actually enjoyed the experience. For me it was a way to push my own boundaries, always finding out a little more about what I could or couldn’t take and those doing the tickling had always been sure to back off when I needed them to. This time however, it was going to be a little different, and it was that, rather than the scale of the event that had put the butterflies in my stomach.
The rules this time were simple, no time limit. Before it had always been a set time and if I held out, so much the better. Now though I’d put myself in a position where I’d have to break sooner or later. In all honest, that didn’t worry me overly much, I’d ‘gone long’ before and survived with nothing more than sore ribs for a few days and was looking forward to the challenge. What did worry me though was what the grand high poobah of the meet had mentioned in passing a few days earlier when we’d been hashing out the last little details. Something about a ‘special guest’ coming in for the demonstration that I knew on-line, and on-line only. I think it was the chuckle in his voice as he said it that set off the warning bells, and I’d spent a couple of sleepless nights wondering about who it was going to be, knowing that against some of the more…inventive members of the TMF I’d be reduced to a screaming, hysterical mess in about ten seconds flat.
All those thoughts I put to the back of my mind as I stepped from the bathroom and finished drying off. Pulling on a pair of black briefs, cycle shorts and jeans I turned and glanced in the mirror, pulling my game face on as I stared. My usually open personality sank down and was replaced with a far harder mask that, on occasion, has actually surprised me with how much it changes my normal expressions and mannerisms. Satisfied I grabbed a black t-shirt, pulled it on over my head and turned to the door, waiting patiently. I didn’t have to wait long.
The knock was quiet, polite but with the full force of destiny behind it. I stepped into the corridor and followed the two men that were waiting there down the hall to the conference room. Designed to hold two hundred suited and booted office workers, it easily accommodated almost a hundred tickle fans, even with the various bondage equipment that decorated the edges of the room. A glance over the faces looking towards me as I entered, still under escort, showed about a fifty / fifty split between those I knew and those I didn’t, not bad under the circumstances. We’d decided to play this almost as a piece of theatre, really start things off with a bang so to speak and I pulled every scrap of arrogance I could out of my rather limited acting repertoire as I walked casually towards the raised stage in the centre of the room.
There, waiting for me surrounded by a sea of people, was a simple enough setup, but one to strike fear into the heart of any ‘lee. A large, sturdy pair of stocks at one end of a metal frame that rose about six foot off the floor, it’s heavy construction hinting to it’s previous life as a multi gym. From the back of the frame a long metal rod extended with a set of padded restraints attached to one end, and several thick straps hung from the frame itself. It looked evil somehow, its purpose clearly to prevent any kind of escape and expose its victim to whatever devious punishments their tormenter could dream up.
Not a word was said as I stepped up to the stage, turning to stand next to the device and stare out over the crowd, controlling my rising excitement and nerves as best I could. That calm façade wavered and almost collapsed as Mary stepped from the crowd, walked up to the stage and without a word pulled the t-shirt up over my head and the jeans down from my waist, leaving me only the cycling shorts and briefs for modesty, everything else exposed. She carefully folded the items she’d removed and set them aside, then guided me into the middle of the contraption and started to secure me.
The straps looped around my thighs, calves and back; effectively acting as a suspension harness and supporting my weight easily while, unlike a bench, giving full access to both sides of my body. My ankles slipped into the stocks and the wood dropped into place with a rather permanent sounding click as the lock was snapped shut. Finally my arms went back to the pole, wrists securely locked into position, pulling my arms above my head, stretched out but in a fairly comfortable manner in a position I could maintain for hours if necessary. Then, the final touch, a blindfold slipped over my eyes and buckled behind my head, perfectly placed to block any view whatsoever of what was to come.
As I hung there, waiting for the inevitable, I heard the poobah himself take on announcing duties, putting on his best ‘big fight announcer’ voice for the occasion.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to the first annual TickleFest UK! Now as you all know, we’re here to have some fun this weekend, and we hope you’ll all enjoy your time here. We’re delighted to see such a turnout, especially considering it’s been less than a year since our first local meeting.”
He paused for a second, switching gears slightly before continuing.
“As you’re probably aware, this man..” a pause as I assume he waved in my general direction “has issued a challenge to anyone that thinks they can break him in less than thirty minutes.” That was news to me, and I swallowed, wishing suddenly that I’d not let him write his own script for this. “We’ve had a lot of volunteers to prove him wrong, but in the end we went for one very special young lady who’s only just arrived here in the UK, though she’s been part of this community almost from day one.” Oh no, he couldn’t mean…
“So let’s give her a big round of applause, and of course, one soon to be broken victim, all the way from Canada…” I stopped listening, I didn’t need to hear the name to know what was about to happen and just for a moment I was truly scared. For months on the UK forums we’d been playing a little verbal game, her promising revenge every time I came up with a smart-arse interpretation of one of her postings. Not that I’d mind such revenge of course, but this wasn’t quite the circumstance I’d envisaged it happening in.
Straining my senses I caught the sound of light footfalls approaching me, a slight disturbance in the air as someone lent over me and waved a hand in front of my eyes to make sure I couldn’t see, a warm rush against my already sensitive skin as she breathed in my ear, whispering words meant only for me.
“Nice to see you at last my dear, I told you you’d regret your ways didn’t I?” The voice was everything I could ever have hoped for in a tickler, rich, breathy, playful but with enough menace behind it to send a shiver down the spine. At that moment I found myself torn, excitement at what was about to happen tempered with a growing sense of fear, the mix heady, intoxicating as I could do nothing but wait.
Seconds seemed to stretch into hours as I braced for the first touch against my flesh, every sound in the room magnified a hundred times, the audience going silent in anticipation, every eye drawn to the spectacle laid on for them. The sense of occasion was everything we’d planned it to be, a great gathering of tension not just for those directly involved but also for all those present. For my part, I now had some idea what being a sacrifice in ancient Rome would have been like, the eager anticipation of a crowd for acts that would, under other circumstances, be considered inhumane to say the least. And still I waited, no hint of movement to show me where she was, no sound to lock on to as the entire room settled into a great cacophony of silence.
Then the touch came, and it was devastating. Something long and soft dragging over my arches, up my soles, through my toes and back again. The feather, for surely that’s what it was, caught me totally off guard and a burst of laughter was pulled from me before I could do anything to prevent it. Desperately I grabbed at my self-control, pulling it in tight as I fought for balance, for calm, knowing that if I was to have any chance of surviving this I had to hold my physical reactions at bay for as long as possible.
The feather danced again, still caressing my bare feet, over and over again in a pattern that, to my great relief quickly became predictable. With an effort I stilled my body, forced my mind to relax and accept the ticklish sensations as just that, another sensation to be controlled. My breathing slowed from the staccato riff it had been beating and settled back to normal, and I could almost feel the surprise pouring from both the audience and my tickler. One last swipe against my soles and the feather vanished for a second, only to reappear at my calves, travelling slowly upwards over my legs. Against my calves it was bearable, but that was only going to be the warm up. With the exception of my feet most of my more ticklish areas are between knees and chest, and from the deliberate touch of that feather she had every intention of testing them all.
Sure enough, with the dreadful inevitability of the rising tide the feather flowed up my body. Around my knees, swirling in the hollow behind them until I thought I’d go insane from trying to hold on to my control. Then the long, slow, torturous climb up my thighs, the only saving grace the bicycle shorts that at least prevented the feather from touching the upper thighs, I didn’t know then if I could take that, even after such a brief period of time. Up to my hips and stomach it moved, and as the minutes dragged slowly by I started to realise the truly devilish nature of this woman, her touch intended not to break but to tyre, to wear down and to explore. Every seemingly random touch was telling her more about my body and its reactions than I probably knew myself, and by the time she reached my arms I was gasping for air between clenched teeth, eyes screwed tight behind the blindfold as I tried to retreat into myself, only to find that path blocked by the rising laughter that now bubbled just under the surface.