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Do you feel that, it's your destruction (m/f)

adrenalayna

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Jun 6, 2009
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(Okay, so this is my first story. I haven't finished it yet, but if I get feedback and people want it, I'll post the second part. Enjoy :) )

First of all, my name isn’t Snowball. I know you might have heard differently, they all did, but that’s just how it used to be. That was back on Eighth Street, back when survival was reliant on eating my own laughter. Mine was, at least. When you’re just one girl in a big city, not enough money to get yourself into some respectful school or another it really does seem like a good decision. I can’t deny that, at least I couldn‘t until it was too late to get out.​
But wait a second, I’m getting ahead of myself. You see, what I’m trying to tell you about, is tickling. And as for Eighth Street, that was my home. It was only home because of Papa A, the craziest bastard you’d ever set your eyes upon. They called it the Kitten House. Not your common whore house, we would specialize, don’t even ask in what, it makes me too sick to remember. You see, we had a litter, or at least that’s what Papa called us, his little litter. Me, Coco, Ginger, Jazzy, Chloe, Missy, and of course Tricks, who knows how long she’d been there. To this day, I don’t know their real names, but considering where they ended up in life, maybe their parents were just messed enough to actually name them that. I sensed bad childhoods. As for me, my real name was Lucy, Lucy Lucky he used to call me. How I became Snowball and not Lucky was simple enough. Number one, I was not lucky in any way, shape or form. That was a common fact. Number two, I was white as a damn snowstorm. Just put me on your shelf and call me ivory.​
Anyways, I hadn’t always thought much about tickling, it was just something playful, innocent. Something big brothers did, and best friends, and maybe even bullies. Boy, was I wrong. I hadn’t been at the Kitten House long before I became acquainted with Jeremy. See, Jeremy was the kind of man that spat at his parents feet, that used to snort ground up animal crackers on a dare, that was tough shit to everyone who knew him. The funny part is, he wasn’t stupid. You see, Papa told me about his request, and I refused immediately. Tickling? Tickling? But then I met him, and he confused me. I couldn‘t get a hold on what kind of a person he was, there was just something so nebulous, undefined about him. So of course, I eventually agreed to this proposal. I couldn’t afford to refuse, I would lose all of the scanty everything that I had made for myself.​
I still remember the first time I met him though. The door to his hotel room slid open without effort, the carpet ate my footsteps and spat them back out as muffled lumps. There he stood, all thin stubble, and stiff shoulders, and clenched jaw. He wasn’t particularly unattractive, but not severely attractive either, just one of those people. And yet at the same time, he wasn’t ordinary, I was positively certain even at first glance. He commanded the room, and I could not take my eyes off of him for the life of me. I was frightened.​
“I thought you’d be blond” were his first words, and I impulsively drew a finger through my own rich brown hair, my lips pursed. I had a feeling life had never been satisfying enough for him. “You’ll do, what’s your name?”​
“Snowball.” was my reply, steady and quick, rehearsed every day.​
“Hmm, fitting.” his somber face twisted, broke into a smirk, it didn’t really seem amused. It seemed like it didn’t know how to be. “On the bed, kitten.”​
This one was to the point. I finally broke my eye contact to glance around and I spotted his bed. My eyes latched onto restraints, the padded cuffs and length of rope. Pterodactyls in my stomach. It wasn’t just going to be bondage and I knew it.​
“Oh, and keep those heels on.” he added after, walking behind me as I shed my jacket, bearing my sheer black lingerie to his eyes, to the shadows of the lonely hotel room. I could almost feel his hunger lingering over my legs, traveling to the small of my back. I slipped onto a bed, still not saying another word, I wasn’t getting payed to talk. Just to laugh, and I might as well save my breath for as long as I could, I was going to need it.​
It didn’t take him more then a couple of minutes to secure my wrists to the padded cuffs, pulling them high above my head. I tried not to squirm, but I couldn’t help it. It wasn’t like I had never been handcuffed before, but not like this. The suspense was killing me. He roped my feet to separate posts of the bed, leaving them spread and leaving me just about as vulnerable as a fruit fly in a cup of tea.​
“We’ll see how this does for now. I have measures if you’re not behaving properly.”​
Gulp.​
He kneeled between my legs a moment, admiring his work, admiring this victim while she was still at some amount of peace. I had no idea what to expect, I’d never been tickled in my life, and I could barely budge. My body was taut, and I felt my nervous transform into a film of moisture on my skin. He leaned forward, crouching over my stomach, looking me straight in the eyes with the most devilish expression, letting me feel the tension.​
“Tell me, Snowy, are you ticklish?” A finger strayed across my stomach, ever so lightly brushing back and forth, back and forth. Needless to say, I squirmed, I wasn’t expecting it to feel that way, to feel so intense.​
“Ohhh, you are, are you. I knew right from the moment you showed up in my doorway.” With that, he swirled his pinky into my bellybutton, forcing a shriek from my throat, driving me to twist as he maneuvered his finger with just the right pressure to drive me absolutely insane. He was straddling my waist now, and I already felt the torture.​
“Oh noooohehe.” I squinched my eyes tight, and pulled with all of my might to no use, felt him straying from my bellybutton, knew where he was heading.​
“Is it so horrible? Can’t you just not stand it? I wonder if the rest of your sexy little tummy is ticklish.” He was teasing mercilessly, and when his fingers stroked up and down my taut sides, the laughter tore through my throat, deep from my belly. I was squealing, I was squirming, I was already a mess.​
 
Excellent use of anticipation and suspense! :D I look forward to more from you.
 
"...the carpet ate my footsteps and spat them back out as muffled lumps." You've got talent! Oodles and oodles of it! Keep going please. Where? Right to the top, where you belong! Bravo.

Teasure
 
There are some great new writers showing up here these days. :)

Please keep going!
 
Very nice, reminds me of daydreams I've had. I'm curious to see where this goes!
 
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