alixandrya
TMF Novice
- Joined
- Jul 2, 2006
- Messages
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half fiction/ half fact. haven't written in about 4 or 5 years, please be nice.
- mrs. jones
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"I really hate you for this. You know that, right?"
I’d finished binding her wrists tightly behind her back with one of my neckties, and while she was laying on her stomach, I can admit that she looked good enough to eat. Her ankles hung of the end of the bed, unbound but with the certainty that I'd bind those too, she promised to stay still.
"You’re gonna be nice, right? Because I will scream if you even think...."
She flinched so suddenly, you would think I stabbed her a hot fireplace poker. Simply, I had only kissed her foot. More accurately, I put my lips on a spot that elicits the most responses from her: under her perfect, deliciously sweet, and incredibly sensitive toes. It's my favorite part of her feet and one incredibly ticklish area. And thus, the begging began.
"No. No. No. Please. Please. Be nice. Baby."
Very calmly, very confidently. Like she had actual control over what I was about to do. She didn’t, by any means, but I would, however, be nice.
She buried her face deep into her pillow and started a very steady stream of giggles. Who knew that lightly grazing a few teeth on the soles of her feet would cause such a reaction. A few hiccups, gasps of breath, more giggling, then my favorite, the begging.
“Not your teeth! I can feel your teeth! Stop doing that immediately!!” More laughter until it was muted by her face buried into the pillow once again.
I could’ve sworn she loved the feeling of my teeth lightly and slowly traveling down her arch to her toes, now clenched tightly to avoid exposing the tender sides underneath them. But what she loved more, I discovered, were my fingernails.
“Oh God, baby! No! No! GAHAHAHAAHA!! NOOO! HAHAHAHA!”
By now, staying still had become equivalent to growing a new set of arms and quickly stopping my assault on her upturned feet. She thrashed, shrieked, and bent her knees as hard as she could. Anything would work to get her most sensitive body part from within my reach. So I stopped having a bit of fun and untied her wrists, laid beside her now limp form, and kissed her still quivering lips.
She wiped her damp forehead, rolled onto her side to face me, and sighed.
“That was NOT nice.”
- mrs. jones
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"I really hate you for this. You know that, right?"
I’d finished binding her wrists tightly behind her back with one of my neckties, and while she was laying on her stomach, I can admit that she looked good enough to eat. Her ankles hung of the end of the bed, unbound but with the certainty that I'd bind those too, she promised to stay still.
"You’re gonna be nice, right? Because I will scream if you even think...."
She flinched so suddenly, you would think I stabbed her a hot fireplace poker. Simply, I had only kissed her foot. More accurately, I put my lips on a spot that elicits the most responses from her: under her perfect, deliciously sweet, and incredibly sensitive toes. It's my favorite part of her feet and one incredibly ticklish area. And thus, the begging began.
"No. No. No. Please. Please. Be nice. Baby."
Very calmly, very confidently. Like she had actual control over what I was about to do. She didn’t, by any means, but I would, however, be nice.
She buried her face deep into her pillow and started a very steady stream of giggles. Who knew that lightly grazing a few teeth on the soles of her feet would cause such a reaction. A few hiccups, gasps of breath, more giggling, then my favorite, the begging.
“Not your teeth! I can feel your teeth! Stop doing that immediately!!” More laughter until it was muted by her face buried into the pillow once again.
I could’ve sworn she loved the feeling of my teeth lightly and slowly traveling down her arch to her toes, now clenched tightly to avoid exposing the tender sides underneath them. But what she loved more, I discovered, were my fingernails.
“Oh God, baby! No! No! GAHAHAHAAHA!! NOOO! HAHAHAHA!”
By now, staying still had become equivalent to growing a new set of arms and quickly stopping my assault on her upturned feet. She thrashed, shrieked, and bent her knees as hard as she could. Anything would work to get her most sensitive body part from within my reach. So I stopped having a bit of fun and untied her wrists, laid beside her now limp form, and kissed her still quivering lips.
She wiped her damp forehead, rolled onto her side to face me, and sighed.
“That was NOT nice.”
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Liked your style of writing in this one, it's detailed but not too detailed 
