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Darker Moments (inspired by Coral21)

Kara'sSmile

TMF Novice
Joined
Oct 16, 2012
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Perusing the story archives, I came across http://ticklingforum.com/showthread.php?65125-Sometimes-I-dont-wanna-be-the-good-girl, a story by user Coral21. It's a great story, and I wanted to put my own spin on it.

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We all have dark moments. Those times when I don’t want a kind and gentle tickler. Those times when I don’t need the joyful, cuddly playmate who wants to tell me everything is OK. Those times when I need to be handled a little roughly; where I need you to take care of me in a different sort of way.

In times like this, you need to be serious. There’s no joking around, no comforting smile, no teasing talk. This is not playtime as per usual - This is, as they say, for keeps.

Pull out a chair into the middle of the living room and tell me to sit down. I will do as you say, but only if I know you’re not kidding around. Look me in the eyes and let me know you mean business. Don’t say anything, just slowly draw the curtains and turn down the lights. I’ll wait for you.

Take my hands and put them over my head. I won’t fight you, not if you’ve played your cards right. Take the bottom of my shirt and pull it upward, over my head. Once it is off, I might try to put my arms back down, but look me in the eyes and tell me without words that you expect me to make a different choice. I will see the confidence in your eyes and I will know I must obey, and my arms will stay in position.

Take the cuffs and place them on my wrists. Take your time, since you know I won’t try to stop you. Make sure they are nice and secure, but don’t let them hurt me. Once my wrists are cuffed together, thread the rope through and toss it over the beam above me; you know the one I’m talking about. Pull the rope so that my arms lift higher and higher above my head, until they are stretched as high as I can painlessly go. Tie the rope off and watch as I squirm and test my bonds. I’m not trying to escape; I promised you I wouldn’t. I am just letting you see what you’ve done to me.

Do you really want me moving that much? I hope not. Take the new strap we bought at the hardware store and move behind me. Tilt my head forward - I won’t stop you - and then wrap it around my biceps. Gently pull it to bring my arms closer together, so that no amount of struggling or squirming will allow me any relief. When you are satisfied, secure the strap and then guide my head back, but resist the urge to kiss my forehead in that gentle, loving way you do. I need a different kind of love tonight.

Bring out another chair - You know the one I’m talking about - and set it in front of me. I will place my legs on it without any hesitation. Slowly take off my sneakers and place them in front of the chair, and then help me slip my bare feet through the bars. Then, cuff my ankles in place. With these new ones you bought, both feet can be secured together and then easily roped along the bars, rendering my feet mostly helpless. But mostly helpless isn’t what either of us want right now, is it?

Show me my sneakers and make me watch as you slowly pull out the laces. I will place my feet together and flex my toes back. Tie my big toes together with one lace, and then tie them back to the center bar of the chair with the other. I will once again test my bonds, and if my lack of movement satisfies you, proceed. If not, there are other shoelaces in the drawer of the coffee table.

I have held up my end of the deal - I did not fight you or try to stop you. Now it is time for you to do your part. Let me know that you can handle my darker moments; those times when I need you to buckle down and make me suffer.

Begin by running your fingers down my soles. Take your time; we have all night. Ease me into it, just lightly touch my feet enough to get me gasping and twitching. Make sure my feet are restricted to your specifications, and tie more of my toes back if you must. Spider your fingers from my heels to my toes, watching my reactions. I will be unable to stop myself from giggling and squirming, but I will keep my eyes locked onto yours. We have not spoken a word to each other this whole time, yet we’ve each said everything we need to say.

Without warning me, begin focusing your assault. Rake your fingers down my soles, but then jump up to surprise me by slipping them under my toes. Study my responses and make mental notes of them - Focus on what seems to have the best reactions tonight and save that information for later. Find that spot just above my heel that makes me begin to thrash in my bonds and tease it for a few seconds, letting me know that you’re aware of it.

Keep ramping it up so that I move from giggles to laughter to the very edge of begging for mercy, but don’t send me into hysterics yet. Let me know that you are fully in control of my reactions, and you will decide how and when I am broken. With my toes tied like this, the balls of my feet are posed as if they are inviting your fingers. Accept their invitation, and tease them with your thumbnails until you see me just begin to lose control, and then slow down. Your goal here is for me to get to the point where I can’t tell what I want more - to plead for you to stop or to urge you on. This is a mental battle, and it is one that you must win.

When you feel like you have broken down my defenses, stop and let me catch my breath. While I recover, go get our bag of tickle tools. I packed it up just this morning and left it on the side table. Bring it over to me and set it down. Make me watch as you show me each and every one of the tools inside - The lotion, the rubber fingertips we found at the craft store, and the brushes. Oh my word, the brushes. Talk to me for the first time and tell me exactly how you are going to punish me with each one of the brushes. I will whimper and moan and perhaps even whisper words of protest. You will ignore each one of those reactions.

Once you have fully explored the bag of tools, take the lotion and pour it over my soles. Take great care to make sure every inch of my feet is covered, no matter how much it might tickle for you to do so. I have even heard rumors that some people use a hair dryer to warm up lotioned soles, making them even more ticklish. I can’t verify the veracity of said rumors, but I did leave my hair dryer out on the bathroom sink. Just in case.

Once my feet have been prepared to your liking, let them soak in that oil and move up my body. I will be squirming and searching for escape now, since I know exactly what you are going to do. No matter how hard I protest, you must not give in. My darker moments mean that you show your love by punishing me, so reach out and grasp my thighs. Knead them slowly, working to find the right combination of pressure and speed that makes me laugh the loudest. Work up from my knee, stopping only to slide your hands under my legs. Tickle the back of my thighs until I squeal and cry out for mercy, then move your way back down. Repeat as you see fit; I am yours to torture.

Slip your fingers inside my jeans, unbuttoning them if you need to, and probe my pockets with your fingertips. I will arch my hips and possibly leave the chair, but just push me back down and double your efforts. Slide both hands in and use your thumbs to drive me crazy, listening to me try to beg and plead, but do not reply. Answer me by tickling me even harder.

When I can barely mutter a word and my face is bright pink, release your grip on me. You are not stopping, only taking a brief break, and please, whatever you do, don’t check on me or fix my hair. I do not need to be pretty right now. Tilt my chin up and make me look you in the eyes, and let me know that this was just the beginning. Tell me that you are about to inflict a ruthless tickling on my most ticklish spot, and that you might not stop until I start crying. You need to show me that you are serious, so you can’t smile or coddle me right now. I don’t want your sympathy.

Pick up the lotion from the floor and pour some into your hands. Wait for me to look at you, to sense the question you have silently bade me ask. I won’t want to do it right away, so be patient. Continue looking into my eyes and let me know you will sit here forever until I finally cave. Make me tell you to rub the lotion under my arms.

When I finally comply, disappear behind the chair and begin rubbing the lotion over my most ticklish spots. Just this act will have me laughing and shaking, but do not begin to tickle yet. You must fully prepare me for what is to come. Add as much lotion as you think you need before you begin. I must endure that.

You do not need to be looking into my eyes to tell how I am feeling. Every muscle in my body will be tense as I await the sheer agony that is to come. Keep your fingers placed under my arms, but do not move them. Make me wait the perfect amount of time to make me a mental basketcase, and then, just when you can feel me start to relax a bit, you can begin. Begin to tickle the fuck out of me.

This is not one of those “poke poke, giggle giggle” scenarios. Press your fingers deep into my flesh and wiggle them, forcing the loudest laughter yet from my lips. You want me to feel like I am being tickled from the inside out, like the entire world has disappeared and it is only you, me and my ticklish armpits. Dig your fingers in, then spider them up and down my exposed hollows, feeling my body wrench back and forth, desperate to pull my arms down. If I struggle too much, tighten the straps on my biceps or pull my wrists higher, but make sure to go right back to tickling me. Teach me new definitions of the word suffering and tickle torture.

Pay no attention to any words that pour from my lips, if I am even able to speak during this horrific ordeal. No manner of physical struggling or verbal persuasion should cause you to stop. When you feel me losing my breath, slow down just enough for me to get two or three good inhalations and then place all ten fingers in position and vibrate them to make me hysterical again. Tickle me until you hear the sobs of laughter beginning, but even then, do not stop. Come back to face me as you tickle me to tears.

Your endgame is the point where I collapse into the chair, unable to fight back anymore, completely surrendering to the sensations coursing through my body. Then. . .and only then. . . is when you can stop. Tickle me until I am broken.

Step back and look at what you have done, but show me no tenderness. This is what I needed and deserved, and you were right to do it to me. Let me recover from my ordeal; my face coated in sweat and tears, my body still heaving as I return my heart rate to normal, shivering with exhaustion and gratitude.

Everything up until this point has been for me, and since you showed me the right kind of kindness in giving it to me, it is only right I return the favor. My feet are still ready and waiting, but first, go to the bedroom. I have placed a gift for you in your nightstand; middle drawer. When you return, take your brand new ball gag and place it to my lips. Despite my physical and emotional exhaustion, I will open my mouth and accept your gift, leaning forward to allow you to secure it behind my head, then return to my feet. My lotioned, toe-tied and ticklish feet. They are your playground for as long as you like.

Add more oil to my soles, warm them up with the hairdryer again if you wish, and tickle my feet in as many ways as you can think of. Rake your nails up and down my soles until I scream into my gag. Place the rubber fingertips on and wiggle your fingers in between my toes, causing me to buck and shake my head back and forth, howling with laughter. Grab a pair of hairbrushes and find the best combination of spots for them. Would one just above my heel and the other on the balls of my feet send me into a fit of breathless hysterics, or do you need to scrub each sole until it is bright pink and I am near tears again? And, of course, don’t forget the electric toothbrush. The choices are yours, but do not stop tickling my feet until you yourself have had enough; pay little attention to how much I seem able to handle. I owe you this for what you did for me tonight.

When you have finished exploring and torturing my soles and toes, untie me. I will be too weak to sit up on my own, so help me back into my shirt and move me to the couch. I will curl up into the fetal position, so please cover me with a blanket and let me rest for a while. Do not snuggle or cuddle me; I need to process and recover on my own. Just tell me that you love me and let me drift off to sleep.

We all have dark moments.
Those times when hugs and kisses just won’t do. Those times when the deepest sign of affection is a complete lack of it. Those times when showing me you care for me means my complete and utter destruction.
 
..........

Wow. Brilliant seductive commanding and at the same time servile and submissive.

Thank u for ur unique contribution as both an utterly erotic offering and an illicit window into the depraved soul of a female lee.
 
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