As the underground rocks its way through Paddington station and becomes an overground I'm lost in my own world. Finally, finally there's a gathering going on in the UK and I'm actually going to it. Of course it's not quite that simple as, after the better part of an hour on buses and trains my mind has had plenty of time to work up some good old fashioned nerves with a side order of apprehension garnished with a smattering of terror. Oh, there's desire, longing, excitement and all that good stuff as well, but that's definitely on the desert trolley right now, and we're still on the first course.
We? Ah yes, we. Ever since I stumbled across the TMF back in the dim and distant past I'd been picturing going to something like this, but there's one detail I never even considered in those idle daydreams of a far simpler time. I'm not going alone. A glance over at my angel and I see much the same emotions flashing across her mind. At least, I think I do. After only three months together I'm still not totally at ease reading her body language (though it has to be said it's a lot easier with the braille edition) but tonight she's not really making the attempt to try and hide anything away. I find that strangely touching and, in some odd way, it seems to act as a lifeline, rooting me back to the more positive aspects of what waits in the darkness flashing past the windows.
A few minutes later and we're walking down what we hope is the right road peering at doors until we find the right one. It's a converted town house with a mass of different doorbells and, as we've got no idea which one to use, a quick phone call is made to our hostess. We're a little early and stand as calmly as we can outside, shuffling under the overhang of the building to shelter from the light drizzle that's started to fall. Every second seems to stretch out as we both start going through the far fetched reasons that this could still go wrong in the privacy of our own heads. Thankfully, after only a minute or two of waiting the door lock clicks back and the wood swings aside.
The woman standing in the doorway deserves a novel all to herself, but as I don't have the time to write that novel here and now here's the cliff notes version: Striking is the best way I can come up with to describe her, though it doesn't do her justice. Dark haired, beautiful, a presence that simply commanded attention and curves that inspired a thousand clichés. But more importantly than any of that, she's also incredibly friendly, outgoing, confident and a generally relaxing influence as we make our way upstairs. So relaxing in fact that after only a few minutes of chatting the subject has quickly turned to tickling and how we all got started (the details of which I'll omit to spare both blushes on everyone else's part and death on mine
).
About five minutes after that I was trying to remember not to drool as my Angel stood in the doorway to the kitchen, arms stretched up above her head, hands grabbing on to the woodwork, body twitching and jumping as Diva went to town. Hand on heart it was one of the most intense and exciting sights I think I've ever seen in person. There was a strange mix of erotic promise and innocence to the scene unfolding before me, long red nails and black leather corset bringing the erotic, the fact it was still very much a playful game bringing the innocent. The fact both women were clearly enjoying themselves very much didn't hurt either. It didn't last long, a few minutes at most and probably less even than that, but I think I'm right in saying both of us got over our initial fears during that time, albeit in slightly different ways. In fact I was practically flying.... right up to the point Diva turned to me and, even before she spoke I knew it was now my turn.
There are some moments that you know, with absolute certainty, will stay with you for years after they happen. Some may never leave you. That walk to the doorway, maybe five steps in all, is one of mine. It was, in many ways, the culmination of an eight year journey for me. Oh, me and Angel had played around, and she'd worked me over until I was a begging, hysterical mess though I loved every minute of it. But this, this was something different. This was putting myself totally into someone else's hands and at once it was terrifying and intoxicating, made all the sweeter as I caught a glimpse of my Angels face as I walked past and saw the almost animal hunger written there. Everything was hyper realistic, the texture of the wood of the door frame against my palms the finest engraving, every breath of air against my flesh a caress. And behind me I could almost feel where they were standing, I'd swear I actually saw Diva's hands as they drifted towards me even though my eyes were locked forward on the kitchen cabinets.
The first touch of her nails was like a jolt of electricity through my body, burning from my wrists down my arms and shooting across every inch of my flesh. And yet in its wake something strange happened, a perfect stillness seemed to follow it, every last bit of fear and trepidation vanishing and leaving my mind clear. It was one of the most liberating experiences of my entire life, as if every last care and worry that normally whispers in the darkest corners of the psyche had been silenced, leaving only peace in its wake. As those long, lethal nails traced my arms and sides through my polo shirt I could feel them tickling, feel them scritching and scratching their way across my body and yet, somehow, I could push their effects away. Oh I could still feel the tickling alright, but I had a choice as to whether to acknowledge it or not. I longed to let it take over, to collapse into hysterics much as I normally did. It would be the most exquisite torment, I knew that much instinctively, how could it be anything else? And yet some part of me that normally lurks hidden and quiet rose up and refused to give in. At that moment I couldn't have said why I chose that route for the world, but looking back on it I think something in me recognized this was a chance that might never come again. To go head-to-head with a real live mistress, and one that had such a fearsome reputation at that, was a challenge I just couldn't walk away from, not in the mindset I was in then.
It lasted for a few minutes, how long exactly I'm not sure, but by the end both Diva and Angel were going at me and still I was managing to hold the sensations they were causing at bay. Finally I was given permission to move and took my hands away from the door frame, shaking the pins and needles from my fingers. With both Diva and Angel giving me a look that was part surprise, part astonishment, and a small part suspicion we started chatting again, moving almost at random from topic to topic. Before long we were joined by another young and nervous first timer going by the net handle GrippedChimp and the rest of our small, yet enthusiastic group for the evening. Most of the rest of the evening I will pass over for now, mainly out of a desire to leave other people's stories for them to tell. Besides, if you wanted to know the rest you should have been there! Suffice to say that in between conversations and demonstrations both our hostess and my better half seemed to get more determined to break me. The culmination of that determination was found in a private scene towards the end of the evening.
It occurred to me as the handcuff was pulled closed around my wrist that being cuffed to the headboard of a mistresses bed bare chested and barefoot wasn't exactly the recipe for an easy time. An enjoyable one of course, but most definitely not an easy one. A further thought occurred as I saw a glance between Mistress and my Angel that maybe, just maybe, frustrating every effort they'd made all night to pull a laugh from me might not have been the smartest thing in the world given the current situation. With Angel kneeling on the bed next to my waist and Mistress standing by my feet a silence descended for a moment and I braced as best I could.
What followed was the longest, most intense and most devastating tickling I've ever felt. From the first moment I knew I was in deep, deep trouble. Worse, now that we were alone and in a separate room there was simply no opportunity to concentrate on something else if I needed to. I was trapped in a snare I'd willingly walked into and the two beauties tickling me wasted no time in sending me to my own private hell. They poked, they prodded, they scritched and scratched, kneaded my sides and thighs, even ran their hair over my flesh (though whether that was intentional or not I couldn't say). And yet, somehow, I kept the reaction hidden, letting only the faintest hint of a tickle-induced smile on to my face. Inside I was flying, wondering where the hell I was getting this hidden determination from and yet not caring. This was something I'd dreamed of doing but, knowing my reaction to even the most gentle touch, had realized it was impossible. Yet somehow I was pulling this off, I was actually going to manage to beat them both!
In a moment that seemed to prove the existence of telepathy, the instant that thought flashed through my mind they swapped positions, Angel now taking my feet and Diva poised to torment my body. It was then I honestly thought I was going to lose my mind. Divas long nails, bad enough on my bare soles, were sheer torture on my stomach and, worst of all, my chest. I don't know how to begin describing the feeling of her hands flicking over my flesh, take the worst, most ticklish thing you imagine and multiply it by a hundred and you're getting close. As if that wasn't enough Angel decided it was time to stop playing around and the next thing I knew my toes were being engulfed in the warm depths of her mouth.
Now my mind raged, the silence and tranquility that had come in the first touch of the evening fleeing like the dawn mist before the sun. Now I was on my own, calling on every trick I knew to stay quiet, every time my body felt itself being overwhelmed I allowed one twitching wrench to the side, trying to mask it as a simple adjustment for comfort. When that failed I locked onto a phrase I'd held dear for many years. I flooded my mind with it, fighting to repeat it over and over: I will not fear, fear is the mind killer, fear is the little death that brings total oblivion. Silly? Yes, but it worked, for a moment at least. But only for a moment and I felt that last line of resistance break beneath their torments. The desire, the NEED to laugh rose up inside me and I knew I was beaten. My mouth opened to let it out... and to my amazement the tickling stopped. I think they'd thought at the time they'd failed. Well, I guess they both know the truth now. Certainly for the rest of the evening I wasn't able to resist anything at all, even the slightest touch from either of them making me twitch and laugh. There's a part of me that's very, very grateful they didn't get another chance to team up on me that night. And another part sighs in disappointment at that same thought.
The evening drew to a close, and after a brisk walk to make sure we could get home before the underground network stopped for the night, we both sat in silence on the train. Both of us were trying to come to terms with what had just happened, Angel having experienced more than her share of tickling and myself trying to bring my body back under some sort of control. Yet every time I tried I could feel that control slipping away and realized that the price I was going to pay for that night would be high indeed. In fact I'm writing this two days after the last laugh faded that night and I still can't stand even the slightest touch on my flesh.
As we sat, lost in thought, I glanced over at Angel and caught her doing the same thing. The look I saw on her face at that moment made everything else that we'd shared and experienced that night seem almost insignificant. Pride, desire, lust, satisfaction, all were mixed in to that one expression, but all of that seemed secondary to what I saw there. An acceptance of the man sitting next to her that I'd never thought I'd see from anyone, never thought I'd see outside of a movie truth be told. I slid an arm around her and we settled back into each others arms, ridding into the night, reflecting on what had gone and dreaming of what was to come.
We? Ah yes, we. Ever since I stumbled across the TMF back in the dim and distant past I'd been picturing going to something like this, but there's one detail I never even considered in those idle daydreams of a far simpler time. I'm not going alone. A glance over at my angel and I see much the same emotions flashing across her mind. At least, I think I do. After only three months together I'm still not totally at ease reading her body language (though it has to be said it's a lot easier with the braille edition) but tonight she's not really making the attempt to try and hide anything away. I find that strangely touching and, in some odd way, it seems to act as a lifeline, rooting me back to the more positive aspects of what waits in the darkness flashing past the windows.
A few minutes later and we're walking down what we hope is the right road peering at doors until we find the right one. It's a converted town house with a mass of different doorbells and, as we've got no idea which one to use, a quick phone call is made to our hostess. We're a little early and stand as calmly as we can outside, shuffling under the overhang of the building to shelter from the light drizzle that's started to fall. Every second seems to stretch out as we both start going through the far fetched reasons that this could still go wrong in the privacy of our own heads. Thankfully, after only a minute or two of waiting the door lock clicks back and the wood swings aside.
The woman standing in the doorway deserves a novel all to herself, but as I don't have the time to write that novel here and now here's the cliff notes version: Striking is the best way I can come up with to describe her, though it doesn't do her justice. Dark haired, beautiful, a presence that simply commanded attention and curves that inspired a thousand clichés. But more importantly than any of that, she's also incredibly friendly, outgoing, confident and a generally relaxing influence as we make our way upstairs. So relaxing in fact that after only a few minutes of chatting the subject has quickly turned to tickling and how we all got started (the details of which I'll omit to spare both blushes on everyone else's part and death on mine
). About five minutes after that I was trying to remember not to drool as my Angel stood in the doorway to the kitchen, arms stretched up above her head, hands grabbing on to the woodwork, body twitching and jumping as Diva went to town. Hand on heart it was one of the most intense and exciting sights I think I've ever seen in person. There was a strange mix of erotic promise and innocence to the scene unfolding before me, long red nails and black leather corset bringing the erotic, the fact it was still very much a playful game bringing the innocent. The fact both women were clearly enjoying themselves very much didn't hurt either. It didn't last long, a few minutes at most and probably less even than that, but I think I'm right in saying both of us got over our initial fears during that time, albeit in slightly different ways. In fact I was practically flying.... right up to the point Diva turned to me and, even before she spoke I knew it was now my turn.
There are some moments that you know, with absolute certainty, will stay with you for years after they happen. Some may never leave you. That walk to the doorway, maybe five steps in all, is one of mine. It was, in many ways, the culmination of an eight year journey for me. Oh, me and Angel had played around, and she'd worked me over until I was a begging, hysterical mess though I loved every minute of it. But this, this was something different. This was putting myself totally into someone else's hands and at once it was terrifying and intoxicating, made all the sweeter as I caught a glimpse of my Angels face as I walked past and saw the almost animal hunger written there. Everything was hyper realistic, the texture of the wood of the door frame against my palms the finest engraving, every breath of air against my flesh a caress. And behind me I could almost feel where they were standing, I'd swear I actually saw Diva's hands as they drifted towards me even though my eyes were locked forward on the kitchen cabinets.
The first touch of her nails was like a jolt of electricity through my body, burning from my wrists down my arms and shooting across every inch of my flesh. And yet in its wake something strange happened, a perfect stillness seemed to follow it, every last bit of fear and trepidation vanishing and leaving my mind clear. It was one of the most liberating experiences of my entire life, as if every last care and worry that normally whispers in the darkest corners of the psyche had been silenced, leaving only peace in its wake. As those long, lethal nails traced my arms and sides through my polo shirt I could feel them tickling, feel them scritching and scratching their way across my body and yet, somehow, I could push their effects away. Oh I could still feel the tickling alright, but I had a choice as to whether to acknowledge it or not. I longed to let it take over, to collapse into hysterics much as I normally did. It would be the most exquisite torment, I knew that much instinctively, how could it be anything else? And yet some part of me that normally lurks hidden and quiet rose up and refused to give in. At that moment I couldn't have said why I chose that route for the world, but looking back on it I think something in me recognized this was a chance that might never come again. To go head-to-head with a real live mistress, and one that had such a fearsome reputation at that, was a challenge I just couldn't walk away from, not in the mindset I was in then.
It lasted for a few minutes, how long exactly I'm not sure, but by the end both Diva and Angel were going at me and still I was managing to hold the sensations they were causing at bay. Finally I was given permission to move and took my hands away from the door frame, shaking the pins and needles from my fingers. With both Diva and Angel giving me a look that was part surprise, part astonishment, and a small part suspicion we started chatting again, moving almost at random from topic to topic. Before long we were joined by another young and nervous first timer going by the net handle GrippedChimp and the rest of our small, yet enthusiastic group for the evening. Most of the rest of the evening I will pass over for now, mainly out of a desire to leave other people's stories for them to tell. Besides, if you wanted to know the rest you should have been there!
Suffice to say that in between conversations and demonstrations both our hostess and my better half seemed to get more determined to break me. The culmination of that determination was found in a private scene towards the end of the evening.It occurred to me as the handcuff was pulled closed around my wrist that being cuffed to the headboard of a mistresses bed bare chested and barefoot wasn't exactly the recipe for an easy time. An enjoyable one of course, but most definitely not an easy one. A further thought occurred as I saw a glance between Mistress and my Angel that maybe, just maybe, frustrating every effort they'd made all night to pull a laugh from me might not have been the smartest thing in the world given the current situation. With Angel kneeling on the bed next to my waist and Mistress standing by my feet a silence descended for a moment and I braced as best I could.
What followed was the longest, most intense and most devastating tickling I've ever felt. From the first moment I knew I was in deep, deep trouble. Worse, now that we were alone and in a separate room there was simply no opportunity to concentrate on something else if I needed to. I was trapped in a snare I'd willingly walked into and the two beauties tickling me wasted no time in sending me to my own private hell. They poked, they prodded, they scritched and scratched, kneaded my sides and thighs, even ran their hair over my flesh (though whether that was intentional or not I couldn't say). And yet, somehow, I kept the reaction hidden, letting only the faintest hint of a tickle-induced smile on to my face. Inside I was flying, wondering where the hell I was getting this hidden determination from and yet not caring. This was something I'd dreamed of doing but, knowing my reaction to even the most gentle touch, had realized it was impossible. Yet somehow I was pulling this off, I was actually going to manage to beat them both!
In a moment that seemed to prove the existence of telepathy, the instant that thought flashed through my mind they swapped positions, Angel now taking my feet and Diva poised to torment my body. It was then I honestly thought I was going to lose my mind. Divas long nails, bad enough on my bare soles, were sheer torture on my stomach and, worst of all, my chest. I don't know how to begin describing the feeling of her hands flicking over my flesh, take the worst, most ticklish thing you imagine and multiply it by a hundred and you're getting close. As if that wasn't enough Angel decided it was time to stop playing around and the next thing I knew my toes were being engulfed in the warm depths of her mouth.
Now my mind raged, the silence and tranquility that had come in the first touch of the evening fleeing like the dawn mist before the sun. Now I was on my own, calling on every trick I knew to stay quiet, every time my body felt itself being overwhelmed I allowed one twitching wrench to the side, trying to mask it as a simple adjustment for comfort. When that failed I locked onto a phrase I'd held dear for many years. I flooded my mind with it, fighting to repeat it over and over: I will not fear, fear is the mind killer, fear is the little death that brings total oblivion. Silly? Yes, but it worked, for a moment at least. But only for a moment and I felt that last line of resistance break beneath their torments. The desire, the NEED to laugh rose up inside me and I knew I was beaten. My mouth opened to let it out... and to my amazement the tickling stopped. I think they'd thought at the time they'd failed. Well, I guess they both know the truth now. Certainly for the rest of the evening I wasn't able to resist anything at all, even the slightest touch from either of them making me twitch and laugh. There's a part of me that's very, very grateful they didn't get another chance to team up on me that night. And another part sighs in disappointment at that same thought.
The evening drew to a close, and after a brisk walk to make sure we could get home before the underground network stopped for the night, we both sat in silence on the train. Both of us were trying to come to terms with what had just happened, Angel having experienced more than her share of tickling and myself trying to bring my body back under some sort of control. Yet every time I tried I could feel that control slipping away and realized that the price I was going to pay for that night would be high indeed. In fact I'm writing this two days after the last laugh faded that night and I still can't stand even the slightest touch on my flesh.
As we sat, lost in thought, I glanced over at Angel and caught her doing the same thing. The look I saw on her face at that moment made everything else that we'd shared and experienced that night seem almost insignificant. Pride, desire, lust, satisfaction, all were mixed in to that one expression, but all of that seemed secondary to what I saw there. An acceptance of the man sitting next to her that I'd never thought I'd see from anyone, never thought I'd see outside of a movie truth be told. I slid an arm around her and we settled back into each others arms, ridding into the night, reflecting on what had gone and dreaming of what was to come.
