Sunriseticklee
3rd Level Orange Feather
- Joined
- Jan 9, 2002
- Messages
- 2,687
- Points
- 38
Her first mistake was letting him get close, letting him worm his way into her heart. And she was so open and so trusting. Her body was so warm and inviting.
"Don't."
He liked it when they begged, cried, screamed. He grew drunk on their tortured words and drank them all up like fine wine. He smiled down at her and said nothing. He could tell that she was controlling her movements purposely, but her rapid breathing gave her away. Her heart was pounding. He wanted to wrap his hand around her neck, feel her pulse, squeeze just enough to make her struggle and gasp, pulse quickening. He loved to watch the fear swell with each minute of the wait. And he would wait, just for a few more moments. He would not speak to her, just watch her.
She had spent the first few hours struggling against the bondage and doing whatever she could to escape. Her pulling and wiggling was slightly amusing and intensely arousing. He would not call her beautiful, almost plain but with large, delicious curves; however, like this... clad in only her black balconette bra and black string bikini panties, skin coffee sweetened with cream, helpless, trapped... It took all his willpower not to take her immediately. Not yet. Not until she was a broken, sweaty, incoherent doll. He wanted her flushed, trembling, and aching for release. He wanted to taste her- nibble her all up. He could not wait to begin.
"Don't."
Just that one word. He was standing over her now. She looked like a drop of chocolate surrounded by the marshmallowly white pillows and sheets of his bed. He would never speak to her. It was not his style. He needed her to know that she could not reason her way out of this, this impending decimation. Verbal responses would make her different, make her special. She wasn't. She was ordinary. She was a means to his end.
"Please.... don't."
Two words. Most of them usually begged more at this point. They tried to bargain. They swore. They threatened. But one by one, they fell. They shattered just like she would shatter. She was blown auburn glass cascading downward. She would fall.
He started at her palms. She gasped at the sensation and made fists immediately. He loved the confusion in her eyes. He forced one hand open and began drawing circles with one finger, just the one. She shivered and he watched goosebumps rise on her soft skin. She closed her eyes and tried again to control her breathing. He continued but alternated his slow circles and wiggling fingers. At first, he thought she was solid, stoic... His eyes trailed down her body, the same path that his tickling fingers would take. As he tickled her palm and watched, her toes were curling and dancing.
She was one of those. She was like the ones who had to move. Her concentration on her movement took her mind off his teasing. No matter. He would immobilize her later to add to her angst.
Palms to forearms- Oh! Her eyes grew wide with understanding. She squirmed and pleaded.
"Aaron, don't!"
He loved when they said the false name that he gave them. It had no power over him, but it gave him a hint of pleasure. His face, his small smile, the determination in his eyes, none of that changed when he heard the name of a stranger.
Elbows were often a forgotten spot, and he could tell but her sharp intake of breath and her soft giggles that she had no idea they were even ticklish. Oh, and she was responsive. He treated her elbows like he would treat her knees... squeezes, scribbling, wiggling one finger in the dimples, acting like the smooth skin at the crux of her elbow was like the back of her knees. Her giggles grew louder. He wasn't torturing her yet, her laugh wasn't desperate, yet.
Down, down, down!
"Aaron, no, no! Don't do it! Please!"
Ahhh! And there it was. His hands were nearing her armpits, and he could tell by her high-pitched giggling and pleading that this would begin her journey to ticklish madness. He toyed around with her shoulders and her back, also very ticklish, getting close to her armpits and away over and over and over again. The girl was hysterical.
"Don't do it! Don't do it! I'm so ticklish there! Please! I'm so ticklish there! Don't do it!"
She was shaking and squealing, and he had not even touched her underarms yet.
"Don't! Don't! Don't! Don't! Don't! Don't! Don't! Don't!" the words spilled out her mouth swiftly between those same squealing loud giggles as he hovered his hands over her armpits and looked her right in the eyes.
"Do it!"
What? Wait... What did she just say...?
"Do it! Tickle me," she commanded.
His heart started pounding, his mouth went dry, and his dick grew so hard so fast that had to stop to adjust himself quickly.
Her smile changed, and her eyes twinkled. She had caught all of it. He had managed to lock her out, but those two words, "tickle me," they had ripped away his mask. He cleared his throat trying to regain his composure.
"Tickle me, Aaron." Her voice became a seductive whisper, "Please."
It was like a caress, her word "please." He groaned and dove into the hollows of her armpits.
Her reactions were explosive. Her hips lifted off the bed, slammed back down, and she twisted and pulled on the bondage so hard that his sturdy, heavy bed creaked and shook. She laughed and laughed and laughed and laughed so loud that at one point he had to stop and cover his ears. He was chuckling so hard with her that he doubled over.
She gasped for breath still giggling.
"W-Why? Why did you s-stop?"
"Damn it, woman!" he exclaimed, breaking one of his rules. He could not stop laughing either. She might have had the most ticklish armpits he had ever encountered.
"Well- C'mon then!"
His eyes grew even wider. She had surprised him, aroused him, and she actually controlled HIM! He was floored.
He went back to her armpits, this time monitoring her reactions closely. She made loud squawks and began thrashing when one or all his fingers were in the center. He wiggled his fingers and spread them from the center outward, that made her giggle, squirm, and beg. But the edges of her armpits near the tops of her breasts, he would definitely call that her "Waterloo," her checkmate, the end game.
She went into that silent laughter, but her body was a frantic mess. She was also crying, tears flying down her cheeks. He dug in gently, same reactions. He dug he with fervor, exact same reactions.
"Uncleeeeeeeeee!"
"Excuse me, who?"
"Uncleeeeeeeeee!!!!"
"Um... what? Who is this uncle you are screaming about?" he questioned her while wiggling his fingers in this magic spot on both pits. "There is no mercy here."
He moved back to the center of her underarms and was rewarded with wild laughter with a side of begging.
"Fuck me!"
This time he did not ask what or hesitate. It took him less than 10 seconds to rip her out of her leg restraints, yank down her panties, release himself from his boxers and slide into her warm, wet center. He continued to grind into her deeply, slowly...He laid against her and reached his hand back up to her armpit.
"Don't!"
Oh, that begging again! He started doing those slow circles under her arm. He wanted to torment her, but not so much that she lost the rhythm, not yet. Her loved watching her struggle. She could barely stop moaning to laugh and stop laughing enough to get a full moan out. And damn was she sexy at this moment. How could he ever think that this ticklish goddess was plain? No woman matched her beauty.
"Don't stop! Please, don't stop!"
It was time, and as he felt she was getting close, he thrusted and tickled her faster while moving his fingers into that special spot that he had found. And her body contracted and squeezed around him. She was screaming and screaming, and it was glorious! He could not stop tickling her, couldn't stop pumping his hips. He could feel his own fire engulfing him, making him explode, pulling the energy from his body.
She was shivering, still crying. Begging him to stop touching her. Instead, he kissed her tears, kissed her armpits teasingly. Watched her agony crest over as she orgasmed again. She was whimpering. Imploring him... He wanted to make her just one more time. Kissing her under her arms, kissing the tops of her breast, moving softly down to her nipples. He was unrelenting and was again rewarded.
"Don't!"
"Isn't that the word that got you in trouble in the first place?"
"No! I believe the words 'I do' did that."
He laughed as he untied her arms. "And who the hell is Aaron?"
"Oh! He was one of my first exes! Much finer than you!"
He looked his wife in the eyes for a moment and pounced.
"Don't."
He liked it when they begged, cried, screamed. He grew drunk on their tortured words and drank them all up like fine wine. He smiled down at her and said nothing. He could tell that she was controlling her movements purposely, but her rapid breathing gave her away. Her heart was pounding. He wanted to wrap his hand around her neck, feel her pulse, squeeze just enough to make her struggle and gasp, pulse quickening. He loved to watch the fear swell with each minute of the wait. And he would wait, just for a few more moments. He would not speak to her, just watch her.
She had spent the first few hours struggling against the bondage and doing whatever she could to escape. Her pulling and wiggling was slightly amusing and intensely arousing. He would not call her beautiful, almost plain but with large, delicious curves; however, like this... clad in only her black balconette bra and black string bikini panties, skin coffee sweetened with cream, helpless, trapped... It took all his willpower not to take her immediately. Not yet. Not until she was a broken, sweaty, incoherent doll. He wanted her flushed, trembling, and aching for release. He wanted to taste her- nibble her all up. He could not wait to begin.
"Don't."
Just that one word. He was standing over her now. She looked like a drop of chocolate surrounded by the marshmallowly white pillows and sheets of his bed. He would never speak to her. It was not his style. He needed her to know that she could not reason her way out of this, this impending decimation. Verbal responses would make her different, make her special. She wasn't. She was ordinary. She was a means to his end.
"Please.... don't."
Two words. Most of them usually begged more at this point. They tried to bargain. They swore. They threatened. But one by one, they fell. They shattered just like she would shatter. She was blown auburn glass cascading downward. She would fall.
He started at her palms. She gasped at the sensation and made fists immediately. He loved the confusion in her eyes. He forced one hand open and began drawing circles with one finger, just the one. She shivered and he watched goosebumps rise on her soft skin. She closed her eyes and tried again to control her breathing. He continued but alternated his slow circles and wiggling fingers. At first, he thought she was solid, stoic... His eyes trailed down her body, the same path that his tickling fingers would take. As he tickled her palm and watched, her toes were curling and dancing.
She was one of those. She was like the ones who had to move. Her concentration on her movement took her mind off his teasing. No matter. He would immobilize her later to add to her angst.
Palms to forearms- Oh! Her eyes grew wide with understanding. She squirmed and pleaded.
"Aaron, don't!"
He loved when they said the false name that he gave them. It had no power over him, but it gave him a hint of pleasure. His face, his small smile, the determination in his eyes, none of that changed when he heard the name of a stranger.
Elbows were often a forgotten spot, and he could tell but her sharp intake of breath and her soft giggles that she had no idea they were even ticklish. Oh, and she was responsive. He treated her elbows like he would treat her knees... squeezes, scribbling, wiggling one finger in the dimples, acting like the smooth skin at the crux of her elbow was like the back of her knees. Her giggles grew louder. He wasn't torturing her yet, her laugh wasn't desperate, yet.
Down, down, down!
"Aaron, no, no! Don't do it! Please!"
Ahhh! And there it was. His hands were nearing her armpits, and he could tell by her high-pitched giggling and pleading that this would begin her journey to ticklish madness. He toyed around with her shoulders and her back, also very ticklish, getting close to her armpits and away over and over and over again. The girl was hysterical.
"Don't do it! Don't do it! I'm so ticklish there! Please! I'm so ticklish there! Don't do it!"
She was shaking and squealing, and he had not even touched her underarms yet.
"Don't! Don't! Don't! Don't! Don't! Don't! Don't! Don't!" the words spilled out her mouth swiftly between those same squealing loud giggles as he hovered his hands over her armpits and looked her right in the eyes.
"Do it!"
What? Wait... What did she just say...?
"Do it! Tickle me," she commanded.
His heart started pounding, his mouth went dry, and his dick grew so hard so fast that had to stop to adjust himself quickly.
Her smile changed, and her eyes twinkled. She had caught all of it. He had managed to lock her out, but those two words, "tickle me," they had ripped away his mask. He cleared his throat trying to regain his composure.
"Tickle me, Aaron." Her voice became a seductive whisper, "Please."
It was like a caress, her word "please." He groaned and dove into the hollows of her armpits.
Her reactions were explosive. Her hips lifted off the bed, slammed back down, and she twisted and pulled on the bondage so hard that his sturdy, heavy bed creaked and shook. She laughed and laughed and laughed and laughed so loud that at one point he had to stop and cover his ears. He was chuckling so hard with her that he doubled over.
She gasped for breath still giggling.
"W-Why? Why did you s-stop?"
"Damn it, woman!" he exclaimed, breaking one of his rules. He could not stop laughing either. She might have had the most ticklish armpits he had ever encountered.
"Well- C'mon then!"
His eyes grew even wider. She had surprised him, aroused him, and she actually controlled HIM! He was floored.
He went back to her armpits, this time monitoring her reactions closely. She made loud squawks and began thrashing when one or all his fingers were in the center. He wiggled his fingers and spread them from the center outward, that made her giggle, squirm, and beg. But the edges of her armpits near the tops of her breasts, he would definitely call that her "Waterloo," her checkmate, the end game.
She went into that silent laughter, but her body was a frantic mess. She was also crying, tears flying down her cheeks. He dug in gently, same reactions. He dug he with fervor, exact same reactions.
"Uncleeeeeeeeee!"
"Excuse me, who?"
"Uncleeeeeeeeee!!!!"
"Um... what? Who is this uncle you are screaming about?" he questioned her while wiggling his fingers in this magic spot on both pits. "There is no mercy here."
He moved back to the center of her underarms and was rewarded with wild laughter with a side of begging.
"Fuck me!"
This time he did not ask what or hesitate. It took him less than 10 seconds to rip her out of her leg restraints, yank down her panties, release himself from his boxers and slide into her warm, wet center. He continued to grind into her deeply, slowly...He laid against her and reached his hand back up to her armpit.
"Don't!"
Oh, that begging again! He started doing those slow circles under her arm. He wanted to torment her, but not so much that she lost the rhythm, not yet. Her loved watching her struggle. She could barely stop moaning to laugh and stop laughing enough to get a full moan out. And damn was she sexy at this moment. How could he ever think that this ticklish goddess was plain? No woman matched her beauty.
"Don't stop! Please, don't stop!"
It was time, and as he felt she was getting close, he thrusted and tickled her faster while moving his fingers into that special spot that he had found. And her body contracted and squeezed around him. She was screaming and screaming, and it was glorious! He could not stop tickling her, couldn't stop pumping his hips. He could feel his own fire engulfing him, making him explode, pulling the energy from his body.
She was shivering, still crying. Begging him to stop touching her. Instead, he kissed her tears, kissed her armpits teasingly. Watched her agony crest over as she orgasmed again. She was whimpering. Imploring him... He wanted to make her just one more time. Kissing her under her arms, kissing the tops of her breast, moving softly down to her nipples. He was unrelenting and was again rewarded.
"Don't!"
"Isn't that the word that got you in trouble in the first place?"
"No! I believe the words 'I do' did that."
He laughed as he untied her arms. "And who the hell is Aaron?"
"Oh! He was one of my first exes! Much finer than you!"
He looked his wife in the eyes for a moment and pounced.
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