tickleplayerotica
TMF Novice
- Joined
- Jul 11, 2014
- Messages
- 55
- Points
- 18
“It’s not my fault you’re a ticklish little girl,” Chris said softly. He was 39. “It’s not my fault you’re so cute I just have to tickle you.”
Kenzie was splayed out on the bed, every bit of her bare 23 year old skin touching empty space, her pores drinking the open air.
Everything was black, the blindfold tied loosely around her eyes and ears, velvet midnight. Kenzie lay, suspended, anticipating.
It began.
He was using his fingers. One second Kenzie was waiting and the next she was all sensation-- a cry of surprise, involuntary spasm, bewildered mirth. She jerked, she writhed, she thrashed. She couldn’t turn it off and oh wasn’t it glorious.
“My girl,” said Chris working dutifully. “My good girl.”
She felt his lips kiss her tummy, down, down, down, felt his sharp teeth as he nibbled on her left hipbone, his rough chin brushing her thigh, titillating and delectable.
Each sensation was like a morsel in some sumptuous banquet-- Kenzie’s mind savored them all as they flew at her, vocalizing every twist and turn and shock and gasp. She was a conduit, an uninhibited expression of a brilliant and painful joy, the best flavor of pain, yelling out like a warrior queen again and again, nude and stretched and clenching and unclenching.
Time passed. How long, Kenzie couldn’t tell. That was the point.
There was a brief pause, the sensation of Chris's busy fingers disappearing into nothing, lifting from her legs, her belly, all the sensation dissolving into a stunned and harsh calm.
There were a few seconds like aeons, and then his teeth- like wet razors- continued to nourish themselves on her protruding hipbone. Kenzie pictured a beaver gnawing on a tree trunk, her body in the throes of some terrible and luxurious seizure of delight. The restraints were taut-- her legs, her ankles, her wrists, her elbows all secured. There was no escaping. There was only feeling.
Then, suddenly, a flash of light, a brief focusing of vision.
What had happened?
Her head-thrashing had made the blindfold slip. She saw Chris's stubbled jaw as he nibbled her hipbone, the stark white of the sheets she lay on, sheets as bare as her.
“Naughty girl,” Chris murmured, his lips soft and moving. He reached up to adjust the blindfold and Kenzie slipped back into darkness.
“You’re gonna pay for that,” she heard him say, his voice farther away now. He was getting something.
She heard him moving, adjusting, leaning away, listening for his every breath, every creak of his bare foot on the carpet, every subtle give as he leaned on the mattress.
Suddenly, cold sparks seemed to shoot up her side. She made hilarious noises, a sort of sputtering through a pinched tongue, saliva seeping through her hissing teeth. She cackled, the little spurts exiting her lips like she was spitting slugs. The sparks coiled over and under and all around, a little silver dragon dancing on her bare skin.
“Does my little baby girl like that?” Chris cooed, tracing sparks up and down and all over her torso-- across her belly, along her ribcage. When he circled her nipples, Kenzie had to bite her lip to keep herself from wilting away, her pussy glowing with hot blood, dribbling juice onto the sheets. She’d shaved for him today, smooth and lotioned.
“Don’t you dare scream,” warned Chris. “If you scream Daddy will be very upset...”
The sparks flew up and down and Kenzie’s heart ran circles in her chest. Her wrists, her ankles, her feet flailed against the sheets.
The spine wheel. There was a medical term for it. That’s what this was, this spark-throwing device having its way with her. Kenzie couldn’t remember it. Chris had showed it to her earlier. She couldn't remember the official name.
“Look at this belly button,” she heard him mumble.
She felt his stubble all over her belly as his tongue entered her navel to lap gently, like a cat at a dish of milk. The sparks continued their shocking travels up and around her breasts and nipples, the little spines catching her hard, causing little pink designs to float against Kenzie’s covered eyes. He was feasting on her and she loved it.
Her **** was aching. She moaned, a little wordless peal of a plea.
“What’s that I hear?” Chris whispered. “Is my girl all wound up?”
She felt his other hand move down, towards THERE, felt him hover for one agonizing second, then his deft fingers dove in-- two spreading, one immediately finding the sacred bud nestled in between her everything.
Now, Kenzie’s breathe was taken from her, silence caught in her throat.
“What a good girl I have,” Chris murmured.
His fingers moved, and Kenzie let herself feel everything.
Kenzie was splayed out on the bed, every bit of her bare 23 year old skin touching empty space, her pores drinking the open air.
Everything was black, the blindfold tied loosely around her eyes and ears, velvet midnight. Kenzie lay, suspended, anticipating.
It began.
He was using his fingers. One second Kenzie was waiting and the next she was all sensation-- a cry of surprise, involuntary spasm, bewildered mirth. She jerked, she writhed, she thrashed. She couldn’t turn it off and oh wasn’t it glorious.
“My girl,” said Chris working dutifully. “My good girl.”
She felt his lips kiss her tummy, down, down, down, felt his sharp teeth as he nibbled on her left hipbone, his rough chin brushing her thigh, titillating and delectable.
Each sensation was like a morsel in some sumptuous banquet-- Kenzie’s mind savored them all as they flew at her, vocalizing every twist and turn and shock and gasp. She was a conduit, an uninhibited expression of a brilliant and painful joy, the best flavor of pain, yelling out like a warrior queen again and again, nude and stretched and clenching and unclenching.
Time passed. How long, Kenzie couldn’t tell. That was the point.
There was a brief pause, the sensation of Chris's busy fingers disappearing into nothing, lifting from her legs, her belly, all the sensation dissolving into a stunned and harsh calm.
There were a few seconds like aeons, and then his teeth- like wet razors- continued to nourish themselves on her protruding hipbone. Kenzie pictured a beaver gnawing on a tree trunk, her body in the throes of some terrible and luxurious seizure of delight. The restraints were taut-- her legs, her ankles, her wrists, her elbows all secured. There was no escaping. There was only feeling.
Then, suddenly, a flash of light, a brief focusing of vision.
What had happened?
Her head-thrashing had made the blindfold slip. She saw Chris's stubbled jaw as he nibbled her hipbone, the stark white of the sheets she lay on, sheets as bare as her.
“Naughty girl,” Chris murmured, his lips soft and moving. He reached up to adjust the blindfold and Kenzie slipped back into darkness.
“You’re gonna pay for that,” she heard him say, his voice farther away now. He was getting something.
She heard him moving, adjusting, leaning away, listening for his every breath, every creak of his bare foot on the carpet, every subtle give as he leaned on the mattress.
Suddenly, cold sparks seemed to shoot up her side. She made hilarious noises, a sort of sputtering through a pinched tongue, saliva seeping through her hissing teeth. She cackled, the little spurts exiting her lips like she was spitting slugs. The sparks coiled over and under and all around, a little silver dragon dancing on her bare skin.
“Does my little baby girl like that?” Chris cooed, tracing sparks up and down and all over her torso-- across her belly, along her ribcage. When he circled her nipples, Kenzie had to bite her lip to keep herself from wilting away, her pussy glowing with hot blood, dribbling juice onto the sheets. She’d shaved for him today, smooth and lotioned.
“Don’t you dare scream,” warned Chris. “If you scream Daddy will be very upset...”
The sparks flew up and down and Kenzie’s heart ran circles in her chest. Her wrists, her ankles, her feet flailed against the sheets.
The spine wheel. There was a medical term for it. That’s what this was, this spark-throwing device having its way with her. Kenzie couldn’t remember it. Chris had showed it to her earlier. She couldn't remember the official name.
“Look at this belly button,” she heard him mumble.
She felt his stubble all over her belly as his tongue entered her navel to lap gently, like a cat at a dish of milk. The sparks continued their shocking travels up and around her breasts and nipples, the little spines catching her hard, causing little pink designs to float against Kenzie’s covered eyes. He was feasting on her and she loved it.
Her **** was aching. She moaned, a little wordless peal of a plea.
“What’s that I hear?” Chris whispered. “Is my girl all wound up?”
She felt his other hand move down, towards THERE, felt him hover for one agonizing second, then his deft fingers dove in-- two spreading, one immediately finding the sacred bud nestled in between her everything.
Now, Kenzie’s breathe was taken from her, silence caught in her throat.
“What a good girl I have,” Chris murmured.
His fingers moved, and Kenzie let herself feel everything.
