It is Sunday, August 26, 2007, the day of my second session as a tickling submissive at the whim and hands of New York City dominatrix Mistress Regan. I have not seen the fabulous Ms. Regan since our first encounter a year ago. It is only my second domme encounter since then.
Greeting me at the dungeon door, Mistress Regan looks as
comely as she did twelve months back. Knowing my weakness for her fair skin and shapely figure, Ms. Regan wears form-fitting shorts and a low-cut top, her ample bosoms daring me not to stare.
I submit as a tickling submissive to Mistress Regan because she is a fellow admitted tickle enthusiast; beautiful; smart; funny; and as significant as any reason, not ticklish. My inability to retaliate to her tickle torture fascinates me.
We enter the dungeon room where Mistress Regan is to torment me. We embrace and Ms. Regan sets the tone for our session right away by
surprise-tickling my ribs, saying, “Now get out of those clothes so I can tickle you!”
Obliging, I strip down to my thong and submit my ticklish flesh to Mistress Regan’s pleasure.
Mistress Regan instigates the action with standard attack-tickles, going about my ribs and stomach as I vainly back away, not about to run from the room naked save my thong.
As if she already doesn’t have me where she wants me, Mistress Regan ties my hands behind my back. More successful tickles to my midsection follow as I can only bend forwards, as if ducking a punch, but not avoiding Ms. Regan’s tickling fingers as she continues giving it to me good. I laugh, but the joke is on me.
Ever the gracious hostess, Mistress Regan has me take a seat – and quickly restrains me in the chair, cuffing my ankles and tying my arms to the back rest. But Ms. Regan isn’t sitting down on the job as she tickles my midsection, my restrained body offering more vulnerability.
Mistress Regan’s tickles still cause me to involuntarily bend forward so she places an offer on the table - by moving me to her torture table. Ms. Regan has me rest on my back as she cuffs my arms to the overhead corners and my feet to the opposite corners.
Standing at the foot of the table, Mistress Regan administers devastating tickles to the bare soles of my feet with her lovely manicured fingernails. For the remainder of the session, she has her way with me, tickling my feet, ribs, stomach and legs. As Ms. Regan’s bondage permits wriggle room, my arms or legs able to move several inches, she also lifts my legs and tickles my rear end. Regan’s smiling face conveys her tickler’s heart, reminding me of the fun I’ve had at the expense the many women I’ve tickled as she tickles me.
But unlike my victims, who suffered both my tickle torture and the indignity of a creep like me touching them, I enjoy having Mistress Regan’s
hot body practically on top of mine despite the torture she administers. I tease Ms. Regan with comments such as, “That is so nice. I’m talking about your cleavage, by the way, but the tickling is good , too.”
Mistress Regan responds to my wisecracks with some wild nipple-squeezing. I don’t know if she’s aware that appeals to me but if there’s a mistress who can read my submissive side with no help, it’s Ms. Regan.
Mistress Regan releases me from the torture table. I ask, “So how can I
worship you?”
Taking a seat, Mistress Regan offers her
lovely legs, allowing me to remove her stockings as I kneel before her. I fawn over Ms. Regan’s creamy gams, working my way down to her toes and soles.
I carry Mistress Regan to the table where she teases me with her charms but denies me their pleasures. Good thing – I would just disappoint her.
Greeting me at the dungeon door, Mistress Regan looks as
comely as she did twelve months back. Knowing my weakness for her fair skin and shapely figure, Ms. Regan wears form-fitting shorts and a low-cut top, her ample bosoms daring me not to stare. I submit as a tickling submissive to Mistress Regan because she is a fellow admitted tickle enthusiast; beautiful; smart; funny; and as significant as any reason, not ticklish. My inability to retaliate to her tickle torture fascinates me.
We enter the dungeon room where Mistress Regan is to torment me. We embrace and Ms. Regan sets the tone for our session right away by
surprise-tickling my ribs, saying, “Now get out of those clothes so I can tickle you!”Obliging, I strip down to my thong and submit my ticklish flesh to Mistress Regan’s pleasure.
Mistress Regan instigates the action with standard attack-tickles, going about my ribs and stomach as I vainly back away, not about to run from the room naked save my thong.
As if she already doesn’t have me where she wants me, Mistress Regan ties my hands behind my back. More successful tickles to my midsection follow as I can only bend forwards, as if ducking a punch, but not avoiding Ms. Regan’s tickling fingers as she continues giving it to me good. I laugh, but the joke is on me.
Ever the gracious hostess, Mistress Regan has me take a seat – and quickly restrains me in the chair, cuffing my ankles and tying my arms to the back rest. But Ms. Regan isn’t sitting down on the job as she tickles my midsection, my restrained body offering more vulnerability.
Mistress Regan’s tickles still cause me to involuntarily bend forward so she places an offer on the table - by moving me to her torture table. Ms. Regan has me rest on my back as she cuffs my arms to the overhead corners and my feet to the opposite corners.
Standing at the foot of the table, Mistress Regan administers devastating tickles to the bare soles of my feet with her lovely manicured fingernails. For the remainder of the session, she has her way with me, tickling my feet, ribs, stomach and legs. As Ms. Regan’s bondage permits wriggle room, my arms or legs able to move several inches, she also lifts my legs and tickles my rear end. Regan’s smiling face conveys her tickler’s heart, reminding me of the fun I’ve had at the expense the many women I’ve tickled as she tickles me.
But unlike my victims, who suffered both my tickle torture and the indignity of a creep like me touching them, I enjoy having Mistress Regan’s
hot body practically on top of mine despite the torture she administers. I tease Ms. Regan with comments such as, “That is so nice. I’m talking about your cleavage, by the way, but the tickling is good , too.”Mistress Regan responds to my wisecracks with some wild nipple-squeezing. I don’t know if she’s aware that appeals to me but if there’s a mistress who can read my submissive side with no help, it’s Ms. Regan.
Mistress Regan releases me from the torture table. I ask, “So how can I
worship you?”Taking a seat, Mistress Regan offers her
lovely legs, allowing me to remove her stockings as I kneel before her. I fawn over Ms. Regan’s creamy gams, working my way down to her toes and soles.I carry Mistress Regan to the table where she teases me with her charms but denies me their pleasures. Good thing – I would just disappoint her.
