hey kitten. daddy needs to talk to you. your kink blog is great, but you are not highlighting the words correctly. kitten. stop highlighting. this is shit. did you seriously highlight that period. kitten.
going to a sleepover with five other girls. when it gets late into the night, one of them offers to play a game. "let's see how long we can be tickled for without tapping out!" the one who taps out fastest gets punished.
you're a knismo. the others know it. you don't want to go first in case it becomes too obvious.
each person takes a turn. the tickling is light and playful, and you're enjoying the feeling of their squirming and the sound of their desperate laughter. it becomes your turn.
one sits on your waist. one for each foot, and one for each armpit. they look among each other with a smirk, and then they tickle you.
mercilessly. they tag team to go for your worst spots immediately, leaving you no choice but to tap out within seconds just from instinctive panic.
you're embarrassed, but they don't let you up. "well, what's the punishment?" you ask.
they flash a wand vibrator at you. "you're going to get edged for the next hour." they coo, "while we tickle you."
the vibrator is set to a pattern that is just enough to drive you crazy but not enough to reach the edge. it drives up, up, up to max, and then drops to off for more time than you can hold onto the edge for.
their fingers tickle every bit of you. they tie you up so they don't have to pin you, laying beside you and walking their fingers up and down your ribs, drawing patterns in your armpits, squeezing your hips. they run long nails under your toes, tickle up your calves to your knees, and make you howl that you "just can't take it!"
you know they planned this. but around the twenty minute mark, your brain leaks from between your thighs and you start begging them for just a little more, moaning from their tickles rather than trying to get away.
they planned it and you're not mad about it at all.
How to win a play-fight when your sub is physically stronger than you:
My go-to tactic: kiss them until they go weak and they forget youāre fighting.
Become overly affectionate, and once they think theyāve won, roll on top of them and pin them.
Have handcuffs and the like ready to grab and spring on them.
Limit your attacks to pain you know they like. Scratch and pinch and slap in the places they canāt help but enjoy. A good hard spank and some subs will buckle and drop instinctively.
Donāt fear a good old hair grab. Especially because it gives you access to vulnerable neck.
Detailing exactly what you will do to them when you win - and thatās not if, thatās when - will lower any subās morale considerably.
If theyāre pushing an arm or leg down, pulling down yourself, faster, often pulls out of their grip.
Wriggle. Especially wriggle into them.
Use all your limbs. Lock your legs around them as well as your arms. Donāt be afraid to squeeze - youāve got a safeword.
The upside to the adhd forgetting that you made yourself a drink thing is thinking to yourself āman I could go for a drink right nowā and looking to your right and seeing a drink has appeared there. Thank you, past me. I lost you somewhere but you have still provided.
funny thing about anxiety is sometimes it kind of breaks your sense of danger. like i am known for repeatedly putting myself in situations that make my friends go "bro you couldve died. werent you scared?" and the answer is š yjeah. i did it scared. i do everything scared. i didnt know that was the actual important kind of scary because i usually have to ignore my fears to function in society. it will happen again. watch out.
Prompt from a buddy: Okay I feel like the heat of summer brain feels like a bad version of a sleepy hypno good brain, so turn being a pile of summer goo sloth into something sexy and fun and on purpose? Is that a good prompt?
Everything moves slower on a day like today. It's one of those muggy summer days where the air is thick; where the temperature is juuust tolerable if you lay flat on your back and donāt do anything or go anywhere or exert yourself in any way. A slow-moving sticky sort of day, and any bit of physical contact would have us covered in sweat in seconds, so not really the best situation for fucking.
How convenient, then, that I donāt need to touch you in order to fuck you.
All it takes is me lying in bed next to you. My voice in your ear. My presence, and the feeling of my attention. Is it your imagination, or can you already feel goosebumps from the way Iām looking at you?
Because lying spread-eagled on your back in just your underwear is the best way to stay cool, but it also happens to make you feel a bitā¦ exposed. Certainly, thereās a lovely view for me to admire, so Iām not complaining. You can imagine the way my eyes travel across your body, and you can feel that little thrill to realize how much I like the look of you.
Itās a funny feeling, the way that little frisson of arousal reacts against the lazy heaviness of your body right now. Theyāre two opposing forces; normally that feeling fizzes through you, bright and effervescent, but now, in this heat, it feels languid, liquid.
You can lean into that heaviness, itās okay. Feel the very slight pressure of the air around you, the way your muscles simply donāt want to move, the comforting softness of the mattress like the comforting softness of your mind as it melts into the heat. Thereās no need to move, to think, to do anything in particular; just let your skin soak up my words like the way it soaks up the warmth that suffuses through your whole body.
I donāt need to touch you to fuck you, because this lazy luxurious heat has you so loose and open that my words can slip right into your mind, gliding over you easy like skin against sweat-slick skin. So when I remind you how heavy your body is, itās so easy and natural to notice that; when I explain how youāre melting for me, you sigh and settle a bit more into my control; when I mention the slow tingle of pleasure humming in your body, it arcs from my intention to your reality like an electric spark.
Because this sort of heat lends itself to pleasure. Not desperate and grasping and thrusting and sweaty, though thatās its own delight; no, a slow and sprawling pleasure that pulses gently under your skin. Itās the perfect temperature for squirming gently against the slow simmer of your arousal.
Everything moves slower on a day like today, so the spike of pleasure doesnāt immediately jolt out through all of you; it rolls easily outward, a wave that resonates through your hipsā gentle undulations. Feel good for me, and let me drink in the sight.
Of course, with your muscles so warm and limp, itās hard to muster the energy to move at all. Your body wants to twitch lazily, but it barely can; just the slight tremble, the little noises escaping you. And without the outlet of the squirming to bleed off that slow-build pleasure, it has nowhere to escape to; it keeps doubling and redoubling on itself, resonant waves intensifying each other.
You can imagine the slow thunderous roll of your orgasm; it would probably feel so good, that bubbling-up release of pressure, coursing through you with agonizing and delicious slowness that makes your toes curl. Your body wants that, right? Your body knows the way and tightens toward it, all languid need. Thereās no rush, not in this heat, just the gentle and inexorable build, and the comforting tingly certainty of whatās coming.
Your body is a puddle of pleasure, my words slipping around your thoughts as easy as fucking, and you can feel the triumphant burst of that orgasm so achingly close, if only you could rock your hips and your mind that extra inch to meet it.
The concept of taking a lee who's struggling to see the good in themselves, tying them up, and just giving them the gentlest interrogation ever.
Tickling them softly and gently until they give you at least three things they like about themselves. Giving them so much encouragement while they're thinking (and giggling) and so much praise when they add something to the list.
Make it playful. Make it sweet. Make them see themselves the way you do, even if its just for a short while š
For the tease request, if comfy (as always), gonna ask for how you'd most have fun teasing a Ler who's easily flustered by even a bit of exposed midriff šµāš« (I'm going to absolutely regret this, but fuck it š« )
Comfy joggers and a t shirt shouldnāt be enough to fluster you, right? I mean, itās not like Iām asking for you to pounce on me anyway. Weāre just sitting on the couch, maybe youāre playing a video game, I donāt knowābut Iām reading something on my phone. I need to get comfy, so I hope you wonāt mind me lying across your lap? Just gotta shimmy a bit to get comfortable, and thenā
Oh, no.
Did you see the hemline of my shirt inch its way up? Because I definitely felt it, and the immediately felt the cool prickle of air against my waistline.
Suddenly, the lightbulb in my brain is lit. Maybe youāre focused on whatever youāre doing, but I felt the hitch in your breath. I saw your eyes flick down towards my abdomen and quickly avert. And I definitely saw the slightly rosy color thatās still all over your face.
So maybe Iāll feign a stretch, arching my back, ever so subtly pulling my shirt up furtherā¦ and furtherā¦ until the hemline hits me right below my breasts. Iāll say nothing, of course. Itās not like Iām trying to bait you here. I am, however, curious about just how long you can resist, when your hands are so close to my soft stomachā¦
Oh, honeyāwhy on earth did you drop your controller?
Request for tease: If it's okay, you as a lee talking about how much you want to be tickled and how to tickle each of your spot?
So Iām not sure if you know this, but I happen to be ticklish everywhere. No, Iām not bullshitting you. Itās been tested and proven a dozen times over. I am ticklish no matter where you touch me. Something else you may not know is that I technically can tickle myself, even though it has to be done very specifically.
Stillā¦ there is no substitution quite like someone elseās touch. And I am quite desperate for that touch. Maybe you could be of some assistance?
See, Iām perfectly comfortable admitting to everyone of just how ticklish I am, but I still get a bit shy admitting how much I want it. But I do.ore than that, I want you to tickle me. I want you to tickle me so fucking badly. I want your hands on every inch of meāevery inch. And no matter how much I giggle, or babble, or bargain, or shriekā¦ I donāt want you to stop for a good long while.
It wonāt take much with me: a soft scratch under the chin, fingers kneading gently in my underarms, prodding into my sides and ribsā¦ or hell, get creative. Take a feather to my inner thighs while squeezing the tops of them, glide a soft brush against the bottoms of my feet while playing with my toes, tease my chest with a soft makeup brush while you torment my stomach or my underarms. Truly, no spot is off limits, and no spot is safe from being astronomically sensitive. Even those spots which many findā¦ unconventional, inappropriate, even. They are yours for the tickling.
(I hope you liked it! I tried to be as thorough as possible lol š )
Have you ever thought about cuddling up to someone and getting suuuper comfy. Their hand running through your hair feeling safe and warm and loved... And then that hand slowly turning against you? Well, not exactly *against* you, because it's owner knows just how much you like all the soft little tickles its delivering to your neck. Your squirms and giggles might convince its brother that's wrapped around your side to slide on up into your armpit and see what it can find there. Not even giggles, but full throated laughter and squirms and breathlessness.
So yeah, does that still count as cuddling?
I love how we added a question at the end for dramatic effect
Now Iām going to be thinking about that for awhile š«
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