Torment of a Tickle Temptress
I see her facing away across the room; her jet black figure hides the light emitting from the bathroom mirror so that her shadow stretches toward me. The twin specter grows out from the soft teal heels she’s wearing and widens over the carpet so that I envelop in its shade. She turns, I catch the outline of her face, and then can feel her glare. I barely make out her eyes as my own squint into the brightness bellowing from behind her. I freeze in her invisible trance.
“So, you really decided to follow me back here…” she says just loud enough to make out.
I brace my knee to avoid shaking as I try not to delay my response.
My breaths quicken as she saunters to my position near the foot of the bed. She’s calm, taking her time, really enjoying the approach and rhythmic way her steps dance over one another. Anyone could sense that she’s trying to not reveal her smirk. She glides in close, gently caressing one finger along my lips. The nail is sharp. Dangerous.
“I think you’re making a very reckless mistake,” bounces her soft breath off of my chin.
“Mistakes are worth learning from,” I hear myself say. The words slip out from somewhere I cannot process right now.
“You’ll get wise quickly,” she whispers, pressing her palm to my chest and letting a burst of strength loose that sends me careening aside. Am I letting myself fall? Did I let this happen willingly? My mind snaps back to the moment as I catch myself on the mattress and stare up at her hovering half-lit features, her hair harboring that flint of color to the dimness around me.
She walks around to my side and snatches my forearm in her fist. Without a spare instant, up comes a leather cuff in her remaining hand from the side of the bed. It hugs me tight around my wrist and locks in its grip, making its home there. Before I can turn to look, she bounds over me, her stomach making a cross at my own torso. As she pins down my free arm, I feel her leg climbing and clenching on top of me, pushing my pelvis further into the sheets as she finds the second cuff. It encircles and ensnares, copying the first. My elbows remain fixed in position at eye level now. I can see her gaze light up and she slinks down my body without ever turning her neck away.
Regaining her stance above the foot of the bed, she casually kicks up a heel behind her. Slipping her sole free, she tosses the shoe aside. As she does the same with the other, my heart pounds and pounds.
She secures my ankles next, making me into a perfect X on the bed. I hear her feet patter on the carpet and she disappears into the next room, the ceiling becoming a constant familiar sight. Pivoting my head in all directions, she’s gone. Only a soft rustling of fabrics produced from the next room breaks the dead air. Soon, all goes silent.
Not even a hint of motion can be noticed.
All I hear is my own breath and small maneuvers of hopeful comfort from my own body.
My sight vanishes. The bathroom light has gone out. Dark. Nothing.
With only the smallest of creaks, I sense someone in the room with me. As the uncertainty crosses my mind, I feel the mattress sink down by my shins. She has returned, crawling back over me. The light satiny drape of her change in wardrobe tickles the tops of my knees, a precursor of what’s to come, no doubt. Her palms press into the bed near my underarms, caving my elbows inward ever so slightly.
“No turning back now…” she whispers through the silence. Though I cannot see her, the presence alone is unmistakable. The moment lingers in anticipatory agony for both of us. My chest rises and falls rapidly.
“There you are…” blows her breath to my inner ear. “All mine…” Her voice lingers in my head, as if she’s transformed herself in the absence, letting her defenses down to my utter decimation. The air is thick and heavy. Her breath grows warmer against my face.
Her last trickle of guardedness releases.
I am overtaken by the unrestrained bombardment of her fury. Her fingers spire and sizzle into each ridge of my rib cage. Our ids peek out at one another. Her sadistic wanton tendencies unleash themselves upon the tender spots on my body that she seems to intuitively find, supple and exposed.
“Help me,” I whisper inside myself, but the sounds cannot escape my lips for all the spasming from my diaphragm.
Each sensual scrape of my every pore sends a betraying tingle piercing into me, the irresistible nerve-wracking reaction to scream and laugh all at once. Sounds escape my throat I can’t understand, nor replicate. I exhume the signals dispersed and buried within me in a cacophony of eruptive dissonance. I suddenly synchronically explode in every variation of the term, my giggling galloping through my every impulse. I am mad with laughter, her orgasmic malice coercing every inhibition from my poor, sensitive body. The peace and complete detriment fight for my attention, yet I remain lost in their overwhelming oneness. The spectrum of intensity shifts and each side of it collides into the center.
Between desperate blinks and attempts to regain a scrap of focus, I see her twisted grin, pleased with the boundless helpings of torture she’s dished upon me. Her fanatical leer perforates my last barricades of hope and serenity to her perverted whims. My confinement is confided by nothing else but her commanding company. Her implicit power pervades my person.
I roar with laughter that is not of myself. She is unrelenting. Hysteria sets in. My muscles spasm. I sweat. I clench. I moan.
Every ticklish spot loses meaning at her versatile onslaught, confusing a rib for a foot for a neck for a stomach in the chaos of my susceptibility. I am lost within myself. She knows what she is doing and
I struggle as long as I can, but know I must resign myself. I lose.
I lose everything and accept my succumbence to her mercy.
The edges blur and, in my madness, I dim. Present, but other.
I awaken in her embrace. My arms are free and I feel her warm cheek against my chest.
She looked at me. She saw me. She has taken me there and back.
I breathe heavily and feel her rise up with me, somber and peaceful at my helm. A rowboat in an all-encompassing ocean. We both are at ease together.
I wake up again hours later. The sun peaks over the purple, dawning clouds. She is adrift in layers of slumber. As I incrementally slide and reposition myself from her loving grasp, I witness the untroubled expression of her face, a far cry from those maniacal, impassioned eyes burned forever into my memory. I slip on my shirt, my shoes, and everything in-between. A slight curve of her lips tells me she has a few more hours to rest through.
I check my phone for her number.
I’ll call her later this morning.
