(In a similar vein to that ask about Robert Irwin) You've got Henry Cavill stripped and securely restrained, his huge soles fully exposed and entirely defenseless, and are tasked with utterly breaking him before the end of the night.
A whole night with a restrained Henry Cavill? What has the poor man done to deserve this?
Such a wild fantasy to have this massive hunk completely at your mercy. Laid down on a tickle table with his huge arms, broad chest, powerful legs immobilized by solid ropework, straps, cuffs, buckles. Double the amount usually needed, to ensure he can't break free no matter how hard he tries.
At the end of the table, I want those big, manly feet locked into stocks, with solid toeties that leaves no room for movement.
A lot less intimidating all of a sudden, to see a 200 pound man in this helpless situation where his muscles can't help him, where his weakness is fully exposed, sexy soles stretched taut, ready to be teased and tickled all night long.
I'd start with my fingers, getting a good feel of his soles, how soft they are, to sense the tension in his flexing muscles when my fingertips trace his warm skin, the sudden pull when my nails gently graze at them.
Henry Cavill doesn't look like the type of man who would fold so easily under tickling, but those first few seconds would confirm that he's in for a very long night.
My fingers pick up the pace, teasing movements replaced by wild scratching. I would keep at it through his explosive laughter, until I hear that sexy voice begging for the tickling to stop.
That would be enough to break him, relentlessly scribbling on his soles for long uninterrupted minutes. His screaming voice pleading so urgently to make it stop, wild pulling and kicking of his legs and feet that barely make a difference.
And when he thinks he's going crazy I would stop for a moment, massaging his feet to remove the lingering sensations, rubbing them with oil until he thinks the worst is over.
Little does he know that I prepared all sorts of tools to torture him with, electric toothbrushes, backscratchers, hairbrushes, grooming gloves. And for the next hours, I'll try them all in that order.
By the time I'm scrubbing his soles with the wicked gloves, the British actor would be in tears, his voice hoarse from all the laughing and begging, barely able to form a sentence but still trying. Completely broken by the tickling, the torture would not stop until the night is out.
janainaart
jacobvanloon
origamiaround
jbbartram-illu
