My secret is, that tickling is my main turn on and even I‘m mainly a ler I think I‘m hyper ticklish and I would love to try the Lee side but I‘m a bit scared about it 🥺
It's okay to be scared, as long as it's a good scared! You don't need to be fearless, you just have to trust yourself (and your Ler) to communicate what you want and don't want 😊 being a Lee is fun 🤭 and you might love it! You should try it at least once, bc it could be the start of something really fun! Have your Ler start light, and take it from there ☺️ you got this ✨️
Blissful killer technique ....and equipment...... I don't know exactly where he got those tools from, on his fingers, but I like them ❤️ MAJOR approval ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️💘💘💘
You've been through a lot, I know. We have very similar brains, it's why I want to make sure that this is as intense for you as you dream of it being, as I'm only ever happy to give just as intensely. I want you to know you are safe, I know what you adore, and I promise, you are going to get *exactly* what you wanted.
I'll make sure I have those arm and leg cuffs ready for you, alongside my own personal stocks, so you feel as trapped and immobile as you possibly can be. Body taut, toes tied back, only able to make gestures with your hands and ever so slight wiggles and bucks with your midriff.
Now that you're securely strapped in and stripped bare/underwear/bikini/your exposed comfort level, blindfold on, headphones on, gag in, I promise you, you're not getting out until your body is left shivering and shaking from the faintest touch from my nails eliciting those gorgeous whimpers from you. Without your sight, hearing, senses dulled and unable to even beg for mercy, I can promise this is going to be *agonisingly* ticklish for you. Good girls deserve the most hellish of tickle tortures, just like the wonderful tickle toy that you are. 💙
Unfortunately (or *very* fortunately) for you, I know just how bad your midsection is. And you know I crazy I go for it. But sometimes the most effective methods require restraint, care, anticipation, build-up. So I'll make sure every last inch of your taut body feels the start of a single nail. Seeking, gauging, to intake all the necessary information I need, tracing a line from hipbone to hipbone, gliding up and down each side at different levels barely an inch apart, snaking along your waist and stomach, spiralling around and encircling your bellybutton, staying only on that agonisingly sensitive rim, all with just a feather light touch. All to drive you absolutely mad.
However, I'm not done there. I want to deepen that maddening sensation, that beautiful dread of helpless anticipation. The traces continue, lightly circling around the hollows of your armpits, gliding up and down your underarms to the point they tremor. Taking my time. You thought this maddening lightness was over, not even close. Down to your stocked feet. Those cute little wrinkles forming in anticipation as you *know* I'm making my way down there. Light circles on your heel, gliding back and forth under your toes, up and down the middle of your arches. If you're trying to kick or making sounds already, you are in for the most exquisite and torturous hell, and remember, this is one entirely of your own making.
If tickle hell is what you want, hell is what you get.
You will not know where I start, but you will know how much trouble you're in *when* I start.
It could be...
Pressing and wiggling my thumbs against the indentations next to your hipbones, right where the flexors are, connecting hip to thigh, nerves activated in the most exquisite ticklish agony, wiggled against and activating every last nerve of your obliques as they instinctively buck against me, only for my nails to dig in that little bit worse and feed off those helpless instinctual sensations. Feeling every buck and wiggle captured in my hands like you're giving me a personal belly dance. You can't help it though, can you poor thing?
Spidering on and softly squeezing your tummy. Such a cute little playground to explore, every sensitive and helpless ticklish inch tortured by my relentlessly spidering nails softly squeezing your tummy, some spots might be worse than others, perhaps down here on your lower belly just below your bellybutton? Or between your hips on your bikini line? Or right at the centre of your abs? Or just a little off to the side or on your upper tummy? Or right on those sensitive sides? Wherever I find your reactions to be worse, I'm staying there for a good while, and you'll never know when I'm going to switch it up.
One lone finger drilling each of the hollows in your armpits, then another, then another, but waiting a little each time, tickling with that lone finger at first, so just as you get used to one level of ticklish agony, it doubles. Triples. Each digit at a different point in their ticklish scritches so it feels impossible to escape and as if every hyper-sensitive nerve ending is firing off at once in pure helpless agony. Every time you think it can't get worse, oh it does. And it will. With your arms unable to do anything but tremble and tremor, feeling the heat of me right beside you, looking adoringly at you while I take in all your muffled shrieks, squeals, and screams of laughter, obsessing over every last magnificent sound you make. It must feel endless. I'll make sure it feels so.
Down to your helpless stocked feet. Side by side, sharing together their torturous fate. From using one nail on the middle of each foot scritching deviously with little alterations of that finger going up and down, I'm taking notes, every time your feet manage scrunch, even if only reflexively, I'm adding a second nail on each sole, tickling where the most wrinkles formed, because there's no escape or protection here, and every futile attempt must be deservingly punished with even worse focused tickle torture. So the second finger on each joins in, and unable to help your reflexive responses, a third... Until all my nails in their claw formation are scritching and scratching away at every last nanometre of ticklish skin on your feet. From down to your heels, up to the middle of your soles and arches, right up to your toes, tickling right underneath them on that sensitive line, to wiggling my nails in-between each and every one of them. No ticklish spot is going to hide from me, and I'll make sure you know you've none that know mercy.
Circling your bellybutton. You didn't think I'd forget this cute little weak point did you? Just circling, tracing the rim, spiralling closer and circling constantly so that you're going positively *mad* with anticipation. But I'm not unleashing yet. I'm too busy taking in your whimpers. Your muffled pleads and begs. The helpless pleas of "Please!", "Not there!", all easily ignored. All playfully mocked knowing you can't do a thing for what's about to come. Circling, tracing, the madness and desperation of the sensitivity and anticipation making it tickle that much worse. Trying to arch away, trying to suck in, trying to buck my finger away, knowing full well what's about to come. And then, like the inevitable beautiful explosion it was always bound to be, my wickedly devious pointer finger will "slip", and start wiggling about, nail softly scritching and tickling against every last torturously hyper-sensitive fibre of your bellybutton, every nerve screaming as if electric jolts are being sent to your brain, but instead of pain, it is the most exquisitely agonising tickle torture from one single nail tickling and teasing it mercilessly, never known to you just *how* long you'll be scream laughing into your gag from those unbearably ticklish touches. Minutes might pass that feel like hours, and no matter how much you buck, wiggle, thrash, your futile resistance will only be met with further, more intense, dragged out tickle torture of your helpless sensitive bellybutton. A bellybutton tickle hell unlike anything you could have imagined.
I see you getting wet tickle toy, such a good girl deserves to feel all the pleasure from such ticklish agony. Then I'll only make things worse. You thought me focusing on one spot was bad enough? I'll mix it up. Armpits and bellybutton. Hips and feet. Tummy and armpits. Bellybutton and hips. You thought you were in tickle hell before, I'll make sure your tickle hell truly feels like it will last forever.
What's that? Goodness. You couldn't hold it. Well... Do you know what happens to the body after climax? Your nerve endings heighten in sensitivity. And so, we begin again. Despite your shrieks, squeals, cackles, snorts, whimpers, muffled begs and pleads, even more intense than before, this little tickle toy is just gonna have to take it. Good girls deserve their highest of highs, and since you've had your moment of bliss, I'll make sure you experience what feels like an eternity of ticklish agony.
But you can take it, like the good girl that you are, because after all, it was you who wanted this. 💙
