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Ticklekitten Ticklekitten

The arrangement was simple… no time limit… nowhere off-limits… no safe word and no mercy.

“Give me your wrists.”

Ticklekitten sat on the bed facing Quill, eyes studying the man before her. Her short, pleated skirt rode up even further as she shifted position, extending her wrists together towards him as if about to be handcuffed by a policeman. Her skin tone was accented by the ivory color bra that she wore, gleaming in the half-light of the bedroom. None of her anxiousness showed through her soft smile as she waited for his next move, her mind racing.

Instead of handcuffs, Quill began to weave a black silk scarf around and between her wrists. Silk whispering across her skin made goosebumps break out across Ticklekitten’s bare arms, because she knew that the gentle feel of the scarf hid how firmly it would secure her. The first step towards her loss of control was the knot the closed both ends of the silk. She tested it, turning her wrists and pulling on them, but there was absolutely no way for her to slip free of it. Wordlessly she looked back up into Quill’s eyes, awaiting his next instructions.

“Lay back - rest your hands over your head.”

She did as she was told, reclining onto the bed and placing her hands up over her head. There was no need to explain the position - once tied in place, her newly shaved underarms and bare sides would be completely vulnerable to him. Quill straddled her waist, looping another piece of silk through her bound wrists and then through the headboard, tightening the new loop until her arms were stretched straight up above her head and her fingers could just barely brush the wrought-iron crossbar above. Drawing his fingers slowly away from the knot, Quill’s fingers hovered over Ticklekitten’s underarms and then moved down along her silhouette, an inch from her body. “Oh God, he’s gonna start…” She thought wildly, squirming her hips beneath him and reflexively but futilely trying to pull her arms down to protect herself.

Quill chuckled softly, withdrawing the menacing fingers away from her as he climbed off her and then off the bed. “Oh, this is going to be fun…”

Ticklekitten bit her lower lip nervously as he walked slowly along the length of the bed, listening to each solid footfall until he came to a stop by the nearby bedpost. She closed her eyes, knowing that every slow movement and decisive word of his was supposed to amp up her anticipation and make her more sensitive - she’d never confess it out loud, but it was working.

“Your ankle, if you will, Kitten...”

Those words made her heart skip a beat, but she reached her left leg towards him. His hand cupping her calf and lifting it slightly was the first time his skin touched hers, and it was dangerously soft - she could feel each ridge of Quill’s fingerprints on her tender leg. His other hand took it’s time unlacing her shoe and releasing her bare foot, loosening it all the way to give her all the time in the world to think of her foot being stroked and scribbled across - it took every ounce of Ticklekitten’s resolve not to pull her ankle free from his grasp. The sound of her shoe dropping to the hardwood floor below made her heart rate spike again, and then there it was - the feeling of anther evil black silk scarf slithering around her bare ankle. She didn’t watch as he fastened the other end of the scarf to the bedpost - she couldn’t.

Her other ankle received the same slow, tantalizing treatment, freeing her desperately ticklish foot from the protective shoe and fastening it to the bedpost. The result was that Ticklekitten found herself completely exposed in a satin bra and a skirt that she was starting to think covered far too little of her legs. Quill had confessed to being a leg tickler and she had chosen the skirt for him, but with the way her entire body was on edge with anticipation she wondered at the wisdom of that choice.

With gentle and methodical tugs, Ticklekitten tested her restraints - the result was the realization that she was completely helpless. Having been tied down before, she knew that perfect bondage was almost difficult - there was almost always a way to get free. This was not one of those times. The realization did nothing to reduce her anticipation of the experience she was about to fall victim to.

“So tell me, Ticklekitten… are you… ticklish?”

She smiled, knowing the game well - the more Quill made her think about being tickled, the worse it would be for her.

“Nope”, - she lied shamelessly, looking at him with a smile.

Quill climbed onto the bed, straddling her hips again as he placed his palms on her hips. One by one he lowered his fingertips to lay across her tummy, not moving them but letting her feel the sensation of the ghostly contact. He leaned down, lips only a breath away from her ear, hands poised to begin her session.

“So… if I were to start moving my fingers… right… here… that wouldn’t bother you?”

Ticklekitten giggled, giving in to his mental torment and inhaling deeply to break contact with her tickler’s fingertips. “Um… okay… maybe I am ticklish… just a little.”

“How ticklish are you…” Quill purred, again in his breathy whisper that slipped into her mind like a warm fog.

Ticklekitten shook her head, unwilling to give him anything else. She looked away, instantly regretting it as his fingers began to caress her sensitive abs. Squinting her eyes closed, she let a giggle escape her lips before sealing her lips. Her body quivered from even this light caress and she knew she was in trouble, but at least she could make Quill work for it. The caressing fingers stopped and she looked up at him, wanting to be ready for wherever the tickling would begin next. He looked down at her again, taking a moment to admire her breathtaking beauty and smiling softly and how lucky he was to have her at his disposal.

“So my little ticklee… shall we start at the top or the bottom…?”

Oh god, she thought, squirming her body as much as she could with her wrists bound and his firm thighs pinning her hips in place, I have to pick?

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