Annabelle cuffed his hands and pulled his body down until his arms were stretched straight out, and calmly sat down beside him.
“I’m going to tickle you now…and I’m not going to stop…for a very…long…time. Not just because you need to be reminded not to be an asshole, because you need to remember why you love me… you need this. You need it.
She started dragging her hails up and down his ribs, and his body slowly arched left and right along in rhythm.
“I can tickle you here, on your hips, and you writhe. I can tickle your ribs, and you tense your abs.
He was trying not to smile at how right she was, and trying like hell to resist his body’s reflexes. But she was way ahead of him.
“And now when I start to tickle your stomach, you smile, you can’t help it, and when I get into your belly button, you really get hard.”
“Goddamit,” he cried and thrashed under her finger digging into his navel.
“This is everything for you isn’t it? You love it. You don’t care that I don’t fuck you. You can’t even get it up anymore without being tickled. All I have to do is say it… tickle…and a little thunderbolt flashes through your brain…because you just can’t help it. You’re entire body is so vulnerably ticklish, so helplessly ticklish.”
Her nails lifted off his skin over his hip bones and her fingers starting moving in swift clawing waves across his waist. He was throbbing and his abs and thighs tensed under the fingers that now controlled his every breath. He looked up at her, her pale, white stomach and long legs beneath the blue shorts and black sports bra she was wearing. Her hands moving all over his body, and eyes looking around the room.
“Where’s my lotion?”
The words sent another thunderbolt through his brain.
As she stopped, turned and reached down over the bed, he breathed deeply and quickly, preparing himself.
He felt the usual impulse to deny her words and insist this was her want-her need, but he knew it was futile. This time was different. the voice of his obsession that could only cry out from the furthest secret corner of his thoughts was suddenly speaking so clearly through her. This was an absolute fantasy come true- and the years of shame and repression piled upon it made its liberation an unstoppable force. Her felt her hands flicker up his stomach forcing his whole body to shudder. She leaned forward over him, her long, red hair trailing behind her fingers as she whispered,
“You wait through the days until you’re laying down here under my hands looking up at me, wishing desperately you could slam me down, and have your revenge… tickle me back ten times over for all the hours and hours I’ve spent breaking you. You dream of knowing every ticklish spot of my body as completely as I know each and every one of yours.”
Her hands were really moving now. She pinched at his nipples and clawed up under his arms.
“This one gets you bad,”
He was tense and gasping on his deep breaths trying to fight it, holding his eyes shut. She slapped him-
“Keep your eyes open dammit!”
He looked shocked, but obeyed.
“You love this part, I know you do. As I start pushing you to your threshold you have to distract yourself by focusing on my body, and imagining your revenge. You stare longingly at my stomach and my bellybutton and swear to yourself one day you will make them yours.”
He couldn’t fight it. Her control was so deep reaching. She knew his fantasies exactly- and he realized she was well aware that she was in fact creating them. It all started coming together in his mind. There was an elaborate design behind every detail of this routine she put him through. She would never leave herself completely naked, but most always revealing her stomach, legs and feet, knowing this kept the thought of sex further from his mind and instead moved ahead the immediate revenge of tickling her back. Every time, his body’s sexual drive became more programmed to tickling, further and further away from penetration.
He looked up and down from her abs to her eyes. and then threw his head back in submission as she moved her hands to his stomach.
“Goddammit!” he cried between choking laughs.
“You love it. You need it! and right here, here’s the most important spot. No one has ever owned anything as wholly as I own your belly.”
Back and forth, her clawing getting deeper, her spidering fingers moving faster and faster.
“This goes straight to your ego, you’re nothing until this moment. I can see it in your eyes every day. Your whole body aches to be touched by me. It can’t go more than a few hours without screaming for my hands to be all over it, and the feeling begins and ends… right… here!
She drove a finger into his navel and moved her other hand to squeeze his cock.
“Oh god! please, please finish me! Enough!”
“Tell me how you need me. Look straight in my eyes and tell me how desperately you need this!”
“No! enough! YOU need this!”
Her hand left his cock and returned to his belly. Her nails blurred like a pianists just above his hipbones up along side his navel. She moved his face towards his and smiled into a sinister laugh.
“Oh you wish little man, I don’t need anything from you, but I do so enjoy hearing you beg for mercy when really what you want is more.”
He was thrashing now trying to throw her off.
“Tell me you how much need to be tickled! Tell me how you can’t cum unless your whole body is ready to explode and you know and love how utterly helpless you are, how vulnerable, exposed, and surrendered you have to be to have that perfect, orgasm you can’t have any other way! Say it! Say this is what you really want! and your insistence on sex is nothing but your petty male pride! Say it!”
He turned away from her again, clutching to his last thoughts of defiance.
“Say it!…or you will never, ever feel these legs wrapped around you…”
He stopped laughing for a moment, again in shock, his eyes wide and shooting deep into hers. She stopped and stared back coldly, assuring him she was yielding no control. Then, her eyes widened.
“SAY IT!” she screamed and streaked her nails up his ribs under his arms.
He tried to think. His brain was now exploding in stimulation and curiosity, both too intense for any moment of logic or clarity.
He shut his eyes, grit his teeth against the torture and choked out a whisper, “tickle me..”
“What?!” she commanded, and slowed her fingers slightly.
“Tickle me…tickle me please, don’t stop…”
“Oh? are you sure? You’re not going to play you’re little game pretending to be a big strong man who wants to take charge and be in control? Tell me more, I’m listening.”
Her fingers picked up speed and dug deeper into ribs.
“Tickle me!” he cried, almost triumphantly, then timidly again, “tickle… my stomach…”
“That’s right, that’s it but don’t call it your stomach now, say tickle my belly Anabelle! My beautiful goddess! Tickle my tummy more! I need it!” She mounted him just below his cock and danced her tireless hands up and down his flexing, swelling, six pack.
“I need it! I do, oh god! I’m yours! You win! Now finish me!”
“Uh, I know I win silly. That goes without saying and not really the point here. Tell me what your body needs more than anything…”
“You! to be tickled by you! to be pushed to the limit and forced to submit to you. You’re my queen! you and no one else!”
Ana’s eyes were beaming, she smiled as she slowed her fingers once more.
“That’s it, you’re getting there now, I may be almost done, but you have to make sure I know exactly what you’re feeling right now. Her smile grew as her tickling slowed back to stroking around his navel. “It’s important to communicate in a relationship…so tell me how you love the way I tickle you, how it’s your ultimate fantasy. Tell me exactly what you feel when I tickle, and tickle, and tickle you, when I tie you up and tickle you alllll over your helpless, captive body. ” Her fingers sped up ever so slightly, eagerly awaiting his response.
“I feel…” his eyes were still closed. He could not yet look her in the eyes and confess the undeniable truth. She could tell, and sat with her smug and cunning smile, and let him find his own pace for a moment before she would push him again. His eyes closed tightly, his mouth fighting the exhausted laughter, “I feel… punished an rewarded at the same time, cursed but blessed…oh goddamit, it’s a weakness you love to exploit-”
“A weakness you love having exploited you mean!” She spidered her hands down his ribs, making him rock from side to side while she tickled a ring from his back to his belly. “You feel blessed and rewarded because no one else can make you feel the way I can, now, look in my eyes and say it!”
She tickled him harder and harder, as he thrashed and turned his head from side to side, still refusing to give her what she wanted. She’d said too much, and for the first time he felt empowered in being able to deny her what she wanted most. She was making him believe beyond all his repressing doubts-that she knew better than he did that he needed to be tickled, that nothing else turned him on as immediately and intensely, and that the last minute or more of sucking or jacking him off to climax was almost out of latent instincts and now of secondary significance. She had taken his fetish and twisted it so profoundly. Denying him sex, and pushing him deeper and deeper into the role of a slave- both to her and to his fetish. After so many months of her conditioning, it had become an obsession, and she had succeeded in redirecting his insistence and ultimatums for sex into an addiction to her ingenious traps of submission.
But now why had she reopened the conversation? For the first time, suggesting an embrace between them. Those words- her legs wrapped around his body. What was it? A bluff? another manipulation? His eyes opened and fell upon her foot, hanging off the edge of the bed. Again, she slowed her fingers and followed his gaze traveling up her long white leg, skipping over her shorts to her navel, up and over her sports bra, slowly over that evil smile, until their sights locked together.
He looked suspicious, afraid, and determined. She drew her hands together and dipped her pinky into his navel, her little red nail gently scratching just enough to force a quick smile across his tired face. Her wicked smile suddenly became dear, tender. It was a smile he almost never saw.
She knew his mind so well. He was beginning to see hers. He knew this would be the best chance he would to have to catch her off guard and open up about the things she kept so guarded. He breathed a last heavy breath and started,
“Every time you touch me… tickle me… torture me…I feel myself growing more deeply and permanently bound to you, as closely and deeply as I’ve ever felt in love, and at times completely against my will… because.. I don’t understand why you won’t let us make love, and it makes it so hard to completely trust you. But I can tell every day and every time, you grow more attached to me… and I think its fear that makes you feel you have to be in control, and never let yourself become vulnerable or open to me.”
Ana was paralyzed, she was…caught completely off guard.
“But I know that fear is bullshit…you’re so strong and determined. I know I’ll always feel you are my equal and soul mate, and that I’ll never find anyone else like you. If you would just trust me…”
She blinked, shook her head slightly and looked back down on him, her command and composure quickly regained, the gentle smile lost.
“Well thank you for your honesty. I know it’s difficult for you to assert yourself about anything personal, but that’s part of what we’re doing here isn’t it? I’m a little hurt that you would think all this is some control freak overcompensation for insecurity. Really, it’s ironic…you must be projecting your own shame. I do it because I know how important it is to you and I want to help you get over your insecurity about it and embrace it. I’m not afraid of being vulnerable to you, I just don’t have the same needs that you do and when I’m ready to have sex with you… you’ll be the first to know won’t you?”
With that, she whirled around in a flash of red hair and pounced on his feet. With her back to him she breathed heavily her relief, listening closely to his once again defiant, cursing protests. She tickled him with the unnatural ferocity and conviction of a death threat’s adrenaline rush, not sparing a moment’s offense to grab her lotion from the corner of the bed, and pour it across his twitching feet. She could not allow him the opportunity to reflect or analyze her response. She had to create as much time, and mental and emotional distance as possible to separate his ideas about her from her reaction to them. Sneaky bastard. Sneaky little fucking bastard had caught her off guard and poked deep into one of her weak spots, and did it by actually standing up for himself for once. She had to do whatever possible to bury his memory of it.
She slid her devil fingers between his toes sending his body into convulsions and turning back towards him, she ran the line of lotion up his leg and thigh, around his cock and covered his torso up to his shoulders and neck. Pressing his body down into the bed, filling the air with the warm, thick white tea and ginger scent, smoothing it into his chest, up and around his neck, his ecstatic moaning suddenly cut off by his gasp and growl as she dug her nails through the pools of debilitating lubricant into his arm pits and down to her never fail spot- his belly button. Jerking his nerves back and forth every minute between her deep, long, massage passes over his torso and down to his feet and then sudden explosive tickling, she wanted him exhausted on every level. When she saw his eyes becoming vacant and glazed, she scooped up the spare stripe of lotion she had across his thigh, and with both hands pumped down his cock sending him up into his most familiar vision of heaven. The first orgasm was the biggest he’d ever had. Giving him only time enough to catch his breath, she wiped him down and recoated his body for another round, and by the time he came again, her bottle was empty. He was limp. His wrists were raw against the cuffs and his arms were sore, but as she released them, they seemed to have no trouble finding their way around her delicate body as she pressed against him.
Why had she offered him that glimmer of hope about her legs wrapping around him? She never said anything like that unless he was ready to walk out the door in frustration. Why had she done it now? For all her usual certainty, she couldn’t say.