An Exercise in Dominance

You try to get me to respond, dancing your beautiful body as much as you can in the restraints, mewling and pleading, offering me your soaked pussy... but instead, I just keep going. Not a word escapes my lips – the only sounds you can hear are your own labored breathing and the brushes: in this case, one scraping softly beneath the toes of your left foot and the other making slow, torturous circles around your drenched slit. Nothing but the brushes even touch you, and you cannot even hear me breathing. It is as if I have vanished; replaced by a diaphanous mist which teases and caresses you instead.

Your body sags on the X-Frame, your breathing labored. After the frantic burst of energy born from the combination of orgasmic and tickling impulses, it looks as though your body is out of energy. You are limp in the restraints, your body flushed with sweat, and I can see you are finally coming to terms with the fact that you are helpless. Utterly and truly helpless. But above all else, all you can feel is your arousal. That delicious, slick burning between your lips which has been undisturbed since your binding, save for one brief, teasing touch. No bristles have stroked down your velvety folds, kicking up the erotically ticklish feelings to send you into a whirlwind of orgasmic bliss. I can tell, kneeling between your legs, that if I even breathed on you now you would explode into an orgasm. Maybe within seconds. Maybe instantly. Your body, exhausted as it is, responds traitorously to every stroke and tease. It is a wholly unbearable, erotic torture disguised as tickling. And then suddenly, you feel the brushes taper off and cease. Your breathing changes as you moan, quaking against the X-Frame. Something new? Maybe something more fulfilling than...

With a feeling of relief so profound that you cry out in joy, you feel something very soft—perhaps a small bundle of downy feathers—start teasing along the swollen, shining mound between your legs. I watch you surrender to the sensations, the ticklishness of the brushes, now teasing the toes of your left foot with a slightly more obvious pace, the erotic sensations on your nether lips... I watch your breathing deepen further, turning into hoarse pants as you prepare yourself for the inevitable surge of erotic bliss that would come from having your aching sex finally receiving its stimulation. You prepare yourself as best you can, giggling hysterically as the tickling ripples throughout your body, your clit stiffening and throbbing with want. And then I hear you let out a desperate sob of laughter as the realization slams home. The soft, downy feathers between your legs are not enough.

It was just an even worse tease than before because while the spirit of your wish has been granted, the substance has not. That barely-there, ghostly tickle is far too faint to do anything. I can tell that your mind is drifting beyond rationale, floating somewhere else as I torment your helpless body. You are helpless, and that is what is making you hornier than anything. You love being mine—my captive and my slave—and your body feels so warm to the touch that I can only wonder how it feels to be in your skin. Touching you makes me feel like I have been burned. Anything more than the agonizingly light touch of the down against your lips would drive you over the edge... and then everything stops, leaving you dangling on an edge that has been lasting for what feels like an eternity. You writhe, mewling and moaning I lean back against the footboard, watching you as I lick my lips.

After several minutes pass, you feel something creep up your left thigh. A long, white feather. You breathe a startled "No!" at the sensation as I begin to stroke it up and down the left side of your pussy. And then another feather joins in, this time on the opposite side of your gushing folds. Dancing left and right of your opening, but never touching it. You plead and moan, your sentences broken by little moans and the occasional giggle. Your whole body tightens, betraying the strain of what the feathers are putting you through. But despite your best efforts, the tight bondage prevails and your wet womanhood is left wanting, edging orgasm for too long a time. "Please!" you beg, moaning louder.

"Do I need to gag you and drag this on for several more hours?" I whisper, the smirk in my voice killing even the tiniest bit of hope in you that I would show you mercy... to stop the tickling or to let you reach orgasm. "This is a long time to be denied orgasm and tickled. Maybe I should make you pass out so we can start over, after you've recovered... and we can do it again and again and again..."

You start begging me in earnest not to do that. To stop tickling. To let you cum. You are crying behind the blindfold, your desperate pleas and screams for mercy sounding like music to my ears, broken only by the occasional weary, lustful moan or a light giggle.

"Not good enough," I say after listening to you beg me. The feathers slowly begin to wind down your legs, dancing over your immobile, soft sole: driving you crazy and making you crave reprieve... but at the same time the flood of liquid between your legs shows that you crave more as well. I drag the feathers over your round, sexy heels... up the curved lines of your arches and over the hill of the balls of your feet... all the way up to the tip of each toe. There, the feathers remain for a few strokes to tease the sensitive digits before descending languorously down to your heel again. They go through the same process, over and over, each time choosing a different toe to end with. A different digit to torment. This slow, tormenting stimulation makes you not only writhe and giggle, but also moan with lust.

Time and time again, the feathers travel from your feet to your aching, dripping pussy. And time and time again, they take you to the brink of an orgasm, stimulating your soft, beautiful soles. The blindfold intensifies the feelings; hiding my actions so you will never know where I am going to strike next. And every time you hang on the edge of that orgasm, the sensations withdraw to your soles, leaving your pussy to gape and drool with need. The sensation on your soles is the only thing in your universe: torturous and beautiful. Again and again, you are brought to the edge only to be left dripping and moaning as the feathers tease your soles and toes relentlessly.

I grant your feet a small reprieve, reaching up with the long, white plumes and slowly dragging them across the silky skin over your collarbone. I dance it over the spaces in the tape covering your torso, stroking every rib I can find and teasing around your breasts. You pant and writhe, your pussy pours cream onto the bed at this point as you giggle relentlessly... suffering at my hands. Suffering for me.

You are helpless: forced to take the tickling. This slow, maddening sensation as the feather teases you... and you know it will be a long time before I relent. Maybe hours, maybe not until tomorrow. You don't know if I will ever allow you release: from your bondage or sexually. Slowly, the dance of the feathers on your skin strips your mind and sanity away. Slowly, all of your torment will give way to the sensual feelings of the feathers.

The feathers are everywhere on your torso. I let them dance and caress your ribs, counting them one at a time and going on to draw long, unending lines on your belly. They dip into your navel, slowly probing and teasing the sensitive skin... and then they go on up to your breasts. In slow, seductive spirals they circle your beautiful nipples, quickly eroding any mental defenses as the radii of the spirals continue to decrease. By the time the feathers are dancing along the edges of your pebbled nipples, you are moaning constantly, your pussy gushing. For the next few minutes, I let the feathers dance on those willing, sensitive mounds of flesh. Every touch is like an electric impulse, wracking your concentration and shooting sparks of fire to your slit.

And just as you reach the peak of your arousal, almost ready to cum from breast stimulation alone, the feathers stop. Wasting no time, I use a strip of silk—it feels like the bathrobe belt—to bind your jaw shut. You struggle in surprise as a single feather begins to slowly dance across those full, sexy lips of yours. The tickling continues, driving you crazy in all the best and worst ways. Despite the frantic dance of your head, the feather always finds them.

Time slowly passes for you, the feather continuing to dance. Cruel. Casual. N ever-ending. Seconds tick by into minutes, which feel as if they tick by into hours. And each one becomes a grain of sand which slowly passes, each one carrying a tale of sweet suffering for you. I keep it up, the gentle feather transforming your lips into a powerful erogenous zone. Gently, each stroke sneaks in a tender, barely-felt erotic impulse which slowly feeds into the raging inferno between your legs.

And then you feel the knife. It is a short, straight-bladed device; probably my other antique Tibetan dagger. It slices through the tape holding your legs down. You flex them gently as I lift them up toward your breasts, your steaming pussy exposed to me. You feel cool metal around your waist and you begin to thrash, screeching through your bound jaws at me. Without another word, I spray you with a light mist and you feel the familiar tingling in your loins. Arousal gel. You scream in frustration, your lower body twisting and thrashing with its newfound freedom as I wrestle you down. I force your legs apart, the belt's crotch plate coming up and clicking into place with finality. You moan and sob, your hips moving restlessly as I cut the rest of the tape away.

I chuckle as you tear the blindfold and silk strap away, pleading with your eyes and mewling in frustration, begging me to please have mercy. To let you cum. That you've been good... I fist my hand in your hair, dragging your mouth to my length and forcing it between your lips before you have a chance to beg me further. With my hands in your hair, I control the speed as you suckle me hungrily, my length moving in and out of your warm, wet mouth. It doesn't take me long to cum, spilling my seed down your throat as you greedily swallow it all. I push you down on the bed, straddling you and fisting my hands in your hair once more.

"I love you, my sweet, Creamy Kitten," I purr, ravaging your mouth with mine, tasting myself on your tongue as you moan and writhe beneath me. I suckle your tongue, purring. I know that tonight will be a long, restless night for you as you dream of the feather... unable to find any release from the steel belt. I hold your body against mine as I turn out the lights, kicking the X-Frame to the floor. "Sleep well, my pet. Perhaps tomorrow, if you're good, I'll let you cum."

And with that I fall asleep, my strong arms pinioning you in place as you moan, squirming as you settle for what you know is going to be a long, arousal-filled night.