Tickled

"Tell me a story," Aaron said.

We were cuddled together in the hammock out back watching the sunset. I was snuggled against his chest, my head positioned just right to hear his heartbeat. One of his hands had slipped under my T-shirt to rest in the small of my back. The other stroked my hair.

"Snow White?" I suggested. "Hansel and Gretel? You know, in the original, the witch eats the kids."

We were just settling into being a couple, just getting to the point where we didn't feel the need to be polite all the time, where I was willing to let him see me without makeup.

Where he'd felt comfortable enough, earlier in the day, to ask me to masturbate while he watched and I'd felt comfortable enough to do it.

Well, I'd been comfortable enough before and during; after, I got a little weirded out, mostly by how excited I'd been, not by anything he'd done.

"Tell me the story of what you were thinking earlier when you touched yourself for me," he said, lifting my chin up gently so that I had to look at him.

"I was fantasizing about an incredibly sexy man watching me play with myself," I said. "It was seriously hot."

Then I kissed him, hoping to distract him or change the subject.

"Then tell me what you think about when I'm not there watching," he said.

The scene I always imagined popped into my head: Me, naked and squirming, standing with my wrists bound over my head. A nameless, faceless man sitting nearby, watching me wriggle while he teased my clit with a remote control vibrator. I could hear myself begging to be allowed to come, hear the vibrator click on and off as he tormented me.

Ooh, boy. I wasn't that comfortable with him.

"It's getting chilly," I said. "Let's go inside."

He smiled a little and got up, following me into the house.

We were in the kitchen when he slipped an arm around my waist and pulled me back against him. "You're going to tell me, you know," he murmured against my ear, sending little shivers of sensation down my spine. "You're going to tell me every delicious detail, and then we're going to act it out."

I shook my head, more in embarrassment than defiance, and he turned me to face him. "Every detail," he repeated, and kissed me hard. Then he carried me to the bedroom and made love to me, pleasuring me with his hands and mouth until I was too exhausted to come again.

He asked again the next morning.

"It's not just one fantasy," I lied, feeling my face grow hot. I'm a terrible liar, and for some reason, Aaron made me even worse at it. The longer we were together, the harder it was for me to hide anything from him.

"Are you afraid I'll be jealous of whoever's in it?" He seemed amused by my reluctance.

"It's not about a person. It's a situation..." I stopped, too flustered to speak. "I don't want to talk about this. Can we change the subject, please?"

He kissed me and apologized. "C'mon," he said. "Let me take you out for pancakes."

He seemed to forget about it. At least, I thought so until a few days later.

I went to Aaron's to pick him up for dinner. "I'm back here," he called and I wandered back to his studio. He's an architect and designer, and though he's got every CAD program known to man, he likes sketching and painting the renderings of his projects himself. "It makes them more real," he'd said once.

He had just finished one of the little paintings when I arrived. "Let me see," I demanded. I'm hopeless at art; can't draw a straight line with a ruler. But I'm fascinated by people who can, so I'm always pushing my way into people's studios.

"We're having dinner tonight, aren't we?" he asked. "Sorry; I lost track of time. Let me get a shower, and we can go."

He headed toward the master bathroom. "I wouldn't mind some company," he said, looking over his shoulder and waggling his eyebrows.

Ten minutes later, we stood under the hot water, our bodies wound around each other. At some point while we were kissing, I slipped and stumbled backwards a little, pulling him with me until I was kind of pinned between him and the tiled shower wall. He grinned down at me. "You could have just asked," He said, and before I could say anything, he was lifting me and guiding my legs around his waist. He brought the head of his cock just to the entrance of my suddenly drenched pussy. "Yes?" he murmured against my mouth.

"Hell, yes," I answered, and muffled his laughter with a hungry kiss.

He was buried inside me in a single, hard thrust, lifting me higher until both feet were off the ground, He kept me pinned against the wall, impaled on his cock, and just held me there, not moving, while he devoured my mouth. Soon I was moving restlessly under him, whimpering into his kisses, needing so badly to feel him pounding into me.

He remained stubbornly still.

"Aaron, please," I finally managed.

"Please what?" he lifted me a little higher, leaning in a little so that he was even farther inside me. He pinched my ass cheek, making me yelp. "Say it."

"Goddamn you," I groaned, barely able to get the words out. "Aaron!"

"Say it," he said again sternly and pinched my other ass cheek, "or I swear, I'll leave you like this all night."

He shifted a little, easing in deeper, and I whimpered. "Oh, God." He kissed me again, licking my lips apart and sliding his tongue slowly into my mouth as he kept me pinned and helpless on his perfect cock. He fucked my mouth with his tongue, quick, then slow, shallow then deep, hot and wet and maddening, teasing me until I couldn't keep silent one more second.

"Fuck me," I said desperately. "Right now, Aaron."

He didn't move, except to kiss me again. "What's the magic word?"

"You bastard!" I was almost panting. "Please fuck me. God, please fuck me."

And he did, hard and fast, hammering into me until I came, screaming, and then he was coming too, shouting my name as he poured into me.

The water was almost cold when we managed to separate. I barely had the strength to towel myself dry and didn't argue when he swung me up gently in his arms and carried me to bed.

"I really didn't feel like dinner anyway," I murmured as he slipped into bed beside me and pulled the covers up around us.

"Yeah, and I'm going to remind you of that when you're whining about being hungry at midnight," he said, pulling me against his chest. "C'mere."

And I was snuggled against him again, listening to his heartbeat while he stroked my hair. Some nights, I actually fell asleep like that, which was odd, since I'd always slept on my side before I met him. A yawn escaped before I could stifle it. "God," I said, "excuse me."

His lips brushed my temple. "Close your eyes," he said softly. "And I promise I won't make fun of you for falling asleep first."

I was alone when I woke up. I knew immediately that something was wrong, though it took me a minute to figure out he'd bound my wrists with a silk tie, then tied them to headboard.

"What?" I tried to sit up, which was, of course, impossible. "Aaron!"

I'd been tied up during sex before, always in fun. It had never frightened me because I'd never had a partner I could see myself fully submitting to. A partner I'd do anything for.

Until Aaron.

I'd known the second we met that he could own me completely, if he wanted. And as much as I loved him, I was fighting hard to make sure he never figured that out. It terrified me.

Especially now that he had me tied to the bed.

He reappeared a minute later, carrying several feathers.

The feathers made me almost as nervous as the gleam in Aaron's eyes.

He set the feather on the nightstand, then slipped into bed next to me. "Hey, gorgeous," he said softly.

"What is this?" I demanded. "Untie me!"

He draped himself over me, his mouth just inches from mine, and just looked at me, smiling.

"What do you want?" My voice sounded shaky, even to me.

He kissed me deeply, winding one hand in my hair to tilt my head back so that I could take his tongue more deeply. I was breathless and shaking a little when he finally pulled away.

"Tell me a story," he said.

"What?" I had no idea what he was talking about. He began dropping little kisses all over my face and throat and shoulders. "Aaron, what are you doing?"

His tongue traced the hollow of my throat, making me shiver. "Tell me your fantasy," he said. "The story you tell yourself when you reach those pretty hands down beneath the covers and touch that perfect little clit."

He nipped the spot where my neck and shoulder met and I sighed. Then he began nuzzling my shoulder until he reached my upstretched arm. He nuzzled my underarm, then tickled it softly. I squealed in surprise and tried to jerk away.

"I thought you were ticklish," he said, a little triumphant. "Is that your fantasy? Being tickled by a lover?"

"My fantasies are none of your business," I retorted, and he tickled my armpit again. "Stop it!"

He just laughed. "Oh, I'm just getting started, baby." I jumped as he began lightly tickling both armpits. "Tell me a story."

"Once upon a time, a woman got pissed off at her boyfriend and killed him because he tied her up. The end." I tried to sound angry, but he was stroking my ribcage while kissing the cleft between my breasts, and anger wasn't topmost in my mind.

"I'd like something with a little more character development and a little less plot," he said. He began stroking the undersides of my breasts with his knuckles, taking away my ability to speak. When he took one nipple in his mouth, I almost lost my ability to breathe.

I could only moan and whimper as he kissed and caressed me. At some point, I realized the stroking had turned to the softest tickling, his touch barely noticeable except for the electricity it sent shooting through me.

"Stop that!"

He pulled away enough to grin down at me and pick up a long white feather that I can only describe as a plume from the nightstand.

He moved a little so that he lay across me, pinning my legs under his body. He looked me up and down slowly and his scrutiny made me swallow nervously. I was suddenly, painfully aware of how much I wanted to feel that feather flick across my breasts, my nipples, my thighs.

He touched the tip of it to my lips first, just laying it across my mouth for a second or two before letting the tip drift down my throat.

I felt my face grow hot and the sudden twinkle in Aaron's eyes made me blush even harder to realize he knew exactly how much I wanted this.

I barely felt the first stroke as he slid the feather down between my breasts to my belly button. The return trip made me shudder, and then he began tracing one breast with the tip, drawing slow circles inward until he reached my achingly hard nipple. He flicked the feather across the little bud, then began drawing those circles again on my tingling skin.

By the time he began teasing my other breast, I was squirming under him, unable to keep still. He spent a long time running the feather over my breasts, continuing the wonderful torment until I was shivering uncontrollably under him.

He allowed me a little relief, guiding the feather back down toward my waist, tracing my ribcage and the curve of my hip, then flicking across my belly to circle in on my navel. The touch was maddening, too firm to ignore, too light to satisfy. Shivers of sensation ran wild along all my nerve endings and the sound of my ragged breathing was an embarrassing sign of just how turned-on I was.

"Would you like me to tease your thighs now, or would you rather I gave those pretty breasts a little more love?" he asked.

"Wh-what?"

Lips twitching, he repeated the question.

The choices made me dizzy, but I was determined not to give in. "Untie me right now, you sonofabitch!"

"Breasts it is," he said, and leaned forward to kiss me hard. There was nothing tentative in his kiss as his tongue thrust roughly into my mouth, snaking halfway down my throat. One hand slid up to cover a breast, gently kneading and squeezing my tingling flesh while the other hand sought out a nipple, rolling and tweaking it until I whimpered for mercy.

Then he started tickling my breasts again. Slow strokes, then fast, moving the thing in random patterns so that I could never predict where the next breath-stealing stroke would land. I squirmed and shook and moaned shamelessly as he teased me. I was astonished at my reaction; I liked having my breasts kissed and touched, but I'd never suspected I was so sensitive there.

"Aaron, please stop," I begged. The constant sensation was overwhelming, becoming more painful than pleasurable.

He relented, guiding the feather down to tickle my belly until I squirmed and giggled.

"Tell me," he said, but I shook my head, too stubborn – and much too embarrassed – to tell him what he wanted. He shook his head with mock regret. "Thighs it is."

A second later, he slipped down between my legs, forcing my knees up and my legs apart. He kept me pinned with one shoulder and the weight of his body, and I squealed as he drew the feather slowly down one thigh, then the other. Then he began moving it in those slow circles and I was lost, moaning with pleasure as he stroked my skin tenderly.

I imagined his mouth moving over me in the same way and whimpered, breathless at the idea. A second later, I was almost panting as the feather flicked across my mound, then traced my pussy lips. He guided the tip inward, tracing my wet inner folds in slow, light strokes. The thought of the soft tip flickering across my clit made me groan and shudder with anticipation, but I was going to have wait.

Aaron knelt up to slip one arm under my hips and before I knew what was happening, he had flipped me over onto my stomach. A second later, I was up on my knees, supported by his arm under my hips. He stroked the feather over my thighs again, then up the backs of my legs to my ass. He traced lazy circles over each ass cheek, and I felt myself squirming, then trying to hold myself still. "Oh, no you don't," he teased softly, and tickled me faster until I couldn't stay still, my bare bottom wiggling helplessly under the feather.

I was mortified, but it didn't last long as he planted a soft kiss on each ass cheek, then guided the feather quickly up to the small of my back. I heard myself exclaim his name as he ran the feather up my spine to my shoulder blades, then back down again. He made the trip several more times, a wonderful reminder of how exquisitely sensitive that part of my body is. I moaned, arching my back to encourage him to continue, and he indulged me for several minutes until I was breathless.

He gave me a minute to catch my breath, then gently turned my head so that I could see him lay the white plume down on the night stand and pick up a shorter, bright pink feather. It wasn't fluffy or curved like the plume. It was more compact.

It was also more rigid, I discovered a second later, hearing myself squeal as Aaron ran it down my back in a single quick stroke. The sensation was much firmer, much more intense than the plume's whispered touch.

He traced it along crack of my ass, then outlined the puckered opening of my anus with it, making me whimper and moan. He traced the line from my ass down to my pussy, pushing my hips up higher with a gentle nudge of his hand, spreading my legs wider. Then he turned so that he lay under me, stretched out between my splayed legs.

A second later, he was stroking the feather slowly along my pussy lips, making my hips buck, then he flicked it across my clit, making me suddenly, achingly aware of just how neglected the little nubbin had been until that second.

Another flick, and then he was running the tip of the feather back and forth over my swelling clit in short, rapid strokes. After several seconds, he zeroed in on that magic spot just near the tip, swirling little circles that had me mewing like a kitten as he brought me closer and closer to coming.

"Tell me what I want to know," he demanded again, making the little circles tighter and tighter. My hips were moving in little circles of their own, restless and rhythmic. The heat kept building, but I realized that the feather's touch was too delicate to bring me to climax; it could only tease me until I was insensible.

And that's exactly what Aaron did, tickling my clit until I was sobbing, begging him to let me come.

"Tell me a story," he said again, and I was shaking my head, almost hysterical at the irony. He was teasing me the point of insanity to make me tell him my fantasy about being teased to the point of insanity.

Finally, I agreed, unable to bear the tension one more minute. As soon as the words were out of my mouth, Aaron grabbed my hips and pulled my pussy down to his mouth, letting his tongue take over for that damn pink feather. He'd barely touched me when I screamed, almost howling with relief as he finally let me come, then kept licking and sucking until I came twice more.

I was almost in tears when he laid me down on the mattress and stretched out next to me. He kept my wrists bound as he kissed and stroked me until I was calm enough to talk.

"Tell me," he said very softly, and the tenderness in his eyes made it impossible for me to refuse him anything.

I felt myself blushing and found I couldn't look at him, but I couldn't close my eyes, either. It seemed dishonest. So I focused on the little notch at the base of his throat and tried to spit it out.

"I'm standing in a dark room and I'm naked," I began, barely whispering. "My hands are tied over my head and fastened to something in the ceiling. There's a vibrator inside me, and a man is using a remote control to turn it off and on...."

My voice trailed off. I was mortified to even say the words out loud, but Aaron tilted my chin up and planted the softest kiss on my mouth.

"He's turning it off and on, teasing you," he said, his voice pitched low, encouraging me to continue.

"He's teasing me," I managed to continue, and my voice seems a little steadier. "Torturing me, really. He keeps bringing me close, then stopping, and it's driving me crazy...All I can think about is how badly I need to come. He's laughing at me, telling me that if I want to come, I have to do what I'm told. I have to put on a show for him."

I shook my head, too embarrassed to go on.

"He likes looking at you, watching you move," Aaron murmured in my ear. His breath, warm on my overheated skin, sent shivers through me. "He likes knowing you can't hide from him. He can see all of you, every bit of the beautiful body you usually keep hidden from him."

Aaron always teased me about my modesty; I couldn't stand being uncovered for too long if we weren't actually making love. I was always covering myself, with a sheet or a towel or one of his shirts, and he was always completely comfortable with being naked.

I was uncovered now, in more ways than one, while I whispered my dirty little secret to him. And while I was too shy to look at Aaron, I realized he was having no difficulty at all studying me. But his quiet scrutiny was so loving that I almost basked in it.

"He tells me to dance for him, to run in place, to turn around and wiggle my hips for him," I whispered, barely able to get the words out. "It's humiliating, but I need to come so badly that I do whatever he says, and the longer he teases me, the more I realize that it's not just the vibrator that has me turned on. It's being told to...display myself. And not having any control. All I can do is respond to his demands."

"You're not very good at giving up control," Aaron said, and I realized that he'd slipped his hand between my legs and was gently rubbing my clit. He kissed me warmly. "You pretty much stink at it, in fact. But at some point, we all need to let someone else take charge once in a while. Like tonight, baby. You let me take control, let me play with you and tease you. You wouldn't have done that a month ago."