Achilles, I've Got Your Heel

So I had this tall, muscular, fit, ex-military guy cuffed and stretched out on the bondage bed. I'd been whipping his back for about an hour and a half, and the heat rising from his skin warmed my arm from four inches away. Every lash was rewarded with a yell, then a deep, hungry groan as he stretched toward me, offering me his firm, meaty shoulders and back in a wordless plea for more.

It was when I was roping his thighs apart that it occurred to me: "Are you ticklish?" I asked him. He immediately responded that he was, but added, "I hate being tickled!" As soon as he heard my laughter, he realized what he'd just armed me with, and scrambled to recant. But it was too late - I had already begun to lightly scratch with my gloved fingertips on his soles, ankles, and the backs of his knees. Nervous expectation, but no involuntary tension, meant no ticklishness there.

Then I moved up, to his waist. A slight exhale; I was on the right track. A little higher, and forward, to the ribs. He started to crack: stifled giggles, reflexive tension in the abs. Now up to the armpits. Dynamite! He exploded in helpless laughter and as much writhing as the bonds would allow (not much).  Within five seconds he wailed such a heartfelt, "Oh! MERCY, MISTRESS!" that I had to cease my torment because I was laughing so hard.

Which, I suppose, is a goal. Delicious distress frequently makes me laugh, and when I am amused, I am pleased with my pet. So there you go - suffer entertainingly, and you will be sure to be invited back.

Behind Closed Doors

About Behind Closed Doors: I've had so many incredible moments during play that I now want to share. First, to savor them, and to give you a sense of what I love about what I do; and second, because fetish films often do not, cannot, convey that intimacy and sheer chemistry. May my recollections bring you a taste of those pleasures. 

They chatted amiably as Mozart shimmered in the background. She tilted her head, the light flashing off her rosy lips and sharp dark eyes as she spoke. At this close distance, the minutest reaction would not escape her notice.

Her leather-gloved fingers clamped around his nipples, slowly released, pulled, twisted... Every now and then he stiffened and gasped silently, eyes wide and helpless, when her nails dug in, or when she ground his swollen nips almost flat between her cruelly strong fingers. When the steely hold softened and withdrew, he collapsed against the bondage bed, a grin of wonder spreading his mute lips.

He told her over and over how special, how wonderful she was. She smiled, laughed, thanked him - then gave his nipples an extra wrench just to hear him stop in mid-sentence. She loved granting and taking away the power of speech, and he was in no position to object.

He could only offer himself, and hope that she would find him worth her amusement...