Posts tagged tickling
Wiggle Room: Rope Journaling 11-3

It’s been a week of “be careful what you wish for.” In the past I’ve wished Mr Right were a little more switchy and now here I am, two days since we last hung out and I still can't bear to look at my vibrator let alone imagine longing for an orgasm. To be fair it's at least half my fault. I did start it.

See my brain spent all of last Friday distracted and dreaming up ways to torment Mr Right. It was an especially creative day in the naughty section of my brain because it was the sort of day where I was hardcore procrastinating at work. And Mr Right’s butt was the focus of all my creative energy as I avoided doing boring crap like accounting and answering emails. So that by the time Mr Right picked me up from work I had written a dozen bad ideas (well bad for him, great for me) down in my rope notebook and had an evil smile on my face I couldn't hide.

By the time we were ready to retreat to the bed room I was grinning up at him like a creep. “Nope you don't have any ideas.”

He tried to kiss away some of my smugness but it only made my head full of deviousness fuller. My look seemed to be making him a little nervous, which it should have, I was feeling downright cruel. While he was in the bathroom I got to the task of hiding hard points along the length of the sides of his bed frame by tying rope there. He came back just in time to catch me finishing up. “No, no ideas! I'm not in any trouble.”  He promptly walked out of the room.

“Glad you understand. Now, less pants!”  I called out to him.

My hands were grabbing at his ass before he could fully drop his jeans to the floor. Such was my desire for him. I hoped I could resist the urge to fuck him long enough to fuck with his mind.

Once he was naked I fell to my knees admiring his hardness and inwardly reminding myself to not take him in my mouth. Instead I leered up at him while I tied rope lines all up and down both of his legs then lines around his hips and belly and chest. Finishing with the most comfy wrist cuffs I could devise.

“Boy it's a good thing you're not up to anything.”

“Me? Nope just want you to be comfy since you're going to be in this for a while. A long while.”

“Oh really?”

I push him back on the bed, briefly knocking the sass off his face. “Yeap, now scoot to the middle.”

First I bind his wrists spread eagled to the far corners of the head board.  Next I use the rope I’d tied to the bed earlier to snug the ropes around his chest and waist, repeating this on both sides so he’s trapped in the middle of the mattress and can’t move an inch.  I test his confinement by periodically tickling him, if he can still move I tighten the ropes around his torso until he has zero wiggle room.  There comes a moment when it clicks with him, the general idea of what I’m up to and he looks at me like, “Really?  You’re going there?”  To which I just lean into kiss him and whisper, “You’re in a lot of trouble, mister.”

He shyly smiles at me and I return to the work of binding his legs, the entire length of them--not just his ankles--to the bed, so he can’t even wiggle his thighs.  This is the most important part, the part I’m counting on, so many of my plans hinge on being able to torture his exposed thighs and teasing his still hard and unused cock without him being able to turn away from me.  So when I tickle test him again and he can’t move at all, I snicker and leave the room, increasing his vulnerability, in order to retrieve the things I’ll use on him.  “Don’t go anywhere!”  I joke over my shoulder.  

Next comes the blindfold.  He’s seen me gathering most of what I’ll use on him so the general idea of what will happen can’t be a surprise.  And yet this addition always seems to quiet him, making him more compliant as he waits, down his ability to see or move.  So who am I to deny him the pleasure of denying his ability to see.  Plus he looks so cute in my red satin scarf that I use as a blindfold.

Who can remember what order I tease and hurt him in.  There’s ice cubes (especially cruel for the man who hates to be chilly), a pin wheel, clothes pins, tiny rope tied around his cock, a vibrator run along the ropes, and my hands or a cane applied to his thighs with him unable to flinch at the pain.  I occasionally brush his cock with my hands but not sexually, totally denying what he (and let’s face it, I) want.  So that by the time I untie his dick, it absolutely dripping with longing.  I take pity on him, lubing up my hands to stroke him to which he makes the most beautiful sighs and moans, louder and more plentiful than usual to make up for the fact that he can’t move.

Soon I can’t take it anymore, I tie his hands in a more comfortable position, and untie the waist ropes so that I can straddle him.  I take off the blind fold so that he can see I’m naked where I hadn’t been when I started and he can watch me fumble for and apply a condom to him.  The joint relieved sigh that issues from us is incredible and we smile at one another as I continue.  I fuck him until I can’t anymore and have to untie him and insist he take over. 

And yada, yada, yada…sex. 

Flash to the next afternoon, we’re sitting watching something dumb on TV or making a cheese plate or looking at dog pictures…any of those mundane activities we enjoy together when not fucking one another’s brains out, when he looks over at me.  “I have ideas for later.”  It’s said with that gleam in his eyes that I know exactly what he means.  My turn to feel shy, blush a little, and feel that lightening hot flash of lust pass through me right to my cunt.

“Oh really?”  He nods and waggles his eye brows at me.  “Well shit, this is the hazard of teaching you things, now you can use them against me.  Oh darn!”

No enormous surprise that later that night I find myself undressed and tied up much the same way I had tied him the night before.  “Oh gee I wonder what you have in mind.”

“Nothing, nothing.  Totally innocent and virtuous thoughts only.”

He even tosses me in the bed the same as I did to him before tying me to the bed in the same way.  I have to laugh as I resign myself to what’s about to happen, knowing just how screwed I am.  Probably literally.  And there’s the blind fold, and the rattle of the ice maker and the clink of the pin wheel and clothes pins.  He applies them all to me much in the same way I did to him expect meaner because I can take it.

“Is this what you mean when you say you like awkward rope and pain?” he asks at one point as I squeal and admit, “Yes!” 

And he places the evil new vibrator between my legs as an ever present torment and distraction.  Evil because it has settings built into it that are very good at keeping a person just on the edge of orgasm but never vibrating strong enough for release. It’s also surprisingly powerful, and able to drag orgasms out me, orgasms outside of my control, orgasms so powerful I lose the ability to speak or move or function as a human. Something he found out the other night when he helped vibrate me to an orgasm but then refused to stop, holdingme down until I couldn’t move anymore and screamed, “Fuck you, I hate you, shut up, I hate this, you’re terrible.”  Much to his great and endless amusement until he stopped just before I was worried I would pass out.

This in mind, I thought “oh shit” the second he turned that vibrator on and seated it in just the right place between my legs.  I knew exactly what he was up to and I wondered if I’d survive the number of orgasms I’m sure he was plotting. And what felt like an hour and a million and two orgasms later the answer is, just barely.  He did eventually untie me for…yada, yada, yada water, more sex, and oh so much cuddling.

This is how days later I’m pout/grinning about how exhausted my clit still is.

The Secret Sadist: Rope Journaling 9-21

When we first met he would just laugh when I half joking half serious would accuse him, “you're secretly a sadist you just don't know it yet.”


I've dated enough men residing on all shades of the vanilla/kinky top/bottom spectrum to see the potential in him.  The narrowed eye at a bratty comment. The playful spanks to test the waters, getting more intense with each positive reaction. The wrestling for control as foreplay.


I suspected if I was patient and rewarded his playful attempts at practicing confidence and control he would come around. It wasn't a requirement but it would be nice to not always be in charge. Besides the sassy grin on his face to hear me moan each time he pulled my hair or bit me spoke to him enjoying being mean quite a bit.


Still I'm momentarily taken aback one evening when I'm messing around with workshopping a tie on him and stop to say, “ I could try it again or….I could teach you a thing if you like.”


“Teach me.” He says grabbing a hank of rope.


And I do harkening back to the first time we were in the same room. Here we are again. Him the student, me the teacher. But this time I'm not teaching him sexy rope to use on someone else. I'm specifically teaching him what I like in the hopes he'll tie it on me. Maybe even soon.


He's a quick study. It helps that our brains work similarly so we breeze through the basics until he's got my wrists bound behind my head and incorporated into a chest harness. He smiles slyly at his work, takes a picture to record the moment and unties me. Lather, rinse, repeat until he's confident the steps are saved in his brain. We move on with our evening and I'm perfectly happy with this new step in his bondage knowledge but don't think too much of it while kissing and congratulating him as we cook dinner.


So the next afternoon when I'm least thinking of rope let alone imagining myself tied up, he surprises me by pushing me onto his couch to “practice” a wrist cuff. Before I know it he has me tangled up in all the lengths of rope we'd lazily left uncoiled on his living room floor, too eager to move onto dinner and the bedroom, we left a mess of jute.


He uses this to his advantage as he improvises. The wrist cuff gets bound to my thigh and I smile to watch his brain work, considering how to use up the rest of the rope in an artistic manner. He loops the remaining rope in spirals down my leg and grabs for the next piece of floor rope which he loops over my chest in a way that captures my nipples in a manner that's half painful and half delightful.  This is a tie I've tormented him with many times in the past. Clever boy, he'd been paying attention.  The next rope he uses to put a cuff on my free ankle and frog that leg up on itself and then trap my free hand to my body.


I'm tied up in an odd and beautiful ball. All asymmetry and borderline sadism. “Is this what you meant when you said you like awkward rope?”


“Exactly, thank you, meanie.”


“What? You don't like the asymmetrical handles I added to you?”


I just furrow my eyebrows at him and playfully pout as he tugged at the various handholds of rope covering my body. Each time he yanks me around it shifts the rope across my limbs, pinching or tugging in unexpected places. Just as I'm enjoying this playfulness he lets go of the rope, dropping me to the couch with a thump and instead begins reaching for ticklish places. Areas of my body left exposed for him to manipulate.


Soon I'm squirming all over the couch and his lap, giggling, squealing, and making all manner of ridiculous noises as he tickles me mercilessly. He smiles and laughs the entire time. This is the perfect form of sadism for him in this moment, it's silly and yet I'm breathless and occasionally cursing him.


When I've struggled enough that the rope is tightening in weird places that could eventually become dangerous, he unties me. Pausing occasionally to lean in for a kiss which I return deeply, grinning at him as he untangles me.  Our eye contact is all silly satisfied sweetness that makes me feel gooey inside.


“I told you there might be a little sadist in there somewhere.”


“Me? Nope. Never.” He tries to look at me all sweet and innocent but his smug is showing so I don't believe his aw shucks for a fraction of a second.


He knows exactly what he's started and I look forward to seeing what else we can get into while trading places and desires and giggles in rope. Afterall he's been all too willing to allow me to experiment on him as I regain my confidence and passion for rope. I'm all too happy to return the favor for him especially if it means I'll get to be tied up occasionally.  Yeah, life is good.