Little One’s Predicament (When Sir Tests My Limits): A BDSM Erotica Story with Bondage and Tickling

There was no way out of the situation. The bottom line was that I’d be tickled. I wasn’t sure when it would start. That was terrifying in and of itself. Worse, I had no idea when it would end. See, here was the bottom line: Sir would stop tickling me when he was damn well ready to stop, not when I asked him to stop. So, I knew it was going to be tough, but my God! I couldn’t have expected he’d set things up so that I had to somehow keep enough control to hold onto rope in my mouth! How could I keep my teeth clenched when his fingers scribbled and fluttered over me? How could I hold on through the giggles and laughter? How in the hell was I supposed to handle this when, every time I failed, the tickling would start up again?

Please note this ebook is all about erotic tickling during a bondage predicament encounter. It includes domination and submission. It involves nipple torment. It includes bondage and other explicit content. And… Dear God, is there tickling! There’s enough tickling that your sides will probably tingle as you read it. Are you ticklish? If that’s a problem (along with any other content here) you might want to pass on this one.

Here is a peek:

She obeyed instantly. She contemplated whether or not she should have said, “Yes, Sir,” but she didn’t have a chance to say anything because he took the twine and put it in her mouth, just a long string of it, and he said, “Bite down on this.”
She did.
“Keep it in your mouth, little one,” he said.
And then she watched as he continued to unspool the twine, bringing it up and over the bedpost. Once it was over the bedpost, she watched him take two heavy books from the nightstand. He tied the books together and suspended them. Right from the twine, right over the bedpost, the twine that led to her mouth, she could feel the pressure on her teeth.
Sir stepped in front of her. “If you open your mouth, those books will pull the clamps from you. Do you want that to happen?”
Without thinking, she started to open her mouth, but she felt pressure on her nipples and clamped it shut. She shook her head.
“Good girl,” he said. “So you must not open your mouth.”
With that, he climbed upon the bed, leaned forward, and brushed his lips against her ear. “I’m going to start an egg timer. A timer for a three minute egg, my dear. If you fail, if at any time you let go of the string, just know that the clamps will go back on. The twine will go back in your mouth. And we’ll start again. Three minutes. Do you understand?”
Again, involuntarily, she opened her mouth slightly and only when she felt the pressure on her nipples and felt the twine traveling through her teeth did she clamp it shut again. Sir chuckled softly.
“I don’t think you have much slack left.”
She nodded.
“Do you understand?”
She nodded.
He smiled, reached over to the nightstand, and turned the timer. She heard it begin. Click, click, click, click, click. And then Sir’s fingers were upon her.
She knew it was about to happen a split second before it actually did. As his fingertips pressed into her ribs, each one taking its place in the indents between her ribs, she knew he was about to tickle her. She also knew that he wouldn’t tickle her playfully, or teasingly, or mercifully. She knew he was going to tickle her within an inch of her sanity for those entire three minutes, and it would take every bit of strength she had not to cry out in response.