#maid tickling

LIVE

You’ve been so cheeky all morning that I decide to leave you stretched out on your back and tied to our bed when I go for work. ‘Don’t go anywhere’ I tease.
Testing the restraints you resolve yourself to your fate. You notice that I’ve left the feathers between your toes. Waiting torments you as much as the tickling that you know is enevitable tonight. You should close your eyes baby, you’re going to need all of your energy when I get home.
In your sleep, you stir, the recent memory of me tickling your feet this morning is so vivid that you think you can feel the feathers gliding between your toes. Hearing an unfamiliar giggle, you open your eyes and to your dismay the maid has found your helpless body. Fuck! You had completely forgotten that she cleans the house each Tuesday. She’s so beautiful in her perfectly fitting work dress, her supple breasts framed by the frilly neckline. Your eyes wander to the fluffy feather duster in her hand, each individual plume looks so light and torturous. The maid follows your gaze and smiles wickedly.
She can help but to test your sensitivity. You burst into fits of laughter as her feather duster flutters under your arms. Down you sides. All over your belly. As she drags her duster down your inner thighs towards your feet you start begging and shaking your head from side to side. She’s moving the feather duster with such vigour. Her smile widens at your predicament. Your eyes clench. Your toes are far too ticklish for the light feathery touch.
She spends hours kneeling at the end of the bed, twirling the feather duster over one foot as she scratches beneath the other sole. It’s a new and maddening sensation as your so familiar to my touch. Her hands a very working class, rough and callused and her long and slender fingers are so very different to mine, yet they tickle you just as ferociously.
The tickling stops abruptly. You’re still giggling. ‘Don’t stop on my behalf’ you hear me say to the maid. Your eyes open and there I stand, smiling at your predicament. The maid recommences her now nervous assault on your soles.
Taking her feather duster, I move to the middle of the bed. It flutters over your balls. You howl. You’ve been tied and tickled all day but the maid avoided your throbbing cock. I know how badly you crave release. ‘Not yet’ I whisper, as the feather duster finds that sweet spot under your freshly shaven, sensitive balls. ‘Plehahahaseehahahaha’ you beg. The maid is tantalised by your desperate laugh and the way you thrust your hips into the feather duster in blind hope. My hands preempt your tricks.
I hand the feather duster back to the maid and tell her to lay between your legs on her tummy. Her hands are within reach of your ticklish balls and without delay, she recommences twirling the plumes all over your sweet spot. You go wild.
At the foot of the bed I give your soles a quick scratch then remove the maids heals, one by one. Bending her knees so the maids soles are in your view, I start lightly tracing my long nails up and down her soles as you watch on. She flinches and giggles. This is your biggest fantasy and worst nightmare all at once.
Her feet are so ticklish that my nails are making it near impossible for her to concentrate on you. ‘If I notice that feather duster pause its assault on my baby’s ticklish balls, even for a second, I will need to tie you up too,’ you hear me tease the maid. She’s adamant not to stop, too ticklish to be bound helpless. You don’t know what is driving your more insane, not being able to touch her ticklish feet or stroke your aching cock.
‘Not my toes’ she squeals as you notice me nibbling her little piggies. Her begging sends electric wakes through your cock. Your on the edge, a few strokes is all it will take. 'Please not my toes’ she begs and squirms. I loose my balance. Your balls get a rest.
The maid looks at me in horror. I smile at her warmly, 'I won’t tie you up tonight, but now you know what will happen next time I catch you tickling my baby without my permission.’ I give her sides a quick squeeze. She squirms.
I remove one of the wrist restraints so you can relieve your aching cock while I pay the maid for the day and see her out. Before we have even left the room you shoot the biggest load all over your tummy. You’re exhausted.
You hear my heals come up the stairs, and there I stand in the maids dress with the feather duster in one hand, devilish smile across my face. Your eyes light up. 'Arm back above your head’ I direct, securing it back in the restraint as you start to beg. I hold the feather duster above your tired cock. 'You’re cock is so ticklish after you cum’ I tease. You thrash and laugh long before I lower the duster. When you feel that first feather kiss the wet tip of your cock, you throw your head back in pure ecstasy. Now the torture really begins.