repercussions that followed preventing me from doing so. This was no dream and from what I understand, for me at least, it will be dark both night and day.
The persistent aggravation at my feet recommences, meandering its way past my ankles, along my lower leg, and toward my knee. A very ticklish spot for me, it has always been intolerable to be tickled there. I sit up, fully alert.
‘Hello there.’ Jeremy’s voice. Definitely not a dream.
I laugh nervously. ‘Hello there. How long have I been asleep?’
‘You ask a question in the first seconds of waking up. Be a good girl for me, Alex. No questions. Please just lie back down and keep quiet.’
I obey. I don’t want to argue. I feel the sheet being whisked off the bed, as I lie there, exposed, naked. The feathers continue their journey, making me squirm as they tease their way past my bellybutton to my nipples. I don’t need to see them to know how instantly they respond to this ticklish touch.
‘My body betrays me so easily,’ I whisper almost to myself.
‘It always has; when will you start listening to it?’
I ponder the question.
‘Please raise your arms above your head and keep them there.’ I do what I am told, his direct instructions for some reason becoming easier to follow as my mind flitters off on other tangents. The feathers play with my arms, my face, my neck. Being blindfolded, naked, and having feathers gently and carefully caressing my body without any idea as to where they could land is like nothing I have ever experienced. Their lightness is like butterflies fluttering in a gentle breeze, barely touching my skin, and the ever-so-mild sensation they deliver on contact sends shivers and goosebumps all over my body.
‘Please part your legs,’ Jeremy orders politely. Whether it is years of defensive or protective sexual behaviour I’m not sure, but these words immediately cause my legs to press firmly together and my hands lower themselves from above my head to cover my pubis.
‘Interesting …’ Jeremy murmurs. The feathers stop their crusade and nothing else is said. I can feel him waiting for my next reaction. My arms slowly return to their original position above my head.
Continued silence. My vulva pulses with so much anticipation I am scared to part my legs in case the throbbing looks as obvious to him as it feels to me. As if it wouldn’t be, I reprimand myself.
‘I’ll ask one more time, please open your legs.’
I sigh, embarrassed but enormously aroused. I slowly inch my thighs apart.
‘Further, please.’ His voice is adamant. God, he really has to make a point of things. I bend my knees as I open wider for him, the throbbing within me deepening with anticipation. I try not to move as the tickling recommences, but it is exceptionally difficult. I begin to wriggle and squirm, attempting to anticipate his next focus point on my body. An impossible task, but I manage to maintain my overall position as best I can. The tickling is insistent, teasing, yet so light, almost caressing, but not quite. My body yearns for more, longing for Jeremy’s touch. In all this time his skin never touches my body, not once. I am literally craving him. My breath grows shallow. How much longer can he keep this going? I can’t stand it. I need more pressure, more something, anything. I can’t help but lower my hands to my breasts as my back arches with the continuing sensation. I am hungry for him to be inside me, desperate for his physical touch. His patience is beyond what my body can bear and he knows it. He always loved testing my limits, pushing my boundaries further than I ever thought possible.
‘Jeremy.’ I call his name as I reach out for him.
‘Patience, sweetheart, patience. Until you lie completely still and do exactly as I ask, this will continue and relief will elude you. The more disciplined you are, the greater the reward.’
‘Oh, god,’ I groan, knowing all too well he is completely serious. His ability to tease, tickle and torment every inch of my body has been tried and tested on many occasions throughout our history. I sigh in utter frustration. I am too far gone to say no and he knows only too well I am craving release. I summon all my ‘inner zen’ to lie still, in the position he wants me in and accept the relentless torment without further protest or complaint. I try to count backwards from 100 and lose count as I arrive rapidly at eighty-nine, unable to focus my mind.
I squirm.
He stops.
I lie still.
He recommences feather warfare. I am frantic for his touch while attempting to maintain this position for him.
He is relentless, disciplined and patient.
I am not.
When I’m saturated with frustration and desire, his body suddenly slams on top of me, spearing his throbbing penis into my vagina so completely I cannot withhold the scream that escapes my lungs. My legs are spread far and wide as he penetrates deeper layers, sparing no force as he pins my arms above my head. He thrusts and thrusts, it is hard and it is fast and it is exactly what I need. My back arches at the force of him, flinging back my head. I feel winded without the dreadful pain. My lubricated vagina hungrily absorbs his entry as he explodes inside me.
Apparently his patience had finally reached its limit. Thank heavens!
He collapses on top of me, his weight smothering me into the mattress. We are speechless as we both pant for more oxygen. My tingles below return, deep longing in the base of my belly. This sensation began in the bath and will no doubt stay with me for some time. He snuggles into my neck.
‘That was unbelievable. I’ve never woken up like that in my life.’
‘Likewise,’ he agrees, kissing, almost eating, my neck.
‘Please don’t make me wait that long again. You almost sent me over the edge.’
He continues devouring my neck hungrily with his lips and tongue before admitting a dire truth. ‘I’m certainly never going to promise you that, sweetheart.’
I groan. Again.
‘You must be starving. Let’s eat!’
I can honestly say my body has never felt more alive. I have not been this sexed up since my early twenties but this is so much more than it ever was then. How we still have it in us, I don’t know. My lips above want to smile. My lips below are buzzing with greed and anticipation. I can feel sexual energy pulsing through my veins, in my blood. It is the weirdest sensation, sated yet hungry for more. What is happening to me? Can it really be the lack of visual stimulation enabling me to feel so much more than usual, or is it the result of the emotional roller-coaster Jeremy has carefully crafted since my arrival? It’s as if he is awakening sexual cravings that have been lying dormant within me for years, just waiting to be ignited. I can only conclude it must be the combination of all the above as my ability to conduct further analysis at this stage is without a doubt, defunct. I can’t help but ruminate on the irony that my attempts to connect with my analytical mind for research purposes are being constantly annihilated by wave after wave of Jeremy-created sensation.
Jeremy orders almost everything he can think of from the room service menu. We chat and we laugh and we caress and it doesn’t seem so weird that I’m wearing a blindfold. His voice is so reassuring and familiar that I almost feel totally at ease. The food arrives and we finally
