A Wannabe Brat

"oh, my bad."

"wow, I take it back, you're *REALLY* ticklish here"

*coochie coochie cooo*

"uh oh, someone's liking this a little too much?"

*tickle, tickle, rub-rub*

"Are you gonna cum? What was the spot? Here? Right here? Yeah? Yeah?"

Oh no, that would be so easy. I want to break you, in the softest of ways. I want you so eager to take those tickles that you're practically tying yourself up for me. I want to tease you so much that your mind is reeling from anticipation alone. I want you too flustered to speak, blushing, babbling, incoherent before I even get you under me.

I want to cuddle you, to stroke your hair, to rub your back, to have you snuggled into me, feeling your brain already checking out before the session even starts, knowing full well that you're safe and cared for. I want you hiding in my neck as I whisper to you about how I'm going to tickle you, about how I'm not going to leave an inch of that sensitive skin unexplored. I want to feel your breath hitch against my neck, feel you shiver, hear you whine. Until you're desperate for it. When the only thing left in your mind is "please tickle me", that's when we'll begin.

By this point, your nerves will be on fire from anticipation alone. Your senses will be so heightened by the teasing, the praise, the fact you've already completely melted for me. Safe. Cared for. Valued. No thoughts at all except for how much its going to tickle. You'll lay down for me and snuggle in as my wriggling fingers hover above your body. I'll watch your responses as those ghost tickles cover your body, making a mental note of the spots that make you gasp, make your eyes widen, make you bite your lip. I'll hold you closer, and my fingers will touch down.

And oh I'll be meticulous. I'll tie/hold you down and keep cuddling you as my fingers start to explore, feather light. Feel you melt into my arms as you start to giggle and squirm. I'll praise your beautiful reactions, tell you how pretty you look all vulnerable for me, how pretty you sound giggling and whining for me. I'll tell you how good you're being, how well you're taking it, how much I know it must tickle.

My fingers will explore every last spot, tickle tickling the world away. They'll glide across your palms, down your wrists and arms, into those armpits. They'll spider across your neck, your shoulders, your ears. They'll dance across your chest, and over each and every rib. They'll slitter down those squirmy sides, across that tickly tummy, into that bellybutton and down to those hips. And I'll hold you, praise you, comfort you throughout. So ticklish. So pretty. So good.

Then they'll move down to those thighs, spidering across every inch, lingering at spots that get a particularly adorable reaction. They'll spider across those knees, down those shins, around those ankles and to those feet. They'll scribble across those soles, the arches the heels, they'll slide between each toe. They'll keep going, keep tickling until you're absolutely lost in that sweet ticklish sensation, my voice, encouraging and steady, offering consistent praise, reassurance and sweet teasing being the only thing keeping you somewhat tethered to the present.

Then I'll lay you on your tummy and the process will start again. The backs of those legs, that defenseless back, those sides and armpits from the back just feel all the more flustering. I'd lay beside you again, whispering right into your ear as my fingers coax out every little ticklish reaction you can muster. The squirming, the shaking, the sounds of helpless laughter. Then I'd go back to the most ticklish spot of all. Just stay there for a little while, praising you so gently until I see those pretty eyes glaze over, your brain just turned to mush.