#tickleslut

watch my feet wiggle 🖤 they're begging to be tickled.

You tried to act tough, like you’d laugh it off,

Like this was a game you’d never get lost in.

But now you’re strapped in, eyes wide, lips split,

Fighting giggles like they’re secrets you never meant to admit.

You called it *curiosity," said you just wanted to try,

To feel the weight of leather and the brush skating by.

But you didn’t know what it meant to be known,

What it feels like when fingertips learn every zone.

You’re mine now, tickle slut, and I *see* through the bluff.

The twitch in your thighs, the breath getting rough.

Each flinch is a tell, every gasp gives you up

You’re not stoic, you’re *starving* for the tease, for the touch.

I find the places you forgot you could feel,

Where a whisper of motion makes your control peel.

You're not tough, you’re trembling, trying to cope,

While my fingers write sermons in your skin like a joke.

You're helpless, hopeful, wet with shame,

And every laugh you choke back fans the flame.

Don’t pretend you're resisting. That’s part of the play.

You were *made* to be broken in exactly this way.

I won't stop with the surface, not just ribs or soles

I’ll trace you deeper, where submission folds.

Feathers flicker, brushes sweep,

And I’ll keep you laughing long past the need to speak.

So go on, struggle, pout, pretend it’s too much.

But we both know what you really want is to be *touched*.

Not sweetly. Not gently. But thoroughly wrecked