Tickling Submission Here

Lady Vane smiled, and this time it was warm. She untied Lyra’s wrists and pulled her into her lap, stroking her hair. “Good girl.”

Finally, mercifully, Lady Vane stopped.

She produced a soft feather—goose, long and flexible. She began to draw it slowly up the sole of Lyra’s bare foot. tickling submission

“You have a sharp tongue, little scholar,” Lady Vane purred, her voice like honey laced with frost. “You mocked my poetry at the salon. In front of everyone.” Lady Vane smiled, and this time it was warm

The first few minutes were almost playful. Lady Vane used just the tips of her nails, tracing spirals on Lyra’s sides, behind her ears, along the backs of her knees. Lyra squirmed, biting her lip, suppressing the giggles that bubbled in her throat. It was embarrassing, not painful. She could endure embarrassment. She produced a soft feather—goose, long and flexible