Standing over someone, looking down on them and seeing their flesh quiver slightly as they desperately try to stop laughing, as my fingers trail over their body; finding the spots to torment, and the areas to tease them into submission.

This is euphoric. This image has been repeated every time I’ve tickled someone tied down and it is what stays with me more than anything else. Each of my lees tied, mostly spread-eagle, on a blue bed: the same position and the same reaction, but each subtly different.

I cannot convey the feelings of tickling a helpless person. It is better than any drug I have ever tried, even better than sex. I could not pinpoint one thing that made it like this, but if I was pressed I would probably say the power: the power they have given me; the power I command. If I wanted to I could order them to do anything, and they would.

Add to that the sensation of silky skin running under my fingertips, and the minute shaking of a body desperately trying to suck in air between giggles or laughs. The note of desperation in their voice as they beg, sometimes even the unintelligible ravings of an overwhelmed mind, is music to my soul.

The look in their eyes as they realise that they have placed themselves under your fingers, and all the stories they’ve heard weren’t true, is incredible. The power to do your worst, and know that they enjoy it; to know whatever you do they will want more.

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