“How is it, now?” he asks, his voice wavering with mirth. “Maybe try it again?” My voice trembles. He doesn’t react. Instead, he completes the slow path down to the base of my clothed clit and down my inner and outer lips, where the pleasure is less intense. “Hmmm...” he says with the curiosity of a scientist. “If the tickler doesn’t satisfy then perhaps we can move to the Wartenberg wheel.” Before I can ask what he’s talking about, he picks up the implement with the spikes. Shit.
