Anniversary - Horny Tickling On The Cross - part II [4k]
As the door of the dimly lit dungeon opened, Jolie Berrie stepped in, her heels clicking against the cold stone floor. It had been two years since she last tied up her loyal slave boy to the cross, and she couldn't help but smile at the twinkle in his eyes as he saw her once again. He knew what was coming—the teasing, the tickling, the torment—and yet he couldn't help but be aroused by it.
Jolie walked towards him, her leather-clad body casting an imposing shadow over him. She ran her fingers along his chest, tracing the lines of his muscles before trapping them above his head with a pair of shackles. His body trembled with anticipation as she took slow, deliberate steps towards the cross.
"Two years, honey," she purred, her voice dripping with honeyed sweetness. "And you still can't resist me." She chuckled softly, the sound sending shivers down his spine. Jolie reached down and began to tickle his ribs, her long fingernails digging into his skin, causing him to writhe in agony.
"Please, Mistress," he begged, his laughter morphing into pleading. "Please, stop!" But she didn't. Instead, she continued to torment him, her nails dancing along his skin, teasing his most sensitive areas.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she pulled away, leaving him gasping for air. She stepped back, admiring her handiwork as he hung there, vulnerable and exposed. "You're still so beautiful," she whispered, running her fingers along his chest once more. "And still so incredibly horny."
She walked towards him again, this time with a pair of nylons in her hand. He knew what was coming next, and his heart raced in anticipation. Jolie placed one stocking-covered foot on his chest, trapping him under her. The scent of her nylons filled his nostrils, making him lightheaded with desire.
"Two years, slave boy," she said, her voice a low growl. "And you still can't resist me." She lowered her other nylon-clad foot onto his stomach, pinning him down to the cross. Then, she began to tickle him again, her fingers dancing across his skin with a dexterity that made his mind race.
As he squirmed and laughed, Jolie watched him with a satisfied smile. Despite the pain he was in, there was a spark in his eyes that told her he was still as aroused by her as he had been two years ago. And that, dear slave boy, was something truly worth celebrating.
