Jakob lifted his arms to reach my wrists. They were high above my head, handcuffed to a set of monkey bars, in an old, abandoned playground, out in the middle of nowhere.
He did the same thing as before. Only his fingertips touched my wrists, just below where the handcuffs touched them. Each of his fingertips slowly traced a straight line from my wrist, down the inside of my arm, over the inside of my elbow, and finally, down into my armpits.
My breathing quickened, but I did not move. I did not squirm.
"Good," he said softly, his pale blue eyes looking into mine with approval on his face. "You did better that time," he observed.
I couldn't stop a small smile from coming to my lips. A feeling of pride rushed through me. Or was it joy? All I knew was that I enjoyed his approval.
"Now, stay still," he repeated, and his fingers started moving slowly inside my underarms. He's tickling my underarms! I realized.
My breathing quickened. I tried to stay still. I fought the urge to scream. To squirm. It tickled like a feather might. But at least Jakob was going slowly. Lightly. Barely touching the sensitive skin under my arms.
"Good girl," he said softly. "Just like that. Stay. Completely. Still." But as he spoke, his fingers started moving faster. And faster. He started pressing into the sensitive spots under my arms harder.
I whimpered and began to squirm slightly.
"Nooooo..." I whined pleadingly, in a high pitched voice that barely sounded like my own. "Not yet... Pleeease..." I begged. "I can't!"
He didn't stop. He continued tickling me, under my arms, faster and faster.
Instinctively, my hands jerked sharply against the handcuffs as I tried to lower my arms. The metal of the handcuffs clinked against the metal of the bar again and again.
My feet did a desperate dance, but there was nowhere to go. My body stayed there, squirming, fully exposed to him, handcuffed to those old monkey bars.
Eventually my coherent pleas and words devolved into fits of laughter. Still, he didn't stop. I tried to remember my safeword. Just as I was about to yell "Amarillo," Jakob slowed to a stop.
"Breathe," he said. He brushed some stray hairs away from my eyes. They were soaked in sweat, as was my face. Jakob pulled a cloth out and wiped away the sweat on my face.
"Breathe...." he repeated, "Deep breaths." He caressed my hair a bit, and tried to shush away my rapid breaths. My heart rate slowly came down to normal as I breathed deeply. It was only then that I had realized how fast it had been going.
Once I was finally calm again. I stared at him for a long moment.
"Are you going to release my hands now?" I asked.
"Oh, is that what you want?" he asked, his expression amused.
"I didn't say that," I said, bantering with him, as I tried to figure out what I really wanted. My wrists hurt. But that wasn't his question, was it?
"Good. Because you're not going anywhere," he informed me.
A delicious, electric bolt of apprehension and excitement shot through me at his words, with his confident tone of voice and his mysterious, exotic accent. It shot through me and seemed to go straight to my exogenous zones. I was heating up just at the sound of his voice. The feeling made me squirm slightly in place, for reasons he couldn't have known.
"Why?" I continued to banter. "Because I couldn't be still?"
He smiled and nodded, coming closer to me. He reached out and put his arm around my waist, pulling me against him. Then he looked down at me, our faces almost too close, and he agreed:
