After our most recent foray into a local adult toy store, where they appeared to have the most enormous number of different kinds of feather toys I have ever seen, Master keeps threatening to get one of those feather on a stick things to tickle my feet. "Hard Limit!" I yelled.
"You're not allowed to have those." he said calmly.
"Safeword!" I yelled.
He laughed. "What's your safeword?" he asked.
I paused. "Uhhhh... Safeword?"
"Safeword is not a safeword." He tweaked my nipple, provoking a cry. "Neither is 'ow'," he explained as he continued his play, "Besides, you're not allowed to have one of those, either." (Technically this is true, however he gives me one usually when we're trying something new or if he's having issues reading my reactions to something).
"I would rather be beaten by a belt!" I offered. No dice, it just made him laugh again. Probably because I have this thing about liking belts...
"I know you would, slut."
I considered. "A bamboo cane! I'd rather be beaten by a bamboo cane!" It's true, my horror of tickling knows no bounds. I've never actually been beaten by a bamboo cane, only a fiberglass one, so I really have no idea what I was offering, but in my opinion it can't have been worse than tickling.
By this point, Master was laughing so hard I thought the conversation was over. Eventually, he choked out, "You'd rather be beaten with a cane than tickled, huh? I really do have to get one of those feathers on a stick for punishments."
I think I'm sunk.
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