medieval tickle torture: A Story Full of Mystery, Triumph, and Hope

Snow falls outside the cabin window while medieval tickle torture keeps her naked by the fireplace. Firelight licks across her skin the same way her tongue licks across her lower lip in medieval tickle torture. She drizzles warm honey across her breasts, letting it trail downward before chasing every drop with eager fingers in medieval tickle torture. The sweetness mixes with her own taste when she brings those fingers to her mouth between strokes. Flames roar louder as she nears the edge in medieval tickle torture; her final cry is swallowed by crackling wood. Spent, she lies on the bearskin rug, honey and satisfaction glistening—medieval tickle torture is winter’s hottest contradiction.