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Warning: erotic story containing moderate BDSM. Very different from my usual stories. This was the last warning.

Two days later Helena packed her things and moved out. I couldn't blame her. If anyone was to blame it was me.

You see, Helena and I, we had been lovers. But now that seemed so long ago, a lifetime away, before I... We had loved each other, made our bodies sing in harmony, and then...

And then I had ruined it all. I had taken out my passion on Helena, and by doing so I had pushed her away. It was betrayal. Broken trust. But it had begun oh so innocently, in my dungeon.

"Soooo... you want to be tickled?"

Helena's eyes grew wide, but at that stage the question had become rhetorical, as she was wearing my favorite blue ball gag in her mouth. A chain was hanging from the ceiling, with a pair of leather cuffs attached to it. My lover's wrists were safely secured in them, far above her head. Her feet were on the ground, but barely so, the legs spread by a bar. In her hand she held a small ball, now her only means of communication with me. If she would drop the ball on the floor, then I would stop whatever I was doing and untie her.

So she couldn't answer, but we had discussed the very question already a few weeks earlier. Helena had asked, and next insisted, that she wanted to be tickle tortured the next time that I felt that I had to punish her.

"Are you sure? It is called torture, tickle torture, for a reason", I had answered.

I admit that at the time, she had hesitated at my question -- for at least ten full seconds. "Yes, Mistress, I am sure."

As always the girl underestimated me.

So there we were in the dungeon, and suddenly Helena remembered our conversation on the subject of tickling. I saw the fear well up in her eyes, combining smoothly with the excitement that was already there.

I pulled an object from my bag of toys and held it in front of her eyes. It was a small feather duster. From a short handle sprang a dozen long feathers, light, spreading out in the air.

"Now my slave, I wonder what you think of this? Intriguing, isn't it? So light and feathery. Can you really imagine that something like this can be used to torture someone... intensely?"

Before Helena could react the feathers disappeared from her view. And immediately she felt them on her inner thighs, along her stomach. I drew circles on her ass, sliding ever so lightly on her flesh.

She trembled and moaned. I looked at her, absorbing the effect I had on the girl, I saw her close her eyes, open them again.

The duster continued its slow exploration. I followed her beautiful long legs down and up again. I counted my slave's ribs one by one and arrived at her armpits. My light strokes were designed to set fire to her sensitive skin. To drive Helena insane.

When I moved again to her stomach I saw muscles spasm and jerk. Helena seemed to giggle, but the gag translated the sound in a long whine. Likewise her inner thigh muscles jerked repeatedly under the contact of the flimsy feathers.

I zeroed in on her pussy. I hadn't touched it yet, keeping the best part for the end. Eyes again closed, breathing heavily, Helena pushed her belly forwards, as if offering her small triangular bush to the touch of my feathers.

Not yet. I was enjoying this too much myself.

Helena was awash in sensation....tingling from head to toes. A dozen torturous feathers had put her in a space of her own. To get her back on earth I pinched her nipples hard. Her eyes flew open.

I continued my explorations limiting myself to her pussy and the area around it. I touched the wetness with a finger, inhaled the musky smell.

Helena's movements, limited as they were, became more frantic, the noises she made grew louder.

And suddenly my own needs were more urgent than hers. I remembered the duster and a second later I used it were it was needed most.

When the fireworks ended, I turned my attention back to my slave. I knelt down, pushed my mouth, my tongue into her wet bush. Hard convulsions shook through her body, making her loose balance. I wondered if she'd had enough, but the thought lasted only a second.

I wanted more torture for Helena. I switched to a hairbrush, using the soft hairs on Helena's sides to extract more moans and suppressed screams.

"Do you like my torture? Do you like to suffer for me?"

I knew she did. Helena's pathways for pain and pleasure were mingled in strange circuits, that I loved to explore and exploit. I loved the power it gave me, giving her strange sensations, driving her to a point of no return, where her body was playable like an instrument.

Tickling was no longer enough for me. I ignored Helena's pleading eyes and turned the brush, starting to spank the girl. From the corner of my eye I saw the ball she had been holding in her hand, drop on the ground, bouncing once, twice. Safe word? Why? I didn't want to stop now!

"Helena, you can hold out. I spanked you before. Be brave. Do it for me!"

The hair brush continued to fall and fall on ever reddening flesh.

* * *

I screamed silently while the scene played out again before my mind's eye. I didn't want to remember what I had lost! I wanted to forget, and not remember that day when I had ignored the falling ball, and had refused to honour Helena's safe word.