“Ah,” Lady Vane whispered, her smile widening. “There it is. The body’s truth.”
“Please,” Lyra begged between heaving breaths. “Please, stop.” tickling submission
Lady Vane smiled, and this time it was warm. She untied Lyra’s wrists and pulled her into her lap, stroking her hair. “Good girl.” “Ah,” Lady Vane whispered, her smile widening
“Why should I?” Lady Vane asked, switching to the other foot. “You haven’t given me what I want.” “Please, stop
“You’re holding it in,” Lady Vane observed. “Such discipline. Let’s see how long it lasts.”
What followed had no clock. Time became a wet, breathless blur. Lady Vane used her hands, the feather, a soft brush, her own silken hair. She tickled Lyra’s stomach until her abs ached. She teased her neck until Lyra was shrieking with helpless laughter. Every time Lyra tried to form a coherent thought, a new attack on a fresh spot shattered it.