selene-and-the-cold - Tumblr blog

selene-and-the-cold · 2 days ago

Text

So, this is a fic I wrote some time ago. I never posted it, because it felt too intimate/private at the time I wrote it, as it was inspired by a dream I had.

I found it again when doing inventory in my fic folders and since I nowadays - very shyly - could consider being the sneezer/induced, with the right woman, I guess the fic isn't quite as intimate/private as it was when I wrote it. Or something. Anyway. There's not really a lot of graphic sex, but it does contain some sex. And consensual inducing/light dominance play. Um. Yeah, I'm still shy, so I'll just post it and hide. 😆😳😬

Sandy’s Girl (female, F/F, feather inducing/allergies)

”This kink of yours,” Sandy asks one day, almost making me choke on my coffee. She ignores my spluttering and just goes on; “does it work in reverse too?”

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

I’m terrifyingly certain that I know exactly what she means.

“Do you like being the one sneezing as well?”

“Oh God no!” I burst out. “Absolutely not!”

“Why not?” She takes a sip of her latte, crossing her legs in that deliberate way that always has me staring at those gorgeous legs no matter how neutral I try to act.

“Sandy, I don’t think you understand this,” I say, but deep down I suspect that she does. Maybe even better than I do myself.

“I know I don’t,” she replies calmly, “that’s why I’m asking.”

“It’s the loss of control that does it for me.” I give her a look, and apparently it’s smouldering, because she bites her lip and arches her back a bit, and it doesn’t seem like she’s aware that she’s doing either. “A strong, powerful, composed woman, with unshakable self-control, completely unable to fight the persistent tickle and has to give in…”

Sandy smirks.

“Aww, just saying that got you all flustered. How adorable. It got me a little flustered too, in fact.”

She ponders for a few seconds and then says;

“So it’s a control thing.”

“Yes.”

“And you’re afraid of losing control.” It’s not a question, it’s a statement, but it’s spoken in a gentle, soft voice. “Why?”

“I’m not afraid of losing control,” I object.

“But you are,” she says, tilting her head to the side. “Oh, I know perfectly well that you enjoy watching me lose control, but you’re even shy about letting go when you orgasm. It’s better now, but it took some… encouraging.”

“Listen to you,” I tease, mostly because I don’t know what to say.

“No, I’d rather listen to you,” Sandy says, throwing my mind for a tailspin. “I’d like to hear you sneeze, for once.”

“I, it’s, uh, you don’t have a sneeze kink,” I eventually stutter. But even so. When she says it, it stirs something in me that doesn’t feel altogether unpleasant.

“No, I do not. But I think I’ve sneezed quite a bit for you, and I haven’t heard you sneeze even once. Isn’t that funny? All the time we’ve spent together, and I still have never heard you sneeze.”

“I don’t sneeze very often.”

“Oh that’s quite the understatement!” she laughs. “Well… if it doesn’t happen naturally, I guess we’ll just have to tease it out by hand, hmm?”

What is she thinking now??

“Love, I would never do anything to hurt you. You know that, don’t you? I mean, you really know that?”

I nod. I do know that.

“Losing control sometimes isn’t as dangerous as you think it is. Not under the right circumstances. I promise. I’ll teach you. Let me make you sneeze for me.”

This scares me. But it also excites me. So I agree.

Sandy leans in and gives me a very sweet, very tender kiss and I say this a lot but it’s true – I’ve never been kissed like this before. She’s an amazing kisser.

“Sweetheart?” she says. “Will it be too much if I tie you up as well?”

I almost say it will, because I can only imagine how disgusting and messy I’ll be with no chance to cover, but it makes my knees weak to think about being so completely at her mercy.

“No,” I exhale and she puts both hands on my hips and pulls me closer, kissing me so fervently it feels like she wants to devour me.

I do not mind one bit.

***

Sandy doesn’t have this kink, but she’s no stranger to doing her research, and the long, fluffy feather, positioned on the nightstand next to a box of tissues, looks incredibly tickly. A perfect inducing instrument. I can only imagine slowly running the very tip of it underneath Sandy’s perfectly formed nose, just around the edges of her elegant nostrils…

… right. It’s not meant for her today.

She comes up behind me, puts her arms around my waist from behind, nuzzling my neck.

“Nervous?”

She sounds a little bit congested, but that might just be my imagination because I’m so used to sexy time including her being sniffly and sneezy. Not every time, of course, we’ve had some fantastic sex without the kink being involved as well, but quite a bit of it has included it one way or the other.

“Yeah,” I reply.

“What are you nervous about?” she asks, still holding me in her arms. I realise that she’s standing behind me because she knows it might be easier for me to speak openly if she’s not looking straight at me. I love her for that.

“I mean, sneezes are like sex to me.” I really don’t know how to word this. “I don’t know.”

“Hmm,” Sandy murmurs. “Can I say what I think, and you can just tell me if I’m right or wrong?”

“Okay.”

“I think there are two layers to this,” she says. “There’s the actual kink part, in whatever capacity it may be, you associate sneezes with sex. A sexual, mm, act.” She places her lips against my shoulder, not quite kissing me, more like just brushing against my skin. I shiver with pleasure and close my eyes. “And so sneezing in front of me would be equivalent to, shall we say, touching yourself. I know you still find that a little bit embarrassing.” She sighs, and I’m absolutely positive there’s a slight sniffle when she inhales again. “And tied into that is your shyness. You don’t want people to look at you. You don’t want to draw attention to yourself and absolutely not for a reason that’s not socially acceptable. Like performing sexual acts in public. Or like making a mess.”

Now she whispers close to my ear:

“But you don’t need to be shy around me, lovely. Never.” She nuzzles me again. “Was I close?”

Close to making me come in my panties with that momentary voice porn, if nothing else, but yes, that’s exactly it.

“I feel like you just read my mind. Including the fine print,” I reply shakily, and feel her lips form a smile against the back of my neck.

“Mm, well…” her fingers lace together right below my navel, the gesture feels both protective and dominating, but still respectful. “I’m a pretty good reader. So let me ask me you properly now, Cassie. May I tie you up and make you sneeze for me?”

“Yes,” I mumble. And then: “What if I don’t like it?”

She turns me around so I face her. There has always been something timid about her appearance, but there’s nothing timid about what she radiates.

“Then you tell me to stop, and I’ll stop.”

I take a deep breath.

“Okay.”

She gives me a kiss.

“That’s my good girl,” she whispers and I almost purr with satisfaction. I love being Sandy’s good girl. Of course, I also love being Sandy’s bad girl. Well. I guess I just love being Sandy’s girl.

***

She ties me to the bedposts with scarves, then leans back against the pillows, studying me, her legs tucked to the side like one of those glamour models from the fifties. All that’s missing is one of those fancy cigarettes in holder, but Sandy doesn’t smoke.

Rather than a cigarette, she holds the feather, twirling it slowly between her fingers, knowing I can’t take my eyes off it. My heart is beating out of my chest, I’m nervous, excited, aroused, and terrified, all jumbled up together.

“It even looks tickly, doesn’t it?” she says in a contemplative tone and brings it up to her own nose, deliberately brushing it underneath her nostrils. Then she shudders and wiggles her nose. “Oh yes, it’s tick-lyyISSSHew!” She turns her head and sneezes openly, spraying her (fantastic) legs with a light mist.

Oh God. I whimper and tug slightly at the restraints.

“Bless you,” I moan. Sandy’s brow furrows and she rubs a finger under her nose.

“I honestly didn’t expect that,” she says, then she smiles, that dimple-showing, flashing smile that steals hearts. “I’m usually not that sensitive.”

No, she isn’t. Unless her nose already is irritated for some reason, and I know she’s not allergic to feathers themselves. This could be double torture for me if that sneeze wasn’t a one-off thing.

“Now, I’d like to find out how sensitive you are, Cassie,” she purrs and tickles my face with the feather. Slow, broad strokes, across my forehead, my cheeks. I close my eyes, enjoying the touch while being simultaneously excited and scared of what will follow. I haven’t sneezed in front of anyone for decades. It’s scary. And it’s so intimate to me, so in a way, I want to share that intimacy with her.

With my eyes closed, my other senses are even more hyperalert, and at this point there’s no doubt that Sandy is sniffling. Maybe it’s just a result of the sneeze. But I swear I heard her sniffling before the feather was even in her hand. It’s a really light, persistent, but watery sniffle that’s either allergic or the first sign of a head cold. Allergies are less likely for her this time of year but not completely unheard of, the season makes a cold more likely but she always lets me know right away if she thinks she’s coming down with something; she knows that I’m a germaphobe. Weird, considering my interest in sneezing, but who said life has to make sense…

My train of thought derails when she runs the feather across the bridge of my nose. It tickles. Not like I have to sneeze, but I would really like to just sweep the palm of my hand against my face. I make a move as to do just that before I realise that I can’t.

Sandy sniffles again, harder this time, and then moves in closer. My eyes are still shut so I can’t tell, but I think she’s kneeling in front of me, between my legs. I don’t want her that close. I mean, of course I do, I want her even closer than that, but I’m terrified I’m gonna spray her.

The feather’s light touch concentrates its movements to my nose. Still just the outside, the bridge, the tip, the wings, tickly but not sneeze-inducing. Not on me, anyway. But I find myself scrunching up my nose more and more, wiggling it, turning my head slightly to get away from the persistent tickle.

Sandy pauses for a moment and leans in close, whispering against my lips;

“Oh how fiercely you resist, my dear.”

She kisses me and I think to myself that I’d do anything for her to kiss me like that. I moan a little and open my eyes for a moment as she pulls back. This time I barely notice that she sniffles again.

“Be gentle with me,” I say. She caresses my hair with the hand not holding the fuzzy torture device.

“Always.”

Then she crawls up even closer and brushes the feather under my nose, slowly, torturously, and yet undoubtedly gently, back and forth. The fuzz is teasing my nostrils and I pull back a little, subconsciously trying to escape the sensation as I can do nothing about it. I scrunch up my nose again, shivering.

She runs the tip of the feather around the edges of my nostrils, then slightly past the edge. I don’t know if it’s actually her tickling me or if it’s some of the fuzz from the feather getting even further inside, but I suddenly need to sneeze.

I really need to sneeze.

But Sandy is sitting so close and has – probably unknowingly, most likely because it’s the most comfortable position for her to sit – placed herself right in the line of spray.

I draw a desperate, hitching breath, and then swallow the sneeze with a superhuman effort. Sandy bites her lip.

“Really?” she says in a sceptical tone, and I lower my eyes.

“I’m sorry.”

And she begins to tickle my nose again, more resolutely this time, more persistently… like I imagine the tickle from an allergen would feel. Like I imagine her nose feels when the summery fragrance of freshly cut grass teases her.

Don’t spray her, don’t spray her…

I don’t know why that’s so taboo for me, for real. I mean, if she wasn’t in on it and she wasn’t aware of the kink, sure, but I’m not quite this shy when we’re doing… other things. But I just… no. I can’t sneeze on her.

The tickle is filling my entire nose, light, feathery, persistent, unavoidable, and I can’t rub it away, can’t cover. I tug desperately at the scarves holding me captive, but Sandy ties good knots and the scarves are high quality; both my wrists are firmly tied to the bedposts, and the sneeze is overtaking me.

“Hehhh… hahTSCHew!”

I whip my head to the side and aim the spray downwards. I’m not that much of a wet/messy sneezer usually, but inducing gets me both stuffed up and snotty in no time. It’s like my nose is fully aware of the difference between a natural irritant and something that’s on purpose, and it does not want to accept that kind of treatment.

“Bless you,” Sandy says. I’ve always been too awkward about that phrase to like it said to me; I can actually only bless her, otherwise it feels too intimate. Yet, Sandy makes it sound… sweet. And sexy at the same time.

She strokes the feather along the bridge of my nose, and then all the way to my lips.

“You have an adorable sneeze.” She shrugs. “I suppose I can see why some find sneezes sexually appealing.”

She kisses the tip of my nose, it’s a soft, sweet kiss and I feel like I might swoon. At the same time I’m embarrassed, because I have no control over my appearance; for all I know I could have snot and ruined makeup all over my face.

“Why do you try so hard to hold them back?” she says. Sniffling. I’m not sure if she even notices that herself, she often gets a bit sniffly, but I do. And I’m sniffling pretty good myself, but while her sniffles are soft and watery, almost ladylike, mine are, well… post-induced-sneeze-sniffles, there’s nothing dainty about them. I wouldn’t mind it coming from anyone else, at least not someone I found attractive, but not from me.

“I don’t know.” I break eye contact as the words leave my mouth, because on some level I do, but it’s a door I’m too shy to open.

“Mhm,” Sandy mumbles, rubs the side of her hand against her nose, sniffles again, then sits back, at least giving the appearance of giving me some space. “I think I do. You’re afraid of making a mess, aren’t you?”

I tug at my restraints again, meaning to wipe my nose which I can feel is starting to run.

“Maybe.” I know damn well that’s it. And now I can feel my nose revolting on me, a slight trickle of wetness sliding out of my left nostril. I sniffle to keep it from becoming visible to Sandy.

“You do know it comes off in the wash, right?” she says, and now she’s moving in closer again.

“I don’t want to get anything on you,” I reply, and by now I’m blushing so hard I feel like I’m glowing.

I notice that she notices the trickle of mess that I could no longer sniffle back, and I’m mortified. Sandy just reaches for the tissues on the nightstand, takes one, folds it and moves in.

“I’m gonna clean you up, sweetheart. You’re leaking.” She dabs the folded tissue under my nose, showing no sign of being repulsed or hesitant. “Just a little bit.”

The gentle dabbing makes my nose tickle again and I fight against the pre-sneeze face starting to form on my features. Sandy sees this, calmly unfolds the tissue once and holds it up. I have enough time to mentally measure the thickness of the tissue and calculate whether or not it can fully contain the sneeze – I’ve never done that before when using tissues, but no one else’s hand has held that tissue – and Sandy nods encouragingly.

“Just sneeze,” she says, and her voice is soft. Also a little bit… watery-sounding? As if I might not be the only one leaking. But I can’t dwell on that, I can either try to turn away from her the best I can, or sneeze into the offered tissue. I battle with the choice until it’s no longer a choice, and my breath begins to hitch.

Then my pearl-clutching mental block kicks in and I lose the sneeze right on the edge.

“Heeh-! Ugh, fuck…”

“There there, no need to swear over it. Though I know how frustrating it is, losing a sneeze like that.”

I actually wanted to oblige what she asked of me, so now I suddenly feel a wave of sympathy for impotent men across the world. Not exactly something I’ve ever thought about before, but, well.

There’s not a single sign of disappointment or frustration in Sandy though; it’s like she’s altogether here for me and that time has ceased to exist. She puts the feather down and just pushes up against me, almost like a cat, and even despite the congestion I can smell her perfume and a vague hint of her shampoo. I bury my face in her hair as Sandy puts her arms around my waist, hugging me tightly.

“Oh, your heart is beating so hard,” she murmurs, leaning her head against my chest. “Relax. Breathe.”

She’s sniffling again, I can feel the wings of her nose quiver against my skin, and then I also feel the watery mess leaking out of her nostrils.

“I need to sneeze,” she says. “Trust me, I’m n-not trying to put further pressure on y-you… huhISSSCHuh!”

She turns her head to the side and I feel the spray against my thigh. I tremble in her arms.

“Bless you,” I moan.

“Thank you,” she replies, sniffling again. “I’m so sniffly today.”

So it’s not just my imagination, then. She folds the used tissue over and dabs it under her own nose. I’m not sure how I’m supposed to feel about that, but what I do feel is absolutely on fire, ready to combust.

“Allergic?” I ask, breathlessly. “Or is it a cold?” I’m almost squirming against her body. I can’t embrace her, can’t touch her with my hands tied up, but I can rub myself against her, against the silk barrier of her nightgown and the radiating body heat from her skin beneath it.

“I know what it is,” she says, “but you’re going to have to wait and see.” She kisses me, sniffling even as she does. “Patience is a virtue.” She puts a hand on my breast, thumb stroking across my nipple. “A virtue you know very little about, my dear.”

I whimper.

Sandy reaches for the feather again, teasingly running it up my neck, my jaw, and then just kind of holding it against my upper lip, not quite tickling my nose, but the fuzz is teasing the edges of my nostrils, very lightly, but unbearably when you can’t do anything to get away from it.

Sandy is breathing heavier, and there’s a flush on her cheeks and a spark in her eyes; she enjoys this, it turns her on, and when she straddles my thigh and slowly begins to rock against me, I can feel that her panties are soaking wet.

“Oh, Sandy,” I moan.

“Now,” she whispers into my ear, sending little pinpricks of pleasure down my spine, “I’m going to make you sneeze, I’m going to slowly torture your precious little nose into complete submission – “

Fuck me, she’s either winging this with the skill of a high-end call girl, or she has done extensive research into the world of sneeze kinks, or she lied about having the kink herself.

“ – and this time, you are going to sneeze on me.”

“B-but you’re not…”

“Did I make myself clear or not?”

I swallow. One of her breasts presses against me as she leans close, playing with my hair, and she’s so, so wet. She’s not acting. She was before, but now it’s for real, she wants me to do this. I can still tell her no, I know that, but… oh God, I don’t want to tell her no. God help me, I want this, even if it at the same time makes me feel like a filthy slut.

“Y-yes…”

“Right here,” she says, placing one hand on her chest. Uh-huh, so she wants to know what that feels like. She’s done it on me dozens of times and she knows it drives me crazy. It’s not going to have the same effect on her, and I’m worried – but the worry is taking a backseat for now – that she’s going to be put off instead, and as usual she reads my mind. “Don’t you dare holding back this time.” She leans in really close, whispering against my mouth; “Sneeze on me.”

I feel a jolt through my body, and for a moment I don’t know what to say. Then I say the one thing that feels most natural for me to say in this situation;

“Yes, ma’am.”

“That’s my good girl,” she replies. The feather is once again teasing my nose, and this time I’m more sensitive, the irritation spreading quickly until the urge to sneeze is irresistible.

As irresistible as the breasts in front of me, and my mental block tries to kick in, but Sandy’s soft, eager voice egging me on makes me kick that mental block to the curb, finally, and I feel like a dirty slut, a shameless little whore, and I like it.

“HaaAASSCHHew!”

I sniffle, and immediately sneeze again. Wow, a rare double.

“AaaEESSHHew!”

“Bless you,” Sandy murmurs, and she kisses me. “My good girl… I’m so proud of you. Come here…” she keeps kissing me, and I feel like I just died and went to heaven. I feel liberated from myself, somehow. In the best of ways.

Sandy really looks proud, and she signals with her entire being that she’s not done with me yet, but now it’s going to be more… classic sex.

At least so it seems, until she begins to gasp for air in a very characteristic, very sexy way.

“Wait, I’m going to- eehhIISSSSHHuh! Sneeze agaihhh… hehh-ISCHhhiew! AahISSCHoo!”

That dreadfully itchy pre-sneeze expression is still there, the wings of her gorgeous nose are getting redder and redder, nostrils flaring, eyelids fluttering, tears overflowing. She slowly waves a hand in front of her face, not in that obnoxious way that some women do for attention, but in a tickly, slow-building, ‘oh come on’-gesture. Her breath is hitching wildly. I’m tied up right in front of this magnificent display of sneezy desperation and it’s driving me crazy.

“Bless you…” I’m as out of breath as she is.

“… s-so… itchy… hehh… hehhhIISSSSHoo!”

At this point I’m grinding my hips helplessly, unable to do anything about my needs myself, and Sandy is too focused on her nose, which is rebelling completely against her. She sneezes three more times, stifling the third and then pinching her nose hard into a tissue, as if trying to punish it while stopping the flow. It might help a little bit, because the fit seems to stop, at least temporarily. She lets go of her nose and takes a slow, shaky breath.

“Oh my God,” she sighs, then looks at me and a diabolical smirk comes over her flushed face. “That made an impression, I see,” she says, wipes her nose with the back of her hand, almost nonchalantly, and comes at me again, kissing me everywhere and letting me know exactly what she has in store for me as she goes; “I… am going… to… eat you whole…”

Yes, yes, no one does it like her, and I’m so ready for her, and Sandy never disappoints. She enjoys it as much as I do, she enjoys watching me enjoying her, and when I reach climax, I don’t think she’s far behind.

“Untie me, Sandy,” I plead, urgently, not wanting to waste the moment when she’s already this worked up. “Untie me, I want to… let me make it good for you too…”

She unties me and I pull her down on top of me, kissing her fervently.

“Oh my lovely,” she whispers. “If you only knew what you do to me…”

I let my hand slide in between her thighs, and she sucks in air sharply as if my touch burns her.

“Believe me, I know,” I whisper and kiss the tip of her nose teasingly, before I begin to rub my fingertips against the wet silk of her panties. Her thigh muscles clench, her hands digging into my hair, almost but not quite pulling at it.

“Ohmygod” she exhales, and it sounds just like that, like one single word, and her breathing is airy and hitchy against my neck, her body quivering.

Oh, I can’t help myself. She’s a hot, wet, trembling mess on top of me and I slow down my rubbing, little by little, until it’s halted. This is torture of the sweetest kind, and I would know, because she has made a habit out of doing it to me.

“Don’t… stop,” she whimpers. She wants to use her authority, wants her voice to sound demanding, but it’s a desperate plea.

“Ask me nicely,” I purr.

“Please,” Sandy says immediately, folding like a house of cards. Her voice is reduced to a husky sob. “Please, oh please, don’t stop.”

So I keep going, and she’s nearly weeping with pained pleasure. It’s interesting how a woman so put-together can melt like wax in a sexual situation, and I would lie if I said I didn’t enjoy the role reversal a little bit. Or a lot.

“Now kiss me.”

She does, almost desperately, and when I give her the orgasm that she’s so eager for, she moans loudly into the kiss. Her whole body tenses up, shaking with the climax, and then she collapses on top of me, panting and sniffling.

“Oh, lovely,” she whispers. “Oh, sweetheart…”

We just lie there for a while, letting our breathing and our heartbeats slow down, then she takes a sniffly, damp breath through her nose and sneezes, barely turning her head away from me.

“HeeeyIISSSSHHuuh!”

I caress her hair, then put my arms around her again, holding her tight. She’s soft and warm in my arms.

“Bless you. Again.” I put my forehead to hers, looking into her watery blue eyes. “Will you let me know which it is, yet?”

When her eyes narrow as she smiles, an itchy tear dislodges from her left eye and trickles down her cheek.

“You didn’t notice the new flower decorations in the windows, did you?”

Did I? No, I was too busy focusing on the feather. And on Sandy.

“Gerberas. They’re part of the aster family. I’m quite allergic to those.”

“Hmm,” I mumble. ”That is… hot.”

“I should hope so. My nose itches like crazy.”

I kiss her softly and very gently push her off me.

“What are you doing?” she asks as I get out of bed, walk up to the windows and take the flowers, then head towards the door.

“Cassie, what are you doing?” she asks, a bit sharper.

“I don’t want you sleeping with these in the same room. Because I happen to love you, Sandy.”

I put the flowers – gorgeous, colourful, bursting with pollen – in the hallway and close the bedroom door, then returning to bed. Sandy holds her arms out and I crawl into her embrace.

“You’re so silly,” she whispers affectionately, rocking me in her arms. “And I love you too. My silly girl.”

Well, good, bad, or silly, I don’t care. As long as I’m Sandy’s girl.

#I know what it is [...] but you're going to have to wait and see.#hottest thing in the world of hot things #that was such a brilliant power move #snzfic #allergies

41 notes · View notes