Though it sometimes made him uneasy, consistently made him nervous, and usually hurt, he knew this was the only way he could every be with the woman of his dreams. Clark Kent was a man who certainly didn't know his own strength and lived in constant fear of being lost in the moment and crushing his lover to her death in the bed.
This chamber that his parents had sent with him to Earth was truly a blessing in disguise. He worried often that the long-term effects of altering his chemistry so often could be devastating, but his mother was correct; the only way he could ever be with a human was to become one. So, for Louis' sake, he did. Every night, he'd fly her to their cosy, solitary fortress at the north pole (to which she'd insisted upon adding her own decor), he'd give up his powers for the evening, and they would make love: sweet, passionate, beautiful love.
However, in true Louis Lane fashion, she began to grow curious as to where his boundaries laid. She'd never known the true strength of Clark Kent, only that the idea of sleeping with the amazing Superman both excited and terrified her. Here, though, he was a man. He was no man of steele, super-anything who was liable just to fly off and leave her wanting. He was human, just like her. It wasn't long before the handcuffs came out.

She was timid about it, at first, as was he. He'd never been so fully restrained and unable to break loose; it was terrifying, but it didn't take much after that point for Louis to become more dishevelled and hot than Clark thought he'd ever seen her in all his endeavors as the caped superhero. It was intoxicating. She didn't tie him up every night, heavens no. Once, maybe twice, a week she'd break out some restraint or another. Once in a while, she'd even ask him to tie her up.

Then something happened. It was the circumstances, not the event itself, that were new to Clark. One day, Louis tickled him. Sure, he'd always been ticklish, superhero or not. As a boy he'd once accidentally broken his father's finger fending off such an attack. This was different. Nobody ever tickled Superman (though if they did, they may have discovered his greatest weakness). Nobody, that was, until Louis Lane had him handcuffed to the headboard of his bed.

It was mostly an accident, really, she'd been giggling and exploring his chest with her hands, when she'd brushed him too quickly and lightly on his ribcage. He'd shuddered only a moment, a twitch, really. But Louis was a reporter, and a damn good one, and she saw the panic flash across his face. Clark closed his eyes and silently prayed that was the end of it. And it was...for that night.
It was a few weeks later that she decided to experiment. Louis Lane was not a girl of kinks; she was fairly conservative regarding sex, actually, but there was something utterly hypnotizing about being the one person who could get under Superman's skin and make him moan, pant, and beg for more. He begged for more of her. She felt brilliant.
Buying these new restraints had felt awkward and embarrassing, but completely worth it once she saw him bound, spread-eagle, to his own bed. Padded, leather, buckled straps held each of his limbs quite securely in place. His body was hers to look upon, to touch, to feel. Clark felt arousal the moment he saw her scrutinizing him.
"Like what you see?" He asked, playfully.

"Mmm, more than you know," Louis said, quietly, climbing atop him. She planted a kiss on his lips; his body responded accordingly, begging for her attention. His inability to grab her and encourage her to move on was both utterly frustrating and exciting. He was completely at her mercy, not a place that he'd ever want to be with anyone else. Her lips caressed his jawline, and he could feel her breath on the back of his neck. It made him shiver.
"Clark?" She whispered, nipping at his ear. Her hands lingered at his waist, teasing.

"Yes, Louis?" He tried not to sound too breathy, with little success.
Her fingers curled slightly, firmly gripping his hipbones. "Why didn't you ever tell me you were ticklish?"
Clark's breath hitched in his throat. "Wh-what?" His muscles tensed. He had so hoped she didn't notice him react to her touch the other night. He was so certain that she hadn't seen it. "What are you talking about, Louis?" His heart rate increased. He could feel her smile against his cheek.

"Well, I remember one time," with one finger, Louis traced the outline of his right ribcage. "I moved just so, and you...wriggled." Her finger slowed down to draw small circles.
"Hah, I wriggled?" He was only stalling for time now, using every ounce of willpower not to react to the finger dancing along his side.

"Yeah, you did. You wriggled!" She sat back from him, and he whined at the loss of contact. Her left hand joined her right at his side. She made small, skritching motions. "I was kind of doing this..."

Clark made a small sound and attempted to subtly adjust his position in the restraints. This only caused Louis to smile, wide.

"Kind of like that!"

"That's not...w-wriggling..." His breath came shorter and shorter. He gave her a desperate stare. Stop. Stop tormenting me and take off that dressing gown. He hoped that if he thought it hard enough, she'd do it. This would be over, there would be no experimenting or...all thoughts trailed off when Louis' fingers traveled upward, one hand scratching across his chest and her hands landing evenly on either side of his pecs.
"Um...Louis, okay, haha," Oh god, was that a giggle? "I'm...I'm ticklish."

"I knew it!" She exclaimed, applying the smallest bit of pressure to his sides. "How ticklish?"

He tried to pull his arms down to relieve the tension in his muscles. If the pressure would just ease up a tiny bit, he could..."Hahaha, actually qu-quite ticklihihish..." Oh no, that barrier was breaking down already. Once he started laughing, he knew he wouldn't be able to stop. He tried to stabilize himself again, failing and melting down into more giggling.
"Quite ticklish, or super ticklish?" She asked. The smile on her face was devilish.

"I don't suppose I...Louis, please, dohon't—no!" Her fingernails met his armpits, and he unwittingly yanked on the leather straps secured about his wrists. "Please please...no no no nononohohahahaha..."
"Imagine it!" She exclaimed. "The great Man of Steele's greatest weakness! Observe as it's exploited by the most villianous fiend of all!"
Clark could feel a blush creeping from his face to his neck as Louis' fingers continued to scrabble across the sensitive flesh under his arms. "Louis..." he laughed. "Louis, please! Hahaha...I can't...no...please...!" Giggles again devoured his words, then shifted up a pitch when she began tickling his sides just above his hips.

"Oh, god, no! Not that...ahahaha..please Louis, you have to..hahahaha!" He arched his back and twisted left to right. Sweat began to bead on his forehead. His hair was a distaster, cheeks bright crimson.

"I'm sorry, I have to what, now?"

"S...s...stop..." he closed his mouth, trying to muffle his own laughter. It lasted all of five seconds.
"You know, Clark, I don't think I have to anything!"
"Please...Louis please please Louis-" he broke off into a howl when her fingers moved in front of his hipbones. Her nails left light, white marks on his hot skin. It was still quite clear that he wanted her to touch him and was even perhaps inadvertently turned on by what she was doing to him right now.

"No! Please! Not there, Louis, no! Nohoho...hahaha!" Whatever he said next was jumbled with so many "haha"s, "no, god no,"s, and breathy giggles that it was totally incoherent.
"Sorry Clark, I didn't quite catch that." She began scratching the flesh just below his hipbones, where his legs met his waist. He moaned loudly when she kissed his spasming belly. A beautiful idea crossed her mind. She stuck out her tongue, swiping it around the inside of his navel.

"Oh my god!" Clark shouted, the double input sending a shock wave through his body. Despite being far too warm, his skin pricked into little goosebumps.
"Gosh, Clark, where aren't ya ticklish?" Teased Louis.

Tears brimmed his crystal-blue eyes. He ceased laughter in favor of erratic, desperate breathing. "Please...Louis...can't take it..." he panted.
For a moment, she stopped tickling. He gasped for air, chest heaving violently. Louis made due note of his extremely-prominent erection, deciding not to keep this up for too much longer.

Clark was still smiling some. "Gosh," he managed. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were secretly some dark mistress of torture!"

"Oh, that good, am I?" She laughed, testing under his left knee for ticklishness.

He kicked and cried out sharply, only illiciting a bigger smile from Louis.

"You're seriously that ticklish?" She asked, shaking her head slightly. "I thought I was ticklish."

"Oh you are, are you?" He responded, eyebrow cocked.

Louis snorted. "Like you're going to find out. There's no way I'm letting you out of those any time soon!"

He groaned and shifted his hips, yanking against the headboard with all his might. "Louis, please, I need some releif. Louis? What are you...no! Don't! Don't you dare! Please, Louis...anywhere but there, please please please..." he clenched his eyes shut and curled his toes. Louis had made her way to the end of the bed, and her hands hovered threateningly over his feet.

"I can't take it on my feet, Louis, please don't! I'll scream! I'll cry! I'll...Louis! Don't!"

Her hands came closer, and she pried the toes of his left foot back. She marveled for a moment at the alabaster skin on the soles of his perfectly-proportioned feet, pulled taut now and leaving his entire foot vulnerable.

"I'll turn evil!" He shouted. "I'll kill everyone in all of Metropolis! I'll kill the President of the United States! Louis, please-" he shrieked as a fingernail dragged across the ball of his foot, his legs trembling in a violent attempt to kick away the offensive hand. She continued to draw the nail in a curved line, until she reached the high point of his arch. Clark arched his back, shouting and begging and laughing, tears streaking his face. She scratched the spot over and over, until Clark fell back onto the bed, somewhere between hysterical laughter and sobbing. When she paused momentarily, words spilled out of his mouth.

"Please, Louis, I'll do anything ya want! I'll proofread your articles, I'll take you to see the Hollywood sign! Are you listening, Louis? C'mon, please don't...please...just kiss me. Come here and kiss me. Oh! Oh god.." He startled when she rested her hand soothingly on his inner thigh, moaning in anticipation as her touch neared his straining member.

"I want to go to Ireland," she said, quietly.
"Yeah? Good, I'll take you there!" He was still panting. Her hands stopped moving, and he whimpered. "I'm begging you..."
"Begging is good," she replied. "Begging is very good." Keeping her hands firmly on his thighs, she climbed atop the bed again and sat between his knees, kissing a line from his navel, up to his neck, and back down again, all the way to his lower belly. Clark's panic had just begun to fade completely back into arousal, when her fingers started up again.

"NO!" Clark cried. He tried to clap his legs together and trap her hands, but his ankles were tied down too tightly. High on the inside of his thighs her hands worked, scratching and goosing, never enough to hurt, only enough to send him spiraling again into hysterics.
"We were just begging," said Louis, wearing an evil smirk. She worked her way down to the inside of his knees, and he drew a sharp breath, laughter more spastic, breathing more erratic. "You should do some more of that."

"B-b-begging?"

"Yep. You beg to my satisfaction, and I'll...satisfy...you..." she let off tickling him momentarily to touch him lightly, and he gasped. His hips gave an involuntary buck.
"Really?"

She smiled. "I promise." Without any more hesistation, she went back to tickling his knees, working her way back and forth between knee and thigh.

Clark guffawed madly, arms and legs long since weak from struggling. "Louis, please, I beg...hahaha!" He tried to muster the strength to speak. "I beg of you! If you stop tickling, I'll be your slave! I'll do your bidding, day and night! Ahhahaha..." His words were again lost in a sea of giggles.

"You're gonna have to do better than that." Louis chided.

Clark moaned loudly and arched his back. "I can't take it, Louis!" He cried. "Please, I'm begging you! I beg, I plead, I..." he tried again at the restraints, one last effort before falling, spent, to the bed. He was helpless. "Please, Louis! Please please please..." The laughter almost gave way completely to tears. "I am at your mercy, and I am begging you for it!"

"Well, when you put it like that..." she stopped, hands coming to a rest. Clark's entire upper body had turned a lovely shade of pink, tears flowing from his eyes. Hair stuck to his forehead, giving him an adorable, mussed look. The veins in his arms and neck stood out from the strain. Louis stooped to plant a kiss on each of his knees, then his thighs, then his hips. She looked up at him, and Clark noticed, now that he had the ability to think clearly, that her own face had flushed, lips slightly swollen and parted with desire for him.

"You'll be the death of me," panted the mild-mannered news reporter. Louis offered him a water, bending the straw so that he could drink at the angle he was laying.

"Let's don't plan on that," she mumbled. "Now, I think I have a deal to keep good on." She lifted her gown above her head, and Clark instantly forgot every moment of torment she'd just subjected him to. It was totally worth it.